Spike pulled against the chains that bound him to Dru, desperate to release them both. His head ached like a bitch from where he’d been hit, and his mouth felt like something had crawled into it and died. He could sense the daylight outside the box they had been locked in, but he still tried to escape the chains, to be ready to fight to protect himself and his sire.

Dru hadn’t made a sound since they had been attacked the day before but he could feel her pain through the sire link, though even with his preternatural eyesight he couldn’t see her at all. It was literally pitch black in the box. The garlic she had been poisoned with was eating into her flesh, destroying it like acid. The stench filled his nostrils, blocking out any other scent that might have helped him work out who was around. The silver shackles were impervious to his strength; pull as much as he could, all he succeeded in doing was bloodying his own wrists.

In two days of fighting them he hadn’t loosened them at all, just damaged himself. The over-large coffin juddered as it was transferred to a different conveyance, a truck of some sort by the way they were moving. The shaking continued for another couple of hours before he could feel the box being manhandled and carried onto a slower moving vehicle. Wherever they were, they seemed to be coming to the end of their journey.

Dru’s crying and wailing had at least stopped. Much as he loved his crazy sire the noise reverberating around their prison had been driving him as mad as she was. She wasn’t even whimpering now, just crooning to herself, some silly nursery rhyme remembered from her childhood.

Spike blinked at the sudden light flooding into their tiny mobile prison. Dru screamed and wriggled, trying to hide. She hated the light and her demon was terrified. He could feel her go into game face, her fangs ripping into his chest though his black tee shirt and opening wounds in his chest.

‘It’s burning, it’s burning!’ she yelled, pulling Spike on top of her, trying to use him as shelter. Spike could feel the fear coming from his dark princess, and he spread his leather duster over the pair of them, trying to save Dru if not himself. It took him a few seconds to realise that although his hands weren’t covered they weren’t burning; whatever the light source was, it wasn’t the deadly rays of the sun.

Dru started wailing again. ‘The sunshine, it’s floating around you…’ She tried pushing Spike off her, banging his head against the wooden side of the crate.

‘Stop it you stupid bint, we need to stick together!’

Dru started crying, and the stench of her rotting flesh hit him again and he had to turn his head away from it.

‘Mr. Pratt and Miss Smythe, please stay where you are and your chains will be released.’
Whoever the voice was sounded human, male and educated. He could hear about thirty pulses around him, none of them fast. Whoever was in the room with the two master vampires, they were calm and professional.

‘Please don’t try anything Mr Pratt: there is a sprinkler system that will release holy water, completely flooding this room. We will just get damp; you will perish. Do you understand?’

‘Yes,’ Spike said, gauging exactly where the voice was coming from. The chains around his wrists tightened for a second; then they were off of him. Dru was free as well. Spike got up from where he was covering his sire and jumped to his feet. He looked around the stark white room and up to the walkway where obvious humans stood watching the two vampires in the observation pit.

‘Spike…’ Dru’s voice cut through hid examination of the room and he turned to help her up from their confinement. Dru, being Dru, ignored the people and spent time straightening her dress and looking for her doll.

‘Miss Edith’s not here!’ She screamed. ‘Miss Edith, Miss Edith…’her moans got louder and louder and she reached out her long talons to try and scratch Spike but in her weakened state she could barely keep her balance, let alone hurt him.

‘If you wait one moment, Mr Pratt, a bag of blood will drop from the ceiling. It is drugged but also contains a powerful spell that will cure your lady of the ill effects from the garlic she was poisoned with.’

Spike doubted that but was surprised when a unit of blood did indeed drop from the ceiling. He looked at it suspiciously.

‘Really sir, if we’d wanted to kill you all we would have to have done is opened the box outside the building before either of you had made it to the shelter provided, and you would both have burned to death.’

Spike picked up the bag and slipped into game face. He could hear hearts all around him, and smell both the people and magics that surrounded them. Slipping a fang into the pouch he test tasted the life-giving liquid. He could taste the herbs that would soothe his sire, as well as something else, something mixed with magic. Dru was still moaning as he made the hole larger and started dripping the blood into her mouth. Although she normally disdained the bagged stuff, his poor demented sire gulped it down, licking every drop that landed on her chin and lips. He felt her slip into a deep sleep and watched as the wounds on her body started to heal; even the foul stench of her rotting body was lessening. He felt relief for the first time in ages, in fact since that mob had attacked them in Prague. His beloved sire was healing and she would live.

‘Mr. Pratt, another bag of blood will be delivered; it is completely undrugged and quite safe for you to drink.’

‘Why am I here?’

‘We will explain everything this evening; but for now, in a couple of minutes a door will open, and it leads to a room where you can both rest. There are no windows, but like this room, the sprinkler system releases holy water. After you have eaten, I want you to pick up Miss Smythe and carry her to the bed you will find there. You will remain undisturbed until one hour after sunset. Then we will be expecting you for dinner: we will be eating, and there will be fresh blood for both of you.’

The thud of the blood hitting the floor distracted Spike for a couple of seconds. He reached across and picked it up: the blood smelled very different from the stuff Dru had drunk. He was hungry, and knew he’d need the strength to escape the madness they had landed themselves in, so drank down the offering, sensing the power contained within the blood. Then he picked up Dru and carried her through the door that opened in front of him, and made his way down the stark corridor to the waiting room.

Spike was bored and this meant trouble for someone: normally some human or demon that looked at him funny, but here there was Dru, and four blank walls. A sleeping and drugged Dru at that; although technically he was a necrophiliac he preferred his dead bodies to be moving and moaning when he drilled into them. Spike put Dru carefully onto one of the beds he found and looked round for something to do. There was no TV or radio, in fact there seemed to be nothing to occupy his ever-active mind, and his mind and body were always active. Being incarcerated for even a few days without entertainment would send him as screwy as his sire was; he needed something to do. Exploring their rooms would be a good start. He looked around the room, taking note of everything he saw. He was delighted to find that a bookshelf placed near a comfortable chair held an eclectic mix of books: poetry and prose, fiction and fact. He would look more carefully later. At the moment his last few days were starting to take their toll and he needed to sleep, his body was crying out for rest. Kicking off his boots he spooned in behind Dru and allowed himself to doze off.

Even sleeping through it the morning seemed to take forever to leave; the afternoon even longer. Every hour dragged as though it was trying to become a week or a month. After he had slept for a couple of hours Spike spent the rest of the time exploring the rooms they had been given. Two large beds, complete with thick blankets and soft sheets, dominated the bedroom which led directly from the sitting room-cum-kitchen he found himself in. Leaving Dru still asleep on her bed he started to look around the room; a closed door led to a small but well-equipped bathroom. Dru slept on while he took a shower; whatever they had slipped into her blood was working well. He used the supplies provided to clean the grease and blood out of his hair and the stench off his skin. The water stayed hot despite him taking a long time in the shower, still warming his cool flesh. It was good to feel clean. Wrapping a thick fluffy towel around his hips as he came out of the steam-filled room, running a comb through his unruly locks. A slight noise caught his attention: he could hear a faint metallic buzz as a camera tracked his movements, and smirked. He hoped that whoever was watching was enjoying the sight of his semi naked body. He wondered what the reaction would be if he dropped the towel and gave them a show; he had never been what you would call shy, and he knew he had a good body. But it was better not to wind anyone up until he knew who he was dealing with. He ignored the noise from the machine and dried himself off with a second towel. He had been pleasantly surprised at the quality of the supplies in the bathroom. All the best, and even the makes and scents that Dru preferred, though normally he would steal them, all spices and rich musk, and cool musk, but here he didn’t have to. Obviously whoever ran this place wanted them to be comfortable and clean.

Spike laughed to himself. Speaking of smells, he wrinkled up his nose at the stench rising up from his dirty clothes, and he really didn’t want to put them on again. Spike investigated the drawers and closet, delighted to find a few pairs of jeans and dress shirts hanging up, with tees and underwear folded neatly in the drawers. There were clothes for Dru as well and Spike made a mental note to help his beloved with a bath later. He pulled out a pair of the denims and pulled them over his hips, ignoring the underwear in the drawer. Socks and a tee finished off his clothes. Spike was delighted with the new doc martins that he found at the bottom of the closet.

He found a small fridge well stocked with packets of blood and a couple bottles of wine. There was a separate stack of bags marked with Dru’s name; it was a slightly different colour but, after he tested it, Spike deemed it safe for Dru and looked around for something to pour it into. Opening a cupboard he discovered a small microwave and a set of mugs, all plain white and all unbreakable even with his vampiric strength. He poured the marked blood into one of the mugs and put it into the microwave to heat. Marked in bright red pen was a line by the dial showing exactly where to turn it to, to reheat the blood. In the couple of minutes it took to heat Spike explored the rest of the cabinets. There was weetabix and Burba weed in one, as well as coffee and tea. Earl Grey included, he noted: Dru’s favourite. Whoever had set this place up knew their tastes.

‘Spike…’ a weak and feeble voice called from the other room, ‘Spike?’ Dru called again. The microwave pinged and he took out the blood; he could feel the heat permeate through the mug, the smell was delicious, he could feel his mouth watering and intoxicating his senses.

‘Dru, brought you some blood: drink up Princess,’ he coaxed, hoping that she would drink from the china. Normally Dru refused to bag it in any form, preferring to take straight from the source.

Dru sat up and looked around the room.

‘I know this place: we’re where the sunshine is stored, my prince.’ She took the mug, not making a comment about the blood and started to sip it without even looking at it or wrinkling her perfect nose. ‘Miss Edith likes it here, she stays here sometimes; can you see the sky?’ she asked, stroking his cheek. ‘My beautiful Dark Prince: but not mine for long.’ She took another drink from her mug.

‘I can’t see anything, Dru.’ Spike answered patiently…

‘Ah but you will, you’ll be surrounded by sunshine and flowers, lots of pretty little flowers for me to hold in my hand.’ Dru started to sip her blood again, humming gently to herself, oblivious to anything that Spike might say or do. He knew this mood of old.

Spike made his way back to the kitchenette and fixed himself some blood, crumbling the Burba weed into it to give it a kick. He needed a kick; this place was beginning to freak him out. His sire liked few places but she seemed settled here. He could hear and sense nothing, no heart beats, no demons, just the slight noise from where Dru was drinking without complaint and the noise from the slow movement of the camera in the sitting room. It was going to drive him crazy. There was no form of communication in the room, no phone, no intercom and shouting at the door hadn’t seemed to help, the sound was muffled soundproofed.

Taking his blood he ran Dru a bath and filled it with Bubbles. Having washed her hair, massaging the conditioner through her fine dark locks, Dru moaned out her appreciation and he rubbed at her scalp. Then he picked up a sponge; she loved having her back washed. He stroked the sponge over her white flesh and made his way slowly down between her legs and to the centre of her womanhood. Dru moaned as he slipped two fingers inside her and rubbed at that place that always sent her crazy. He could feel his cock hardening at the noises she was making. Slipping his fingers out from her wet channel he swept her up in his arms and carried her to the bed, where they proceeded to spend the rest of the day.

Spike felt the sun go down and a chime rang through the rooms. ‘Meeting in one hour, Meeting in one hour.’ it repeated, disturbing both Dru and Spike. Getting up, they dressed and waited for the door to open. The vampires would be ready for anything. Dru had even chosen to wear low heeled shoes, ready for any fight.

Spike and Dru were sitting quietly looking at a poetry book when the door opened with a click. Spike had explored every inch of the room and there was no was in or out except the heavy steel door that they had entered through. After Dru had finished her bath they had curled up on the sofa and found a book to read. Byron’s poetry always had soothed Dru, it was something they shared when the world was quiet about them, and it soothed both demon and human within them. The click of the lock releasing had made a small noise that caught their attention and made them look up.
Watching as the door opened, Spike slipped into game face, trying to sense if there was anyone or anything waiting for them in the corridor. There was nothing. Spike felt for the sharp knife from the kitchen he had palmed earlier. He wanted to be prepared for anything. Looking up and down the plain concrete walls he saw and heard nothing. It was completely empty of life. The blaring of the speaker actually made him jump.

‘Please follow the light, Mr Pratt,’ it said clearly. Despite making him jump the tones were soft and gentle, and decidedly feminine and as captivating as a siren’s.

‘Shall we dance down my prince, dance and find someone nice to eat?’ Dru looked up with open, almost innocent eyes.

‘Of course we can,’ he laughed and took hold of his dark lady’s waist in a classical ballroom hold, waltzing her away, following a glowing bobbing light along the corridor and around the corner. Waltzing allowed him to turn, seeing every nook and cranny. There were doors, solid steel doors every 25 feet or so, enough distance for more little apartments like the one they had been staying in. He could hear the cameras tracking their movements and grinned. Their captors were nothing if not predictable. He could feel the coldness of the steel in the small of his back, extra help if claw and fang weren’t enough.

Within a couple of minutes the light stopped in front of a door at the end of the dreary corridor. Unlike the others this one was wooden, heavily carved with symbols. It swung open as they approached; Spike let go of his hold on Dru, and offered her his arm. He had been born a gentleman. He motioned her through the doorway first, going to move it out of her way.

‘Warning: do not touch the door,’ their voice said to them and Spike noted the carving. Each and every one of the symbols had meaning. This door could only be touched by someone wearing all the correct protections and marks on their bodies. This place was a mix of magic and science, both systems being used to protect and control everyone inside. If there was anyone else inside… he dropped his hand and allowed the door to continue to open widely, showing yet another corridor, but this one looked as though it was part of some sort of country house with a blue blooded and belted earl in residence. Dru spun round, her head thrown back as she looked around the hallway. Spike dropped his game face and allowed his eyes to change from gold to sparkling blue.

The bobbing ball of light led them through the door and up some stairs to a huge reception hall that was lined with priceless works of art. Monet shared the walls with Gainsborough and the statuary looked like Greek. Spike might appear boorish but William had been raised a gentlemen, and had taken the Grand Tour. He appreciated the refined atmosphere they found themselves in.

Their guide led them towards a door and Spike could hear the heartbeats and smell the scent of humans, male and female. Answers were in that room and he intended to get them. What they were here for? What did these people want from him and Dru? And most of all could they escape? He needed violence and he needed out. Too many memories of Angelus’ sadism kept surfacing. And he needed to keep Dru safe, mostly he needed that, he had to keep Dru safe. These people, whoever they were, had healed her, and now came time to pay for her treatment.

Spike pushed open the door and made his way into the room, scanning as he entered. The windows were huge, and it was dark outside. They might be able to get out that way. He’d wait for a good opportunity to make a run for it, when they knew where they were.

‘Ah good evening Mr Pratt, Miss Smythe. I hope you found your quarters satisfactory?’ A tall imposing-looking man stood as they entered; in fact both men had stood up, giving Dru a small bow. A woman of a ‘certain age’ had turned to face them. Spike inhaled deeply: he could smell her slight arousal, but none of the occupants seemed scared or even anxious when facing half of the scourge of Europe. Spike was intrigued; this was not the normal reaction to being faced with two ferocious vampires.

‘I expect you have a myriad of questions for us Mr Pratt, so please come in and make yourself comfortable, but before you start snacking on any of the occupants here, we had better warn you in the spirit we have all been protected: if you drink from us you will pay the price, and if we die this room will be flooded with daylight, as will the grounds of the mansion. Now that unpleasantness is out of the way, please have a seat and can I get you anything to drink? Mr Pratt, I believe you like a nice whisky: I have a rather pleasant 50 year old Islay Malt, and Miss Smythe do you still enjoy Madeira or would you prefer some fresh blood?’

Dru looked at the man. ‘Be in me,’ she tried to get him to look into her eyes.

‘No thank you, I prefer to keep my thoughts and mind to myself, now what about that drink?’

‘I’ll take the whisky Mr..?’ Spike answered, his eyes still scanning the room.

‘Marcus Thynne and this is Richard Blousy, and Octavia Montgomery. We are members of an organisation that has a proposition for you. A proposition that could be to both your and Miss Smythe’s benefit, ’ he said, handing out the drinks. Dru accepted the Madeira and sipped it gracefully, obviously enjoying the sweet taste.

‘Business later,’ Octavia interrupted, ‘food first,’ standing up and looking expectantly at Spike.

‘Miss Smythe, would you care to accompany me?’ Mr Blousey offered the vampiress his arm with a small bow. Dru smiled at the man and placed her hand gently on his forearm.

‘Lead the way, sir,’ she smiled at him.

William’s Victorian manners came to the fore and he bowed in front of Miss Montgomery.

‘Ma’am, may I have the honour of escorting you?’ he asked with a small bow.

‘Certainly, Mr Pratt,’ she replied as she too took her place by the side of a vampire. She smiled up at the twinkling blue eyes; he was… handsome was the wrong word, beautiful was more accurate and the devilish look in his eyes stopped it making him look effeminate.

‘We will explain everything, you know,’ she added, almost sensing his inquisitive mind.



The little group made their way into a formal dining room that had been set out for the five of them. On te table stood a decanter of what looked like burgundy but smelt like the richest blood he had ever had. The smell alone was making his mouth water and his stomach rumble. Dru started to sway and hum: the blood was affecting his mad sire as well. Richard Blousey pulled the woman in closer to his body and led her to her seat; pulling the chair out, he escorted her down and helped her sit up to the table, allowing her upbringing to control her. Dru’s humming was beginning to get louder and louder, warning Spike that she was about to lose control of what little sanity she normally had. His mind went to all the wards and protections on this house and he only hoped he could deal with them and get Dru away safely; he didn’t matter, only she did.

Blousey smiled at Dru. Her moaning was getting louder and louder but it didn’t seem to worry him; unlike most here he knew the cause and the remedy. He poured a glass of the blood sitting on the table and added a couple of drops from the bottle he kept in his pocket. Handing it to Dru he waited patiently while she drank it down, settling almost immediately.

‘What is that?’ asked Spike, watching every move very carefully, assessing every person around the duo. He had to be ready to strike, to get them out of this warped, mixed up place.

‘It’s a simple compound that regulates her mind. She lost her own abilities with all the torture Angelus put her through, on top of that she has problems with the visions and balancing her demon within her mind, so we have devised a draft that acts as a slight sedative,’ the man answered as he refilled the glass with blood.

Spike, no William, was astounded, they had thought of everything. Whoever they were.

The meal was civilised and delicious, the blood exquisite, the best he had ever tasted. The conversation was light and light-hearted around the table and it reminded Spike of his living days and the dinner parties he had attended with his mother.

Brandy and port was served before Thynne started speaking moer seriously.
‘It’s been a long time since we have entertained vampires in this house,’ he said quietly, ‘and you must be wondering why we went to so much trouble for you two.’

‘We are, or at least I am,’ Spike answered. ‘You have healed Dru, and I’m wondering what the cost is going to be.’

‘For healing Miss Smythe? Nothing, she is a part of a very special organisation, not that she remembers.’ He smiled at Dru, who seemed almost oblivious to the conversation, chatting with Olivia about fashion. She smiled when her name was mentioned but went back to arguing about the length of hems with the other woman.

‘But we have an offer. Miss Smythe is a rare vampire.’ Thynne seemed to stare off into space for a minute.

‘Mad,’ Spike said flatly.

‘No, not just that: did you know it is rare for a devout nun or priest to be turned? They have already sold their souls you see, but not to a demon or Satan, but to God himself, and it does protect them normally; when one does turn part of the soul is left behind to guard and guide when it gets strong enough. Unfortunately the games she was forced to endure damaged her almost beyond repair, but we can help, we can heal her mind and her body, and return her untarnished soul to her body. We can also offer you redemption and a renewal of purpose, but best of all you get to really piss off Angel.’ Thynne smiled at William, knowing that annoying Dru’s sire would always please the vampire.

‘Well I really like the idea of pissing off Angel, but I think we will have to decline, so what punishment do we get?’ said Spike, watching the reaction to his words very carefully.

‘No punishment, we don’t work that way; however, we will tell you that if you agree you and your true love will be together until the end of time, we can offer you the ability to walk in the sun, and have the most amazing life.’ Thynne tried to tempt Spike with his offer.

‘All carrots; where’s the stick?’ Spike asked.

‘The stick is this: you either agree or neither of you walk out of here.’ Blousey looked towards them and nodded. He moved away from the table to the sideboard to collect the plate of fruit and cheese that was waiting for them.

Spike was waiting for that moment, when the men were in separate places; with a flurry of movement he was on Thynne, fist and feet flying. Taking the larger man by surprise he quickly had him on the ground; in full game face he bit deeply into his neck, ready to take his life’s blood. Blousey dropped the dish he had been carrying and tried to make his way to the assault but a growl from Dru brought him up short.

‘Let my Prince play, he’s been a good dog and needs his fun, groof!’ She turned away from the men and kept chatting to Olivia.

As soon as the red liquid hit the back of Spike’s throat he started to scream as steam erupted from his mouth. It was like drinking Holy Water, forcing him to break off the attack. He fell back onto the floor, rolling around the floor in agony. The last thing he knew was a heavy boot headed for his face and he hoped that his death came quickly. The power behind that kick wasn’t human.

Spike felt like his head wanted to explode; his neck, well he just hoped it wasn’t broken ‘cause it hurt like a bitch and if he was lucky maybe it would explode.

He could feel blood trickling down his face and dribbling into his mouth; he swept his tongue over the blood, mopping up every drop. Spike knew that he would need it to recover from the injuries he could feel on his body, bruising and pulled muscles everywhere. Spike wouldn’t have doubted anyone that had sworn he’d been on a bender the night before but whisky didn’t normally fight back this badly. He remembered being drunk a couple of times as a human, and his head at the moment equalled anything he had ever felt before. He really didn’t want to open his eyes, not wanting the additional headache light would bring about; he had expected to wake up dead, as it were, after his piss poor display the day before - if it had been the day before. There was no clock or window to give him a clue as to the time or even the day. For the first time since he had been turned, Spike couldn’t feel the sun. He also realised he couldn’t feel Dru: for the first time since he’d been turned he couldn’t feel his sire. Spike felt panic-stricken; if he’d been alive his heart would have been racing from the adrenalin overload… HE COULDN’T FEEL HIS SIRE. This was a major problem. Spike felt like he was spinning in the wind without any restraint. He curled up and started crying. He couldn’t feel his sire.

It must have been hours later when he woke again. His body was healing, he could feel it, and the room was flooded with a soft light when he opened his eyes. He slowly took a good look around the room. This room was very different from the one Dru and he had been kept in before. This new room was more like a prison cell. Plain concrete walls, a steel door with a grille for someone to see in and a bare light bulb hanging from a short flex. No window, just a plain steel door. The bed he had been laying on had a thin mattress and an even thinner blanket on it, a world away from the luxury of the room they had been in. He felt alone, totally alone, and knew he was in trouble. Spike brushed his hand across the back of his head: whoever had kicked him had meant it from the pain the action caused. Spike swung his legs off the bed and sat up, looking around the plain prison cell - and prison cell was the only description, the plain concrete walls sort of gave it away. Part of him wished that he hadn’t been so stupid as to try and escape, seeing how it ended. But he had and now he had to face the consequences. And Dru was dead, at least that’s how it felt. The smell of fresh blood from the cup on a small table attracted his attention. It was in a silly smiley mug that made him grimace in disgust; though he knew the cold blood would make him feel even more nauseous, he also knew he would need the nourishment. Sipping the cold blood he shuddered: cow, he hated cow, even pig would be better than this swill.

Spike spent the time in the room either sleeping, pacing, or just laying on the bed staring at the ceiling. He counted the cracks, made up designs in his head. At some point a spider had run across his vision, the highlight of his day, or week, or whatever. They hadn’t even left him any smokes, and he was craving the nicotine more than he was craving blood at the moment.

He’d actually fallen back to sleep for the umpteenth time when the door opened outwards, allowing two guards to enter his prison. ‘Stand up!’ a voice shouted at him, and Spike jumped without realising it; after being in silence for so long, and even with his preternatural senses, he had been startled by the command.

‘Face the wall,’ one of the guards instructed, ‘and place your hands on top of your head, fingers interlocked.’ From that position Spike was unlikely to get the jump on either of his captors. So he did as he was instructed, and waited. The men were armed with water pistols and crossbows, and were very obviously professional. Not only that, but he could hear the heartbeats from about five others in the hallway. He would just get slaughtered if he tried anything at that moment.

So Spike did as he was told, taking his time to languidly move off the bed and face away from the doorway, his hands resting on his bleached hair. He felt the approach of another guard: knowing it wasn’t one of the two who had taken control of the room, he allowed the man to put a set of handcuffs around his wrists, and with his hands secured in the small of his back, he was turned around to face the party in front of him.

‘This way please, Mr Pratt.’ It was Marcus Thynne. The man was being perfectly civilised: no one had threatened him and Spike was almost annoyed by that. He wanted to bite someone, and they were being too careful. He smirked and slipped into game face and growled at the nearest guard. He hoped for at least a raise in pulse, but no, not even a murmur.

‘Please don’t torment my men, you wouldn’t like it if they played with you.’ Thynne seemed almost amused at his attempt. Spike took a good look into the man’s eyes: he could see the sincerity shining out of them. No threats, just promises of retribution. With Dru dead he had little to fight for anyway.

‘What’s going on? Where’s Dru? And why are you still being relatively nice to me after what I pulled?’ he asked slowly, indicating the bite marks on the man’s neck and seriously not wanting to piss him off while he held a stake in his hands.

‘You are very important to us, we have a job for you to do, and one way or another you will do it. And Druscilla is quite safe.’ The man sounded cold and Spike shivered. He had really landed in the mire this time.

‘Not dead? Not Dust? And what sort of job?’ Spike didn’t want to be curious about the work but he was; he needed to know about Dru though, and being nice to the man may get him the answers he sought. The man was still speaking reasonably, still talking as though Spike wasn’t cuffed and controlled, so there was a chance of answers and not stakes.

‘Dru is with Olivia discussing fashion yet again, so I have been volunteered to talk to you. We have a job. One you are uniquely qualified for.’ Thynne answered flatly, watching Spike very carefully. He looked nothing like expected. Thynne had been expecting a larger man, vampire, tall and classically handsome, but the one walking down the corridor was barely 5’ 10’’ and pretty would have been a better description.

‘Why can’t I feel Dru? I’ve always been able to feel my sire and she’s gone.’ Spike sounded broken.

‘She’s not gone, she’s actually traded you. You are now ours, and she gets the help she wanted,’ was the unexpected answer.

‘Sold!!!! What the fuck, in what way? What can I offer you?’ He asked, straining against the cuffs, his shoulders getting stiff from the angle his arms were being held in.

‘She has traded you: it’s taken four days for the magic to work, and you are now one of the few beings who can sense Olivia. She is now your clan leader, your elder. And as for why we needed it, your soul is trapped in your body with your demon and it has come to a relatively peaceful arrangement with that demon. You are a part of one of the most powerful vampire clans: you are an Auralian, descended from the greatest of vampires. And you are fascinated by slayers,’ Thynne explained.

Spike thought about it for a moment or two as they stopped in front of a steel door.
‘Why did she do it? Why sell me? What did I do?’ he asked, his heart breaking at the thought of being abandoned by his dark princess.

‘She did it because it is time for you to move on, and time for her to move on as well.’ Thynne had to feel sympathy for the vampire, he looked almost broken from the news. ‘Your job will be to take any and all necessary training to be a Slayer’s Paladin, a Black Knight sworn by magics to be all that she requires, needs or even wants. It is and always has been a sacred calling - and it is yours.’

‘Have there been others, and how long do I work for the slayer before I rip her bleeding throat out and drink her dry while screwing her into ecstasy?’ he spat out, pulling hard against the cuffs on his wrists.

‘For how long?’ Thynne looked at him. ‘For ever, and as for killing her, you won’t be able to: there will be no reason to. And as for have there been others? Ever heard of Lancelot Du Lac?’

Thynne pushed open the door and Spike was pushed through into a brightly lit classroom.

Spike automatically tried to protect himself from the sunshine and it took a few moments for him to realise that it wasn’t burning him up.

‘Protected glass; we developed it for use in any room a vampire may enter. I think there are just a couple of storerooms we still have to renovate yet,’ Thynne explained as he signalled the guards to leave. Spike still felt bruised and broken; the physical wounds were minor compared to the wounds in his heart from Dru’s betrayal. Selling him to a group of people he had no knowledge of, and now he was to be trained up as some sort of gigolo. Could his life get any worse?

Thynne watched the emotions play across the vampire’s face. He hoped that the lady in charge of this mission knew what she was doing. One quarter of the Scourge of Europe let lose with nothing but his conscience to guide him could leave the world a blood bath. He signalled for Spike to turn round and, when the vampire had moved, Thynne undid the cuffs and pointed to the desk and chair. Spike rubbed his wrists almost unconsciously as he slumped in the chair and finally started to look around him.

The room was an eclectic mix of old and new: a state of the art computer stood next to a very old fashioned teacher’s desk and there were three globes on a nearby table. Two were the traditional earth and stars; the third was worth closer inspection. It seemed to be highlighting mystical hotspots all over the world. Spike knew he would like to see it more closely later but he knew he ought to pay more attention to the man in front of him for a while.

‘This is your classroom, and through there is a library and sitting room for you; on the other side of that is a bedroom and shower. There is everything you need, this is the only doorway, and it won’t allow you through it without escort, so try all you want. Your teachers will mostly come to you, but there will be a few subjects for which you will need to leave this area and use other facilities. Blood will be provided: it will be bagged, of course.’

‘Not cow, please, I can’t stand cow.’ Spike spoke for the first time since entering the room.

‘Pig, then?’ Thynne asked and Spike nodded his acceptance. Pig would have to do, he’d prefer human but one look at Marcus’ face told Spike that he’d better not ask for that. Thynne nodded a farewell to Spike and closed the heavy door behind him, leaving Spike alone.

Alone: totally alone. He reached out for his sire and again couldn’t feel Dru; there was something there, a presence in the back of his mind, but no Dru. He stood up and stretched, looking around his prison cell: well, it was better than his previous one.
The walls were covered in educational posters, strange educational posters. They seemed to show every kind of demon and angel possible; most, Spike had heard of but some he hadn’t. Books on magic, demonology, all the things expected but also subjects that were highly unexpected. Cookery. Why on earth would he need a cookery book? Child care...for a vampire? Car maintenance, weaponry, those should at least be reasonable reading. Etiquette, who wanted a book on etiquette? And dancing… Spike ran his fingers along the spines of the books. The first few shelves were all teaching texts. There was a whole shelf of books on languages ancient, modern, demonic…and tape after tape of language courses.

Spike made his way into the library; he might as well see what that was going to be like. He was actually pleasantly surprised by what he found. It was a spacious modern room with comfortable furniture and even a nice electric fire. Spike felt impressed; his demon was looking for a way out. He tried the window but it was an illusion: there was no outside, just solid concrete. There was a small fridge hidden behind the curtain; Spike opened it and was pleased to see packets of blood as well as a large stock of beers. The English part of his mind was a little upset that the beer had been chilled, but what the hell, it was beer. There was a microwave (no cold blood) and a few glasses but best of all there was a whole box of smokes, and his brand.
Spike looked at the cigarettes almost reverently; he took carton up and just savoured the smell of all that nicotine. His Zippo lighter was on the shelf as well, so Spike lit a cigarette and took a deep, long drag on it. The nicotine hit him like a steam train and he felt the stress just drain away. He needed that.

Spike took an ashtray and made his way into the bedroom. So far this little apartment seemed to be reasonably comfortable. It was decently furnished, if a little simply for his tastes. Better than that mine he’d been trapped in with Darla, Dru and Angel one time. He looked around and saw the bedside table, then a large wardrobe filled with jeans, jackets, and suits. The shirts were expensively made and it looked like the rest had been made for him at his old tailors. Gieves and Hawks must have kept his templates on file. Spike put the beer and ashtray on the bedside table and went into the shower room. It was huge. There was a mirror over the sink that showed his reflection. Spike reached out to touch the image in the glass: it had been years since he’d seen himself and he hardly recognised the bleached blond man with incredibly short hair. He stripped off his clothes, dumping them into the hamper, and turning up the heat stepped into the shower, washing off the blood and stench that seemed to accumulate. After a long, luxurious shower he walked back into the library and chose a book of Victorian poetry to read. It was one love that had stayed with him throughout the years. Spike wondered where his large array of books had ended up. There were some nice first editions in the collection. It would be nice if he could get them back.

A good book, fags and a beer: what more could he want? Spike spent a couple of hours just relaxing and settling his mind; he had needed the time to come to terms with everything that had happened. He reached out through the childe/ sire link again and got a wave of acceptance back down it. Finishing his beer and fag he flopped down on the huge double bed and pulled the thick cover over himself and fell deeply asleep.

Spike was woken by a raucous noise coming from the intercom system. It physically hurt his vampire hearing and he wanted to find the speaker and destroy it, preferably with a great deal of violence. Spike really wanted to destroy something.

‘Please dress and be ready in 45 minutes for training. There is fresh blood in the fridge. The shower water will be warm for approximately 15 minutes,’ the automated voice told him: even that grated on his nerves. Spike reached out to his sire forgetting that she was no longer a part of him, and felt a rush of reassurance through the link: well that wasn’t Dru.

There were worse ways to be got out of bed than the promise of fresh blood and a warm shower, Spike thought to himself as he let the warm water sooth his aches and pains from the day before. He was just pulling on a clean tee and sticking his dirty cup in the sink, at the same time juggling from one foot to another to slip on his boots, when he heard the tell-tale click of the door to the classroom swinging open. Wandering into the other room was a man he’d never seen before, who didn’t look around but simply made his way to the desk.

‘Mr Pratt? I am Jude and I am here to help you with the more formal side of your education. This morning we will be discussing the curriculum for the next few weeks, then I will assign you some books to read; this afternoon will be car maintenance, weapons training and unarmed combat. This evening you will have a short amount of free time, however please don’t get used to it. Normally in the evenings you will have homework and extra classes.’

Spike took a deep breath in through his nose; whoever this guy was he wasn’t quite human, there was definitely something else in that mix. He slipped into game face and growled.

‘And please don’t do that Mr. Pratt, at the end of each day I have to report to my own masters. If I give a good one you get the whisky and cigarettes you want, and if I have to report an infraction your privileges will be removed, including the warm water you enjoyed this morning.’ The man didn’t have the decency to even sound scared when faced with a vampire in its’ killing face.

‘And if you don’t report back?’ Spike asked, relishing the thought of really fresh blood.

‘You have tried that already Mr Pratt, and you ended up with a burnt mouth; please don’t be so stupid as to try it again. We are all protected and if you want to test the resolve of our people, I may even stay still while you bite. I quite like it.’ The man licked his lips in a very suggestive and provocative way. Spike shuddered; despite Angel’s insistence on sire’s rights, Spike had never really swung that way.

Jude made himself comfortable at the desk, arranging all the pens and books carefully. Spike watched, judging his obsession with precision and neatness. Know your opponent. Jude then pulled out a folder from his leather briefcase and handed it over.

Every page was covered in lists: books, paintings, music; languages human and demonic… Faryl, anyone? Everything was listed, everything he was to study. It would be a long, hard trudge until he got through this lot. It would take months.

‘You will be expected to put in at least 16 hours a day on your studies and I am authorised to tell you that Druscilla has been completely healed from the garlic poisoning she had suffered after the attack in Prague. Normally it takes Sire’s blood, but we found a substitute. She is resting at the moment and will come and see you when she is able.’

‘Cheers mate, thanks for that.’ Spike tried to sound sarcastic but he was actually relieved and delighted to know that Dru would be OK.

‘So what’s first?’ he asked, dropping down into the student’s chair and starting to look through the notes he had been given.

The morning passed quickly: Spike for all his pretence otherwise was actually an intelligent, inquisitive being and he had always loved the chance to learn. He had never told any of his vampire family but he actually had a degree from Oxford hidden in his own history, a first class honours in philosophy no less. His fine copperplate hand filled page after page of the notebook and he hardly noticed when Jude stopped him for lunch.

‘When you have eaten and tidied, wait for collection and we will take you to the garage. There you will be instructed in the proper care and maintenance of various forms of transport. We will also be teaching you to drive properly.’

‘I can drive!!’ Spike exclaimed indignantly, angry at the besmirching of his skills.

‘I have no doubt about that Mr Pratt, but this will be defensive driving, similar to the driving skills required by a chauffeur bodyguard - as well as a dozen other skills you must gain before the next stage of your education,’ Jude told him as he tidied up the books from the morning’s work.

Spike had just finished washing up from his lunch and was enjoying a quiet smoke when the door opened and the familiar voice told him to leave the room, turn right, go to the end of the corridor and turn right again. The passageway to the garage was the second door on the left.

Spike felt like ignoring the voice, his nemesis, but the lure of cars was just too great. Stubbing out his smoke he did as he had been told and found himself in a huge, well lit and wonderfully equipped garage. It was a mechanics wet dream complete with semi nude calendar on the wall, only this one had demons as well as humans posing half naked. He really didn’t want to see a Faryl demon draped over a Harley like that; it was sacrilege.

Spike took his time looking round: he could hear the heartbeat of the one human occupant coming from the office but was far more interested in the cars and bikes that lay about the shop in various states of repair. Tucked in one corner were the remains a 1957 Desoto, looking unloved and uncared for.

‘You could fix her up if you like…’ Spike hadn’t noticed the woman coming up behind him. He slipped into game face and growled at her, covering up his fright at her approach.

‘You can lose the bumps mister, they don’t scare me.’

Spike sniffed the air: there was no scent of fear coming off the woman, just motor oil and the mint bodywash she’d used in the shower. Her heartbeat hadn’t even risen in the slightest.

‘What is it with all of you people?’ He asked as he put his human visage back in place. ‘Are none of you scared by vampires?’

‘We are all protected from you, normal saline injected into the system once a month, using holy water to make it up. One bite and your mouth is on fire, two gulps and you’d burn up from the inside out. Nope, biting one of us is a waste of your time, and if you attack and just break my neck the system would register my lack of consciousness and flood the room with holy water from the sprinkler system. Believe me, we have thought of everything. I’m Kate McGuire, in charge of the garage and transport; I’m to get you up to speed on all forms of repair and driving skills.’ She held up a hand to stop him interrupting. ‘I know you’ve been driving cars since Ford was a boy but I, we, will give you the opportunity to really improve your abilities.’

‘Why? What’s so special about me? Aren’t the white hats just supposed to stake the vampires and head off to get the next one?’ Spike was genuinely curious; he was really trying to understand what was happening to him.

Kate sat on the edge of the bench and looked at the creature before her. He was nothing like she had expected: young looking, innocent in some ways, slim but muscular and fit… if she went for vamps she’d definitely want to play there, but he wasn’t for her.

‘I’m going to get into trouble for this but here goes…’ she pointed at a swivel chair that was covered in grease and grime.

‘We have a seer who works with us.’ She pushed some paperwork deep into an overfull drawer and was obviously distracted by the drawer not shutting. ‘Bloody paperwork,’ she swore at the desk as it finally accepted the return of its wayward container.

‘Who’s us?’ Spike asked, helping himself to one of the cigarettes from the packet on the table. Kate looked at him pointedly. ‘I’m evil and I need my smokes,’ he told her as she smiled indulgently and then continued.

‘Us, is a group of people, originally women, who have been protecting the slayer line since it first began,’ she started to explain.

‘I fight slayers: I don’t protect ‘em!’ He barked out a laugh at the thought of protecting a slayer. He took a deep drag on his fag and studied the woman in front of him; she seemed just the type he liked to eat. ‘I’ve topped two inside 100 years, made my rep on beating them, studying them… and they all have a death wish. I just help ‘em fulfil it.’

‘Well you’re fated to protect this one. You were turned by a Vampiress, Dru, who retained a part of her soul; she prevented Angelus from turning you, and he was the one that was destined to do it.’ Kate picked up one of the cigarettes and reached across for a lighter, but Spike was quicker: whatever else he was he had been raised a gentleman and he quickly lit Kate’s before slumping back into the chair.

‘Thanks,’ she said, ‘and yes you were meant to be turned that night, there wasn’t much we could have done to stop it, though we did try.’

‘So whatever happened with Dru, I was meant to be turned?’ He sat up straight and gave Kate his total concentration. It was enough to unnerve anyone. Being the centre of attention to a predator, she could sense him as though she was lunch.

‘Yep,’ Kate continued, ‘Dru just stepped in to protect your humanity, it was buried for 100+ years and with Angelus’ training you would have had to bury it deep within you. If he’d turned you, you would have been the ultimate in evil, the demon would have helped destroy the world and we would all now live in a hell dimension. Here is a prophecy that tells of a vampire with a soul getting the gift of life.’

‘What the bloody hell would I want that for?’ he yelled.

‘What, life?’ Kate asked him.

‘No, a fucking soul: I’d hate to be cursed with something like that! You’d better not be thinking of cursing me like that or I will start fighting back,’ he spat; even the idea of a soul made his demon feel sick to his stomach.

‘We’re not planning on shoving a soul into you, don’t worry; if you want a soul you’re going to have to earn it yourself.’ She laughed at the thought. ‘Why does everyone think having a soul is a good idea? It can be, if it’s what you want, but if it isn’t it just twists you up and makes you eat rats like Angelus.’

Rats!!! He had to laugh at the thought of the Great Angelus sunk so low as to eat rats… ‘Why didn’t the pillock raid a blood bank? Done it myself a few times when I was desperate.’

‘Cause he was brooding too much, anyway he’s now living in California… talk about a death wish, a vampire living in sunny California, chasing after the present Slayer, trying to be her saviour: and that’s where you are going to come in.’

‘Where, helping him to catch her?’

‘No, stupid, protect her from him, he’s going to lose that shiny new soul of his and we need you to keep her alive.’ Kate looked at the being in front of her; he seemed to vibrate with energy, his compact body looked as though he spent every morning in the gym, lucky man.

‘Never going to happen,’ Spike spat out at her.

‘Well, yes it is, you’ve been in here surrounded by cars and a female in oestrous for about an hour, noticed anything?’ She asked with a smug look on her face; Kate was privy to the secrets the Guardians had been keeping and she knew what was coming.

‘Like what?’ he stubbed out on the floor with the sole of his doc martin, taking his anger out on the ground; he’d been burnt once from attacking the humans round here and he really didn’t fancy a mouthful of blisters.

‘No hard-on. And for a vamp that has to be unusual, we know you don’t prefer men and I’m not pure human, I’m part vela, so you should be panting for it by now… but nothing.’

Spike looked at the woman and sniffed the air. She was right, he could smell the fairy part of her blood and knew he should have had a raging hard-on about 3 minutes after meeting her.

‘And I don’t: why??’ he snarled at her, his eyes flashing gold; what had these bastards done to him?

‘Cause we’ve imbedded a mystical cock ring into your groin: no more hard-ons until we let you and no more coming unless we let you. Please don’t mistake gentleness and softness for weakness again, Mr Pratt,’ she told him as she jumped down from the table and headed out of the garage through a warded door.

The howls of anguished could be heard throughout the building as her words sunk into a very pissed off vampire.

The six months he had been there had flown by for Spike. He had found he was actually enjoying the challenge of learning everything and mastering everything they were throwing at him. Cookery had been fun, though he had tried not to sleep through the ‘nutritional requirements of a slayer’ lesson: 3500 calories a day, no wonder they put away anything they could lay their hands and mouth on and no wonder they were all so skinny. Well not that Nikki bird, she’d been OK… his inattention had cost him a carton of smokes and half a bottle of whisky but he made it up during the exam. Spike still didn’t like computers, though. He knew enough about them to get them to do what he asked, especially when he had a 3000 word ‘psychology of killing’ essay to do. It had taken him all day. The counselling course had been different…he hadn’t expected the counsellor to be a fairy, complete with blue blood and wings, or to spend a lot of the time analysing him. He’d felt a real prat - excuse the pun - when he’d broken down in tears about his mother’s death. But it had helped, just like Oberon had told him it would; the male fairy knew what he was talking about. They’d shared a few drinks in the sitting room that the staff used most weeks now.

His fighting urges had been channelled into skills he never knew about. Six months of constant training had left his body honed like an athlete. Karate, judo, wrestling even: Thai style and freestyle had been an amazing release. He still went for fangs and talons when necessary, but it wasn’t often now.

His sire link with Olivia was a constant in the background and he felt reassured by it. Her peaceful soul allowed the poet to come out of hiding and retake control of the body. The demon was still there, but quiet, almost tamed. Not totally, but almost.

Spike felt the sun going down and put aside the book he’d been reading. Kate had promised him a drive outside tonight and he was looking forward to it. There was a nest of vampires in a nearby cemetery and they were taking a car, and going to take them out. It was to be a training session outside the compound and he was excited. Thynne had let Spike know that he would be watched, but alone. Spike had spent some time thinking about making a break for it but something had held him back. He knew they had put spells on him to make him less feral and it had annoyed him at first; but like any other predator, food on tap and shelter tended to make him lazy. He always had that option later.

The door to his quarters was usually left unlocked these days. He had earned that right after passing his first lot of exams so Spike was very surprised when the alarm sounded and he could hear the ‘clang clang clang’ of the security doors slamming shut. He didn’t need preternatural hearing to hear alarms going off everywhere. He went to the door to look out of it and couldn’t see anyone around at first, but it didn’t take long before Thynne and Blousey came running down the corridor as though the hounds of hell were after them. They threw themselves into Spike’s room and slammed the door as they entered; neither man looked like the suave and sophisticated version he had first met. Blood dripped from Blousey’s arm, making Spike’s mouth water; Thynne was gasping for breath and trying to stand up properly but he seemed unable to do it. Spike gave the man a hand, which Blousey gratefully accepted, and pulled him to his feet.

‘What the fuck is happening out there?’ He asked as Blousey regained his balance. ‘Kate, is the simple answer. Someone some stupid man wasn’t wearing the cock ring we all have, he’d switched it off because it made him feel impotent. It was supposed to, stupid pillock.’
‘What ‘s that got to do with our pretty mechanic?’ Spike watched as Thynne started casting a spell on the already enchanted doorway.

‘She’s a Veela and she hasn’t been near a working male for nearly three years and some idiot switches his off!’ Blousey couldn’t stop swearing at the thought of his friend in so much pain.

‘So this isn’t a punishment?’ Spike looked in disbelief at both men, his head swinging from one to another.

‘God no, we wouldn’t do that to anyone. We all wear them; when we leave the compound we have them turned off and we have them turned back on before we arrive back. But some idiot had his turned off because he wanted to go for a ride with his girlfriend; Kate got a whiff of pure testosterone heading out for a night of sex - and turned. So instead of our little Kate pottering around with her cars and bikes we have a fully fledged hunting veela out there: that makes a werewolf look like a cuddly pet.’

‘Anything I can do to help?’ Spike couldn’t quiet believe he’d offered to help but as soon as the words were out of his mouth he felt a warm rush of approval over the sire link.

‘If you’re willing we could turn your ring completely off. You’re male enough to lead her a merry dance while we try and get the sedatives ready…’

Spike looked at the men and knew they weren’t joking, they were planning on him being the bait!

‘Where do you want me to lead her? And how do I fight her?’

‘Towards the sitting room: she must not be allowed anywhere near the exits, she knows this place like the back of her hand. And you don’t fight her: if you get that close your own sex drive will overwhelm you and it will be a toss up to see if you are going to rape her or she will rape you, you’ll be hard for days. Believe me even how she looks now won’t slow you down,’ Blousey told him as he looked around the room. ‘We need to make it to the med labs, so we’ll be about five or ten minutes behind you.’

‘And if she looks human we won’t see you for days,’ Thynne added as he pointed his hand in the direction of Spike’s groin.

Something heavy hit against the door, and the reinforced demon proof door seemed to bow inwards.

‘She’ll kill anything that gets between her and a vigorous male, and she’ll damn near kill anyone that goes with her at the momen,’ Thynne told him, ‘none of us would be strong enough to face her.’

Spike nodded his understanding and stuck his feet into his doc martins. He would need the extra protection the leather gave him.
‘How do I stop her?’ He asked again as he felt the masculine power flood his body; he could hardly keep his human visage in place, he could feel his fangs trying to break through and he knew from the looks on the two men’s faces that his eyes must be flashing gold.

‘For God’s sake don’t let her bite you or you will end up being mated to her.’

At a nod from Thynne, Spike slipped out of the door and listened as the men closed it again behind him. He could feel the wards slamming into place.

He sniffed the air, trying to work out where the Veela was hiding. He could taste her musk on the air and it was getting stronger: she was heading straight towards him, fast. Spike took off as fast as he could towards the sitting room. The steel reinforced security gates were going to be little use against the monster that chased him: a cruel, wicked mouth filled with fangs that seemed to be dripping with purple goo, her normally graceful body now covered with feathers and scales and her eyes were red, and it wasn’t from tiredness. For the first time since being turned Spike felt a frisson of fear creep down his spine; he loved a good fight but the creature behind him looked like something out of a demon’s nightmare. It was huge: the Veela’s wings touched either side of the corridor and its screeches hurt his ears.

He ran as fast as he could, his legs flying through the air as he led the creature on a race to the sitting room: a sitting room that had solid concrete walls and only one way in. The door ahead was open and he dived through, turning to see Kate struggling to get into the room, the doorway being almost too small for her huge frame. She finally managed to get in and Spike backed away. She seemed to be purring more than screeching now - and shrinking. Spike watched as her eyes went from red to brown and back again. The Veela crept forward slowly, her front claws raking the ground as she inched her way towards the cornered demon. She was sniffing the air, her mouth drooling at the amount of testosterone he was giving off in reply to her pheromones. Spike couldn’t help but respond, he could feel his jeans getting tighter and tighter, and had to laugh at himself, she was hardly the most beautiful female in the world but he was responding to her as though Aphrodite herself was in front of him. His teeth lengthened and his demon face came even further to the fore. A claw reached out and grabbed his leg, pulling him closer to her slavering mouth. Spike kept reminding himself not to let the Veela bite him, last thing he needed was a mate.

She pulled him right underneath her body and the closer he moved the more human she looked; when he was under her as a lover would be, she finally looked like his friend again: with scales, but definitely Kate. She leant down and kissed him hard on the mouth, possessing his body with hers. As their tongues fought over dominance his fangs caught her lip and he could taste her blood in his mouth. It made him even harder if possible and he licked up the drops, tasting the wonderful coppery liquid before kissing her back with the same passion. Both were too busy to notice the arrival of Blousey and Thynne. Kate collapsed on top of him, pinning him to the ground with her weight, unconscious with a dart sticking out from her thigh - but she was still purring.

Chapter 8

It was a week before Kate and Spike were seen again. The vampire had picked up the unconscious woman and carried her to her quarters, her feathered skin tickling his arm as he bore her through the corridors. He could sense the other beings hiding behind closed and barred doors but was more worried for his friend. The one being that had been decent to him, seen him as a person and not just an experiment or fighting machine, and she was unconscious in his arms.

When he arrived at the room he felt the tingle of the wards as he pushed open the door with his foot. Manoeuvring her carefully through he dumped her on the unmade bed and covered her now naked body with a thin blanket. The last of the feathers vanished as he did so.

'Stay,' she whispered and he couldn't resist her plea. The pheromones still scented the air, overriding his brain and thought processes. No male could resist and he slipped off his boots and joined her on the rumpled bed.

His raging libido had kept them sequestered there in her rooms, completely incommunicado. In those seven days she had taught him more about sex than he had thought possible to ever know. His skilled fingers explored every part of her body and their mutual passion had brought them both to completion time and time again.
On the morning of the eighth day it was though a switch had been flicked: Spike looked at Kate as she lay sleeping from their last bout of lovemaking, and although she was a beautiful woman, he felt no longing to share her body again, no desire to bury himself within her. As she awoke, he could tell by the look in her eyes she felt the same. Mutual respect and friendship were there but no passion, no lust.

'Thank you for saving me from myself,' Kate said as she wrapped her dressing gown around her body, tying the belt tightly. 'Not many men would have risked everything to face down a veela.'

'Not a man, pet,' he told her, lighting a cigarette.Kate wrinkled up her nose but didn't say anything; her over -sensitive nose had put her right off smoking for the last week.

'You are to me,' she told him, sitting down with her coffee on the sofa next to him. 'I really mean it, you saved not only me, but all the other men around here, and I will never be able to thank you for that.'

Spike felt that it was a real compliment, it had come straight from his friend's heart.

'At least all the men can have those bloody cock rings turned off for another five years!' Kate added with a laugh.

':ive years?' Spike took the coffee from her hands and took a sip: there was the distinct taste of the added brandy and he smiled at her before returning the cup.

'Yep: that's how long it will be 'til my blood gets the better of my mind again,' she told him. Hoping he wouldn't ask too many questions. The Veela part of her heritage always took a lot of explaining and she really wasn't in the mood to go into too many details this morning.

'So why not just go out and find someone who would be willing to help you out?' Curiosity got the better of him at that moment.

'Cause a single human would be killed in the first onslaught from a veela and if it were more than one male they would have to be very good friends and share: not many willing to do that,' she told him, quietly sipping her coffee before putting the empty mug down on the low table.

'No, not many.' He agreed before heading into the kitchen area to fix himself a mug of blood.

Blousey poured the vampire another whisky; the pair of them had polished off a good half a bottle of fifteen year old Islay Malt and they hadn't finished yet. He looked towards Spike again and had to smile; he had changed in the month since the veela attack. His hair had lightened to the point it looked bleached, and he had a certain something about him. There wasn't a single female operative in the area that hadn't felt the pull of the veela blood that Spike had racing through his system. Blousey wondered how long it would be before the vampire himself noticed what had happened to him. He was a walking sex god and he didn't know it.

Blousey smiled to himself as he wondered how it would affect the being when he finally realised what had happened.

Blousey and Thynne had spent weeks talking about the way the vampire had matured and grown in the months he had been with them. Their greatest seer had pronounced him ready for the next part of the operation. She would arrive in the morning to talk to Spike and then he would be off, away to the other side of the world and his preordained destiny. But he was still a vampire and still had a vicious temper that erupted occasionally, but for the most part he kept it and his demon well under control.

Dru tapped lightly on the door that led to the classroom. Spike had been studying for months, and it was time that she had spent regaining her sanity and her soul. It had been a long and painful process but Lady Edith Druscilla Smythe, youngest daughter of the Earl of Warwick, was whole again, a vampire but whole. She used her preternatural senses to listen for a reply to her knocking and rapped harder when there was no answer. He had to be in there, the wards on the door were strong enough to prevent even the most skilled mage; Spike wouldn’t have the power to break them and she knew Spike hated magic with a passion. A passion, that was a good description of anything Spike did: he was filled with passion.

Edith Druscilla banged on the door again harder this time and listened: she could hear Spike shouting for her to come in and stop making all the noise. She waved her hand across the sigils that allowed access to the room. It swung open, allowing her to walk through the doorway.

Spike watched carefully as his erstwhile Lady made her way graciously to the seating area. His manners had kept him standing.

‘What do you want, Dru? Come to gloat about the lost puppy?’ He really wasn’t in the mood to talk to her: it still stung that she had passed him along to Octavia like a worn out pair of shoes - but the sight and sound of her... the smell of her... it was driving him crazy. He sniffed the air, scenting her mood, but she didn’t smell quite the same, there was a sweetness to her now, violets and moss. There was no undercurrent of death in the air at all.

‘Sweet William,’ she started to talk, ‘we have so much to talk about, there is so much to tell you.’ She looked across at her much loved childe and knew this was going to be hard….

‘What? Like how you sold me out to, to, to, whoever these people are? Like how they can just yank my chain and I do as I’m told? What do you need to talk about now?’ The vitriol came spewing out of his mouth. He'd behaved amongst the humans and near-humans but his quieter half had lost its battle for control on seeing the woman who had sold him to the highest bidder.

‘I would like you to sit and listen to me for a few minutes: I will try and explain as much as I can.’ She settled more comfortably into the seat and plumped up the cushion behind her.

Spike threw himself down into a chair; he really didn’t want to listen but he knew he had to. Spike picked up the cigarettes from the small table and took one out of the packet with his teeth. He flipped open the Zippo and took a deep long drag. He looked over at Dru: she had changed. Really changed. Her love of elegant clothing was still obvious, but now they were stylishly modern.

‘Explain then, as if anything can, what you’ve done,’ he demanded. 'And you can start with why you turned me in the first place.’

'You want to start that far back?’ she asked, watching him as he fiddled with his lighter and his drink. He nodded once, looking almost fearful about what she was going to tell him.

'My name is Lady Edith Druscilla Smythe, and I was born in 1804 to Lord Henry Smythe, youngest son of the Earl Of Roxbrough.'

'We’re family, then?' That surprised Spike no end. He had been born well, nearly sixty years after his sire - but they were related?

'Not just as vampires; we would have been cousins if I had lived.' She smiled and it lit up her face with an inner light. 'Because I had already taken some of my vows, my soul was protected, it didn't really belong to me; I had already pledged it to God, you see.'

He nodded his understanding; much as he wanted to be angry he needed to understand what had happened and tried to keep his temper to himself.

'This organisation was sent to help me, and they did. Angelus had driven me mad before ever turning me: again it meant my soul was going to be trapped inside the body, alone with the demon. So they hid my soul, removing it for safe keeping until such times as I was ready to get it back. But I had some tasks embedded into my subconscious, tasks that would aid light in the longer term. However, your constant love and devotion paved the way for its return, and for that I thank you.' She watched his reaction closely, needing to be sure he wouldn't take what she was saying the wrong way and start fighting.

'So I'm responsible for the sane Dru?' he asked her quietly.

'In some ways. Have you ever heard the story of king Arthur and his knights?'
Spike was well used to his sire's habit of switching topic and just nodded.

'Well, this is the direct descendent of Arthur's round table. Beings who have vowed to keep this world as free from evil as possible. They have taken vows and dedicated their lives to the pursuit of the true evil that resides...'

'Demons?'

'No, not just demons; some demons just want a peaceful life and to raise their young. Some humans want to destroy everything around them; who is the more evil, the Brachaan demon who works delivering pizza late at night on a hell mouth - or Pol Pot, or Hitler? They make no distinction due to species, it's intent that counts around here. A vampire working on the side of light, no problem; a human experimenting on demons like that Initiative lot you met in the Second World War: kill them. Black and white, heaven and hell, it's that simple. It's who your masters are that counts.'

'And me?' The question was a serious one.

'You are a special case: like all with blue blood you are descended from those knights, in your case Sir Gawain, the purest of the knights. It's been 50 generations since he walked the world and then you arrived, but you were supposed to help back in 1880. Then Cecily happened.'

'Cecily Underwood? What did she have to do with all this?' Spike was truly confused now.

'She wasn't the daughter of Lord Peter Underwood, she was a vengeance demon called Hallfrek who was sent to try and mess things up. Some idiot in the future tried to have you destroyed.' Dru spat out the words as though they were a curse.

'Wonderful!' His exasperated tone said it all and he took another drag on his fag; despite not originally wanting to listen he was fascinated with the story Dru was telling him.

'We had two choices. Allow Angel to turn you and you would have helped destroy this world completely; or turn you ourselves and have the chance that William would not vanish in the process.'

'So you turned me,' he stated coldly.

'It was the only thing I could do.' She had to make him understand.

'And my mother?' It was one of the few acts that still haunted his nightmares, turning and then killing his own mother.

'If she hadn't died that night, Angelus would have tortured her for months before her illness took her. This way she died quickly and painlessly and her unblemished soul went straight to heaven.' Dru explained to him patiently.

'But now for your future,' she continued. 'You are prepared in every way possible and tomorrow you will start your journey to America where the next slayer has been called. Your job is to keep her alive and well until she hits 25.'

'What happenes then? I'm relieved of my post with a quick stake to the heart?' He stubbed out the cigarette in the cut glass ashtray with enough force to send it spinning across the table. Dru put out her hand to stop it breaking on the floor.

'No, then she turns into the slayer sultana and takes over the council of watchers, allowing the two organisations to meld into one. And you get an honourable discharge for your efforts and the offer of another job.'

'So when do I leave?'

'Tomorrow,' was the only word she said.

Buffy Summers pushed open the door of the library carefully. She didn't want to be here in this new school; her heart was in her mouth as she entered the echo-ey room and looked around for someone to help her. It had only been a few weeks since she had left that damned hospital and she was determined to make a good impression in Sunnydale.

'Hello: any one here?' she called out, not sure if she wanted an answer or not. The red haired girl, Willow, who had been asked to show her round had vanished back to class leaving Buffy alone and for some reason, if not afraid, then at least wary.

A tall, older man dressed in tweeds popped up from behind the counter: his glasses were slightly askew and there was a trace of cobweb in his hair, making it obvious that the area needed cleaning.

'Can I help you?' He was British from the accent, and very old-fashioned; she wanted to laugh at him but bit the inside of her lips to stop. Good impression, Buffy, she had to remind herself.

'Yes please, I'm new here and I was told you had some books for me? I'm Buffy Summers, just transferred in from Hemmery High in LA,' she told him, clutching her folder to her chest like some sort of talisman.

The man gave a huge grin. 'Wonderful,' he said, 'I've been looking forward to meeting you, Ms Summers: my colleagues have told me a lot about you.'

Buffy felt pleased, he didn't seem like he was going to give her a hard time; but when when the man slammed down a huge leather tome with the word Vampires emblazoned across the front she did what any self respecting girl would do - and ran.

It was the following day before she finally made it back into the library and faced the strange man again; she really hadn't wanted to go at all but each of her class teachers had been angry at her for not having the correct books with her. And who would have believed her if she'd told them what he'd done? No-one ever believed her.

She pushed open the door carefully and looked around. She seemed timid, almost frightened at entering and Giles felt like kicking himself. What a way to start a working relationship, scaring the girl away, really intelligent that one.

'I'm sorry I scared you Miss Summers. I'm Rupert Giles, your Watcher,' he told her, using a far more gentle approach than he had the day before. He'd been kicking himself all night for rushing things, but he had honestly thought that Merrick would have prepared her more carefully.

Buffy took a deep breath, and she nearly sobbed: it hadn't been in her mind! LA had been real and she had seen those dreadful creatures. She exhaled loudly, relief flooding through her body; Rupert Giles, the man Merrick had told her about, no wonder he had the books on vampires hanging around.

She really was the slayer, and it wasn't a nightmare. It wasn't a nightmare. It wasn't a nightmare. The words kept dancing around her brain bringing a sort of euphoria every time she thought them.

Giles was patient and kind as he explained about Slayers and her duty to the world. The chosen one, the protector of mankind. They spent most of the morning going over everything she should have known before she was ever called.

'I cannot understand why you weren't found earlier; normally, potentials are trained from a young age and when they are Called it is no great shock to their psyche,' he told her as he looked through the tomes in front of him as though they would miraculously give him the answer.

Buffy knew she had to come to terms with what had been said, with what she was. Her life was about to change for ever. She wanted to tell her mother, but after her experience with her father, and him locking her in that damned psychiatric hospital she didn't feel strong enough to face the conversation. She settled down quickly in the first week of school: her days were filled with schoolwork and helping her Mom rebuild their lives, her nights filled with staking Vampires and chasing demons. And any free time was used in training. Buffy and Giles were both amazed at the speed she picked up each and every weapon that was handed to her. It only had to be in her hands for a few seconds before she knew exactly what it could and could not do. Willow had overheard her talking with Giles one evening and had volunteered to help with research: it seemed she knew only too well what lurked in the dark places at night in Sunnydale. When training and patrolling got too much Willow would help tutor Buffy and even did her homework on occasion. Xander and Jesse were the goof balls of the group; the two men were almost inseparable, and the four of them had lunch together every day. Buffy was grateful every day for the fact that her friends had found out what and who she was.


Buffy looked around the Bronze she knew she needed a break; they had been studying for what seemed like days and her head hurt. If she took a breather from her French, perhaps a dance would do her some good?

She had spent a whole 12 minutes trying to pronounce her French, ugh, when Willow had finally allowed her to dance. This was Willow's tutoring method: ten full minutes of studying then one dance - and it worked. Buffy loved dancing, it was one place she felt free, the music echoing the beat of her heart and allowing her to be at peace. Swaying her hips in time to the beat allowed Xander and Jesse a good view of her attributes. They had both fallen a little in love with the strange new girl to their school. Xander had been introduced by Willow and was in the fortunate position of being able to call her by name and talk to her without getting yelled out.

Buffy looked around at the teenage crowd: they all seemed so young compared to her, shallow and superficial. Yes there had been a time in her life when the label meant more than the dress but now she was more worried about whether it could be washed well enough to get rid of demon guts. She battled her mind, keeping it away from the creatures that invaded her night, and kept it on the music, the music that gave her some peace, when a shout came from near the door that some poor girl was getting bitten outside. Buffy ran. Ran passed the doormen and into the alley where she found a tall woman fighting off a couple of vampires. At the far end of the alley she could feel rather than see another of those soulless creatures, but it didn't seem to want to join in the battle.

Buffy pulled a stake out from its hidden holder and leapt to the woman's right hand side, kicking the vampire away from her, and staked it before it had had time to recover its balance. The shower of dust covered her as she headed for the second one who took one look at the two women standing shoulder to shoulder and ran. Right into the arms of a slim-built man wearing a long leather coat. The man grinned and held the vampire up with one hand so that it struggled vainly to get free.

Buffy slowed down her approach. She could feel the vampire signature from both men and had to admit she was a little frightened; she hadn't faced down two like this before. She allowed her gaze to swing around the alley: there was noise coming from the open door of the Bronze and she knew Willow was close.

'Check the girl for me, please,' she said over her shoulder without losing eye contact on the blond-haired demon. He didn't seem to be coming closer but she'd been fooled before.

'She's fine, a little blood lost but no more than the blood drive take; a glass of OJ and a cookie will be all she needs,' the strange woman told her, moving slowly so as not to exacerbate the tense situation. Buffy fingered the stake she was carrying, still watching the two figures in front of her and trusting that Willow would warn her if anyone approached from the back.

'The name's Spike,' the vampire told her. 'What do you want me to do with the brain dead fledgling?' he asked in a bored voice as he looked at her with piercing blue eyes that seemed to see into her very soul.

'Kill it.' Buffy said, not really believing that he would, but that was exactly what he did, twisting the struggling demon's neck and ripping his head clean off, leaving a pile of ash to fall to the ground. The woman who had fought at her side wandered up and went to go to the other demon. Buffy put out a hand to stop her.

'He's not what you think,' Buffy told her, not wanting the stranger to become another victim in the battle.

'Yep, he is,' she laughed. 'He's exactly what I think!'

'He's a vampire, he's not your boyfriend!' Buffy had to make her understand.

'Well I agree about the not-my-boyfriend bit, and I know he's a vamp: but he's tamed.'

That got an indignant, 'Hey! Watch what you're saying or I'll bite you,' from the man who walked slowly towards them. Buffy gripped her stake more tightly, waiting for him to make the first move, poised to fight him off. 'Who are you?' She asked again; it seemed strange that he wanted to talk rather than attack, but she was taking no chances.

'As I said, the name is Spike - and we need to talk to your Watcher, pet.'

The school had been closed for hours, but the Scoobies were still waiting in the library, bored. Giles had treated them to pizza for dinner but not before making them promise not to spill grease or soda on any of the tables as he paid for the boxes of yummy goodness. They had eaten it all, and Xander had been shouted at for getting cheese all over the table, but they were still bored.

'Do we have to wait around for much longer?' Xander whined, annoying everyone else with his tone.

'Yes, WE do, Xander,' Giles told him with exaggerated patience, 'but you don't. You can go home at any time you like and leave the rest of us to work. We need to find out who these people are and what they mean to Buffy and her duty here in Sunnydale.'

Jesse looked up from the homework he was concentrating on and grinned. Xander had the attention span of a gnat. Here they were, with the school geek, the librarian and nothing else to do: homework was going to be a breeze. Jesse loved being part of this gang, he felt at home for the first time in years. Living with his uncle was alright, but the man was always at work. These people had time for him and had made him feel really welcome.

Buffy didn't say anything, she was too busy sorting through the weapons rack hidden behind the book shelves in the cage. Giles had given her the task of sorting through the packing cases that had accompanied him to Sunnydale. She seemed particularly enamoured with the knives. He made a mental note to train her up on those as quickly as possible. Giles winced: he could picture a future of broken ribs and bruised shins unless he could find a better sparring partner for his young slayer.

Willow just kept her head down and concentrated on the computer screen in front of her. It was wonderful, full access to the school's mainframe and from there to the civic one. She could pull up anything they needed within minutes.

Spike could smell the pepperoni and cheese as he slid through the stacks and watched the teens below him. He could feel the presence of the older man and the stale smell of family. Spike gave a little growl: so Angel had played here as well, had he? Well he was going to have some fun with the brooding one. Kate looked at her team-mate and grinned. Sometimes he could be heard thinking.

'Well are you ready, Sir Galahad?' She looked at him as she whispered, and then strode out from her hiding place, pulling the vampire behind her. Even with the noise they were making their audience hadn't noticed them.

'Not Sir Galahad please, Kate, he never got laid! Make it Mordred or Lancelot: I like the idea of Lancelot, he even went after the Queen.' Spike said, his eyes full of mischief - but he let Kate lead the way.

It felt to Buffy that spiders were crawling up her neck and dancing on her spine. She grabbed a stake in one hand and a knife in the other; turning slowly she scanned the room, noting where everyone was sitting. Before Buffy could stand up a leather-clad figure had her pinned against the wall with his hand around her throat. Spike leaned in closely to the young girl, knowing that Kate would stop anyone attacking his back for only a couple of seconds, but that was all he needed, just a couple of seconds.

'Too slow,' he whispered as he let her go and stepped back. Buffy stood there with her mouth open and trembling from head to toe, looking straight into the golden eyes of one of the most ferocious predators ever known. She wasn't scared though. It was as if she knew he wouldn't actually hurt her: his hands were human, no talons, no bumps on his forehead, and no fangs in his mouth. This was just a lesson...

Giles didn't know whether to be livid or scared as he watched the black-clad man step away from Buffy. He took his glasses off and started polishing them. Some... thing... was manhandling his slayer - and the woman was just watching.

'Ugh, I'm ugh, oh damn!' He couldn't even formulate a sentence.

'Hi, I'm Kate,' the woman told him, holding out a hand. Her soft Irish accent caressed his anger away as though it was stroking a kitten. Spike grinned, he could smell the pheromones coming off Kate, and so, from their reactions, could the men in the room, but he knew what they were and why he was reacting the way he was.

Buffy finally stood up straight and pushed the grinning idiot away from her. She wanted nothing more than to shove the stake in her hand straight up his arse.

'What was that all about?' she asked as she brushed herself down from the dust that had latched onto her back from the cabinet behind her.

'Just a bit of fun,' Spike told her, 'didn't mean to upset you, and I wanted to see how quick you were and how much training you were going to need.' He rolled his tongue around behind his lips. He shouldn't be allowed to do that, thought Buffy, knowing she was too young for the reactions her body was having to the blond man in front of her.

'You might have got yourself staked,' she managed to say as she felt her heart race and knew it wasn't from fear. There was something about this man, vampire, whatever, that set her blood pumping.

'Nah, no chance of that, you weren't that fast, and your technique is sloppy.' He answered as he turned his back to her and walked down the stairs to where the others were waiting and watching. It was a calculated manoeuvre and he hope he didn't pay with the stake shoved into him.

'And you'd know that how?' Giles tried to pull his attention away from the woman in front of him and back onto the man; there was something about the woman that made everyone else fade into the background when she was around...

'Because that's my job,' Spike answered coolly, turning to face the Watcher when he reached the bottom of the stairs. Giles shivered: the predator's total attention was completely on him and he didn't like it.

'Your job! You're a vampire: how can helping a girl be your job?' He had wanted to say, help a slayer, but it was as though his mouth seemed unable to form the words.

'Not just a girl, a slayer... and first, I'm supposed to warn you about the harvest. It's coming up and it's due to be a bloodbath; have you found the prophecy yet?'

'Prophecy? What prophecy?' Giles knew what the vampire was on about but he wasn't happy. He had been planning to leave Buffy uninformed: after all, why did she need to know every little detail?

'The one that says the slayer will open the gateway and allow the return of the Master, and that she dies.' Spike told them as he made his over to the table. He looked at the faces watching him: a good bunch of kids, he'd been told, but hardly hero material yet.

Giles looked furious. 'I wasn't going to tell her about that, you idiot; there may be a way round it and it may not be about her!'

'Of course it's about Buffy.' Buffy noticed that Spike used her name, unlike Giles, and it warmed her heart for some reason. She nearly missed the rest of the blond's ranting but listened in. 'There's a way round, you pillock. Buffy and her mum, and Red here, go to a nice spa for a couple of days, you and I walk in there armed with flame throwers and holy water, the Master goes up in smoke and she doesn't die.' Spike couldn't believe how stupid the man in front of him was, it was as though he had a death wish for the slayer. Kill her, get his pension, and spend the rest of his life reliving his glory days and playing with dusty books.

'But that's unethical,' Giles spluttered at the thought of battling in Buffy's place.

'Unethical?' Kate stared at the man in front of her. 'Please don't tell me that you think it's unethical to keep a – sorry, the - slayer alive and well?'

'She's supposed to fight the forces of darkness. And I'm just supposed to advise her, not send her on bloody vacation and do her job for her.'

'She has a name,' Buffy pointed out, having joined them in the main part of the library. 'It's Buffy, just two syllables: please use it.' Her smile was pure saccharine and Xander already knew that it meant trouble for someone.

'Yes Buffy, of course,' Kate said with a smile, 'but you are wrong, Mr. Giles. For hundreds of years the slayers have bowed down to the precious council of wankers, sorry Watchers, but enough is enough. We tried to free them from your pernicious control once before and those battles have come down through legend and folk memory. Well, Son of Mordred, this time we will set them free from you. The battle lines are drawn and you must chose your side.'

'And who are you to take over? I was appointed to take care of Buffy.' Giles was scared. There was something in Kate's voice that promised retribution for unpunished wrongs if he made a mistake.

'Yeah, right.' You could hear the derision in her voice. 'Great care you took of her as well. Cared for her straight into a loony bin when she tried to tell her dad what happened: where were you then?' Kate rarely got angry but the gullible fool in front of her was making her lose what little temper she had managed to cling to so far.

The others in the room gasped, as though this was the first time they had heard this part of the tale and from the looks on their faces it was. Buffy just hung her head in shame and that hurt Spike. Damn, why did he have to have grown a conscience? A decent, honourable adopted-sire was a hard thing for a vampire to deal with. He remembered his carefree days of killing with a half smile.

'That's all very well, but as soon as we knew she was moving we made the art gallery available to her mother to tempt the woman into making a fresh start.' Giles tried to explain himself, tried to disprove the words being thrown at him.

'Paid off the mortgage as well, did you?' Kate asked snidely.

'No, we didn't. That's none of our concern.' He was feeling very put upon and outnumbered: how dare these people question the council's methods?

'Wonderful, none of your concern, just wonderful.' The Veela looked straight up. 'Goddess give me strength, please, ' she begged before facing the Watcher again. 'Your precious council is rich – correction, was rich. One hour ago the Knights Templar and The Knights of St James set in motion the removal of all finances, properties and investments from the Council. I suggest you make your way into your office and talk to Quentin Travers, he may just be in need of information from you. Do give him my regards, tell him Katerine de Veela was asking after him,' she added sweetly, and turned her back on the spluttering and confused man.

'He'll be better when we have him trained,' Kate said reassuringly to Buffy. 'Now, talking about training - where do you go to practise?'

'Nowhere yet, I was supposed to train here with Giles, but I think you have broken him...'

'I think I have as well. Never mind, he'll mend. I'll get Spike to have a good look around: we need a large space, one where we can outfit everything you could possibly need or want.'

Kate looked at the vampire, who had been hanging back a little: he didn't want to scare the natives and the waves of near terror coming from the kids were making him hungry.

'I'll go and see what I can find,' he said and saluting, wandered back through the stacks. When it had appeared to the humans that he had disappeared they let out a collective breath.

Xander hadn't said a word: he was just staring at the woman who had so completely taken charge. His jeans were uncomfortably tight and from the look on Jesse's face he was suffering the same affliction; she was hot.

'Who are you?' Willow asked. She was in awe of the commanding woman who had walked in and just taken over.

'I am a dream come true and a nightmare that walks the face of the world. The council would try to teach you that every unknown is evil, every demon must be killed: they would kill ET if he came to Sunnydale. There is evil out there, more than you could ever know, but there are good and honourable beings as well. Beings that try and help the light, or just want to be left alone to raise their kids and feed their families. It's up to you, Buffy, we are here purely for your benefit. I won't be staying for long, just a couple of months then I have to go home; by that time we should have trained Giles into being more use to you.'

'And what do you get out of it?' Jesse asked quietly.

'I get to help the people that helped me, that simple,' Kate answered honestly. 'And I get to play with some really hot cars...'

Giles came back into the room almost white. 'It's all true: the Council headquarters have been shut down completely, there is nothing left and Quentin Travers is in jail awaiting trial on charges of complicity to commit murder.' He had to sit down whilst the knowledge that his world was collapsing around him hit home.

'That would have been the death of the last slayer: she was just 18.' Kate informed them all.

'So I get a short life span as well?' Buffy wanted to cry. Vampires were real and her expiration date was less than two years away.

'Not if we can help it Buffy,' Xander and Jesse said at exactly the same moment. They would protect the woman in front of them with their very lives.

'Right Buffy, what do you want to do first?' Kate was going to add something else but she smelled another male close by. She signalled for quiet and pointed up to the stacks. She then signalled Willow, Xander and Jesse and then to the office... handing Buffy and Giles a couple of stakes she left them to guard the civilians and made her way slowly up towards the intruder.

If it hadn't been for her advanced abilities Buffy doubted she would have seen the woman move at all, it was an explosion of activity as Kate vaulted the rail and pulled out a figure from behind the stacks.

'Well well well, what do we have here?' Kate looked at the man in front of her, a lumbering brute with far too much gel in his carefully styled hair. 'What are you doing spying on us?' she asked civilly.

'I'm here to look after Buffy,' he answered, just wishing the female in front of him would let him go.

'That's Angel, he's a friend, he's been trying to find out about the Harvest for me,' Buffy told the newcomers.

'Did he tell you he was a vampire?' Spike asked, as he hurried back into the room. 'I smelt trouble Kate and turned back: thought you might need some help,' he explained as he watched the other vampire closely.

Buffy looked shocked. 'A vampire? No, he's at college!' How could she not have known? Why had he lied to her?

'Didn't you tell her, Angelus? No? Didn't you want to scare her? Or do you still prefer chasing under-age girls?' Spike asked, he hated the brooding lump and was only too happy to get him into trouble. Payback could be a bitch.

Kate looked at the vampire in her hands. He was reacting to the pheromones she was giving out, nearly salivating at the proximity of the Veela. It was not an attractive sight and made Kate feel nauseous.

'It wasn't the right time to tell her,' Angel tried to justify himself and his actions. He looked at Spike and growled, trying to break free of Kate's grasp. 'Run little girl, he's a vampire, he'll tear you to pieces!' Angel tried to warn Buffy, to warn them all. Buffy was his, had been promised to him and he wasn't going to let William anywhere near her.

'Duh, we know,' Buffy said in a bored voice, 'The one I'm surprised at is you: forget to tell me you were one of the undead?' She couldn't believe that she'd missed all the clues, and to think she'd fancied him!!

'It was none of your business and I was sent here to watch you.' How dare this girl question him, the chosen champion? Angel didn't see why he had to explain anything.

'I think you mean watch over her, don't you?' Kate asked in far too sweet a voice. A voice that gave Spike a warning. He grinned to himself. His grandsire never had learned to take females seriously. He had been born a misogynist and had never grown up.

Kate manoeuvred Angel so that her face was completely hidden to the humans in the room, then let her wild Veela side show through - just a little. Her teeth lengthened and her nose and mouth became a snout, just for a second. If you blinked you would have missed it but it was enough to shock the hulking vampire.

'You're not human,' he gasped and struggled to get away, 'what are you?'

'Something from legend and nightmare,' she answered, throwing the vampire away from her but keeping eye contact. She let the pheromone level build, trying not to let it drift away from the one male she wanted affected. It wouldn't do to get the teenagers too worked up, and Giles might have a heart attack if his adrenalin levels got much higher: you didn't need to be a vampire to hear the Watcher's heart hammering away. She turned her back on the older vampire, and concentrated on the rest of the audience.

'Sorry about that: now,' she was going to ask them about themselves but the growling and posturing behind her filled the room, disturbing everything else.

'So you give her a cryptic message and bugger off? Seems about right for you,' the disdain Spike felt for the older vampire was obvious in his voice, contempt dripping from every syllable. 'So what was your great plan to deal with Great Grand dad? Or were you going to leave her to deal on her own?'

'She is the slayer, she's supposed to walk alone. The chosen one,' Angel tried to justify his actions, he didn't want to actually place himself in danger, he wasn't going to actually risk himself.

'We all walk alone, but it's nice to have some company occasionally: she's supposed to protect the world, and she does, just by breathing.' Kate said quietly.

Buffy watched the interplay between the two vampires, the antipathy they had for each other was obvious. Jesse and Xander came slowly out of the office, trailed by Willow who seemed nervous at the violence that was bubbling just below the surface. Angel looked at her with liquid brown eyes but, knowing that he was a vampire, they did nothing for her. The blond on the other hand was a whole other matter. The dangerous bad boy look made her pulse jump and her heart beat just a little faster.

'I think we need to call it a night,' Kate suggested. 'Spike and I will hunt for somewhere to make into a HQ and we'll be in contact tomorrow.'

'Walk you home, pet?' Spike offered to Buffy and she wasn't sure why she said yes, but she did. He made her feel less alone and a little safer. Something she desperately needed at the moment.

Kate watched the two blonds leave the library and smiled. The first meeting had gone quite well, surprisingly.

'Now Giles, looks like you could do with a drink,' she said. 'Where do you hide your whisky?'

Buffy hurt. Every muscle and joint felt like it had been hit with a meat hammer. Her legs could hardly bear her weight and her arms felt like someone had pulled them out of their sockets, twisted them around and slammed them back into joint. It didn't help that the demon presently beating her up looked as fresh as if he'd just walked out from a shower.

'Bloody Vampire,' Buffy cursed as she moved back into position. She leapt at the laughing vampire, aiming a high kick straight for his head, hoping to hit the blond straight in the face - but he ducked out the way and she missed completely, falling onto her butt, again.

'Come on pet, you can do better than that... lift your leg a little higher and really mean to kick me,' Spike told her as he bounced around the spot where she sat on the floor.

'I did mean to kick you, and I will!' Buffy stammered as she gasped for her next breath. She lashed out with her foot, her temper beginning to get the better of her.

Spike grinned. 'Just think what you could do if you got your hands on my tight body,' the annoying vampire tormented her as he bounced around again.

'Thinking what I could do with my hands on a nice WOODEN stake more likely,' Buffy grumbled, her hand gripping the plastic practise one harder as she leapt back onto her feet to attack again.

After more than a two-hour work out Spike finally let her rest. Buffy was almost wheezing as she managed to flop down onto the sofa next to Xander and Jesse. She wanted to hit Xander for his comments about how out of breath the vampire made her, but she simply didn't have the energy. She was exhausted, but happy. She had finally managed to 'stab' William the Bloody with her stake. Agreed it was in the leg and not the chest, but she'd got him.

Buffy looked over at Jesse. He still seemed a little under the weather and had fallen asleep, the bite marks from a vampire still fresh on his neck. Buffy gratefully accepted the bottle of water Spike threw at her and closed her eyes as she rested her head on the cushion behind her, waiting for her heart to slow down enough for her to catch her breath. She didn't want to close her eyes, because every time she did she had the vision of last night's nightmare flash before her again. She tried not to remember the sight of a female vampire with her fangs in Jesse's throat. Derla or Dera or something Spike had called her, before twisting her head right off in one smooth movement. She and Spike had been patrolling through Restfield Cemetery when they had come across the scene that she had always dreaded. Jesse had said he was OK to walk home alone, but he hadn't been. A vampiress had cornered him by one of the mausoleums. Buffy and Spike ran towards the screams as fast as they could, the vampire using his preternatural speed to try and save whatever human was being attacked. Buffy was just a few seconds behind him and had almost frozen when she had seen blood run down Jesse's neck. Almost.

In fact she had moved swiftly. Taking her place at Spike's right side, they worked as an amazing pair. Spike loved the feel of a fight, the almost poetic movements as foe matched foe and this was no different. Darla had been taken by surprise as her Great Grand Childe attacked. It turned into a short and bloody battle with Spike easily controlling the situation. Darla stood no chance at all. A master vampire with a century's worth of crawling to the insane bitch just bottled up inside of him let rip. It was blood and fangs all the way. Spike looked joyful as he literally tore the female limb from limb before whispering 'Goodbye Darla,' as he twisted off her head. Jesse had been lucky to survive. But it had frightened them all to the core. Even Willow was determined to learn more self defence.

The thing that had changed Xander and Giles' minds about working with a vampire was that although both Jesse and Buffy had been bleeding, Spike had been more worried about getting help for the human boy and making sure Buffy wasn't too freaked, than on snacking on the available feast. He'd taken off his own shirt to use as a dressing on the bleeding neck, before checking Buffy over, sniffing the air to see where she was bleeding from.

'I'd better be getting home, Spike,' Buffy said as she emptied her water bottle, shaking off the memories.

'You want to take a shower first, pet?' The vampire asked, pointing up the stairs of the mansion to the bedrooms above.

'No, I'll just tell Mom that cheerleading went on late and grab one at home. She worries about me being out late at night here.' Buffy stood slowly, feeling the workout she'd had in every muscle and joint.

Spike stopped putting the weapons away and turned slowly towards the young woman. Kate couldn't quite believe what she was hearing either. Both started talking at once.

'Doesn't she know what you are, Buffy?' Spike was asking as Kate was speaking over the top of him.

'She needs to know what you do!' the woman exclaimed.

'Giles and the council told me not to tell her, and I don't want to end up back in hospital...' Buffy's voice sounded small and scared as she faced the two adults.

Spike stood up slowly. 'Then tonight is show and tell at your house. She won't be able to deny the existence this time: I'll slip into game face and talk with her.' There was something decidedly evil about his smirk.

'No eating Buffy's mom, Spike,' Xander grinned at the Vampire.

'I promise, scouts honour.' Spike told him, but he was facing Buffy at the time. 'No eating the family.'

'You were a scout? Really?' Buffy had to smile at the look on her tutor's face. He was trying not to grin at them all.

'Well I ate one once, does that count?' He asked, and ducked with a shout of 'hey!' as cushions aimed for his head.


It was late and Buffy was quiet as they made their slow way through town towards Revello Drive and home. There were lights coming on and houses were being locked up against the night. Buffy seemed over-quiet to Spike: yes it had only been a short time since they'd met, but he was a trained psychologist and knew there was something wrong with his charge.

'Penny for your thoughts, pet,' he offered, trying to make her smile.

'Not worth that much Spike, just thinking about school and friends... how am I going to do it all?' Buffy sounded completely despondent, almost broken. 'That's why Slayers die young, isn't it, because they run out of strength to keep fighting. Jesse nearly died because I wasn't good enough and I don't know how to get good enough. School is hard, even with Willow's help: I'm struggling, and hiding it all!' Buffy let all the fears she'd been bottling up come tumbling out, followed closely by tears and sobs.

Spike looked around the neighbourhood, trying to find somewhere Buffy would feel safe. She was in no state to be taken home just yet. He spotted the ideal place and guided his sobbing slayer to a children's playpark. Sitting her on a swing, he rubbed her back gently and let her cry herself free of the pain inside. Spike slipped off his leather jacket and pulled it around her shoulders. He had been born a Victorian Gentleman after all. Buffy felt safe, here in a vampire's arms, late at night she felt safe and loved.

'We'll tackle all these things one at a time. Tonight we tell your Mom everything. Tomorrow we sort out your tutoring schedule. You are not alone Buffy: you will never be alone. Like Guinevere before you, you will have your knights around you, protecting you from the world as you protect the world from the evil that exists in the night,' her knight in shining leather told her, meaning every word.

Buffy sniffed and gave a watery smile to her protector. 'Safe,' she whispered.

'Safe,' he repeated and they sat and allowed the motion of the swing to soothe her some more.

Spike could see Joyce moving around the kitchen as they approached the house. The woman seemed relaxed and happy, and his heart felt a little, well, something, that he was about to destroy her peace. Buffy walked quietly by his side: she looked like a small child wrapped up in his leather duster. It had been cold and after the emotional storm she'd been through she'd been shivering in the night air. Giving her his coat had seemed the least he could do.

Approaching the front door Buffy's pace started to slow. She really didn't want to face her Mom, not tonight. Not about the things that go bump in the night at least. Spike had to almost drag her the last few paces up the steps of the porch. Her reluctance was beginning to annoy him.

'Look pet, if she freaks I'll bite her, OK? Then she'll have to believe me,' he told the reluctant teen before knocking on the door of the house.

'Not helping, Spike,' Buffy told him with a half grin. 'No eating my mom,' she added sternly.

'Very well then, Miss,' he answered in a clear, upper class voice. 'I promise not to eat your mother: now get your ass in there and... ' he didn't manage to finish the sentence, the door opened in front of him and Joyce was standing there, looking at him in horror. He expected something, but not the look of dread on her face. He had to feel a little sorry for the woman, he supposed: it couldn't be easy opening the door to find your sixteen-year-old daughter standing there with a punk, literally wrapped in his leather duster. Spike did not look like the kind you brought home to mother in any century.

'Mom this is Spike, William, he's...'

'Good evening Mrs Summers, how do you do? I'm William Pratt.' Buffy didn't recognise the rich tones or accent coming out of Spike's mouth. When did he learn to speak so well? 'I've been assigned as Miss Summers' tutor and thought that it was best if I came and introduced myself,' the blond vampire continued to talk as Joyce tried to catch her breath. Eventually she remembered her manners and Joyce stood aside, still shocked at the juxtaposition between he way the man spoke and the way he looked.

'Please come in,' she said as she mentally chastised herself for judging a book by its cover. Even if this was a leather-bound, bleached-haired, nail-varnish-wearing book. She had assumed the worst of both him and her daughter.

Buffy led the way into the living room, her steps small and hesitant. Tonight would be huge. Spike slipped his duster off her shoulders before she crossed the doorway and hung it on the newel-post at the bottom of the stairs. What surprised Buffy was how right it looked there, as if it had always been. After fetching coffees for them all Joyce sat herself down, ready to listen to the rather handsome young man in front of her.

'I didn't know the school employed tutors and I can hardly see them spending that sort of money on Buffy, no disrespect, dear.' She tried not to make disparaging remarks about her daughter, but sometimes it was hard.

'The School board don't: I'm paid by a private investor who has taken an interest in Buffy's future, Mrs Summers. I understand that there was some trouble last year at Buffy's old school?' He managed to make the statement seem more like a question.

'Well, yes, and Buffy has learned her lesson and knows that she mustn't do anything like that again.' Joyce didn't want to bring up all that nastiness. It had been a hard time for them all. She had almost snapped her answer out.

'Anything like what, Mrs Summers?' Spike asked with a silkiness to his voice that made Buffy's skin crawl. Her slayer instinct warned her that a Master Vampire was in the room - and hunting.

'She burnt down the gym and then had nightmares about some fantasy she had,' Joyce said flatly, wishing she'd put a bit of gin or whiskey in her coffee. This conversation wasn't going the way she wanted it to, and how could this punk get her to tell him things she never normally voiced?

'Are you sure it was Buffy that started the fire? After all there were others there,' the silkiness of the man's voice continued.

'Of course I am, that's what everyone told me.' Joyce snapped. She was beginning to feel very uncomfortable and starting to wish she had never invited the man into her house.

'And what did Buffy say?' Spike asked quietly. Buffy noticed he hadn't once raised his voice, despite how he yelled at her normally.

'Some nonsense about vampires setting candles around the place. A man was killed in that fire and my daughter was responsible for his death!' Joyce's temper had finally snapped. She really needed a drink now.

Buffy's heart broke at her mother's words.

'I wasn't, I didn't hurt Merrick. He...' the tears started to fall, and the sobs wracked her small frame.

'What makes you think Buffy hurt him? Is your daughter normally a liar?' Spike's voice sounded distant, echoey.

'Well no, but the story was just so fantastical it couldn't be true.' Joyce wanted to sound a lot more sure than she actually did. In fact she sounded uncertain and afraid.

'Why couldn't it? Did Buffy normally lie to you?' Spike's voice sounded so reasonable as he asked the question again.

'She said they were demons, claimed that they started the fire, and then there were all the fights. Her father and I agreed we needed to get her some help.'

Buffy looked uncomfortable, she wasn't happy with where the conversation was going at all. 'Mom,' she started to say, but Spike help up his hand to stop her.

'Let her talk, pet, she needs to get this off of her chest.' He grinned at the slayer, and suddenly Buffy had a very bad feeling that her mother was digging her own grave. Buffy hoped that it was just figuratively.

'So you got her the help?' he asked sweetly.

'Well yes, of course: then we moved here. Hank couldn't stand the idea of Buffy needing help, and he left.' Joyce sounded as broken as Buffy had earlier.

'With his secretary?' Spike prompted.

'How did you know that?' Joyce was astounded.

'I have a lot of information about Buffy. Do you still blame Buffy for Hank's betrayal? Surely you knew about the affairs long before Buffy started getting into trouble? It would seem to me to be more likely that it was Hank's behaviour you were really cross with, and as you couldn't take it out on him, Buffy made a good target.'

Joyce wanted to deny it, but she couldn't. She knew she had blamed Buffy for the break up of her marriage to Hank, but in reality it had been the other way round. Hank's affairs and behaviour had been what sparked Buffy's rebellion.

Joyce started crying, and Buffy got up and sat on the arm of her chair, wrapping her arms around her mother. Spike sat back and watched quietly, observing every gesture the two women made. He'd managed to clear the air a little, though he supposed that using thrall was cheating a little.

The storm of emotion calmed after a few minutes and Joyce looked up at the young man in front of her.

'I'm sorry, whatever must you think of me?'

'I think you are a lady who has been through a very tough time: but now it's over and you have your daughter and the future to think about.'

'You are very wise for your age,' Joyce managed to smile at him.

'I'm older than I look, Mrs Summers,' Spike said.

'Ain't that the truth,' Buffy muttered under her breath.

'Did you say something, pumpkin?' Joyce asked.

'No, Mom,' Buffy tried to look innocent. It was a good job Joyce's attention was taken back to Spike.

'Mrs Summers...'

'Please call me Joyce.'

'Joyce, what I'm about to tell you will seem a little fantastical, but every word I speak is the truth.'

'R-i-g-h-t,' Joyce said slowly, turning to watch her daughter for a couple of seconds. She turned back when William started talking again.

'Vampires are real: so are demons. Buffy is the Chosen One, sent to protect earth from the spawn of hell.'

Joyce turned to look at Buffy, who seemed very quiet. From the look on her daughter's face this was no joke. Buffy looked as though her world was about to collapse.

'I'm sorry Mr Pratt, but I think Buffy has been spinning her tales to you as well. I wish you wouldn't indulge her, and if you continue to do so I will have to ban....aaahhhh!'
Joyce screamed as she turned round and her visitor looked completely different. Instead of the handsome young man she'd let into the house, something from her nightmares sat in her living room, golden eyes shimmering in the light, his face distorted and disfigured by outgrowths of bone that looked like some sort of alien make-up, and his mouth crammed full of fangs.

'I know Vampires are real,' he lisped, 'you see, I am one.' Spike kept his preternatural eyes fixed on the woman sitting opposite. Ensuring that she was really concentrating on him, he let his game-face dissolve and returned to his human disguise.

Joyce looked as though she was having trouble breathing.

'Buff,y find your mum's stash of whiskey and pour her one will you, she doesn't sound too good here.'

Buffy nodded and headed for the sideboard where her mom had a bottle of JD hidden. She was pouring the amber liquid into the glass when it occurred to her that Spike had known about the whiskey. How had he known? She'd have to ask him later.

'Joyce: drink up, pet.' Spike didn't think that giving his charge's mother a heart attack was a good way of keeping Olivia happy. And a happy sire meant a happy vampire or at least an undusty vampire; besides, he was having fun.

Joyce managed to sip at the liquid and coughed as it burnt its way down her throat.

'Better?' Spike asked solicitously and smiled when Joyce nodded.

'It's all real?' she asked.

'Yes, ma'am.'

'And Buffy really is different?'

'Yes, ma'am.'

'And she didn't need to go to that awful place...'

'No, ma'am.'

'Oh God, I'm so sorry baby. I'm just so sorry.'

Buffy wrapped her arms back around her mom and smiled her thanks at Spike as he let himself out of the house and off into the night. Maybe there was something that needed beating up, then he'd collect his blood from the hospital's disposal site and call it a night. His bed at the mansion was calling his name and dawn would be here before he knew it.

The next day saw Buffy and her mother making their way into the exclusive area of Sunnydale. Crawford Street was full of expensive, over-large houses, the sort that Buffy and Joyce used to live in prior to the divorce. Joyce slowed down her paces as they reached the front door of the building. The small buzzer seemed innocuous and out of place amongst the grandeur of the house itself. Joyce wasn't sure what they were about to face, she just hoped it would be friendly.

The door was opened by a tall blonde woman, in her late twenties if Joyce was any judge, who seemed to know them. She smiled a welcome and stood back allowing Joyce to see into the house beyond.

'Come on in folks, we've been expecting you,' she said in a soft Irish accent. There
was something about the woman that seemed to soothe Joyce's fears over coming to this place.

The door opened into a huge entrance hall, a hall dominated by dojo mats and weapons displays on the walls. Buffy was in heaven, well as close as she ever wanted to get. She walked over to one of the displays, one that had over forty different kinds of bladed weapons from sabres to scimitars, daggers to weird oriental umabari. She drooled over the blades, longing to feel their weight and balance in her hands.

'We can spar later pet, if you want,' Spike told her as he approached The Slayer.

'I'd like that,' Buffy replied. Giles was OK to practise with, but she was always terrified of hurting him too badly. It would be fun to spar with someone who could take the blows and match her speed. 'Where did you get all these from, and are they all yours?' Buffy knew she was babbling, but she couldn't help it, she was excited to see the arsenal spread out for her delight.

'The collection has been put together over years, and they're not mine: they're yours, officially,' Spike explained with a smile.

'Mine?' Buffy's eyes brightened at the thought of all these shinies being for her use. They were gorgeous and she couldn't wait to try them out.

'Yeah, yours. They are for the use of the Slayer and her squad. There are crossbows, knives, stakes, everything your well prepared and active Slayer could possibly need.' Spike told her as he walked slowly down the display. Part of him wanted to just rip the throat out of the woman-child in front of him, but another, quieter part seemed soothed just by her presence - and Olivia's influence, of course.

'And this?' Buffy held up a silver blade that looked more like a stake than a knife that was resting on the table itself.

'That's special: it's hollow and is used during a particular ceremony. There's a matching stake as well.' Spike pointed to an identical weapon lying in an ornately carved wooden box. The thought of a stake made him shudder, that and holy water. Ugh. He needed to go out and kill something, soon.

'What ceremony?' Buffy asked curiously, as she felt the weight of the two stakes. One was a lot heavier than the other. The solid silver one felt awkward and clumsy in her hands but the wooden one felt like it belonged. Even in the dark she'd know this weapon.

'Not my place to tell you, pet. Now: what can I do for you today?' Spike asked, taking the weapon from her hands and putting it back on the table.

'I brought my mom, she had some questions and I'm not as well up on the book learning stuff, so I thought you might be able to, like, help?' Buffy seemed almost embarrassed by her own reply to his question. What was it about this man that made her so tongue tied?

'And you should be in school young lady, but I felt this was more important. Mr Pratt, could you please tell me about Buffy and what's expected of her, why she has to be the Slayer, how she hands over the job?' Joyce said, making her way over to the blond couple. She still wasn't happy about all this... stuff... wishing it was nothing to do with her daughter.

'So what questions have you got, Mrs Summers? I'm sure we can help you out.' A voice behind her asked. Joyce hadn't noticed Giles: he was already there sitting at a table that had been stacked high with books. His interruption caught her by surprise at first. He seemed so normal to be amongst these people.

'I'm not sure I know where to start,' she answered honestly. 'I want to know how this affects Buffy now and in the future: will she marry, have children? And what about school?'

'I'll start with the last one first,' Spike said. 'Despite the looks and the fangs, I'm actually, heaven help me, a fully qualified teacher. Buffy is going to need extra help, but only because she won't have enough time to study if she stays strictly within the school system.' Spike had the good grace to look at Buffy as he spoke, but the young woman's attention was back on the weaponry. She was playing with the stakes that were lined up along the long table. Buffy had already fitted the holster around her waist, fitting it with a mahogany stake that seemed to fit her hand perfectly.
Kate was showing her various items of interest, leaving Giles and Spike free to talk to her mother.

'A qualified teacher? Forgive me if I find that hard to believe,' Joyce said, looking at the being that had terrified her so much the night before.

'I have a degree from Oxford, madam, a little dusty, but a First in English Literature and history nonetheless.' Spike let his accent of birth shine through and it shook Joyce to the bone.

'I speak French, Spanish, Latin, Greek, some German and Italian as well as half a dozen demon languages, and can read Sanskrit, Phoenician and Aramaic.'

At that Giles looked up from the pile of books in front of him. 'But the Council said you were a minor thief from Liverpool!' he blurted out loudly.

'And the Council have it wrong, again, there's a surprise,' Spike drawled, his accent sounding cultured, and his voice sounding thoroughly bored.

Kate left Buffy looking through the armoury and headed for the kitchen. They were all going to need a break. She returned in a few minutes carrying a tray of tea, coffee and sodas, placing it on the low table before taking a cup for herself. She could smell Joyce's agitation and she really didn't want any trouble tonight. She allowed her pheromones to build slightly, not enough to bring on a mating frenzy, but just enough to calm everyone down a little. Spike sniffed appreciatively, and Buffy scented the air as well. It smelled like freshly mown grass and summer days.

'You're not human?' Buffy asked accusingly, looking at Kate.

'Not exactly, no.' Kate told her as she sipped her tea. 'I'm mostly human.'

'I doubt that,' Giles mumbled from across the room. 'You're female and no female is part human.' That was the wrong thing to say. Joyce gave out a disgruntled noise, Kate shot him a death glare and Buffy, well Buffy just grinned and shouted, 'Catch!'

Giles did just that, he held out to hand to catch the object flying through the air towards him, only to find himself fending off one of the wooden practise knives Spike used against Kate.

'Next time I'll use a real one,' Buffy said quietly and smiled at the other two women.

Spike kept well out of the conversation. He wasn't stupid. 'The more women in the room, the quieter a wise man is,' he whispered to Giles as he walked past him, returning his empty mug of blood to the tray.

Kate and Spike spent the rest of the day showing Joyce and Buffy around the mansion. It had been set up as an ideal headquarters for anything a slayer could need. There was a huge library, a computer suite and even a small operating theatre. Joyce looked at all the equipment. It looked like an army field hospital. There was even an IV stand with a pump attached sitting in one corner.

'When Buffy knows us a little better we'll start collecting her blood and storing it. Giles has been given a spell that will preserve it almost indefinitely' Kate told an anxious Joyce.

'I hope she never needs any of this stuff,' Joyce said, a little nervous at all the preparations that had obviously taken place.

'Better safe than sorry,' Kate told her bluntly as they left the room. 'This isn't something that Buffy has chosen to do, nor can she just drop the whole thing because she has school. This is what she was born for. To protect mankind from the things that go bump in the night. The things you try to pretend you haven't seen.'

'But why my baby, why not someone else?' Joyce almost wailed out the question.

'Is there anyone else you would trust to do the job properly?' Kate asked, stopping the older woman dead. If Joyce was honest there was no one else. No one who could be trusted the way Buffy could be. This was their life from now on.


As Buffy made her way downstairs she looked out of the stained glass window on the stairs. The sun was almost down, she had about an hour before she had to head out on patrol. She sat down on the stairs and looked out over the gardens that were turning gold in the last of the light. It was beautiful, but she could feel the power begin to race in her veins. However sleepy she felt during the day, the night made her feel alive.

Spike heard Buffy's pulse start to quicken. He could hear the blood pump through her veins and felt his fangs itch. There were times when he longed to let his demon take control, longed to let rip with fang and claw, to remind these people who they were dealing with. It was when the blood lust was at its worst he felt the soothing influence of Olivia's soul, helping him regain the equilibrium that kept him undusty and safe from passing stakes.

Kate watched him. She could feel his demon's rise and wanted to help, but this was Spike' battle.

'Right: while we're all here, there is a nest of vampires setting themselves up on the edge of town, near the old warehouses. I suggest we use it as a training session and Buffy and I take them out. Giles, you and Kate can watch and film us to see where we can improve our technique.' Spike really needed a good fight. He was hoping the girl in front of him would be slow and he could get some violence in. Otherwise he was going to blow.

He ran his tongue around his mouth. Buffy was 16 but the smell coming of the Slayer was delicious: he wouldn't mind practising other techniques on her. 16 was legal in England...

Kate gave him 'the look' and Spike knew she'd guessed what was on his mind. He'd pay for his thoughts later; last time Kate had been cross with him, she'd spiked his blood with rat. It took him days to get the taste out of his mouth.

'Buffy?' Kate called, 'you want to pick out some weapons for tonight? We've stakes, crossbows and holy water in a nap-sack ready for you, but if there is anything else you want?'

Buffy headed over, oblivious to the looks the vampire was giving her. It was going to be a long night for Spike.