A/N: I apologise for the delay in updating and for not getting round to answering your reviews. Thank you for them and for the encouragement to continue with this. I hope you enjoy this latest update...

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He had been sharing his crypt with Drusilla for a week now, and it was almost like old times. Almost. In fact, it was only his shameful secret that made all the difference now – a secret he knew Drusilla was not as clueless about as she pretended to be. It was a secret that haunted him and taunted him in his sleepless daylight hours, prodding at his sense of pride. A secret that made him question himself over and over. This awful secret: he was still living on pig’s blood.

He told Drusilla it was because the blood didn’t taste the same without the thrill of the chase but she knew as well as he that he was afraid: afraid of taking a step he didn’t think he could reverse. If he did give in and went on the hunt with Drusilla – as he had once already – he wouldn’t be able to go back. Most importantly, there was no way he would be able to face Buffy again and, despite her harsh rejection, this thought held him back, even as the old bloodlust kept rearing its ugly head.



It would be so easy – too easy – to succumb, just as he had on the balcony at the Bronze. He had hesitated for mere seconds then but the temptation had been too strong, the dead girl’s body weighing against him, her bare neck calling to him. It had been so long. He had been deprived of the sweet taste of human blood for long, long months and this, combined with the need to show Drusilla he could still be the vampire he had once been, had made succumbing to temptation all too easy.

He could still taste the girl’s blood in his mouth, as if it were just yesterday he had sunk his fangs into her throat, letting out a groan low in his chest as he did so. It was what he had been made to do. It was what he had excelled at for a hundred and twenty years. One mouthful of blood and the old thrill had swept through him, reminding him of why he had relished the life of a vampire so much. The power, that dizzying power over life and death, had set his head spinning and he had finally dropped the girl, looking up with hungry eyes and a bloody mouth as Drusilla smiled over at him, licking the blood from her own lips.



Even now – a week on – the memory set every nerve ending abuzz with energy, with hunger and it took every little bit of willpower he had to hold himself back. His demon screamed at him, called him a coward but he fought still, desperately hanging on to the illusion of the person he had tried to become. Not good, but not evil either – someone to help, to be trusted. It was an ideal he had only just started to strive for, but he had been knocked back so soon and now going on seemed like too much hard work. Especially when Drusilla was around, whispering words of sweet temptation in his ear, reminding him of the power he had once held.

“I know you’re still in there, my naughty Spike,” she whispered, “I know you want to come out and play.”

“I don’t feel like it tonight,” he lied.

“Oh, naughty, naughty,” Drusilla chided, shaking her head at him, “My poor, confused William.”

She moved behind him where he sat in his armchair and laid her fingers against his temples.

“You so wanted to be good. A good little boy who gets treats from Mummy.”

“Dru-“

“Shhh. It won’t always hurt so,” she murmured with a wicked laugh, pressing her fingers against his skin, before pulling away sharply.

She rose to her feet and did a little twirl,
her arms thrown out at her sides.

“Come dance with me in the moonlight, my Spike.”

She stopped her dance and levelled her gaze on him, crooking her finger at him.

“Come. Let’s go play.”



He had followed his sire almost absentmindedly and now found himself lingering in the shadows of the Bronze, watching her as she moved through the crowd, searching for her prey. It didn’t take her long at all to lure a college student away from his friends and as she led him towards the exit, Spike slipped behind her, watching her work her magic.

Drusilla led the young man out into the alley behind the Bronze and after a brief seduction, her teeth were sinking into his throat as he let out a cry. From his position only a few metres away, Spike could smell the man’s blood – could almost taste it on his own lips – and his demon urged him to move forward, to join in the kill. As if sensing his struggle, Drusilla lifted her head and fixed her eyes on his, her lips painted in blood. She said nothing but her eyes were coaxing him forward.



He wavered for a moment, then went to step forward – and came to a halt as movement from behind Drusilla caught his attention. He looked up quickly and met the Slayer’s startled gaze. She looked first at Drusilla and her victim and then glanced at him, but she made no move to attack, as he expected her to do, and she seemed frozen in place.

He moved to Drusilla’s side and took her arm almost protectively, the smell of the dying man’s blood overwhelming his senses instantly, clouding his mind with hunger.

“The Slayer will spoil our game,” Dru murmured, rubbing herself against him, her eyes fixed on the silent Slayer.

He took in the Slayer – arms crossed over her chest and a disgusted look on her face – and felt that still-raw pain swell up inside him. He would not let it show though and instead grew angry with her disdainful look: didn’t she realise she had driven him to this?!

“No, she won’t,” he answered bitingly, narrowing his eyes on the Slayer as she straightened ever so slightly, “Slayer knows I know all her weak spots now. Spent long enough in her circle to know where to hit her hardest.”

Buffy’s eyes went wide with surprise, but he could not stop himself – wanting to hurt her just as she had hurt him. Drusilla cooed and rubbed herself against him once more.

“That’s my Spike.”

“How’s the little sis?” he asked with bared fangs, watching as her shock quickly turned to anger to match his, “Tell her she can come hang out at my crypt anytime. Nice girl, she is.”

“You’ve got ten seconds to get out of my face, Spike.”

Drusilla laughed and he grinned, glad he could have gotten to the Slayer in some small way. He wanted the power she had taken from him back.



“Come on, Dru. Let’s find somewhere a bit cosier, shall we?” he asked, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

“Cosy and full of warm, lovely treats.”

“Anything you want, love,” he answered, leaning down and giving her a hungry kiss before pulling back to meet the Slayer’s angry gaze with a defiant look.

“Night night, Slayer. See you soon.”

He smirked and turned, moving off into the darkness with his sire, knowing that he had just ruined any hope of reconciliation with the Slayer – but taking pleasure in the fact that he had been able to get to her. She would regret the way she had treated him, he would make sure of that.