Chapter Five

The Time Has Come the Walrus Said

Part II

Written by Phil, Sasha, and Jules

****

There had been a night, a very long time ago when she had been about fifteen, that Buffy had sneaked out of the house to go meet her boyfriend Tyler in downtown L.A for some late night clubbing. Her mom had been waiting for her when she slipped back into her room at 1:30 in the morning and it had seemed to Buffy that no human being in history had ever been that furious. Joyce Summers had quite literally turned red during a heated conversation that had quickly turned into a brutal screaming match. Buffy had never seen her mother that angry before and the memory of how oddly out of character it had been had always stayed with her. Now, for the first time, she clearly understood where that rage had come from.

Fear. Overwhelming, gut-churning, soul-harrowing fear. It was the understanding that someone you loved beyond words could be in mortal danger that cut deeper than anything imaginable, and it was accompanied by the knowledge that it was all caused by a level of stupidity and willfulness that went beyond Buffy's comprehension. The rising anger, combined with remnants of the sickening fear still roiling around in the pit of her stomach, only served to push her past the point of reason. She simply needed the tiniest of excuses and, true to form; the petulant teenager now standing in front of her provided the spark.

"Look, take it easy, okay? It's not like I did anything that you haven't done before," Dawn whined to her older sister. "I mean, you used to sneak out all the time when you were my age and..."

"Trust me when I tell you that this conversation is so not about me at the moment." Buffy cut her off, the anger continuing to rise. "How could you be so stupid, Dawn? How? After I specifically told you not to go out by yourself as long as this new vampire is running around loose out there? Did you even bother to listen to me? No. You didn't. You lied right to my face and said you understood what I was telling you and instead you run out the first chance you get to hang out with a bunch of your friends, drinking beer? How could you, Dawn?" She finished, trying desperately to fight back tears of stinging outrage and betrayal.

"Me? What about you, Buffy? You rant and rave about some big bad lurking in the shadows out there, and then you completely run off to hang out with Angel's broody self? How come I have to take this ‘new evil’ threat any more seriously than you do?”

“Don’t you dare try to blame this on me,” Buffy snapped back at her. “Visiting Angel is a hell of a lot different than hanging out in the middle of the Hellmouth at night. This is all about you, Dawn. How can you be so arrogant? So damned foolish? You’re just lucky no vamp was strolling by at the time- and what’s worse, you were drinking! Dawn, what do you even know about those guys? What would have happened if they got you totally plastered, alone in their car..."

“Brad and Jake aren’t like that!” Dawn yelled.

“Yeah, and I’m Mother Theresa!” Buffy yelled back at her. “I don’t care what you think of those jocks, underage drinking is not acceptable! None of what you did tonight is. Forget the vampires for a minute, how were you going to get home? Have that boy drive you home drunk? Did you even think about that? Did you even think? Or did you just want to be cool and chug some beers?”

Dawn looked decidedly bored with Buffy’s lecturing at this point, and said rather uninterestedly, “Yeah, well I guess if I had turned into a cavewoman, I’d be more cautious about beer too.” It took her a second to fully realize just how far she had gone.

Buffy felt a sharp stab of anger, which was quickly washed away with a deep sense of disappointment. She took a deep breath, taking a moment to collect herself. "You know what, Dawn? I'm Sorry if I’ve been over-protective lately. I’d just rather know my sister is safe at home then having to worry about burying another person I love. So, I apologize if my concern for you is such an inconvenience to your social life, but you've pushed me too far this time and now it's time that you paid for it.”

"Buffy," Dawn continued, foolishly trying to dig herself out of a serious mistake. "I'm sorry, okay? I know what I did was wrong...and I promise I won't do it again. I swear."

"Yeah, I think we all know just what your promises are worth after this, don't we?" Buffy replied icily. "But you are right about one thing, you won't do it again. Ever. As of right now, you don't go anywhere except to school and back and when you do go, you'll go with either Tara or me. We'll drop you off every morning in front of the school and pick you right after class. That okay with you, Tara?" she asked the witch, who had been standing next to Buffy the entire time, looking both relieved and decidedly uncomfortable at the conflict shaping up in front off her. Dawn looked rebellious but didn't seem eager to push it.

Tara nodded quickly. "I guess I should go get started on that spell, then?" she asked.

"Uh-huh, " The Slayer responded. "Right now, if you could."

"What spell?" Dawn asked suspiciously, watching Tara walk up the stairs.

"She's going to put a warding spell on your bedroom. Nothing will be able to get in or out through the window. Just so you know, she'll be putting a temporary one on the door too, every night after you go to bed. You won't be able to leave once she casts it. Not until she dispels it in the morning. And that's how it's going to be around here from now on, young lady."

"For how long?" the teenager asked sullenly, realizing that she was totally defeated and that her sister was dead serious abut punishing her.

"Until I say so. That's how long. At this point, Dawn, I'm thinking of making it permanent. You've proved that I can't treat you like an adult. Fine, you get the toddler treatment. We can do this until you're eighteen if we have to." Buffy answered her, the anger still playing havoc with her stomach.

"WHAT?" the younger girl screeched at her guardian. "You can't do that! It's not fair..."

"Fair?" Buffy nearly hissed at her. "You want to talk about what's not fair? Okay then. What's not fair is sneaking off in the middle of the night without telling Tara anything. Not fair is having Xander and Anya drive all over town for nearly an hour looking for your sorry ass. Not fair is Spike having to hunt through every sleazy make-out spot in Sunnydale when he had better things to do. And not fair, you thoughtless little brat, is scaring the hell out of me, letting me think you could be hurt or worse...just so you could meet some losers with that worthless idiot Janice."

She was nearly sobbing with rage and frustration. She hadn't been this terrified since she'd been back and it was hitting her now, all at once.

Dawn, her eyes brimming with tears, finally seemed to grasp the enormous stupidity of what she had done. "Buffy, I'-I'm so..."

"What? You're sorry Dawn? Yeah, you are. You're about the sorriest person I know, and as far as you're concerned, the saying "grounded for life" should be taken as a valid alternative lifestyle and not just another really annoying TV sitcom. Now, please get out of my sight before I do or say something that we'll both regret."

As Dawn ran crying from the living room towards the stairs, Buffy shouted after her "Oh, by the way, that upstairs phone is coming out tomorrow afternoon. And I don't want you talking to Janice again. EVER!"

Suddenly, she found herself feeling very lightheaded, as if the only thing that had been keeping her together was her intense anger at Dawn. God, she hated feeling like this about her sister, but tonight had been the last straw. Dawn's rebelliousness had been getting worse for weeks and she knew that the younger girl had some unresolved issues about Buffy's death and subsequent resurrection but this? This evening had just been...insane.

Tara came walking down the stairs shaking her head. "Okay Buffy, it's all done, but you might want to check on her later. She's really upset and..." She stopped short as she saw the tears on her friend's face. "A-Are you okay?"

Buffy nodded. "I'll live, Tara. It's just-God. How could she be so stupid? She could have been killed...or worse." She shuddered at the thought of how many things could happen to her sister with a powerful vampire gang running loose in town. "It's not like we didn't go through this last year with Harmony."

""I know. I think she gets it now, though Buffy. Or she will, when she calms down and gets a good night's rest. Maybe you should too. Get some rest, I mean. You’ve had a really rough day, what with seeing Angel again after all this time and this thing with Dawnie." Tara smiled and put her arm on Buffy's shoulder. "Things will be better in the morning."

Buffy smiled wistfully at that. "I think you're right. Can't be much worse, right? Anyway, I didn't get much to eat tonight. You want a sandwich or something? I make a pretty mean peanut butter and jelly," Buffy asked, suddenly not wanting to be alone.

Tara shook her head. "I had a pretty good supper. As a matter of fact, if you don't mind I have something that I should probably take care of tonight-unless you want me to stay."

"No, that's okay. "I'll be fine. Honestly," She added quickly at Tara's pensive look.
"Okay then, I won't be gone very long though. Promise. Cross my heart...and stick a needle in my eye." She grinned at the Slayer.

"Go on, and thanks ever so much for leaving that middle part out." Buffy grinned back.

As Tara closed the front door behind her, Buffy made her way into the kitchen-and stopped dead in her tracks, not really sure she was seeing what she was seeing. Spike was standing in front of the sink, with a dish in one hand and a towel in the other, making what appeared to be a very half-assed attempt to dry the plate, and managing to get cigarette ashes all over the floor. The absurdity of watching the vampire do kitchen work, suddenly struck her as hysterically funny and she burst out laughing.

Spike looked positively chagrined as he fumbled with the plate. "Bleeding Hell, Slayer. You could give a fella fair warning before you burst in on 'im like that."

"What are you talking about? This is my kitchen, remember? Which begs the question: what are you doing in it? I didn't think you were still here." She replied, still chuckling. Oh well, at least he isn't wearing mom's kiss the cook' apron. That sobered her a bit. Thoughts of her mother always did.

"I thought I'd stick around a while. In case you needed me for anything, that is. Patrols or the like. Umm, is the 'bit’ okay?" The concern in his voice was palpable.

Buffy nodded grimly. "She'll get over it. She'll have to. And yeah, I wouldn't mind the break tonight. If it's not a problem?"

"Not at all," the vampire said, putting the dish down and reaching for his duster, which was sitting on the back of one of the breakfast table chairs.

"What, taking off already?" she asked him, suddenly desperate for his company, anybody's company.

"Well, yeah, I kinda figured you'd want to be left on your own tonight, what with nibblet going missing and you visiting 'peaches' an all." Spike's voice dropped a bit on that last part.

"Sit down," she commanded, trying to brush away thoughts of her meeting with Angel. "I was just about to make myself some dinner. PB and J okay with you? I'm afraid I don't have any blood in the fridge though. You'll have to make do with milk like normal people, for a change."

Spike shrugged and promptly sat down at the table. "Who am I to argue with the mistress of the house?" He leered at her in his usual obnoxious manner, putting special emphasis on the word 'mistress'.

"God, could you possibly be any more annoying?" she muttered back at him while dragging the bread and peanut butter out of the refrigerator.

“Suppose I could give it a try, luv. It’s what I do best after all-well second best. Umm, extra jam if you please. I’ve got a sweet tooth.”

Grunting with annoyance, Buffy slopped the jelly on the sandwich, whirling it around a bit with her knife. You know you lead an interesting life when you find yourself making snacks for vampires at 10:30 at night, she thought to herself morbidly. Finishing quickly, she cut the two sandwiches up and slapped them each on a plate, placing Spike’s in front of him, along with a tall glass of milk.

He took a quick drink and made such a bitter face that she almost laughed again.

“What’s the matter, not high enough in type O pos for you?”

“Nah, it’s just that I hate skim milk. Don’t you have anything a mite stronger than this?” He said, pushing the glass back.

Sighing she reached into the fridge and pulled out a beer, “Here you go. I think it’s one of Xander’s. He must have left it here the last time the gang was over.”

Spike appeared to be in the middle of making a snarky comment at Xander’s expense but at the sign of her scowl, he merely popped the lid and drank deeply. Buffy sat down and began eating, rolling her eyes in mock-disgust as the vampire slurped the sandwich down and licked the excess jelly off his fingers with relish.

"Not bad," he said, grinning at her. "I prefer a bit o' blood with my peanut butter but that hit the spot quite nicely. Tar, pet."

"Happy to oblige," she relied, playing with the edge of her sandwich somewhat absent-mindedly.

"Umm, something wrong, Buffy?" He asked. "Other than the obvious that is."

"No. It's...it's nothing. Okay? Nothing I want to talk to you about anyway." But a part of her did need to talk to somebody and Spike, while not her preferred choice was here. Not Giles, not Xander, not even Tara at the moment. And Willow? The less she thought about that right now the better. Spike was here, now, and he seemed to actually care about what she thought... and since when did he do that? God, this is so weird.

"Sure about that? Might be that a sympathetic ear is what you need. So, spill then. What is it? Dawn? Trust me luv, she'll get over it eventually. She just needs time to realize how badly she bollixed things up tonight, and she'll see that you were right to lose your bottle. I nearly took her head off my own bloody self, and you know what an easy going sort, I am."

"Yeah, I guess you're right." She said, slowly ignoring his attempt at humor. "But it's not really that. I mean yeah, it's that-on top of other things, but it's also..."

"Angel." He finished for her. "So how is Grand-Dad these days? Still prancing about La-la land like a great bloody poof?" Seeing her displeased expression, he relented a bit. "Sorry about that. I can't help it. The bugger gets under my skin."

"It's okay Spike. You've gotta be you. But you're right, he does...umm get under your skin, I mean," she replied testily. "Anyway, he's fine. More than fine, actually. He seems to really have his life together these days."

Buffy desperately hoped that the slight taste of bitterness that she felt in her mouth when she said that hadn't come out in that statement. After all, who was she to resent the fact that her ex-lover seemed to have finally got to a place where he seemed content with his life. He's moved on, she thought to herself, the bitterness increasing just a tiny bit. He's moved on and it's not with me. Rationally of course, she had always known that they were never going to be together again. They'd been through too much, hurt each other too much, and grown too far apart to ever have made it work, as much as they still loved one another. But that all that didn't change the fact that there had always been the hope, buried all the way down in some nearly unreachable crevice in her soul, that they would somehow find some way to be together in the end. Tonight had seen the final severing of that hope.

"Well, good on peaches then." Spike's voice brought her out of her brooding. "Bleeding marvelous in fact." He sounded somewhat less than sincere. "Say, how did he find out that-about you know, you being back and all."

"Willow told him." she said glumly. "Or actually, Willow told Cordelia-and Cordy told Angel."

Spike raised his eyebrows ever so slightly. "So the cheerleader's still with the old boy, eh? Again, I say: Good on peaches. She always was a bit of a dish." The vampire was actually smirking at that, which managed to raise her blood pressure just a bit.

"Shut up, Spike. They're just good friends. There's nothing more to it, if that's what you're not so subtly getting at. God, you're disgusting," she snapped at him.

"So you've said, luv. Repeatedly. I'm not about to deny the charge. Besides, I'm told it's one of my better qualities. I do find it rather interesting though, that you're getting so defensive about it. Where there's smoke there's fire, an' all that." He leered at her again, in that incredibly annoying, and terribly sexy manner he had about him that never failed to make her blood boil.

Angel and Cordelia? What load of crap that was. They'd been friends for years, although Buffy had never quite been able to understand how Angel put up with her for so long. Fifteen minutes with Cordy and I'm looking for an escape hatch, she thought. And yet, she had to admit that there was something different about Angel these days. Calmer, more confident, decidedly better grounded and quite...well, just different.

They'd talked for hours, after getting over the initial shock of seeing each other again. Of course there had been the awkwardness, the questions that she couldn't answer, and the feelings of regret that he could barely express. After that though, it was almost like it had been in the past. He'd gone on about how his business was doing, his hotel, and more importantly, all the new people in his life, and how dear they were to him. Angel had told her all about how much Wesley had matured into a confident and skilled leader, something she could still barely believe, and all about these other people so much a part of his life now, and so utterly alien to her. Names like Gunn, Fred, and Lorne, which had no meaning for her, but obviously meant the world to him. In all that time though, he'd barely mentioned Cordelia. Just once or twice and then only in passing. Curious as hell.

She realized that she had almost drifted off again, and found herself looking at Spike, who was staring at her unabashedly.

"What?" she asked nervously.

"Nothing," he said rather uncomfortably. "It's just that..." He seemed lost for a moment and then gathered himself together. " It just hit me that this is the first time that you and I have ever been alone together. Like this, I mean. Talking over a sandwich and a glass of milk in your kitchen. Like normal people. I guess it's a bit strange, is all, considering what we've been through."

Buffy shrugged. " I guess. To be honest, I've had worse evenings, if not lately." She attempted a wan smile, suddenly wanting to cheer them both up, but the vampire almost seemed to have something caught in his throat; something he needed to say.

"Buffy." He stopped for just a second and then pushed on with it. "Like I said, we've haven't been alone until now, and there's something I want-no, need to tell you about the night- that night that you...."

She could feel his anguish now and had a good idea what he was talking about. "Spike," she said gently. "You don't have to..."

"No!" he said, a bit too loudly. "I do. I failed you. That night. I told you that I'd protect her. I swore it. And I swear I tried, pet. Honestly, I did. But I couldn't stop it. God, if I'd only been a bit faster or stronger, maybe it wouldn't have happened that way...but it did. We lost you and everybody's suffered, but it's all my fault. I'm to blame...and I just wanted to tell you that. Tell you how sorry I was that I killed you."

Buffy sat listening to his heartfelt confession raptly, watching this creature without a soul un-bare himself to her in a way she would have thought impossible less than a year ago. She believed him though. She could feel his anguish, his remorse and guilt welling up in his words and her heart wept for him. Seeing the tears forming in his eyes, she tenderly reached out and touched his hand with hers.

"It's all right, Spike. You did what you could. I don't blame you for anything. How could I? What you did for us-have done..."

"It wasn't enough," he relied bitterly, recoiling from her touch. "I could have found some way-I should have found a way to save her...to save you. You're both all I bloody well care about and despite my big talk, I'm nothing but a failure. A man's useless if he can't protect what's dear to him. Even if he is just a monster."

"You're not just a monster, Spike. I know I've called you that in the past, but you're more than that. I know that now. You have to be. You couldn't care so much about us and not be more than that." Buffy said, as gently as she could. His pain was almost a physical thing. Who knew somebody without a soul could suffer like this? She thought. "I'll always be grateful for everything you did for Dawn, and the others while I was gone. They've all told me how much you helped them..."

"Gratitude," the vampire snorted, his vast pride reasserting itself. "Keep it, Slayer. I don't want your gratitude or your sympathy. What I want..."

"Spike, I do know what you want from me," she responded firmly. "And I'm sorry. I can't give it to you because I don't love you."

"How do you know, Buffy? You've said that you didn't want me before and we both know what a load of rubbish that is. I can smell the lust in you whenever we're fighting together. I know you feel something for me..."

Buffy broke in before he could complete his sentence. "What do you want me to say? Do I have feelings for you? Yes, I admit it. Am I attracted to you a lot more than I should be? I'd be a liar if I denied it. But it's not love Spike, and even if it was, we could never act on it. Not after everything that I've been through, not with what happened with..."

"Angel." He finished for her. "It's always all about bloody Angel and his bloody on again-off again soul. Well, I don't have a soul, pet. I've got nothing to lose, nothing to make me stop loving you. That psychotic bint Glory nearly pulled me apart piece by sodding piece just to get me to sell Dawn out, but I wouldn't do it because I love you!"

"You do, though. Have something to lose," she said sadly. "You've got that chip. That's what's keeping you from acting like a vampire."

"The chip doesn't make me love you, Buffy. It doesn't have a blessed thing to do with how much I care about Dawn. That's me. And it's real. Everything I feel-It's real." He sounded desperate now.

"No, you're right about that. You do care about us. I don't know how or why, but you do. I think you even care about my friends, even Xander. But it's not about them. It's about everyone else. To you, most humans are just snacks. What did you call them once? 'Happy Meals' on legs? If that chip ever came out, how long would it take for you to start hunting again? What, months, week, days? How long, Spike before I would have to come for you, because I'm the Slayer? Have to do what I did to Angel? I can't, Spike. I can't go through that again and I won't let Dawn be put through it even once. I'm sorry Spike, but that's the truth. You may be more than a monster, but there's still too much monster in you for me ever to trust." She had been speaking quietly, but by the devastated expression on his face, she could tell that screaming at him wouldn't have made the blow any harder for him to bear.

He sat there, for what seemed the longest time. Then he got up determinedly and grabbed his duster. He stopped just as he reached the kitchen door and turned back to her. "Will you say goodnight to Dawn for me?" He asked, the pain in his voice almost more than she could stand.

Buffy nodded. "I'll tell her before I go to bed," she said as he turned back to the door. " And Spike. I'm so very sorry."

"Yeah, you said." He muttered, without facing her again. And just like that, he was gone.

Buffy picked up the two empty plates and set them on the counter. As she turned on the faucet, she noticed that he had left a half empty pack of cigarettes on the counter-top where he had been doing the dishes earlier. Slowly, a solitary tear made it's way past her tear-duct and slid down her cheek, eventually winding up on the floor in the middle of Spike's cigarette ashes.

*****

"Oh, my. That was simply...delicious." Clarissa purred as Terry crawled slowly back up along her body and began to nibble on her earlobe.

"Glad to be of service, hon." the male vampire said as he began to caress his sire's breasts with his hands, while moving his lips over to nuzzle her neck. "It's why you keep me around, remember?"

" I certainly do," she smiled at him, still full from a wonderful meal and lazy from an intense few hours of frenzied lovemaking.

The two of them lay on the ornate four-poster bed that Clarissa's minions had installed in their new lair just a few weeks ago. She had to admit that even though she had been against the idea at first, the choice to settle here had proved to be an excellent one. It was also somewhat ironic, considering what they had all been snacking on earlier that evening. Imagine, me living in a high school, she thought. What would mother say? Well, the sub-basement of one anyway, and a long abandoned burnt-out shell of one at that. Still, the remnants of Sunnydale High did make a comfortable enough refuge for Clarissa and her ever-growing band of vampires.

The progress she had made in the last month had been extraordinary, even by her own high standards. She'd nearly tripled her little gang and set herself up as the most powerful vampire in Sunnydale, building alliances among the demon community here that she would have thought impossible a year ago. Now she was ready to expand her power even more. Tonight had been the first in a series of raids designed to strike fear in the heart of human population of the town. Even more importantly, it was calculated to provoke the Slayer into doing something foolish.

Noticing that his lover was no longer as ardent as she had been a moment ago, Terry nipped her neck, his vampire's teeth drawing small droplets of crimson that stained her porcelain neck. "Penny for your thoughts," he murmured as Clarissa growled with pleasure.

"Umm. If you really most know, dear, I was thinking of how to deal with that pesky little Slayer problem we've got. She's beginning to get on my nerves."

"Are we even sure this is the real Slayer? For all we know, there's a whole army of those damn robots running around this burg." Terry replied, still licking at the blood welling up from the bite marks he had made.

Clarissa nodded. "Oh, she's real enough, lover. No doubt about that. And entirely human. I could smell her blood and anger when we tangled the other night. Little bitch hits like a freight train, too." The vampire rubbed her jaw in memory of the brief fight with Sunnydale's self-appointed guardian angel, who had somehow returned from beyond the grave, without having become a vampire or anything else of an undead nature.

"So, what are we going to do about her then? Same plan as last time?" he asked.

"I don't think so. We won't get another shot at an ambush with this girl. Our new "friend" says she's pretty smart and learns quickly. She'll be expecting us now. So..."

"So?" Terry had stopped nibbling and now flopped over onto his back, shifting back into human form and dragging his lover on top of him.

"So, as long as we're expected we might as well make the most of it. Besides, I love a good entrance." Clarissa grinned at him and began kissing him again quite passionately.

"Geez, don't you two ever get enough?"

Clarissa and Terry were both brought up short by a voice from the makeshift doorway to their private suite. Veronique and Karl, two of Clarissa's L.A. vampires stood at the entrance smirking at them.

"Is it my fault you two have the sex drive of a couple of turnips?" Clarissa groused at them. "What the hell do you want anyway? I'd have thought you'd both be playing with Lysette's new toy."

Karl shook his head. "Still too early for that. The girl hasn't risen yet. Uh, Lysette did want to know if you wanted to call dibs on her when she was ready though, you being the master and all."

Clarissa yawned. " I don't think so. She's got cow eyes and I don't make a habit of screwing livestock, even if Lysette does. Never did understand that girl's tastes. She's all yours. I think I'm covered in that department anyway." She shot Terry a wicked a smile, which prompted a quick kiss. "Just make sure you have somebody to feed to her when she does wake up, and kindly tell Lysette to get her something decent to wear. No member of this family is going to be caught dead in blue jeans and a sweatshirt. I have an image to keep up, you know."

The two vampires nodded. "So, are you planning on getting out of bed any time this week?" asked Veronique.

"Eventually, I suppose." Clarissa replied. "I have to work off that meal somehow though. Man, what a feast. Didn't I tell you the blood had to be sweeter on the other side of the subdivision? I haven't eaten like that in years."

"Yeah, they were tasty enough." Veronique agreed. "But I'm still a little miffed we had to let those other two get away. Especially the really pretty one with the long, shiny hair. She was positively yummy."

The master vampire shrugged. "Yeah, well, what am I supposed to do about it? It's not like I knew the 'Dark Avenger' was going to show up and thin the herd. I got a sneak peek at his act the other day and believe me, I do not like it. What I want to know is what the hell another vampire is doing rescuing little girls and fighting alongside the Slayer. That makes no sense to me whatsoever." She turned back to face her favorite, who was slowly stretching on the bed. "Terry, did you ever check this guy out with the locals for me?"

"Uh-huh." He said as he sat up and regarded the other three vampires. "His name's Spike. The grunts tell me he used to practically run this town, back in the day, that is. Now he works with the Slayer. Nobody really knows why. Something about him not being able to hurt humans anymore, I heard, but no specifics."

"Say," Karl broke in. "When we were back in Hollywood, wasn't there talk of a vampire who hunted demons for a living in L.A.? Supposed to be some sort of super bad-ass? Can't remember his name though. I think it starts with an A or something..."

Veronique frowned. " Right, but I don't think it's him, Karl. Wasn't he supposed to have soul or something like that?" She visibly shuddered at the thought. "This guy doesn't have a soul, does he, Clary?"

"Nope," her sire responded. "Not a whiff. Whatever his major malfunction is, it's not that. Still, he's obviously a threat if he's hanging around with the 'girl wonder' and carrying her cape or whatever it is he does for her. I'm thinking he may need an attitude adjustment. You know, a little wake-up call to remind him which side he's supposed to be on?"

Karl and Veronique grinned at her like twin Cheshire cats. "What exactly did you have in mind, Clary...and does it involve hot pokers and various exotic farm implements?" Karl asked her, his curiosity clearly bubbling to the surface.

The master vampire merely lay back on the bed and motioned to the other two to leave. "Tell you what, guys. You go find a way to amuse yourselves and I'll get back to you after I think about it a bit. Seriously-we'll do lunch. Hey, while you're at it, get some of those worthless minions and go re-stock the larder. We're down to a mailman and a substitute teacher-and people, that's just not gonna cut it."

As the two vampire henchmen left to go on the prowl, Clarissa grabbed Terry's shoulders and none too gently pushed him back down onto the bed.

"Now, where was I before we were so rudely interrupted?" she asked her lover, who was already becoming aroused again.

"I think you were planning on figuring out ways to screw the Slayer and her vampire flunky," he said, his face shifting back into vampire mode.

"Right." Clarissa hissed back at him, also shifting as the passion took her over. "But first things first. One screwing at a time, I always say."

******

Standing in the ladies room on the third floor of Anderson Hall, Tara peered into the mirror for what seemed like the tenth time. Her dark blonde hair looked fine, and she’d chosen the shirt with Willow in mind, tight enough to be attractive, but not overly aggressive. “I look okay.” She told herself. "Willow will want to talk…work things out.” A small voice inside her head was mumbling about what a horrible idea it was; Willow would never stop using magic. The rest of Tara’s instincts screamed at her not to give up, there had to be some love left in Willow’s heart, in spite of all the changes that her lover had gone through during the past summer. Tara frowned at her expression in the mirror, briefly. The expression just wasn’t natural on her face, so she couldn’t hold it for long, “Well, here goes…”

As she approached Willow’s room, Tara’s trepidation about taking this route seemed to double with each step, until she was nearly choking on her doubts right outside the door. At the same time, a small part of her wondered exactly how Willow had managed to snag a solo occupancy room in one of the exclusive dorms on campus. She shook off all the negative feelings and steeled herself to what do what she had come for. “It’s much too late to turn around now,” she told the door. “If I do, I’ll never know for sure.”

She hesitated for a brief moment as she thought again about the things that had happened between them and the nagging self-doubt washed up over her in waves. She knocked quickly, before the urge to run became overpowering.

“I'll get it!" Willow yelled through the door. Then Tara heard her calling to someone else. "It's probably the Chinese food. Hang on, I'm..." Willow flung the door open, holding her robe closed, barely. Tara could see she had no shirt on underneath it, “coming.” Willow finished lamely, apparently realizing a little too late how bad that sounded.

The two women stared at each other for a very long moment before Tara spoke, “I…uh…came to talk…” Tara began but the rest of her words died on her lips as Crispin McDermott emerged from what appeared to be the bedroom.

"Willow, darling did you see where I put my shirt?" the literature professor asked before he realized that they were not alone. "Oh, I'm sorry I didn't know that you had a guest."

I could say the same thing, Tara thought bitterly as she realized exactly what was going on. At least McDermott had the decency to look somewhat uncomfortable, which was more than she could say for Willow. Her ex-lover stood in the doorway with a decidedly smug expression on her face.

"Sure, Tara. I'd love for you to join us. Crispin would probably get a kick out of it too." Willow's leer made it pretty clear what she was suggesting and it made Tara sick to her stomach.

"N-no, I-I made a mistake," was about all she could manage in response. "I s-should go."

"Suit yourself, honey. Too bad though because you really don't know what you're m-missing," Willow said in a more hurtful a manner than Tara had ever heard her use.

That last bit, the deliberate taunting using Tara's stutter against her, was the final straw. “Willow! How could you? How could you talk to me like l-like...that? How can you have changed this much?” The words were out before Tara could even think about, or temper them, at all.

Willow’s blue eyes darkened, and her pretty features twisted into a furious, blushing scowl, “I can talk to you the way I want to. This is my dorm room and I didn't invite you here. Who are you to judge me anyway? You left me!”

“I had to, Willow! It’s for your own good, can’t you see that?” Tara exploded, just as angrily. Willow's arrogance was plain to see, and the sight of McDermott standing there shirtless, desperately trying to zip up his pants, had stripped away what was left of her self-control. “Using all of this magic is NOT good for you!” she shouted, her fear and hurt pushing her beyond the limits of self- control. “The Urn…” she said, suddenly remembering Spike’s comment. “Maybe it had some effect on you…”

McDermott, who had been standing there all this time, looking somewhat appalled by the confrontation going on in front of him, chose this moment to attempt an intervention. "Willow, maybe you should calm down a bit. Why don't you both take a breather and sit down? We could all discuss this rationally, like adults. It's obvious that there's been some miscommunication here." He reached out and gently put his arm around her should, trying to comfort her, which only made both Willow and Tara angrier.

Willow pushed McDermott away, none too gently, to confront her ex-lover. “Nothing is controlling me but me. I am Willow. You aren’t. Giles isn’t. I know what is good for me! I know how to take care of myself! You all don’t even care that I brought Buffy back. I DID IT! ALONE! Little, timid, pathetic Willow got hers-she likes it and that's what none of you can stand,” she finished bitterly, her eyes flashing with pure rage.

McDermott tried to put his arms around her again, to soothe her, but Willow would have none of it. She shoved him hard enough to make him stumble and fall back onto the couch. Wisely, he chose to stay there, looking up at Tara and Willow with a bewildered expression, while the blond witch dissolved into helpless tears.

“Willow, please, I love you-I’m sorry. After Buffy died, it was horrible. I have no idea how much worse it was for you, but…I want to! We all do-we love you, Willow. I love you…more than anything.” Tara sobbed.

“You love being in control. You love weak, pitiful Willow who does what everyone else tells her to!” Willow snarled in back Tara’s face, any love that may have lingered disappearing, as she got angrier with her lover, her friends, and the world in general. “No one even thanked me for bringing her back!”

“This isn’t you!” Tara countered desperately. “Something's put a spell on you, I know it! I know you. This isn't you. Why else would you be with him? This is wrong, Willow. Something's in control of you. Something...evil." She knew it was a mistake before she’d even gotten the last word out.

“Get out.” Willow hissed, her red hair crackling with suppressed energy and power, the blackness seeping into her eyes again. It struck terror in Tara’s heart, and for the first time, it was true fear for her own life.

Tara hesitated for a long moment, staring at the still beautiful, powerful witch she loved so deeply, then turned and ran as fast as she could, in spite of the tears streaking down her cheeks.

“I love you, Willow," she whispered to herself as she fled the building, and stumbled into the night.

*******

Willow slammed the door shut a little too forcefully, the wood shaking slightly in its frame. Coincidentally, Willow was shaking as well. She had sworn to herself that she was over Tara- after all; she was with Crispin now- but just seeing her made Willow lose control.

She didn’t realize how long she had been staring at the door until Crispin spoke gently behind her.

“Willow.”

She turned, fiercely fighting back the tears that burned in her eyes. She was not going to cry. Not again, not over Tara…not when she had him.

“I brought her back,” Willow whispered, throat aching from the desire to cry, “and they all hate me for it.”

“They don’t hate you,” he assured her, inching slowly towards her. “They just don’t understand. They don’t know everything you’ve sacrificed to give them their friend back.”

“Not even Buffy,” Willow’s continued hollowly. “I worked so hard and…”

“I know,” finished Crispin. They stood a few feet apart, completely silent. Willow stared blankly at the floor, mind still doing cartwheels over her latest argument with her ex-lover. Her morose thoughts where interrupted when Crispin chuckled.

What could he possibly be laughing at? Willow thought furiously, shooting him a piercing glare.

“I’m not laughing at you,” he explained, a small smile on his lips. “I just thought of the time you first showed me magick.”

Her mind reeled, trying to remember…

“I was so curious- I mean, I had dabbled around in some magicks before, read just about every book about the occult- but I had my doubts…” he recalled, his grin widening as his eyes locked with hers. “But you-you were so powerful, so skilled- there was nothing I could do but stare in awe.”

Willow couldn’t stop the shy smile that formed from his compliments.

“Impressive show you put on,” his eyes were teasing. “All those flames-“

She laughed. “Wasn’t too smart, though- flames in a an office usually result in sprinklers.”

Crispin laughed too. “Are you saying you didn’t have fun being drenched? Because I did.”

“It was fun,” she agreed, “But I had to reverse everything-“

“Also impressive, I might add. Just as quick as it had happened, you made everything normal again. The look on the janitor’s face when he rushed in-“ Crispin stopped because they were both laughing too hard for him to continue.

Willow felt some of her anxiety melt away as she chuckled at the memory. She finally brought her eyes level to his, was temporarily surprised at how closely he was standing next to her. He had gradually advanced towards her, now they were mere inches apart. He never broke their gaze as he brushed back a lock of her flaming red hair. Willow felt herself shudder slightly at his touch.

The laughter in his eyes had vanished by this time. They were now filled with seriousness, shimmering with concern. “You,” he breathed, softly kissing her forehead, “Are,” his nose brushed against hers, “Beautiful.” This time his lips met hers. After a moment he pulled away, cupping her face with his hand. “I pity your friends for not realizing what they’ve lost.”

His words deeply touched her, but for some reason Willow couldn’t stop thinking about they way he was touching her. His nearness was dizzying; the skin he stroked was tingling furiously. Willow felt a surge of magick within her; the air around them seemed to be crackling with energy.

Her response to his words was to wrap her fingers in his hair and bring his head closer for another kiss; this one more passionate. Her worries of Tara and the rest of the gang soon vanished, as her mind grew foggier with every caress of Crispin’s hand, the only thing that remained in focus was him. He was there. He cared about her; he adored her for the person she was, not who she used to be. He was all she needed.

She was so wrapped up in the security he was providing for her that she never even saw the gleam of complete victory in his eyes.

Chapter Six

"Something Wicked This Way Comes"

Part I

Written by Phil

*

"So what exactly do you think we should tell her?" Tara asked tentatively. "Or I mean, what y-you should say to her. I don't want to get in your way or anything. After all it's not really my business, is it?"

"Don't be silly, Tara," Buffy responded. "Of course it's your business. I keep telling you; you're part of the family now, whether you like it or not. Now more than ever. We'll both tell her."
"Okay." Tara nodded and took a sip of her coffee. "And thanks again for, you know, everything you said yesterday. It really helped."

Buffy nodded. "I meant every word of it. We're going to get through this, all of us together. Trust me on this, Tara."

She really hoped that her words sounded more convincing to her friend than they had to her own ears. The truth of it was that it had been an emotionally grueling thirty-six hours or so. Her conversation with Spike had shaken her up more than she had at first realized. His confession-and her response to it-had left her swimming in a sea of moral self-doubt and confusion. She hadn't meant to say those things to him; they'd just popped out. His pain had hurt her as well, more profoundly than she had ever thought possible- and that troubled her deeply.

Tara had been almost a complete wreck when she had made it home Wednesday night. She'd gone straight to her room and had cried so long and hard that Buffy had been tempted to kick the door in to make sure she was all right. Instead, she'd backed off and let Tara come to her the next morning. They'd talked long and hard about Willow's bizarre behavior, her treatment of Tara, and her totally strange 'relationship' with her lit professor. Buffy had always had a lot of questions about Willow's sexuality, ever since her announcement that she was involved romantically with Tara, but this was just too weird.

To top it all off, Dawn continued to play the martyred teenager, indulging in her penchant for theatrics beyond her usual level. Buffy honestly had no idea where that came from. She was fairly sure she'd never given Joyce that much trouble. She was also dreading Dawn's reaction to this morning's news; which was far from good.

It was at that moment that Dawn came sauntering sullenly into the kitchen, only half dressed for school and looking as angry as she had for the last couple of days. She brushed past Buffy, nodding to Tara with the minimum amount of politeness allowed and grabbed the orange juice out of the refrigerator. She quickly poured herself a glass and was obviously about to beat a hasty retreat back upstairs, when Buffy interrupted her.

“Dawn. Sit down. There’s something we need to talk about.”

Dawn frowned, already in mid-pout. “I don’t want to talk to you about anything. Besides, I have to finish getting ready for school...”

“Dawn,” Buffy commanded. “I said sit.” She put a clear tone of authority into that last command, one that her younger sister was sure to recognize as her ‘not fooling around voice.’

Dawn sighed, once again really overdoing the dramatics and slouched into one of the chairs, the very one Spike had been sitting in the other night as a matter of fact. Buffy cringed internally at the stray memory, shook it off, and launched into what promised to be an emotionally charged conversation.

“You didn’t catch the news last night did you?” She began.

Dawn shook her head. “You’re not letting me watch any TV, remember?” The insolence in her voice was absolutely maddening.

“Right. Then you can listen to what we have to tell you, then. Look, there’s no easy way to even start this. Those kids you were with the other night. Were they good friends of yours? How well did you know them?”

“Not well, I mean I really only met them. Janice kinda introduced me to Brad last week, and I just met Jake and the rest of them the other night.” Then her eyes widened as she picked up on what Buffy had just said. “What do you mean, ‘Did I know them'?" What’s wrong? Has something happened to them?”

Buffy sighed inwardly. This was just going to suck. “Tara... could you?”

She watched grimly as the witch gently pushed the front page over to Dawn, who read it thoroughly, the color in her face waning as she did so. Buffy didn’t have to ask her which part she was on. The horror in the young girl’s eyes was clear indication of what she was reading. Buffy knew that part only too well; she’d already read it five times this morning:

Dawn dropped the paper, a look of abject misery on her face. "It-it doesn't say what time they were killed.."

"No honey. It doesn't. Why?" Tara asked, instinctively trying to comfort the distraught girl.

"It's just that it must have happened sometime after Spike picked up Janice and me..." She didn't finish the sentence. She couldn't. "Oh my God." She added, reaching the same conclusion that both Buffy and Tara had earlier.

All I can say is, thank God for Spike, Buffy thought. If he had been ten minutes later...

"Was it...was it the vampires?" Dawn had tears in her eyes now, as she realized just how close she had come to joining the others.

Her sister nodded. "Yeah, I'm afraid so, Dawnie. There are a couple of vague references to 'neck trauma', which is Sunnydale code for having all your blood sucked out of your body by demons. Honey, I'm really sorry about this. I know you liked them..."

"It's okay," Dawn mumbled, trying to sound tougher than she really was. "I guess that's life on the Hellmouth, right?"

The tearstains on her cheeks though, belied her outwardly tough facade. This was the first time she had really lost any classmates to Sunnydale's constant vampire threat. Buffy, who had lost more friends and acquaintances over the years than she cared to remember, could only shake her head at the waste of it all. There were times when she really hated this town.

"Dawn," she said carefully "I know this hurts, but it's important that you understand what I, what we've, been trying to tell you about hanging out at night here. I'm not trying to ruin your life honey, honestly, but it's dangerous and you can't afford to get careless. I mean you see that now, right?"

"Yeah, you were right. I admit it. I'll stay in my room and be a good girl from now on." Dawn replied bitterly.

"Look, this isn't about who's right or who's wrong," Buffy snapped. "It's about your safety. You're the most important thing in the world to me, Dawn and if anything had happened you, if you'd been killed like those other kids or worse, like that one girl..."She gulped a bit as the fear and anger started to get hold of her again.

"What other...oh you mean Sunny? Why what do-oh," Dawn finished weakly as she realized what Buffy meant. "Why would they- I mean why did they take her?"

Buffy heaved a weary sigh. This was not a conversation she wanted to have with her fifteen year old sister. Giles would have been better prepared to deal with it. Still there was nothing to do but to tell her the truth. She'd have to know about this stuff eventually.

"This girl, Sunny. Was she kind of pretty?"

Dawn nodded. "Yeah, she was a cheerleader. Really pretty, I guess. Why?"

Tara chose that moment to break in, giving Buffy a much-needed reprieve from her sister's morbid curiosity. "They took her for a trophy, Dawnie. Vamps do that sometimes. They see a person that they find a-attractive -and they turn them into a vampire to...well, umm..."

"Thanks Tara, I think she gets the point," Buffy finished, seeing the queasy look on the girl's face and the frozen 'O' her mouth had shifted itself into. "Anyway Dawn, that's not going to happen to you-ever. Not as long as we're around." She reached out grabbed her sisters hands with hers. "Promise. Now, maybe you finish getting ready for school. We've only got about five minutes before we have to leave. "

Dawn nodded wordlessly, hugged both women and rushed out of the room, sadder but hopefully a littler bit wiser too. Well, I can always hope, Buffy thought.

"Well, that didn't go too badly," Tara said, breaking into her thoughts.

"No, not at all. I mean after all, it's not really that big a deal to tell your baby sister that she missed possibly becoming somebody's eternal sex-toy by that much." Buffy agreed wryly pinching her fingers together as an illustration. "Let's face it, Tara. We all just had one gigantic close call and there are at least five families out there who weren't as lucky as we were."

"I suppose you're right, but what do you want to do about it-t-the vampires, I mean. You're thinking it's this new woman, right?"

Buffy nodded, slipping from concerned parent into Slayer mode. "I think so. We don't have much to go on, granted, but it sounds like her. She struck me as the aggressive type, and this is a lot more ambitious than most of the local vamps are willing to try."

"So what's the plan then? Put Spike on it?" The witch asked.

More memories of the other night invaded Buffy's thought processes. Wincing internally she replied "Maybe. I don't know." God, I really don't want to have to face Spike right now. "It's probably a good time to get the gang together, though. Anya and Xander, I mean. And we can discuss what's been going on with Willow too, that is if you're up to it?"

"Sure. I-I can handle it. Pain is a growing experience, right?" Tara smiled wanly at her.

"If it is, then we all must be like, a hundred feet tall by now..."

"Okay," a fully clothed Dawn re-entered the kitchen, with her backpack on her shoulder. "Got all my stuff."

Buffy and Tara both got up from the table, the witch grabbing the keys to Joyce's SUV from off the countertop. I really should start driving for myself, Buffy thought as they headed out the door. As they got in, Dawn asked, "Hey, Buffy have you talked to Spike? He hasn't been by to see me since the other night and I kinda wanted to thank him for, you know."

"Nope," her sister replied, just a bit too quickly. "Haven't seen him either."

"Weird. I wonder where he is?" Dawn mused.

"Yeah, so do I." And more importantly I wonder what the hell he's up to? She pondered worriedly.

"Now, isn't this just a bleedin' pain in the posterior," Spike muttered to himself as he approached the back door to Willie's Bar. Standing next to the entrance were two very large Mrix demons, the only size they came in really, looking decidedly unfriendly. Which, to be perfectly honest, was quite all right with Spike. He wasn't in much of a mood to make new friends either. In fact, he was in a seriously belligerent frame of mind and in need of a bracing bout of violence, and it looked like he had come to the right place.

Taking another swig off the bottle of bourbon he had been drinking out of for the better part of the hour, the vampire lurched drunkenly towards the two demons, taking care to exaggerate his condition by humming loudly. As he stumbled into the light provided by the fixture above the door, he brushed up against one of the Mrix, who oddly enough, appeared less than happy to see him.

"Get lost, vampire," it snarled at him in what Spike had to admit was a fairly menacing tone. "Your kind isn't welcome here."

"Is'sat so?" Spike slurred, putting on his best drunken impression. It helped that he was already half in the bag for real. "It's a bar, in'nit it? Bottle's getting empty, need a refill, mate."

"This is a private room. If you've got to get something else to swill, try a liquor store. I’m not going to waste any more breath on your worthless, undead carcass." The Mrix shoved him hard, nearly knocking him off of his feet.

"Here, now. No need to get all violent and the like. I get the point. No vampires allowed. Gotcha. Just gonna finish me drink and be off then," he replied genially enough on the surface, to seemingly placate them.

Spike made a show of dusting himself off and drinking deeply from the bottle, all the while moving closer to the two demons, who had dropped their guards, ever so slightly, thanks to his pseudo-drunken antics. Seeing an opening, he quickly brought the bottle down on top of the one demon's head, while delivering a powerful roundhouse kick into the right knee of the other one. Both of them went down, howling in pain as Spike viciously alternated kicking each one into unconsciousness. He was having fun now, working off the anger and frustration that had been plaguing him for the last two days. Every kick and punch that he delivered served to channel his rage, and he reveled in the release that it provided him. Is that monster enough for you, bitch?

Finally, seeing that neither one of them was moving anymore, Spike ceased the beating, allowing for one more well placed kick to the one demon's groin, and proceeded to focus his energy on the door itself. It flew open with a pleasurable 'thump' and the vampire strolled into the back room of Willie's bar and Grill, the site of the largest underground poker game among Sunnydale's demonic community.

It took him a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to all of the smoke that lingered in the small and overly crowded room. The overpowering smell of demon musk though was something that his heightened sense of smell would never allow him to adjust to. Combined with the affects of the bourbon, it caused his stomach to engage in several somersaults, but he forced the queasiness down, and walked over to the card table, which was being presided over by a lizard-like creature, known to Spike as a major player in the demon underworld.

"Hey Vrock, how's the wife and hatchlings?" He asked nonchalantly, exactly as if he hadn't been banned from this card game two months earlier.

The demon regarded him critically through hooded eyes-slits for a moment before hissing back "Ssspike. You've got a lot of jshlugash, smashing your way into one of Teeth's games. He'll have your fangs on his charm bracelet for this," Vrock threatened, referencing Sunnydale's chief demon crime lord.

"Yeah well, you can tell baby-seal breath from me that he can kiss my undead wrinklies. I go where I please in this bloody sinkhole of a town, and do what I jolly well like. Any of you buggers disagree with that, can sod off. Or better yet, line up for a good thrashing. I'm just in the mood for a good bloodletting" None of the assembled demons moved a muscle, Spike's reputation being what it was. The vampire grunted in satisfaction. "Didn't think so."

Turning toward one of the players, who had been sitting quietly this entire time, Spike grinned evilly. "Why Clement, me old son, I haven't seen you in ages. Bout since the time I loaned you that 100 dollars, wasn't it?"

Clement, a floppy eared creature with loose skin, and a serous overbite, smiled weakly back at the vampire. "Uh, yeah. Hiya, Spike. I guess it had been a while."

Spike nodded. "Yeah, time flies when you're trying to welch on a debt. Pay up mate, or I'll beat it out of your mangy hide."

"Well, you know I'd like to but I'm a little short this week and um..." Clem stammered out nervously.

"Right, plan B it is then," Spike said, as he grabbed Clem by his shirt and dragged him out of his chair. "Uh, with your kind permission of, course," he asked mockingly of Vrock.

"Take him and good riddance to you both," the demon snarled . "He's losing badly anyway. But don't kill him until Teeth gets his cut or there'll be Hell to pay. Literally."

Spike grinned back at him and then yanked Clement towards the door. "Guess it ain't your lucky night, is it?"

"Oh and Sssspike," Vrock called after the retreating vampire and his helpless prey. "If I catch you in here again, you'll be dust, and hiding under the Slayer's petticoats isn't going to save you next time."

"Yeah, I'm all a-quiver," Spike replied cheerily and forced Clem through the wrecked exit.

The demon continued to howl as Spike dragged him around the corner and onto the next block.

"Bloody hell, Clem," Spike said. "You're making enough racket to wake up the dead and I don't mean me. It's not like I'm hurting you all that much."

"Yeah, I know, but I've got really sensitive ears," the demon complained. "The tiniest of pressure and they bruise for a week"

"Oops, sorry about that," Spike apologized. "Had to make it look convincing, though. Seem to remember you insisting on realism though."

"S'ok, I'll live." Clem shook it off and grinned at the vampire. "So what's so important that it couldn't wait until tomorrow? I was about to draw into an inside straight."

Spike genuinely liked Clem. It was rather hard not to. The demon had a certain air of, well... niceness, that the vampire found irresistibly refreshing. He was also the only member of Sunnydale's demon community that would speak to Spike these days without threat of great bodily harm. As it was, they had concocted this elaborate fiction that allowed them to communicate in front of the seedier elements in town without raising too much suspicion. Even so, Spike counted the demon as one of his two closest friends, the other being Dawn Summers.

"Information," he relied. "New vampire gang in town. For some odd reason I can't get the locals to cough up on their whereabouts or the like. Usually, they can't wait to spill their guts for a free pint of plasma. I was hoping you could point me in the right direction."

Clem looked rather pensive for a moment. "Well, I can tell you what I know but it's not much, and to tell the truth I'm not sure that I should be saying anything to you at all." As Spike gave him an annoyed look he continued. "Okay, okay. All I know is that they showed up sometime in late September from L.A. or thereabouts and that they've been recruiting a bunch of the vampires around here."

Spike arched an eyebrow. "For? Other than the usual, I mean."

Clem shrugged. "No idea, really. All I know is that a few that told them to get lost wound up with major cases of getting the crap kicked out of them. That, and they're supposed to have some kind of major league heavyweight from the demon realms behind them, but I have no idea who. Or what."

Spike snorted. "Lot of good that does me. I need to know what they're up to specifically."

"Dunno, Spike. I really don't. Maybe it's just to cause trouble. This leader of theirs is supposed to be kinda, well you know-out there."

"Right, a brunette skank in a slutty red dress?" Spike pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it, taking instant pleasure from the acrid taste as he pulled on it.

"Yeah that's her. I hear she's a pretty nasty customer, even for a vampire. Umm, no offense meant of course."

Spike chuckled a bit at that. Clem had to be about the most polite demon he had ever met. "None taken, mate. I've met the bint. Nasty doesn't begin to describe her. And we vampires do seem to have the corner on the 'nasty' market, don't we?" As he said that, a feeling of melancholy came over him, as Buffy's words the other night came back to haunt him yet again. I don't love you. There's too much monster in you for me ever to trust.

"You okay, Spike? You look a little down," the demon asked with a concern in his voice that somehow managed to touch the vampire.

"It's nothing, Clem. Honestly." For some reason though, a part of Spike desperately wanted to share his pain with somebody and since he could never talk to Dawn about something like this, Clem seemed a logical choice. "Well, it's just a spot o' woman trouble. The same old thing really. I'm just not good enough for 'er, no matter what I bleedin' do."

Clem nodded sagely. "Yeah, I think we've all been there before. This is still that human girl you were telling me about, right?"

"Yep. Same girl. Always going to be the same girl for the rest of my sodding existence."

"Well, gee Spike. I dunno. These inter-racial relationships are pretty tricky things to manage. I mean, I know it's the 21st century and all, but cultural differences being what they are, maybe you should try to meet somebody that you have more in common with. Maybe find a nice lady vampire or something?"

Spike grimaced at that. "No thanks, mate. Had me one of those. Well, two actually, tho I suppose Harmony really doesn't count for much. Fraid moving on is not an option here. This girl's the one for me. It's just convincing her that I'm the one for her that's the problem. It seems like no matter how much I do for her or try to change for her, it just isn't enough. I mean, it's not like she doesn't like vampires. Her first boyfriend was my grandsire for Chrissakes."

"Hmm, well then, I'm not sure what to tell you, Spike," Clem replied. "Sounds like it's more her problem than yours. All I can say is that if she really loves you, you just gotta hang in there until she comes around. If she doesn't...well, then I guess you're just screwed."

"Thanks ever so. You've been a big help," Spike groaned as he flicked his cigarette butt on to the pavement and ground it in with his boot.

Clem gave him a goofy grin. "Hey, what can I say? Women. Can't live with them..."

"Can't drink 'em dry and sire them." Spike finished for him playfully. "Or I can't anyways, since they put this bloody chip in my skull. Thanks for the pep talk though. You're probably right."

"Glad to help out a friend. Um, if there isn't anything else you need though, I really should be getting back to the game. I think I've figured out the dealer's giveaways. Uhh, I don't suppose you could let me hold a twenty, could you? Just until payday that is."

Spike sighed heavily as he fished a twenty-dollar bill out of his wallet and handed it to the demon. "Worth it for the sympathetic ear, I recon. Oh, and Clem..." he added as his friend started to turn and walk back to the bar.
"Yeah? OWWW!" Clem yelped as the vampire's fist came crashing into his jaw. "What the frilly heck did you do that for?" he whined, rubbing his jaw in pain.

"Had to make it look convincing, din't I?" Spike grinned back at him evilly. "You can't just stroll back in there pretty as a picture after I threatened to knock you about a bit. Relax. If I wanted to hurt you, you'd really be in pain about now."

"I'll take your word for it," Clem muttered, still massaging his rapidly bruising face. "Talk to you later Spike, and hey...I hope everything works out with your girl," he added, trotting back in the direction of Willy's.

"You and me both, mate," Spike said to himself as he watched the demon disappear around the corner. "Oh well, suppose I should do a quick recky before I call it a night."

Spike turned around and headed off away from the downtown area of Sunnydale, planning on doing a sweep of the residential areas in the vicinity of Revello Drive. Not that he planned on talking to the Slayer again, but maybe he could get a quick glimpse of her before she headed out for her nightly patrol. God, you're a pathetic sod, he chided himself. All this misery over a tiny chit of a girl who wouldn't know her own mind if it reared up and kicked her in her perfect little arse. Oh Bloody Hell.

As he walked along, a tune popped into his head, a song that he had first heard when he had been living with Drusilla in London in the 1960's. Spike thought it was a silly piece of nonsense, but it had delighted his sire to no end. There were many times that she had insisted on him singing it with her as they had prowled the East End looking for unwary victims in the wee morning hours. For some odd reason, it comforted him and it wasn't long before he was singing it out loud as he strolled along.

"Oh, I'm Henry the eighth, I am.

Henry the eighth, I am, I am.

I got married to the widow next door,

She's been married seven times before.

And every one was an 'enery.

Wouldn't have a Willie or a Sam.

I'm her eighth old man, I'm Henery.

Henery the eighth I am.

As Spike reached the 'second verse, same as the first' line, his cynical mind began creating his own lyrics, directly linked to his own personal troubles.

"Oh, I'm William the Bloody I am.

William the Bloody, I am, I am

I fell in love with the Slayer next door,

She's been bedded many times before.

And every one was a wanker,

Wouldn't have a William or a Spike

I'm not her fourth old man, I'm not anything

No matter what I'd bleedin' like.

Chuckling at his own cleverness, and suddenly feeling the affects of that bottle of bourbon that he had consumed earlier, Spike continued down the street , wavering a bit as he went. He stopped for a second, just to get his bearings, and as he did so, he heard a voice hiss in his ear:

"You sing very well. Do you scream so prettily, I wonder?"

"What the..." was all he managed to get out as the world exploded in a bright flash of extreme pain, right before his vision went black.

Spike came awake slowly, and groaned loudly as an incredibly intense wave of pain washed across his entire body. It felt as if every fiber of his being was on fire.

"Oh goody," a sultry feminine voice said, somewhere in front of him. "He's awake. Now you can have some real fun, Karl."

It took a few moments for Spike's vision to adjust and he also had to make allowances for the fact that his left eye was swollen shut and his face felt like somebody had been beating on it with a mallet. Apparently his captors hadn't been able to wait until he regained consciousness before they started the party. They'd smashed him in the mouth a few times as well, judging by how badly his tongue and lips had swollen up. Deliberately, and very carefully, he tried to sit up but he found himself restrained by iron manacles on his wrists and ankles.

"Absolutely bleedin' typical," he managed to grit out amid the torrents of agony, before sinking back down onto the table he was chained to.

"What's the matter, sweetie?" cooed another female voice. "Accommodations not to your liking? Sorry about that but we haven't the maid in...since- Hey when was she last here, Karl?"

"Right before we ate her, I'd have to say, Clary," came back the amused reply.

"Oh well then, there you go. Good help is just so hard to find these days. They keep making the most impossible demands. Pay me; feed me; don't suck out every last one of my blood vessels. Bah."

Spike heard several grim chuckles at that. Seemed this bint liked playing to her audience. Fine, he could play to, even if he was trussed up tighter than a Thanksgiving turkey. "Nah, pet the lodgings are fine. All the comforts of home, in fact. It's the company I could do without."

That little piece of insolence earned him another fist to the side of his head, courtesy of the big male vampire leaning over him, but the female standing behind him merely laughed.

"Well, well what a delightful houseguest you are. William the Bloody, I presume? What an imaginative name...and so appropriate too." She moved up close to him and dipped one of her fingers into the blood that welled up from one of the gashes on his forehead to illustrate her point. As she sucked on her bloody finger, she gave the other vampires in the room a sadistic grin.

Spike could see them better now. The female who had been talking to him was the one he and Buffy had tangled with last week. There was another dark haired one in a black dress hanging off the arm of the bastard who had been beating on him. Behind the leader was another male who was positioned in a protective stance to guard her back. That would be the boyfriend, Spike mused. To his side were two more females, both blondes. The younger of the two was a fledgling, and Spike bit his lip as he recognized her as one of the kids that Dawn had been with the other night. Bugger. Buffy will have my guts for garters when she finds out I let this happen. I should have made them all go home. The girl, who was wearing very little, hung off the older blonde and smiled lustily at him as he continued to stare.

"Like what you see?" the leader inserted herself into his line of vision. "Maybe after we have our little talk, I'll let you play with her. Or if you're a very good boy, I'll let you play with me."

"Don't see what we've got to talk about," he managed to growl back at her, spitting up blood as he did. "An' if it's all the same to you, I'll pass. I'm allergic to skank."

"Ooh, fiesty," she grinned back as Karl smashed him in the stomach with a meaty fist and Spike let out a stifled grunt of pain. "But that's not what I heard. Maybe it's only human skanks you like though."

Spike didn't reply to that, preferring to weigh his options, which he had to admit, were far from good. These vampires had him, no two ways about it and this bitch was a professional.

"So," she continued, "You've got nothing to say? I'd strongly suggest you start talking soon. It's either polite conversation or..." She pointed to Karl. "Not so polite screaming. Take your pick, honey. No skin off my ass, whichever way you play it."

Ahh, what the hell. Might as well play this out. "Fine," he said, the pain in his mouth making each word agony. Bollocks, they've knocked out a tooth. "If we're gonna be all polite about this, then maybe you should introduce yourself. You know my name but I dunno yours. Makes it harder to pick you out a nice Christmas gift."

"It's Clarissa, if you really must know. Not that I'd expect any of the hicks up here to know who I am. That's about to change soon though."

"That so?" Spike queried her, figuring that as long as he kept her talking, he'd keep his body parts relatively intact. "How do you reckon?"

Clarissa smiled at him very sweetly. "Why I plan to be the vampire who kills that precious Slayer of yours, that's how, Gorgeous."

Despite the serious situation he was in, Spike couldn't but laugh out loud at that. Karl moved to hit him again, but Clarissa stopped him.

"Now, what's so funny about that, William? Or is it Spike? I'm not even going to bother to ask how you got that one." She leered at him. "But as for your Slayer, it shouldn't be too hard. After all, I took out that silly machine of hers easily enough."

Spike snorted. "The bot was nothing. Look, do you any idea how many bleedin' idiots have tried to take this girl out over the years? Can't be done. She's the best. Trust me, I learned that the hard way."

"Oh, really?" Clarissa appeared intrigued by that. "Is that why you fight for her now? Because you couldn't beat her?"

"Not exactly," Spike said through gritted teeth. "I'd tell you of course, but then I'd have to kill you. And I know you wouldn't want that."

"No indeed. I must say dear, that as much as I admire your ferocity, I'd be considerably more impressed if you weren't strapped to a lab table in the science department of a dilapidated old school building. So, if you're not going to tell me, then I suppose I should guess, is that it?"

"Suit yourself," he snarled at her, really not liking this game.

"Hmm, let's see now," she said, obviously relishing his discomfort. "I understand that you can't kill humans anymore. Something about a piece of government hardware in your brain? Tsk tsk. What a perfectly horrible thing to happen to such a sweet boy like yourself. See, now this is exactly the reason why I don't pay taxes. Well, one of several reasons really. You just can't trust the government. Those people give me the creeps." She shuddered mockingly, which elicited several throaty chuckles from her assembled henchmen.

Spike said nothing. He just glared at her, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of seeing just how uncomfortable this conversation was making him.

"So here's poor little Spike with a problem," Clarissa continued. "He can't hunt anymore. So what does he do? Does he try to get it out? Well if you did, it certainly didn't work now, did it? Failing that, does he set up shop running the local fiends to do his dirty work for him? That would have been my choice, and I'd think it would be easy for you because from my vantage point, slick, it sure looks like you can hurt us. Again, I am forced to conclude that the answer is ‘no.’ So..."

"So what," Spike broke in. "Are you gonna bleedin' talk me to death?" He winced in preparation for the inevitable blow from Karl, but it never came. Clarissa merely sighed and went on.

"Such a poor audience you are, sweet William. Can't even let a girl finish her train of thought. Now, where was I? Oh yeah, so instead of actually acting like a vampire and doing something about your admittedly revolting predicament, you turn around and get all house broken. I mean, really. A vampire playing tag along to a Slayer? And not just any vampire either. William the Bloody, the guy who killed two Slayers in mortal combat. I'm sorry, but I just gotta ask myself: What the hell does he think he's doing?"

"It's a free country," he spat back at her, although the pain was slowly draining his ability to maintain a decent level of belligerence.

Clarissa ignored him this time. "The question is then, what exactly is so different about this girl, that instead of trying to kill her you want to act like her tame little puppy? Come on Spike. Tell me. The suspense is killing me." She grinned at him again, which only served to fuel his going rage and frustration at being prodded and poked like a lab rat.

"Get stuffed," he told her.

This time, his defiance did earn a blow, as Karl brought a fist down into his jaw. Clarissa, still grinning moved in very close to him, and bent down so that her lips were hovering just above his ear.

"You know what I think, hon? I think you are getting something out of this deal. Tell me, is she as good in bed as I think she is? A Slayer must have all sorts of interesting muscles. To tell the truth, I wouldn't mind a taste of that myself. After all, if she'll spread her legs for one vamp, why not another one? Heck, why not the entire gang? Say, wouldn't that make for a really fun party."

Somewhere in Spike's consciousness, a little voice was screaming at him to keep control of himself, that this was just a ploy to provoke him. Unfortunately Spike had never made a habit out of listening to little voices. He reared up with what strength he had left and tried grab Clarissa's throat, hoping to twist her head off with his bare hands. "Shut your filthy gob!" he snarled at her, the pain and anger pushing him past the point of reason. He was doomed to fail though, and Clarissa easily jumped out of his grasp, while Karl moved in to rain a series of heavy punches on his already badly damaged face. Spike screamed in intense agony, as the rest of the vampires leered at him. No question about it, they were all thoroughly enjoying this little drama.

Clarissa, still playing the consummate ringmaster, was far from being finished with her victim.

"Well, well. I appear to have struck a nerve here. Protective of the little wench, are you? What's the matter; did I cast aspersions on the good name of your piece of tail? Don't tell me you have genuine feelings for her?"

Spike, as physically damaged as he was, still felt a jolt of embarrassment as the vampire prodded at the one great weak spot he had. When he didn't say anything, she began to cackle victoriously.

"You've got to be kidding. You mean I was right? Okay, now I've heard everything. A vampire in love with a Slayer? How utterly..."

"Poetic?" cut in the brunette female, who had moved closer to the table and was grinning along with Karl and the others.

"Well, I was going to say 'lame,' but since I absolutely detest poetry, why the hell not?" Clarissa replied mischievously.

She turned back to Spike "You poor loser. That's got to be the most pathetic thing I've ever heard of. What is this crap? The 'old monster being transformed back into a man because of the love for a good woman' thing? Words cannot express how much I hate that old chestnut of a plot." She began to laugh out loud. "Jeez, Buffy and the Beast? Sounds like a really bad Disney flick."

The rest of the vampires joined in her raucous laughter, as wave after wave of humiliation and derision washed over Spike. He'd never been this low in his life, not even when Glory had nearly killed him earlier in the year. This is what she's forced you to become, a voice seemed to say. You're a miserable excuse for a vampire.

"So anyways," Clarissa finally stopped laughing. "As amusing as this conversation is, I think we need to discuss what we're going to do with you, William. After all, you do need to pay for your crimes."

"What the hell are you talking about you daft trollop?" He could barely speak now but he had to admit that his morbid sense of curiosity was getting the better of him. Either that or the pain was driving him bonkers.

"You've broken the oldest law in the book, William. Vampires do not kill other vampires."

Spike couldn't help but snort at that. "Rubbish," he rasped out. "What sodding Anne Rice novel did you get that one from?"

"Oh please. Like anybody reads anymore. But I saw "Interview with a Vampire" about ten times, now that you mention it. I'll probably go see "Queen of the Damned" when it comes out too. I just love a good comedy." Clarissa paused for a moment, a positively feline smile playing across her lips. "You know though, you've given me the most delicious idea."

"You actually think?"

"Silly boy," she purred at him as she moved closer and linked some of the blood off his face. "You're not really in a good position to keep up with this macho stuff. Now, since you're such an expert on Anne Rice, do you remember what happened to the little girl in the story?"

Spike's eyes widened with horror as he realized what she was getting at. It was the one thing that terrified all vampires beyond all other things.

"Relax, stud," she said clearly reveling in his fear, "That's a little too extreme even for me. Still, where there's smoke there's fire. It's time to send the Slayer a little message, and baby...you're gonna be my special delivery package."

Clarissa was interrupted from expansion on her plan by one of her minions, a vampire Spike recognized as being one of the bottom feeders that still haunted Sunnydale. A barely contained whispering match followed for a few minutes, with the master vampire finally throwing up her hands in disgust. “Look,” she snapped at the minion. “I know he’s got a time table to keep, but I do things at my own pace. Tell ‘his magnificence’ that as much as I appreciate all the information on the Slayer and her little brat-pack, I’m running things on this end. We’re making our move tonight. Now, get lost. I’m busy.” The minion lost no time in beating a hasty retreat out of her irritated presence.

Turning back to the rest of her henchmen, she clucked her tongue in frustration. “Boy, do I hate ‘hands-on’ employers. You’d think my word would be good enough for him but no; we have to be all ‘professional’ about it. Fine, whatever. I’m done playing with this idiot anyway.”

“What do you want me to do with the traitor while we wait for sunset?” Karl asked ominously.

Clarissa shrugged her shoulders, the dark hair swirling around her neck making Spike think of Drusilla for some odd reason. “Leave him be for the time being. He’ll suffer enough later tonight, along with his girlfriend. “

Spike, who had allowed himself to relax slightly on hearing that the physical torture appeared to be over at least for now, found himself tensing again. Whatever this bitch had planned for Buffy, it didn’t sound good. He was also forced to admit that he didn’t really care for his own chances at the moment either.

Having apparently lost interest in Spike, Clarissa turned and addressed her little cadre of henchmen with a wicked gleam in her eye.

“Now, since we have some time to kill, what do you guys say to a George Cloony marathon? I’ve got “Three Kings and “The Perfect Storm” on DVD.”

It could have been the severe trauma that he had suffered playing tricks on him, but Spike was fairly certain that he wasn’t the only vampire in the room groaning in pain at that particular moment.

(To be continued)