A/N: I own nothing of the Whedonverse nor any fairytales and I am not profiting from this work.

Chapter 6

Previously on Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Anya's part of the group

So when did you get turned?

There's always an out, it's airtight otherwise

"Hmm, Slayer, I'm gonna kill you." Spike had her pinned beneath him as she tried futilely to escape. He leered down at the squirming girl. "Gonna eat you right up."

"Spike, it tickles, stop." She had such a pretty way of whining her words when she didn't quite mean what she was sayin'. "Please?" God he could nibble that bottom lip of hers from here until eternity.

With a smile that belied his gentler heart William the Bloody, Slayer of Slayers, began the descent toward that luscious little mouth. "Not so tough now are you?"

"Oh yeah?" The petite girl brought her knees up around her vampire's waist and with too little effort flipped so that he was the one pressed against the floor. Her legs straddling him had her heat searing him through two layers of denim. His unnecessary breath came out in a hiss.

"Oh Buffy, I…"

"Shhhh." She was nuzzling his neck and working a path toward his chest with that hot little mouth.

"God, You're gonna kill me Slayer."

The fuzzy contents of his dream were already fading into obscurity before he opened his eyes to take in his surroundings. There's whiteness and pain. It's dull and throbbing. Not the stabs and flares he had grown so familiar with over his days with the sadistic scientists. Some of the things they were doing were far and beyond what Adolf and his men would ever have dreamed. They didn't seem to think demons felt pain and once subjects were brought in and restrained they were not administered any form of pain relief. Just a bit of metal and plastic used to keep their cries muffled while they tried hard as all hell not to smell their own spleens and kidneys. Strange color his liver had. Least that was what the doc had mused while she was poking at it with a blunt metal stick. Then there was the champagne room of peep shows when she cracked open his skull. God wasn't that fun? No one he knew could tell you how it felt to have the air touch their brain from the vent in a lab made by the human servants of Satan. Because that was who he figured they must be. First thought they were with the Slayer, but no. No, no, no, no, no. The uppity goody two-shoes moral high road riding dust mongering bint would never have sunk this low. Nah. This has to be Hell. Only it's not as fun as I heard it would be. What would Spike give to be stabbed with a pitch fork or set upon by crows to eat his...wait a minute that is wot's happenin'. But there were ways outta Hell, he remembered 'em. He could race the sun, or beat Death at Twister. Nah tha's stupid. Where would I get a Twister mat around here? There's a problem with all that besides the lack of coloured dots and spinning cardboard. All of the blokes who get out are heroes. Nobody roots for the bad guy.

Just as he started to give in they dropped another bag. Oh no, 'm not fallin' for that one, however...

The plan went off with very few hitches. Personal triumph. If I should say so m'self. And since I give sod all wot others think... The master vampire had a bit more pep in his step than he had in a long while. The real issue was a lack of places to go. He really didn't want to see Harm. He didn't need the headache. Sweet girl if you liked 'em vapid and breathless. But it wore thin with the "Paris this" and "Paris that". He could find a new place but what he really needed was to feed. He was too weak to get a clean kill and he didn't need a torch-bearing mob or snooty-Slayer on his tail just yet. With no minions left after the Gem and a distinct dislike for baggin' it Spike straightened his shoulders and braced his dignity for the off chance Harm would have leftovers.

"Harm!" Spike entered the lair with arms wide open. The ditzy blonde was arranging porcelain unicorns and figuring out whether Mystic should go on the nightstand or right in the middle of the bed. At the sound of her absentee attempted staker of a...whatever he was to her now Harmony turned on her heel and cocked her head to the side.

"Blondie Bear?" Spike grinned. Oh this was too easy. Knew she'd miss me.

"Tha's right, luv. Your man is back and has missed you." He put his hands on her hips and went in for a kiss only to be stopped by a well-manicured hand splayed over his face. His nose poked through the space between her middle and forefinger.

"No. No kissing. You...You tried to kill me. Well, not kill, since I'm already dead, but you...you tried to kill me!" She huffed and stared at him as though he should regret that. He didn't.

"Luv, I know I've done things in the past that have hurt you. I understand you think you deserve better, but pet, past's in the past and I'm a changed vamp. You'll see." He had been backing her up toward the bed and now went in for the kill. So to speak. He pushed her gently down into the bedspread when she made a quick movement he hadn't anticipated. Damn, hunger! Makin' me slow. In a flash she had a stake at his chest. Not the blonde I was expectin' to fight off. He jumped back to the entrance of the lair.

"No, Spike, I won't see. I'm a strong independent vampire who doesn't need a boyfriend to feel good about herself. I can get along, but you can't be here. You hurt me and... and I don't stay with people who hurt me. Not anymore. I do deserve better."

Spike stepped forward. "Baby, come on, it's me." He tilted his head and slightly pursed his lips in a way that had always mollified Harm. For a moment it looked like it was going to work.

"No, Spike." She took a fortifying breath and through gritted teeth and with a raised stake gave her final say. "Go."

Spike knew not to mess with a crazy bint like Harm at the moment and strategic retreat was not tuckin' tail and runnin'. Not at all.

What'd he do last time he was in Sunnyhell and had been thrown out on his arse by the woman in his life? Well, it was a worth a try.