A/N: I did intend on trying some freeze dried food before writing this chapter, so I have more of an idea of what Spike's freeze dried blood would be like. (I mean, I plan on eating freeze dried ice-cream, not blood, obviously, but the textures would probably be similar.) The problem is though I tried ordering some over the internet and it still hasn't arrived, so I've just written this imagining what it would be like and I'll probably change it once I find out for real.

Chapter Three – She, Robot

Spike found his room quickly enough. There'd been an elevator through the door leading to the decks, but Spike had taken the stairs, hoping that Tretter would be more likely to take the easier option. As it turned out, it seemed he had at last managed to get rid of the annoying German and had now arrived at his cabin without encountering anyone else. Checking the holocard for the keycode, he punched the four number combination into the pad by the door and waited for it to open before stepping through.

Once inside, he paused a moment to have a brief glance round. The cabin was a fairly decent size: not incredibly spacious, but comfortable enough. There was a narrow bed tucked away in one corner, and on the other side of the room there was a chest of drawers alongside a cupboard and a small closet fitted into the wall. Spike also noticed another sliding door which he assumed led to the bathroom. It seemed fairly basic, but after some of the things he'd heard about spacecraft accommodation he'd been expecting much worse.

He crossed to the bed and looked down at the folded clothes that had been placed on top of it – there was a crew uniform, a bathrobe, and some cloth underwear, which he presumed was for cryosleep. That must be what Alice had instructed them to get changed into. Well, it could wait. It wasn't like take off was all that soon, and he had things to do first. Spike set down the duffel bag on the bed and unzipped it, before rummaging through the scarce amount of clothes he'd packed inside and taking out a chrome case with a code combination lock. He carried the case over to the chest of drawers and placed it on top of them as he turned to dials to open it. With a clicking sound the lock sprang open, and Spike lifted the lid to reveal the dozens of foil packets stored inside. Blood; about a year's supply of it, all freeze dried. He grimaced at the thought of what it would taste like, but he knew this was the only way of transporting it without it going off. Even if there were some better cryofreezing facilities in the ship's kitchen, he couldn't exactly keep packets of blood in there where anyone could find them.

Thinking it was probably a good idea to eat something now before takeoff, he ripped open one of the packets and looked at the brownish, powdered substance inside. How was he supposed to eat it? He'd never actually tried the stuff before, but it didn't exactly look appetising. He wondered if adding water would help, but then remembered he didn't have a mug or anything to put it in. Deciding to just try it as it was, he put the open packet to his mouth and tossed it back. A moment later, a mouthful of the stuff was spat back out as Spike let out an exclamation of, "Bloody hell!"

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Spike stared in distaste at what remained in the packet. It tasted bitter and sterile, and the texture was like sand slowly turning to globules of jelly in his mouth. So this was what he'd resigned himself to eating for the next year or so. Well, wasn't that just bloody peachy.

Tossing the open packet back into the case, Spike crossed back over to the bed and sat down on it, heaving a sigh of frustration. Not for the first time he was beginning to feel doubts about what he was doing here. Not so much about what he was leaving behind, but more about what he would be going back to when, eventually, this mission finally drew to a close. Fifteen years, he'd been told it would take on Earth. What would have changed by then? Dawn would be dead for sure, that much he'd accepted, but who else would still be there? Dru would be around, he knew, but she'd moved on from him decades ago. She'd probably neither know nor care that he was even gone.

And Angel… well, the way things were going, Spike wouldn't be surprised if he came back to find Angel was a pile of dust. Ever since signing over his claim to the Shanshu prophecy and watching everyone he cared about die around him, Angel seemed to have given up completely. Sacrificing everything he had in the fight against Wolfram and Hart only to lose anyway had been more than Angel could take, and he'd descended into a state worse than his post-soul, pre-Buffy days. If he ended up either running into sunlight or getting himself staked then Spike wouldn't be surprised.

Then there was Illyria. She'd still be there, Spike knew, but he didn't much want her to be. She was one of the many things he wanted to get away from.

Really, what he wanted was to not go back to Earth at all. He was half hoping that, since Weyland was a terraforming company, the ship would call at an extra-solar colony on the return journey and he could just get off and stay there. But he knew that wasn't likely. This would be a short reprieve, but he was going to have to face up to things back on Earth eventually. He just hoped that by that time, enough would have changed for it to seem like fresh start.

Not wanting to dwell too much on things, Spike took a pack of cigarettes out of his bag and stood up again, trying to keep himself distracted. He crossed back over to the case lying on top of the chest of drawers, thinking that maybe the dried blood wouldn't be so bad if he could drown out the taste with smoke. Lighting one of the cigarettes, he took a long drag on it before picking up the packet of blood again, thinking he ought to at least try eating something before he was consigned to a cryosleep pod for two years. He was just about to put the foil sachet to his mouth again when there was the faint hiss of hydraulics as the door to the room slid open.

Throwing the packet back into the case and slamming the lid shut, Spike spun round to see the petite figure of Alice standing in the doorway. "Don't you bloody knock?" he snapped, angry that she'd just walked in on him like this and worried she might be about to ask him what he was doing.

She gave him neither much of a reaction nor much of an answer. "I am performing the final checks to ensure all is well with the ship and the crew before take off," she stated emotionlessly.

Spike glared at her in irritation, but felt a wave of relief that she didn't seem about to ask him what was in the box. "I'm fine, if that's what you're checking," he replied, before nodding at the door, "And wasn't that locked?"

"I have the access codes to all doors on board the ship."

He scowled at her. "Well, you could at least check the person on the other side bloody knows you're there before opening them."

She didn't respond to that, instead just stated, "I must inform you, Dr Hart, that smoking is not permitted on board the ship," as she looked down at the cigarette in his hand.

Everything she was saying just irritated him more. "What's it to you, love? You're a robot; it's not like you're breathing it."

There was a pause then as she processed what he just said, and then she spoke in the same emotionless tone as before, "I have not disclosed to any of the crew members that I am an android."

"You didn't have to, love. You stink of hydraulic fluid."

If it were possible for a robot to look puzzled, Spike suspected that might be what he'd be seeing now on Alice's face. "The human nose is not normally capable of detecting such scents," she said flatly.

He shrugged. It wasn't like he could tell her the real reason he could smell it, but he thought he had enough of an excuse. "You're not the first robot I've spent time around. Guess I've got used to picking up the smell."

Again, that sense of would-be puzzlement from the android seemed to be growing. "That is curious, Dr Hart," Alice said, "As I am one of the earlier prototype models built by the Weyland Corporation. Where is it you have encountered androids before?"

Oh. He hadn't realised that about the prototypes, and began to wonder if it might have been a mistake to bring up the robot thing at all. He couldn't exactly tell her that he'd first encountered robots over ninety years ago. "Friend of mine," he said vaguely, "Used to do a bit of programming with them and stuff."

It wasn't much of an explanation, but it seemed enough to satisfy Alice. "I would appreciate it if you did not mention this to any of the other crew members until after the briefing," was all she said in response.

Spike wasn't sure what the reasons for that would be, but was pretty certain that if he asked he wouldn't get an answer. "Yeah, fine," he said, wanting to be left alone, but then realised there was actually something else she'd mentioned that he wanted to ask about. "So Weyland built you? I thought you said you worked for Yutani?"

"The Weyland Corporation designed my hardware, which was then sold to Yutani Industries for software development," she explained.

That was enough of an explanation for him, and Spike didn't much care to know more. "Right," he said, taking another drag on the cigarette, "Are we done now?"

She watched him intently as he blew out a stream of smoke, and Spike wondered if that was the robot equivalent of a glare. "Please refrain from smoking on board the ship, Dr Hart," she repeated. "I will know if you don't. The smoke may compromise our life supports systems or activate the alarms in the cabins, which could lead to a problematic and unnecessary evacuation procedure."

He continued to stare at her for a moment longer, and then deciding that such a scenario would be more trouble than it was worth, stubbed out the end of the cigarette on the top of the chest of drawers.

She watched the action, seemingly uncaring that he was damaging the ship's furniture, and then resumed talking in her cold, robotic fashion. "Thank you. May I remind you that all personnel are required to report to the cryosleep chamber in sixty minutes time," she said, and then retreated out of the doorway without another word.

Spike watched the door slide shut behind her and waited a few more moments, before snatching up the pack of cigarettes again and shoving it in his pocket. He'd pretty much abandoned the notion of eating any of the gritty blood goop, but he needed a smoke. "Yeah, whatever. There's got to be somewhere on this bloody ship that doesn't have smoke detectors," he muttered, before heading off out of the door again in search of such a place.

Updated A/N 04/07/12: I tried some freeze dried ice cream! It's actually not bad. The taste is alright, but the texture is quite crunchy. I still imagine that, to a vampire, freeze dried blood wouldn't taste good. The freeze drying process would probably mess up the cell structure and stuff so that it tastes odd, and I do think it would be a bit like gritty goop. The ice cream had a texture of crunchy that got increasingly gooey the longer it was in my mouth, so I reckon if you had powdered blood it would be the same. Is it weird that I'm trying to figure out what freeze dried blood would taste like?