Some Kind of Psychic

by scpeede

If you don't like OC's, this probably isn't for you. Mostly written because I decided Spike should have someone to himself.

3. Chapter 3

So I know it's been... forever since I last updated. I had chapter three written up a week after I posted chapter two, but something about it bothered me. I kept revising, but nothing seemed to fix it so I set it aside for a few weeks to let my brain reboot. Which was when life happened, as it tends to do. I kept thinking about this chapter though, even though I didn't have to the time to devote to it. But I did eventually realize what was wrong with it. The plot had shifted from what it had been. Not a noticeable amount really, more that the idea had matured with time. And the place the first two chapters were heading wasn't exactly the same place I knew the story needed to go. Once I got that squared away, the rest fell into place. I actually finished the handwritten draft a few weeks ago and I've been working on getting it typed up after work most days. It's finally finished.

At last.

If you see a typo, don't be shy. Because it was just me and Microsoft Word editing this-and we all know that spellcheck can only be trusted as far as you can spit into the wind off a canyon.

I'd still like to thank the people who read-especially the people who reviewed. It meant a lot that you were still reading, even if I was struggling. Without that, I might have given up on it entirely (though I'm sure most of you thought I had). So thank you, whether you added the story to your alerts, reviewed, or just read. I keep track because it means a lot, even if I can't exactly keep track of the people who just read, but I appreciate them just as much. So thank you: AnimePrincessRach, hulettwyo, Aniles, Skipper, TheDoctorHarkness, SoUtHeRnBeLLe706, byakugansharinganweaponhottie, SemiraBlake, . , HikariYamino, LadyxAbsinthe, Cost of the Crown, Sonny13, Umbra1219, DemonicLightning, 13teen, Shenandoah76209, mariehovas, emila.k16, pauoagirl, Oliver Haddo, lunabloodmoon666, Times eternal servant, Kiteria, Phirebrush, mayasquared, GhostOfMyLady, Noaa Walker, schnurzel187, Adelaide Pitman, wolfkibagirl69, JusticeLarae13, RaidenIsLightning, FairyNinjaPrincess, ilovemedia18, Jenny, ProcrastinatingPyro09, Erudessa-gabrielle, ItaSaku1220, IntellectualBadass333, Joker's Lover, xoangelwingxo, evemarie07, and VampGurl101.

Thank you.

Now, on with the story you'd forgotten about/ given up on. :)

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Spike was very much aware of Cooper's presence during the training session. She was still perched on the porch railing—as she had been for the past few hours—seemingly there to support her anxious roommate. And it couldn't be denied that Amalia's nerves had eased once she noticed Cooper was there.

But Spike knew better.

Cooper was studying them.

Sure, she'd said as much as they had headed outside, but he didn't realize then just how serious she was about getting a grasp of their fighting styles. She'd started with Buffy, her sharp focus belied by the casual pose she'd affected. Cooper sat sideways on the rail as she leaned back against one of the posts, legs stretched out in front of her and crossed at the ankles—relaxation at its finest. Her eyes would often flick to the far corner of the yard where Red and the priestess were meditating safely out of harm's way and she would even glance at the Watcher from time to time as he sat at the kitchen table, flipping through the few journals he'd brought along.

She seemed bored.

Spike knew she wasn't.

After all, it was trick he often used himself. And he'd bet the Aurelius fortune that she was studying more than just preferred fighting styles. No, she'd be watching how they interacted with each other, how well they worked together, and he was sure that she was keeping note of her observations.

He noticed Cooper's wince as Amalia hit the ground a fair bit harder than he'd meant her to. Spike shrugged and made to light a cigarette, not his fault the chit hadn't even attempted to break her fall.

"You know," Cooper said as she fought down a smile, "When the vampire you're fighting has time to light a cigarette, it's probably safe to assume that your offense needs a little work."

He smirked at her around the cigarette.

"But—but you guys said I didn't have to be a ninja!" Amalia sputtered as she sat up.

Cooper lost the fight with her grin. "I'm just messing with you. Though if you'd work on your follow-through, you wouldn't have nearly as much trouble keeping your balance."

Buffy's temper immediately flared. "Don't listen to her. You're doing great for your first day." She threw a quick glare at Cooper. "I doubt your friend is an expert on the subject."

Spike wasn't the only one who turned to see what Cooper's reaction would be to the clear challenge.

"She's right. I'm hopelessly unskilled in the ways of unarmed combat." Cooper didn't spare them a glance, instead looking at her nails. "It's why I'm still alive."

"So you got lucky." Buffy scoffed.

He decided that this was one hole the Slayer needed to stop digging in. Unless, of course, she wanted a personal demonstration. But as much as he would enjoy seeing it, it was probably a bad idea. "Got confirmation on her kills earlier. She wasn't lyin' 'bout dancin' with Masters. Two against one an' she came out on top. That's more'n just luck."

"Oh, yeah? Just who confirmed this little story of hers?" the Slayer challenged.

"Her boss popped by, told me everythin' that—"

"Her boss? Her vampire boss?" she turned angrily to Cooper. "You let a vampire come here? A master vampire? Are you insane?"

Giles stood from the table and slowly made his way outside, worried about the Slayer's flaring temper.

Cooper was still calmly examining her nails. "You know, I think you might be forgetting an important fact."

"Really? And what might that be?"

She used one hand to gesture around her. "This is my house. You are just a guest that I don't particularly care to have. So when I want your opinion on the company I keep and the people I invite into my home, I will ask you for it."

Personally, Spike thought she'd been pretty clear on things.

Buffy obviously didn't agree, and was only getting more and more worked up—the complete opposite of Cooper's quiet composure. "He's a vampire! Do you even care if he makes snacks out of your friends?"

"Mathias may be an idiot, but he's not stupid."

"That has nothing to do with him making meals out of people!"

Spike stifled a snort. It had everything to do with it. Mathias wasn't going to risk crossing her for an easy meal.

"Giles!" The Slayer had finally noticed him standing on the porch. "This vampire is a threat to a Slayer. We have to take him out."

Cooper finally looked up. "Slow down there, Slayer. If anyone gets to kill the bastard, it'll be me. I called dibs years ago."

Spike was more than a little confused. She hadn't acted as though she disliked the fellow. She'd even gone so far as to let him bite her to save his skin. You didn't do that for someone you wanted dead. "Thought you liked him, pet?"

"I tolerate him. But, one day, those apologies won't be enough. If it wasn't for Vlad, Mathias would have been dust in the wind already. Orville, too."

"Does Vlad know you don't like them?"

"He should. On the day I met them, I told Vlad that I got the feeling that I'd be forced to kill them one day. But I don't think he believes me, even though I renew that opinion every time I have to interact with Orville."

Buffy stared almost disbelievingly at Cooper. "Giles, I was wrong. It's not the vampire that's putting people in danger. It's her!"

Cooper, though, kept her gaze on Spike and spoke just as calmly as she had been. "I get the feeling that, one day, I'll be forced to beat her into the ground. A few inches, six feet, who can say?"

Giles quickly took that as his chance to defuse the situation by gaining Cooper's attention. "Excuse me, I was hoping to talk to you about the local demon population."

She apparently had no problem at all ignoring Buffy. "I take it you redid the list?"

"I—yes. I took what you said into consideration and revised accordingly."

"Let's go then." Cooper slid down off the porch railing and followed Giles back into the house, Buffy shooting a triumphant look at her retreating figure.

Spike was forced to wonder if Buffy had hit her head too hard during the last apocalypse while no one was looking. She must have if she thought that she'd just won something in her exchange with Cooper. He knew from experience that amusement was far more dangerous than anger. And Cooper had been far from angry.

At this rate, all Buffy was going to accomplish was alienating a potential ally. From the little that Spike had observed about Finley Cooper, doing so would be a mistake. She would make a powerful friend.

Though if Buffy got her way, he was sure she'd be just as formidable of a foe.

Cooper lifted her arms as she moved toward one of the chairs surrounding the kitchen table, stretching out the few kinks she had from sitting still for so long. Observing the traveling Slayer academy wasn't how she would have preferred to spend her time, but she'd learned some useful things in doing so. Besides, it wasn't every day that you got to see the half of the former Scourge in action.

Angelus—Angel, she corrected herself—was a boxer by nature; she'd assumed as much based on his build, but liked having the suspicion confirmed. Not that he didn't use his lower body, but his preference was clear. She'd also noticed the thin scars crisscrossing his hands, something leftover from his human days. The only scars that transferred to a vampire's body were those that had healed completely before the turning. And those scars marked him as a master swordsman.

It was likely that Spike was also a skilled swordsman, though probably not as naturally gifted as his grand-sire. No, he preferred a more hands-on method with his opponents. And he was just as likely to throw a punch as he was a kick. Though you could be certain that the first blow would be followed by a second. Probably even a third. His style was heavily affected by the martial arts, their influence obvious in the way he stood and the way he subtly shifted his weight. She firmly believed that he was the more dangerous of the two. Spike could adapt. And an opponent who could shift their style to suit the situation was dangerous.

Maybe she could tempt him into a sparring session...

But what Cooper found the most enlightening was her study of the Slayer's style. She was also greatly disappointed. Her moves were sloppy and poorly executed, as though she hadn't bothered to hone her skills beyond the basics. She relied much too heavily on supernatural strength to get her by. Like she'd told Amalia, strength was nothing if you couldn't use it to your advantage. And it was clear that this Slayer couldn't.

Cooper was suddenly feeling a lot less threatened by the veteran Slayer's presence in her home.

"If you would be so kind?"

The Watcher's softly spoken question pulled her out of her analysis of Team Slayer as she down across from him, taking the list from his outstretched hand. She quickly reviewed it, her frown becoming deeper the more she read. This wasn't right at all.

Cooper held out her hand. "Pen."

Almost instantly, there was a pen in her hand. She smoothed the paper on the table, preparing to make corrections, and hesitated. She started to mark the paper again, only to sigh and flip the page over, quickly scribbling out an entirely new list on the back. She handed the list back to him.

Giles was speechless as he examined the new list, but finally managed to recover. "I assume this is a list of demons in the area that are known for attacking unprovoked?"

She nodded once.

Adjusting his glasses, he looked the paper over again. "Is this—you also listed the most efficient way to destroy them?"

"I listed the easiest way." She shrugged. "Not all of us are Slayers."

"May I ask why you created a new list instead of pointing out my errors?"

She grinned. "It makes this back-and-forth a lot faster."

"Yes, I suppose it does," he agreed with an indulgent smile. "It would most likely take weeks to find the appropriate books to even begin such research. And I don't believe I've ever heard of this one... Would you happen to know where I could find the proper resources? I'd very much like to begin researching some of these demon species."

"I actually have a few tomes that may interest you. They won't be anything too in-depth, but it might give you a starting point."

Giles had eagerly accepted her offer and, in a matter of minutes, Cooper had him set up with a half dozen books. Though, admittedly, they were far from the most useful in her collection. She wasn't sure she trusted the Watcher quite that far.

She wandered back outside to wait for a lull in the training session—namely, the next time Amalia hit the ground. Cooper thought that her friend would be most open to food at that point. Two minutes later, she had her chance. "Are you hungry yet?"

"Starving!" Amalia replied as she picked herself up off the ground. "What do you have in mind?"

A small smirk slid across Cooper's face as she slipped the credit card out of her back pocket and held it triumphantly between two fingers.

"Is that what I think it is?"

"A certain vampire's credit card?" The smirk widened. "Why, yes. Yes, it is."

Amalia was skeptical. "Does he know you have it?"

"He gave it to me himself." She sighed as the skeptical look didn't budge from her friend's face. "In front of a witness. He even told me to buy dinner for everyone."

"We wouldn't want to disappoint him." Amalia relented.

Cooper nodded solemnly. "He'd be terribly upset if we didn't honor his request."

The two friends shared growing evil grins.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Depends," the new slayer answered. "Are you thinking of a food that will make the health nut lecture us?"

"I am, indeed."

Amalia hurried up the steps. "You get the take-out menu; I'll sit on Miss Vegan."

"Deal."

And with single-minded efficiency, the two young women had herded everyone into the kitchen and unearthed a menu from a local pizza joint, though Amalia was slightly bummed that she didn't get to sit on anyone.

Cooper was propped against the counter with the cordless phone in her hand, patiently waiting for everyone to decide on their orders. Spike was standing near her, enjoying the calm aura that seemed to surround her. The girls were crowded around the take-out menu, occasionally elbowing each other out of the way.

"Will someone split a pizza with me?" the priestess asked. "I don't want much."

Willow quickly agreed. "I will. Not all of us have Slayer metabolism. Some of us have to watch what we eat."

Cooper rolled her eyes. "Seriously, people. What part of unlimited credit is unclear to you?"

"There's no need to overdo it." Shizune protested.

"I don't want to be rude. It was nice of your friend to buy us dinner."

Cooper snorted. "It's an apology from Mathias. No need to feel guilty, Wicca."

"Really?" the veteran Slayer adopted a bored tone. "What's he got to apologize to you for?"

"His one night stand tried to kill me. So did two of his clients." Spike just stared at her in awe, her calm aura completely unruffled by the Slayer's barb.

"One whole pizza for Willow, coming right up!" the witch chirped.

"Thanks." She smiled, but Spike noticed that it wasn't like the smile she gave him. Part of him liked that Willow didn't get his smile, that little part jealously wanting to keep all of those smiles for himself.

"You should have said that first," the priestess told her. "And why waste time? You should just order one of everything on the menu."

"The thought actually crossed my mind. But it was followed by one a lot better. I'm going to—"

Amalia threw up her hands. "I don't want to know! I need plausible deniability when it comes to these things now. Most of your friends already hate Slayers. They don't need any more reasons."

"And I don't want to be standing next to you when Mathias retaliates." Shizune's reasoning was much more logical. "There's no telling what he might do to get you back. No way am I getting stuck in a prank war between you two."

"Chances are, he'll be too surprised to do anything about it."

Angel's look was nothing short of incredulous. "You? Surprise a Master vampire?"

"You're right. It's stupid." Cooper quickly changed the subject. "What kind of pizza do you guys want?"

The kitchen quickly cleared out after everyone ordered, leaving Cooper to place the call.

Which she did quite gleefully, much to Spike's amusement.

To be fair, his amusement didn't start until she was given the total and asked if she would like go ahead and leave a tip as she was paying with a card. She agreed, reading off the credit card number as though she had it memorized, "I think 35% sounds fair... Oh, that won't do. Round it up to something nice and even for me, would you? It's such a hassle dealing with uneven change... No, thank you."

She grinned widely at him as she hung up the phone, clearly pleased with herself. Spike couldn't stop the chuckles that escaped him, entertained by her actions and pleased that he'd gotten another of those smiles directed his way—even if it was on the mischievous side if things. "That your evil plan to get back at Mathias? Over-tipping?"

"Nope."

"Whatcha got in mind, pet?"

"Gilded Cage Escort Services."

"Not seein' how that equates to revenge."

"You obviously haven't seen their rates." Her grin didn't falter.

Spike had to raise an eyebrow at that.

Cooper leaned in, as though she were sharing a secret. "The most popular escorts have rates well into the six-figures."

He gave a low whistle. Steep rates, those.

"And I tripled said rates to make sure that every single one of them was free tonight and that they'd do exactly what I want them to." Her eyes were sparkling now as she outlined her plan.

A plan he was suddenly very interested in. "Which is?"

"They'll arrive on his doorstep looking all sexified and whatnot, tell him that a one night stand isn't that difficult of a concept, and leave." By this point, she had one fist clenched in conviction, confident in her plan for revenge. "But the best part—the absolute best part—is that it's his card footing the bill for a night full of nothing."

Spike laughed, enjoying the comically determined look on her face. Oh, she was hittin' this bloke where it hurt. "I was wrong, pet. Devious is a vast understatement for what goes on in that noggin'."

Her smile shifted from impish delight to something softer and his demon rumbled its approval. In that moment, Spike realized that he was getting a glimpse behind that seemingly unflappable poise. He also realized that he wanted—needed—to know more about her. Surprisingly, or maybe not so surprisingly, his demon was in complete agreement.

He decided to start small, having no desire to be on the receiving end of her ire should he ask something she considered too personal. "You told Amalia that you don't fight vampires as much as she thinks. That true?"

"I mean, I get jumped daily by fledges looking for a quick bite, but I wouldn't really classify any of those as a fight."

"What about the Masters you fought? They a challenge?"

Cooper sighed. "I usually have the misfortune of meeting the ones that are considered Masters solely because of their age, not because they're particularly skilled. Now Jacques, the one from last night, he's good with a sword, I'll give him that. But once you knock it out of his hand, it's all over. Until he lost his sword, it was a fight. His childe, on the other hand... armed, unarmed, no skill whatsoever. Obviously, he was not a favorite." She paused, frowning slightly. "He couldn't even throw a decent punch! What self-respecting sire lets their childe go out into the world when a girl scout is better in a brawl?"

"Happens more'n you'd think."

"But it's a disgrace to the line, him not being able to at least hold his own in a fight."

"Agree completely, pet." He confessed, somewhat shocked by her apparent outrage at the situation. "But you are talkin' to a self-made Master. Though, from your obvious upset, I figure I'm not the only one you know. Mathias a decent fighter, then?"

"No."

Comprehension dawned, her admitted tolerance of Mathias suddenly fitting more snugly into place. "The other Master you work for. Vlad, was it?"

She nodded.

"Not a very original name, mind you. He's good, though?"

"Best I've seen, not that it says much."

"If you can take on Masters an' win, it says a lot." He paused. "Mathias really can't fight?"

"It's—" she covered her eyes as if picturing it physically hurt her. "He must have been the most spastic human being on the face of the planet before he was turned. Complete train wreck. He doesn't hide his aura because he's a laid-back kind of guy that prefers to avoid conflict; he does it because he's completely useless. I used to spar with him when I was first starting out, but I outgrew him in a matter of days. There was never any challenge in it."

His interest—and his demon's—was definitely piqued. Either Mathias's skills were absolutely abysmal and the man didn't deserve to be a vampire, or Cooper was an extraordinarily gifted fighter. He got the feeling that the latter was closer to the truth. He desperately wanted to know more; more about her training, more about the demon that took her as an apprentice—because it had to be a demon that taught her to slay Masters. Most of all, he wanted to know why she was trained. But that would surely be considered as prying on his part. And she was the type to shut down completely when pushed too far. Eventually, though, he was going to find out. No, he wasn't going to give up on puzzling her out. It just wouldn't happen all at once. "What do you consider a challenge?"

Cooper thought about it a moment. "That mystery demon from last night, but that's mostly because I'd never seen his kind before. Demons with poisonous claws. Now that's a challenge. I haven't come across a species yet that was easy to take down."

"Neither have I, pet. Nasty buggers, they are. The ones with slime, too. Hard to get out of a tangle with one of those without needin' to stop by the laundry."

"Tell me about it," she groaned. "Your clothes are never the same after that."

"Ever come across a Tchlk demon?"

"Ugh, I found a new respect for bleach that night. And steel wool."

Curious, he asked, "That how you got out the—"

The doorbell chose that minute to interrupt. Spike snorted at the chorus of "yay, pizza!" that came from the backyard as Cooper went to answer the door. Everyone had claimed a seat in the living room by the time she returned to set six pizza boxes on the coffee table, quickly snagging one for herself and retreating to her chair before the madness descended.

For about thirty seconds, there was chaos as the women fought over whose pizza was whose. Cooper was fairly certain she even heard growling, though it didn't come from the vampires. She wasn't worried; she was safely out of the way of any clawing and hair pulling that might break out. By the time the dust settled, she was using an ottoman as a dining table and halfway through her first slice. Spike wandered in with a mug of blood and settled himself on the arm of her chair, much as he had done the day before. Cooper spared him a brief glance and went back to eating.

Sadly, though she was out of reach in a self-proclaimed safety zone, her pizza was not. She smacked the invading hand away from the ottoman.

The priestess yelped. "What was that for?"

"Eat your own pizza. This is mine."

"But yours is always better."

"Because I'm not stupid enough to put tofu on it." Cooper picked up a slice and pointed at its toppings. "See this? This is ham. This is sausage. Pepperoni. And this, this is the food handed to humans by the gods themselves. It is called bacon," she finished reverently.

"I like bacon."

Her tone returned to normal. "Then order it on your pizza. This is mine."

Shizune waited until her friend's focus was solely on her next slice of pizza before making a second attempt. "Ow! Stop doing that."

"You should be glad she stopped stabbing people with forks." Amalia shivered in remembrance. "The plastic ones are dangerous."

The priestess sighed in acceptance of her defeat. "Like that time she stabbed you over a piece of cake."

"Good Lord! Was that really necessary?" Giles asked.

Cooper was working on her fifth slice and still completely unrepentant. "It was double chocolate fudge and she went straight for the frosting."

"I probably wouldn't have stabbed her in the hand." Willow commented absently, the Watcher staring at her in disbelief. "Double chocolate fudge, Giles! It's unforgivable!"

"My point exactly."

"In elementary school, she put a boy in a headlock because he took her candy bar." Amalia told them.

Buffy scoffed. "Violence much?"

Cooper ignored her and picked up another slice of pizza. "High school, actually."

"I still think that it is an overly hostile reaction to have over food." The Watcher looked at her disapprovingly.

"It's chocolate, Giles," Willow objected. "There's no such thing as overly hostile."

"I got my candy bar back." The durable human shrugged.

Buffy frowned. "You must have been absent that day in juvie when they taught all the other delinquents to use their words."

Spike glanced at Cooper, sure that Buffy's comment had gone too far this time. But she didn't retaliate with her own barb, just agreed in that same cool tone she'd used with her earlier. "Must have been that week I was out with the flu."

"Is anyone else having flashbacks to Faith?"

"Buffy!" Angel admonished.

"I'm serious," the Slayer insisted, "I wouldn't be surprised if she's killed someone!"

Cooper just picked up another slice. "I've lost count."

Spike didn't doubt it, but that wasn't quite what Buffy had been accusing her of. "Humans, pet."

"Can we change the subject, please?" Amalia begged, having gone pale in the face.

Giles's answer was stern. "Of course."

Spike studied the newest Slayer. She was a mite squeamish for a mystical warrior pledged to fight the baddies. He turned his attention to Cooper, who was ignoring everyone in favor of dinner. He looked expectantly at the side of her face, waiting for her to turn around.

She didn't.

In fact, she was pointedly ignoring him. He smirked. Two could play this game. Spike stared harder.

She frowned.

He kept staring.

She grumbled and slid the pizza box a whole fraction of an inch in his direction.

He grinned triumphantly and took the last slice.

She grumbled some more.

"Why are you sharing with him and not me?" Shizune complained. "It's not like he'll appreciate it."

Cooper's tone was dry was she answered the priestess. "I'm told his pout can level cities."

"I can pout!" She proceeded to demonstrate.

"And yet, I don't feel the urge to give you pizza."

Spike happily dunked the pizza into his mug.

Amalia dropped the slice she was eating into the box and pushed it away. "I'm done."

Cooper perked up. "If you don't want it, can I have it?"

"Knock yourself out."

The durable human felt her friend's eyes on her. "I waited until she was done. It's common courtesy," she told Shizune as she brought the pizza over to the ottoman and picked up the unfinished slice.

Willow stared, wide-eyed. "Did you just eat an entire pizza by yourself?"

Cooper's mouth was full of the Slayer's pizza, but she still managed to sound put-out about being forced to share her own. "Not all of it."

"I still don't know where you put it all," the priestess told her.

She swallowed. "Fight to the death once a day. Your metabolism will skyrocket."

"Is that why Slayers eat so much, Giles?" Willow asked, and then noticed Amalia. "Well, until they get squicked out by vampire eating habits."

"That's just Spike." Angel protested as his wife said, "Everyone gets squicked out by that."

"Except Xander," Willow pointed out. "He learned to ignore it."

"Nothing gets between Xander and food. If it does, he eats it." Angel commented.

Cooper nodded thoughtfully as she chewed. "Good philosophy."

"I miss my Xander-shaped friend."

"We don't need him, Wils. He left us, remember?"

"I know, but—"

"We're doing just fine without him." Buffy insisted.

Spike perked up as he sensed the rage swirl around the room. It was there and gone so quickly that he had to wonder if it had really happened.

"Who's Xander?" Amalia asked, beginning to look slightly less nauseous.

"He used to be one of the Scoobies."

Willow winced at her friend's words but didn't deny them.

The feeling of rage seemed to explode into existence this time, swirling about before disappearing again. No, Spike definitely wasn't imagining things. He shot a quick glance at Angel who returned the look. At least he wasn't the only one who noticed it, even if he wasn't sure exactly what it was or who caused it.

The witch distracted herself by watching Spike dip his pizza crust into the blood before eating it. "You know, I think that might be more disgusting than the Weetabix."

"Weetabix?" Amalia questioned.

"Yeah. Spike likes to crumble it into his blood. He says it—"

"No more details," Amalia begged. "Please, for the sake of my appetite ever returning, no more details."

"Sorry."

"Weetabix, huh?" Cooper mused.

Spike dunked the last of his crust. "Gives it texture."

Amalia moaned pitifully at his answer.

"I believe it is past time for a new topic of discussion." Giles declared. "What did you manage to accomplish in training today?"

Buffy answered him and the newest Slayer, looking positively green, desperately joined the conversation.

Angel took the opportunity to move closer to Cooper and Spike, staring down at them from the other side of the ottoman. Spike sighed. His grandsire was wearing a cross between the "I'm Big and Scary, Fear Me" and the "I am Older and Wiser, Therefore You Must Listen to Me" faces, meaning there was likely going to be a lecture in Spike's immediate future.

Bollocks.

He frowned, unable to recall anything he'd done in the past 24 hours that would annoy Angel to this level. Huh. He was falling down on the job. Spike resolved to piss Angel off as soon as the chance arose.

But Angel was looking at Cooper, who just blinked at him. "Only three people have ever seen the pout and two of them are dead. So I'm curious as to how you came across the information."

"How sure about these three people are you?" she asked.

"Very."

Cooper shrugged easily. "Then there must be a fourth."

"There's no fourth," Angel growled. "Now who told you?"

"You're just going to have to settle for being disappointed." She informed him. "Not even the threat of death could persuade me to reveal my source."

He took on what he considered to be a menacing tone. "What about threat of torture?"

Spike watched as she snickered at his grandsire's attempt to cow her, greatly amused by Angel's shocked look.

Cooper managed to reign in her laughter. "You're adorable."

"Why aren't you backing me on this?" Angel turned his irritation on Spike.

"Don't imagine the list of thin's that actually intimidate her is very long." Spike smirked. "Know for a fact that you're not on it."

Angel sighed. "Spike, if you could just—"

"Can't say I'm worryin' about it, Peaches. Not like it's really a secret." He gave Cooper a cheeky grin. "Besides, she only preempted the pout because it would've worked."

She gave him an amused eye roll in return. "Well, this has been a lovely chat, but I have work to do."

"What kind of work, luv?"

Angel shook his head and walked away, wondering why Spike always had to make things so much more difficult than they needed to be.

"Vlad needs me to find a loophole."

"A loophole?"

"Loopholes are what I do." She grinned lopsidedly. "It's why Vlad loves me."

"Can see how loopholes'd be useful to a law firm."

"Useful in general, really."

Spike was curious. "So you just read a law an' know a way around it?"

"I can," she admitted, "But research is what keeps the ball firmly in our court. Vlad prefers to control all of the cards, even the ones that aren't in play."

"Sounds like somethin' the two of you have in common."

She stood, slanting a small smile in his direction. "If anyone needs me, I'll be hip-deep in legalese." She ignored Buffy's comment about her being the absolute last thing they needed as she collected her empty pizza boxes and left the room.

Spike watched her go. She was intelligent—he'd known that—but it was clear now that she was clever. And it was a particular kind of cleverness that could find their way out of an airtight contract. Or around ancient laws whose roots were long forgotten. But she hadn't felt the need to flaunt it. No, Finley Cooper was confident in her abilities.

Whatever those abilities might be.

Cooper was camped out in the kitchen, feet propped on the table as she leaned back in her chair. An ancient tome was open in her lap, forcing her to read slowly due to its particularly obscure dialect. She held her place with a finger and looked up as Spike came in through the back door, glad for the distraction.

He winced as he closed the door behind him, one arm wrapped around his middle as he moved gingerly toward the stairs.

"Are you alright?"

Spike immediately traded the wince for crooked smile as he noticed her, slowly straightening his arm away from his body. "Fine, pet. Slayer just got a little too gung-ho while teachin' your friend."

The book she was holding hit the table with a heavy thud, page lost as it flipped shut. She was out of her chair and next to him in a second.

He looked at her, confused. "What're you doin'?"

Silencing him with a glare, Cooper gently moved his arm as she ran her hand under his shirt to explore his ribs.

"You know, luv, if you wanted to get a good feel, could've just—" Spike broke off with a hiss as probing fingers found what he'd been trying to hide.

She made a soft shushing noise as she continued her exploration, growing more and more horrified by the minute. Her hand stopped moving, palm resting over the worst of it: two broken ribs severely out of alignment and three more cracked; that wasn't counting the bruising. She bit down on her tongue, desperately trying to reign in her temper. The damage was from multiple hits—super powered hits—all aimed at the same spot, coming from the same direction. Cooper couldn't understand it. Why didn't Spike say anything to stop her? Hell, why didn't he strike back? Weren't they supposed to be friends? Family, even? And where was Angel during all this? It hadn't happened quickly. That kind of damage took time, not to mention a concentrated effort. Did his sire allow this type of abuse? Was that soul of his otherwise occupied?

She felt physically ill, never mind the uproar it had thrown her emotions into. Withdrawing her hand, she told him, "You need better friends. In a bad way." She avoided looking at his face, knowing her control would be shot if she met those blue eyes, instead focusing her gaze on his shoulder.

Cooper didn't see the soft smile he gave the top of her head. "Looks like I got you."

She snorted, still staring hard at his shoulder.

"Was serious, pet. You are the one in here frettin' over me."

"Someone should," she muttered. Taking a deep breath, she gathered herself, ordering him into a chair as she rummaged under the sink for the medical kit. She dragged the behemoth of a box over to him and set it on the table. Cooper pulled out a roll of bandaging and looked at him expectantly.

"What?"

"You may heal quickly, but it's far from instantaneous." She pulled a chair over to him and sat down, having no qualms about invading his space. "Do you need help with your shirt or can you manage it by yourself?"

Spike apparently didn't answer fast enough because she gently tugged his shirt up his good side, over his head, and off his injured side. She studied the two ribs that needed to be reset.

"Listen, pet, you don't have to fuss over me."

"Yes, you could pop these" she gestured to the slight protrusion on his side, "in yourself and down a couple pints of blood, but they still won't be completely healed for another 36 to 48 hours. Ribs are tricky that way." Cooper held his gaze as she carefully laid her hand along his ribcage. "Besides, I'm hardly squeamish."

Without warning, she shifted the two ribs back into place. Spike snarled at the unexpected pain, face transforming. Cooper met his golden eyes unflinchingly.

Spike realized he hadn't startled her in the slightest, not even when he growled in her face. The demon was unsurprised by her reaction and rumbled his satisfaction. His side throbbed, but breathing was less of an effort now. "Act like you've done this before, luv."

Confirming with her eyes that he was okay, she bent to check the placement of his ribs. "Once or twice." She picked up the bandaging she had set aside. "Lift your arms."

He did as told and she began winding the bandage around his chest. Spike couldn't help but notice how close she was, especially when she reached around him. He inhaled deeply, human face coming back to the fore.

"Spike, this is hard to do with you leaning like that."

He belatedly realized that she had stopped moving because he'd made it impossible by leaning over her, unconsciously trying to get closer to the sweet electricity that made up her scent. "Sorry, pet." He straightened, trying to resist the urge to do it again as she continued with her task.

"There. All done."

"Done this a bit more'n twice, I'd say." He commented as he examined the wrapping. "Mathias? Seems he'd be the most likely to get hurt."

"I've never done this for him, usually just tell him that he deserved it."

"Who, then? Know it was a vamp."

She started packing away the kit. "What makes you say that?"

"When I went into Game Face, you didn't even blink. That tends to spook most humans, even if they're expectin' it."

Cooper looked up, frowning in confusion. "Game Face? The hell is— Oh." She turned back to the kit. "I generally refer to it as dropping fang."

"Yours sounds dirtier somehow."

"Probably why I use it." She grinned.

He refused to be distracted from his line of questioning. "So, who's this vamp you patch up?"

"Vlad." She tried to close the lid, but it wouldn't latch. Cooper began to take things out of the kit and start again. "I actually care whether or not he gets dusted."

"Friends?"

The durable human paused.

"Family, then?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Clan."

Spike was surprised she knew the difference. "He consider you clan back?" He instantly regretted the question at the look she shot him.

"I realize that this may be an unfamiliar concept for you given the current state of your ribs and how they got that way, but clanship is a two-way street. He's just as much my clan as I am his." She clamped her mouth shut. It was none of her business, no matter how much she yearned to fix it.

Spike, for his part, was shaken by her statement. Not because a vampire considered a human clan, but because of the truth of it. He knew the comment hadn't been said with the intent to hurt, and it didn't. Not really. He was beyond being able to be hurt by the sorry state of his clan. At this point, it was a melancholy acceptance of what was unlikely to ever be fixed. His clan was broken and he knew it, though he'd rather not think about it. "Where is Vlad? If he's clan, shouldn't he be close by?"

Cooper was relieved. That was a question she could answer without losing her temper. "Vlad's overseas on business. He'll be back in a week or so."

"Sounds like you don't spend much time together."

"He hadn't wanted to go, not when I couldn't go with him, but he didn't have much choice." She shook her head. "If I'm not here or at work, I'm at his place. And since I have to be here, he'll probably be over here so often when he gets back that I'll get sick of him."

He laughed. "Really?"

"He's a worrier." There was a certain fondness in her tone when she spoke of him that Spike was immediately jealous of. He didn't know anyone that spoke of him as fondly as she did of Vlad. Well, maybe the Niblet. But she was all grown up and could take care of herself. She didn't need him anymore.

No one did, really.

He quickly shook of that thought. That was the kind of thinking that got you stuck at the bottom of a very large bottle. "Vlad not likin' the idea of you in a house with two Masters?"

"He's not liking the idea pf me being in a house with anyone affiliated with the Watcher's Council, new management or not. He especially doesn't like the idea of me sharing a roof with a Slayer that isn't Amalia."

"He's worried about the soddin' Council? What the bloody hell for?" Spike couldn't seem to wrap his mind around that one.

"I'll let you in on a little secret," she told him. "I'm not exactly a paragon of the light, if you know what I mean."

"You're not evil."

"No," she agreed, "I'm neutral. But I've noticed that you goody-goody types don't take too kindly to that. I just get lumped in with all the morons that want to destroy the world."

Spike bristled. "Let's get one thing straight, pet. I am not one of those goody-goody types."

"Maybe not. But those goody-goody types have you on an insanely tight leash."

"You bloody well better take that back!" he snarled. "I'm nobody's pet. If anythin'—"

Cooper was weary. "Spike, stop it. I've got two perfectly good eyes."

He immediately wilted.

"I didn't really mean anything by it, just stating a fact. My mouth got ahead of my brain for a minute. I didn't realize that I was tap dancing on a sore spot." She made sure he was looking at her. "I'm sorry."

How long had it been since he'd heard those two words? How long since anyone had treated him as more than a convenient target? Since they'd treated him like a person, as someone who had emotions of their own?

"I wasn't trying to start anything, really." She continued, unaware of his turmoil. "If you're happy, I'm happy."

But what if he wasn't happy, he wondered. Would she be unhappy too?

She would. Something deep down inside insisted that if he was sad, she would be sad with him. It didn't make sense. He barely knew her, even if he was determined to change that. But she barely knew him. Why would she even care how he felt? Care that he was hurt? He could see no reason why she should.

Maybe she didn't. Maybe she just wanted him to believe she did. His demon violently disagreed, a sharp pain settling at the base of his skull. The demon vowed that she would never betray him in that way, would never use him like that.

His demon had never been wrong before, and Spike desperately wanted to believe in her, but he knew there was a first time for everything. His soul was proof of that.

"You should go get some blood." Her soft words broke through the fog and the pain in his head dwindled to a dull ache. "You're starting to look a little peaky."

Spike stood, mechanically making his way toward the basement stairs. He turned back when he reached the doorway. "Cooper?"

"Yeah?" She looked up from trying to wedge the kit back under the sink.

He had plastered a smile on his face, but once she turned to him, it became an honest one. Strange how easy it was to show a genuine smile to her even when he felt like lousy. "Thank you."

Her eyes softened as one corner of her mouth twitched upwards. "Don't mention it."

He once more made to leave.

"Spike?"

He turned back. "Yeah, luv?"

Cooper held up two fingers. "Two bags," she told him. Taking one look at his face, she cut him off. "Don't argue. You're not eating enough as it is."

He stared. How in the bloody hell had she known that?

"There's no need to ration it," she continued. "I told you, it's easy for me to get more."

"Ta, pet." Spike hurried to leave, needed the emptiness of the basement now more than had before. She was sparing his pride. And giving him an excuse, to boot. How did she know? It was impossible.

He finished one bag while standing in front of the microwave, alternately wondering how she could have figured it out when no one else had and squashing down the feelings of depression that threatened to rise whenever he thought of his clan.

As he poured another mug of blood, he decided to think about something else. Spike was starting to think that the rage he and Angel had felt earlier came from Cooper. He couldn't explain the hunch, but he was fairly certain about his guess. He just wasn't sure what had set her off. Nothing that Buffy had said seemed to bother her, so what had? What had her so brassed off that he and Angel could actually feel her rage brush against them? She had been mad about his ribs too, now that he thought about it. It had taken a moment for him to appreciate that the anger wasn't directed at him, but was felt for him. The realization sent him reeling.

His demon was right; she cared.

At the very least, she cared that he'd gotten hurt. And now she was even making sure that he healed properly. So she cared for his health.

Cooper had even apologized to him earlier, worried that she had hurt his feelings, knowing that she had hurt them. And she was genuinely sorry. She was sorry. So maybe she did care for more than just his physical health.

He and his demon agreed. She belonged to him now.

Cooper stood on the porch, needing to see it for herself. Needing to know exactly what was going on with the Aurelius clan. She hadn't looked very deeply into their bonds when she'd been studying their fighting styles, only looking so far as to see how well they moved together.

But now she needed to know.

She needed to know what she'd unknowingly brought into her home. And she knew, without a doubt, that knowing was going to break her heart.

But it needed to be done.

"Finley?" the veteran Slayer's voice broke her attention. "It is Finley, right?"

A curt nod was all she could manage.

"Have you seen Spike? He's been gone a while now."

"He's getting blood. I just finished patching up his ribs." She was somewhat satisfied by Angel's guilty look. It was a start. Though she was wary of the tone the Slayer was taking with her. It was... almost pleasant. As though they were friends. Yeah, definitely suspicious.

"Great! That means he can get back out here. No more excuses for slacking off."

She had a death grip on the porch rail. Probably a good thing as option two was throttling Slayer Summers. "It's not an excuse." She forced the words out. Cooper could feel her temper fraying; it had taken one too many hits over the past few hours. She took a deep breath, telling herself that it wasn't her fight; it was Spike's.

"Says who?" Buffy's hands were on her hips and training had ground to a halt.

Well, if the Slayer was going to insist it was her fight...

"I do." She felt her spine straighten as she stared the Slayer down. "I'm sidelining Spike. You can have him back in two days."

"You can't do that. We have to train." Buffy argued.

Cooper worked on prying her fingers off the railing before it snapped under the pressure. "Oh, I can. And you had best believe that I am."

The Slayer sputtered.

"Cooper?" Spike questioned from inside.

"Outside."

Spike stepped onto the porch, mug in hand. Buffy immediately zeroed in on him. "Spike, tell her she's wrong!" the Slayer ordered.

He decided to take a page from Cooper's book and calmly sipped his blood as he turned to her. She was still focused on Buffy, but he knew she would hear him. "What are you wrong about?"

"I politely told your Slayer that she'd have to do without you for a couple of days." Cooper had somehow managed to make 'slayer' sound like a four-letter word.

"Did you now?" He couldn't help but be insanely pleased at the thought that Cooper had stood up to Buffy, though he was rather doubtful she'd done so politely. Then again, she'd been nothing but polite towards Buffy, even though the Slayer hadn't done a thing to deserve it.

"I did."

He hid a smile behind his mug. "You keep takin' care of me like this an' you'll never be rid of me."

"Somehow I think I'll manage."

Spike could hear the smile in her voice, though he was sure it didn't show on her face. He shrugged at Buffy. "Cooper's right. You lot can handle two days without me. Not like we're doin' much more'n showin' Amalia the basics now anyway."

Buffy was livid. "I can't believe you're taking her side!"

"Well, she did care enough to ask after me."

"We're your friends."

He wasn't entirely sure where she was going with this one. "So is she."

"You only met her yesterday. We've been your friends for years."

Ah. If only that were true. "And yet she's shown me more consideration in the past twenty minutes than you lot have since I started playin' for Team White Hat." He slid closer to Cooper. "I'll be keepin' her."

Buffy gave a frustrated yell and turned to her husband. "Angel, do something about him!"

"It's fine, Buffy." Angel held up his hands in a placating gesture. "After all, it's just two days. Things will probably go smoother without him, if we're honest."

"Yeah," Willow agreed. "I'll conjure some baddies for you to fight. They'll even go 'poof' when you kill them."

Buffy scowled. "Can you make them look like Spike?"

That was the last straw for Cooper, who whirled around and stalked down to the basement. She heard Spike following her, but she didn't dare stop. There was no way she could keep from hurting the Slayer if she stayed. She continued walking until she got to the bathroom, yanking open a drawer and digging around inside it.

Spike leaned carefully on the doorframe. "Thank you."

She met his eyes in the mirror, that one action proving just how much time she spent around those with no reflection. "Friends don't let friends spar with busted ribs."

"Very true." He watched her lay a few bobby pins on the counter. "Goin' somewhere?"

"Work." Cooper answered, as she began taming her hair into a neat bun. The "your friends are much safer if I do" hung unsaid in the air between them.

"Weren't kiddin' 'bout that night shift, were you?"

She looked down at her clothes, frowning to herself before disappearing into her bedroom. "Sunset to sunrise. For the most part, anyway." Hangers clicked together. "There are a few ice packs in the freezer. You're more than welcome to them if your ribs start giving you trouble." She reappeared in black slacks and a silk blouse, a pair of flats in her hand, pausing to jot down a number on a scrap of paper as she slipped her shoes on. "That's the number to the liquor store. They deliver."

Spike was pretty sure his mouth was hanging open.

"What? Sometimes I need to ice what's broken and sometimes I just need a drink. I thought I'd give you both options."

He promptly shut his mouth.

"Use my tab if you want—F. Cooper. They shouldn't question it." And with that last bit of information, she was out the door.

"She has a tab?" he asked the empty room.

Surprisingly—and unfortunately for Cooper—her walk to the office was uneventful. It figured. On the one day she would have welcomed the distraction of a newly risen vampire, there were none to be found.

A never-before-seen demon hadn't tried to kill her.

A fledge hadn't tried to eat her.

There hadn't even been an attempted mugging.

What was the hellmouth coming to? She hadn't lied to the witch. Having to fight for her life normally occurred on a daily basis—some days more than once. Hell, she had worked it into her schedule at this point. Work at nine, meeting at one, attempt on life by dawn; it was a simple enough routine.

Cooper sighed. It was a sad day when you couldn't even count on your enemies to try and kill you.

Before she knew it, she was standing by her desk in the lobby still itching to hit something. Oh, how she wished Vlad was here so that she could spar with someone without being afraid of hurting them. Maybe it was the universe's way of telling her that she needed to work on her temper?

The universe was a bitch, she concluded, as she bypassed her desk and headed for the basement offices to seek out Chuck. Not that he would be hard to find; he was always in his office. Chuck kept an eye on the comings and goings of people inside the building, much like a security guard. Only this guard never left the monitors he watched.

He was hunched over a laptop when she entered, but looked up when she closed the door behind herself. "Good day, Mistress Cooper," the Loose-Skinned demon greeted. "What business brings you to the Batcave?"

"I need surveillance." She announced, taking her usual seat—the corner of his desk.

Chuck took a form from one of the many piles on his desk and filled in a few blanks. "Target?"

"The Slayer the Watcher's Council sent. Last name Summers."

"Ah. Is she doing something in particular that you want proof of?"

She shook her head. "Just a feeling I have. Needless to say, it's not the warm and fuzzy kind."

"Gotcha. So you'll be wanting this...?"

"Off the record." She confirmed. "Bill me directly for time and manpower, just like usual."

Chuck ripped the incomplete form in half. "How tight do you want this surveillance?"

"The tightest you have. If she so much as sneezes, I want to hear about it. Are we clear?" She knew 24/7 surveillance of the Slayer was overkill, but Cooper herself couldn't keep an eye on her at all times, even if she was staying in her home. Hopefully, if she missed something, Chuck's team would catch it. It also wouldn't hurt to have a second opinion.

"Yes, ma'am. I'll get right on it."

"Make it a priority. Something about her isn't sitting quite right. I hope I'm wrong..." she trailed off.

"But it's not likely," Chuck finished for her. "I've never known you to be wrong where people were concerned. Consider it done."

"Thanks. How's the other project coming?"

"Nothing definite, but it's not looking good." He sighed heavily. "I really thought you were wrong about this one."

She snorted. It was funny coming from someone who'd just admitted she wasn't usually wrong about people. "Check the tapes from yesterday. Find out what you can about this mystery demon, starting with his species. He waltzed right in and tried to kill me without so much as a "you killed my father, prepare to die.""

"You think he was hired." It was really more of a statement than a question.

"Yes, I do."

He looked at her, horror-struck. "That puts the count up to nine in the past year—three attempts this month alone."

"That many?"

Chuck nodded and his tone was as serious as she'd ever heard it when he spoke. "If you need it, I'm on your side in this. I know I'm not much of a fighter, but I'll stand with you anyway."

She smiled at him as she slid off his desk. "Thanks, Chuck."

"Anytime, Mistress."

Cooper was halfway to the door when another thought struck her. She whirled back around. "Hey, Chuck?"

"Forget something?"

"Add Angelus to the list."

"Angelus? The Angelus?" He was equal parts awed and terrified. Only Mistress Cooper would order surveillance on someone as powerful as Angelus. Well, she hadn't gotten him killed yet. But just in case, it might be the perfect time to field-test some of the new recruits.

"I don't like the vibe I get from him either." She hadn't explored those feelings too closely because she knew that whatever was going on with him would likely put her out of commission for a time. A day or two at most, but even an hour was too long to be defenseless given the circumstances.

Chuck looked worried. "You don't think he's trying to end the world again, do you? Because I kind of like the world how it is. You know, in one piece."

"Nothing like that." It was hard to explain to someone else when even she didn't fully understand it. "It's weird, whatever it is. I don't think he means anyone any harm, but I don't want to be caught off guard if I'm wrong."

He couldn't argue with that kind of logic. "Don't you worry, Mistress. I've got it covered. If anything's going on, you'll be the first to know."

"Thanks again, Chuck."

"Not a problem."

Cooper opted not to return to her desk after her visit with Chuck, instead heading to the gym to work out some of her aggression. She didn't have far to go; Vlad had a state-of-the-art gym installed when he bought the building. Sure, most of the equipment was weighted for supernatural strength, but there were a few pieces maintained specifically for her. And her temper.

The perks of working for a Master vampire were numerous and varied.

A few hours later, Cooper no longer felt the need to beat the Slayer to death with her own arm. Slamming her face into a hard surface, however, was still on the table.

She considered it progress. She could probably stand to be in the same room as the Slayer and only fantasize about inflicting bodily harm. Baby steps, after all. But before she could go home and test that theory, she had a stop to make.

She owed someone an apology.

Shortly after dawn, Spike found himself reclined on the sofa with an ice pack and listening to Giles putter around upstairs. He heaved himself upright and made for the upstairs kitchen. Normally, he wouldn't seek the man out, but he wanted to subtly pick the Watcher's mind about Cooper. He'd much rather be heading off to bed than making polite conversation with Rupert Giles, but he needed to know which direction the Scoobies were leaning when it came to her.

Though he was pretty sure that Buffy was just waiting for the okay to kill her.

He really wanted a front-row seat for that particular showdown. Spike couldn't remember the last time the Slayer got her arse kicked.

Surely, she was due.

Giles was sitting at the kitchen table, a book open in front of him and a cup of tea in hand when Spike made himself comfortable in the shadow of the doorway. "Mornin', Watcher."

"Good morning," Giles answered reflexively, eyes drawn to the ice pack Spike was cradling against his side. "How are you feeling? I heard that Buffy was a bit—er, rough yesterday."

Rough, is that what they called it? But he ignored the impulse to say anything, not like it helped his situation any. "Bit sore, but Cooper wrapped my ribs for me. Be right as rain soon enough."

The Watcher seemed confused for a brief moment. "Oh, of course. She prefers to be called Cooper, then? I suppose that's a simple enough request to grant."

Spike paused, though it was mostly for effect. He needed this conversation to go his way. He wanted the Watcher to think he was concerned about her origins, her supposed durability. He was curious—who wouldn't be?—but sometime in the past two days, he'd lost the ability to actually care what she was. As far as he was concerned, she was Cooper. Human or not, her personality wasn't likely to change—fine by him since he genuinely liked the woman. And she was apparently his friend, the first he'd had in longer than he cared to admit. He'd be damned if he let Buffy jeopardize that. A long minute later, he spoke, putting the barest sliver of surprised confusion in his tone. "She knows a lot about vamp anatomy for a human."

"I'm hardly shocked." Giles gestured to a stack of books by his elbow. "Given the content of some of these, I seriously doubt that vampires are the only demons whose anatomy she is familiar with." He handed Spike the list she'd made for him the night before. "This proves it."

Spike couldn't help his low whistle as he read. He was impressed. Very impressed. "She didn't learn this from books." He pointed to one of the demons listed. "All the books say that this fellow can only be killed by decapitation. What they don't say is that you need supernatural strength to do it. This list is the result of trial an' error, not book learnin'." How in the hell she'd figured out that a dagger through the eye would also get the job done, he didn't know. But he did know that, as soon as his ribs were healed, he was cornering her into a sparring match.

"And she clearly survived the "error" portion of the process."

"She knows what she's doin', no doubtin' that."

Giles frowned. "No. There isn't."

"Which just confuses me even more." He paused just long enough to get the other man's curiosity up. "She can sleep in front of me, Rupert."

"Really, Spike, I don't care to know the intimate details of your—"

"Cripes, Watcher. Even I don't work that fast. Well, not when I've got to live with 'em for the foreseeable future."

"Oh, I—my apologies. You were saying?"

Except for the slight detour, he had the Watcher right where he wanted him. "One minute we're sittin' there watchin' the telly and, next thing I know, she's fast asleep!"

Giles looked thoughtful. "That is highly unusual."

"Kind of my point, Rupes."

"I don't suppose you have any ideas on what she may be?" the Watcher questioned.

And there it was. The Scoobies didn't have the foggiest. "She's human. Got a little something extra, but she's human. I'd stake my unlife on it." Spike wasn't sure why, but he felt the need to protect his new friend. Having the brains behind the operation believing she was human—whether she was or not—was the best route.

Giles sighed tiredly. "I'm glad that I'm not the only one convinced of that. But I'm afraid the others won't be so accepting."

Spike swallowed his snort. Not two minutes ago, the Watcher was asking for his opinion on it. And since when had the Scoobies been openly accepting of something that didn't fit in a neat little box. Sure, they accepted most things eventually, but it was most usually because they'd been forced to just to save face, not because they'd had a sudden change of heart.

Cooper obviously didn't care what they thought of her. And the more Spike learned about her, the more sure he was that she was just playing into their expectations because she didn't feel like wasting the energy. He got the feeling all that was about to change though.

"Have you ever come across anyone like her?" asked the Watcher.

Spike thought about it, actually thought about it this time. There was something oddly familiar about her, but he couldn't quite put a finger on it. "No," he answered. "The only human I've seen hold their ground against a vamp is Harris. But he doesn't exactly walk away from it like she does."

His statement was met with no little amount of outrage. "Of course he does! He's still alive, isn't he?"

"Not what I was gettin' at. The whelp lives, yeah, but he's usually in pretty bad shape after. This girl came out of a two-on-one damn near unscathed. If that's not a good bit of somethin' extra, I don't know what is. Though you might be on to somethin' with the psychic theory. But Peaches is right. I've never heard of one bein' that good in a scrap."

"I agree that he has a point, but if she isn't a demon, it narrows the list of possibilities down considerably."

"What else is there?" Spike asked, then saw where the Watcher's thoughts were headed. "That isn't inherently evil?"

Giles pinched the bridge of his nose, causing his glasses to raise slightly. "Psychics."

"An' how do we test for that?"

"I'm not entirely sure. Psychics are known to possess greatly varying abilities."

"Don't think she'd be adverse to us askin' a few questions, provided it doesn't turn into an inquisition." Spike prayed Cooper wouldn't find out that he'd suggested such a thing.

The Watcher was starting to look hopeful. "In that case, I think it would be in our best interest to decide the more pertinent questions beforehand."

Spike held back his groan. Watchers, thinkin' all the world's ills could be solved with a well thought out list.

Cooper may not forgive him for this.

Strike that, definitely wouldn't. He just hoped that she'd spare his face. And blood supply. On second thought, he'd sacrifice his face for the blood.

Yeah, good plan.

The sun had risen completely when Cooper let herself in the back gate. Normally, she arrived home just as the sun was beginning to rise, but she'd taken a page from Mathias's book and had stopped off to pick up an "I'm stupid, please forgive me" present. Cooper glanced down at the box in her hands. She really hoped that he'd like it.

She was headed to the basement entrance when she noticed the Watcher in the kitchen, studying the books she had lent to him. She supposed the polite thing to do would be to ask how the research was going, even if she didn't actually care. Amalia had begged her to be polite to these people and, while she hadn't exactly promised to do so, she should at least make an attempt. So she shifted the box in her grip and let herself into the house; the sooner she got this over with, the sooner she could get back to the basement.

Cooper froze as she noticed Spike standing in the shadows of the kitchen. Well, froze when she saw the ice pack pressed to his ribs.

He shouldn't need it.

She had thought that she'd worked off all of her aggression, but the rage bubbling up inside her was quickly proving that notion false. She hadn't worked it off after all; she'd just buried it. But the sight of that ice pack was quickly digging it back up.

Spike watched as her jaw tightened, how her hands gripped a Styrofoam box so tightly that it started to crumple under the pressure, how she began taking deep and even breaths through her nose. She'd been fine when she walked in, but something had set her off in the split second she'd been standing there. He just couldn't imagine what it could have been. No one had said anything to her. He and Giles weren't even speaking to each other. So it must have been something that she saw.

But what?

It was obvious to Spike that she was doing her level best to keep a lid on that temper of hers, but she wasn't growing any calmer. Maybe distracting her was the way to go? "What's in the box, luv?"

Her eyes snapped to his and he could see the decision to focus solely on him until she gained control. She took another breath and held the slightly misshapen box out to him, giving him a smile that was really more of a twitch. "For you."

He couldn't hide his surprise. She'd gotten him a gift? What on earth for? "A prezzie?"

Her mouth twitched again, but she still couldn't seem to get a smile to settle on her face. "An apology."

"What for, pet?" He was confused, but took the box carefully from her hands. The girl was apologizin' to him on vamp terms—a surprise in itself—and he didn't have the slightest clue as to what she felt she needed to apologize for.

"For running off at the mouth," she told him. "And for fantasizing about killing a few of your clan. Though I'm not as sorry about that as I should be. Sorry."

Spike lifted the lid on the box, quickly schooling his expression of shock and stared at her questioningly.

She shrugged in response. "You're in my house now. So, as of this second, you're going to start taking better care of yourself."

It was a deceptively mild tone she used for the open-ended threat and he couldn't help but be impressed. "Why do I get the feelin' that "yes, ma'am" is the only thin' I can say that won't get my arse served to me on a platter?"

"Because it's the only correct answer. Though I do accept numerous variations of it."

He closed the lid. Nothing the Scoobies needed to see, that was certain. "Yes, ma'am."

"I like you. You learn fast."

"Quick study, self-preservation..." he grinned. "Not much difference between the two."

"What's in the box?" He'd known the Watcher wouldn't be able to contain his curiosity forever, though he had hoped as he wasn't sure he could get away with keeping his prezzie a secret.

"The still-beating heart of a virgin." Cooper returned dryly, closing the subject entirely.

It took a considerable effort to keep his face straight, but Spike managed it. That kind of wit should be immortalized. Maybe she would keep the snark if he turned her... Considering the gift she'd just given him, she might not be entirely opposed to the idea. "Startin' to think you're just tryin' to fatten me up. Makes a bloke feel like you plan to gobble him down."

She gave up trying to smile, but her eyes shone with amusement. "I guess you'll just have to cooperate and find out."

"I'm not a very patient man, luv."

"Too bad." There was a serious glint to her eyes now. "I want you in top form. You know as well as I do that, right now, you aren't even close. And it pisses me off in a way I don't have words for."

Wait, that's what had her brassed off? His soddin' health? Why would she be upset about something like that? The demon was pleased by the realization and, admittedly, so was the man. He was touched that she cared. Still, she didn't need to waste time worrying over him. "Pet, this really isn't necessary."

"Deal with it. And apparently it is necessary." Cooper was entirely unsympathetic as she made a vague gesture in his direction. "Exhibit A. By your bloodline alone, you should be at the top of the demon food chain. You aren't. But you're going to be."

"I—" Giles adjusted his glasses. "What are you talking about? Spike is a Master. That automatically puts him at the top of the "food chain", as you say."

Cooper took her deepest breath yet and turned to Spike. "Is he serious? Tell me he's not—" She spun back to the Watcher. "What are you doing to him?"

"I do not appreciate your accusations. I have done nothing to harm Spike. Or Angel, for that matter." He retorted primly.

Cooper jerked back as though the man had physically struck her. This was okay with them? What kind of sire would willingly allow his childe to be starved? Why would Spike allow it? She met Spike's eyes, knowing that it was past time she took a look at those clan bonds. And she was absolutely horrified by what she found. Spike allowed it because he didn't have anywhere else to go. The only clan he had left was Angel—and by extension, Angel's wife. It explained so much of what she'd seen. How long had he been without an acting sire? Without true clan?

Her stomach rebelled against the knowledge. "I think I'm going to be sick," she mumbled.

Coupled with her rapidly paling face, Spike quickly pulled out a chair at her words and ushered her into it. "Easy, pet."

Her mind reeled, the new facts weighing heavily. She felt his cool hands on her skin, but she was drowning in what she now knew, sinking so quickly that she couldn't thank him for the thought. She'd had no idea that things were this bad. She'd known something wasn't quite right, but she'd been completely unprepared for the neglect she found. Orville was a complete bastard and, as much as she despised his existence, no one could claim that he didn't take care of his childer, his clan. Hell, he took care of Cooper by default—even though he absolutely loathed her. But these people were supposed to be everything that was good and right in the world! They claimed that souls were what made a person good, but just look at what had they done with theirs!

Spike leaned over her, studying her face for a sign that she needed help. Even though she'd said as much, she hadn't gotten sick—He rocked back on his heels as the demon sensed the slightest shift in her aura. Human auras didn't shift, at least not where you could notice. "Cooper?" He laid a hand on her shoulder, hoping to draw her out of her thoughts.

"No." The word was barely audible, even to Spike's ears.

"Pet?"

"No." It was louder this time, absolute in its meaning. Cooper placed her palms flat on the table and rose from the chair. "I can't let this stand. I won't."

Something inside of her flared to life and Spike took notice, drawing closer to her and the energy that seemed to surround her. It was subtle, something he would have been unlikely to notice had he been human, but it was powerful. With it, her posture straightened, her chin tilted up, her eyes blazed. And it was then that he saw what she'd been trying to hide.

She was truly a force to be reckoned with.

Cooper turned to face him then; they were so close to each other that her shoulder brushed his as she moved. When she spoke, her voice was low, insistent. Spike needed to understand. "You're going to be stuck with me after this. For the rest of forever, you're going to be one of mine. If that's not something you're comfortable with, you need to say so right now."

He just raised an eyebrow, telling her to get on with it—whatever it was. He'd decided to go with his gut; it hadn't steered him wrong yet. He didn't think he would mind having her on his side, though he did wonder if she realized that forever was a lot longer for vampires than it was humans. Even a temporary friendship was more than he'd ever expected.

The flare died down, but Spike could sense it simmering just beneath the surface. Suddenly, there was a warmth in his chest that he didn't recognize, something new that was shifting and changing, settling itself into the place where his clan bonds had been kept ever since he rose as a fledgling. It wasn't overriding the weakened—and in some cases, broken—bonds, but was instead seeking out and filling in the cracks, most of which he'd been unaware of until this heat brought his attention to them. He'd known that they were in poor shape, but he'd never imagined it was this bad. He could also feel a handful of offshoots tentatively branching out, though one had almost immediately solidified itself. With no little amount of shock, he realized that these offshoots were the beginnings of bonds—bonds to her clan. He'd known that Vlad considered her clan, but it never occurred to him that it was a true bond. A laughable thought given that their clan consisted of four people—four—and now Spike. It wasn't a large clan by any means, but now it was his. He had clan.

Cooper nodded to herself, feeling the bonds take root, and caught the Watcher's eye. A few things needed to be remedied now that she had a right to do so. "You seem like a good man," she told him. "So, for your sake, I hope that it was ignorance that led to this situation. If I ever discover that it was deliberate, you will find out exactly why I've survived so long on a hellmouth and, let me tell you now, it has very little to do with that list I gave you earlier."

Giles was clearly exasperated, not understanding precisely what he was being accused of, but quite certain the claims were ill-founded. "What situation? Spike is perfectly fine! There isn't—"

"He's half-starved!" She could contain it no longer. The Watcher was stubbornly refusing to see what was right in front of him and she couldn't stand it, relieved that her outburst had stunned him into silence. "And I'm led to believe that it was you people who made him this way. But right now I've got to wonder just how pussy-whipped his sire is."

Spike blinked, his attention forced away from the forming bonds.

"If I find out that Angel is a willing participant in this, do you want the right?"

For a second, he was sure he'd heard he wrong. But his demon's approval verified that he hadn't. Bloody hell, this chit was serious. And he felt a warmth in his chest then that wasn't from the bonds. "If I suspected that, I would've claimed the right years ago. Far cry from what he used to be, luv. Be surprised to find out he's still got his own mind rattlin' 'round in that overly large melon he calls a head."

The Watcher's silence was short-lived. "Right? What right?" he demanded to know.

Cooper answered for the both of them. "The right to challenge his sire. If the sire is found lacking, not caring for his childe as he should, that childe has the right to contest the sire's claim without threat of retribution."

"Challenge his claim?" Giles questioned. "You mean to kill him?"

"That is the usual definition." She responded drolly, though the tone was gone when she spoke to Spike. "If you didn't want the right, Vlad would right for you. It goes without saying that I would, but he's got a bit more pull that I have when it comes to something like this. He'd be able to do it right. No one would question his actions."

"He doesn't even know me," the vampire protested.

"He doesn't have to. You're part of his clan now."

"Spike! What the devil is she talking about?" the Watcher interjected.

He was slow to answer, still awed by Cooper's simple words. "I'm a little shocked m'self at this recent turn of events, but I think she might be concerning herself with my welfare."

"This is insanity! You've got it all wrong!" Giles insisted.

"Do I?" she challenged. "Tell me, Watcher, how much do you know about vampires and their dietary needs?"

"Vampires need blood to live, everyone knows that," he snapped.

Cooper continued to press her advantage. "Yes, but do you know how much? What kind? What about when they're injured? What it takes to keep them in top form? Can you answer any of those questions?"

"Well, I... I don't—"

"How long have you been an ally to these people?" she asked Spike, ignoring Giles's floundering.

"Few years. But I've known 'em for longer'n that."

Cooper directed her attention back to the Watcher. "It never occurred to you to ask what two of your allies might need to survive?"

Giles had no answer.

"You're a Watcher. Why wouldn't you jump at the chance to expand your knowledge-base? Did you think that you knew everything already or did you just not give a damn?"

Silence reigned. It was clear that she expected some kind of answer. At the very least, some sort of verbal confirmation.

"Well, you certainly know how to dress-down a man." Giles had found his voice at last, though Spike was sure that his smarts had gone wandering.

Cooper's voice was a dangerous hiss. "I spoke only the truth and you well know it, Watcher."

Spike wasn't sure what to think. He certainly wasn't used to anyone being in his corner. "Not that I don't appreciate it, but you were a smidge on the harsh side."

"He would have ignored me otherwise, just as he's ignored you. He doesn't deserve my respect."

"You don't sugarcoat thin's, do you, luv?" He winced. Rupert was on his own from here on out.

"So very rarely that it may as well be never."

Spike eyed her speculatively. "Get the feelin' your bedside manner is more piss an' vinegar than hearts an' flowers."

She gave a slight tilt of her lips, though it could have just been the light. "I find it encourages people not to hurt themselves."

He snorted. "Imagine it does."

Giles polished his glasses wearily, only looking up when Cooper cleared her throat.

"I'm going to talk now and you're going to listen." She told him.

He resettled the glasses on his face. "I think you've said more than enough."

She smiled quite unpleasantly and Spike was very glad she was on his side. "And you're going to refrain from interrupting me because the impulse to beat the stupidity out of you is getting harder and harder to control."

The Watcher was once again shocked into silence. Spike didn't think anyone had ever called a Watcher stupid, at least not in recorded history.

Cooper took advantage of his shock. "Now, as I apparently have information that you've never heard before, I'm going to do my best to be thorough. It might be overwhelming, but you'll deal with it."

Giles sighed.

She took it as a sign of his agreement. "First, all blood is not created equal, no matter how much people would like to think so. Different types of blood are usually organized in a tier pattern and sorted by their inherent power. At the bottom, you have animal blood. It's the weakest and doesn't do much more than maintain life—and not very well, at that. Above it is human blood, that of your most ordinary, run-of-the-mill humans. It's still considered weak, but it can keep a vampire in good health provided he's drinking enough of it. Next are your supernaturally-powered humans—Slayers, witches, werewolves, psychics... the list goes on. Your low-level demons are also a part of that tier. After that, you have full-blooded demons and other equally powerful entities—hellgods, for instance. And finally, at the top, you have sire's blood. There's nothing more powerful than sire's blood. Nothing. But the thing you need to take away from this little lesson is that the higher the tier, the less it takes."

Cooper took a slow breath to center her thoughts. "Generally speaking, each tier is a three-to-one ratio: three pints of animal to one pint of human, three pints of human to one pint of superhuman, and so on. A vampire's dietary needs are based on his health, his age, and his bloodline. Spike's a Master nearing two centuries from a damned powerful bloodline. Normally, age means that a vampire needs less and less blood to survive. But bloodlines like his take serious upkeep. It's why the Aurelius line is so small. Fledglings require an almost constant supply of blood. Fledglings with a bloodline need even more, though they do tend to mature faster. If Spike were at full health, he'd need about two pints of human blood a day, barring any injuries. A normal vampire of the same age would need half that every two days."

She wasn't wrong, Spike thought to himself. Vlad must not have kept any secrets from her.

The Watcher couldn't seem to help himself. "Two pints a day?"

"That's hardly the amount it takes to kill a human. If he got his blood from other sources, it'd take a fraction of that."

"Other sources?"

Her eye twitched and she stilled her hand. "Yes, other sources. As I previously mentioned, not all blood is created equal. Spike has options, nearly limitless options. And as he no longer needs to depend on you for blood, he'll be getting those options."

"What right do you have to decide these things?" Giles demanded.

"More right than you have."

"You're a fool if you believe that." He told her. "You are human. Do you honestly think that a Master vampire like Spike will allow you to control his life?"

Her jaw clenched. "I have no desire to control his life. My only wish is to see that he doesn't die of neglect."

Seeing he was making no progress with her, Giles turned on Spike. "Don't you have anything to say for yourself? Are you just going to stand there and do nothing?"

Surprisingly, Spike wasn't angry. Pleasing the Watcher was no longer his concern. Pleasing any of them was no longer his concern. "Oh, I've done somethin' alright. A few minutes ago, I made a decision for m'self, somethin' I haven't done in entirely too long."

"And what decision was this?"

"I said yes."

He could tell that one had stumped Giles. "Yes to what exactly?"

"Clan."

"Clan?" Definitely befuddled, alright. "Who could you have possibly bonded with in the past few minutes? The past hour, even?"

"Technically," he drawled, "She bound us together."

"I bound you to my clan mates as well," she told him. "It just seems to happen that way."

Spike had figured that much out for himself, but it was nice to have her confirm it, to make it real.

"Impossible." Giles declared. "Humans don't have clans."

Cooper was well and truly tired of the Englishman at this point. "Human I may be, Watcher, but my soul is beyond humanity's definition."

"What the devil does that even mean?"

"Just know that I will protect what's mine by any means I deem necessary," she stated calmly. "If you so much as appear to be a hindrance to Spike's recovery, I will strike you down."

Giles was back in Watcher mode now; it was clear by his tone that he thought she was a wayward child in need of guidance. Spike could have laughed himself sick. "I know you slay demons to protect this city, but killing me—a human—is a different matter entirely."

Her gaze was as steady as her voice. "I see no difference."

The Watcher was so startled by her words that he could do nothing but blink at her.

And, just like that, Giles had been dismissed. She turned away from him at last, reinforcing the fact that she no longer viewed him as an authority. If she ever had.

So Spike made the second decision that day that was likely to change his unlife forever: he followed her.