The first thing he was aware of was that part of his chest seemed to be missing.

The second thing was that it hurt like bloody hell. Spike gagged, groaned, and slipped back into unconsciousness at the howling pain coming from the distorted ruins of his chest.

Time passed. Part of Spike wanted to just stay unconscious, forever and ever, and not have to face the pain, the humiliation, the deformity. Another part- the part which had made it possible for him to kill two Slayers- was mad as hell, ready to murder something, and wanted to be awake right the hell now so it could get on with the murdering. Eventually the second part won. Opening his eyes again, this time forcing himself to endure the yawning, nauseating sense of absence in his chest, Spike realized he was in a dark, enclosed, very cold space. Coffin?

He put his hands out and touched cold metal. No, they'd put him back in the morgue, in a drawer this time. He was naked again, and his arms, his entire body, felt very weak. The ordeal of giving birth to a monster had taken a lot out of him. No time to lollygag, Spike thought, gritting his teeth as the pain suddenly spiked and his vision began to fade again. Got to get out. Gotta get even. He tensed himself, and pushed hard against the ceiling of the drawer. It worked; the drawer slid out quietly into the morgue, surrounded once again by tables and bodies.

Spike waited a moment, then stood up, his knees buckling. Not only was he weak, but the hole in his chest distorted his centre of gravity and sense of balance. He'd manage. Looking down, he saw that where there had once been smooth, pale skin and hard, perfectly-formed muscle, there was now only an unholy crater and blood and bits of flesh smeared all over his chest.

He began to tremble, not from pain or revulsion- though God knew there was still plenty of both- but rage. Not the same kind of rage he'd had before, when he'd merely been attacked by the facehugger, no, this was much more. He'd been raped, forced, taken, used by some sick, unnatural parasite as a bloody womb. He'd been put through the most painful and awful experience he'd ever had during his long and eventful existence. And, between the hole, the scar on his shoulder, and the marks on his face, he now had about as much pride, sex appeal, and fearfulness as those stupid rabbits from "Night of the Lepus".

He was going to tear apart what had done this to him if he had to follow it back to its bloody home planet.

Suddenly, Spike remembered what had woken him up in the first place- a scream of terror and pain, cut off abruptly. Had he really heard it, or had it been a pleasant dream? He decided it could wait until he got his clothes back- again- and figured out his next move. Naked, he took a few tentative steps across the cold floor.

THUMP!

Spike whirled around, and saw one of the morgue drawers behind him rattle. Something was in there that wasn't quite dead. The drawer rattled again. Whatever it was wanted out pretty badly. Maybe another vampire?

Then he heard the screech. It was a frantic, high-pitched, oddly familiar animal sound, definitely not from a vampire. He reached up and opened the drawer.

A nightmare leapt out, straight past Spike's face. His reflexes were undulled by his experiences, and his arm shot out and managed to just snag the tip of the thing's tail before it could hit ground.

Dangling, it twisted and tried to bite him with a small mouth full of incredibly sharp teeth. Spike took a look at the slimy thing, holding it at arm's length, and realized why the screech had sounded familiar. This was the creature that had forced him to give birth to it, leaving a hole in him as way of thanks.

It was a damn ugly creature, shaped like some sort of phallic worm or maggot. Its cold shell was pale and not yet fully hardened, and vestigial arms and legs could be seen sprouting from its sides. Its eyeless head had nothing save a hungry, snapping mouth for features. There were still red traces of blood on it from its birth. Spike saw that it was wider than the hole in his chest; it must have grown by a full foot since it burst from him. Wriggling ferociously, the wretched thing screamed like a flayed cat. Spike smiled cruelly at it.

Grabbing the chestburster just behind the head, he viciously pulled on its body, stretching it taut and reducing its screams to choked wheezes. "Hello there Junior," he said, "I'm your daddy. Welcome to the world. First lesson of life you're going to learn is exactly how many knots I can tie in you before you die."

Suddenly, the door to the morgue opened and a middle-aged doctor with an ill-fitting toupee walked in and stopped short when he saw the grim tableau before him. Doctor Roy gaped speechlessly at the sight of a hideously injured naked dead man throttling a monster.

There was a silence that was awkward, to say the least. Spike glared at the man, allowing the demon within him to come forth and reveal his vampiric face to the doctor. "Walk away, doc," he snarled. "Go home, have a few stiff ones, and forget everything. Now."

Stammering incoherently, Roy raised his hands defensively, took two steps backwards, and then screamed and fell forward as something struck his back, bearing him to the ground. Without hesitation the Xenomorph on top of him pinned him beneath its clawed feet and bit down hard on his neck. Teeth sliced through flesh with ease, closed around the spine, and tore it free of the body, snapping the neck in two. Roy died, his blood staining both floor and monster. The man's limbs twitched for a moment, then his eyes emptied and the body was still.

Not giving a second thought, the alien drew its head from its kill, swallowed Roy's vertebrae, and snarled at Spike. The second mouth extended outwards on its grotesque stalk and bared its bloodied teeth. Spike could see its legs tensing for a pounce as the creature's eyeless stare focused on him with deadly intent. Thinking quickly, he tightened his grip around the chestburster's spine, causing the wormlike larva to squeal in protest. The alien hesitated.

"That's right," he said, "One wrong move, and Junior here becomes a Slinky pet." Beneath his bravado, his mind was racing on how to get out of this alive. Spike didn't feel up to a fight, what with part of his torso missing and all. He took a better look at the creature, sizing it up. It was smaller than the thing he'd watched Buffy fight in the park, and probably weighed a lot less, but looked plenty strong. It faced Spike on all fours, and looked like it was built to move and fight that way. Its shell was a different colour as well, a dark sheen with faint hints of red. Spike played back the death of the doctor in his mind- surprised, attacked, pinned, and dead in about three seconds- and knew he'd have a tough time taking this thing on in his condition.

The bizarre standoff continued for a few more moments. The only noise in the room were the squeals of the chestburster and the breathing of the alien, the only movement the growing pool of blood beneath the doctor's body. Then they both heard footsteps, heading towards the room, fast. Both made their moves.

Riley had definitely lost control of the situation. He'd discovered that the larva had been stored in the morgue and had been heading there when a scream had echoed throughout the hospital. Fortunately, his hospital uniform meant that when Riley had ordered the civilians around him to get out of there, they'd all listened- including the doctors who outranked him. Military command training was an excellent way to get what you wanted.

Running down the hall leading to the morgue, Riley saw where the scream had come from. Judging by the uniform the body sprawled on the floor was wearing, this man had been a hospital intern, although it was a little hard to tell because of the blood spattered all over him. Riley knelt by the corpse, but then there was another scream- this one coming from the morgue itself. His mind started to put two and two together. The alien larva was in the morgue. The Xenomorphs appeared to be intelligent, social animals. Intelligent animals cared for their young… Riley started running again, leaving the unfortunate intern behind. He had to get to the morgue before someone else died, and before the Xenomorphs rescued their child and unleashed another monster on Sunnydale.

As Riley approached the morgue, the alien leapt at the vampire, claws and teeth extended. At the same time, Spike hurled the larva at his attacker, and leapt sideways towards the morgue drawer. Both aliens collided in midair and crashed to the ground in a shrieking, snarling heap while Spike landed chestfirst on the drawer. Pain shot through his wound and he almost fainted, but managed to haul the rest of his body onto the drawer.

The clicking of claws on linoleum told him that the alien was back on its feet. Summoning his last reserves of strength, Spike braced his arms against the walls of the drawer and pulled himself in. He saw the light of the outside begin to vanish, being replaced by safe, welcome darkness...

Suddenly, a clawed limb latched onto the lip of the drawer before it could completely close. Spike felt himself being pulled back out, his hands slipping from the metal. The thing was strong! He braced himself, ignored his pain and weakness, and pushed as hard as he could against the walls. The drawer stopped moving for a moment, but then the alien's other limb seized the it and pulled harder than ever. Spike's feet slid out into the open. Soon, the rest of him would follow, and the alien would tear him apart at its leisure. He heard the foul thing he'd given birth to squealing excitedly as the larger creature's mouth appeared, extending its second set of jaws to snap at his ankles. He could feel alien saliva dripping onto his naked flesh.

Suddenly, the muffled thud of a silenced gunshot echoed in the morgue, and the alien screeched and dropped away. Spike wasted no time getting the drawer shut all the way. He was immediately enclosed in blackness, and could see nothing. Outside, he heard sizzling, a snarl, another shot-

Bullocks! The shot punched through the drawer Spike was in, narrowly missing him and letting a finger of light into the darkness. There was the sound of commotion outside, then of running, then silence. There was nothing except the hum of the morgue's air conditioning. It was over. He was alone again.

Spike took a deep breath- more for psychological reasons than physical- and got ready to get moving. The sun was almost definitely down by now, and with all the havoc in the hospital, he should be able to get his clothes back and get back to the crypt. Then he'd plan his next move. First of all, healing- there was no bloody way he was going to spend the rest of his unlife with a scarred face, shoulder, and a huge hole in his chest. Spike had come back from having a broken back before, and was sure he could bounce back even from the horrors he'd suffered this night. And once he did, it would be time to inflict a few horrors of his own.

As Riley entered the morgue, his combat instincts took over. He didn't pay attention to the dead man at his feet or wonder why the Xenomorph was attacking a drawer, but simply reacted, drawing the silenced pistol concealed under his coat and firing. The bullet struck the alien dead centre, but spent most of its force on the creature's tough shell. It turned and hissed at him as a thin stream of acid blood spilled onto the morgue floor, scarring and pitting the smooth surface. Riley aimed again, this time at the head-

Hissing, the larva suddenly darted across the floor and sank a mouthful of teeth into Riley's ankle. He cried out as his shot went wild and punctured the drawer instead of the alien, which seized the opportunity and charged. Riley knew he was dead if he stayed where he was. Shaking the chestburster from his ankle, he ran for his life.

Dashing across the morgue floor, he turned and fired over his shoulder, barely missing the creature's legs as it sped after him. Not only was it coming for him with frightening speed, but the smaller creature, its jaws now red with Riley's blood, had hitched a ride on its shoulders. Judging by its exultant screeches, the larva was enjoying itself immensely. Riley tore through the doors of the morgue and into the corridor.

The hallway between the morgue and the lobby was dark, narrow, and much too long for Riley's taste. He tried to focus on the light at the end of the tunnel, the brightly-lit doors to the hospital lobby, as opposed to the snarls of the alien and the primal fear of being struck down from behind which was running through his body. Riley whirled around and fired again. But the moment the alien saw the weapon raised, it leapt onto the wall and then jumped to the ceiling. Its feet stuck there effortlessly, and it continued running without the slightest pause. It was gaining on him...

Riley forced his legs to pump faster, ignoring the stabbing pain in his chewed ankle. His only chance was to buy time and distance, and he turned and shot again, squeezing the trigger as fast as he could. Plaster and dust exploded from the ceiling as the alien dodged, dropping straight down to the floor. Its loathsome passenger was not dislodged by all the acrobatics, and was squealing with excitement as the Xenomorphs chased down their prey. Riley gave up on the gun and focused on running, on the door to the lobby, growing tantalizingly close. But so was the alien; he could hear its footfalls and quiet breathing right behind him. He resisted the urge to turn around, to confront what was behind him. Any second now he would feel that breath, along with teeth and claws ripping into his back, his legs, his pelvis...

Suddenly, the doors in front of him were flung open by two brown-shirted security officers. Riley realized with dismay that hospital security had been alerted to the chaos. They spotted the gun. "Hey!" the youngest-looking, couldn't have been more than 18, yelled, "drop-" Then he saw the aliens, and realized he had much bigger problems than unauthorized firearms. His mouth fell open, and his arms went slack, while his more sensible colleague dove out of the way. Riley had seen the look before: the guard was like a deer in the headlights of a truck, and wouldn't move until it was too late. He dove forward and tackled him to the ground. As their bodies crashed painfully to the hard lobby floor the alien and its passenger leapt overhead. No longer interested in killing, they took off down the hallway.

Riley scrambled to his feet as the man under him groaned, both with pain and pure shock at what he'd seen. Ignoring him and the other guard, who was yelling something about giant lizards into his radio, he lifted his gun again. The moonlight coming through the window at the end of the hall reflected eerily off the alien's shell as it ran. Riley realized that it was about to get away and opened fire again, emptying the rest of his clip at the creatures. But at this range, hitting such a fleet target as the alien was impossible. He watched helplessly as the creature covered the last few feet to the window and jumped-

The window exploded outwards into hundreds of sparkling shards as the adult alien dove through it. It was a two-storey drop to the pavement, but creature landed easily as a cat, ignoring the pieces of glass shattering on and around its body. It shook itself off, and then it and the larva it had come for were gone into the night, leaving only death and destruction as evidence they had ever been there.

"What the hell was that thing?!" gasped the older security guard, way out of his league. Riley's face was grim, and he gave no answer.

All of Willow's attention was focused on EEC's personnel records. She was getting close to an answer here, she could feel it. Apparently the expedition to Mongolia had consisted of five people, all of whom had stopped receiving pay checks from EEC after the expedition had been cut short. The records didn't mention why these people had suddenly no longer worked at EEC after the expedition, leaving out whether they had quit, been downsized, or were dead. But there were no travel expenses listed for their return trips, which pretty much narrowed things down...

She took a deep breath. This pretty much sealed the deal on what had happened to EEC's expedition, but she still needed to know more. Willow changed tactics, paying an Internet visit to the Los Angeles International Airport, looking for the members of the expedition.

What was that noise? That scratching sound in the hall?

It didn't repeat itself, and Willow lost herself in the computer once again. Here they were- Misters Gummer, Mandrake, MacReady, Burke, and Walters on a business-class flight to Mongolia. Willow was about to close the passenger list when she glanced at another name, seated next to the EEC men.

Jacob Traeten had been on the expedition. Difference was, he'd actually come back alive…

"There is an explanation for this, you know."

Willow spun around in her chair to face Traeten. She hadn't even heard him enter- or the two black-clad thugs behind him.

Traeten was the same as ever: sympathetic smile on face, eyes interested, suit unwrinkled, manner friendly. He contrasted sharply with his pals. The one nearest her was pale, sported a dark goatee, and kept fiddling with a ridiculously large, serrated knife. His eyes were like a rodent's, nervous and darting. The other one was covering the door, an immense black mountain of a man with a bald head and a cruel smirk on his face.

"Oh, did I startle you Willow? I'm sorry. It's just that, well, we need to talk," Traeten said, motioning towards her computer. "You see, I've become aware of your online activities regarding my company's interests, and I realize that certain things you've found could look rather... embarrassing if viewed in a certain light."

"W-would that be the 'you've run into killer aliens before and haven't bothered telling us' kinda light?" challenged Willow, regaining some of her composure. That scratching sound must have been the lock being picked... But how did he find out what she'd been doing?

Traeten laughed good-naturedly. "See, that's exactly the kind of attitude we want to prevent. Things like that getting spread around would greatly damage our relationship with our prized customers at the Initiative. But it's all really quite simple to explain," he assured her. "Just come with us and we'll be able to clear everything up for you."

"I... really think I'd rather stay here. You can 'clear things up' for Buffy too when she gets back," replied Willow.

"Oh, but we insist."

Willow bolted. She dove past Traeten, who didn't make a move to stop her, and aimed at the door, hoping the big man was as slow as he looked. He wasn't. He moved like a panther.

Suddenly, she felt a huge arm coil around her waist, and hoist her into the air like a doll. She started to scream and tried to think of a spell, but suddenly an odd-smelling rag was clamped over her face.

Her vision swam, and everything went dark.

Riley was standing in front of the hospital, waiting for the Initiative's cleanup team to arrive, when Buffy walked up nonchalantly.

"Hey there. Anything interesting been happening?" she asked.

Riley just stared.