Thanks, everyone, for the reviews and encouragement. This part doesn’t have any action, but it does introduce you to this dimension’s Spike. And through inner monologue, you get some backstory.

Chapter Eight

Two Months Ago

Spike missed dog races and Manchester United. He missed the billions of people running around in a frenzy, frightened, weak. He missed the hunt, the kill. He missed feeling a girl go limp in his arms, her pulse slowing, but still warm. He missed the dance- the slayer. He missed Drusilla maybe most of all.

He used to love the world. So large, so exciting. He was free to unleash his power upon it and revel. But now there was hardly anything left. People confined in cages, their population hovering just above the extinction line. They had to rely on vampires to reproduce, and miscarriages were more common than live births. What was the fun in that?

The depression deepened as he reluctantly retracted his fangs from the girl’s offered wrist. Her soft brown eyes lifted to land on his face. He shook his demon aside, even though it didn’t matter. She couldn’t see it. A small smile formed on her pale lips. She swayed a little on her knees. He grabbed her arms, steadying her.

“Do you feel better now?” she softly asked.

It always threw him, every time she showed concern. He was a monster, her keeper. But then again, compared to the other vamps she came across before he was probably a bloody saint in her eyes. Oh, not a good analogy. In her mind was better.

“Thanks, pigeon. But I’m rightly concerned about you. Did I take too much?”

He inwardly cringed. No wonder she thought he was one of Jesus’ disciples with statements like that. But if things were different, if he’d come across her two centuries ago, he would have drained her dry in less than five minutes.

“I’ll be fine. Just need to rest a bit.” She crawled over next to the unlit fire place and curled into a ball. Almost instantly he sensed her fall asleep.

Spike reached over beside him on the black leather sofa and grabbed an afghan. He went over and draped it over her prone form. He watched her for awhile, going over how he’d come to have such a housemate.

Her name was Aradia, and she wasn’t his slave. She was- Actually he had no idea what she was to him.

He’d come across her one night, on the run. She smashed into his chest, looked up at him with sightless eyes, but with something in them. She saw something there, not optically but psychically. He’d seen that look in Drusilla once upon a time. There were hunters after her. They wanted to kill her. They blinded her and yet she still saw. She saw a place, where humans were free.

Spike fought them off. He didn’t know why exactly. But ever since, Aradia and he stuck together. He got her food, she gave him some in return. It worked. Especially since he was a boycotter toward the system and wasn’t about to accept zombie food.

Vampires were ingrained monsters, humans were the prey. It was nature. Humans were not supposed to be cattle. He could taste it in their blood. Life was blood, and there was very little of it left. It was sour, made him sick. How the other vamps could stand the rancidness of it was a mystery. The whole order had been screwed up royally.

And it was his fault.

It could all be pinpointed to Riley Finn. His biggest mistake, his lowly childe. He snorted. Now he knew how Angelus felt toward himself.

It had made sense at the time. He was one of those ‘act now and think later’ types, though. Drusilla had just turned to dust and the pain was fresh. He wanted revenge. He wanted to hurt Buffy in the same way. So he targeted her new honey. He made Riley a vampire.

But there were ugly side-effects. Riley had to have his wacko mummy figure, Maggie Walsh, as his kind also. And together they came up with the idea of letting the demons loose in the Initiative and chipping the soldiers and scientists. Okay, Spike was down with that. He wanted a hand at showing them that vampires weren’t under anyone’s control. He even led the operation. Well, he liked to think he did. But that wasn’t the end of it. Maggie Walsh wanted world domination.

A deadly virus swept through the land. And afterward Maggie Walsh, along with Riley Finn, created a new army. The Initiative V2.0, go figure. They chipped the humans that didn’t surrender, put them in pens.

He even tracked down Buffy, ready to do the whole truce bit again. His last resort. He didn’t want to face her, even to fight her, not after what she did to his dark princess. It should have given him some kind of satisfaction, the depleted creature he found. But it didn’t. The world was doomed.

Aradia let out a small moan. He knelt down to touch her forehead. She had a fever. He took too much too soon. He brought the blanket over her shoulders. Realizing what he did, he quickly stood up.

It was a remnant from his William days, taking care of people. He’d had to look after his mum ever since he hit thirteen. He wished he could bury the trait, but it wouldn’t go away.

He snatched up the black duster that draped haphazardly over a chair. He fell into it, his second skin. It made him feel more big bad. He nodded and went for the door.

He needed some smokes and booze. And while he was at it, why not stop and pick up a bucket of hot wings. Spike sighed. Aradia liked the herbal baked chicken wings they had there too.

He snuck one last glance at the slumbering girl. His lips twitched. Truth was, he was glad he had some company.

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Ha ha, what fun! So, um, Spike might be chipless and soulless, but there’s that ingrained need to look after someone. And he doesn’t like the new organization that took over the world.

Hope you all understood the Riley thing. He turned him because Buffy killed Drusilla and he wanted revenge.