FRIDAY NIGHT

WESTFIELD APARTMENTS

Spike hated coming to this apartment complex. He always felt the need to use disinfectant afterwards. The vampire carefully sidestepped a section of the wooden balcony he knew was rotting as he made his way to room 583. The smell of garbage permeated the air, and if Spike wasn't mistaken, the cat resting in front of room 579 appeared to be dead.

"Lucky bastard," Spike mumbled. "Kitty heaven has got to be better than this." He finally reached his destination and knocked to the beat of 'Shave and a Haircut.' From the other side he heard a voice call out. "It's Spike. Can I come in?" Spike heard yes. He turned the doorknob and entered. The apartment wasn't much better than the outside.

Beer bottles and fast food boxes littered the pathway to the living room. Spike spotted a mouse eating from a Chinese carton on the counter. As he moved further into the apartment, Spike began to see dirty clothes and old issues of Playboy lying about. Spike reached down and picked up an issue. He hadn't seen this one in a while.

"Why'd you ask to come in?" a voice asked. "I've invited you in before."

"Because it's the polite thing to do," Spike answered. He gazed at the centerfold of the January 1999 issue. He looked up and found a portly looking fellow flanked by a couple of desks staring at him. A couple of computer monitors were up and running along with various other pieces of equipment.

"It's been awhile. Where you been?"

"Africa." Spike tossed the magazine aside. "I need a favor, Harvey."

"Sure thing. Want a beer?"

"What kind?"

"Michelob."

"Hit me up."

Spike moved around the first desk and took a seat in a swivel chair. He accepted the beer from Harvey and studied his old acquaintance. The fellow was about 5'6 and 200 pounds. He wore a pair of faded blue sweatpants and a beer stained gray t-shirt. He looked like a fairly normal guy, albeit a slovenly one. But if one looked just above the wide rimmed black glasses he wore, a person would notice that instead of hair, Harvey had quills resembling that of a porcupine's on the top of his head. It was the classic mark of a Quarris demon.

Spike took a sip of beer and peered over to the television. Some porno was playing. A muscled guy was screwing a brunette and blonde. It looked like an amateur video taped in a hotel room if the shitty wallpaper was any indication.

"I see you've moved away from the classics."

"Yeah, well, I wore out my Debbie Does Dallas tape. Found a DVD version on Ebay, though. Should be here in a day or two. Oh, by the by." Harvey dug through one of his desk drawers and produced a cassette. "Here's that tape you wanted. Director's Cut of the horror classic Deep Red. That's the authentic Italian version."

"Cool." Spike took the cassette and slipped it into his pocket. "I'm busy right now, but hopefully I can watch it in a day or two."

"Never could understand why an authentic creature of the night wants to watch horror movies for. Don't they seem kind of mundane to your kind?"

"Not to me."

"Well, to each his own. You said something about a favor?"

"I did." Spike put his beer aside and pulled a slip of paper from his coat. He handed it over to Harvey. "I need you to look someone up for me. His name is Bradley Keller. Runs an addiction seminar called Better Tomorrow out of the university. I want to know everything about him."

"Everything?"

"Down to whether he wears boxers or briefs."

"I can do that." Harvey pulled up the Internet and intended to start his search. "What do you need this for?"

"For a friend." That was all Spike offered. Harvey knew he wouldn't get anything else.

"Tight lipped. That's cool. No problem. When do you want it?"

"As soon as possible."

Harvey nodded and went about his search. Spike watched for a few minutes and sipped his beer. He looked back over at the television and noticed the man finishing up with the two girls. "Where did you get this?"

Harvey saw where Spike was looking. "I ordered it from the Internet. Some company I hadn't heard of that makes special orders. You tell them what you want and they deliver."

Spike watched for a bit longer. "It's better than most I've seen. The blonde's kinda cute."

"Looks sorta like that Slayer you got the hots for." Spike shot him a dirty look. "Just kidding! Geez, vamps have no sense of humor. Doesn't help that you're British, either. Want another beer?"

"No. I need to get going. Thanks for the offer. I'll probably call in an hour or so to see how you're doing."

"That's fine. I should have something by then. Now shoo! Go do whatever you vampires do."

Spike did. At least, what vampires with souls seemed to do. Save people.

SUNNYDALE POLICE DEPARTMENT

Spike waited patiently on the good side of the glass for the guards to bring in Willow. After a few minutes wait, Willow appeared from a side door. She still wore handcuffs and the baggy orange jumpsuit. But unlike this time, a wide smile graced her face when she saw Spike. She hustled to the booth and picked up the telephone.

"Spike! Hi!" Willow smiled widely.

Spike couldn't help himself. The grin was infectious. "It's a sad day when a girl like you is happy to see a bloke like me. So, how's life in the pokey?"

"Food sucks but at least we get cable. I've spent the past three hours watching a Brooke Burke Wild On marathon."

"If that isn't institutional reform I don't know what is. And people say prisons don't rehabilitate."

Willow giggled. "So what are you doing here?"

"I came to see you. This is your case I'm investigating. Thought it only proper you be kept abreast of the situation."

"Did you find anything?" Willow asked eagerly.

"Nothing concrete," Spike admitted. When the smiled slipped from her face, Spike continued. "I've got a few leads going. And what I've seen so far has me convinced that you're not responsible. I just need some evidence to prove it."

"What have you found?"

"I went to the hospital morgue last night to snoop around. I came across some files about you and the victim. The girl was Amanda Richards. She was a junior biology major at UC-Sunnydale. After looking through her file and talking with a doctor, I discovered that toxicology found a drug in her system."

"Ketamine," Willow supplied.

"Not quite. It's a blend of Ketamine and Ecstasy and it's supposed to be the best of both worlds. Ketamine wipes the memory, but the Ecstasy makes the user all friendly and sociable. The prevailing theory with the coroner and with the police says that you took this drug so that you would forget what happened. Plausible deniability and all that."

"So I made her OD and took it so I'd forget."

"Yup."

"That's a weak theory."

"I thought so, too. But then again, there was no forcible entry. The room held no indication anyone but the two of you had been there. And if I'm not mistaken there is a little principle called Occam's Razor. The simplest explanation is often the correct one."

"But you said that you believed me, right?"

"I did."

"Good. What else did you find?"

"I tracked down where Amanda lived and talked to her roommate. In case you were wondering, yes, Amanda was gay. And it would seem that the two of you met at the Better Tomorrow addiction recovery meeting you both attended. She was apparently kicking the smoking habit."

"Are you sure that this is where I met her?"

"Yeah. I attended a meeting earlier today and talked with a girl who was there. She recalls that you introduced yourselves to each other. I took her for some coffee and she said."

"Wait," Willow interrupted. "You took this girl for coffee?" A silly grin crossed her face. "Was it a date?"

"No," Spike muttered embarrassedly. "It was just coffee." Long pause. "The date is tomorrow night."

Willow actually laughed. Hard. "You asked a girl out? Oh, that's great!"

"I'm glad you think it's funny. I'll have you know I have several desirable traits," Spike defended. "I'm well versed in Victorian poetry, I'm a good dancer, and dammit, I'm a worthwhile person! Besides, after using her for information, I thought it only proper to treat her to a nice evening. Now can we please get back to business?"

"Sure, Casanova."

"Don't screw with me. You want me to go to the judge and say I saw you dope that girl? I'm a demon so don't think it's beyond me."

Willow continued to giggle softly and wiped a few tears from her eyes. "I'm sorry. Please continue."

"Thank you. As I was saying before being so rudely interrupted, this girl."

"What's her name?"

"Caroline Davis," Spike supplied. "Now bite your tongue before I do it for you. She said that the moderator of the session, Bradley Keller, asked the both of you to stay afterwards for a discussion."

"About what?"

"I'm not sure, but he is the key to this investigation. I talked to him privately as well. His heart sped up when I said your name. He knows something. I've got a friend of mine doing a background check on him as we speak."

"Sounds like you've had a busy day," Willow answered seriously. "Are you going to tell me what a creature that has no reason for doing so is helping me?"

"Because you being in here felt wrong. It was weighing on my conscience."

"Conscience. Right," Willow drawled. "You're a vampire. You don't have a.Oh my God." For the first time, Willow looked into Spike's eyes. Truly, deeply into the depths of his eyes. "You've got a soul." Spike said nothing. "You got a soul. How the bloody hell did you get a soul?"

Spike shrugged. "You know. It was just one of those things. Thought I'd go on an African safari. See some cheetahs. Check out the natives. Have a human conscience forcibly rammed into my body so that a century's worth of torment and death could flood my mind. I considered going through Italy and whatnot for old times sake. I decided to forgo that and just come home, crawl into bed, eat a carton of Ding-Dongs and cry myself to sleep as I watched all the episodes of Passions that I TiVO'd. But you had to go and be accused of murder. Now I can see that a bloke's work is never done."

"You've got a soul." Willow appeared to be stuck on that fact.

"Indeed. And Cher's body composition is over forty percent collagen. It's a bit freaky, but you get used to it. Now, has Buffy and them all visited you since I was last here?"

"Yeah. This morning."

"You didn't tell them I was here, did you?"

"No."

"Good." Spike noticed the security guard motioning to his watch. "It looks like our time is just about up. Remember, I don't want anyone knowing I'm in town yet, okay?" Willow nodded. "Just keep your head up a bit longer. I'm close to getting you out. I know it."

Spike tried to reassure her with a goofy smile. He was glad it seemed to work. He hung up the booth phone and allowed the guard to escort him away. As he was being led back to the lobby, a sudden thought occurred to him. He had been to all these places, talked to all these people, but there was one thing he was forgetting.

Spike had yet to visit the crime scene.

Exiting the police station, Spike spotted a payphone across the street. Jogging over, he opened up the phonebook attached to the counter. Flipping to the yellow pages, Spike scanned the motels section.

"What the bloody hell was the name of that motel?" Spike found the one that sparked recognition in his mind. "Sunny-Rest Motel. That sounds like the right one." He found the address. He tore the page from the book and stuffed it into his pocket. He then walked back across the street and hopped into his car. Spike was soon on his way to collect some more clues.

SUNNY-REST MOTEL 1265 E. GRAND STREET

"This is the place." Spike stepped from his car and tossed the yellow page into the front seat. He shut the door and moved towards the room cordoned off by yellow police tape. Glancing about quickly, Spike opened up the door to room 121 and ducked underneath the tape.

"Isn't this a little hellhole?"

Spike had seen worse hotel rooms. Sometimes, out in the middle of nowhere, a bloke had to settle for less. But shit, there was a damn Comfort Inn a block away. If you're going to have a roll in the hay, might as well get a room with a mini-bar.

The room's smell was offensive to someone with a demon's scent. The stale smell of sex, drugs, and blood hung in the air. Spike decided that a can of Lysol in here would go a long way. But then again, so would a gallon of gasoline and a match.

To the west wall was a large mirror. The thing looked to be a good four feet by seven. Underneath was a long and shitty looking drawers set. A twenty-year-old Panasonic television rested atop it. To the east wall was a small nightstand with a lamp, telephone, and a Bible most likely left by the Gideon's. A queen-sized bed with a really bad floral patterned quilt dominated the room. In the far corner was an overstuffed chair, and off to the right, there was the bathroom door. All in all, there was nothing extraordinary about the room.

So why the hell did Spike feel like something was off?

Spike crossed the room and gently pushed open the bathroom door. He looked around the small room and found nothing out of order. Sink. Toilet. Shower. Horrific polka dot shower curtain. A redecorator's wet dream, but again, nothing special.

Back in the main room, Spike's focus fell once again to the unmade bed. There was something off. But what the hell was it? Chair. Bed. Table. Mirror. This was bugging the hell out of him. Spike took a seat on the drawers next to the television and stared at the bed.

Amanda's body was found on the right half of the bed. Her arm was draped over the side and her head was facing the closest corner. In that corner, Sunnydale Police found Willow huddled and leaning against the wall.

It clicked.

"The bloody wall," Spike murmured.

The vampire was on his feet in an instant and racing out the door. He just had a very disturbing thought. And if he was right, then Spike just broke the case wide open.

WESTFIELD APARTMENTS

Spike didn't bother with pleasantries this time around. He threw open the door to Harvey's apartment. The demon was surprised by the sudden arrival. Another porn movie was playing, and Spike graciously ignored the fact that Harvey was pulling his sweatpants up.

"Spike? What's up? What happened to that knocking thing you were doing earlier?"

"Where's that tape you were watching earlier?" Spike demanded. The vampire rushed over to the VCR and yanked out the playing tape. He tossed it aside and began to frantically shuffle through various porn tapes. "Where the fuck is it?"

"The one that was specially ordered?" Harvey was nervous. He'd never seen Spike this frantic, and frankly, he was scared to death.

"Yes! That one! Where the hell is it?"

"It's the one labeled Erotic Dreams. That's the company that produces it."

Spike found the correct tape. He none too gently slammed it into the VCR and pressed play. His fears were confirmed. On the screen before him were the same bed, lamp, and shitty wallpaper that he had seen minutes earlier in the Sunny-Rest Motel.

"Son of a bitch. Harvey!"

"Yeah?" the demon gulped.

"What did you find about Bradley Keller?"

Harvey turned quickly to his desk. He better find that info quick before he got hurt. The demon found some printouts that he made earlier. "Uh, here you go." Harvey began to read what he found. "Bradley Charles Keller. Born in Yuma, Arizona in 1975. He has a Master's Degree in Social Work from Northern Arizona University. Two years ago he was offered a job as a lecturer at UC-Sunnydale. Soon after he took over the university sponsored program called Better Tomorrow."

Spike was loosing patience. He jerked the printouts away from Harvey and began to skim the information. He found something very intriguing under Family Relations. "He has an older brother named Thomas." Spike's mind immediately went back to the phone conversation Bradley had before Spike revealed himself. "Where is he at?"

"Oh, well that's pretty interesting. Thomas studied at USC and majored in Media. But for whatever reason he ended up here in Sunnydale. He actually got into the hotel business. Can you believe that? He owns a few around the state, including one here in Sunnydale. It's called.well, hell, what is it called?" Harvey drew a blank.

"The Sunny-Rest Motel?" Spike supplied.

"Yeah!" Harvey answered enthusiastically. "You know it?"

"I'm becoming acquainted with it."

"Hey, now that I've given you all of this, do you mind telling me what the hell is going on?"

"Bad stuff, Harv," Spike answered. "And if I'm right, you're gonna want to destroy that Erotic Dreams tape. The police might not be too forgiving."

Harvey paled. He was only left to ponder what the heck Spike meant as he watched the vampire leave. He decided not to question it. Harvey took the tape and tossed it into the trashcan. He poured a part of a beer in and tossed a lit match after it. Harvey then watched the tape burn.

SUNNY-REST MOTEL

One would normally expect rooms 120 and 121 to be right next to each other. When Spike visited earlier, he paid no attention to the fact that they weren't. In truth, the room in which Willow and Amanda had their little rendezvous was separated from room 120 by a large room marked OFFICE & MAINTENACE.

Spike took a bite out of one of his Twizzlers as he watched an older version of Bradley Keller exit the office and walk back to the main office of the hotel. Once Thomas disappeared, Spike stuffed the rest of the candy into his mouth and jogged over. He gave the office doorknob a quick jingle. It was locked. It was time to move to plan B.

Spike pulled some hair clips from his pocket that he purchased at a local Dollar Store. He straightened a pair of them out and went to work on picking the lock. After two minutes worth of effort and a few swear words, Spike grinned in satisfaction when the door swung open. When he entered, Spike found exactly what he expected.

On the east and west walls were pointed a pair of video cameras that looked through what appeared to be some of those one-way see-through mirrors he saw in police movies. Things were really starting to come together.

On the far wall was a desk, file cabinet, and a bookshelf. The desk surface was covered with a new Gateway computer, a Sony television, a telephone/answering machine combo, and a double-decked VCR that Spike recognized was used for video editing.

Spike immediately went to the bookshelf. Each shelf had different labels. There was one labeled ARCHIVE, TO BE EDITED, and READY TO GO. The bottom shelf was empty, so Spike turned to the one that had tapes to be edited. There were four there, and it didn't take long to find the one labeled with the desired date. He popped the tape from its case and slipped it into the VCR. He watched with a combination of disgust and arousal as the screen filled with images of a very naked Amanda Richards and Willow Rosenberg filled the screen.

It was disturbing to watch Willow make love with a dead woman, but God help him, Spike couldn't turn away. He swallowed heavily and watched as Amanda licked her way down Willow's body and elicit sounds that he never imagined the redhead could make.

"Oh, this isn't right."

Before he could think twice, Spike hit the STOP button and pulled the tape out. He put it back in its case and slipped it into his duster. "Nobody else needs to see this," Spike declared. He was about to take the tape and report his findings to the police when he noticed a red light flashing on the answering machine. There was a message. Curious, Spike hit PLAY. Bradley Keller's voice filled the room.

"Tom. Guess what? I found a couple girls at my last session that should do the trick for our next job. They're not twins, but they are blondes and have some really great knockers. Get 120 ready for midnight. I'm going to keep them busy until eleven and then give them the stuff. See you then!"

The sons of bitches had the gall to keep working even though there was an investigation going. Spike looked at his watch and saw it was a quarter till eleven. "Screw the police. I'm doing this my way."

A plan was forming in Spike's head. It was cruel and more than a bit unusual, but the vampire was convinced it was fair punishment. He'd let the police have them after that. Spike grinned evilly as he made sure that neither brother would detect that someone had been in the room. After making sure everything was in place, Spike locked the door behind him and prepared to go shopping. He'd need a few supplies, but he should be more than ready to go by midnight.

This was going to be fun.

SUNNY-REST MOTEL 12: 03 AM

Thank God for Wal-Marts, Spike decided. It was wonderful to live in a country where you could purchase any good you desired twenty-four hours a day. Toting his recent acquisitions in a brown paper bag, Spike whistled 'Stairway to Heaven' and marched to the office door. He leaned his head against the door and detected a pair of heartbeats. Spike set the bag down and took a step back.

"Oh, this will be fun."

Spike reared back and delivered a sharp kick to the door. It broke off its hinges and crashed at the feet of two very startled brothers. "Well, 'ello mates. Whatcha doin'?" Spike stepped into the room and peered through the mirror. Two attractive and well-endowed blondes were getting friendly with each other. "Interesting show you boys got playing. Illegal as hell, but interesting nonetheless."

"Who the hell are you?" Thomas demanded. "You can't just come in here!"

"His name is William," Bradley answered. "He was in my first seminar today." He then directed his comments to Spike. "You made a mistake coming here."

"Did I?" Spike continued to look into the motel room with vague interest. "I think it's a fairly smart move. You see, I get to confront the sons of bitches who are responsible for my friend being in jail." Spike turned to the brothers and gave an evil smile. "You remember Willow Rosenberg? Pretty little redhead? Tendency to babble? Does a cute little thing with her tongue when she smiles? This coming back to you?

"She's spent the past few days in the city lockup awaiting a hearing. Seems that she's the only suspect in the death of Amanda Richards. This girl, Amanda, died because of an overdose of a drug nicknamed Kicks. It's a mix of Ketamine and Ecstasy. But then again, you already knew that, considering you two are the little bastards that slipped her the Mickey so they would participate in your mail order pornography business. By the way, you will both pay severely."

"Bullshit," Thomas scoffed. "You have nothing on us."

"Yes," Bradley agreed. "And even if you did, what makes you think you'll get out of here alive?"

Spike laughed as the pair stood up and prepared to attack him. "First off, I have a damn good suspicion that I'm going to be able to make you confess to everything you done. And second," Spike took great pleasure in the fact that they trembled in fear at his demon face, "I wasn't even alive when I came in here. If it's any consolation, it's gonna hurt me like hell to deliver the ass whipping you two are about to receive. But then again, it is so gonna be worth it. Now let's dance."

*****

Ten minutes, and two perfectly tied sailor's knots later, Bradley and Thomas Keller were tied up inside the motel room. The two girls, who vaguely answered to Kim and Hannah, were passed out on the bed after Spike broke up their little endeavor. In the overstuffed chair Spike sat, a Tootsie Roll pop in his mouth and a tape recorder in his hand. He looked pleased.

"Now, just for the record, where did you purchase the drugs from?" Spike asked. He had a hell of a migraine from his chip buzzing for several minutes straight, but he could take satisfaction in the bruises the Keller boys wore.

Beaten, a trail of blood dripping from his lips, Bradley Keller would have loved to rip William's heart out. But seeing as how he was the one bound to a chair, Bradley decided to spill.

"From a local dealer named Eddie. He's got connection down in LA."

"I see. And you gave this drug to people you forced to participate in your videos, correct?" They both nodded. "The microphone can't see you boys nod." They begrudgingly spat out a 'yes'. "And when anyone would wake up, they would normally assume they had a one night stand that couldn't be remembered, correct?" Another 'Yes' was heard. "You two are truly sick bastards. Is this the first time a girl accidentally overdosed? Remember to speak nice and loud for the pretty microphone."

"Yes!" Thomas snapped. "It was the first time! Now are you going to let us loose?"

"Of course," Spike said. "But I'm not quite through with either of you yet. After I'm done, then I'll let the police charge you with manslaughter, drug possession, and a whole bunch of other charges I'm sure the both of you are guilty of." Spike clicked off the cassette player and reached into the Wal-Mart bag at his feet. He produced cans of black and orange paint. "It may not be Halloween yet, but if I were either of you, I'd be scared shitless right now."

***** It was shortly past one in the morning when the Sunnydale Police Department responded to a call at Sunny-Rest Motel. The first officer on the scene had never experienced such a bizarre sight in his three years on the force. That was quite a statement considering he lived on the Hellmouth.

His eyes first came to rest upon two attractive young ladies resting beneath a crappy floral comforter. Once his inner pervert had been satisfied, he noticed a much more unusual sight. Hanging upside down from a recently installed pulley system were two men. Bare naked, they had their mouths duct taped shut and their bodies painted bright orange. Black lettering covered the chests of both. The first read "WE'VE BEEN BAD". On the second man it was painted "PLEASE ARREST US". There was a tape recorder resting on the TV stand with a note marked "EVIDENCE" attached to it.

"This town just keeps getting weirder," the officer decided.

****** 11:52 AM

From the nearby alley, Spike watched the happy reunion with a smile. In front of the police station, Willow and the rest of the Scoobies shared a moment. Spike felt vaguely envious That was something he knew that he'd never experience. But at least he could feel the satisfaction of knowing he played hero.

He could take satisfaction that the evidence he had provided got Willow off the hook. And while Jekyl and Hyde hadn't confessed to the crimes yet, the police were confident that Willow was an innocent party. Hell, that was good enough for Spike. Besides, he could always kill Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dumb if they ever got free.

Spike stuck around a minute longer and watched a few more hugs. They finally all piled in Giles' sedan and drove away, presumably to celebrate Willow's release. Spike reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of Twizzlers. He took one of the licorices and chomped down. He'd pay a visit to Red later. Right now, all he wanted to do was get some rest. After all, Spike did have a date later.

******** 7:03 PM

Willow was tired. After her time in jail and the festive welcome home party, all the redhead wanted to do was go to sleep. Believe it or not, but jail cots weren't the most comfortable things she'd ever slept on.

Saying goodnight to her friends, Willow disappeared upstairs and slipped into her bedroom. Looking to unwind, she was about to slip her t-shirt above her head when a cough sounded from the corner.

"As enticing as a peepshow may be, I got places to be, Red."

Willow squeaked in alarm and dropped the shirttail back down over her abs. Spike sat in the corner chair, a small smirk playing at his lips. Willow couldn't help but smile back. "I don't know how many boys would like to see me give a peepshow."

Spike shrugged and continued to grin. "What skin I saw was pretty nice." He glanced at his watch. "I still got a few minutes, so if you want to continue."

"No thanks. You can just use your imagination."

"Will do, love."

The pair shared a nice moment. Willow broke the silence. "Thank you. For everything. You saved me."

"Hey, it's what us vampires with souls do. You know, as much as I hate the poof and still do, this whole saving the humans bit does have an upside."

"I'm glad your epiphany still seems to be running strong. Before you know if you may have a detective agency and employees." Spike scoffed at that. "But Spike, seriously, thank you so much for what you did. I don't think I can ever repay you for this."

Spike slowly stood from the chair. "No payment needed, love. Us souled vampires work merely for the thanks of those we help. But, if you wanna buy a bloke a drink sometime, I won't stop you."

"No problem," Willow smiled. For the first time she noticed how he was dressed. Black jeans. White dress shirt. Black suit coat. He looked nothing like the vampire she knew. He even let his hair go curly. "Damn. You're looking fine."

Spike blushed at the compliment. "Thank you. Date tonight. Thought the punk motif wouldn't fly. Although I think this shirt is making my chest chaff."

"If you get lucky, maybe you won't be wearing it long."

Spike blushed more. "A gentleman doesn't discuss such matters." He paused a moment before reaching into his coat and retrieving a videotape. He handed the tape over to a curious Willow.

"What is this?"

"That," Spike drawled, "is evidence I lifted from a police locker. It's the tape with you on it. I didn't think it needed to be paraded around as evidence for all the coppers to get their jollies off with."

Willow's thankful look only deepened. "Spike, thank you. I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything. Although it might be interesting to tell Buffy I'm in town now. Maybe let it slip I played hero AND landed a date. See how she reacts to both." Spike enveloped Willow in a quick hug that she enthusiastically returned. The vampire then moved to the open window and prepared to slip out. One last thought occurred to him before he put a foot up on the windowsill. A wicked smiled crossed his face.

"I shoulda let you finish the striptease. Maybe I would have seen that butterfly tattoo you got in that special place."

Willow's eyes got as big as saucers. "How do you know about." She glanced down at the tape. Realization sunk. "You watched the tape!"

Spike smirked. "Had to make sure I got the right one. Goodnight, Red."

As Willow continued to blush furiously, Spike slipped out the window and dropped to the ground. He had to book. His date was at eight. Spike reached into his coat and retrieved a Mars bar. And as the vampire munched on his candy, he couldn't help but reach a conclusion.

Maybe being one of the good guys wasn't so bad after all.

THE END