I know there are still a few stories waiting to be finished, but after I thought I would drop this fandom completely, this came as some kind of surprise. Suddenly the inspiration was back, even though it's not for the stories mentioned before. Instead this popped out. Tell me what you think!

FIC: Over The Edge (1/1)
Author: Jill
Disclaimer: let me check ... nope, still don't own them. Sigh! I'm not making any money off this. I've taken several lines from the Buffy-season-six-episode "Smashed". The episode was written by Drew Z. Greenberg.
Rating: R
Pairing: B/A(us) – kind of, and the usual pairings from the show
Distribution: my site (http://www.never-ending-love.de), Land of Denial, if you have any of my stories, take it; anybody else tell me where it goes
Timeline: set within the BtVS episode "Smashed"

Spoilers: the whole B/A-canon to be sure you should have seen season 6/3 or at least read the
transcripts (http://www.psyche.kn-bremen.de), or you won't know what they're
talking about.
Feedback: oh yes, please
Dedication: this goes to all the B/A babblers. Their comments gave me the idea for this! And I thought I'd lost all my inspiration to write B/A. And yeah, this is B/Aus, but still …

Author's Note: At the babbleboard a bunch of people were discussing what would've happened if Angelus had shown up in Season 6. And here's my take on it. Enjoy.

There was something comforting about the night, Buffy thought, walking down the dark alley. She'd gone back to her slaying routine over the last two weeks. And she had managed to keep her head above water so far. Spike was scaring her, though. There was something in his eyes, she couldn't quite grasp and if she was honest with herself she'd admit he was stalking her.

It wasn't that she was completely uncomfortable with his presence. Strangely enough she could talk to him in a way she couldn't talk to anybody else. Willow was lost in her own world and in her own problems, Xander would never understand what was going on, and Dawn was the last person she would want to talk about her problems. Nope there was nobody. Or rather, none of her friends. But there was Spike. Spike who always listened, Spike who seemed to understand what was going on.

Hearing a noise behind her she whirled around, but the alley seemed empty, and with a frown she continued walking. Spike kept coming on strong, and she didn't know what to do. God, what was she going to do? Giles had left her. Told her it was for her own good. Gee, that speech sounded awfully familiar. Was something wrong with her that the men in her life kept leaving her?

She almost jumped out of her skin, when Spike suddenly materialised in front of her. She'd been so preoccupied thinking about the mess her life was right now, she hadn't even felt him coming.

His eyes were narrowed angrily, his pose threatening, "Slayer," he hissed.

Buffy sighed, annoyed, "And so my night is now complete."

"You never showed," he accused her.

Slightly shaking her head, she passed him, "Sorry," she told him over her shoulder, "Little busy actually *doing* stuff."

"You shouldn't be so flip, luv," Spike replied, falling into step beside her.

Faking a yawn, Buffy kept on walking, "What are you gonna do, walk behind me to death?" She put up a cool front, but she sensed there was something different in him. A dangerous vibe, she hadn't felt for a long time. In fact she hadn't felt it since she'd fought him in Sunnydale high. What the hell was happening?

"I'm just saying things might be a little different." Increasing his pace he came to stand in front of her, blocking her path. "You oughta be careful."

Letting out an exaggerated breath, Buffy shook her head, "Enough." She moved to walk around him, but again he blocked her path. Not quite believing what was going on she smiled, "Get out of my way."

He raised a brow, "Or what?"

She shrugged, and punched him square across the face.

Reeling slightly, Spike caught himself. For a moment he stared at her, then hit her right back. "Oh, the pain," he mocked, grinning evilly, "The pain. Is gone!"

She only stared at him, alarm bells ringing inside her head. Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. He knew her too well. For a swift moment she thought back about the time when Angelus had stalked her.

"Guess what I found out," he said, tilting his head, "Looks like I'm not as toothless as you thought, sweetheart."

"How?," she asked, not able to hide her panic.

He grinned, "Don't you get it? Don't you see? *You* came back wrong."

She could do nothing but continue to stare at him.


Shaking off her confusion, Buffy stalked forward, punching Spike. He staggered, then laughed, and she punched him again. He staggered for the second time, but when she was about to hit him again, he grabbed her arm, hit her back and she fell back into a fence.

Turning back, she came face to face with him, "It's a trick," she shouted. "You did something to the chip, it's a trick."

"It's not a trick," he smirked, "It's not me. It's you. Just you. In fact, that's the funny part," he punched her again, "Cause you're the one that's changed." And he punched her again. That's why it doesn't hurt me."

Once again he punched her, but this time she blocked it, shoved him back.

He grinned, "Came back a little less human than you were, huh?"

"No," she shook her head, not wanting to believe his biting words, but afraid deep down, that they might be true. "You're wrong." She kicked him hard, and he flew into the opposite wall, but immediately bounced back, coming onto her.

"Then how come you're so spooked, luv? And why can I," he smirked again, punched her, "do that?"

Slowly straightening she looked at him, panting heavily. "You're wrong," she told him, punching him again, and again, shoving him towards a doorway, she followed him up the stairs, grabbed him and together they crashed through a door.


She felt herself flying backward, not sure her nose wasn't broken. God, what was happening here? She didn't understand any of this. Could Spike be right? Wasn't she human after all? And if she wasn't human, what was she? God, what had Willow's spell done to her?

Despite the shock she got up, and seeing Spike advance again, she punched him twice, then shoved him away, making him stumble against the fridge. Then kicking him, he flew back into the living-room.

She followed him, watching him getting up, but realised to late that he was attacking her again, punching her into the face with both feet.

"Oh, poor little girl," he taunted. "She doesn't fit in anywhere. She's got no one to love."

Grabbing his collar she shoved him towards the staircase, "Me? I'm lost?," she shouted, glad her voice didn't tremble, "Look at you, you idiot! Poor Spikey. Can't be a human, can't be a vampire. Where the hell do you fit in?" And where did she, she asked herself silently. What was she now? Was she still human? Or not? And God, what's happening to her? What sort of power does Spike have over me? Or did she really want him? Felt herself drawn to him?

He took a swing at her, but she ducked, punched him into the stomach, grabbed him and threw him across the room. He smashed into the fireplace, and she walked to him, "Your job is to kill the Slayer. But all you can do is follow me around making moon eyes."

"I'm in love with you," he shouted.

Taking another step towards him, she shook her head, "You're in love with pain. Admit it. You like me ... because you enjoy getting beat down. So really, who's screwed up?"

"Hello! Vampire!" He tried to hit her again, but she blocked it and punched him instead. Instead of falling backward, his hand reached out, pulling her closer, "I'm supposed to be trading on the dark side," he told her, then threw her against the wall. Picking her up again, he threw her across the room. Coming to stand over her, he grabbed her, "What's your excuse?," he asked.

Shoving him away, Buffy put a hand over his face and he flew backwards against the opposite wall. When she saw him stagger to his feet, she followed him.


"I was planning on hurting you," Spike smirked, "Much."

"You haven't even come close to hurting me," she shot back.

"Afraid to give me the chance?"

Breaking his hold, Buffy grabbed him and shoved him against the wall.

He smirked again, "You afraid, I'm gonna-"

And then she kissed him. Urgently she demanded entrance to his mouth, images of Angel flickering through her mind. His eyes, his face, his lips. Were those his lips she was tasting right now? They were cold. But they didn't taste familiar. Spike! God, she was kissing Spike.

She tried to shove him away, but her body didn't respond to her mind. Another image rushed before her inner eye. Darkness. Light. Heaven. Voices and peace. Gone. All gone now.

And she was kissing Spike. Damn, hadn't she every right to do so, she asked herself, moaning when Spike shoved her against another wall, his tongue probing deeply into her mouth. Hadn't they ripped her from Heaven without a second thought, selfishly wanting her back, not thinking for a moment that she was happier where she was?

So why shouldn't she sleep with Spike? Maybe he could make the pain go away. Maybe he could make her feel alive again. Maybe this was exactly what she wanted. What she needed.

She felt his hand moving over her breasts, arched against him. Those were cold hands, Angel's hands. No, no, not Angel's hands. Things were so confusing in her head. Where was Angel? Did he even care what she did right now? Would it hurt him? Or had he already forgotten about her. And why was she thinking about him anyway. He wasn't in her life anymore. He wasn't important anymore.

She felt Spike's mouth wandering down her throat, kissing her between her breasts and moaned again. Maybe it wasn't really her, he was kissing. Spike could hit her, didn't that mean it wasn't the real Buffy doing the things she was doing right now? She felt Spike's hands grabbing the collar of her shirt, felt it tear and ... nothing.

Panting heavily, she opened her eyes, realising she was suddenly free. Blinking several times, she tried to shake off the dizziness in her head. Where was Spike?

She heard a cracking sound behind her, and her head snapped around, and her mouth dropped open, finding a certain bleached blond vampire flying through the air, then suddenly hanging from a the ceiling, a rope around his neck, his body twisted in a horrible dance. Her eyes widening in shock, Buffy couldn't move, her mind reeling from the recent events. What was happening here?

It was like watching a medieval execution, a hanging. Spike was still dancing in the air, the rope lying tightly around his neck, his mouth wide open, no words were coming out, but he was still alive. No, not alive. She shook her head. He was dead already. He didn't need air. He wouldn't die from a hanging. His eyes were huge, almost bulging out of his head, staring in surprise not at her, but at a point behind her.

And that's when she felt a presence. Like cold fingers crawling up her spine.

Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.

Buffy felt her heart speeding up.

Oh God.

Again her eyes flew to Spike, still dancing in mid-air, his face twisted into a terrible grimace, his blue eyes dark from pupils dilated to the limit. He was shouting at her but no sound came from his constricted throat.

"He isn't going to die, you know."

It was like cold claws reaching for her heart.


She slowly turned around, and found the vampire standing only a few feet behind her, clad all in black, rings gleaming on his fingers, a Claddagh amongst them, heart pointing out. One of his brows rose when their eyes met, his' dark, and bottomless, and a smirk appeared on his lips.

"Not quite," he said simply. "But close." He cocked his head to one side, "Or maybe not. It's probably a matter of interpretation."

Horror spread through her bones, making her shiver even though it wasn't cold outside. For a moment she thought she would faint. "Wh- what happened?"

He shrugged, before he sighed deeply. "Your precious Angel got it on with Darla, and she presented him with a baby. Seems being a father all of a sudden was a little too much for his shaky soul." He pretended to study his nails for a moment, before he looked back at her, "Not that I'm complaining. It's good to be back again."

A baby? Darla? Buffy wasn't able to comprehend. She felt herself starting to shake. Damn. The last she needed right now was for her show him a weakness. How it had happened wasn't important anyway. All that mattered was that Angelus was standing in front of her. Playing it cool, she willed her heart to slow, her breathing to even. All the Slayer training had to be worth something. Rising a brow, she scrutinized him, "And so you decided to come here? Still not over me, lover?"

He gazed at her steadily, not a muscle moving on his body. "There's still the fact that your little friend did a little spell on me." He grinned evilly, "I was actually thinking of paying her a visit first. You know, I could've given you her heart as a special present. But then I saw the whelp stalking you." His voice rising so Spike would hear it, he went on, "He always liked to trespass. He obviously forgot that I don't take it kindly."

A croak came from the ceiling. Then without warning Angelus turned to the rope still holding the vampire, and cut it. With a loud crash Spike landed on the ground, and Buffy wondered shortly how many bones in his body might be broken. Not that she really cared. She had far more dangerous problems to deal with than Spike's broken limbs. On the other hand, he had helped her once already, and maybe –

"If I remember correctly," Angelus said, slowly walking over to the huddled form on the ground, "there was a little incident when I tried to wake Acathla. Not to forget the hot pokers. It wasn't really me being tortured of course, but that doesn't mean I can't appreciate it." He stopped and looked down on the younger vampire, "You always were a lying bastard, Spike. But betraying Dru? I might have underestimated you after all."

"You always did," the blond vampire replied, his voice nothing more than a whisper.

Angelus seemed to consider it. "Naw," he said simply, laughing a little. Then snorting in disgust, he shook his head, "And now you're after the Slayer. Heard you got yourself a chip." He shook his head again, this time in mock pity, "I suppose that's what happens to you with a sire like Dru."

"One day I'm going to kill you," Spike hissed, his voice gaining volume. "And I'm going to enjoy it."

"Yeah, you probably would." A slow, vicious smile crept up the handsome face, and Buffy shivered. She gasped when without warning a wooden object appeared in Angelus' hand and only a moment later only a pile of dust were the only remains of a formerly blond vampire.

"You … you killed him." She hated the fact that her voice quivering, that it sounded as if she actually cared what happened to Spike. Okay, so maybe she would miss him – a little. But she couldn't dwell on this now. Angelus was a far more dangerous matter at hand, and Angelus was thriving on fear. She couldn't allow herself to appear weak. Not if she wanted to leave the building alive.

Wanted to be alive. Did she really want to be alive? She shook her head, tried to pull herself together again. This was not the time to give up. If she was dead, Sunnydale, and her friends, would be helpless, confronting the most vicious vampire she'd ever met.

"Awwww," Angelus turned to her, his eyes cold and empty. "Save your tears. He was dead for a long time. It's not as if anyone's gonna miss him."

No, she would certainly not miss him. But to see her one possible ally gone wasn't a very comforting feeling either. True, she was really stronger than Angelus, but right now she wasn't so sure she could take him. Plus there was still the fact that a part of her simply refused to kill him. Killing Angelus would also mean killing Angel.

And she would not be able to do that. Never again.

"Or are you going to tell me that you felt something for the pitiful creature?" Angelus gave the pile of dust a last look before he swept his foot through it, and a heavy sigh followed, "It was time someone finally took pity on him, and ended his sorry existence. Poor neutered Spike.."

Buffy laughed dryly, "Don't tell me you really care what happened to him."

"Of course not," he replied on a grin. "Might have been fun though – watching him, trying to bite. Or panting after your heels." At her sharp intake of breath, he explained, "Dru told me all about it. God, it's so pathetic. But he's never been anything but, if you really think about it."

"He was not panting-", Buffy tried to defend herself, but his laughter interrupted her words.

"Of course he was. He was never anything but a pathetic little whelp." Suddenly he cocked his head, "Oh, don't tell me you're actually considering it."

Her eyes narrowed, "Considering – what?" Of course she knew what he was talking about. Hadn't she just thought about having sex with Spike only a few minutes ago?

Of course she couldn't fool him for a second and he laughed again. "You were! Christ, you were thinking … Doesn't anyone have standards anymore these days?" He was leaning against the wall, ankles and arms crossed, and obviously enjoying himself tremendously. Bastard. No, no, Buffy scolded herself. Don't let him do this to you. Or you'll never stand a chance.

"What? No comments?" He cocked one eyebrow, and watched her. "Heard you were dead for a while. How did you like it?"

She laughed at that, harshly, angrily, "Don't tell me you're interested in the answer."

"Why not? It's always good to widen your horizon, you know. I read a lot, too. Poems. I even ate a few who wrote them." He chuckled. Then laughed. That high pitched, evil laugh she wouldn't forget as long as she lived.

Which, given the situation she was currently in, might not be all that long. She had to think. And fast. Slowly, careful not to rouse his suspicion, she let her eyes wander over the exits of the building. Too bad it was night. During day she wouldn't have had a problem escaping. And then, home and safe for a day, she and her friends would have enough time to plot a strategy. Unfortunately she seemed out of luck tonight.

"So," he turned away, big strides carrying him through the old building, the old floors cracking dangerously with each step, "tell me." Again he turned, this time facing her again, "Did you have a good time while floating in the ether?"

Trying not to be mesmerized by the sheer dominance of his presence, Buffy lifted her head, "It wasn't bad."

He raised a brow, "Really? You liked being tortured by demons?"

This time she laughed. "You don't really think I went to a demon's dimension, do you?"

The moment she saw something flicker through his eyes, she knew she'd made a big mistake. Damn. He hadn't know she went to Heaven. Double damn.

"Hmmm … so you did go to Heaven, huh? Does that mean there's actually one?" Again he crossed ankles and arms, presenting the picture of complete relaxation. But Buffy wasn't fooled. She knew every fibre in his body was tense, ready to strike when needed. She's fought him before and barely survived it. She knew that as a Slayer she had improved, that she was even stronger physically, than she'd been then. But she had no idea how to look into those empty, evil eyes and stand it. The mere thought had her guts clench painfully.

All she could do was to play it cool. "Why are you interested?," she asked. "It's not as if you're ever going to go there."

His face fell, "No, probably not." And instantly turned into a grin, "But I suppose I'm going to survive it after all." Again his head tilted to the left, and putting a thoughtful finger over his lips, he seemed to contemplate something, before he suddenly smiled, "The question is, however, are you?"

"Am I what?" she asked, steeling herself against him.

"Going to survive, of course. Or did you think I just came here to play?"

… to be continued

If you want that is. Aside from a little ficlet, this is the first B/Aus story I'm writing. So, are you interested in more, or is it so bad, you rather want me drop it? I'd really like to know. Thanks for taking the time to read. Please send feedback to Connemara.Scarlets@t-online.de or leave a review.