Measure Of A Man
By Kereia (Moonlight Spike)
Rating: NC-17

PROLOGUE

It was searching. Always searching. Since gaining its freedom, it had done nothing else. Floating high above the heads of all those people it had found here, it sent its power through the room, searching for the one thing that would sustain it. And it found what it needed.

Slowly, gracefully, it glided lower, approaching a couple that was arguing heatedly as they stood among their friends. The man, a big, burly guy in his twenties, was just perfect for it. The yells of the couple echoed within the circle of friends, but was swallowed by the music and laughing of the people nearby.

It reached out to the man tentatively and touched his soul. A jolt of pleasure shot through it, like an electric current, giving it life and power. It drank greedily and with each swallow, it could feel the hatred and jealousy flaring higher inside the human. It rejoiced at the prospect of such potential and sank its being further into the young man’s soul.

Then suddenly, something caught its attention. Rage so powerful and rich in abundance that it was almost left disoriented hit it with unmatched force. It lost interest in the arguing couple immediately and made its way through the crowed, seeking the source of such a sweet essence.

The man was not hard to find. His jealousy burned like a bright beacon, guiding it through the crowed. He was different than the others. It remembered beings like him, but it had never met anyone of his kind with the ability to feel like this. It didn’t mater though. He would provide it with all it needed for tonight. And hopefully in the nights to come as well.

With a cry of joy it invaded him and drank deeply from the rich nectar of his demon soul.

The club was crowded, as always. Loud and up-beat music echoed through the large room, which was only dimly lit. It gave the appearance of a refuge, a cozy place to forget about the misery of real life. A place to dance and drink your problems away.

Spike leaned casually against the bar of the Bronze. A half-full bottle of beer was dangling at the neck between his thumb and his index and middle finger. He watched the crowed on the dance floor passively, an air of apathy surrounding his lean, muscled form.

Raising the bottle to his lips, he took another sip of the cool liquid, letting it roll inside his mouth before swallowing it.

Originally he’d come here to get utterly and completely drunk, but once he’d actually entered the club, he’d quickly lost interest in his own plan. The reason for that was simple.

She’d been here!

He’d sensed her the minute he’d walked through the door. The light, not uncomfortable tingling that started at the base of his spine and quickly spread over his whole body had been a sure sign that she’d been here.  He’d felt it on the first night that he’d met her. At first he’d tried to discard it as a response to what she was. After all she was the Slayer. His enemy. And she could sense vampires, although in a very limited way.  But even then, he’d known. He had killed two of her kind and faced off against at least half a dozen others but he’d never been able to feel their presence.

It had not taken him long to pick her out of the crowd. Dressed in a black and silver tank top and a short black skirt that barely covered the top of her thighs, she’d been dancing sensually to the slow, tantalizing song that the band had played at that moment.  He knew the boy she'd been dancing with but he honestly didn’t care.

He’d watched her. His eyes had traveled over every curve of her small but oh-so powerful body as he’d slowly made his way over to the bar.  Her swaying hips, her arms reaching high over her head, her eyelids half-closed…he’d never seen her looking more beautiful than this. She was captivating…entrancing.  Judging from the expression on the boy’s face, pike wasn’t the only one thinking this way. The young man was devouring her with his eyes, arousal and desire clearly written across his features.

He’d snorted then. The whelp didn’t stand a chance of satisfying her…of course, in his own opinion he was the only one who ever could, but that was beside the point... wasn't it? He couldn't help but feel a tingle of sympathy for the guy, though. He knew that he’d be just as bad off if she’d been rubbing up against him that way for more than five minutes.

He’d ordered a beer and continued to watch her until she’d left about an hour ago. By then his jeans felt way too tight as his cock was pressed painfully against his zipper. He scowled, not looking forward to being forced to have another intimate conversation with his hand tonight, instead of getting the real thing.

Part One

Taking another swig from the now almost empty bottle, he turned away from the dance floor. With her gone he’d lost interest in the gyrating couples filling the club. He stared off into space for a few seconds, drowning out the music and conversations around him.

Damn, he wanted her. Badly. He had right from the start, but over the years his desire had only increased, leaving him restless and frustrated. Hell, he’d even been so desperate to get laid that he’d used Harmony as a substitute!

A light tap on his shoulder brought his thoughts back to reality. He turned to face the beautiful black haired girl that had approached him and gave her a devastating smile.

"Would you like to dance?" she asked him, batting her eyelashes coyly at him.

Spike let his appreciative gaze travel over her feminine body. She was pretty enough, he decided... and hey, if he couldn’t have Buffy and Harmony was still mad at him… what the hell?

"Sure pet." He grinned and led her to the dance floor. The music was still fast and hard and he spent the first minutes dancing away the tension in his neck. Then a slow song started and the girl pressed her body to his immediately. He smiled inwardly, thinking that this would be easier than he’d thought it to be.

She moved her hips in slow circles against him, causing a certain part of his body to stand up and take notice again. Her hands wound through his hair and suddenly she pressed her lips to his in a hard and bruising kiss.  Her boldness caught him off guard and he withdrew his head to look at her slightly confused. She just smiled at him and tried to kiss him again. When he evaded her, a small frown began to sweep over her features.

"What’s wrong?" she asked him. Her voice had a slight edge to it, indicating that she was annoyed at his actions.  Spike opened his mouth to answer, but before the first word could leave his lips, a strong hand clamped down on his shoulder and he was pulled backwards and spun around.

A startled yelp escaped the vampire and he reflexively grabbed the arm of the man, who’d grabbed him, in order to steady himself. When he'd regained his balance he found himself face to face with a tall, big, muscle-packed football player type guy, whose eyes seized him up angrily.

"Keep your paws off my girlfriend, mate." He growled dangerously.

"Jesse, we were just dancing," the girl said, hiding behind Spike’s back and hugging her arms around his waist.

Jesse, who was built like a football-player and very likely was one, didn’t look very convinced and stared pointedly at her hands on the vampire’s stomach.  "Just dancing, huh? Looked like tonsil hockey to me."

Spike pushed the girl’s arms firmly away from him and sidestepped so that he was no longer trapped between her and her boyfriend.

"Listen, this is obviously a misunderstanding. Why don’t you just take your girlfriend, mate, and I'll leave," he said with forced calm. Inside he was sizzling. Under normal circumstance, he’d have already snapped the bloke’s neck and his girlfriend’s right along with it. Unfortunately, the circumstances weren’t normal. Thanks to the soddin’ chip in his head he couldn’t hurt any of them without getting a mind splitting headache. And if he tried to kill them, he’d probably drop unconscious from the pain the implant caused.  Therefore he was forced to swallow his pride, dignity and homicidal tendencies, and talk his way out of this instead.

"Who you’re calling ‘mate’ here?" Jesse hissed and took a threatening step forward. Spike didn’t budge; he’d be damned if a bloody human would get the better of him, chip or no chip.

A small group had already started to assemble around them and two people detached themselves from the crowed and walked into the open area, to stand right behind Jesse. His friends, no doubt.

"All right…" Spike began, holding his hands up in reluctant surrender and finally took the step back to keep the guy out of his personal space."…there is no need to…"

"Jesse, come on. I was just trying to make you jealous." The girl interrupted him.

Spike’s head snapped around. Jealous? She was using him to make that guy jealous? He couldn’t believe it. Who did she think she was? He was goddamn gorgeous. Women were all over him ‘all’ the time. All right, so maybe not all the time lately, but still…it was outrageous!

"You little bitch!" he exclaimed, grabbing her arm roughly. Immediately pain exploded in his skull, and he let her go as if he’d burned himself. Then he put his hands to his head, trying to ward of the agony caused by the chip, but to no avail.

The next thing he felt was hands gripping the lapels of his duster as Jesse picked him straight off his feet and brought him nose to nose with his beefy face.

"No one calls my girl a bitch. Is that clear?" The question was theoretical, of course. Not waiting for an answer he dropped the vampire back to his feet and punched him. The blow connected solidly with Spike’s chin, snapping his head back.

The bleached blond vampire stumbled two steps backwards and carefully examined his face for blood and broken bones. The blow had been hard and fast and he was relieved when he discovered himself to be uninjured, except for the throbbing right at the spot, where the man’s fist had hit him.

It took all his self-control not to lash out at the football player, but the dull ache in his brain, triggered by the graphic thoughts running through his mind, were enough of a reminder not to take any action.

Thankfully he didn't have to. Just when football - player - guy and his friends started to move in on him, two of the Bronze’s bouncer stepped through the crowd.

"If you guys wanna fight, you take this outside." One of them said, gesturing towards the door. The other merely crossed his arms over his broad chest and fixed them with a steely gaze.

Every instinct in his vampiric mind screamed not to let this go unchallenged, but after taking a few unneeded breaths, Spike took another step backwards.

"Fine. I’m out." He called, turning his back on them. He walked back to the bar and ordered another beer, ignoring the shouts from Jesse and his friends.

"This ain’t over yet, scumbag." The football player yelled across the room, stabbing his finger in Spike’s directions. His friends nodded in silent support.

Spike just snorted, annoyed and increasingly ticked off at his own predicament. He gulped the cold beverage down at once and ordered another one, right away. He sooooo needed to get drunk.

It felt dizzy with power. The creature had given him so much and the man he’d fed on before had just given him an additional boost. It was satisfied and almost bursting with energy. It was time to rest now! Slowly, almost lethargic, it floated up to the ceiling and right through it. Higher and higher it soared, seeking the cold of the air.

When it felt that it had enough height, it veered off, past the cemetery that was near the Bronze, heading for it’s home. The only
place where it could rest. Once there, he gathered himself in the small space and sank into oblivion, until the next night.... when it would feel hunger again.

It was only twenty minutes later, when he left the Bronze. The music and people were getting on his nerves and even the alcohol didn’t hold any appeal to him, once the first anger had subsided.

His stride was slow and self-assured as he walked down the alley, heading for his crypt.

He heard them, before he saw them. And there were more than three guys approaching, too. Looked like Jesse had brought along a couple of his friends.

Wankers! he thought, but moved to the fire stairs in order to go up to the roof. After all he couldn’t very well fight his way through them, much less talk his way out of it.

He barely made it up the first two steps, when the first guy rounded the corner. The boy’s eyes, not Jesse, fell upon him immediately and he gave a shout of warning to his friends. Then he bolted for the stairs, his buddies only two steps behind him.

They would’ve never gotten him. But Murphy’s Law, wouldn’t be Murphy’s Law if he’d just be able to walk out of this. His duster caught on the rusty iron of the balustrade. Spike stopped and jerked forward, hoping to get away. He heard the terrifying sound of tearing leather and whirled around.

"My duster! MY DUSTER! Bloody fucking hell, my duster!!!" Then they were upon him. He was roughly pulled back to the ground and before he even realized what was happening, blows were raining down on him form all sides.

"I told you, that we’re not finished yet." Jesse’s voice echoed loudly through the narrow alley, as he grabbed Spike by the back of his coat and pulled him backwards.

A knife sliced neatly through the tender flesh on his lower rip cage and the vampire howled in pain. At that moment something snapped inside of him. With a loud roar he tore away from the burly man and punched his face as hard as he could. Jesse’s face snapped backwards, as the bone of his nose was forced into his brain, killing him instantly.

At the same time, a wave of pain crashed into Spike’s mind, forcing him to his knees. His hands went automatically up to his head, leaving his body defenseless.

Through the numbing haze that had enveloped his brain, he was barely aware of the cries of fear, outrage and hatred around him. His eyes were squeezed tightly shut and he had to force himself to open them again. A fist connected with his face, throwing him onto his back. A boot hit his rip cage, another one his back. Another fist was brought down on his face and finally Spike realized that they wouldn’t stop before he was dead.

Of course, with him being a vampire, he wouldn’t die easily. However, if he lost enough blood, they just might be able to pull it off.

He had no idea where he found the strength to throw them off, but even this defensive act send a new stab of white-hot pain from his skull down his spine, making him stumble even before he was completely on his feet. For the first time in centuries Spike felt fear course through him. The adrenaline numbed the pain somewhat, enough for him to momentarily break free of his attackers.

He made one single step, then he was grabbed again and spun around. The vampire leaped off his feet and sent a high-kick to his opponents face…and came crashing to the ground, almost unconscious with pain. He didn’t see if he’d caused any damage to the guy, nor did it matter.

They were upon him like a pack of hungry wolfs, beating the crap out of him. He didn’t even realizing slipping into unconsciousness, but at one time the pain just stopped and he was surrounded by blessed darkness, not feeling or hearing anything.

Part Two

He drifted slowly back into awareness. Every bone in his body ached; only his head felt oddly numb. Spike forced his eyes open and was greeted with darkness and a strange burning sensation.  He moved his hand and rubbed it slowly over his features, his fingertips coming away smeared with dark red liquid. The burning in his eyes was caused by the blood that had trickled from a wound in his head. He pulled himself into a sitting position, still not entirely conscious, and used the bottom of his red shirt to wipe as much blood off his skin as possible.

His movements were slow, almost trance like, and he realized with sudden clarity that the numbness that had started to replace the pain in his limbs came from his blood loss. He needed to feed and he needed to do it fast. He was already too weak to heal his injuries so they wouldn’t close. Somehow he managed to push himself to his feet and lean against one wall confining the alley.

His hand pressed unconsciously against his stomach as a light throbbing pain flowed over him in that area. He remembered the knife sliding into him and looked down. The wound was deep and bleeding furiously onto his clothes, as were several other incisions that he must have received while he’d been unconscious. If he’d been human, he would be dead by now. Of course, if he’d been human he would have died two centuries ago and not gotten into this situation in the first place.

Spike was too weak and exhausted to even speak. Instead he rattled off every single swearword he knew in his mind and concentrated on moving. The alley was deserted but there was blood everywhere, particularly at the spot where he had crumpled to the ground earlier. Jesse’s body was nowhere in sight, and Spike assumed that his friends had taken care of him and were now trying to make up a believable story for the police and his parents.

He dragged himself to the street and leaned once again against the wall for support, his forehead pressed to the cool stone, trying to break through the numbness in his brain and form coherent thoughts.  Where should he go? His crypt would be safe, but he needed to feed. The whelp was out of town and the Slayer was probably busy shagging someone who wasn’t him. So it was the Watcher’s home then.

Spike pushed himself off the wall and staggered onto the street. He could feel that sunrise was not far away and knew that he had to hurry, a task that was almost impossible to accomplish in the shape he was in.

He reached the condo’s front door with barely a few minutes left before the sun would grace the horizon, and took a last ditch effort to raise his hand an knock on the door. The only thing keeping him on his feet was his willpower and he was running short on that as well. His hand slumped weakly against the wood, the noise barely audible, and he forced himself to try again. His left hand was still pressed against one of the knife wounds in his stomach and a wave of dizziness hit him full force, causing him to fall forward as his knees threatened to give out from under him.

His forehead connected with the door, but he hardly felt it. He desperately tried to concentrate, knowing that if he didn’t get inside immediately he’d be dead in a matter of minutes. The first tendrils of light were sneaking over the rooftops, claiming the city as their own for another day. 

The door was suddenly pulled open and he fell forwards, right on top of the Slayer.

"Spike!" Buffy exclaimed in shock, as the dirt and blood covered vampire collapsed into her arms.

His gaze focused on her for a split second. "Buffy..." was all he whispered, then he blacked out.

"Giles! GILES! I need help."

Buffy dragged the unconscious vampire to the couch and dumped him on top of it. Then she kneeled down beside him and turned him onto his back.  She gasped in horror when she took in his battered appearance. There was blood everywhere - on his clothes, on his face, on his hands, in his hair. And he looked pale. Too pale, even for a vampire. Cold dread swept through her body as she quickly but carefully tore his black shirt open straight down the front.

Giles came practically running down the stair at her urgent call. He stopped dead in his tracks when he reached the ground floor of his condo and his eyes fell on the blood-covered form on his couch.

"Oh dear,” he said, then rushed into the kitchen to get a bowl of water.

While Buffy stripped Spike’s duster and the remains of his shirts completely off his body, Giles got clean towels and a first aid kit out of the bathroom.

"What happened?" he asked as soon as he entered the living room again. The older man kneeled down besides his Slayer and began to wet one of the towels. Meanwhile, Buffy already started inspecting the vampire’s wounds. Neither of them wasted a single thought on the fact that this was Spike they were taking care of. Giles was too shocked at the sight of a formerly powerful nemesis in this condition and Buffy...Buffy was crying.

Tears were streaming down her face without her even realizing it. The vampire was still bleeding from numerous wounds and Buffy was certain that the slashes covering his chest and abdomen were caused by knives.

"I don’t know, Giles," she choked out, grabbing a towel. "He collapsed the second I opened the door. But this looks bad. Really bad." She carefully washed the blood off his alabaster skin, moving slowly so she wouldn’t accidentally cause him even more pain.

Giles nodded in silent agreement. This was definitely bad. He was wondering which demon had been able to best Spike, William the Bloody, so badly that he’d ended up in this condition. The thought that it might have been a human didn’t even cross his mind at that time.

It took them well over an hour to clean the bleached blond vampire and tend to his injuries. With combined effort, they carried him up to the bedroom and tugged his shoes and pants off his body. Buffy was too worried to find the energy to blush when she discovered that he didn’t wear anything beneath his clothes. She just wanted him to wake up, make a sarcastic comment that would drive her up the wall, and be all right.

They tugged him under the covers and Buffy proceeded to take care of the smaller cuts and bruises, while Giles went to Willie’s bar to get some blood bags.

Buffy was sick with worry. Seeing him like that caused a sick feeling deep in the pit of her stomach and she vowed that she would find whoever had done this to him and kill him slow and painfully. She patched another cut across his stomach, that wasn’t very deep and had already stopped bleeding.

A low moan escaped the vampire’s throat and the Slayer’s gaze shot up to his face. Spike’s features were distorted in pain; his demonic visage finally surfacing as he slowly emerged from unconsciousness and became aware of the pain coursing through his body.

Buffy winced in sympathy and raised her hand to his face, trailing her fingertips over his ridges. His eyes fluttered open, the long lashes brushing repeatedly against the tender skin under his eyes as his unfocused gaze drifted over to her.

"Blood," he whispered so quietly, that Buffy almost didn’t hear it. The need in his voice was palpable and Buffy noted that if anything, his skin was even paler than when he’d fallen through the door.

"Giles is on the way. He will get you something to drink," she said quietly, not wanting to disturb him.

Suddenly he grabbed her hand with surprising strength, but the movement seemed to drain his energy considerably, because his grasp loosened almost immediately. Buffy closed her fingers around his and held on for dear life.

"Too late...need..." His voice broke and he closed his eyes, sinking back into the pillow.

Buffy felt herself starting to panic, because she had understood the meaning of his words all too well. Reluctantly, she dropped his hand and dashed downstairs. There, she picked up the phone and dialed Willie’s number. After seven rings, the snitch picked up the phone and Buffy basically screamed at him to tell Giles to hurry up.

When Willie informed her that the former Watcher had not arrived yet, but that he’d pass on the message, Buffy felt herself trembling. She dropped the phone and ran into the kitchen, not even thinking about her actions. She pulled a knife out of the drawer and raced back upstairs to Spike.  Once there, she sat down on the bed and after another look at the dying vampire, she determinedly pressed the blade to her wrist and sliced across it. Bright red blood welled up immediately and Buffy twisted her body onto the bed and pressed the wound against Spike lips.

At first nothing happened and Buffy almost started screaming in fear and frustration, but after a few seconds she felt the light suction of his mouth and breathed a sign of relief. The vampire swallowed slowly but continuously as Buffy moved carefully further up on the bed so that she could cradle his head in her lap.

Her fingertips ran soothingly through his short blond hair and after a few minutes she could hear him purring softly. She knew from Angel that the sound was emitted unconsciously and a small smile was tugging on her lips. She realized that he was going to be O.K. and let him take a couple more sips before she gently detached her wrist from his mouth.

Buffy bandaged her wrist with the supplies she found in the first aid kit and was just about to get up when she heard the front door burst open. Seconds later, Giles came running up the stairs, his arms full of blood bags.

He noticed the bandage around her wrist immediately, but didn’t comment on it. Instead he gave her one of the bags. "Here, he might need more."

Buffy knew that he was not happy about her giving her blood to the blond vampire and they would definitely have a discussion about this, or more to the point, she’d have to endure another lecture, but she really didn’t care at the moment.  She nodded in thanks and used the knife to open the bag at the top. Then she held it to his lips and lifted his head with her hand, so he wouldn’t spill everything on himself and the bed. He was still frighteningly pale, but seemed to be semi-conscious, for he started drinking immediately and without hesitation. After the bag was empty Buffy repeated the process twice more before he shook his head, refusing another one.

Giles leaned against the wall and studied the two figures on the bed intently. He noticed how tenderly Buffy treated the vampire, her fingertips caressing his forehead and short hair and her eyes fixed on his face. She looked truly scared by his condition.

Giles was no fool. He was very well aware of the growing attraction between his Slayer and the blond vampire. It was not something that he agreed to, or would encourage in any way, but when it came right down to it, there was nothing he could do about it.  With a sigh, he cleaned up the bed, gathering the first aid kit and the empty plastic packets in his hands. He left the full ones on the nightstand beside the bed and walked to the stairs. He gave Buffy a questioning look when she finally acknowledged his departure, but she shook her head.

"Go ahead. I’ll be down in a sec."

Another heavy sigh escaped the Watcher. Oh, he knew exactly where this was heading and he didn’t like it one bit.

Buffy studied the vampire laying in her lap. He didn’t look quite as pale anymore. His lips had regained color and were almost back to their normal light pink hue, and she was sure that his cheeks were also gaining back the minimum of color they usually possessed. Buffy chuckled quietly when she realized that she had studied his face so often and thoroughly that she was able to tell the difference.

At the light shaking of her body Spike groaned and his eyes opened slowly. His eyes searched hers and Buffy couldn’t suppress the slight gasp or the tingling in her stomach when she saw the emotions swirling in his deep blue orbs. She felt herself drowning in those beautiful eyes and shook her head in order to free herself of the spell she was under.

Spike’s hand reached for hers and their fingers entwined and he pressed it weakly. "Thank you," he said quietly. His voice was barely above a whimper, but it sounded a lot stronger than his urgent words had mere minutes ago.

She gave him a tentative smile, feeling heat rise to her face, not in embarrassment but in reaction to the knowledge that she’d saved his life and he was grateful for it. "You’re welcome," she answered just as quietly.

Silence penetrated the room as they continued to stare into each other’s eyes and Buffy felt her heart rate accelerate considerably. Just looking at him made her feel all mushy inside, and she had long ago given up scolding herself for feeling this way. Every woman with eyes in her head would be attracted to him, and she was a woman, so there was nothing wrong with that. Even if he was a vampire!

"What happened?" she finally asked, unable to contain her curiosity any longer. "Which demon did you piss off this time?"

He gave her a rueful smile and snuggled further into her embrace, causing Buffy to swallow heavily, but she didn’t pull away.

"No demon, luv. I got myself into the middle of a lovers quarrel." He started laughing, the deep rich sound echoing of the walls of the apartment. After a few seconds he stopped abruptly and winced, his hand leaving hers and pressing against the bandage around his abdomen.

Buffy cringed when she saw the pained expression on his face. She could not believe that humans had done this to him. He was strong enough to.... Then she remembered the chip in his head and that he couldn’t hurt any living being. Buffy was shocked as she realized how vulnerable and exposed he must feel with the implant preventing him not only from killing, but also from defending himself if necessary.

"Oh God," she breathed, for the first time fully comprehending what he was going through.

"It’s all right, luv," he tried to assure her. "I’ll live...well, not really, but you know what I mean." His voice was growing slurred, and Buffy saw that he had trouble keeping his eyes open.

"You should try to get some sleep," she said firmly. Buffy detached herself from the vampire and gently laid his head on the pillow. She stood beside the bed as his hand shot out and clutched her wrist. She gave a slight yelp, as his fingers pressed against the cut on her skin and he loosened his grip immediately.

"Buffy..."

"What?"

Their eyes locked once again and Buffy felt her knees go week. Her lips parted slightly, and she leaned closer to him. She could see that he was forcing himself to stay awake. His lips were moving, but the words were too quietly uttered for her to understand. She fixed her gaze on the gentle lines of his mouth and drew closer in hopes of understanding him.

Suddenly he stopped speaking and her eyes shot back to his face. Buffy gasped in shock and desire when she saw the longing in his darkened eyes. The blue orbs closed for a second in concentration. When he opened them again, he had drawn on the remainder of his strength and whispered. "Buffy, I...."

"Buffy? Would you come down here, please? There is someone on the phone for you."

Buffy almost groaned out loud, when she heard Giles’ voice. Her gaze involuntarily flickered to the stairs and when it drew back to Spike’s face, she saw him leaning back into the covers already half asleep.

"Good night Spike." she whispered, hoping that he would finish the sentence when he woke up. Then she turned and left the bedroom, hurrying down the staircase.

Part Three

Buffy hurried down the stairs and took the phone from Giles.

"Hi," she choked out a bit breathlessly.

"It’s Riley. Are you coming any time soon? ‘Cause it’s already eight in the morning." He sounded upset and impatient.  Buffy couldn’t blame him.

After leaving the Bronze with him, they had wanted to go to the dorms and spend more time together, maybe even the night although Buffy had been a bit reluctant about that. She liked Riley and enjoyed spending time with him, but she wasn’t sure if her feelings were really deep enough to go that far yet.

They had just entered her room, since Buffy had insisted that she needed to use the bathroom, when Willow had told them that Giles wanted to see her right away. She had called the librarian, trying to postpone till morning, but Giles had insisted. He wanted to discuss a prophecy with her that she needed to be prepared for, but he’d promised that it wouldn’t take very long.

Riley had promised to wait for her in his room and Buffy had taken off. She cringed when she realized that he probably thought that she wanted to get out of sleeping with him, but didn’t have the guts to say it straight out.

After a moment of reflection she had to admit that the assumption wasn’t all that far off. Ever since Spike had stumbled through the door she had not wasted a single thought on Riley. On the contrary, when Spike had snuggled into her arms, she hadn’t been all that far away from snuggling right back and doing other things to him.

"I’m sorry Riley. This is going to take longer than I thought. Maybe we should take a rain-check?" she apologized.

"All right. If it’s that important. I’ll see you after the weekend then. Bye!"

"Bye, Riley."  Relieved that she’d gotten off the hook without much trouble, she put the receiver back and walked into the kitchen, to where Giles had retreated. She leaned against the wall and crossed her arms in front of her chest, ready to face the next problem on her list.

"All right, say it," she challenged.

"Say what?" the former librarian asked, giving her a fake look of curiosity.

"You know what. I saw that look you gave me upstairs."

"Then you know what I think about it," he replied.

"Giles, he was dying. And I called Willy, but you hadn’t even been there yet. I had to do something."

Giles sighed deeply. "You do remember that this is Spike? A ruthless killer, without a soul. I don’t even want to know how he ended up like this, and I honestly dread the consequences of it."

"It wasn’t a demon that beat him up this badly, Giles. They were humans,” she stated, imploring him with his eyes.

Giles gave her a shocked look. "Good God. How did this happen?"

"He said something about a lover’s quarrel."

"One that he caused, or just got caught in?" the man asked skeptically.

"I think he just got caught in it," she answered meeting his doubtful glance sternly.

"You think?"

"Giles, this is a problem. He used to be able to deal with anything that I threw at him. He is an excellent fighter and could always take care of himself. But now.... he’s helpless. He can’t defend himself if he is attacked by humans or any other being that has a pulse. This must be hell for him. Not that I want him to become his old self again. He’s much more likable when he doesn‘t indulge himself in his homicidal tendencies, but he’s suffering. He won’t admit it, but I can see it. And call me crazy if you like, but he doesn’t deserve this. It’s like putting a wild panther in a cage. It gets frustrated and aggressive and as soon as it gets free again it will pretty much kill anything in its vicinity. Just think what Spike would do if he got the chip out of his head. I’m not sure if I would stand a chance against all that bottled up rage inside off him."

Giles leaned his hip against the counter and took his glasses off. "You gave this a lot of thought, didn’t you."

"I’m really worried." she confirmed his question.

"So what do you suggest then? That we find a way to get the chip out of his head? You know that you’ll have to kill him if he goes after humans again, and I believe that he won’t give up feeding on them just because we’ll ask him to."

Buffy squirmed uncomfortably. "Couldn’t we.... you know... tell him to leave town?" She saw that Giles was about to protest and quickly added. "I know that he will go on feeding on people, and kicking him out of Sunnydale doesn’t solve the problem, but.... Giles after all he’s been through.... Can’t we just let him go? I’ll stake him if he ever comes back, I promise, but...”

"You’re falling in love with him." Giles stated.

Buffy’s eye's shot back to his face and she started to deny it but Giles interrupted her right away.  "Don’t try to deny it, Buffy. You have feelings for him. Feelings that go beyond compassion. You don’t think of him as your enemy anymore and that makes it hard to kill him. You want him to live, even though you know that he’s a vampire. And you also know that he’s nothing like Angel." Giles sighed. "Do what you think you have to do. You’re old enough to know the dangers and I can’t stop you, but I want you to know that I’m not happy about this. Not at all."

Buffy nodded and fumbled for words. "Would you... look for a way to get the chip..."

Another sigh penetrated the room. He seemed to do that a lot lately. "I will." He gave his Slayer a small smile. "You should get some sleep!"

"Can I stay here?" she asked hopefully.

"All right, take the couch. I’ll call a couple of people about the chip." Giles put his glasses back on and walked out of the kitchen, squeezing her shoulder in a gesture of comfort when he walked past her.

Buffy turned around and headed to the stairs. "I’ll take the love seat in front of the bed, if you don’t mind."

He shook his head while pulling his address book from a drawer by the phone. "Go ahead."

"Night."

"Good night, Buffy."

When Buffy reentered the bedroom Spike was fast asleep, not moving at all. His head lay half on, half beneath the pillow and the covers were drawn up to his chin. He looked almost boyish like this, but when Buffy thought about the body underneath the sheets, she knew that there wasn’t anything about him that was not completely manly. This time she did blush at the memory.

Chuckling quietly at her own reaction, she curled up on the small love seat and fell asleep before her head hit the cushions.

Spike drifted slowly back to consciousness. He didn’t immediately feel the pain, but he knew that it would start soon enough once he’d become fully awake. He pushed his head deeper into the pillow, trying to hold on to sweet oblivion, but he knew that it was a futile effort.

It stared with a slow throbbing all over his stomach and the pain quickly spread to his ribs before claiming his body limb by limb. It felt even worse than before he’d fallen asleep. Maybe I was in shock, he mused.

A dry laugh made its way up his throat, but he suppressed it. There was nothing to laugh about. He was weak, useless. A wimp at the mercy of humans. He had to feed off blood bags or out of a cup, something that he’d never done before. He was pathetic, and on top of that he’d let humans almost beat him to death. He should have committed suicide the second he’d discovered that he couldn’t hurt any living being.

Spike cursed vehemently when he realized that tears were streaming down his face. He was such a wimp. With an angry gesture he wiped a hand over his face, ridding himself of the proof of his weakness.  He carefully lifted himself onto his elbows and looked around the dark room, spotting two of the despised blood packages on the nightstand. Disgusted, he grabbed both of them and emptied them quickly before throwing them back onto the wooden surface of the furniture.

That’s when he heard a low moan coming from the lower end of the bed. His gaze shot to the back of the love seat and he saw golden hair spilling over the armrest. A wave of tenderness swept over him when he realized that Buffy had kept watch over him while he’d been sleeping. Now that his mind was clear he remembered that she’d left the Bronze with a guy last night and he wondered why she'd been at the Watcher’s house instead of with him.

Spike got out of the bed and walked over to her. His muscles protested against the movement but he ignored it and crouched down beside the armrest, studying her beautiful face. She looked so peaceful and relaxed, without the ever-present tension on her face that radiated from her when she was awake.

Her body was curled up on the short love seat that was too short even for her small body. Her knees were almost drawn up to her chin and her left hand was draped over her waist, while the other was curled underneath her cheek. He couldn’t suppress the sense of protectiveness that swept over him at the sight of her.

He desired her so much. He always had, even before the witch had put them under a spell. But now that he knew what it felt like to kiss her and hold her, she haunted his every dream and waking thought.

She shifted again and he could hear another low moan escape her throat. Suddenly his nostrils flared and he inhaled sharply, forgetting that there was no need for him to do so, when the scent of her arousal hit him. His gaze darted to the hem of her skirt that was riding high on her hips, revealing the black satin panties she wore.

Buffy twisted on the love seat, her right leg falling onto the floor. "Spike," she whispered longingly.  The bleached blond vampire stared at her in shock. She was dreaming about him! And from the looks of it, it was an erotic dream.

A purely male grin swept over his features as she moaned again. And it seemed to be a pretty intense one, too.  Her lips parted ever so slightly and her breathing got heavier, as her hands started to unconsciously wander over her body, brushing along her hips up to her chest and back to her waist.

Damn it. How's a bloke supposed to watch this and survive?

He didn’t even have to look down on himself to know that his manhood was hard as a rock. The agonizing throbbing in his member was indication enough. He contemplated waking her up and taking her right here and now. After all she obviously wanted him just as badly as he wanted her.

He leaned close to her and whispered her name into her ear, his hand reaching for hers. Her face turned towards his, but she didn’t wake up. Her fingers entwined with his though, and he could feel the heat of her skin. Spike pressed a gentle kiss to her lips and whispered her name again, a little louder this time.  Her eyelids fluttered slightly, but didn’t open. Instead she moaned his name again, guiding his hand down to her stomach and lower until his fingertips brushed over her panties.

Spike couldn’t take it anymore. With a slight curse he pressed his lips to hers. He gently tugged on her lower lip before coaxing her mouth open with his tongue. She reacted instantly and allowed him entrance, mewing at the back of her throat. His tongue slowly explored her mouth, savoring her familiar and arousing taste before he engaged her tongue in battle. The kiss was slow and passionate, and he never wanted it to end.

He was surprised when Buffy sucked his tongue further into his mouth, and groaned deep in his throat. His erection was almost painfully pressed against the fabric of the love seat as he was still crouched beside her.

He broke the kiss eventually and discovered her dark hazel eyes to be slightly open and studying him. Before he could say anything, she grabbed the back of his head and crushed her mouth to his once again. This time it was her tongue invading his cool mouth and Spike actually whimpered in desire as her other hand traced over his shoulders and down his chest.

His own hand found his way into her panties and he growled when he encountered the wetness beneath his fingertips. He slowly inserted two fingers into her core, gasping into her mouth as he felt the heat of her body.

Buffy tore her mouth away from his and let her head fall back onto the armrest. Her hips surged against his hand and her eyes glazed over before she closed them. He moved his fingers slowly in and out of her, driving her crazy. Twisting his hand his thumb found her sensitive nub and he pressed down on it. Her breath came in heavy pants as she rolled her head from side to side, the pleasure almost unbearable.

His thumb drew slow and even circles around her aching clit, and he captured her mouth again in a long, passionate kiss. Smiling against her lips, he inserted a third finger into her core and started to flick her clit rapidly when he felt her drawing closer to orgasm. She lifted her hips every time his fingers surged into her and after a few seconds she buckled against his hand, her inner walls clamping down on his digits as she climaxed hard.

Spike drowned her screams of pleasure out by crushing his mouth to hers once again. Her hands were clinging to the fabric of the love seat and his hair respectively as she rode her orgasm, oblivious to anything but the feeling the vampire had evoked in her.

When Buffy calmed down, Spike extracted his fingers and looked at her beautiful face. Her eyes were closed and there was an almost ethereal look on her features that caused him to smile. He brought his hand to his face and began to lick her juices off them, promising himself to taste her as soon as possible.  He took the time to clean his fingers thoroughly before leaning closer to her. He put his lips near her ear again and called her name softly, a smile in his voice. "Buffy."

"Mmmmmh." Lazily, she turned her head towards him. "Don’t wake me up," she murmured. Her eyes were half- closed and Spike realized that she was about to fall asleep again.

He laughed lightly at the satisfied, feminine smile on her face. "You’re not dreaming, luv," he whispered, leaning into her and brushing his lips over hers. Her response was to wrap her arms around his shoulders and draw him closer to her.

The kiss was tender and almost chaste in its lightness. When Spike pulled away from her, he stared down at her outstretched body. Her legs were draped over the armrest and still slightly parted. He took another unneeded breath as he saw her looking so desirable that it almost hurt his eyes.  His gaze came to rest on her face again, and his eyebrows shot up when he perceived the slow long cadence of her breathing, indicating that she was asleep again.

"Bloody Hell!" he mumbled to himself. His erection was still throbbing and eager to be buried in her hot depths, but for some reason he felt reluctant to wake her up again. He look at her face for a long time, contemplating his feelings, before he finally stood up and grabbed the cover from the bed and wrapped it around his waist.

Then he walked downstairs, past Giles, who’d fallen asleep on a chair with a book in his hand, and straight into the bathroom. It was time for a long, cold shower.

He unwrapped the bandages from around his torso and discarded them in the sink. A look down his body told him that most of the smaller cuts had already healed, thanks to the Slayer’s blood. The deep slashes and broken ribs would take more time, but at least he wasn’t bleeding anymore.

Spike stepped into the bathtub and turned on the water as cold as possible. Grabbing the shampoo he found on the rim, he proceeded to wash the blood out of his hair, ignoring his protesting ribs as he stretched his muscles to raise his hands high enough. Gritting his teeth, he ran the soap over his body, cursing quietly when a few cuts started bleeding all over again. The only good thing was that the pain caused his erection to disappear by the time he started to rinse the water off his skin.

When he was done he leaned back against the wall, a litany of profanities tumbling from his lips. He couldn’t believe what he’d just done with the Slayer. He couldn’t believe that he hadn’t woken her up and screwed her until she couldn’t walk. And he definitely couldn’t believe the fact that she’d let him drink her blood!

But she had. And that meant that she cared for him at least a little bit. The vampire frowned at the white wall opposite him when that thought caused a mushy feeling in his stomach. It was bloody annoying! One minute he had been wallowing in self-misery and the next he’d felt like the happiest chap in the world, seeing her climax against his hand, moaning his name. His name! Not Angel’s or anyone else’s, his name! The mushy feeling got stronger, and he felt himself harden again.

With a sigh of frustration, he threw the soap against the wall and gripped his cock with his left hand. Leaning his head against the wall, he closed his eyes and started to slowly run his fingers along his rigid member, encircling it with two digits. He ran his thumb over the head, pressing it down lightly. A moan escaped his lips as he pictured Buffy’s body glistening with sweat, writhing underneath him.

He added the rest of his hand and pushed down on his shaft quickly, imagining that it was Buffy he was thrusting into. He remembered her burning heat against the flesh of his hand and quickened his pace almost immediately. His other hand joined the first, massaging his sac gently. In his mind, Buffy was panting heavily, begging him not to stop. Her eyes were glazed over with passion and as she came, she screamed his name, shaking violently.

With a muffled groan, Spike came, shooting his dead semen onto his hand and stomach. He sank to the floor and leaned back into the cool wall behind him. He wouldn’t be able to take this much longer. He wanted that soddin’ chip out of his head, but even more than that he wanted to shag the Slayer. His life couldn’t possibly get any more pathetic.

The bleached blond vampire started to thud the back of his head repeatedly against the white tiles, hoping that he’d split his skull somewhere along the line and end his misery.

Part Four

Semiconscious, Giles raised his hand and slammed it down onto the alarm clock to stop the nerve-wracking sound that had woken him up. His hand connected with the a cup of tea, that he’d put on the table earlier that day. The cup tipped over, spilling its cooled content onto the carpet.

With a curse tumbling from his lips, he sat up and opened his eyes. He looked around, noticing that he was sitting in a chair rather than lying in his bed and it hadn't been the alarm clock that had woken him up. It had been the phone.

Grumbling under his breath he picked it up and barked into the receiver. "Hello."

He sobered instantly when he recognized the voice on the other end of the line. The conversation was short and Giles listened intently to the woman on the phone. After he had voiced his agreement, the connection was terminated and he quickly scribbled a date and an address on a piece of paper.

He brushed a hand over his face and through his disarrayed hair before walking into the kitchen. There he glanced at the clock. It was past four, which meant he’d slept for about three hours after spending quite a lot of time on the phone and over his books. He didn’t want to wake Buffy just yet, but he nonetheless started to prepare lunch for both of them.

Giles had just thrown a variety of vegetables into a hot pan to let them steam in butter, when a certain bottle blond vampire left the bathroom.

He noticed that the man’s hair was still wet from the shower, and he had obviously tried to apply new bandages to his chest afterwards. Not very successfully though. The ends were knotted around his waist and rather crooked looking, too.

He had nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, and Giles was sure that Buffy would have a heart attack if she saw him like that. Giles silently indicated the red shirt hanging over the couch. There was only a little blood on it and Spike shrugged into it quickly.

"Feeling better?" Giles asked.

"A bit." The vampire replied awkwardly.

Silence fell over the room as they eyed each other. Neither one of them was happy with the present situation. Their body language screamed tension and neither one of them wanted to be the first to avert his eyes.

Thankfully, a loud knock at the door interrupted their staring contest. Both of them jumped, a bit startled, but Giles quickly caught himself and walked to the door. When he opened it he found Willow standing on the other side, smiling at him.

"Hi Giles!" she greeted and stepped past him. "I just wanted to see if everything is all right, since Buffy didn’t return la.... oh boy!" Willow stopped dead in her tracks as her eyes fell onto the vampire standing in the middle of the living room, clad only in a towel and a red shirt. Her eyes traveled over his leanly muscled body and she swallowed heavily. For the first time she could understand why Buffy had the hots for him.

Not that Buffy would have actually admitted to lusting after him, but Willow knew her well enough to see the signs. Spike was the only one who could push Buffy’s buttons and send her into a fury or turn her into a mess of tears in no time. And she constantly talked about him. All right, so she talked about how much she hated him, but Willow was very well aware of the longing looks she cast his way whenever she thought herself unobserved.

Spike winked at her, and she blushed several shades of red, embarrassed that he’d caught her staring at him.  She turned around fast, her nose colliding with Giles chest. Jumping backwards she giggled nervously. "UH... right, Buffy. Is everything all right? And why is Spike all wrapped up in gauze?" she questioned.

Giles gave her a bemused look and turned his gaze to the vampire. "I’ve been asking myself the exact same question."

Spike let himself fall onto the couch and gave them an exasperated look before telling them what happened. He left out a few parts, such as the reason for him dancing with the girl had been his frustration over Buffy leaving with another guy and his desire for a shag.

Willow gasped in shock when he explained about the attack in the alley, and even Giles seemed to be genuinely stricken by his account. He didn’t even mention the fact that Spike had killed Jesse during the fight after the vampire was done with his monologue.  His expression however had grown darker and more concerned by the second. When Spike leaned his elbows on his knees, finishing his story with himself falling into Buffy’s arms, Giles grabbed a book of the table and started pacing.

"This is most disturbing." he said.

"Well yeah. I almost got myself killed!" The vampire gave him a ‘duh’ look.

"Yes, yes, of course, and we all know how very sad we’d be about that," Giles replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "However, I was talking about the prophecy I discussed with Buffy last night."

"What prophecy?" Willow asked, curious.

"In the-the Chronicles of Betar the Myponien, it says that ‘ On the second day of the second night, the Blithear shall walk the earth. It will feed where the green fire burns the brightest and leave death and despair in its wake. For its recreation shall bring chaos to darkness and darkness to flame.’"

"Oh sure. Of course I see your point. What else could it be?" Spike’s sarcasm equaled Giles, but the former librarian didn’t dignify his remark with a comment.

"I have to admit that I wouldn’t have been able to make much sense of this, had it not come with an explanation. The Council has spent centuries trying to decipher Betar’s prophecies, because they are by far the most complicated ones to interpret, " he continued. "The second day of the second night is not an exact date, it is actually a cyclus, a recurring stellar constellation which happened to occur last night and the three night that will follow it."

"And what is this Blithear?" Willow asked.

"The Blithear is a being of pure energy. It is invisible and feeds on the jealousy in our hearts. It also amplifies its victim’s capability of hatred and aggressiveness for the time that it is feeding. After he leaves the victim, their adrenaline levels will drop back to normal again, but the feeding leaves a mark, an... aura, if you will, so one can determine that the person has been fed on.“

"So what you’re implying is that I was almost killed because this..... Blitherin used those guys as a happy meal?"

"Blithear. And yes, I do believe that this might be a possibility."

Spike was about to fly into a rage, but Willow quickly intervened.  "If it really were that way, then how do we find out? And how do we stop it?" The witch kept one eye on the vampire, who shot her an angry look and crossed his arms above his chest, leaning back into the couch.

"It is quite easy to trace actually. We just need one of his victims, and then we sprinkle some of this..." he held a small leather bag into the air. "... powder on his skin. If it starts to burn, the Blithear got him. Killing it, however, is as good as impossible, seeing as it doesn’t have a body and is immune to magic. It was banished numerous times throughout history, quite often in the nick of time before it could carry out the rest of the prophecy."

"What does the rest of the prophecy mean?"

"I’m afraid I don’t know, and I don’t really have any desire to find out either," the man answered.

Willow couldn’t help but get excited about the whole situation. She was always glad when she could help and this situation might definitely give her something to do. "So you said you killed the guy...Jesse?" she asked Spike, who merely raised his eyebrow at her, which she took as affirmation. "In that case I can check the coroner and police reports, to find out if they brought his body to the hospital or to the morgue at the cemetery."

Giles nodded in agreement. “Very well. The sooner we move, the better."

Willow and Giles continued to discuss the matter, ignoring the vampire who was less than interested anyway. After several minutes Willow left, promising to call him as soon as she found out anything so they could pay Jesse a little visit after sundown.

As soon as Willow was out the door, Spike addressed the former Watcher. “This just works out really nice for you, doesn’t it?" he asked in a challenging tone.

Giles gave him an irritated look. "Whatever do you mean?"

"The demon...or whatever this Blitharen is. Wraps it up real convenient. The poor little humans are influenced by the big bad evil and go around beating and killing people."

"Well, it-it does appears that way."

"Oh please. Are you really that naive? You know what? I think you don’t want to see it." Spike got up from the couch and stared the man right in the eyes.

"Understand what?" the former librarian replied, feeling slightly uncomfortable.

"I am a demon, but it’s humans who are the monsters. Just because you’re living on the Hellmouth doesn’t mean that everything bad that happens has to be another demonic fluke. You think this... this thing, caused them to act like me in my best of days? All savage and bloodthirsty? Well, take a seat because I got news for you. Humans kill. They torture, both mentally and physically. And most of them don’t do it out of necessity.  They enjoy it. They enjoy the power, the thrill; and even with a soul, they have no sense of morality or respect for life. Some of them are even worse that we are. Open your eyes, Watcher! What do you see?"

During his monologue, Spike had walked over to the human and was now only inches away from him. He was sucking on the insides of his cheeks and pursed his lips expecting an answer.

Giles swallowed nervously. Blinking several times in rapid succession he refused to back down. "I-I am very well aware of the fa...."

"What do you see?" Spike demanded.

"I see you!" Giles shouted in exasperation.

The vampire rewarded his answer with a cynical smile. "Right! You see me. A demon inhabiting a human’s body. Well let me tell you something about the former owner of this body."

Spike stepped away from Giles and walked slowly back to the couch, where he started pacing.

"He was called William. Born to a whore, for all I know, and left at the docks of London to die. It was quite common back then to rid oneself of unwanted children this way. However, lucky chap that he was, a peasant woman found him there and actually took him into her home. He would never know why she did it because she was dead by the time he was old enough to ask her.

"He grew up being physically, mentally and sexually abused by her husband, who kept him out of the little piece of sentimentality that was still in his heart, because his wife asked him to. He was forced to do hard labor at the age of seven, working eighteen hours a day on the neighbor’s farm, where he didn’t even earn enough money to buy more than a loaf of bread. Not that he would have gotten to spend the money anyway, because his ‘father’ took it away from him, spending it on liquor so he could drown out the misery that was his life.

"At the age of twelve he grew tired of me and threw me out of the house. Some aristocrat had made him an offer he couldn’t refuse, and William spend the next year and a half posing as whipping boy for the aristocrat’s son. Do you know what a whipping boy is, Watcher?" Spike asked theoretically.

"Of course I know," the Watcher muttered.

Spike didn’t seem to be overly surprised and pressed his lips together into a tight line, nodding his head jerkily.

"The whipping boy William got punished for everything that the aristocrat’s son did wrong. Every time he would speak up without being addressed, William got his arse beaten numb. Every time he’d fall off a horse because he was too bloody daft to listen to what his teacher told him, William would get up close and personal with a whip. As I said, he took about eighteen months of the crap, until he finally decided to grow a spine and ran away. Back to London.

"Living the life of a street urchin, he whored himself to the sailors for a meal and a place to stay the night. But one day, he went home with a drunkard, not that this would be unusual; almost all men knew how to drink themselves into oblivion day after day. But this one was special, because once he was done with fifteen-year-old William, he didn’t want to give him anything. No money, no food, nothing.  So William grabbed his trousers with the money in them and ran. He didn’t get very far, let me tell you. The scumbag was upon him within a few seconds and almost beat him to death.

"So while little William was curled into a ball, making his peace with the lousy fate that he had, he felt the hilt of a knife digging into the palm of his hand. The knife had been hidden in a side-pocket of the man’s trousers, and before he even knew what he was doing, William stabbed the knife deep into the sailor’s stomach.

"And then he watched him die. He cried, you know that? Like the wuss that he was, he cried like a baby. But then he took the knife and made a promise. He promised never to be a victim again. Before long William had earned himself quiet a reputation. He stole money, and if his victims wouldn’t give it to him right away, he’d ‘persuade’ them a bit and if that still didn’t work, ‘cause you see our William never had much patience, he’d kill them. Unfortunately one of his intended victims turned out to be Angelus and I’m pretty sure you know the rest of the story.“

His voice was bitter, and the pace at which he was moving through the apartment spoke of agitation and emotional stress.  "So don’t tell me humans are not capable of something like this, because I know they are. Their methods have become more sterile, more technological, but the mentality behind it is still the same." he concluded.

Giles was deeply affected by the story he’d just heard and it took him several minutes of silence to find his voice again.  "This bothers you! Why?"

"Why the fucking HELL DO YOU THINK IT DOES?" Spike shouted at him. “William was weak for most of his life. He swore never to be that way again. Never. And now I’m in the same fucking position again. I’m weak. These humans wanted to kill me and there was nothing I could have done about it. NOTHING! When I should have torn their throats out and drank their blood, I was once again curled up on the pavement, thinking I would die!"

Giles flinched at that. "But it wasn’t you. It was William who went through this. Not you. You have his memories but his past shouldn’t affect you. You’re not him!"

Spike came within two inches of Giles, but didn’t dare to touch him, because despite the rage inside of him, he knew that the chip would hurt him worse than he was capable of hurting the human in front of him.  "Do you really believe that?"

"Of-of course. The-the Council has..."

"The  bloody Council doesn’t know a thing about us. They made up their own little theories and tests to prove that there is nothing of the person left once he's turned, but let me tell you something. There is still a lot left and it got stronger over the last two centuries."

"I’m afraid I don’t understand. Are you saying that you have a soul?"

"NO! Aren’t you listening?  I said that the personality and the memories of the person remain, but with that also his emotions, his fears and desires. William isn’t gone, he’s part of me! And I bloody well hate it."

Giles honestly didn’t know what to say. He had of course known that some part of the human remained, but he was shocked to realize how much of William still existed inside of Spike. He didn’t question the vampire’s story. His gut feeling told him that Spike had spoken the truth and that fact disturbed him greatly.

"I-I think I need a cup of tea." he stammered and walked into the kitchen trying to process what he’d just heard.

"Please, by all means, go ahead. Why would you care about a single word coming out of my mouth!" Spike hissed at him.

"I do care about what you said. As a matter of fact, I believe you, but I will need some time to come to terms with that. It proves Buffy’s opinion of you right and although I still believe that we’d be better off killing you, I feel more inclined to her solution now." the man said and filled a kettle with water to heat it.  He noted that the vegetables in the pan had turned black and pulled them into the sink, turning the stove off.

"What are you bloody talking about?" Spike grumbled, calming down slightly. He was surprised that the Watcher seemed to take his word for the truth. For some reason it caused a feeling of relief to smooth over the tension in his body, and he relaxed slightly. He followed Giles into the kitchen and leaned against the wall.

"Uh, well, Buffy thinks that we should get the chip out of your head," Giles stated as calmly as possible, watching the vampire’s
reaction closely.

Spike’s body grew absolutely rigid. "She said that?" he whispered in shock. He couldn’t believe his own ears. "Why would she do that?"

"You told me that you felt weak, Buffy seems to be aware of that and..."

"She thinks I’m weak?" Spike interrupted in a disgusted tone of voice.

"No, she doesn’t think that. Not at all. Quite the contrary actually . She thinks of you as a strong willed fighter. That’s also the reason she suggested we get the chip out of your head. She believes that if you have to endure this for much longer you’ll go berserk as soon as you can get rid of the implant yourself. Which would make you even more dangerous than you already are." he explained.

A smile was tugging at Spike’s lips. "That’s how she thinks of me? A strong-willed fighter?" The smile turned into a smirk. "She knows me pretty well, doesn’t she?"

Giles just gave him a look. A look that spoke volumes, causing the vampire's smirk to turn into a scowl.  "And you said you agree with her?" Spike explored the hope he’d been offered carefully, not wanting to get all excited just to be crushed to the ground again.

"What I said was, that after what you told me, I’m willing to.... all right, I agree with her."

"Where’s the hook? You’re not letting me be my evil self again for nothing. Is she going to stake me the minute I’m all right again? That your plan?"

"No. Unfortunately not," Giles stated. “You get rid of the chip, you leave Sunnydale for good. You come back, you’re dead. That’s the deal." The former Watcher’s eyes studied Spike’s face closely, trying to anticipate his reaction.

After a while, the vampire nodded. "Sounds fair enough," he said quietly.

Giles’ eyes widened in surprise, He was sure that he’d heard something akin to regret in the other man’s voice.  He walked out of the kitchen and picked up the piece of paper he had scribbled on earlier. "Be there and then get gone, as Buffy would say!"

Spike took it and read today’s date, a time, and address on it, along with the name of a Dr. Tanner.