He stepped softly, the night clubs deafening music hid the sound of his shoes whispering across the pavement. The smell of her fear and blood painted the air. Whimpers of pain … pitiful sounds that would have excited and thrilled him not ten years earlier now made his stomach clench in disgust and anger for the vampire who caused her to fear. The vampire had the young woman pressed against a garbage dumpster; she cried out as his fangs scraped harshly on her neck. Spike paused a moment, half cursing that he couldn’t leave the girl, his other half feeling guilty for even thinking of leaving her.

-It surely wouldn’t be the right thing to do, now would it?- A voice from a hundred years before - and with a considerably smarter accent - harped in his brain, shut the bloody fuck up, he growled back. The argument seemed to never change. Shaking his thoughts away he stepped forward, out of the shadows.

“Well, well…what do we have ‘ere?”

The vampire attacking the girl looked behind him, blood streaking down his chin. He clutched the sobbing woman tighter, sneering at the intruding vampire. “This one’s mine. Go get your own.”

“Oh, I think not.”

The vampire holding the girl growled, his eyes flashing. Turning, he threw the woman down. The dark haired vampire turned threatenly towards Spike. “I don’t like to be disturbed while I’m eating.”

Spike remained indifferent to the hostile stance of the other vampire. He cocked his head, as though curious. “What are you, six months old?”

An insulted growl was his answer, Spike smiled, “Ah, maybe one year, yeh?”

Spike sighed and rolled his eyes as the other vampire charged at him. Spike, with seeming carelessness, grabbed his attacker by the throat and pushed him roughly against the alley’s brick wall.

“Not more than two years, I’d wager.” Spike continued as though nothing had happened, his fingers digging around the younger vampires’ throat. “Even a two year old would know when he was facing a Master.”

The younger vampire’s eyes widened, horror and terror etching over his features.

The Master loosened a stake from his sleeve, and then without ceremony, plunged it into the vampires’ chest. Spike watched the dust flutter between his fingers. “Bloody swear they’re gettin’ more stupid every year…” He muttered to himself, sliding the stake back up his sleeve.

He walked over to the dumpster and looked behind it. The woman gasped when she saw him, her face wet and blotchy from tears. She sprang from her hiding space wrapping her arms around her savior, clutching desperately at his shirt.

“Oh my god! Oh my god!” she blubbered, “I thought I…he bit me! The bastard bit me!”

Spike stared down at the woman who was holding onto to him in a vice-grip, his eyebrows furrowed. He shook her off harshly, growling in displeasure.

“Get away from me.”

“Please let me…I…”

Spike growled pushing the woman back, “Get away from me.” He saw and heard her intake of breath as his eyes briefly streaked gold.

She backed up, her eyes riveted to his face. Fear overcoming any feelings of gratitude she had for him. He watched her run away, her footsteps soon fading from his ears.

Eventually, they all ran away.

**~~**

Spike sat at the bar, his eyes downcast, staring into the red depths of his glass. He had ordered it two hours before, and still it sat untouched.

He constantly wondered why he continued this. He never really thought of himself as masochistic…well…maybe a century with Dru might argue that. He shrugged half heartedly, bygones. He wasn’t like Angel, the grand poof. He was certain of that. He supposed it was because he still felt horrid guilt for…

He could even feel his demon shying away from her name. Her memory.

Spike swore, finally grabbing the glass and drinking its contents. It burned all the way down.

He refused to let his mind wander, it usually took him to dangerous places that he had forbade himself to think about.

He may have appeared unaware of his surroundings, but even with his inner turmoil he knew exactly what was happening around him. Whether he wanted to know or not, ingrained in his vampire genetic code he had the ability to know exactly his environment without an actual visual assessment. As years passed after his human death he found this trait only strengthened as well as his other vampiric skills.

By the time he had entered the bar and ordered his drink, he knew exactly what and how many creatures were in the bar, which said demons were the most likely to be a physical threat, and where all the exits were.

It was in this same way he knew the scent and its owner that drifted to him slowly, assaulting his senses, making him blink for the first time in an hour, his brow creasing, disbelieving.

He knew that scent.

-We know that scent.-

He never thought…

It was quick. He barely felt the pain of his head hitting the wall. He blinked blearily as the sides of his vision darkened slightly.

A hand was around his neck. If Spike had needed air he would have been choking by now. Even so, as the hand tightened his neck muscles clenched. The hand shoved him against a wall. Looking at his assaulter he stared into two dark eyes.

The fist was fast. Spike had no time to brace himself for the attack. His head snapped to the side, blood poured from a wound at his lip.

His attacker growled, “I knew it was you. I knew it.”

Spike found himself dimly aware that no one in the bar had seemed to notice, or care that he was being attacked. Not that this was unheard of; being the kind of bar it was, physical disagreements between patrons were a regular occurrence. No one turned to his aid. For one insane moment he felt like laughing.

Xander dragged the limp vampire out of the bar throwing Spike to the pavement. Reaching into his back pocket, Xander slipped out a sharp stake, kneeled and placed it against Spike’s chest.

“Four years. I’ve waited four years for this.” Xander hissed, pressing the stake. Spike gasped softly in pain, but made no move to defend himself. “How does this feel, Spikey? How does it feel to have no control? To be controlled?”

Spike did nothing. Said nothing. He only stared at the ground, his shoulders slumped in resignation.

Xander paused. He had expected a fight from Spike. He had been expecting it; he had counted on it.

“Look at me!” Xander demanded, he pulled Spike up and slammed him up against the wall pushing the stake harder for emphasis. Spike looked up at him, but just as quickly looked away.

Xander paused, mentally taking a step back, confusion creasing his face. Spike’s eyes…he did not know what exactly he had been expecting but not the raw pain…not the acceptance. Acceptance!

When Xander didn’t move, Spike growled in the back of his throat. “Do it. Do it, dammit.” Spike pushed his chest forward, groaning in pain as the stake further penetrated past the thin layer of skin, letting blood flow.

“What the hell…” Xander stepped back, his eyes wide. He dropped his hand holding the stake, the weapon slid from his fingers landing on the ground with a hollow thud. Spike fell to his knees in front of him, his head hanging.

Spike looked up at Xander, pleading with tears running down his face, “God dammit, just fuckin’ do it. Kill me.”

Xander took another step back shock covering his face, his mouth opening.

Spike felt sudden harsh anger. “Come on, you wanker! You came to kill me, didn’t you?!” His voice lowered as quickly as it had risen, “For…for what I did. For what I did to her. Her. Right? Do it. Do it. Do it!”

“Jesus,” Xander breathed, “What the hell…”

Spike didn’t hear Xander. All he could hear was the voice in his head, the one that had been with him since Africa, telling him that this, this meeting with Xander, was what they’d been waiting for. Hands clawed at Spike’s face, he realized they were his own. He glared up at Xander, Spike knew the way to Xander was through anger; it’d always worked in the past. “Aren’t you man enough? Come on, you berk, you know it’s what you want. It’s what I deserve. You know it. I’ve waited. I’ve waited.”

Xander remained mute.

“Do it. You know what I am. What I’ve done,” Spike’s throat caught on a sob, “the children I’ve killed, the mothers, husbands ...and h-her. And her. What I did to her.”

Spike curled up on himself, he hugged his knees while sobs racked his body. Images clouding his mind. Victims, victims, victims, and her. Always her.

It wasn’t until much later that he realized Xander had left.

**~~**

Spike didn’t see Xander again until a week later.

It was the same setting. The same demon bar. However, this time, instead of assaulting him, Xander sat on a stool next to Spike.

Spike knew he was there, of course. But he said nothing to the human.

Xander was well into his second beer before he said a word to Spike.

“You’ve stopped bleaching your hair.”

“Wha…” Spike’s hand strayed to his head, realizing Xander was right. When had he stopped? -Africa-, the voice reminded him. Ah. Yes. Africa. Spike glanced sideways at Xander, feeling slightly unnerved by the human’s observation, “I s’pose.”

Several moments passed.

“What are you doing in New York?”

Spike twirled his glass, watching its red liquid swirl around, and then answered, “Does it really matter, mate?”

Xander shrugged.

Spike stared into his glass, contemplating, “The wolf never asks the rabbit why its there. It just eats it.”

When Xander chuckled Spike turned, eyebrow raised.

Xander abruptly stopped laughing and ordered another beer.

Spike stared at him curiously. “I never thought you wouldn’t kill me on sight if we met again.”

Xander took the new bottle and swallowed a sip, looking suddenly thoughtful, “I wasn’t going to kill you, y’know.”

Spike narrowed his eyes briefly, studying the human before looking away. “Yeah, I kind of noticed.”

Xander watched a couple female Shakra demons with obvious interest for a few moments. “So, what are you doing in New York?”

“Just because you ask the same question over and over doesn’t mean you’ll get your answer.”

Xander only smiled, “We thought you were dead,” he paused, his lips tilting in a smile, “well, dead-er.”

“As good as.” Spike muttered, feeling decidedly uncomfortable with the conversation. It was actually slightly surreal. That Spike was actually having a civil conversation with Xander. The human was so…different. What had happened to the kid that killed big bads first, asked questions later?

Xander turned to face Spike, studying the previously platinum blonde, his expression serious. “Why did you want me to kill you?”

Spike froze. He glanced over at Xander. “Do you really care?”

Xander shrugged, turning back to his own drink, “Not particularly. Just asking out of curiosity’s sake. It’s not every day you see a vamp begging to be dusted. Though, it would make the slaying so much easier.”

Spike looked away, for a brief moment he considered actually telling the human the truth. The truth that Spike had begged Xander to kill him because he thought he deserved to die…but not just by any hand, but by the hand that he had wronged so terribly, so unforgivably. And in that alley way, with Xander poised to strike, he had a revelation: Xander was a conduit to her, his death through Xander’s hands was almost as good as her doing it herself. And god…he just wanted the pain to stop. But later, much later, after he’d picked himself off the ground he knew it wasn’t right. If anyone was going to kill him it had to be her. If anyone had the right to his death, it was her.

But Spike couldn’t tell Xander any of this. “Let’s call it momentary insanity.”

Xander studied the vampire for a moment, his eyes expressing his disbelief. Eventually he merely shrugged as though accepting the excuse.

“So, where’d you go after you left Sunnydale?”

Spike said nothing. He’d realized a long time ago that the best way to not answer a question was to ignore it. After over ten minutes of silence Xander sighed.

“How long have you been in New York, then?”

Spike shrugged, “Two years, give or take a month.”

“Huh.”

The vampire turned, an eyebrow raised in question, “What?”

Xander shook his head dismissively, “Nothing.”

They sat in silence for another hour before Xander rose, paid for his beer, then left without a backward glance.

**~~**

Love it? Hate it?

Chapter Two

**~~**

Spike honestly hadn’t expected to see Xander again after that second night, but for two months Xander continued to come to the bar, once, sometimes twice a week. At first Spike had been bemused and wary of the man’s continued presence, but soon the vampire came to expect him.

Truth was -and this truth Spike had trouble admitting to himself- he began to look forward to the humans presence.

Slowly, Spike began to find that he actually liked talking with Xander. The human was very different then the earlier days in SunnyDale. At least Spike thought so…he had never really known, or made the effort to know, the whelp back in Sunnydale, but he was sure Xander had not been so thoughtful and serious back then.

They never talked about anything very serious. At least they never discussed anything serious pertaining to personal subjects; they always skirted on topics of anything consequential. They had set unspoken boundaries and rules which neither dared to cross.

And yet, sometimes Spike felt the undeniable urge to ask him about her. He could feel the question twist in his throat, whetting his tongue, becoming more pronounced as they grew more comfortable around one another. But he was always able to beat the urge back.

He didn’t ask about her.

God, he wanted to. But, in the two months Xander continued to visit the demon bar, Spike never asked.

He may have never asked but Spike could smell her on him. This fact led him to two more conclusions: Xander was in constant contact with her, and she was living in New York.

Oh God. He bit his tongue.

She wasn’t the only one he could smell, there was the ‘bit too, and the witch Red. And another scent that Spike had trouble identifying, it was something very sweet but also very familiar, almost like he’d smelt it before but had forgotten it. Anya’s scent was the strongest of them all; Spike guessed they had gotten past the wedding fiasco after all.

-We also slept with her remember.- Spike growled inwardly at the voice, like he needed the reminder, how could he ever forget that huge mistake?

So it seemed they were all in New York sans the Ripper, evidently.

They were here. Living in the city he was living in. He knew this, the curiosity almost burning him inside, but he never asked.

**~~**

Xander entered through the shops front door. Stepping behind the counter he paused to softly kiss Anya on the cheek.

“Do you need help closing?” He asked, playing with the hair at the back of her neck.

Anya, who was in the process of cashing out the till, shook her head. “No, it’s alright. I’ll be done in a few minutes.”

Leaving her to finish he proceeded into the back room. The shop was quite old, ‘rustic’ optimists might say. When Xander had first seen it he had had his reservations. It was old. Old as in before the First World War old, and its previous owners had not kept it up very well. However even realizing its obvious shortcomings, Buffy had fallen in love with it anyway. Xander had tried to talk her out of buying it, but she ignored him like she ignored everyone else’s nay saying, and only a day after seeing it she bought it.

Today, with its drastic renovations and Buffy’s own personal touches, if he hadn’t known it was the same building Xander himself wouldn’t have believed it. He had discouraged her, but nonetheless, having been Buffy’s main consultant on the renovations Xander always felt a bit of pride concerning the shop.

The back of the shop had been opened up and converted into a kitchen and living room, hard wood floors and light beige hues making it seem spacious and comfortable. Off the kitchen a flight of stairs led upstairs, the spaciousness over the shop allowed Buffy to renovate it into three moderately sized bedrooms and one bathroom. All in all it made for a very adequate living space.

Closing the door softly behind him Xander peeked into the living room smiling at what he saw. Willow was lying on the couch watching a sitcom with a small sleeping child curled around her.

“Hey,” He began softly. “Kind of late for miss moppet to be up. Nightmares again?”

Willow nodded looking down at the child, a frown crossing her lips. “Third time this week.”

Xander sat on a loveseat kitty-cornered to the couch. “Poor kid.”

Willow tenderly stroked the child’s head. “I wish she’d tell us what they’re about.”

Xander shrugged, “She will when she’s ready.”

Willow hummed softly, continuing to stroke the little girls head.

“Where’s Buffy and Dawn?” Xander asked, noting the only noise within the house came from the nearly muted television.

“Buffy’s patrolling, Dawn’s out with…,” she paused thinking, “who’s she dating this month?”

“Tom, I think.”

Willow nodded, “That’s right, Tom.”

“Buffy’s patrolling, huh? She’s been pushing it a bit hard the past few weeks.”

“I know…you know she’s getting a bit obsessed with finding that new vamp sector in town.” Willow paused chewing her lip, Xander recognized it as one of her signs of frustration, “I’ve tried to help, but I can’t find anything on this new group.”

“Well, their name tends to create the idea they’re a new group…”

Willow snorted softly, “Yeah. The Newbloods.”

“Not exactly the most creative vamps.”

They lapsed into silence; nothing they could say about the Newbloods would be anything they hadn’t said before. The vampire group had shown up in New York over a month before leaving a bloody trail in their wake. They murdered indiscriminately, and viscously. Of the few bodies they had seen it seemed the vampires purposely caused as much excruciating pain to their victims as possible before killing them. Some of the humans weren’t even drained, leading to the conclusion the Newbloods didn’t always need to feed when killing the humans; that they pleasured in causing horrible pain for the fun of it.

The papers glorified it. A mass murderer, they called it. A serial killer that used knives to mutilate his victims. The front page was painted with terrible images at least three times a week.

Using her underground contacts Buffy was unable to find anything but very little information about the Newbloods. No matter whom she threatened or tried to bribe she had so far not been able to scrounge up any more information. Xander could see it was consuming her. Looking at the paper, seeing the murders, he knew she felt responsible for every single one of them.

Willow looked at Xander a bit speculatively, “Speaking of lateness…aren’t you out a bit late?”

Xander blinked. “We were speaking of lateness?”

Willow waved a hand dismissively, “Irrelevant.”

“I had a couple beers with some of the guys from work.” Xander lied easily, feeling a twinge of guilt. It was only a partial lie; beer drinking had definitely been part of it.

Willow accepted the explanation without a blink of an eye. She turned to continue watching the television.

Xander felt another bite of guilt.

He wasn’t exactly sure why he didn’t tell them he’d seen Spike when he had that first night two months before. He supposed, at first, it was the shock of seeing the vampire in the flesh after so long. He had had to come to terms with it himself. For so long he’d held anger for the vampire, deep-seated hate and prejudice for what Spike was and what he had done.

The prejudice had faded somewhat during the years as Xander matured into adulthood. He no longer looked at the world in black and white mentality, but had a more grey colored view. He figured he had to broaden his scope, considering he was in love with a demon. It had taken him a while to accept Anya had turned back into a vengeance demon, but when he had it was the best thing he’d ever done. Marrying her was the second best thing. Even without the demon prejudices Xander was still angry. Not for what Spike had done to him, not at all. Xander had accepted and forgiven that (though he’d never admit it) long before Spike left SunnyDale. What stoked his anger was what Spike had done to Buffy.

But seeing Spike in the bar that night had severely confused Xander.

Xander wasn’t sure he could ever forgive Spike for what he did. But seeing how utterly destitute Spike had been that first night… Spike had been so...so honestly, heart-wrenchingly sorry. Xander couldn’t refute it that night, no matter how badly he wanted to.

Not that being sorry could forgive an unforgivable act.

One of the most surprising things about Spike was how much he’d changed. Gone was his overly cocky attitude, in its place a more recluse and drawn creature. Xander had seen it in his eyes that first night, the look of a badly treated dog waiting for the next blow. As he continued to meet with Spike, Xander saw a bit of the confident vampire return. Sometimes the confidence was real, but most times it was a façade: a set of armor. Xander had never seen the vampire so…broken. Not even after Drusilla left him. It made him wonder what happened to change Spike. Spike was very evasive about his years after leaving SunnyDale. But so was Xander. Neither dared talk about anything personal.

So yes, at first Xander was very conflicted about what to do about Spike.

He continued to see Spike, trying to decide what to do. But one thing he had never thought would ever happen happened. He found he actually liked Spike. Xander had been surprised to find out how interesting and intelligent the vampire was.

Xander skirted the friendship issue. He didn’t want to label it. He enjoyed Spike company and that was it. Admitting to friendship with Spike would be like betraying Buffy.

It wasn’t friendship…and yet…

And yet…

Xander didn’t tell them. He feared their reaction. He feared their anger. He didn’t want the vampire dead.

Xander frowned inwardly. Was that true? He had always figured when Buffy met Spike again she’d dust him. Xander had been comfortable with that two months ago. They never talked about Spike. Buffy that is never talked about Spike. Xander, Anya, Willow and Dawn did spare few times when out of the slayer’s company. Dawn was beyond angry and hurt considering the vampire. Talking about Spike in front of the youngest scooby usually ended in her spitting curses at the absent vampire. Xander never brought Spike up in front of Buffy, but he’d always figured Dawn’s reactions were a perfect mirror image of her sister’s.

He didn’t tell them about Spike because…because…just admit it he growled inwardly…he liked the vampire, didn’t want him dead.

If he told them, Spike was as good as dust.

Xander’s thoughts were thankfully interrupted by the back door opening. He caught a glimpse of the back alley before Buffy came into view. She peeled off her jacket and boots, sighing tiredly. Xander frowned at the dark circles under her eyes.

“Hey guys,” Buffy said padding into the living room. Seeing Willow holding the still sleeping child Buffy suddenly frowned. “Did she have a nightmare again?”

“Yeah,” Willow said, “I thought I’d wait till you got home so you could tuck her in again.”

“She’s still having nightmares?” Anya said entering through the front way, catching the last part of what Willow said.

Buffy gently took the child from Willow, kissing the little girl on the head. Hoisting her up, two small arms clung around Buffy's neck. The child whimpered softly, but otherwise remained asleep. Buffy laid her cheek against dark curls, her voice soft, “It’s getting worse. They’re so often now.”

“She’ll grow out of it, I’m sure. I had pretty bad nightmares when I was a kid...usually about clowns.” Xander blushed slightly, “I couldn’t get near one for the longest time without crying. Birthday parties were a big no-no.”

“Hmm… maybe.” Buffy murmured, worry still prominent in her eyes. Looking up at Anya she smiled, “Thanks again, An, for closing tonight.”

Anya shrugged, “De nada.”

“Alright, baby, let’s take you to bed.” Buffy whispered to the sleeping girl. After brief good nights she left her friends and walked upstairs quietly.

“She looks so tired.” Xander said when Buffy was out of earshot.

“Like I said, the Newbloods thing is really getting to her.”

“Maybe I’ll ask…around. See if I can get some info on the new bads.”

Anya raised an eyebrow, “Around?”

Slapping himself mentally, Xander looked away from his wife’s prying eyes. “Yeah, I’ll do some investigative digging. Can’t have Buffy all drained.”

Both Willow and Anya looked at each other.

“What?” Xander said defensively, “I know people!”

“Sure honey.” Anya said, patting his arm. “Let’s go home, I’m pooped. Need a ride home Willow?”

“Since my car is again out of commission, I’d be very grateful.” Willow said getting up from the couch.

Xander briefly considered pressing the issue, but he let it go. The littler they knew the better. It was for the best, he was sure, that they didn’t know he’d been meeting up with Spike.

**~~**

Spike knew something was up when Xander entered the bar. The human strode to the vampire with purpose. Sitting promptly he faced Spike, his expression serious.

“I need information.” Xander opened without preamble.

“What, no ‘good evenin’ Spike’.” The vampire said with mock hurt.

Glancing at a Telap demon sitting a couple stools away Xander lowered his voice. “Sorry but this is important. Information. I need it.”

Spike took a sip from his glass. “What kind?”

“There’s a new vamp sector up here. Call themselves the Newbloods. I need some inside info.”

“Seriously? Call themselves Newbloods?”

“ ‘Friad so.”

“Bloody effing hell. Its vamp’s with nancy names like that make a bad name for the rest of us.”

Xander eyed Spike askance, “Sure it is.”

Spike waved a hand, “Right, go on.”

“They’re relatively new players but they’re growing fast. Usually it would’ve been a simple slam ‘em and stake ‘em scenario but apparently this group is a bit more complicated than that. You’ve probably seen their work in the papers the last few weeks.”

Spike narrowed his eyes thoughtfully, “The murderin’ spree goin’ on, you mean?”

“Yeah.”

“Bloody hell.”

“Exactly. So do you know anything?”

“Why do you think I’d know anything?”

Xander raised an eyebrow. “I figure since you’ve been living here… you being a vamp and all that.”

“Ah, I see.”

“So?” Xander prompted.

“Wait a tic, how are you so sure I’m not a Newblood? Not that’d I’d ever join a bloody group called ‘Newbloods’.”

Xander eyed Spike a moment. “From the info I’ve gotten, you don’t fit the profile.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know if you realize this, but you’re half a step away from being like him.” Xander motioned to the Telap demon.

“Oi!”

Ignoring Spike’s exclamation, Xander continued. “From the information I got the Newbloods have a set standard of…cleanliness…and a dress code that you just wouldn’t pass.” Xander paused, considering Spike’s appearance for a moment. “Is your hair really brown, or is it just dirty?”

Spike growled at that. He looked down at his shirt, giving it an experimental sniff. So yeah, maybe it wasn’t super clean, but he certainly wasn’t a bad as the Telap demon.

He sniffed the air smelling the Telap demon, then his shirt again.

Awe, bollocks.

Maybe not as bad, but too close.

“Sorry, mate,” Spike was only slightly surprised that he was honestly sorry, “don’t know anything ‘bout them Newbloods. I’ll ask ‘round if you like.”

Xander ordered a beer, “Yeah. I’d appreciate that.”

**~~**

Love it? Hate it?

Chapter Three

~~..~~

Spike gave the hostess a grin, who in turn leered at him looking the vampire over with appreciation.

Spike was immediately glad he’d taken the effort to address his less than stellar state of appearance. Earlier that evening he had broken into a temporarily vacant house and he’d taken a long, extremely hot shower, feeling a bit disconcerted when he couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually had a shower. After washing his hair, and other extremities, thoroughly four times, he dressed and nicked forty dollars from a jar in the kitchen marked, ‘Change’. Feeling distinctly guilty, (and the other voice’s displeasure didn’t help matters) Spike made a silent promise to return to repay what he took.

With his newly acquired finances he took off for a department store. After a pair of black jeans, a black tee-shirt, and a stint in the washroom with a bottle of peroxide and pair of scissors, Spike was feeling pretty pleased with his efforts. Especially when he was buying a pack of cigarettes and the checkout girl gawked at him. Either he looked really good, or really ridiculous. Not having a reflection he couldn’t be sure, but he figured the girl slipping him her number was a good indicator.

Spike gave the hostess another shit-eating grin when she let him past into the club. He let his eyes turn gold as he entered into the inky darkness.

A week before, when Xander had asked him to look into the Newbloods, Spike had decided the best way to find the vamp group was to do three things. Firstly, beating information out of some demons and/or vamps, the more the better, secondly to change his appearance to be Newblood worthy, thirdly, find a Newblood to draft him. Easy. Right.

So yeah, finding someone who actually knew something about the Newbloods proved to be a bit more difficult than Spike had first considered. Either that or he was really losing his touch when trying to beat out confessions. Nah. However, it was pretty lucky, he’d admit, that he came across a demon with information. It was even luckier the demon had a low pain threshold. Spike had barely knocked him around when he was spilling information. Information that led him to a nightclub called Naughty Pleasures.

Naughty Pleasures, while having a sleek and modern interior, wasn’t anything he hadn’t seen before. When he was fully within the club, Spike was able to let his golden eyes turn back blue and fully take in his surroundings. Muted lights hung low from the ceiling giving the club an almost surreal look. Demons, vampires, and even humans were dispersed throughout; some were sitting in plush booths, some were at the bar drinking, others were dancing on the dance floor to a slow seductive song. The scholar in Spike found himself momentarily fascinated by what was happening in a booth not far to his left, huh, so that’s how Korlaki’s mate. When the female looked at him with a hitherto stare Spike shook himself and stepped away, feeling that if he could have, he would have been blushing. -We don’t peep, William. That’s just rude.- Spike was about to answer the voice when he was distracted by a female Chokra leaning into him, her eight erect nipples brushing against his chest.

“Hey handsome.” she purred.

For an instant Spike wasn’t sure what to do. He felt the overwhelming urge to move away from the demon, but didn’t. When he had set out with his plan he knew he had to act the part. He found himself asking: what would old Spike do? It was almost funny. Almost.

Spike grabbed the demon’s waist, pulling her against him, ignoring the other voice’s strangled shout for –proper decorum!-. The Chokra gasped slightly at his rough movement, but otherwise seemed pleased. She grinded herself against him, and for one moment Spike had to beat back the impulse to let her go. He leaned down and breathed softly in her ear, “‘lo, gorgeous,” he felt her shiver, “I’m lookin’ for someone, you couldn’t help me, could you, pet?”

The Chokra looked up at him with dilated eyes, she nodded. Spike told her in a soothing, alluring voice whom he was searching for. She looked immensely satisfied that she knew who he was asking about. She pointed off farther into the club, a name spilling from her lips. Feeling old Spike come through, he planted a lingering kiss on the Chokra’s mouth before leaving her with a promise that he knew would never be fulfilled.

He spotted the vampire immediately among the others. Leaning against the bar, he waited for his moment. Ordering a beer he watched. It was near two in the morning when the vampire Spike was watching was readying to leave. Spike had watched him become more and more inebriated for over three hours. Spike could have taken him when he first saw him, but he wasn’t sure about the other twenty vamps’ and demons. Where the Spike of four years ago would have said, ‘fuck it’, and dove right into the fray, the new Spike realized his limitations (much to his chagrin) and knew when to be cautious.

Spike only a waited a moment before following him out of the club. Keeping his distance for a couple blocks, Spike rolled his eyes at the stumbling vampire. Walking up behind the vamp Spike inwardly scolded the oblivious predator. Clamping a hand on his shoulder tightly, Spike leaned in close to the other vamp’s ear.

“Have a word, mate.”

“Whaa..?” Was the eloquent response. He lost his balance trying to turn to face Spike, ending up ass first in the gutter.

Spike sighed; this was proving to be harder than he’d anticipated. Eyeing a bench conveniently close by, Spike pulled the drunken vampire up to his feet, and sat him on it.

The other vampire looked at Spike blearily. “Who are you?”

“Someone who wants in.” Spike said cryptically.

“Huh?”

Spike gauged the vamp to be around ten years old. He realized it was probably best that the vampire’s abilities weren’t at full capacity. He would have been able to tell Spike was a Master vampire, and Spike wasn’t certain how his reception would be.

“I know you’re a Newblood, Don.” Don looked at Spike sharply, well as sharply as he could. “I want in. Recruit me…or whatever it is you blokes do.”

Don stood up suddenly, almost losing his balance, then backing away. Spike could smell his fear. “I have no clue…what’r’you…crazy…”

Spike stood, stepping towards the younger vampire. “Yes, you do.” His voice was low, dangerous. “I want in, and you’ll get me in.”

“Listen, man…” Don paused, massaging his temples, his expression of utmost distress and confusion. “Even if I could…do…that…I, um. Can’t do that. You know?”

Spike itched to grab Don by the throat, but having a part to play, he didn’t. “No, I don’t know.” He said feigning patience. “Please explain.”

“Dude, it’s like, uhh…not my job.” He perked up suddenly. “But I know someone who can, like, get you in…maybe…you know…the trials and stuff…are hard…” Spike tensed slightly as Don dug into his jacket. Bringing out a card, Don presented it to Spike.

Spike took the card and studied it for a moment. He looked up at Don, his eyebrows raised. “Sure this is the right card, mate? A lawyer?”

Don nodded. “Yeah, man. All you gotta do is…um, call the number, and uh, use extension…six…no...eight, yeah, definitely eight. And say, uhhhhh...” He paused, thinking hard, “you gotta say, ‘Whether we fall by blood, ambition, lust…’ uhh…or is it lust, blood…?”

“ ‘Whether we fall by ambition, blood, or lust, like diamonds we are cut with our own dust.’ Webster. Fittin’ at that.”

“Dude, that’s totally it.”

Spike leaned back on the bench. “Anythin’ else?”

Don thought for a moment, swaying unsteadily on his feet. “No, man. Just the…words…and your number…and they’ll call you. Set up a time...place.”

Spike stood suddenly, causing the younger vampire to hurriedly back away.

“Thanks.”

“No problem man…Bloodhood and… all that.”

Spike raised an eyebrow. “‘Bloodhood’?”

“Ah, fuck. You didn’t hear…that…‘kay?”

“Sure.”

Don sighed in relief. “Thanks, man. I’m…gonna…go now.”

Spike watched Don stumble away. The older vampire shook his head. Didn’t exactly inspire the best confidence.

~~…~~

The next night found Spike in his regular bar. The bartender merely raised an eyebrow at his new appearance, but said nothing. Spike didn’t really care about the extra attention he was receiving, if he’d been able to admit to it, he was actually feeling positively chipper. Not just because earlier that night eight Shorklak demon’s ambushed him, and subsequently Spike beat them to a bloody pulp; although exercise was always good for the soul. Spike could feel even his demon chuckling at the irony.

His good mood stemmed from that he finally felt he had a purpose. Yes, he did help the helpless, and he knew that was all well and good, but since SunnyDale he never had regained a sense of meaning to his continued existence. Somehow, in SunnyDale, his presence actually meant something; that his life (or rather animated death) actually meant something in the scheme of things. His plan was going, well, according to plan. So far nothing had gotten completely buggered, and it was right nice to be useful.

So yeah, Spike felt bloody good to have a goal. That it was something that would help her made it even better.

“Well, well, look at what we have here!”

Spike turned to face a laughing Xander.

“Oi, berk. Si’down already.”

Xander sat, his laughter fading into an amused smile. “Nice work, man. Almost took me back four years, there.”

Spike glowered at the human, his feathers feeling sufficiently ruffled. “You want the information or not, whelp.”

Xander sobered immediately, though his eyes still twinkled mirth. “Really? You found something?”

“Really.” Spike paused, taking a sip from his beer. A couple weeks before Xander convinced the vampire to try the brand he liked, and even though Spike didn’t admit to liking it, other than pig’s blood, it was all Spike drank since then.

Xander tapped the bar impatiently with his own beer. “Well? What’s the what, fang face?”

Without speaking, Spike pulled out the card Don had given him, and handed it to Xander. Xander looked at the card, then back up at Spike, confusion slanting his brows.

“What’s this?”

“A way in. I’m looking to be recruited.”

Xander stared at Spike, his eyebrows high, disbelief prominent. “Seriously?”

Spike shrugged a shoulder. “Yeh, figured it would be the best way, you know. Gettin’ in, being in the fray, all that.”

Xander looked at Spike speculatively; like he had never really seen him before.

Spike, feeling uncomfortable, snapped, “What is it, you bloody ponce? Now that I’m all pretty you fancy me now?”

Xander chuckled. “You wish.” He held up a hand for two more beers before turning back to Spike. “I’m just surprised, is all. I thought you’d just beat up a couple vamps, get some info and be done with it.”

“Beat some vamps, didn’t prove to be a fruitful venture. Thought this’d be a better way.”

“I…thank you. Really.”

Spike shifted in his seat awkwardly. “No promises, though. This is just a meet thing…can’t say they’ll take me. Trials, and all he said.”

“When is it?”

“There’s the pinch, I gotta call them but I don’t have a phone. I can’t use a payphone ‘cause they gotta call me back. So I figure you got a cell, yeh?” At Xander’s tentative nod, Spike continued, “You give me your cell, and I’ll use that.”

Xander hesitated for only a moment before bringing out his cell phone and handing it to Spike.

Spike pocketed it. “Good of you, mate.”

“No long distance calls.” Xander muttered.

Spike only chuckled into his own beer before asking Xander to play a game of pool.

“Do you know what kind of trials?” Xander asked after watching Spike shoot in four balls.

“I’m figurin’ physical stuff. The vamp I talked to was an idiotic blighter.”

Xander only nodded, his eyes following three more balls fall in before it was his turn.

“Regular stakes?” The vampire asked.

Xander pocketed two balls before grinning up at Spike. “Sure.”

~~…~~

Five pool games later, and considerably poorer, Xander left the bar. Not that he minded, really. Spike played a fair game, and Xander was slowly learning from him.

Xander shook his head, still feeling slight disbelief. When he had gone to the vampire for help he honestly hadn’t expected much. Maybe a name, if he was extremely lucky a location. Spike’s willingness to actually try and join the Newbloods went far beyond anything he’d anticipated.

Was Spike doing this for justice…or was he doing it for something else, Xander wondered. For Buffy? Maybe. Xander had no idea where Spike stood on the whole Buffy issue anymore. Not that he’d ask the vampire. Asking would only open the door to more personal things, and Xander for one didn’t want that.

Xander, for one instant, wondered if Spike was actually trying to join the Newbloods for real. But he immediately discarded the thought. Not that Spike wasn’t a formidable foe, Xander had first hand experience with that, but joining the Newbloods went against everything Xander knew about Spike.

Well, what he knew about the new Spike. The old Spike…well, Xander couldn’t be sure. He never really made the effort to know Spike back then.

Xander made his way home, feeling a lot lighter. That morning he’d seen Buffy silently crying over the newspaper: five more mutilating deaths. He’d felt terrible for her, knowing the guilt was eating her up inside. But now, knowing Spike was making definite strides with the Newbloods, he felt a weight lift from himself. They’d get through this. They always did.

~~...~~

Love it? Hate it? Wish it'd never started?

CHAPTER FOUR

&~~&

Spike supposed he should worry about his sanity. Having two extra entities in his head made him wonder how stable he truly was. He wouldn’t psychoanalyze himself so far as to believe he had multiple personalities - he didn’t switch from one consciousness to the next; he was always himself. At least, he thought he was. Did a crazy person know they were crazy?

The demon was nothing new. When it had first forced itself upon poor, newly vamped William, it had been blood thirsty and full of rage. Filled with new, alien sensations of raw anger and extreme bloodlust Spike had not been able to gain control over the demon until his Sire placed him firmly in hand teaching him how to control his savageness through particularly painful lessons. The next couple decades following William’s transformation into Spike, he had learned to temper the demon; controlling it to a point of submission. But sometimes, when he was unblocked or feeling strong emotions, the demon found ways to slide through his defenses.

The voice-like conscience he’d had since Africa, whom Spike dubbed the ‘Other’, seemed to be a reincarnation of William pre-Drusilla. For a long time after he had left Africa and traveled farther north up through Europe Spike was sure the Other was going to drive him insane. It was always there, nitpicking, telling him what to do. It didn’t speak to him, per se, but more portrayed emotions and feelings that were very difficult to ignore or misinterpret. And the guilt. He really should have been prepared. About half a year after Africa, when he was able to think lucidly for more than a half hour at a time, he was able to thoughtfully consider the situation. He hadn’t completely comprehended how deeply a soul would change him. In retrospect, he felt bloody idiotic. He had seen the effects of a soul on a vampire. He’d seen the most fearsome, vicious, merciless, and incredibly cruel vampire transformed into a simpering puppy. How could he have thought he’d be immune to that?

He himself was a kind of middle ground. He was himself, but not completely like he was pre-Africa. The best he could figure was that he was a mixture of both the demon and the soul with a bit of Spike thrown in. Confusing that was.

Like he had with his demon, Spike learned how to push back the Other, but he was never able to completely silence it. It was always there, nattering in the back of his head, but with practice he was able to ignore it … sometimes. Funny that Angel never mentioned this. The ponce had never once suggested his soul was like another consciousness’. Spike supposed his grandsire probably wouldn’t have mentioned it to his grandchilde even if it was. He had wondered many times over the last four years if the transition had been as bad for the older vampire. If it ever got better …

The constant conflict between his demon and the Other was frustrating. They were always pushing him in different directions. Most times he was able to push them back, maybe take their advice, maybe not. But sometimes, when he was experiencing particularly strong emotions, the demon or the Other would sneak past his defenses.

-This isn't a good idea-the Other harped. Spike pushed the voice away. The Other had been continually voicing its objections since Spike had come up with his plan to join the Newbloods as a spy. While the Other had been voicing its displeasure the demon had remained curiously silent, if not quietly humming in expectation. Spike supposed it knew that going along with his recruitment plan there was a likely chance of violence, and the demon was always in favor of destructiveness.

Spike sighed, raking a hand through his short platinum hair. Two days before he had called the number the vampire Don had given him. He had left his borrowed number and waited impatiently, constantly checking Xander’s cell phone in case he missed the call. Consequently, Spike’s constant checking the cell phone quickly ran down the battery, giving Spike a half hour panic while he searched for a charger.

Not that it mattered. They still hadn’t called. So he waited, afraid to sleep and miss the call. Not that he needed much sleep. Sleep only led to nightmares.

One thing Spike hadn’t anticipated was how many people actually called Xander. Almost all the calls were for Xander’s work; Spike began checking the caller ID before answering. It was very fortunate that he did as Anya, or as Xander’s phone displayed: Mrs. Anya Harris, called quite a few times. The first time Spike saw her name displayed he could only just stare at it, the cell phone shrilling a jaunty tune in his hand (a tune which Spike had soon after changed in a fit of annoyance to the Ramones). He didn’t know why he was so surprised to see Anya’s name on Xander’s cell phone. He knew she was living in the city with Xander. He knew it. But somehow, seeing her name made it seem more real. It made him realize that she was really here, living in the city he was. Not that this should have been a shock. He’d known for quite a while, ever since he smelled them all on Xander. Spike found himself clicking onto Xander’s contacts, and slowly went through the names revealed. He tried to convince himself he wasn’t playing peeping tom with Xander’s contacts in search of her number, but when he saw it, his heart clenched and he was unable to hide the truth from himself.

Her name was shown so simply. Right there. He could press the call button and she’d answer and he’d…and he’d. He couldn’t. He never felt so close, yet so far away from her in four years. Spike rubbed his thumb over her name gently, his eyes stinging with tears.

He snapped the phone shut, shuddering. The temptation to call her, to hear her voice was almost overwhelming. God he missed her. He missed her voice, her smell, the taste of her skin …

Spike shook his head roughly. He didn’t deserve to miss her. He didn’t deserve to know any intimate things about her. Especially how her nose wrinkled when she was angry, or how her eyes flashed when she was extremely pissed off, or how much warmth she had, how much love he saw in her every action with her friends and family …

Spike groaned loudly. His plan to not think about her was obviously going splendidly. Spike leaned back on his makeshift bed placing the cell phone on his stomach. Stretching his arms above his head he stared at the ceiling of the church basement he was currently calling home.

It was unorthodox, he supposed, that a vampire would live in the basement of a church. But Spike didn’t care, he wasn’t a normal vampire anyhow. Not that he had planned to live in the church for an extended amount of time, but it was dark, quiet, and he was never afraid another vamp or demon would force him out. It was quite … comfortable really. Other than the loud sermons every Sunday - but beggars can’t be choosers.

Spike’s whole body jumped when Xander’s cell phone pealed out a few high pitched bars of I Wanna Be Sedated. Sitting up he grabbed the phone and quickly checked the caller display. Unknown. Unknown? He hadn’t gotten an unknown caller before. Could it be the Newbloods? Spike’s finger paused over answering the call. What if it wasn’t the Newbloods? What if it was … someone else? Seconds ticked by. Three rings. Four rings. Spike took a deep breath then pressed the answer button and hesitantly placed the phone to his ear.

“‘Allo?”

“Hello.” A mechanical voice chirped. “This is a recording from Castillo and Co. a branch of Wolfram and Hart. This is regarding a call received from this number. Please change and growl for confirmation. You have thirty seconds.”

Spike blinked. What the hell?

“Twenty-five seconds.”

Did they mean – ?

“Twenty seconds.”

Spike let his game face take over his human features; and, feeling more than a little ridiculous, he growled into the mouthpiece.

“Thank you,” The insufferably cheerful voice said. “Please wait one moment for confirmation.”

Spike’s eyebrows furrowed. From his brief altercation with Don he hadn’t thought the Newbloods to be a very organized group. However, having a calling system that analyzes a vampire’s growl – well, that spoke volumes.

“Confirmation verified. Address of meet at,” The voice paused, Spike hurriedly perched the phone between his shoulder and ear and scrambled to find a pen and paper. “Baker street, 5905, alley third on right side, two blocks in. Security number is 274228. Twenty-four hours. Goodbye.”

Spike finished writing the security number on the back of his arm when the phone clicked to the dial tone. Pressing the end call button, Spike slipped the cell phone into the back pocket of his jeans.

Well. That was easy. Very easy.

And yet his stomach was tied in knots.

~~…~~

“Tomorrow night?”

Spike nodded. “Yep. Got me a number and everythin’.”

Xander looked at Spike, thoroughly impressed. “Wow. That’s fantastic.”

Spike merely shrugged.

Xander paused a moment. “Spike … I … Just thanks. For doing this.”

“It’s nothing, mate.” Xander wanted to contradict the vampire. It wasn’t nothing. It was major. Majorly major. But the finality in Spikes tone made it very clear to Xander to let it go.

“I wish I could go with you.” He said instead.

Spike glanced up from the pool table at the human. “The whole pulser thing might tip them off. But thanks ever so.”

A few more moments passed in silence as Xander watched Spike methodically sink every ball he aimed at.

“What’s your game plan?”

Spike raised an eyebrow. “Game plan?”

“You know, once you’re in there, what are you gonna do?”

“Get a lay of the place, I s’pose. See what’s going on, what we’re facing and what all. Maybe get a piece of their property for Red to magic up, see if she can…”

Spike froze. He hadn’t meant to mention her. He really hadn’t. They passed several seconds in silence, neither moving.

“How did you know she’s here?” Xander’s voice was low, neutral.

Spike didn’t look up. He didn’t want to see the distrust or doubt he knew must be swimming through Xander’s eyes.

“It’s the smell, mate. I can smell her on you.” He said lightly tapping his nose.

Xander relaxed. “Okay, that’s kinda gross.”

“Perks of being a vamp. Wanna join?”

“World of no.”

“Pity.”

Xander was silent for a few seconds, inwardly debating with himself before blurting, “She can’t.”

Spike perched a cigarette between his lips, having a scratched a ball he gestured to Xander it was his turn. “What’s that?”

“Willow. She, um, can’t do magic. I mean, she can. Just she doesn’t do it – anymore.”

Spike stared a Xander. He could see the line that neither of them dared to cross. The line that led to personal topics. It was slightly blurred, but it was still there. Could he step over it? Should he? The Other and the demon were infuriately silent on the matter.

“Really?” He said carefully.

“Yeah. She kinda tried to destroy the world.” Seeing the stricken look on Spike face he hurried to continue, “We saved it. I mean, obviously. But since then she went to magic rehab … she’s been doing really well.”

“Red tried to … destroy the world.” Spike said it but had a very difficult time merging the idea of destroying the world with Willow as the destroyer. It was unthinkable.

Xander correctly interpreted Spike gob smacked face. “Yeah, I know. Really insane. I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t been there.”

“When did this happen?”

“Uh, not long after you left actually.”

Spike closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. Not long after he left her. He’d left her when she needed help. He’d left her and her best friend tried to destroy the world.

“Why?”

Xander looked up from his position bent over the pool table. “Huh?”

“Why did she try to do it?”

Xander’s face darkened. “Tara was murdered.”

Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.

Spike pressed a hand to his stomach. He was going to be sick.

“Listen, mate, I … gotta go.” He didn’t wait for a response. Spike flew out of the bar and down the street. He finally ended up in the back of some nameless alley, landed on his knees and heaved. Tears ran down his cheeks.

Oh god. Glinda was dead. Murdered. Red tried to destroy the world. He left. He left her. He left her after he tried to … and then Glinda … and then Red …

Sobs racked him. He ached. His heart ached. Glinda … Tara … such a sweet, kind girl. She didn’t deserve to die. He deserved to die! Was there no justice? What he did to her … and they took away such a pure soul and let him continue to exist? How was that right? How could that be?

Poor Tara, poor Willow, poor Buffy …

Spike mentally shuddered. Buffy, Buffy, Buffy. He hadn’t allowed himself to think her name in so long.

He growled, his game face on without his realizing it. He growled in pain, in mourning. For Tara, for Willow, for Buffy.

Then, curling up on himself, he wept.

.~~...~~

His emotions were not always steady. Hell, even before the Other he knew his emotions controlled almost every part of his existence. He was passionate to a fault. Angelus had tried to beat it out of him, but even at his worst his grandsire was never able to fully eradicate William. To survive Angelus’ reign of terror Spike learned to pretend William wasn’t a part of him. However, there was something that he couldn’t hide, something that never failed to stroke Angelus’ anger: Spike’s love for Drusilla. Spike had loved her passionately, reverently, completely without reservations. Sometimes he still found himself amazed he had fallen out of love with her after a century of her being his entire world. Not that he didn’t still love Drusilla, he knew he always would. But he would never be in love with her again. No - most definitely not. When he was in love he put his entire heart, his entire existence into it, and there was only one woman he was in love with. One woman that he loved with every fiber of his being – one woman that would never love him back.

Spike sighed rubbing his eyes. He had to stop thinking about her. It only brought pain and sorrow … not that he didn’t deserve it. He couldn’t even begin to fathom how Buffy felt after Tara died and Willow tried to destroy the world…

-We didn’t know what would happen.- The Other soothed.

I should have! I left her when she needed me most.

-Do you really think it would have been in our best interest to stay after what happened? Do you think she would have wanted us there?-

Spike shied away from the question. Of course she wouldn’t have. Of course.

--

Spike checked his arm, then the address, then back at his arm. Had he written it down wrong? No, he was sure he hadn’t. Yet, here he was in a dark empty alley, no markers for ‘Castillo and Co.’ nothing that alluded to Newbloods. Nothing. Feeling a moment of irritation Spike ground his cigarette out with an angry growl.

“Computing confirmation.”

Spike jumped, looking around the alley trying to detect where the voice emitted from.

“Confirmation verified. Please type in security code.”

Something slid out from the wall. Some sort of mechanical device was the best Spike could wager. It popped open revealing a set of keys with numbers neatly imprinted on them.

“Please type in security code.”

Stepping forward quickly Spike typed in the security code he had written on his arm. The device closed with a click and disappeared into the wall.

“Computing security code verification.”

Spike touched the wall trying to see where the device had emerged from, but his fingers only met rough brick. His eyes narrowed, was this magic?

“Security code verified. Please step into elevator.”

For the second time in less than five minutes Spike jumped as elevator doors sprung open right in front of him. That most definitely hadn’t been there. Spike hesitated, feeling more than a little unnerved. The elevator was slick metal; he didn’t know why but it gave Spike a distinctly ominous feeling. He hadn’t expected magic – if that was what that was. He had a brief moment of clarity where he knew he was getting in over his head.

“Please step into the elevator.”

Well, he’d come this far hadn’t he?

“Please - ”

He stepped in.

The doors slid shut silently behind him. There were no buttons, only smooth metallic walls. It was thankfully a short descent. The elevator came to a halt, but the doors didn’t open immediately.

“Please be on guard.” The voice said. Spike only had a moment’s confusion before the doors opened.

Then he smelled them. Demons.

-Oh, dear,- the Other lamented.

The demon giggled with excitement.

“Oh, bugger.” Spike said as ten demons came into view, each holding a wicked looking machete.

&~~&