Summary: This is the story of Spike meeting a great (couple times) grandchild and things that go bump in the night.

Disclaimer: All regular characters belong to Joss Whedon, ME, etc, etc. Midnights' Shadow-Sarah-is mine.

Archive?-let me know, I'll be forever grateful (and don't forget humble)



The young man reached out a hand to help the struggling woman to her feet. "So my shadow, what good news did the doctors have for you today."

The woman grimaced and rose slowly. She heard a crack, just a short quiet sound, then the pain bloomed in her hand. The young man dropped her hand and mumbled a short "Sorry luv'', looking like a small boy caught in a wrong. The woman smiled briefly and patted the young man on the arm.

"The doctors were not very optimistic. I have bone cancer."

"Well, can they do anything for you? You know drugs, operations and all that?"

"No, well, yes they could do those things but it won't stop me from dying. And it would not be an easy death. I don't want to go like that. I'm asking you again to do this for me."

To any passerby the couple in the alley would not have looked out of place. The young man in the leather duster could have been the son facing his mother, disagreeing quietly. Anyone passing would not have heard the conversation, the words were not for the merely curious.

"You know I can't. I have that damned..."

"...chip in my head. Yes, I know but I think that maybe you could. You would not be attacking me to hurt me, but to help me. I think you can do this."

The young man stood in thought his face betraying what was passing though his head as it always had. The older woman chuckled. "Oh, William, you know you want to. I know it's been a while since you've fed properly and here I am offering you prime rib, or well, at least an overdone steak.." Her smile faded. "I wish I didn't have to ask this but I have no love of the indoors anymore, no love of doctors or needles or any of the things they would do to me. You saved me once, help me again."

William glance up from his thoughts. "You knew? Did you always know?'

The woman shook her head. "No. Not always, not until later. I just followed because I had no where else to go... because I was crazy... I don't know. But finally I remembered. And now I'm asking for this thing. Please. Save me again."

The decision was made swiftly. "All right then, but I think you need to stay still and you can't make any noise or I may not be able to finish. And it will hurt. It will hurt a lot."

He started to move but she stayed him with a hand on his arm. "Wait, I have this for you. It's not much but it is yours." She pulled a small heart shaped locket from her pocket. "This has been in my family for generations but it is yours."

"Fine." He took the locket away from her. It seemed to be gold. Good, at least it was something he could sell for money.

He started to move and again she stayed him with her hands. "Please, I want to see, you know, how you look."

The smooth face of the young man transformed then to what some people dream in nightmares and others see at their last moment alive. She reached up and traced the bumps on his forehead and searched his yellow eyes. "You always were beautiful to me."

He moved behind her and reached his arms around her to capture her hands. He had wanted to hold her hands down firmly so she wouldn't struggle but he felt the lump already forming from his earlier attempt to help her up. Instead he just covered her hands lightly with his own. Then with a swiftness that defeated the eye he dropped his head to her neck and bit down. The rush of blood was glorious. This is what he missed, the slight metallic tang, the taste of salt and the smell of a person as he fed. He could feel the gathering of pain to come, and thought come on just a little bit longer and it'll be done. The blood no longer gushed and as he took a few more swallows the pain began to bloom behind his eyes, not quite so sharp as normal but insistent and increasing in intensity. He stayed with the job, for such it was, as long as he could but at last stopped and laid her gently down.

"Goodbye Sarah. I hope you find your little boy" He stood looking at the body. Yes, she did look peaceful. The arm, which had been lying just so, slipped and fell to the ground revealing the corner of an envelope. "Here now Shadow, what's this? Have you been trying to hide something from me?" William stooped and retrieved the envelope from the ground. "Is this some more of your writings? I wonder where your writings are?"

The envelope was addressed to Rupert Giles. "Well, well, what is this?" He tore the envelope open and began to read. Suddenly the night was broken by the sound of running footsteps. Looking up he could see someone running toward him. Damn, the Slayer. As he turned to go he tripped over Sarah's foot. The pages of the letter fluttered to the ground as he opened his hand to catch himself from falling. "Damn." He reached down to snatch up the letter. He fumbled and managed to get only one piece of paper out of the many on the ground. The footsteps were closer now and he did not want a pissed off Slayer catching him here. It just wouldn't look good and there was the fact he wouldn't be able to fight back if she decided to take action first and ask questions later. "Damn!" Clutching the one piece of paper he retreated into the night.



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"Don't let the midnight dance past your door unless you are ready to follow."My mother used to say this before tucking me in at night. I never knew what she had meant by that. I never knew until I saw midnight for my self.

I married when I was young to a handsome boy. It wasn't until we had been married a few years that things began to go wrong. We lost our first and only boy child and it was too much for my husband. He began to drink, and he was not a pretty drunk. The hitting began when he came home from the bar. At first he was sorry, and later-well, later I think he just stopped thinking about what he was doing.

We moved a lot in those days. We had lived in a pretty neighborhood when everything was bright and our baby boy was new. But after his death and the drinking we began to drift. Slowly but with inevitable certainty we ended up in the broken houses on the poor side of town.

That was when I saw midnight dancing although I did not know right away.

It was past dusk when the neighbors moved next door. I saw them come in a cab. There were four of them, two women and two men. My husband had left for the bar and I sat on the stoop enjoying the only time of day that gave me any joy, the silence after the children were called in and before the less innocent began their nightly search of a game to play.

The two women and the tall elegant man breezed up the stairs next door without noticing me. I didn't think they even knew another person was on the street. The other man took his time, looking around with interest and at last noticing me. The grin he gave me wasn't meant to be friendly, his lips curled too much and the laughter in his eyes was not something to be shared but to be avoided. I went in then and didn't see them again for awhile.

I do not remember much of the day to day of that time. There were long days punctuated by evenings of loneliness and early morning beatings. Most days were full of drudgery and the fear of waking and sleeping.

There was one particular night that stands out as it was the night before I saw my midnight.

My husband had come home in the early hour before light. He was drunk and full of anger at something or another, or maybe just at life. I was his outlet. I didn't even have a chance to hide. There was no warning, just him storming in the door and swinging his fist, screaming in rage, yelling and the hitting which went on and on.

I am sure I screamed. I must have screamed although now I can't remember.

I don't remember much of the rest of that night, just a jumble of nightmares and pain and dreams of strange creatures. There are places in hell where you must feel like that, that the torment will go on and daylight will never come and the pain will never stop.

But day did come, and the next night the dance had begun.

I got out of my bed finally the next evening. I was tired and hurt in places that no one should ever hurt. I washed the blood from my body afraid to look and afraid not too in case I needed to see a doctor. My face, which had never been beautiful was not even recognizable to me. My eyes were swollen and black and my lips purpled and cut. There were too many bruises on my body to count.

It was now the time of day that I took joy in so I went out to the stoop to sit. I did not know where my husband was and did not care, as long as he was not here. The night was warm and soft and the coming darkness hid my face.

There was laughter coming from the house next door, the sounds of a party. Briefly a woman came to the door and laughter spilled out but she was pulled back inside. I envied her then. Envied the easy laughter and the company.

I went back inside and sat by the window and watched the house next door wishing for a better day or long forgotten friends.

Slowly as the night wore on the sounds next door faded until there was silence in the house and then I saw him.

He was standing in the window with a woman in his arms, the streetlight illuminating them through the glass. Both were facing me and although I was sure she couldn't see me I was equally sure that he did see me. Slowly, with the grin on his face, he tilted the woman's head. And looking in my eyes he changed, just that swiftly from a cocky boy to a nightmare. I watched him lower his face to the woman's neck and although I only had read about these things in books as bogeyman stories I knew what he was doing. The woman did not struggle only sagged after a minute in his arms.

He raised his head when he was done and grinned that grin that did not invite friendship and nodded in my direction. The woman dropped from his arms and he disappeared back into the darkness of the house.

That was the night we began to dance.

I watched the house all that night but did not see him again. I watch the house every night after that and saw the people come. People coming but not leaving. Some nights I followed my midnight around the city. Some nights he took notice and hit me. He hit me to make me stay away but he never hit me like my husband so I followed. Some nights he took no notice of me and fed without regard to my presence. Or perhaps because of it.

There were many nights when I knew I was looking into hell. When my midnight fed he was not always quick. Sometimes there were screams and begging and those nights I tried to make myself tell someone, anyone, to make it stop, but I couldn't. Other nights the four would make sport of their prey together and have an dark sex afterwards.

I must have been crazy for a while. Surely a sane person would not have followed and watched. But I could not stop and didn't want to for my midnight was beautiful to watch. The tilt of his head and the knowing grins. He always sought the hard edge of life where youth and beauty met with violence. And he always won.

There were times over the years that I tried to warn people about him but no one would listen. No one believes in the bogeyman or if they did believe, even a little, they always felt that it would not be them. He would call me the crazy bitch in those years. Finally, I just stopped trying to tell anyone and just watched.

I followed my midnight across the county, always sleeping where I could in the day so I would be ready to follow at night.

After a few years he finally began to talk to me sometimes at night. I think then I was the happiest thought it is all confused. He told me of his life and of his death. He told me stories of his conquest in bed and on the streets. Why he did this I don't know. At times I think it was to scare me although having been to hell myself it didn't, and at other times I feel he needed just to talk.

It has been many years now. I am old beyond my time and the doctors have told me I only have a short time to live. I do not want to die in their hospitals with tubes and pain.

I will ask my midnight to finish the dance tonight.

If you have received this letter it is certain that I am no longer alive but I will leave behind all that I have observed. I have kept journals of all my times and conversations with midnight. I would like you to have them if you will.

You can find them..."



"That's all it says. The rest must have been on the next page and that is gone." Giles turned the grimy pages over looking for some further clue or writings.

The body on the ground between Giles and Buffy became the focal point. The woman, or so they guessed it was, was propped against the wall of the building. Her neck exposed to the night revealed two puncture marks with bruising. She appeared to be sleeping, a slight smile on her face. Except for the peaceful expression, the whiteness of the skin and the two telltale neck wounds marked this as a classic vampire attack. Buffy stood up and brushed the alley dirt from her hands. "I'm sure it was Spike, but I just don't know how he did it."

"What? Oh, yes that." said Giles vaguely waving toward the body that was lying on the ground. "I suppose that if she had asked for him to, um, bite her he may have been able to override the chip. I wish we had witnessed the attack. I would like to get my hands on those journals."

"Well, I know someone who knows what the letter said and I am going to find out what he knows."

"Ah, take care. We don't know how he, ah, well..." Giles turned to find Buffy had left. "I'll just take these back to the shop." Carefully he folded the pages.

Spike put the gold locket on the crypt slab. There was something familiar about it but the letter interested him more at this moment. He opened the creased page he had managed to hang on to. Rot the slayer. If he hadn't heard the footsteps and rushed he wouldn't have dropped the rest of the letter. Sliding down the side of the vault to sit on the floor he began to read.



"...in L.A. at my sisters house. She despaired of getting me off the street but did agree to keep my possessions safe. Her address is as follows..."



The door bashed into the wall with enough force to jar a few creeping spiders from their silky perches .

"Go away, slayer. I'm really too tired to spar with you today." came the voice from the back of the crypt. Spike quickly slipped the much folded piece of paper into the pocket of his duster and stood.

"Alright Spike, I know that you killed that woman, I just want to know how and if I need to do anything about it." Buffy, matching movement to words backed Spike against the pillar pulling her wooden spike out as she did.

Spike grabbed her wrist and pushed the spike just a little further away. "What's wrong Buff, afraid the Big Bad is back and you won't be able to handle it?" The head cocked just a bit, "Or did you just want to get close?" A small shove put some breathing space between the two.

"Anyway, what makes you so sure I did it?" A few more steps put just a little more distance between them. It did pay to be cautious when Buffy was in a mood.

"We saw you." replied Buffy in a flat voice.

"Well then, why don't you tell me why a vampire would eat a person?"

"Look, Spike. I don't have time for this. Does your chip thingy still work or will I need to dust you? Either way it's a win-win situation for me." Buffy smiled a bright smile and took a few menacing steps in Spikes direction.

God, she is beautiful thought Spike. A gleam caught the corner of his eye. The locket. Damn. With studied casual movements Spike moved toward the stone slab where the locket lay in plain sight.

Buffy was faster.

"So, what's this?" she said snatching up the locket just as Spike reached for it. "Something for your girlfriend?"

Spike grabbed part of the chain and tried to jerk it away from her. "No, it's just something I picked up. A vamps gotta' sell what a vamps got now doesn't he?"

With the final tug the chain broke and the gold heart shaped locket fell to the floor. The small heart broke in two parts scattering the contents between Spike and Buffy. They both reached down to gather up the tiny contents on the floor. Buffy picked up the bottom half of the locket and looked at the picture. It showed a young man of about 30 with brown curly hair, sharp cheek bones and glasses.

"Spike?"

Spike had picked up the other half and a few of the loose confetti like pictures that had scattered across the floor. Seeing Buffy's expression he glanced down to his half of the locket. "Oh, bloody hell. Cecily."



TBC-sorry, needed to correct a couple things here so this is just a replacement.