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Summary: Spike's partner has no luck cheering Spike up either and when they go out to eat things just got even worse. The drama is back and intense with new unanswered questions emerging.

Chapter Ten: Blood in the Snow

The sound of chiming glasses and the chatter of drunken men filled the atmosphere. Amongst the fuss, Spike could hear the TV show Big Shots airing in the background. Not bothering to look up he kept his head buried in his arms that rested on the counter next to his untouched beverage.

"What's the matter cowboy?" asked a busty brunette from behind the bar. Spike was so deep in thought he hadn't even noticed that anyone was talking to him. He missed Faye so much that all the alcohol in the world couldn't take his mind off of her. He knew this for a fact because he had already tried. "Hello?" she asked waving her hand in front of his face, trying to make him snap out of it.

"Huh?" he said looking up with sad eyes.

"You've been spaced out ever since you've sat down. You're too cute to wear that face, sugar." She put her elbows on the bar and cradled her face with the back of her hands. She was attempting to flirt with him but it was no surprise she got no play. "What's your name?" she asked to break the long silence.

"His name is Spike," his partner interrupted from the seat next to Spike, "He's not much of a talker today. The kid's pretty down." Spike groaned softly, covering his face once again.

"Why?" the bartender pried, secretly hoping that he was single and available.

Dalvin spoke this time, "He's all bummed out because some chick ran off with his heart and left him hanging high and dry with only a sad memory of their last indecent encounter together."

"Oh," she said taken aback.

"Couldn't have put it better myself," the older man added.

Spike groaned more loudly this time, "Why did you bring me here again?"

"Because you needed a change of scenery away from women. Take a look at the men here, Spike."

Spike finally sat up in his chair and observed his surroundings. He saw no women around with the exception of the bartender. He looked at the expressions of the men closest to him. One guy had an empty bottle of gin beside him and another looked to be emptying his pack of cigarettes. "They all look miserable as hell. What's your point?"

"That's exactly my point. All these men here have the same problem as you. They all came here to escape their problems. That common problem is women. Some of these guys' girlfriends and wives dumped them. Others caught them cheating while some are the ones cheating. The women in their lives are nagging, stressful and just plain unpleasant. Spike, this is your fellow man."

Spike cut his eyes before collapsing to the bar's counter again, "UGH! Now I'm even more depressed. Thanks a lot, pal," he said sarcastically. "You just proved that there is no utter hope for me. If all women are like this then I'm going to die alone, senile and sick." Of course he had to ease in an insult, "I'll end up just like Dalvin."

"Hey, what the—don't attack me!" he yelled angrily. "He's the one who brought you to this hell-hole!" he pointed at the older cop.

Spike smiled and chuckled a little. Even though Dalvin was an idiot, he was still a good friend to Spike along with his partner. Their attempts to distract Spike from his problems weren't working but he appreciated the effort nonetheless.

"Hey, you want to get something to eat?" asked Dalvin, breaking Spike's train of thought.

"How's he supposed to eat? The poor kid just got his heart ripped out?" said the veteran.

Spike quickly sprung up, "I could eat!" he said nodding his head thankful that someone had said something because he was really hungry.

Since there were plenty of restaurants not far from that area, the gang decided to walk to a nearby diner. It was a traditional place ran by the locals who had lived in the town for generations. The food there was really good so the diner was frequently packed. Once they found a seat Spike noticed someone outside the window. He starred for a while not truly believing it was her. But he knew her from anywhere. She had the same body, hair and face; it was Faye. 'What's she doing with that guy?' he thought as he watched her get into the cab with another man.

"Spike!" the cop shook him and he turned around in an instance. "The waitress just asked you a question, didn't you hear?"

He hadn't heard a thing. In fact he hadn't seen anything other than that cab, his ex and some unidentified male with her. It was as if the world had stopped and began to move in slow motion. The voices of those around him became a distorted echo. Their faces started to blur. Spike felt sick to his stomach, nauseated with despair. He felt like crying. "I—I got to go step outside," he said in a rush to leave, not bothering to slow down when Dalvin called for him.

Spike flung open the diner's door and stepped into the cold. He was took deep breaths and leaned on the brick wall behind him. Pulling himself together, he spotted a drugstore across the street where he went in to purchase some cigarettes and matches.

Again, he walked outside to calm his nerves. Taking a long drag inhaling the smoke, he cursed in his mind, "I'm out here on the verge of tears and she's running around with some low life. That bitch never loved me." His thoughts were interrupted when he noticed that someone was eying him. He blew out his smoke and followed the fellow with his eyes. The guy turned the next corner when he saw that Spike had seen him. Suspicious, Spike followed.

This guy had the look of your average criminal. He wore dark clothes, a distraught expression and his eyes were bloody red. Spike knew that it was most likely due to the use of drugs. This guy was definitely a user. From experience Spike knew that he was probably acting paranoid because he was about to meet with his dealer. Typical actions for a guy who knows he's doing wrong. The only thing that really surprised Spike was the fact that the guy seemed to be so wary of him. This was strange because Spike was off duty and therefore wasn't wearing any police attire. His badge was even concealed. This idiot had just given himself away to a seemingly average guy.

Spike dropped his cigarette when he saw the shadow of the perpetrator turn into an alley. Reaching for his gun he put his cigarette out with the bottom of his boot. When Spike turned to the alley, the man just looked at him strangely, almost as if he were looking past him. Instincts kicked in and Spike looked over his shoulder. His eye caught another man behind him who was in the process of pulling the trigger of his own gun. In a flash Spike ducked and kicked the man off his feet. Dropping the gun, the man fell to the ground and Spike pointed his weapon down at him, "Don't move!" he ordered. Because he didn't have his handcuffs on him, he reached for his communicator. "I've got two guys on the alley between 5th and Lincoln. Make it fast."

"On my way," The voice answered back.

"I wouldn't do anything stupid-" just then, in the middle of his sentence he heard a blast from behind. Immediately he felt the stinging in the back of his knee and he fell to the other one in pain.

Hearing the gunshot, Dalvin and the older cop rushed to the alley. "Spike! You okay?"

"Cuff him," he said bearing the pain and standing to his feet before turning to chase the man who had shot him. Spike took off in the guy's direction down the alley and between two commercial apartment buildings.

"Dalvin, go with him!" he ordered.

"Got it," Dalvin said following the path of Spike's blood.

The shooter climbed up a wire gate hoping to shake Spike off but Spike ignored his pain and scaled the gate as well. Still lagging behind Dalvin was having a hard time keeping up. The guy was fast and despite his injury Spike was fast too. Jumping onto a dumpster the shooter ran on top of the building knowing that it was likely that the climbing would slow his chaser down. Spike pulled himself up just in time to see him run into the door on the roof leading into the apartment. Spike followed, knowing that he had to catch this guy and fast or else he was going to blend in with the pedestrians.

Once through the door, Spike came to a set of stairs on which the shooter was quickly descending already. In an attempted to avoid any more pressure on his knee, he aimed to fire his gun. Then a janitor cut the corner, dropping his mop and bucket after being pushed aside by the man, he raised his hands when he noticed Spike's gun. "Damn," he mumbled knowing he probably wouldn't be able to fire his gun inside the building. Now he had to descend the stairs. He held his leg and the railing as he tried to catch up.

Entering the hallway, he demanded that all the residents clear the area. The perpetrator shoved a woman out of the entrance to her room and ran to the fire escape. Spike jumped through the window and looked at the latter. He had to do something or else this guy was going to lose him but Spike's knee was killing him and the loss of blood was making him dizzy. Through his double vision he aimed his gun on last time at the man scaling the latter. He fired once and hit his hand. Crying in agony, the man fell to the snowy concrete. Spike sighed in relief until he noticed that this guy was still trying to get up. Then Spike limped to the edge of the exit and spotted a car parked just bellow. Taking a leap at faith literally, he jumped down onto it. Upon impact, he felt the tissue in his knee rip and the rush of blood drench his pants' leg. Still he managed to make his way over to the escaping con and struck him with the handle of his gun, making him lose consciousness.

"That was a cheap shot, dirt bag," he spat.

"Spike, Spike, where are you," he heard coming from his communicator.

Spike focused his vision on the street sign, "Martindale," he answered back breathlessly.

"Just hang in there. I'm right around the block okay, buddy?"

"Dalvin," he said faintly.

"What is it, Spike?"

"Call an ambulance," he whispered before he blacked out.

Too be continued…

Author's Note: Thanks for reading. Tell me what you think. Add the your alerts if you want to see what happens to Spike.