(Set at the end of Killer in Me)

"Are you sure you want to be awake for this, Spike?" asked Buffy, taking in the tray of medical instruments.

He cocked an eyebrow. "No, but I don't trust 'em enough to let 'em knock me out either."

"It's just as well," said the Initiative doctor, pulling on a pair of gloves. "Anesthesia with vampires is an imprecise science at best. Now, if you're ready, I need to clamp your head in the vise, please."

Spike held Buffy's gaze. No, he wasn't ready for this. The doc probably wouldn't kill him while tinkering around, but being a vegetable wasn't something he aspired to either. Could vampires be vegetables? Brain dead undead? Why was he even thinking that? He should be telling Buffy how he felt, how it meant the world to him that she thought he was worth this whole hullabaloo.

"Buffy, if this doesn't… if I'm… you will, won't you?"

She gave him a tight smile and a nod. He pretended that she was acknowledging more than his request to be dusted, worse come to worse, and pivoted into position, pressing his face into the padded donut. "Okay doc, ready when you are."

"I'm going to give you a local anesthetic first," the surgeon said, tightening padded pins into place. "Once the area is numb, I'll proceed. Oh, I forgot to mention, you may experience flashes of memory."

He didn't feel the incision, but it must have been made, since he found himself bound tightly to a chair in the Summers' living room with the Slayer's little sister staring at him. She looked buttery delicious with the last bits of baby fat clinging in all the right places.

He wanted to turn away from the scene. He hadn't thought of Dawn as dinner in years. He knew this was just a stimulated memory, but it was so visceral. He felt ravenous, just like he had that Thanksgiving. He had no interest in remembering how strong the urge was, how badly he had wanted to sink his teeth into her.

"I don't believe you," she was saying.

"Scout's honor. Ask anyone." Except the scouts he ate that fall. S'more, please.

"Mom!" Dawn shouted into the kitchen, "Do vampires eat giblets?"

"I don't know dear. Why don't you ask Mr. Giles?" Joyce called back. "Uh, why do you want to know?"

"Spike says they're a delicacy."

"Now Dawn," said Joyce, wiping her hands on a towel as she came into the living room, "Buffy told you to stay away from her, uh, prisoner."

"Yeah, but…"

"No 'buts'. Now Spike, do you really want the giblets or could I fix you a proper dinner plate when the turkey's done?"

"Mom, stop it," said Buffy, swooping in out of nowhere. "He's a vampire, not the guest of honor."

Spike remembered stifling a groan. He'd been so close to getting that proper dinner plate with all the fixings. Bloody Slayer.

Suddenly, it shifted. Still bound to a chair, but new scenery. He was in Giles' apartment and the Slayer was setting the table. These weren't his memories. Except hearing Buffy say, "Do I have to gag you?" did have a certain appeal for him, in a deja vu kind of way. Where were Dawn and Joyce?

Then arrows were peppering everything in the Summers' house, including himself, and Dawn was shrieking.

"Dawn, get over here," yelled Buffy.

But the girl wasn't moving. And Spike had found himself inexplicably hopping his chair toward her. "At least duck, girlie. And my ears would appreciate if you'd stop with the shrieking, 'kay?"

Another arrow slammed him back into Giles' living room. "Hey! Watch the heart!" He was hopping again, this time searching in vain for cover and realizing this must have been the way it actually happened. Before Dawn came into being. Wanting to devour Dawn or no Dawn at all. Nice options.

A hand was squeezing his and Buffy voice was in his head, saying, "Spike, you've got to hold still until the doctor's done."

He could see Buffy across the room, crouched behind the couch. He reminded himself it wasn't real. He imagined the actual look of concern on her face. He squeezed her hand back, wanting to reassure her, but her hand felt too small.

Dawn was still crouched behind him, her hand in his as the Chumash Indian turned into a bear and they both screamed, "A bear, a bear!" Then the bear was swiping at Buffy, sending her across the room. Joyce screamed, drawing the bear's attention. Harris was throwing buns at it, of all things.

"Pet, untie me so I can help your mum." He felt the bindings loosen. "Good girl," he praised, wondering anew what had possessed him to volunteer to get between Joyce and the bear versus just getting out of there.

Then it was over, clicking to blank, white light, like a carousel out of slides. The doctor was saying something about getting plenty of fluids and to avoid heavy lifting.

"Sure, doc, will do," he found himself replying as he slid off the table.

Buffy was giving him the look of concern she'd perfected in the last few months.

"I'm fine," he said. "Let's just get out of here, okay?"

Spike was thankful for the escort out of the building. Gave him a chance to sort things out without being expected to say anything. He hated that chip, but without it, and those monks, he wouldn't be here, that was for sure. He pressed a hand over the bandage. He was free man. No more electronic bridle and bit. He glanced sideways. Still had a Buffy and Bit, though. He was free all right. Free to finally be the man they deserved.

"Two bits for your thoughts?" joked Buffy.

"The one's all I need."