Title: Reminders 8/?
Author: Kimi
Rating: PG-13

Summary: Months after his return from Africa, Spike takes in a stray
and tries to consolidate what was with what is...

Spoilers: Season 7 AU, takes place after the my fic, Voices in the
Dark

Distribution: Just talk to me, I'm easy. Fanfiction.net (if it ever
comes up again) and, thankfully, at Chris' site "Amare, Dare,
Pardonare" http://www.geocities.com/cxyzjacobs/btvsfic/chrisindex.html

Disclaimers: All Joss, all ME, all the time...

Feedback: You beta, you beta, you bet!

For this chapter, I give a round of thanks to the folks of Ruby
Tuesday's, who did not freak when I bit through the bowl of the spoon
while writing Xander (just kidding...), much love to Chris, and to
Colleen, both for their excellent beta skills and friendship.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Reminders 8


Timidly, Daniel walked over to Spike. He leaned against the
refrigerator. With his curious green eyes trained on the vampire, he
pushed the too-long shock of wavy, black hair back and away from his
face.

Spike nodded in approval, at the successful clean-up job and the well-
worn sweats. "Clem took good care of you, then."

Daniel's eyes lit up. "Clem's a cool guy. Kind of funny lookin',
but... And, yeah, he took care of me. We watched a movie, too. Or
he did, anyway. I was thinking too much to concentrate on it."

"Hardly think Clem's taste in movies would stretch you in any way,
shape, or form," he commented dryly.

"I asked him about her," Daniel said, nodding toward the
door. "About the Slayer. He said she kills vampires."

"That she does," Spike nodded in agreement. "S'in the job
description. Good at it, too. Best I've ever seen and I've seen
some."

The fledgling nodded thoughtfully. "She kills vampires, but she
hangs out with you."

"Hangs out? S'pose she does, a bit." Spike almost sounded
pleased. "Well," he said shrugging, "she's an odd duck. Hero types
usually are."

Daniel was trying to understand. "So she's a hero type, kills
vampires..."

"Slays vampires, Daniel. Hard to kill somethin' that's already dead."

Daniel corrected himself. "Slays vampires... But you don't look
dead to me."

A wry laugh rang the walls of the crypt. "Daniel, not only do *I*
look dead, *you* look dead!"

"Uh, I meant, 'undead.' I think."

Spike took a long look at Daniel. "You do realize that you're a
creature of the night, right? An impure bloodsucker - the kind they
make movies about. Or did you get hit in the head one too many times
since you were made?"

"Oh, yeah, I *know* I'm a vampire. I just ... forget."

"Well, you're all Normal Boy, aren't you? Guess that's why the
Slayer gets all sunshiny in your presence. You're like the gits she
went to school with. Look a bit like that Parker ponce, now that I
think of it."

Daniel looked at him quizzically. Spike let out a frustrated breath.

"It's not you," he said in apology. It's her. And me. Not to
worry, Daniel. The Slayer and I have... an interesting
relationship. Known each other quite a while now. I'd like to say
it's based on mutual respect, but..."

"But that wouldn't be true."

"No."

"So you two have ... like a history, or something?" The boy seized
on part of the vague explanation. Spike didn't feel like he was
saying too much if he continued explaining.

Spike grudgingly answered the question. "Something." At the boy's
curious look, he relented. "The Slayer and I have *several*
histories, Daniel," he explained patiently. "Each one seemingly
worse - and more complicated - than the last. The first time I met
her, I decided she was going to be my third slayer. I've killed
two. And, Daniel, that's not something just any vampire can say.
Circumstances caused us to become allies once - well, more than
once. And here we are."

"Well, where are you? I mean, where is 'here?'"

"Damned if I know," Spike laughed.

Daniel looked at Spike as if trying to decide how to ask a question.

"Well? Out with it! Go ahead. I won't bite. Well, I will, but...
go ahead," Spike said, pulling a container of blood out of the
refrigerator and pouring the contents into a new mug.

"So she knows you're a vampire and she's with you, right? So that
happens? A vampire with..."

Spike slammed the microwave door and turned to Daniel in
shock. "No! No, that doesn't happen! It never happens. For a
vampire, a human is a victim. Or a potential vampire. That's it.
Two ways it can go, Daniel. Vampires are killers. S'what we do."

"But you..."

Spike remembered what Buffy had said about Daniel watching his old
girlfriend. He had to be very careful. "The Slayer and I are even
less normal than the usual. There is no normal in the Hellmouth."

Daniel looked down at his feet, chewing his lip.

"And if it's some bird - " Spike sighed as Daniel's eyes went
blank. "Some ... girl you're thinkin' about, remember this, Daniel.
You. Are. Dead. Your heart doesn't beat. You don't have a soul.
You only exist as a nightmare or a horror story."

The beep of the microwave cut through the silence. Spike turned and
reached in, handing Daniel the mug. The boy looked into the mug and
quietly put it on the table. Spike watched him disappear down the
stairs.

"Well," Spike muttered, picking up the untouched mug. "Buggered that
right up."

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Every time she thought there might be a shot, something else reared
its ugly head and struck at her. This time it had gone straight into
her.

The coat. The coat was a slayer's coat. *The* slayer - just like
Buffy was. She'd cried into that coat for months now. Months that
she'd watched him take baby steps, dragging his new soul behind him.
Nights and nights that she'd let the lining that reeked of booze and
smoke absorb her tears.

She'd slept on that coat, never minding that it was stained and
cracked in places. Because it was his coat - and the closest she
could get to him right now.

His coat.

Her coat. But there was nothing of 'her' left in it. All him. It
was *his* coat now - moving with him like some live thing, snapping
away at his heels.

She did the math. She remembered that much. 27 years. That damn
coat had been on his back longer than she'd been alive. Her eyes
filled with unwanted tears. She'd loved that damned coat. Now all
she wanted to do was build a fire in the backyard and let the sparks
rise from it like some ancient funeral pyre.

Hearing the scrape of glass across concrete, her eyes darted to the
dark lump sitting on her front steps. The half-empty beer bottle
seemed to wink at her with light reflected from the street.

"So how serious are you about this whole chip thing?" he asked
casually.

Something in Xander's voice made a chill crawl across her shoulders
and down into her belly. "What's wrong?" she asked quickly.

"Just needed to talk." He looked her over, as if trying to figure
out where she'd been and suspecting he already knew. "You're home
late," he probed.

It was a comment, not a question, Buffy told herself. Running a hand
through her hair, stalling for time, she reached into her pocket for
the house key and tried to figure out what Xander could be doing
sitting on her porch at 2 am. After Spike's little confession, she
really wanted to be alone and think, not listen to Xander zing away
at him, which is what she expected. So not telling him about the
leather duster. Ever.

"Where have you been? You left hours ago," she asked noncommittally.

Xander shrugged. "Went home. Made a phone call. Came back out."
He dragged the bottle toward his body as he carefully stood. Buffy
winced at the grating sound of glass on the rough step.

"So..." she said, more calmly than she felt. "What's up?"

"Ah, the mystery of the night, Lone Ranger." He looked behind her
pointedly. "Where's Tonto?"

"'Spike' is at home. Where you should be. Obviously," she said
sarcastically.

Xander made a grand gesture, almost stumbling on the low step. "Aw,
c'mon, there's absolutely nowhere I have to be tomorrow."

"I do," she grumbled, digging in her back pocket, almost ready to rip
it off and listen for the tinkle of the key on the pavement.

"Whatever happened to honesty, Buff? And the big cry face? He's
back and you play nursemaid for two months without tellin' the big,
funny, best friend guy?"

"We've been over this," she said through gritted teeth. Snagging at
the key and missing, she sighed, wishing she wore looser jeans. "And
there's nothing to tell."

Xander let out a harsh breath. "Really? Then how come I feel like a
fifth wheel every time I'm around you two? Huh? And don't tell me
it's just him."

"Let it go. Please. Spike and I are so G-rated right now, Disney is
bringing a film crew."

"So I'm just paranoid. Paranoid Xander," he said in disbelief.

"You'll have to ask yourself that. I'd try it sober though if I were
you."

Xander laughed a very unpretty laugh. "Well, that's cold. Okay,
riddle me this, Batman, without 'Robin' around to help you out: if
you could make Spike's chip go away, would you do it?"

In the silence that followed, the click of the unlocking door sounded
like a pistol shot.

He laughed again. "C'mon, Buff, the clock is ticking. Decision
needed. Should be an easy one for you."

She caught her breath. "What are you talking about?"

"We're doing all this 'testing,' and getting nowhere. I make one
phone call and discover the road to somewhere. Keeblerville."

"Keebler..."

"Home of the Keebler Elf and the not-so-chipped chocolate
Spike. 'Not so' as in 'chipless,' Buff. I can so see the bracelets
now."

"Bracelets?" Buffy had never had as much trouble understanding
Xander in their entire relationship as she was having right now.

"You know. Bracelets. Pins. Necklaces. 'What Would Spike Do?'
Just how saintly is the ex-Big Bad? Is the Soul Man a good poster
child for the 'free choice' gig?"

"Xander, go home. You're not making any sense."

"The big prize rests on the other side of one of these three doors,"
he prodded unmercifully. "Can you trust Spike without the chip?"

Buffy drew herself up straight. "I'd trust Spike with my life."

"How about everyone else's?"

Pushing the door open, she jerked her head toward Xander and back to
the darkened house. He moved inside - swallowed by the dark.
Flipping on lights, she noticed that Xander's 'big funny' bit had
deserted him. He looked tired and heavy on his feet, like someone's
father instead of a twenty-one year old boy. Of course, none of them
looked twenty-one anymore.

She took pity on him. "Sit down before you fall down."

With a cheery little salute, he sat on the sofa, as she remained
standing.

"Now, I don't know who you've been talking to," Buffy began
warningly, "but it better not be Riley."

Xander shook his head silently. Waiting. She sighed.

"Xander, I know you hate Spike. The whole thing with Anya would be
reason enough for you - *anything* would be enough for you. But if
you know something that can help, and I mean really know something, I
want you to spill."

The boy continued to look at her out of flat eyes.

"I sent up a warning shot - an email to Riley - weeks ago. I
expected to get back a denial, or some kind of government
doublespeak. Do you know what I get back?

"Nothing. Less than nothing. Now I know you're a charter member of
the Riley Fan Club, but..."

Xander spoke then, in a cruel voice. "Maybe he's dead."

"And maybe he's not," she shot back, a twinge of a headache starting
behind her eyes. "Because a couple of weeks ago, my Spidey senses
started tingling. I know what the Initiative smells like - feels
like. Call me crazy, but I feel something crawling around Sunnydale -
and it's non-demony and all about soldier boys. I'm going have to
tell Spike, but I wanted to have a plan first. Any plan. Because he
can't face them down. If they come after him, he'll have to leave
Sunnydale."

Xander rubbed his hands together and opened his mouth to support
Buffy's last statement. Her next words closed his mouth with a snap.

"I don't want him to leave." She sat down in front of Xander. "Not
now. Maybe not ever. I hated it when I thought he was gone, even
though I wanted to kick his ass into next week. The only thing that
made it okay was *knowing* that he'd be back."

"And then he shows up with that new soul. Convenient. Didn't even
get that ass-kickin', did he? Just a great big honking 'get out of
jail free' card with his name on it in gold," Xander finally said
angrily.

"He doesn't feel that way," she retorted.

"Right," he nodded. "He's Mr. Remorse."

"I never asked you to stop seeing Anya, even when I didn't get it.
She seemed to make you happy. Me and Spike? Well, I don't expect
you to understand it. I just need for you to accept it."

As he dropped his eyes to the floor, he muttered, "I can understand
it a helluva lot sooner than I can accept it."

"Look, Xander," she said, frustrated at the tone of the
conversation. "I can't protect him alone. I need him to be able to
protect himself! *He* needs to be able to protect himself. If the
chip was just modified some way..."

"That's not one of the choices. It's all or nothing." He raised his
head to look at her searchingly. "I mean in - or 'out.' Gone.
History. Like it never was."

She stared at him. Then sighed, "Maybe you should ask Spike that,"
she said grudgingly.

"Nope. Dead Boy don't get a choice at this stage of the game. I'm
asking you, 'Slayer.' Since you're probably the only one who could
take him down if he starts foaming at the mouth. Do you trust him
enough to let him off his leash?"

"How?"

He got up. "Just tellin' you it's possible. You trust Mr. Holy
Souly enough to make it go away? Sleep on it. Let me know."

"Xander..." she said warningly.

"Toodles, Buff. I'll just let myself out."

She continued to stare at the door long after she heard the click.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Buffy ducked her head inside the door of the crypt. The light from
the television flickered in the room.

Feeling her eyes on him, Spike turned toward the door, getting up in
the same smooth motion. Daniel's eyes followed him to the Slayer.
She smiled at him in greeting, and returned her eyes to Spike.

He approached her warily, wondering at the strained look on her face
that showed even through the smile.

"Not comin' in, pet?" He frowned. "Gonna stand on the stoop?"

She shook her head. "Can you leave for awhile?"

"What's wrong, Buffy?" It had been almost a day since he'd seen
her. That never happened anymore. He'd missed her. Sighing, he
thought about the fact that once he would have been grateful for the
sight of her face once a week. "Is this about the coat?"

"The coat? No. And yes. It's about a lot of things."

Spike grimaced. "Not really up to drama tonight, love."

"Well, sorry, Spike. Drama we got," she laughed ruefully.

"Is this going to involve yelling or...?"

She shook her head decisively. "No. No yelling."

"Go downstairs then?" He nodded toward the trap door.

She looked behind her nervously and thought about what they might run
into out there. Then, she smiled - the first real smile he'd
seen. "If Daniel won't mind our using his room," she said
coquettishly.

At the sun breaking across her face, Spike relaxed and put a hand
under her elbow. "S'okay. I know his landlord. C'mon." As he
walked by Daniel, he raised his eyebrows. "Don't go drinkin' all the
blood now," he warned teasingly. "We'll be right down here."

Buffy went down the stairs and walked over to the only seating
there. The bed. It was made, of course. Daniel would do that. She
took a deep breath. "Okay, you need to sit down. I almost *fell*
down when he told me."

Looking at her curiously, he sat on the edge. "Summers, you're
beginning to scare me."

"Xander came to see me last night. Now before I say anything else,
he'd been drinking, but he wasn't drunk. I've seen drunk. This was
not it."

"Right. Whelp. Not sober, but not drunk."

She grinned quickly. "Check. He came over to ask me a question.
Now I'm asking you."

"Sounds bloody serious."

She nodded. "I think it is. I've been thinking about it since last
night. I know my answer, but it's really up to you."

"Hell, out with it then," he said loudly, beginning to get very
nervous.

"If you could have the chip taken out, would you do it?"

Spike jumped off the bed and began pacing. "What kind of question is
that?" He stopped and looked at Buffy suspiciously. "This isn't
rhetorical, is it?"

Her smile didn't reach her eyes. "No. He knows something. He's
talked to someone and he believes it can be removed."

"Removed. Not changed. Just 'out.'" He turned the concept over in
his mind.

"That's what he said. Wanted to know if I trusted you that much."
And that was more than she'd meant to say when she rehearsed this at
home.

At her words, Spike walked over to the bed and looked down at
Buffy. "Do you?" he asked softly.

She looked down at her hands. In a breath, he was squatting in front
of her, trying to catch her eyes. "Do you, Slayer?" He deliberately
used her title and not her name.

Bravely, she impaled herself on his eyes. "Buffy does. The Slayer?
I think so."

Spike handed himself up beside her on the bed. "Fair enough. Hate
it when you lie to yourself more than I hate you lying to me. Being
honest with both of us is better."

"There's more."

"Wonderful," he said, rolling his eyes. "It's a good thing my heart
stopped years ago."

Uncharacteristically, Buffy giggled. "Well, at least it's the evil
we know."

"Soldier boys," he said quietly.

Her eyes opened wide. "You knew?"

"Well, love," he began, picking her hand up off her lap and looking
at it, turning it over, and then back again. "The way you were
pushing the testing. I can fight demons. This meant a human
menace. Thought you might have had a hunch, or knew more than you
were tellin'." He looked at her from under his lashes, not raising
his head. "Decided to wait until you were ready to talk."

She laughed in release. "Because *forcing* me to talk before I'm
ready has always worked so well in the past."

Grinning, he nodded. "Right."

"I'm telling Xander 'yes.'" She said in relief.

"Yes, 'you want it out', or 'yes, you trust me?'"

"Uh, both?" She giggled.

"I don't know," Spike growled. "It ought to scare you that I'll be
able to bite the whelp's head off if he gets me pissed."

Now fully laughing, she threw herself back on the bed. "Oh, this is
such a relief! I was dreading this. Telling you about the chip,
about the Initiative. About Xander."

He followed her down on bent elbow. "Why?" he asked quietly,
studying her face.

"This is big stuff! So tired of the big stuff. I'd really rather
worry about bills, or Dawn's homework, or work-work." He raised an
eyebrow. "No," she protested. "Really. I need a break from the big
bad. I need...a vacation!" she announced firmly as she started to
get up.

In a flash, he'd knocked her elbow out from under her and had locked
his lips on hers. Buffy stiffened as her Slayer reactions kicked in,
then relaxed, moaning slightly in his mouth. After a long moment, he
pulled back, eyes sparkling. "That's all the vacation I can spare
right now. We're in the guest room, after all."

"You're a tease," she grumbled. Realizing that he was telling the
truth, she struggled up to a sitting position, looking back at him as
he still reclined on the bed behind her.

"Yeah...?"

"And I hate it when you do that."

"Really? Couldn't tell."

She grinned. "Okay, okay. Look, I need to find Xander."

He got up and extended his hand to her, hauling her off the bed and
toward the stairs in one motion. "Find Harris then. Although that
wasn't quite the reaction I expected from kissing you..."

She headed up the stairs. "I think that's exactly the reaction you
wanted though. I don't know what this is going to involve. Xander
was very vague. But I believed him, Spike." Looking back over her
shoulder, she topped the stairs, waiting for him to reach her. "Once
we get that chip out, we can make some real plans. Do some
reconnaissance."

"We might need to do that now, Slayer. With or without the bloody
chip in my head."

Daniel's head swung around, mouth open. "Chip? A chip in your
head?" he echoed.

Spike laughed. "Yeah, Daniel. Silicon, wires, sod all wormin' round
in there. Keeps me from harming humans."

Daniel stood up. "Oh, shit."

Buffy frowned. "Daniel. It's not that bad. Spike..."

"I've heard about you. I just didn't..."

Spike crossed the room and backed Daniel toward the wall. "Didn't
what?" he said coolly.

"Didn't know you were him." Daniel said in confusion.

"Him who?" Spike prodded in a hard voice.

"Hostile 17."

++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Reminders 9


'Half-assed is better than no ass,' Xander thought grimly.

After a truly lame attempt at cleaning up the kitchen, Xander Harris
grabbed the two open garbage bags and headed out to the dumpster.
The reality that was a pizza box - or four - meant that there was
more air in the sack than trash. And the same went for the Styrofoam
containers that Doublemeat Doubletreats came in. He felt that the
bag would pull a full-scale pop fly if a decent breeze got under it.
Maybe he'd just toss it up there and watch the boxes scatter.

"Psst."

Xander spun around, slinging the bags wildly as he reached for a
stake. And again... so not there. What was the deal with him and
stakes lately? A figure crouched, wincing, as cardboard and
Styrofoam flew.

In a breath, Xander was off the concrete and had the shadow pinned
against the wall. He looked down.

And down.

"Jeez. And ow!" The shaky voice almost squeaked. "You called me,
remember?"

Xander let out a huge relieved breath. "Oh, man, you were nearly
dust," he said as he pushed back from the wall. "Well, not dust
exactly, and I didn't happen to have a stake on me, but..." Xander's
voice trailed off. "Scare a guy, okay? Where were you anyway?
Across the street?"

The shadowy form looked down and straightened all-black clothes,
cutting dark eyes up at Xander. "Decided to come in last night," he
said in his own defense. "Wasn't so sure when I'd get here. And I
had to get the stuff you wanted."

"But...I didn't say come back. I just said that I might want you to
come back." Xander was confused.

The figure was still. The small voice sounded lost. "So...we're not
gonna do it? I thought that maybe Buffy wouldn't be so mad and maybe
I could come home. I really need to come home. And you know I never
meant for it to go that far. You know I didn't. You told me so."

"I'm not sure I want you to do it," Xander said thoughtfully. "Think
maybe the Xanman's sanity might be doing that returny thing after
all." He brightened. "Maybe you could just say you're sorry. She's
all with the forgiveness lately with ole 'good and gooder' bein' back
on site."

"You think? That would be, like, great, cause I'm kinda out of
practice with the whole magic thing lately."

"Well, come on in, anyway. You look terrible. And going inside is
better than standing around waiting for something bad to bite you on
the ass. Hellmouth, remember?"

"Thanks. Hey, got anything to eat? I'm starving."

"Just trashed it. But hey! Delivery okay?"

++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"He may not need it to breathe, but I think he needs it to talk.
Air, Spike. Now." Buffy reached up and slowly peeled Spike's
fingers one by one away from Daniel's throat. He'd tossed the boy
across the room and fastened onto his neck with one hand as if he
would take his head off. His other arm was pushed against his chest,
holding him to the wall. Buffy was so relieved to see Spike slipping
even a little toward gameface, she almost laughed.

"You know," she said conversationally as she eased the older vampire
away from the fledgling, "some anger management courses might be a
good idea, considering the changes we were discussing earlier."

Spike let her move him, but he never took his hot, narrowed eyes off
the boy. Daniel looked at him in shock. The older vampire was a
half-head shorter and less massive, but there was no doubt who had
the sheer will to overcome those handicaps. Spike looked as
dangerous as Buffy had ever seen him.

Taking a deep breath, she turned back to Daniel. "You," she said
curtly. "Sit. And don't try anything either. I've got a stake with
your name on it."

He nodded - although he was a lot less worried about the small woman
than his recent benefactor. Spike's eyes were fixed on him as he
backed away toward the chair. Sitting down, Daniel relaxed slightly
and began rubbing his throat.

Slowly, Spike turned to the slayer, still as tightly wound as she had
seen him since his return. She touched his arm, not a tender touch,
but more of a 'welcome back.' "I was beginning to wonder if I'd ever
see you again. The odds just hiked up in your favor, Big Bad."

He stared at her as her words hit home, eyes still narrowed and
slightly gold at the edges of his irises. He was breathing heavily,
pushing air in and out as he fought to overcome the shock and
betrayal. She smiled. "Go. Sit. We're gonna sort this out. He's
just a kid, remember?"

She walked over and hitched one leg over the table. Swinging it as
she looked at them both, the slayer tried to decide what to ask
first.

"Okay, so how do you know about Hostile 17?" Her leg never missed a
swing. This was more like it. At least something was beginning to
shake loose.

As Spike's eyes impaled him, the boy cleared his throat and looked
straight at Buffy. She could understand why. Spike was very, very
threatening. "I didn't know it was him. The records are gone.
There was a fire, I think. His chip - it was a prototype - and the
only one that really worked."

Buffy shot a look at Spike and saw that he was beginning to come down
some, eyes not glinting as fiercely, as the flecks of gold
disappeared. Good! "As opposed to... what?" she continued, turning
her attention back to Daniel as if it had never strayed. "The ones
that don't?"

The young vampire nodded quickly. "All of Professor Walsh's
schematics disappeared. So they went into a redesign. But the new
chips kill. At least they do when they put 'em in a vampire that's
already... fed. The chip fires, but it's too subtle or not subtle
enough, so it either doesn't work or it kills them. White coats
don't even bother to pick up vampires for experiments anymore. Just
make their own."

Her stomach began to clench in nausea, as she anticipated the answer
to her next question. "Make their..."

Daniel looked nervously at the slayer as he stole a glance at
Spike. "Vampires."

Spike came off the chair, fingers clenching. "Lived here for days,"
he said in a harsh growl. "And not a word! Nothing. Like you were
some amnesiac on a soap opera!"

"I didn't know..." Daniel protested guiltily.

"Spike?" Buffy said sweetly. "Sit." She turned back to Daniel, not
even waiting to see if he did it. "Okay, who's doing this?"

"Military op. Well, quasi-military, because there are some civilians
involved."

Spike leaned toward the boy with a menacing coolness that Buffy found
strangely comforting. "How do you know all this?"

The boy recoiled slightly, but laughed wryly at the irony. "I'm
AWOL. Very, very absent without leave. As in dead. Wrong place,
wrong time."

Spike threw himself back in his chair, as the slayer pursed her lips,
considering her next question. They'd return to Daniel's origins
later. "How?"

The fledgling didn't pretend to misunderstand. The words tumbled out
as if they'd been buried for a long time. "They recruit from the
hospitals. Terminal patients. Very terminal. Full blown AIDS.
Leukemia. Rejected kidney transplants. They get releases from the
families for organ donation." Buffy almost sighed with relief that
the recruitment process wasn't worse than it was. Then, she
recognized the sheer audacity and arrogance of it. And she thought
of her old friend Ford.

"So it's an army experiment," she nodded. "Another one." She looked
at Spike angrily. "And this one is so far on the side of bad, I
can't believe I'm hearing it. Why in the hell would they be making
vampires?"

Spike spat the answer into the room where it lay coiled like a snake.

"Soldier boys, Slayer. They're makin' soldier boys."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Dawn turned off the television and stretched. Buffy was in for it.
It was late and she was tired of waiting.

Clem looked up from his bowl of popcorn (Orville Reddenbacher, of
course) with a grin. "That was a good one, Dawnie. Don't go for
horror movies much, but..."

"That is *so* not a horror movie," she said archly. "That
was 'Scream'. And it's all about the parody. Just one big
sillyball, rolled up and thrown right at you." She looked at him,
suddenly concerned. "You thought it was silly, right?"

Clem looked down in embarrassment. "Well, at the end, I did. But
the first? Whoo-boy! Had to tell myself it was a movie to keep from
turning it off. That sweet little girl from ET trying to get away?
Well, that was just sad!"

"Buffy's late." Dawn's pronouncement was definitely off topic movie-
wise, but on target otherwise.

Clem looked a little embarrassed for the slayer. "I'm sure she just
got hung up slaying something," he muttered.

"Oh, yeah, right. Slaying, or maybe lay..." Dawn stopped when she
saw Clem's shocked face.

"I don't think that's a very nice thought you're having, Dawnie."

The girl tossed her hair, but had the grace to look
abashed. "Sorry. But I saw 'em in the kitchen and it was hot,
Clem. I mean, really hot. So excuse me if I wonder just what
they're doing right now!"

Clem jumped up and started gathering empty bowls and glasses. He
crumpled a still partially full bag of potato chips in his haste to
get out of the room. Dawn reached for it, quickly looking inside and
smoothing it.

Looking up, the demon set his chins and gave Dawn a reproving
look. "Your sister and Spike are having a talk tonight. When she
called and asked me to stay, she said it was important. All serious
sounding, too. So I don't think there's much kissy-face goin' on, if
you get my meaning."

Dawn looked at him craftily. "What kind of talk?"

"Didn't ask. Sounded like slayer business to me. You know how her
voice gets when it's slayer stuff. All firm."

The girl sighed. "I was hoping... Well, not hoping. But... just
thinking, that maybe everything would just be okay again. And he
could come over and watch movies with me again. And talk. Uh, with
us. You, too, Clem. You're always invited."

Clem threw up his hand and laughed self-deprecatingly. "Well, I know
I'm no Spike, Dawn, but that's nice of you to say. You're quite a
young lady."

Dawn sighed and almost stomped her foot. That's right, Clem, make
with the guilt! She hoped Buffy never found out that killing her
with kindness would make her cave every time.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Buffy had finally left Spike with Daniel, hoping that the young
vampire had the good sense and enough training to obey orders and
stay downstairs out of Spike's immediate vicinity. He couldn't say
she hadn't warned him. Swinging her arms, she blazed out of the
cemetery and into the dimly lit streets.

Although most of her attention was on the scenery - and whatever
glint of Kevlar might be lurking behind it, the night was on replay
in her head. Unfortunately, Spike's display of anger wasn't the only
display she was thinking about. She smiled softly and then shook
herself out of that little fantasy and back to reality.

Spike had actually moved like Spike tonight. He'd vaulted over the
chair and slammed Daniel to the wall like some feline predator. The
sight of it had been enough to make her cheer. In fact, it had
shocked and pleased her so much, she almost forgot to help Daniel.

Help Daniel. And what was up with that? She groaned. Black and
white had been so much easier. Demon, human, stake and go. Spike
had changed all that - long before he'd gotten that soul of his.

And she had to admit that Souled Spike had been bothering the hell
out of her more and more over the last Riley-wordless weeks. She
needed him fighting beside her if it came down to it. Not getting
all soulful in a corner somewhere. She realized she really hadn't
been worried about what he'd do with the chip out - she'd been more
worried that he'd get it out and get staked anyway.

The chip. For a moment she hesitated about going on to Xander's
apartment. It was late - and to be honest, the thought of drunken
Anya-angst was not on her list of favorite things to end her night.
But the sooner she got this over with, the better she'd feel. She
and Spike had made real progress tonight with Daniel. They had some
information, something to go on. She wished she knew what they were
going to do with it.

This whole Initiative thing was scary. The chip had been one thing -
one less big bad to deal with. But this? She couldn't even
comprehend the sick mind that had lain awake nights hatching this
plot. Making vampire soldiers! It was like some D- horror movie.

Finally arriving at Xander's apartment, she noticed that the lights
were on. She stood there, chewing on her lip, trying to decide if
tomorrow was better.

In a bit, she walked around to a window and peered into the living
room to see if he was up. He was. He was sitting in a chair, talking
to himself, a beer in his hand. Talking to himself? She snorted as
a second, much smaller figure walked into view. Her eyes widened.
She ran back to the door and pounded hard. This was *so* not
happening!

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Daniel came upstairs and saw Spike sitting in front of the television
with the sound muted. He wasn't sure if Spike even knew he was
there. Eyes glassy, he stared at the far wall.

"Daniel, this is not the safest place for you to be right now."
Spike's voice was calm, even though he spoke without looking his way.

The fledgling came closer. "I'm sorry, okay? I needed you to
understand that I really didn't know."

Spike sighed. "Didn't you? And what part of 'safe' didn't you
understand?"

"I knew you were different. The pig's blood, this place - looks like
you've been here a while. You said humans were...food... for
vampires. But you weren't eating. I just thought...well, I figured
it was because of her. I never thought about Hostile 17."

"You know my name," Spike said gruffly. "Use it.

Daniel laughed softly in spite of the chill in the room. "A lot of
the guys don't think you're real," he said, shaking his
head. "Nobody's around from when it happened. Bunch of 'em died, I
think. Rest got reassigned. The new guys think you're a myth."

"One of the 'guys' knows I'm not," Spike retorted. The thought of
Captain Cardboard and his holier than thou self made his stomach
turn. Suddenly, he turned to look at the boy with a calculated
interest. "Tell me, Daniel. Have you met a soldier boy name of
Riley Finn? Officer maybe. Big, beefy looking git. All about
obeying orders without any thoughts of his own?"

"Finn?" he echoed. "No. I don't... I don't think so. Don't
remember anybody named Finn. And I pretty much know the officers."

Spike slumped back.

Unless..."

The chair creaked as Spike sat up slowly. "Unless what?" A catch in
his voice was the only betrayer of his excitement.

"Unless he's the one who brought her. From South America."

Spike let the words sink in. "Brought who?"

"'Her.' The dark lady. The guys call her that. They laugh at her.
Well, some of them do. I don't - a lot of the guys don't. She's
scary."

"She's the one makin' vampires." Spike nodded once as he relaxed
back into his chair.

Daniel nodded. "She's the one - the only one now. Killed the other
one. And nobody seemed to mind. That was so weird." He shivered
slightly, then shrugged, embarrassed. "I've seen her a couple of
times. She's pretty, but strange. You can tell she's evil, but in a
sad way. She's supposed to make the new ones, but sometimes she
won't. Just lets them die. They say she sees things she doesn't
like about 'em. Sees it in their eyes," he said, almost whispering
in remembrance.

Daniel's voice dropped away and he shook off the eerie memory. With
surprise, he noticed Spike staring at him, mouth open, in shock.
Daniel watched silently as the older vampire's face twisted in pain
and he buried his head in his hands.

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