She finally came to herself. Spike couldn't even form a coherent thought about why he was so happy this was finally happening. He kept eye contact for a moment, hoping to let her know what he was feeling-whatever that was-before she turned and left his view.

Was she going to the police department? Home? Spike couldn't tell. Couldn't tell or feel much of anything at the moment, which was a new and happy change. Spike welcomed the darkness, the loyal friend to him it had always been, and was carried away into sweet abyss.

It was the smell that woke him up. After all, pain was pain at this point-burning versus broken really didn't matter. He could smell it though, his flesh burning in the morning sun, and desperately woke himself out of the dark numbness and into the bright agony.

Eyes wide and fearful, Spike dragged himself into a sitting position and yanked his flaming leg out of the sun and into the shadows with the rest of him. Small mercy that only his leg had been in the sun.

Spike closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall, waiting for the world to stop doing an impression of a merry-go-round. Once he was oriented, Spike opened his eyes again and searched for access to the sewers. He finally found an manhole, and it wasn't far… but was in the sun.

Of course. Pulling himself up, Spike tried to decide whether he'd be able to make it to the manhole and uncover it before bursting into flames. On a normal day that would be a no brainer, but with him feeling as weak as he does…

Looking about, Spike notices that in a few hours, the shadows should move to cover the manhole. Satisfied that this was a good plan, Spike relaxed up against the wall and waited for sleep to claim him once more.

Getting into the sewers had proved to be a challenge on his fresh wounds, but well worth it. Spike knew right where he was, and the best way to get back to his crypt to avoid demons or human workers. However, he was too far away to make the trek immediately, so when he found himself in a passage that was almost always abandoned Spike decided it was as good a place as any to crash for the day. Wouldn't be the first time he slept in the sewers, and with his track record for buggering up a good thing it wouldn't be the last. Sighing heavily to himself, Spike collapsed into a heap and briefly considered staying in that very spot until the end of days.

Sadly, his rest would soon be interrupted. Normally Spike would have heard them a lot further off, or even smelled them despite the rather distracting smell of the sewers. This was not 'normally' though. It was all he could do to throw himself behind a corner before a group of demons rounded the corner.

Spike held very still, hoping it was a group that didn't know him and wouldn't care to investigate the smell of vampire blood in the air.

"Hold on… I smell something." The group shuffled to a halt, waiting for their leader to sift through the various smells of the sewer for whatever he was looking for. After a moment, one of his followers seemed bored of waiting.

"Is it a family of seven that we can feast on? Cuz if not I can't say I'm interested. Let's just get back to the base and get some sl-"

"Shut up, I'm concentrating. I heard something just before dawn at Willy's, thought it was bull, but…" The leader's voice turned towards Spike's hiding place, and Spike could feel his body tense. Spike didn't bother trying to smell out who his visitors are; he can tell they're a group of vampires. He couldn't place the voice, but Spike was sure he'd had dealings with them in the past. Just a loser group of fledges, never been a threat.

"Well, what is it? Wha'd'ya hear?" Another vampire asked, in a somewhat whiny voice. They sounded insufferable, the whole lot.

"That a certain vampire of a certain reputation got his trash kicked and was laying out in the open, waiting for the sun. The demon that saw him was too chicken-shit to do anything about it, but was yakkin' my ear off about it at Willy's."

"What vampire? Who cares about one-"

"Spike." The leader waited a second for that to sink in. "That's what this guy said, anyway. The bleached pain-in-our-collective-asses. If we bag Spike…" The group sounded a collective sound of understanding and approval, to which Spike couldn't help but snort at. Realizing he'd accidentally given away his location, Spike threw all caution to the wind.

"You lot are truly pathetic, you know that? Trying to get street cred by knocking down a half-killed vampire. Blood-suckers used to have pride, you know?" Spike stepped out of the shadows and leaned up against the wall, going for casual confidence. The group turned to face him, a few of them putting on their game faces. "Then they started turning anyone they couldn't bother killin and well… Now we've got you." Wishing for a cigarette but knowing his lungs wouldn't be capable of it, Spike settled for messing with the cuff to his jacket.

"Spike. You look worse off than the jackass at the bar said." The leader faced Spike, trying to get a feel for him. Spike could tell he was uneasy about the confidence Spike was showing. Best to play that up.

"Well. You should see the other guy. Not that there'd be much left to look at anyway." Spike punctuated his comment with a snarling of his lip, and Spike could almost see the shiver go up his would-be opponent's spine. Hating that he had to settle for scare-tactics, Spike experimentally stretched his arms back, holding back a wince at the pain. "I'm feelin' up for round two though, if ya'd like. A little post-murder exercise."

The ranks looked unsure. There were four vampires in total, three men and a girl. They didn't look particularly tough, but it would only take one lucky move from a mediocre fighter to kill a skilled one.

Hoping his intimidation technique paid off, Spike took to staring each one in the eyes before they looked away. Finally he met the gaze of the leader.

"I think you're bluffing, you can barely hold yourself up."
Spike stared at him for a long moment before replying.

"Who you tryin to convince, mate?"

Just as the group looked ready to leave, Spike's vision started to darken.

Oh, no, no… not now… I can't get killed by a group of idiotic fledges…

They looked uneasy, but they weren't unnerved enough to flee just yet. Unable to wait for them to lose their backbones and make an exit, Spike charged for the leader, game face on, growling gutterly.

"Get him!" The leader yelled.

Spike wasn't fighting them, though. He just charged through the minions savagely and made his way to the leader. Just gotta kill him…

Spike was light headed and frenzied, and the edges of his sight were already dark, but he just had to kill one of them. One newborn vampire.

Ignoring the uncoordinated attacks of the three fledges around him, Spike broke through and tackled the leader to the ground. He was a large man, but Spike had at least a hundred years on him, and they both went down with a thud.

Not bothering with threats or usual attacks, Spike took his only weapon and tore into the vampires throat.

"What is he-Oh, my-" the girl dropped her stake in surprise, bring her hands to cover her mouth.

"Get him off of-AHHHH!" The leader screamed and writhed beneath Spike, but was unable to get Spike off of him. His followers watched for a moment, frozen in fear, when they heard a tell-tale 'snap' come from their leader, and he stopped struggling. Spike looked up at the three remaining, and regarded them with a steely gaze. His mouth dripped with blood, and he gave his lips a lick for effect.

"I'm going to kill him now. All of you may leave if that's what you want." They were gone in seconds.

Handy. Spike thought to himself as he picked up the dropped stake. Now I don't have to tear through his whole neck.

Covered in dust and exhausted, Spike accepted the fact that he was going to have to make the journey back to his crypt now, before the other three vampires were able to sound abroad Spike's condition. He may have killed this one, but any other demon would know after hearing the story that Spike was vulnerable.

Just as Spike was reaching up to the rug that covered the hole to his crypt, he heard a sound. Someone was inside.

Spike pinched his eyes shut and smelled carefully, which was difficult due to his broken nose.

Human.

Wait…

Slayer.

She walked around his crypt a few times, then left.

Sighing, Spike uncovered the hole and dragged himself up onto his floor.

Home, sweet home.

London, 1880

William smiled to himself as Dru finished her dance. Ever since she'd slept with Angelus, he'd struggled to be around her. He'd been absolutely miserable, actually. Finally, though, he could let it go. Angelus might sleep with her sometimes, but she danced for him. Drusilla loved William, and would always be his dark princess. Nothing would change that.

"Beautiful, Dru." Taking her in his arms, he kissed her cheek sweetly. Things were so much better now.

"Oh, William… You just say that because it's true…" She looked up at him dreamily, then nuzzled into his embrace. "My sweet William…"

William breathed in her scent, finally content with the world.

Well… mostly.

"Dru… Why don't we leave? Go travel Europe on our own?"

Drusilla looked back up at him, confusion in her eyes.

"Why ever would we leave?"

William bit down on his lip, trying to think of a way to explain his thoughts to his deranged love.

"Well, pet… Just to do as we please. When we please. Doesn't that sound good?" William tried let his eyes convey his whole message, and when understanding came over her, he thought she finally understood.

"Oh, my William… So much to learn." She smiled as though that explained everything, and cut off his reply with a kiss. "No more talking, now. Let's dance together."

Current Day Sunnydale

The vampire's blood from earlier wasn't sitting well with Spike. His stomach woke him up just a few hours after he'd drifted off, right on the floor. He forced his stomach to calm itself, and pulled himself up to a sitting position.

What had that tramp been eating, Fyarl demon? Massaging his stomach, Spike looked up at his bed and wondered what it would take to get up into those soft sheets. What I'd give for a lackey.

Somewhere in Europe, 1880

"Dru, will you help me clean this up? My arm is still broken." Drusilla looked over at William, who was struggling to lift a young woman's corpse off the ground.

"Of course, my sweet…" Smiling to herself, she lifted the girl easily and threw the body out the back door. "We'll have a minion take it from there. Was she your kill?"

"Angelus's. We'd gotten her at the bar-I'd already eaten." William rubbed his hand absently over his right arm. "My sweet, how long does it take to heal, usually?"

"It's different. Plus, the longer you're under the stars the shorter it takes to heal."

William pulled his eyebrows together and looked out the window, wondering if it would be worth it to go outside and sit under the night sky in order to heal faster. Seemed boring.

"She means, the older you are, the quicker you heal. Fledges like yourself take a while." Darla had entered the room silently, as she often did.

Nodding to himself, William thanked her for clearing that up.

"Of course, William. Do you know where Angelus went off to? I have to speak with him."

"Sorry Darla, he didn't say. Just left after eating-I don't think he went far, he was on foot."

Darla tutted, but didn't say anything more, leaving as quietly as she entered.

"What was that, William?"

Will hadn't even noticed he'd said his thought out loud until Drusilla questioned him.

"Oh, just sayin that Angelus likes 'em small." Drusilla cocked her head, waiting for him to explain. "Like, you and Darla, and his meals. Small."

"And like you." William inwardly winced. He'd always hated when someone pointed out his size, even as a human. Now as a vampire it just seemed cruel how much smaller he was than other vampires.

"Well I guess, but he's not my sire, now is he?" William closed the space between them, and winced as she hugged him with no regard for his broken arm. "He just sires beautiful women, like you and Darla."

Drusilla smiled up at William, mischief in her countenance.

"He's not Darla's Sire, William. Didn't you know?" Drusilla chuckled at William's look of confusion.

"But I mean… I've seen him drink her blood, you know? And yours, too. You told me it was a Sire thing, but that we didn't do it cuz of… I don't know, something." William tilted Drusilla's head to look at the scars on her neck. "The blood trade, whatever it's called."

Drusilla just giggled and bit at his fingers playfully.

"My sweet William… So ignorant… And there you were wanting to run off and see the world all alone…" Drusilla turned around and rubbed her back up against William, wrapping his arms around her.

William stared down at her for a moment before sighing, her words ringing in his head.

No, Dru. Not alone.

Sunnydale, Present day

Spike stared down at the mess below his bed, thinking idly how glad he was that he hadn't thrown up on his bed. He was fond of these blankets, and he wouldn't have had the patience to try and wash them.

Great. Now I'm starving again.

He laid back down on his soft pillows, wondering how long it was going to take him before he could get upstairs. He'd be able to make it up the ladder by tonight, he decided, and rolled back over. There had been too many interruptions in his sleep, at this rate he'd never heal.

"Bloody… hell…" With a final heave, Spike pulled himself up to the top floor, where his fridge was. He needed blood if he was ever going to heal up.

He rested there for a moment, waiting to get his bearings, and then finally made his way to the fridge.

Which was empty.

Spike rested his head against the open door for a moment, before yelling out and pushing the whole thing over. It slid several feet and sparked, then laid still.

Still angry, he kicked at a nearby table, and felt something reopen or crack inside him. Howling, he fell over and landed right next to the splintered remains of the table.

That was bloody close… I can see it now: "Here lies Spike, murdered by a coffee table." He laughed without humor, and rolled over and stared at the ceiling.

As he lay, cursing every decision that brought him to this point, he heard movement outside his crypt. He recognized the gait, and sprung to his feet.

After diving down the hole to the lower level of his crypt, he landed badly on his foot and felt it sprain-or break. Adrenaline carried him forward and back down the manhole, and he covered it back up just as he heard the door to his crypt open.

Twice in one day… Unless I've been out longer than I thought. Legs shaking, Spike sat down and waited for the Slayer to get bored of looking for him and leave.

London, Mid 1881

"Alright, Willy. " Angelus spat the name he used when he was particularly upset with William. "Two minutes. You have two minutes to convince me not to throw you out into the sunlight and watch all my frustration go up in flame." Angelus had William pinned to the wall.

"I can do what I want, Angelus. You're not my bloody Sire or whatever, who made you king of the-"

William's voice cut off as Angelus put more pressure on his windpipe. William didn't feel light headed from the lack of air or blood circulation, since he had no need for those things. However, he did suddenly have vivid memories of Angelus beheading vampires and people alike with nothing but brute force.

Angelus considered him for a moment, his anger mounting, and William wondered for a moment if he really was going to just kill him right then.

Instead, he smiled and released him.

"Right you are, boy." William focused on keeping himself upright, and waited for Angelus to elaborate.

However, Angelus just looked at him again, a twisted smile playing at his lips, and turned away.

"Darla, Drusilla, leave your things. I'm thinking of Rome; I haven't been there in so long."

William looked up at the group in confusion.

"Angelus? Th' 'ell's going on?" That was it? Angelus was just letting him go?

Angelus didn't turn back around. He put an arm around the waist of each girl, and started to walk off in the darkness.

William shakily put one foot in front of the other, and caught up to them.

"Dru? Hey, Dru!"

Drusilla looked at him sadly for a brief moment, then turned her attention back to Angelus.

"Will I be able to find a new playmate in Rome, Daddy?"

"I expect so. Maybe one with a little more than piss for brains this time-Eh, Angelus?" Darla smiled sweetly, catching William's eye for a moment and raising her eyebrow, as if to communicate something, before ignoring him once again.

"What do you-Dru I'm still here. I'm your bloody-Bloody everything! Angelus, stop!"

William reached out and grabbed at Angelus's arm. Angelus ripped his arm out of William's grip easily, and threw him to the ground.

He regarded William for a moment, then smirked and turned away.

He… He bloody exiled me. And Drusilla's…

William felt sick. He ran a hand through his hair and stood up carefully, eyes wide. It didn't even occur to him to be glad that he could finally take charge of himself and be on his own. That was all meaningless without Drusilla by his side. Dru hadn't left with him. She was out of reach. How? Why? What didn't he understand? William swallowed his panic at finding himself completely alone in the world, and leaned up against a nearby wall.

Finally, the dynamics of the group made sense in a way they hadn't before. Of course, figuring out the problem when it was too late. Typical William Pratt. Screw up a good thing without even realizing what it was.

Sunnydale, Current Day

Spike wasn't entirely sure why he was hiding from her, but he didn't want to psychoanalyze himself. Just didn't want to see her. Had a right to privacy and all. Didn't want to hear what she'd say-afraid of what she might say, really. Or do. Doesn't matter, just didn't want to deal with her. Wanted to be…

What did he want? He was alone, that was usually what someone in his condition probably wanted. But Spike never wanted to be alone. He needed contact-regular, meaningful contact. Whether that was in the form of fighting or shagging didn't really matter. He just needed to be with those of his own kind. The Slayer was that for him, but…

What am I gonna do.

Pulling himself back up into the bottom levels of his crypt, Spike took inventory of his belongings. It was a nice set up, really. Posh. Comfy. Empty.

Spike felt something in his pockets. Keys to his DeSoto.

But… where could he go? Was there anyone left who could stand the sight of him?