AN: I'm sorry this has taken me so long. I promise the next chapter will be here quicker and will be longer.

Well this is a proper mess, isn't it? Spike thought to himself as the human and the demon walked out of the room. He couldn't believe he had agreed to this stupid idea. Witches, he thought bitterly, Always think they know all angles. The Doctor's voice brought him out of his thoughts.

"Tell me, Spike was it?" he said, hovering a blinking red light uncomfortably close to his face, "How are we feeling?"

Spike swatted his hand away, "I don't know about you, mate, but still feel terrible. Any chance I could get some more blood?"

The Doctor raised an eyebrow.

"What?" Spike said, louder then he'd intended, "I'm a vampire! I need the ruby red to keep walkin' and talkin'."

The Doctor leaned over slightly, as though speaking to a child.

"If you will let me finish my scans and answer my questions, then I will get you some more blood. Deal?"

Spike shrugged, "Right then, get on with it."

The Doctor smiled, "Thank you."

His hand began to wave back and forth over Spike's head again.

"I didn't catch your name." Spike said, trying to ignore the blinking light.

"That's because I don't have one," he answered.

Spike scoffed, "No name? What do I call you then?"

"Just call me the Doctor." He said in a weary voice, "Now tell me Spike, where are you from?"

Spike shrugged, "I was born in London, England-"

"So you are from Earth, then?" The Doctor interrupted.

"Yeah I'm from Earth," Spike scoffed "What'd you think; I'm some kind of alien?" He held up his hands, wiggling his fingers and making 'wooo' sounds.

The Doctor huffed, "If you must know, it was a possibility I had considered."

He pulled the annoying red light away from Spike's face. He arched an eyebrow as he looked at his little machine, a little "huh" escaping his lips. Spike's temper flared. He hated it when people had withheld information about him.

"What 'huh'? What's that thing say?"

"It says that you have normal brain activity," he answered, "but no pulse, your body temperature is the same as the ambient temperature, and it doesn't look like you need to breath."

Spike shrugged, "Oh, well. That could be because I'm a VAMPIRE! Speaking of vampires, we have a rather specific diet. Namely, we need blood!"

The Doctor closed his machine with another huff and walked over some other machine mounted on the far wall.

"Any preference on type?" the Doctor asked sarcastically.

I'm about to let that slide, Spike thought. "Yeah, O negitive. If you got it."

The Doctor looked over his shoulder with disgust. Then he turned back to the machine and punched in a few more commands. The machine hummed and glowed. A small silver bag appeared in the glow. The light dimmed and the machine stopped humming. The Doctor poured the contents of the bag, thick red blood, into a cup and brought it to Spike. Spike grabbed it and drank greedily. It tasted wonderful, but there was something off about it. It tasted like blood, but it had a slightly sterile quality to it.

When it was gone, Spike looked at the empty cup and for the first time wondered where the blood was coming from. It was clearly magic of some kind. But he had never seen that kind of magic before. He would have killed for that lesbian witch that Buffy hung around to know that spell. Human blood without the guilt of a dead body? That is the Holy Grail for an ensouled vampire.

"What kind of magic is this?" he finally asked.

"It's not magic," the Doctor said proudly, standing a little straighter, "It's actually a device of my own design. It's a medical replicator. It can create various items and tools I use here in sickbay. What makes it unique is that it can create living biological material. The blood you're drinking for example. You couldn't get any fresher if you too it directly out of a human. By having cloned, living biological material available on demand, we've been able to save countless lives in the field."

Spike raised his eyebrows, then his glass, "Well, good on you, mate. It makes a pretty good cup of blood too."

"Thank you," The Doctor said, "I think."

"If you're so bloody smart," Spike asked, "Why don't you have a name?"

"I never chose one," He answered, "I thought about it, but I think everyone is used to calling me Doctor."

"That's a weak excuse," Spike chuckled, "I chose my name. And now it strikes fear into the hearts of the wicked. Or at least it used to."

The Doctor raised an eyebrow, "You chose 'Spike'?"

Spike shrugged, "I didn't come right out and say 'Hey mates, my name is Spike now'. I worked hard a reputation that would make people afraid of me. I used railroad spikes to carve out that reputation."

"Well Spike," The Doctor asked, "Why don't you tell me more about yourself?"

"Okay, well I was born is 1851. My given name is William Pratt."

The Enterprise had established orbit over Earth. Captain Riker and Commander Worf stood in Transporter Room Two, awaiting a very special guest. Ensign Jacobs touched the controls on the panel and the pad glowed. A form coalesced in the center of the pad. After a second, the familiar bald head and scowling face of Admiral Picard fully solidified on the pad.

"This is one hell of a mess you've gotten yourself into, Number One."

"It's good to see you too, Sir," Riker answered.