"I am sorry to hear that, but Spike doesn't do that sort of thing anymore." Anya smiled a little too cheerfully at her guest, Lena Petrovich. "Would you like another muffin? I made them fresh this morning. Xander really enjoys my muffins." Anya found the notion that past sins could come back to haunt you profoundly unsettling. She just hoped that none of the men she had . . . injured . . . had investigative skills.

"No." Lena shook her head. "No muffins. I am not hungry."

Xander's eyes filled with sympathy. He knew first-hand what it felt like to lose someone to the soul-challenged and undead. "So what did Buffy say about this?"

"She took me to see William the Bloody. They argued and the vampire attacked me. She did nothing to assist me. And I could do nothing to defend myself as she took my weapons from me before we visited the beast."

"That doesn't sound like Buffy." Xander's brow furrowed. "That doesn't sound like the new-and-improved Spike either."

"He did attack me. His demon emerged and he grabbed me violently. He then asked the Slayer if she was ‘afraid’."

"What did Buffy do?"

"She told him to stop it."

"Did he?"

"Yes."

"Then what happened?"

"We left. She let the creature go." Lena's eyes filled with anger as she remembered the Slayer's betrayal. "Please, Mr. Harris. Help me."

Xander shook his head. "Buffy explained about Chips Ahoy, right? The thing stuck in his head?"

Lena nodded tentatively. Buffy had mentioned something about a chip.

"Spike didn't seriously want to hurt you--just being his usual soulless self. If he tried to bite you for real? Hello, Excedrin! Trust me, Spike's neutered. That's why helping you . . . if we killed him, it would feel too much like . . ."

" . . .Murder?" Anya finished his sentence. "Another muffin, honey?"

***

Spike tried to sleep after Buffy left, but his drink-addled brain was in maximum overdrive. Her lips. So soft. Her neck. Her pulse fluttering nervously just underneath the surface. Her scent. The slightly salty taste of her skin.

"Uhhhhhh."

Sexual frustration was a many-splendoured thing, mate.

Try and think of something else.

Lena Petrovich. Actually felt sorry for her. Go figure.

OK, starting to feel sleepy now . . .

Then it hit him.

He had attacked her.

No migraine.

Had he really wanted to harm her or was he just bluffing? He had been so angry with Buffy that he couldn't remember.

When was the last time he'd tested the chip?

He couldn't remember that either.

What if it wasn't working?

Spike's mouth began to water. Human blood. Fresh. Not the stuff from Willy. Not the pig's blood from the butcher. The real, hot, succulent human stuff. Rich, coppery, flowing into his mouth, over his tongue, flowing gently from an exposed neck.

Unbidden, his game face appeared. Angrily, he shook it off. Right, Spike. Find a human. Hit him. See if it hurts.

Or he could find a human. Grab him. Sink his fangs deep into his neck. See if he could feed.

It's daylight now. Can't do anything.

Just have to wait.

But wait for what? If the chip didn't work anymore, it was over with Buffy. She'd never trust him to be good. She would stake him.

Right?

Spike sighed an unnecessary sigh and gave up on sleep.

***

Buffy cleaned. When Buffy was upset during daylight hours, that's what she did. Imposing order on chaos. In this case the chaos was represented by the mold growing on the grout of her bathroom. Must. Be. Obliterated. Viciously she sprayed the Tilex on the offending spores. Vigorously she scrubbed. But she still felt horrible.

The conversation with Angel had gone poorly. As usual he made her cry.

She knew that he wouldn't be able to leave it alone. He would come to Sunnydale. And she would have to face him. And then she would have to face what she felt for him.

Or didn't feel.

Things had changed. She had changed.

She loved Angel and always would. But maybe it was time to move on. Then why was it so hard?

The words of the First Slayer came back to her: "Risk the pain."

That's why. Because relationships are painful. And risky. Sometimes it's easier holding on to a fairy-tale fantasy than having something real, something messy.

Like Spike.

The situation with Spike was definitely messy. What did she feel for Spike? That was the million-dollar question.

Buffy began to scrub the sink, attacking the porcelain.

Lust. Definitely lust. She really needed to get over that bad boy thing. What had her mother told her? Bad boys are fun, but they usually aren't in it for the long haul.

But Spike would be. He was with Drusilla the wacko for over a hundred years. That took patience. If he could make that work then . . .

There is the whole psychopathic killer thing. Is he just a serial killer in a cage, or has he really changed? What if the chip came out? He wouldn't kill Dawn or me, but would he kill Xander? OK, probably not, even if he wanted to. But would he kill some homeless guy that wouldn't be missed? Could I be with someone like that? Could I accept all that just because he has razor-sharp cheekbones, and azure blue eyes that melt when he looks at me, and soft lips and . . .

"Uhhhhhh."

This is of the bad.

***

Sunset.

OK, Spike. What are you going to do? It's D-day.

What if I just found a homeless guy, someone who wouldn't be missed? See if I could take a little nip? I wouldn't kill him. Just a taste.

Spike felt his demon clamouring inside him, tempting him.

Right.

Spike left the crypt.

He didn't notice the blonde woman following him.

***

Lena Petrovich sat in her hotel room and contemplated her plan of action. She was beyond feeling.

She had started to get over the death of her parents. Then the phone call had come. Someone claiming to know where the killer was. Doctor Black. He had been so helpful . . .

All the pain came rushing back. She could not let it go. She wanted revenge. Maybe the Slayer and Xander Harris wouldn't help her. But she still had Doctor Black.

Calmly, she dialed his number.

"Hello?"

"It's Lena Petrovich."

"Lena! How did things go with Xander Harris? Will he help you?"

"No. He refused. I do not know what to do."

"You may not have to do anything. The situation may take care of itself."

"What do you mean?"

***

Buffy should be out on patrol by now. He'd just drop by and see the Niblet. He could talk to her about what to do. She wouldn't want him dead if the chip wasn't working.

Would she?

Spike walked past a darkened alleyway. If he took the alley, then he could get to Buffy and Dawn's house more quickly. It's just a shortcut.

Quickly he walked down the alleyway.

"Spare some change?"

A small, jaundiced looking man dressed in tattered clothing raised a styrofoam cup. "Hey buddy, got some change for a sandwich?"

Spike looked at the man. He had to know.

"I don't have any change, mate. But I may have something else for you."

The man looked in horror as a demon appeared before him.

"Nooooooo!"

Spike clamped a hand over the man's mouth and plunged his fangs into his neck.

No pain.

The blood flowed over his teeth, filling him with strength, filling him with power. So good.

Buffy.

He was a monster after all.

Buffy.

Suddenly the blood tasted rancid. Diseased. Stale alcohol. His teeth became blunt and the demon receded.

Spike considered the unconscious man and then walked swiftly away.

Lydia Higginbottom watched from the shadows. Her heart sank as she put her infrared camera away. She'd thought that he was different.

The Slayer needed to know. She needed to know everything.

End of Part 15

Continue to Part 16  

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