Back With Me
by Alexandria Brown

Summary:
Originally written by Alexandria Brown.
Spike's past comes back to haunt and help. This is a serious AU. I will be messing around with timelines, past histories and pretty much everything else to my heart's content. If it's canon but it doesn't fit with where I want to go, then I just ignore it. Don't whine about it, I've warned you.

Notes:
This was written by Alexandria Brown and was recovered through the Wayback Machine. Aside from some formatting done to make it easier to read, this has not been edited.

This story was marked as To Be Continued and is not a finished work.

Chapter 1:
"Hit me."

An eyebrow arched up at the firm words. "Are you quite sure about that? Doesn't seem like a good idea, mate."

A resolved nod in response. "Hit me. I mean it."

"Well, if you're sure about that," Spike drawled then reached out a quick hand, expertly flipping the card across the table. "Six of spades. That makes 22, sorry, luv, thanks for playing."

Xander just groaned, what had possessed him to do that? He still never knew what to do if he was holding sixteen, just seemed too close to call.

"Pet, not necessarily a bad decision, just make sure you have the money to lose, can go either way. Besides," Spike dealt himself another card, "dealer would have had twenty so you were fucked either way."

Xander just nodded, watching Spike's elegant hands scoop up the cards and shuffle them together.

"Now, once again, what are the three cardinal lessons?" Spike fanned the deck, then placed it on the table, cutting and recutting the cards, idly palming a card now and then, just for the practice.

"One, always stand on seventeen. Two, set your limit BEFORE you sit at the table. Three, the house always wins." Xander absently repeated, concentrating on watching Spike's hands. Damn, he could never see how he managed to do that. Everything looked fine, then suddenly the ace of spades appeared in Spike's hand. Damn vampire speed, wasn't fair.

"Why did you pick this, luv? Could have taught you craps just as easily, less relative odds to keep in your head." Spike dealt out the cards and Xander grinned when he saw his hand.

"Blackjack, take that you cocky vamp," he chortled, seeing Spike's lowly ten and three.

"Better to be lucky than good," Spike grinned back. "Seriously, why this of all the things you could have chosen."

Xander just shrugged. "Wanted to learn some kind of card came, didn't want to be reduced to playing slots the whole time. Baccarat has that whole Bond, James Bond thing, and, as you proved last week, I can't bluff for shit so poker's out." He winced a little at that thought. He had lost $200 in about twenty minutes and Spike had never been allowed to touch the deck. Damn vampires and their three facial expressions.

"So you pick the one game that rewards Stephen Hawking like math skills." Spike just shook his head affectionately. "Well, I'll just be here, waiting for the call to wire you money."

Xander swatted Spike as he walked past him into the kitchen, grabbing a couple of beers.

"Doubt we'll be in the casino that much anyway, you know Anya."

"Hmmm," the low reply. "So where are you staying again?"

"The Luxor, you know the pyramid shaped one, she said something about Egypt, mummies, that whole thing," Xander sat on the couch, flipping on the television.

"So, your little demon says, 'Hey, let's go to Vegas for the week' and you aren't worried one little bit that she's getting you there for more nefarious reasons then gambling? Lots of chapels about, pet." Spike settled on the other end of the couch, taking a long drink. Just like the bitch, drag Xander off where his friends couldn't interfere, where he couldn't keep an eye out for the lad, get him drunk, get him married.

"Nope, trust me, she made that damn clear when she made the reservations. She just wanted to get away. It's our two year anniversary you know and she made a killing day trading, went in and bought a bunch of stuff during the downturn, then just held it until everything started to climb again." Xander grinned around the lip of the bottle. "Can get used to being a kept man."

"Sure, luv, anything you say," Spike's skepticism was plain. "Fly out tomorrow, back week Sunday, right?"

"Yup, appreciate you keeping watch over the place." Xander looked around proudly. The house was small, but it was his. He had worked long and hard to make it nice, to repair the roof, the walls, the floor, hell, pretty much gutted it and started over. And it was his. No help from anyone else. He didn't want anything to happen to it while he was gone and a week was an eternity on the Hellmouth.

"Well, beats the crypt any day even if your windows are drafty. Why me, not one of the rest of the gang?" Spike settled in on the couch, wiggling his back ever so slightly into the cushions.

"They're too busy, and, besides, no one wanted to stay, just drop by, get the mail, stuff like that." Xander knew that he was being a little obsessive, but he had never been gone more than a day and he didn't want to worry while on vacation. He knew Spike would take good care of the house, knowing full well that Buffy staking him would be the least of his problems if anything happened while Xander was gone.

They both looked up at the sound of keys in the front door. "Men, packages, car, carry," she managed to hiss out as she staggered in, laden with boxes and bags. It seemed her little shopping trip had gone well.

"Oh, yes, dear, anything for you, dear, I just do what you say, dear," Spike swept out the door with a mock bow, heading out now that Xander's little love was back.

"See ya, Spike, thanks in advance." Xander called to the retreating figure. Spike just tossed a wave over his shoulder and stalked away.

****

Spike paced through the small rooms of the house, tracing a circle from bedroom to living room to kitchen to bathroom to bedroom. He was going slowly insane, the scent of Xander surrounding him. Once again, his thoughts turned to their unlikely alliance. Since the fucking chip had been slammed into him, he and the whelp had slowly formed a strong friendship. Spike clearly understood the reasons behind it. They were the outcasts of their peers, the ones on the edges of the action. Spike was a pariah in the demon realm, while Xander was the comic relief of the Slayerettes. Neither were taken seriously, both were consulted only when all other avenues failed. At first, they were merely drinking partners, each trying to one up the other in tales of self-pity and woe. But gradually, so gradually neither had noticed, they had become friends. Now, they saw each other every day, frequently calling just to check in. Spike had managed to acquire a cell phone for which he mysteriously never reached a bill and Xander was the only one of the Scooby gang who had the number. Spike was a frequent quest in Xander and Anya's home. Indeed, the guest room wasn't so much a guest room as it was Spike's room, he even had several sets of clothing there. Blood was always in the refrigerator, ashtrays were on the endtables and Xander even allowed Spike to order Manchester United matches off the satellite. All quite cozy.

"Bloody hell, turning all domestic, doing him favors, running around doing errands for his chit, love's bitch indeed," Spike muttered, pacing faster and faster. Spike knew exactly why he was so willing to swallow his pride, so willing to quell the voices in his head mocking him for his shameful loss of face. He was a laughingstock now, he knew that, he heard the whispers when the other vampires didn't know he could hear them. Poor old Spike, the Slayer's pet, no, not that, worse than that, the pet of the Slayer's pet. He knew and didn't care. He loved Xander, had loved Xander since he couldn't say when, didn't want to try to decide. It was worth it just to be some small part of his life.

"Always pick the impossible, don't you, you stupid pillock. Cicely, Angelus, Dru, yes, quite the track record there, mate. Stuck up bitch, broody bastard, certifiably insane vampiress, nice collection, mate. Now a human, oh that's lovely. A human man, straight as can be, in love with a former demon. Walking Springer show." The muttering continued as Spike began the familiar litany in his head, trying to find some way to remind himself of what he used to be, how continents had once trembled at the mere mention of his name. Now, now he was house sitting for someone he would have considered a nice snack in the good old days. He growled deeply, shaking off the melancholy. No, one brooder was quite enough in a family, thank you, and his already had the master itself.

"Right, need to find something to do, never were good at thinking, action's more my game," Spike stopped in the center of the living room, casting a dark look around. "Let's see, could try to find something to blackmail the whelp, that would be good." Spike nodded, his enthusiasm for the project rising quickly. "Yes, good plan, that, can save those Polaroids for later." An evil grin curled at the corners of his mouth. Xander truly should have known better than to get so drunk he passed out, not when Spike was still sober and in possession of a camera. Spike was rather certain that Xander didn't want anyone but Anya knowing that she made him wear tiger striped thong underwear.

Spike efficiently set about checking the house for its secrets, already knowing where they kept their porn and sex toys. Actually, those weren't even hidden, just kept in a box under the bed and that only because Xander insisted upon it. Anya would have left the handcuffs and gag ball on the corner table if it were up to her. No, Spike was after more interesting items, like old pictures. Perhaps old pictures of Xander when he was on the swim team, now that would be sight to see.

The living room yielded nothing, nor did the kitchen. Well, nothing more than some money and a few rings of Anya's kept in a fake can in the pantry. Spike pocketed the bills, then moved to the bathroom. No, nothing there either. He carefully knocked on the walls, finding it hard to believe that Xander, with all his construction skills, hadn't made some secret compartment. Still, nothing.

He moved into what even he had taken to calling his room, a chill running through him once again at the thought. Good thing he had given up pride last year, otherwise the shame of being a tolerated guest in a human's home may have crushed him. Still, nothing, not even behind the loose board in the closet. He frowned. Either Xander was very clever or he had wisely cleared out any incriminating items prior to Spike's arrival.

Frowning at that thought, Spike entered Xander and Anya's room, flinching a little at the scent of their sex that still lingered there, even though they had been gone for three days and Spike had immediately opened the windows when he had arrived that Sunday. It was bad enough to smell it when they were there, it was infinitely worse to smell it when they were gone. How many nights had he leaned back on the bed in the next room, clearly hearing the sounds of their lovemaking, the scent of it overpowering him. How many times had he wrapped a cool hand around himself, stroking in time to Xander's thrusts, trying to picture himself under, over, around that beautiful body. It seemed a cruel taunt that he would still have to smell it now.

Spike checked the room. Still nothing. He started over again, focusing on the closet, tapping carefully at the walls. Finally, he was rewarded with a slight echo in the wall behind Anya's shoeboxes. He pulled the boxes away, then looked closely. He could just make out the seam, just barely feel the slight indentation. He carefully slid the panel to the side, then reached a hand in. He felt the corner of an envelope and grinned. Jackpot. Xander wasn't the only one getting lucky. He eased the envelope out the hole and then padded into the kitchen to examine his prize.

"FUCKING BITCH, RIP HER HEART OUT. MOTHERFUCKING CUNT," Spike couldn't stop the screams from ripping from his throat, not caring that the neighbors would surely hear. The pictures spread across the table. Anya and some man. Some man with dark hair and dark eyes, but without Xander's smile, Xander's warmth, Xander's face. Letters, matchbooks, dating back over a year. So this explained her buying trips, her private voicemail account, explained the secret smiles. The bitch had a lover, had had a lover, continued to have a lover. Spike reached down, his hands trembling in rage as he traced the words of the most recent letter.

"Dearest, miss you, must see you, meet me in Las Vegas. I'll bring her, you bring him, they will never suspect."

**At least he was right about her not wanting to get married** Spike just snarled as the thought crossed his mind. Like that mattered now. Xander had been so happy about this trip, so proud that he was in a loving, stable relationship. All a lie. Spike reached out, grabbing the phone from the wall, dialing the number from memory. He had stared at the paper with the number for the hotel for hours, playing imaginary conversations with Xander in his head. This was the longest they had gone without talking in over a year, hell, Spike usually called Xander to say he was leaving to come to the house, then Xander would call and ask Spike to pick up something on the way, then Spike would call back to make sure he had everything, then Xander would call to see how close Spike was to arriving at the house. Three days was an eternity. He dialed the number, listened to the rings, then suddenly hung up. No, no he would not do this.

Spike pulled out a cigarette, craving the nicotine to calm him down. No, he wouldn't just call, wouldn't ruin it for Xander. Better to let him have the lie for a few more days. When they returned, however, he would make sure that he and the demon bitch had a little talk. He would make sure that Anya left Xander, but he would also make sure that Xander never knew the real reason behind the trip. Just that, she could give Xander just that. Spike yanked open the freezer and pulled out the bottle of vodka. If this didn't call for getting drunk, he didn't know what did. This was going to devastate Xander and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Couldn't even kill the bitch for what she had done. Bypassing a glass as merely a wasted gesture, Spike took a huge gulp straight from the bottle.

****

Spike flattened himself to the wall just inside the front door, quickly calculating that, yes, he could pin whatever it was trying to break into the house to the far wall without being exposed to the sun. He had been asleep on the couch, still a little groggy from his binge two days before. He had finished the bottle of vodka, then the whiskey, then the gin, then the rest of the beer before collapsing in the middle of the kitchen floor. He had regained consciousness the next morning long enough to moan then stagger into his bed. He slept most of the rest of the day, finally being forced to move due to hunger. Even blood had tasted like sand in his mouth and he had collapsed again on the couch. However, the sound of a car pulling into the driveway, followed by the low murmur of voices, then a slammed door, had snapped him awake. He listened as someone walked up to the door then began fiddling with the lock. He knew it couldn't be Xander and Anya, it was only Thursday, they weren't due back for another three days. He tensed as he saw the handle, then slammed the intruder into the wall, gameface on and ready to fight.

"Fuck, Spike, gods, what are you doing," Xander yelped out from his position on the wall.

Spike blinked in shock, his grip on Xander's shirt never lessening. "Xander, what are you doing here, you're early, where's," he stopped himself at that, feeling the snarl curling in his throat. He knew that saying the cunt's name right now would not be a good idea. He fought back the small surge of happiness he felt at seeing Xander again, concerned by how tired and drawn he looked.

Xander looked away for a second as Spike slowly lowered him to the ground. "We, well, we had a fight." He didn't really want to talk about it, wasn't sure if he could talk about it without choking up.

"Lose all her money, whelp? Spank some waitress in one of those little toga outfits?" Spike followed Xander as Xander made his tired way into his bedroom, checking quickly to make sure that the envelope was still hidden under the mattress in Spike's room and wasn't lying out on the kitchen counter.

"No." The brief reply was all Spike got as Xander dropped his back on the bed, then fell back, throwing an arm across his face. He couldn't stand seeing this room, seeing their room, seeing her picture on the bedstand. He threw an arm out and began to blindly flail away at the table, knocking everything off. He felt a strong hand suddenly grab his wrist, stopping him. Xander tried to tug away, not putting much effort into it, knowing that Spike would just win.

Spike stared down, deeply concerned. Xander looked terrible even to his eyes. He was pale and drawn and it looked like he had been crying. Spike realized with a start that he had never witnessed Xander cry and was suddenly desperate to maintain that streak. He slowly knelt next to the bed, carefully setting Xander's arm down.

"Pet, you all right, something happen?" He had no idea how to begin to ask, if asking was even the right thing to do.

A bitter snort came from the body next to Spike. "Oh, everything is just fine. Just great. Just dandy, peachy keen, neato, boffo, terrific, stupendous, sublime." Xander kept his eyes shut, the scene replaying over and over in his mind. "Having a great time, nice place, beautiful room, beautiful woman, being catered to hand and foot. Even managed to win over $2,000 at blackjack. See, I can learn if I put my mind to it. Everything was just great. Yesterday was our anniversary and we went out, great dinner, better sex, just perfect. Then, this morning, I decided to go swimming, Anya said she didn't want to go, would meet me later. Said fine, would see her in a few hours. Went down, swam a few laps, got bored, decided to go back to the room. Opened the door. Found Anya taking it up the ass from some guy. Freaked out, thought she was being raped at first," Xander let out a tired laugh at that. "Really did, never occurred to me that she was a more than willing participant until I pulled the prick off her and starting beating his face in. She grabbed me, yanked me off, then went back to check on him. That's when I finally got a clue, when it all started to make sense. I should have figured something was up when she told me she had that daily massage appointment. Anyway, to make a long story short, after much screaming and throwing things around, she finally told me that she didn't love me, that she loved him, that we were there only because he was there for a convention. That it had been going on for over thirteen months and she just didn't know how to tell me. Did the only thing I could to try to have some dignity, grabbed my bags, threw some clothes on and walked out the door. Left her there fussing over him. Tried to make the grand exit, whirled around and told her not to come back. She didn't even look over, just told me that she hadn't planned to and that she would arrange to have her stuff packed and shipped to her. Left, got on a plane, came home."

"Xander," Spike heard the crack in his voice. "Oh, bloody hell, sorry, mate. I'm so sorry."

"What do you know about it," Xander hissed out, feeling the waves of pain wash over him. "How would you understand?"

"You do remember Dru, Xander," Spike kept his voice low and quiet, his emotions tearing him in two. One half of him just wanted to wrap his arms around Xander and never let go. The other howled to hunt her down and torture her for days, no years, for what she had done. "I do know what it's like, been there myself."

Xander nodded at that, remembering some of the tales he had heard from Angel as to how Dru had taunted Spike, opening flaunting her lovers. "Guess you do, just, why, I don't understand, I loved her, I gave her everything." Xander started to pant, trying to will the tears away. **Not in front of Spike, please, no, humiliated enough, not that, not that too** An unwelcome tear traced down his cheek, and Xander turned on his side, trying desperately to hide, wishing he had thought to crawl under the covers so that he could hide his face. He felt a tentative hand trace his back, the touch feather light.

"Xander, I'm sorry, she didn't deserve you, shouldn't have done that," Spike started. He had no idea what to say or do. "Just, wish I could bring her heart back for you."

Xander couldn't help smiling a little at that. Typical Spike, violence as affection. "Yeah, I know, can you just leave me alone for a little, don't really want to talk."

"Certainly," Spike moved to the doorway, pausing for a moment, resisting the urge to either wrap himself around Xander or rip the room to shreds. **Of course he would come back during the day, can't even go find something to kill** "If you need anything," again his voice trailed off.

Xander nodded wearily. "Thanks, Spike. I'll let you know." With that Spike left the room, heading quickly for his own. He grabbed his lighter, squeezing it so tight that it burst. He bent his head, then slowly walked to his own room, blackness filling his heart. He was helpless, he couldn't make this better, couldn't hunt her down and exact revenge. He was pathetic and sad, couldn't protect what he had come to view as his. He settled down on the bed, listening to the sobbing in the next room, each sound breaking his heart a little more.

****

Spike kicked the door again, arms full balancing the two pizza and the two six packs of beer. "Open the door, whelp, food's getting cold."

"Hold on, there in a minute," Xander called back. Over the last eight months, he and Spike had grown even closer. It had taken Xander a good three months to begin smiling again after the Vegas disaster. He had smiled only once during the first week back and that was when Spike had built the huge bonfire of Anya's belongings in the backyard. Spike had stayed with Xander those first few weeks, terrified of what Xander might do if left alone. It was Spike who talked to Anya when she called. Spike who informed her exactly and in detail of what he thought of her character. The memory made Xander grin whenever he thought about it now. You had to be pretty low if a vampire thought your character left something to be desired. Xander finally threw Spike out the night he realized that Spike was staying only because he thought Xander might harm himself. It was sweet, in Spike's own demented way, but it made Xander feel powerless. He appreciated the gesture though. Spike had been very kind to him, spending many a night sitting on Xander's couch. They still patrolled and Xander had discovered the joy of reflected anger. He had some inkling now of why Spike got off on it so much. Nothing like ripping something's head off while pretending it was your ex-girlfriend's. Xander limped a little faster to the door when he heard the loud kicks begin again.

"Oi, hurry up, blood's starting to clot." Every Saturday night, the same thing. Pizza and beer and some stupid movie. Xander was doing better, was almost back to his old self and Spike was determined to spend as much time with Xander as he could before his pet found a new girlfriend. It was only a matter of time, even if Xander seemed oblivious to the women throwing themselves at him when they went to the bar last night. Spike sighed, knowing he was only making it harder on himself by spending so much time with Xander, but those dark, deep eyes got him every time. Whenever Xander looked at him just that way when he asked Spike to do something, the still there traces of fear and hesitation, like Spike was going to leave him too, it just pulled his heart out and, no matter what his firm resolutions of the night before, Spike would just nod and say, "Sounds good, mate, see you then," then, back at the crypt, he would damn himself as an idiot and a fool.

"'Bout bloody time, took you long enough, what happen, get lost on the way," Spike called out as he pushed past Xander to set the food and drink on the table. He stopped suddenly, sensing something amiss. He turned around and his jaw dropped in shock. Xander stood there, arm in a sling, bruises covering his face and arms, leaning against the wall. Spike took three quick steps over and reached a shaky hand up, tracing his fingers over Xander's cheek, careful not to touch hard enough to hurt. "Bloody hell, pet, what happened to you, you didn't go out without any of us, what happened, what hurt you, where is it, I'll kill it, Xander," Spike sighed out, heart twisting, "Hells, your arm what happened." He carefully led Xander over to the couch, fussing about, trying to make sure that Xander was comfortable.

"Nothing attacked me, well, not demon anyway. I was walking out to my car in the mall parking lot, stopped to pick up some new boots for work, when this idiot backed straight out from a parking space without looking and ran right into me. Knocked me down, knocked me out, don't know how he managed not to run over me. Somebody saw, called an ambulance, went to the hospital. Have a dislocated shoulder, various bumps and bruises and a mild concussion." Xander watched as Spike suddenly grew even paler. He hadn't thought that was possible.

"When, why didn't you call, would have come, did you get the prick's name, pay him a visit, I will," Spike growled out, trying to calm the panic ripping through him. Hit by a car, he had been hit by a car. He could have been killed, what if the wheel had gone over his head. Spike stopped that train of thought immediately. No, no couldn't think about that.

"I'm not going to tell you who or where precisely because you will pay them a visit. I'll beat the little shit myself, thank you very much. I didn't call because it happened about 3:00 this afternoon and I knew you would try to come to the hospital and I didn't want you going out. Sunny day today you know." Xander glanced over, trying out a quick grin. He hadn't called because he knew Spike would be upset and, as much as he wanted Spike there, he wasn't going to take that chance. Spike didn't need to know that Xander had sat on the exam room table, dialing the first six digits of Spike's number over and over, the pattern calming him.

"Could have used the sewers, tunnels run right under the hospital, entrance right next to the crypt, no problem, should have called." Spike reached out again, unable to stop himself. He had to touch, had to feel the warmth under his fingertips.

"I know, but I didn't want you to worry," Xander said, closing his eyes as Spike ran his hands gently over the marks on his arms, the coolness soothing. "Didn't get out of there until about an hour ago, knew you were coming over."

Spike nodded. "You'll be fine, though, right? Nothing permanent?" He couldn't help the waver in his voice, and he suddenly looked away, hoping Xander hadn't heard.

"Yeah, I'll be fine. Would you mind staying tonight, though. Doctor said that I can sleep and all that, just have someone check on me every few hours." Xander hurt like hell and didn't want to be alone. Actually, if truth be told, he did want to be alone. Just alone with Spike. He hadn't called anyone from the hospital, not wanting to worry any of the others. He just wanted Spike. Spike made him feel safe and happy and warm **and, wow, are the pain pills kicking in now** and Xander let out a huge yawn. "Drugged me up too, thought you weren't supposed to do that with concussions, but whatever they gave me knocked me out."

"Do you want to go lie down, here, let me help you," Spike stood, ready to pull Xander up with him.

"No, wanna stay here, hurts to lie flat, feels good like this," Xander murmured, drifting off. "Glad you're here, wanted to call, did, wanted to see you," his voice trailed off as he fell asleep.

Spike quietly went into Xander's bedroom, pulling the comforter off the bed. He gently draped it over Xander's body, then settled down next to him on the couch, pizza and beer forgotten as he focused all his senses on listening to Xander sleep.

****

Spike sat on the roof of the crypt, resting his arms on his knees that he drawn to his chest. He blew a stream of smoke into the air, feeling the heat of the ember on his fingertips before tossing the butt aside. The roof was littered with discarded cigarettes, nearly a pack in all. Spike simply reached down, pulled another cigarette out and lit it, the routine no more calming than all the times before. He slowly laid back, stretching out flat as he gazed at the stars. It had been three weeks since Xander was injured and Spike still wasn't over the shock. If anything, it was worse now than when it had first occurred. Spike had spent the first week at Xander's house, trying his best to take care of a very annoyed human. Xander didn't appreciate being fussed over, but had grudgingly been forced to accept Spike's help. Xander's shoulder caused him a lot of pain and Spike had taken the opportunity to do whatever he could to help. Including dressing and undressing Xander. That had caused many a sleepless day, especially since Spike hadn't had the opportunity to do anything about the frustration it caused, not in such close quarters. He had worked too hard to keep his feelings hidden to slip now.

Xander was doing much better now and Spike had been forced to leave. Tonight, Xander was out with the rest of the gang and Spike had begged off, needing some time alone to think. Xander had promised to call when he got back, knowing that Spike was still worried and the phone was right there, within easy reach. Spike just stared into the clear night sky, trying to sort out his emotions. Ever since the accident, he had been in a state of suppressed panic. He had never allowed himself to truly consider just what the implications were of being in love with a human. Sure, some part of him had always acknowledged that yes, if by some miracle he could have Xander, Xander would ultimately die. He had witnessed the pain this caused before, he had watched and, in truth, mocked, as other vampires lost their humans. He never understood until now why they just didn't turn their pets immediately and spare everyone the drama. But now, now he understood all too well. What he loved about Xander was his humanity. It brought out the part of William still buried in Spike, the faint glimmer of what he had been like before he was turned that still lingered there. As much as Spike might try to deny it, there was still more of William in him than he cared to face. Xander just forced what Spike had tried to suppress to return to the fore of his consciousness. And if he turned Xander, if he still could turn anyone that is, then that humanity would be all but destroyed and all he would be left with would be a pale shell. That would be worse than losing Xander completely. So, here he was, in love with a human and scared nearly out of his mind. He didn't know what to do, didn't know how to act, didn't know what to say.

Spike crushed the cigarette out suddenly and sat back up. He needed to talk to someone, needed help. He hated this, hated the weakness it revealed. But he couldn't face it alone. Alone. Spike dropped his head down, finally admitting what he had tried so long to deny. He was alone. Dru was long gone. He had no minions, no peers. The rest of the vampires hated him, along with the rest of the demon realm. He couldn't even go to Willy's for a drink anymore, not since he had nearly been killed when the entire bar joined against him. He was alone.

Spike slowly raised his head again, focusing on the belt of Orion, smiling slightly at the memories that brought forth. Not truly alone. He could always ask Angel. Angel understood what it was like to love a human. Deny it all they wanted, Buffy and Angel were still in love, would always be in love. Angel would understand. And he would walk in the sun before he breathed a word of this to his Sire. Angel wouldn't believe him, wouldn't want to even try to accept that Spike was telling the truth. He would just assume that it was some plot or other and then he would tell the Slayer and then all hell would break lose. No, that simply wasn't a choice. That meant there was only one other person he could ask. Only one other person who would understand absolutely and utterly. Only one person who could tell him what to do.

Spike stood and raised an arm to his mouth, knowing how truly desperate he must be if he was willing to do this. He bit down then dipped a finger into the blood that pooled out. Raising a hand to face, he traced the blood down the scar in his left eyebrow, focusing all his attention on picturing that face.

"Kat, please, what am I going to do? Kat, I need you." He felt the sudden burn, then dropped down to his knees, tears pouring down his face.

****

Sydney, Australia

The small figure stood balanced perfectly on the highest point of the Sydney Opera House, facing straight into the fierce wind. The storm blew the jet black hair straight back from the pale face as lightening illuminated bright blue eyes. She stood still, letting the wind blow, feeling the electricity charge through the air. The gale winds howled around her, the rain and the force of the wind driving everyone else inside. The winds had been howling for a week, sounding like nothing less than some desperate cry of pain and grief. She drank in the noise, losing herself to the feel of the wind on her face, drenched to the skin by the torrential downpour which served to wash the tears from her face. Finally, she reached into the pack on her back, pulling out a small urn. She looked down, running her fingers over the carvings, tracing around and around the symbol of infinity carved into the lid. The winds picked up in intensity as she grasped the lid. She paused for a moment, then raised the urn to her lips.

"I love you. Always."

With that, she yanked the lid free then threw the ashes high into the air, the wind blowing the ash far and wide. Suddenly, the wind and rain stopped, the sudden silence deafening. She stood, head down, panting. She suddenly saw a drop of red drip down from her face, spiraling in the air as it fell to the ground. She raised a hand to her left eyebrow, feeling the blood drip down from the scar there.

"Kat, please, what am I going to do? Kat, I need you." The words sounded clear in her ear and she looked up, a brief smile crossing her face.

"Coming my sweet."

With that, she stepped forward, dropping lightly to the ground. She strode over to her car and reached across, checking to make sure her passport was in the glove compartment. Seeing that it was there, she pulled away and headed for the airport.

****

Willow looked up in surprise as the bell gently tinkled, signaling that someone had entered the Magic Box. "Sorry, we're closed," she called as she moved around the table to see who it could be, careful not stray too far out of sight of the others. Buffy moved to stand next to Willow, a stake automatically dropping into her hand.

"Didn't anyone lock the door," Buffy hissed.

"Yes, I know I did. And I did the closing spell," Willow replied. They stopped when they saw the small, slight woman standing in front of them. "Can we help you?"

"Yes, I'm looking for Spike," a clear voice started out.

Buffy immediately grabbed the front of the woman's jacket, holding the stake into her chest. "What do you want him for?" No one who entered a magically locked door looking for Spike could be of the good.

"That's not really any business of yours, Slayer," the woman said, smiling slightly. With that, she plucked the stake out of Buffy's hand and turned to Willow, ignoring the expression of shock on Buffy's face.

"Let's see, red hair, lovely skin, you must be one of the witches. Is Spike here, pretty sure he is actually, can you get him for me please?" Again, the same calm, even tone with just the trace of amusement.

Willow just nodded, a little afraid. "In- in the back, he's," Willow stopped, seeing Tara running into the back to get Giles. "He'll be right out."

"Thank you, and, Slayer, please put the sword down, not your style at all, have to get you something smaller, a nice dagger would do." With that, she turned to move to the back, just shooting Buffy another amused glance.

"So, what's the problem that your poor little Slayer can't handle," Spike called out. He stopped, seeing the woman for the first time.

"Kat, bloody hell, Kat, you're here," he raced across the room, picking her up and spinning madly in a circle. Laughter echoed in the air as the women locked her legs around Spike's waist. They smashed into a wall as Spike pressed a passionate kiss into her lips.

Xander watched, stunned and angry. Who the hell was this and why was Spike kissing her like that? Spike hadn't mentioned anyone named Cat for hells sake, what was she some kind of animal woman? His eyes narrowed as he tried to move forward, stopped only by Buffy's hands on his arms.

Kat leaned back, laughing as she ran her fingers through Spike's hair. "So, hear you got a chip in your head. About time someone put something in there."

"You bitch," came the instant reply.

"Prick. Put me down." Spike backed away and Kat slid down the wall, standing pressed closely into Spike. Too long, much, much too long since she had seen the vampire. "Missed you."

"Missed you, too." Spike stared down, he hadn't been sure she would come, hadn't known if she would grace him with her presence, not after their last parting. He knew he didn't deserve it, but still, it was so good to see her, to actually talk face to face instead of over the damn phone.

Kat reached up, tracing a finger along Spike's jaw. Still beautiful, so pale. A little thin, not getting enough to eat due to the chip. Probably due to how worried he had been as well. Her fingers moved higher, running along the scar. Her eyes darkened as she ran a finger down its length. Spike's hand moved her face, tracing the identical scar there.

"Father," Kat sighed out, the words drawn from her.

"Mother," the echoing sigh.

"Brother"

"Sister"

"Flesh of my flesh"

"Blood of my blood"

Everyone else in the room jumped back at the sudden surge of power that rippled through the room. The air had gone perfectly still while Spike and the woman stared into each other's eyes, their words dropping like stones into a pond.

"Right, enough of that," with a sudden shake of her head, Kat turned to face the silent stares. "Let me see if I can guess," Kat walked over to gang, protectively clustered together.

"Well, obviously the bottle blonde in the front is the Slayer, Spike, seriously, she does a much better job than you do, really. Slayer, don't fell bad, you're the first Slayer to actually manage to touch me with a stake since, Spike, when? That one with the nasally voice, sounded like Jennifer Tilly, well, I mean, Jennifer Tilly wasn't born then, so obviously not like she was imitating her or anything, just the whole Bullets Over Broadway thing, you know after Chazz drops her in the river, says, 'Thank God I never have to hear that voice,' something like that, remind me, rent that, great flick. Anyway, her."

"Think that was in the '20's, luv." Spike looked on, savoring the stunned expressions on their faces. Oh, this was going to be fun. Kat looked like she hadn't slept in a week and was clearly riding some caffeine and sugar high. What an introduction.

"Right, right, I remember, huge fight with her Watcher when she got her hair shingled. Okay, Slayer out of the way. The red head is easy that's Willow, you never said how lovely she was, men, they're all idiots, can definitely see why you decided to give up the lot of them, so if you're Willow then you," Kat turned to Tara who looked like she was desperately trying to sink into the floor, "you must be Tara. Don't look down, sweetness, you have such a beautiful mouth, so sweet. You two look so right, yes, so right. Quite a pretty picture."

Spike walked over to stand next to Kat as she turned to look at Xander, nervously biting his lower lip. **Please like him, please like him, please touch him, please for me, for me**

"And you must be Alexander." Xander's eyes opened, no one ever called him that. He wasn't even sure if most people knew that was actually his name anymore. He watched with trepidation as she opened looked him over from head to toe, a serious expression on her face. He felt like he was under a microscope and he tried desperately not to look away. Finally, unable to stop, he glanced at Spike. His mouth fell open at the expression on Spike's face. Spike looked terrified. In fact, he looked the way Xander had always thought he looked whenever his mother or father or Giles or Willow or anyone important to him for that matter looked at something he had done of which he desperately wanted them to be proud but of which he thought they would be ashamed. That same desperate longing for approval. He forced himself to look back at the woman, trying to draw himself up straight, wishing he wasn't still looking a little roughed up from the accident.

Kat just smiled up at him, then nodded once, firmly. "Alexander Lavelle Harris. It is an honor to finally meet you. I'm Katarina de Rien." With that, she held out her hand. Xander automatically shook it, feeling a sudden rush of warmth come across his skin. He looked back over at Spike and again was stunned. This time, Spike had the strangest mixture of relief and gratitude, mingling with some other look that Xander couldn't quite interpret.

"So, that's the gang, where's the Watcher," Kat's eyes sparkled at that. She tilted her head slightly then took a step forward, easily parting through the girls.

"Ah, Watcher, trying to sneak up on whatever has your Slayer under her spell," she called out.

Giles lowered the crossbow, his back still towards the woman. He had heard the commotion, then talking, and when he snuck a glance around the corner from his office in the back, he saw some creature with black hair talking to the gang who were watching her without making any sound. He grabbed the crossbow he always kept there and started to sneak out. It appeared however, that he had not been quick enough. He turned, drawing in a deep breath to steel himself for whatever this was.

"Mistress," he called out, immediately dropping to his knees and bowing down low. "Please, Mistress, forgive me, I meant not harm."

Kat rolled her eyes. "Watcher, get up." She waited a moment for Giles to comply. He simply shook his head no, still bowing down low. Sighing, she bent down and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Please, get up, there'll be none of that here." A shudder went through Giles but still, he refused to stand. A low growl rumbled from her throat as she took a step back and ran her fingers through her hair. It had been a very, very long two days and she was not in the mood to deal with this. Fine.

"Watcher, I have given you a direct command. You will rise. You will look me in the eye. You will not call me Mistress ever again." Her voice changed. Gone was the mocking, almost sarcastic tone. Instead, this was clearly the voice of power. "Rise. Now. Look at me."

Giles stood, shaking, then forced himself to meet her eyes, battling all his teaching and training, terrified at what he would find.

"That's much better. Now, listen, I'm not here for any of the reasons you expect. I'm here because Spike called for me. The only time I ever want you to call me Mistress is if I'm standing over you in leather and with a whip and I've told you to call me Mistress, do you understand?" Kat smiled gently, the teasing tone back to her voice.

Giles just stared at her mutely, unable to speak. Katarina de Rien stood before him. And he was alive. Still alive. This had to be some kind of record. Usually, Watchers simply died from shock before she could make her judgment. His brain tried desperately to process what she said. Not here for him. Here for Spike. That couldn't be right. A puzzled frown formed as he tried to work this out. For Spike, but there was no way that Spike could know. . . He started back to himself, realizing that the Mistress was still gazing at him, a smile dancing on her lips. Obviously, he had missed some kind of question he was to answer.

"I'll take it that you understand, good," Kat turned back and walked quickly over to Spike, moving to wrap her arms around his waist and lean into his chest. "Goddess, I'm tired."

"Did you have a good trip? When did you get in?" Spike ran his hands protectively over her back, keeping an eye on the Scooby Gang. He could feel how exhausted Kat was and he knew this was when she was most dangerous, when her control was most apt to slip, even a slight loss could end in disaster. He closed his eyes again, grateful for what she had done. She had touched Xander, given him her hand no less. Made sure that he was safe.

Kat pulled away, pushing her hair off her face once again. "Did I have a good trip? Well, first of all I had to convince the idiots running the airline that, yes, first class on my boarding pass means first class on the plane. Morons overbooked again and tried to bump me down. Then, thanks to you," with that she poked Spike in the chest, "I was stuck on that plane for what, twenty-two, twenty-three hours. I truly hate you sometimes, I just want you to know that. You know how much I love to be in confined spaces. Bastard. Then, couldn't even use my fucking phone, oh no, not allowed, so I was reduced to using their phones to try to get Timothy to make sure he was going to pick me up once I got to L.A. and, of course, I've never bothered to memorize all his numbers, they're in the speed dial for hells sake, but I can't access the speed dial without using the phone. But I can't use the phone because they think it'll bring the plane down and I wasn't in the mood to try to convince them that, no, this plane simply would not be crashing. So all I have is the house number and, of course, I know full well he never checks his messages. And, thanks once again to you, you stupid pillock, do I have my laptop, oh no, I do not. So, don't even have that to play with. Had to buy some books at the airport and, while I love King and Grisham, would it kill them to have something else. Finally get to L.A. and I can finally use my phone, get a hold of Timothy's new boyfriend, whatever his name is, I just call them all darling, it's never worth the bother to learn their names they change so fast and find out that idiot boy Timothy actually managed to land an audition, can you believe, so I'm stuck at LAX, which is an outpost of hell, I am sure of that, and, for once, I can go through the short line in customs and when the imbecile there asks if I have anything to declare I reply, nothing but my genius and he looks at me as if I've grown two heads, and honestly there simply is no such things as education anymore. So, there I am with my one little carry on bag, no luggage and Timothy decides to show like three hours later. At least he brought the right car. Then I start to drive up, get to thinking about who knows what, miss the exit and have to turn around. Get to the damn hotel and they try to put me in a perfectly nice room I will admit but as I so carefully explained to them, I wanted the suite. I had a reservation for a suite. I will have a suite. Stopped short of actually yelling only because they realized that I meant it and was going to so finally got the suite. At that point, I decided I had better find you before I collapsed, came here, then Slayer over there gets stake happy. So, no, I did not have a good trip and all I really want right now is a nice, hot bath and a nice, rare steak and a nice, comfy bed. Xander, would you care to come with us? I would like it if you come with us."

Xander just stared in awe. Willow babble had nothing on this. "Um, I, well, guess," Xander swallowed hard. Apparently, Kat had used all the words available in the room. He shot a desperate glance over to Spike.

"Please, Xander, I would appreciate it if you would come with us," Spike asked softly, gently reaching out to prop Kat up. She was starting to list, her energy finally draining.

It was the use of his name that got Xander. Spike never said his name. "Sure, would like that." Besides, this way he could find out just who the hell Kat was and what connection she had on his vampire. Spike was HIS vampire and Xander couldn't help the jealous stings whenever he saw the little smile that crossed Spike's face every time he looked at her.

Kat smiled delightedly, "Fabulous. Spike, precious, you drive, please. Can't really remember what side of the road to use any more."

Spike caught the keys she tossed him, gathered up Xander with a quick nod of his head and led them to the door. He stopped abruptly, suddenly realizing someone was missing.

"Kat, where's Cassie? Did she stay at the hotel? The trip must have really tired her out."

"Um, well, no." Kat looked down, then took a deep breath. "Cassie's not here anymore, William."

"Mistress, oh Mistress, I'm so sorry," Spike reached out and crushed Kat to him, feeling the tears spill from her eyes, soaking through his shirt, burning his chest. "When? Why didn't you call?"

"Eight days ago, shit, maybe nine now, don't even know what day it is. And I didn't call because then it would be real, you know? It was for the best, she was so sick, but still," Kat pulled away slightly, shaking her head. She took a few calming breaths, concentrating on the feel of Spike's hand in her hair. "It was good. She painted you something, should be here next week with the rest of my stuff. Let's go, tired, hungry, bath, remember?" She took Spike by the hand and pulled him out the door, Xander trailing behind.

As soon as the door closed, everyone jumped. Buffy turned to face Giles.

"Well, I think I can speak for everyone here when I say, what the FUCK was that all about?"

Chapter 2