Part I: All Quiet on the Western Front

Berlin, Germany - September 8, 1943

Off a dirt road on the outskirts of Berlin sat a small thatched cottage, its red bricks partially exposed from weather worn and peeling paint. It was half hidden by foliage from trees and overgrowth of shrubbery- a much needed camouflage, especially during the day- but the tall stalks of sunflowers that towered over may have given clue to the personal dwelling. A gate that had run the perimeter of the front yard was now stripped for firewood, leaving only the deep rooted posts as reminders of what once had been. Despite its less inviting appearance, there was a dirt walkway that led to the front door- if it wasn't overlooked.

A dog's bark was heard from inside, a call for attention over the low humming drone of upbeat trumpets and the tremulous vocals of a baritone singer.

"All right, Victor," Elizabeth laughed lightly as she glanced over her shoulder towards a large black German Shepherd. His eyes followed her motions as she shuffled some papers aside on the table before getting up; he sat at attention.

Elizabeth only responded with a lighthearted giggle as she walked into the sitting room to wind her gramophone, finding Frank Sinatra's voice resembling a bit like the wailing of a haunted ghost as the record slowed. "That's better, Mr. Sinatra," she said quietly. She hummed along with the American jazz singer before she began to sing absentmindedly herself.

Victor shuffled his paws, causing his claws to clatter against the hardwood floor as Elizabeth lingered back into the kitchen. She giggled at him again, taking humour in how astute he was. "All right, boy," she bent down and pet his head, "you'll get your fill soon enough," she smiled.

Righting herself up, she returned to her station and tidied up her papers into a neat stack, then set the thick hardcover book that lay unattended on the table on its end with an audible 'thunk'; Victor had since followed closely from behind and watched curiously from her side. Elizabeth scratched the edge of the cover to reveal a ripped seam along it before carefully slipping her papers between the cardboard and buckram. Ensuring that they were flush and concealed, she ran a finger across the edge. With a curt and satisfied nod, she set the volume down and sipped at her tea as her eyes glazed over the dust jacket- Mein Kampf- 'My Struggle'- the autobiography of Adolf Hitler.

"Shall we retire to the sitting room?" she asked out loud, her voice resolute in her already-made decision. With book clutched in one hand and tea and saucer balanced in the other, Elizabeth walked with confidence into the other room whilst a quiet tapping trailed behind her.

Sitting down in an armchair by the gramophone, she let her tea rest against her lap before opening a drawer where her player sat; Victor settled down by her feet and rested his head atop his paws. Without much of a second glance, she shoved the hardcover inside and shut it, happy to have it out of her sight. She let out a soft sigh as she smoothed out the wrinkles on the skirt of her yellow dress before turning to her side. Wedged between the armrest and cushion was a book that translated to: 'All Quiet on the Western Front', a book that Elizabeth had managed to salvage before the book burnings began almost a decade ago. When she had first learnt of this atrocity, she had lost all hope in humanity. Since then, she had visited as many bookshops she could find, hunted down as many titles that were deemed banned, and hoarded them into the safety of her walls. She fished out the rare and sacrilegious edition and settled it against her lap, finding the page she had left off, and resumed reading.

She was soon joined by a small tumble of marmalade fur that lept up onto her lap. "Annabelle," Elizabeth chastised softly as the kitten blocked her view from reading, her tone more loving than cross. The kitten peered up at her with round blue eyes as it elicited a trill in greeting, perching itself up with white mitten paws at the edge of the book and exposing a small bib of white across its chest. Elizabeth couldn't help but smile at that endearing image, only to lift her wobbling tea out of the way; she set it down on top of the portable radio that sat facing her, next to the gramophone. Making room for her small and self-inviting guest, she held the book open with one hand and allowed Annabelle to nestle comfortably in her lap. The night wore on uninterrupted as vampire absentmindedly stroked the warm kitten's fur, with the backdrop of the sultry crooning of the American jazz singer and the occasional sound of page turning.

I'll be seeing you in all the old, familiar places
That this heart of mine embraces all day through
In that small cafe, the park across the way
The children's carousel, the chestnut tree, the wishing well…

The tranquility of the evening was cut short by the sound of an invasive and loud crash. Elizabeth immediately sat up alert, just as her dog scrambled up on his hunches and began to bark incessantly. Her eyes automatically swept to the windows, seeing that they remained taped and intact, ruling out a possible air raid bombing. No, it couldn't be, she thought, she hadn't heard any planes overhead, and the blast would have been much louder. She paused to listen to any additional noises to follow, but things were still other than the noises coming from her own home. Whatever it was, it had been close.

"Shh… it's all right, Annabelle," Elizabeth said softly; the kitten remained staunch and shivering from fright. She pet its arched back soothingly, lifting it gently as she pried its claws out from her skirt. "Victor!" Elizabeth said in a warning tone as she held the tiny mewling creature to her chest, finding that his barking was only adding to the kitten's anxiety. Victor's barking only grew more aggressive, ignoring the cautioning command of his mistress- but for good reason. It had only been a short two minutes since the unsourced sound of collision, but three slow and menacing knocks came at her door.

Elizabeth stood with her eyes fixed to it; Victor was in vigilant mode: body tensed, legs locked, and fur standing on end, he growled at the unseen intruder. "Victor, platz!" Elizabeth commanded tersely with a snap of her fingers. This time, the dog obeyed, but not without a whisper of a growl as he lay his head down between his paws. "Watch your sister," Elizabeth set Annabelle down on the cushion before heading towards the door. Perhaps it's dinner, she thought.

I'll be seeing you in ev'ry lovely summer's day
In everything that's light and gay
I'll always think of you that way…

As she pulled open the door, she was met with the sight of a man facing away. He had his right hand pressed against the brick siding in the doorframe as he leaned his weight against his outstretched arm, a pose that read too relaxed and even cocky. Elizabeth's gaze swept over his form, noting the dark Nazi coat he wore, which was even more clearly indicated on the armband around his left arm. He raised his left hand to his face, removing the unseen cigarette he was smoking as he exhaled a stream of smoke into the night air. Finding it an easy opportunity to take him out off guard, Elizabeth morphed her face and loomed forward towards him.

…I'll find you in the morning sun and when the night is new
I'll be looking at the moon, but I'll be seeing you…

He flicked the butt into the night air before suddenly turning around; his eyes settled on her face, "Guten Abend, Elizabeth," he quirked a familiar and charming smile.

Elizabeth's face relaxed back into her human guise as she slowly lowered her hands, "...William…?" her eyes were round, taken off guard with his unexpected visit. It had been sixty odd years since she'd last seen her sire, but she'd have recognised that toothy smirk anywhere. His hair was trimmed short, dyed black, and slicked back, a style that was common for SS Nazi soldiers. Other than that small change, his face remained the same- save for a very distinct and distinguishable Y-shaped scar on his left brow.

Spike paused. "Hey, were you just about to eat me?" he narrowed his eyes slightly as he passed a look of disapproval over her.

Elizabeth sighed.

"And I go by 'Spike', now," he said, brushing past her without waiting for an invitation.

It was at that moment that Elizabeth's back tensed and her grip on the open door tightened. Her gaze drifted vacantly to the ground in front of her as her mind raced: What exactly was her sire doing here? After all these years, why now? How did he find her? What was his purpose?

Elizabeth's eyes darted from side to side as she looked out to the dark landscape of her front yard, trying to spy any shadowy figures lurking in the shrubs and overgrowth. She shut the door behind her in an effort to silence her paranoia, but she remained unsettled as she directed a steely gaze at her sire. Did he send him? She clenched her fist by her side.

Instinctively, Victor perked up as he sensed the sudden tension in his mistress and scrambled forward to bark and growl at the intruder who was cause for it.

Spike balked at the snarling beast, "Bloody hell!" ribbons of drool flung from the black dog's sharply exposed maw. "Would you get that ill trained mutt outside where it belongs?!" Spike lifted a foot forward only to have Victor snap at his boot. "Bloody Christ!" the vampire glowered at the thing and reluctantly shuffled back a step.

Elizabeth stood motionless as she watched all of this from the doorway, wary of her sire like he was a stranger.

Spike turned on his spot to face her, "Aren't you going to do something!" he scowled.

Elizabeth's face was a hardened mask as she stared back into his eyes, "Victor," she broke his gaze to look past him towards her companion, "komm!"

Victor barked one last time at the male with an effort to snap at him as he strut past to his mistress. He nuzzled her tightened fist at her side, nudging at it as her stiffness lessened and her fingers slowly unravelled like petals opening. He licked at her palm and the underside of her fingers till some life twitched into them.

Elizabeth's fingers curled over his snout and she let her hand drift over to the top of his head as she pet him, "Braver Hund," she said softly, her eyes looking down at him with affection and appreciation.

"Doesn't seem to be housetrained, I take it," Spike commented.

Elizabeth kept her hand on Victor's head as she peered up at her sire; a low rumble was elicited from Victor's throat at Spike's slight jab. "Victor, Fuß," Elizabeth commanded with more force in her voice. In turn, he trotted over to her left side and sat down. Elizabeth's left hand found a home at the top of his head, a touch that was approved with a small wag of his tail.

"Want me to get the door?" Spike said snidely.

"Victor stays," Elizabeth replied sharply, her eyes piercing and challenging; Victor stared at him with just as much intensity.

Spike narrowed his eyes at his progeny, the both of them stubborn and unspeaking for a stifling few seconds; the rolling sound of static from the gramophone filled their silence. "Fine," he finally spoke, "but keep that thing away from me." Victor growled with a shared sentiment.

Spike wandered forward as he had initially sought out to do before being rudely intercepted by his progeny's lowly beast. "This your place?" his eyes slowly trailed from the ceiling to the walls of the open room, taking in the full scope of what was in front of him: the walls were bare, free from any portraits and paintings, but there was a sheepskin that draped over one wall, and several bundles of dried flowers and herbs that seemed to be randomly hung at lonely intervals of Elizabeth's wall space.

"Yes, it is," she watched him closely from behind, taking a small step forward with Victor at her heel.

"Kinda… remote. Cosy," Spike sniffed. He pushed back his coat and placed his hands on his hips as he took another glance around, "Hmph."

Elizabeth's fingers glided down to the back of Victor's neck, "Yes, away from the main city. I prefer it that way," she said rather flippantly, but she was cautious with his line of questioning.

"Guess you do prefer the German countryside after all," Spike mumbled.

Elizabeth raised her brow slightly, being reminded of a distant memory they had shared in the past in Frankfurt, and an incidental witch hunt gone wrong. Taking a small breath, Elizabeth fought her small bout of nostalgia, determined to keep herself guarded, "What brings you to Berlin, Will?"

He turned around enough to pass an annoyed side glance at her, "'Spike'," he corrected her. "Well," he reached into his coat and withdrew a box of cigarettes; Elizabeth's fingers wound tighter between Victor's fur as she watched his hands, "I been goin' on about my business, travelling here and there- being worldly, you see," he tapped the box, then pulled a loose cigarette out with his lips, "but I've been havin' dreams of you," the cigarette wagged from his mouth as he spoke; his eyes were focused on the tarnished lighter he shook in hand, having trouble getting it to properly light.

Elizabeth's eyes loomed up to his face.

Spike paused, "Premonitions, I mean," he clarified, realising what his former words might have implied. Having finally lit a flame, he brought it to the end of his cigarette and puffed before flicking the case shut.

"Dreams… premonitions…," Elizabeth echoed softly, glancing down to Victor as she ran her fingers through his fur.

"Though, honestly, I didn't think you'd actually be here, but here you are," Spike smiled wryly.

"How long did you have them?" she asked without looking up.

"For the past week or so," Spike exhaled on that thought. "Guess this whole sire-childe link proves to be true after all," he said matter-of-factly.

"I had one as well," she confessed quietly, her focus remaining on Victor. It hadn't occurred to her so readily that she had been dreaming about her sire at all. Her dreams were often muddled or altogether forgotten when she'd awaken. At times, they were too vivid and terrifying, she'd have to be reminded where she currently was. But those dreams were far and between now. Having Spike mentioning the time he'd been having his 'premonitions' were strangely accurate to when she'd had one of him. Though it had been vague, it had occurred with his imminent proximity. "Strange…," she commented at her inner speculation.

"Hmm," he raised a brow at her, wondering what she had dreamt about. "So," he exhaled audibly, "it's been a while, hasn't it? What have you been up to as of late?"

Elizabeth walked forward slowly with Victor flanked at her side. Spike watched her from a short distance away as she raised the turn arm from the rolling record and replaced it to the side, "Like you, I've been travelling. Went wherever the wind took me," she said with a small smile; with her back exposed, Victor was her eyes. She turned to face her sire, "I found myself in Berlin after the end of the first war. I lived in the city at one point, but I find that I much favour the bucolic fringe dwellings." She paused briefly, almost laughing at herself for admitting that her sire's side comment had been true. "I like it here. We've made it a home, just the three of us."

Spike raised a brow at her last comment. Where's the 'third'? he thought.

Elizabeth replaced her hand on top of Victor's head and stroked it gently, "And you? What have you been doing all these years?"

"Well," Spike smiled, happy to have the attention on him, "I'm glad you asked. Might require a lengthy bit of time and a couple pots of tea. Cake and biscuits, perhaps?"

Elizabeth paused briefly before a small smile formed on her lips, "Tea I have, but I would have to make the latter. That would give you some time to tell your story."

He nodded, "Splendid." Without waiting for further instruction, he strutted towards the kitchen.

It was something Elizabeth should have expected from her sire, but his actions still took her off guard. She watched him leave the room before she felt a nudge from beneath her hand as Victor turned to look up at her. Taking a breath, she followed after with her dog padding softly in tow.

She glanced over with a slight grimace as her esteemed guest kicked his feet up onto the table and rocked back onto the legs of her chair. She turned back around with a soft sigh and began to pull ingredients from her cupboards. Drugging her sire to get the truth of his real intentions was an idea that crossed her mind. She did, after all, have an arsenal of herbs and some knowhow of simple spells handed down from a knowledgeable and sage friend. It was certainly tempting, but for now, she decided she would watch him closely.

"Don't you ever get bored here?" he turned to look to her as she set a kettle on the stove. "It's a little too… quiet."

She alarmed him slightly when she'd suddenly marched over and set down a saucer, "Not really- for your ashes," she explained. Turning on her heel, she returned to the stove just as abruptly; Victor glanced over his shoulder at Spike as he followed closely behind.

"Cheers," Spike replied simply, glancing from vampire to dog, only to squint at the thing when he swore it was giving him the evil eye.

"I like the quiet," Elizabeth continued from her last thought as she creamed the butter and sugar in a mixing bowl, "and I go out when I need to," she said, just barely answering his question.

"'Course," Spike sighed with a roll of his eyes. "I knew you were quiet," he took a drag of his cigarette and exhaled through his nose, "but I didn't peg you for a recluse."

Elizabeth made no comment at his observation, whether it was an intentional insult or not.

Spike stretched his arms above his head then folded them back behind as he watched Elizabeth work, "Picked up a new hobby, I see," he noted.

"Among a few," she said absentmindedly, being attentive as she cracked an egg into her mixture.

"Huh," he held the cigarette between his fingers as he pulled it from his mouth and exhaled, "now, where to begin…," he ran his fingers along the length of his chin as he tried to recall from his past memories, his face scrunching up. "Guess it'd have to be after you vanished," he said with nonchalance, looking up to the ceiling.

Elizabeth's stirring slowed.

"Stayed in Nice for a little longer. It was great," he grinned, laughing a little. "Dunno why you were so hasty to leave and all," he peeked at her from his angle as he brought the cigarette back to his lips.

It required a bit of effort for her to focus on her task and keep her tension at bay as she listened to her sire. Did he really not know? Or was he feigning ignorance? She stirred faster to conceal the quiet tremor in her hands as memories of her last night in Nice invaded her mind.

"But we left in a couple months," Spike exhaled. "Angelus got in a foul mood over some rock," he shrugged.

The spoon slipped from Elizabeth's grasp at mention of his name. Luckily, the clang of the metal bowl was masked by the kettle's whistle. Elizabeth gripped at her hands and tried to steady herself.

"Not what he expected, it seems. Got reunited with Darla, travelled a bit, too."

Feeling a little more confident that she had gotten ahold of herself, Elizabeth spooned some loose tea leaves into her teapot before removing the kettle off the flame. The whistling slowly stopped as she poured the boiling water in. She set the kettle back down, "Let me fetch the milk," she said breathily, already off in a quick stride. "Victor, komm," she quipped. Victor jumped to his feet and trotted behind her.

They disappeared into a cool pantry where Elizabeth stored additional foodstuff, as well as other things she didn't want to keep in plain sight. She knelt down to the floor and took a breath to steady herself again as a mental flash of Angelus' snarling smirk entered her vision. With closed eyes, she bowed her head and combed her fingers through her loose curls. Victor shuffled forward and whined, poking his nose in her face and lapping at her hand and cheek.

She reached out blindly and scratched at the side of his face, "I'm all right, Victor," she sighed quietly. The black dog persisted and continued to lap at her face, "Braver Hund, Victor," she opened her eyes and began to giggle. Victor pressed forward, causing her to fall back on her rump and into more fits of laughter. After a minute had passed, Elizabeth turned and reached across the floor for her bottle of milk. Elizabeth pushed herself up and brushed the dirt off the bottom of her skirt. Ensuring her hair was decent, she passed a light hand over her head and pushed the ends up to maintain the volume of her curls.

Spike remained in the same position when she returned with dog in tow. His eyes trailed after her as she strode to the counter, "Took a little while, didn't you." He paused. "Bestiality?" his eyes lowered to the smudge of dirt on the backside of her dress before raising them with a quirk of his brow.

Elizabeth paused, confused by what he meant. She turned around and saw the amused smirk on her sire's face, "Careful with women who are serving you scalding tea, William. You wouldn't want that to incidentally end up in your lap."

Spike's smugness slowly dissolved as his eyes widened and he canted his head slightly to the side out of reluctant abasement.

Satisfied with his reaction, Elizabeth smiled and turned back around to fix her tray. With steady arms, she carried it over to the table and began to set the items down.

Spike settled the chair back down on all fours and removed his feet from the tabletop. "Have you ever been to China?" he stubbed out his cigarette butt as he glanced to her with a sly smile.

"No, I haven't," she kept her eyes on the tea as she served him a cup before fixing herself one. "What's it like?" she turned back to the counter with tea in hand and set it next to her. She began to pour the cake batter into a greased pan.

"Bloody amazing," he laughed, helping himself to some milk and sugar. "Got caught up in the Boxer Rebellion, in the midst of riots- started them for the hell of it, of course- chaos, mayhem, et cetera," the spoon chimed softly against the porcelain as he stirred his tea. "Best of all," he lifted his head to look at her as he grinned, letting the spoon clatter onto his saucer, "came into a Slayer. You heard of 'em?" he asked, raising his brows a bit as he brought his cup to his lips.

"No, I haven't, but the title sounds self-explanatory," she said as she put the pan into the oven. Elizabeth turned around to face her sire and leaned back against the counter, taking her saucer and cup in hand as she stirred her tea slowly.

"Well," Spike brought another cigarette to his mouth and lit it; he leaned forward on the table, "they're supposed to be 'chosen' women that hunt vampires and other 'scary' monsters," he said, wiggling his fingers out at her. "Demons quiver and shake at the mention of 'The Slayer'," he said with forced and sarcastic emphasis, "but I, on the other hand," he laughed, "I make enough noise to call 'em out," he gave her a toothy grin. "And did I ever make noise," he cackled. "Let's just say that the Slayer was slain," he grinned, "by yours truly," he gestured with a swoop of his hand; Elizabeth set her spoon down onto her saucer before lifting the cup to her lips and took a shallow sip. "Better yet, left me with an amazing souvenir," he indicated with a brush of his thumb; her eyes shifted to his scar again. "Others wouldn't have believed it if they didn't see it. This should be indication enough from the enchanted sword she used on me," he sniffed.

Elizabeth lowered her cup in thought. It was true; throughout all the times she had drawn blood, she had always healed without a scratch, and in miraculous time, too. Seeing her sire with a scar had puzzled her, but the mystery behind it was now put to rest.

"Best night of my life," he hummed, leaning back as he glanced dreamily at the ceiling, reminiscing to that night.

"Fascinating story," she said, being partially truthful.

"It is, isn't it?" He took a sip of his tea, "Done anything interesting around these parts?" he set it down onto the saucer. "I mean, we are in the midst of a bloody war," he grinned, "you must get some wind of what's going on being so close to the Führer."

"I have my hobbies-"

"Let me guess: reading, making potpourri, and baking biscuits for Rin Tin Tin over there," he gestured his head towards Victor who lay by her feet.

"His name is Victor," she said between her teeth. The dog turned his head up at her expectantly, "No, not you," Elizabeth said to him a little more quietly. She sighed with a slight furrow to her brow, "As I was saying," Spike only smiled at her with amusement, "hobbies- yes, reading is essential-" she emphasised, "but I do do other things, thank you very much." Even though what her sire had said about her was true, she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of knowing that. She let another sigh out and hovered her cup above her saucer, "Music has always been an important part of my life," she nodded towards the gramophone and radio in the other room, "so I make sure to incorporate it daily." She took a sip of her tea before continuing, "And don't be so bloody ignorant," Spike widened his eyes and blinked at that, "other than the rare bits of jazz, all that German radio spills out is Nazi propaganda," she said a little heatedly before taking another sip. She lowered her cup, "I've managed to get some information on the British efforts, but their messages are often scramble. The Americans have joined them now, from what it seems."

Spike held his cigarette between his fingers in his right hand as he lifted his cup with the other, "Hmm," he hummed as he raised his brows, taking a gulp of his cooling tea, "I quite like this game of war. I've got bets on the Nazis," he laughed. Though if it was a joke, it was ambiguous.

Elizabeth peered at him over her tea, "Is that why you came to Berlin?" she asked, trying to skirt around her real question. "I suppose you didn't expect to find me here of all places," she half laughed.

"I didn't mean to," he replied in all honesty and rather bluntly, "I just had a feeling, a curious pull, and I just followed it," he shrugged. "Wasn't sure at all what I'd find in Deutschland, but here you are," he smiled. "Besides," he continued, glancing down at his cup, "it was too bloody dark out here without proper working headlights. I crashed into a bloody post outside."

She watched him as she finished her tea. Was this true? Or was this a way for him to gain her trust and have her guard down?

"Well, it is nice to see you again," she said, mustering the most sarcastic and disingenuous tone she could. But even as she said it, she knew that it was true. She had missed him. And she hated herself for that.

"You as well," he glanced up at her and smiled.

It was odd.

In all the times they had been together, he had never openly expressed any real appreciation towards her, but decades later, it appeared he didn't have any qualms about it at all. Perhaps the years had added some form of wisdom to him, or maybe he had had time to reflect and appreciate the times they had had together without realising it.

Elizabeth set her empty cup down on the counter. She was dumbfounded. Confused.

"Must get lonely around here," Spike glanced around before settling his gaze on Victor, the black dog keeping an ever vigilant eye on his mistress and this stranger who was speaking to her. "Hope you're not turning out to be some grey, old witch," he eyed her warily.

Before Elizabeth could respond to that offhanded comment, Spike suddenly jolted back in his chair, "For Christ's sakes!" he yelped; he bowed his head as he seemed to be focusing on something below his waist.

Elizabeth immediately straightened up from the counter and hurried over.

From underneath the table, Annabelle was scaling up Spike's pant leg, one little paw at a time. "Get it off me! Get it off me!" Spike shook his leg.

For a brief moment, Elizabeth stood listlessly by as she watched. Her slightly agape mouth had shut, and a slow pull of her lips tugged upwards, just as her round eyes narrowed and crinkled at the sides. Initially being a suppressed giggle, she was soon trying to cover up the peeling laughter from her open mouth. She only bowled over in greater fits as the frantic expressions of her sire grew worse. "H-hold still, now!" she giggled, wiping a loose tear from the corner of her eye. She knelt down and plucked the motivated kitten off of him. "Can't believe you would turn pigeon-livered over a little kitten," she teased, unapologetically grinning from ear to ear.

"The bloody thing startled me!" he yelled in defense. "It's like some overgrown caterpillar," he grimaced as he watched it squirm in her hands, "thinks my leg is some bloody tree," he curled his lips up in disgust.

"Annabelle, where did you come out from hiding?" Elizabeth held it against her chest and gave it a gentle kiss on the head.

Spike continued to scowl at it, "So, you're 'three'."

"Now, young lady, I think you owe someone an apology," Elizabeth giggled as she held her up towards her sire.

He squinted his eyes at the tiny animal before directing his gaze at Elizabeth, "Get your pussy out of my face!"

Elizabeth elicited a mock gasp as she turned the kitten towards her and looked at it in fake bewilderment, "Oh my! Why, I do believe she likes you!" she held it to her chest and grinned at him.

"'Course it does," he continued with his cautious stare. "I know demons that find kittens a delicacy," he said to the feline, only to have it mewl at him weakly again. "Yeah, you better be scared."

"Oh, yes, she is terrified," Elizabeth said with a roll of her eyes. Righting herself up, she returned to the counter where she fixed a saucer of milk. The kitten eagerly lapped at it as soon as she set them both down on the floor. Having witnessed this, Victor turned his head up expectantly at his mistress with an eager shuffle of his paws; his claws clattered against the hardwood. "All right, Victor," Elizabeth said with a soft chuckle. She pulled out a shallow dish and poured a larger serving for her him, "You've earned it," she said, setting it down in front of him. Victor licked his lips before scrambling up and lapping happily at his prize.

Spike had been quietly observant throughout this, "That thing has been givin' me steely eyes since I set foot in here," he pointed out.

"That's because he doesn't like you," Elizabeth replied bluntly as she cracked the oven door ajar. She peeked in before opening it wide and removing the hot pan with a tea towel.

"Well, shan't be an issue after you take him out for the night. He certainly isn't staying here for the duration of my stay," he grimaced.

Elizabeth set the pan down on the counter with a clatter, "Let me make this absolutely clear for you, Spike, because it obviously wasn't the first time: Victor stays," her eyes burned with a finality to her words. "This is my house and he is my dog."

"And I'm your sire," Spike challenged, jutting his chin out.

Elizabeth turned around and picked up her cup and saucer, "Barely," she said under her breath. Where were you when I needed you? If you were, you'd have been there! she imagined yelling in his face. Her grip tightened on her saucer as she took a breath.

Spike straightened his back and raised his brows.

"But don't worry. You should be relieved to learn he sleeps in my room," she finally joined him at the table with the items in hand. Taking a seat across from him, the chair rumbled beneath her as she pushed herself closer towards the table. Victor soon joined her as he lay down by her feet.

"Huh, so you do share a bed. I wouldn't be surprised. When would you ever bring a man around?" Spike smirked, pressing the near finished cigarette to his lips.

Elizabeth furrowed her brows at him, "No, he sleeps on the floor," she said, not catching the ill humoured joke he had carried on from before.

Spike smiled to himself as he stubbed out the cigarette.

She began to pour herself another cup, "I do have visitors from time to time, if you find that so hard to believe."

"I kinda thought you'd be hoarding some escaped Jews or something of the like."

"More tea?" Elizabeth offered, hovering the pot close by.

"Please," Spike replied. He watched the hot, amber liquid funnel out into his cup almost hypnotically before speaking, "I've gotten rather good at running my own crew, if I say so myself," he boasted with a proud smile. "Hired some muscle for a few things," he glanced to her, "I mean, with Angelus out of the picture now."

Elizabeth paused for a split fraction before she resumed to stirring her tea, watching the calming, swirling ripples of the milky surface.

"He kinda… disappeared on his own for a couple of years before the turn of the century, then more… permanently after the Boxer Rebellion," Spike gave a small shrug as he stirred some milk and sugar into his tea. "Darla's been mum about it. Seems like they've had more than just a lover's tiff. Drusilla was really upset about it, though," he sighed. "Sometimes I'll still find her mooning over his absence," he glanced to her.

Elizabeth sipped at her drink with lowered eyes. With Angelus gone, that meant he could be anywhere, she thought, another chord of fear striking inside of her. But was this really true? Or was her sire just feeding her lines to get her on his side? She raised her eyes to him. She wanted to believe his words, but her paranoia wouldn't loosen its grip on her.

"She wonders about you, too, sometimes," he added.

"Where is she? Drusilla?" Elizabeth asked softly, lowering her cup. She still held a sisterly affection for her, even though she had suddenly treated her with such unexpected malice.

"Dru's on the other side of the continent," he said with his gaze downcast. "She and Darla are spending some girl time together," he sighed. "Could be in the motherland, or Spain," he shifted one shoulder up and let it drop emphatically, not really liking that they were apart. "Can't really stop her, you know?" he looked up at her. "She's never really had any visions of you," he said, "but I'd think it might have to do with proximity. Or maybe that you haven't done much with your unlife," he surmised. "Though, shortly after you had left without saying goodbye, she came to me in tears about you breaking your wings and not being able to fly. Whatever that means," he shrugged again.

Elizabeth was uncertain about the news about Angelus, but Drusilla, she knew that what her sire said about her was true. It was Drusilla's foresight that allowed her to see through the torment and suffering she had endured alone. A shared sisterhood that she had experienced herself, Elizabeth recalled from Angelus' horrific recount. Elizabeth's eyes glazed over slightly, but she refrained from allowing any tears to slip by.

"You should pay Dru a visit. She misses you."

Standing, Elizabeth walked back to the counter, "Perhaps," she said as she stirred some milk together with powdered sugar. "Maybe after the world has settled down a bit," she turned the cake out onto a plate before drizzling the glaze over it.

"I'll hold you to it, then," Spike grinned. "If you don't, we might just plough into town without warning," he teased. He sat up when she returned with the coffeecake in hand, "That smells good," he smiled.

"Thank you," she replied, cutting him a portion, "I have gotten rather good at baking these past years," she cut herself a slice before sitting back down.

"I suppose you would, seeing as you haven't really had many things here to distract you," he picked up his fork and took a bite of the cake, only to raise his brows out of surprise.

"So you like the cake, I presume?" she said with an arched brow, allowing his remark to slide by on account of his pleased reaction.

"I'm not that particular with sweets, but this is nice," he nodded, focusing on bringing more of the warm, spongy goodness to his mouth.

Victor clambered up to his hunches first, preemptively alerting them of the knock that would follow.

"Expecting someone?" Spike raised his eyes to her.

"No," Elizabeth set her cup down and stood as she pushed her chair back; Victor growled low. "Leave through the back door and wait outside," she looked to her sire in all seriousness.

Spike paused to look up at her, "Is this how you treat your guests? Like bloody hell I will. I'm stayin' put," he fed himself another morsel. "You might want to get that," he jabbed his fork into the air when another knock came.

Elizabeth sighed out of frustration, "All right. Just stay put and don't say a word!" She turned on her spot and marched to the front door. Victor was half a step behind her.

"Victor, Fuß," Elizabeth commanded; he stood at her heel and sat down. "Braver Hund." Taking a breath, Elizabeth composed herself before she opened the door. Like the first time that night, she was met with a man cloaked in black. This time, however, she believed him to be the rightful owner of his uniform.

He removed his cap and tucked it beneath his right arm, "Good evening, Miss," he said in German. His hair was a neat nest of brown, combed over to the right with strands of silver at the sides; his eyes were cold and grey.

"Good evening," Elizabeth replied, carrying on with the German dialogue.

"I am Heinrich Landau of the Schutzstaffel. I was coming en route from a neighbouring area, but I noticed a fellow officer's vehicle crashed and stranded just outside your door."

Bloody William! Elizabeth cursed in her head. Her sire had led him straight to them!

"Did you see what happened to the fellow officer of that vehicle? His absence greatly concerns me," his eyes lowered to Victor before lingering inside her home.

Elizabeth paused. "Yes, he came to my door to ask for a warm meal and a night's rest before he could continue on." She wasn't exactly lying.

Heinrich looked to her with his cold eyes, "I would like to come inside and look around your home."

Elizabeth smiled, happy to accept his challenge, "Of course. Please, come in," she widened the door, allowing him space to step past.

His eyes swept over the room, much like Spike had when he had barged in, but unlike Elizabeth's unruly and forthright sire, Heinrich of the SS looked like he was searching for something. A low growl rumbled at the back of Victor's throat as he watched this man, but he remained at his mistress's side and did nothing else.

"It is quiet," Heinrich observed, much like Spike had. He moved farther in.

"It is at times when there aren't many planes flying overhead," Elizabeth walked slowly behind him.

The shuffling of his boots stopped short and pivoted to the entryway to the kitchen, "Ah, so you are here."

Spike paused to look up at the man who seemed to be speaking to him. "Guten Abend."

"From the looks of your car, and the story the girl told me, it sounded a bit suspicious. You seem well."

Spike darted his eyes from side to side before looking back to the man and straightening up with a broad smile, "Ja."

"After you finish your coffeecake, we can commute back to the city together. No need to prolong your stay here."

Elizabeth loomed up from behind the man and peered at her sire with a look of warning.

Spike flicked a glance at her before returning his attention to the Nazi, "Ja."

"Good," Heinrich nodded and turned on his spot as he resumed his search.

Elizabeth sighed softly as she gave her sire one last stare, thinking how lucky he was that he had answered correctly. She turned to follow the officer, seeing that he had stopped in front of her gramophone.

"From your accent, I take it that you're not from around here. I am not surprised by your poor taste."

Elizabeth drew closer to see him looking down at the record left on the turntable.

Heinrich raised his cold, judging eyes to her, "American jazz is the enemy's music. It is uncultured and stands against what we are striving to build of this great nation."

Elizabeth smiled, "I could barely say that Frank Sinatra was conspiring against the entire nation of Germany- unless he planned to so by wearing holes through the soles of one's shoes and perhaps causing aching feet."

Heinrich's cold eyes bulged, "How insubordinate! This is no laughing matter! I am beginning to question who you side with," he passed a judging sweep over her. "I shall have to conduct a thorough search of your home for any and all forms of paraphernalia," he turned around with a decisive nod. "This shall be confiscated."

"You will do no such thing," Elizabeth replied tersely, her eyes glaring at the man's back.

He pulled the drawer open below the player with some force, causing the hardcover inside to slide forward, "I see that your poor taste in music doesn't extend to your choice in books. That is fortunate." He shut it before his gaze fell to the book she had left on her armchair. "What is this?" he picked it up.

"A light afternoon read."

Throughout Elizabeth's cheeky repartee, she was unprepared for the sudden and shearing sound of pages being ripped into pieces; her gaze fell to the floor where torn remnants scattered at the man's feet.

"This is an affront to the great Führer and his ideals!" his tearing became more fervent with the sharpness of his words. "This has been long overdue," he lifted the half ruined book and procured a lighter from his pocket.

"No!" Elizabeth shrieked, only to gasp when a small flame soon engulfed the blackening and curling remainders of the pages and tattered cover.

Heinrich dropped the burning book with a look of smug satisfaction, "This is where it belongs." He turned to face Elizabeth with plans of putting her in her place, but his leer was quickly replaced with bug eyes as his words were literally choked off with a tight and unrelenting grip at his throat.

"I was still reading that!" Elizabeth's eyes were yellow glowing embers, more fierce than the flames that burned to her side.

His hat finally slipped from beneath his arm as he struggled to gasp, shocked at the vision of the innocent woman who had disappeared into the form of a seething demon, and growing fearful he would die in her chokehold. His once cold eyes were now filled with terror.

Elizabeth constricted her hold; allowing her fingers to curl tighter around the man's throat, she felt her nails dig past into his skin. The second time that night, she was thrown off by Heinrich when he brought the same lighter to the side of her face.

She yelped and dropped her hold, instinctively bringing her hand to shield the sharp pain at her lower jaw. "Scheiße!" she hissed. Removing her hand, she raised her head to glare at the man who valiantly tried to fight back against Victor.

Victor snarled and snapped at his boots, taking chances now and then to leap and snap at his hands. The pair danced around each other, the German wheezing in air as he coughed and dodged the animal's attempts. Finding an opportunity, Heinrich quickly moved towards the burning pile and kicked it towards the black dog as a last ditch effort.

"Victor!" Elizabeth cried, watching the flames sail into the flank of her companion.

Victor yelped sharply as he staggered to the side. Elizabeth swooped down and quickly checked his body. He responded by giving her a reassuring lick on the back of her hand.

"Braver Hund," she whispered, giving him a pat on the head. She rose to her full height and put out the last remnants of the burning flames as she stepped over it.

Heinrich dashed into the kitchen to find Spike still leisurely eating cake, "Quickly now, we must leave at once!" his voice was slightly hoarse; he rubbed at his bruising throat where semi-moons of Elizabeth's nails were permanently etched.

Spike had heard the ruckus in the other room but hadn't bothered to get up. He glanced up at the Nazi officer again, "Uh, ja," he replied.

"Have your gun ready," he said, unholstering the sidearm at his belt, "we are in the home of two beasts, one being a demon."

Spike lowered his gaze to the man's gun and simply nodded, "Ja," he took a sip of tea.

"Get up, man! Now is not the time for coffee!" the man slammed a hand down on the table, causing the China and cutlery to rattle.

Spike paused. "Nein."

Heinrich turned as he readied himself, only to be slammed back against the edge of the table; the tea threatened to spill from the teacups.

"I invited you into my home and this is the thanks I get!" Elizabeth hissed in his face, pinning him to the sturdy fixture behind him.

Heinrich gasped as perspiration broke out across his forehead, struggling to raise his pistol at the screeching harpy. He managed to glance over his shoulder at his unnamed colleague, "Help me!" he turned back to the situation at hand and grunted with some effort.

Heinrich of the SS was not a man of tall stature, nor had a build of impressive musculature at all, but it was the fierceness in his cold eyes which imposed an intimidating nature. Though his frame erred on the side of slim, this did not render him weak. On the contrary, he was stronger than he appeared, and Elizabeth found herself fighting back. Elizabeth held his arm down steadfast, but Heinrich managed to turn the loaded gun towards her body. Before he could squeeze the trigger, Elizabeth gripped his wrist and smashed it against the edge of her table. It loosened his hold on the trigger but not enough for him to drop his pistol.

"Who the bloody hell burns books?!" she slammed his hand down again, eliciting a grunt of suppressed pain from him. Spike helped himself to another serving of cake.

"It is on the banned list!" Heinrich retorted in her face.

Elizabeth let out a cry of frustration and threw him back against the tabletop and loomed over him; Spike raised his plate and cup in time to avoid any spills as he resumed chewing. "And how dare you try to hurt my dog, you scum!" Elizabeth slammed his hand down again as Victor barked in the background in agreement; Spike merely glanced down at the scene before him as he sipped from his floral patterned teacup. Still, the pistol remained in the German's grip. Elizabeth smashed his wrist down once more before raising it and giving it a quick snap; the crack of bones were loud and audible through the man's cries. The pistol finally dropped.

"After this is over, I'll have you thrown into a concentration camp along with all the rest of the filthy Jews!" he spat, heaving and grimacing through his pain.

Elizabeth gripped him by the throat again before bashing his head back against the tabletop; cutlery jumped and clattered to the floor. His face had turned beet red and his veins bulged at his temples. Heinrich gurgled as he stared up at Elizabeth with glazed and bloodshot eyes, his good hand clasping at her thin wrist as an effort to pry her off. This did little to faze her. He raised his other hand as a feeble attempt to strike her where he had with his lighter. This time, Elizabeth caught him midair.

She twisted his hand even harder that broken bone pierced through flesh and skin. Blood dripped across the table and floor as he flailed his mangled limb, and a low and croaking moan sounded from his throat, the only telltale sign the German officer was suffering.

Using his fingers, Spike dabbed a piece of spongy cake at the spilt blood whilst the man struggled to find his footing. His eyes widened with a raise of his brows as he chewed, the blood soaked morsel turning out to be a welcome surprise.

If the German officer hadn't figured that he wasn't going to receive any help from his tacit colleague, it was now clear from his strange display of borderline cannibalism.

Elizabeth held him in place for a moment as she watched him squirm beneath her. She felt a power, a cruel satisfaction that she had caused him this pain and suffering. It was justified, especially with all the things he had done to her and Victor- and her unfinished book. Feeling her bloodlust curbed, she revealed her jagged teeth and snarled above him, looking for that glint of fear in his eyes before she sank her teeth into his neck. She loosened her grip on his throat, letting the man wail in terror- that was before he began to pray to God for mercy. With that, Elizabeth snapped his neck with little effort and ended his life. She drank in peace till another voice piped in above her head.

"So," Spike let the fork fall over onto the plate and pushed it aside, "this is how you treat your guests," he raised his cup and sipped at his tea.

Her face was smeared with red as she drew back with a gasp, allowing her facade to turn back to that of a young woman. She flicked a look of annoyance at her sire but said nothing as she pushed herself off the corpse and strutted over to her cupboards.

"I must say, good show."

Elizabeth wiped her face clean and only sighed. She returned to the table with an armful of Mason jars and set them down on the floor below Heinrich's dangling arm. Spike leaned to his side and peered over as he observed her.

Using the knife that had fallen on the floor, Elizabeth cut along the length of the dead man's wrist. She let the arm hang as the blood dripped down into the jar below, soon filling it full. She slid the next jar over in one fluid motion as she moved the filled one aside. "You're free to help yourself," she said without looking up as she screwed a lid on.

Spike peered back at the body on the table and the oozing blood from where Elizabeth had drunk from his neck, "Mm, no thanks. I prefer them fresh," he looked back at Elizabeth, "when they're still thrashing and screaming. Thanks, though." It was a little strange having her be the one to offer him blood. She'd always been adamant about certain ways of feeding, but considering the circumstances, she had probably deemed the man as someone evil, a conviction she had always gone by like a commandment.

"Suit yourself," Elizabeth replied nonchalantly, keeping her eye on the jar.

Spike watched her some more before speaking, "What exactly are you doing?"

"I save some blood when I get the opportunity since I don't head into town that often. It isn't as good as it is 'fresh', but it feeds me for a few days," she explained. She switched jars again and watched as the blood slowed to intermittent drips. "It keeps even longer during the winter, a process I discovered through trial and error. Packing snow into an icebox, I found, was the most efficient method."

"Only you would come up with something like that," Spike shook his head.

"'Necessity is the mother of invention'," Elizabeth rose to her feet and retreated with her crimson containers.

She returned shortly with a pail of cleaning supplies. "Do you mind giving me a hand?"

"Uh, I'm not much for cleaning. I'm more of the 'eat and dash' type," Spike tried skirting any duties Elizabeth tried to dump on him.

"I wouldn't expect any less from you," Elizabeth sighed, "but that's not it. Your vehicles, I'll need you to get rid of them."

"Is that really necessary?"

"Yes, it is, Will, because it was your car that tipped him off. You wouldn't want another unexpected guest to pop by, would you?" there was a dangerously annoyed glint in her eye.

Spike stared back for a moment before giving in. "God, when did you become such a bitch?" he pushed himself up from the table, at least happy that he wasn't left on his hands and knees scrubbing blood from the wooden floors.

Elizabeth held her tongue about his comment. "Would you mind bringing his around back after you're done with yours? Thank you."

"'Course, mum," he said, already marching towards the door.

Once outside, it took Spike a while before he located the German's vehicle, having only the light from the partial moon to guide him in the dark. He slid into the driver's seat and found the keys conveniently still in the ignition. After giving them a quick twist, the radio sprang on. It came as a surprise to the English vampire that instead of German classical music filling the small space, he was hearing Bing Crosby. He laughed and began to sing along as he lit a cigarette: "Oh, won't you tell me when / We will meet again / Sunday, Monday or always / If you're satisfied / I'll be at your side / Sunday, Monday or always…." Spike reached across to the glovebox, hoping to pilfer anything off the dead Nazi that could be of use to him. He was in luck, finding a box of cigarettes- since he was running low- and a lighter. He shook it by his ear and heard the fluid inside swish around before testing it- it lit on the first try. With a satisfied snap of his wrist, he shut the case and pocketed his new finds.

The cigarette dangled out the corner of his mouth as he drove forward, spotting his crashed and abandoned car hugging the severely bent over post. "If there's no way around it, you must go through it," he mumbled to himself. Turning inward towards Elizabeth's cottage, he put the car in reverse till he had enough driving space to push forward with some force, then drove towards the side of his vehicle. It swerved away from the dilapidated post, but that force alone was enough to get it back onto the dirt road. With the accelerator pushed to the floor, the tires skidded against dirt and gravel till both cars began to move clumsily away from Elizabeth's hidden homestead. Spike backed up a bit more before crashing back into the side, putting more dents into both his former car and the one he currently possessed. It was with that that the immobilised vehicle tipped and toppled over, tumbling a few metres from the road. Spike laughed and raised his arms triumphantly, "Victory!" he hollered, having Bing Crosby as his only witness.

Continuing on with the second part of his task, Spike drove off the dirt road and around the perimeter of the cottage. He drove slowly, squinting when all he was met with was a field of tall weeds bordering the land. Finally spotting an area where the grass seemed to have flattened due to vehicles passing over it, he turned in and drove forward. The cottage loomed in the distance as he neared, with the image of Elizabeth tossing out her bloody pail water. She disappeared back inside as he moved the car a few metres from the back entrance, only to reappear as she tossed out a charred and crumbling book into the tall weeds.

Spike poked his head out the window as he came to a full stop, "Shall we say a prayer?"

Elizabeth scowled at him.

"Thought it'd be the proper thing to do," he quipped with a raise of his brows; he climbed out of the car as Elizabeth walked towards him. She seemed to have more blood on her dress since the skirmish, Spike observed. Maybe it was the trick of the lighting.

Elizabeth pushed past her sire and ducked down into the driver's seat. Reaching across to the glovebox, she fished through Heinrich's personal effects and pulled out some papers, a pair of driving gloves, and a pistol. She closed the latch and heaved herself to her feet with the items in arms, "This is too out in the open," she turned to her sire, "it can be spotted overhead by aeroplanes during the day. It would have to be relocated by the thicket," she glanced out into the darkness where there was a dense row of trees bordering the land behind her cottage.

Spike took a long drag as he followed her gaze before turning to her, "Considering I'm now without a car," he exhaled, reminding her that he had inadvertently crashed his into the post outside her home, "I'd be more than happy to take this off your hands," he raised his brows.

"Take your pick," Elizabeth said before turning and heading inside.

Spike quirked a brow. Climbing back into the car, he drove slowly where she had indicated. His headlights shone brilliantly as they lit his path, but he was soon blinded by small and inexplicable glares. He squinted as he continued, realising it was only metal reflecting light. Tucked behind and around the thin and scraggly trunks of the trees, were an assortment of similar SS cars, hidden from bird's eye view underneath the safety of the canopies. He ducked his head as he peered out the side window and let out a long and low whistle. Parking nearby, he left his headlights on as he climbed out to observe the collection of automobiles. Some looked like they'd been sitting out there for years, according to the amount of dust and foliage that made a nest and home of them. A few others appeared more recent, and certainly in better shape than the damage he had inflicted on the newest edition. He pulled out his new lighter and flicked it on, bringing it to the side of one of the driver's windows- the keys were still in the ignition. He had a new ride.

Spike turned back to the car and killed the headlights. Slamming the door shut, he set on a leisurely stroll back to Elizabeth's home with his tiny flame as a torch.

As he was passing her vegetable garden, there was the undeniable smell of fresh earth turned over. He paused to glance to his side, making out what appeared to be a dark mound a ways off from where her cabbages grew. He continued as he raised his mini torch in front of him, trying to find his way to Elizabeth's back door. Finally finding the knob, he pushed through and snapped the lighter shut.

The smell of fresh blood instantly hit him. It was more intense than when she had bled the body, he thought. He strutted back into the kitchen to find Elizabeth standing by the stove again with her back to him. The kitchen itself had become spotless in his absence- teaware cleared from the table, and cutlery and blood cleaned and scrubbed off the floor. There was a fresh change of clothes folded on the tabletop that he assumed Elizabeth was going to change into. His eyes trailed to his progeny's lowly dog when he heard smacking sounds coming from the floor.

"Is that…," Spike trailed off as he raised his brows. Victor continued to chew on his cut of meat without bothering to look up at the other humanoid. His teeth gnashed against bone, a loud crunch that could be heard as he ground it between his sharp teeth.

"...Huh," Spike continued. "Well, that's one way to cut expenses."

"How long are you planning to stay here?" Elizabeth asked without turning around.

"Mm, maybe a couple of days. I'm just strolling through the neighbourhood, waitin' to see where else this war will take me," he shrugged lightly as he took a step towards the chair. He noticed the kitten was also nibbling on something that resembled liver. "Do you have somewhere I can rest my weary feet?" he asked, looking back up at her.

The kettle began to whistle, "You may retire to the sitting room," she removed it off the stove and began to pour some of the boiling contents into a basin half filled with cold water.

"All right," he began to walk over there.

"However," Spike paused as she spoke; she turned to glance at him, "don't you dare step foot in this kitchen whilst I'm in here. Be glad that that isn't your leg Victor's chewing on," she warned. Victor raised his head at his name and licked his bloody muzzle with a loud slurp.

Spike narrowed his eyes slightly at the dog before turning to her with a sarcastic smile, "Wouldn't dream of it, love." He found his way into the sitting room and sat down in Elizabeth's armchair. The smell of smoke still hung heavy in the air, and the ashy stain of his progeny's beloved book lay smudged on the floor close by his feet. He looked around him once again and drummed his fingers on the armrests, "Cosy," he yelled.

Elizabeth had stripped out of her blood soaked dress and had it draped over the back of a chair. Standing only in her slip, she dipped a face towel into the steaming water and wrung it dry. She wiped at her face carefully, wincing slightly when she grazed the small burn by her jawline. It had healed considerably since the attack, having consumed the man's blood, but she wasn't completely healed, yet. Elizabeth grimaced as she gingerly touched the area with her fingertips, only to cause her to draw back and hiss slightly. She let out a sigh and noticed a straw-like texture when her fingers brushed against the side of her hair. Running her fingers through her curls, a lock of it fell away into her hand, half crumbling where it had been singed. "Scheiße!" she cursed quietly to herself.

"What was that?" Spike yelled back.

"Nothing," she replied loudly, having to remind herself that she wasn't just speaking to herself and her animal companions, now. "Did you ever visit Paris again?" she asked, trying to change the subject.

Spike reclined back against the cushions and adjusted his Nazi coat; he rolled his eyes out of annoyance, "I avoided it for a few decades for clear reasons, obviously, but Dru and I did visit in the '20s. She wanted to see the Eiffel Tower," he sighed lightly. "We did catch a few beheadings while we were at it. Even saw an 'old friend'," he raised his brows knowingly, "but, of course, I made sure we weren't spotted," he smiled wryly. "I'm sure it's getting its fill on all that anguish at the city square," he commented. "What of you? Do anything exciting in your travels before Germany? Where did you visit?"

"Mostly western Europe. I headed along the line of the Mediterranean, even stopped on by to Morocco. Spent a large portion of time in Italy; it was absolutely beautiful," she said with fondness, shadowed by a dimming in her eyes. Speaking about that reminded her of a conversation she had had about her interest in learning the language; it was by suggestion that she make it her next language to conquer. And she had done just that, having lived there for several years and immersing herself with the people and culture. It was a sweet memory now shrouded in bitterness, something that she didn't want to think about when she had to. She wrung the towel again and began to clean the dried blood and dirt off her arms as she continued, "There were a few eastern European countries en route to Germany. They posed as a bit of a challenge with the language barrier, but I survived."

Spike laughed, "Wouldn't think that'd be much of an issue if you've just got your fangs sunk deep into their necks."

"Blood isn't always the reason. Nor an explanation to everything," Elizabeth sighed out of frustration as she scrubbed at her legs. She didn't hear her sire respond to that, but she sensed that he was smiling with amusement. "Frankfurt was my last destination before Berlin."

"For the memories?" Spike lounged back and stretched his legs out.

"I was summoned. I visited the witch as per our agreement: in exchange for my time, she would help us get to Nice."

Spike turned his head towards the kitchen, "I didn't realise you had made a deal with the old, batty witch," he was surprised.

"I was fearful at the time, yes, being so young and naive. Especially with the notion of her being a witch, but Gertrude is far from being just that. She is very nice company and has taught me a great deal of things in the duration that I lived with her," she let her bloodied dress soak in her cooled basin water as she pulled on her robe, a pattern of pink flowers with a background of periwinkle.

"Right, 'Gert'. Why the hell did she want you there?" Spike snorted; he had never liked her ever since she had threatened to kill him, despite her helping them relocate Drusilla.

Elizabeth tied the belt loosely around her waist before stepping out to join her sire.

"Bet she's all lonely and only wants you as a companion, am I right?" Spike grinned at her.

"Don't speak ill of her. She has become a good and dear friend," Elizabeth's brows drew together tersely.

Spike continued to scoff and rolled his eyes, "'A friend'. Next thing you'll be telling me is you're gossiping and exchanging recipes."

Elizabeth stood idly by and crossed her arms- her sire had been right again that night. "When it was time for me to leave-"

"When she released you."

Elizabeth sighed and continued her train of thought, "-I didn't have plans to where I would go to next. With the end of the first war, the results of it left many countries in the same state of affairs. Recalling the strong musical influence of the city and its theatre led me here, despite the circumstances. I saw it overcome the effects of the war and depression in the '20s, but I did not expect the coming of the second war." Victor joined her and lay down at her feet.

"I'm surprised the Germans didn't peg you for a spy. I'd be suspicious as hell if you were to suddenly pop out of the blue and into my territory."

"Barely," a small smile glimmered on her lips. "One of the reasons why I left the city in exchange for the rural. I could not possibly pose as a threat living so remotely, nor would I say I'm fit for British intelligence." She glanced over her sire, "You're doing well at blending in."

Spike smiled, "You like it?" he smoothed the front of his coat and tugged on his lapels. "Nabbed it off a Nazi. I think it suits me well. Though, I do get stopped occasionally," he frowned slightly.

"I hope you've learnt more German, otherwise, you'd surely be suspected of being a spy."

"My response is always 'Heil Hitler'. It seems to go over well enough if I move away quickly," he laughed. "As for my German, haven't paid enough attention to really grasp the language. At least I can say more than 'good night', now," he smiled.

Elizabeth paused. She was ambivalent with her sire, but it was clear he didn't know about her past circumstances. He spoke to her like an old friend, something she had once considered them to be before, but Angelus had led her to believe she was a mere footnote to them. She couldn't shake her paranoia and thoughts. "I'll be retiring for the night," she took a step away; Victor lept to his feet to follow. "I don't have anywhere else for you to rest, other than the armchair. I suppose you could sleep on the floor."

Spike arched a high brow.

"Would you like an afghan?" she offered.

"Please. 'Suppose this old thing will do," he nestled more comfortably in the cushions, "I've had worse situations."

Elizabeth disappeared into her room and shortly returned with a grey crocheted throw, "Have a good night..., Will," she said with hesitance.

He took it from her hands. "It's 'Spike'," he called after her.

Elizabeth closed the door behind her and locked it. She knew it wasn't enough to keep someone like the likes of her sire if he needed to get in, but it gave her some, if any comfort at all. Tugging at the knot at her waist, she slipped out of her robe and climbed into bed. She reached down and pet Victor's head who lay faithfully at her bedside. Ensuring she had full view of the door, she pulled the sheets up to her chest before closing her eyes.

Author's Note:

German Translations:
Mein Kampf - My Struggle
platz - down
Guten Abend - Good evening
komm - come
Braver Hund - Good dog
Fuß (Fuss) - (pronounced as 'foose') Heel
Führer - Leader/Guide A.K.A. Adolf Hitler
Deutschland - Germany
Schutzstaffel (AKA SS) - Protection Squadron, a major paramilitary organisation under Adolf Hitler and the Nazi party (NSDAP) in Nazi Germany, and later throughout German-occupied Europe during WWII.
Ja - (pronounced as 'yah') Yes
Scheiße! (Scheisse!) - (pronounced as 'shy-zuh') Shit!/Crap!/Damn!/Bloody Hell!
Nein - No
Heil Hitler - Hail Hitler

Heya, guys!

Welcome to the second book, mini-series, season, (or what have you) to Hellfire and Church Bells. I didn't expect for my hiatus to be this long, but having moved, settling down, and finding the time to edit since my new (but much better) work schedule, I've finally finished the first part to this small story. Thank you all who have been reading and sending me comments and questions in regards to the main story, as well as for the sequel. They've been motivation for me to finish this.

For newcomers, I'd highly recommend you read the first part to this series- Hellfire and Church Bells. There'd be a lot of confusion as to what they're referring to, but it'd also prevent spoilers if you were wondering about their past and history.

Initially, when my co-author J. came up with the scene of the SS officer coming to her door, it didn't occur to me she had taken it from 'Inglorious Bastards' (it'd been a while since I'd seen it). She later revealed that to me during my editing process and that it'd be best if I changed his name. Keeping it in the same vein as a sort of parody to the character (as we both now see Christoph Waltz as the perfect model for him), I altered his name slightly, but kept his nature more stern and serious.

Playlist:
Frank Sinatra - I'll Be Seeing You
Bing Crosby - Sunday, Monday or Always

Hey guys! Its me, J or VampChick4! I made an account on here and finally came out of the shadows so I can interact with all of you. I have been so excited for this book to get started and hope y'all are too! I can not wait to hear all the comments from you and continue to grow from your feedback! Let's get this show on the road!

You can find and bother her at penname: vampchick4

Thanks for reading and the continued support,

- B. and J.