Title: The First Seconded

Author: Falcon-Rider falcon_rider@hotmail.com

Rating: PG-13 for Agnst and ect. (Spike will have guilt and feels remorse, more on that will be touched on in later chaps)

Disclaimer: I own nothing 'cept the plot and Nich.

Authors note: Okay sorry it has taken me so long to post… I have three books I was supposed to read and take notes on all summer but I just started to read them cause I just got them. Lots of parts this week because schools starts in just over a week and I don't know how often I'll get a chance to write… the good/bad news is since my schools german teacher quit when it was to late to get a new one I have less homework than I was going to the bad news is I may lose my computer for the school year if my dad has his way and I really wanted to take German! Anyway, If I do lose my computer I will have a friend post all the parts I already have done for me. Then as soon as I get my computer back… or when I can sneak onto my moms computer I will type a bit and upload. One way or another this fic will be finished. Oh and I'm working on a part where you get to see a bit of buffy… though spikes still in egland in it.

 TO THE STORY!

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Part Nine

Slaying punching bags.

70 days

Nich held the bag steady wincing as Spike slammed his fist into it. The Slayer had woken up with a scream once more this morning and had proceeded to take out all his emotional stress on everything insight, including the bathroom door and the coffee pot. Nich steadied her self and adjusted her feet on the floor before Spike began another round of blows.

"You think it's a good idea?" She asked swinging her ponytail behind her head.

"I don't really know." Spike responded shortly his un-gelled curly locks were plastered against his head a look of determination of his face. "Who knows what'll happen after Red finds out Pixies alive. It could be really good for her, or be even more painful."

Spike stepped back from the punching bag and swiped the back of his hand across his sweat soaked forehead. "Regardless of whether or not it's a good idea their going to meet sometime and Tara just figure it ought to be now."

Spike slammed his fist into the bag and began his assault on it once more. Nich sighed and shook her head.

"I wasn't talking about Tara going to see Willow," She said pointedly. "I was talking about you slaying our only punching bag."

*

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Spike asked, as he looked Tara straight in the eye.

The witched face contorted and she looked to the floor. "If I don't… and she finds out that I had this chance…" She trailed off as she looked up at Spike. "William, if I don't I'll be betraying her trust...  she may think me dead, but still…"

Spike nodded. "We're still here for another few weeks." He tilted his head to the side and smiled slightly. "You don't have to do this yet."

Tara returned the smile and shook her head. "If I don't, I might not have the nerve to confront her later."

Spike nodded and watched as his new friend stood and made her way to the door. Standing he walked over to the punching bag hanging from the ceiling in the corner and began to assault it with his fists.

"Tara left already?" Nich asked exiting the bathroom.

*

Tara glanced up at the tall building as she stepped out of Giles car. The ex-watcher walked around to stand next to her. He glanced down at the brunette (blonde) witch and set a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Are you sure you're ready to see her?"

Tara nodded slowly and followed Giles up the steps to the lobby of the covens main building. "Y-yah I'm r-ready."

*

"Tara said she'd be back late so I'm just going to skip patrol and go straight to bed… that is if that's alright with you." Nich stood yawning as she turned off the Television.

"Wha- Oh yah that's quite alright… I-I'll just do a quick patrol." Spike snapped himself out of his thoughts and stood quickly. He moved over to the weapons chest to get some stakes and Holy water. "You do that."

Nich nodded. "Okay, if you're sure… keep you're cell on in case I get a vision... wouldn't want someone to get in trouble cause I couldn't get a hold of you." Nich watched as Spike stared into the weapons chest after opening it. After a few moments of silence Nich continued. "You sure you're alright with that."

"Uh, yah." Spike straightened and grabbed a few stakes and a couple of bottles of holy water to place in his coat pockets. "I'm fine, with that."

"Okay, be careful." Nich called as he passed her and opened the door. "And don't get you're self killed!"

Spike shut the door behind him and leaned heavily against it for a few seconds before heading down the streets toward a local cemetery and a few pubs.

Nich stared at the closed door and slipped her hands into her pockets. "God please don't let him get killed." She glanced at the blank television screen before walking towards her room.

"I'd be out of a job if he did."

*

It was an uneventful patrol for the most part. Spike managed to stake all five vampires he ran into and snap the neck of a Kraggle-daphar demon that was trying to snack on a couple of stray cats.

As he turned to head back home a sign on top of a pub caught his eye and he froze. As memories assaulted him from when he and Drusilla had been in town a few years before heading to Sunnydale.

Spike stared across his drink at the bartender as he poured the liquid into a glass. The Pub was a bustle of people making small talk, flirting and just having fun. Spike grinned as he downed his shot and turned to the young lady that had just sat down next to him

She smiled brightly and ordered her own drink.

"What's a sweet bird like yourself doing out here at this hour of the night?" Spike asked and tilted his head toward her."

Spike continued on after a minute trying to block the memory from his mind as he headed back toward his flat. As he turned down a street he glanced around and realized he had taken a wrong turn. The building in front of him was familiar though… and it looked almost exactly as it had just over ten years ago…

"So, this is you're place?" The woman who had said her name was Catherine asked sweetly as they walked into the Victorian style living room.

"For now," Spike returned the smile, only one side of his mouth curled up however and made it into more of a smirk.

"You must be pretty rich…"

"I have enough." He led her up another flight of stares and down the hall. Opening the door he revealed a perfectly decorated room. The bed had curtains of white lace, which draped down to the floor.

"You're last girl friend like dolls?" Catherine asked touching one of the Miss Edith's cheek. She glanced up at Spike as he shut the door.

"Well I wouldn't call 'er the last…" He glanced toward the bed as he made his way to Catherine. The girl leaned into him and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Well, it doesn't matter…" She purred sweetly as she leaned in to kiss him. Spike grabbed her hair and pulled her back from him and laughed.

"Drusilla." He looked once more towards the bed as his 'last girlfriend' pulled a drape away and smiled sweetly at him. "Pet, I brought you you're supper. Aren't you Hungry?"

"Oh, isn't she pretty? The Stars told me she would be pretty…" Drusilla slowly made her way toward them. She vamped causing the girl t squeal. She looked into Catherine's eyes then up at Spike slowly and reached a hand out to pet the blonde humans hair. She coed softly then frowned. "I smell fear… it's so delicious." She tilted her head to look at spike as she leaned in to drink from Catherine's neck. "Can you taste it?"

Spike watched as Dru's fangs pierced Catherine's neck before vamping and leaning toward the other side. "Yah love that I can." And he smiled as he drank…

Spike managed to stumble back to the flat and into his bed… tears flowed freely from his eyes as sobs wracked his body. As he drifted off other images played across his mind…

"Stop it... please... stop…don't… Spike, stop!"

"Ask me again why I could never love you."

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Author Note: Spike is dealing with the soul… but he will not become Angel as I said earlier. By the time He gets to LA/Sunnydale he will have delt with most of the guilt.

To be continued in: Seeing Red 2.0

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