A/N: Here's another fun chapter. Thanks for all the reviews!

(Note: Some dialog taken directly from the episode.)

Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and its characters are the property of Joss Whedon.

I heard men saying, Leave hope and praying,

All days shall be as all have been;

To-day and to-morrow bring fear and sorrow,

The never-ending toil between.

-The Voice of Toil, by William Morris

Spike was rather pissed off to learn that the newest "big bads" were none other than Warren and his two friends. Damn it, he'd been right there in that bloody basement lair they kept. If he'd bothered to pay any attention, he might've noticed the stolen diamond, or even the black van parked outside, and saved Buffy a lot of hassle.

He told Buffy about the visit he paid Warren to get his chip examined when he discovered he could hit Buffy without repercussions—well, aside from her hitting back, of course. It warmed his unbeating heart to hear Buffy's concern that the sociopathic tech geek knew about the chip, but Spike assured her the pillock had no idea what the chip even did.

"I just wish I could've gotten those idiots," Buffy groused, "By the time I got to their stupid lair, they'd already cleared out. Left a bunch of magical crap behind, books and charmed objects, stuff like that. Willow helped me sort through it, but I'm starting to think that was a mistake. She's been real twitchy lately."

They were walking together through one of the town's numerous cemeteries, looking for all the world like a couple on a stroll, apart from the fact that it was night. Buffy held Spike's right hand in her left, leaving their dominant hands free in case of attack. So far, it was a fairly quiet patrol. A couple of fledgelings early on, nothing more.

"Well, with any luck those wankers'll be halfway to Mexico by now," Spike muttered, "Won't be bothering you with any more of their idiot schemes."

Buffy seemed less than convinced. Then she brightened, "Oh, I almost forgot! I got a job."

Spike's scarred eyebrow quirked upwards. "What kind of job."

"It's in the, uh, consumer service profession," she answered, evasive.

"That a fancy way of sayin' you're slinging burgers, pet?"

Buffy glanced at him from the corner of her eye. "Maybe."

"Buffy..." Spike cringed at the thought of the Slayer slaving away in a minimum wage job. She shouldn't have to demean herself like that.

"I needed to get Social Services off my back!" Buffy cried, defensive, "For some reason they get all huffy about an unemployed college dropout raising her sister alone. Plus, we can start getting money for all those luxuries. Like electricity...and food..."

"There's better jobs out there," Spike argued.

"Which I'm not qualified for. College dropout, remember?" She halted, turned to face him. "Look, as soon as I get into the swing of things I can sign up for the next semester. I'm not planning on spending the rest of my life in the Doublemeat Palace. It's just 'til I get back on my feet." Her expression became slightly pleading. "I really need your support here."

"You have it, you know that." Spike gently brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "I don't want to see you wear yourself down. You already shoulder too much responsibility."

"I'll be fine!" She resumed walking, tugging the vampire along. "Besides, I think it'll be a nice change of pace. A normal, non-Slayery job in a well-lit place. I can handle that easy!"


Spike decided to wait until after the dinner rush before stopping by the Doublemeat Palace. The second he opened the door, the smell bludgeoned his heightened senses. The place reeked of stale grease, congealed animal fat, and despair. It made his stomach roil. As if that wasn't bad enough, it felt like the blazing overhead lights were stabbing into his eyes like icepicks. That and those bloody hideous uniforms the staff were forced to wear. God, what a depressing place!

He saw Buffy standing behind the counter talking to an older woman who seemed to have about as much personality as the livestock whose flesh they served up.

"Gina, I'm taking another break. There's no one here," Buffy stated in a bored voice.

"Sure there is," the older woman nodded towards the counter, "Look."

Buffy turned to see Spike staring up at the overhead menu. He looked bizarrely out of place in the bright, garish eatery. Even so, Buffy was glad to see him. She approached the vampire with a smile. "Welcome to the Doublemeat Palace," she said in an overly perky voice.

"What's in the Doublemeat nuggets?" Spike asked, sounding just like a normal bored customer.

"It's probably best if you don't know," Buffy replied, "Any particular reason you decided to drop by, or are you just here to chitchat?"

"Well, you chose to be in the consumer service profession, and I'm a consumer," he leered, "Service me."

Buffy suppressed a laugh. "I'm pretty sure this constitutes harassment, sir. Kindly order something."

"Give a bloke a chance for his eyes to adjust," Spike squinted, "Damn fluorescent lights. They make me look dead."

Buffy rolled her eyes at the lame joke.

"Some demons love 'em," he continued, "The way they vibrate makes their skin twitch." Spike tilted his head. "That the kind of demon you are, luv?"

His half-serious question hit a nerve. It gnawed at her, not knowing what exactly had gone wrong with her resurrection to make Spike's chip no longer recognize her as human. She still had her soul, which was good, but would she always? Was there some terrible Jekyll-and-Hyde monster lying in wait inside her, biding its time? Buffy hated not knowing.

"I'm not a demon," she said, no longer amused, "I don't know why you can hit me, but I'm not a demon."

"Oh, I see," Spike nodded in that astute way of his, "That why you took this job? Prove something to yourself? A normal job for a normal girl. Good way to drive yourself crazy, that is."

"I'll be fine." She sounded less convincing than she had the night before. This first day on the job had already worn away a great deal of her spirit.

Spike put his hands on the counter and leaned towards her, his expression serious. "Buffy...you're not happy here."

Buffy swallowed around a sudden lump in her throat. "Please don't make this harder."

"You don't belong here," he insisted quietly, "You're someth— You're better than this."

"I need the money."

"I can get money. Walk with me now, come on."

Buffy sighed, "We've been over this. I can't accept money from you. We both know you wouldn't have gotten it legally."

"As long as nobody gets killed, what does it matter?" Spike argued.

"Because it's wrong." It was the reason she gave the most often for the things she refused, and the reason Spike understood the least. Right and wrong, they were just words to him with little actual meaning. Most times, the only way he could tell the difference was by following her lead.

"You gotta get out of here," Spike pleaded, reaching for her arm when she tried to turn away, "This place'll do stuff to you."

Buffy tugged free of his grip. "I need to help Gary with the fries." She walked away.

"This place'll kill you," Spike called after her, knowing it would do no good.

He left the restaurant at an angry march, taking deep lungfuls of the night air to clear his nostrils of the stench. It was disgusting, seeing his lady stuck in that grease pit alongside high school kids and parolees and losers whose lives were going nowhere. It deeply offended his Victorian sensibilities. What kind of man was he if he couldn't provide the woman he loved with the life she deserved? Never mind that she refused his help, knowing he wasn't willing or able to do it through legitimate means. He couldn't just stand by and watch that hellish place suck the life out of her. He needed to do something.

Spike spent the rest of the night visiting the local demon haunts, spreading the word that he was looking to make a lot of cash quickly, no questions asked. His only stipulation was that it didn't involve killing, either directly or indirectly. Buffy might forgive some of his transgressions, but she wouldn't stand for anything that resulted in or profited from someone's death. Once he got enough money together, he needed to figure out a way to get her to accept it. He'd likely have to deceive her somehow, make her think the money was legit. Spike didn't have any qualms about lying to her. All he cared about was helping Buffy, in whatever way he could.


In some ways, Buffy's second day on the job was even worse. Since a couple of people failed to show up for work, Manny the Manager informed her she'd be working a double shift. Another eight hours of burger-flipping hell. Her forearms were speckled in tiny burns from the hot grease that inevitably spattered her when she worked the deep fryer and the grill. Plus she damn near lost a hand in the meat grinder when she zoned out for a second. She could feel herself sinking into the depression that seemed to permeate the restaurant. Pretty soon she'd be as much a zombie as poor old Gina.

Buffy lowered the first basket of fries into the fryer, wincing as a spatter of hot oil hit her arm. She was about to lower the second basket when the oil started bubbling on its own.

"It's boiling with nothing in it," Timothy materialized beside her, making her jump in surprise, "Sometimes it does that. They say bugs fall in there."

Buffy's stomach heaved.

"Oh, I'm back," he stated unnecessarily in his dull monotone, "You can go on your break now."

Buffy yanked off the ridiculous hat and headed for the back exit. Movement from the corner of her eye drew her attention to the plate glass window where she saw Spike walking past. He paused, met her gaze, then continued on towards the back of the building. Buffy hurried out to meet him.

They didn't say a word when she stepped outside. Buffy immediately threw her arms around Spike's neck and attacked his mouth with hers. Spike responded with equal intensity, knowing this was what she needed. He maneuvered them behind the Doublemeat Palace's dumpster, away from any passing eyes. He pressed Buffy up against the wall and hitched one of her legs over his hip, grinding himself into her center. He felt the heat of her through their clothes, smelled her arousal.

"Need you," she whispered desperately.

Spike let go of her leg and unfastened her uniform pants. He knelt to slide them down her legs and helped her step out of them without even removing her shoes. When he straightened, Buffy fumbled with his jeans until his erection sprang free. Spike grabbed her by the hips and lifted. Buffy's legs wrapped around his waist and her small hand guided him into her.

For a few precious minutes Buffy was able to forget about the crappy turn her life had taken. She didn't see the filthy alley or the dumpster a few feet away, didn't smell the lingering stench of fried meat that clung to her pores. There was only Spike's blue eyes gazing intently into her own. His cool breath against her lips and his hands supporting her bottom as he moved steadily in and out of her. His mouth covered hers when she came with a moan. Her climax triggered his, and it was all Spike could do to keep standing on his now shaky legs.

After, when he helped her get back into her uniform pants, Buffy found it in her to laugh a little.

"Care to share the joke, luv?" Spike asked.

"I was just thinking that you take me to the most glamorous places." She waved a hand at their surroundings.

Spike grinned and took her into his arms. He rested his forehead against hers. "Maybe after patrol tomorrow I can do you one better. Candles, music, food that hasn't been deep fried."

"You're asking me out to dinner?"

"Not 'out' so much," he amended, "I was thinkin' my place. Could pick up a nice meal somewhere, fix the crypt up. That way we won't have to wait long for...dessert." He kissed her.

Buffy hummed in appreciation. "Hmm, sounds nice. Can it be a vegetarian dinner?"

Spike chuckled, "Whatever you want, luv."

Buffy returned to work in a much better mood...until she found the severed finger beside the meat grinder. Manny didn't take too well to one of the staff running around yelling about the burgers being made out of people. Needless to say, she was no longer a Doublemeat employee after that. On her way out, Buffy grabbed one of the Doublemeat Medleys. She called an emergency Scooby meeting at the Magic Box, intending to have Willow examine the burger for traces of human flesh. Unfortunately, Xander ate most of the evidence before Willow arrived. But they still had enough traces on the wrapper for testing.

While her friends took care of the meat analyzing, Buffy decided to return to the Doublemeat Palace to see if she could find any more incriminating evidence. Along the way, she stopped by Restfield Cemetery. She ran into Spike just as he was returning to his crypt from some unknown errand.

"Something bad's going on at the Doublemeat Palace," she told him, "I found a finger by the meat grinder, and people keep disappearing, but nobody thinks anything about it because they think the job's got a high turnover. And I really don't trust that Manny guy. He knows something."

"So...you want me to help you break into the place and snoop around?" the vampire asked.

"Think of it as a preliminary for tomorrow's dinner date," was her cheery response.

Spike rolled his eyes, but smiled in amusement. "Who am I to pass up a romantic night of B and E?"

Security at the Doublemeat Palace wasn't exactly tight. Spike picked the lock in a few seconds and the two of them entered the darkened restaurant. The chairs had been stacked atop the tables and a cart loaded with cleaning supplies was out, but there was no sign of any staff.

"C'mon," Buffy tugged Spike's sleeve, "I wanna check the freezer. Manny was always telling me to stay out of there."

"Lead the way." Spike followed her into the kitchen.

Buffy peered inside the walk-in freezer, but all she saw were boxes of processed chicken and beef waiting to be ground. No human carcasses in garish orange uniforms hanging from hooks. Vaguely disappointed, Buffy shut the freezer and saw Spike over by the meat grinder. He leaned over the grinder's motionless blades and grimaced at the lingering smell that no amount of cleaning could quite get rid of.

"Well, whoever that finger belonged to, the bloke didn't lose it in the machine. I'm not smellin' any human blood on this thing."

"You're not?" Buffy stared at the grinder in incredulity. "B-But the secret ingredient...I was positive they were making people burgers!"

"People burgers?" Spike laughed, "I thought you were talking about murder, not a bloody cannibal conspiracy. Buffy, this isn't Soylent Green. There's no human meat in these burgers. Hell, there isn't any meat in these burgers."

"What!"

Spike wrinkled his nose in distaste. "Yeah. Smells like they're made out of some kind of vegetables with some beef fat mixed in. Disgusting stuff!"

"The secret ingredient in the beef is...beef?"

"'Fraid so, luv."

Buffy's shoulders slumped. "Wow. Don't I feel stupid."

Spike turned his head. A frown appeared on his brow and he sniffed. "Hang on. All this stale grease is affecting my nose. There is human blood here."

"Where?"

Spike headed over to the grill, bent down and picked something up from the floor. He turned and showed it to Buffy. "Know anyone who wears saddle shoes?"

Buffy stared at the severed foot with a mild sense of pity. "Manny. Guess he really was a lifer."

"Something over there," Spike motioned with the same hand that held the foot. Sitting on a counter beside some stacks of plastic cups was what looked like a mound of gray hair. "Scalp?"

Buffy picked it up. "Wig. Wig Lady!"

"Who?"

"Sh-She's a regular," Buffy explained, "Small coffee and cherry pie. What was she doing back here?"

"Oh, dear," an elderly voice drew the couple's attention to the bald figure that had crept up behind them, "'Wig Lady?' Is that what they call me?" The old woman ruefully shook her bulbous head. "I don't care for that. I mean, I have to do something to hide this." Her eyes withdrew from their sockets, the top of her head bulged and stretched upward. Something long and sinuous slowly extended itself from the old woman's head. Her missing eyes glared from the underside of where the creature's chin would be if it had one. It opened its mouth, revealing circular rows of pointed teeth, and let out a piercing shriek.

"Holy crap," Buffy gaped.

"Huh," Spike blinked, "That's different."

The parasite suddenly spat a cloud of something into their faces. Buffy gasped and stumbled. Spike collapsed altogether, his wide eyes the only things moving.

"It's paralyzing," Wig Lady explained, "Works even faster on vampires than on humans. Too bad I'm not fond of the taste of vampire. Undead flesh is so bland." She gave a delicate shudder. "Oh, well. He should make a nice palate cleanser once I'm done with you."

Buffy tried to run, but her feet just wouldn't cooperate.

"Don't try to move, dear. You really can't, much." The old woman watched in amusement as Buffy began to stagger away. "The paralysis spreads upward, by the way. You may want to flail your arms a bit while you still can."

Buffy leaned heavily against the front counter and pulled herself along by her arms. Wig Lady followed at a sedate pace, secure in the knowledge that her prey had no hope of escape. "Did I tell you, you're my favorite? Doublemeat workers," she enthused, "You're so full of Doublemeat burgers, and you just slide down so smooth."

Buffy lost her balance and fell to the floor. She crawled towards a rack of shelves containing different kitchen utensils, hoping to find some kind of weapon.

Wig Lady chuckled, "Oh, I just love the paralysis! It means I can eat you slowly."

The screeching parasite lunged towards Buffy. Her clumsy fingers grabbed a metal pan and used it to slap the creature away, giving herself a chance to crawl under the shelves.

"I know you're under there," the old woman sing-songed.

Buffy saw Spike's crumpled form a short distance away. She couldn't tell if he was conscious or not. He wasn't moving at all, not even to breathe, which, thankfully, wasn't necessary for him.

There was a crackle of static and Willow's tinny voice came over the drive-thru speaker, "Buffy? Are you in there? I can't see you inside. Buffy, if you're in there, the burger isn't people. Th-They aren't even meat. It's all processed vegetables. Isn't that weird?"

Spike, who'd been futilely trying to fight off the paralysis the whole time, thought sardonically, Tell us something we don't know, you daft bint! Better yet, get your arse in here and find something to kill this thing with!

"B-Buffy, there's more. Something happened today, and i-it wasn't my fault. I-It was Amy's fault, but...but I feel so bad about it. It was Amy's power, but it felt like I was doing everything myself, a-a-and I couldn't stop. And now i-it's gone, and I feel kind of shaky and like I-I need it."

If Spike could have rolled his eyes in exasperation, he would have. From his periphery, he saw Buffy crawling around under the shelves, trying to find a way to escape or defend herself. Spike tried to shout a warning, but his voice was gone. All he could do was watch as Wig Lady appeared and dragged Buffy out of hiding. The old woman pulled the Slayer to her feet and flung her up against what turned out to be the meat grinder. The sound of the crash was apparently loud enough to be heard outside, because Willow suddenly said, "Buffy, something fell."

Buffy's rapidly numbing arm slapped against the grinder's power switch and the machine hummed to life. Spike watched, helpless, as the parasite's maw latched onto Buffy's shoulder. There was the sound of tearing fabric over the hum of the grinder, and Spike smelled the tang of blood. Buffy grimaced in pain, unable to fight off her attacker.

Brilliant, Spike thought bitterly, the Vampire Slayer and William the Bloody, done in by a giant penis with teeth. There's a hell of an ending.

"Buffy!"

The parasite withdrew and Wig Lady spun to face a horrified Willow. "A visitor! How nice."

The parasite spat a stream of venom towards the redhead. Willow screamed and ducked around the corner. The old woman turned back to Buffy and the parasite resumed gnawing on her shoulder.

Willow reappeared, wielding the circular blade taken from the meat slicer. "Missed me."

The blade arced through the air and cut through the parasite's body, severing it from its host. The old woman groaned drunkenly and toppled to the floor beside the still writhing parasite. Buffy had fallen as well onto some spilled plastic cutlery. Even though she knew it wouldn't do any good, she managed to pick up a plastic knife and jabbed it into the creature. Even though the knife was far too dull to penetrate its hide, the parasite's shrieks became even shriller for a moment.

Willow ran over, picked up the parasite, and shoved it into the meat grinder. She gave a startled scream as the creature's head popped up and shrieked at her. Willow shoved it back down and the parasite finally fell silent as the grinder did its work.

"Buffy, are you alright?" Willow helped her friend to stand.

"Paralyzed," Buffy slurred, "But I think it's wearing off."

The grinder started oozing out the pulverized remains of the creature. Both women stared at the noisome mess with similar expressions of disgust. "Ewww..."

"Little...help here..."

"Spike!" Buffy and Willow hurried to the vampire and helped him sit up. "You okay?" Buffy asked.

Spike grimaced, rubbed his head. "Feels like I skipped the bender and went straight to the hangover."

"Well, at least we know where all the missing workers went," Willow said.

"Yeah," Buffy grimaced at the carnage, "All that's left now is the cleanup."

"Oh boy," Willow muttered.

"Think I've had all the fun a bloke can stand for one night." Spike groaned and got to his feet with help from the women. "I'm gonna pack it in."

"D'you need help getting back to your crypt?" Buffy asked in concern.

He shook his head. "No, luv. I'm fine." He wanted to kiss her, but knew she wasn't ready to do something like that in front of Willow, so he settled for giving her arm a squeeze.

Buffy smiled. "I'll see you tomorrow night, then."

"Yeah." Spike made his unsteady way to the exit, glad to put this whole adventure behind him.


Buffy didn't know how he did it. The underground level of Spike's crypt was aglow with dozens of candles. A table was set up for two, with a tablecloth and beautiful place settings. There was white wine and delicious food, all without a trace of meat. Soft music played in the background. It was perfect.

After the meal, Spike took Buffy's hand and led her into a slow dance. She rested her head on his shoulder, eyes closed and utterly content.

"Tired?" Spike asked in a low voice.

"No," Buffy sighed, "Just...very relaxed."

"Good." He kissed her hair.

"Very good," she agreed, "'Specially since I start work again tomorrow."

"I still can't believe you," he snorted, "Here you have a secret this multi-million dollar chain would pay a sodding fortune to keep quiet, and all you do is ask for your job back."

"Sure, I could've cashed in. But—"

"It would be wrong," Spike finished with a sardonic chuckle, "One of these days you're gonna explain to me how being right's so much better."

"Soon as I figure it out, I'll let you know." She leaned her head back to look at him, a contented smile on her face. "Thank you for this. Who would've thought William the Bloody had a strong romantic streak?"

"Consider the era I grew up in," he countered, "Back then, gentlemen were expected to treat their ladies like queens when courting."

"Hmm, courting, huh?" She glanced around. "I don't see a chaperone anywhere."

Spike grinned. "Well, the last century's corrupted me."

"Thank god," Buffy laughed as the vampire scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the bed. Dessert was every bit as good as promised.