sr A blonde vampire stood in front of the now impenetrable doorway, wide-eyed and unable to make sense of the varying emotions flooding through him. He wasn't sure if he should hate her for being so cold and callus, or hate himself for being so goddamn weak and betraying to his vampiric nature. Then, his anger fled, replaced with complete dejection. He had poured his heart out to the object of his passion and desire, offering to sacrifice the one person who defined his whole existence prior to that, for what? A disinterested shrug and an uninvite.

He looked down at his body, wondering all the while who he was anymore. Before his return to Sunnydale, he had been Spike, aka William the Bloody, scourge of all in his path. Evil wasn't just a way of life for him, but a title. He prided himself on his cruelty to man, woman and child. And the Slayers he had skillfully killed - oh the sheer ecstasy. Nothing gave him more of a rush, a sense of completeness as seeing the final look of terror in his victims' eyes at the moment they realized their impending death. At that instant, the demon within would howl with pleasure and delight, reveling in the blood flowing freely. Some vamps fed to survive; he survived to feed. That was real living. Taking what he wanted, stopped by no one and nothing…

But now? Spike was a shell of his former self; much closer to the gentleman William than he ever wanted to be again. He stared down at his arms and hands, disgusted. Now the feelings and needs of others came before his blood lust. Now he would willfully slurp on old pig's blood from a sodding coffee mug, rather than take a life. Instead of grasping life by the reigns and feeling the ardor, he was sneaking into the Summers' house, sniffing sweaters and pilfering undergarments and photos. He slowly shook his head. Had the love for a mortal woman done this to him, or was there something greater behind it?

Spike turned without another look at the door, sadly sauntering back to…no! He couldn't go back there. If he went back to that crypt, he would just lie awake, wishing for her to bust in and beat the crap out of him. Hopefully she would kill him in the process. But that was just wishful thinking. No, the crypt held too many memories for him. His mind wandered back to a couple days ago when she had left her family in his protection, saying she needed him. Those words echoed though his head and heart ever since she uttered them. She said he was the only one strong enough, and he fell further than ever before.

If she could bring herself to trust him with her family, of all things, let alone the "key", which could probably lead to world destruction, would it be too much for her to one day trust him with her heart? Oh, if only it were possible.

As he had mentioned to her just hours ago, it wouldn't be the first time a Slayer…this Slayer…and a vampire had fallen in love. "You're not Angel." 'No, I'm not,' he thought. Angel was a prick before he was vamped and after. The only thing his soul did for him was make him a miserable prick. How the hell did she ever fall in love with that wanker? He had been a right cruel bloody bastard in his day. Just look at Drusilla. No matter how Evil Spike had become, he could never have reached Angelus' level of mastery. And she forgave all that because why? Because he sits around all day hating himself? What kind of man is that to love? The Slayer needed someone strong, clever, and as full of life as she was. His gut ached once more, longing to make her happy and fulfill her needs.

He desperately needed to act. Whether he should leave Sunnyhell, forever this time, or stay and convince Buffy that he was worthy of her affection, he did not know. There was only one person in the world that could help answer that question. And answer it he would…even if he had to beat it out of him. A wry smile crossed his lips at the half serious thought.

A dark vampire sat in the center of the hotel lobby. The room was cold and sterile, being devoid of the human life it once held. Echoes of nothingness traveled through the great hall. He wondered how he always ended up alone and miserable. Almost two and a half centuries and he still hadn't found the peace he longed for. "At least I haven't heard from the diabolical duo in a while."

A figure slowly emerged from the depths of the shadows. "Hello, mate."

Angel jumped to his feet and faced the cocky cockney voice, prepared for battle.

"Same ol' Angel. Alone and brooding. Don't you ever have any fun?" He took a drag off his cigarette, blowing smoke around the previously senseless room.

"No, Spike, I don't. Now tell me what you want and then get out." He was too tired to engage in his childe's childish games. Spike was silent. "Come to torture me some more, Spikey boy?"

"Actually," the blonde's face melted into a very serious, almost bashful expression. "I came to ask you for your help."

The irony of it all struck Angel and his soul smiled briefly. "What do you want me to do for you? Help break into a nursery so you can feed off the newborns?" Angel turned his back tentatively to Spike and resumed his seat.

With a playful smirk, the visitor circled around to sit facing the brooder. Two vampires, rich in history together sat eye to eye. One had created the other. They had fought side by side. They had fought against each other viciously. They had shared food, shelter and lovers over decades. Yet, neither knew the other anymore. One had begun to tap into his darkness once again, while the other was recovering his humanity.

"Tell me, Angel. How did you do it?" He paused, gathering his thoughts. Before his sire could ask any questions, he began again. "How did you manage to win her love?"

Instinctively, the eldest knew exactly whom he was talking about. But, why? He just stared at him suspiciously. "What do you want, Spike?" he growled.

"I want your advice."

Angel didn't hesitate, "Here's your advice. Stay away from Buffy or I'll rip your fucking head off." He didn't move or even change his facial expression. He was serious but didn't believe in Spike's resolve. The other vampire knew exactly why Angel didn't haul off and kill him at that moment.

"I'm taking a great risk in telling you this…" he took a large breath before he continued. "I'm not myself anymore."

"Come again." His head tilted and moved closer.

'Why am I doing this?' Spike closed his eyes, willing his anxiety away. "I've been altered. Buffy's sodding boyfriend put a microchip in me brain, and now I can't harm a bloody thing. Now, are you going to help me or not?"

"Help you?! The last time we met, you were torturing me half to death over a piece of jewelry, and now you expect me to help you? Are you insane? I won't even go into the story you just told me, as I'm sure you're just full of shit, as usual. Therefore, I repeat. If you so much as touch Buffy, you will be living in an ashtray." Angel picked up the book that lay next to him and started to actively ignore the vampire before him.

Spike sighed and rubbed his face with his right hand. After a long, cold silence, Spike squeaked out a sentence. "Dru came back for me, you know."

At this, Angel tried to appear nonchalant as he looked up from his upside down book. The younger vamp knew this would get some kind of reaction. "Yeah, she said she and Darla were paintin' the town red and wanted their old Spike back."

Angel's mind flashed back to the 1800's, when the four had been quite a formidable bunch. If Dru and Darla were bad news, then throw Spike into the mix and you've got…

"Then what are you doing here, asking me about Buffy? Couldn't kill her the old fashioned way, and now you have to try some untraditional methods?"

"I told her to sod off." He was still very quiet.

"And why would you go and do something like that, Willy?"

"Oh, bloody hell! I told you. I've changed. I-I can't…I can't kill any more." Silence… "And I don't think I want to."

Angel couldn't believe his ears.

Spike spent the better part of an hour recounting the last few month's events to his now captive audience. He told of his return to Sunnydale, his encounter with the Initiative and Adam, Riley's adventures with the vamp whores and his inevitable departure. He even explained what had happened last night with Dru, Buffy and Harmony. In the end, he had gone through such a myriad of emotions, he just slumped back into his chair, not really expecting Angel to accept his word.

But he did. Angel had never seen the blonde so - naked before. Who ever this man before him was, wringing his hands and struggling to maintain his calm, it wasn't the Spike he raised.

"So, you think Buffy could love you?" His voice was dry, fearing the answer.

"No, I don't. I don't have a chance in hell of her seeing passed all the things I've done to her. But I just have to know how you did it." The look in his eyes was pleading - sheer desire to know what it really was that separated him and his sire in Buffy's eyes.

Angel laughed. Not a joyous laugh, or even a cruel laugh. It was because Spike now wore his old shoes. Oh how William the Bloody used to taunt and cajole him about his affair with the Slayer. Now he too knew the torture it brought. A small part of him felt sorry for the whelp, but the rest of him felt vindicated.

"Hey! It's not funny, you poofer!" Spike looked simultaneously hurt and angry. Yet another unfamiliar expression for his old face to bear.

The older of the two put his book aside and attempted to do the same with the past. He let his joviality die away as he contemplated what he should say.

"Well, that's just it. I didn't do anything to make her fall in love with me. She forgave me for all my past Evils because she knew that I was genuinely remorseful. Can you say the same?" Spike grew introspective and his eyes fell to the floor.

"And it's not so much what you do, as it is why you do it."

Spike didn't know what to say. Over the next quarter hour, his mouth attempted to express several things, but none of them seemed right to say at that moment. Finally, he rose slowly and absentmindedly walked out of the hotel, muttering something under his 'breath' that might have been a 'thank you'.

With the great door closed to its outside world, Angel picked up his book and smiled. 'Poor boy. He was right. He doesn't have a chance in hell.' He was really more relieved than anything else. Buffy would surely never return his love, for more than several reasons, the most important being that Spike would always be a demon with a human mask. But this obsession of his came with a bonus. She would have Spike's protection for however long this would last. He leaned back into his chair with a grin and thought, 'Can it get any better than this?'

The love struck vampire wandered the dirty streets of L.A.. He was hungry, but couldn't feed. He was tired, but couldn't sleep. He had feelings that weren't requited. And worst of all, the most pathetic wretch that ever walked the earth (in his eyes) had laughed at him. "Can it get any worse than this?"

Spike had a lot of 'soul searching' to do. In order for her to love him, he had to, on his own, without any influence from her, become the proverbial 'good guy'. His initial reaction to the thought was gut wrenching nausea. But, as he contemplated the situation further, he realized that the change wouldn't be any worse than how he was currently existing: doing favors for cash and being thought of as a pathetic excuse for a vampire…which, come to think of it, he was.

No. This was to end here and now. If he couldn't be the dreaded, powerful Spike he was before the chip, then he would be the dreaded and powerful Spike who just happened to defend instead of destroy.

He continued his walk, his mood brightening all the while.

END