Sorry it took me so long after the last chapter! I've just been working SO DAMN MUCH! And these other story ideas keep infiltrating my miiiiiiind! But here's a chapter! Yay!

No one spoke for a few days after the dancing demon left, they were all a bit embarrassed; the glamour of the spell had been lifted and a lot of shame settled in amongst the scoobies. Spike had taken it upon himself to follow Buffy around, they'd kissed in front of the falling curtains and swelling music and it was glorious, but she didn't seem to share his sentiment.

She seemed to have told Dean and Sam that she didn't want him around because every time she was out with the brothers, who he thought would have left town by now, they would shoo him off and threaten him with stakes or holy water. He hated those brooding bastards more than he hated Xander, and that was saying a lot.

He ended his night like he usually did, back in his crypt with a good bottle of whisky, his stories on the telly. He was about to get up and grab a cup of blood when he heard someone standing behind him, wiping off their jacket. He stood up, ready for a fight.

"Oh, it'll do you no good. Just sit back down." The rough British accent sounded and he recognized the voice, he turned to see that same short demon that was in the shop when the Winchesters showed up. Crowley, was his name.

"What are you doin in here?" Spike asked, unamused at the intrusion.

"Came to have a tete-a-tete. Thought you might like to make a deal of sorts." He walked closer to Spike, looking around with a grimace, "Perhaps some new digs?"

"I like where I'm at just fine. Don't want to be making any deals with you, don't have a soul for you to take anyhow. You can see yourself out, thanks." He smiled ruefully and plopped back down into his chair, the blood in his fridge all but forgotten.

"Oh I know you don't have a soul, that's not what I'm interested in. It's not what you can do for me, William, it's what I can do for you." He turned back around, interest peaked at the sound of his real name.

"How do you-"

"William the Bloody, awful poet, an even worse man. Lived with your mother until you became a vampire, and then your mother mysteriously disappeared. I'd wager you turned her and then killed her when you didn't like what she'd become." Crowley stood with his hands behind his back and a smug look on his face, his brow raised at the end of his history lesson.

"Alright, alright. Enough with the stories, I was there mate, I know everything. What exactly do you think you can do for me?" Crowley smirked.

"Well for starters, I can make that chip in your head inactive, make it so you can kill again." Spike's ears perked up, a rush of something was sent through him at the thought of being able to taste fresh blood again. Then Buffy's disgusted face popped into his head and he was immediately knocked back down a peg.

"Thanks but no thanks. I'm good as is." He clenched his jaw, not even understanding why he'd just turned down his first real shot at being his old self again. The only thing he could think of was that Buffy would never kiss who he used to be, and he really wanted to kiss her again, amongst other things.

"Oh it's been done for quite some time, think of it as a free gift from Hell to you. Whether or not you use the gift is completely your choice. But I do have a way that you could use it and not feel bad about it, or guilty. A way for you to not care one bit about that little blonde piece." Spike stared at Crowley for some time, he couldn't believe that he'd had the ability to bite people back and hadn't known. But then, when would he have had the chance to test it out?

"And how would you do that?" Spike asked, swallowing thickly, pretty sure he already knew the answer came with black eyes.

"I think you know, William, but I'll tell you anyway." Crowley shuffled around a few seconds before he faced Spike again, as if the few brief moments of silence were somehow building suspense up to the big reveal. Spike scoffed and rolled his eyes, "All you have to do, is allow one of my employees to occupy space in your body. And you get to reap the benefits."

"Right, you let one of your demons possess me and poof, my inhibitions are gone and I'm free to kill who I want, when I want." He sucked in his cheeks as he stared at Crowley, "No deal, mate. I'm fine the way I am." Crowley laughed very briefly and then tilted his head at Spike, the gleam he found there was not comforting. It told him that he hadn't come to make a deal, he'd come to let Spike know he would be possessed whether he said yes or not. It wasn't up to him. And then he was gone, and Spike was staring down air.

Spike stood from his seat and walked to the fridge, grabbing his blood bag, he began pouring it into his favorite mug. He'd downed about half of it when the door to his crypt slammed open. He jumped back, almost dropping the cup but succeeding in catching it midway and spilled about a quarter of its contents onto his shirt. Luckily he always wore black, so there wouldn't be any stains. It still sucked though.

Buffy stood in front of him, arms crossed, face stern.

"Yes, hello, can I help you?" Spike asked sarcastically, upset about the wasted meal on his clothing.

"We just had a run in with Drusilla. She was lurking around." Buffy said, Spike raised a brow at that.

"Did you now? And you've popped in to what? Make sure she didn't come see me?" Spike immediately put on his bad boy routine and he sauntered up to the slayer who scoffed, "Jealous are we?" He stepped a bit closer to Buffy and she turned her head and pushed him away.

"No. I just came to make sure you weren't possessed, but I see that you're fine and now I'm leaving." She went to walk away but Spike grabbed her wrist, holding her back, she didn't fight him off.

"So you were worried about me, then?" He smiled smugly and Buffy turned to him, the humor and emotion was nowhere to be found and he knew what she'd say next.

"I came to make sure I wouldn't have to kill you. But I see you're still yourself, I'll be leaving." She pulled her arm from his grasp with ease and rushed out the door. Spike growled and gripped at his hair. She was exhausting and it didn't make him love her any less. He threw his mug across the room and it smashed against the wall into pieces.

"Damn. I liked that cup." He huffed and then hurried off down his hole and into his bedroom, he was too tired to deal with anything else.

While he slept the door of his crypt crept open and in wafted a dark mist. It found its way around the room and down through a hole in the ground to where a sleeping Spike lay. He turned his back on it promptly, though he was unaware of its presence. It still found its way to him, however, and let itself into his body.

He woke up gasping for air that he didn't need.