'Best For Last'

Disclaimer: Joss owns the characters

Summary: Spike takes a little trip, makes some major un-life changes and finds things don't always turn out like you planned.

++ ++ ++ ++

It seemed like a pretty fucking good idea at the time. Most of mine are. Ideas, that is. Funny how they always seem to turn to shit somewhere along the line. I've a real talent for that you know, fucking up. It's all I ever seem to do, really.

I didn't think it through; I just packed up, fucked off to Venezuela and travelled around until I found what I'd been looking for.

The 'what' in question was a C'leneath demon. Bloody hell, she was an ugly bitch even by demon standards, had this big old tusk thing growing out of her forehead and more warts on her body than ... well, a fucking warthog I suppose. And she was *huge*! Big and fat and she wobbled when she laughed. No. Make that cackled. She cackled. And then she wobbled. I'm not even gonna go into her personal hygiene issues, it's enough to say that the smell was enough to make you barf up your innards and then some.

What did I want with her? Simple. I'd heard it on the grapevine that she could do mojo - not just any mojo, a specific kind. She could... change things. Time, to a certain degree, people, demons...

It all started the night Willie suddenly grew a pair and decided to eject a Polgara demon from the pub. Bugger had been annoying the rest of us off for weeks, gettin' himself pissed and knocking over drinks, starting fights and such. Now you know me, I like a good scrap as well as the next evil undead thing, but every bloody night he was in your face, shouting the odds, making a soddin' nuisance of himself. Couldn't even get in a decent hand of Kitten Poker without 'im letting the little buggers loose and then chasing them around the bar and scaring the shit out of them. I mean that literally, by the way. Ever smelt cat shit? Not pretty. That's what finally sent old Willie over the edge, all those shiny trails of terrified cat-skitters all over the floor and the punters skidding and sliding in it. Place stunk to high heaven.

Anyway, Willie squared up to the bloke and ordered him out of the bar. He poked him right in his big old barrel-like chest, which is more that I'd have done.

"GET."

(Poke)

"OUT."

(Poke)

"OF MY BAR. RIGHT. FUCKING. NOW."

And another poke for good measure.

I have to say I was impressed... right up to the point where the Polgara smiled at him and then reached over and ripped off his arm. Now that must have hurt like a bitch. To add insult to injury (and the Polgara obviously had a wicked sense of humour) he then beat Willie over the head with his own arm. Funniest bloody thing I've seen in weeks, pet.

So to cut a long story short, Willie had to take a bit of down time, go off, get his arm fixed. Now I didn't know that could be done, not to a human. The fixing bit, not the ripping off bit - hell, that's *easy*. But you learn something new every day. He disappeared for a bit, just waltzed into the bar about two month's later, showing off his new arm and such... It seemed a pretty sweet deal. He'd gone over to Venezuela, met up with this C'leneath demon and she'd fixed it.

Actually no. You see that's where I got it all wrong.

She didn't fix him.

She *changed* him.

He smelt different. Didn't take me too long to realise that he wasn't entirely human anymore. 'Course, I asked him about it straight off, but his face kinda closed up and he couldn't look me in the eye.

"She changed me, Spike. That's all you need to know.'

I smelt the fear then, too. It swamped him. He stood there for a second, his expression sixty flavours of weird and his thoughts fuck only knew where... then he kinda flinched, shot me a look and said...

'What'll you have to drink? Or are you gonna stand there and gawp at me all night?"

I got my drink, sat at the bar alone as usual and did some thinking. Didn't take a fucking genius to figure out that if this demon of Willie's could fix a human arm without much bother, then maybe she could fix my head, get this soddin' soldier-boy shit out of me. Now there was an idea I liked *very* much, Spike back to his old self again, the man I was before the bastards neutered me.

Now all I had to do was persuade Willie to cough up the info. Mightn't be easy, he didn't seem much inclined to talk about what the demon bitch had done. And what was up with him anyway? Time was you couldn't have gotten him to shut the fuck up, but tonight he was just standing there, kind of staring into space all blank-like. Then there was his scent - nope, definitely not human.

You'd think I'd have cottoned on by this stage, wouldn't you? That maybe Willie got more than he bargained for from his demon benefactor. But no. That would have required actual rational thinking and as you know that's not something that comes natural to me. I'm a creature of impulse, me. Always been too bloody rash for my own good. And this time was to be no exception.

In the end though, it was simpler than I'd thought.

"I've never liked you, Spike."

The blank look had gone and he was staring at me now, like I was something he wanted to wipe off his shoe. His voice sounded strange: tight, like he was gearing himself up for a fight or gettin' ready to stake me or something.

"No. Never really liked you. You picked on me a lot back then. Remember? Before the Initiative slapped you down. I never done nothin' to you, I never ratted on you... well, much. But you were always pickin' on me."

"Huh. I picked on everyone back in the good old days, Willie. Wasn't personal. Just business, you know?"

"Business. Yeah... I know stuff about business."

His face took on that dreamy look again for a second and then he set down the drink he was holding and his gaze latched onto mine.

"So ask."

"What?"

"Ask me what you want to ask me. About my arm. About her."

So I did. And he told me. Who she was, where I could go about contacting her. You can't just show up at her house or crypt of wherever the fuck it is she lives, you have to ask in certain circles, arrangements have to be made and whatnot. It's all very behind the door. In retrospect, I can see why. I' m guessing some of the 'changes' she made weren't always to the clients liking. In fact I'd go as far to say *most*. But I didn't know tthenthen, and it wasn't something Willie volunteered to tell me, although if I'd been listening... *really* listening to him, I'd have figured that out for myself. As it happened, I didn't. I just filtered out the info I needed and thanked him.

He laughed then, a harsh, bitter little yelp. Not the real belly laugh he used to have.

"Don't thank me, Spike. If I liked you, I wouldn't have told you a fucking word of that. I'd have told you to go home, be content with who... with what you are. Personally? I don't give a fuck she changes you into a little fluffy kitten or a three-eyed goldfish - means nada to me. Just don't come around here bitchin' that I stiffed you, ok? HEY! And I don't want no beef with Angelus. You wanted the info, you got it. What you *do* with it is entirely up to you, so you tell your Sire to stay the hell out of my face if the whole thing goes tits-up on your ass. Willie's nobody's whipping boy no more."

Then he turned and walked away.

Three weeks down the line, I'd stolen and sold all Harris's 'wedding that never happened' gifts, rifled Slayer's house for anything I could get my hands on of value (except for Little Bit's stuff) and beaten, threatened and extorted every red cent from every demon that ever frequented Willie's Place. Then I headed out of Sunnyhell and off to Venezuela.

Wasn't an easy or inexpensive trip neither. Plans had to be made, safe accommodation sussed, a mode of transport that wouldn't result in me gettin' a fuckin' sun tan. But I had friends in low places, contacts all over the soddin' place. And I must've called in every favour I've ever been owed over the last hundred years or so. But I got there. I made it. In one piece and un-dusted, thank you very much. All ready to meet this demon and become the man I had been before.

All ready to change.

And believe me. I changed.

++ ++ ++ ++

I've never been to Hell, but I'm pretty sure it smells like the demon-bitches bolthole. I won't call it a home or a house, 'cause it was neither. It was cave. A hole in the ground that she'd squeezed her fat self into. You could tell she wasn't a material girl, there wasn't much in the line of luxury knocking around in there. It was dark, dank and it fuckin' stank to high heaven.

Actually, that's unfair on the cave. It was *her* that stank. I don't know if it was her breath, her body odour or if she suffered from terminal flatulence, maybe all three. But it was *bad*. My eyes watered the whole time I was there and the stench stayed in my bloody nostrils for days.

It had taken me awhile to get to here. I travelled from one place to the next, spoke to demon after demon, made appointments, arrangements, deals... Finally after a month I got the word I'd been waiting and hoping for. She'd agreed to meet me.

Her name, or one of them, was Tala K'aisere and rumour had it she was at least five hundred years old. I'd believe that; my own Sire was well over two hundred and that was reasonably young for a Master vampire. C'leneath demons might be elusive and mostly rare these days, but they've been around for just about forever and rumour also had it that she was very highly favoured by the Dark Powers. Not fucking surprising, she was the most devious, diabolical bastard that I've ever met, and that's saying a lot taking into consideration who my Sire is.

So I sat myself down on some kind of little footstool, right in front of her, and her sittin' there like the bloody Queen of Sheba... if the Queen of Sheba had been a fat, smelly, wart-faced old hag. And did I mention the tusk thing? Anyhow. She glared at me for an age, then mumbled to herself for a bit. I didn't say a word. I'd been told not to speak unless I was spoken to, and the demon that had brought me here was adamant that I really didn't want to go pissing old Tala off. But bloody hell, if the old bitch wasn't actually leering at me. I could smell her interest in me even above the awful stench that was her constant companion.

"William the Bloody. Well, well, well. Aren't you just as cute as a button, and am I not in the most fortunate position of being able to give you what your heart desires for the price of my choosing."

Well colour me alarmed. So far, everyone had been pretty cagey when it came to payment and the method of. Ok, I wasn't loaded, but right now I was praying to the Dark Powers that she'd take my money and leave it at that. There was no way I'd be able to...

"Oh don't be worrying your cute, blonde little head, William. I wouldn't take from you what you didn't freely give."

Ok, sigh of relief.

"But what *would* you offer me, William? What would you freely give to me for your heart's desire?"

Bollocks. Somehow, I knew what was coming. Oh fuck. Don't think about *anything* coming. Especially not her, heaving and grunting under you. I was in serious danger of losing my dinner.

She cackled again. "Settle yourself, boy. Sure I'd not be having you worry on it right now. Let's talk about what it is that you'd have me do for you."

Now this was getting stranger by the second. I could've sworn she didn't have that accent when I'd first arrived. But now, she was sounding more and more like my Sire with every word she spoke. Not as he is now, but as he was way back when, with that soft Irish lilt that was music to my ears. Then, of course. Not now. Hated the bastard now, didn't I. Bloody poof. Bloody soul. Bloody Angel. Bloody Slayer-lovin' sod.

She was watching me again, little piggy eyes glinting with amusement and evil and who knew what else.

"And what would it be, William? What gift would you have me give you, lad? Speak now, vampire. The night grows short as my patience."

"I want to be what I once was. Before they... I want this thing in my head to be gone; I want to be the man I once was."

The piggy eyes narrowed and her head tilted to one side as she studied me closely.

"Think hard and well, William. And ask it of me again, one last time. What is it you'd have me do, what is your will, boy?"

For a split second, every instinct in my body went into flight mode. Just get up, Spike. Get up and get the fuck out of here right *now*. Don't look back, just get up and leave. Go home.

Go home.

But where was home? Was it in Sunnydale, beaten into submission by the Slayer and this fucking chip? A place where I was hated by human and demon alike?

Or was it L.A? To live under the disapproving, disgusted gaze of my Sire, or what remained of him. To be constantly reminded what an evil, loathsome thing I was. To be tortured by the knowledge that Angelus, my Angelus, was gone goodgood?

There was no home.

There was nothing to run back to. So I didn't leave. Instead, I entered into a deal with the Devil, and me being *me*, I got shafted.

++ ++ ++ ++

He frowned then, eyes narrowing a little.

"Am I boring you, luv?"

Boring me? Ok, this was turning out to be the most incredible fucking tale I 've ever heard, and he wants to know if he's *boring* me? But I'm not gonna tell *him* that. I'm gonna sit here and listen... even if I *am* incredibly pissed off with the confirmation that it was him who stole the wedding gifts. So I sniffed in a noncommittal way and reached for the extra large bag of chips that sat on the table and crammed another handful into my mouth.

"Mmmmmm... No. Not boring. Not yet anyways. Go on."

The blue eyes narrowed again briefly and his lips pursed in that familiar smirk. He reached across and yanked the chips from my hand.

"Bloody hell, Harris. You gonna eat the whole bag on your own? Share and share alike. 'Sides, you could stand to lose a few pounds."

"Hey!"

He chuckled, and a handful of chips hovered close to his lips.

"Ok, you wanna hear the soddin' story or not?"

He didn't wait on an answer, but shoved the chips into his mouth and showered me with chip-debris as he continued. Dammit, did no one ever tell him it was rude to speak with his mouth full?

"Alright, where was I? Oh yeah...."

++ ++ ++ ++

"I want this thing in my head to be gone. I wanna be the man I once was."

There. I said it.

Nothing happened.

I realised that I'd closed my eyes when I'd said it, as if the bloody cave was gonna collapse on top of me, or the demon bitch was gonna stake me as soon as the words had left my lips. I opened my eyes cautiously.

Oh.

Fuck.

Ok, closing eyes again.

And... Open them.

Oh fuck, again.

"Will. You're awake."

And he was there. There he was. Right in front of me, sitting on the edge of the...

When exactly did I get in bed? And where exactly was I anyhow? What the *fuck* was going on here? And oh. Why am I naked?

My senses were suddenly swamped - the smell of musk and cigar smoke and good whisky that had always clung stubbornly to Angelus, the golden flicker of candles on the mahogany nightstand close to our bed... And I could have sworn I heard Drusilla in the next room, whispering crossly and quietly to Miss Edith, admonishing her for some imagined slight - angry that I was with Daddy instead of her. It could have been the sudden prick of nostalgic tears in my eyes, but the whole room seemed suspended in a haze - surreal, dreamlike.

"What ails ye, Will? You look like you've seen a ghost. Was it a nightmare you've been after having, my love?"

Oh, be still my fucking un-beating heart.

"Angelus?"

"Aye lad, that it is. Now who else would it be here, in our very own room, our very own bed."

If I'd *had* a heart, it would've been close to burstin'. But I did have the whole gut-wrenching angst thing working for me, so fair do's.

"Not possible. Not possible..."

Angelus inclined his head - dark, liquid eyes narrowing as he studied me, the candles reflected in them like golden fireflies.

"Will... Are you poorly, lad? Is there something the matter? You wouldn't be having a bit o' fun at your Sire's expense, now would you?"

Then it dawned on me....

The man I was before. I'd asked Tala to change me to the man I was before. Oh fuck, this was just too good to be true!

And sure enough...

My Sire's mouth turned up in that dark, lopsided smirk that always got me hard and pantin' for it.

"I'm sure I can cure whatever it is that ails you, boy. I've my own kind of magic, as you'll well be rememberin'..."

He slid himself onto the bed and had me pinned down before I could move a muscle, lips capturing mine, tongue thrusting. And true to form, my body responded the way it always had to my Sire... with desire and need. I could only moan helplessly as he peeled back the bedclothes and assaulted my now naked body with his large hands, them moving restlessly over my torso and down to my groin, fisting the hardness he found there and pulling rhythmically.

If it all seemed unreal and out of the blue, in my intense longing and desire for him, I chose to ignore it. My entire being was focused on the man lying on top of me; how his skin felt against mine, how much I'd missed him and longed for him, how he smelt. My hips rose from the bed in time with his squeezing and pulling, then suddenly he was above me, lowering himself onto me. He impaled himself on my cock and lowered himself until he was full of me, then he began to move and I gripped his hips hard enough to bruise him, thrusting upwards and into him, losing myself in the tightness and heat and lust.

"Awwwww... William. My darlin' boy. Show me, lover. Show me how you much you want me. Make me scream, lad."

Angelus had never allowed himself to be taken like this before, had never *offered* himself to me like this before. But I was so far gone in the lust and pleasure of the moment that I didn't give it a second thought - all I could think about was him, his body and the orgasm that was gathering speed and pace inside of me like an out of control freight train.

I yelled out his name as I came. I'm pretty sure I wept. I've spent years in denial - I know it. But deep inside, I've always loved him, you see. I loved him with every fibre of my being, with every cell of my undead self. And life, un-life, had been so empty and pointless and joyless without him. The pain of being without him for so long and the joy at having him again was exquisite, but agonising, because a teeny spark of rationality inside of me screamed that this was all wrong, this was impossible.

I could feel tears slowly trickle down my cheeks as I lay, eyes closed, chest hitching with sobs.

Then it hit me.

The smell.

And I knew that I'd been right. It... He... Being with him, *was* impossible. Miracles don't happen to the evil dead after all. Whatever god is out there, he abandoned the likes of me a long time ago - there is no reprieve, no mercy, and no miracle.

And oh fuck, I knew.

I knew, I knew, I knew before I opened my eyes that it was her. It was *her*, it was a trick, an illusion.

A dark chuckle, which grew quickly to a cackle, confirmed it.

"Given freely, William. And all the sweeter for it, my darlin' boy."

My eyes flew open, rage and disgust and pain drowning me.

"You BITCH! You fat, stinking, piece of shit!"

I couldn't see her clearly above me, which was pretty merciful. For some reason it was dark, darker than I had remembered in a long time. Must have been part of her thrall or spell or whatever it was that she'd used to trick me. But her huge bulk was squashing me and I could hardly move or breathe, so I shoved out hard, trying to dislodge the demon bitch from me.

Bloody hell, she was strong; so strong I could hardly shift her. She cackled and laughed above me as I struggled to push her away but finally she slid off and I rolled onto my belly, off the bed and landed on the stone floor. Scrambling wildly, I got onto my knees and scrambled backwards on my haunches, just wanting to put some distance between me and that... that fucking stinking, cackling heap.

I could see the shape of her ahead and slightly to the right of me. But it was still dark and she was shrouded in the shadows. I shook my head, then rubbed at my eyes trying to clear my sight. I felt hot and cold, weak, breathless...

I was panting.

Sweating.

And there was this strange feeling inside of me, a kind of stinging, pulling need deep down in my groin. I gasped as the feeling suddenly reached a crescendo and then I felt a rush of something slightly warm flood from me and trickle slowly down my...

Oh no.

Oh God, please no. This *cannot* be happening.

One trembling hand found it's way to my groin and felt the dampness in the front of my jeans. I was fullythedthed. My eyes darted to where the bed had been, but now there was nothing there, except a bulky shadow from where the demon bitch watched me silently.

"Tut... Tut... Tut... Oh dearie me. Had a little accident, William? Well, can't say as it's all your fault. Your body's confused, in flux. Don't worry, it'll pass in a day or two. After that, pissing will come just as natural again to you as... say... breathing?"

"What have you done to me, you *bitch*!"

"I gave you what you asked me for. Your heart's desire."

Suddenly, I heard my own voice speaking clearly, resonantly inside my head...

// I want to be the man I once was. //

The sob that escaped me came from the very depths of my being. I instinctively knew that this was no accident, she hadn't misunderstood what it was that I'd asked for... But in the manner and trickery of evil she'd taken my words literally.

Now, I was no longer a vampire.

I'd asked to be the man I once was. Perhaps if I'd said *demon*, things would have been different. But they weren't, and I was. Different. Human.

The *man* I once had been.

I lost the plot a bit then, I suppose. Everything I was... Everything I *had* been was gone. My demon. My fangs. My immortality. There was this huge empty cavern inside of me where the beast had paced and howled. Now it was deafeningly silent, and if I had a soul now it was fucking tiny, 'cause it couldn't, nor could it ever hope to fill the emptiness that the loss of my demon left behind. It was a bitch-slap of major proportions and being someone who's not used to being on the receiving end of things, it was like getting a kick in the balls... then realising you didn't *have* balls anymore. No. The enormity of what had just happened wasn't lost on me and one train of thought screamed in my mind like a klaxon...

I was human. I was demon fodder. I was mortal, and I was utterly alone. In short, I was royally fucked.

I knew what was really going on in the world, what was lurkin' out there, in the dark. When I got out of there, I was gonna have to get myself a gun.

A fucking *big* gun.

++ ++ ++ ++

"Can I just at this point jump in with a hearty EWWWW! I mean... You actually *slept* with Angelus? Oh gods, going for the double word score here, EWWWW again."

"Now Harris. Don't pretend like you didn't read all those old books on us vamps that the Watcher's got stashed in his secret place."

"You mean the old trunk in the storeroom behind the incense burners?"

"That's the one. You horny little shit."

"Oh, like *you've* never spent a pleasant half-hour browsing through them."

"Luv, I don't need to browse, I've done just about everything they've got documented in there, and more. I could give you bloody lessons."

"Ummm.. Thank you, but no. And a triple word score for Xan the Man for the use of EWWWW again."

"Is that it? Can I get on with the story?"

"Ok, lemme just get this one last thing straight. You soiled yourself, right?"

"What?"

"You. William the Bloody. Pissed yourself like a frightened child. Oh gods.... Pleasure overload... someone... help me ... pleasure overload..."

"You know something Harris? I've always hated you."

" ... Heeee heeeee hahhhhhh"

"Stop it."

".... Huhhhhhhh ha ha ha...."

"Xander. Shut. The. Fuck. Up. I mean it. You're hurting my feelings now."

"HAHAHAHAHAAAAA...."

"Alright, that's it. Story time over. You can figure the rest out for yourself."

"Oh no... Spike... Please, continue. I'll be good. I promise."

*Snerk*

"I heard that, Harris."

"Sorry. *Totally* in control of myself again. Totally. Please continue."

"I'm warning you, one more titter... Right. So there I was. Alone, in a cave, human and helpless..."

"Hold on a minute, alone? What happened to Wart Girl?"

"Ah yeah. Well, I sort of lost it for awhile. You know, raged and shouted a bit and so on..."

"You mean you sat and blubbed like a girl."

"Grrrrr..."

"Ok, zippin' it. You cried. Like a girl. And then what?"

"Then...."

++ ++ ++ ++


When I finally came to my senses again, she was gone. There was only the cave and myself. I sat there for an age trying to sort my head out, decide what I was going to do. Luckily, I still had the cash that I'd brought with me, so I wasn't gonna starve. It was gonna be six kinds of fun travelling back to the US on demon transport, though.

I pulled myself together and headed off back to the Hotel I'd been staying in while I was waiting for her to summon me. I ordered room service, got myself cleaned up and prepared to run the gauntlet of gettin' myself back home in one piece, unmolested and still alive. Don't get me wrong, I didn't want to be human. On the same hand though, I wasn't giving up, I wasn't ready to be demon fodder or some fuckin' fledge's next meal.

Sitting on the bed, I leafed through the little booklets the hotel folk had left lying around. You know the type of thing; tourist guides, travel tips, places of interest... But all for the demon community, of course. One of the guides highly recommended an old necromancer who lived a couple of minutes walk away, so I went to him and got him to whip me up a little cloaking spell, something to hide the fact that I was human again. With any luck, that and my fearsome reputation would be enough to put off any asshole that fancied a little nibble of old Spike.

I'll leave out the boring bits. I got the fuck out of Venezuela, and back to the good old US of A. It was only when I got to the airport that I realised I hadn't decided where to go next.

++ ++ ++ ++

"Well, it's pretty obvious what you did next."

"Oh. Is it, now?"

"You're here, aren't you? You're human, aren't you? I mean... where else would you go? Hey! I bet tall, dark and broody in L.A would give his fangs to see you like this!"

"How do you know he hasn't?"

"By using my patented Xander Harris super-observation skills, that's how. First of all you're reasonably chirpy. You're *never* chirpy after seeing Angel. Secondly, you're in one piece. I'm willing to bet Angel hasn't forgiven or forgotten the hot poker incident just yet, and human or not he owes you an ass kicking of major proportions. Thirdly, you don't have the look of a guy who's been boffed nearly half to death recently... which to all intents and purposes is *exactly* what Angel would do to you *after* the ass kicking. Am I right?"

"That's some kind of twisted logic thing you got going there, Harris. You in therapy at a"
"

"Ha ha. But I'm right. You know, I know it."

"You're forgetting one important detail. I'm not a vampire anymore. Angel can't pull any of that Sire crap on me now. I don't belong to him, so he can 't beat me and he can't fuck me.... Why is that suddenly depressing the hell out me? Anyway, he can't. He has to treat me like one of you lot now. Oh God. Did I mention deep, dark, soul-destroying depression?"

"So you haven't seen Angel yet?"

"No. But believe me, luv. It's right at the top of my 'To Do' list. Right after I tidy up some unfinished business here."

"And that would be?"

"That would be none of your business."

"Oh. So I'm good enough for you to just turn up out of the blue, all human and all; bore me nearly half to *death* with your story, eat me out of house and home but not to tell what unfinished business you got going on?"

"Ummmm.... Yeah luv. That's about the size of it. But don't worry Xander. You'll know what it is soon enough."

"Is that a promise?"

"It's more than a promise. It's an absolute sure thing."

"Oh. Cool. Ok then. What happened next?"

"Next?"

"Yeah, what happened next? Did you come straight back here? Make any little detours on the way? Nearly get killed and eaten by a big, nasty something? What? You're killing me here."

"Not yet, that's for later."

"Huh? What was that?"

"Nothing. What happened next... let's see... I was at the airport, trying to figure out where I was gonna go next, what I was gonna do..."


++ ++ ++ ++

"Ok, I *did* make it clear that I only wanted to rent a *room*, not the whole fuckin' hotel, right?"

"That's the going rate, bud. Put up or shut up. And I'm gonna hit you for a week in advance. You do have the money, now don't you?"

"Yeah. I got it."

"Shame. I'm always willing to do special deals for special customers."

"Do I look like a special customer to you?"

"You looke ake a *very* special customer to me. Tell you what. I'll take thirty a week less if you'll let me ... treat you nice."

"Treat me nice. I take it by that you mean shag the ass off me."

"Awww sweet thing, I wouldn't have put it quite like that. But you're a straight-talking kinda guy, so yeah... How about it? An easy half-hour on your knees for my special room rates. I'm doin' you a favour here, you know. It's not everyone I..."

"Do I look like a fuckin' poof to you?"

"Hey... Now don't get all..."

"Take your fuckin' money. I don't bend over and lift my shirt for the likes of you. You couldn't fucking *afford* me, pet. I'm way out of your league. Now. Give me my fuckin' key."

And so it began. I was in L.A, alone in some shit-hole hotel, nearly broke and human. Not good. I wasn't going cap-in-hand to Angel and I wasn't ready to go back to Sunnyhell and face the Slayer, so I got myself a little bolthole and settled in, waited to see what would come my way.

It's been a long time since I was human. I'd forgotten just how bloody awful it is. The whole bodily fluid thing, for instance. Errrgh. I like the eating thing, it's what happens *after* I'm not keen on. And being weak! Bloody hell, it's a wonder you people survive, you're like little puppy dogs or kittens or some such. You can't even see in the bloody dark. And don't get me started on the no sense of smell thing. You couldn't spot a demon if it was under your bloody nose, not until he started chewing on you by which time, you being so bloody weak and useless, it would be too late to do anything about it, 'cept die.

Being human sucks in a hundred different sucky ways. As a species, you're really a pretty sorry bunch. Cows. The only thing that's stupider than a human. Cows. And look what happens to them! They're just marginally below you in the food chain.

No, don't go looking all offended. I suppose it's not your fault that you're less than perfect, it's the way you were threw together. Blame genetics; blame God, hell... blame whoever or whatever you like. Fact is, as a species you suck. And now I'm one of you and I HATE it.

Wanna hear something even funnier than that? I still hate you. All of you. I still look at you and see an all-you-can-eat, I still see something I can beat or rob or fuck or do whatever, whenever I like to. I still wanna bite, I still wanna hunt, and I sure as *fuck* still wanna kill. I've spent over one hundred and twenty years being an instrument of death and/or destruction, and you know what? I wouldn't change one. Single. Second. Except of course for the chip. If it hadn't been for the chip, I would still be a vamp and right now I'd be draining you drier than the fuckin' Sahara.

You're looking a little peaked there, Xander. Little green around the gills, you feelin' all right? You wanna hear the rest of my story? Ok, well here it is.

You see thiss, is, it's a knife. Actually, it's a skinning knife. I bought one of these for Angelus way back in the day... he had a fuckin' ball with it - taught me some pretty interesting tricks with it an' all. I bought it in a pawnshop in L.A. It was just sittin' there in the window, lookin' all pretty and such. I was feeling pretty low at the time and it reminded me of my Sire, reminded me of the good times we'd had when we'd go hunting.

I wanted to get some of those feelings back, Xander. So you know what I did? I went into that pawnshop, I bought the knife and then I showed the guy in the shop just how sharp a bastard it still was. He didn't squeal much, didn' t get the chance frankly. My reflexes are still pretty good and I've looked after my body over the years, kept myself fit and strong. He was fat and slow, easy to put down. Then I just shut up shop, dragged 'im in the back and practiced my art. Now to your way of thinkin', he wasn't pretty when I'd done with him. But to an artist, to an aficionado like myself, he turned out pretty decent after all of the down time as a killer I've had. Any rough edges or such, well... won't take too long to fix. A little practice is all I need.

Back in the day, Angelus had me practicing all the time. He was a stickler for the artistry, you know. Killing wasn't just killing... it was skill, it was finesse, and a true artists work never went unrecognised.

I've been years in the making, Xander. Decades of honing my skills, perfecting my art. You got your Jeffrey Dahmer's and such, but you've never, ever had someone like me, someone who's actually existed on the dark side. Evil is as evil does, they say. And I might be human, but I'm still evil. I' ll bet that's something that fat bitch demon didn't count on. She thought she'd shafted me fine and proper and in a way she did.

But see, here's the thing...

I'm like a fuckin' cockroach, Harris. You can try and step on me, but I'm just gonna keep on coming.

I'll hold my hands up, th. Ih. It's not as easy as when I was a demon. 'Cause I'm stuck in this shell, you see. This pathetic, weak, easily broken shell with no demon to back me up. So I've had to look to the modern world for some help on this one. You see I knew I just couldn't waltz in here and take you. I needed something to... soften you up.

You're feeling pretty woozy now, aren't you Xander? Limbs heavy, senses dulled, that whole cotton wool thing goin' on with your tongue... That's right, pet. You lie back there, relax yourself, let Uncle Spike finish 'is story. And I'll just slip these off, make you more comfortable. It's ok Xander; we're all men here. S'not like I never saw you naked before. When I lived in that shit hole of a basement with you, right? In that lovely, comfy chair you used to so enjoy tying me in. You enjoyed doing that didn't you Xan? Givin' you that feeling of power, of being in control. It's ok, I can relate.

Anyway.

I heard about this little trick on telly. Well, not a trick as such. Rohypnol, handy little article. They call it the Date Rape drug. Slip it into someone's beer, or in your case soda, and you don't even know it's there... until it's too late.

No, don't go gettin' all excited Harris, I'm not gonna rape you. I'm saving myself for much bigger fish, don't want to go wasting all this spunky goodness on a little faggot like you. I'm battin' in the big leagues again, Xander, and when I get through here with all you little Scooby fuckers, I'm off to good old L.A. And when I get there, the big, broody bastard vampire detective won't know what hit him, 'cause now he can't sense me comin' for him. He thinks I'm still living like a fuckin' rat in that crypt, beggin' you lot for blood and fag money, and being the Slayer's butt-monkey.

Yeah, I'm rambling now. Sorry about that, luv. It's just I'm so excited you see. Places to go, people to kill...

Bloody hell, Harris... You weigh a soddin' ton. Now... let's get you all comfy here on the floor while Uncle Spike gets his kit off - don't want to get it all dirty, now do I? It's the blood you see - it's a bitch to clean off leather.

Remember I told you once before how it was all about the blood? It still is. That hasn't changed. I can't feed on it now - not sure if I even like the taste that much anymore. But I can see it, smell it, *feel* it....

You know what it's like when the kill's bleeding freely? It's like liquid silk, warm liquid silk slidin' all over your skin. Have you ever gutted anything Xander? No. Guess not. The skin's all soft and it stretches.... You wouldn't believe just how much it'll stretch before it tears, especially in something young and fresh.

Or someone.

And when you slide that sweet, sharp blade in, the blood rushes through the wound, sometimes the innards or some muscle will poke out too. And that flesh inside, it's so pure. Pure and untouched. Virginal, even. It's like I' m the first and last person ever to touch it, control it, *take* it. It's a powerful feeling, like being a god. Or a demon. Yeah, it makes me feel like a demon again.

No, no, it's useless to struggle, pet. Twitching around like that, it makes my cuts all ragged like, and I want this to be a nice, neat job. Told you Harris, I'm an artist. And pretty soon, everyone will recognise my work.

There now. That's a nice, neat start. Not bleedin' too fast or too much.

Shhhhhh... Don't cry luv....

I'm going to make you beautiful, Xander - a work of art. You will be a butterfly, stretchin' your wings to fly. Your arms, you see, they're so big, so strong, so much skin to stretch and use...

They'll be just like wings. Your wings, to carry you off to Heaven or wherever it is you white hats go when you croak. And I can paint such pretty patterns all over you too. Angelus and I, we used to paint eotheother back in the day, with the blood of the innocent don't you know. Or the guilty. Or any other bugger we could get our hands on, really. You'll be just like we were back then, all scarlet and glistening like rubies. Bet no 's s's seen a scarlet butterfly before, you'll be the talk of the town, one of inesinest pieces yet.

Fuck me, I'm startin' to sound like Dru now, her and her burnin' baby fish. But she knew what I was... What I am. She scraped the shit off the surface and saw my poet's heart, my artistry. Angelus saw it too, that's why he turned me. I was to be made to be a Master vampire you know, not just an ordinary fledge. He saw the potential, saw what I could become.

I didn't disappoint him, Xander. No. But he fuckin' disappointed me. No, not him... Soul-boy. He abandoned me, rejected me, kept Angelus from me and from his true nature.

And now I need to show him. I need Angelus to *see* me, and he can. He will - through that bastards eyes. I need him to remember who we were, what we were, what we had before the whole thing went tits up. I may have lost my demon, but I'm still the *same*. I'm still what he made me. At the end of the day, I'm a stone cold killer with or without the demon inside of me. And like it or not, inside Angel, Angelus is just as he always was. It's fuckin' Soul-boy tying him down, keeping him locked up and separated from me, his William.

But that's neither here nor there anymore. I want him to be free. I want him to fight hard and fast to break free. Kind of like a butterfly squirming it 's way out of a cocoon, really. And if the drugs helped to free him before, they'll help do it again. I've got a very special cocktail mixed up for my old mate Angel. Don't you just love modern medicine? I remember when it was fuck all but leeches, leeches, leeches. Seemed pretty wasteful of 'em to go around killing all those vamps back then, now don't it.

Ah yeah, I know what you're thinking. If Angelus loses his soul, he'll most likely Turn me again. But don't you *get* it? That's what I want! I want to be his again. I'm gonna take that chance, 'cause I want to be Angelus boy, his Childe, his love one more time. And when I am, when I'm back... There'll be no chip to slow me down, 'cause the demon bitch took it along with my demon. Of course, it's not gonna be a picnic gettin' Angel to take the drugs, and there's no way I can physically force him. But I've got a plan. Not one of my usual, no, this is a *good* plan, a workable plan.

Right Xander. You're gonna feel a little prick now. I'm giving you shot. Its something called Methocarbamol, ever heard of it? No, didn't think so. It's a muscle relaxant, it'll help keep you nice and still for me now we're gettin' to the delicate bits. Gonna have to gag you now too, pet. Can't have you annoying the neighbours with all your shouting, now can we? 'Sides... It 's breaking my concentration.

There's a time for screaming, Xander, but this is not it. Just your bog-standard kilwellwell they're good for the screaming. But *this*....

Oh this is more than killing - this is evolution. This is creation. You might say, this is my way of Turning you. And I wouldn't Turn just anyone, you know. So take it as a compliment. You might have been an annoying bastard, Harris. But you were a warrior for the Slayer - loyal, determined. You didn't deserve to die by some anonymous hand, unsung and destined to be forgotten. This way, you'll live on. This way people will know your name, and they'll know you were special. I've taken all this time making you pretty, so that can't be bad.

Of course, you're part of the wakeup call too. Part of Spike's very own siren song for Angelus. Part of my becoming and his.

Ssshhh... It'll all be over soon, pet. I promise.

No, don't keep looking at the door.

They're not coming, Xander.

They'll never come. Because you are the last. The final item on my Sunnydale 'To Do' list. I came, I saw, I killed them all, and now it all ends here, with you.

Then it's L.A, here I come. I'm gonna get you, Soul boy. You and your little doggy too.

'Cept these days, I hear its babies, not little doggies, that's got all of your attention.

Well, pretty soon, Uncle Spike's coming to visit and the little rug rat will get all of my attention too.

Unless Daddy does what he's told, that is.

Then it'll be goodbye soul; hello fangy goodness and the Big Bad will be open for business.

So that's the plan Xander, what do you think?

Oh, so quiet now. So still. You make a beautiful butterfly, pet, just like I knew you would, crawlin' out of that cocoon and gettin' ready to spread your wings and fly. Just like me, I suppose.

Well, I've had a lovely visit and a nice chat, but it's almost time to go now.

Just time for one more *cut*...

There. It's done. You bleed so prettily, I'm so glad you weren't the first. 'Cause you know, it's really true what they say, pet.

Best for last, Xander.

Best for last.

END.