As he walked to his car, Scott Hope was bordering on ecstatic. He

and Buffy Summers had gone out. On a date! It was after dark when

they finally got done at the film festival. Scott had offered to

drive her home, but she declined, saying she didn't live far and

that she had things to do.

<She's weird. But I like weird,> he thought with a smile. He sighed

gently as he dug into his pockets for his keys. When he finally managed

to dig the keys out, he glanced up at the clear sky. <Life's not to

bad right now.> He tore his gaze away from the moon as he neared his

car, and then he saw the man.

The blond man was leaning nonchalantly against the hood of Scott's

car, looking for all the world like he owned it. The man took a long

drag off his cigarette, finally noticed Scott, and tossed the

cigarette to the ground. He straightened himself and sauntered over

to Scott.

"Nice night for a walk, mate," the man commented in a British accent.

"Do I know you?" Scott asked, searching the man's face for any sign

that he knew the man.

"No, you don't." The man's reply was short and curt. His cold eyes

stared hard at Scott, and Scott fought the urge to bare his throat

in submission.

"Look, buddy," Scott tried to push past the man, "I don't want any

trouble."

"Oh, I didn't come here for trouble," the man replied with a smile.

"I just came to have a little chat with Scott Hope." His hand clamped

down on Scott's forearm.

"How did you know my name?" Scott asked, his voice cracking in fear.

<Never go out alone in Sunnydale.> He remembered his mother teaching

him that when he was little.

"You'd be surprised what I know." The man took a step forward, and Scott

took a step back. The man smirked as if to say 'Do we need to play this

game?' Scott's heart sped up. The man laughed sharply, surprising Scott.

"I'm not going to kill you." Scott let out the breathe he didn't realize

he was holding. "Yet." The man grabbed Scott's throat and before Scott's

mortal mind could comprehend what happened, he was slammed into the stone

wall surrounding the theater complex.

"W,What do you want?" Scott stuttered.

"I want you to leave Buffy alone," he stated simply.

"Why?"

"Full of questions, aren't we? Leave her alone because she's mine," the

man hissed.

"Are you Angel?" Scott asked, ignoring the screaming voice in his mind

telling him to shut up. The man chuckled.

"Oh, please. I'm not that wanker," he replied, still chuckling. Then all

the humor drained from his face. "I'm something much worse." Scott let

out a strangled scream as the hand around his throat constricted. "Are

you going to follow my advice?" Scott shook his head. The man chuckled

again. Then that chuckle changed, turned deeper, more menacing.

The man pulled Scott away from the wall until they were both bathed

in the light of a street lamp. "Pity," he smirked as his face changed.

Scott tried to scream again as the man's face became covered with

ridges, and his mouth filled with fangs.

"Let me put this in words you'll understand," the man smiled around

his fangs. "Mine. Don't touch," he growled before burying his head

in Scott's neck.

__________________

Spike let the boy's body fall to the ground after he'd taken his fill

of the boy's blood. He snorted back laughter at the boy's expression;

then, he bent down and felt the neck for a pulse. A slight pulse fluttered

underneath Spike's fingers.

"He'll never last the night," he shrugged. "Might as well help him along."

Spike pulled out a small flask filled with some kind of alcohol. He'd taken

it off some bum he'd killed. "This should be fun," he smirked as he poured

the amber liquid onto Scott's body.

"Waste of skin," he muttered as he lit a match and flung into a puddle

of the liquor. <I wonder if there are any florists open this time of night,>

he thought as Scott went up in flames.

____________________

Buffy woke up the next morning feeling well-rested and down right giddy,

and as she bounced down the stairs, she wondered if Scott would call.

She reached the kitchen expecting to find her mother, but instead she

found a note from her mother.

"Honey, there's food in the fridge. I'll be at the gallery until late.

Oh, and there's a package for you in the living room. Love, Mom," Buffy

read aloud. "Package? Oohh, maybe it's a gift from Scott," she commented

as she hummed her way into the living room.

There on the table lay a red flower box wrapped with a white ribbon. Buffy

hesitated remembering the flowers from Angel on Valentine's Day. Carefully,

she opened the box and was confronted by the site of a dozen white roses.

She gently set the flowers down and picked up the small card the came with

the box.

Before she could open the card, a newspaper lying half under the flowers

caught her eye. "Local boy dies horribly" the small type read, and Buffy's

eyes widened as she scanned the article. It didn't name any names but

the description fit Scott. "Oh, God," she whispered, "God, no, please,

God, no," she murmured as she opened the small white card. Tears were

streaming down her face, making it difficult for her to read the single

word written there, but finally, her vision cleared.

She let out a scream as she read the word. The card fell from her hand and

opened to reveal the word "Mine."

*Fin*

Comments? Send too Samantha McCullah

Get me back to Angel of the Night!

Get me back to Spike's Corner!

Get me outta here period!