Prague 1902

February...

He should be taking in the sights. He should be walking through the streets, drunk after a good kill with her by his side, admiring the buildings and comparing them to other parts of the world they'd visited. With more opportunities and more time to tour the Earth than any human, and with the chance to do so repeatedly as the world around him changed with the passage of time, Spike should have been enjoying his first trip to Prague. Instead he was alone, in pain, and utterly lost.

He watched the rats run around the little alleyway in which he was resting. He was becoming far too used to their company, spending much too long sleeping in abandoned buildings or tunnels with the rodents. Still, at least he hadn't resorted to eating the buggers…yet. Spike turned his attention to the entrance of the alley, casting those thoughts aside. He'd made it what—a year now? ...Had it really been an entire year?

Should have been dusted in the first few months. You've been warring with yourself over this every day. How much longer are you gonna crawl around Europe, slinking into the next little hole you can find until you slip up or wear out your welcome? You're pathetic, that's what you are, Willie-boy…Spike…vampire.

It was happening again. The alley was changing, contorting, reforming as an alley in London. A crow flew overhead, its harsh cry echoing into the night. Someone was approaching; a figure in shadow, a man. The stranger's cane tapped against the cobbled streets with each step. He stopped a few feet away from where Spike sat with his back to the wall. A low growl echoed around them. Spike started when the creature flung itself at the stranger, knocking him to the ground and letting out a savage roar. The cane flew out of the man's grip as he yelled in fright and clattered to the ground in front of Spike, rolling from side to side a little before settling.

Blood. The smell of it hit Spike's nostrils and flooded down his throat, causing his stomach to churn and rumble at the same time. He could taste the metallic liquid in his mouth and it made his fangs itch. Spike watched as the man's arms flailed about, uselessly beating at his attacker. His screams went on and on. The beast on top of him raised its head. A pair of yellow eyes gleamed out of the darkness, mocking Spike. Spike looked away, focusing on the cane in front of him. He heard a familiar chuckle and the man's screams intensified. Spike clapped his hands over his ears to drown out the sound but it was of little benefit.

Can't block out sounds inside your own head, mate.

Spike stared at the ground, counting to himself, waiting to see how long it would last this time. He became aware of footsteps close by and a rustling sound. A woman's blue skirt appeared next to the cane. The material rustled as she bent down. Spike kept his eyes glued to the cane. A pale, delicate hand reached out and picked up the item.

"My, my. Is this what's become of poor William? The grand hero, the secret Demon Hunter, the youngest of the feared Aurelians?" the woman asked.

Spike squeezed his eyes shut and continued to count. He could still hear her as she paced in front of him, tapping the cane on the ground as she continued to talk.

"So much potential, wasted. Now look at you. Hiding away in an alley with only your dirty little secrets for company. Ah, but the bloodlust is rising again, isn't it? The hunger. Time to feed, time to eat—to kill. Have been trying not to do that lately, haven't you? Poor lost little lamb, not as easy as one thinks; to stop before the well runs dry. A man dying of thirst in the desert will easily drown himself if given the opportunity."

She stopped moving. Spike willed himself to keep his eyes closed, but the feeling of her gaze on him was a compulsion he couldn't resist. Grimacing, he opened his eyes and raised his head. Anne smiled at him, twirling the cane in her hand.

"Shouldn't try to ignore me, you know. It's not nice. A mother might get the wrong idea. She might think you don't love her anymore. You could have made me so proud, William."

Spike swallowed hard and fought back the urge to speak to her. He was slipping far enough as it was without letting insanity take him completely. Not that he knew why he was bothering to fight it.

"Because that would be a sorry end for such a prodigy," Anne said. There was a sound of bones crunching as she assumed her vampire face and grinned at him around her fangs. "Such a beautiful animal you are. Could have made me proud. It's the least you could have done after taking the opportunity away from me, eh son? Didn't give your darling mum a chance even to taste a victim's blood before you dusted her."

Spike bent his head again and drew in a deep breath which he held. The cane was pointed at his chest an inch or two away from actually touching him.

"It's in there you see," she said, holding the cane over his heart. "The thing that won't let you rest. It was supposed to die. Disobedient child. Now you have to wait for the light."

The light? In there…Dru…

Spike jerked his head up, the question he tried to quell rising to his lips anyway, but Anne was gone. He was alone. He was alone in an alley in Prague. Spike growled and rubbed at his eyes. They were lasting too long now. They were too vivid. He couldn't hold on much longer.

Is this what it was like, Dru?

Voices again, only not in his head this time. Spike turned his gaze to the mouth of the alley. A couple passed by, arm in arm. They didn't so much as glance at the alley as they chatted on. Spike's nostrils flared and he closed his eyes again as he listened to their heartbeats. He released a low growl and used the wall to support him as he pulled himself to his feet. He wobbled a bit before he gained his balance. He let the demon out and stumbled out of the alley, silently following the couple.

***

He tried so hard. He even let the girl go. She screamed, and begged, and pleaded, and he let her run. He debated breaking the man's neck first. Quick, painless, but he'd fooled himself again. He'd told himself he could do it this time. There was plenty more where this one came from—no need to take a full meal in one go. He almost gagged again when it started flowing down his throat. It felt like that all the time now. That image—a broken body on a desk, another on the floor, blood pooling around it—but oh how it calmed the ache inside him when he drank.

It got easier after the initial taste—started to feel good again—familiar. He needed it. He couldn't fight his own nature. It felt like an age since the last time. He was so lost in the blessed sensation of feeding that he didn't notice that the man was failing. He pulled away and realized what he'd done as the body hung there in his arms, limp. He let the demon fall away and gritted his teeth, cursed, then let his victim fall to the ground. Felt bad about that too. Couldn't even leave the empty shell behind without it haunting him; it wasn't decent.

And since when do you give a fuck about decent?

…

Since when do you not?

Spike fled. He ran until he found himself in a cemetery. Surrounded by the dead—it was fitting. He found an empty crypt where he could hide and wait for another day to pass. Yet another restless day would go by, trying to understand what he was feeling—and what he wasn't and why that even bothered him. Sometimes he wondered what he was. He wasn't like other vampires, he knew that now. Not from what Angelus had told him about their breed. There was something inside him—something that shouldn't be there, and it was making him crazy. He longed for the peace again.

No more peaceful place, not with her gone. No walls up to keep whatever's inside you locked up.

Spike chuckled to himself as he lay down, preparing for sleep that wouldn't come.

Will it hurt, luv? Yeah. Hurts like hell, and it's only just starting.

***

She traced the engraved letters on the headstone with bare fingers, having removed her gloves. Her skin protested as it brushed against the icy stone, sending a shiver up her arm, but she ignored it.

Goodbye, mama. I'll visit again soon.

She'd lost track of the time again. Her father wouldn't be pleased if he noticed her absence once more. He had no complaints about her wishing to visit her mother's grave, although he had expressed a concern that she was spending too much time in the cemetery lately and ignoring life. Staying out after sunset was dangerous too, especially with all the disappearances lately, and it was certainly no place for a child, so she understood why he worried. She couldn't help it though. Despite what everyone told her, she only seemed to miss her mother more with each passing day.

Shivering a little, she pulled her gloves back on and began making her way out of the cemetery, weaving in and out of the headstones, not even looking where she was going. She'd memorized the path. She was so caught up in her own thoughts she didn't hear the stranger approach until he was only a few feet away. His sudden appearance made her jump. She squeaked and pulled her coat tighter around her.

"I'm sorry, sir, I didn't know anyone else was here. Excuse me," she said, bowing her head a little and attempting to turn and walk around him.

The stranger moved into her path again and she stopped, looking up at him. He was staring down at her and it made her uncomfortable. Nervous, she took a step back. The stranger growled at her and she felt her heart start to pound in her chest. A man shouldn't sound like that. He took a few steps forward and growled again. Feeling her breath catch in her throat, she panicked. He took a step closer; she knew she should run but found her legs frozen to the spot.

As he took another step she noticed his face didn't look right. His forehead was furrowed in an unnatural way, his teeth looked more like fangs, and his eyes…his eyes were a piercing yellow that locked with hers as the lips around those lethal fangs twisted into a smirk. The hideous sight of the creature finally broke through her paralysis and she turned and fled.

She could hear him following, growling all the while. She ran as fast as her legs could carry her, the cold air making her lungs burn, but she refused to slow down, terrified to look behind her and see how close he actually was. Tears began to blur her vision as she weaved through the cemetery in terror, trying desperately to put distance between herself and her pursuer. She cried out when her foot caught on something and she tumbled to the ground.

Pain shot through her knees and elbows where she'd hit the ground. She groaned in pain as she raised herself up on her hands and knees, and she grimaced. Still terrified of the thing chasing her, she whipped her head around and saw—nothing but an empty cemetery. He'd vanished. Breathing hard, she scanned her surroundings but could find no trace of the monster. Had she imagined him? He'd seemed so real…she couldn't possibly have envisioned anything that horrible, could she?

Picking herself up off the ground, she winced as pain shot through her body again. Her dress was stained from where she'd fallen and her scraped knees and wrists stung badly. She pulled back the cloth of her tattered sleeve and pushed her torn glove up a fraction to see the cuts on her arm and the bits of dirt and grass that were stuck to the bleeding skin. She hissed as she let the material fall back into place and took a step forward.

Another growl came from behind her and her body froze up. The noise rumbled again, much closer now and trembling, she turned her head. He was standing directly behind her. He'd come upon her so suddenly that she didn't even have time to wonder where he'd come from as he lunged. She screamed as she was knocked back to the ground again with him on top of her. She beat at his chest, crying out for help, her vision blurred as tears streamed down her face. Rough hands grabbed her arms and pinned them to the ground and he bent to her neck. She felt his fangs brush her skin and she screamed again loudly.

He snarled and she knew she was about to die. The thought of what her death would do to her father so soon after losing her mother flashed through her mind and she whimpered.

But death didn't come. Neither did the pain she'd been expecting.

She heard a grunt and a snarl and then the heavy weight above her vanished. There was a snapping sound nearby and a man shouted in pain. She opened her eyes to find herself staring up at the darkened sky, bare tree branches looming over her like claws.

Snarls and growls ripped through the air and she sat up, eyes widening when she caught sight of her attacker struggling with another man. The new arrival had his back to her, his clothes torn and dirty, his light brown hair tied loosely at the back. Her attacker lunged at the newcomer who spun quickly and kicked the beast away into the solid trunk of a nearby tree. She watched helplessly as they fought, barely aware of an internal voice urging her to run, far too captivated by the sight in front of her.

"She's mine! I saw her first. You should know better than to try stealing another vampire's meal," her attacker said, wiping at a cut on his cheek.

The newcomer maintained his battle stance in front of her, moving to block the monster every time he tried to circle around to get to her, and it slowly dawned on her that the stranger was protecting her. Her mysterious protector then said something undecipherable to his opponent. He must be a foreigner, she decided.

When he made some sort of gesture at her attacker, it provoked the beast and it lunged again. She squeaked in fear as the stranger was tackled by the creature, but he somehow managed to spin himself and the monster around as he was thrown backwards, so that the creature hit the ground first with her savior on top.

A headstone obstructed her view of the pair but she could hear the scuffle continue. By the time she'd managed to gather her wits and rise to her feet again there was a strange cry of pain, and suddenly only her protector remained. He was kneeling on the ground facing away from her, a broken branch in his hand and his head bowed. Cautiously, she drew nearer, stopping when he raised his head and stiffened.

"Is h-h-he g-gone now? Th-th-thank you. Thank you, sir," she stuttered.

The man stood up, keeping his back to her. He dropped the branch but remained tense. She took another couple of tentative steps forward, but paused when she saw his fists clench and his body tremble.

"Are you h-hurt, sir? Did that th-thing hurt you? M-my father—" she began when suddenly he spun to face her.

A scream rose in her throat, but she was too paralyzed with shock and fear to utter it. His brow was ridged, his eyes golden and predatory and fixed on her.

Her savior was another one of those creatures. She couldn't believe it. He growled low and threateningly and she started to shake. He screwed his eyes shut, the growl growing in volume. She began backing away. His eyes shot open and he snarled.

"Leave!" he commanded.

His order shattered whatever foolhardy fascination that had held her rooted to the spot, clearing her mind enough for the message Run! to finally get through. With a startled gasp she turned and fled, never once looking back. He didn't follow, but she didn't stop running until she reached home, where she fled for the safety of her room. She remained there for the night, refusing to speak to anyone about what had happened and causing them all great concern.

She spent a good many hours crying, both with relief that she was alive and out of fear of the monsters she now knew roamed out there. Later she would ponder the attack again, and the creature who had saved her and wonder why he'd done so. She didn't visit her mother's grave for almost two weeks after that incident, but when she did venture back, it was with more than a little curiosity about the beast that looked like a man.

***

"Do you ever do anything the traditional way?" the man asked, with more than a hint of amusement.

Spike gripped his hair so tightly it was painful, but it didn't distract him from the presence of his former comrade strolling about the crypt. The visitor scrutinized the small, dreary space with a critical eye, making conversation, as if this weren't some bizarre hallucination, his very presence impossible.

"Oh yes, forgive me, I almost forgot who I was talking to. Of course you don't." He chuckled and Spike began counting. "You are the one who abandoned the cushy job at the Council to become a Hunter, and the one who threw his life away to save people you later murdered in cold blood, although it would seem that wasn't entirely your idea, wouldn't it? Suppose I can't hold a grudge against you for that. Should give you the benefit of the doubt that you might have stayed away from us, eh, Willie-boy? Sorry, Spike. That's the frightful moniker you go by now, isn't it?"

Spike began rocking back and forth a little, forcing himself to concentrate on counting but it did nothing to drown out his latest tormentor.

"You'll have to give that up eventually, you know," the man remarked, "anyone would think you're mad if they were to see you at that."

Spike fought the urge to respond, a compulsion that was growing stronger with every passing second. A drawn out period of silence made him look up at last, hoping it was over, yet somehow knowing it wasn't. The brief hope died instantly when he saw Gray standing opposite him, looking down at him with pity.

"I've never been able to work you out you know, Willie—er, Spike. I thought I could get into your head but you really do baffle me at times. Your determination and foolhardy bravery was quite at odds with the chap who used to be a gutless poet. Oh, don't look at me like that; you know it's the truth."

Spike clamped his jaw shut, refusing to speak to the illusion. This was even more difficult than when his mother was the one haunting him.

"As a vampire you had Angelus truly stumped. Not a proper vampire at all, until your sire got inside your head, made all those nasty feelings disappear. Except the murderous bastard had it wrong, didn't he? It's not that you were incapable of any feeling. It's that you felt too much. Couldn't handle it, could you? Can't handle it now."

Gray hunkered down, meeting Spike's gaze at eye level. He cocked his head to the side, pondering the vampire. Spike stared back at him defeated, hoping the ordeal would be over soon.

"I have to commend you on leaving them behind. Not easy for you to do I imagine. I can see how staying with them might have been—distasteful, given what you're going through, but it might have been easier in the long run. They might have helped you forget."

Gray stood and resumed walking about the crypt, hands in his pockets. Spike followed him with his eyes, tracking his movements. The thought that this hallucination may never end, that he may have finally slipped into complete madness flitted through his mind, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

"What has me really stumped," Gray said, getting back on track, "is that girl the other day. You were out hunting, and what do you find? A tasty little morsel just asking to be devoured by some nasty beast, not a few feet from your front door. Charming place by the way, though the décor could use some work, perhaps a woman's touch," Gray commented, smiling as he admired the mess of cobwebs clinging to the ceiling and walls. "Anyway, there she is, being chased by an idiot fledgling and instead of snatching his kill out from under him to feed your own starving self—you save her."

Gray turned around and stared at Spike, looking thoroughly puzzled. Spike looked away. He wasn't sure himself what had happened that day.

"For months you've been trying unsuccessfully to feed without killing. Trying to suppress all those feelings that keep sinking in—everything you've done, and everything you haven't. Those desires to be compassionate, human—something that should be beneath a creature like you—something, perhaps, that's above such a monster."

Gray gave Spike a knowing smirk before turning serious again, staring the vampire down.

"Even worse, is feeling it inside you too; the demon that loves the hunt, the kill, and the violence. It's happy they died to feed it, satisfied that the hunger's abated for a while. You really are a study in contrasts. Let's be honest, it would drive anyone barmy."

Spike didn't need to hear this. He dealt with it every day. There wasn't a second it wasn't on his mind. But that was the problem, wasn't it? These illusions all came from him, from his mind, from that thing inside him that made him different, and it wouldn't allow him to forget.

"You weren't able to do it, weren't able to stop yourself before drinking them dry," Gray continued, "but that child comes along and you resist it. You wanted to tear her throat out, savor every drop of her sweet, innocent blood, but you let her go. That was probably the hardest part, wasn't it? Watching her run, every instinct inside screaming at you to chase her down like the predator you are, her blood pumping, little heartbeat pounding in your head—and you didn't do it. That," Gray said, smiling at Spike and raising one eyebrow, "is what you might call progress. There may be hope for you yet. Although it didn't stop you tearing into the next available throat."

Spike got to his feet and turned his back on the image of Gray. The sun had set. It was time for him to feed. He opened the door and stepped out, leaving Gray behind. He didn't get far before he caught the scent of a human close by. Stalking through the cemetery he closed in on his prey, and halted in his tracks when he spotted her.

The girl's small form was huddled before the grave as she knelt and reached out to the cold stone. Spike couldn't believe what he was seeing. Could she really be this stupid? He inhaled sharply in frustration and got a good whiff of the girl's scent, faintly familiar. She could be no more than twelve, yet twice now he'd seen her here by herself. The hunger was gnawing at his stomach again as he stared at the easy meal no more than a few feet away.

"Well this is interesting," Gray said, appearing suddenly beside Spike. "I suppose we'll see if that self restraint was just a fluke after all," he said, with a wink.

Spike growled at him and Gray vanished with a smile. A gasp in front of him drew Spike's attention back to the girl. She was standing now, having spotted him, her frightened green eyes widening. Spike watched her take a step back then pause, hovering between running and staying put. He growled again warningly, urging her to run despite his fear that he wouldn't be able to resist the chase this time, wanting her to get away before he gave in to the demon's hunger. He frowned when she balled her gloved hands into determined fists and raised her chin defiantly, steeling herself. He was unprepared for her sudden courage, well aware of her racing pulse and the fear rolling off her in waves. He was even less prepared for her to speak to him.

"It's you," she said.

Spike wasn't fluent in Czech by any means, but he'd learned enough while living on the fringes of Prague to have a basic conversation. Not that he ever thought he'd be having a conversation with anyone who wasn't a figment of his imagination anytime soon. Living as a solitary vamp was one reason he decided to actually pay attention and learn the basics, just in case he found himself in a situation where it was necessary.

"You don't look," she paused and gestured at her face, "you look huma—"

Spike shifted into vamp face and snarled, showing his fangs. He was satisfied to see her jump. She blinked a few times but held her ground, trying to force her breathing under control.

"I wasn't wrong," she said then, "you are a monster, I mean, you—"

Spike tilted his head, studying her, wondering what she thought she was doing.

"You saved me. The other day. That other creature tried to kill me and you stopped him."

So she thought he was different because he hadn't tried to tear her throat out. It made sense, he supposed. After all, he was still confused about why he'd let her go, but she was wrong. He was a killer. He just hadn't killed her for some reason. She was taking a huge risk. He should grab her now and drink from her, prove how lethal he was—and more than likely kill her.

She opened her mouth again to speak and Spike walked away, turning his back on her. If she wouldn't run then he'd leave.

After weaving around the weather-beaten tombstones and unlatching the rusty iron gate, he left the cemetery and was soon prowling the streets for his next meal. He slipped down a narrow, cobbled street when he realized he was being followed. He turned and caught sight of a flash of brown hair disappearing behind the alley wall as she ducked out of sight. Her curiosity would get her killed the stupid girl. Spike shook his head and carried on.

Just ahead, he spied a woman wearily picking her way home from work, unescorted. A maid perhaps.

His audience of one would soon learn what sort of creature he was. He stalked the woman for a while, before circling around in front of her and pulling her into a side alley. She hadn't time to scream before his hand clamped down on her mouth and he sank his fangs into her neck. She struggled and whimpered and he ignored her, fighting back that ever present urge to gag at the first taste of blood before it faded and the need to drain her took over. He took deep pulls of her blood, swallowing them down eagerly, his mind clouding over, registering nothing but the taste.

A strangled sound from the opening of the alley broke through his bloodlust.

Spike turned his gaze in that direction and saw the girl standing there, her mouth forming a disbelieving O, her eyes wide and focused on where his fangs were embedded in the woman's throat. The horror on her face struck him and Spike became aware of other things, such as the way the woman's attempts to push him away had weakened significantly. His victim's pulse was fading, she was losing consciousness. Spike knew he was taking too much, any more and she'd be dead. He pulled away, releasing her and watched her sink to the ground.

Spike panted hard as he stared at the woman's slumped form. He'd been about to kill her, just like the others. He hadn't even considered stopping this time, had given up the idea that he could, lost in his bloodlust. Something about seeing the girl had reminded him of where he was and what he was doing. He looked back at the child who was staring at the body. She swallowed and turned frightened, confused eyes towards him. She was alive because he'd resisted his urges once, now this woman at his feet was still alive because he'd pulled away.

Spike let the demon fade. His hunger abated, he began to think more clearly. He had no desire to finish the woman off, knowing she would become yet another ghost to haunt him afterwards.

All the memories resurfaced, all the killings, brutal and animalistic. All the nasty little things he'd done without once considering them, not with a wall blocking out these—emotions. He wiped at his chin and looked at the blood staining his fingers, took another look at the girl in her stunned state.

"Ooh, my pretty, look what you've done. My boy's forgotten what a beautiful killer he is. Innocence is calling to what makes him shine and hurt so good," a female voice said, hovering near the girl.

Spike staggered back a bit, staring as Drusilla appeared, bending down next to the girl, tracing a gloved hand around the child's long brown curls, bare inches away from touching them. His sire's image grinned at him.

"The killer and the poet, the villain and the hero, all wrapped up in one and blinded to their purpose. It's emerging. A long road to go, my Spike," Dru said, giving the girl another fond smile before rising to her full height and turning her mesmerizing eyes his way, "but you'll get there. There's hope for you yet."

Spike didn't wait to hear any more. He changed back into the demon and roared at the girl and she fell backwards with a frightened gasp. He ran past her, straight through his sire's image as it wavered and vanished, and disappeared into the night.