There was a party at the Winthrop house. The high voices of kids shrieked in laughter, and a herd of youngsters ran around the corner of the house, onto the porch, and inside. A few moments after the door closed, there was a knock.

Michael Winthrop, ranking male of the house, sighed and obeyed his duty. He stopped teasing Hilary Nunoz, gathered his Harry Potter robe around him, and headed for the trick or treat bowl. "Happy Halloween," he said as he pulled open the door. He froze and blinked. "Wow."

Spike looked at him narrowly. "Is that a good wow or a bad wow?"

"A good wow."

Knee high leather boots with fold-over tops, black leather pants, black cloth coat with wide velvet cuffs and lapels covered with glittering black beadwork. A painfully white shirt underneath with a narrow ruffle at the collar. Across his chest ran a red sash down to his right hip, where hung a rapier in a black sheath.

"Is that a real sword?" Michael asked.

Spike drew the blade smoothly and tested the edge with his thumb. A faint line of red appeared on his skin. "Looks like."

"Whoa." Michael collected himself. "Uh, I'd invite you in, but Mom said no. And she worries me more than you do."

"Porch it is."

"Thanks. I'll go get her."

Spike perched on the porch railing, adjusted his sword, and pulled his cigarettes and lighter out of one of the huge coat pockets. He was halfway through the smoke when the door opened again.

Leah wore the uniform of a Next Generation Klingon, brown leather pants and vest, her shoulders and arms bare except for arm bands around her biceps. Knives tucked into any place a knife could be tucked, and the disruptor on her hip looked dangerous. Someone had done a near professional makeup job on her face, and the browridges worked well with her long hair, hanging in braids down to her hips.

His lips twitched. "That's a good look for you."

"I don't have to take guff from you, Klingon women kick ass." Leah let herself run appreciative eyes up and down the vampire's costume. "Who'd you mug for the outfit?"

"Last minute cancellation. Is Ellie here?"

"No, she's at the station party up the canyon."

"Dammit."

Leah frowned. "I thought she said you thought Halloween is dumb. Which is oddly amusing, considering the source."

He sneered at her. "As if I think it's funny to see all those stupid copies of that idiot count hanging all over the place. Though I like that one." He nodded at the neighbor's yard, where a Count Dracula dummy was plastered against a tree, as if there had been a mid-air collision. "Wonder what the great prince of the undead thinks about that?"

Leah blinked. "Vlad Tepes died in, what, the 1400s? 1600s?"

"Then he got up and started kicking Turkish ass. He's a git. Anyway, do you know where the station party is? I was sitting around and thought, 'What the hell, free booze' and figured I'd drop in on them."

"Free booze? At a Utah party? Dream on. It's up Little Cottonwood Canyon, at an old mill that's nicely creepy and probably haunted. But you'll never get there without a car."

Spike flicked away his cigarette butt. "I've got a car. I've even figured out the weird addresses around here. Little Cottonwood, that's up that way, right?"

"Roughly."

He noticed she carefully stood on the far side of the house threshold, on the far side of the barrier between them. After the night he'd brought Ellie back and had been caught by day in the basement, Leah had been careful to maintain the wards that kept him out of the house. That had been weeks ago, and he and Ellie had kept their affair to other locations. Ellie wasn't going to offend her sister by bringing someone home Leah didn't want. That cheap motel room they'd spent the long Columbus Day weekend in had been fun, though, pizza and hot wing delivery, liquor store around the corner, pay per view porno movies, and fourteen straight hours of sex. Someone at the station had commented that Elizabeth was losing weight. Not in the places that counted.

Leah disapproved, but silently. There was a bit of news, though, that might cheer her up.

"I'm leaving in a couple of days," he said, pulling out another cigarette.

"Leaving where?" she blinked.

"Town. Got someplace I need to be, time to go."

He forgave her for that first burst of delight and relief that went across her face. It was closely followed by the realization that someone else might not be so pleased. "Does Elizabeth know?"

"Not yet. One of the reasons I'm trying to track her down."

She smiled wryly. "You certainly know how to make a woman's party. I'm not going to say I'm going to miss you."

He smiled around the cigarette. "Wouldn't believe you if you did." He nodded. "I'll be off, then." He headed for the porch steps.

"Spike."

Wary, he turned around. Leah stepped out of the house, outside of the barrier, but Spike didn't need to see the way her hair moved in a private breeze to know she had all her protections up.

"What?" he asked cautiously.

"You've made her happy," she said after a moment. "Thank you for that."

He only nodded and headed on his way.

The car was parked up on the next block. Spike watched for police cars as he walked back to the black Mustang convertible he'd stolen for the night from the parking lot of a bar on State Street earlier that evening. Not that the DeSoto wasn't a nice car, but the night required something with a bit more obvious flare. The owner was probably still undiscovered under that bush in the back corner of the lot. He probably had hours yet before worrying about anyone looking for the wheels.

He paused and looked around before getting in the car and leaving. Streets he'd walked down without anyone giving him a second look. A city not crawling with demons and darkness. How peaceful. But vacation time was over. Hell, he should just go back to the DeSoto and head out now, farewells were stupid.

But his groin tightened at the idea of Elizabeth and the way she welcomed him. Some farewells were worth the delay. He'd promised her she'd smile oddly for a week when he left. He could do that.

***

The old mill in Little Cottonwood Canyon was one of the oldest buildings in the Salt Lake Valley, a relic of the Mormon settlement and the efforts to start viable industries in the fledgling colony. It was made of heavy stone with thick walls and small windows. When the mill business had finally folded, the building had lain empty for years before being bought and refurbished for a meeting hall and place to hold parties. Most years at this time it was converted into a particularly effective haunted house, with whispered rumors about lights that turned themselves back on after everyone had left and mysterious movements when only the cleaning crews were supposed to be around. An ancient electrical system and generations of rodents were dismissed as unlikely culprits.

Elizabeth strolled along the gallery above the main hall of the building, bored and lonely. The party was a success, more than two hundred people paying money to get in to listen to music, drink and dance. Jerry had insisted that all his DJs show up to press the flesh. Elizabeth scolded herself for not being one of the few diehards that resisted the idea. Alicha wasn't here, though an old blind woman could be excused for not wanting to negotiate a crowd of people in an unfamiliar building.

And Spike wasn't here. He'd greeted the idea of a Halloween party with a raised eyebrow and a curt "You're joking, right?" The look he'd given Elizabeth when she expressed cautious interest had been a mix of disbelief and scorn.

She was a grown woman, there was nothing binding between the two of them. The only reason for her grinding disappointment was the idiotic adolescent remnants in her gut of other parties spent on the sidelines looking at the celebrants and wondering what they hell they had to be so happy about.

She'd chosen her costume on the off chance her lover would see her, but it only attracted leers from drunken co-workers and guests. You'd think these people had never seen a properly worn Italian renaissance gown before, to be so fascinated by the very low neckline. But lord, her tits were getting cold, she should have brought a shawl or something.

Hell, she should just go home. Leah would be throwing the kids out soon, the circle would be by for the Samhain ritual at midnight. There was always something soothing about the ceremonies marking the turn of the year, when the gates between the world thinned. The circle turned, new joys arose, old griefs faded.

And there might be left-over candy to munch on while drinking the rest of the beer and watching stupid horror movies with the kids. There were worse ways to spend an evening. She headed for the stairs.

Jerry the station manager, dressed in cowboy gear, caught up with her as she reached the main floor and the crowd. "Lizzie! Just the woman. We're doing karaoke in an hour, would you--"

"No."

"Come on, you know you're great, we all know you're great--"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm going home."

"No! You can't--what are you looking at?"

He stood in the big doorway of the hall, scanning the crowd leisurely, right hand resting casually on the hilt of the sword at his hip. The black coat and the stunningly white shirt played up the paleness of his skin and hair. Light glittered off of the embroidery on the coat and caught on the leather on his legs. The pants were so tight you could see the muscles move as he walked. A disdainful smile flicked across his lips as he looked around, looking for someone.

Jerry grinned. "Hey, he made it, great. There's some people who want to meet him--"

"Leave him alone, Jerry."

"Look, Lizzie, community supported does not mean charity, we need ratings just like anyone else, and his ratings are pushing yours. If I can just convince him not to leave like he said--"

"What?"

"What?" Jerry stared at her. "He told me last week he was leaving. I bet one of the conglomerate stations offered him a deal." The shocked look on her face sank in. "You didn't know? He didn't tell you?"

Elizabeth stared at Spike, still searching the room, smiling cooly at people who tried to catch his attention. "No, he didn't," she said, admiring her calm.

"Well, good, then you're not both working some sort of deal to jump ship on me."

"If he's leaving the station, Jerry, he's leaving town. He told me he didn't know how long he'd be in Salt Lake. I guess the wind changed." And the faint crackle she heard down in her soul was only a few idiot hopes cracking, not her heart.

"Well, dammit. Shit. I hope he gets laryngitis and his bleached hair all falls out." Jerry slunk away.

Elizabeth faded into the crowd. He'd warned her he wouldn't be staying. The idea of him staying was ludicrous. It was just-- She'd gotten used to spending weekends with him, to letting passion dictate her actions, to being desired. Could she fold herself back into the quiet woman who played old music and worked in a library? Did she have any choice?

She found a window that looked out into darkness. A plastic skull with a flickering battery-operated bulb inside occupied the deep window sill. She picked up the skull and held it so the glowing eyes looked out the window with her.

"He did warn me," she told the skull quietly. "I'm just being stupid. To be expected, I guess. It's just the surprise. One has to get kicked out of the fairy hill eventually and go back to the real world where demon lovers are just legends." She stroked the curve of molded plastic meditatively as she stared at the dark window. "It's not like I didn't know it was coming."

"The plastic ones don't talk back, you know," came his voice from behind her.

She gasped and turned. Spike stood barely two feet away. A quick glance at the window's reflection showed she was still alone. Damned silent, sneaky vampires...

Spike tapped a finger on the plastic skull. "Knew another woman who talked to skulls, but she was mad. I remember one night after some especially bad tequila I heard the skulls talk back. Let's put your friend back."

He started to take the skull from her, but Elizabeth hung on. "I like him," she protested. "He's a good listener."

"You haven't named him, have you?"

She contemplated the skull, gazed at its glowing eyes. "Elwood."

He grimaced. "Elwood Skull. Lovely." His eyes went to her costume. "So which dead queen of Henry the Eighth's are you?"

"You're a hundred years off, this is Italian, not Tudor."

"What it is, is barely there."

The Italian Renaissance had been known for lush fabrics, long narrow skirts, and very low square necklines. Her dress was black velvet with silver and pearl embroidery, and if the neckline were a half centimeter lower she'd be in violation of local ordinances on public nudity. Clever boning in the bodice held everything up, but the effect was rather--assertive.

Spike gazed at the presentation. "It's rather like those trays of hors d'oeuvres they're passing around." He raised a thoughtful hand. "Is sampling allowed?"

She rapped his fingers lightly with her fan. "No." She gave his outfit the slow assessment it deserved. "Where did you get those pants? They look painted on."

"Personal collection, as they say. I'm thinking of nicking the boots."

"And lose your deposit at the costumers? For shame." She smiled up at him. "I like the coat. Jerry said you were leaving."

"Did he." Spike scanned the room, hoping for a station manager he could terrorize for a moment. "Well, it's true."

"When?"

"Next couple of days."

She blinked at how soon. "Were you going to tell me? Or let me figure it out by the new person who took over your show?"

"There are no bonds between us, Ellie--"

"Oh, I know that, dammit. But it's considered polite to at least say good-bye or thank you or even Here's a tip, you were great, when you leave the woman you've been fucking."

"That's why I'm here. Dammit, do you think I put this shit on just because Jerry asked?"

She managed not to grin. "No, I think you put it on because you know every straight woman in the room and most of the gay men are trying to stare at your ass."

"Which is covered by this coat, thank you very much."

"Which isn't closed completely in the front, and those pants are very tight, and thank *you* very much."

His glance at her neckline hinted at what he wanted to say, but a group of people pushed by and kept him from commenting.

"The food and bar are in the next room," she said, leading the way. "DJs get freebies."

"Oh, good. Real beer or that damned 3.2 stuff?"

"You can get Capt. Bastard, Squatter's is a sponsor."

They maneuvered through the crowd. Elizabeth fobbed off people who tried to talk to them with polite smiles and obscure insults. For some reason, the skull she held cradled in her arm and stroked like a lapdog disturbed people. They were nearly across the room when Spike jumped and turned.

"What?" Elizabeth asked.

He glared at the people around him. "I could've sworn somebody just--"

"Did you just get pinched?" she grinned.

"I don't know." No one was close enough, and no one was smirking to themselves. He studied everyone in view, but all he saw were humans. Bored demons sometimes snuck into Halloween parties just for amusement's sake, but none had apparently bothered tonight. "Where's the bar?"

Nicole the production secretary was currently handling the food and drink situation. She recognized both Elizabeth and Spike when they showed up at her counter. Elizabeth glanced away politely as Nicole recovered from her inadvertent look of lust at sight of Spike.

"'Ello, Nicky," he said with a hinting smile.

"Hello, L.G.," she answered, managing not to sigh. "What can I give you tonight?"

Elizabeth admired the lack of authenticity of a pair of Vikings strolling pass.

"Just some beer and something to nibble on, I want to start off slow."

Nicole took a deep breath, which was not wasted in her Xena Warrior Princess outfit. "What sort of things to nibble on?"

Spike wondered how close he was to getting kicked by Elizabeth. "Plate of hot wings, love, extra spicy." He fished a bottle of Capt. Bastard out of the cooler and popped off the cap. "Ellie, the usual?"

"Yes, please." She accepted the dripping bottle of hefeweisen that he opened for her and ignored the look of hatred Nicole sent her. "Any pepperoni rolls left, Nicole?"

"Yes."

"Could I have some please?" Nicole sighed and put two on a plate. "Could I possibly get a few more than that?" Three more appeared, then the plate was shoved at her. "Thank you, Nicole."

Nicole turned her smile back on for Spike. "How many wings, L.G.?"

"Half a dozen should do for starters. If I want anything else I'll come back."

"Oh, good. I'll be here."

He winked and led Elizabeth off to a table. "You're not a nice man," she observed as she set down plate, bottle and skull.

"Such a surprise." He glared at Elwood. "You sleep with a stuffed Old One, you eat with skulls. I worry about you."

"I sleep with vampires, too," she said, nibbling on a roll. "Goes with the territory." She glanced at Elwood. "Forgive me for not sharing, but I don't think your jaws work."

"Please don't do that," he said very quickly. She looked at him in surprise, and he forced himself to stop thinking about Dru.

She shrugged slightly. "Why'd you change your mind about the party?"

"Was bored." He dropped most of the act. "Thought it would be a good chance to talk to you."

Elizabeth wanted to ask where he was going, but she didn't think he'd answer. "I'm glad you came by. If nothing else than to see you in those pants."

"Had to ask your sister for directions."

"A man asking for directions. I think it's a sign of the apocalypse."

"Nah, apocalypses generally have a better special effects budget. Leah was not disappointed at the news."

"No, I imagine not. Have you told Tango?" Damned catty, insecure female impulses.

"Tango? Hadn't thought of it." He grimaced at her frown. "Haven't seen her in a couple of weeks anyway, she took up with some heroin-bombed guitarist she met at Club DV8."

"Oh, great. I worry about that girl."

Spike ripped the meat off his last hot wing. "I didn't come here to talk about Tango, anyway." He glared at her. "Came lookin' for you."

She hid her smile behind her last pepperoni roll. "And you found me."

"I made you a promise about some things that would happen when I finally left. Can't do that here in the middle of all these silly wankers."

"Not easily, anyway. If I recall those things you mentioned correctly."

"Something about you not walking properly for a week once I was gone," he said, smiling faintly. "And smiling oddly when people asked you why."

"It only took me two days to recover from Columbus Day weekend," she said, just a touch nervously. "I'm not sure I want to know what's involved in me not walking properly for a week."

He sighed dramatically. "Damned breakable mortals." He grinned at her look of uncertain interest. "Come on, I can show you the car I stole for the evening."

She paused in getting up. "For some reason I don't think you're kidding. I really don't want to spend my All Hallows in jail for being caught riding in a stolen car."

"We won't get caught."

"Oh, my god."

He came around the table to take her hand. "Trust me. And don't laugh like that. Oh, leave the damned skull."

Elizabeth scooped up Elwood. "I can at least take him back to his window so he can watch the people who think they can dance. I don't think he likes you," she said to the skull. The lights in the eyes flickered, and she jumped. "OK, the batteries are dying."

"Ellie, put down the skull. Please."

"Spike, it's just a plastic ..." She moved to put the skull back down on the table anyway, and the lights flickered twice. "Or I can just put it back in its window where it has a view." The lights stayed steady.

They looked at each other a moment, then Spike gestured towards the great hall and the music and noise. Elizabeth carried Elwood carefully in the crook of her arm, not petting it this time.

Someone with a camera appeared out of the crowd and aimed at the two of them. "No," Spike snapped.

"Come on," the photographer grinned, "the vampire queen and the skull of her favorite victim." Elwood's eyes flickered again. "Come on, let me take the picture before its batteries die."

Spike pushed Elizabeth on the way again. "No." The photographer sulked away.

"Spike, you don't think--"

"Not unless I have to. Just put the damned thing in its window and let's get out of here."

The window where Elizabeth had found Elwood was at the far end of the room from the doors. She placed the skull carefully back on the deep sill and made sure it could see the room. "Is that all right?" she asked before she could help herself.

"Ellie ..."

The skull's eyes flickered faintly.

"Blink twice if it's OK," she said in a tight voice.

A pause, then the lights flickered twice.

"Oh, Goddess," Elizabeth breathed.

"We're leaving," Spike declared.

The lights in the entire room flicked off then on, bringing nervous giggles and theatrical screams of terror from the crowd. The DJ at the sound system in the corner looked at his equipment, puzzled. Elizabeth pulled free of Spike's hand. "Cisco, what is it?"

"I shouldn't complain, I guess," the DJ said, "but when the lights flickered nothing happened to my board. I thought it was all the same circuit." The lights flickered again, and the sound system played on. "See?"

Spike came over and grabbed Elizabeth's wrist. "We are leaving, Elizabeth."

She stared at him for his use of her full name. "What is it?" He was watching something, she saw, something moving in the air above the heads of the party crowd. "What?"

"This place is supposed to be haunted, right?" he asked tensely.

"Well, yes, but every building in this town over eighty years old is supposed to be haunted."

The crowd was being very stubborn, and he pulled her in close to him as he tried to push his way through. "Haunted by what?"

"Ghosts aren't real, Spike--" She went silent as her vampire lover turned to give her a very pointed look. "Shit," she whispered.

"What's supposed to be in here?"

She looked around nervously. Her eyes fell on Elwood in his window sill. The eye lights chose then to blink again. "Um, the usual workers killed by unsafe machinery, some kid's supposed to have hung himself but no one can even agree what decade that happened in, spirits without name or motivation--the usual."

"Love, you do not even want to know what I think of as usual." He elbowed someone dressed as The Mummy out of the way--after checking to make sure it was mortal--and saw a clear line for the door.

All the lights in the place went out.

The crowd held its breath for an instant, then the screams started. Building codes required emergency lighting in public places, but somehow those lights did not come on. Only the exit lights above the doors remained on. The crowd started milling around for the doors.

"Just a fuse, everybody, just a fuse!" someone authoritative yelled. "If you want to go outside, don't push, but we should have the lights back on soon."

A wind blew across the crowd, and spectral fingers brushed across faces. Elizabeth buried her face in Spike's shoulder as a hand brushed her cheek. This time the crowd was not reasonable.

Someone knocked Spike and Elizabeth off their feet, but he managed to control their fall. Elizabeth clung to him, and he kept his body between her and the worst of the trampling crowd. The wind swirled after the people, seemingly sweeping them out. But when Spike had room to move, the wind came back and pushed him down again.

He struggled to his feet, Elizabeth in his arms. He could see there was no one left in the room. The wind eased, and he took the opportunity to put Elizabeth down and pull her towards the door. The huge Reaper's scythe that had been hanging on the wall detached and dropped towards them. Spike leaped back, pulling Elizabeth off her feet. Sparks flew as the steel blade bounced off the stone floor. The main door boomed shut.

"Ellie, is there another door?" Spike demanded, searching the darkness with vampire sight. Wisps and veils of energy floated through the room around them.

She clung to his coat lapels, shivering. There were no lights except for a few battery-powered torches and plastic jack-o-lanterns. Very slowly she turned to look where Elwood Skull would be. Two orange lights hung in the darkness at window sill level. They blinked twice at her.

"Door, another door. There should be one in the other room, fire exit. But I can't see anything."

"I can." He took her arm and tugged her after him towards the room where the food was.

The wind came up again, and fingers peeled his hand off her arm. Elizabeth stumbled as her hair whipped into her eyes. She fell back towards the center of the room, away from Spike. Swearing, he went after her. He saw the energy veils swirling around her, plucking at her hair and her hands as she tried to fend them off. As soon as he reached her and got a hand on her, the wind stopped dead.

"Now what?" Elizabeth whispered, huddled against him.

"I'm not sure."

The veils hung in the doorways, blocking the exits. Spike started to take a step towards a doorway, and the wind swirled in warning.

"They don't want us to leave," he said slowly.

"Why?"

"I don't know. But this all started when we tried to leave."

Fear made Elizabeth unreasonable. "Dammit, I do not want to spend my night of farewell fucking held hostage by a bunch of god-damned ghosts!"

Something caught Spike's eye, and he turned to look at Elwood. The lights in the skull were flashing rapidly. "I'll be damned."

"What?"

"Look at Elwood."

Fearfully she looked over. "Oh, good, maybe his battery's finally wearing down." The lights stopped blinking and were, if anything, brighter. "Or not. What about it?"

"Say what you just said again."

"About what?"

"About being held hostage."

"Oh, uh, that. Um, I don't want to spend my last night with you stuck in here with a bunch of ghosts."

Elwood flashed several times. Elizabeth whimpered.

"That's it," Spike breathed.

"What's it?"

"They chased everybody else out but us."

Elizabeth took a step back away from him, stared at him for a moment, then stared at Elwood's bright orange eyes. "No."

"I think so."

"Are you telling me that a bunch of ghosts got upset at the idea of you and me leaving to find a place to fuck and threw everyone else out?"

"Pretty much."

"To what end?"

He grinned at her then realized she couldn't see him. She jumped when he reached up to put his hands around her face. "I think they want to watch." He leaned down to kiss her. Elwood blinked happily.

She kissed him back, of course, then pulled back anxiously. "Watch? What do you mean, watch?"

"You, pet, and me. Banging our brains out." He ran a finger along the edge of her dress's neckline, enjoying the soft skin.

Elizabeth stared around at the dark, searching for what Spike could see. Elwood blinked on the window sill. "No, this is too weird. I can deal with the vampire thing, I can deal with Elwood blinking at me, but the idea that a bunch of ghosts wants us to do a peep show for them--no."

"Hey, ghosts get bored too, love." He saw one of the glowing veils drift down towards Elizabeth. "Shoo," he said, waving his hand. The veil sailed off.

"What?" she asked nervously.

He tried not to chuckle as he put his arms around her. "They're not going to hurt you, pet, they just want to watch." He explored the back of her dress. "Why doesn't this have a zipper?"

"Because they didn't have zippers in Renaissance Italy." She slid a hand under the black coat to caress him through the shirt. "Um, linen." She started on the coat buttons, then shook herself. "No, we can't."

He'd already found the place where the lacing in the back of the dress was tied. "Why can't we?" he asked as he slowly pulled the loose end of the knot.

"Because there are people who want back in--"

"Who won't be able to." He loosened the top section of lacing and started working down.

"But who could see in."

"Doubt they'll see anything." Explorations began on how her hair was held up.

"And these--ghosts are watching, and it's too dark to see you, and, dammit, I want something softer than the floor."

He paused in unlacing and thought a moment. "Good point. Anything soft around here?" He forced himself not to laugh as the spirits went winging off in all directions.

Elizabeth frowned. "I think there's a couch up on the balcony--eep."

Spike bent slightly and swept her up in his arms. "Have you go up stairs in the dark in a long dress? Don't want you tripping and breaking your neck." She chuckled and put her arms around his neck, and he headed for the stairs. The wind swirled around them, not as violently but definitely not in approval.

"Now what!" he snapped. "I've been a patient man, but if you lot don't let me get to work here--"

"Um, Spike?" she said cautiously.

"What?"

"Elwood."

He glared at the window sill. The orange lights blinked slowly, ominously. "Oh, for fuck's sake. If we go upstairs, you can't see?" The lights blinked rapidly.

Elizabeth dropped her head on his shoulder. "I don't believe this. You know what this means, don't you?"

"For God's sake--what's a man got to do to get laid these days? You just wait," he snapped at the skull. "I've got my hands full." He started up the stairs. The wind brushed past uncertainly. He felt Elizabeth shake slightly. "Buck up, love, I don't think they're going to get mean. If they did, they wouldn't get their floor show."

"I'm OK," she said in a slightly shaky voice. "I keep thinking of laughing, but then I remember what we're arguing with."

He paused on the landing to kiss her. "Ignore them, pet. Or I'll have to distract you."

"Oh, please."

"Where's that couch?" He looked around and saw a big sofa in the far corner. Luckily no one had spilled anything messy on it in the confusion of the spectral eviction, so he walked over and deposited the woman in his arms onto the cushions.

She left her arms around his neck and kissed him. "La, sir, you're not going to leave me alone with these spectres flitting about and staring at me, are you?" He grinned and leaned down to kiss her back, but the sword on his hip shifted. "I could make some utterly rude remark a la Mae West," she said softly, "but I'll resist the urge."

"Well, it is my sword, and I am happy to see you, but let me get rid of this thing." He pulled away far enough to yank the sword and baldric over his head and drop them on the floor. Elizabeth started on the coat buttons.

The wind came up again, with a definite sense of impatience.

"Bloody hell," Spike sighed. "I'll be right back. Let me get the voyeur. What?" he asked when she giggled a little madly.

"I was just hoping that spectral score cards weren't going to appear out of the ether."

"Got to watch out for that Lithuanian judge. Don't move."

"Not me. If you could find a couple of real candles, that would be nice," she called after him.

"I'll look around."

But when he was gone down the steps, Elizabeth remembered that she and Spike were not alone in the darkness, and it really was very dark in this old building, and she could hear things moving. A breeze drifted through her hair, and she huddled back into a corner of the sofa. She did believe that these--things--meant her no harm, but still, ghosts. The formerly living.

Though, to be technical, Spike was of the formerly living. But he was the formerly living who walked around, not drifted invisibly through the air--not that she'd seen, anyway--

"No, you are not allowed to get hysterical," she told herself firmly. "If Elwood's buddies just leave you alone, everything will be fine. Dammit, Spike, what's taking so long?"

She heard a petulant British curse from downstairs and relaxed. The sound of the boots coming back up the stairs was definitely irritated. "Ghosts are the most annoying, self-centered, egotistical twits I've ever met," Spike complained as he came up. "'Ooh, I died 'orribly, aren't I scary.' Please, everybody dies 'orribly, get over it."

All Elizabeth saw were Elwood's glowing eyes, which gave off enough light in the darkness to show Spike's face and pale hair. "I wouldn't know," she said, hoping her voice was steady.

He turned the skull to face him and glared. "Are you happy now?" Elwood blinked his eyes twice. "Bloody stupid plastic skull." Elizabeth bit back a sudden giggle. "Now what?"

She memorized what view she had of the vampire with the platinum hair holding the plastic skull with the glowing eyes. "Have you ever seen Kenneth Branagh's 'Hamlet'?"

His lips twitched, and he glanced back at Elwood. "Olivier was better. Though I liked Branagh's Frankenstein. There, stay there and like it," he told the skull as he set it on the railing. "Found some candles." He went to the nearby window sill, pulled out his lighter, and lit the four candles on the candelabra he'd brought with him.

Elizabeth relaxed with the return of light, especially light that reflected off the silver and black embroidery on Spike's coat and lit his cheekbones so nicely. "It's almost a pity to make you take off that coat."

He paused as he unbuttoned the last button. "Don't have to," he said thoughtfully.

"And miss my last view of your shoulders? I don't think so."

He quirked a smile and slowly took off the coat, freeing one shoulder, then the other, keeping his eyes on Elizabeth. She leaned back and watched. The coat dropped to the floor, and he casually scooped it up and tossed it on the far end of the couch. Then he started pulling his shirt out of his waistband.

"Need any help with that?" Elizabeth asked, nibbling on a finger.

"No, thanks. Save your energy." He took his time about untying the knots that held the shirt cuffs closed, then pulled the shirt over his head and tossed it onto the couch. He posed a moment, and she took full advantage to watch the candlelight on his body.

"My," she said finally. "Words fail me."

He licked a finger and ran it down his chest and belly down to the waist of his pants, where he toyed with the zipper. Then he held his other hand out to her. "Come here," he said softly.

She rose and put her hand in his. He took her other hand as well and, as he pulled her against him, drew them behind her back and held them together with one hand. "You didn't get into that dress by yourself," he whispered against her lips. "You're going to need help getting out of it."

"Be happy to return the favor," she offered with a smile.

Chuckling, he rubbed his groin against her. "I love an impatient woman." She tried to pull her hands free, knowing it was futile. He leaned down only far enough to kiss her lightly as he continued unlacing the back of the gown.

The bodice loosened. He lowered his head to kiss her shoulder, nudging the cloth off with his chin. With his neck in reach, she ran the tip of her tongue up to his ear, where she bit his earlobe lightly.

"Kitten bites," he murmured, nibbling on her shoulder. "Tickles." She took that as encouragement and bit him again, harder.

Skin broke, blood flowed, and it took a second before she realized what was happening and pulled away. Spike grabbed her head and kissed her, savoring the taste of his own blood on her tongue.

"Tastes good, doesn't it," he whispered. "Want more?" He lowered his mouth to her throat, bringing the bleeding wound close to her lips.

She hesitated, then slowly licked at the welling blood. Sharp, metallic, oddly rich. She put her lips to his skin for more.

"God," he moaned. The demon was very close to breaking loose, burning to bury fangs in her throat and finish the job.

Instead he freed her hands and yanked the dress off her shoulders and down her body. He shoved down the zipper of the leather pants, then pulled her hard against him, off her feet, the dress falling to the floor. Startled, Elizabeth threw her arms around his neck.

Two steps took them to the wall. She gasped as the cold stone hit her bare skin, but it was muffled by his mouth on hers. He pulled her legs around his waist then shoved his pants just far enough down.

"Hold on," he said, then he forced himself into her.

She moaned helplessly. His hands held her hips tightly, keeping her from moving. His body pinned her to the wall, but she was able to get her arms around his shoulders and her hands into his hair. His lips searched for hers; she met him eagerly.

He drank her heat, bathed in it, forced himself not to think about the river of fire in her veins. The pulse under her skin burned his hands, echoed in his head. If he tasted her blood right now, he'd take it all, and he knew her last moans would be of pleasure, not fear or pain. He focused his attention on the wet furnace he slid in and out of and on the need she whimpered against his lips. He tried to match his thrusts to the pounding of her pulse, sliding his right hand up her ribs to just under her breast, where he could feel her heart.

She didn't even feel the wall at her back anymore, just his body in her arms and between her legs, his mouth on hers, his hair in her hands. He moved harder into her, and she gave up, letting all the nerves in her body unhitch and her muscles react. He groaned in ecstasy, his body answering.

The blood lust faded as he came, lost in the shudders of the release. But the memories lingered, of lovers dead in his arms, of blood laced with more parts lust than fear. It was just as well he was leaving, the temptation was growing to see if Elizabeth's last words would be of passion or pain. But he could hold on for one more night.

Elizabeth let her head fall back against the stone wall. Despite the chill in the air and the wall, sweat rolled down her face. Spike leaned in to lick the drops off her chin, then kissed her slowly. Her hands shook as she caressed his shoulders. All that held her up were his arms around her waist and the wall at her back. He finally pulled away from her and shifted his hold so he could carry her to the couch. The dress she'd been wearing was kicked out of the way.

She sighed in contentment as she settled into the cushions, then ran a lazy hand down the side of his face. He smiled faintly and felt his ear to see if he was still bleeding. His fingers came away with a few last drops. He hesitated, then traced her lips with his blood. She gently licked his fingers clean, then ran her tongue along her lips.

For a heated moment he wondered what kind of vampire she would make, imagined hunting the night with her. Then he imagined her sister's reaction and the kind of vengeance a mage circle that powerful could visit upon him. Some things were better not risked.

He sat up slowly, running a hand down along her body. She smiled as she stretched, then gasped as a hip joint resettled with an audible pop. "Ow."

"Silly fragile creature," he observed lazily.

"Huh, silly." She reached out and trailed her fingers along his still-leather-clad thigh. "I see someone couldn't be bothered to take all his clothes off."

"Something came up." He raised a foot to begin prying off the tall boots.

"Can I help?" she offered with a smile. He paused, then slid down the couch and held his leg up.

Not being anyone's fool, she took the opportunity to fondle the back of his knee, then worked her way down his calf to the foot. The boot slid off easily enough, and she contemplated his bare foot. "Toes," she observed.

"So they are."

"And if I recall correctly, you're ticklish."

"Naked women should not mention tickling."

He retrieved his foot before she could do more than count toes and turned his attention to the other boot. They joined her dress a few feet away, then he stood up to slide off the pants.

"Oh, take your time, please," she said before she could stop herself. He grinned at her over his shoulder, and she blushed but did not retract the request.

Perhaps more hip movement took place than was strictly necessary, but leather pants as tight as these did require a bit of wiggling to get out of. Elizabeth propped her chin up on her fist and watched the entire procedure closely.

"Num," she commented softly as he tossed the pants onto his coat and shirt. "If I said thank you, would you think me utterly wanton and lascivious."

"Probably," he said, strolling back towards the couch.

"Oh, good."

He sat down again and ran a light finger along her torso. "Someone mentioned tickling ..."

She tried to grab his hand, but he was quicker than she. "I take back what I said about tickling." Her eyes narrowed, and she slid her hand up his thigh again. "I mean, there are much nicer things to do than make people helpless with giggling."

"Such as?"

"Making them helpless with pleasure comes to mind."

Her hand went exploring in the dark curls, and he closed his eyes and laid back with a smug grin.

"Oh, you think so," she commented.

She curled her fingers around his balls, rolling them gently. Sighing contentedly, he let her do as she would.

She pulled her legs up, then leaned forward for a closer inspection of the object of her interest. "Are there Jewish vampires?" she asked.

"Probably. At least they were before they turned. But I don't know any well enough to ask what you're obviously wondering about. But I've still got a scar--oh, lord ..." Her warm, wet tongue explored his whole length, then back down. She draped herself over his leg so she could reach down and suck gently on his balls.

He reached down and brushed her hair back so he could watch. She'd done her hair up with braids and plastic jewels and pins, but it was all falling down now. Slowly he began unraveling the braids.

"You have too much attention to spare," she said softly, nibbling on his hip. "Tsk."

His fingers tangled in her hair as she pounced and sucked all of him into her mouth. "Watch the teeth," he gasped.

She hummed as she worked, which made him twitch. He ran a distracted hand down her back to her ass, tracing the warm curves between her legs. She jumped a little as he searched around for her clit. Closing his eyes to concentrate, he slid two fingers inside her even as she worked on him, though she kept losing her rhythm as he moved his fingers back and forth. Finally he just pulled her hips over to him so he could do something with his bored mouth.

As his tongue and fingers explored, she had to pause to catch her breath, still cradling his balls in her hand. Realizing she was neglecting him, she pulled him into her mouth, but slowly, to torment him. He probed inside her with his tongue just as slowly, then pulled out to suck hard on her clit. She managed not to squeeze him too hard as she came. When she got motor function back, she tried to return the favor.

He dearly enjoyed the way her concentration kept slipping as he nibbled on the various bits he could reach. He let her be for a few moments, though, to enjoy the feel of her mouth warm around his cock. The woman had an unnatural talent for blow jobs that he was definitely going to miss. For now, though, he wanted to watch her face as he pushed her over the edge again. When she pulled back to pay attention to the tip, he shifted around to stroke her chin with a light finger.

"Come up here," he whispered. She hesitated, then went.

She settled into his arms against his chest. He slid his fingers into her hair and kissed her, giving full attention to the effort, moving from lips to throat to shoulder and back. When he moved his hips to find the way in, it only took the slightest movement on her part to help them slide together. She had to break the kiss to breathe as he thrust slowly in to the hilt.

He ran his hands down her back, down to her ass, enjoying the feel of the muscles and warm flesh moving with him. She whimpered faintly in pleasure each time he slid into her, rocking her hips to meet him, tightening internal muscles to try and keep him inside. A shiver broke her rhythm. He chuckled faintly at the swift hedonistic smile that went across her lips and at the gasp he forced out of her as he began moving faster.

Small detonations fired in her nerves. She was reduced to bodily impulses, shoving hard down against him as he thrust in. Finally the pressure let go, but slowly, untying her muscles as it went till she could only collapse against him weakly. He managed to keep his eyes open as he came so he could watch her face. She was utterly limp on top of him, but he didn't care.

After several contented minutes, she opened her eyes. And saw Elwood Skull on the balcony railing, eyes still glowing orange, pulsing faintly with what looked like interest. It took a few moments to get enough neurons lined up to talk. "Spike?"

"Hm?" he murmured sleepily.

"Are we still being watched?"

"What?" He blinked back from his fantasy of slaves bearing food and drink while he made Elizabeth moan with pleasure--and she him--in new and inventive ways amid piles of soft cushions. "Watched?"

"Our friends. Elwood and company."

"Oh, shit, yeah, them." He looked around lazily. The veils and spots of energy were still about. "Yeah, still there. I think they invited friends. Spectral pay per view or something. We should get royalties." He ran his hands up and down her back appreciatively. "Or at least a tip."

"I think I want to leave."

"Tired of being watched?"

"I forgot about them, and now--it's just creepy."

"We'd have to get dressed," he said with mock dismay.

She suddenly smiled. "If watching you put those pants on is even half as much fun as watching you take them off, it'll be worth it."

"Lascivious, wanton wench."

"Damn straight."

More than one of the loops that held the lacing on Elizabeth's gown had been ripped loose. Spike only smiled when she gave him a pointed disapproving look, then generously offered to tie her back into the dress. She then lounged on the couch and watched him shoehorn himself back into the pants and boots. He declined her offer of help, pointing out that it was her idea to leave in the first place. He didn't bother tucking in his shirt or buttoning the coat and carried the sword rather than slinging it over his shoulder.

"My cloak and stuff are downstairs behind the bar," she said when they were ready to go.

The wind kicked up again, but half-hearted.

"No, I'm sorry," Elizabeth said, "no encores. Elvis has left the building." She headed for the stairs. Elwood blinked slowly, dimly, and she paused. "But thanks for the opportunity." She leaned over and kissed the top of the skull. The lights glowed brightly for a moment, then went out completely. "Elwood? Shit, I killed it."

Spike looked around. "They're all gone. Great, let's get out of here." He handed her the candelabra so she could find her way in the darkness. She proceeded down the stairs with her skirt held up genteelly with one hand, then paused to admire her candlelit reflection in one of the downstairs windows. She looked like something off the cover of a gothic romance novel, even without the vampire at her shoulder being visible.

She recovered her cloak and bag from behind the bar as Spike finished off a few of the remaining hot wings. "Got everything?" he asked, stashing bottles of beer in the capacious pockets of the coat.

"Looks like. So, how do we get out of here without attracting all sorts of attention?"

"I've got a plan."

He blew out the flames on her candelabra and took her hand to lead her through the main hall to the big foyer where the double wooden doors were still closed against the crowd outside. Fists thumped impotently on the doors, and shouts could be heard.

"If anyone's still listenin'," Spike said softly, "turn the lights back on when I open the doors." He tucked Elizabeth into a corner next to the doors, then went to the big handles on the inside of the doors. He pushed down the latches, then yanked open the doors, pulling the one on Elizabeth's side around with him.

The lights blazed on, the sound system cut back in at volume, and the crowd outside roared. Some more nervous heads hesitated, but most of the people rushed inside, not looking around as they came. Spike listened to the rush, then peeked around the edge of the door. No one in sight, and he grabbed Elizabeth's hand to pull her along with him as he slipped outside.

The parking lot was deserted. "Got away with it cold," Spike said with a grin.

"They're going to wonder where we went," Elizabeth commented, pulling her black cloak around her against the breeze--the natural, cold breeze.

He pulled her hood up over her head, shrouding her face in shadows, invisible to all sight but his. "When next you see them, tell them you were kidnapped by the forces of darkness."

"Have I been?" she asked softly. He nodded solemnly, then he grinned.

"Take your car back to your house, I'll meet you in the alley." He kissed her swiftly before disappearing into the night.

She hesitated, but only to be amused. Explain matters to mundane humans or join her vampire lover for one more night's adventures? Her car keys were in her hand before she even finished formulating the question.

The circle's vehicles were still parked in front of the house. Elizabeth turned off her car's engine and coasted into her parking space behind the house, not wanting anyone to hear. As she closed and locked the car, another vehicle rolled down the alley behind the house, well-tuned engine purring softly. She paused to look it over, admiring the dark lines.

"Someone's looking for this," she observed to Spike, sitting smugly at the wheel of the expensive convertible.

"Not yet, I imagine. Get in."

The possible headline flashed through her mind: "40-year-old librarian caught joyriding in stolen convertible." It might look nice in her scrapbook next to her dean's list honors.

"Isn't it a little chilly to have the top down?" she asked as she settled into the passenger's seat and fastened the belt. He wasn't wearing his, she noticed.

"It's a beautiful night, too nice to close ourselves in." He grinned up at the moon peeking through the dried leaves on the trees and drove back to the street.

It was close to midnight, the turn of the year in the ancient calendar. Elizabeth closed her eyes, feeling the night roll over her, wondering if other ghosts rode the air as the veils between the worlds thinned. The streets were almost empty as they drove up the lower slopes of the mountains hanging above Salt Lake, silent except for the wind going past and the rattle of the leaves on the trees. Spike poked at the radio, looking for music.

"Oh, don't," Elizabeth said.

He shrugged. "Fair enough. So where to, pet?"

"Pull over up here."

They were on a narrow street that ran along one of the mountain outcroppings that overlooked the city. When the car stopped, Elizabeth got out and walked to the side of the road, where dried weeds mingled with trash. The entire Salt Lake Valley spread out below, geometrically precise rows of streets marching to the western mountains in a grid of light. The moon was coming up behind them, sailing amid the broken clouds.

"And this night means nothing to you?" she asked Spike as he joined her.

"Just another night. Better chance of finding people wandering about, easy to get your hands on chocolate." He looked at her, peeking around the edge of her hood to see her face. "Different for you?"

"Maybe it was just my imagination, but even as a kid Halloween night has always been electric for me. The other kids would be off at parties bobbing for apples, I'd be out in the dark watching the moon. But then I've always been a mad moon-worshiping pagan."

"So why aren't you back with Min and the others at their ritual?"

"Min?"

"Your sister, Athena Minerva, after that painting in the house."

"I won't tell her that till after you're gone."

"Thanks. So why?"

Elizabeth turned and gazed up at the moon. "She and I, we don't need words." She suddenly laughed. "You must think this is terribly gothic and trite, a pagan and a vampire wandering around in the night on Halloween."

"All we need now is a cemetery." He nodded down the slope. Marble pillars and monuments caught the moonlight. "If you want to be gothic and trite ..."

"Oh, lets." Cemeteries normally did not have soft horizontal surfaces, she mused to herself. But the thought of strolling through a cemetery with a vampire on Halloween appealed to the chaos in her soul.

City Cemetery was the oldest in the city, dating back to the Mormon pioneers. It was quiet among the graves, and dark once away from the streetlights. The pale marble of the monuments glimmered enough that Elizabeth could step around them. Her cloak's hood was up, making her all but invisible. Faint light caught on Spike's face and hair, but he kept to the shadows of trees and tall monuments.

"I'm surprised you're willing to perpetuate a cliche," she asked quietly. "What with All Hallow's being such an average night for you."

"I like cemeteries, rent's low, neighbors are quiet, not much traffic." He paused beneath a weeping willow and looked out over the lawn and the markers. To his eyes the moonlight was brilliant, and the moving shadows danced. But he wasn't going to say he found it weirdly beautiful. Those were someone else's thoughts. "Besides, it's a cheap date."

"Granted," she smiled. "And oddly appropriate."

"And there aren't any plastic pumpkins or cute little vampire cutouts or ghosts with smiley faces anywhere." He paused at a large statue of the Virgin Mary holding her arms out slightly with her head bowed in melancholy. "Hello, love, what's a nice Catholic girl like you doing in a Mormon cemetery?"

"Looking out for the several thousand Catholics buried up here," Elizabeth said. "There are a bunch of Chinese graves in another section. The place isn't quite as homogeneous as the brochures would have you think." She peered at the base of the statue. "What's that?"

He looked closer. "It's a little skull, looks like one of those Dia de la Muerte sugar things. Looks like some flowers and stuff, too." He raised an eyebrow at her. "If we look around, think we'll find signs of sacrifices and such?"

"If we do, I'm not bothering it. I see some of the things that get sold in the little barrio stores, I'm not stupid."

He strolled over to her. "Don't worry, I'll protect you from any evil brujas running about." He leaned around her hood to give her a kiss. Sudden giggles from a few dozen yards away caught his attention. "Sounds like some other people had the same idea."

"Little wanna-goths playing evil, no doubt."

"Wanna go play with their brains?"

"Sure."

The giggles came from four college-age people with candles and beer bottles near an old mausoleum.

"We shouldn't be here," hissed one young man. "And why'd you make us leave the flashlights in the car?"

The young man in the lead took another swig of his beer. "Spirits don't like flashlights, Josh."

"Well, then, give me some of the matches."

"What, you afraid of the dark?" He grinned at one of the girls. "I think he's afraid of the dark."

"If you're not afraid, how come you've got a candle?" she asked with a challenging smile.

"Yeah, Todd," Josh sneered. "What's to be afraid of in the dark in a cemetery on Halloween?"

Todd stared back, then blew out his candle. "I'm not afraid of anything. How about you?"

Josh blew out his candle. "Me neither. C'mon, Steph, blow out yours."

"Oh, like heck," protested the girl next to Josh.

Todd's girl blew out her candle. "Stephanie's afraid of the da-ark."

Stephanie guarded her candle flame, the last one, against drafts. "I'm afraid of tripping over a tombstone and breaking my ankle. It's not like there's anything to worry about out there. Dead people can't hurt you."

A chuckle came out of the darkness. "You'd think so, wouldn't you, love," came a male British voice.

The foursome froze.

"What was that?" Todd's girl whispered.

"Nobody," Todd said bravely. "Just somebody trying to scare us. Steph, let me light my candle off of yours."

"I thought you weren't afraid?" Josh challenged.

"If there's somebody out there, I want to see."

A hand reached around Steph's shoulder, a pale hand emerging from a black coat cuff covered in silver and black embroidery, with fingers that snuffled the candle flame. "And maybe you don't." Darkness claimed them.

Steph screamed and jumped away from the figure suddenly standing behind her. She fell against Josh, who dropped his candle. He had a quick vision of pale hair and a pale, narrow face, then the man was gone, leaving a chuckle behind.

"The matches, the matches!" Todd's girl screamed.

"Back to the car!" Josh yelled.

This was generally agreed to be a good idea. They hurried through the tombstones and trees. A dark figure appeared from behind a tall, obelisk, a cloaked and hooded figure with shadows where the face should be.

"You shouldn't be here," said a low female voice. "You should leave."

"We're trying!" Steph yelled.

The figure faded back into the shadows of the obelisk. The foursome took the opportunity to run.

Spike appeared behind Elizabeth and put his arms around her. "That was fun," he said. "Let's find some more people to play with." She laughed, and part of him was surprised to hear it was a sane laugh. He and Dru used to hunt in cemeteries. Not that he and Elizabeth were hunting. Yes, it was time to get out of this town.

She put her head back against his chest. "If there are any more people about, I'm sure they've run after hearing that bunch scream. I just hope the cops don't come to investigate."

"Oh, if they do, we'll just play with them instead." He pushed the edge of the hood back to kiss the side of her neck. "I think we can amuse ourselves until they show up."

She raised a hand to stroke his face. "I'm sure we can." She turned around and smiled up at him. "It occurs to me that I didn't get a chance to finish what I started back at the mill."

"What was--" He broke off as her talented fingers explored the front of his leather pants. She needed both hands to work the zipper. She kept smiling up at him as she slid her fingers in to fondle him. Then she delicately hiked her skirt up far enough to kneel easily in front of him. Spike leaned back against the obelisk and gave himself up to her heat.

The smell of the leather mingled well with the scent of man. Elizabeth put her mind in record mode to capture everything--his grunts of pleasure, the way he twitched as she fondled his balls, the feel of him in her mouth. She rested a hand on his belly, trailed her fingers along the soft skin above his pubic bone. His hand shook slightly as he slid fingers into her hair and tried not to thrust too hard into her mouth. She traced one fingertip back from his scrotum to his ass and very gently stroked the opening. He came with a harsh growl and only just managed not to yank her head against his groin.

She made sure not to miss a single drop, only pulling back when he stopped shaking. A final quiver went through him as she fondled his balls, then she stood, smirking. He was leaning completely against the obelisk, a smug grin on his face.

"There, I hate to leave a job half finished."

He cracked open his eyes and smiled at her. "You think you've finished me? Not by half, love." He slid his arms around her under the cloak and pulled her against him to kiss her. "In your hot mouth is not the only place I want to be buried. Right here seems good as place as any, Mother Earth's handy, and soft. Though not as soft as you," he added, his fingers moving up to her neckline and sliding under cloth to tease her nipples. Her breath caught with desire, and he took that as agreement. He let her go only long enough to drop the coat off his shoulders and onto the ground in the shadow of the obelisk, then tugged her down to lay next to him.

He kissed her as he unfastened the clasp at the neck of her cloak. "So," he asked softly, "ever had sex in a cemetery before?"

She lowered her eyes modestly. "Um, well, since you ask ..."

"No!" He pulled back a little so he could see her better. "Who? When?"

"I hardly think that's any of your business! Besides, when you live with your parents, you take the opportunities you can."

"Let me guess, sweet sixteen and never been kissed?" he grinned as he played with her hair.

"No, and I'm not going to tell you." She reached under his shirt and began tracing muscles. "Aren't there better things we could be doing than discussing ancient history?"

"Ancient," he said cynically, "right." He tugged fretfully at her bodice. "Still too tight."

"I've got to return this to the opera company, don't you dare rip it. Any further."

"Don't want to explain that your lover was impatient?" But he unhooked the finger that was testing the strength of the cloth in front and reached behind her for the ties of the lacing. "Your sister wore something easy to get in and out of."

Elizabeth stared at him. "I'll tell her you said so--or does she already know that you found her costume to be easy to get in and out of?"

"What! No! God, woman, no, I did not proposition your sister." He paused a moment in speculation, and Elizabeth laughed. "And you don't need to tell her that, either, that the thought may have crossed my mind. In passing. Very briefly." He studied her grin. "And you don't believe me."

She rolled up on one elbow. "My dear man, I believe you think about fucking anything with a compatible genome--and maybe things that I really don't want to know about." She leaned over and kissed him. "Just don't call me by the wrong woman's name."

The lacings were loose enough that he could tug the shoulder of dress down and kiss bare skin. "Which is why endearments were invented, for people who couldn't remember who they were fucking." He reached in to tug a breast free and leaned forward to suck on the nipple. She murmured happily and slid her fingers into his hair as she laid back down.

Slowly he began pulling the skirt up, fondling warm skin as he came upon it. Her hand slid along the leather covering his hips, then went back to the open zipper of the pants. She tried to wiggle her fingers in, but there wasn't room.

"I would think pants that tight would be painful," she murmured as her fingers explored.

"Don't normally have someone's very talented fingers down there stirring things up."

He pushed her skirt all the way up--she lifting her hips helpfully--and settled between her legs. She used both hands to shove the pants down off his hips as he slid into her, then wrapped her legs around him and held him tight. He didn't move, just savored the heat surrounding him and her lips under his. When she tightened internal muscles around him, he only murmured his appreciation. He didn't start moving until he felt her shiver, then he kept the thrusts as slow and long as he could. She whimpered against his mouth, hardly able to catch her breath as spasms shook her. She wrapped her arms around him as tightly as she could, helpless to do anything more.

When he came, all his muscles gave out, but she didn't seem to mind his weight falling on her. Then again, she seemed barely aware of much of anything. By her faint smile, though, what she was aware of was very pleasant. He ran his fingers through her disarranged hair contentedly, plotting the best way to make her come again in the shortest amount of time.

Then the wind shifted, and he smelled it.

His sudden tension disturbed Elizabeth's blissful lethargy. "Wha--"

Very carefully, he put his hand over her mouth. She blinked until she could focus and saw Spike staring intently to his left. She turned her head so she could see, and only his tightened hand kept her from screaming.

A man--or the remnants of one--squatting down nearby, staring at them. Rags for clothing did nothing to hide the decaying flesh underneath. Its eyes, eyeballs rolling in the semi-rotted sockets of its skull, moved restlessly, first staring into the darkness of the cemetery, then back to the pair on the ground. The hands scrabbling in the grass were little more than bones. Zombie.

Spike felt Elizabeth hyperventilating from fear and leaned down. "Sh," he whispered. "It's just a zombie." Her outraged look protested the word "just." "He's just looking. He's not going to mess with me, he knows better, but you've got him curious." The zombie shuffled forward, and she tried to jerk away. "Don't move!" he ordered as quietly as he could. "They're like dogs, they like to chase the things that run. They don't eat humans, but he might hurt you by accident."

A squeak got past his hand, and he imagined it was "Eat!"

The zombie took two more steps closer, and Spike winced at the smell. Then he saw what the zombie drug after him, a long-dead human arm. "Oh, please, is that what you're here after? Your master thought it would be great fun to send his zombie out on All Hallow's for a spot of grave robbing? What kind of amateur do you serve?"

It cringed, either at the words or the annoyed vampire. "Oh, relax, Bowser, I'm not going to eat you." He gagged at the thought. But he moved his hand from Elizabeth's face. "See, love, just a big, stupid dog."

She clutched his shirt with both hands. "It's--that's--"

"A zombie, the letter Z in the kid's big book of dead things. Some poor sod who owed a wizard money, maybe, and gets to spend his unlife working it off. Come round for a bit of knacker's meat, looks like."

"Oh, blessed mother, that's an arm--" She broke off as the zombie stretched its head out, audibly sniffing at her. It started to reach for her, but Spike slapped its hand away.

"Bad dog, no touching." He looked at his fingers. "Ick." He wiped them off in the grass.

"Make it go away," she said anxiously.

"He shouldn't be here at all, somebody's probably waiting up for him to get home. Shoo, Bowser, go home. Shoo." The zombie stared at him, very puzzled. "Idiot." He sat up and reached out to grab the arm away from the zombie. Elizabeth cringed back. Spike flung the arm out into the darkness. "Fetch, Bowser, go get it. And keep going!" he called as the zombie loped after its prize. "Quite the active place around here, eh, love?"

She clutched her cloak around her as she sat up. "You touched it."

He glanced at his hands. "Yeah, I should wash. Not very hygienic creatures, zombies." He leaned forward and kissed her. "Never seen one before, huh?"

"No! Who the hell in Salt Lake is doing voodoo!"

"Got no idea, love, and I'm not going to ask. They're pretty harmless, though the groundskeepers won't be pleased when they find where it was digging." He sighed at the look of fear she cast out into the darkness. "Well, that wrecked the mood. I guess we won't be playing in any more cemeteries on Halloween, hm?"

She stared at him a moment. "No, I guess we won't. Not with you leaving."

"Ah. Yes, there is that."

"I think I would like to go home now."

He sighed and nodded.

They pulled themselves together and headed back. Elizabeth froze at one point, thinking she heard snuffling in the bushes. But Bowser, if it was he, did not appear, and they reached the car without incident.

Spike pulled in at the first all-night gas station and washed his hands. Elizabeth was feeling sheepish by the time he returned. "I made a fool of myself back there, didn't I," she said as he slid back behind the wheel.

"For someone who had a very nice bit of fucking interrupted by the appearance of an animate, rotting corpse, I think you handled yourself very well." He grinned at her as he drove away. "God knows I have some problems with his timing."

"I am sorry Leah won't let you in the house."

He brushed clean fingers across her cheek. "It's all right, pet. I don't blame her. Shall I find the nearest cheap motel?"

"No," she said after a thoughtful moment.

He didn't argue the point, just drove to her house.

The cars were gone, but the lights were still on in the Winthrop house as they pulled up in the alley. "Is she waiting up?" Spike asked.

"Probably meditating. She generally stays up all night on All Hallow's." Elizabeth stared at him. When he was gone, these past few weeks were going to seem like some terribly gothic fantasy. A vampire. Her lover. She was going to miss him, but saying such a thing was folly. She wondered where he was going.

He shifted so he could face her and traced her chin with a finger. "I hadn't planned on staying so long. But I don't regret it."

She managed to smile. "Neither do I. Though what you've done to my reputation at the station is scandalous."

"They're just jealous."

"Well, yes." She caught his hand and kissed his fingers. "Hopefully no one will be offended if I smile at happy memories." She studied him for a few moments, then decided that the conspiracy of weird that had plagued the evening wouldn't stop her. "Scoot the seat back."

"What?"

"Scoot the car seat back."

He looked puzzled, then, with a grin starting, reached down for the lever that slid the driver's seat as far back as it would go. "Like that?"

"Just like that." She slid over to kiss him, and he helped her settle on his lap.

"The seat reclines," he said helpfully, running his hands over her ass.

"This is fine." She felt him tugging at her skirt and reached down for the zipper of those very decorative but very constricting leather pants. He had to help when the zipper proved difficult, then she shooed his hands away so she could fondle him as he finished tucking her skirt up out of the way.

He paused to enjoy her touch, then lifted her so he could tilt his hips to the right angle. She moaned slightly as she settled onto him, feeling him so very far up inside. Slowly she pulled away, then lowered back down. He thrust up to meet her, and she gasped. Her muscles gave out briefly, and he held her tight against him, moving into her. She leaned forward to kiss him, sliding both hands into his hair and rocking her hips in time to her tongue in his mouth. He growled approval and tightened his hold on her body, not letting her move as he set the pace.

She had to break the kiss to breathe as he thrust harder into her. Part of her wanted to cry out, but some slight shred of discretion reminded her of all the neighbors' houses around. The idea of someone peeking out a window and seeing the respectable librarian next door fucking in a car triggered a hard spasm of delight.

He laughed softly at the groan that escaped her and tugged her mouth back down to his. "Scream for me one more time," he whispered in her ear. "Who cares if anyone hears?" He kissed the side of her neck, and the tip of his tongue felt the fang scars. Other lusts stirred. Carefully he pulled away and looked her in the eye, brushing her hair back from her neck. She felt the tips of his fingers on the pulse point in her throat, caressing the marks of other nights. Something in his eyes changed, but she didn't hesitate about nodding. He smiled and drew her close.

His lips were soft on her throat, the hand cradling her head gentle. She put her arms around his shoulders as she ground her hips against his. She was already coming when she felt the twin points of his fangs on her skin; when they broke through, she cried out in ecstasy, the neighbors forgotten.

Only a couple of mouthfuls, then he forced himself to stop. He came hard, and he knew his hands left bruises on her as he held on. She lay limply on his shoulder, panting. The smell of her blood tempted him, but he dropped his head back against the seat, away from the fire he still rolled around his mouth.

He finally sighed and found his voice. "You okay?"

"Um hm." She felt him run his fingers through her hair and wanted nothing more than to sleep in his arms one more time. But. She forced herself upright.

He saw the look on her face and understood. It was time to call an end. He cupped her face in his hands and tried to think of something to say.

She touched his lips briefly. "Good-bye," she whispered.

He kissed the fingertip. "Good-bye."

Her lips shook faintly, then she leaned forward to kiss him fiercely one more time. He held her tightly, but when she finally pulled away he didn't try to hold her. They looked at each other one more moment, then she was gone, out of the car and running through the grass to the house He watched to make sure she got inside safely, but he sat and watched the stars for awhile before starting the car and driving away.

***

Pounding on her door brought Elizabeth out of bed in the morning. Her head hurt, and she hated herself for crying herself to sleep. She grabbed her robe and stumbled to the door. "What?" she said, yanking it open.

Leah looked upset and relieved. "You are here. Thank god."

Elizabeth smiled, though it hurt. "You thought something desperate might have happened?"

"The thought crossed my mind." Leah's eyes flickered from her sister's swollen eyes to the bruise on the side of her neck, but she stayed focused on immediacies. "However, I do have a grievance."

"What?"

"His taste in 'Remember Me' presents is completely unacceptable."

"What are you talking about?" A dozen images of possible farewell gestures from a vampire crossed Elizabeth's mind, and she became worried. "What?"

Leah crooked her finger for her sister to follow her to the backyard and outside. "That," she said, pointing to the arbor.

Elizabeth stared. "Oh, my god. Bowser."

"It's got a name!?"

The zombie from the cemetery cowered in the deepest shadows, staring at the two women. It seemed to have lost the arm it was carrying, fortunately.

"He looks scared," Elizabeth said, despite herself.

"Where did it come from!" Leah demanded.

"He must have followed me home."

"For Goddess' sake, from where!"

"Uh, City Cemetery."

"Oh, for the love of--you're not keeping it."

"No, I guess not."

"No, I'm calling Alicha and Roger and Martin right now, and that's going back wherever such things come from. Say good-bye to Bowser." She headed back inside.

Elizabeth sighed. "Yeah, I guess. Time to let the world of the night go back to the dark, where it belongs."