Disclaimer: Nothing is mine, no matter how hard I wish

Summary: What if Toth hit Spike with the ferula-gemina at the dump as well as Xander? Here's my take.

A/N: First fic, so please be nice :) please review to let me know your thoughts. Hopefully you'll enjoy it, but if you feel any improvements could be made, it'd be helpful if you could leave that in a review too :D

Okay, so... on with the story!

Chapter 1: Smoke and Leather

Spike was pacing. He did that a lot nowadays. Ever since those guys in paintball outfits had shocked him, locked him up and put a hunk of metal in his cranium. That tiny scrap of computer technology that stopped his ability to harm humans.

Bloody hell. I hate this. Can't hurt anyone. Can't even put the Slayer through enough torture to keep me happy. Pigs blood .Bloody awful pigs blood. That's what they've reduced me to. A harmless little puppy dog drinking Babes' blood to satiate myself.

Spike stopped his pacing. He was immensely frustrated. God how he hated those army men in their steel cap boots with their tasers and guns. They weren't so tough. Spike could take them in a heartbeat. Less as he didn't have one. But it all bowled down to that small chunk of metal lodged deep in his brain. That was the reason he was here in his crypt pacing instead of plotting and experimenting how to find the slayers weaknesses. That was why he'd turned against his own kind to exhaust his supply of fighting energy.

He jumped up onto his sarcophagus and lay down on it. He remembered the moment around 6 months ago when he realised he could hurt demons. It was in the old high school. The same school that was blown up not so long ago. Down in the basement, the latest apocalypse was occurring. He could picture it now.

"Be careful you guys", cautioned Buffy. "Place doesn't look too stable".

"Fine by me. Hope we all go under", Spike mumbled.

Buffy spun to Spike and whined, "Why is he even here?" Of course there really wasn't any point in him being here. He couldn't harm anyone. Spike didn't understand why, but Willow didn't want him to stake himself. Wonder why that was.

"Fine, whatever. Just keep him out of the way. I do NOT have time for this", said Buffy. After walking a short way she continued, "Okay, when we get to the library, keep a look out for any victims they are keeping alive for the sacrifice. Getting them out is the first priority."

"Will do", said Willow. She looked around her with a sense of unease.

"Okay guys, you ready?" asked Buffy.

"Let's rock and roll" was Xander's reply. And with that, they walked on.

"Sunnydale High. If these walls were still walls what stories they could tell", mused Xander. A few steps later there was a squelching sound. "Eww! Mayor meat. Extra crispy". Of course they had themselves blown up the school to stop the Ascension around 7 months previously. The mayor had morphed into a giant snake and with the help of all the students of the class of '99, they took on a large group of vampires' single handed, and then Buffy had led the mayor into school and blown him up using several large bags of explosives. This mass of rubble and "mayor meat" as Xander called it, was all that was left of it.

Three deep voices chanting almost inaudibly roused Spike from his thoughts. They had reached the library.

"Whoa. Check out the new floor plan", was all Willow could say, as stood in front of her, were three ugly green demons. Vahrall demons to be precise. They were crowded around a huge pit in the centre of what used to be Giles' sanctuary. There were pages everywhere, torn from their owners by the blast. The odd bookshelf strewn around. This was the Hellmouth now.

"Three of them", stated Buffy. The one on the far left was holding a bag of something. Probably the bones for the ritual. The others were empty handed, yet all of them had extremely bad fashion sense.

Willow's voice was wary as she said, "I don't see any sacrifice people".

Looking around, scrutinising the area, Buffy came to the conclusion that, "They must be around here somewhere. The ritual's not finished. And it's not gonna be". The sheer determination in her voice was aided by her forceful step forwards, towards the demons. Then the fighting began.

Buffy swung a few good punches, and after a few more bone shattering swings, one of the demons dropped a red, rounded vial. Xander bounded forward and ducked below a blow aimed at his head, then he picked up the vial and yelled, "The blood! Get the talisman. They can't do the ritual".

Willow ran forward and, dodging the entangled mass of demon and Slayer, she grabbed the sack that the other demon had been holding. After announcing, "I've got the bones", she ran back to Xander and tossed the bag to him. Panicking, he threw it back and Willow ended the chain by hiding behind a wall, as a demon threw himself into a brawl with Xander.

"You're picking on the--wrong guy here. I've had -- lot of practice at this with my-- lunch money", growled Xander whilst the demon punched him repeatedly in the stomach. He drew back his arm and whacked the demon in the face, letting himself free.

A currently stationary Spike, who had been sat against a wall all the while, was forced to react suddenly, as Willow threw him the sack of bones.

"Right. Perfect", said Spike as a demon came charging towards him to take a grab at the bag. The fight continued around him, but he had his own problem to worry about now. Whilst attempting to avoid a deadly blow to the head, he dropped the sack.

As if a thought had occurred to him, the demon facing Xander stopped fighting, and plunged himself into the depths of the Hellmouth. A shocked Xander only managed to say, "Ok, I guess I won".

Almost ironically, his sentence was followed by a rumble deep below the floor. Everyone stood stunned for precious seconds. The first to recover was Xander who realised why there were no other people in the building.

"The demons. They ARE the sacrifice!" Rubble was falling from the roof onto him, and the walls were shaking, but after a few seconds they subsided.

Spike, who failed to escape a swing to the ribs, was the first to start moving which roused Buffy and made her start fighting again. Spike's head was thrown back as the demon thrust his fist into his face. This angered Spike, because at this point, he didn't believe he could fight back without pain. That excruciating pain through the centre of his brain, which would ripple through his body, and render him helpless for the few seconds needed to fight back successfully.

Despite this though, he still hit him. The pain would be worth it. Bracing himself, and screaming all the while, he sent his arm flying through the air into a blow so vicious it would have knocked out any human being for at least two hours. Expecting pain, he slammed his hand to his forehead and drew an instinctive breath. However when the pain didn't come, he stood stunned for a while. He could hurt a demon.

This had completely changed his aspect on his unlife. He didn't have to sit back on the sidelines and watch Buffy kick ass. He could do some of the kicking himself.

So he did. He fought that day. Admittedly he threw the sacrifice into the Hellmouth, but they won in the end didn't they? He remembered that day vividly. Mainly because he learnt he could hurt his own kind, but a part of it was thanks to his lack of ability to be able to wash clothes. He'd shrunk his favourite outfit and was forced to wear that god-awful Hawaiian shirt of Xanders. If he never saw that shirt again, it would be too soon.

One good thing came from that day though. He realised that deep...deep...deep down, Xander cared what happened to him. A falling plank of wood had hit him and Xander rushed to his aid. It was the only real sign of affection he had really shown him.

Spike was brought back to reality by a knock on the door. This was strange as it was. No-one ever knocked. They busted the door down. Curiously, he got up off of his sarcophagus and strolled to the door.

"Oh. Hi Clem. What do you want?" asked Spike with an unintentional sharp edge to it.

"I'm sorry. Didn't mean to disturb you", said his visitor. He was the strangest looking person Spike had ever met. He had floppy ears and a really wrinkly face. But despite having the biggest bingo wings on the planet, he was one of the best poker players in Sunnydale.

"Don't mean to impose or anything, but I know you have the sweetest pad around and we seemed to be getting along quite well the other day--"

"What do you want, Clem? Yes, we were getting along. But that doesn't explain what you're doing here", said Spike bluntly.

"Well, umm. Okay, I'm an honest guy so I'll come out and say it--"; Spike pointed at him and signalled to get to the point. "Basically I need a place to stay for a night or two. The other guys won't let me stay with them. I tried at Jerry's but after he caught me hiding an ace with his X-ray vision the other night, he was a little, well, reluctant to let me stay over."

"Well I'm glad you consider me nice enough to stay with but I'm really busy here" replied Spike. Not true, but who really knows what I could be up to tonight?

Clem peered around Spike into the crypt. "You don't look awful busy". He noticed. Bollocks.

"Okay. I tell a lie. But I am going to be busy. Soon". Spike avoided telling him he actually had no plan to do anything tonight. He'd have to think of something now.

"Oh really? What with? I could help", Clem smiled at Spike and he could see that Clem really would do anything to get inside his place for the night.

Reluctantly Spike resigned. "Fine. You can come in. But don't touch anything".

Clem became noticeably happier and almost bounced into the door. He half placed, half threw the basket he was holding on the sarcophagus and there was a soft mewing sound from inside. He took one look around the place and his spirits seemed to droop suddenly.

"What's wrong?" asked Spike, "You look like someone just beat your two pair with a straight flush". He thought he'd appreciate the poker related joke. He shut the door and spun towards where Clem was standing.

"Well, there isn't exactly much to touch. Even if I wanted to. Not that I would of course because it's your place and I wouldn't want to disturb anything--", Spike stared at Clem with a look of disbelief. He couldn't believe he had to tell him again to stop babbling nonsense. But he noticed Clem withdraw into himself and turn away.

Clem's comment however gave him an idea. He knew what he was going to do tonight.

"Well then. You're in luck. I was gonna go to the dump tonight and get some things to, you know, liven up the place. I could do with a person to look after it for me". He didn't want to leave him here in his place but he'd agreed to let him stay and he wanted to spend some time alone. He wasn't done thinking yet.

"Oh thanks Spike! I'd be happy to. You know I love your place". Clem stopped himself before he went too far for his own good.

Grabbing his leather duster of the arm of his chair, Spike took three strides to the door and said, "Don't wait up. I could be gone a while". At least he hoped. "And get your kittens off my sarcophagus would ya? That's my seat".

Slamming the door in Clem's smiling face; he strode off in the direction of the City Dump.

Sunnydale Dump. What more was there to say; the population of Sunnydale throw out their rubbish, their rubbish goes to the dump, vampires then take said rubbish. It was the circle of life, or unlife if you're Spike.

So Clem thought he needed some stuff for his crypt. What better place to start than the City Dump? Okay, I'm here. Gotta distract myself. I've just got to... ARGH! Damn Slayer; can't stop thinking about her. I wanna stop, but when I do I think up a reason to start thinking of her again. It's torture! Why won't it end!

Spike grabbed a nearby wooden chair with three legs and threw it as far and hard as he could. He grasped his head and collapsed to his knees, his leather duster flowing around him and settling roughly on the floor beneath his trembling frame. What's happening to me? Why do I feel this way?!

Spike ran his fingers through his bleach-blonde hair back and forth. Back and forth, until his hair resembled that of a porcupine. He couldn't get his head around this. Didn't understand why he felt like he did. These thoughts about Buffy, thoughts about her and him... No! He wouldn't go there. Not tonight. He had work to do.

Almost as if it pained him to do so, he stood, and tried to calm his breathing. Even though it wasn't necessary to breathe, he was one of the few vampires that did. He and Angel were just two.

Angel.

Bloody ponce with his nancy boy hair gel. Mr Tall Dark and Forehead thinks he's all that. I'm every bit as good as him. Better in fact. Way better! Angel fell for Buffy's spell but I'm stronger than him. He's weak in that way. He let Buffy get the better of him...but me? Ha! Buffy won't get to me. I won't let her. I can't.

Buffy. Everything comes back to Buffy!

Composing himself from his minor breakdown, and now fuelled by his anger for Angel and Buffy, he took off again and resumed his search.

Within two minutes, he came across a metal trolley with a slight dent in the side. Good enough. As long as it held his finds, he didn't care.

So, what does every house have? Even more importantly, what do all vampires houses have?

Spike rummaged through a pile of damaged furniture and fabric. He threw aside half of a curtain rail and stepped around a flower-printed armchair. After coming close to decapitation by a falling ironing board, he almost gave up his search, but all of a sudden, something shone in the corner of his eye. There, glinting in the moonlight was an aluminium toaster. Picking it up, he began to examine it carefully. Shiny. Definitely shiny. He felt a slight pang as he wished he could see his reflection to judge the damage his breakdown had done to his hair. Even worse, the gel he had in it had probably stuck it up. Maybe he could pass it as a straight-out-of-bed punk look.

Spike threw up the toaster and caught it swiftly with one hand, and approving of its currently undamaged status, dropped it into the trolley. He pushed off and after a few paces stooped to pick up a small metallic item. He shook it and heard a faint rattling, and as he held it to his ear, he noticed a gentle ticking.

Suddenly a sharp piercing shriek rang out from the tiny alarm clock he held level with his finely attuned ear. He jumped aside taken aback by surprise at the sudden racket, and sent his trolley flying in the opposite direction. With extreme difficulty, he recovered his balance and slammed the clock to shut off the alarm. He was left shaken and panting, but otherwise unharmed.

Christ. That scared me more than the bloody Slayer EVER did. Maybe I should use this to get the advantage next time I do an ambush...

Spike pondered this as he picked up his fallen trolley, (somewhat more dented than before), and replaced the toaster. Spike stared at it in wonderment. It had survived his attack surprisingly unscathed. Invincible toaster. Spike grinned in awe and placed his newest weapon in the trolley beside it.

Confident nothing could go much worse than his last incident, he dived almost headfirst into a stack of wooden frames. Wading waist deep in a sea of colour, he sorted through the range of paintings, until he found one which drew his attention.

It was a moonlit evening and the lake was streaked with greens and purples as the moon cast its rays upon it. There were smooth lily pads floating gracefully on the surface, and an assortment of coloured fish dipping in and out of the surface, creating delicate ripples in their wake.

There was an arched bridge of fine oak which extended from the centre of the lake to the outer circle of exotic flower beds. An expansive willow tree hung low over the lake and cast abstract shadows across the young couple who clung to each other, binded as if by an invisible force.

The female wore a dress of fine white silk which hugged to her hips but flowed in an intricate pattern of yellow embroidered flowers to the finely cut grass. She had a slender figure with slim arms and legs, yet somehow with a hint of muscle. She had dainty feet, and she stood barefoot and on tiptoes. Her long blonde curls streamed down past her thin pale neck, and came to rest on her shoulders. Her full pink lips were half pouting, and her head was tilted slightly upward. One of her hands rested on her partners shoulder, and the fingers of the other were intertwined with that of the tall male she hugged close to herself.

Although she were on tiptoe, she was a full twelve inches shorter than him. He wore a shirt of white satin, the first two buttons left open. Below the thin material, the finely worked muscles of his chest were curved as he leant down over his lady in an almost protective hold. His lean figure seemed more prominent next to this petite woman, yet they looked comfortable with each other. His flawless features and sallow cheeks made his large cheekbones show. Nevertheless, this only enhanced his beauty, and not even the bleach-blonde hair could break the peace and ease that this couple revelled in.

Spike felt an instant shock of recognition at the picture, and realised that the man and woman looked exactly like himself and...

Buffy.

The woman was an exact double of the one that haunted Spike. Had done for a long time. Yet this picture was one of pure perfection. The only conclusion the Spike could draw was that when he looked at this picture, his breath caught, and he knew deep down, that this picture moved him emotionally.

Carefully, so as not to send an avalanche of wood onto himself or the picture, he manoeuvred himself into a position where he could extract it without damage. Once it had been removed, he walked out of the ruined paintings and splintered frames, and held his new possession before him. With a nod of satisfaction, he placed it gently in the trolley, and made to move off to the next section.

He was lost in his thoughts, pushing his trolley before him, when the handle was sent into his ribs, and he realised he had crashed into a fridge freezer. It was what was on top of the freezer however that intrigued him. It was the head of a mannequin, and with it, a blonde wig not unlike the hair of the woman in the picture. It kinda looks like Buffy. No, it looks like the painting. Compromise. Not Buffy, the woman. God that woman is beautiful. Sod it, let's go for it.

Spike lifted the mannequin off the fridge and placed it in the trolley amongst his other belongings. Satisfied that he had enough for tonight, he headed in the direction of the exit.

He was almost at the gate when he saw a lamp, with a purple lampshade. He thought he could do with a lamp, and it was the only one he'd seen all night that was only slightly broken. He picked up the lamp, and was about to leave, when he heard voices. He knew those voices. Furrowing his brow in concentration, he listened intently to the approaching group. Five of them. Maybe he could go and give them a scare while he was here. Hell, get the soddin' alarm clock on 'em. That'll teach em.

Spike stepped around the corner and froze.

"What are you doing here Spike?"

Bollocks! I could ask her the same question.

Spike shifted his weight and stared blankly and Buffy and the gang.

"Oh, there's a nice lady vampire who's set up a charming tea room over the next pile of crap. What do you think I'm doing? I'm scavenging, ain't I?"

Spike lifted the arm holding his lamp and shook it gently to emphasize the point.

"Very pretty", said Willow smiling approvingly in Spike's general direction.

Spike tilted his head in that oh-so-adorable way as thanks.

"Spike, um, we're looking for a demon. Erm, tall, robed, skin sort of…hanging off. Deep voice", said Giles whilst gesturing wildly. Giles couldn't say anything without gesticulating.

"You mean a great tall robe-y thing like that one?" Spike pointed with his lamp at said great tall robe-y thing with a look of mock surprise.

The gang spun in the direction Spike was pointing, and at the same time Toth started shooting frantically with his creepy-stick-thing. Yellow bolts of light cut through the air like broken glass as it flew at lightning speed towards Willow.

"Take cover!" shouted Riley as he dived to Willow's rescue and threw himself in a protective hold around her fragile body and hurled them both to the ground.

Toth shot another piercing bolt at Buffy who ducked aside, agile as a cat. She landed viciously in a pile of hardware equipment, to Spike's liking.

"Big guy! Kick her ass!"

He was enjoying this. Seeing the Slayer being shot at while he watched innocently at the sidelines was great fun! Better than playing with his toaster even.

Toth turned at the sound of Spike's voice and obviously saw him as a threat, as he decidedly fired a blazing hot bolt searing through the air like a scythe through demon flesh. The blast powered into his chest like a charging bull and Spike was thrown to the ground in a heap of smoke and leather.

He sat up with seemingly little difficulty and after shaking his head a bit, he bellowed, "Oh very nice, I was on your side!" whilst simultaneously discarding the shattered remains of his briefly beloved lamp.

He stood up slowly, favouring his right side, and straightening up, he stretched his arms above his head. He immediately regretted this move however, and he ran his hand under his jacket to find a holey shirt and a small trail of smoke emerging from the golf ball sized burn on his chest. Wincing somewhat, he rolled his shoulder and frowned at his attacker.

Toth turned his back on the sulking vampire and returned his attention to the task at hand. He pointed his creepy-stick-thing at Buffy, and Xander sent himself at her shouting "Watch out!" The blast missed its intentional target, but hit Xander instead, who landed in a bed of bin bags.

Realising he would not be able to complete his task, Toth left satisfied that he had done sufficient damage to occupy the Slayer all the while.

Riley helped Xander out of the pile of bags, and limping, he dragged himself in wake of the rest of the gang.

What they didn't see though, was the rising figure of a vampire in game face. This vampire...was Spike. Looking down at where he had fallen, he saw...no. It couldn't be. Confused and beaten, Spike ran.

Thanks for reading, lemme know what you thought :)

MoozellyMoogle