CHAPTER 4

He opened the door and walked into the bar. Stopping just inside threshold, his nostrils flared in anticipation at what was there for the taking. He could smell it. Through the stench of alcohol and blood, he could definitely smell it.

Pain. Incredible pain. Of the heart. Love. Rejection. "Despair," he hissed in satisfaction.

Taking a couple of steps forward, his gaze swung from side to side in an attempt to home in on his quarry.

Suddenly, his head snapped to the right and his eyes widened. "There you are," he murmured, giving his prey the once over. A malevolent smile made its way to his lips. "Soon be out of your misery," he promised before heading over to the nearby table.

*************************

Buffy slammed the front door shut and angrily stalked over to her weapons chest. She lifted the lid, then pulled out stakes from various hiding places on her body and threw them in all the while muttering curses about Spike.

Job done, she let the lid drop back down ignoring the loud bang it made and walked into the kitchen still mumbling to herself.

Flicking the switch on the kettle, she got a mug out from under the sink and placed it next to the appliance. While waiting for the water to boil, she leaned back against the counter and folded her arms.

Scant seconds later, she was on the move again, her agitation clearly showing in the way she paced the kitchen floor.

"Dammit, Spike, what the hell's going on with you?" she suddenly exclaimed coming to a halt and staring up at the ceiling as though it could somehow provide the answers to all her confused questions about the vampire.

Ever since the night two weeks ago when they’d beaten Glory and he’d walked out of her house without even so much of a goodbye, Spike had kept his distance. Literally.

He never turned up at the Magic Shop or stood outside her house anymore. In fact, the only time she saw him now was when they patrolled. And she hated it.

His self-enforced withdrawal from her world had been swift and painfully effective and she hadn’t even realised it had happened until it was too late.

He’d seemed fine when Dawn and herself had gone to see him the day after he’d walked out. A little drunk maybe, but still pretty much his usual self. Just less swagger and sarcasm but she’d put that down to his inebriated state.

She’d insisted on checking his wounds and, satisfied that they were healing nicely, she’d listened to her sister reprimand the vampire for leaving without speaking to her first.

He’d looked suitably chastened and his excuse for walking out suddenly had been that

he’d heard something outside the house and gone to investigate and he hadn’t wanted to alarm anyone. Feeble, but an excuse and when he wasn’t any further forthcoming, they had accepted it with Dawn eliciting a promise from him never to do it again.

They’d left soon after and Buffy had stayed away for the next couple of days giving him a chance to heal completely and her a chance to sort out her jumbled emotions.

Although she'd tried, she could no longer deny her feelings for the vampire and despite her insecurities, she realised that if she could make a go of it with anyone then it'd be Spike. She knew he wouldn't ever leave her, heck, he'd proved that already. She'd seen his gentle, caring side with her sister and herself on the odd occasion she'd allow it and the fact that he was extremely easy on the eyes didn't hurt either.

The only problem she foresaw would be getting her friends to accept him, especially as she'd been such an ardent advocate of 'kick the Spike' in the past.

It hadn't taken her long to come up with a simple plan to solve that little obstacle however. It was easy. Get Spike to mix with her and the Scoobies for a little while so the gang would get used to him being around more and then when she was ready to admit how she felt, everyone would be happy. Well, maybe not Xander or Giles so much, but everyone else would be fine.

It was perfect. Really. Win, win situation all round.

True, it sounded a little selfish, even to her own mind, but after the track record she had with her love life, she had a right to err on the side of caution for once. Didn't she?

Obviously not if a certain vampire’s recent actions had been anything to go by. His growing detachment had become apparent when they'd started to make regular patrols.

Of course, the fact that she had seemingly become incapable of forming a coherent sentence around him for the first few days of their current arrangement may have been the reason for his withdrawal. Just turning up at his crypt, saying "patrol" and walking out again before he could see her blush was probably not the best way to convey "I want to spend some time with you" she decided ruefully.

That said, when she had recovered her speech again, she had been nice to him. More than nice. No punching, no name calling, inviting him in to her home and out to the Bronze the last week so surely that more than made up for her other less than articulate displays, didn't it?

Again, obviously not, because he'd politely declined every invite she made. Politely for heaven's sake! What was that all about?

She was beginning to be at a loss to know what to do. Even the lure of hot chocolate with marshmallows hadn’t worked when she’d invited him in a couple of nights ago.

The one time she’d asked him why he kept rejecting her invites, he’d merely shrugged his shoulders and said that some of Glory’s minions might still be around and he just wanted to keep an ear to the ground until he knew everything was safe for the Bit again.

Although Buffy had said that she appreciated his concern, she’d also told him that she didn’t think an extra hour here and there with her and the gang would make that much difference, but he’d remained adamant.

She tutted. "One minute he’s constantly by my side professing undying love and the next he’s treating me as if I’ve got garlic breath or something," she muttered grumpily as the kettle clicked off drawing her attention.

She poured herself a coffee then walked into the lounge and sat down on the couch, drawing her feet up underneath her as she continued to contemplate the temperamental blond.

Having expected him to jump at an opportunity to be with her in public, his rejection of her invites and therefore herself, had been a shock. So much so that she could no longer ignore the unwelcome conclusion that had been drumming at the back of her mind for the last couple of days; he didn’t love her anymore.

Just forming that thought caused a pain in her heart that, even though she'd accepted her feelings, still managed to surprise her.

Shaking her head, she sipped her drink and determinedly pushed the unwanted thought to the back of her mind almost immediately. On more than one occasion during patrol, she had caught him looking at her and had seen the flash of desire in his eyes before he hurriedly dropped his gaze.

He still loved her, she was sure, but something had changed and she couldn’t for the life of her think what.

‘Time for something drastic’, she told herself as she sat up and placed her mug on the coffee table in front of her. Drawing in a long calming breath to settle her nerves at the daunting task she’d decided upon, she nodded her head abruptly and stood up. "Gotta talk to my friends." A couple of seconds later, she nodded her head again then sat back down. "Don't feel much like dancing tonight, I'll catch them tomorrow".

********************

Spike sat in the darkest corner of Willy’s bar and slowly exhaled a cloud of cigarette smoke. Picking up his shot glass, he brought it to his lips, tipped his head back and let the amber liquid burn a trail of fire down his throat. He slammed the glass back down and picked up the bottle for a refill.

He paused midway to the glass as an image of Buffy dancing closely with some faceless man flashed into his tortured mind and he brought the bottle to his lips instead.

Drinking deeply, he cursed himself for the hundredth time for not accepting when Buffy asked him to the Bronze but he knew he didn’t belong there. He belonged here. Alone. Thirst momentarily sated, he put the bottle down and wiped his mouth with his cuff.

Eyes narrowed, he surveyed the bar as he took a long drag on his cigarette and pushed the smoke out through his nose. Unusually for this time of night, it was relatively quiet which meant there was less chance for him to work off some of his pent up aggravation and more chance for him to think about Buffy.

Buffy. The woman he'd love for the rest of his existence and who he knew would never love him back. The woman he'd made a promise to but, when it came to keeping it, he'd failed miserably.

"Guilt, thy name is Buffy," he murmured despondently. A picture of the younger Summers sister clutching her bloodied skirt to her stomach briefly flashed into his head and his mouth tightened grimly. "Or is it Dawn?"

Taking another long drink, he leaned back in his chair and rested the bottle on his knee continuing his perusal of the bar. There had to someone here he could pick a fight with and end all his poncey introspection.

Looking around, he saw the usual scum that frequented Willy’s each night although there were a few faces he hadn’t seen before.

A couple of tables away to his left sat three Jitsu demons. They were small, jaundiced looking creatures with large heads and large hands. Deceptively strong, they used telepathy to communicate and at that moment one was looking directly at him.

Spike stared back thinking that he might get a little action quicker than he thought. The creature turned back to his companions and obviously telegraphed something as, suddenly, all three looked over at the blond.

The vampire growled low in his throat and gave them a smirk as he straightened in his seat then watched half amused, half disappointed as the three turned away, quickly finished their drinks then got up and hurried away.

"Bugger," he mumbled, "Knew the growl was too much." He slouched back in his seat again only to look over to his right when the sound of crying caught his attention. At a table across the room, a young girl sat dabbing a tissue to her opaque eyes while a man, whose back was to Spike, was clearly trying to calm her.

Lovers tiff, the vampire decided and was about to turn away when he noticed the girls long brown hair. Almost immediately, Dawn’s face appeared before him once again which, as usual, was quickly followed by Buffy's and he closed his eyes, finally giving in to his brain that apparently didn’t think he’d suffered enough yet.

Finishing his cigarette, he dropped the butt on the floor and left it to smoulder as his mind wandered back over the past couple of weeks.

He'd been surprised when the Niblet and the Slayer had turned up at his crypt the day after his departure from their house. He had thought that since the danger had passed, he wouldn't be seeing Buffy again until another apocalypse threatened.

The fact that he'd drunk himself into oblivion the night before and had still been under the alcohol's influence didn't help the situation either. Otherwise, he would've been in a better position to object when Buffy stalked straight over to him and demanded that she check his bandaged wounds.

Instead, he'd meekly stood there and allowed her warm hands to roam over his body, both loving and hating it at the same time. Loving it because of who she was and hating it because he knew he didn't deserve her attention.

The Slayer's hands had barely left him before Dawn's harsh admonishment of his leaving without saying goodbye had penetrated his muzzy head.

That was more like he deserved.

He had offered a token excuse to appease the young woman but he knew that both she and her sister hadn't believed him for a second. Guiltily, he'd looked away from their disappointed gazes and at the teen's insistence, automatically promised that he wouldn't do it again.

And he wouldn't, because realising that he’d unwittingly let them down yet again, everything had suddenly become clear to him - every hurtful word that had ever come out of Buffy’s mouth about him was the truth.

He hadn’t wanted to admit it before but there was no denying it any longer. He was beneath her. He was beneath both of them. He had no right to be near them, no right to touch them, no right to love them…no right to be in their world. And, if he wasn't in their world, then he wouldn't be in a position to let them down again. Simple.

Except it wasn’t. Not when he knew that he couldn't let the Slayer patrol without back up. He'd dust himself if anything ever happened to her and so the only concession to his decision was that he'd still help her if she needed it. In any case, he'd reasoned with himself, technically, while patrolling she was in his world and that made it OK.

Spike brought the bottle to his mouth and drank deeply until nothing remained then put it back down on the table with a snort. It had been so straightforward in his head but in practice, it was proving harder than he ever could've imagined because, surprisingly, Buffy had asked for his help pretty much every night since then. Well, if you could call her turning up at his crypt, holding up a stake while saying, "Patrol" before walking back out, asking.

He hadn't expected her to seek him out quite so often and there were moments when he let himself indulge in the fantasy that it was because she wanted to, but deep inside, he knew better.

Her lack of insults and fists to his face proved that. Hell, she didn’t even like him enough to issue the mildest of threats anymore.

No, the only reason she patrolled was that she was just as much worried as he was that some of Glory's minion's might still be out there willing to harm Dawn. Even though her time as the mystical Key was over, they couldn’t rule out possible revenge.

They'd talked about it one night while out on patrol. Talked about a lot of things lately, he realised. Or rather, she talked and he listened. He knew his opinion wasn't worth anything anyway, so he rarely offered one now.

Sure, if she wanted to know what kind of demon she'd just killed or anything else to do with the ‘job’ he'd oblige, but apart from that he kept his mouth shut. Worked better that way. No conversation, no chance of getting drawn back in.

Naturally, being the Slayer, she wasn’t making it easy for him. Asking his opinion on various aspects of her life, sharing gossip about the Scoobies and, unbelievably, even going so far as to asking him in for hot chocolate when he walked her home some nights or onto the Bronze on others. Of course, he knew the latter was probably because of the Bit’s nagging, but still…

He suddenly laughed derisively at the irony of the situation. Not a couple of months before he'd desperately sought a crumb from the Slayer and had been shot down in flames. Now, there she was, dangling the whole damn cake slap bang in his face but every time he felt the urge to grab it with both hands, an image of Dawn's pained face would pop into his head and that was it.

Soddin’ bleedin’ typical!

The overwhelming guilt was becoming the conscience he'd lived so long without and as much as he rebelled against the feeling, he was becoming enslaved by it more and more each day. The only solace he found was at the bottom of a bottle. Many bottles in fact. The drink numbed the ache…for a while. And a while is exactly what he needed right now.

Standing up, he walked to the bar and put the empty bottle on the counter. "Same again, mate and one for luck," he ordered, digging around in his duster pocket and slapping a couple of bills on the drink stained top.

Willy looked over at him then shook his head as he bent down and pulled two bottles out from under the counter. He put them next to the empty bottle and took the cash whispering nervously, "Uh, try not to cause any trouble tonight please, Spike."

The vampire raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips contemplatively before gesturing vaguely behind him. "Well, the thing of it is, Willy," he finally replied, "Demon bar. Trouble tends to happen every now and then."

"Yeah, every now and then goes with the territory, but you've been in here every night for the last ten days and I'm running out of chairs," Willy pointed out worriedly as he handed him back his change and added, "And customers".

"Sometimes getting information takes a bit of persuasion," Spike shrugged unconcernedly as he grabbed one of the bottles and unscrewed the top. He took a long draft then leaned back casually, resting on his free elbow on the counter and looked unhappily about the room. "Anyway, I don't think you'll have to worry tonight, Willy old boy. Not much here for me to play with," he commented with loud sigh. "Unless I put her out of her misery," he added dryly, nodding towards the female who was still sobbing to her boyfriend.

"That’s Lana," Willy supplied helpfully. "She’s got boyfriend troubles."

"You don’t say," Spike drawled with a total lack of interest.

"Yeah, it’s a sad story really," the bartender continued as he leaned forward conspiratorially, obviously warming to the subject.

"Yeah, well, I don’t care," the blond interrupted abruptly, effectively shutting the gossip monger up. Without a backward glance, Spike picked up his two bottles and walked back over to his seat.

On his way, he passed the weeping girl’s table and got a better look at the man sitting there. ‘No wonder she’s crying,’ Spike thought to himself, his own stomach churning at the sight of the man's hideously gnarled face. 'Ugly git.'

As if hearing his thoughts, the man suddenly looked up and stared straight back at the vampire, his eyes narrowing. Spike's steps faltered as a chill crept up his spine at the almost assessing look on the other demon's face. Before he could react, the man looked back at the girl and spoke to her softly. Sniffling, she nodded and as Spike sat down at his table, he saw them both stand up and leave the bar.

Spike stared after them for a moment trying to quell the uneasy feeling that had settled in the pit of his stomach since the man's appraisal. Closing his eyes, he brought the opened bottle to his lips and took a drink, hoping that the warmth of the alcohol would help calm his sudden nervous state.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't the Slayer's pet vampire," came a rumbling voice from in front of him.

Spike tensed then opened his eyes and slowly lowered the half empty bottle to the table, still loosely grasping its neck as he silently took in the three Monu demons surrounding him.

Pure power houses, they were of average height, with mottled brown/green scaly skins that were reminiscent of a lizard. Four taloned fingers graced each hand which Spike knew could slice through the toughest of surfaces without so much as scuffing a claw.

He quickly weighed up the odds of the situation and they didn’t look good. There was one Monu on either side of him and the third was standing on the other side of the table. With the wall at his back, Spike knew that any way of escape was effectively blocked and he welcomed the rush of adrenalin that began to flow through his borrowed blood at the knowledge.

This was just what he needed. A little physical pain to take away the mental.

"Didn't think her leash extended this far," the Monu in front of him goaded again, bringing the vampire’s gaze to his. Smiling cruelly he added, "Does she realise you’ve gone walkies alone?"

"Oh, for God’s sake, can’t you pillocks ever come up with something a little more creative than comparing me to a dog?" Spike asked in a bored tone as he slowly moved his right leg until his foot rested against the trunk of the table.

"What did you call me?" the demon asked, outraged.

"A pillock, you burke," the blond repeated derisively.

Not knowing what it meant but absolutely sure he’d been insulted, the Monu let out an angry roar and lunged at Spike.

As soon as he moved, the vampire used his foot to push the table hard towards the attacking demon. The edge caught it straight in the stomach causing him to double over in pain. At the same time, Spike rose to his feet and smashed the bottle he was holding against the wall then rammed the jagged remains into the neck of the Monu on his right.

The glass sliced through its jugular and the demon let out an anguished howl when blood spurted through his fingers as he grabbed ineffectually at his neck before falling dead to the floor.

The third demon grabbed Spike from behind, but the vampire jerked his head backwards delivering a blow to the Monu’s face that stunned him enough to release the blond.

Once free, Spike immediately spun around to look at the two demons. Game face on, his eyes glowed yellow as he let out a hard laugh suspending his guilt for a short while as he allowed his demon to take charge.

"Muzzle's off," he told them, running his tongue over his fangs with relish before adding on a low growl, "Playtime".

************************

The sounds of a fight filtered through the air vent into the alley by the side of Willy's bar momentarily distracting the man from his task at hand.

Looking back down at the woman laying on the ground in front of him his distorted features twisted into a smile as he knelt down by her side.

"There, there," he crooned, gently moving his hand across her face and lowering the lids to cover the now lifeless opaque eyes of his victim. "All better now, Lana. No more pain."

Glancing around, he slowly unbuttoned her blouse then laid his right hand over her chest. A few moments later, a blue glow began to emanate from his hand and he threw his head back, letting out a scream of agony. Staring wide eyed at the night sky, blue lines crawled up the column of his neck and spread across his face, each one adding a new crevice, bump or wrinkle to his already deformed features.

The light from his hand dimmed and his head fell limply forward as he sat back on his heels, panting slightly. Taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly and smiled in satisfaction as he rose to his feet.

He bent down and picked Lana up as though she weighed nothing then walked over to a nearby dumpster and threw her body in as carelessly as day old rubbish. Brushing himself down, he straightened his clothing then looked around him with a pleased smile. He was going to like it here.

Whistling a haunting melody, he strolled out of the alley then headed into town already thinking about his next victim. A blond man in black that he'd wager was a vampire.

END CHAPTER FOUR

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