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Author's Chapter Notes:
Thank you to the glorious Sanityfair and to Puddinhead, for letting me bounce ideas off her puddiny head.
Drusilla was hovering just out of his reach, suspended by white cobwebs. They were in that dance hall with the sawdust on the floor, the sweat of the collected crowd hanging in the air as the people churned against each other. Spike could taste the grain alcohol. He'd always liked the bootleg stuff because he had to drink so much less before it took hold. Dru was dangling like a dusty tear drop while the dancers kept moving underneath her, singing with that other woman's voice, that blues singer Rosie always liked. She sounded clear like a honeyed bell.

"Papa if you can't do better, I'll let a better papa move right in—"

Then suddenly he was back in the wheelchair again, half his face a mask of burns while Drusilla fucked Angelus in what had lately been their bed. This was a memory twisted by the dream to heighten his pain. Instead of being downstairs in the mansion as he had been at that moment he was watching them twist in the gold linens, her white limbs long and thin and wrapped around Angelus' waist. Drusilla's dark hair was fanned out on the pillow and her light, blue eyes seemed to burn into the male vampire's hooded gaze.

They would have been beautiful if they'd only been strangers.

"Sssh...don't wake lovely William—"

"But that's the best part, making you scream. When was the last time that nancy made you wail, Dru?"

"Not like you, papa, never like you—"

As he watched them Spike felt someone sitting beside him and realized it was Drusilla. Another Drusilla just as pale and perfect as the one writhing on the bed.

"Does it make it easier remembering me this way?" she asked, tilting her head, sucking in her narrow cheeks and pooching out her lips like a duck's bill. It was a face she'd pull when Drusilla wanted to make him laugh.

"It's not funny, Dru. Besides, you know nothing makes it better," Spike said.

"Nothing but her. She was already part of you then, making your heart squish and smash against your chest like a real boy. But you're not my brilliant, broken thing. You'll never be more than the knife that hangs above her head," Drusilla said.

Just then the other Drusilla, the one on the bed riding Angelus's cock, shrieked to rouse the dead.

Spike dutifully woke with a jolt. He was on the fine double bed in the dark bedroom he'd chosen. A blade of light was searing through the edge of the boarded window, so he knew it was still daytime. After Angel had left, Spike repaired the door, then wandered upstairs. He'd shed all his clothes but the black, leather gloves. Must look a bit kinky he thought with a half smile. The injuries on his hands were mending slowly and they itched. He could almost feel each thorny cell divide.

Spike got up and dressed slowly, minding his hands. After pulling up his jeans and arguing with the fly for a few, painful minutes, Spike decided to remove the gloves. He tugged them off with his teeth and had a look at his hands. The underlying skin was chalk white, striated with hot, red slashes. He fastened his slacks, opening the wounds again, then pulled on a black t-shirt. Spike eased the gloves back on and made his way downstairs.

He'd just heated up a mug of blood and tucked in when he heard a polite knock. Spike knew by scent who he'd find before he dragged open the door.

"Hello Rupert," Spike said.

"Hello Spike," Giles said, coolly with a hint of command.

Giles was dressed in his casual clothes, a pair of light, beige slacks and a gray sweater. In one hand he held a worn, leather briefcase. Incongruously, in the other the watcher gripped a wooden walking stick with a glass bulb for a handle. Suspended in the clear bauble were what looked like long, thin pearls. After a moment, Spike realized they were fangs.

Spike gulped.

"Feeling a tad infirm?" Spike asked, glancing at the dark, wooden cane.

The watcher grinned.

"Just wanted to be prepared. May I come in?"

"Sure, here for tea?" Spike asked, stepping aside to let Giles pass. Giles went inside and surveyed the room.

"Not exactly, but I did bring biscuits," Giles said.

"Chocolate?" Spike asked, his interest genuinely piqued.

"And raspberry filled," Giles said happily, as though he'd been waiting all day for an excuse to eat the cookies, "has Buffy mentioned my wish to interview you?"

Spike scuffed his toe on the floor, wondering how long it would take him to pull up that rust and gold colored, diamond patterned rug.

"No, last time she was here we didn't get much of a chance to talk," Spike said.

The stricken look on Buffy's face when she pulled him into a hug made Spike want to go to her right then, damn the sunlight. It had taken all his composure not to follow her the night before, but he sensed another member of the undead tribe would be the last thing she wanted for comfort. The vampire glanced up, realizing that the watcher was reading into his silence.

"Welcome to my abode," Spike said, then swept his arm grandly toward the living room.

Giles walked to the futon and sat down.

"It's very um, tidy, in here and dare, I say, cheerful?" Giles asked.

"Nothing about me has every been remotely cheerful," Spike said as he glided into the room and took a seat beside Giles.

"'Spose not. I had a list of questions for you," Giles said as he rummaged through his satchel, "starting with something Buffy mentioned, about hunger making a creature such as yourself 'sentimental.' I believe that's how you put it."

Giles plucked a red, leather bound notebook and a Mont Blanc pen easily worth three hundred dollars out of his bag. Spike didn't even have the urge to nick the pen, which he figured probably meant he wasn't long for this world.

"Right," Spike said, patting himself down in search of his cigarettes and settling onto the lumpy futon cushion, "now this is a bit like when magicians give up the mechanics of the trick. If another vampire found out I was spilling to you lot, I'd be dust."

"Would you prefer I didn't put your name to this?" Giles asked.

"S'alright, Rupert. I'll go on record, just don't go singing from the mountain tops," Spike said as he slid his pack of smokes out and retrieved one of the cigarettes with his lips, "you probably know most vampires that don't eat go mad, but what no one likes to share is the small number of us who get a raging case of empathy. It's a crap shoot, really, which type a vampire will be. Not sure if it's to do with the personality of the person or of the demon who takes up residence. Most of the gentle ones don't make it past the first few days anyway, seeing as they wake up famished and don't want to eat. Then the hunger drives the cycle on and they CAN'T eat. Most of them wander into the sun or get cacked by their sire."

As he spoke, Spike was trying to ignite the silver Zippo he'd picked up off the floor, but the gloves wouldn't allow for finesse. Giles casually took the lighter, worked the mechanism and lit Spike's cigarette without comment. Spike nodded his thank you as he pulled in lungs full of smoke. Spike could feel the sting of the burn going on inside and later the tingle of it healing, making smoking a double pleasure. Triple, if Spike counted the disapproving look on Rupert's face.

"Dru would have gone that route if she hadn't been force fed. I may have, too, but Drusilla coaxed me into drinking from her own vein. Once I was fixed up good and proper, she took me out, showed me what to do. After that I was only hungry once in my life before we came to Sunnyhell and your girl dropped a pipe organ on me. That's how Buffy was able to get to me—after Angelus came back," Spike said, noticing the watcher's heart rate increased at the mention of the vampire who'd wreaked so much havoc on his life, "Dru stopped bringing me blood. I had to get it myself or do without. Buffy started taking root then, a tiny light slowly nudging at the dark. Didn't know what it was until Drusilla made me choose, though."

"This other time of hunger sounds significant. Can you elaborate?"

Spike exhaled a white plume.

"It was a long time ago."

"Do you have an approximate date?"

"Nineteen twenty three. I remember it being hot, so probably summer. Dru left me for the first time. Said I wasn't...she said some things which don't need to be cherished in your spindly hand for posterity. Can't remember how the tiff started, just how it ended—with me on my ass, thrown in broad daylight from a moving train. At least she tossed my luggage after so I could cover up a little before I roasted. Somehow rolled under the porch of a farm house. Couldn't move so well because of the burns. I lived on rats and other animals unfortunate enough to share that shadow with me. When I finally looked like a man again I crawled out and made my way into the city. Rented a room and fixed myself up. Realized I was in miserable, bloody St. Louis. Met a girl," Spike said, taking a long drag.

"I expect you met a lot of girls," Giles said, softly, looking at Spike over his glasses.

"Not then. Rosie was the only one for a long while," Spike said, realizing with a stab of guilt he hadn't said Rosie's name in almost seventy-five years. Another trip down memory lane, courtesy of the slayer Spike thought, ruefully.

"Was this another vampire, then, because there's no record of you, um, partnering with anyone but Drusilla."

"Rosie was human," Spike said, crushing out his cigarette with his fingertips. Spike felt along the floor and picked up a metal peppermint box. He opened the lid and stuffed the butt inside before snapping the top shut again. Throughout, Giles stared at him with his mouth sagging in shock.

"How did you meet the young lady?" Giles asked, his pen doing a lolling step across the page.

"Does it matter?"

"It would be best to have as much detail as possible," Giles said.

Spike rubbed his forehead and looked away.

"She was a prostitute. Didn't mean she wasn't a good girl. Just had a hard life. She was only seventeen when I found her and already a widow. Her husband was older and beat her. Rosie would run away and he'd drag her back until she ended up braining the worthless berk with a fire poker one night. She couldn't really love a man after that...probably why me bein' the way I was didn't matter to her."

"She knew you were a vampire?"

"Yeah, but I never bit her if that's what you're wondering. I ate only bagged blood when we were together because I knew if I had a taste of the good stuff it would end with my fangs in her throat. First night I saw the girl she was standin' there in this tawdry purple dress with fat, blue roses smattered over it. No stockings, no shoes. I thought she'd be an easy meal, get me back into the swing of killing. But she was so good when she shouldn't have been. After breaks like those she could still give. Was amazed that I was English, thought it was the cat's meow seein' as she'd never been anywhere. She was so...soft. Made me sick to think she'd pawned her body every night, so I took Rosie out of that life. I stole for her, treated her like a queen and she would have done anything for me out of gratitude," Spike said.

He could imagine Rosie in sharp detail; her dark brown skin with her pale palms, her wild black eyes and wide, red grin. Her lips were always red, even when he'd rub away her lipstick. Her hair had been such a pleasure to touch, when she'd let it out of her pin curls. Spike remembered the way she'd rest her head on his chest and he'd stroke her hair, drawing in the scent of her. Rosie smelled like saffron beneath her honeysuckle perfume.

"How long were you with her?" Giles asked.

"More than a year. We'd move from place to place which was why it took so long for Drusilla to find me."

"Did you kill the girl, Spike?"

Spike let out a scoffing laugh.

"Might as well have. We were at this gritty, little speakeasy, one of the few black and tans in the state. Normally we'd just hit the demon bars when we went out because the monsters were much more tolerant of our little affair than the human population, but she wanted to see her favorite singer. We were dancing when Drusilla and Darla walked in the place. I sent Rosie back to our boarding house and told her not to invite anyone into our room. She took one look at Drusilla and knew somehow, knew I was gonna fail her. Rosie asked for all the money in my wallet and I gave it to her. The way she looked at me when she was walking out the door...like the last part of her heart had died.

'I should've followed her, but seeing Dru knocked me flat. She was more beautiful than anything I'd ever seen. Had on this white costume with fringe and spangles; like she was dressed in new fallen snow. Dru said she wanted me back and at first I tried to play it cool. Then she kissed me with blood on her mouth and fed me from her own wrist, just like the first time. Darla came up to us, I thought she was going to say something cruel but she offered me her throat. She'd never, ever done that when we were scourging Europe, her secrets were only for the great git. After that, I crumbled. The three of us ended up slaughtering the whole room."

Giles' eyes took on a steely aspect and he clenched his jaw. Spike's smile creased his cheeks in an ugly way and his chin bucked subtly, as though offering Giles a challenge.

"That's right, I was every bit the demon after one swallow. It wasn't just the blood though. It was wanting back that life with Dru. Rosie was delicate. I could never really unleash it with her, you know, the full strength of what I was. I was living like a petty con man, but I'm a warrior, a bruiser. I was always spoilin' for a fight. Could only be half myself with Rosie and the rest was aching for an outlet. So I left without sayin' goodbye, like a right prick. She was arrested two days later. Died of tuberculosis while she was in prison serving a life's sentence for her husband's murder," Spike said.

Giles was quiet and his face became a grave contortion of rough brow and pursed lips.

"If you were to taste human blood again, would you revert back to the hunt?" Giles asked.

"Didn't Buffy tell you she fed me from her own hand a few nights ago?"

"She did."

"So you're asking if I've killed since then?"

"Yes, I am."

"No, I'm still baggin' it."

"Why?"

"Cause I'm not gonna hurt Buffy, and killing other people hurts her. The slayer's all I've got left of Dru, if that makes any sense. I'm not still muddy behind the ears like I was back then. My control is stronger, I don't get a hard-on every time a pretty neck waltzes by," Spike said, with a shrug.

Giles swallowed a smile and continued scraping out his notes.

~*~*~*~

Out of all her friends, Willow had been Angel's biggest booster. That "kick his ass," comment not withstanding, Willow had even championed Angel after he was evil. She'd saved his soul, nearly killing herself in the process. Maybe for those reasons as Buffy sat on Willow's brightly colored bed and told her about what had happened the night before, Willow looked just as crushed as Buffy felt.

"It was like I didn't exist anymore, Wills. There was only Angel's voice in my head telling me to stay still and wait for him. The worst part was being perfectly content to kneel there. Not happy just, you know, completely accepting my fate. He did that with one touch," Buffy said.

Willow smoothed her red hair behind her ears, tears magnifying her large, green eyes.

"But Angel loves you," Willow said, plaintively.

"That didn't feel like love," Buffy said, quietly.

"What are you going to do?" Willow asked.

Buffy didn't know how to respond. She looked away from Willow's pained expression down at the pale blue, glass ring she'd stuck on that morning. The front of the ornament covered an entire joint of her finger and was incredibly fragile. One, swift slay and the band would crack in half. The accessory was something Buffy had worn a lot before she came to Sunnydale but had put away because it didn't fit with her life anymore. She wasn't sure what had compelled her to retrieve it from her jewelry box, but looking down at the ring made her feel silly now.

"Spike suggested there might be a spell to remove the blood bond. I would need your help—"

Willow was nodding, excited to finally have something tangible to work on.

"Easy peasy, I mean, I'm getting so much stronger with my magic. We could definitely find a spell that would fix this. Giles will know something," Willow said, taking both of Buffy's hands. The gesture made Buffy pull her friend into a hug.

"He's already on it with Giles-like efficiency. I guess he's interviewing Spike right now," Buffy said. They untangled from the hug and Buffy looked at Willow's changing expression.

"What's with the scrunch face? Normally that signifies confusion," Buffy asked.

"That's very perceptive of you Miss Summers," Willow said, using her substitute teacher voice, "I was just thinking that before Angel went all Svengali you trusted Spike to be the one to protect you. The feeding stuff could be explained away by the naughty tingly inclinations, but I don't think...I mean you let SPIKE hold a sword to ANGEL'S throat. I don't know how this blood bond stuff works but shouldn't you have been more trusting of Angel seeing as he's the love of your life and the one who, you know, actually bit you?"

Buffy's hand flew to cover her scar, as though Willow had just walked in on her changing and Buffy was moving to conceal her breasts. Willow's eyes widened at her friend's obvious discomfort.

"I'm sorry should I not have said?"

Buffy waved both hands in a universal gesture of no.

"Not at all. I'm not used to being all open about the way I feel. Normally, I like to be, you know, private but now, again, my love life is a public safety concern," Buffy said.

"Hold on, love life and Spike in the same sentence?"

"No, I mean, I don't—there's not going to be any Spike and me lovin' in my life because I know the way he makes me feel isn't real, it's like a trap. Not that he even set the trap, though, in fact he's helping me get out of the trap—"

"Explain to me when the trusting him started and try using words other than trap," Willow said.

Buffy took a deep breath.

"After the truce with Spike, I knew how far I could count on him. Like there was this line in the dirt that I couldn't cross, but as long as Drusilla was at stake, he'd work with me. Then, he showed up out of the blue when all the adults were getting their adolescence on and rescued a room full of babies. The line moved a little farther, and I knew we could trust him when money was a factor. He brought us Anyanka and the line kept scooching."

"Alright, there's been some line creep, when did you decide to trust him with your life and Angel's?" Willow asked.

"I didn't...I didn't think Angel would be able to control me that way. I thought I'd be strong enough and he would love me enough that the evil mojo wouldn't work. So I guess I wasn't convinced about Spike until after it was all over and he was holding me," Buffy said, her face burning red at the shame of her naivete, "Spike saved both of us."

"Wow," Willow said.

"Yeah, and now I'm more certain of a soulless vampire than I am of myself. All of you guys are looking to me to stop the random apocalypse and I can't believe what's in my head," Buffy said.

"Yes, you can," Willow said, patting Buffy's hand, "we'll make it right, promise and Oh!," Willow smacked the hand she'd just been caressing as her eyebrows shot up and her eyes got a glow, "I know exactly where to start. The Vampyrica and Demonic Dialectics."

"Diuretics, what, like coffee?"

"Dialectics, goof, although I prefer silly Buffy to nervous breakdown Buffy," Willow said.

"Me too," Buffy said, turning the garish ring on her finger.

~*~*~*~

Buffy and Willow were about to knock on Spike's door when he answered.

Buffy noticed immediately his shirt was splattered in red. Buffy's heart lurched and she was swallowed by panicked self-recrimination. How could she have let Giles be alone with Spike, what was she thinking? Spike seemed to read her and his smile disappeared. In the next instant, Xander was suddenly behind the vampire wearing a Bananarama t-shirt also speckled in red and holding a roller saturated with the same shade. Of paint.

"Hey, I was just helping Spike with the vampire gentrification," Xander said, grinning.

"Since when were you Mr. Helpful when it comes to Spike?" Willow asked.

"Since he gave me a PlayStation and any games I wanted for slapping up some semi-gloss."

"I'm still trying to wrap my brain around the you stopping by Spike's house part," Buffy said, not able to pull her eyes from Spike's and wanting to apologize, but not knowing why.

"Giles asked me to stop by after work to pick up some book. Anyway, let me finish cleaning up so you get the full effect," Xander said before moving away from the doorway and resuming his work.

"Would you mind stepping in, ladies, discretion is the better part of valor. No need to alert every beastie in earshot I'm keeping house," Spike said.

"I think they know already. Willy said the demonic neighborhood watch isn't pleased."

Buffy passed the threshold with Willow in tow. Spike shut the door after them and nodded.

"Had a welcoming committee. They didn't drop off a fruit basket, but that's all part of bein' big bad. Take enough of them out and everyone will be afraid to follow," Spike said, putting a gloved hand on the small of Buffy's back. The touch was so comforting that Buffy's initial reaction was to melt into his side, followed by the violent rejection of the urge as she remembered it was a trick of the bond. She moved away from him as tactfully as she could.

"So what do you think of the new digs?" Spike asked, pretending he didn't notice the distance she was so keen on putting between them.

"Actually, it's pretty cozy," Buffy said.

"And a whole lotta red," Willow said.

"There was more red, but I decided to put the Persian rug in the bedroom, it sort of clashed with the carpet," Spike said.

Buffy wondered briefly what Spike's bedroom looked like, before she focused greater attention on the room where they stood. The walls were a shade of brick red that actually made the carpet bearable. The wall sconces that resembled candles had seemed so garish before, but contrasted with the new color they took on a warmer, old-fashioned quality. The railing leading up the steps was still white, but looked better without the Christmas lights. All the Klimts and Monets were gone,too. The house was beginning to look like a space where a grown up would live.

Xander finished throwing the used painting implements into a black, plastic garbage bag and rejoined the group, standing next to Willow.

"I've got some floor length, gold curtains, very posh. Once it's dry in here I'll hang them up, pretend I still have windows," Spike said, unconsciously drifting closer to Buffy.

"Where did you get paint?" Buffy asked.

"Found it in the basement. Why they stole paint is anybody's guess, but I figured since it was here I might as well sort the place out," Spike said.

"It's so weird that you're nesting, I'm wondering when you're going to send out cards letting us know you have a registry at Pottery Barn," Buffy said.

"Just 'cause I'm a vampire doesn't mean I want to sleep in a coffin mounded with dirt. Did you get down on Angel 'cause of all the pseudo Japanese art he had? I mean that git lived in a bloody mansion," Spike said, gesturing with one flailing hand.

"I'm not getting down on you," Buffy said, tapping Spike's chest lightly, which calmed him,"it's cute in a bizarro kind of way."

Spike grinned.

"So you think I'm cute, do ya?"

Buffy opened her mouth and closed it again, then looked across to her two best friends. For their part, Willow and Xander couldn't hide their puzzlement. Willow turned away from the vampire and slayer to face the dark haired boy at her side.

"Right, so what book did you need to pick up for Giles?" Willow asked.

"The one by that du Lac guy," Xander said.

Buffy pegged the request as Giles' attempt to suss out Spike's intentions.

"I left it at the warehouse, had to go through the tunnels. Won't do a bit of good without the key, but I 'spose we can search for it in the ruins of the church some night," Spike said.

"Why did Giles say he needed that?" Buffy asked.

"The bite on your neck. He thought there might be something in there. He's welcome to look, but that thing was so convoluted, like reading scripture off the head of a pin," Spike said.

"Spike, we were hoping you could come patrol with us," Buffy said.

"Love to, kitten," he said, almost bashful.

"What about you, Xan, up for a little slayage?" Willow asked.

"No, I've got a date with Dav, she's making Moroccan tonight," Xander said.

Spike turned from Buffy to shoot Xander a smile.

"Dating that bird from the alley?" Spike asked.

"You make it sound so naughty when you say it like that," Xander said with his own, much more satisfied grin.

"I keep forgetting you've seen her, what's she like? Xander's afraid to introduce us," Willow said.

"I'm not afraid," Xander said.

"She was a pretty, lots of red hair, about yay high," Spike said, holding his arm up to demonstrate the height of Dav.

"And she can cook, so what's the deal? Are you afraid I'm going to reveal embarrassing stories from your kindergarten days because I promise I won't. I mean she can't be any worse than Cordelia, can she?" Willow asked.

Xander gave her a reproachful look and then brought his hands together index finger to index finger as though it would better explain his point.

"I just want to make sure things are alright with me and Dav before I subject her to the full Scooby experience. Some people love the danger of nightly cemetery jaunts whereas others just want to stay home and watch Iron Chef," Xander said.

While they spoke, Buffy continued to think about Spike's rough, elongated tongue traveling over her throat and wished she knew how to make it stop.

"So, are we ready to head out?" Buffy asked.

The others nodded in agreement and headed out the door. Buffy stopped Spike with a touch to the arm before he could leave.

"I have something of yours," she said, slinging the black backpack from off her shoulder. Buffy unzipped the bag and pulled out his leather jacket. Spike whipped the heavy coat on like a cape.

"Still smells like you," he said, softly, looking like he might puncture the distance between them to give her a kiss.

His presence made Buffy completely flustered.

"We should go kill something ancient and evil now," Buffy said. She scurried out to join her friends who were waiting with dwindling patience in front of the frat house.

"At your service," Spike said, more to himself than to her.


Chapter End Notes:
The song lyrics are from another Rosa Henderson tune, "Papa If You Can't Do Better."



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