Spike tossed around his head, heading towards the nearest liquor den. The night show had proved less entertaining than expected. Small hours emerged and he was stuck with reflection. Smoking lost its charm as each cigarette tasted worse than its predecessor. The vampire was filled with elusive pain, the kind that could only be torched with alcohol.

The closed place swarmed with heartbeats, mostly at different paces, some household. Vampire ears were besieged by the symphony of rhythms to the point where his own heart seemed to be responding. It was not rare for an oblivious Spike to rest a hand flat against his chest in search of something. He had never noticed it. Drusilla had, but self-absorption and a considerable degree of uneasy mystification had kept her from openly questioning the gesture. A second later, that same hand was pressed against the counter as he ordered his third drink that night. Turning away from the subservient bartender, Spike gazed around the room, instinctively separating humans from demons. Each category was neatly set apart and both held a definite appeal to him, though where the demonic brethren was concerned, that same attraction was fuelled by a recklessness bordering on the masochistic. A colourful pack of fanged ones clustered near the entrance. The blond vampire lowered his eyes, jaw painfully set. It had not taken long for him to sense their solid contempt even from a reasonable distance. He would be lucky to leave the premises in one piece. Arching insolent eyebrows, he flung them a wide grin as open invitation. The hostile faction swayed in sudden discomfort. No one approached Spike. Shrugging, the vampire swallowed a mouthful of beer, feeling it crash into his innards. Blue eyes targeted souls in the buzzing area, cruel thirst rearing its head with a sneer that denied it all. He was alone. The fragrant necks that swelled with blood were physically beyond reach, though their image lingered on to play with his senses. At a loss for an antidote, Spike withdrew his gaze, lips pressed together. The bartender stood face to face with the Devil's mask. Before the bleached creature issued its order, two bottles stood promptly on the even surface and the petrified mortal rushed away. A low chuckle rumbled out of the blond customer's throat. It was replaced by silence as he threw himself into a mental collision with the evening's events… the redhead's heart about to implode, her eyes darkening into a haunted green, the way she had of stammering out logic while inwardly shaking at its uncompromising conclusions. Spike shook his head in what came close to exasperation. She was less than two decades old, what the hell did she know about life and death? The short span of her existence had elapsed in a stupid little town with pointless little humans. She had belonged to one single male, as far as he knew, and the beast half of the bloke had dumped her. The fingers of one hand could count what she knew. The lighter was impatiently flicked on and a sweeping drag taken in as her bruised skin flashed across his mind's eye. A normal life was something she could not bargain for. Bloodless lips smirked. A small, upturned face traded reason for his indifference. The smile vanished. Reaching for the nearest bottle, Spike studied the label, interest miles away. The Slayer had not seemed averse to a spot of undead help and he needed the action. Glancing at the vampiric clique now at the opposite end of the bar, he chuckled silently, the taste of revenge sweet on his tongue. Spines, necks and skulls. All at his absent mercy.

It was near dawn when the blond vampire decided it was time to go. A wild sprint brought him close to campus quarters just as the first birds raised their tune. Photographic memory was the means to precision and he soon stepped into the crime scene. Crouching next to the sturdy oak that had supported Willow's fragility, he reached for the sharp object hidden in the grass. She had forgotten her second stake. With a useless intake of breath, he stored the thing inside his duster. Knees unbent and Spike's eyes took in the placid site. A sudden frown darkened his features. Fingers swept the ground and picked up an unexpected token. Left hand unconsciously crept to his chest. The fledgling had torn the girl's clothes to pieces. A cherry scrap of cloth lay in his palm. Fangs came out and buried themselves in it before the onslaught softened into a mere brush of lips. A weak sunbeam hit a building and told him that day had vanquished night. Turning away from it, the vampire disappeared.

THE END