Old school Spike tries to show his rebellious new charge the ropes back in 1977.

"I gave Spike directions to my family home at 14 Haverhill Road. It was a large white Colonial with green shutters, set back a good distance from the street. There was a big old oak tree in the front yard I used to climb when I was younger. By the way, would you like something drink? I should have asked before."

"No. I'm fine," Fred replies, annoyed by his transparent attempt to stall right before the interesting part.

"Okay. Want a smoke?"

"I don't."

"Neither did I when I was human." He decides not to light up in front of Fred out of courtesy. "It was the Friday night before Thanksgiving. My parents were unaware of my death. I had remained in contact with them, keeping up the pretext that I was still in school. Spike laughed at this, as he did at many of my action."

"Ten hours on the road," Spike complains. "And I have to wear these bloody stupid clothes. Your folks better be delicious."

"Oh, quit your whining," Herman responds. "I only made you put on a clean shirt and comb your hair." Spike wears black jeans, a blue button-down shirt, and has his hair slicked-back and gelled close to his scalp, making him look considerably less punkish than usual. Devlin's short hair is dyed blonde and combed flat down, neither parted nor slicked-back. His short bangs dangle over the top of his forehead. He wears light brown corduroy pants and a red and brown striped button-down shirt with a butterfly collar. "Anyway, don't you like artifice? Pretending to be something you're not? That's half the fun."

"Not for me. Fighting's half the fun. Killing's the other half."

"Which boils down to what? Winning. The more you plan, the more you deceive, the greater the victories you can achieve."

"I thought I was the bad poet," Spike jokes. Herman laughs.

"And I wasn't even trying to rhyme. But my point's deadly serious. Brute strength and lightning reflexes can only get you so far."

"They've gotten me everywhere. Find me an enemy I can't beat, and I'll listen to your poncey little planning."

"Someday we will," Herman predicts, leaning his right cheek against his right fist, staring out the window and smiling as he fantasizes about their future together. Spike slaps his left cheek with his right hand.

"Are you saying I'm past my peak?"

"No Spike. Hell no. I'm saying our enemies will get stronger. They have to. There's nowhere for them to go but up. Take those two vampire hunters we chased down and killed in Queens the other night. Why weren't they working with the Slayer? They live in the same town. Ten miles apart. With a common enemy. But when you killed Nikki, she was alone. What if she wasn't? What if those guys fought by her side? Could you have killed all three of them at once?"

"Does it matter? They're dead. Bollocks to hypotheticals. You want to be great, Herman? You want to be like me? Live in the now." They pull into the driveway. Fred interrupts.

"Are you sure that's what you talked about?"

"Of course."

"Twenty seven years. You remember it that well?"

"It was a very pivotal night in my life."

"If you say so. It just seemed, you know, swelling with hindsight. Given how everything's turned out, the conversation seems a little too convenient."

"We had that same conversation all the time. It was like I wanted to educate him since he was always educating me. Rather ridiculous for a greenhorn like me to think he could teach a thing or two to a legend like Spike. But I was brash. I didn't care about offending people. He liked that about me. Back to Fairlawn."

Herman rings the doorbell. Spike stands to his right. "I feel so bloody stupid," Spike complains. "I look so bloody stupid."

"This is the midwest. You dress here like you do in New York, and you'll scare all your victims away."

"Wait a second," Fred interrupts. "The way you're telling it makes it sound like you're the one in charge. That makes no sense. You're telling your sire where to go, what to wear."

"He wanted to go to Chicago and Detroit, anyway. Fairlawn was on the way. As for the clothes, that was a small sacrifice to pay for a chance to wipe a family."

"Oh," Fred responds, made a little queasy by the reminder of where this story was going.

Herman's sixteen year-old sister Ingrid opens the door. Herman looks devastated. Ingrid looks shocked. Spike looks delighted. He thought the tall, slim teenager with the long, dark hair looked positively delicious. "Herman? Herman, what are you doing here?"

"We have a long Thanksgiving Break. Ingrid, what are you doing here? It's Friday night. I thought you'd be out with your friends." Friends. Something else to whet Spike's appetite.

"Why do you care?" Herman looks nervous, but doesn't respond. He cares because, by staying home on this particular night, she's signed her death warrant. "Who's this?," Ingrid asks, looking at Spike. He gives her a flirtatious grin.

"This is William. He's a friend of mine. A grad student from Chicago. He drove me here because it was on his way home."

"Can we come in?," Spike asks in his best attempt at a flat midwestern accent.

"Sure," Ingrid replies, taken aback by the question. "Take off your shoes." They enter and obey. Spike finds it hilarious that his victims' biggest worry is that he might track dirt on their carpet. Herman's parents come into the foyer and appear stunned.

"Herman," his father gasps. "Shouldn't you be at school?"

"And who is this?," his mother asks about the stranger she's instantly suspicious of.

"We get all of next week off for Thanksgiving. My last class was yesterday afternoon. It's dead on campus." Spike fights the urge to laugh. "All my friends have already left. William's a grad student in the classics department. He's driving home to Chicago, and since I'm on the way, he offered to give me a ride."

"What about the flight I bought for next Tuesday?," his father asks.

"I called up the airline and cancelled it. They said you're getting a full refund."

"Ingrid, go upstairs," her father orders. "Herman, can we talk in private?"

"It was nice meeting you," Spike says. "Your son is a very gifted pupil." He leaves the house. Mom, dad and son head into the living room.

"What's going on?," his mother demands to know.

"I'm home."

"Why didn't you call? Why didn't you say something in advance?"

"I'm sorry. I was busy. I don't get what the big deal is." Spike opens the door and races up the stairs. The parents have no idea why he did this. Herman groans. Spike couldn't even hold out for ten seconds.

"What is going on?," his father asks. Herman puts on his vampire face. His parents gasp and back away. His mom nearly faints.

"Your son is dead." Upstairs, Ingrid shrieks. Her parents tremble. Her father tries to run to her aide, but Herman grabs his shirt with his right hand and pulls his father back into the living room.

"Is this some sort of prank?," his mother asks. "A sick joke of yours?" He grabs her with his left hand.

"Mom. Dad. You did a wonderful job raising me." He tosses them across the room. "And deep down, I will always love you." Herman walks over to his dad as he stands up. Herman closes his eyes and snaps his father's neck. His mother moans tremulously, puts her right hand to her heart, hyperventilates, and starts to tear up. She backs into a corner as Herman swaggers towards her. Ingrid screams for help. "But parents should never outlive their children." He turns his head so he doesn't have to watch and snaps her neck. Ingrid screams some more. Herman puts his hand to his forehead "Spike. Why can't you learn a little self control?" He leans down and bites mom and dad in the neck, but doesn't drink. Then he runs upstairs, where Spike's getting his rocks off by brutally raping Herman's sister. Herman is furious. He rips a wooden leg off her desk and puts it to Spike's back. "Get the hell off her." Spike laughs. Herman raises the stake and brings it back down with force, stopping just above his heart. "Get away from my sister." Spike laughs, but obeys. Ingrid's traumatized, sobbing sister recognizes her older brother's voice, but not his face. Spike zips up his pants. Herman punches him in the nose with his right fist.

"What the bloody hell?," Spike wonders, putting his left hand to his bloody nose. "You brought me here for a reason." Herman hits Spike in the chin with a right uppercut.

"Not for this!" Herman lands a right hook. "It wasn't for this!!" He throws a right cross, but Spike blocks it with his left hand. He grabs Herman's left wrist with his right hand, squeezes and twists, causing Herman to drop the stake. Then he socks Herman in the jaw with a left hook, knocking him down.

"I come to your boring bloody town," he says. When Herman stands up, Spike tosses him into the hallway. "Wear your ugly bloody clothes." Herman stands up. Spike lands a right uppercut to his chin, grabbing him with both hands before he can fall down. "And you won't even let me have a little bloody fun!," he yells before hurling Herman down the stairs. Spike chuckles, goes bumpy and walks back into Ingrid's room as she breaks her window by throwing a chair through it. "Clever girl. And a fighter." He leaps over her bed and grabs her before she can jump. "I like a girl who scratches and bites. Most just squirm and beg me to stop." Spike has a bloody scratch down his left cheek and four red scratch marks running down his neck, not to mention a cut just below his lip from when he tried to kiss her and she bit him. As he holds both her arms, Ingrid knows Spike's too strong for her to push away. So she tries to hit him in the groin with her right knee. Spike pulls his left knee inward and blocks the attempt with his left thigh. "Definite potential," he says before tossing Ingrid back on the bed, getting on top and holding her arms down. "You'll thank me in the morning," Spike says with a laugh before leaning in and biting the left side of her neck.

"Help! Mom! Dad!!," she screams. Herman runs upstairs and sees Spike draining his sister. He knew that was inevitable from the moment he saw her answering the door. Ingrid scratches Spike's left cheek yet again, drawing more blood before losing the strength to fight. When he's done drinking, Spike sits up, looks down at his victim and bites his right wrist. Then he leans in, turning his left cheek towards her mouth. Ingrid licks the wounds she inflicted. Spike puts his right wrist to her mouth, and she starts sucking.

"Nooo!!!," Herman screams as he rips Spike's wrist away from his sister's lips and grabs the back of Spike's neck with his left hand. He throws Spike across the room and snaps his sister's neck before Spike leaps at Herman and push him out the window. But one look at Ingrid tells him it's not in the cards. He grabs her hair and lifts up her lifeless head while slowly shaking his own.

"Such a troublesome boy." He hears Herman open the front door and gallop up the stairs, turning to look at him as he rushes into the room.

"I'm sorry, Spike. But I couldn't let you make her like me."

"Why the bloody hell not? Now she's just dead. My way, she'd get a second chance. You know what a gas our life is."

"It's not for everyone."

"You don't want a baby sister? Dru's lobbying for a daughter."

"Not her. Not Ingrid."

"Not anymore. You took care of that." Spike shoves Herman against the wall. "Any other vampire defies me like that, he's dust in the bloody wind."

"I thought you hated that song?," Herman asks with a smirk. Spike chokes him with his right hand.

"But you get a free pass. Ya know why?"

"Because you like me," Herman wheezes. Spike lets go.

"Because you remind me of me. You're a rebel, Herman. Jus' like your old man." He musses up Herman's hair with his right hand and pulls the boy's head towards his chest. Herman smiles. They walk out into the hallway and down the stairs. Spike looks into the living room. "You said you couldn't do it."

"Someone had to."

"And you drained them?"

"Let's go."

"They're leaking."

"Let's go!," Herman insists as he grabs Spike's left arm and pulls him towards the door. Spike shrugs and goes along.

"A little old for me, anyway." Herman closes the front door and they get back into Spike's car. "Don't you have two sisters?"

"We're done."

"She'll be in for quite the surprise when she gets home tonight," Spike says with a chuckle.

"You leave Gretchen alone." Spike looks at the car's clock. "It's nine-thirty. How old is she?"

"It doesn't matter."

"I thought she was the youngest. I'm sure she has a curfew. Probably be back before long."

"Let's meet up with Dru at the cemetery. You know how she gets if we leave her alone too long."

"We?," Spike asks as he pulls out of the driveway.

"She seems to like spending time with me."

"Someone's getting carried away by his hopes."

"Or maybe she's suffering from the ninety seven year itch." Spike laughs.

"In your dreams, Herman."

"Not all of it."

"You honestly think you can take my place?"

"Not completely. But everybody likes a little variety every now and then."

"Why don't you look for a pet your own age? That girl Lita really likes you."

"She's none-too-bright."

"But she's pretty."

"She has the mentality of a scavenger. Plus, the sex we had after our hunting date was lousy."

"Picky, picky."

"You don't know how lucky you are, Spike. You never had to search for someone. Dru ever leaves you, you'll find out how slim the pickings really are. Not like that'll ever happen." Spike drives into the cemetery, gets out and walks over to Dru.

"This one died heartbroken," she says to him before skipping over to another gravestone. "And this one, she loved her son, but naught her daughter."

"Honey, I'm home," Spike deadpans.

"My parents should be here in a few days," Herman notes. "Wonder what their tombstones will say." Dru stops dancing, looks at Herman and smiles.

"You did it!"

"All by myself." She runs over and hugs him.

"You've joined our family," she exults before pinching his cheeks.

Spike looks at his watch. "So where do you go around here for a live feast?"

"The mall." He checks his watch. "But it closes in ten minutes."

"Maybe we should have gone there first," a miffed Spike responds. The three of them get in the car – Herman in the back seat – and Spike speeds off to the mall, which is less than a mile away.

"You haven't explain how you got your name," Fred complains.

"I'm about to get to that. It doesn't make sense without the background. We get there as the last shoppers are leaving, fan out in the parking lot, and each kill one person. Six deaths in one night. Do you know how many murders there have been in Fairlawn since that bloody night twenty six years ago? Five."

"Are we proud of our little record?," Fred asks condescendingly.

"It always helps to put events in context. Allows you to understand their impact. Six unsolved murders in a single night in a bucolic small town. A lot of people blamed satan worshippers. A criminology course at Akron features a lecture on the spree. I sat in on it once a few years back. The professor concluded from forensic evidence that three people were involved. He postulated that the killers were itinerant, and connected the event to a number of killings we did in the midwest over the next few weeks. I talked with him after the class, asking about his profile of the killers. He told me they were young, white, attention-seeking. Probably two men and one woman. Like the Bonnie and Clyde gang' were his words. You know how in the movie they had that kid helping them out."

"This guy sounds good."

"Yes. He is."

"Now get to the point."

"We found an inn where the owner gave us a free room in exchange for Spike not killing him. Dru and I settled in, but Spike felt an urge to check out our crime scene. He went back to my house. The police had already arrived. Gretchen was at a dance at her middle school. The dance ended at 10:30. Her friend's mom drove her home, stopping in the street when she saw all the cop cars in the driveway and the police tape in front of the house. Gretchen slowly walked up the lawn, terrified. She knew all this meant something horrible had happened. Spike said she looked afraid to find out what that was. A female cop walked up to her and explained in a quiet voice. Gretchen screamed "No! No!" over and over and then started bawling. She was hysterical, as anyone in her position would be. The cop hugged her. When she regained enough composure to talk, Gretchen asked Why? Why? Who could have done such a thing?'"

"It was the work of the devil,' Spike heard the officer tell her. He watched the scene for a few more minutes. Saw Gretchen's friend and her mother walk up and find out what happened. Saw them also try to comfort my distraught sister. When he had his fill of grief, he came back. He was in very high spirits."

"Dev," Spike says, pointing at Devlin.

"What?"

"That's your new name. Dev!"

"Huh?" Dru stands up and starts swaying back and forth.

"I see it written in the stars. Devlin. My darling deadly boy Devlin." She lifts up his chin with her right hand and smiles at him, then starts dancing and singing with Spike. He uncorks a bottle of wine and tosses it to Devlin, opening a whisky bottle for himself.

"To Devlin," Spike says with a smile.

"To me!" Dev and Spike clink bottles and gulp down their alcohol in celebration.

"So there you have it," Devlin says to Fred. "You don't look too well. Something I said?"

"It's a sad, sick, sad story."

"Hard to hear what Spike was once like? It's one thing to know someone was a killer. It's another to hear about specific killings. Now you can finally envision him as a bad boy. It's no longer an abstraction."

"So what happened to your sister?"

"I don't know. Probably went to live with my mom's sister and her family in Cincinnati. I didn't keep track of her."

"Why did you spare Gretchen?"

"I came for my parents. Spike was going to kill them. I didn't want them to have grieve for me."

"But you had no problem letting Gretchen grieve for them. And for you. And for Ingrid."

"I had to make a clean break. I had new parents. So I felt like I needed to get rid of the old ones. But I couldn't drink their blood. That would have been too weird. Ingrid was an accident. She was popular. She had a lot of friends. It was a Friday night. I expected her to be out."

"Did you want your sisters to suffer?"

"Not particularly. It was an inevitable negative externality. Look. My parents had a full life. Fifty-plus years a piece. Three children, all of them nearly grown up. They had done their thing. My sisters hadn't."

"I understand why you wouldn't want to kill them. Some sort of incest taboo. But why keep Spike from doing it?"

"Because I loved them. All of them. That's why I killed killed my parents. That's why I wanted to spare both my sisters. No parent wants to grieve for a child. And I wouldn't have been dead. Worse. They would have heard I was missing. And they would never have found out what happened to me. For decades, all they could do was wonder. I saved them from that. I did not enjoy killing them. It brought me no pleasure. But it felt like something I had to do."

"So you were always this strange." Devlin chuckles.

"I prefer unique."

"No. I'll stick with strange."