He stayed a month after Buffy was gone. Every night he forced himself to kill demons, but his motivation to be noble and good went away with her. After a while he wondered why he even bothered. She had been his soul, his conscience- his reason for everything. Nothing kept him there anymore. Dawn was being taken care of by the Scooby gang, who didn’t seem to want him around. There was no purpose for him to exist at all really. He seriously thought of ending it all, but couldn’t go through with it. He liked this world, and he knew hell probably wouldn’t be as favorable to his needs. The devil probably didn’t hand out packs of cigarettes or booze. Memories of before Sunnydale filled his mind. Back then the only things that mattered was a fresh feed and decent shag. He found himself longing for things to be that way again.

He found a surgeon in New York. The doctor specialized in mystical cases. The operation cost a fortune. That was no problem, though. One glance at his gameface and nicking a person was no sweat. After a few rounds, here and there, he had enough cash.

There was a great risk that he wouldn’t come out of it at all. And if he did, the chances were his mind wouldn’t be quite . . .right. His brain might become a scrambled egg. Spike sort of hoped that it would. Then he wouldn’t be able to think of her. Or if he did, he’d be too messed up to care. Except, he did come out of it. And his mind worked fine.

He chose a hooker on the corner. Easy catch, one to ease back into the groove again. He hadn’t expected her to break down on the way to his hotel room. She cried, telling him she couldn’t go through with it. This would be her first time with a stranger for pay.

“Shut your trap!” he demanded. “Get up and get to it. I’ll shag ya so hard you won’t even know what’s goin on.”

The girl shook her head. She started to tremble. “I’m sorry. I can’t do it.”

He lifted her up off the ground. He grabbed her shoulders, pinning her to the brick wall of the darkened alley.

“I was going to use you first, but I guess we’ll just skip to the fun stuff.” He let the demon rise to the surface.

The prostitute wriggled in his clutch, horror on her face. She screamed as his features became monstrous. His eyes were yellow, and his skin wrinkly. When his mouth opened, sharp fangs inched toward her ivory neck.

Tears streaked down her cheeks. “Oh God! I don’t want to die. My sister. What will happen to my sister?” she whimpered.

Spike jerked her. “What about your bloody sis!?”

Her sobbing grew stronger. “She’s all alone. I’m the only one there to take care of her. I promised to take care of her,” she choked.

Spike froze. Then he did something that infuriated him. He pictured Buffy that last night. ‘I'm counting on you ... to protect her.’

“Till the end of the world,” he whispered. His face changed back to human. He released the girl roughly. She was breathing hard, disbelief in her eyes.

He reached into his duster, taking out a wad of cash. He threw it at her. “Go buy yourself and your lil’ sis a hot meal. You’re skin and bones. And get yourself a decent job.”

After that, he walked away. He took out a fag and lit it. He puffed away as he walked to his Desoto. Realization had hit him. He was corrupted. Buffy may be dead, but she was still with him. She’d always be there, haunting him. He was broken. He’d never be able to hunt again- chip or no chip.

Spike got into his parked car, and headed back to Sunnydale. Back to Dawn, to fulfill his promise.

Spike watched Carol intently as she fought in the shadowed cemetery. He examined every punch and kick she threw at the vampire. She had gotten better, he had to admit. But she wasn’t good ‘enough’.

The girl dodged a blow from the vampire. She hit him hard in the jaw. Then she lifted her stake and stroke. He turned into a burst of ashes.

Carol brushed herself off. She spun around, looking quite proud of herself. “So, how was I?” she asked.

“Very good, luv. You’ve improved tremendously,” Spike informed.

She smiled. “Well, I’ve got a good instructor.”

“You have every move down. But . . . “

She crossed her arms. “What is it? I did everything you told me to do.”

“Yes, yet you think too much about what to do next. You need to feel the fight. You need to . . . dance.”

A snort was heard from Carol. “What?”

Spike frowned. “Dance, pet. Be taken over by the flow. Get drawn into the rhythm.”

“If you want to teach me to dance, The Light is open all night.”

“The new club?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Carol stepped closer to him. She was so near that he could hear her heart rate. She put her hands on his chest. Her green eyes met his.

Spike took in an unnecessary breath. “Carol . . .”

She grinned. “Dance with me, Spike.” Her tone was seductive. She moved in to kiss his mouth.

In a quick motion, Spike pushed her away. He glared. “Get a grip, Slayer!” he growled. “I’m a vampire. Get your fucking marbles straight.”

Carol stood up tall. “You’re different. You stake your own kind,” she protested.

“Doesn’t matter. I’m still evil.”

She laughed. “Yeah right. That’s why you help the council. Why you train slayers in combat?”

Silence fell over Spike. He really didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t that he didn’t find Carol attractive. She was ‘very’ nice to look at. He just couldn’t get into another relationship. EVER. They would only end up leaving him again. It was a known fact. Humans die.

“Look here, Carol, find yourself a nice college bloke . . .”

“This has nothing to do with what species you are. I’m just not her.” Water began to appear in her gaze. She blinked it away.

His mouth parted.

“Thought I didn’t know about her? Well, I do. I’ve read my history. William the Bloody falls for Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I know it all.” She turned around. Her body shook. “I’m always being compared to her. My watcher does it all the time. I’m sick of it! I’m not Buffy! I’ll never be good enough. Not to Fredrick . . . And not for you.”

Spike swallowed. Poor girl. He knew what it was like to be in a one-way love situation. He went to touch her shoulder.

She thrust him off. She lifted her head to face him, fury set on her features. “And what are you trying to do? Get me to fight like her?”

“That’s my job. I want to help slayers live as long as possible. Buffy lasted the longest of any slayer.”

Tears flowed down her face. She had given up on wiping them away. “I don’t care! I can’t have a normal life. So, why even want to live? I welcome death.”

‘Every slayer has a death wish.’ Spike’s eyes widened. Oh God!

The next thing he knew, she was running. He started to follow, but stopped. She needed time alone right now.

He fetched a smoke, lit it, and brought it to his lips. He strolled down the road toward home.

|} - - -> <- - - {|

Spike threw down his cigarette. He stomped it out with his boot. Rebecca hated smoke in the house. He obliged her bidding, especially since she was pregnant again. Her health was very important to him.

He entered, careful to be quiet. He didn’t want to wake anyone if they had gone to bed. He took off his coat, hanging it up. Then he unlaced his shoes and placed them near the door.

He turned, startled to find Rebecca. She wore a light blue robe, which was becoming a little too small for her slightly rounded stomach. Her brown hair hung loose to her shoulders, wavy from a recent perm. She stared at him sternly.

“William, you didn’t wipe your feet,” she observed. “I bet they’re all muddy.”

Shrugging, he gave her a smirk. “Probably.”

Rebecca rolled her eyes. She knew it was hopeless. “How’d it go?”

A sigh escaped his lips. “Not good,” he confessed.

“Come on and tell me about it in the kitchen. I’ll make you some hot chocolate.”

“With marshmallows?” Spike asked eagerly.

She shook her head. “Yeah, sure.”

“Can I have some?” came a voice.

They shifted to see a girl about fifteen. She wore a long nightgown and slippers. She descended the rest of the way down the stairs.

“Katie, I thought you were in bed,” Rebecca scolded.

“I was,” the teen said. “But I was only lying there. I heard you guys. So, can I hang with you guys?”

Rebecca glanced at the clock. “I don’t know, Kate, it’s almost twelve.”

“Mom!” Katie whined.

Spike stepped in. “It’s Saturday. Let the bit stay up.”

“All right,” Rebecca gave in. She smiled at Spike. “You always favor her side. Over two-hundred and you never grew up.”

He followed her into the kitchen. “No, I don’t rightly think I have.”

Spike and Katie settled at the island on stools.

“You’re so much more fun than mom and dad,” Katie told Spike. She swung her legs back and forth.

At that moment Spike could have sworn he saw Dawn. Katie reminded him of her grandmother all the time, but right then she seemed to ‘be’ her. He lifted his head. Rebecca was rummaging through the cabinet for mugs. He let himself get taken away; pretending things were the way they should be. He was in the Summers’ household. Joyce was preparing cocoa for him. The nibblet was chatting away about her latest crush. Buffy was out on patrol. She’d come back any minute. They’d get into a steamy argument about something. . .

“Spike!”

He jumped, reeling back into reality. Katie was leaning toward him, concern written on her face.

“Sorry, spaced out there,” he confessed.

“Yeah, really. Anyway, tell us what happened tonight,” she urged. “How’d Carol do?”

He slumped over the counter. “Well, Carol’s improved. She absorbed everything I taught her.”

Rebecca brought them both their hot chocolate. As she set a mug in front of Spike, she asked, “What’s the problem then?”

“I had to be a git and mention dancing, that’s what. She got up real close and tried to kiss me. She said she wanted to dance with me. I pushed her away, not sure what to do. She started raving about how she wanted to die. Then she ran away.”

“Oh dear!” exclaimed Rebecca.

“I just hope she’s okay. I didn’t mean to make her so upset,” Spike expressed.

Katie plopped a handful of tiny marshmallows into her steaming drink. “But she needs to understand that you aren’t ready for a relationship.”

There was no reply from Spike.

Rebecca eyed him. “William,” she softly said. “I don’t mean to intrude on your personal feelings. But, don’t you think it’s time you do move on? It’s been fifty-five years.”

Spike got to his feet. “Bloody hell! You don’t get it!”

“William . . . “ She didn’t like his choice of language.

Hidden pain coursed through him. “It will never be time. Buffy was my life, is my life. That will never change!” he shouted. He fled the room, and made it to his own.

Checking to make sure the blinds were closed, he collapsed on the bed. He shut his stinging eyes. Memories played behind his blackened vision. They turned into agonizing nightmares of loss.

Spike stood outside a quaint white house. He went up to knock. It was a moment before the door opened. It revealed a man with graying hair. His suit was rumpled and his eyes were red. He looked out at Spike, blankly.

“I need to talk to Carol,” Spike informed.

The watcher took a deep breath. “I’m afraid that is not possible. She’s dead.” The statement came out flatly.

“What!?” exclaimed Spike. “What killed her?”

“A vampire.”

“A master?”

Sadness crossed Fredrick’s face. “No. An ordinary vampire. It attacked her last night before she could make it home.”

Astonishment swept through Spike. “This is ridiculous!”

Fredrick let Spike inside. They sat down in the living room. It was rather bare, except for the substantial supply of books.

“I taught her everything,” Spike said.

“It was not her combat abilities. I suspect she didn’t even try to fight. Her heart was not in it,” Fredrick got out.

“Bloody hell!” Spike pounded the coffee table. “The fucking twelfth.”

As hard as he tried, he couldn’t seem to prevent a slayer to live past their fourth year of duty. He put his head in his hands. He did everything he could to help these girls, but it never seemed to do any good. And he knew why. The council might be blind but he wasn’t. He’d said it plainly before. ‘Every slayer has a death wish.’ There comes a time where they give up.

There had only been one slayer he knew who died without that wish. She jumped into a ball of energy to save others, not to escape. Damn the higher beings for taking her away from him.

“Fredrick,” Spike muttered. “Have you ever regretted your position as watcher? I mean, did you ever consider the fact that all you do is irrelevant? As if there is some force that has decided the future, and no matter what we can’t change it.”

The middle-aged man gazed at him, curiously. “Are you talking about fate? I never saw you as the type to ponder such things.”

Spike sighed. “I feel so insignificant is all. I can’t prevent these girls from dying.”

“Even if it doesn’t seem like it, the slayers lifespan has increased since you’ve started your work. It has gone from two years to four.”

“I know but . . .” Buffy lived five. “They deserve to find love, start a family, and have children. They should be able to watch their kiddies grow big and strong.”

“Spike, these are warriors. Their only purpose is to illuminate demons so the human race isn’t wiped out.”

Spike turned determined eyes toward Fredrick. “I swear that the next slayer will have a chance to do it. I’m going to see that she has the proper opportunity to find a mate and have youngins of her own.”

There was a long silence. Finally, Fredrick placed an old crumbling book on the table. He flipped to a bookmarked page. “The council sent this to me last night. Apparently it was prophesized when the next slayer would rise. This one will be special.”

Spike leaned forward. “Special how?”

“This one will have no beginning or end. She is who she was, and was not who she is, making up what has never been,” Fredrick quoted.

Spike chuckled. “What the hell does that rubbish mean?”

Fredrick nodded. “It is rather cryptic,” he agreed. “I’m still deciphering the rest of it.”

Spike stood up. “You do that, mate. Contact me when you’re through.” He started to leave, but stopped. “Wait, any information on where the next slayer will rise?”

“Oh, um not yet,” the watcher said.

“Okay then.” Spike stepped outside. He put his hands in the pockets of his leather coat. He shivered for no reason. Something was different in the air.

|} - - -> <- - - {|

In a place that wasn’t really a place, and a time without time, were two beings. One was bluish and the other golden. Both of them wore long white tunics that resembled that of ancient Greece. One was female, while the other was male. They stood over a pool of water, staring into the murky depths.

“The slayer has passed on,” the male stated.

“Their times are coming quicker. This one only last a year,” the female responded.

“Their wills are not as strong.”

The female met his gaze. “What shall we do about this, brother?”

The male paced.

“I think our judgment was off before. We should not have killed our slayer,” the female went on.

Her sibling halted. He considered this. “Yes, but we already returned her once from drowning. She knew what she was giving up when she jumped.”

She nodded. “I understand. But she was ‘the’ slayer, not a slayer.”

“Maybe. But we already made our decision. We can’t go back on it. It’s time to choose our next champion,” the other being said.

The female moved her hand across the pool. Ripples went through the water. The image of a girl appeared. She was lying on a hospital bed, soundly asleep. A steady heart-monitor beeped close-by.

The female pointed. “There.”

Aghast, the male exclaimed, “What!?”

“She’s perfect.”

“She’d dying,” the male objected.

The female smiled. “Her body is in a coma. If she were to waken, her brain wouldn’t be able to function properly. And, does she not resemble someone we know?”

Her brother studied the patient. She had long light brown hair. Her body was well cared for, muscled and slender. Her skin was pale from the current condition. Even lying there, destined to never open her eyes, she gave off an aura of strength.

“What are you getting at, sister?”

“That she is the perfect vessel for our slayer.”

The male’s eyes widened. Sudden understanding came over him.

|} - - -> <- - - {|

The young woman slowly opened her eyes. She blinked a couple times. When her vision had cleared, she surveyed her surroundings. She was in a hospital. The sound of the heart-rate monitor beeped in her ears. An IV dripped liquid into arm.

She was confused. She couldn’t remember anything. Her head was like a big fog. The more she tried to concentrate, the harder it became.

The girl moaned and closed her eyes. When she awakened the second time, things were much clearer. She could process everything around her. She still couldn’t recall anything. Yet, she knew for a fact that she despised hospitals. And lying there in bed was her last choice of spending the day.

She sat up. Okay, maybe too fast. She felt dizzy for a few moments. When it passed, she took it slow. Soon she was standing.

The woman smiled in satisfaction. She eyed the IV. This wouldn’t do. She reached over and pulled it out. She stumbled at first. Then it came back. One foot, and then the next. This was great. She’d be out of there in no time.

The door flung open. The girl held onto the bed railing, managing not the fall. A nurse came in. Her face turned to shock.

“Doctor!” the nurse shrieked.

|} - - -> <- - - {|

“Ms. Reese, do you know your name?” the doctor asked. He scanned a pad that contained his patient’s information on it.

She nodded. “Yes, it’s . . . Angela.” The name slipped off her tongue naturally. Still, it sounded wrong to her ears.

The doctor seemed surprised. “Do you remember anything previously to your awakening?”

Angela thought hard. “Some. At first I didn’t at all. But now I remember my mother.” She was quiet for a moment and then glanced up. “And my sister. I think I remember her.”

The doctor nodded. “This is remarkable,” he said. “You’ve been shot in the head, causing you to fall into a deep coma. Your body has been in that state for over a month now. Your motor skills shouldn’t be functioning. And your brain . . .”

Angela sat up straighter. “What am I, some kind of miracle?”

“Well yes. We never expected you to wake at all. You don’t have brain damage, and your memory is recovering. Although . . .”

“What?” she asked, curiously.

“You don’t have a sister, Ms. Reese.”

Silence fell over the room. Images of a fifteen year-old young girl went through Angela’s brain. She sensed a strong bond with the girl. Where did they come from?

“Oh,” she whispered.

“But that is understandable with your condition. Things should become clear in time. You are an extraordinary patient, Ms. Reese.”

Angela nodded.

The doctor jotted something down on his pad. Then he faced her again. “Get some rest. Your mother will be here shortly.” That said, he left.

Angela settled down in the bed. She stared up at the ceiling, feeling not quite right. This wasn’t the way things should be. But she didn’t know how her life was supposed to be. She sighed, letting her eyelids droop. Soon, sleep overcame her.

|} - - -> <- - - {|

She was on some sort of platform. The sun could be seen peeking its way into the sky. Something strange was happening below. Chaos swam from a giant blue light.

She turned to a teenage girl next to her. The girl was staring, wide eyed. “Buffy . . . no!”

“Dawnie, I have to,” she told the girl.

“No!” Dawn yelled in protest.

She held Dawn’s upper arms. “Listen to me. Please, there’s not a lot of time, listen. I love you. I will always love you. But this is the work that I have to do. Tell Giles . . . Tell Giles I figured it out. And, I’m okay. Give my love to my friends. You have to take care of them now. You have to take care of each other. You have to be strong. The hardest thing in this world is to live in it. Be brave. Live. For me.”

She pried herself away from her sister. She ran to the edge of the tower. She jumped. Her body landed in a ball of energy. Sparks traveled through her vains until all she saw was light.

|} - - -> <- - - {|

Angela jolted awake, gasping for air. A gentle hand touched her shoulder.

An older woman stood over her. She had shoulder-length light brown hair and kind eyes. She looked down at Angela, concerned. “Honey, you okay?”

Angela nodded. She hugged the woman tightly. “Mom?”

Mrs. Reese held her daughter. “Yes, dear. I came as soon as I could. You were sleeping. I decided to wait until you awoke. Bad dream?”

“Um, not exactly,” Angela replied.

A warm smile came to Mrs. Reese’s lips. “The doctors are baffled on your recuperation. I really don’t care how or why, just that you are back in the world of the living. They say you can come home in a couple days. ”

Angela groaned. “I want out now.”

“I know, sweetie. They just want to do a few tests.”

“Tests?” There was dread in her voice.

Mrse. Reese patted her arm. “Don’t worry. It’s nothing drastic. Only want to make sure you’re working properly.”

“But, I’m working,” she whined. “Don’t I look like I’m working? 120% here.”

“Glad to hear it. You can show them that on the test results,” Mrs. Reese answered. She studied her daughter closer. There was something different. A glow of determination illuminated off her that wasn’t there before. And her eyes . . . They used to be brown. Now, they gave the hint of green.

|} - - -> <- - - {|

Spike entered the house. He made sure to wipe his feet this time around. The sound of risen voices filled his ears. He shook his head, knowing it must be another one of Rebecca and her husband’s fights.

“It’s not that I don’t like him. But he isn’t part of this family.” That was George, Rebecca’s husband. It was coming from the kitchen.

“George, he has no place to go. You know his crypt was destroyed,” Rebecca defended.

“I agreed to let him stay for awhile. He hasn’t even tried to search for another place to live. It’s been almost a year now. Katie’s become too attached to him.”

“And that’s a bad thing because . . .?”

There was a moment of silence, then a sigh. “He’s not alive. We’re letting a corpse sleep in our home. Our daughter’s best friend is a dead body.”

“William has done more for me than anyone. He took care of me when Mom died. If that’s not human . . .”

“He’s a fucking vampire, Becca! And he’s not William anymore, he’s Spike. William died over a hundred years ago.”

“Oh, so now you’re the vampire expert! You can get in his head and know what makes him who he is. I don’t think so!”

Spike stormed into the kitchen. Their heads turned abruptly toward him. A gasp came from Rebecca. They fell silent at his presence. George appeared to be slightly embarrassed.

“Look here,” Spike said, “I’ll be out of your hair in no time. Just let me get my things.” He began to walk away.

“Will!” Rebecca called.

“It’s all right, Rebecca. Don’t be upset. I understand.” He sent George a death-glare. He really hated the whelp she married with a passion. Sometimes he reminded him too much like Xander.

He left the room, heading up the stairs to his room. He gathered his clothes, cigarettes, and photo albums. The pictures were of the Scooby gang, Rebecca, Katie, and his slayers. And Buffy. He had a lot of Buffy. Dawn gave him all the snapshots of Buffy before she died.

After he put all the belongings in a duffle bag (he nicked it from George), he lit a cigarette and went out the door. He puffed away, going down the street with the bag over his shoulder, worrying about where he could find shelter before the sun rose.