As the days passed, I slowly adjusted to my life in Sunnydale.  When I first began informing Buffy of potential vampires, I wondered why she didn't merely attempt to eradicate the vampires through the coroner's office. 

She explained that vampires had corrupt humans working for them in the coroner's office.  She wasn't sure which staff members in the office were the culprits, but she couldn't very well confront all of them without raising too much unwanted attention among hospital staff. 

Going through the funeral home to catch vampires was easier for Buffy. . . although most of the time that wasn't too reassuring to me.  I had to carefully inspect each body because vampires who weren't embalmed didn't appear to be that much different than the humans who were.  Someone in the coroner's office was smart. 

In the end, at least Buffy caught a few vampires through me even if some slipped past the coroner's office to shallow graves elsewhere.

I acquired a few people to work at the funeral home during the day and to handle the heavy workload of the small city.  Each new body brought to me a sense of dread as I wondered if the vampires would return to avenge what happened to their brethren.  Thankfully, anytime I had to work at night, I merely called Buffy, and she sent someone to protect me.

            One night, Spike arrived in the doorway, flipping a stake in his hand.  "Good evening," he stated simply.

            I nodded and continued my scan of the body on the table.  "I haven't seen you in a while.  How are you?"  Buffy hadn't previously sent Spike. 

            "Fine."  He approached my side, peering over my shoulder to examine the corpse.  "Vampire?" 

            "Nope.  No teeth marks.  But I have a guy who was victim of a stab wound at home.  Could be a winner."  I'd learned that vampires could be created through more than just teeth marks.  Any old wound would work as a gateway to the birth of a vampire.  "He's next up.  Didn't you read about it in the papers?" 

            Spike stepped away from the body and leaned against the wall to the left of me, pocketing the stake.  "Don't really read the paper.  Willow or Dawn usually checks the obits."

            "Oh."  In the past, I would have balked at young women scanning the papers and internet for information on circumstances of death.  I couldn't imagine my daughter doing so.  But now. . . it didn't seem so strange.

            Spike meandered into my office while I finished with the woman on the table.  As I was putting away the body, he reemerged bearing a framed picture.  "Your daughter?"

            Stepping away from the scene of death and stripping off my gloves, I tossed the latex into the toxic waste container.  "Yeah.  Amber.  She's an angel."

            Spike's face remained impassive as he studied her photograph.  "She's pretty.  Why isn't she with you?"

            My heart warmed with love for my daughter whom I'd spoken to only last night.  "Her mother and I recently got a divorce, and for some reason, we haven't reached a custody agreement yet.  She's in kindergarten.  She's brilliant. . . the light of my life." I considered him a moment.  "Do you want kids someday?"

            His eyes reached mine then, sending me a message of unwavering sadness but also acceptance.  "I can't have children."

Compassion for Spike flooded over me.  "I'm sorry."

He spoke matter-of-factly, "It's okay.  A result of my own actions which I have to accept."

"Still, it doesn't make it any easier, especially when you meet someone you really care about and want to have a family."  I paused, then, took a chance.  "Does Buffy know you can't have kids?"

Spike was startled by my question and shifted uncomfortably with the expression of someone who'd been unintentionally discovered.  Instead of falling into my trap to discuss his relationship to the slayer, Spike sidestepped my comment by stating the most parsimonious truth, "Yeah."

I opened my mouth to comment on what I observed between the two of them, but before I could utter a single word, a loud clatter rose from the enclosure where the bodies were kept. 

Immediately, Spike set aside the picture of my daughter and palmed the stake from his pocket.  With the stealth of a cat, he slipped up to the place where the stab- wound-guy rested.  My heart leapt in my throat as I reached into a nearby drawer to brandish my own stake.  So I wasn't nearly as competent a warrior as Spike, but I wasn't taking any chances.

As Spike swung open the hatch, my stomach flipped, and something I'd become accustomed to feeling in Sunnydale lurched in my throat. 

Stab-wound-guy remained motionless in his confinement. 

Damn.

The noise grew in volume, and I advanced toward Spike as he began impatiently throwing open each door on the enclosure. 

My eyes grew round as I observed a hatch swing open behind Spike, but before I could shout a warning, Spike was tackled to the ground by our errant vampire.  The stake flew out of his hand.  Spike threw the vampire backwards, knocking over a metal cart in the process. 

The vampire pulled himself up with alacrity and launched himself at Spike again.  Spike caught his head before it hit his abdomen and flung him to the ground.  While the vampire was otherwise occupied, he lunged for the stake that had rolled to one side.  I chastised myself inside for not moving for it sooner or tossing him mine. 

The next few seconds were a blur as the vampire scooted across the floor and pulled me to the ground, using me to resume standing.  As he moved past me, I maintained the right state of mind long enough to attempt bringing the stake toward his chest, but he batted my hand away with a laugh.

Meanwhile Spike had retrieved his stake and stopped upon seeing that I was trapped. . . and to view the growing panic that was spreading across my face.  I could see the war within him as he tried to make a decision about his next action.

The vampire laughed brusquely.  "Let me walk away from this, and he lives."

"I don't think so," Spike replied without hesitance, clutching the stake tighter.

The point of my stake pressed painfully into my neck, and I could feel something warm running down my neck.  "Maybe I'll kill him anyway."

Now I really was panicking.  My breaths came in short wheezes, and my head began spinning.  I wasn't sure if it was from the blood loss or fear.  The vampire's arm tightened around me.

Upon hearing those words, Spike rushed the two of us, and before I knew what was happening, I was knocked roughly to the ground on my side, and the vampire was floating dust around me.  Spike remained on his feet, and he offered me a hand up.

Blinking my eyes, I peered up at Spike to thank him.  What I saw floored me.  Questions whirled through my head.  Could one turn into a vampire merely by touching another vampire?  If so, how much contact did Spike have with this vampire. . .with any vampire?  Had he always been a vampire?  Did Buffy and her friends know he was a vampire?  How could he be enamored with a *vampire* slayer if he's a vampire?  A-and *that's* why he couldn't have kids! 

Spike noticed my slack-jawed expression.  He seemed uncertain for a moment, but when I backed rapidly away from him, he touched his forehead as if he didn't know what he was.  Comprehension entered his glowing yellow eyes, and his face immediately resumed human form.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Sam."  His tone was even and neutral as he held my eyes with his.

"S-stay away from me."  I backed into the table in the center of the room as I edged toward the door.  If I could manage to reach the entrance, I could possibly beat him to my car.  Thankfully, I had the keys in my pocket.

He advanced slowly as if to prevent me from sprinting away.  "Seriously, do you think Buffy would put up with me if I were evil?"  He cocked his head to one side thoughtfully.  "Not that she hasn't in the past.  But anyway, do you think she'd have sent me to protect you?"

"I d-don't know.  Maybe she doesn't know you're a vampire."  I used my little speech to cover more ground toward my destination.

Spike further closed the gap between us.  "Trust me, she does.  I've been working with her going on six years or so. . . give or take a year.  She knows me quite well." 

"*I* don't know you."

Spike frowned briefly.  "Listen, this is bloody ridiculous.  I'm *not* going to hurt you!"

"Sure, su. . ."

The entrance of Buffy cut off my sarcastic comment.  "Spike!  What are you doing to Mr. Fisher?"

Defensively, Spike presented his palms to her, letting the stake hang loosely from his fingertips.  "Nothing, pet.  He just saw me."  Spike gestured in a circular fashion around his forehead area.

Buffy did the unexpected; she laughed.  Patting me on the shoulder, she reassured me, "Spike *is* a vampire, but he works with me."

My brow furrowed.  "I don't understand.  Aren't vampires *evil*?"

Smiling, Buffy confirmed my thought, "Yes, they are.  Spike was. . .once."  She gave him a tender-eyed look.  "But he's not now."

"Not now?"  Something wasn't computing in my mind.

"He has a soul."

"Oh."  Was that supposed to explain away the vampire part because he had a soul?

Spike took a deep breath and added, "Which doesn't mean I can't do evil.  It just means that I have a choice about whether I do good or evil."

Buffy nodded.  "Right, right."  Then, her manner turned serious.  "Spike, the reason I'm here is I needed to talk with you about something."

A myriad of emotions rolled through Spike's eyes, and for a moment, I thought I could see his soul.  Maybe there was something to the soul thing.  "What's wrong?" he asked her, concern etching his voice.

She smiled vaguely.  "Nothing big.  I just need to talk. . . get away from the house for a while."

Spike was attempting to fathom what she might want to talk with him about.  "Sure, pet.  But first, we have to get Mr. Fisher patched up.  He got wounded by a vamp tonight."

"Oh!  You got one!  Who?" Buffy wondered as she crossed the room to examine my neck. 

I put my hand to the wound's area, drawing back red fluid.  I winced at the sight.  "Not stab-wound-guy."

Spike picked up the folder corresponding to the vampire's storage area.  "A Mr. Wang.  He was a school teacher."

Buffy recognized the incident.  "Oh!  That guy.  Read about it in the paper.  Workplace violence.  Interesting.  He was vamped at work."  Spike passed Buffy the first aid kit.

"Yeah, he was working late at the school, I believe," I noted as Buffy cleansed the wound.  I was proud that I didn't flinch at her ministrations. 

"Ah.  I should have known."  She shook the cotton puff at me.  "Never, ever work late at night in a school in Sunnydale."

"Got it." 

Buffy bandaged my neck and examined her work with satisfaction.  "There." 

"Thanks."

"You're welcome.  Sam, do you mind coming with Spike and I to the church in the cemetery for a bit?"  Spike's face fell at Buffy's question. 

"How come?" I wondered.

"Well, it's too far to escort you all the way home and then come back here on foot.  My house is closer to your place than here, so it'd be a waste to walk all that way back.  And I'm bushed after this evening of patrolling.  Plus, we can't very well leave you vulnerable here.  Do you mind?" 

Buffy's long explanation sounded like she might be attempting to avoid something she wasn't sure she wanted to confront, but of course, I wasn't sure what that was.

"I guess that's fine," I agreed.  I cast Spike a glance, unsure how to react to him as a vampire when I'd been thinking he was human.

"Okay, then.  Let's go."

* * *

            You may think I've made some leaps with my insights about these two people. . . and yes, I said *people*.  I suppose my backwards view of events is tainted by what I witnessed later.  This next part of the tale covers what happened in the church.

* * *

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*hugs*  Sandy