Author's notes: Thanks as always for the reviews. This chapter and the next are dedicated to the gang from the Angel speculation thread at forums4fans. Our lively debate on the symbolic meaning behind the occurrences in the final hellmouth scene in Buffy and its impact on Spike's return helped lead to the twisted story you see here. Let's hope that forums4fans will soon be back online.

Summary: Previously – Spike learned that he is now the property of Wolfram and Hart's Senior Partners. Angel learned that Spike has returned to existence. Buffy learned the horrors of bus travel and back roads. Spike learned that no longer having the chip might not be such a wonderful thing and asked for Angel's help. This chapter – the history continues.

Chapter 3: The Horrors of Waylaid Plans and Lingerie

Spike looked like he genuinely wanted help, but Angel could see other emotions in that steely expression as well. Impatience was one of those, and Angel worried that if he didn't say something soon, Spike would regret asking in the first place and give in to the other predominant emotion on his face at the moment: animosity. For the second time that day, Angel wished he had an answer to give. Instead he decided to stall a bit, hoping to keep Spike from losing his patience.

"It's really that important to you? What Buffy thinks?"

"Hell, yeah," Spike answered. "It's everything." He resumed pacing again. "Her faith in me was what kept me from breaking during those days, hell, weeks of torture under the First. But I had my soul then, and I doubt I'll be able to get that back while they've got me here." His brow furrowed for a moment then he shook his head. "No, wait. Even before that. When we faced Glory." He nodded emphatically. "Her trust in me is what got me to go up against that skanky Hell bitch when I shouldn't have cared a lick. Well, her and Dawn…" He frowned again. "Course I bollixed that up."

Angel was afraid he'd lose him again, Spike obviously being in one of his wild mood-swing episodes. "But you made up for it this last time, right? You saved the world." Inwardly, he felt a twinge of nausea at having to bring that up.

"Yeah, you're right," Spike said, smiling. "This time I justified her faith in me."

"Well, just remember that," Angel advised. Okay so it was a little lame, and not unlike the advice of one of those self-help gurus, but he was desperate, here. "And don't let Wolfram and Hart tell you otherwise."

"Easy for you to say," Spike grumped. "You still have your soul. I mean what was the first thing you…" He smirked as he corrected himself. "Angelus wanted to do whenever you flew the coop."

Angel frowned. That answer was easy: bite someone, kill someone, torture someone. "Okay, I didn't say it was easy."

"Damn right it's not! But if I bite someone that would be totally evil and wrong." He paused a moment. "Then Buffy'd feel she had to kill me, and I couldn't do that to her."

Was it his imagination, or did Spike's voice just change for a moment? He definitely must've been hanging around Buffy too long, because he'd even used one of her expressions there. He seemed normal again now, though. Angel shook his head, trying to refocus. He had to think of something. Then it came to him. "Well, what did you do when you first got the chip? You said that you couldn't bite anyone. So how'd you deal with it then?"

"When I first had the chip?"

Angel watched Spike wince a bit, then his face took on that slightly sarcastic look he had while relaying some extremely unpleasant memory. This didn't look as promising as he'd hoped.

"Hmm, well first I nearly starved while the Initiative GI Joes hunted me night and day, then I went crawling to my enemies for help, stayed with Rupert for a while, then I ended up living in Harris' basement, usually tied up no less, unless I was trying to wash his knickers, and by that time I basically decided I'd hit bottom and tried to off myself."

"Xander's basement? Doing his laundry?" Angel asked. He shuddered at the thought.

Spike nodded. "Yeah, and for added fun, the ex-demon girl would come over and discuss their sex life."

Angel's mouth dropped open, and he couldn't help it; he choked back a chuckle.

"It wasn't funny mate," Spike objected, but soon smirked. "Okay yeah, it was funny. But not at the time," he amended emphatically.

Still chuckling a bit, Angel teased, "Look, Spike if you could live through that without killing yourself... What changed your mind anyway?"

"Found out I could kill demons," Spike answered.

The two were silent for a moment then Angel decided that if he didn't have a permanent answer yet, he could at least try a temporary one. "You want to go kill some demons?"

Spike jogged his head a little. "Okay, yeah."

Angel motioned for him to follow to the weapons cabinet.

"But I get that cool battle axe," Spike said.

Angel sighed inwardly. And why am I doing this again?

*********

Buffy took one look at the traffic, the big buildings, and the somehow less intense sunshine, and wondered what she'd gotten herself into. It was May and it didn't even feel very warm here. It's only for a little while, she told herself. They'd get things scoped out and a headquarters set up near the Hellmouth then she could start again somewhere else. They'd have to move to somewhere permanent a few weeks before the next school year, so Dawn would have a chance to get settled before it started, but… She was getting ahead of herself. They had a few months yet.

She needed to make a plan. They needed a place for potentials to come, or at least a place for them to get information. Faith could have her break for a few weeks, and then she would be here to take over as they'd planned. She could be the main resident Slayer here. Willow could set up a website for girls to get information. She smiled. That was actually a good idea. They'd set up a training program for those who wanted it. Kennedy could be the one to take charge of that. She probably wouldn't mind Faith being the head Slayer until she got experience if she could boss around a lot of new Slayers.

This was going to work. It just had to.

*********

"I'm going to kill him," Lilah said.

Angel smirked. It was about time someone else had to put up with that feeling when it came to Spike. He was still annoyed at getting demon blood and guts all over his leather coat a few days ago, because Spike had had a little too much fun on their demon killing outing. Of course the fact that he was so excited afterwards that he made Angel order pizza with anchovies and listen to his part of the adventure after they got separated during the melee didn't help matters. Not only had he woken up everyone in the place except Lorne, the delay had allowed the demon guts to dry, adding to the cleaning difficulties. Of course Spike had blamed it on shoddy workmanship as his duster had always cleaned up just fine.

Angel hid his smirk and pretended innocence as he looked at Lilah.

"Problems?"

"Oh, I'd say there were a few problems," Lilah said as she plunked down rather inelegantly on a sofa in the common area of the living quarters. She brushed her mussed hair out of her face, clearly exasperated and making no pretense of decorum. "He ate Damien Rutherford," she announced.

He stared at her, waiting for the rest, because he instinctively knew that there was more.

"First he tells me that he's not going to cooperate. That he won't hurt a human, which was annoying enough since, well, that's usually what vampires like to do. Eat people that is. Present company exempted of course."

"Oh, I'd still like to eat people. It's the feeling afterwards that makes it lose the appeal," Angel joked, though inside he was a little troubled by the news that Spike had bitten someone: a little troubled, but not much. Damien Rutherford was one of their nastier clients from what he knew of the man.

"So, he resists, and I persuade him a little," Lilah continued.

Angel recognized sugar coating when he heard it. "What did you do?"

"I explained to him why Mr. Rutherford was such an important client, and that we really needed to take care of his enemies and that draining them was a necessary step of that process."

"A word of advice," Angel began. "Spike really doesn't trust magic, and telling him you need blood-drained bodies for a warlock to do black magic with is not a way to persuade him."

"So I discovered," Lilah remarked.

"And I ask again, what did you do? I know there's something you're not telling me."

Lilah smoothed her skirt. "Oh, did I leave out the part about sending him to a nasty dimension where there's nothing to eat and the time goes much quicker than here?"

Angel gave her a murderous look.

"Oh, come on. What did you expect? I figured it'd give him an excuse. I didn't leave him there that long. Just long enough to get hungry. Mr. Rutherford is not a patient man."

"Not a very good warlock it seems either if Spike succeeded in killing him."

"Well, why else would he need bodies to do a spell," Lilah answered with a shrug. "And coma is a better description of his condition than dead."

Angel sighed. "Well, I hope you don't expect me to feel sorry for you. In fact, you should be glad I'm not in the mood to make you very sorry."

"Hey, I'm just trying to do my job, which I'm beginning to see is going to be more difficult than I thought."

"Welcome to my life," Angel said. "Now, I'd leave if I were you. Before I forget that I'm the good guy here."

Lilah sighed as she stood. "Spike was right. You really are a stick in the mud."

Angel ignored her as she exited. As for Spike, he'd get him back later.

*********

Spike was still hungry. Even after starving in that bloody boring place, well actually bloodlessly boring place was a better description, but even after that, a man the size of Mr. Rutherford should have satisfied him. He was still hungry, however, and strangely, a little guilty. That part he really didn't understand. Not only was the guy evil and quite deserving of being eaten, he was the Big Bad again with no soul and therefore no reason to feel guilty in the first place.

He made his way to the kitchen and immediately went to the refrigerator which he knew had the blood. He drank it cold then scoffed at himself. What was he doing that for: to punish himself? Yanking the refrigerator door back open, he reached for some more blood, intending to heat it this time, but somehow he got distracted by a package in the back. Grabbing it, he read the label: sharp cheddar cheese. That actually sounded good.

He must have dozed off for a moment, because when he came too, he'd eaten three quarters of the cheese, and surprisingly, there wasn't a cracker in sight. Odd, because he somewhat fancied crackers, especially with caviar, but oh well. Giving one last confused look at what remained of the cheese, he shook his head, threw it in the refrigerator, and headed off to his room. He'd deal with Lilah and his Evil Bosses problem tomorrow.

He might even sleep in.

*********

It was a couple days later as Fred frowned at the empty place on the dresser where the nail polish would be. She mostly found it too depressing to spend too much time with Cordelia in her unconscious state, but she'd decided to take the time once a week to give her a manicure and paint her nails. She found it therapeutic to talk with her while she did it. Not that she ever got an answer, but sometimes it was nice just to talk.

After looking a moment, Fred gave up, but she was still troubled. She could have sworn that she'd just bought her a new bottle of passion flower pink. She sure hoped she wasn't showing signs of senility already. Her reputation as an absent-minded-professor type was already a joke amongst some of her lab techs. It was unfair as well. Yes, she sometimes lost her train of thought, but she took impeccable notes, and her paperwork and experiments were always organized. It was only a misplaced bottle of nail polish, nothing to worry about.

Good thing she still had some raspberry red left. She'd hate for Cordelia to have to go with naked nails. She picked up the bottle and the rest of the manicure supplies and went to visit Cordelia.

*********

A few floors up, Spike woke to find himself staring at pink polished nails.  Startled, he didn't even notice the bottle of passion flower pink polish sitting on his nightstand. His first concern was to try and get rid of the stuff. Unfortunately, he had no idea where he could find polish remover, except maybe for Fred. She was a nice enough bird. She'd probably have some that she'd let him borrow.

He got out of bed, dressing himself quickly as he tried to think of a legitimate reason why he might need polish remover besides removing nail polish. Oh, removing ink would be a good excuse. He'd say that he accidentally got marker on something. Brilliant, he decided, but that being out of the way, he had an elevator trip and a hallway walk to contemplate that something definitely seemed to be off about himself lately. These blackouts of his were getting more frequent, he had no idea what was causing them, and well, this renewed interest in nail polish had definitely taken a disturbing turn.

*********

Fred thanked Angel for the allowance of the petty cash. After painting Cordelia's nails, she'd decided she'd go shopping and get her some more polish. While she was out, she might as well pick up some nice clothes so Cordy wouldn't have to lie there in drab hospital gowns all the time. Just because she was in a coma didn't mean she had to look bad. Cordy definitely would've hated that. Fred was sure she could find something that would be stylish, yet still allow the caregivers to do their job.

As she approached her door, she oddly found it open. She could have sworn she closed it, and inwardly, Fred sighed. Maybe early senility was creeping up on her after all. Coming closer, she was relieved to see that she hadn't left it open after all. On the other hand, she was quite surprised as to why her door was open in the first place.

*********

The next time Spike came out of a blackout, he definitely knew something was terribly wrong. It didn't appear to be anything at first. He was simply standing in the middle of his room, but it felt off somehow, strange, like he was standing wrong. As he looked down, he didn't immediately get to the reason why that was so, because his eyes halted on the blue lacy bodice he wore.

"Gah!" he exclaimed. "What the hell is this?" He didn't expect an answer, but a soft, feminine voice gave him one anyway.

"What? You don't like it? I kinda thought the blue looked good on you. It brings out the color in your eyes. I mean, sure, the black goes better with the fishnet stockings and the boots but still…"

Spike almost fell down as he caught sight of the thin, dark-haired woman who lounged on his bed observing him: Fred. It was Fred. Obviously helping him dress up in… Yup he was wearing fishnet stockings with the blue bodice and… lacy blue panties! Okay, this must be a dream. Wasn't he supposed to be getting nail polish remover? But it sure felt real, right down to his black, high-heeled, ankle boots. Well, those were kinda cute, now that he looked at them. Wait a minute. What the hell was he thinking? His gaze moved back to Fred, and despite the situation, he couldn't stop a smirk. He should've pegged her as a little bit kinky.

"Um, pet, how long have we been at this?" he asked, more calmly than he felt.

Fred smiled and pushed herself up a bit, curling her legs beneath her. "A little over a half-hour I think. It took me a while to come up with stuff that would fit you, so you had to wait."

Okay, he had to get information so he could do damage control. "Where did you get this stuff again?" he asked, barely keeping the trepidation out of his voice. He hoped no one else knew about this, and for some odd reason, an image of Wesley flashed unbidden through his mind. He almost shuddered.

"Oh, that was easy," Fred answered in a bubbly voice. "I just slipped it in with a shopping order for Cordelia. I even have some petty cash left, so I can make a longer trip later. And don't worry. I won't tell."

"Um, thanks."

"Yeah, this'll be our little secret. Charles would never understand the appeal." She shook her head softly, her face lowered somewhat shyly.

Spike thought of the muscular, dark skinned man, and wondered for a moment. Nah, she's probably right. "Probably not, love, but maybe a little later on you might suggest…"

Fred giggled. "Charles in this? He's a little large. Not that you aren't muscular yourself, because… well, definitely muscles there."

Her head was tilting, taking him in, and Spike had the urge to show off for her for a moment until he gathered his wits about him. Somehow despite the situation, she still managed to look like a librarian. Maybe a slightly naughty one, but…

"I mean, you might almost be able to fit in my larger nightie, whereas Charles…" She shook her head again.

Spike tried to process this information and surmised he must have been trying on her nightgown or at least holding it up to himself, and that's how she found out about this. He decided to take a guess here. "Um, hope I didn't rip your um… delicates."

"Nah," Fred said with a dismissive wave and a smile. "I got to you before you did any major damage. No harm done, and besides, this has been pretty fun." She practically bounced with energy.

"Um yeah, but my feet are getting a little tired. Heels and all," he explained, picking up a booted foot to illustrate.

"Oh, right, sure, but before you go, you did promise." She held out what most closely resembled a lacy, red and black, one-piece number right out of the movie Moulin Rogue. She pouted adorably and fastened a doe-eyed, pleading gaze on him.

No, this is bloody insane! I am not going to put that on! Spike thought. Whatever this is, it stops now. I don't care if she gets her feelings hurt. Or how cute she looks.

"I'll close my eyes again," she encouraged. "And I won't peek… well, not much anyway." She blushed slightly, making her look even more adorable.

Okay, he was not getting flattered by this. He was not. Ah, hell. He smirked sexily at her despite himself. "I know you like that Charles guy, and I love Buffy, but… You're gonna think of me in that for a little bit aren't you?"

Fred nodded, holding it out to him. "Maybe more than once."

The thought of her potentially thinking of him sometimes while she shagged her boyfriend gave Spike a heady, guilty thrill. Well, hey, I am evil after all. And that relationship's a little rocky lately anyhow, so not my fault. He walked as gracefully as he could in the heels and took the lingerie from her, smirk still in place. "As long as it stays up there only," he teased, pointing to her head.

"Of course," she said emphatically. "I'd never…"

"Me neither, pet. Close your eyes."

Okay, he told himself. It's just this once. Doesn't make me any less manly. I can be manly enough to pull this off, even, he reasoned. And I'm just gonna stand here. No prancing or anything. As he looked at Fred with her eyes squeezed shut, he shook his head slightly. I've finally gone 'round the bend. Leaving the blue number on the floor, he wiggled into the red and black lingerie then looked at the color against his pale skin. But hey, I still look damn good!

And for the umpteenth time in the past few minutes, Spike decided that something was definitely terribly, terribly wrong with this picture.

*********

"ANGEL! ANGEL!"

Angel's brow furrowed as he looked up from his book.  Spike was yelling loud enough to wake the dead. He wondered what could possibly be wrong now. Well, actually he didn't, but it seemed like he had no choice in the matter, because the footsteps were getting louder. So much for his afternoon off.

Spike burst through his door, panting, though why he was, Angel had no clue since he didn't need to breathe. Spike never did seem to get that through his thick skull.

"Angel, something's bug-shagging wrong with me!"

"It took you this long to figure that out?"

Spike gave him a disgusted look. "No, you slant head, I mean I think they brought me back wrong."

"And why do you think that, Spike?"

He seemed to be calming a bit, but he still looked somewhat panicked. "I've been blacking out, forgetting stuff."

"That's not too bad. Your body did go through quite a bit of trauma…"

"No," Spike interrupted, gritting his teeth. "This is different. I'm doing strange things."

"Like what, Spike?" Putting his book down, Angel raised his eyebrows, waiting to be convinced.

Suddenly Spike became sheepish, as if he were stalling. "Um… I'm craving cheese."

"Cheese?"

"Yeah, cheese."

"Well, I'll admit for a vampire that's a little odd, but you always did like food, and it's hardly scary."

"But why would I…"

Angel stared at him expectantly.

"Fine then, there's more." His expression then came very close to brooding before he suddenly stood up straighter. "Oh, remember when I bit the evil client?"

"Yes," Angel answered cautiously. He had no clue where this was going either.

"I felt guilty about that," Spike continued. "I'm not supposed to feel guilty."

"Well, yes, but you said that because of Buffy you didn't want to do stuff like that."

"Oh, yeah, that would explain it. Sorta." He furrowed his brow, and resumed his contemplative efforts, but Angel could tell that he was also still stalling.

"Spike, I know you're keeping something from me. If you want my help, spill it."

Spike sighed, and his shoulders slumped in defeat. "I'mdoinggirlystuff," he mumbled.

"What?"

"I'm doing girly stuff," he repeated, obviously miserable.

"Girly stuff?" Angel really had no idea what Spike was talking about.

"Yeah. Girly stuff." To illustrate his point, he held up his fingernails which were covered in nail polish.

"It's not the first time you've painted your nails, Spike."

"Yeah, but they're pink!" Spike protested. "And I don't remember doing it. It's like I come to and…"

Angel had the feeling something really traumatic must have happened to bring him here if he'd waited this long. "There was something other than nail polish wasn't there?"

Spike nodded, but then lifted his chin. "But I'm not gonna bloody tell you. Just trust me. It was something I'd never done before. What the hell is happening to me? Why am I blacking out? And what's with the bloody weird behavior?"

Angel really wished he knew what had made Spike so freaked out. It was likely even black-mail worthy, but he decided he'd do the good guy thing and help out. He could always try to find out later. He still owed him one for the leather jacket. "Sounds like we need to get the gang together and figure this out. You'll have to go through all the details of what happened that final night, and anything you remember about coming back."

Spike nodded. "Okay fine. Whatever I have to do, I'll do it."

Angel could feel his curiosity growing. Spike being cooperative? Whatever had happened, it must have been really bad. He decided that he definitely was going to find out. He supposed he also better find out what was wrong with Spike, though he was sure that would be much less satisfying.

Such was the burden of being the good guy.

TBC

Next chapter: The mystery behind Spike's strange behavior will be revealed. I promise. Sorry it wasn't this chapter, Gert Wallage. Please don't send anyone from the Initiative after me.