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Chapter Two



Spike moaned and leaned into the gentle touch of the hand caressing his cheek.


“Buffy?” he whispered.


His head whipped to the side and his eyes flew open as that same hand slapped him.


“Who’s Buffy?”


Spike blinked quickly and squinted up at the figure looming over him.


“D-Dru? Drusilla?”


He pushed with his hands until he was sitting up on what he discovered to be a waterbed. The way it wobbled as he moved made him feel queasy.


What the hell is going on?


“Of course it’s me, my sweet William,” trilled Drusilla, as she sat next to him and caused another ripple of the bed.


Spike swallowed the bile rising in his throat. He felt wrong — everything felt wrong. He cast his eyes around his surroundings, squinting as lurid pinks and oranges clashed everywhere in the large room. Drusilla was wearing a long leopard print skirt, slashed to the thigh, and a t-shirt emblazoned with The Sex Pistols album cover – Never Mind the Bollocks. Her hair was a tangled mess of back-combed peaks.


“Am I d-dreaming?” asked Spike quietly.


Dru’s pretty face turned demonic as she frowned at him. “Who’s Buffy?” she snapped.


“What? Er…The Slayer…she’s The Slayer.”


“Ooh! Was that her name?”


Dru clapped her hands together and leapt off the bed. She returned, grinning toothily at him and swinging a soft leather coat to and fro. Spike’s eyes opened wide as he stared at it in horror. He scooted backwards across the bed until he fell off and hit the floor with a thump.


Dru giggled and her face shifted back. “You said that you liked her coat.”


“No. No. Not real. Not true.” Spike shook his head violently, eyes wild.


Dru climbed over the bed and scowled as he continued to back away, sliding along the shag pile carpet. He stared up at Drusilla.


“H-how did I get here?”


Dru sat on the bed and bounced a couple of times before peering down at him. “I carried you.” She cocked her head. “Why did you go to sleep after you killed Buffy?”


“What?” Spike grabbed his head and let out a bloodcurdling scream. Images flew through his mind of him hurling Buffy to the floor in the bathroom. Of him pinning her down. Of him… “No! I didn’t kill her! I didn’t!”


“Oh, but you did, my lovely, Spike. Killed her right and proper you did. Then you had a nap in the subway car. I found you and brought you here.”


Dru dropped the coat at Spike’s feet; he gasped and recoiled as if it were a cross.


Nikki Wood. Oh, Christ! She’s talking about Nikki Wood.


He kicked at the coat with his booted foot. “Get it away from me! What have I done?”


His vision greyed as he was assaulted by memories of his kills — hundreds, maybe thousands of them. Men, women and children.


Oh, shite, so many children!


He curled into a ball, shuddering and trembling, his hands covering his face in a vain attempt to block out the images that were assaulting him.


Drusilla slid off the bed and knelt before him. She reached out and touched his face.


“Spike?”


He pushed her away violently. “Don’t touch me! Killer’s hands!” He held his hands out, fingers spread. “Like mine,” he added quietly.


Dru stood up and began to whine. She rubbed her temples with her fingertips and swayed slightly.


“Sweet William’s being mean, but the pixies say that he’ll be good again. Too good.”


Spike stared at her. His soul! He was burning up from the inside because of his soul! But how could it be?


I’ve just got my soul, but I’ve just killed Nikki Wood.


His mind could take no more and he zoned out as he wrapped his arms around his knees.


Dru watched him for five minutes before she walked over and prodded him with her outstretched index finger. Spike groaned but didn’t move or open his eyes. She prodded him again. Harder.


Same response.


“Boring, Spike!” grumbled Dru.


She flopped on the bed and giggled as it wobbled beneath her. She tried to rouse Spike three times before she had an idea. She bent down and kissed her lover’s head.


“I’ll be back soon. Stay there.”


She locked the door carefully behind her. It wouldn’t do for anyone to see Spike like that. But she knew what she had to do.


Wherever Spike’s mind was, it certainly wasn’t in the motel room with his body. From time to time, his position changed slightly but never moved from his place in the corner beyond the bed.


It was hours before Drusilla returned to the motel room. She had gotten distracted by the bright Christmas lights along the streets and in the window displays of the stores, and then by the thrill of the hunt, but she was back now dragging a semi-conscious young girl that she’d found hanging around the bus station.


Just what my Spike needs to get him back on his feet. Killing that nasty old slayer must have taken it out of him. Soon be right as rain again.


Dru was smiling and humming softly as she opened the door. She flicked on the light and her brows furrowed when she saw him still in the same place. He didn’t acknowledge her as she approached him.



“Spike, are you hungry? I’ve brought you some dinner – nice and fresh she is too.” Dru leaned her head to the side and listened for a moment. “Heart still beating – she’ll be easy to eat.”


Spike moaned continually and his hands alternated between scratching at his chest and his temples. Dru hesitated, unsure of what to do. Spike was normally so strong. He was the slayer of Slayers. She pulled the limp body of the girl towards Spike until her neck was level with his face. The wound where Dru had partially drained her was still open and some blood dripped onto Spike’s arm.


His features shifted and he licked at the blood. Without opening his eyes, he raised his head and sank his fangs over the bite mark and sucked nosily. The girl’s life ebbed away as he drank. As her heart beat for the final time, Spike suddenly screamed and clutched at his own chest. He became aware of his surroundings again and stared in horror at the body lying next to him.


He looked up at Drusilla. “I felt it.” His words came out as a sob.


Dru just gazed back at him; she had no idea what he meant.


“I felt it,” he repeated earnestly. “I felt her soul leave her body.” Fat tears began to roll down his cheeks.


Dru scowled. Spike was being very odd. He even smelled a little different. Maybe she’d taken too much of the girl for herself? Maybe Spike was still hungry?


“So you want another one?” she asked brightly.


“No!” Spike struggled to his feet, one hand on the wall to steady himself. “No more. Too many already.”


He shuddered as he stepped over the body and, without a backward look at Dru, he ran headlong out of the room and into the corridor. Dru laughed wildly and clapped her hands with glee. Ooh! Spike wants to play! Goodie!


She counted quickly to fifty before racing after him.



Spike had no idea where he was going. He didn’t care as long as it was as far away from that body as possible. Forgetting that he didn’t need to breathe, he panted heavily as he ran. Even though it wasn’t yet dawn, there were lots of people at large in the ‘city that never sleeps’ and he jostled several as he ran by. He ignored their angry yells. His eyes were wild as he heard every heart beating as he passed.


Got to keep going! Don’t stop!


Raw hunger still gnawed at his belly and the demon within was almost winning the battle with his soul in its need for sustenance.


What difference will one more make? The other voice in Spike’s head was soft and enticing. You need to eat – you can’t help what you are.


Spike ground to a halt at the entrance to a dark alley. Without even realizing that he had, he took a couple of steps into it and vamped out. His enhanced sight enabled him to make out the figure of a man huddled under some old blankets next to a dumpster. The man was surrounded by old bottles and food cartons that had spilled from it. As Spike watched, a couple of large rats scurried over the sleeping man’s feet and an old newspaper fluttered over the blanket.


No one would miss him…no one would ever know…


Spike licked his lips. His footfalls were catlike and soundless. As he got closer to the man, he paused and then sprang, lightning quick.


His hands reached their target and his mouth watered as the blood hit his tongue.


“Spike!” Dru’s voice rang out loud in the narrow alley. “What are you doing?” She came closer, her nose wrinkled with disgust at the stench.


Spike froze. He just stared at her, the body still held to his lips.


Awakened by Dru’s voice, the homeless man stood up. “Quit your yelling! Some people are trying to sleep!” His words were slurred by the cheap liquor he’d consumed.


Dru turned and glared at him, her yellow eyes blazing. His mouth fell open and he backed slowly away. “What are you?” He glanced at Spike who was kneeling in the filth beside the dumpster. “Oh, sweet Jesus,” he muttered as Spike’s eyes met his.


Dru leapt forward, grabbed the man’s head in both of her hands and twisted it sharply. The crack sounded like a gunshot to Spike.


“No,” he moaned pitifully.


“Shh, Spike. It’s all right. I’m here now.”


Dru bent down and gently took the still warm body of the rat from Spike’s hand.


“I’ll look after you.”


Spike watched as she threw the furry creature into the dumpster.


“Why did you do that? Why not eat him?” She inclined her head in the direction of the man she’d just killed.


“Couldn’t,” Spike whispered, shaking his head. “Can’t…”


Dru reached out to touch him but Spike shook her off. “You killed him.”


Dru looked back at the man. He looked like nothing more than a pile of rags. She had no intention of eating him. She shuddered. He would have tasted sour. The down and outs always did. She preferred her meals to be well fed and plump. But Spike just ate a rat! A rat! Rather than eat a human. No matter how rank a human was – it was nothing compared to the acrid taste of rodent!


Dru lost patience when Spike shrank from her touch once more. Eyes blazing amber, she punched Spike soundly on the chin. He collapsed with a sigh and Drusilla carried her unconscious lover back to the motel.


*~*~*~*


It soon became clear to Drusilla that keeping Spike in the motel wasn’t going to work. He never seemed to be aware of her at all and frequently screamed at the top of his voice. She needed to find somewhere else for them to live but couldn’t leave Spike alone. What if he woke up properly and ran away again?


She pulled the blankets off the bed and ripped them into strips before plaiting three strands together to make a stronger rope. She repeated this until she had four ropes of about three feet long. She lifted Spike to the bed from the corner that he always seemed to crawl to and tied him spread eagled on it. She worried that the rope wouldn’t be strong enough but it was all she had, and she hadn’t been able to get Spike to feed since he’d taken the rat.


Spike tossed his head weakly and his moans became louder – the precursor to a full bodied scream. Dru quickly stuffed a pair of her underpants in his mouth.


“I’m sorry, darling. But you have to be quiet. I’ll be back soon.”


Spike became aware of his surroundings for a moment and tugged ineffectively on his restraints. His starved body was too weak to break them and he was soon lost to his nightmare memories, simply thinking that if this was hell, then he deserved it.



Dru returned later, bubbling with excitement. “Oh, Spike. I’ve found us a lovely place and we can stay there as long as we like.”



Spike’s eyes flickered open, and he tried to spit out the fabric in his mouth. Dru rushed over and pulled the underpants free. She bent and kissed his lips but gave a feral growl as his mouth didn’t respond. When she pulled away, he licked his dry lips and spoke.


“Stake me.” His voice was as dry and cracked as his lips. “Please. I’m a bad man.”


Dru scowled at him impatiently. Why was being bad, bad? She sighed. “We’re moving somewhere new. Are you going to walk with me?”


Spike’s eyes had lost focus once more and he was trapped within his memories. Dru couldn’t risk him wriggling and screaming as she moved him across the city and so she punched him and knocked him out cold.


She gathered him up in her arms. “I’ll make you all better.”


*~*~*~*


Drusilla glanced at the door. Should she lock it? Spike was huddled in the corner where he’d scuttled once he’d regained consciousness and didn’t look like he wanted to run away but she couldn’t be sure of it. She wanted to go out to play. He was no fun anymore and she didn’t want to cut short her pleasure to come to check on him. She smiled as she slammed it shut and turned the key in the lock.


Spike could shout all that he wanted now and no one would hear him. She’d found the perfect place. A top floor loft apartment previously owned by a singer/ songwriter, and it came complete with a soundproofed room kitted out as a recording studio. The sex had been amazing and the poor man had never even felt her fangs in his throat. Dru licked her lips at the memory. She was hungry again and needed to feed.


Spike was slowly wasting away and the lack of sustenance wasn’t helping his soul in its fight to gain precedence over the demon. Spike’s mind was close to the breaking point.


Dru unlocked the door and walked slowly towards the stricken figure of her lover. She knelt next to him and shifted her face so that she could bite her wrist more easily. She held it to Spike’s dry, chapped lips. For a moment, she thought that he wouldn’t take it. That there was no hope left for him. Then, he inhaled deeply and brought his demon swiftly to the fore. His yellow eyes opened and he weakly clung onto her arm as he sucked the sluggish blood out of her.


He drank until Drusilla forcibly pushed him away. “Enough now, Spike!”


He growled but didn’t resist and his face slowly faded back to human. Dru couldn’t look into his eyes anymore. She couldn’t bear to see those blue eyes so tormented. He sighed deeply.


“Thanks, love.”


He fell into the first dreamless, visionless sleep in weeks. The blood went to work at healing the physical wounds where he’d clawed desperately at his chest in a vain attempt to tear the soul out, and where he'd scratched at his temples to rid himself of the demon’s thoughts. It also began to heal the mental wounds; it began to give him the strength to carry the burden that was his soul.