Notes: Set in the not-so-distant future.  Profuse apologies to Ovid (and Echo and Narcissus).

Thwack!

Buffy's fist connected with Spike's nose.  She felt the crunch of his cartilage under her knuckles.  =Sometimes it's nice to have superpowers.=

Spike staggered , painfully catching his back on the corner of a nearby garbage dumpster.  "Long time, no see, Slayer," he leered, his eyes cold.  "Two whole weeks.  I missed all the lovely violence."  Roughly, he grabbed her wrist, pulling her towards him.  "So, what do you want now?  Information?  Dawn gone missing?  A good f--"

Buffy smashed her mouth to his, cutting off the obscenity.  Panting, she pulled back a few millimetres and felt a kernel of pleasure as she saw the desire flare in Spike's eyes. =I can say anything.  Do anything.  He'll still want me, whether he likes it or not.  I know the feeling . . . I hate the feeling.=

"Come on," she hissed, irritation mounting as she yanked his hand away from her waist.  "The crypt."

Spike's mouth curled in a hard, sardonic grin.  "So, just the shagging then, pet?  Won't be needing any other services from me this evening?"

Buffy pushed him away in disgust.  "I never need anything from you, Spike," she lied, watching with satisfaction as anger and hurt flitted across his shadow-marked features.

"Is that so, Slayer?" Spike's eyes narrowed dangerously.

She nodded defiantly.

"Reckon you won't mind satisfying yourself, then."  Spike shot her a triumphant smile as he left her alone, frustrated, by the garbage dumpster.

"I should just kill you and put us both out of our misery!" Buffy yelled, throwing a rusty can after Spike's retreating form.  "I should . . ."

"Boyfriend problems?" a cheery voice interrupted Buffy's tirade.

Angrily, Buffy glared at the interloper, a tall woman in her late thirties.  "He's not my boyfriend.  And mind your own damn business."

Fury mounted in the woman's eyes, even as she maintained a brittle smile.  "Maybe you should learn how to mind your tongue, little one."

Buffy heard a loud crash, almost like a thunderclap.  A bright light, electricity, crackled around her.  Sulfur.  Then nothing.  Nothing at all.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Groggily, Buffy rubbed the back of her head.  =Bed, hard.  No, not bed.  Asphalt.  Rotting garbage.  Still in the alley and that woman had . . . had what? Attacked me?=

As she sat up, an object fell off her chest, something silky, long.  =A peacock feather?=

"Hey, you alright?"  The bouncer from the Bronze poked his head out into the alley.  You drink too much?  Need a taxi?"

"A taxi?"  Buffy shook her head no and unsteadily got to her feet.

"OK, then."  The bouncer looked concerned.  "Lay off the booze.  There's a lot of bad people around.  Could take advantage of a hottie like you."

"Hottie like you?"  Buffy raised her eyebrows.  =Lame.  Very lame.  Ouch!  Head hurt.  Demon?  A peacock-feather demon?  Giles would know.  But, of course, Giles had left.  Just like every other man I ever loved.  Except one.  One blond, obnoxious, infuriating, evil, spectacular in bed, so very wrong-for-me . . . Wait.  Loved?=

Buffy sighed loudly. =I put Spike in the 'loved' category.  Spike?  Love? Not likely.=

"OK, Blondie.  I gotta go inside, but if you need anything."

Buffy shook her head and started to speak, but the bouncer had already disappeared.

"If you need anything," Buffy whispered to herself.  =That's the big question, though, isn't it?  What the hell do I need?  An evil vampire?  Sick, Buffy, sick.=

Buffy considered the feather in her hand. =What if the demon was dangerous?  What if it kills a bunch of people tonight, and I don't do anything to stop it?  Maybe I should talk to Willow, but Willow's, well, not exactly up for research.  What about Xander and Anya?  Meeting with caterers.  That leaves . . . No!  A world of no!  But . . .=

Buffy began walking in the direction of the cemetery, twirling the peacock feather.  =I still don't need him.  Not really.  I need information.  Slayer-related  information.  I'm doing my job.  Being researchy . . .=

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Slayer."  Spike sighed and muted the television.  "This had better be important.  Dawson was just going to get laid."

Buffy handed Spike the peacock feather and prepared to tell him about the new demon threat.  She opened her mouth and to her great consternation two words emerged: "Get laid." =Wait!  I didn't want to say that!=

"Well, well, well."  Spike rose from his chair, playing with the feather.  "Brought toys for me, did you?  And since you're asking so nicely . . ." Delicately, he ran the feather over her cheek.  "So pet, couldn't keep your hands off my tight, hot, little body, after all?"  Swiftly, he drew her to him. "Couldn't stay away?"

"Couldn't stay away." =No!  I came because of a peacock demon thingy and    . . . oh!=

Gently, Spike kissed her.  "See, pet.  Isn't it nicer when you tell the truth?"

Buffy nodded breathlessly, forgetting the demon, her aching head, and well, just about everything except Spike's lips.  "Tell the truth."

Spike drew back, his brow furrowing.  "You already know the truth, pet."  He traced her collarbone with the feather.  "Can't help it.  Wish I could."  He kissed the hollow of her neck.  "I love you."

Buffy's lips parted and her eyelids fluttered as his tongue reached her earlobe.  "Love you," she whispered. =O God! O God, no!!  Take it back, take it back, take it . . .=  Panic-stricken, Buffy pulled away from him, her mouth working.  =No, Spike!  I could never love you!  You're evil.  A thing.  This isn't real!=  Buffy wanted to say all this, and more, but when she tried to speak, no sound came out.

Spike dropped the feather.  Deadly serious, he grasped her shoulders.  "Don't play with me, Slayer.  Did you just say 'I love you?'"

Buffy wrenched away and punched the wall in frustration.  "I love you!"  Unbidden, the words tumbled out.

"Buffy? . . ."

Buffy reluctantly met his gaze.  =At least he doesn't look mad anymore, or cold, or evil.  He just looks . . . completely happy.=

Before Buffy could form another thought, Spike grabbed her, desperate, kissing her.

"Oh, God, Buffy.  I love you so much."

Buffy smiled--a genuine smile.  "Gosh, Spike.  You'd think no one had ever told you they loved you before."  She paused in surprise as the sentences came out, fully formed.  "And that was my outside voice, and I just said it, and it came out right and . . ."

Spike kissed her again.  Further speech was unnecessary.

Outside, thunder roared.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Nice job, dear," Jove considered his handsome wife as he took a cup of ambrosia from his servant, Ganymede.  "It's not like you to be so benevolent."

"I'm glad you appreciate my handiwork for a change," Juno replied haughtily.

Jove's mouth twisted in amusement.  "Last time you cast your speech impediment spell, it didn't turn out nearly as well."

Juno smiled sweetly but her eyes flashed dangerously.  Angrily, she threw a peacock feather at her spouse.  "That vile deceiver, Echo deserved everything she got.  Keeping me occupied with her busy tongue, while you whiled away the hours with those trollopy nymphs.  She's lucky I didn't do much, much worse."

Jove raised his hands in defeat.  "Much worse."

THE END

For those who aren't up on classical mythology, I robbed this idea from the Echo and Narcissus story.  Echo is a nymph cursed by Juno.  She can only repeat the last part of her beloved's sentences, or, as Juno states in her curse, "Your tongue . . . now its power shall lose, / Your voice avail but for the briefest use."  Ovid continues the description, "The event confirmed the threat: when speaking ends, / All she can do is double each last word, / And echo back again the voice she's heard."  And, if you're curious about the peacock feather, one of Juno's typical symbols is the peacock (just like Venus has her swans, Minerva her owl, etc.).