"Hello there, pet."

He had to give her credit for her reflexes. Within seconds, he was flat on his back, with an angry Slayer perched on his hips. Spike lifted his hands in surrender.

"Hey! Truce and all that!"

Buffy Summers smiled grimly at the vampire beneath her. Warily, she rose to her feet, her green eyes never leaving his face. "Why in the hell did you come back? I thought we'd seen the last of you."

Spike hopped to his feet, dusting off his black leather coat. "Aw now, luv, don't be testy. I never said I wouldn't be back." At Buffy's decidedly testier glare, he shrugged. "Well, I mean, after the first time I said I wouldn't be back."

Buffy seated herself on the bench again, deceptively relaxed. With a grin, the vampire sat next to her. "So, how's it goin', Slayer? Stayin' out of Angel's bed?"

His sassy question earned him a fist across his nose, rocking his head back sharply. "Ow! Damnit, Buffy, I was just trying to make conversation."

Buffy rolled her eyes and crossed her legs. Involuntarily, Spike's eyes were drawn to the smooth expanse of thigh exposed by Buffy's short skirt. His mouth watered at the sight and he had to force his eyes back upwards. She was staring at him with a knowing gaze.

"Conversation that is none of your business. Did you find Drusilla?" she asked.

Spike sighed. Drusilla, his undead love. Yes, he'd found her.

Sort of.

"Well, uh, yeah, I guess you could say that."

Buffy frowned at the vampire's melancholy tone. "You sound sad, which is strange enough the way it is. What happened?"

Spike turned to face Buffy, his eyes once more straying to her bare legs. With a sigh, she tried to tug the skirt down, to no avail. "Well, after I left Sunnyhell, I drove back down to Brazil, which is where I had left her. But, not surprisingly, she was long gone. Then, I trailed her back to Prague. She had been there, but just as I was about to find her hiding place, she jumped ship again."

Buffy, despite herself, was getting caught up in her mortal enemy's story. "She must've had help. I can't imagine Miss Cuckoo getting around that easily."

Spike decided to ignore the insult and continued. "That's what I thought! Dru is lot of things, but self-sufficient isn't one of them. A vampire named Tibias was sheltering her and keeping her one step out of my reach."

"Tibias? I seem to remember Angel mentioning a Tibias."

Spike nodded. "Angel, well, Angelus made him. Sometime in the eighteen-thirties. He's young, as far as vamps go, but smart and resourceful. And did I mention nasty as a rabid dog?"

Buffy smiled. "No. Imagine that."

"Yeah. Now, Tibias, he isn't known for treating his women right. I've seen what he's done to his human captives and it isn't pretty. He can do things with snakes that would give you nightmares for a month."

"All right, I don't need graphic imagery. So Tibias has Drusilla. I take it he's abusing her?"

Spike hung his head. "Abused. Past tense, luv. When I finally caught up to them, in Kiev, Dru was...she was..."

Buffy was surprised to see Spike's eyes fill with tears. She reached out and took his hand, lacing her fingers with his cold ones. "She was what?"

"He was using her as a...a...wall hanging."

Buffy blinked. Twice. As the picture began to form in her head, her eyes widened in horror. "A...a...what?"

"Well, as you so well know, vampires can only be killed by wooden stake or beheading or fire, not by being used as a wall hanging. She had been crucified, hung upside down, slashed and tortured. When I found her, she had almost completely drained from the thousands of tiny cuts he had made on her body. It was horrible, Buffy, the worst thing I have ever seen!"

The Slayer gaped at him in horrified shock. He sat before her calmly, showing little emotion save for a tightening around his mouth and his tear-filled eyes. "Oh, Spike, oh my God. What did you do?"

Spike had covered Buffy's hand with both of his and he was rubbing tiny circles into her palm. "I killed them all. Every last one of the sick bastards. Including Drusilla."

"You...you killed her?"

"She was unrecognizable, Buffy. Very nearly dead and if you thought she was crazy before, well, you ain't seen nothin' yet."

"She welcomed death?"

"With open arms."

They sat in companionable silence for a while. Finally, Buffy looked up at him, a faint smile playing around her lips. "Why are you telling me this?"

Spike squeezed her hand. "You and me, we're a lot alike. You, of all people, understand me best. You know what the lonely nights are like."

Buffy nodded. "Hey, you wanna fight? For old time's sake?"

The suggestion seemed to perk Spike right up. He grinned like a small child at Christmas. "Yeah? You don't mind?"

Buffy stood up, slipping out of her leather jacket. "Not at all, it's been kind of slow around here lately."

"Well, no bloody wonder, pet! You're hanging out in Restfield Cemetery, for fuck's sake! No one gets buried at Restfield anymore," Spike teased as he tossed his coat over the bench. He faced the grinning Slayer.

"So, pet, until first blood?"

 

The End

 

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