Night had fallen and she felt a pull inside her, beckoning her out into the streets to fulfil her destiny. It had grown stronger lately, until she felt an almost physical ache when she was inside after sunset. She surmised that part of its growing power was the urge for distraction, to take her thoughts away from the night itself – and the people who thrived in it. Or, rather, one person. One vampire.

She had managed thus far to stay away from Spike, to keep to her self-made promise to turn her life around. That wasn’t to say she was never tempted though: in fact, temptation gnawed at her constantly, and even more so when the sun set. Her body knew from long practice that night-time was a time of pleasure and it wasn’t easy to shut that off. So she forced herself mindlessly through her duty, her everyday life, and tried to convince herself that she needed to move on – just as she had told Spike.

The theory seemed so much easier than the practice here though: much as she didn’t like to admit it, she still craved Spike. And the thought of him actually taking her words to heart – as if that would ever happen – hurt more than she liked to admit. The thought of him giving all of that devotion, that passion, to someone else made her chest tight – even though that was exactly what she had told him to do. Hypocrisy was a small price to pay for a chance to make things right with herself though.



The night continued to call to her as she sat in her living room with the others, waiting for Willow to crack the nerds’ codes and reveal the hidden cameras. She shuddered as she wondered just how many there were, where they were. The things they could have caught on camera. She shook her head, dismissing the thought, and forced herself through a few more minutes of silence – the only sound in the room the light tap of Willow’s fingers over the keyboard.

It only took a few minutes for her threadbare patience to wear out though and she jumped to her feet, startling the others in the room.

“I have to patrol,” she announced, “You know, I might find something.”

“I’m almost there,” Willow said with a sheepish smile.

“Oh, I’m sure you are. But you can call me, right? I really should get going.”

She was already pulling on her jacket as she spoke and her friends soon saw that argument was futile and let her be.

“Be good, Dawn,” she told her sister and Dawn rolled her eyes in answer, settling back on her chair, eyes fixed on Willow.

“I’ll see you guys later.”

“Be careful,” Xander said, quieter than ever since his aborted wedding.

For a moment, she watched her friend with an aching heart but then she forced herself out of her daze.

“Bye,” she got out and turned on her heel, making her way to the door and then out into the dark street.



She wandered aimlessly through the streets, letting the darkness surround her and quell that vague ache inside. So far, she had seen nothing in the way of demon activity but then, this was Sunnydale and Sunnydale never disappointed. She moved on through the dark streets, headed for the centre of town. She soon reached the main street but as yet there had been no sign of demons and she was starting to grow edgy.

She was just crossing the street, headed for an alleyway and a shortcut to the more eventful side of town, when she spotted lights on in the Magic Box and she paused. It had to be Anya and her heart went out to the jilted girl. Some kindly impulse turned her in the direction of the shop, if only to check that the ex-demon was okay.

It pained her that she was one of several trapped between Xander and Anya, not knowing what side to take, hurting for them both - but she couldn’t help thinking that it must be harder for Anya, who had no other friends (human ones anyway) but those associated with the man who had left her at the altar. Nodding, she headed for the shop, determined to spend some time with the heartbroken woman – after all, they had something in common.



She reached the door but paused when movement through the window caught her eye. She pressed her face close to the glass, just able to make out the two forms through the window. Spike and Anya sat close together at the table, sharing a bottle of whiskey. She couldn’t see Spike properly as his back was to her but Anya’s face was a picture of agony and she felt her heart go out to her – to both of them.

The whiskey bottle, seemingly empty, was discarded and the two seemed to sag even more. She couldn’t help watching them, hoping that they were deriving some comfort at least from each other’s company. They had both been outsiders in her friends’ tight-knit group and she was glad to see that they had someone to share their pain with. Although, if Spike had told Anya anything about their relationship, she was going to hurt him.

She paused now, uncertain whether to go in or not, wary of intruding on pain that she shared but was too afraid to show – in front of one of the two especially. She continued to watch and her eyes narrowed as Spike reached out to brush a hand over Anya’s hair in that way she had always secretly loved. Comfort was one thing, but touching was another thing altogether and she hated the green-eyed monster inside vying for attention. If that was enough to get her riled up with jealousy, the next few seconds sent every emotion into turmoil: she could only watch on in shock as vampire and ex-demon shared a kiss.



Somehow, her feet made the decision her mind was slow to and forced her through the door and into the shop, startling the two. She could say nothing but stared at them, her eyes fixing with blank emotion on the vampire’s shamed face.

“I should go,” Anya murmured quietly and gathered up her things, giving the vampire a sad smile before turning to her with a pained, embarrassed expression and quickly leaving the shop. She was barely conscious of what had happened and it took a few minutes before her mind could catch up and react .

“Taking my advice then?” she got out, crossing her arms across her chest – her first reaction anger, “I didn’t realise you’d be moving onto the first female-shaped-person you could find though.”

He said nothing in reply, just gave her that pained look from under his eyelashes – and she hated him in that instant.

“Really?!” she spat out, “My friend?! What were you thinking?”

Typically, he could not resist her anger for long and he erupted in reply.

“I wasn’t bloody thinking!” he snapped, getting abruptly to his feet, “I was hurting and I was drinking.”

“And then you decided it was a really good idea to play tonsil tennis with my best friend’s girlfriend?”

“Ex-girlfriend.”

She was too angry to respond and just glared at him as he glared back and then tilted his head, snarling at her.

“What’s the matter, Slayer? Jealous?”

“You wish,” she bit out.



They continued to glare at each other in silence and, bit by bit, she felt her anger dissolving into something like hurt. She would not let it be seen though and only lashed out at him more.

“And you say you love me,” she bit out with a snort of laughter, “Yeah, really feels like it right now.”

He stepped forward angrily, eyes dark with emotion.

“You never wanted my love,” he practically growled, “All you did was throw it in my face.”

“Well, I was right, wasn’t I? If this is what loving me means.”

He growled lowly and turned away from her, seemingly exasperated. Her anger was not so easy to dissipate though – she feared that if she let it go, all she would feel was the sting of betrayal.

“Well, I hope you’re very happy together,” she bit out and he turned to face her, jaw clenched, anger etched across his face but carefully restrained.

“I don’t know what your problem is, Slayer,” he got out, his voice as cold as it had been back when they had been enemies, “But you’re the one who walked out… you’re the one who told me to move on because what I was feeling wasn’t real.”

“It’s not real, Spike,” she retorted, “How could it ever be real?”

He took a challenging step forward, almost daring her to continue.

“You’re a monster… you can’t feel.”

“What about you?” he snarled, “You’re not exactly all heart, are you, Slayer? Heartless bitch, more like.”



They stared each other down for a long moment, her fists tightly clenched, a voice in her head screaming at her to hit him.

“I may be heartless, but at least I’m not pathetic,” she got out – and regretted her harsh words a second later. His face went taut with anger and she saw his eyes flash golden.

“No, you’re just a cruel, desperate little girl,” he ground out, “Still pining after some stupid idea of normal… when she’s not pining after her precious Angel.”

His words pushed her over the edge – even though she had crossed the line first – and before she knew what she was doing, she lashed out at him, punching him square across the jaw and sending him stumbling backwards. He righted himself and wiped a hand over his bloody mouth, before fixing eyes full of anger – and hurt – on her. He dashed forward and before she could react, he had tackled her, sending her crashing into the table and toppling both of them to the floor.

They scrambled around, both trying to gain the advantage, until finally she was able to get enough leverage to send him flying into a nearby set of shelves, sending objects crashing around him. She jumped to her feet and squared up, before launching herself at him again, caught up in her pain.





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