Prowling the Watcher's Spanish villa suited Spike just fine that night. His whole being shivered with unfulfilled voids, a headache lurked at the back of his skull and darkness beckoned more tenaciously than the hazy indoor light of a few shaded lamps. Several litres of animal blood had smothered his most urgent physical need and the vampire was revived, yet slow death took on the unlikely form of lack of purpose and unless he did something to remedy that, peace of mind would not spread its silky wing over him and at dawn, sleep would fail to come. Lying in the arms of screaming consciousness was sheer torture. Echoes of Angelus' laughter bit into Spike's head, conjuring up the past behind closed eyes, like an amateur puppet show in which one performer was now broken. He no longer possessed the future. Eternity had slapped him in the face. Blond hair tossed and twisted on the marble, aching to be rid of memory until black boots suddenly hit the ground and a body slipped into leather, taking off once more. A long succession of nights had been passed in this manner but Spike could endure it no more. Vampire's invulnerability broke down and he found himself on Giles' threshold. As usual, the door was unlocked. A snort of disbelief rose to his lips.

At the vampire's arrival, three heads looked up sharply. Spike tossed them a careless smirk and sat at the edge of Giles' mahogany table, waiting for the general outcry. A few seconds' pause unleashed a whole torrent.

"Spike! What in God's name are you doing here?", Giles gasped, hoping the removal of his glasses might take the sting off the disturbing sight. Spike lit up before returning the query.

"Not God's name, Roops, you know better that that…", he lazily offered.

"Cut the quips, Spike, what are you doing here?", Buffy demanded sharply.

Xander turned to the Watcher with a disapproving frown. "Giles, you're not stocking up on the red juice, are ya?" A trace of frost glinted in the vampire's eyes.

"What needs bashing?", he turned to the Slayer, pointedly ignoring the boy.

Buffy delayed her answer a moment, eyeing Giles with heavy misgivings. The Watcher looked helpless. Hazel eyes rolled and pinned Spike. "Well, since you're lifting an undead finger, the Swamp creature from Castor woods. Half fish, half something gross.", she informed in a vertiginous breath. Arched eyebrows converged.

"Swamp? That would be gills, venom and three-word capacity.", he smirked, "Fine." The middle-aged man by the corner decided to pour himself a drink before brooding on the ramifications of Spike's sudden attack of helpfulness. Glancing at the other's eager hand on the bottle, a deep voice swelled with mockery. "Bucking up good, Giles." The Watcher fulminated him without success. Xander studied his sneakers for a minute, before withdrawing into his dream world. Buffy sized up the bleached man in front of her, who was oblivious to the scrutiny. A sudden recollection struck her like a blow. Erasing it from her mind, she got up with forced perkiness. "OK, troops, let's search and destroy." Spike didn't move.

"Where's the Witch?", he asked, voice clipped. The blonde girl frowned.

"Why do you-" "Yes, Buffy, where is Willow? I haven't laid eyes on her all day." Giles replaced the glasses on a troubled nose. Buffy wrinkled her brow in a state of semi-concern.

"She was pretty shook up with the whole vamp ahoy! deal. Think she stayed in and-" The front door banged and Willow hurried in, face flushed. "Sorry I'm late. Swampy still giving trouble?", she chirped, failing to notice the newcomer. All was quiet for a second.

"Guys…?" The coolest creature in the room uncrossed his arms, mouth firmly set against a violent desire to smile.

"How's the temple, Red?" Red hair spun around vaguely.

"I've kinda left off going, cause-" A drastic halt. Bleached hair gleamed under muted light.

"This temple.", Spike tapped his forehead. "Oh.", she realised. "OK…" Green eyes traced his face for a bewildered instant, teeming with questions. They remained unasked.

"Yeah, Wills, we've got our own Vamp-On-The-Block now, ready to get his hands dirty.", Xander shattered the moment, "Slayage, not carnage.", he ended triumphantly. The only reply was the tinkling of Giles' glass against the bottle. Spike's third cigarette was mercilessly drained. "How did you know about her head bump?", the Slayer fired up, brimming with unspoken hostility. The vampire's eyes shot contempt. "I whacked her, that's how." A softly nervous voice cut in. "He walked me back after the, uh…thing, Buffy. It's OK." The blonde girl initiated a defrosting process that took longer than Spike's short tolerance could stomach. The slight figure in hippy clothes floated about the room, harnessing his gaze.

"Willow, should you really be engaging in battle so soon after your…ordeal?" Giles was worried. A self-mocking glimmer lit up the girl's features. "You know me, Giles, muddy demon with screechy sound effects, I'm so there…!", she smiled. The Watcher answered with a discrete beam of his own. Cool blue eyes in the background took on an appreciative shade.

"If the civilities are over, Slayer, can we get a move on?", their owner urged, a pang of restlessness slicing through his chest. Buffy glared at him before swiftly reaching for her crossbow. A no-nonsense demeanour did not fail to be correctly interpreted by her undead nemesis who presented her with a theatrical bow. Willow witnessed the small scene, puzzled beyond measure. Digging into her memory, she eventually encountered the signs auguring this interesting new development in Scoobygang history. Glancing casually at the blond vampire, she collided with a fiery mask of intensity. The girl blushed crimson, Spike stubbed his latest cigarette. Xander merrily surveyed Giles' stake collection, passing one to Willow. "Here. The biggest, baddest one." She chuckled, still awkward. "He's not gonna go poof, Xander." Brown eyes remained unfazed. "No, but we're gonna go "Charge!", so…"

"OK, we're off. Spike and I strike first. Wills and Xander, back-up. Whatever you do, DON'T let him spit on you. It's a health hazzard.", Buffy was peremptory.

"Fashion tip, Slayer. Wear pants next time.", the bleached one rejoined.

"Careful, Fangless."

A melancholy sigh was heard after the warlike bunch had left. Giles stared at the closed door for a full minute before settling down on the couch with the historical novel he was somehow unable to finish.

THE END