Disclaimer: This entirely fiction. Any Buffy characters are the sole property of Joss Whedon.

Summery: In 1960 Spike and Drusilla travel to Hamburg, Germany; where Spike finds himself attracted to a young musician.

Beware of Darkness

Gray smoke hung low and thick in the air; it seemed as if everyone in the packed club was smoking. Not that it bothered him anyway; after all breathing wasn't a necessity for him.

Spike took a drag of his own cigarette and watched the smoke billow up to join the fumes around him. He glanced across the table at Drusilla; it had been her idea to come to this particular club.

They'd been in Hamburg for close to a month now and this was the first time they'd really gone out to any of the local nightspots just for the entertainment. Normally they would lurk around the clubs and pubs looking for an unsuspecting victim or two.

Spike hadn't caught the name of the club as they'd entered. He had been strolling down the street beside Drusilla when she'd grabbed his arm and roughly pulled him through the door.

He surveyed the club as he crushed the end of his cigarette into the glass ashtray provided. The lights in the building were low; the smoke in the air made it harder to see. Or it would have if he didn't have exceptional vision. A stage was set up a few feet away from where they sat; a thick dark curtain hung behind it. A drum kit was set up in the center of the stage near the back; four guitars also adorned the stage.

"Looks like we'll be getting live entertainment tonight, Luv." He cast a look at Drusilla.

Her dark eyes stared back at him "Like angels. Angels without wings."

Spike shook his head and returned his attention to the stage. She never did make much sense; she was mad after all. But he loved her. For whatever reason he loved her.

He wrapped his fingers around the beer bottle sitting on the table and brought it to his lips. He took a long drink, almost emptying the bottle of its contents. As he looked back at the stage he saw five young men upon it.

One sat behind the drums, his dark glasses covering his eyes. The other four each picked up one of the guitars and draped them over their shoulders. The one standing by the drums had a look of disinterest across his face. Two others stood by a microphone and the fifth stood away from them at his own microphone.

The man by himself at the front of the stage looked back at the others then faced the crowd and said something Spike didn't catch. Then he started singing.

Spike frowned as he yelled into the microphone as he worked the guitar strings. Is this what Drusilla had dragged him into this club for?

The girls in the club seemed to enjoy it however. Couples near the stage started dancing to the music.

His eyes scanned the stage; the drummer seemed to merely be going through the motions of playing, as was the guitarist next to him. His gaze moved to the two young men playing the bass and lead guitar. They would periodically sing into their microphone as the other man yelled into his own.

As his eyes washed over the smaller of the two boys at the mic he couldn't help but stare. It was as if he'd developed tunnel vision, all he could see was the lead guitarist. He took in the boy's appearance: his dark hair, arched eyebrows, his lips curled up on one side as he sang, the fine cheekbones. He wore a leather jacket, which seemed too big for his small frame, jeans that clung to his slim hips, and what Spike thought of as a pair of god awful boots.

The boy couldn't be any older then seventeen, eighteen at the most.

The music died down and the 'leader' spoke, his accent clearly English.

As their set continued Spike couldn't keep his eyes off the young man. Something about the boy intrigued him. As they concluded their performance they disappeared behind the thick curtain.

He was still staring at the spot where the boy had been standing when he'd felt Drusilla's long fingernails rake his cheek. She stood behind him her lips against his ear "Spike." She cooed into his ear.

He stood up and they headed towards the exit. As they passed the bar he overheard a girl speaking to her mates.

"I'm coming to see them again tomorrow night."

Spike raised an eyebrow quizzically as they emerged onto the chilly streets of Hamburg.

"Dru, fancy coming back tomorrow night?" he draped an arm over her shoulders as they walked.

They returned to the club the following evening. Tonight they occupied a table closer to the stage. Spike hoped to get a closer look at the boy whom had been on his mind all night.

He hadn't been able to think of anything else since for the past twenty-four hours. He'd thought of him as he'd shagged Drusilla the night before. He'd thought of him as he'd drained the life from a middle-aged man on the way to the club. And he thought of him now as he waited for the quintet's set to begin.

It'd become quite clear quite quickly that he was attracted to the young guitarist. This was nothing new to Spike; he'd been attracted to other men in the past but had never acted on those feelings. He loved Drusilla, and thought she loved him. However recently he'd begun to question this as he'd found her in their bed with a young man who's neck she'd snapped upon his entering the room.

Instead of angering Spike however this had turned him on. Death often did.

He took a long drag on his cigarette as he cast a sidelong glance at her. He wondered if she suspected his attraction to the boy. She didn't look at Spike. Instead she was watching a couple by the bar.

He looked back to the stage, the guitars in the same order they'd been in the night before.

What was the boy's name? Where in England was he from? These and other questions plagued Spike's mind. Somehow he needed to find out the answers. Perhaps him and Drusilla could get backstage when the set ended.

If he asked her, he knew, Drusilla could persuade anyone to let them back there where the band retreated at the end of the night.

Spike raked a hand through his light brown hair and glanced at his watch. He pulled his eyes away from the hands and numbers as footfalls on the stage reached his ears.

The 'leader' picked up his guitar, looked back at the other members and began yelling into the microphone as he did the previous night. The song sounded familiar but he wasn't able to place it.

Spike's eyes traveled away from him to the young guitarist. He inhaled slightly, despite the fact he didn't need to breathe, as his eyes traveled down the boy's body to the leather pants he wore instead of jeans.

It quickly donned on him that he was almost leering at the boy and closed his eyes. When he opened them he was staring at his face. Luckily the boy hadn't noticed Spike staring at him, as his eyes were downcast as he concentrated on his guitar. However as he lifted his head to sing into his microphone he looked out at the crowded bar.

Spike caught his gaze and held it. The boy's eyebrows furrowed together as he sang unable to tear his eyes away from the man in the audience. It wasn't until the older boy next to him bumped him that the eye contact was broken. He regained his balance, turned to the other boy and they shared a smile.

Spike continued to watch him and only him for the remainder of the show. Every once and a while the boy would look back out at the crowd to where he sat. His gaze never lingered longer then a moment or two.

As the music died and the band disappeared backstage, Spike grabbed Drusilla's wrist and pulled her from her chair.

"Where are we going?" She asked as he dragged her behind him.

He didn't turn to look at her "Backstage." No one tried to stop them as they made their way to the stage. They slipped unseen behind the heavy curtain.

"How much longer do we have to play in these fucking pubs?"

"If you don't like it Pete, you can fucking leave!"

"If I did that you would have no drummer. Then where would you be?"

"Without a drummer." The 'leader' spoke as Spike found himself in a small room behind the stage. "Who're you?"

The boy who had been leaning against the wall tuning his guitar looked up at the question.

"Name's Spike." He said moving closer, "Good show."

The 'leader' raised his eyebrows "Spike eh?"

He nodded "Real name's William. It's bland."

Without removing the cigarette from his lips he extended a hand "John Lennon. It's nice to meet another English man here in Hamburg."

Spike took his hand firmly "You don't see many of us do you?"

John took a drag on his cigarette then motioned towards Drusilla, who narrowed her eyes at him "Who's your bird?"

"This is Drusilla." He replied as she surveyed each of the men in the room.

Her eyes stopped on the guitarist who had been closest to the drums. The fingers of her left hand touched her temple lightly "Sparks. Like lightning in your head." He stared at her.

"And I always thought Stu was empty headed." The other guitarist said.

"Fuck you Paul!" The one named Stu cursed.

She turned back to John "Such a tragic ending."

John's eyebrows raised again "What the bloody hell are you on about?"

Spike groaned "Thinks she can see the future."

Drusilla narrowed her eyes at Spike but said nothing; she continued surveying the other men.

John took a drag on his cigarette and turned back to Spike "What brings you both to lovely Hamburg?"

"We wanted a change of scenery." He said stealing a glance at the boy, who was now looking down intently at his guitar strings.

"Understandable." John said, "But there are much better places then this shit hole."

Spike shrugged "If it's such a bloody shit hole then why are you here?"

John grinned, "We're just a couple of musicians trying to make it."

The one named Paul walked up beside John "Mind introducing the rest of us to your new friend?"

He took one last drag on his cigarette and exhaled the smoke through his nostrils "Paul this here is Spike." He motioned between them "Spike this here is Paulie McCartney." He turned to the other three "That there is Pete Best and Stu Sutcliffe." He turned to the young guitarist who was now looking up from his guitar, "And that's George Harrison. He may only be seventeen but he's a hell of a guitar player."

Spike's eyes brightened at the name. The boy's name was George Harrison; he'd been right about his age when he'd guessed he was no older then seventeen.

Without realizing he was doing it George put down his guitar and crossed the room to where John and Spike stood. He stopped mere feet away from them as Spike turned his gaze on him. For the first time George saw the color of the man's eyes. He'd never seen eyes as blue; they entranced him. They stood out sharply in comparison with his pale skin and light brown hair. They were like the sky after a storm, clear and bright.

Spike could hardly believe that George was standing so close; for two nights he had watched him from afar and now he was so terribly close. He was more beautiful up close; He wanted to reach out and touch his smooth skin with his fingers but he didn't dare. Not now. Not here.

"What part of England are you from?" John asked pulling Spike's attention away from George.

"London." Spike stated, "And you lot?"

"Good ole' Liddypool." John replied as Drusilla walked up to George.

Spike watched as she extended her hands towards him but did not touch him "A man surrounded by fools who cannot see his strength," she said cocking her head to the side "His vision, his glory."

George frowned and took a step away from her "What?"

Spike groaned as he grabbed Drusilla's shoulders "I think it's time we leave."

"Come back tomorrow night." John said as Spike began to turn her away, "We'll all have a drink after the show."

George watched as Spike nodded then turned Drusilla towards the door and disappeared out of the small room. As soon as they left Paul and Stu began to argue.

He lay on his back in the dark, staring up at the ceiling. He listened to the sounds of Paul sleeping in the bed across the small room.

Ever since they'd left the club all George had been able to think about was Spike. There was something about him that enthralled him; George didn't understand why. Earlier that evening when he had first noticed him staring at him he hadn't been able to take his eyes off him. If Paul hadn't bumped into him he probably would have spent the rest of the set staring at his strange man.

As George closed his eyes he saw the pale skin, the sculpted cheekbones, wavy light brown hair, and deep blue eyes. Eyes that seemed to look right through him; right into his soul. Into his very being. He felt that he would have lost himself in those eyes had John not taken Spike's attention away from him.

His eyes snapped open. What was he doing? Why was Spike all he could think about? What was it about this strange man that intrigued him after only one meeting?

If the situation was different and Spike was a girl it would be obvious that he was attracted to him. But he wasn't a girl. He couldn't possibly be attracted to him. It was an absurd notion. He was mad to have even considered it. He turned onto his side and stared at the wall.

Or was he? How else could he explain it? What other reason was there to explain why he couldn't get him off his mind?

George finally decided to go to sleep. If he continued dwelling on his possible attraction to Spike he would never get any sleep. And if he slept during the day then chances were good that a shower of icy water most likely dumped on him by John would awaken him.

He closed his eyes and willed himself to sleep. But to no avail the moment he closed his eyes he thought of Spike once again.

Over the next few nights Spike and Dru returned to the club to watch the show then have a drink with the band afterwards.

As the nights passed, Spike found out more and more about the five lads from Liverpool. Other then having a passion for writing and playing John and Paul had both lost their mothers when they were young. John had a girlfriend back home. Stu had inadvertently fallen in love with a German girl named Astrid, and often left after the shows to see her. Pete didn't say much. And George, at seventeen, was the youngest of them.

Spike had become well aware of George's increasing glances night after night from across the table where he usually sat. He could always feel the boy's eyes upon him.

Eventually Drusilla had begun growing tired of accompanying Spike to the club almost every night. Soon Spike began going alone while she went out on her own.

One night almost a month after he had first seen them perform, Spike sat with them in the empty club. On this particular night he had managed to sit next to George. He had heard the boy's heart rate quicken as he'd sat down.

"His mind's not here I tell you." Paul was saying to John.

John took the cigarette from between his lips "Stu stays. How many bloody times do I have to say it?" Stu had left them earlier in the evening to return to Astrid.

Paul sighed as he took a swig from his bottle "Why don't we ask Spike's opinion." John shrugged.

"I would have to agree with Paul." Spike lifted his cigarette from the glass ashtray. "His mind seems somewhere else." He raised an eyebrow as he took a drag.

John folded his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair saying nothing.

"I know that Pete and George agree with me." Paul looked at his two band mates.

"Shut up McCartney." Pete said, Spike was certain those were the first words the drummer had uttered all night.

Paul sighed and placed his attention on Spike "Where's your bird tonight?"

He shrugged as he crushed his cigarette into the tray "Who knows. She goes where she wants. No one can stop her. Very strong willed, that one."

"Been together long?" John asked.

Spike looked in his direction, which let him see George out of the corner of his right eye. "Quite sometime, yes." He pulled another cigarette from his pack and placed it between his lips.

George's eyes flicked from Spike's fingers to his lips where the cigarette rested snuggly. He watched him light it then shove the silver lighter inside his jacket. With his left hand Spike reached out for his drink, while his right hand went to his knee then slowly ventured to George's thigh.

Only Spike heard the boy's sharp intake of breath as he placed his hand on his thigh. He heard the boy's heart quicken slightly.

Spike couldn't wait any longer. He had to get George alone and soon. While Pete stared at his drink and John and Paul conversed about a song one of them had written Spike glanced at George and caught his eye.

George wanted to look away but once he was caught it Spike's gaze he couldn't tear his eyes away. Spike didn't say a word; he merely looked at him then removed his hand from his thigh and turned back to the others.

"I suppose it's time I got going." He said as he rose from his seat, "Same time tomorrow then?"

George watched Spike turn and walk towards the door. When Spike had left the club George sat straight in his seat.

What should he do? Obviously Spike wanted him to follow him. What would happen if he did? What would happen if he didn't? Would he regret it? Why was he even thinking about it? He finally decided not to follow after Spike. He would sit with the guys and not think of Spike.

However without realizing it he had pushed back his chair and was standing.

John looked up at him "Where are you going son?"

"I uh…I'm tired. I'm going back." He stammered, "I'll see you later." Without waiting for a reply he turned and exited the club.

As he emerged onto the street he turned to his left and surveyed the street beyond.

"Didn't think you were coming." A voice said from behind him. George turned to find Spike leaning against the building; the cigarette still wedged firmly between his lips.

"I wasn't going to." He said unable to take his eyes off the other man, "But something told me I should."

Spike took a drag on the cigarette before extinguishing it on the side of the building "Lets walk." George fell into step beside him. They walked in silence for a few blocks.

"It's a good thing I'm here." Spike's voice seemed louder in the silence.

George looked towards him as they walked; Spike looked straight ahead "Why's that?"

"It's not safe for you to be walking around alone at night." He said glancing briefly at George, "Who knows what nasty things may lurk around in dark alleys ready to prey on young helpless teenagers like yourself." Their pace slowed until they were no longer walking. They stared at each other.

George's mouth opened "I'm not…"

"You should always beware of darkness." Spike stated looking into George's dark eyes. His eyes scanned the smooth skin of his cheeks, which were a deep crimson from the crisp November air "Aren't you cold?"

George wrapped his arms around himself; in his hurry to catch up with Spike he had forgotten his jacket, "I don't feel the cold." His breath came out in white puffs.

Spike peered down the street "We're close to my flat." He looked to George for a sign of protest. If they hadn't already passed the shabby room he was staying in with the others he would have declined. But they were already blocks away and to be honest he was freezing.

"Alright." He said finally.

Spike pulled a cigarette from his pack then offered the pack to George before they started walking again.

He took one and held it between his lips as Spike held the silver lighter to the tip "Thanks." He said as he inhaled the noxious fumes; he held the smoke in his lungs briefly before letting the smoke through his lips as he spoke "How far is it?"

"Not far." Spike said as they walked side by side; George a few inches shorter then Spike.

Goosebumps broke out along George's exposed arms as they walked. The crisp night air even penetrated the leather pants he wore. He glanced towards Spike; he didn't seem the least bit cold.

As they turned a corner Spike led him up a short path to a small row of houses. Spike produced a key from inside his jacket and proceeded to unlock the door. They climbed a short flight of steps to a second floor apartment.

The room was shrouded in darkness as they entered. George's eyes had begun to adjust when a low overhead light went on. George tried to warm his hands by rubbing them together.

"Here." Spike said walking to a standing radiator against the wall. He turned a knob and placed his hand on the metal "It'll warm up in a moment."

George surveyed the room as he walked slowly to the radiator. They stood in a small kitchen; a table and two chairs sat against one wall, a refrigerator against another, a counter and sink stood near it.

"Where's Drusilla?" He was vaguely aware that Paul had asked the same question earlier; however he couldn't remember the answer.

Spike opened the fridge and pulled out two bottles; he closed it quickly. "Who bloody knows. She's probably out cavorting with some sodding prat somewhere."

George frowned, "Doesn't it bother you?"

"Why should it?" He asked handing the boy one of the bottles. He turned and walked into another room; George followed behind him.

They were now in a sparsely decorated living room. A sofa, armchair and television were the only things in the room.

"Have you lived here long?"

Spike looked over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow "Ask a lot of questions, don't you?"

George's eyes went to the bottle in his still ice cold hands "Sorry."

"No need to be sorry, mate." Spike clapped a hand on his shoulder. The boy looked up into his eyes and felt his heart skip a beat as Spike grinned at him "We've been here about two months or so."

George couldn't think of anything else to do except ask questions; at least not until his eyes were locked onto Spikes. When that happened he couldn't think of anything at all. He felt Spike's hand come away from his shoulder as he turned and entered another room. George followed once again not knowing where he was going. Not knowing what would happen when he got there. What he did know was that he wanted to follow him. He didn't want to he away from Spike.

As he reached the doorway of the room he saw Spike had discarded his brown leather jacket and was standing near a window sipping idly at his beer. He took a step inside and noticed the bed. He took a sip of his own beer and took another step into the room. When he was beside Spike he peered out the window. The sky on this particular night was clear and bereft of clouds. The moon shone down casting shadows along the walls of the dimly lit room.

George looked up at Spike; his skin was almost translucent in the moonlight. If it were possibly his eyes looked even bluer in contrast and it drove George mad.

Spike glanced at the boy; dark eyes stared back at him. The light from the moon illuminated his face. Spike's eyes roamed the boy's face; from his eyes to his full lower lip.

He placed the bottle on the windowsill then reached out slowly and brushed George's cheek with his fingertips. George recoiled slightly as the cool fingertips touched his skin.

George's lips parted as he stared at Spike, his hand still outstretched. George felt his heart hammer against his ribs, the feeling of the cold fingers lingered on his skin. He hadn't expected the older man's hands to be so cold.

Spike took a tentative step towards him; this time George didn't flinch as the fingers of Spike's right hand touched his cheek. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply as the fingers brushed his earlobe then moved to the back of his neck.

When he opened his eyes they locked on Spike's. He exhaled slowly as Spike leaned towards him. His bottom lip quivered as Spike's mouth claimed his. He closed his eyes as thoughts raced through his head. A million thoughts a second. So many that it was impossible for him to go over each one. The sound of glass shattering filled the room as the bottle in George's hand crashed to the floor.

George opened his eyes as Spike pulled away; the shattering bottle has startled them both. They stood in the rectangle of moonlight staring at each other; their breathing coming in short gasps.

Before he knew what he was doing, George had grabbed the front of Spike's black shirt and had pushed him up against the window. Spike grinned as he stared into his eyes, heat radiated off of George's body.

George's thoughts were overcome with lust as he pressed his lips forcefully against Spike's, crushing his mouth with his own. He could taste the beer on Spike's lips. He opened his mouth when he felt Spike's tongue against his lips. He pressed his own tongue against his. Spike's tongue thrust into his mouth and began exploring the soft flesh inside.

George's fingers were entwined in Spike's hair, pulling him closer.

Spike's hands rested on the boy's hips, his fingers grasping the thin fabric of his shirt. He tugged at the shirt and a low moan escaped George's mouth as their lips parted. Within seconds the shirt was lying crumpled on the floor.

Spike advanced on him, George took a step back as the back of his legs hit the bed. He fell back against the rumpled black sheets. Spike straddled his hips then leaned down, his lips brushing George's jaw.

George's hands snaked beneath his shirt; he ran his fingers up Spike's back as he pushed the shirt towards his shoulders. It met the other shirt on the floor. His fingers tangled in Spike's hair, pulling his head down to claim his lips once more.

One of Spike's hands trailed down George's side, sending a shiver up his spine. His fingers brushed his stomach as they moved down over the smooth leather pants.

He moaned into Spike's mouth as his fingers grazed the inside of his thigh. His hand slid up between George's legs.

Spike almost couldn't believe that he finally had the boy exactly where he'd wanted him for so long. George began to writhe beneath him as he began stoking the boy's growing erection through his pants.

"Oh…god." George moaned breathlessly.

Spike could feel his own erection pushing against the confines of his pants. His eyes met George's again; he could see the pleading look in the dark pools. The boy's hips bucked against Spike's hand. George's hands were no longer in Spike's hair; they were now working to unfasten the worn black jeans Spike wore.

Moments later shoes and pants hit the floor.

With the leather out of the way Spike was able to wrap his fingers easily around George's cock easily and began stroking it again.

"Fuck." The boy swore in a breathy whisper as he writhed beneath the vampire. "God…please." He looked up into Spike's eyes.

A slight smile crossed his lips "Yeah?"

George nodded his head before flinging it back against the pillows.

"Alright." Spike sat back on his knees and glanced around the room quickly. There was nothing he could find to use as lube. He'd have to go slow at first. If the rolls were reversed it wouldn't have made a difference; Spike had a much higher tolerance for pain and had been through worse.

Spike grabbed a nearby pillow and shoved it under George's hips. He wanted to be able to watch the boy's face.

George's breath caught in his throat as Spike slipped a finger inside him, then another. George closed his eyes and was just getting his breathing back to normal when he felt Spike begin to enter him. His eyes shot open and his breath hitched.

Spike bent down over George, his lips inches from his ear. "Relax." He said in a low seductive tone.

He closed his eyes and took in a shaky breath; his brow furrowed as Spike slid into him.

"Okay?" He asked, George nodded. He began thrusting slow and steady at first.

George's fingers ran up and down the cool flesh of Spike's neck, back and thighs, which seemed to heat up with each thrust. "S…Spike." He moaned as the vampire quickened his pace slightly. His dark hair clung to his temples and forehead.

A grin crossed his open mouth as he heard his name upon George's lips. He was almost certain that had been the first time he'd heard him utter his name. He pressed his hands into the mattress to steady himself as George lifted his hips to meet his thrusts.

George couldn't believe he was doing this. Never in his entire life had he ever thought he would be in this situation. He couldn't deny that he was enjoying it.

Spike's faux breathing came out in grunts and groans as the boy writhed and moaned beneath him. His eyes roamed George's face, from the smooth cheekbones to the dark fringe of lashes around his eyes. His gaze suddenly jumped from his face to his throat, unblemished smooth skin. Thoughts ran rampant in Spike's mind. What if he turned him? He would stay young and beautiful forever, never growing old, never knowing the slow decay of death. They could be together forever.

Drusilla suddenly invaded his thoughts but he shut her out just as quickly as she'd appeared. He would be able to take care of her after.

His eyes went back to George's face, his eyes closed, his mouth open as he groaned with every thrust. Spike captured those lips with his own, locking them in a heavy kiss. Their tongues wrestled with each other.

George groaned into his mouth as he came between them hot and sticky, however Spike hardly noticed as he continued to thrust, harder now then before.

Their lips part as Spike pulled his head back, he gritted his teeth tightly as he came hard inside George. At almost the same time his face changed, the bones in his forehead rearranged, his teeth elongated, his yellow eyes held no trace of the blue they once were.

A tremor went through George's body as Spike pulled out of him.

Spike could hear the boy's heartbeat loud and erratic as he attempted to gain control of his breathing. He rested his head against George's shoulder so he couldn't see the change in his features and pretended to get his own breath under control.

With his cheek pressed against George's neck he could feel the blood rushing through the veins, he could hear it running through his heart. In a few moments George would be his forever.

He reached his hand up and ran his fingers over the smooth skin then lifted his head slightly, he was just about to sink his fangs into the soft flesh of the boy's neck when he heard a noise nearby. Floor boards.

They both turned their heads in alarm; Spike's features were human again, to find Drusilla standing in the doorway, a strange smile upon her face.

George's eyes widened when he saw her "Shit!" he swore.

"Dru." Spike said softly as he sat up and stared at her. George took this time to slide out from beneath Spike and frantically grabbed at his clothes on the floor. He pulled on his pants quickly then retrieved his shoes and shirt. Without bothering to put them on he headed towards the door, which Drusilla still stood in front of.

She cocked her head to the side and stared at him for a moment before moving aside and letting him run from the room. Once she heard the door to the apartment close behind him she took a step closer to the bed.

Spike moved and sat on the side of the bed; he didn't look up at her.

Her boots clicked against the wooden floorboards as she came to stand in front of him. "Did you have a good time, pet?"

Spike frowned; there was an edge of amusement in her voice. He set his jaw and tilted his head back up at her "Yes."

A smile spread across her dark lips, which only made her look even more insane then she was "I knew you would."

His frown deepened "What?"

She crouched down in front of him; her long ebony hair cascaded over one shoulder "I knew you wanted him." Her eyes locked on his "And he wanted you. So I let you have him." A dead silence filled the room. She caressed his cheek with the back of her hand "But only for a little while. Now I want you back."

Spike snatched her hand in his, her eyes widened in excitement and her lips parted to reveal prefect white teeth. "What if I don't want you back?"

"Oh Spike, we're bound you and I. Bound together by an invisible string." She said, "We're going to be together for eternity."

His brow furrowed even deeper as he stared at her. He released her hand then stood up, she stood with him and watched as he gathered his clothes and pulled them on.

"Where are you going?" She asked as he pulled his jacket on roughly.

Spike turned to look at her "For a walk, Luv. Don't wait up." He walked past her and out of the room. Out of the apartment.

When he reached the sidewalk he reached for his pack of cigarettes and found he had one left. He lit it then cast the empty pack into the street. He took a long drag then expelled smoke through his lips.

He doubted he'd ever see George again. If only Drusilla had come in a few minutes later. A few minutes later and George would have been a vampire like them.

Spike flicked the cigarette into the street, perhaps it just hadn't been meant to be. Perhaps there were bigger things in store for both Spike and George.

No matter, Spike knew things would never be the same after this. He glanced up at the apartment then turned and began walking down the street.

Spike stood a few feet away from the masses of young girls lining the sidewalks in front of the theater. Their screams were almost deafening, especially to his sensitive hearing.

He leaned against the building and listened as the girls screamed and chanted.

Spike had only one reason for being there amongst the throngs of teenage girls. Normally he would stay as far away from them as possible but tonight if he was going to be able to see him he had to tolerate them for a little while.

Spike stared up at the stars above his head.

When him and Drusilla had arrived in Liverpool a few weeks earlier Spike had quickly learned that The Beatles were doing a show at a local theater soon.

He hadn't seen George since that night three years earlier. Of course he'd seen him on TV and in pictures but it wasn't the same as seeing him in person. He had made up his mind then to hang around the theater the night of the performance if for nothing else then a glimpse of him. Just a small glimpse would satisfy him.

Spike's ears pricked up as he heard the volume of the teenagers' voices pick up. He pushed his way past the screaming, crying girls. He had just made it to the front of the group when a car pulled up in front of the theater.

The door opened and John got out first followed by Paul; both seemed to enjoy the reaction they got from the fans. Shortly after they got out of the car, Ringo, the man who had replaced Pete stepped out.

If his heart beat it would probably have been pounding against his chest in anticipation.

As George stepped out of the car it was almost like the first time Spike had seen him. He couldn't take his eyes away from him. His hair was longer then the last time he'd seen him and he looked taller. He was no longer the boy he'd been in Hamburg. Other then that he was just as beautiful as Spike remembered.

As George made his way up to the door of the theater he glanced to the crowd of girls to his left; he stopped dead in his tracks as his eyes landed on the one person he never thought he would ever see again. Spike stood calmly amongst the fans, watching him.

His pulse quickened as he stared at Spike, he couldn't believe that three years later he still had the same affect he had on him back in Hamburg. He had never told anyone about that night him and Spike had shared and he doubted he ever would.

Part of him wanted to go to Spike. He glanced away momentarily at John and Paul who were entering the theater, Ringo wasn't far behind them. Would they notice if he didn't follow? How long would it be until they noticed he hadn't entered the theater with them?

George looked back at Spike with sad eyes. He couldn't go to him; he wanted to but he couldn't. He knew that if he did, if he took one look at those ice blue eyes he'd be lost. One look into his eyes and he would do just about anything Spike wanted. And he couldn't let himself do that. No matter how much he wanted to he had to turn away and leave Spike in his past.

Spike watched as George broke eye contact with him then proceeded to enter the theater. He stood staring at the spot where he had stood for a few moments then turned and pushed his way through the crowd.

As he walked down the street he wondered where Drusilla had gotten to. He turned down an alley and saw her, the bodies of two teenage girls at her feet. Two more stood cowering in a corner.

She grinned when she saw him coming towards her. "I saved two for you."

"Thanks, Dru." He walked behind her and placed a hand on her hip "But I'm not hungry. You enjoy them."

Her grin widened as she advanced on the two girls. Any other night Spike would have enjoyed watching her suck the girls dry but tonight his mind was not on the kill. All he could think about was George.

The one who had gotten away.

The End