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Spike wandered the quite suburban streets, aimlessly a strange disquiet settling over him. He couldn’t shake the image of the other girl, so different from Buffy tall and slender, dark and elegant. His type.

They where obviously close, maybe he’d take the girl, break her in the way only a man can break a woman, leave just enough blood in her for her to gasp out her fate to the Slayer. He waited for the rise of lust and blood lust at the notion. Unease settled instead in the pit of his stomach along with a strange undercurrent of revulsion he refused to examine.

He growled. He needed to kill something, get back into the flow of things before going after the Slayer. He had meant to drive to town, find the bitch, kill the bitch, leave. Why was this taking so long? What the hell was wrong with him?

He was pulled suddenly from the musing by a shrill, famine scream, grinning wolfishly he took of after the sound. Rounding an ally corner at full speed he was met by a very familiar scene. The girl, typically Californian and garishly blond was backing away from a group of three burly fledglings, her brightly painted lips moving in a continuous babble of pleas that would undoubtedly fall on deaf ears.

“Well isn’t this nice? Got yourselves a tasty enough little morsel, bit plastic for my tastes but she’ll do.” Spike swaggered towards the group, thumbs shoved in his belt loops, with an unmistakable air of casual authority.

“Yeah and she’s ours so you can just walk right away mister” the smallest of the three warned, his natural nervousness of Spike obvious authority overridden by vampiric territoriality.

“Oh, ok, if she’s yours.” He responded, his tone friendly, hands upraised as if in apology “I’ll just toddle off, leave you and Barbie here to, eh, get acquainted.” Spikes faux politeness made the spokesman gulp nervously.

“Or” he drew the word out, his voice dropping to a threatening growl “I could rip off your disrespectful heads and have myself a silicon snack.” Pausing he shrugged, and continued in his original upbeat tone “You know I can’t decide”

With that he was on them. Fledglings generally weren’t much fun to kill, but it had been a while, and there were three of them. Laughing manically he dispatched the spokesman just as he had promised ripping his head clean from his shoulders, number two fell to a swift splitter of shattered crate.

“And then there was one” Spike sing-songed as he circled the final vampire “Alright mate, how shall I kill you then?”

The fledgling moved first, knocking the makeshift stake from the smaller vampire’s hand as he used his considerable bulk to take both of them to the ground. Pinning Spike beneath him and sneering unpleasantly “How shall I kill you then? Mate” it mocked.
Spike grinned up at his opponent and laughed, loud and genuine.

Denise watched the scene play out around her with terrified fascination, she held her breath, afraid to even breathe as her rescuer simultaneously kneed and head butted the last of her attacker, sending him rolling away in pain, before driving a splinter of wood through the monsters heart.

She watched from where she remained huddled in the against the filthy ally wall as the slight man turned toward her brushing unruly brown curls out of his eyes. Gasping in relief she threw herself into his arms “Thank you, oh my god thank you so much” she pulled away full lips forming a self conscious smile at his lack of response. “I, er, thank you, I really thought I was going to die”

The man, who had a moment ago looked like pure salvation, with his handsome face and soft brown hair, suddenly looked like a wolf eyeing a lamb, the bright blue eyes that had been full of mirth and excitement as he had turned to her where now flinty and cold as ice. He grinned an unpleasant, predatory grin “You are” he said simply as his face shifted and changed before her eyes.

……….

Willow sensed danger, the protective shroud of magic around her, hissing and sizzling with warning. Cautiously she followed the feeling to it’s source, a filthy ally, what a surprise she thought wryly as she edged slowly towards the figure slumped against the wall obscured by shadow.

“Are you ok?” she asked softly as she approach, although experience told her she would get no answer. “Hello? Are you ok?”

To the witch’s surprise a strangled gasp the figure emitted a strangled gasp. Abandoning caution she rushed to the aid of the person she could now see was a young blonde. “Are you hurt? What happened to you?” she asked as she knelt down next to the frightened girl.

Denise didn’t answer, she was too afraid to speak, too afraid to move. Her neck burned with pain where that monster had bitten her, and her she felt dizzy and light headed from blood loss. It didn’t matter, Willow had seen the lacerations on her delicate throat and was already whispering soft word of gentle healing, letting the white magic that had become part of her since the activation of the Slayers flow to her fingertips and over the girls skin.

“Can you get up?” she questioned gently, bringing the girl to her feet “You need to go home, do you live near here?”

The girl nodded mutely, her eyes wide and wild. Willow smiled reassuringly “Go home” she commanded. “You won’t be bothered again tonight”

Despite her fear Denise felt compelled to obey the redhead without question, turning toward home she heard the woman whispering in some strange language, and she felt safe, if only for the walk home she knew she was protected.

……..

Spike watched the redhead from the shadows. He had felt her approaching long before she had entered the ally; his demon had squirmed and cowered, urging him to run. Her power radiated off her like white-hot fire, her goodness burned almost as brightly.

He almost gave himself away when he saw her. She had hardly changed in all these years, same bright red hair, and porcelain skin, same slight frame. Red, his mind supplied, well of course she was, with that hair what else could he call her. The Slayers best friend, turned all witch and wielding a power that could not be ignored. And there he had just thought she was a bookworm.

“You should run vampire” her voice was eerily calm in the still night, power pouring through each word like sunlight.

Spike considered it, running, but only for a moment. Not really his style, plus witchy mojo or not, it was still jut the Slayers little pal. He stepped out into the pale streetlight keeping his head bowed.

“Not really the running type, luv” as he spoke he raised his head so that there eyes met, so that there would be no mistake. He knew he looked different without his trademark bleach job and he wanted the witch to know exactly who she was dealing with.

“Spike?” Willows head spun, was it him, no it couldn’t be. But it looked like him, soft brown curls aside. But he was dead, Buffy said he had burned up in the hellmouth.

He gave her a rakish grin and spread his arms. “The one an’ only”

She gawked at him mouth moving soundlessly a couple of time before she finally managed to speak “Spike. How? What? How? I mean you died, Buffy said you died. She said you burned up. Oh Buffy I need to tell her.”

He grinned at her babbling, he hadn’t smelled fear on her and was starting to worry. “Is that right? Your little Slayer told you I died, burned to a crisp in that god forsaken place” he shifted his weight and tilted his head to one side. “Well that I did, burned up right where she left me, so you can tell Bitchy the Vampire slayer that her old pal Spike is back and this time she’ll be the one coming out of this all dead.”

“What?” The redhead looked genuinely perplexed by the threat “Spike what are you talking about?”

“So long Red” He gave another cruel smile “Be seeing ya” and with that he was gone, leaping up onto a fire escape and disappearing into the rooftops.

………..

Willow ran, she ran faster than she had run for years, feet pounding on the pavement, breath coming in harsh gasps. Turning the corner of Buffy’s street she came to an abrupt halt. What the hell was she going to do, burst in and yell, “he’s alive, Buffy, he’s alive”.

He had bitten that girl, if Willow hadn’t of shown up he probably would’ve killed her. He had threatened Buffy. Okay that all add up to only one possible conclusion, she thought sadly, Spike has just pulled and Angelus on us.

Maybe it would be best not to tell Buffy right away, maybe tell… who? She wondered, they would try and protect her, take the decision out of the Slayers hand to save her pain. No she would have to tell Buffy, she had a right to know. But then again she had a lot on her plate with Marcus, not to mention the wedding.

As she moved slowly towards the house her brain buzzed with indecision, scenarios of action and consequence running over and over. Looking in she could see Buffy watching television in the lounge with Richard. She was snuggled against eyes riveted to the screen while he watched her profile adoringly.

Willow stepped back, the scene was so normal, so domestic. Buffy’s dream life. What if Dawn was wrong, what if it wasn’t all an act, she couldn’t take this from her friend, not knowing what a normal life had always meant to her.

Decision not made, but deferred she turned on her heel. Only to be stopped by a curious voice. “Willow? What you doin’?”

“Hey Dawnie, nothing, I’m not doing nothing. Just leaving” God would she ever be able to lie like an adult.

“Uh huh. Leaving without coming in?” No one in the world could do scepticism quite as well as Dawn Summers, eyebrows raised, tone condescending. No one that is except the master from whom she had learned the skill, not that that particular someone should be in the world at all.

“Er yeah, was gonna come and say hi, but Buffy and Richard where looking all snugly, so I, er, you know, I was leaving” Dawn didn’t need to speak to let Willow know that she was entirely transparent, the tilt of her head spoke volumes for her incredulity.

Looking at the younger Summers Willow was struck by a sudden realisation, dawn was no longer a little girl, she was an intelligent and shrewd young woman. Of all the Scoobies Dawn was the one who knew Buffy’s state of mind best of all. She would also put her sisters feelings before all else, while still having enough faith to let Buffy be her own master.

“Dawn, I need to talk to you, we have a problem, and I don’t know whether to tell Buffy, she has so much on her mind, and this is so awful for her, I mean last time she had to, and, oh that was bad, and now she’s got Richard, and Marcus is…”

“And thank you Willow, queen of the run on sentence” Dawns amusement died as she took in the Wicca’s worried frown.

“Okay Willow, from the beginning. Spill!”





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