In the End

ChapterThree

The stop sign connected savagely with the demon's head. Bits of flesh and skull flew across the alley, painting the walls slick with blood.

"And then she just hangs up on me, right? Quick as you please. Oh, don't mind old Spike. He doesn't have feelings, no."

As his opponent rose weakly from the pavement, Spike gripped the street sign and laid into the beast's shins, knocking it to the ground again. Its jaw struck with the concrete with a sickening thud.

"Not a single, bloody, word," Spike said, punctuating his own words with sharp kicks to the demon's chest. "Can you believe that? You'd think she'd be just a little glad to hear from me."

The dying demon gurgled something that didn't sound particularly compassionate. "Well, what do you know anyway?" Spike demanded, his voice cracking. "You could be a little sympathetic. It's been two days, and she still hasn't called back. Probably lost her for good this time." Angered by the thought, Spike lifted the sign to strike again. He stopped himself mid-swing when he saw the demon was no longer moving.

"What's this then?" Frowning, he nudged the still body with his boot. "Oh, I see. Up and died on me, did you?" he said, letting the stop sign fall to the pavement with a loud clatter. "Nobody wants to listen to me tonight. Everyone hates me."

Pulling a bottle out of his duster pocket, Spike frowned at the few remaining swallows of amber liquid. He swayed a little on his feet, glanced down at the bludgeoned demon, and said, "This is all your fault. I think I'm sobering up."

"That's good to hear," said a familiar voice from behind him. "Want a sound piece of advice?"

Spike bristled as he spun around to face the intruder. "From you? Let me think. No."

Eve stepped out of the shadows, arms crossed defensively over her chest. "Then you're every bit the fool Lindsey pegged you for. Why are you still in L.A. after what's happened?"

Spike turned the lifeless body of the demon over with the toe of his boot. "Seems the city's got a sudden deficiency in the champion department, compliments of your ex-bosses." He hesitated, giving her a sidelong glance. "They are still your ex-bosses, right? Would hate to rip out your spine simply over a technical misunderstanding. Think I'd get over it, though."

Eve took a wary step backwards, her eyes shining dimly in the poorly lit alley. "I don't work for anyone. Not anymore."

"Good on you, pet. Now sod the hell off." Spike spun on his heels and started to walk away.

"Do you really think the Senior Partners let you go without a reason?" Eve persisted, catching his arm.

Spike glared with intent at her hand until she removed it. "You don't know what I think."

"You need to get out of L.A. Find somewhere to lay low. They're watching you."

"And you would know this how?"

Eve's chin rose defiantly. "I may not work for them anymore, but I still have connections to the Senior Partners. Old connections."

"Yeah, I'll bet you do," Spike scoffed, rummaging in his pocket for a much-needed cigarette. "That's probably why you're still alive. Not done with you yet, are they?"

"You might say the same for yourself."

Spike flicked his lighter to life without interest. "If there's a point to all of this, Miss Original Sin, please feel free to come to it."

"Don't you get it?" Eve asked incredulously. "Angel no longer fit the profile of what the Senior Partners were looking for, so they sought out other options. Namely you – but you can bet their strategy is going to be different this time. They tried to corrupt Angel through power. At the very least, they hoped to distract him from what was really going on behind the scenes. When they realized they had failed, they eliminated the problem."

"Eliminated the problem?" Spike echoed angrily. "Is that what you call murdering my friends? You bitch…"

"Call it what you want, but the Senior Partners aren't interested in playing nice anymore. They'll get what they want out of you, using whatever they can to do it. You either play along, or you find a damn good hiding place. Trust me on this one."

"Blackmail, is it?"

Eve smiled. "And here I thought you were the slow one."

Spike paused to take a long, thoughtful draw on his cigarette. "And why, pray tell, are they interested in me?"

"Word has it Angel signed away his rights to the Shanshu Prophecy right before he died."

Spike froze. "Come again?"

"Congratulations are in order. You're now the sole candidate to fulfill the prophecy. Unfortunately for you, the role you have to play to do so also makes you of great interest to the Senior Partners."

"I don't bloody well care. Not working for them anymore, am I? Got my own mission now. They can keep their prophecy."

"It doesn't work that way," Eve replied. "The way they see it, they spared your life. You owe them."

"Like hell."

"Do you really think they couldn't come for you at any time? They know just how to get to you. They're even watching your Slayer. Her little sister, too."

Spike's hand encircled Eve's neck before she could blink. Slamming her back into the alley wall, he calmly asked, "Care to elaborate on that last bit, pet?"

"I don't know much. I swear," Eve gasped, trying to pry his hand loose from her throat.

"That right?" Slowly tilting his head, Spike offered her a tight smile as he continued to squeeze. "You know, I can feel your pulse right now, racing all pitter-pat against my palm. Lifeblood pumping away. Guess that means you're still mortal, doesn't it? Shall we test out that theory?"

"You won't kill me. You have a soul."

"I'm not Angel, little girl. You start messing with those I love, and you'll find yourself in a world of hurt. Got that?" Spike released her with a rough shove. "Now spill."

"I'm not the one threatening the Summers girls," Eve said, grasping her bruised throat, "but if I were you, I'd find out who is. It would be someone close to her. Recently close. A new friend or acquaintance. Do what you want about that, but just get out of L.A., Spike. Figure out a way to stay out of their radar. They're going to come for you soon. You don't want to be around when they do."

Spike's eyes narrowed coldly. "Why should I believe all this anyway? You give piss all for what happens to me and mine. What's in it for you?"

Eve backed away slowly and shrugged. "You're just going to have to trust me."

Said the spider to the fly, Spike thought as he watched her turn and slink out of the alley. As if his life wasn't complicated enough. God, I need a drink.

He settled for a shower.

Back at his apartment, the thick steam in the bathroom sobered him up quicker than he'd anticipated. Groaning miserably, he placed his hands on the wall in front of him and held his bowed head under the steady flow of water. He'd turned it up as hot as it could go. His skin started to burn as a result, but he didn't care. The pain was distracting. Pleasing in a twisted sort of way. It was something tangible he could hold onto – something he could control – unlike so many other things that were troubling him.

He emptied a bottle of peroxide over his scalp and felt a sudden sting when it came into contact with his left hand. Squinting through the heavy steam, he studied the deep abrasions on his throbbing knuckles and wondered when the injury had occurred. Now that the alcohol was wearing off, details of that evening's patrol were fuzzy at best.

One thing he did remember clearly, and that was Eve. God, he wished he didn't. Dozy bint had him all sorts of paranoid. It was difficult to pretend you were all big and bad when you were constantly looking over your shoulder and jumping at the slightest noise. Spike hated that she'd gotten to him.

But there was something about Eve's story that didn't seem quite right to him. Tiny flaws in her seemingly sound logic. Why did she give a piss anyway? From what he'd gathered, Angel was planning to double-crossed loverboy Lindsey in the end. With Lorne gone MIA, Eve might be out for revenge on the only remaining member of Angel's Avengers. Spike's instinct told him not to trust her.

But what if she was telling the truth? Could he really afford to wait and find out? Spike had never gotten an answer as to why he'd been allowed to live after that last battle at Angel's side. Exactly what did the Senior Partners want him alive for? 'Get out of L.A.' Eve had said repeatedly. He'd have to think long and hard about whether or not to take her advice.

Her mentions of Buffy and Dawn particularly troubled him. Were they really in danger because of him? Eve implied someone close to them was a plant – a concealed threat from the Senior Pansies to make Spike fall in line or else. He didn't know what to do about that situation. How could he look out for Buffy or warn her of a possible danger if they weren't even on speaking terms? He'd have to figure out something, even if she didn't care to ever see him again.

Their story was over, it seemed. Spike knew that deep down. Half of him hadn't expected to hear from her at all when he'd sent the letter, but it still hurt, knowing that she didn't want to talk to him after all they had been through in the past.

Spike waited until the hot water ran out before stepping out of the shower. Shaking water out of his hair, he stared into the fogged up mirror, glad he couldn't see how empty it was.

In the living room, the phone rang quite unexpectedly. Brow furrowing in confusion, Spike tugged a towel around his hips. Sinking down onto his living room couch, he picked up the receiver. "Yeah?"

A brief pause.

"It's me."

"Oh. Oh." Spike sat up straight at the sound of Buffy's voice. "Hi."

To be continued.

A/N -- Sorry about including Eve in this part. I hate her, too, but she was actually sort of fun to write. Maybe it was the whole strangling-her-to-death bit.

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