Sorry to get your hopes up... This isn't an update, but my wonderful beta was finally found hiding under a rock in the Bahamas. This is the new, beta-ed and shiny error-free Chapter 18 that you should have had in the first place!

Don't worry though, Chapter 19 is on its way and should be posted over the weekend. Ta!

ShawThang

Creed

Chapter 18

The woman's fear was intoxicating, and her scream sent a thrill tumbling down his spine. Spike shivered with anticipation as her body trembled beneath his hands, and his fingers tingled as warm blood rushed beneath her skin. She squirmed in his grasp, sobbing uncontrollably, and he felt his teeth lengthen and his face transform. When she finally glanced up at him, as all victims caught from behind do, she saw his yellow eyes and screamed. The sound made him grin and he dove forward, opening his mouth wider as he came to the crook of her neck.

His teeth hadn't even touched her skin before hot, raging pain shot through his skull. Spike cried out and leapt back, dropping the sobbing woman to the ground. She scrambled along the path and raced out of the side street. He dropped to his knees, clutching at his head and moaning. The agony tore through his head, making coherent thoughts impossible. He bit into his lip so hard that he felt blood well up inside his mouth, and the memory of the warm, human blood he had come so close to tasting forced a snarl of frustration from his throat.

Spike rolled over onto his back and stared at the night sky. The effects or the alcohol were slowly draining away, and it left him feeling drained and wiped out. The damp, grimy floor of the alley-way way seeped through his clothes and touched his skin.

For the first time in years, Spike felt cold.

What in the world was he doing? On the night of Glory's defeat and Buffy's leap, he had promised himself that he would do everything in his power to earn Buffy's respect. In the moments after she called him a man, Spike hadn't even cared about wanting her to love him. He had simply wanted to show her that he could be the man- the hero- worthy of her respect. It had gone against every fibre of his body and mind, against all the things he had done or learnt over the centuries, against the very core of the demon inside him; yet, he had sworn.

So what was he doing now? Throwing it all away simply because he was drunk? Because it was too hard? Because Buffy loved someone other than him?

Spike stared at the stars, wondering why everything looked so much simpler up there. There was the dark eternity of the sky, and the flickering lights of the stars. There were no in-betweens, confusions of colour or difficult equations to be solved. It just… was.

As he lay on his back, Spike thought back to the early years of his life. He had not fit society's standards and had not been good enough for the people he wanted to impress. After he had been turned he had tried to erase the ridicule and rejection by causing death and pain. And later on, when he was reigned in by the god-damned chip and dependent on others, the only thing he was good for was a pathetic existence between two worlds.

What was wrong with him?

There was a sudden shout to his left and a door crashed open, flooding the alley with light. A round, balding man heaved himself out of the doorway and dumped a garbage bag on the ground. He eyed Spike lying on the ground and mumbled something under his breath that sounded a lot like "damned drunks." A flash of anger coursed through him, and he leapt to his feet in one fluid motion. Setting a cocky grin on his lips, Spike swaggered towards the beefy man until only inches separated their faces. The shopkeeper eyed Spike's thin-set frame and smirked back.

Spike nodded once and grinned as he felt the bones beneath his face begin to shift. He allowed his fangs to slide beneath his top lip and widened his yellow eyes. He lunged forward and the bulky man gave a high-pitched yelp as he tried to run. He tripped over his own feet and crawled back towards the door, frantically glancing over his shoulder and whimpering. Spike watched him go until the door slammed shut.

When he turned around, Spike realized he was grinning. He hadn't felt this good in a long while. It wasn't like he had done something out of the ordinary. He'd just had a bit of fun. And he had liked it.

Spike tried to remember the last time he'd gone out to have a good time. Back in the early days it had always been about "kill the Slayer, take over Sunnydale". Then he'd been reigned in by the bloody chip. After that it was all about impressing Buffy with all the white-hat, do-gooder bull. When was the last time he'd actually had a good time?

"Well, bugger that," he muttered.

He wasn't going to waste his time chasing a blonde bird who didn't want him. And he wasn't going to moon over his bad luck, either. The idea of fighting for the "greater good" or whatever they wanted to call it held appeal for him now, so jumping back on the evil bandwagon was not an option. Spike kicked at an empty can lying near the bins. Screw this, he thought. I'm going to live the way I want to.

He hesitated only a moment before deciding where to go.

When the empty surroundings began to give way to a scattering of houses, Faith began to sweat. She shifted in her seat, frustrated by how slow they were going and by how far away Sunnydale seemed to be. And then the welcoming sign appeared in front of the truck, and Faith sank lower into her seat, suddenly wishing she was a lot further away. A few minutes later they were surrounded by houses that seemed to close in on them as they drove by, and she felt swamped with nerves. Sunnydale was exactly the same as it had always been at night; quiet, tense and full of moving shadows. She didn't know why she'd expected any different.

"Here we are then, hon."

Faith thanked Frank, the truck driver who had given her a lift, and hopped down from the vehicle cabin. Frank waved and shot her a lopsided grin, and she found that she had enjoyed the old man's company. He was a grandfather of twenty-five, and father of seven, and had spent most of the trip telling her about his beloved children and his grandchildren. It was hard to hear about the joys of having so many family members, and it was hard for her to bite her lip and stay silent. He told her funny holiday stories, and told her which grandchild was the brightest, and which was the craziest, and who was about to marry and who was about to give birth. Faith listened with an ache in her chest.

Frank drove off, and she stood alone in front of the butcher's. She snorted at the irony as the stench of bloodied meat hit her, and Faith wondered why everything always came back to blood. She glanced up the main street, trying to remember where in the town Buffy lived. Now that she was actually here, Faith was almost grateful that she couldn't remember how to get to Buffy's house in a car. It would give her a chance to regain her bearings.

As she strolled down the street, Faith forced herself to calm down and soon enough she was rolling in the confidence she had always possessed. Her walk took on the characteristics of the self-confident, sexy and mysterious girl she'd been the first time she hightailed it into this town. Back then it had been all about the fun to be had, the chaos to be caused and the escape from the nightmares that haunted her. She could never have known that this town could turn her life around so dramatically.

And here she was again, except this time the circumstances were so unbelievable to her that she struggled to keep the assured expression on her face. Faith forced all doubt from her mind and hurried towards the nearest cemetery; she knew how to get everywhere from the cemeteries. The night was fresh and slightly warm, and she found herself itching to slay. Maybe she would spend a few moments hunting before going on to find Buffy…

But as an hour passed and Faith was patrolling a third cemetery, she decided that she'd been mistaken in putting off her plan. Now that she had had time to think, all the uncertainties and insecurities rose to the fore and she no longer had the drive or determination to face Buffy. And so she kept walking, interrupted by more than a few diversions of the undead kind, and kept planning her speech.

Everything had seemed so clear the night she decided that she loved Buffy and would fight for her. It hadn't mattered what she would say to the blonde woman or what Buffy's response would be. She had only known that once she told Buffy everything, it would all be all right. Now that it was upon her though, the very thought terrified her. She felt a prickle in the back of her neck and welcomed the distraction. Maybe some violence with the un-dead would help gather her nerves.

She turned around, opening her mouth to deliver witty banter, but she caught herself just in time. A surge of disappointment filled her, and she rolled her eyes.

"How's it been, Spike?"

Spike grinned back.

"Faith."

"What are you doing here?" she asked, flicking her hair back from her face.

"Looking," he replied.

"For what?"

"I don't know, Slayer." He drew a cigarette from his pocket and lit it. The smoke curled upwards in a slow spiral. "Maybe a dance?"

She felt a familiar itch in her palms and clenched her fists. "With you?"

"I don't know about you, but I find dancing with myself a bit of a challenge, don't you think?" He grinned, the cigarette peeking out the corner of his mouth.

Faith felt a rising within her, and knew that she would finally get the fight she had wanted all night. Her body was tingling, bursting with suppressed energy and desperately needing an outlet. She let her stake fall to the grass, feeling for the spare one she kept in her jacket just in case. She watched Spike flick his cigarette away and remove his duster.

He moved slowly towards her, step by step, letting the tension and desperation climb until Faith felt as though she could take on twenty vampires and kill them all within minutes. Her fist flew into his nose before she could think, and his head snapped back as he grunted in pain. Before she could taunt him, however, she found herself flying through the air and into a gravestone. Spike's well-placed kick had connected a powerful blow to her mid-section, but Faith leapt to her feet instantly, drawing in a breath to replace the air knocked from her lungs.

She advanced on him again, and they attacked at the same time. Each blow that connected was returned, and neither could gain the upper ground. They circled and lunged and retreated in sync, calculating their movements. They both knew the other's fighting style: dirty. They fought at dizzying speeds and by the time they both stepped back, panting hard, the area of the cemetery they were in looked more like a battle ground. Grave stones were knocked over, flower vases were smashed, and grass had been ripped from the earth. Both Faith and Spike were bleeding and bruised, yet both of them felt surprisingly satisfied.

Spike was not about to admit that he hadn't been able to defeat the young Slayer, and so he resorted to what he did best: causing trouble the verbal way.

"Left town for a bit I heard," he said, wiping cold blood from his cheek.

"Miss me?" she retorted.

"Nah." Spike shook his head and pulled out another cigarette. "I was only wondering why you left."

Faith knew he was only hooking her in, but she decided to take the bait anyway. "And why would you wonder that?"

"Well, it looked to me like you were one-up on me in our little bet."

Faith raised her eyebrows. "One-up? Maybe you didn't hear that she told me to leave."

"Buffy says a lot of things, and nothing she says is what she really wants." Spike took a long drag and slowly blew the smoke into the sky. He noticed the brief confusion that flickered over Faith's face, but she recovered quickly and he didn't comment. "She was bloody shattered, she was. Had to comfort her myself. She just flung herself at me all cryin' and moanin' about how they all leave her in the end. Couldn't even get a word in to order a drink."

Although it was slight, he saw Faith's mouth twitch. He didn't know where he was pulling these lies from, but he was having a great time watching Faith react. It occurred to him then that Faith wanted- and needed- Buffy more than he did. He could survive without Buffy if he had to; of course, he'd rather survive with her, but the way things were going it didn't look likely. He knew this was one bet where he wasn't going to come out on top. Surprisingly, it didn't hurt as much as he had thought it would. If I'm going to lose, he thought, I'm gonna make the bint work for it.

Spike thought about it for only a moment before deciding to leap in and really stir up the pot.

"It took a lot to get the bint to shut her gob. Finally got myself a drink. Didn't really expect her to throw herself at me-"

Faith's fist slammed into his nose, and excruitiating pain exploded through his head. He leapt backwards, clutching his nose with one hand, glaring at Faith. She stood with her hands clenched into fists, her chest heaving in anger.

Spike swore loudly. "Why the bloody hell did you do that?" he bellowed, tasting salty blood on his lips.

"You're quite the story teller, aren't ya?" she said, smirking. Her eyes, however, betrayed her fury. "Got any more lies, Blondie? Or is that nose too painful to talk?"

Spike straightened, flicked away his broken cigarette, and shoved his hands into his pockets with a sly smile. "Come on, luv. I'm Spike. Since when do I ever lie?"

He walked away, and Faith was left with her chest burning with anger and betrayal.

To Be Continued…