With over a hundred years of experience, it only took a moment to scan the pub and assess the patrons. While the place called itself a pub, it was closer to an American club. Mostly full of tourists, mixed with a few young Brighton locals looking for an uncomplicated one-night stand. He quickly identified a few girls he’d likely be able to lure out, but they would take some time. The better choice was the college-aged boy sitting off by himself in a shadowed corner. Given the way he’d been staring at Spike since he’d come in, he was clearly already interested.

Easy prey, he thought as he sauntered towards the corner table. Even sitting down, the boy was obviously tall, built like an American footballer with a ruggedly handsome face. Not really Spike’s type, but that wouldn’t stop him from flirting enough to get the boy completely alone and make a quick meal of him. Dru had warned him to be careful tonight and not to stay out too long. He hadn’t the time to be choosy.

The boy’s expression sharpened as he approached, interest with a hint of boredom. Not someone who would appreciate typical flirting, Spike decided as he stopped at the table. Acting on impulse, he grabbed the boy’s pint and finished it off while making and holding eye contact. Then he put the empty mug back down before claiming the empty seat.

“Way you were staring,” he said with a smirk, “figured you owed me a drink.”

The boy looked startled at the sound of his voice. Either he hadn’t expected someone in England to have an English accent, or…. Spike fought the urge to roll his eyes. Probably figured I’d have a higher voice. Young people these days. No culture and couldn’t tell the difference between punk eye makeup and someone trying to look feminine. He considered getting up and finding someone else, but Dru’s warning kept him in place. He didn’t always understand everything she said, but he always listened.

“Is that so?” the boy responded in an American accent. Not really enough words to tell for certain, but Spike thought he sounded like he was from the Midwest.

“Mmmhmm.” He glanced around the pub before making eye contact again. “Maybe I’m wrong, but you don’t seem like the sort who’d enjoy spending his night in a tame little pub catering to tourists.”

“Maybe not. You have a better suggestion for how to spend my night?”

“Oh, definitely. And it begins with leaving this dump for somewhere more… exciting.”

“Well, considering I seem to be done with my drink,” a look of amusement crossed the boy’s face as he glanced at his empty mug, “I don’t see why not. Let’s go.”

Easy prey, Spike thought again as he stood and led the way out of the pub. A moment later, they were outside, only a few feet from a dark alley. Perfect. No one else about, so he could just—

A sudden, hard shove into the alley, followed by disorientation as he was spun around and his back slammed against the wall, his wrists pinned above his head. Before Spike could process what had just happened, the boy’s body was pressed tightly against his and obviously happy to be there.

“Sorry, mate, but I’m actually taken. Granted, I can see why you’d assume otherwise, considering the flirting, but that was just because I wanted to eat you.”

The words popped out almost on their own as he struggled to push the larger man away. It should have been simple. A vampire against someone who smelled completely human? No bloody contest. Except that lack of contest was going in the wrong direction. He couldn’t even manage to budge the single hand holding his wrists. Panic stirred, but he ruthlessly clamped down on it and shoved it away. This wasn’t exactly the first time he’d been at the mercy of a horny bastard. He could handle it.

“I don’t care what your intentions were,” the man said with a soft chuckle. “You’re a pretty little thing, and I intend to have some fun.”

Spike forced himself to take calming breaths. It won’t be that bad. No matter what this wanker actually is, he can’t be any worse than Angelus in a mood. The thought was both reassuring and not. Angelus had been sadistically creative when it came to causing pain, but his grandsire had also cared about him in his own admittedly fucked up way.

“First though,” the man continued, “I think it’s time for a snack.” He leaned in, nuzzling the side of Spike’s face. “Though from what I can sense, you’re going to be a nice, filling meal.”

Then he kissed him.

A flash of light, followed by white hot agony as clawed fingers of power ripped through him, tearing away part of what made him who he was. Left utterly defenseless, Spike screamed as pain and terror swallowed him whole.

“So… um… do you speak French?” Oh god, that was awkward. Buffy stared down at her shoes as her cheeks heated. She was the Slayer. She should be cool, calm, and collected. Not babbling like a dumb kid at the vampire walking with her through a playground. “I, uh, promised Willow I’d practice. And since she’s helping me come up with ideas for that whole parent-teacher night thing….”

She trailed off, wishing a vampire or something would show up. Fighting she could handle. Figuring out possible boyfriend stuff? Not so much.

“Oui, je parle Français,” Angel said quietly, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

Before she could mentally translate, she heard a sound behind them, followed by a voice.

“Pourquoi parle-t-on Français en Amérique? Vous attendez-vous à une invasion depuis Québec? Ou un troupeau de Cajuns?”

There was a man sitting on the plastic slide. She hadn’t exactly been focused on her surroundings, but she was pretty sure he hadn’t been there a moment ago. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Angel tense, but she ignored it, studying the new guy. White, tousled curls and a long black coat over an unbuttoned red dress shirt. Under that was a black t-shirt tucked into black jeans. Haunted blue eyes were fixed on her, watching her every move. He looked vaguely familiar, like maybe she’d seen him at The Bronze or something.

“Spike.” Angel stepped forward, putting himself partially between her and what she was fairly sure was another vampire.

Of course he’s a vampire, she thought grumpily. Okay, so she’d been wishing for one to show up, but not one that had Angel going all tense. And not one that was seriously hot. Whatever happened to vampires who didn’t bathe and dressed like escapees from the worst of the disco era fashion trends?

“Hello, Angelus.” Despite the French, the new vamp’s accent was British. He shifted his gaze to Angel, suddenly looking wary. “Didn’t expect to find you with the Slayer, but that just makes things easier.”

“What are you doing here? Where’s Drusilla?”

Spike shrugged. “Not here, as far as I know. She dumped me months ago, and I haven’t bothered to keep tabs.”

His tone and body language implied he wasn’t exactly broken up over the dumpage, though Angel’s frown made it seem like there was something wonky about that. Yeah, because I so totally know Angel well enough to make that call, she thought sourly. He could just have gas or something. Did vampires even get gas? He’d probably consider it too personal and vanish into the night if she ever asked.

She shook her head to clear away the random thoughts and forced herself to focus. Spike was watching her again. No, not watching exactly. Making eye contact, like he considered her more important than Angel, even though they obviously knew each other. Angel had distracted him, but he was there to speak to her.

“As for why I’m here,” he said, as if she’d been the one to ask the question, “I’ve been researching a right nasty group that’s starting to set up shop in town. Once they’re firmly in place, they’ll start nabbing demons for experimentation. The good, the bad, and the ugly.” He gestured vaguely in Angel’s direction, smirking slightly. Then the smirk was replaced by a serious look. “They don’t care. And they likely won’t care that a slayer is more or less human.”

Her mouth went dry. More or less human. More than human because of the strength, speed, and healing. Less than human because….

She stepped forward, moving until she was standing between Spike and Angel. “Oh, how convenient. I catch you eating someone, and you can just claim they’re part of this group and a threat.” She pulled a stake out of her pocket.

“Whoa, Slayer,” he held out his hands in a stopping motion, “not here to fight or to step on your toes. Haven’t hunted since I’ve been here, and I don’t plan to. There are a couple of bars in town that sell human blood, no death involved. I’ve been buying my meals at a place called the Alibi Room for the past week. It’s run by a bloke named Willy. You can ask him about it yourself.”

“I will,” she said, fighting the urge to put her stake away.

Something about the vampire was oddly… honest. Like he could lie easily if he wanted to, but would rarely bother. She frowned slightly as a memory popped into her head. She had seen him before, and it had been at The Bronze. He’d been mingling and talking to a few people, but hadn’t noticeably tried to get anyone alone. In fact, the main thing that stood out was him jerking away when a woman had reached out to touch his arm. If he’d been hungry at the time and really wasn’t feeding directly from humans….

She felt something inside her relax, though Angel looked even more tense.

“You expect us to just believe all that?” Angel asked. “What’s the game here? You distract us while Dru does whatever she brought the two of you here for?”

“Keep up with the conversation, Gramps,” Spike said. “Slayer already has plans to check what I’ve been up to. And I told you the truth about Dru. Something… happened a few months back.” His voice had gone quiet, and there was a strange, faraway look in his eyes.

There were a few moments of silence, then he took a deep breath and flashed them an obviously forced smile. “But enough about that. I didn’t come empty handed. Brought you a bit of a peace offering.”

He hopped off the slide and sauntered towards the play fort. And then Buffy’s heart felt like it froze in her chest as he pulled out a bound and gagged little boy.

Oh god. How could she have been so stupid? Angel clearly hadn’t trusted him, and she’d just… ignored it. Let the blond vamp get past her defenses. Her entire body tensed as she watched the boy struggle. Was there any chance of getting to him before Spike killed him? Could she–

The world seemed to tilt and settle back into a different configuration as she recognized the boy and realized he was no innocent child. At least, not anymore.

“Scuttlebutt about town is that the Annoying One here has been a thorn in your backside.” He held the boy up and shook him slightly before pulling a stake out of his coat. And in less than a second, the monster she hadn’t been able to bring herself to kill was dust. “When I showed up to their little clubhouse, they were carrying on about some feast of St. Vigeous coming up this weekend. Supposed to give them a big power boost they were planning on using to kill you. I killed a few, and most of the rest scattered off like cockroaches. Still, though, might want to be on the lookout in case any of them grow enough of a spine to go after you anyway.”

“Great. Just what I need on top of this stupid parent-teacher night,” she muttered. She felt weirdly numb. She hadn’t been able to protect Collin when he’d been alive, and she hadn’t been able to keep his body from being used by a demon after the fact. And now he was just… gone.

Spike tilted his head, looking at her with a raised eyebrow. “Parent-teacher night?”

“It’s, uh, a school thing on Thursday night. My principal thinks I’m a delinquent and is making me and this other girl, Sheila, plan everything out. And he’s probably going to talk to my mom at some point and convince her that I’m the worst daughter ever. I’ll end up grounded for weeks. If I’m lucky.”

God, why couldn’t she seem to shut up? The words just poured out of her, even though there was no way the vampire even cared. Except he was nodding and giving her a sympathetic look like he understood exactly what she was talking about.

“Your principal sounds like a right bastard. Might be something I could do about him.” His mouth twitched into a slight smile. “Without killing him or anyone else, of course.” He cocked his head again, as if something had just occurred to him. “Or torturing anyone. Never much been into torture, and that seems like the sort of thing you’d frown on.”

“Uh, yeah, much with the frowning about torture.”

“Right, then.” He reached back into his coat, this time pulling out a small scrap of paper. He flicked a wary glance towards Angel, who was standing still and quiet as an angry statue, before he approached her and handed over the paper. “You can find me here during the night, unless I’m out looking into things or picking up dinner from the bar. One of the boy’s people is a mostly harmless bookworm. I’ve got him working for me, with the same rules about hunting. If I’m not there when you drop by, he can tell you anything you want to know about the group moving into your turf.”

She tucked the paper into her pocket, watching Spike as he headed off across the playground.

“Okay, spill,” she said, turning towards Angel. “How do you kno…. Great. Just great.”

At some point while she’d been watching the other vampire, Angel had pulled another one of his disappearing acts.

...

“…wasn’t acting like a normal vampire.”

My dear girl, there’s no such thing as a ‘normal’ vampire, Giles thought, watching as Buffy paced the library and talked about her encounter the night before. He wondered, not for the first time, if she should be told some of the things that were generally kept from Slayers, supposedly for their own good. That neutral, even good, demons existed. That there was a rather large population of vampires who didn’t kill and only fed from humans with full consent. The knowledge could have been deadly for most slayers, causing hesitation, but Buffy had proved time and again that she wasn’t most slayers.

She paused in her pacing to look directly at him. “I need whatever information you can find on this guy. He and Angel definitely know each other. And Spike apparently has an ex-girlfriend named Drusilla.” She scowled down at her shoes. She’d been complaining recently about needing new ones, but he doubted her footwear was the problem. “Angel seemed to be really interested in this ex-girlfriend and was pretty sure she’s somewhere in town.”

Well, that explained the agitation.

“I, uh, I’m fairly certain Angel’s concern is what kind of chaos this woman could cause. Assuming she’s even here at all. I wouldn’t think former romantic partners would be likely to travel together, and Spike is clearly not a local.”

His words seemed to mollify her, for the moment anyway. He’d need to have a word with Willow before the end of school, suggesting she and Buffy have a girl’s night. The chance to fully air her worries privately to another teenage girl could only do her good. None of the awkwardness of having an adult male present or Xander’s constant disparaging comments about Angel.

As the conversation turned towards the upcoming parent-teacher night, Giles began going through his books, setting aside any that could have clues about the new vampire. His thoughts were only partially on the task. He’d have to decide soon. Tell Buffy about the non-hostile part of the demon world, or risk her finding out more about it on her own. Either way would lead to feelings of betrayal. Either way could end with her dead from hesitation or misplaced trust.

For a moment, he allowed himself the luxury of daydreaming about hunting down Spike, giving him a good throttling, and then staking the vampire before Buffy ever saw him again. Realistically, though, he’d always been on borrowed time when it came to telling her the truth. The fact that she had a life outside of slaying meant there was a greater chance for her to see demons just mundanely living their lives as citizens of the town.

He took a deep breath and slowly let it out before setting his small stack of books on the table. He’d wait until after parent-teacher night. The girl was dealing with enough stress right now without having to wonder how many fledglings might have chosen to become suckers if she hadn’t killed them first.

...

Buffy stared down into her pint of ice cream. Unfortunately, the carton of caramel coffee cookie dough didn’t seem to have any answers. She sighed and took another bite. Plenty of flavor, but no answers.

“Thinking about Angel?” Willow asked sympathetically.

“It’s just… kinda frustrating, you know? He’s always running hot and cold, and now he thinks that Drusilla woman might be here. And the way his voice sounded when he asked about her….” She frowned into her ice cream. His tone had been weird. Was he worried Drusilla was a threat? Was he interested in her now that she’d apparently dumped her boyfriend? What kind of past did they have? For that matter, what kind of past did he have with Spike? His tone had been weird about him, too. “Sometimes it feels like he thinks I’m just a kid, and not the slayer. When we first met, he wasn’t exactly flattering. Spike, at least, seemed to take me seriously.”

They were in Buffy’s room, taking a much needed ice cream break after all the studying and planning for the parent-teacher night. God, she almost wished they were already back to the studying and planning. It was easier than thinking about Angel.

“Do you think he has a soul, too?”

“Huh?” She blinked in confusion, then remembered the last thing she’d said. “Oh. I don’t know,” she answered slowly. It would explain some things, but…. “I always thought Angel was a one-of-a-kind sort of deal. Just one vamp with a specific curse on him. Though I guess…. I mean, if the curse exists, nothing says it can’t be cast on another vampire, right? Or that there isn’t some other way.”

Could Spike have a soul? It didn’t feel right, but what if he did? She remembered blue eyes gazing right into hers, seeing her. Treating her like she was the real power in the supernatural part of Sunnydale. It had been a nice change from constantly feeling like she wasn’t quite good enough. Like she was a child trying to play catchup as Angel raced ahead.

She took a deep breath and slowly blew it out. Angel was different from other vampires. Spike was different from what she was used to, but it just didn’t feel the same. His “peace offering” wasn’t what she would have expected, but he also wasn’t a local. Which meant he’d have had no reason to be loyal to Collin. 

“I’m pretty sure Spike doesn’t have a soul,” she said, putting her thoughts into words for Willow. “He doesn’t like this group that’s come to Sunnydale, and since they could end up a threat to me, too, he thinks we could work together. Or at least that I’ll stay out of his way and not stake him. He’s smart, and he’s not letting evil for the sake of evil get in the way of his goals.”

“Maybe that’s why he seems so different?” Willow suggested. “We’ve been fighting vampires who were in the Master’s cult. Cult members are kinda big with the whole not really thinking thing.”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but maybe we should get back to the studying. Je mange de la cervelle de vache.”

While Willow laughed – and refused to say why – Buffy tried not to think about Angel. Or about Spike and his oddly haunted blue eyes.

Buffy stared down at the scrap of paper in her hand, then back at the white siding and red brick house. She’d been expecting something old and rotting, or maybe a closed factory or something. Not a cozy looking little bungalow in a quiet neighborhood.

It doesn’t matter, she told herself grimly. A nice house didn’t change any of the things Spike had done. Giles had managed to find information on him. Two hundred years of slaughter and mayhem. And the murder of two slayers. Was anything he’d said even true, or all just an attempt to lower her guard before he killed her, too? And she couldn’t help wondering if Angel had known about the two killed slayers. If he had, why hadn’t he warned her?

She shook the thoughts away and marched towards the door. She wanted to kick it open, but in this neighborhood, cops would absolutely be called. They’d either get in the way or end up dead. So she knocked. Politely. More or less.

A moment later, the door was opened by a balding man with glasses. At first, she thought Spike must have given her a fake address, but then her hit-or-miss ability to sense vampires decided to kick in. She clenched her hand around the stake in her pocket. Don’t kill him in the doorway. There are probably nosy neighbors looking out their windows.

“Hello, Slayer,” the vampire said with a nod of greeting. “Spike is out right now, getting blood from the bar, but he should be home soon. Would you like to come in?”

“Yeah, sure,” she said, trying to sense if there were any more vampires in the house.

She could only feel the one right in front of her. She took a deep breath and slowly let it out before releasing her grip on her stake. Then she followed him into the house. The door opened directly into the living room, which had pale green walls and a warm, golden brown hardwood floor. A desk covered in books took up one corner. Two black leather armchairs and a matching sofa were situated around a glass coffee table in the center of the room, facing a large TV that was next to what looked like it might be a basement door. Or a closet. A thick black rug with a pattern of golden vines and leaves was on the floor in front of the sofa. The hardwood floor continued into what she could see of the kitchen and a hallway that most likely led to some bedrooms and a bathroom.

“So, I’m assuming this place came pre-decorated by whoever lived here before you or Spike killed them?”

“Oh, no, not at all. Spike bought the house, paid in full with cash. Though it’s in the name of a human woman he knows in London. It makes the house safe from other vampires. He had to call her on a payphone to invite us in. As far as I know, the former owners had moved away long before the sale and took all of their furniture with them. Spike decorated.”

Buffy narrowed her eyes and studied the balding vamp. He sounded sincere. And the way he kept pushing his glasses back up onto his nose reminded her pretty strongly of Giles. That didn’t mean she should just believe him. Though considering Spike had said some of Collin’s vampires had run away, buying a house instead of finding one and killing the owners did make sense. They’d definitely want to go after the guy who killed their leader and one of their own who had joined up with him.

They stood there in awkward silence for a few minutes, the vamp nervously looking between her and the door. He didn’t seem afraid of her, exactly. More like Willow forced into a social situation with strangers. So, yeah, kind of afraid, but not for the same reason most vampires would have been with her in the room.

Finally, he cleared his throat. “So, um, I suppose I should introduce myself. Dalton.”

She just stared at him for a moment, watching him fidget nervously. “Buffy,” she grudgingly responded.

She wasn’t sure what to think anymore. If Spike was just in Sunnydale to kill a third slayer, why bother buying a house? Why keep around an egghead vampire to research things if there wasn’t anything to research? Why was an egghead vampire even a thing? Dalton should have been out trying to eat people, not standing around in a nice house next to a desk covered in old books.

Before she could get her thoughts into any kind of order, the door opened, and Spike came in with two large plastic bags. The bags each held three bottles of what looked like wine, but was obviously blood. That was one thing she’d been able to confirm. Willy sold death-free human blood, and Spike had regularly been buying enough of it in a concentrated form for two vampires.

“Well, hello there, Slayer.”

“Hello, William.” Her hand closed around her stake. Dalton had thrown her a bit, but she hadn’t exactly forgotten that Spike was a dangerous vampire who had killed two slayers. Or any of the other things Giles had found out about him.

Spike raised a brow as he casually closed the front door behind him. “Sounds like someone did her homework.” He tilted his head in thought. “Or had her Watcher do it. Suppose you’ve heard more than a few nasty stories about me and aren’t exactly happy about them.”

She turned in place to watch as he walked across the room and handed one of the bags to Dalton. “William the Bloody, AKA Spike because you drove railroad spikes into people’s heads. You’ve spent two hundred years torturing and slaughtering people. And you killed two slayers.”

“Two hundred years? Really?” He gave a low whistle, like he was impressed or something. “Not sure how I managed that, seeing as how I’m only about one hundred seventeen. Let me guess, most of that torture and slaughter was during those eighty years before I was turned. Probably Angelus.” He tilted his head again. “Or possibly Penn. Never met the bloke, but Darla talked about him sometimes. She liked to point out how Angelus had failed with both of us as proteges. Penn lacked the creativity while I didn’t have enough interest in torture.”

“So, what, you’re trying to claim you didn’t spike anyone or kill any slayers? Yeah, not buying it.” Maybe he was telling the truth about his age, but the rest of it? He had the name Spike for a reason, and there was no way the Watchers would have been wrong about the vampire responsible for killing their slayers.

“Oh, I absolutely did those things. Though, to be fair, I only did the railroad spike thing to a specific group of people, and they were all assholes.” He glanced at Dalton, then towards the hallway. “Why don’t you have your dinner in the library while I talk to the slayer?”

The other vampire hesitated a moment, then nodded and scurried off down the hall with his bag of bottles.

“It’s not really a library,” Spike commented. “We’ve two bedrooms we don’t really need, so one is full of books and the other is set up for training. Not a lot of training, since it’s a small bedroom, but it works.” He shook his head sadly. “Dalton is good with all the big brain stuff, but utterly appalling when it comes to any kind of self-defense.”

“Don’t change the subject,” Buffy snapped through gritted teeth. “You killed two slayers.”

“I did,” he agreed. He headed toward the kitchen, forcing her to either follow him or let him out of her sight. She followed. “The first one was actively after me at the time. It was during the Boxer Rebellion in China, and back then I seemed drawn to chaos. Bloody stupid behavior, honestly, but I suppose there was an emotional reason. That’s probably why I went after the second slayer. Some kind of emotional high or something from courting danger.”

She stopped dead in the center of the kitchen, trying to make sense of what he’d just said. He didn’t seem to notice. Just set his blood on the counter before opening the refrigerator and pulling out a box of pizza. Why the hell would vampires have pizza? Her brain tried to chase that train of thought, but she forced it away. Spike had sounded like he had no idea what his own motivations had been. That didn’t make any kind of sense.

“Okay,” she said after a moment, watching as he sat on the table with a bottle of blood and a paper plate with a slice of pizza. “So, you’re going to have to explain that. Because, right now, you sound kind of crazy.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said with a sigh. Instead of explaining right away, he took a long drink from the bottle and then a couple of bites of pizza. “I used to eat human food all the time. Don’t need it to live, of course, but I figured there had to be some reason I did it. And there is. Most of it tastes good. That’s one of the few things I’ve been able to reclaim of who I was before mid-June.”

Buffy resisted the urge to ask him what had happened back in June. There was a faraway look in his eyes, like he was seeing something other than a tidy little kitchen in a California town. She had a feeling she’d get more from him if he wasn’t rushed. Finally, after a few minutes of silence, he took a deep breath and focused on her again.

“The group I’m hunting, they call themselves The Initiative. They’re a secret part of your country’s military that knows there really are things that go bump in the night. They’ve been experimenting on both demons and humans, and some of those experiments involve injecting humans with bits of demon DNA.”

He went quiet again, and she suddenly realized he’d been breathing regularly, not just when he was talking. And now there was a ragged edge to it. This time, she thought he might need to be nudged into talking.

“Were you one of the demons they experimented on?”

He shook his head, a quick, sharp movement. “No. I came across one of the humans they’d tinkered with. His scent was normal. Figured he’d be easy prey, but once I lured him out of the pub…. He was stronger than me. I couldn’t do anything to defend myself.”

The sympathy she’d started to feel for him evaporated. Mostly. “Seriously? You want me to feel sorry for you because the guy you were going to murder fought back and was able to beat you up? You deserved it.”

“Beat me up? Yeah, sure, let’s go with that,” he muttered. Or at least, that’s what she thought he said. It was too quiet to fully make out. “I don’t want you feeling sorry for me. Though feeling is what this is all about. The Initiative turned him into some kind of monster that eats emotions.”

“He does what?”

“Eats emotions.” That faraway look was back in his eyes. “Not what you’re feeling in the moment, but everything from before that. Just sucks it right out, leaving the memories behind with none of the associated emotions. It’s like everything in your own past happened to someone else and was told to you second-hand. I can still feel emotions for new things. That’s all normal. But everything from before he fed from me…. It’s just… gone.”

She tried to imagine what that would be like. Her cousin’s death. Her parents’ divorce. The horror and guilt that had been piling on her since she’d been called. Her death at the hands of the Master. All of it wiped clean, like it had happened to someone else. Would it be worth the loss of the good things, too?

“I’d no idea how many more things like him were out there, pretending to be normal humans,” Spike continued. “So I hired some specialists to look into it, along with tapping the rumor mill. That’s how I found out about The Initiative and what they’ve been up to. They have some people set up in Cleveland, but the majority of their operation seems focused on getting established here in Sunnydale.”

“And you want to destroy them as revenge for what their creation did to you.”

“Does my motivation really matter?” he asked. “The Initiative is a danger to demons and humans both. How are you going to deal with them? Take revenge for your sister slayers, and then go after them by yourself? Ignore them, maybe? Or we can work together and make the bastards regret what they’ve been doing. Your call.”

Everything he’d said made sense, but that didn’t mean he was telling the truth. If Angel was here, he could tell me if Spike could be believed or not. But Angel wasn’t there, and the choice was all up to her. She took a deep breath and slowly let it out.

“Okay,” she said quietly. “We’re in this together. For now.”

...

Normally, losing himself in a book wasn’t exactly hard for Dalton. But then, he wasn’t normally in a house with a slayer. If she decided to kill Spike, there was no reason to hold off on killing him as well.

He could try escaping out the window, but there wouldn’t be much point to it. Some of The Anointed One’s followers were still alive, and they no doubt considered him a traitor. Besides, it didn’t feel right to just abandon Spike. When the other vampire had spared his life, he’d assumed he was just going from one master who wanted his research skills to another. And that was definitely part of it. But Spike also actually spoke to him, as if he were a person and not a mere minion. And one night, when he’d been drunk, he’d spoken a little too much.

That was why Dalton waited near the door, listening until the faint murmur of voices stopped and someone left through the front door. It was why he waited a few moments before slipping out of the room and following Spike’s scent to the kitchen.

He carefully avoided looking towards the corner where the counters met, pretending not to see anything as he filled a mug with water and stuck it in the microwave for a couple of minutes.

Spike would have held it together while the Slayer was there, especially considering he would have given her an edited version of what had happened in June. But it all would have been playing through his head, and once she was gone….

The microwave dinged, and Dalton took the mug out and put a tea bag into it. Then he knelt near the corner with the mug in hand, still not looking directly at the man huddled there with his arms wrapped around his knees and his face pressed against them.

Eventually, the rapid, panicked breathing calmed, and Spike shuddered before looking up and taking the mug.

“Good god, that’s horrible,” he said with another shudder after taking a sip. He eyed the string from the tea bag dubiously. “And who stocked tea bags in my sodding kitchen? This is a loose leaf only household.”

“I’m sure I have no idea,” Dalton answered primly. “It will most likely remain one of the great mysteries of the ages.”

Spike snorted and rolled his eyes. Then he stood up and headed for the cabinet where they kept the tea.

“I, uh, should probably get back to cataloging the abilities of the demon types we know The Initiative has in captivity.”

“No, not yet. After that atrocity, you’re going to learn how to make a decent cuppa. Or possibly die trying if you do too badly.”

“Of course.”

Dalton watched, making mental notes, as Spike filled a kettle with water and got it heating on the stove. He seemed mostly alright now, which meant it was safe to ask the big question on his mind.

“How did things go with the Slayer?”

“She’s agreed to a truce. The only spanner in the works as far as I can tell is her mum. Slayer didn’t mention it tonight, but when I first talked to her, she was worried she’d be grounded after the parent-teacher night tomorrow at her school.”

“What are you going to do about her mother?”

Spike smiled. “Crash parent-teacher night and deal with the problem myself.”

So far, parent-teacher night wasn’t going too badly. Okay, so she’d forgotten to put sugar in the lemonade, but Sheila, her supposed partner in this, had actually come through and provided fruit punch. From bottles rather than homemade. And probably stolen. Either way, people had something actually drinkable to drink as they wandered around talking to the teachers. And to Snyder, though the way the principal was scowling seemed to be keeping some of the parents away.

Too bad that won’t work for Mom, Buffy thought glumly. Willow was currently leading Mom around the school, showing her various things, but it wouldn’t last forever. Eventually, there wouldn’t be anything else to see, and once that happened…. Maybe she’d get lucky and Spike’s emotion eater would randomly show up. He could start with an appetizer of slayer anxiety before a nice, full meal of parental disappointment.

She shifted uncomfortably as the look in Spike’s eyes when he’d talked about the guy popped into her head. He’d planned to eat someone only for that someone to eat him instead and smack him around a little or something in the process. From her perspective, that was karma, not a tragedy. Xander would probably have found it hilarious if she’d told him and Willow about that part of the conversation.

One of the parents drifted over to the refreshment table, and she forced a smile onto her face as she ladled out some of the fruit punch. Once Buffy was alone again at the table, she glanced at the clock. Not too much longer until the whole thing was over.

Maybe I really will get lucky and Willow will keep Mom distracted until the end.

As if the thought had summoned her, Willow suddenly hurried over to her. Alone. And looking worried.

“Where’s Mom?”

“There, there was this guy. He came over and told your mom that he was your tutor.”

Buffy frowned, the uneasy feeling at the sight of her friend heading towards dread. “The closest thing I have to a tutor is you.”

“I-I know that. I tried to stay with them, but your mom told me she wanted to talk to him alone. A-and Buffy? He looked like your description of that new vampire. Spike.”

...

“I’m glad I’ve got a chance to speak with you before Principal Snyder.” The young man who had introduced himself to her as William Pratt gave her a charming smile. “He can be, uh, a bit opinionated and doesn’t always give the students the benefit of the doubt.”

“And you think Buffy deserves the benefit of the doubt?”

Joyce wasn’t sure what to think when it came to her daughter and school. There had been that fire in L.A. and her reluctance to even mention this parent-teacher night. And she’d obviously asked Willow to keep her from talking to any of the actual teachers. And now there was this man who was apparently a tutor hired by the school to help struggling students. Had Buffy been lying about the study dates with Willow, or did she really just need that much help?

Or maybe having a cute tutor with a sexy accent is more of a distraction than a help, she thought, looking him over once more.

Normally, she didn’t care much for extreme hair colors, but the bleached blond look suited him. Combined with the burgundy dress shirt and black slacks, he looked both approachable and professional at the same time. If she were about a decade younger…. She shook the thought away and focused on what William was saying.

“Time management seems to be her biggest problem. She’s smart, your girl, but she has so many things pulling at her attention. And at her age, they all seem equally important. Snyder isn’t making it any easier on her. It was his brilliant idea to have her plan out the parent-teacher night, and to use whatever allowance you give her for the decorations and refreshments.”

“Wait, what? Isn’t there supposed to be something set aside in the school budget for things like that?”

Buffy had been involved in all kinds of planning committees for school events at Hemery, usually dances and anything involving sports or cheerleading. And those committees had always been funded by the school. That funding had mostly come from actual fundraisers, but surely things like parent-teacher nights were included in the yearly budget.

“Yeah, well, where’s the fun in using money actually meant for it? This way, he gets to pocket the dosh for himself while threatening to expel a student he doesn’t like if she doesn’t meet his standards. A win all around for him, no matter how it goes.” William shook his head and flashed her another smile. “But that’s enough speaking ill of my employer. This is the classroom where I do most of my tutoring.”

He opened the door and gestured her inside. She took a few steps forward into the room before she heard the door close, the lights coming on a few seconds later. And then she froze, struggling to process what she was seeing.

It came to her in small flashes. A slightly cluttered desk. A chair behind the desk with a leather coat hung over the back of it. A man chained up in the chair with duct tape over his mouth. Dressed like a college student with stringy blond hair. Yellow eyes and a strange, lumpy forehead.

“Go sit at one of the desks,” William said quietly from behind her.

For a moment, she allowed herself to imagine turning around and confronting him. A quick kick between the legs, and then she’d get to the door and run out. She’d find a phone and call the police. Then….

She took a deep breath, her legs shaky with fear as she walked over to one of the desks and sat down. Whatever he planned to do to her, she had a better chance of surviving it if she waited until she had an actual chance of getting away.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said. He was leaning against the door, looking calm and completely at ease. “Everything I said out there was true. Well, except for the being a tutor bit. That was a lie. The rest of it though, about Snyder? Completely true. And everything about your daughter. But she’s got more she’s trying to balance than just school and some kind of social life.”

He pushed away from the door and walked over to the man chained to the chair, drawing her attention to him again. She didn’t like looking at the man. When she did, her mind kept trying to come up with reasons why he looked like that.

“I know what you’re thinking,” William said, casually taking the coat off of the back of the chair and putting it on. “You’re thinking there’s some kind of rational explanation for Lumpy here. Maybe a deformity. Or some extreme body modification and a pair of yellow contacts. You’re desperately coming up with various ways he could be a completely normal human. Sorry, love, but humans,” he pulled a sharp-ended piece of wood out of the coat, “don’t do this.”

She screamed as the wood was stabbed into the man’s chest. Then she went silent and completely still as he turned into a pile of dust.

No, she thought numbly. No. That didn’t…. I didn’t just see…. That….

William slowly approached and sat at the desk next to her. “That was a vampire. One that was hunting teenagers at the club your girl goes to with her friends.”

Oh god. Those things were hunting where her daughter hung out? It was supposed to be safe there! How could…?

“We need to leave,” she said. “I need to just grab what we need the most and take Buffy away from here. Find somewhere safe….”

What about Willow and Xander? she wondered from somewhere under the shock and beginning of panic. Their parents would never believe her about what she’d just seen. Would Buffy ever forgive her for taking her away and leaving her friends in danger?

She suddenly became aware of William shaking his head. “That won’t work. They’re pretty much everywhere. Vampires and other nasties most people think are make believe. And you can’t always tell just by looking.”

Between one moment and the next, his face changed with a disturbing crunching sound. Unlike the man who had been in the chair, his mouth wasn’t covered in tape, showing a frightening set of fangs. Then there was another crunching sound, and he looked completely normal again.

“You… you’re….”

“A vampire. But I’ve been on bottled blood only since around mid-June. No killing involved. And even if that wasn’t the case, you’d be off the menu. Because of who your daughter is, you’re most useful to me alive and well and supporting her.”

“What do you mean, because of who she is? What do you want with my daughter?”

She didn’t want to believe Buffy had anything to do with vampires or other monsters, but she kept thinking of a lot of little things that were suddenly adding up. All the sneaking out. How tired she often seemed. Small cuts and bruises that healed up so quickly that she’d just believed it when Buffy said they were from all the jostling that happened during the rush to and from classes.

“I’ll explain everything I know. But first,” he reached into his coat and pulled a flask from an inner pocket, “you’re gonna need this.”

...

Shit, shit, shit! Her thoughts raced down a dozen different paths as Buffy ran through the hallways, opening classroom doors. Why had Spike come to the school? What the hell did he think he was doing with her mother? He had to realize that hurting, or even threatening, her would end with him being number one on her hunting list. And absolute zero, never going to happen on her helping list.

Maybe he’d decided stopping these Initiative people wasn’t as important as connecting to more pieces of his past. What if he’d decided killing slayers was like human food, and he wanted to try it again to see if he liked it? A good way to do that was to put her in a panic over her mother and hope it made it harder for her to fight.

Not gonna happen, she thought grimly. She stopped in the middle of one of the halls and took a deep breath. He was just another vampire. Younger and probably weaker than the Master, and she’d managed to kill him. She could kill Spike, too. All she had to do was find him.

She closed her eyes and took several slow, deep breaths, trying to reach out with her senses. Come on, Buffy, you can do this. It should be easy. Just try to capture that tingly feeling like spiders tap dancing up and down her spine, getting stronger as she got closer to her target. She just needed to flip some kind of mental switch and feel it. Come on. Come o—

“Summers!”

Her eyes snapped open, and she spun around to see Snyder stomping down the hall towards her. She was vaguely aware of the sound of a door opening, but her attention was focused on her principal and the fear that she was about to be expelled. Mom’s going to kill me.

“What do you think you’re doing out here? You and Sheila are supposed to be running the refreshment table. You’re lucky Sheila seems to have left after bringing the drinks. It makes you a little more likely to still be a student here in the morning.”

“I… I was just—”

Before she could claim she’d been going to the bathroom, her ability to sense vampires kicked in, telling her there was one only a few feet behind her. Spike. And her mom, who was leaning with one shoulder against the wall like she was having a little trouble standing upright. Oh god. Had he bitten her?

“Principal Snyder,” her mom said coldly. “I’m sure I must be imagining things. It sounded like you were threatening my daughter.”

“Ms. Summers, your daughter is a delinquent. Tonight was her chance to prove to me that she could do better and be a part of this school. She failed.”

“What,” Spike scoffed, “by bailing out of working your parent-teacher night after funding it? Bit harsh, innit?”

“You think my daughter is a delinquent? That’s interesting.” She pushed away from the wall, wobbling slightly as she marched towards Snyder. The wobble somehow failed to make her seem any less intimidating. “Do you know what else is interesting, Mr. Snyder? The superintendent’s love of art. I’ve been considering giving him a discount on a few pieces. And maybe passing along the fact that you’ve been forcing students to pay for required school events.”

Snyder’s mouth tightened, and Buffy could see his nostrils flare as he considered what her mother had just said. The threat she’d just made. She blinked. Was this really her mom? Actually standing up for her instead of believing whatever an authority figure said had happened?

“Are you threatening me, Ms. Summers?”

Her mom flashed an almost shark-like smile that sent shivers down Buffy’s spine. “That depends. Are you threatening my daughter with expulsion? And do you plan to reimburse her for the cost of the decorations? If your answers are no and then yes, then I can just give the superintendent his discount and not say a thing about you. The ball’s in your court now. What matters more? Harassing my daughter, or keeping your job?”

Snyder’s eyes narrowed. “Fine,” he ground out between gritted teeth. “If she comes to the office Monday morning with receipts, she’ll be reimbursed. And she isn’t expelled. For now. But one of these days, I’m going to catch her doing something she can’t weasel her way out of. And you’d better hope it doesn’t involve another fire or someone dying.”

As he turned and stalked away, Buffy tensed, expecting her mom to tear into her and demand better behavior. She wasn’t at all prepared for arms to suddenly wrap around her and pull her into what would have probably felt like a bone-crushing hug if she hadn’t been the slayer.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Mom demanded, pulling away enough to cup her cheeks. “All this time, you’ve been dealing with so much danger, and you never said a word.”

“I….” Words deserted her as tried to process everything. For a moment, she tried to believe her mom was just talking about Snyder, but it didn’t fit. He wasn’t exactly a “danger.” And this close, she could smell the booze on her breath. Spike probably wouldn’t have given her alcohol to deal with the news that the high school principal was a petty tyrant. “I didn’t think you’d believe me.”

“Oh, honey—”

“Hate to interrupt the love fest, but it’d probably be a good idea to discuss this away from the possibility of prying ears,” Spike said. He held out his hand. “And you should probably give me your keys so I can drive you home.”

“We don’t need you driving us anywhere, Spike,” Buffy bristled.

He’d told her mom she was the slayer. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to thank him or punch him. At the moment, she was leaning towards both. Either way, she didn’t want to be in a car with him…. On the other hand, she also wasn’t really ready yet to talk to her mom about the slayer stuff, and Spike being there would be a good excuse to hold off on an emotional mother-daughter talk.

Mom shook her head and fished out her keys. “I’m just sober enough to know that I’m not sober enough to drive,” she said. She looked at Spike as she handed him the keys. “You have a driver’s license, I assume?”

“Of course. Makes it a lot easier to get booze when I’m not in the mood to nick it.”

“Does that mean you just ‘nick’ cars instead?” Buffy asked as they went out into the parking lot.

“No need. Got my own ride.” Spike gestured vaguely towards a section of the parking lot. Most likely at the admittedly pretty older black car that stood out in the herd of mom-mobiles. “Let’s get you home. There’s a lot to discuss.”

A lot to discuss…. That was a serious understatement. She got into the car, trying hard not to think about how crazy it was to trust their safety to a soulless vampire. And especially trying not to think about what she’d say to her mother once they made it home.

She wasn’t drunk. Not really. Just a bit… overly tipsy. When she stumbled getting out of the car, it was just because it was dark and she wasn’t used to getting out on the passenger side. She put her hand on the hood to steady herself and looked across it at the man… the vampire… who had driven them home. Buffy had called him Spike, but he’d introduced himself to her as William.

“I’m going to call you William,” she said firmly. “Spike sounds like the name of someone’s dog.”

Oh crap, had she said that last part out loud? She hadn’t meant to. Damn tipsiness. It always seemed to take control of her tongue. Luckily, he looked amused, not angry.

“William. Spike. Hey You.” He shrugged “All the same to me, really.”

Buffy made a sound at that, and Joyce turned to watch her get out of the car. The expression on her daughter’s face was unreadable. And whose fault is that? She wanted to blame the alcohol, but the truth was, until the divorce, she’d spent more time focused on being seen with the right people at the right events than on being a mother. There had been various nannies when Buffy was young and then the housekeeper had kept a vague eye on her.

She suddenly remembered something from that last year in L.A. Buffy had come in late, out of breath, and looking a bit shaky. At the time, she’d thought it was some normal teenage drama and had been more concerned with the fact that her fancy new watch had stopped working. She and Hank had left for the red carpet premiere they’d been invited to, leaving Buffy to deal with it on her own. Now Joyce wondered, had it been some normal teenage drama, or had her daughter been out fighting monsters?

She felt tears welling in her eyes, and she wanted to both hug Buffy and shake her, demanding to know what she thought she’d been doing. And both responses were probably the alcohol, because she still had no idea how to be an involved parent. She’d read all the books and tried to do what they said, but Buffy….

She forced a polite smile onto her face as she looked back at William. She didn’t trust herself alone with her daughter right now. She’d either explode, turn into a weeping mess, or both. But William knew what was going on, and he could act as a buffer.

“Would you like to come in?”

“Mom! You can’t just—”

“Yes.” William cocked his head, looking at Buffy as she fumed over being cut off. “And it would have still counted as an invite, even if I’d said no. I promise you, though, that even if things go badly between us, your mum is safe. If that’s not enough, your Watcher can cast a disinvite. I can lend him a book with the spell if he doesn’t know it.”

Joyce felt like she’d been punched in the gut by an icy fist, and she suddenly wished he would pull out another flask of alcohol. Spells. Invites. Disinvites. This was all real. She desperately clutched at half remembered bits of lore she’d picked up from going to the movies as a teenager.

“It’s all real?” she blurted. “Vampires needing an invitation? And crosses and garlic?” She wracked her brain, trying to think of other things. “What about running water? Vampires aren’t supposed to be able to cross running water.”

“We can’t get into a home unless we’ve an invite from a human who lives there, or owns the place. And sunlight, crosses, and holy water all burn. Garlic does, too, but to a lesser extent, and some vampires, like me, can build up an immunity to it. No idea where the bit about the running water comes from, though. No truth to it at all.” He cocked his head again, a considering look on his face. “Though I suppose it could come from the appalling lack of personal hygiene among some of my lot. Makes me wonder if the smelly gits heard ‘cleanliness is next to Godliness’ one time too many and took it far too seriously.”

“Okay.” She took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “Okay.”

She heard a sound, and then Buffy’s hand was on her shoulder. “We should go inside,” she said quietly. “Spike wants my help, so he’s safe enough. For now. Just… be careful about inviting anyone else into the house, especially if you’ve only ever seen them at night.”

 William gently tossed Joyce her keys, and she led the way into the house, trying not to think too much. She answered vaguely when he asked her something about the tea kettle, then sat down in the living room, staring at her hands as she tried to make sense of everything.

“She already regrets the people she couldn’t save,” the vampire’s remembered words whispered through her mind. “If you try to clip her wings, you’ll leave her haunted by the people she didn’t save.” Couldn’t versus didn’t. “If you tell her no, she may obey for a while. But it’ll eat at her, and eventually she’ll start sneaking out again to follow her calling. And all she’ll have learnt is that she can never trust you.”

William wanted Buffy’s help. That made him biased towards her being free to fight monsters. But it didn’t make him wrong. If she tried to keep Buffy home and safe, she’d lose her. That meant she was going to have to try to make slaying somehow less dangerous. She was trying to figure out how she could do that when she became aware of the scent of mint. William had brought two of her fancy teacups on their matching saucers and put them on the coffee table.

He came back into the living room with a third cup and a package of Oreos. “Figured mint tea would go best with this conversation, since you haven’t any chamomile. Nice and soothing.”

“Thank you,” she murmured, taking a sip of the tea. She set the cup back down and studied the other two people in her living room. Buffy was hunched in on herself, looking nervous, while William seemed to be paying more attention to the Oreo he was nibbling on than anything else. A vampire slayer and a vampire. “This Watcher of yours, what kind of powers does he have?”

“Um… none,” Buffy said, blinking at her. “He’s just a normal guy. I mean, he’s, like, crazy into books and the whole research thing, but basically normal. No special powers or anything.”

Joyce frowned and looked at William, hoping she was remembering wrong. Her thoughts were still a bit fuzzy, so it was possible she hadn’t put everything he’d said together correctly. “I thought you said that her Watcher was responsible for training her to fight?”

“As far as I know, that’s how it works,” he said with a shrug.

As if it didn’t really matter that her daughter was supposed to be honing her abilities to fight super powered enemies by working with a normal human being. Maybe he’s a martial artist or something, she thought desperately. “Who is your Watcher?”

“It’s, uh, Giles. The school librarian.”

“No!” The word burst out of her, and she quickly took a drink of tea to keep anything else from coming out. Are you completely stupid? What are you thinking, training with a middle aged man who probably couldn’t fight his way out of a wet paper bag? She slowly put down her tea cup and took a deep breath. She knew her thoughts weren’t completely fair, and only the fact that she was very aware that she was less than sober was keeping her from lashing out with them. She also knew she wasn’t completely wrong, either. “That is not acceptable.” She looked back at William, who seemed to have eaten at least half of the Oreos by this point and was currently licking the creme out of one. “If you want her not grounded and available to help you, then you are going to train with her. Here, in our basement.”

“What?”

“Mom!”

“Not negotiable,” she snapped. “What did you learn in ice skating and cheerleading? If you half-ass during practice, you’re going to fail when it’s time to do the real thing. He,” she pointed towards the vampire, “is the real thing, and that makes training with him the best kind of practice. Now, how do you go hunting? What do you do when I think you’re out with your friends or in bed, safe and sleeping?”

“I-I… It’s not li—”

“Just answer the question, and don’t lie to me unless you want to be grounded until the day you graduate.”

She knew she was being too harsh, but she couldn’t seem to control it. Her daughter had been sneaking out, putting her life at risk, and she didn’t even have anyone else with any kind of power watching her back. Who had decided and put the whole slayer system into motion? One teenaged girl, with no one but a random human who seemed to do little more than just watch while she risked her life every night.

Buffy stared down at the floor and wrapped her arms around herself. “I go on patrol, checking out the cemeteries and gathering spots like The Bronze. Sometimes Willow and Xander go with me. And, uh, sometimes I’m by myself.”

Willow and Xander. God, more children out fighting monsters. She turned towards William, but he held up a hand to stop her before she said anything.

“Two nights a week. That’s it. I’ve my own business to see to, including finding out more about the Initiative before they realize I’m here or what your girl is. Two nights of patrol, and then one of training each week. Besides, she’s got another more-or-less safe vampire she hangs about with. He’d be a bloody terrible choice for training, but he should be able to patrol with her from time to time.”

“Damn it, Spike,” Buffy hissed, her cheeks bright red with embarrassment.

Joyce’s eyes narrowed. She was pretty sure she knew what that meant. She didn’t know if this other vampire returned her daughter’s crush, but it didn’t really matter for the moment. If it meant he could help keep Buffy alive, she’d wait to lay down the relationship law.

“Alright.” She took a deep breath. Tomorrow was a teacher in-service day. Part of her wanted to punish Buffy for keeping secrets, but another part understood why she had. There was no reason not to let her have a little fun before making even more changes to her life. “You go out with your friends tomorrow and do whatever you three have planned. Once the sun is down, I want to have a meeting with all of you.” She gestured towards William to make it clear he was included in that group. “And I want your Watcher and this other vampire there, too.”

“The school library would be the best place,” Buffy said quietly. “And, uh….” She blushed again and squirmed as she stared at the floor. “I don’t always know where to find Angel. If I see him before tomorrow night, I’ll tell him about the meeting.”

Angel. Just the way she said the name proved she had it bad for him.

“Well,” William said, standing up, “I’ll leave the two of you to hash out anything else that needs it before tomorrow night.”

Joyce said her goodbyes, most of her attention on Buffy and thoughts of this Angel. How old was he? What made him “more-or-less safe?” William wanted Buffy’s help with an organization that was a potential threat to them both. What did Angel want from her? She took a deep breath and slowly let it out, suddenly exhausted. I’ll let it go for tonight.

She glanced towards where she’d last seen the package of Oreos, intending to offer Buffy one as a small peace offering. Of course, she thought with a sigh. Apparently, William had decided to take the rest with him when he’d left.

...

She hadn’t even managed a full night without sneaking out. As soon as she’d been sure her mother was asleep, Buffy had gone out the window, telling herself it was okay because if Mom really wanted Angel there at this big meeting, tonight was the only chance to ask him to come.

She’d managed to find him lurking around the playground where she’d first met Spike, and she’d told him what had happened. Now he was just… standing there, staring off into the distance while she sat on a swing, lightly scuffing the ground with her feet.

“Also, I think I might be turning into a weremoose. You know, big antlers. A craving for grass. The inexplicable urge to trample people under my hooves as I migrate into Canada.”

“Mmmhmmm,” Angel said vaguely without even looking towards her.

“Angel!”

“Hmm? What?” He blinked and finally looked directly at her. “Sorry. I’ve been distracted, trying to figure out whatever Spike’s game is. There are ways I should be able to sense Drusilla when she’s nearby, but I haven’t been able to pick up any sign of her.”

“Have you considered that maybe Spike is telling the truth and she isn’t even here? Your big reason for thinking she must be is because Spike doesn’t seem all broken up over being dumped. With the whole emotions being eaten thing, the break-up wouldn’t have mattered to him.”

She’d told him about that, along with most of her mother’s reaction to finding out she was the slayer. Most. She hadn’t mentioned the training sessions or patrols.

The entire thing had gone differently from how she’d expected. Not the threats of grounding. She had expected that part. But everything else. She didn’t know if it was because Spike had been there or because of whatever alcohol he’d given her, or what. Mom had been seriously pissed off. About the lying, but even more about how the whole slayer thing worked. And… well, she wasn’t exactly wrong. Another human, no matter how much he knew, wasn’t the best idea for a training partner. But the Watchers had been around for centuries. If there was a way to get vampires sparring partners, wouldn’t they have already put that into place? Except….

Buffy frowned and stared down at the scuffed dirt at her feet. Spike didn’t have a soul. Pure self-interest was the only reason he’d come to her, offering a truce and asking for her help. In all the time since the first slayer, he couldn’t possibly be the first vampire to want a truce. What was stopping the Council from offering blood and no-slay status in exchange for a vamp giving up killing and helping out the slayer? If Spike agreeing not to kill anyone was so unusual, why did demon bars sell human blood?

“Humans can’t ‘eat’ emotions like that,” Angel said, breaking into her thoughts. There was a sort of superior, condescending tone to his voice, like he was lecturing a child. Or maybe she was just imagining it, after everything with her mom. “Some humans are basically emotional vampires, but it doesn’t work that way. An emotional vampire would have fed on what he was feeling in the moment, leaving him exhausted and everything from that night muted. It wouldn’t just erase the feelings that come with a relationship that’s lasted over a century.”

It wasn’t a normal human. It was a guy who’d been injected with demon DNA. She didn’t bother to say the words out loud. She’d already told him, and he either hadn’t listened or had just dismissed it because he was too obsessed with Drusilla for anything else. Or maybe he just thought Spike was lying. He hadn’t seen that faraway and haunted look in the other vampire’s eyes when he’d talked about it. Whatever had happened to him hadn’t been something as simple as needing a nap and having “muted” emotions for one night. At least, she didn’t think so.

But what do I know? Angel has known Spike for decades. She didn’t know what to think when it came to Spike. When she was around him, it felt like he could be trusted. Like he wasn’t necessarily a good guy, but he’d at least stab her in the front while making eye contact instead of in the back. It was only when he wasn’t around that she started second guessing her instincts.

“Drusilla is definitely here, somewhere,” Angel said, looking out into the night again. “Spike has gone off on his own before — they aren’t exactly joined at the hip — but she’d never pass up the opportunity to visit a Hellmouth town. She’s here, somewhere. Once I find her, I’ll get her to leave and take Spike with her. Until then, stay away from him.”

“And if I’m right and Drusilla isn’t here?”

“It doesn’t matter. Either way, you won’t have to worry about Spike. I’ll handle him.”

Willow nervously fiddled with the folder in front of her on the research table. She’d barely had any time at all to put things together, but she’d managed to stuff it full of charts, graphs, and an essay on why Buffy being the Slayer was so important, and how the Scoobies helped make it safer for her. She’d even included printouts of morgue reports, showing the decrease in neck trauma related deaths. She just hoped it was enough to convince Ms. Summers.

I should have made more charts, she thought, glancing towards Giles’s office. Buffy was in there, having some kind of intense conversation with him. She hadn’t been able to overhear much. Just something about vampires and buying human blood, which didn’t really make a lot of sense.

She frowned, trying to work it out. Was one long term Sunnydale resident and a probably temporary newcomer really enough of a market for someone to be selling human blood? If they were willing to pay way more than it took to get the blood, she supposed it made sense. Still, though….

“I don’t even know why I’m here,” Cordelia complained as she came into the library. “It’s not like I’m really one of you.”

“Feel free to leave at any time,” Xander said, coming in behind her. “I promise we won’t miss you.” He sat down beside Willow and glanced around. “Where is everyone?”

“Giles and Buffy are in his office, and um, Angel came in a few minutes ago. I think he’s back in the stacks. Buffy’s mom should be here soon. She dropped Buffy off, then went to go park the car where it wouldn’t be noticed in the lot.”

“And I am right here.” The vampire from last night walked into the library. “Unfortunately not fashionably late, but we wouldn’t want anything thinking I’d decided not to come.”

“You really shouldn’t have,” Angel said. Willow tried not to squeak as he silently appeared out of the stacks. “I should have known you wouldn’t have the sense to stay away.”

Spike snorted. “If you think staying away was the sensible choice, then you’ve clearly never been around Joyce when she’s snapping out orders. I was afraid she’d hunt me down and rip my knob off if I didn’t show.”

Rip his knob off? Willow furrowed her brow. Buffy had said he had his own house. Did he think Ms. Summers would have gone there and started doing property damage? But why would she go after the doorknob specifically? Maybe it was a British thing.

I’ll ask Giles about it later, she decided as the door opened again and Ms. Summers came in. She considered interrupting the conversation going on in the office, but ended up not needing to. Buffy and Giles came out together within moments of Ms. Summers’s arrival.

“And you promise you’ll tell me everything you know about this tomorrow?” Buffy demanded, looking at her Watcher.

“Yes. With the blow Spike dealt to the Master’s former followers,” he nodded in recognition towards the vampire, “the Feast of St. Vigeous should be nothing to worry about. Tomorrow, we can focus on your training and address the, uh, concerns you’ve expressed.”

“Training is one of the things we need to discuss,” Ms. Summers said.

Okay, show time, Willow thought, taking a deep breath as she opened the folder. Then she pulled out her charts and prepared to talk the older women into letting Buffy be the slayer she was supposed to be.

...

She loved Willow. Really, she did, but if Buffy had to sit there and listen to one more chart explanation, she was going to fall asleep. Or start screaming. Or maybe punch something. She glanced over at Spike, who was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, looking like he was about to fall into a coma at any moment.

Suddenly, the whole training thing didn’t seem like such a horrible idea. Maybe they could put on a demonstration or something to liven things up. Yeah, and destroy at least half of Giles’s books in less than a minute, she thought. Though if the charts ended up being included in the casualties….

She slouched down in her chair as guilt jabbed at her. Willow had done all of this on super short notice, all to help her out. And instead of being grateful, I’m whining about being bored. She sat up straight and tried to pay attention. This one was something about the number of demon ritual days that were on the calendar, and how an active slayer kept the amount of human sacrifices down.

“These things are regularly killing people, and you think one teenage girl should be fighting them?” Mom demanded.

“N-no. I mean…. Buffy has us helping her,” Willow said. “A-and she’s, um, she’s really strong.”

“Strong enough that we need to discuss some changes to your training idea.” Spike pushed away from the wall and dropped into a chair across from Mom so he could look directly at her. “Doing it in your basement is a disaster waiting to happen. One wrong move, and you’ll be lucky if we only take out one support post.”

“We?” Angel repeated, stepping out of the stacks and glaring at Spike. Oh, hell. She’d almost forgotten he was there. Why couldn’t he ever pull that annoying disappearing act when she needed him to not be around? “What do you have to do with Buffy’s training?”

“If she’s fighting vampires, then she needs to be training against one,” her mother insisted.

Angel scowled, but didn’t argue. Or offer himself up as a potential training partner. Of course. Doing that would require him to show up reliably, and she couldn’t even get him to commit to going to The Bronze.

There was a moment of silence, then Mom turned her attention back to Spike. “If not the basement, then what do you suggest?”

“Cemetery would be the best choice.”

“He’s right about that,” Giles said. “Buffy is much stronger than a normal young lady, and she does most of her fighting in cemeteries or other outdoor locations. A basement would, uh, would be terribly confining.”

“She’d also be holding back so she wouldn’t damage the house,” Spike pointed out. “And there’s no point in practice if she’s just going to half-ass it, is there, Joyce?”

There was more talk, but Buffy wasn’t fully paying attention, her thoughts stuck on part of what Giles had said. Stronger than a normal young lady. Normal young ladies didn’t spend their Friday nights in the school library, listening to arguments about fight training with a vampire.

“I want to be there during the training sessions to see what’s going on.”

Buffy focused again at her mom’s words. “No,” she said immediately, then struggled to think how to explain herself.

She’d thought jokingly of showing off what she and Spike could do, but doing it for real? She shuddered. How could she possibly tell her mother that she didn’t want her watching her fight? Didn’t want her to see and think she was a freak.

“Slayer’s right. No observers. Just me and her. And her armed with a knife so she can practice staking without running the risk of actually killing me.” He held up a hand when Mom opened her mouth to say something. “Think how she’d feel if you ended up as collateral damage. Even if you just ended up mildly hurt, you’d be forcing that guilt on her. We’ll be fine training without anyone watching over us. If it makes you feel any better, I can do a patrol with her before the first training session. See how she moves and all. That should cut down on any accidental injuries.”

God, she hadn’t even thought of the chance of her mom getting hurt if she was there. It could happen, though. She thought of all the times that Giles or one of the others had been hurt. Okay, that had involved things going after all of them, but they also knew how to stay out of her way and protect themselves. Mom was defenseless.

The conversation had moved on while she’d been struggling with her thoughts. When she tuned back in, Mom was talking about carrying around a bag of quarters so she could call from a pay phone every hour while she was out on patrol. And at some point, Spike had left.

She squeezed her eyes shut, listening to all the talk going on around her and trying not to feel like everything was spiraling completely out of her control.

...

Angel slipped out of the library while the others were still talking about curfews and check ins, struggling with the anger threatening to boil over. The idea of Spike training with Buffy had obviously come up last night. And she hadn’t bothered to say a word about it to him.

Yeah, because you’ve been so open and honest with her. He shifted uncomfortably at the thought. That was different. The secrets he was keeping from her were for her own good. It was hard enough on her being attracted to a vampire. How much worse would it be if she knew his connection to Drusilla? Would she even still be interested in you if she really knew just how much of a monster you used to be?

Images flashed through his mind. The things he’d done to Dru before he’d turned her. The things he’d done to Spike. Gleefully trying to shape him into a copy of himself. Punishing him when he refused to be molded.

He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, forcing the memories back into the mental cage where he normally kept them confined. He didn’t have time for any of this. Spike had left only moments before Angel himself, after convincing Buffy’s mother to at least try things his way.

And standing around thinking about it all isn’t going to help you find Spike. Or Dru, he pointed out to himself.

He went outside, prepared to sniff out Spike’s trail and follow it to wherever he was squatting. Except that turned out to be unnecessary. The other vampire was standing just outside, leaning against the wall and gazing out towards the parking lot as he smoked a cigarette.

“Figured you’d come chasing after me,” he said, turning to face him.

His expression was… wrong. Off in the way everything had been off since the moment Spike had shown up at the playground. There was no fear or hero worship or resentment. None of the things he was used to seeing from him. Just a general wariness, like a lone woman walking past him at night.

“Joyce came up with all that on her own,” he continued, “with no help from me. That being said, training with an actual vampire and having someone more powerful than a human watching her back aren’t exactly terrible ideas.” He snorted and shook his head. “Knowing you, though, I doubt you’ve come out here to thank me for being willing to help the Slayer out. More likely, you want to beat your chest and metaphorically piss all over the girl to stake your claim. She’s all yours. I’ve no interest in her beyond teaming up against a common enemy.”

Angel narrowed his eyes, jaw clenched as he resisted the urge to say something that would make Spike think he was right. Telling him to stay away from Buffy wouldn’t be staking a claim. He’d be protecting her. From what she’d told him about the Initiative, it seemed to him they’d only be a “common enemy” if Buffy stuck her nose into their business and put herself on their radar.

“Knowing me, huh?” he finally said. “How well can you possibly know me when someone supposedly ate your past?”

It wasn’t exactly a contradiction, but if he could convince him it was, Spike might change his story enough for cracks to start to appear.

“He ate my emotions from the past, not the knowledge,” he corrected. “I remember everything you ever did to me. And everything you did to Dru. Both what I witnessed myself and what she told me.” He shrugged and took a drag from his cigarette. “I know it all, and don’t particularly want a repeat of any of it, but none of it really matters to me beyond that. Keep your hands to yourself, and we shouldn’t have any problems.”

“Where is she?” Angel demanded, focusing on the mention of Dru and trying not to think of the things Spike said he remembered.

It didn’t work. The thoughts flickered through his mind, triggering other memories that suddenly painted a new picture. One that made a disturbing amount of sense and even explained Spike’s claims and odd behavior.

“Bloody hell, not this nonsense again,” Spike said, rolling his eyes. “I already told you, she isn’t here. Dru left me back in Brighton. Couldn’t handle me not being in love with her anymore, which is fair enough. I’d like to say I’d have done the same, but honestly, I probably wouldn’t have. Past me seems to have had less sense than a brick of cheese when it came to love.”

An icy lump of dread chilled Angel to his core. In all the time he’d spent with them, Drusilla had never used her thrall power on Spike. Now, though…. Every once in a while, she would become obsessed with getting vengeance for what he’d done to her family. It wouldn’t have been hard for her to find out about Buffy. And about his feelings for her. What if Dru had turned her powers on Spike, convincing him he’d been attacked and that she’d left him?  All so she could send him in to ally himself with Buffy and gain her trust. He wouldn’t be the one to kill her. That wouldn’t satisfy Dru’s craving for revenge. She’d come out of hiding to do that part herself.

But if he could find her, talk to her…. He knew he’d be able to convince her to stop this. To undo what she’d done to Spike and then leave town with him.

He grabbed Spike and slammed him against the wall, pinning him there. “Where. Is. She?” he snapped.

A momentary flash of terror in eyes that could have almost belonged to a stranger. Then nothing but an eerie blankness, as if even this “off” version of the other vampire had suddenly gone away.

Before he could react, or even begin to process what he was seeing, a knee slammed up between his legs, immediately followed by his nose shattering under the force of a headbutt directly to the center of his face. Teeth sank into his throat with only a hint of the euphoretic in vampire saliva, and that was quickly overwhelmed by pain and confusion.

Caught completely off guard, Angel reacted like a human, jerking away and adding to the damage to his neck. He tried to stagger away, but a savage kick to the side of his knee dropped him to the ground. Then… nothing.

He lay there for several moments, just enduring the pain as he tried to figure out what had happened. He’d fought Spike several times in the past, with the younger vampire never even standing a chance against him, but this time…. Spike fought with emotion and passion, but there was an almost poetic flow to it. This had been like a wild animal lashing out without rhyme or reason.

What if it’s all true? he wondered. Spike had always been ruled by emotion. What would happen to someone like that if everything they’d felt up to a certain point was suddenly taken away?

He slowly sat up and looked around. There was no sign of anyone else but him. Spike was gone.

He reached up and touched his neck. The wound was starting to heal, but blood still flowed freely from it. If he were human, he’d be dead. As it was, he’d need a lot of blood to both replace what he’d lost and to heal all the damage. Angel stared at the blood on his hand. Every aspect of the attack had been unexpected. There’d been no bravado or snarky comments. Just mindless violence. He closed his eyes for a moment, then slowly opened them. Spike was gone.

Buffy didn’t bother knocking this time. She strode up to the door of Spike’s house and flung it open, then slammed it closed behind her. Dalton shot up from one of the armchairs, looking anxious and alarmed.

“What’s going on?” he blurted out.

“As if you don’t know,” she snapped, looking around. The only sign of Spike was his coat draped over the back of the couch. “Where is he?”

Dalton shook his head. “I have no idea what’s going on at all. Spike came home a little over two hours ago, put some kind of spell on the water heater, and has been in the shower ever since.” He cocked his head and glanced towards the hall. “He’s turned it off now.”

She started down the hall. A small voice tried to break through her anger, wondering uneasily why Spike would have needed a two-hour shower after attacking Angel. I don’t care, she told herself ruthlessly. She’d started to trust him, thought maybe she could actually count on him, and he’d gone after one of her allies.

The bathroom door was locked. She forced the knob to turn anyway, breaking the lock and shoving the door open. Then she froze. Spike was standing with his right side toward the door, in the middle of getting dressed, his jeans only halfway up. Puffy, half-healed burns were visible on his hip. Letters. She couldn’t quite make them out before he finished pulling up his pants, but it looked almost like a B or an R in front of either an F or a P. Why would there be—

“Out!” he snapped. He’d been calm and matter of fact the other times she’d interacted with him. Now, his voice was rough with fury.

She almost obeyed, but forced herself to stay put. “You don’t get to tell me what to do. Especially not after going nuts and attacking Angel for no reason.”

He laughed, a short, sharp sound with no humor in it. “Is that what he told you? I warned him. Told him to keep his hands to himself, and he couldn’t bloody do it.”

There was a soft sound of dismay behind her.

“You have Angel’s version,” Dalton said quietly. She hadn’t even noticed him following her down the hall.  “I’ll make some tea, and you can listen to Spike’s.”

He gently grabbed her arm and tugged. She resisted for a moment, then let him lead her back towards the living room. She sat in one of the armchairs, staring at the floor and trying to figure everything out. She’d left the meeting when it had started winding down into a Q&A with Giles, feeling restless and needing some air. She’d only been outside for a moment before Angel had limped out of the shadows, covered in blood. He’d told her that he’d been trying to get some answers from Spike, who had attacked him instead of answering his questions.

According to Spike, though, Angel had been the one to do something to him. Other than those burns, which looked too old to have possibly been caused by Angel, there didn’t seem to be a mark on him. That should have made it obvious who was telling the truth, but something didn’t feel right.

“I warned him. Told him to keep his hands to himself….” And then a two-hour shower, using magic to keep the water so hot that the bathroom had felt like it was at least one hundred degrees when she’d opened the door. God. Angel wouldn’t have… couldn’t have….

Her thoughts were interrupted by Spike coming into the living room and putting on his coat. She thought he was going to leave, but before she could say anything, he sat down on the couch. He didn’t look aggressive anymore. He was hunched in on himself, almost huddling in the coat for a moment before taking a deep breath and changing his body language to something more confident.

“It’s just a coat,” he said quietly, lightly stroking the leather. “He considered it a trophy and almost some kind of protective armor. It holds a lot of my things and has a comforting weight to it. It’s an extra layer of clothing between me and the world. So I suppose I have a similar sort of relationship to it. Dunno if it’s because I want that connection to who I was, or if it’s just a natural part of who I am.”

She didn’t know how to respond to that. Wasn’t even sure why he’d said it. Maybe he was trying to figure things out, and talking about it helped put his thoughts in some kind of order. Or maybe he was just awkward when it came to breaking the ice. Whatever the reason, she was having a harder time holding on to her anger. This wasn’t someone who was mindlessly violent. Something had happened. Something more than just being asked a few questions.

Before she could ask any of her own, Dalton came from the kitchen, carrying a tray with three teacups, a small pitcher, a spoon, and a small bowl with some sugar cubes.

“Two sugars and a splash of milk,” he said, putting one of the cups on the coffee table in front of Spike. He put another on the side table beside the other armchair, then put the entire tray on the side table next to her. “I wasn’t sure how you like your tea.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re lucky,” Spike muttered. “He’s improved to the point of the tea being passable.”

It would have seemed mean, but he was smiling slightly, and Dalton looked amused. Buffy shook her head and added a couple of sugar cubes and milk to her cup, letting the cubes start to melt before stirring it with the spoon.

Spike sighed and rubbed his face, looking worn out. “I suppose this means we should try to have a civilized conversation about what happened.” He picked up his own cup, but didn’t take a drink, just stared down into the liquid. “After I left the meeting, I stuck around outside, pretty sure that Angel would follow me. He’s always been the possessive sort, and I knew you and me spending time together wouldn’t sit well with him.” He shrugged. “Tried to reassure him on that front. Then I figured I’d let him know how things stand between him and me.”

He went quiet for a moment, a contemplative look on his face. “Don’t know what all he’s told you about himself, but he wasn’t exactly angelic. He did a lot of terrible things to me and Dru. Without any emotional connection to it all, I was willing to let it go. All he had to do was keep his bloody hands to himself.”

His jaw clenched and he slowly and carefully put his cup back down. The way he moved reminded her of herself when she was upset and didn’t want to break something.

“What happened?” she asked quietly. She’d tried to hold on to it, but most of her anger had drained away. Spike felt… real to her in a way that Angel sometimes didn’t.

“He demanded to know where Dru was, even though he bloody well knows she isn’t here. If she was, he’d be able to sense her.”

“How?” she asked with a frown. She remembered Angel saying something about how he should be able to sense her, but he hadn’t offered any kind of explanation.

He gave her an odd look, then snorted and shook his head. “Of course he wouldn’t tell you about that. He’s Dru’s sire. It’s not true of all vampires, but Angel has dreams about his children if they’re within one hundred miles or so, getting snapshots of what they’re up to and a general idea of where they are. In a big city, he might have trouble pinpointing her exact location, but a small town like Sunnydale?” He shook his head. “He knows she isn’t here. He just doesn’t want to admit it. When I told him she wasn’t here, he grabbed me and slammed me against the wall.” He shuddered and wrapped his arms around himself. “Maybe my reaction was a little extreme, but….”

He grabbed his cup and gulped down the tea. Then he frowned and stared at the cup before slowly looking towards Dalton. “What did you…?”

The cup fell to the floor. And then Spike slumped backwards, unconscious.

“Finally,” Dalton muttered. “I was worried he wouldn’t drink it.”

Buffy stared at him, then at her own cup. She hadn’t drunk any yet, but not because she hadn’t trusted it. She felt sick. She’d liked Dalton. And she’d thought he liked Spike. Why would he…?

“Don’t worry,” he said calmly, “yours isn’t drugged. And Spike will be fine. He’ll get some rest without any dreams, then he’ll wake up with a bit of a headache and shout at me while he bakes for about half the day until he calms down.”

“Bakes?” she repeated. She felt like she’d been standing on a pile of rugs from the moment she’d arrived, only to have them yanked out from under her, one by one.

Dalton nodded. “He cooks sometimes when he’s bored and bakes when he’s upset. Baking allows for a certain amount of creativity, but you have to be precise with a lot of aspects of it. He seems to find it calming.” He looked at Spike and sighed. “Give me a minute to make him more comfortable, then I’ll explain.”

He went down the hall, then came back a minute later with a staff. She watched, confused, as he nudged Spike with the staff until he slumped to his side. Then Dalton slid the staff under his legs and lifted them up onto the couch.

“Why are you…?” She wasn’t even sure enough of what he was doing to ask why he was doing it.

“It’ll bother him if he wakes up with my scent on him,” Dalton said calmly. “It wouldn’t be as bad as tonight with Angel, but he’d probably end up showering for half an hour or so.”

She stared at the two vampires while thoughts swirled around in her head. Spike had lashed out at Angel for touching him. He’d been in the shower for two hours. Despite trusting him as a housemate — to the point where he’d just be upset for half a day over being drugged — he’d have to shower if he woke up with Dalton’s scent on him.

“It’s an extra layer of clothing between me and the world.” Spike’s words about the coat. And then her own words from the last time she’d been in this house popped into her head. “You deserved it.”

Oh, god. What had she done?

...

He could almost see the thoughts coming together in her head, forming a picture of at least part of what had happened to Spike. He could let it continue, or throw Angel under the bus.

“There are things you should know about Angel,” Dalton said.

“What?” The slayer blinked at him, coming out of her own thoughts to listen to what he had to say.

“I’ve never met him, but as the Master’s most famous, or infamous, grandchild, he was talked about a lot. What he did to Drusilla was legendary. She’s a seer. He stalked and mentally tortured the girl. He murdered her family. Every step of the way, she had visions about what he would do, but there was nothing she could actually do to stop him. And on the night before she was going to become a nun and gain some measure of peace, he raped and murdered her.”

He let her sit with that for a moment, watching the growing horror on her face.

“The soul,” she whispered.

“It’s enough to keep him from doing anything that extreme,” he deliberately used the same word Spike had. One vampire’s extreme was going a little overboard on a rapist who had abused him in the past and then laid hands on him. The other’s extreme was being that rapist and taking pleasure in terrorizing and brutalizing his victims, “but it isn’t enough to change who he is at his core. A liar. A manipulator.”

She didn’t say anything to that. Just looked at Spike, then down at the floor. Dalton resisted the urge to go down into the basement and fetch a blanket. He was walking a fine line. He wanted the slayer to be sympathetic to them without revealing too many of Spike’s vulnerabilities. Fussing over him right now would wreck that balance.

At least he won’t have any nightmares tonight.

“Did he make Spike?” she asked quietly.

He hesitated. “That… depends on what you mean by ‘make,’” he finally said. “Drusilla is his sire, but Angel still kept her with him at that point. The story goes that after twenty years, he was starting to get tired of his creation and only keeping her around because of her visions. He told her to go find a playmate. She came back with Spike. Angel tried to make him into a copy of himself. He failed, but the attempt helped shape who he was.” He cocked his head, considering. “Given how easily he’s adjusted to bottled blood, it’s entirely possible he might have ended up a sucker without Angel’s influence. Though I suppose the same could be said of myself and the Master’s influence.”

“Who he was,” she repeated. She looked at Spike again, her gaze flickering along the length of his coat. “He seems to consider that a different person than who he is now.”

“Yes, well,” he shrugged. How much to say? Spike wasn’t exactly shy about trying to explain that aspect of things. Probably because he was still struggling with explaining it to himself. “From what I understand, he’s still himself at the core, and he has all of his memories. But a good chunk of those memories don’t make any sense to him, because he hasn’t experienced the emotions that motivated them. He has the knowledge and experience of an adult, but the emotional experience of a young child.”

A young child who had been severely traumatized. It suddenly hit him, something he’d known but hadn’t really thought about. He was essentially Spike’s first experience with friendship and someone who actually cared about him. And I drugged him. Damn it. He’d have to make it clear he’d done it to protect Spike from thinking and talking too much about his encounter with Angel. And to give him a break from the nightmares it would cause.

He took a deep breath and focused again on Buffy. The meeting had been about how much parental interference there would be in her slaying. “Does your mother know you’re here?”

“Uh, kind of? I mean, I did tell her I was coming over, but I said it was because I was going to ask Spike when we’d be able to patrol and do our first training session.”

“Tomorrow night should work for patrol,” he said after thinking about it for a moment. He didn’t say anything about her excuse indicating she’d still be open to doing those things, even though she’d thought Spike had attacked Angel with no provocation. Maybe, with her mother pushing the idea, she hadn’t felt like there was a choice. Or maybe she’d known deep down that something wasn’t right with Angel’s version of events. “I’m not sure when he’ll want to do the training. It’ll be at some point after he feels like he’s seen enough of your fighting style.”

“Okay.” She stood up. “I, uh, I should head home.”

“Hopefully your next visit won’t be as… hectic.”

“Yeah.”

“And Buffy?” She paused on her way to the door. “Try to keep Angel away for the next couple of nights.”

She looked at him, then slowly nodded before quietly opening the door and heading out into the night.