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Chapter 1

Los Angeles
2014

Angel stared in concern at the woman sitting across the desk from him. She was just sitting quietly staring at nothing. It was the quiet that was bothering him. That was the problem, you see; she was never quiet. Ever. Not around him anyway. Spike's consort was far from his favorite person and her smart mouth tended to annoy the hell out of him but he'd trade that for this silence. This was just eerie. He didn't think she'd moved in an hour; just sat there with one hand clutched in the beads hanging on her breast, waiting. He'd have thought her a vampire if not for the occasional blink of her eyes, the soft beat of her heart, and the rise and fall of her chest. Heartbeat. Breathing. The only things separating her from him at the moment.

"Baby?" he asked. His soft voice sounded too loud. It seemed to echo out of his office and into the emptiness of the Hyperion. He fought the urge to whisper. "Can I get you anything? Would you like some tea?"

Her body had jumped at the sound of his voice but her face remained still and her fingers didn't loosen their hold on the red and black crystals of her necklace. "No, thank you."

Southerners. Polite even to their worst enemy. His lips twisted in a parody of a smile. He wondered briefly if that was how she still categorized him. He bowed his head over the papers scattered on the desk before him.

"Angel?"

His head snapped back up, the concern blossoming to irrational fear. She never called him by his name of preference. He was always 'Angelus' or 'Peaches' or 'Angel-Cakes' or any of half a hundred equally irritating monikers. Never just 'Angel.'

"Yes?"

"Do you still feel like I haven't forgiven you? Like I still hate you?" Her voice was so soft only a vampire could have heard her. So now she was telepathic? Probably not.

"Sometimes."

"I don't. It's just sort of a game. I've sniped at you for so long, I don't know any other way of talking to you. But I need to. I need to talk to you now. Would you do me a favor? For all the years we've been not enemies?" The hand clenched in her beads had tightened until her knuckles were white.

His dead heart contracted. He was really afraid now. "What do you want?" He didn't want the answer. He knew that. Whatever the price, it was going to be too much to pay.

"When I'm gone, promise me you'll take care of him." He wondered how much pressure the bits of red and black glass could take before they shattered under her small fingers.

"Baby, don't be silly. We're not gonna let anything happen…" The standard words of comfort trailed off as she finally turned her face to him. He wished she hadn't. He wished she'd continue to stare at that spot some two feet down and three feet to the left of him that she'd been staring at all afternoon. The cold, borrowed blood in his veins chilled.

"We've tried to kill each other often enough to be honest, don't you think, Angelus?"

At least they were back to a more comfortable name. Honest? They'd never been anything else. He didn't pretend to be living, human, or demonless with her. She didn't pretend to be kind, soft, or loving with him. There were no facades; they wore no pleasantly deceiving masks. They were two people who cordially disliked each other. If it came down to it, if he wasn't occasionally useful, if it wouldn't hurt Cordy and Dru, if it wouldn't leave Connor an orphan, she'd stake him with hesitation. If she wasn't a living human, if he wasn't partially responsible for what she had become, if it wouldn't bother Cordy and Dru and Wes, he'd snap her neck without the least remorse if he needed to. If it wouldn't hurt Spike, they'd easily kill each other. Yes, they were always honest.

He nodded and she continued, "Cordy's having visions, Dru's having visions, Spike's had the same dream every night for over a week. I'm going to die. Just like in the dream. Something's going to stop him from turning me. No happily undead ever after. I'm going to die. Soon."

Dark brown eyes met golden green ones. "Probably."

"He won't handle it well."

Angel didn't have to ask. He knew she meant Spike. With her everything came down to Spike in the end, what he wanted, what he needed. It always came down to Spike.

"Probably not. Spike tends to not handle things well in general."

For just an instant something sparked in her eyes and the familiar knife edge returned to her voice. "Losing people is very hard for him." Mercurial, she decided not to rise further to the bait. Her gaze returned to that spot down and to the left of where Angel was sitting and her voice lost all expression. "Will you keep him from doing anything stupid?" Her left hand finally released the strands of ruby and jet around her neck. Those pale fingers were now pushing a paperclip in aimless patterns across the desktop. "He's very good at doing stupid things. Stupid, self-destructive things."

Angel nodded both at her evaluation and in answer to her first question. "All right. I'll look after him."

She closed her eyes and exhaled slowly as relief washed over her.

"And don't let him blame himself. He'll do that. Try to blame himself. Tell him that if he starts that shit I'll come back and kick his skinny British ass." Her lips twitched in a tiny smile, gone as quickly as it appeared.

"I'll quote you exactly."

A tiny huffy exhale indicated her amusement. The finger pushing the paperclip had settled into a pattern. Up and to the left, straight across, down and to the right, a triangle. Over and over, each one more forceful than the one before. Angel wondered how long until she suffered from a complete breakdown. Sitting here, waiting to die, worrying about how her lover would handle it.

"Angel?" Pause to finish the triangle. "Everything shows the Slayer killing me?"

He nodded even though she wasn't looking at him. They'd been over this fifty times. They all knew the details of Cordelia's vision, of Spike's dream, of Dru's prophecy. A bolt from the Slayer's crossbow in Baby's chest, strong chains holding Spike away from her while her life swiftly bled out, stopping him from turning her, the walls of the Hyperion running red with blood, a sword in Cordy's midsection, Wes' head lying two feet from the rest of his body, bodies scattered and broken, a strange demon laughing. Only Dru had anything else to add. She said the stars sang to her that Angel must kill the "Demon Slayer" or they'd all die "before my sweet Spike's warm flower is cold." She swore that Miss Edith said it would all "turn out well in the end if Daddy was brave." So far, they'd been unable to discern if she meant Angel had to kill the Slayer or if he had to kill the demon or kill whomever killed the demon or what his exact task in all this was suppose to be. Damn it, Drusilla's dementia was lessening, why couldn't her prophecies be more coherent? Angel had been over it with her dozens of times and all he'd gained so far was a headache and a wish to strangle Dru. The one person who'd ever been able to coax some sort of sense out of Dru's ramblings was Spike, but he had been damn near manic since Angel had called him about Cordy's vision. He'd alternated between locking himself away with Baby and bouts of nearly uncontrolled destruction. So far, he'd trashed two of Angel's newly refurbished hotel rooms. Wes had been equally incapable of figuring out exactly what Miss Edith had told Dru. He was concerned that whomever killed the demon would then have to die to satisfy Dru's prophecy. There were too many variables this time and the Powers That Be weren't providing additional information.

The paperclip made three more circuits before she spoke. "You can't let Spike kill the Slayer. Regardless of what happens to me, Spike can't hurt Buffy."

Another triangle, that one finger channeling all the emotion that her voice and body couldn't, wouldn't. "If he hurts her, it'll destroy him."

That made no sense but Angel didn't ask. If Baby said so, then it was quite likely. She knew his volatile grandchilde better than anyone, living or not.

The paperclip made a few more circuits, the force of each one leaving scratches in the desktop now. Angel finally reached out and placed his hand over hers. "Please."

"Sorry." She pulled her hand from his quickly. Those frantic fingers twined into the ones of her right hand for a few minutes then settled back on the desk top. Without the paper clip, they weren't as damaging to the finish. A pattern settled in again. Out and back. Extend the fingers then draw them back in, clawing softly at the wooden surface. Over and over. Her wedding rings glinted in the lamplight, the vestiges of a civil ceremony held because Spike wanted the human world to know she was his in the same way the demon world did. To Angel's mind, the bite marks on her neck meant much more.

"Haven't you wondered why he hasn't already turned me? That seems the simplest answer, doesn't it?" she asked.

He didn't entirely follow the jump in the conversation but decided to go with the flow. "He probably thought a bolt from the Slayer would kill you just as dead if you're a vampire as if you're a human. Maybe even more so. Dusting is pretty permanent." He paused for a moment. "Well, unless you know the right people to threaten."

She smiled. "True. And we're good at that, aren't we?" A feeling of camaraderie settled over them both. Baby seemed to relax a bit. Maybe this would help her get out whatever it was that she was trying to say. "But seriously, haven't you ever wondered why Spike hasn't turned me? We've been together over fifteen years, for God's sake."

Angel could think of a couple of reasons. His lover was human, too, after all. Living women really did have certain sensory advantages over undead ones. There was also the whole losing their soul when they were turned issue, though he doubted if that bothered Spike. To Angel's mind, Baby was more vampire than human any way and had been for years. "Not really. I figured he'd do it eventually."

The fingers were getting frantic. The clawing was getting on Angel's nerves but at least she was talking.

"He hasn't turned me because he's afraid. He's afraid something will go wrong. That I won't turn. That I won't come back." She looked directly into Angel's eyes. "That he'll kill me."

Angel blinked. That was not the reason he'd have come up with. "I don't really think that should be a problem. Hell girl, if anyone has the will to come back, it's you." He treated her to one of his charmingly crooked smiles. "I think you might have been born to be a vampire."

She chuckled and the fingers stilled. "Probably." She paused. Maybe she was having trouble figuring out what to tell him. He didn't like the conversation one bit. "I'm not … There's a problem. We've run into some issues with me and magicks. They don't always work the way they're supposed to." She paused again. This hesitation wasn't normal either. Baby was usually fairly straightforward. Sort of the way a steamroller was straightforward. "Oh crap. Angel. If you're going to help him there are some things you need to know. So I'm gonna tell you a big ol' honking secret. Something that nobody else knows. Just me and Spike."

She was silent for another few minutes before a self-deprecating smile cracked her frozen face. "I'm not from around here."

"I didn't figure you were. Not with that accent. It's closer to Fred's than Cordy's for sure."

She snorted again at his attempt at humor. "Damn straight. Southern born and Southern bred." She didn't finish the old saw with the traditional ending of 'and when I die I'll be Southern dead.' There was too much premonition in that. "I'm not from this reality."

~~~~~

Angel put his pen down. This was headed somewhere. "Like Lorne?"

"Sort of. But more like Vampire Willow. You remember?" She was looking at him now. "When Anya brought a Willow who was a vampire back from another reality?"

"I remember."

"Well, it's like that. Spike, too."

Angel felt an eyebrow climb his forehead. "What do you mean? Spike's always been here."

"Not the Spike who's here now. He's from some place, some time else."

"So the two of you are from some alternate reality."

"No, just me. Spike sort of made this one alternate. It's complicated."

"I'm listening."

"You remember that night I hit you with the fire axe? That was my first night in your world. I had a friend with way too much time on her hands. Let me just say for the record that mixing viewing spells and particle physics is a bad idea. We were supposed to just, well, see something. Instead, we ended up in the middle of the Sunnydale High School library. That's the night you were hunting Jenny Calendar. God, it's a wonder Giles didn't kill us on sight. We were absolutely manic. Two scientists and a businesswoman dropped right into his library. It took a bit but we got it all sorted out and were about to head home when Spike appeared. I've always had a fondness for Spike, you see. For years before I even before I met him."

Angel wondered if she had snapped already. "And how could you know Spike without meeting him?"

"Okay. This is the weird part." At his raised eyebrow, she sneered. "Okay, the weirder part. Believe me, Angel-Cakes. The reality I'm from? Well, you're all fairly famous. Oh, chill your ego. You're famous because you're fictitious. You, Spike, Buffy, everyone you know are fictional characters. How do you like that? I've spent the last 15 years of my life with a someone who doesn't really exist." She smiled again. A disturbing smile that made Angel's skin crawl. "Of course, I might just have spent them in a psych ward. At least it's been a pleasant delusion. Couldn't have asked for a better one."

"Okay." Angel desperately wished Wesley were there. He was better at these sorts of situations. "So we're literary figures. Could be worse."

She started to laugh but her eyes were too bright. Maybe that psych ward wasn't out of the question, Angel thought. Of course, in his opinion Baby had always been more than a little crazy.

Her eye became distant and her face became softer. "I remember the first time I saw him…"

Chapter 2

Sunnydale
1998

Rupert Giles kept a close eye on the women. He wasn't entirely sure he believed the alternate dimension explanation. However, he had checked, double-checked and rechecked the spell and every aspect of the ritual used to assure that it only used residual Hellmouth energy and didn't offer any danger of opening the hell portal or disturbing its balance. The travelers seemed to offer no immediate danger to him or his Slayer so he was willing to grant them the benefit of the doubt. The two scientists were involved in drawing a relatively simple protection circle on the ground while their companion fidgeted and looked about. Xander Harris watched the whole group with bright eyes. Xander had wandered into the library as everyone was gathering up bags preparatory to leaving the library. He received an abbreviated version of the explanation. Oddly, he seemed unfazed by the whole situation. The boy's resiliency constantly surprised the Watcher. Xander agreed that it was 'just too Star Trek.' However, he was inordinately pleased to discover that in some other world he was considered a TV star and a very attractive one at that. Rupert had to admit he found it rather pleasing to know he held the same status.

"There. All finished. Now we just need to boot up the laptops, do the spell, and we should be able to head home." The elder scientist brushed the last of the magic powder from her hands and looked at one of her companions. "Do you have the… what are you staring at?" She followed the direction of her friend's somewhat blank stare. "Oh. My. God."

The younger scientist looked at them both. "What? What? Holy Hanna!"

Rupert followed their collective stares. There on the walk between their small group and the school was a figure that sent his blood cold. Black leather coat hanging limply despite the light breeze, streetlight throwing strong cheekbones into stark relief and gilding his platinum hair, the vampire Spike stood nonchalantly eating a small cup of ice cream while watching the humans. "Up to a bit of the mojo tonight, eh?" he said before licking the ice cream from a small plastic spoon.

The first scientist made a strangled sound. "Oh god, I want to be that spoon."

The other scientist nodded. "Oh yeah. I so want to be the spoon.

The businesswoman snorted slightly. "Fuck the spoon. I want to be the pants."

Spike obviously heard the remark because his smile took a turn toward smirk. He tossed the empty ice cream cup and spoon over his shoulder and strode toward the woman. "Yeah? Be the pants, eh? Wouldn't you rather see what's in them, pet?"

"Oh yes, definitely see what's in them. See, touch, taste," she answered fearlessly.

He smiled seductively, evilly. "Something could be arranged, dove," he growled.

Rupert stepped forward, very mindful of the fact that he was unarmed and the vampire was between him and the entrance to the school. How had he let these people distract him so that he had stepped out of the library without so much as a stake on his person? He glanced at Xander who reached into his back pocket and showed the sharpened bit of wood he always carried. "Good boy," Rupert thought, pleased that some of his constant harping on safety had gotten through to one of the children at least. He turned his attention back to the vampire only to discover that the crazy woman wasn't just flirting with the vampire but had stepped closer to him. In fact, she was only inches from the bleached predator. What was wrong with her? "Get back! You have no idea who that is!" Giles warned. Her next words convinced him she was utterly mad.

"Oh yes I do! I know exactly who that is." She looked at the man before her with undisguised lust and a huge smile. "THAT is William the Bloody, one quarter of the Scourge of Europe, scion of the Order of Aurelius, master vampire, slayer of 2 Slayers, the Big Bad, commonly known as Spike, and just incidentally, the sexiest male to ever walk the face of the planet." Spike grinned and she tilted her head back to look directly into his eyes. "That, like the song says, is 'the dream we all dream of.'"

"Too right," Spike smirked. "You seem to think you know me well, luv. Think you want to be Spike's baby, hmm?" He placed one arm around her waist and tilted her head to the side with the other. "Let's see how you like it then." His face changed and he sank his teeth into her neck.

Giles and Xander both made a rush at the pair though they both knew they'd be too late; a master vampire could drain a person in seconds if they wanted. They never had a chance to find out. Before they were halfway across the expanse of grass, the mystic symbols on the ground began to glow softly. Arches of blue energy flashed from the ground and traveled over the two locked in their deadly embrace. A stray bolt clipped the ground before Rupert, sending him and Xander sprawling and stunned. The other women cowered on the ground, arms wrapped around each other as lightning flashed around the vampire and the suit-clad woman for a few more seconds.

As the blue fire settled Spike lifted his head and shook off his game face. "Bloody hell. What was that?" he asked softly. Energy still crackled in his hair and sparked from his body to that of the woman he held.

Miraculously, he had not drained her and she lifted dazed eyes to his face. "I don't know. It tingled. Felt nice." Eldritch bands of energy raced from one strand of her hair to another. "Do it again?"

"Yeah. I like it, too. Tastes good. Powerful." He dipped his head, intent on licking the dark liquid still seeping from her pale skin. She sighed happily and clasped him closer to her.

Xander launched himself at the vampire. Without raising his head, Spike lashed out with a fist that drove the teenager back into Rupert. The two ended up in a tangle on the ground, the Watcher having the breath completely knocked from his lungs. The other women watched spellbound and helpless. Spike didn't even seem to notice they were there. He licked the woman's wound one last time and looked at the young man. "What is your problem, Whelp?" Spike asked. "Your demon bint off counting the Watcher's money again? Not up to shagging you till she's gotten past her daily debit and credit columns?"

The woman laid her head happily on his shoulder, eyes dazed and sleepy. Spike's normally sharp eyes were almost as dazed. He looked about in confusion like a person slowly waking from a drugged sleep. "Here now, didn't this place get blown up?" he asked looking up at the school.

"Mm hm," the woman still in his embrace answered. "Yes, it did. Or it will. At graduation. You smell nice." She seemed as disoriented as he was. "I like the way you smell."

"Yeah. You smell good, too. Better than anything I've ever smelled before." Spike tightened his embrace. 'So nice,' he thought. Something kept nagging at him. "Is that Rupert? What's the Watcher doing back in town? Thought he was back in the mother country."

"You remember that? You shouldn't be able to remember that. Or the school. You weren't here when it went boom. And it hasn't happened yet anyway." She stirred, lifting her head from his shoulder and considering him closely for a moment. "You called him Whelp? You remember Anya? And Giles leaving?" At some level it dawned on her that this was very important. "What else do you remember?"

Spike took a few moments to sort himself out. He felt as though he was wrapped in cotton wool. Everything was slightly distant and not really important, not nearly as important as standing here letting waves of power and energy flow through him while a comfortably warm form was pressed against him. The sensation was at once calming and energizing. It felt nothing short of wonderful. Better than feeding, better than fighting, better than just about anything. He was quite content to remain where he was forever. Still the question nagged.

The warm body pressed to him shivered as a last discharge of energy caused them both to twitch. The fog began to clear from his brain. He found alien memories flooding his thoughts. Memories that didn't rightly belong to him. He jerked the woman against him painfully, and snarled, "Why don't you tell me, luv? I seem to be remembering some awfully odd things. Things I saw and things that I couldn't have seen. Like you said, things that happened when I wasn't even there. And I know an awful lot about you all of a sudden; birth date, social security number, what color your underwear is. Now how is that, pet?"

She started to say she didn't know what he meant when she suddenly realized that she did. Her own mind was full of memories that weren't her own. Death, destruction, love, blood, hate, insecurity, pain, heartbreak, joy; everything that made up William the Bloody was flowing and flashing through her head. "Oh. Oh my. I think I.…" She blinked. "I think I have the same problem. I remember everything about you. But it's all sort of jumbled." Glory and Buffy. Buffy being gone--Jesus that hurts--and coming back and the invisibility and …but he was also just at the factory arguing with Dru about Angelus again, about that whole Acathla thing. "God, Angelus is a prick!" There was over-weaning hatred for that damned wheelchair and gut-wrenching pain over losing Buffy. "You shouldn't let Buffy treat you like that. You deserve so much more." Her brain kicked back into action. "Oh my God! I think I have your memories."

"This makes no sense." He frowned. "I remember stuff that can only belong to you, girl. Think I have a fair amount of your life floating about in my head. A different dimension? A bloody TV show? That's … frightening. I think we got a bit of each other's brains here, luv." He didn't sound happy about it.

"Welcome to the Hellmouth," she sighed.

He tightened his grip, wanting to hurt her. "If I didn't have this chip, you'd regret this spell you've…"

She gasped and tightened her own grip on the vampire. "Oh, oh, ohohohoh OH!" She was actually jiggling up and down with excitement. "The chip! There's no chip!" She scanned the memories she had. "The factory, Dru, Angelus … school's still here. I don't think you've physically changed. I didn't feel you change and I was holding you tight enough to have noticed. The hair is right. Okay, it's second season! NO CHIP!" Happiness radiated off her. "I fixed you! There's no chip." She pointed to the teenage boy sitting with a hand pressed to his face. "You hit Xander!"

"I think he broke my nose," the teenager snarled from his spot on the grass. Blood streamed from his nostrils. Rupert lay nearby nursing ribs that felt decidedly cracked. As long as Spike wasn't biting any one he intended to continue lying there. The crazy bint could play permanent footsy with the vampire for all he cared.

"Did it hurt?" she asked.

"Of course, it hurt!" Xander snapped.

She scrunched up her face. With a muttered "Not you, idiot!" she looked at the vampire. "It didn't, did it? No headache?" When he shook his head, she squealed happily. "Yes! I fixed you!"

"Spike was broken?" Xander asked.

It took a second for Spike to process her ramblings. Having her memories was a bit distracting. Having the impression that he was in two different time periods at once was even more disturbing. But if what he thought she was saying was true, he felt like shouting. Or maybe crying. Perhaps a bit of both. Somehow, someway, she had deactivated the Initiative's chip.

He was finally free.

He lifted her off her feet and whirled her around, opting for the joyful shout. He set her back on her feet and looked at her. "That you did, pet." He pressed his lips to hers fleetingly and peered at her intently, his blue eyes boring into hers. "I don't know how you did it, baby, but I owe you. Just name it and it's yours." If she had truly managed to rid him of the Initiative's inhibitor chip, he was more than willing to forgive her for a few extraneous memories. Hell, he'd have forgiven her for almost anything up to and including removal of unnecessary body parts. "Just name it."

"Maybe you for just a little while. I…"

Whatever else she was going to say was pre-empted by a scream of terror from the school building. Chip or no chip, habit is a wonderfully powerful thing and Spike had gotten in the habit of saving people who screamed in the night. Without even pausing to consider the consequences, he ran toward the sound.

~~~~

Spike heard the dark-haired woman running toward him before he saw her. He caught her as she rounded a corner and rebounded from his chest. He quickly pushed her behind him and braced himself to face whatever was chasing her. "It's alright. Old Spike will take care of it. Nothing to be afraid of now."

The woman who liberated him from the chip skidded to a stop a few feet behind them, chest heaving, bent over as she tried to breathe. "That's Jenny Calendar," she gasped between breaths.

"Giles' ex?" Spike said. A scene floated up from amongst the chaotic selection of extra memories he had gained moments before. "Shit. That means she's being chased by …"

"Angelus," the businesswoman hissed in fear as the older vampire appeared at the head of the stairway.

~~~~

"Well, well. Been keeping secrets, Rollerboy?" Angelus asked. "Didn't know you were up and about."

'Jesus! Boreanaz is not that big!' the woman thought. The vampire seemed to fill the hall. "Run!" she whispered desperately to Jenny. Her own legs refused to function.

Spike grinned and wondered if he could bluff long enough for the women to get away. "Hello, Angelus, old son. What brings you to the hallowed halls of learning? Slayer's not here."

"I need that gypsy bitch dead," Angelus said pleasantly. "Snap her neck for me, boy-o."

Spike clicked his tongue. "You know, I love murder as much as the next bloke but I just can't do it this time, Peaches." He sighed, exasperated with himself and his unlife. "Can't let you do it, either." He was truly surprised by his own reaction. "Well, bugger me. Guess I'm still batting for the other team."

Angelus growled and with a single jump cleared the stairs, landing only a few feet from Spike.

"Run," the younger vampire ordered. The women fled as Angelus leaped for them. Spike tackled his grandsire in mid-air and the two rolled onto the floor.

"I'll kill you for this, boy," Angelus swore as he tried to reach Spike's neck. Fangs and clawed hands flashed as the two sought to destroy each other in earnest.

Angelus was older and larger but Spike had spent nearly three years sparring with the Slayer and fighting every kind of evil the Hellmouth could throw at him. He was also furious with the dark-haired vampire. Years of barely suppress rage at all the mistreatment he had experienced at Angelus hands burned in him. The desertion a century earlier, the more recent seduction of Drusilla, the cruelties, the slighting comments, the way the Slayer compared every thing he did to the specter of Angel, everything about Angel and the Slayer burned his unbeating heart. He intended to kill the Irish bastard. Teach the bloody pouf to make Buffy think he was less than dirt. However, the body Spike currently inhabited was not yet completely healed from having a pipe organ fall on it. He began to feel his strength flagging with each hit he gave and received. Soon he was pinned beneath the other vampire's considerable bulk.

"I'm gonna twist your head off, boy." Angelus smiled coldly. "Now, would you be wanting to send any message back to Dru? Hmm? Maybe I'll just spread your dust over the bed before I fuck her in it. Would you li…." He gasped in pain as a fire axe was buried in his back. He jerked away, unintentionally helping his attacker pull the weapon from his body.

"Leave Spike alone," the businesswoman ordered.

Spike pushed Angelus further away and scrambled to his feet. He took the bloody axe from the woman's unresisting hands. She looked a bit green around the edges. "Want to finish this now, Peaches?" he snarled at his Sire.

Faced with an armed Spike and a badly injured shoulder, Angelus shook his head. "Some other time, childe." He turned and loped away into the shadows. Spike started to follow.

"Hold it right there!"

The vampire closed his eyes briefly before turning around. "Slayer," he acknowledged simply.

'She looks different,' he thought. It took a moment for him to realize what it was. She looked at him with real hatred, not the I'll-pretend-I-hate-you-but-I-actually-want-to-screw-you-blind look he had become accustomed to. There was none of the barely suppressed lust or longing in her face. This wasn't his Slayer. This girl had no memory of the times he had fought beside her or the times he had comforted her. He had never had violent sex with this girl or tried to make tender love to her. She wouldn't trust the lives of her worst enemy to him; much less those of her loved ones. Her eyes were still alive and vibrant, not dead and defeated. She'd seen pain but life and death hadn't broken her yet. This was not the girl who had broken his heart.

He took an unneeded breath. He was both devastated by the lack of recognition and elated to see the Slayer unbowed and truly alive. She held a stake confidently in one hand. "So this is how it ends," he muttered.

"Not on my watch." Spike's self-appointed protector put herself between vampire and Slayer. "Back off, girly," she ordered. Spike might have the axe, but she had a heartbeat and Slayers weren't supposed to kill the living. Besides, the Slayer wasn't nearly as terrifying as Angelus. "He just saved your friend."

"It's true," Jenny Calendar stated as she and Rupert Giles ran out of the shadows of the hallway. Rupert now carried his loaded crossbow. Xander Harris carried its twin. The two scientists looked on from behind the protection offered by the teenager.

"He did save my life," Jenny continued. "I'm not sure why he did it but he did save me."

"Oh yeah, you bet I saved your life, sweetheart. Angelus intended to kill you tonight. He knows you can give him back his soddin' soul," Spike said. He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lit up. He was pleased that his hands only shook a little.

"What?" Buffy looked at the woman with hope lighting her face.

"That's right. Gypsy girl here has a lovely little spell that will put Peaches and his soul all back to rights again," Spike said and blew a cloud of tobacco smoke into the still air. "It'll work. Get Red to help you. She has the power to do it and I doubt if the gypsy does. But I know that Red does."

"Who?" Rupert demanded.

"Red, you git. You know, yay high, red hair, cute nose, looks good in fuzzy sweaters. Willow? You know, Rosenburg? Little Red has more power than you can imagine, Watcher. Need to start teaching her to control it though. And what not to use it for or you're going to be headed for trouble. Don't need the most powerful witch in the hemisphere getting all gummed up with addictions and the like. Keep ignoring her and you're going to end up in a world of hurt. Train her right and Slayer will have a weapon no one can touch. Keep her away from the dark magicks, though. They'll eat her alive. Whatever you do, don't ignore her." Spike pointedly kept his gaze away from the Slayer. He didn't think he could bear to look at her again. His voice was soft and weary when he continued. "Look, go do your spell, fix the great poof. Let him and the Slayer play at Romeo and Juliet for awhile. I've had it. I'm out of this town."

"I said hold it," Buffy repeated.

The vampire sighed. He seemed to be doing that a great deal lately. "Look, I don't expect gratitude from you lot. Which is a good thing because I bloody well never get any! Save your mum, save your sis, save your Watcher, save your worthless friends. Bloody hell! Save the bleeding world. Again! And I don't even get so much as a 'Good night, Spike; good job; I'll probably stake you in the morning.' Most times I get a fist in my face. I get 'It's just the chip, Spike, you'd never do anything good on your own.' I get 'You're evil and you disgust me. I could never love you.' I get 'You're convenient,'" he spat the word. "But you know what? This time there's no sodding chip to blame it on. I did save your Watcher's bird and by so doing saved your precious Angel." He tossed the cigarette at her feet. She didn't bother to even look annoyed and his unbeating heart contracted in pain. Slayer always bitched about where he threw his cigarettes. The anger drained out of him. It just wasn't worth the effort any more. "I just want to leave in peace. You at least owe me that much." He sounded tired.

"Are you drunk?" Buffy asked.

"Buffy, let him go," Giles said gently. "We do owe him." He looked at the vampire in confusion. He could hear the two scientists sniffling and muttering about Buffy always being so mean to "poor Spike." Poor Spike?!? He had a very strong feeling he needed to talk to them more about this TV show before they left. "Why are you doing this, Spike?"

"Long story, Ripper. You wouldn't believe me if I told it. Let's just say that I'm not the enemy anymore."

"He's not," one of the scientists asserted. "He's one of the Scoobies now."

Spike fixed her with a basilisk-like glare. "I bloody well am not!"

"Sorry!" she squeaked.

"Yeah, right, whatever," the Slayer scoffed. "Look, I'll cut you some slack this time but I want you out of my town. If I see you after sundown tomorrow…"

"You'll stake me, yada yada yada. Dance in my dust. Yeah, I heard the speech. Believe me, I've heard the speech." He shouldered the axe. "Right then, I'm out. Nothing I want more than to see the last of Sunnyhell." He turned and strode toward the exit. He paused when he reached the door and looked back over his shoulder at the forlorn businesswoman standing silently watching him. He desperately wanted to talk to her. Besides she looked so… alone. "So, you coming or what?"

She ran toward him. "I'm coming." He held the door open for her before following her through. They both disappeared into the darkness, their voices carrying back to the Scoobies.

"Nice shot with the axe. Picked that up from Joyce, did you?"

"Yes. But it was a lousy shot; I was aiming for his neck."

~~~~

"So, we know everything about each other then. I can remember everything that's ever happened to you if I think about it. I have to sort of call it up. It's like a movie or a good novel. I feel what you felt at the time, too. And you can remember everything about me; know what I felt?" Spike asked her. She nodded.

Her theory that somehow her friend's seeing spell was responsible for all of this seemed the only logical explanation. They theorized that the original spell, which was supposed to allow them to see what was happening with Spike, had kicked in when he, the main focus of the spell, came in such intimate physical contact with one of the main recipients of the spell. A corruption of the spell's original intent had occurred. Somehow, the spell had been twisted so that instead of showing the three women the events that would happen in 2002, it had instead brought all of a future Spike's memories into his current body. Either because she was one of the spellcasters or because she and Spike were in such intimate congress, she had also shared in his memories and he in hers. As Spike was quick to point out, all sorts of disasters were not uncommon when "untrained little chits decide to mess with what they have no business messing with."

So now they had complete knowledge of each other's past complete with all emotional baggage. Spike knew all of her failures as well as he knew his own. It was amazing to know, to actually know, that someone else felt the sting of insufficiency as deeply as he did. Was everyone like this? Did everyone hurt so much and cover it up so desperately? He didn't actually get much comfort from that thought.

On the other hand, he finally knew just what someone else really thought of him. Luckily, this particular someone liked him. He'd finally found a person who genuinely liked him. He wasn't sure he'd ever had that happen before. When he was alive, he could never be sure how anyone felt about him. His family had loved him but he wasn't sure they liked him. The women in his life were even worse. Cecily thought he was a wanker. Darla flat out hated him. Dru was, God help him, as mad as any hatter; he wasn't sure she was capable of really loving anyone but Angelus. Harmony was a waste of space. Joyce had liked him a little maybe, but Spike wasn't sure she'd ever really understood how evil he could be. Dawn needed him but again he had shielded her from his baser side. And Buffy… well, that ended as badly as anything could. He wasn't sure he wanted to know what any of his enemies thought of him. Hell, he wasn't sure he wanted to know what his grandsire thought of him. In fact, he was pretty damn sure he didn't want to know what Angel thought of him. And the damn Scoobies always viewed him as a disgusting monster. Or at the very best as a monster who had once been a man. This girl, she saw the monster and the man and neither one of them disgusted her. In fact, she didn't differentiate the two.

He grinned. She likes me. Even knowing all his secrets, including what a complete cock up he was, she still liked him. He could feel it.

"Can you tell what I'm thinking?" he asked.

"You mean telepathy? No. But I can tell what you're feeling, sort of. I just know." She cocked her head to one side in a quizzical expression. "Why? Can you read my thoughts?"

His grin broadened. She thought he looked absurdly beautiful. "No. But I know what you're feeling. Back there, with the blood and the lightning, I knew every thought, every feeling. I still have an echo of that."

She smiled at his choice of words. 'He's still a poet,' she thought. "An echo. Yes, that's what it's like."

They walked on in silence for several minutes.

"I suppose we could explain to Giles what happened and he could, well," she paused before completing her thought. "You know, put you back the way you were."

"You mean chipped, pathetic, and heartbroken?"

She shrugged a shoulder. "Well, it was a fairly sucky period in your life, I have to admit. About as sucky as any I've ever seen. So do you want to relive the last three years?"

"I dunno. Maybe." He turned so he was walking backwards, looking directly at her. "I could change things. Correct some mistakes, maybe?"

"I guess so. I don't see why not. I mean, you know what all happened and how everything went down."

Spike thought for a few moments. "I could make sure Joyce gets better this time. I can kill that bitch Glory the minute Ben shows up in town."

She nodded, "I'd definitely say that sounds like a plan." She looked directly into his eyes and said what he couldn't bring himself to say. "You could save her this time. No tower, no fall." She didn't need to say Buffy's name. He knew who she meant.

"Yeah." He dropped back beside her suddenly subdued.

"You could probably make her fall in love with you this time." She was careful not to look at him. She didn't really want to see his expression.

He didn't say anything for several long minutes. When he did his voice was the soft almost breathy one she categorized as the real Spike. "She said being with me was killing her."

She took that as the answer it was.

~~~~~

"What about you?" He had felt the desperate emptiness of her life. It was damn near as great as his own. "Do you want to go back?"

"I don't know. I don't really have a choice, do I? I guess I have to. But hey, at least it worked out for you. The chip's gone."

Spike clicked his lighter closed and inhaled deeply on his cigarette as he strode down the nearly empty street. 'The chip's gone,' he thought in amazement. 'No, the chip never existed,' he corrected. He couldn't really believe it. Hadn't actually grasped the reality of it yet. Sure he had punched the Whelp in the nose pain free and all, but he hadn't punched that hard. It might not have been enough to set the chip off. He wanted better proof. He whirled back to face his companion. "So dove, want to help the Big Bad test his chip?"

She smiled as the vampire bounce backward in front of her. "Sure, as long as I don't end up with a bloody nose."

"Nah. Don't wanna punch you," he answered. "I need to find someone to bite on, though. Someone human." He grinned evilly. 'Let's see if she really wants to play along.'

Much to his surprise her smiled broadened. "Okay." She looked slightly embarrassed. "I sort of liked it before."

"Really?" He filed that item of information away for future consideration. "But I don't mean to bite you. Yet. I don't think biting you will answer the question. There's something weird with your blood, girl. Remember the lightning show back there? Need someone else. You up for that? Hunting with the Big Bad isn't for the faint-hearted."

She thought for a moment. "Yep. I think I'm okay with it. I'm not promising anything, mind you. And I do sometimes have a problem with recently dead bodies. I get all hinky at funerals. If I get all girly, you'll just have to forgive me."

He laughed. "Alright then, a-hunting we will go." He bounced a bit more.

"You look like Tigger when you do that."

He raised a scarred eyebrow.

"Bounce backwards. You look like Tigger. It's really rather endearing."

"You're strange."

"I get that a lot."

Her memories quickly flashed into his mind. "So you do. Well, I meant it in a nice sort of way. Not that I'm ever nice, mind you."

She smiled. "You don't have to do that. Remember, I know all about you. Everything. Of course, I knew you had a nice streak a mile wide before I ever met you. So, don't do the whole, 'I'm so horribly nasty' thing because I happen to know that you, William Arthur August Roxton, are a decent, honorable man. In a serial killer kind of way."

"Yeah, well don't spread it around. And don't call me that. It's a bloody awful name."

"I wouldn't do that to you. I think it's a nice name. And my name's worse."

"It's not bad. I like it." She gave him a look. "Alright, I promise never to call you by name. How's that?"

"I'd like that. I wish no one would call me by that name again. Actually, you haven't called me by name yet so it doesn't seem to be much of an issue for you." She frowned at him.

He laughed again. He knew she wasn't disturbed by his pet names. Hell, he knew everything about her. He knew as much about her as he knew about himself. It was comforting in a frightening way. "Hey, I dropped my name a century ago. I understand perfectly. So, what are you going to call yourself? Hmm? Have something evil in mind?"

"Naw. Why don't you pick something for me?"

"I'll think about it then. For now I'll just call you Baby."

"I like that."

"Hey, I can go to Willie's again."

"Yep." She answered. "It should be okay. You were never chipped so you never fought for the Slayer so you were never kicked out of Willie's. As far as the world is concerned, you're still the baddest of the bad, a master vampire who's evil to the core."

"Yeah." His grin could have lit up half of Sunnydale. "My rep's still intact. It's good to be back. Come on, Baby. Let's celebrate."

Chapter 3

Los Angeles
2014

Spike swept into the hotel like a sorroco wind. None of his contacts had any news of a demon answering the description of the one in his dream. None of Angel's people had come up with anything. Wesley had no news from his research and Drusilla was getting on his nerves. No one knew anything. No one could find out anything. His mood had swung from black anger to blind desperation again and he wanted Baby locked away with him somewhere safe. He pulled her from Angel's office and hauled her up the stairs to the as-yet-intact room they were currently occupying. He only felt moderately better when the door was locked behind them.

Baby's soothing voice and an extended bout of desperate lovemaking had calmed him to the point where he could at least lie still for a few minutes. Baby lay half atop him as she had so many times before. It was one of her favorite positions. The weight of her head on his breast was heartbreakingly familiar. He knew she was awake; she was tracing the definition lines of his abdominal muscles lazily with one hand. He smoothed her hair from her face. "I won't let them take you away from me. No one is going to hurt you," he swore.

She kissed his pale skin. "I know," she lied. It was quite possibly the first time in their long relationship that she had ever willingly told him an untruth.

He knew it. "I'm serious. I'm not going to let anyone harm you as long as there's movement in this body." He allowed his hand to slide down her neck and shoulders. "I mean it. I'll die first. I'll let…"

"Don't." She stilled him with a hand on his cheek. "Knowing that you'll be alright is the only comfort I have, okay?"

He pulled her hand to his mouth and kissed it softly. "All right." He mouthed her fingers gently. "What am I going to do, Baby?"

"Love me. Right now, you're going to love me. You're going to take care of me just like you always have." She kissed his chest again. She had always loved the silky feel of his skin on her lips. The way his voice rumbled up from deep in his chest when he spoke. The intoxicating smell of him. Lying with him like this was one of the chief pleasures of her life. This was the time when they could talk unfettered by interruptions. When they could simply be together. Sometimes they would lie in soft silence for hours simply holding each other, just being. "Do you remember the first time we did this?"

She felt his chuckle against her cheek. "Yeah. The first time you kissed me I thought you were going to suck my tonsils out through my teeth." She could feel his grin against her hand. "Then later I thought you were gonna suck 'em out through my dick." He jumped. "Damn, woman, don't hit me there. That hurts. Besides that was a compliment."

"Yeah. Right."

"Hey, you were bloody good. Why do you think I've kept you around all these years? The flipping sex has been fantastic." He grinned wickedly.

"That's because I perv on you constantly. It feeds your ego. Nothing gets you going like having your ego stroked." She did something with her hand that made his eyes cross. "Though there's something else I can stroke that gets you going, too."

"Yeah?" He knew this game and loved it. "So tell me, what's got your engine revving this time? What's going on in that head of yours? What's making my sweet dove so…" He gasped as her hand did that thing again. "Hot?"

She licked his left nipple before she answered. "I was remembering that night. You're right. I did damn near suck your tonsils out. Both times. I had never been that turned on before in my whole life."

He bit his lower lip as her blunt teeth sank into his flesh. "Shit! Baby!" His brain was starting to shut down. "Yeah, well you'd never seen the Big Bad hunt before. How could you know I was so bleeding sexy when I kill things? You were all over me before that poor sod's body hit the ground."

"Hey, that 'poor sod' was trying to kill me."

~~~~~

Sunnydale

1998

Baby stared transfixed at the knife waving before her face. She was absolutely sure that she had never been this terrified before. The fear was so great she could feel nothing else. She couldn't think. She for damn sure couldn't move. She tried desperately to focus on what the mugger was saying but her brain wouldn't process it. All she could think was 'Please God, don't hurt me' over and over.

The thug's voice droned on with horrible, unintelligible persistence, matching time with the knife's back and forth sway.

From the darkness, a slim white hand appeared and stopped the sway and a rich, breathy baritone silenced the drone.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you that it's not polite to point?"

Faster than her eye and brain could follow, Spike twisted the assailant's arm back and up. He seemed to be walking up the alley one second then behind the mugger the next. The vampire had one hand grasped in the man's hair pulling his head to one side. The human's neck was stretched bare and defenseless. Baby watched, entranced, as Spike's face changed. She could hear the bones shifting, remaking themselves, moving his visage from man to predator. Staring directly into her eyes, his irises flowed from blue to blazing gold. Her breath caught deep in her chest. He was glorious. Without a further word, he opened his mouth wide and sank his fangs deeply into the man's neck, piercing skin and flesh until he reached the artery itself. Soft growls and rumbles accompanied sucking sounds as precious blood flowed down his throat. She had never seen anything so compelling, so awe-inspiring. Spike was a great lion frozen on the throat of a helpless wildebeest and she knew he would not be dislodged till the last vestige of life twitched from his prey. The erstwhile robber's eyes were stretched wide in disbelief and shock. His once-cruel mouth now formed a hopeless 'o' as his lungs labored and his heart faltered. The knife dropped from his lifeless fingers an instant before Spike released him.

Her feet stumbled on the corpse as she launched herself at the vampire, her mouth finding his easily. He opened his lips under her assault, allowing her to pull his tongue into her mouth. She sucked on it greedily. The salt taste of the blood mingled with tobacco and bourbon in a heady combination. It teased her taste buds, making her want more. She released his tongue and forced hers deep into his mouth seeking more of that taste, more of him.

She was peripherally aware of his arms coming around her, lifting her over the dead body so he could press her closer. With her body and mouth hot against his and the robber's blood hot in his veins, he crushed her to him, his body singing with the heat and vitality. One of her legs was wrapped tightly around one of his as if she wanted to merge them. The earlier connection, the echo he had spoken of, resonated now with want and need. Bright burning desire. Shocked by the intensity of the embrace, he pulled his lips away from hers.

"So you liked that then," he gasped.

She brought her hands up to trace the ridges of his vampiric countenance. "You are so beautiful. You are the most beautiful man I have ever seen. You're so perfect."

With a mutter of "Oh God" he abandoned himself to her embrace again. Somewhere in the middle of a kiss she felt his face change, felt his fangs withdraw into blunt teeth. When she pulled back, blue, blue eyes stared into her own. He was gasping for unneeded breath.

"So, ah…then you ah…you want to shag?"

Her grin was positively blinding. "Oh hell yeah."

He looked around the alley. "Here?" Somehow this didn't seem right.

She released his lower lip from her teeth. "Prefer a bed."

"Right. Good plan. My crypt?" He tried desperately to regain control of some small portion of his brain.

"No furniture yet. It's just a tomb. 'Sides, too cold." She proceeded to destroy what control he'd gained by sucking on his earlobe.

"Yeah, you're right." He forced his brain to work one last time. "There's a motel a couple of blocks over."

"Perfect."

~~~~~

"Disgusting."

He had known it was coming. It always did.

"Yeah?" he said coldly.

"Yeah. No one should look that good at six in the friggin' morning. You are just absolutely, positively the most gorgeous thing I have ever seen. Makes me wanna just gnaw on ya." The accent was as thick as honey but he had no trouble translating the look in her eyes.

'Okay, that's different,' he thought. He couldn't help but grin as she crawled down his body.

"So, sexy thing, you wanna play?" Her own grin could only be categorized as feral as she damn near swallowed him whole.

"Oh shit yeah. Oh baby."

~~~~~

It felt good to lie wrapped in warm arms. He couldn't remember the last time he had awoken in someone's arms, warm or otherwise. Felt damned good. He looked into warm golden green eyes. It was friggin' great to have a woman he had just had sex with not look at him with disdain-filled eyes. It felt so good when they didn't kick him out of bed or call him disgusting. Hell, it felt good just to do it in a bed.

He ran his hand over her face while double checking. No, not a hint of disgust or regret. In fact, this one was looking decidedly… soft. Pleased. It was damned nice.

"So you've got your bite back." It wasn't a question.

"Yeah. Did I thank you yet?"

She made a soft amused sound. "Yes. Seven times before I lost count. I had no idea that you could… That whole being a vampire thing really works well for you."

"Yeah, it does. Missed it." 'Missed this, too,' he thought. Cuddling. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a good cuddle. Couldn't remember when he last just lay in bed holding someone. Must have been before Dru left him. Harmony wasn't much on afterglow and the Slayer was likely to break his arm if he tried to hold her afterwards. Afterglow for the Slayer pretty much consisted of getting up, calling him names, slapping him around a bit, and leaving. 'Damn, I'm fucked up,' he thought. 'My entire unlife is completely and utterly fucked up beyond belief. When did it get so out of control? When did I get so out of control?'

"Okay? What's with the gloomy thoughts?" she asked.

Was that actual concern he could see in her eyes? Damn. He couldn't remember ever seeing a woman's eyes filled with concern for him. It just didn't happen. He had the oddest feeling somewhere deep inside.

"Are you okay?" She lifted her head so she could look at him more directly. "Can I help?"

Care shown from her face. Care for him. For what he was thinking. For what was bothering him. That odd feeling grew, twisting his insides into painful knots.

"Spike? Honey?" She sat up so she was looking directly at him. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"

No one cared about him. They never had.

"What's the matter, baby? Let me help you."

Until now.

And William the Bloody, conscienceless killer of thousands, soulless harbinger of mayhem and destruction, feared across an entire continent, buried his head in her lap and cried, for his heart was broken.

Chapter 4

Los Angeles
2014

Spike stared at his hand. It rested lightly atop his thigh, his fingers curled protectively around Baby's. He tightened his clasp slightly and was rewarded with a return of gentle pressure. He pulled her hand further into his lap and wrapped his other hand around hers so it was sandwiched between both of his. He wanted to do that to all of her. Cover her with himself so she'd be safe. He finally moved his gaze to his grandsire.

"So, what did you want with us then?" His tone was harsher than he intended. He knew Angel was trying to help. He just hated waiting around while something out there was looking to kill his wife. He needed action desperately.

Angel paused his pacing long enough to look at Spike. "Wes thinks he may have found something."

Angel kept looking at him oddly. 'What the hell's bothering the Pouf?' Maybe it was just that Cordelia was a target, too. The visions seemed to indicate that all their consorts would die - Spike's, Angel's, Drusilla's - the three vampires would lose the people who meant the most to them. The threat to Wesley was probably the reason Spike hadn't been able to get Dru to talk to him coherently. All she could do was cry about her English Watcher.

"Yeah? About time." Damn. Spike didn't mean for it to sound like he was blaming Wesley. Nothing was coming out right today.

"It's a Klackshov demon. Cordelia was positive in her identification." The ex-Watcher held out a huge tome bound with iron for Spike to see. It smelled old and evil to the vampire.

"Yeah, that's the ugly bugger all right." He leaned back and put one arm around Baby, pulling her close. He kept one hand clasped painfully around hers. Seeing the demon in print, giving it a name made it too real.

Wes needlessly consulted the text. "It's very rare. Not much is known about it."

"Oh that's bloody wonderful!" Baby reached up and placed her free hand in his where it was wrapped about her shoulders. He subsided with a muttered, "Sorry."

Wes nodded. He understood. Perfectly. "All it says is that it has the power of "hiding" and that it feeds on grief. Apparently, it settles on a single host, causing said grief by killing the family and loved ones of the host and then feeding until the host is used up." Wesley looked up from the text. "I would assume that means until the host either feels better, which is highly unlikely, or until it dies." He straightened his glasses and returned to the book. "Afterward, the demon enters a dormant period storing up its reserves until it can find a new host."

Spike drew an unneeded breath. "Bloody hell," he breathed softly. "I'd say any of us could be the target host then."

Wesley closed the big book. "I concur."

"So how do we find it and kill it?" Cordelia asked.

"Killing it won't be difficult. Apparently it isn't particularly tough. Decapitation is recommended though stabbing it in the heart is also a viable option." Wesley looked up with as bleak an expression as any Spike had ever seen. "Finding it is going to be very difficult. That 'hiding' ability that was spoken of seems to be particularly effective. According to everything I've been able to find, no one has ever been able to find this demon before it attacks. All kills have been made after a victim has died and the demon begins feeding on the host."

"Bloody hell," Spike muttered softly. That seemed to be the general sentiment of those gathered in Angel's office. "And that's it? That's all we've got?"

Wesley sighed deeply and sank back into his chair. "I'm afraid so."

They all jumped when Angel's fist shattered the window between office and lobby.

"Sorry." Angel shook the glass from his hand. "I …" He couldn't verbalize what he was experiencing.

"It's alright, mate. I understand the feeling." Spike, after all, had already destroyed the contents of two rooms.

Angel sat down and pulled Cordelia onto his lap. He might not be has flagrantly demonstrative in his displays of affection as Spike but he wasn't about to let some demon kill his Cordelia. If he had to take apart half of L.A. to protect her, he would.

"Well, I say that if this demon wants the consorts of the Scourge then he needs to realize he has to come through the Scourge to get them." Spike grinned coldly. "And together, we're still the baddest motherfuckers on the face the planet."

"Indeed we are." Drusilla glided into the room. "But you shouldn't use such language, my sweet. Miss Edith will be very cross with you." She moved to stand behind Wesley's chair and wrapped her arms around him until her wrists were crossed on his chest. She rested her cheek on the top of his head. "Miss Edith says that I can fight, too. The nasty Slayer won't get my darling Wesley if the Scourge is together."

"Should you be up, pet?" Spike asked. Dru looked remarkably clear-eyed but with Dru that was subject to change with very little warning. She'd been prostrate for days now, crying over her vision.

"Yes, the time for tears is all done now. I have to take care of my Wesley. It's coming soon." She slid silkily around the chair and stretched herself on the mage's lap. "I'm not going to let any one hurt my precious pet." She stared in turn at her Sire and her Childe.

Something passed between the vampires. Something so strong even their moral lovers could feel it. Something old and powerful. They were closely connected, kin. Sire. Grandsire. Childe. They might fight amongst themselves but now an outsider was threatening what was theirs. The remaining members of the Scourge of Europe had just truly been reunited and would stand together against whatever came. Nothing and no one would touch what they had claimed as theirs alone.

~~~~~

"Look, this place is too big to protect properly, Angel," Spike told the older vampire. "If we're going to stay here, I'll need to send for reinforcements." He thought for a moment. "We really should pack up and go back to New Orleans. I have some places there that we can hold up that it would take a bloody tank battalion to get into."

Angel hated the thought of running. Especially running to Spike's town. He should be able to protect his own here. However, he had to admit that maybe the hotel wasn't the best place to be. With Cordelia's life in the balance, he couldn't afford to let rivalry with Spike stand in the way of keeping her safe. He reluctantly nodded. "I have a couple of things to finish up here. Some leads to chase down. We'll leave day after tomorrow at sundown."

Spike nodded. He'd have preferred to leave right now, but Angel's response was much better than he'd anticipated. He hadn't expected the big prat to agree to leave at all. "Fair enough." He looked out the window into the bright California sun. "We will get through this, Sire. We have to."

Angel nodded. "I know. There's too much at stake. This is one we can't lose." He carefully avoided the sunlit patch of carpet where Spike was standing. "I called Giles twice today just to be sure Connor's all right. I'm going crazy."

"Yeah, me, too." Angel really was loosening up these days. The cheerleader had been a good influence; Spike had to give her that much credit. His great pouf of a grandsire was a lot less tight-assed than he use to be. "At least your kid is out of the country. I keep thinking about sending Baby away for a while and then I think about what might happen if I'm not with her. It's driving me completely starkers."

"I don't know what I'll do if something happens to Cordy." Angel couldn't believe he was standing here having a heart to heart with Spike, of all people. The weirdness just never let up some days.

"Me either, mate. I mean to if something happens to Baby. We've been through too much. Right from the very beginning. I damn near lost her before I even had her. Damned near walked away from her. Didn't know what I had in front of me."

Angel remained silent. He had been shocked by Baby's earlier revelations. He wasn't sure she wanted Spike to know about that little talk.

"Do you know that in a very weird, could-only-happen-in-Sunnyhell way, you're what brought us together, Peaches. If you hadn't hurt her, I'd have left after that one night."

~~~~~

Sunnydale

1998

Baby woke up alone. The clock told her that sundown was hours past. So he was gone then. It had been a nice fantasy. One of the best. Twenty-four hours of pure unadulterated Spike fantasy. The sex has been unbelievable. The man actually lived up to his reputation. It had truly been a dream come true. But in the end, that's all it had been, a dream, a fantasy. Not real. And now it was time for that much vaunted reality check.

Wet from the shower, she looked at herself in the bathroom mirror. A face half-hidden by too much salt and pepper hair stared back. It wasn't a bad face but it sure wasn't anything to write sonnets to. True, it was unlined and her skin was still good but there was nothing striking, nothing to compare to women like Drusilla or Buffy. The flesh under her eyes was darken and puffy from lack of sleep. There was a hint of looseness to the skin under her chin. Time lived in her eyes. With honest appraisal she had to say that she looked pretty good for a forty-one year old who had just spent a full calendar day having the most intense sexual and emotional encounter of her life. Who had been granted the most intimate knowledge of someone else's life. Who had spent twenty-four hours acting like she was twenty-five. Feeling like she was twenty-five. But still when all was said and done, she was forty-one. And he was… perfect.

"What did you expect, stupid? Did you think he'd stay? That he'd sweep you away somewhere? How dumb are you?" she asked her reflection. "You knew it was a one-nighter going into it. He's not even real, for God's sake." Trouble was, it had felt real. It had felt very, very real. Fuck! You do not get emotionally wrapped up with fantasies. That would fall into the 'needs to be taken away by men in white coats' category. Come on, she told herself. Time to get back to real life. Call Giles; see if he can get you back. You've got a job that pays damn good money and people counting on you. "Get it together, why don't you? He loves Buffy. Has for years. What, you want to play rebound girl? Aren't you a little old for that kind of shit?"

Yeah, way too old. Way too sensible. Fuck. She suddenly hated the thought of being old and sensible.

She pulled on her skirt realizing belatedly that she had no clean clothes, no toothbrush, no deodorant, no anything. Her hose were trashed. They hadn't stood up to an overly enthusiastic Spike well at all. Crap. She hunted about and found her purse. Somehow it had remained with her. Well, at least she had a hairbrush.

She was attempting to coil her hair into something resembling a French knot when Spike strolled in.

"Got us something to eat," he said plopping a couple of fast food bags on the dresser. He took in her startled expression. "What?"

She blinked a couple of times before she managed to answer. "Nothing. Just… well, nothing."

The vampire shrugged. "I popped by and had a bit of talk with the Watcher while I was out. He's still in a good mood from me saving his bint. And it seems your pals blabbed a bit to him before they left. He's willing to help get you back where you belong."

She nodded silently. It was no less that she'd expected.

"Can't believe your friends bailed out on you. Went back without you," he said and took a French fry from her box.

"They have families, children. They had lots of reasons to go back."

He had a quick flash from one of her memories, a call from the police, a car accident, a husband and two daughters gone before she'd even turned thirty. There'd been no one since, no one that mattered. Empty. "Yeah, I guess they did then."

She drew a long shuddering breath. "What about you? What are you going to do?"

He had thought about that long and hard while watching her sleep. Though there was a part of him that desperately wanted to stay and try and build something with Buffy, he didn't want to try and romance the current one, the seventeen-year-old. Besides, Angel was here. He knew he had no chance as long as the ponce was in the picture. He could get Rupert to work some sort of mojo and send him back but that wouldn't make Buffy love him. The stronger, more realistic part of him admitted that it was over. He didn't want to go back to where he was. He didn't want to face his Buffy, he didn't want to continue living with that sort of hurt, and he for damn sure didn't want the blasted, thrice-damned chip back. He had been given a chance to start over and he was going to take it.

"I'm leaving. I'm gonna pick up the DeSoto tonight and head out. Probably Vegas. Make myself a bit of a stake and just ramble for a while. Get my head together."

She smiled. "It sounds like a good plan. Just you?"

He gave her a tiny hint of a smile in return. "Yeah, just me. Dru can do whatever she wants. She probably hasn't even noticed I'm gone." That wasn't what she had meant.

He watched as she wrapped her half-eaten burger and tossed it in the trash. "So, you want to come with me while I get the car? I can drop you at the Watcher's after," he told her.

She pulled on her suit coat and didn't look at him. "Yeah, that'll be fine."

~~~~~

Baby stuck her hands in her pockets to warm them. Spike had only been gone five minutes and she was already crawling the walls. She stared hopefully toward the opening of the alley, know it was impossible for him to have made it to the factory, gathered the few things he wanted, and gotten back to her. Even though she agreed that a possible confrontation with Drusilla would be dangerous for her and a second meeting with Angel was to be avoided at all costs, she wished now that she had gone with Spike. Even the assurance that his bite mark would keep any vampires away wasn't as comforting now as it had been when he left her here to wait.

What little comfort she felt disappeared when a soft voice spoke from the shadows.

"Well, well. What have we here, then? My childe shouldn't leave you out all alone." Angelus eased from the darkness, that voice terrifying in its gentleness. "There are all sorts of monsters out at night, girl."

He stopped her with an outstretched arm before she had run more than two steps. "I mean look at me; I'm the worst monster you'll ever see, sweetheart."

He grabbed her by the shoulders and slammed her against the brick wall. "I'm really glad he did, though." He flung her against a dumpster, just hard enough to cause her to see stars. He wanted her conscientious.

"I owe you, girl. I owe you so much." Angelus lifted her easily and pulled her close to him. "And paybacks really are a bitch, honey." He sniffed slightly. "Mm, you smell like Spike. Got my boy's smell all over you. Looks like you've been taking good care of him. How about you take care of me for a while." He reached out and ripped her blouse open. "Nice. Let's see what else you got."

Baby tried desperately to fight back but he was too strong. His hands were bands of steel holding her against the dirty brick. She could feel the rough masonry skinning her back even through her clothes. Her clothes… Angelus was ripping and tearing, destroying her clothing as he sought to get at her skin. His hands were everywhere. Holding her down while running over her body. She had never known such terror.

She felt his hands, his hateful, hateful hands pushing her skirt up, tearing her panties away. She could smell the asphalt under her and the sour smell of garbage near by. She could feel tiny bits of debris and gravel digging into her back, her hips. She could even hear the buzz of the nearest streetlight. But over everything else was the feel of Angelus' hands and the sound of his soft, gentle, hateful voice.

"I'm gonna make you scream, girl. Make you feel like you're ripping your own throat out screaming for my boy to come save you. I love to hear you scream his name."

And she did.

Nothing had ever hurt so much as Angelus entering her body. Nothing. A pain, a degradation like no other.

She stopped struggling and waited to die.

"Ah darlin', I'm gonna leave little parts of you scattered all around for my boy to find," he said, Irish cadence matching each excruciating stroke of his body into hers. "I'm gonna rip you in half, sweetheart. I'm gonna…"

Spike grabbed the larger vampire by the shoulders and flung him across the alley. Baby saw his body silhouetted against the dim glow from the mouth of the alley. He had come. After all, he had come.

"I'm gonna kill you this time," Spike said. He advanced on his sire with murder gleaming in cold blue eyes.

Angelus laughed.

"Shouldn't have left your pet all alone. Things happen if you don't take care of your belongings." The older vampire grinned. "But then, you never could take care of anything."

Spike's hands were wrapped around Angelus throat before he could say any more. Spike wished that the other vampire were human so he could squeeze the life out of him. Angelus' knee connected solidly with Spike's abdomin.

Chapter 5

Los Angeles
2014

Cordy swung her sword in a broad arc. Wes barely blocked in time. "Ha! Nearly gotcha," she crowed. "Again!"

"Are you getting old, Wes?" Baby asked from her perch near the stairs. "Looks like Cordy's gonna mop up the floor with you on a regular basis soon."

Wes wiped his face on a towel. "She already does. That demon strength and speed of hers grows daily. It's most disconcerting at times." He was grinning; it couldn't have been that disconcerting.

"Want to go another round?" Cordy asked, bouncing up and down. He shook his head. He'd had enough for the day. "What about you, Goth girl?"

Baby shook her head emphatically. "No thanks. Unlike Wesley, I happen to know that I'm old and between hunting with the pack and sex with Spike, I work out enough as is. Anyway, I don't do the whole Aikido thing. I'm more of a dirty tricks, big knife and bigger gun, sneaky stealth fighter type."

Cordy laughed. "Hey, I know the dirty tricks thing, too. Gunn insisted. He said any advantage is, well… an advantage."

"Smart man." Baby grinned. "Mostly when I need an advantage I just sic Spike on 'em."

Wesley laughed. "Oh yes, that definitely falls into the categories of both a dirty trick and an advantage." He took Cordelia's sword and put it away. A slightly tense silence settled on the three humans. "So, how are the two of you dealing with all this?"

Baby looked at her nails. "You mean the whole being locked up here waiting around to die thing? Not so well. I'm about ready to climb the walls. You? Cordy?"

"Angel's manic. He can't sit still. He's not even brooding about it." Cordy flopped down on the stairs next to the other woman. "And if something's too bad for him to brood over, well then it's pretty bad." She fiddled with one cuticle. "I'm… not so good, either. Right there with you on the wall crawling. And then too, well…. It's weird; I know I should be worried about me but I'm more concerned about Angel. We're getting so close to Shanshu, it would be so wrong for something to happen now." She lifted her head but her thoughts weren't really with her companions. "When I think about maybe leaving him here to grieve… it's hard."

The ex-Watcher nodded. "I, too, am concerned. For myself and for Drusilla. She's finally making good progress. There's a more-than-good chance that she'll actually be sane one day in the hopefully not-too-distant future. I want to be here for that."

Baby nodded. "Spike and I are happy. We have a good life now. I don't want to leave him. I don't want him to be alone."

Silence settled in again but it was companionable this time. These three shared a unique bond, a way of life like no other. The proudly borne marks of devotion, of vampiric matrimony, were plainly visible on their necks. Few could comprehend the lives they led. Fewer still had ever led such lives. They were consorts: each mated for life to a vampire. It was rare for one of the undead to take a human lover and it was even more rare for that human to live more than a year or two. The dangerous lifestyle, rivalries with minions, childer, and other consorts, and even the vampire him- or herself, insured early mortality. Yet, for longer than any known mortals, over a decade each, they had been bound to the Undead. It was quite possible that no one had ever lived lives quite like these three.

They had given up living in the light, turned their backs on the Day and embraced the Night for the sake of love. As consorts to three of the most noted master vampires of all time, they were as unique as their demon lovers were: Cordelia Chase, acknowledged beauty, seer and warrior for the Powers That Be, who had given up part of her humanity, become part demon to fight beside Angel, the famed Vampire with a Soul, in his quest for humanity; Wesley Wyndom-Pryce, former Watcher, linguist extraordinaire, the dark and troubled lover of the clairvoyant Drusilla the Mad, a mage and strategist whose genius and viciousness resonated a chord of fear through the demon world, who had committed his life to pursuing her sanity; and the woman known only as Baby, the intellectually gifted, murderously brutal, violence-prone consort to William the Bloody, who had devoted her entire being to the soulless Master of New Orleans, joining him in his twisted struggle to exalt in his darkness while fighting Evil. They had each more than once faced death, madness, and worse for the sake of their lovers.

It wasn't an easy way to live but they each believed every obstacle they had faced was worth the love they had gained.

Now there was a distinct probability that one if not all of them would lose the love they had gained to Death.

Baby fiddled with her rings. "Spike wanted me to let you both know that if you want to… to turn, he'll do it." She met their gazes. "He knows that Dru isn't always capable and that Angel has sworn he'll never turn anyone again. So. Well. He's willing to sire you both. If you want. We have an orb of Thessalla so the whole soul thing won't be an issue. If you're afraid that this demon will win or, or even if you just want to, he's willing."

Cordy didn't refuse as quickly as Baby expected. She sat in silence for several minutes. "Angel would have a fit," she finally said. She stood and straightened her shirt. "I don't know if it would even work since I'm part demon now." She thought another moment or two. "I haven't aged since I was demonized so I've never really thought about it. I mean dying on him. Getting older. Leaving him alone." She looked at Baby and Wes. "I guess you think about it a lot, being fully human and old and everything." She seemed intensely disturbed. She gathered up her towels. As she was leaving she paused. "I need to think. But tell Spike I said thank you." She left without another word.

Wesley took her place on the stairs beside Baby. "Unlike Cordelia, I've thought about it a great deal. I've known of Spike's plan for you for years, of course, and I have to say that doing something similar has more than once entered my mind. Eternal youth, immortality without the burden of guilt that Angel bears, no more than what I already have, it's tempting." He stared at his hands where they dangled loosely between his knees. "I've gone so far as to get an orb for myself and a copy of the ensoulment spell from Rupert Giles." He didn't want to go into what that conversation had been like. "And as you say, Drusilla is not sane yet. Despite my expectation and wishes, she may never be. She's going to need someone to care for her for a long time. I'd like to be here to do it. While I love her dearly, I'm not sure she could or would be able to turn me. I…" He took one of Baby's hands in his and patted it. They sat quietly for several minutes. "Tell Spike I'd like to think about it a bit more." He stood and gathered his gear. "There is a good chance that I'll accept his offer, if not today then certainly in the near future. I…" He couldn't finish whatever was in his mind but patted her on the shoulder and left.

Alone with only her thoughts for company, Baby reflected on the irony of life. Spike might be able to save these two where he wouldn't be able to save his own mate. She hoped he wouldn't blame himself. She hoped that if it came to that, he would recall how he had not only saved her body but had saved her sanity and given her back her soul. She hoped he would remember when he had given her a reason to live.

~~~~~

Sunnydale

1998

Spike placed Baby under the warm shower carefully. He didn't want her to slip and add to her injuries. She hadn't protested at all when he'd offered to help her clean up. Just looked at him with big solemn eyes and nodded. She was having trouble standing, one knee swollen and obviously painful though it wasn't broken. He'd already stretched her out and searched for cracked bones and open wounds. There didn't seem to be any. The only fang mark was the one Spike had made. Angelus hadn't bit her. But there were plenty of bruises and scratches. And blue-black suck marks, hickeys. It looked like Angelus intended to enjoy himself before he killed her. Bastard probably went easy, wanting her conscious so he could enjoy hurting her more. So she'd be aware of what he was doing to her and what he planned for her later. Angelus liked for his victims to fully appreciate his efforts.

Spike took a washcloth and soap and began to gently cleanse away the dirt and grime from her unresisting form. The insides of her thighs were stained red-brown with blood. Spike was reluctant to touch her; he didn't want to hurt her. He didn't want to bring back any of that pain.

"Baby? Look at me, luv." When her golden eyes met his, he brought one of her hands to his lips and kissed her knuckles softly. "Pet, this may be hard but I need to clean you there. I don't want you to be frightened, alright? Just hold my hand. Squeeze hard if it hurts. Alright? Can you do that? I won't hurt you, I promise."

Her eyes never left his. "I know."

When she was bundled in towels, he placed her on the edge of the bed. "Pet, you're still bleeding. I'm… I'm afraid that bastard hurt you badly. Please let me take you to a doctor."

"No."

He wished her face wouldn't look so blank. So hard. So empty. "Now look, I can't have you bleeding to death. Waste of good blood, you know."

She didn't smile at his attempt at humor but some of the bleakness softened. "Please, Spike. Don't make me. I don't want some stranger touching me. I don't think I can bear that. If it had been someone human, someone the police could deal with, it would be different. There'd be a purpose to it and I'd go without hesitation. But since it was him there's not. The questions, the probing, going over it again and again. For no reason. And strangers looking at me, touching me. I just… I can't… I couldn't bear it. Please, Spike."

He nodded in understanding. He didn't want to do anything that would increase her distress, but he wasn't going to let her die from lack of proper attention either. "Luv, would you let me check, then? Make sure you're not all ripped up?" His sapphire eyes reflected his own distress. "I'll have to touch you."

She nodded. "I understand. I don't mind if it's you."

"And understand this, pet, if I think it's bad enough I'm hauling you straight to hospital whether you want to go or not. Are we clear on that?" He gave her his best imperious look.

She almost smiled. "Yes, we're clear."

She kept a death grip on his shirt cuff where he leaned his weight on his right hand. Aside from that white-knuckled clutch, she never betrayed the tension she had to have felt during his examination. When he finished, he sighed with relief. It wasn't bad, not at all. Physically, she should be all right in a day or two. Nothing worse than could be accounted for by rough sex. He'd feared much, much worse. He better than anyone knew how brutal Angelus could be. As he bundled her into a robe of his and tucked her into bed, he considered this peculiarity. Angelus must have been planning on playing for a long time, probably for hours, maybe even days. Multiple rapes, torture, the whole schema. The son of a bitch had started out slowly, making sure she'd last till the very end. Spike had to push the flaming anger down or he'd go out hunting the sodding bastard with a sharp piece of wood that very instant. But the girl needed him now. He couldn't leave her alone. Not yet. However, the blond vampire promised himself he'd deal with Angelus properly later.

~~~~~

For three days, she'd been an absolute wreck, Baby admitted. She'd have just curled up and let herself die if it hadn't been for Spike. He hadn't left her side except to get food for them and blood for himself. Whenever she woke up screaming, he'd been lying beside her, arms already outstretched, ready to hold her while she cried. She felt like she could have cried endlessly. She began to avoid sleep because of the nightmares so he kept her company regardless of what odd hours she was awake. They played cards, watched stupid movies, talked. He even started reading aloud to her from a huge novel he had tucked in his duffle. It was something old, eighteenth century. English, of course. Even though the story itself was fairly boring, his glorious voice and pointed comments about the characters made it interesting. It held her enthralled for hours.

He'd become her world. She had nothing else, not even clothes. She wore his robe or one of two oversized shirts he owned. All his other clothes were too small. She ate whatever he brought her. Drank whatever he gave her. Slept only when he held her. Nothing else existed for her.

She firmly believed and was terrified to admit that she was more than half in love with him.

The wrenched knee still hurt but her body was healing rapidly, bruises fading, no bleeding, no real pain, only the faintest ache remained. Now if she could heal her mind and heart. She wrapped her arms more tightly around Spike and began to kiss his sleeping body. She needed to be close to him. Needed it with a nameless desperation.

As he stirred under her caresses, gathering her close, she became more aggressive. "Luv, what are you doing?" he finally asked.

"I thought that was fairly obvious," she said from somewhere in the neighborhood of his navel.

He jerked as her lips slid lower. "Ah, yes." He shivered. "Maybe I should have said why are you doing this?"

She looked at him perplexed. "Because I want to? Because you've been so good to me?"

His dead heart contracted. "Love, you don't have to do this." He didn't want her to think she needed to pay him back. He didn't want sex in exchange for taking care of her. He didn't want payment of any kind. That wasn't what this had all been about. After all they had shared, having her life in his head, after she had actually shown some care for him, he could have done nothing less. And while he had to admit that he still desired her, particularly considering what she was currently doing with her mouth, he didn't want her to feel like she had to do anything she'd find distasteful. Sex had to be abhorrent to her right now.

None of them ever understood why he did anything.

"I don't expect…. Just stop alright," he ordered firmly. He pulled her back up his body.

He was amazed to see her eyes fill with tears. She pulled away from him as though scorched. "I'm sorry. I should have known. I'm sorry." She moved as far from him as the king-size bed would allow and curled into a ball.

"Here now, what's this all about?" Bloody hell. He could smell her tears, hear her breath catching as she tried to muffle her sobs. He got up and moved around the bed and knelt beside her. "Pet, talk to me?" He placed his arm over her and began to rub her back. "Dove?"

"I'm sorry."

He continued his soothing petting. "Sorry for what, dove?"

She spoke into the bedspread but he could hear her plainly. "I knew you wouldn't want me any more. I knew. I just hoped…." She choked and couldn't continue.

He pulled her face from the bedclothes but she refused to meet his eyes. "Pet?"

"After what he did, what he made me, how could you? No one could."

"Ah." Despite what other people thought, Spike was very perceptive. Too much so for his own good sometimes. "You mean Angelus. Tell me what you're thinking, luv. What did he make you? Tell me."

"Disgusting." She turned further from him. "Used." She buried her face in the covers again. "Dirty. No one could want me. Not after that."

"Oh precious." He crawled into the bed with her. "That's not true. Not at all." He turned her to face him and brushed her hair from her face. "I thought, well, I'm an idiot." He told her exactly what he had thought and then proceeded to show her just how wrong she was. In the gentlest way he knew how, he showed her just how desirable she still was to him.

Chapter 6

Sunnydale
1998

Her knee still ached and was wrapped in a large Ace bandage but Baby had decided that she was done with the self-pity. She needed to move on. There was one thing to do first, before this was all over. Before she could start over.

She pulled on the boots Spike had bought for her. They, like everything she had on, he'd bought for her. He'd even bought the red dye she'd used on her hair that morning. She glanced in the mirror over the dresser. A different person than the woman who'd landed in Giles' library a week earlier stared back at her. Angelus had killed that woman in an alley on the outskirts of Sunnydale. The woman who now looked back from the mirror had been born in this motel room. This new woman had been born of Spike's loving care. She had breathed her first breaths, felt her first sensations in William the Bloody's arms. Her first sight had been his cobalt eyes looking at her with care and concern, her first taste had been his lips on hers, her first smell had been his leather-and-tobacco-perfumed skin, the first sound she heard had been his rich voice, the first touch she knew had been his strong hands caressing her body. Everything she was she owed to the man sleeping in the bed behind her. He had given her life.

Now it was up to her to find a purpose for living. A way of living withou