Spike awoke just after sunset, as he always did. He threw the dingy white sheet off of him and lay with his eyes still closed, feeling the cool night air blow through the broken window and over his naked body. Usually he slept in his clothes, but lately they had become so rancid that he couldn’t stand it anymore. He had washed them early in the morning, and then lay them on the crypt floor to dry as he slept.

As he lay on the slab of stone that he called his bed, Spike wondered why he should even get up. His plan with Adam had backfired thanks to that little wench and her gang of losers. Now the damn underground lab had been destroyed, and he was left with this god-awful chip in his head and no hope of ever getting it removed. He would have to spend the rest of his life eating either demons or animals, and neither was too appealing to him.

He felt his skin tingle. What he wouldn’t do for a taste of a pretty girl, or a strong young man…

"Um…Spike?"

Spike leapt from the bed in one motion, ready to fight, to kill even, whether human or demon, even if it killed him in the process-

"Oh," Spike said, "It’s just you." He returned to his bed, lied down, and closed his eyes again.

"Yes, it’s me" said Giles, "And would you mind putting some clothes on?"

"Sod off; it’s my house," Spike said. "If you don’t like it, get lost. As a matter of fact," Spike opened one eye to give Giles a dirty look. "Get lost even if you do like it." Spike closed his eyes again.

"I can assure you that I don’t," Giles said. "But, actually Spike, I came to ask you something."

"Unless you’re here with a wad of cash, get out." Spike growled.

Giles sighed. "You don’t even know what I’m asking you for, Spike."

"No, nor do I care. Now," Spike sat up and glowered at Giles. "be sure to let the door hit you in the ass as you leave."

"Then I’ll cut to the chase," Giles said. "I believe I have something you want."

"I doubt it," Spike scoffed. "What could you possibly have?"

"Drusilla."

In an instant, Spike was standing with his hand around Giles’ throat. Almost immediately he was doubled over in pain.

"Arrrrrghhh!" Spike growled. "You bloody wanker! When I get fixed back I’m going to tear your kidneys out through your eyes!"

Giles stood back while Spike regained his bearings.

"What would you know about Druscilla?" Spike said.

"I know who she’s with, and you could solve a problem of mine while you’re solving yours," Giles said.

Spike looked at Giles warily. He was sick of bargaining with the foolish old man, but he couldn’t overlook this. "What problem exactly?"

"Well," Giles moved to Spike’s makeshift bed and sat down. "There’s this demon – his name is Fosorc. A very…unpleasant fellow. I had a…run-in with him in my younger days. And, you know demons, they always hold a grudge, and their threats are anything but subtle. He’s been spotted in L.A., and I’ve reason to believe that he’s on his way towards me. I don’t want to put Buffy in danger because of my past indiscretions. Not again. So I was hoping you might be able to take care of Fosorc on my behalf." Giles looked at Spike to gauge his reaction. "Again, Spike, the nudity."

Spike sighed. "Fine, I’m sick of you looking at me like that anyway." Spike knelt down by his clothes and smelled his shirt. He immediately recoiled in disgust. "Bloody hell, they smell worse than when I washed them!"

"Well, Spike, your floor is made out of dirt."

Spike surveyed his clothes as he considered this. "And I did wash them in a garbage pail," he noted. "With toothpaste."

Giles couldn’t keep himself from chuckling.

"Sod off!" Spike said. "It’s not like I get maid service here, you know! Now get on with it before you die of old age."

"I want you to kill Fosorc."

"Like a hit?"

"Not at all," Giles said. "He’s a ruthless demon. Not to mention that he’s coming after me, and will probably kill anyone near me in the process. You’d be doing good to rid the world of him."

"Uh-huh," Spike said. "And what do I get out of this deal again?"

"He’s with Drusilla."

Spike considered this. After a moment he locked eyes with Giles. "Get out."

"So you’ll do it?" Giles asked, standing.

"No," Spike said. "Get out."

"But Spike!" Giles protested. "Drusilla!"

"I said no! Are you bloody deaf?" Spike turned away from Giles.

"But I thought-"

"You thought what?" Spike asked, advancing on Giles. "That I’d win back my true love by killing her new interest, and then leave town, happily ever after? Sure, maybe the old Spike could have done it, but I’m nothing anymore! She’d laugh me out of town! I’m not going near her. Now get out!"

"Spike, you’re being unreasonable."

"If you don’t get out right now-"

Giles stood his ground. "What are you going to do?"

The frustration of it all nearly killed Spike. He couldn’t take it anymore. "I’m leaving!" He stormed out the door, leaving Giles standing alone in the middle of the crypt.

A moment later the door swung open again. Spike had forgotten that he wasn’t wearing clothes. He grabbed his long, black jacket from the floor and left again.

Spike walked through the graveyard with long, purposeful strides, but he had no idea where he was going. He just wanted to get away from everything he’d been forced to realize. Drusilla was so close to him, but as much as he loved her, he couldn’t bear to be near her. He couldn’t be near anyone anymore. No other vampire would work with him in this state, and the only people he’d ever been able to turn to for help were self-righteous little cretins who mocked him at every opportunity. He didn’t even have clothes.

At this thought, Spike stopped walking and sat on a headstone. He felt he couldn’t possibly be more pathetic.

"Well, that does it," Spike said to himself. "I’ve reached a new low. But I am bloody sure not going to stay here. I’m William the Bloody! I’ve killed more people than Black Death! I’m not going to sit in this damned graveyard and feel sorry for myself any longer!"

Spike stood up. He didn’t know what he could do, but he had to do something. His mind drifted back to his earlier thought. A taste of a pretty girl, or a strong young man. He would have that taste, any way he could.

***

It was almost midnight when Willow walked into her dorm room. It was dark, and she stumbled to her bed, exhausted. As she slid under the covers, she felt something large and cold.

"Aaaah!" Willow screamed and jumped out of the bed. There was a loud thunk as the cold creature fell out of the bed. Willow switched on the light and looked down to see Spike lying on the floor, naked and rubbing his head.

"Damn, Red, can’t you let a guy sleep in peace?" he said.

"Spike! What are you doing here?" She frowned in disapproval and shock. "And why aren’t you wearing clothes?"

Spike crawled back into Willow’s bed. "If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll cover up." He threw the blanket over his waist and sat up against the headboard.

"Again, what are you doing here?" Willow said, her hands on her hips.

Spike stifled a smile. She was so cute when she was angry. "I was out wandering the campus for a stray cat to eat, and I ended up near your place here. When I saw no one was home, I figured Blondie was with her soldier boy, and you were with your little witch girlfriend. No use wasting a warm place to sleep. I was up all day, and I couldn’t get to sleep in the crypt." Spike lowered his eyes. "It was cold."

Spike peeked up to catch Willow’s reaction. She had sat down on the edge of the bed, and looked as sympathetic as one could expect. She’d bought it. Actually, Spike had been waiting outside the dorm for half an hour, and when he saw Willow walking towards it, he climbed in the window and slid into the bed just as she was opening the door.

"That doesn’t explain why you’re…" Willow gestured to Spike’s body.

"Oh, my clothes!" Spike said. "Yeah, well, I was tracking this demon. Was going to make a meal of him when I saw him attack some little kids in their backyard. Ended up the bugger was stronger than I’d thought. Tore my clothes to shreds with his big…claw-things. Barely managed to kill it before it sliced me open too."

"You don’t look hurt," Willow said, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Got a few scratches in the nether-regions," Spike said with a sly smile, "I don’t suppose you’d like to have a look…"

"That’s okay; I believe you," Willow said quickly.

"Already had your eyeful?" Spike teased.

Willow blushed and looked away. "Well...I always suspected you weren’t a natural blond."

Spike laughed. "You know, it’s nice to not be alone for once. Even if you do hate me."

"Oh, I don’t-" Willow stopped herself before she could finish the sentence and looked away.

Spike eyed her shrewdly. "Don’t what?"

Willow recovered and turned back to Spike. "Well, it’s not like we’re friends, especially since you’d kill me in a second if you could. But I guess I don’t completely hate you."

Smile smiled. "You’re not so bad yourself," he said. "For a human."

"Thanks," Willow said with a half-smile.

Spike put his arms behind his head and relaxed against the headboard. "So how ‘bout getting a drink for your new friend Spike? Something thick and sweet."

Willow looked at him curiously. "Thick and sweet?"

"Tastes like blood, you know."

Willow got up and went to the room’s little refrigerator. "We have some orange juice."

"Perfect, love." Spike surveyed the bedroom. The last time he’d been here, he was on a mission to kill. Finding Willow alone, he had realized that he wanted nothing more than to sink his teeth into her juicy, young flesh, pull her close to him, and feel her grow tense, then weak, against his body. Now he’d lost that power, but he could figured he could have fun with the attributes still at his disposal.

Willow returned to the bed with a glass of orange juice and handed it to Spike. "I don’t know about you being here. If Buffy comes home she’ll stake you without thinking twice."

Spike took a gulp of the juice and smiled at Willow. "But you won’t, will ya’ Red? After all, you saved me from staking myself just a short while ago."

"Yeah, but that was before you teamed up with Adam to try to get Buffy killed," she said.

"Oh, yeah, sorry ‘bout that," Spike said flippantly.

Willow rolled her eyes.

"So why aren’t you with your witch girl anyway?" Spike asked.

Willow’s face suddenly clouded over. "We kind of…had a fight."

"Really? That girl didn’t seem the fighting type to me."

"She isn’t. It’s just-" Willow sighed. "It’s kind of a long story."

Spike shrugged. "Well, there’s not much havoc I can wreak nowadays. So I’ve got all night. Let’s hear it."

Willow relaxed on the foot of the bed, her legs curled up, her hands behind her, supporting the weight of her body. "Well, to defeat Adam, we had to do this spell. And the spell brought back the spirit of the first slayer, who tried to kill us all by invading our dreams. The weird thing is, she used the guise of Tara for her voice. We didn’t find out until the next day, but the slayer had actually possessed Tara in order to do this. Tara was really affected by it. She felt stronger, more confident. And she started talking to me about all this stuff she’d never felt comfortable bringing up before.

"She said she felt neglected, like I took her for granted. I promised to make it up to her, but there was…something else." Willow paused and took a deep breath. "She didn’t like it that I haven’t told my parents about her yet. She feels like I’m ashamed of her. I’m not, it’s just…well, my parents are just really traditional. They’d totally wig, and I’m just not ready to deal with that."

Spike nodded. "Sounds reasonable."

"Tara didn’t think so," Willow said sadly. "She said she loved me, but she didn’t understand how we could be together if we had to be a secret. I don’t want it to be a secret, but my friends are only just now starting to deal; I can’t tell my parents too. But if I don’t, I’m afraid she’s not gonna want to be with me anymore." Willow’s eyes began to tear up. "I drove Oz away, and now I’m gonna drive Tara away too."

"Aw, Red, you don’t need to get all like that," Spike said. "I’d imagine dog-boy left for his own reasons. Believe me, it’s not always easy being a freak of nature. And I never did like the bloke anyway."

"You didn’t know him," Willow choked out.

"Yeah, well, he was a funny-looking little fellow, I know that." Spike reached out and put his hand on Willow’s shoulder. "I also know that he’d have to be deaf, mute, and blind to leave a girl like you if he didn’t have problems of his own."

Willow looked over at Spike, and then at his hand. "Why are you being nice to me?" she asked softly.

"Same reason you aren’t throwing my ass out of here, which you very well could." Spike moved closer to Willow. "It’s a big, evil world out there, Red, and a lot of the time we don’t have anyone to talk to. I know I don’t."

Spike’s hand was cold, but Willow felt strangely warmed but it. She looked over at him. His blue eyes were wide and welcoming, his face relaxed. When he wasn’t being evil or whining about his condition, he looked young and almost honest. The blanket was wrapped around his waist, and Willow could see the whole of his smooth, pale chest, looking hard and tight, and his outstretched arm bulged with muscles. He was actually an attractive man, and Willow could almost imagine that he was human.

"Don’t worry about Tara; she’ll still love you," Spike said. He paused and looked deep into Willow’s eyes. "I can’t see how she could help herself."

Willow felt Spike’s arm slide around her body and pull her closer, and she didn’t resist. Spike had been right; she could have made him leave. But for some reason, maybe pity, maybe loneliness, she hadn’t. And for the same obscure reason, she didn’t push him away when he leaned in and kissed her.

The kiss seemed to last forever. When Spike and Willow finally pulled away from each other, Willow nearly fell over. She felt so light-headed, the same way she felt when she first kissed Oz, and when she first kissed Tara.

She looked at Spike, whose face was still close to hers. "We shouldn’t be doing this," she whispered.

"Says who?" Spike kissed her again, lightly, running his tongue softly over the inside of her upper lip.

Willow could barely catch her breath. "Everybody…my friends…Buffy would freak."

"It’s not like she never did it," he said with a clever smile.

"That’s different."

"Why? Because Angel is poor, tormented, soul-boy? He’s still killed more people than me in his lifetime. Sure, I’ve done some damage here and there, but at least I never tried to suck the world in to hell." Spike leaned his forehead against Willow’s and smiled at his last comment.

The feel of his skin was making Willow unable to think. She took a deep breath. She loved his smell, his face against hers. She wanted to kiss him again. As if reading her mind, Spike slid his hand against her cheek and kissed her gently. Willow stifled a moan.

Spike pressed his face against her neck and breathed in her sweet scent. "If you want to, you can slap me, knee me in the crotch, and toss me out the door. I wouldn’t stop you even if I could."

"I won’t," Willow said softly.

Spike began kissing her neck, gently, and then made his way up the side of her face. He pushed her hair back and kissed her ear.

"But I don’t want to…" Willow began.

"What? Shag the undead?" Spike held Willow’s head and looked into her eyes. "Understandable."

Willow wrapped her hands around Spike’s shoulders and pulled him closer. "But I don’t want you to leave."

Spike smiled. "Don’t worry. There’s nowhere I’d rather be."

They both took in a hard breath as they pulled against each other and kissed deeply. Spike ran his hand down Willow’s body and to the curve of her back. He pulled her up until she was kneeling, her body pressed tightly against his. Spike kissed her neck, gripping with his lips and kneading her soft skin. He moved from her neck to her shoulder. Willow’s body shivered. When Spike released his lips from her shoulder, she pushed him backwards, and she was straddling him. Willow put her forearms on his chest and kissed his lips repeatedly. Suddenly she stopped and sat up, her legs still wrapped around Spike’s waist, his hands still on her back.

"I’ve changed my mind," Willow said.

"You want me to leave?" Spike asked.

A bright smile broke out on Willow’s face. "No," she said, her eyes sparkling. "I want to shag the undead."

Spike couldn’t help but laugh. She was so adorable and innocent in her advance. He pulled her down to lie on top of him again and hugged her. "You’re amazing, Red," he said, still chuckling.

Willow ran her hand down Spike’s naked body, until she found what she’d been looking for. She smiled back at Spike. "So are you."

An hour later, Spike was kneeling in front of the room’s small refrigerator and gazing into it. "Red! You’re out of orange juice!"

"These are the challenges one has to deal with, Spike." Willow called back. Though she had gotten dressed again, Spike was still naked. He walked back to Willow’s bed, holding a bottle of Snapple and studying it intently.

"Do you think it makes me less scary if I drink something called…peach iced tea?" Spike looked to Willow for her reaction.

"Well, I don’t think you’re scary at all, so there!" Willow said with a ribbing smile.

Spike put the bottle down on the nightstand. He jokingly growled and jumped into the bed with Willow. Giggling, Willow easily pushed him away. He settled down next to her and put his arm around her. The phone rang.

Willow climbed over Spike to get to the nightstand. "It’s late; I hope something isn’t wrong." She picked up the phone. "Hello? Buffy!" She looked over at Spike in alarm. Spike gave her a reasuring smile and put his hands over his mouth. "No, I just stopped in for a change of clothes. You can come over…No, really, it’s okay. I was just leaving…Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow." She hung up the phone and turned to Spike. "There’s a party in Riley’s dorm, so they’re coming here to be alone."

Spike stood up. "That’s fine. I’ll go."

Willow wrung her hands uncomfortably. "I should go back to Tara’s. She must be upset…since I left."

Spike picked up his jacket and put it on. "Of course, love. You two have a lot to talk about."

Willow moved towards him. "Spike-"

Spike reached out and took Willow’s hand in his. "Don’t worry about it, Red. It’s not as if I thought we’d run off together now."

"I know," Willow said. "It’s just…no one can ever, ever, ever-"

"My lips are sealed," Spike said.

"And if you get that chip out-"

Spike took Willow’s hand to his lips and kissed it gently. "I’d never hurt you."

Willow blushed and looked down. "Thanks."

Spike buttoned up his jacket and walked out the door.

Once he was out walking through the campus, Spike couldn’t stop himself from smiling. He’d liked the little witch since the first time he’d kidnapped her. Of course, then he was thinking the most intimate he’d ever be with her is when he killed her, but in circumstances such as he had, one couldn’t be picky.

He hadn’t entirely lied when he told her he wouldn’t hurt her. Sure, once he could, he’d kill her. But he’d bring certainly bring her back. Especially after tonight’s activities.

Spike licked his lips. He’d gotten his taste. And he was going to get more.

***

Spike took the alleys to his next destination. Ever since he’d been "disabled" by those damn underground scientists, he was careful walking at night. He was always afraid someone who knew about his condition would decide to dust him just for kicks. That pansy Xander had never liked him, and he didn’t trust Buffy either. So he walked in the shadows, careful to remain aware of his surroundings, and always looking over his shoulder. He hated it; it made him feel like a bloody human.

But tonight he wasn’t as worried as he normally would be. All he could think about was the nimble young witch. It had been good. Not as satisfying as killing, but it was still quite a way to spend an evening. Now he wanted some more, but perhaps something different, like-

Suddenly Spike was knocked to his knees. Before he could regain his bearings, a sharp kick doubled him over. An arm grabbed him and effortlessly flipped him. He crashed into the concrete. So it had happened. He’d let down his guard, and now all he could do was run.

But Spike was quickly pulled to his feet and held by the front of his jacket, a stake poised and ready in front of him. Then he saw who his attacker was. Angel.

"Wait! Wait!" Spike yanked his body backwards, breaking from Angel’s grip, and falling to the ground again in the process. He held his arms up in front of him to shield any other attempted stakings. "Not evil! Not evil!"

Angel stood over Spike’s fallen body and looked at him doubtfully.

"Okay, I’m still evil," Angel admitted. "But I can’t bite! Didn’t your little Slayer tell you?"

"Tell me what?" Angel growled.

"That they did this to me; they fixed me like a dog!" Spike waited for a reaction, but there was none. Angel still had the stake in his hand. "The Initiative. They captured me and put a chip in my head, and now I can’t bite, or even hit anyone. At least not anyone who’s living. So I’m pretty much-" Spike stopped a moment to consider what he said. He stood up. "Wait just a bloody minute. You’re not living." Spike punched Angel in the face.

Angel recovered quickly. "I didn’t come here to kill you, Spike." He punched Spike squarely in the face. "But it would sure make my trip more pleasant."

Spike charged at Angel and slammed him into the brick wall of one of the buildings surrounding them. He drove his knee into Angel’s ribs. "So tortured-soul-man has come prancing back into town," he said as he kneed Angel again. "Here to fight for truth, justice, and the American-" Spike went to kick Angel, but Angel caught his leg and sent Spike crashing down again.

"At least I’m wearing pants," Angel said as Spike leapt to his feet.

Spike tore off his jacket and threw it to the ground. The night air nipped at his naked flesh. "Don’t act so shocked, mate," he said with a coy smile. "It’s not as if you haven’t seen me like this before." Spike swung at Angel, but a quick forearm blocked the punch. Angel’s other hand connected with Spike’s face.

"I guess I’ve repressed it," Angel said. Spike moved towards him, and Angel used his own momentum to lift Spike into the air and send him crashing down on top of a row of trash cans. Spike scrambled back to his feet, while Angel stood motionless, watching him.

"What happened to us?" Spike asked. "We used to be chums! We shouldn’t be fighting; we should be talking, sharing, catching up."

"Okay," Angel said, stone-faced. "What have you been up to since I last saw you, when you nearly tortured me to death?"

Spike sighed. "Things have gotten a lot less fun."

Angel grabbed Spike’s arm and wrenched it behind him. Spike hit Angel in the face with his free hand. Angel tossed Spike against a wall with all his strength.

"You’re wasting my time," Angel said.

"Mine as well," Spike countered proudly. "I’m hunting a demon!"

Angel eyed Spike suspiciously. "What demon?"

"Same one who soaked my clothes with dirt and blood. Nasty fellow named Fosorc." Spike caught the recognition in Angel’s face. "So that’s why you’re here! Giles told me the bugger was on his way from L.A. I take it you followed him here."

"Where is he?"

"Never one to be too flowery with the words, were you, mate?" Spike stood with his arms crossed. "If you want your demon, you’re going to have to be a bit gentler with me."

"There isn’t time for this," Angel said. "People’s lives are in danger."

"Yes, including your old girl Blondie." Angel looked away as Spike said this. "Don’t tell me that’s not what this is all about. I’ll take you to Fosorc, but there will be no staking, hitting, or violence of any kind directed at myself."

"Fine, we’ll do it your way," Angel conceded. "But let’s cut the small talk and get to Fosorc."

"Alright, we’ll have to take the alleys to the other side of town." Spike put on his jacket and led the way.

"So," Spike said. The silence of the walk was bothering him already. "How is the redemption going?"

"Shut up and walk," Angel said.

"I don’t understand why you hate me so bloody much."

"You tried to kill me on two separate occasions."

"Oh, that," Spike scoffed. "A silly argument between old friends." Spike slowed until he was walking by Angel’s side. "Don’t you remember how it used to be with us? Me, you, and Dru. Those were the days. We’d get so worked up after a good kill, and then Dru would flirt, and tease, and then slide between us…" Spike drifted off at the memory. "You don’t find many women like that anymore." Spike looked over at Angel, who was ignoring him. "But then there were times when she wouldn’t get between us. Do you remember that…mate?"

Angel still wouldn’t meet Spike’s gaze. "Could we walk a little faster?" he snapped.

Spike groaned. "You never get tired of the hero act, do you?"

The anger was rising in Angel’s eyes. "I’m not playing games with you, Spike! Not when the people I care about are in danger!"

"Oh, sod off, there’s no danger!" Spike said. "I left Fosorc with two broken legs. He’s a powerful demon, but he’s not regenerative. It’ll take him days to heal."

Angel glared suspiciously. "Why didn’t you just kill him?"

"I may be one of the bloody good guys now, but I’m not stupid. Giles promised me money for the kill, and I’m not delivering the goods until I get half up front." Spike noticed that Angel’s face hadn’t softened. "I just crippled the bloke a little while ago, and I was on my way to Giles’ house right now. But after you ran into me – literally – I thought it would be a good opportunity to shed some blood with my old chum, Angel." Spike gestured further down the alley. "We could go finish him off right now, but there’s no need to hurry."

"All right," Angel said. "But I’d still rather have it done with."

They continued through the sidestreets and alleys of Sunnydale. Spike watched Angel out of the corner of his eye. The man had grown so stoic, so unlike the Angel he’d known long ago.

"You know, Angel," Spike said after a long silence. "You can save the world without being so bloody depressing."

Angel glanced sideways at Spike. "I’m not taking any advice from you."

"Any why not?" Spike asked. "You know, being good isn’t much different from being evil. It just depends on who you kill." He paused to look questioningly at Angel. "Don’t tell me you haven’t killed anyone recently."

Angel looked away. "Demons, vampires, of course."

"But no humans?"

Angel didn’t respond.

"Let me guess," Spike mocked. "They were bad humans."

Angel stopped and spun around to meet Spike’s eyes. "What does it matter to you, anyway?"

Spike suddenly turned serious. "It matters because you walk around like you’re better than all of us, when you aren’t nearly qualified to decide who lives or dies, any more than you were when you and I killed together."

"It’s different!" Angel argued. "It’s not the same as an ordinary vampire. It’s not to feed."

"But it certainly feeds your twisted needs for forgiveness." Spike moved closer to Angel. "No matter how many vampires you dust, you’ve still created them. No matter how many demons you destroy, you’ve still conspired with them. And no matter how many pale blond girls cry their thanks into your arms, you’ve still killed. And you still kill."

"Not without cause!"

"How do you know?" Spike asked. "We’ve known demons who didn’t give sod-all about killing, who were just regular Joes, or half-demons passing. Are you sure you didn’t kill any of them?"

Spike could see that this struck a nerve in Angel. He slid down the wall and sat on the muddy concrete thoughtlessly. "Why are you saying this?" Angel said softly.

"Because you’re torturing yourself," Spike lectured from above him. "And you don’t need to. It isn’t always black and white, good and evil. Not one person on Earth is completely bloody innocent." Angel looked up at Spike doubtfully. Spike sat down beside him. "So maybe you think you were worse than others. All right. But can’t you make amends without making yourself miserable?"

Angel’s eyes gazed sadly off into space. "Why do you even care, Spike?"

"Because I knew you when," Spike said. "And aside from occasionally trying to destroy the world, you were a decent fellow. At least you enjoyed life."

"And extinguishing it," Angel muttered.

Spike groaned. "Enough with the hating yourself, mate. It’s getting old."

Angel turned to face his old friend. His spirit was weakened, but his eyes were still angry. "You’re a bastard, Spike."

Spike smiled. "But you remember how you used to love that. How proud you were of me sometimes. I used to emulate you, Angel. You were my idol. When you left us to go back to Darla, I missed you horribly. Then I find you again, nearly a hundred years later, and you condemn me. Not because I changed; because you changed. These past few years…I never wanted it to be like this. I wanted it the way it used to be."

Angel’s eyes were still locked on Spike. "It can’t ever be that way again."

"Yes it can," Spike whispered. He grabbed Angel’s head roughly and kissed him hard on the lips.

When Angel tried to pull away, Spike pressed his lips even more firmly into Angel’s, driving his tongue into his warm mouth, and sinking his fangs into his lower lip. It had been ages since he’d tasted Angel’s blood like this, and it brought back a flood of memories.

The three of them, walking the streets of London, hunting for their next kill. Dru’s hands would be all over them, overwhelmed by the two men’s bodies. Spike loved her, and would grimace with jealousy whenever she turned all her attention to Angel. Angel had been the most brutal of them all, and the way he killed would melt Dru at his feet. Spike followed Angel’s lead, forever trying to impress his two companions.

Drusilla was Angel’s pride. He had created her, not only as a vampire, but as a personality as well. He delighted in her mad, psychic episodes, until her insanity began to bore him, and then he’s leave her with Spike and go hunting on his own.

Angel enjoyed Spike’s devotion, and was impressed by the destruction Spike had done while still human. He downplayed his feelings in order to better control his young minion. But occasionally Spike’s brilliant acts of cruelty were so mesmerizing that Angel gave in to his instincts and indulged himself.

But then, in the alley, Angel wasn’t giving in. The demented human soul within him was too strong to allow for an indiscretion. Spike’s challenge was to change that.

Angel tore free from Spike’s violent kiss and threw him to the ground. Spike’s leather jacket fell open, and his smooth white skin glowed in the moonlight. Angel glared down, blood dripping from his mouth.

"Want to hurt me, Angel?" Spike teased.

The angelic face quickly changed, becoming distorted around the eyes, and Angel exposed his bloody fangs.

"Do it," Spike growled.

Angel leapt on top of Spike, buried his face in the exposed chest, and tore open the soft skin that quivered, awaiting his lips. Spike’s body bucked as Angel began to drink, and he moaned loudly.

Angel soon released his grip, ran his bloodstained tongue up Spike’s neck, and plunged it into the waiting mouth. Spike held onto Angel’s back as if he would drown in the rough kisses. He tore Angel’s shirt off in one quick motion. Pulling himself closer, Spike sunk his teeth into Angel’s neck, and felt his body stiffen. Angel grabbed onto Spike’s narrow hips tightly. After a moment Spike withdrew. Angel was ready. Spike licked the wound on Angel’s neck, and then rolled onto his stomach.

Spike left the alley alone, his body covered with blood, mud, and the evidence of Angel’s "moment of happiness". He’d left his old mentor kneeling in the filth and growling. Angel wasn’t fatally wounded, but soon someone would be, of that Spike was certain.

Spike threw his head back and laughed out loud. He didn’t think he could possibly have any more fun tonight.

But it was still early, and he intended to try.

***

"I want a human!" Spike shouted.

The girl standing next to him leaned closer, and strained to hear over the blasting music. "What?"

"I said," Spike repeated, yelling into the girl’s ear, "Do you have the time?"

The girl looked at her watch. "One-thirty!"

Spike walked further into the crowd. He had plenty of time to find what he wanted. There was over a hundred young bodies in The Bronze, and after a quick bath from a hose he found in someone’s yard, and a tall pair of boots he’d stolen from another house, he was ready. He strolled through the dance floor, eyeing each person, waiting for one to shoot a look back at him. He paused near a stunning brunette. If she shagged with the same energy she put into her dancing, he could be in for quite an Act Three.

The brunette noticed him watching her, and her eyes locked on him immediately. He was thrown by the look she gave him. It wasn’t simply one of interest; it seemed like she had recognized him.

Spike moved closer to her. He had to be mistaken. She couldn’t know him; she was clearly human.

The girl threw her body around like the music had infected her. Spike was intrigued. She danced closer to him, her eyes combing over his body. He moved close enough to touch her.

The girl smiled. "Hi Spike."

Spike backed up so suddenly that he banged into another dancer. Immediately a blinding pain shot through his head, and his hand instinctively went to it. He recovered just in time to see her laughing.

"Don’t tell me you still have that chip in your head!" the girl said with a wicked smile.

Spike spun around and moved towards the exit as quickly as he could. A human who knew about his limitations was lethal to him. He had to get away.

He was outside the club and ready to take off when he heard her voice again.

"And afraid of me. I love it!" The girl sauntered towards him. "Don’t worry, Spike. I have no reason to hurt you. And lucky for you, I’ve decided to turn over a new leaf, stop killing for sport, that kind of thing."

Spike was frozen. If she had followed him out here so quickly, she could surely catch him if he ran. "Who are you?"

The girl tossed her head back and laughed. "That’s right!" She smiled mischievously. "I wasn’t quite myself when we met. I’m Faith."

Spike looked puzzled. "Where have I heard that name before?"

Faith put her hands on her hips and shrugged, tossing her hair and looking gorgeous in the process. "I suppose I’m a legend in Sunnydale now. Rogue slayer, teamed up with the Mayor to slaughter the class of ’99, put into a coma by resident slayer, awakened eight months later to wreak havoc from here to L.A., only to repent and turn herself in."

Spike began to back up. "Ah, yes. I believe the description I heard was ‘criminally insane’. How’s that working out for you? Well, I must be going."

Faith rolled her eyes. "Wow. You’re even more pathetic than the last time I saw you."

"Sod off!" Spike yelled. His face immediately softened. "Without staking me, of course."

Faith moved closer, holding out her hands in a gesture of innocence. "I have no intention of staking you."

"Okay, then tell me this," Spike challenged. "If you turned yourself in, what are you doing here?"

"It’s called bail," Faith said. "I’m only here for a few days. Cordelia told me Angel was chasing some super-demon, so I figured I’d help out. Without occasional violence, life is pretty dull."

"Tell me about it," Spike groaned.

"So what’s a girl to do? I guess I’m off to find a demon."

"Oh, don’t worry about him," Spike assured her. "Angel and I made short work of the bugger."

Faith seemed surprised. "You worked with Angel?"

"Yeah, now that I’m all harmless, I do the same as you," Spike said. "Got to keep myself occupied."

Faith nodded. "So what are you doing tonight to keep yourself occupied?"

Spike smiled. "Is that an invitation?"

Faith gestured at the Bronze flippantly. "I’ve worn this place out. Got to go find some amusements. Of the legal kind, I suppose. You game?"

"Lead the way."

Faith walked with her head held high and her hips swinging. Spike couldn’t help but stare at her as they made their way down the streets of Sunnydale. He liked the slayer already. If she was really on his side, he had nothing to fear. And judging by the way her body made him quiver, he had a great deal to look forward to.

"So what’s on the agenda?" Spike asked.

"Mmmm, I feel like killing something," Faith’s face flushed as she considered this.

"Turning bad again already?" Spike teased. "Do I need to run?"

Faith laughed. Her lips looked so juicy, her mouth so wet. "Nah, I want to take out a wicked evil vampire, or some large, nasty-looking demon."

Spike considered this. "You would’ve enjoyed Fosorc. Luckily, we’re on a Hellmouth. And we’re walking towards the graveyard."

Faith looked over at Spike, her dark eyes sparkling. "We’re getting pretty lucky tonight."

Spike’s eyes ran down her body. Her tight jeans exposed every muscular curve, her plump breasts seemed to explode from her shirt, and he ached to tear off her jacket and delight in all her juicy flesh. "I certainly hope so."

"So when did you see Angel last?" Faith asked.

"You looking for him?"

Faith shrugged. "Just thought I’d say hello. And I guess I owe him a thank-you."

"Oh, yeah? What’d the old boy do for you?"

"Got me to turn myself in."

Spike rolled his eyes. "Doesn’t sound like much of a favor to me."

"Hey, I woulda ended up dead if I kept going like I was," Faith said. "I just gotta learn to have fun without committing any felonies."

"Now what kind of fun is that?" Spike teased.

Faith raised her eyebrows at Spike provocatively. "Is that a challenge?"

Before Spike could reply, Faith held out her hand to silence him. "I hear something."

Spike looked off into the distance. "From the graveyard?"

Faith nodded, a huge smile growing on her face. "Oh, and he’s a big one." She moved closer to Spike, so close that he thought he could hear her blood rushing through her veins. "You up for it?"

Spike felt light-headed. "Oh, yeah," he said softly.

Faith rushed into the graveyard, with Spike close behind. As they neared a cluster of trees, a large demon emerged. He must have been seven feet tall. His skin was scaly, and an array of horns protruded from his head. As soon as he was in her sight, Faith sent him stumbling back with a powerful kick.

Spike was there to back her up with a series of blows to the demon’s midsection. The demon retaliated by lifting Spike up and tossing him onto a gravestone.

"Bloody hell!" Spike jumped to his feet in time to see Faith knock the demon to the ground. He rushed back up to them. Faith yanked the demon into a kneeling position, and Spike skillfully broke his neck.

Faith stood over the dead demon’s body. "That was too easy."

Spike shrugged. "The bloke was all horns and no bite."

Faith looked frustrated. "I was all worked up for a big, intense fight."

"So what are you going to do with all that energy?" Spike asked, inching closer to her.

"Well, for one thing, I’m going to ask you whatcha got under that coat."

Spike was taken aback.

Faith laughed. "When you fell over that gravestone, I think I saw a bit of exposed flesh. Am I wrong?"

"Want to find out?"

Faith looked at Spike doubtfully. Her hands were on her hips, and the night breeze tossed her soft, dark hair over her full lips. "I dunno. With that chip in your head, I think I might hurt you."

Spike took a step closer to Faith. "I think I might enjoy that."

Faith had knocked Spike onto his back and straddled him before the words had completely left his mouth. He was temporarily stunned.

"Big, bad vampire can’t take it?" Faith teased. Before Spike could respond, Faith leaned into his body, and bit into his neck until it bled.

"Ah!" Spike cried out in a mixture of pain and pleasure. He gripped Faith’s back as hard as he would with another vampire, and when she didn’t respond, he dug into her harder.

Faith released her grip on Spike’s neck. She licked the blood up the side of his face and into his mouth, then bit down on his lower lip. Spike growled. Faith tore open his jacket and began gnawing her way down his body. Spike reached up to remove Faith’s jacket, but she pinned his arms to the ground.

"I’m in control here, bad boy," Faith purred into his ear.

"You’re taking advantage of me." Spike said. He smiled. "I like it."

When Faith was finally done with Spike, she wiped the blood off her face with the back of her hand. Spike was lying naked on the grass, exhausted and dizzy from the loss of blood. He felt like she’d been riding him for days. Faith’s eyes scanned his body.

"Not bad, vamp," she said.

"Damn, slayer," Spike used all his strength to sit up. "You need to visit more often."

Faith laughed, obviously proud of herself. "I gotta go find Angel now."

"I told you, love, the demon he came for is dead."

"Whatever. But Angel really kept me sane when I was losing it in L.A." Faith dusted off her clothes. "And I could use some of that now, ya’ know, motivate me to go back and face the trial." Faith threw one last glance down to Spike. "I’ll see ya’."

As Faith strode out of the graveyard, Spike did his best to clean the blood off his body, and wrapped up in his coat once again. He was still light-headed from the experience. The girl had completely dominated him and practically killed him. Just like the old days with Dru. He hadn’t realized until now how much he’d missed it.

He’d also forgotten that he hadn’t eaten, and the spectacular beating Faith had given him had worn him down. He needed to feed. The demon they’d killed still lay close by. The blood would be cold, but wouldn’t have coagulated yet. Spike ripped its head off and drank hungrily from its neck.

When he’d drained the demon dry, Spike stood up straight and considered his next conquest. He could tell by the stars that he only had a few hours until sunrise. Suddenly he had an idea. It was a long shot, but if his hunch was correct, there was even more fun in store for him. But he had to hurry.

***

Spike stood outside one of the UC Sunnydale dorms, a wide grin spread over his face. He was afraid he would be too late, but it seemed he was just in time.

He had stopped by Buffy and Willow’s room first, and peeked in the window to make sure his plan would be worth the effort. Buffy and Riley were sleeping soundly, but the little witch’s bed was empty.

He broke into one of the school’s offices, as he had before, and looked through the computer files once again. He didn’t know the witch-girlfriend’s last name, but there were only a few Taras in the school, and soon he was standing outside her room. Not only did she not have curtains drawn, but the window faced the back of another building, where it was likely Spike would not be noticed.

Willow sat on Tara’s bad, looking as if she’d been crying. After a moment Tara entered the room and handed Willow a cup of what looked like coffee or tea. Willow drank it, and though Spike couldn’t hear what they were saying, it seemed as if they were continuing a conversation that must have gone on since Willow left her bedroom after her tryst with Spike.

After a few minutes of talking, Tara extended her hand and gently brushed Willow’s hair back. Willow looked up at her and smiled sweetly. She took the last sip from the cup, then placed it on Tara’s nightstand. Tara said something, and Willow leaned across the bed and kissed her.

As the kiss continued, Tara lay back on the bed and Willow climbed on top of her. Willow was gentle, supporting herself by her knees and elbows, careful not to press too hard against her girlfriend. Tara’s blond hair cascaded over the pillow, shimmering as she lifted her head to meet each kiss.

Willow rose to her knees and took her shirt off, then reached down and did the same to Tara. Willow’s hands ran down the length of her girlfriend’s body. Tara sighed deeply. Willow kissed Tara’s chin, and then moved down her torso, nibbling and kissing the supple exposed flesh. Tara reached up and held Willow’s head as it made its way down. Willow’s mouth reached the top of Tara’s pants, and she undid the button with her teeth.

Spike watched without blinking. As the two girls finished undressing, he opened his jacket and reached inside.

After a while, Willow rolled onto her side, holding Tara close to her. The two girls looked into each other’s eyes, and their apparent whispers were interrupted by short, tender kisses. The phone rang, and Tara got up to answer it.

Tara quickly handed the phone to Willow. Willow’s eyes widened in alarm as she listened, and she gestured to the window. Spike leaned against the wall so Tara couldn’t see him as she opened the window and looked outside. With the window open, Spike could hear their conversation clearly.

"I don’t see anyone," Tara called back to Willow. When she moved away from the window, she left it open. Spike stayed out of view, listening.

"It’ll be morning soon," Willow said into the phone. "We should wait until sunrise and go to Giles’…Calm down, Buffy. Maybe there’s some explanation…I know. Okay, so I’ll see you there. Bye."

"What’s going on?" Tara asked.

"It’s Angel," Willow said. "Remember what I told you about him? Well, it looks like he’s gone evil again."

"Oh, no!"

"He just attacked Buffy and Riley. Angel broke Riley’s arm and Buffy threw him through the window. He ran off, probably because it’s so near sunrise."

"Buffy must be really upset."

Willow sighed. "She’s practically hysterical. But Riley’s with her, so she’ll be okay. And as soon as the sun rises we’ll go meet up with them at Giles’."

"Willow, I’m so sorry this had to happen to your friend."

"Thanks. But you know, we’ll be able to help. With our combined power we should be able to do the soul-restoration spell. Hopefully Giles has the supplies – Tara, what’s wrong?"

"Does Angel know that it was you who did the soul-restoration spell before?"

"Oh…well…"

"He’ll be coming after you, Willow!"

"He’ll be coming after us all." Spike could hear the panic in Willow’s voice. "Tara, the window."

After the window was shut, Spike peeked inside again. The two girls were fully clothed, talking with animated gestures and pained looks on their faces. There wasn’t anything left to see here. Spike began to walk home.

It would be morning soon, and all the wretched Scoobies would be in Giles’ house when Fosorc arrived. With any luck, the demon would delay his attack until after sunset, when Angel could join him. The slayer would have difficulty defending herself and her friends from the two powerful creatures. And then there was Faith. When she saw the new attitude her savior had adopted, there was no telling who she’d lash out at.

Perhaps this chip in his head wasn’t quite the curse Spike had initially thought it was. After all, he’d caused a great deal trouble tonight, and had a hell of a lot of fun in the process. Spike laughed out loud. There was going to be a bloody good slaughter in Sunnydale.

Spike took off his jacket and lay naked on the slab in his crypt. His smooth white chest was stained with blood and dirt. His lower body was pleasantly bruised, and his muscles ached with exertion. He stretched out his lean body, not bothering to cover it. He could smell morning approaching. It had been a good night. He could hardly wait for the next one.

THE END