“This is getting ridiculous! She’s killed like, a hundred of my vamps already, in three. Freaking. days.” Faith’s angry voice carried through the hollow door to her bedroom.

Spike stopped for a moment in the hallway outside the door, debating whether or not to go into the room and distract her attention from whichever unfortunate minion was bearing the brunt of her wrath this time. No, he decided with a shrug and a smile. She was only hurting herself by hurting or dusting her own minions. The fewer she had, the more vulnerable she would be to the other Slayer.

And to him.

But the pause after her words, before she began speaking again, obviously in answer to a question he had not heard, told him that she was on the phone, and not face to face with her chosen victim of the moment. He stopped, turning so that his ear was to the door. Faith rarely used the phone; most of the people she would need to talk to were usually near enough to her to see in person. Who was she talking to? he wondered.

“Yeah, but that’s not the point! If my minions are constantly busy turning people just so I don’t run out of minions…that’s kind of pointless, isn’t it?” Pause. “Yeah, except, she was never supposed to get out of LA! You were supposed to take care of that for me, remember, honey?” the terse, patronizing voice of the Slayer went on. “And then when I became aware that you just weren’t going to be able to pull it off, I sent Spike in – and *he* couldn’t kill her either!” Another pause. “Yeah, I know, that’s what *I* thought! Slayer of Slayers and all! Pathetic.”

He felt anger rising up in him at her disdainful words, and had to prevent himself from entering the room and giving her at the least a piece of his mind – at the most a taste of just what William the Bloody, Slayer of Slayers was actually capable of. He realized the foolishness of that thought, however, as he really had no way of knowing exactly what might await him on the other side of that door. He thought she was alone, but he could be wrong.

He somehow managed to restrain himself, and leaned in closer to hear what she was saying. Although what he had heard so far was both insulting and infuriating, he recognized the sound of potential useful information when he heard it. He wanted to get some idea of who she was talking to; he was sure that if he kept listening long enough, she would end up dropping a clue as to their identity.

"Yeah," she scoffed suddenly. "*You're* one to talk! It's not like you did any better! At least he got up the nerve to even *try* to kill her. Unlike you, Mr. 'Never-Had-the-Right-Chance!'"

Spike winced slightly at the words, as their relevance to his situation hit him. She could just as easily have been talking about him. Different Slayer whose death was in question -- same excuse for why she was still alive.

"No, you can't come here, remember?" Faith went on after a brief pause, sounding impatient and irritated. "I wanted you to, but like *you* said, if Spike knew that you were here..."

His ears perked up a bit at that, and he frowned in thought. Now he *really* wanted to know who she was talking to!

"Please! You couldn't kill him any more than you could kill Buffy, honey! No, I don't think you're quite up to your old strength yet. For now, I just need you doing what you're best at -- lurking in the shadows and watching," she sneered, her tone that odd mixture of affection and mockery that she used so frequently with Spike.

There was another short silence, before she insisted, "No! I don't *want* him dead. Not yet, anyway. He's still useful to me. Look, if everything goes according to plan, once all is said and done, you can do whatever you want to Spike. I don't care. But for now -- I don't want Spike or Buffy to know that you're here, or that you're working for me. That could only turn into a big mess. And as long as she's in the picture, making herself a threat to me -- I need Spike here."

"Hey, what're you doing?" A high, annoying voice asked from behind him, and Spike spun quickly around to see one of Faith's minions standing there. The vamp, shorter than Spike by at least a head, skinny and weak in appearance, looked to have been quite the nerd during his life, and he was little more than a fledgling now. He glanced suspiciously between Spike and the closed bedroom door of his mistress. "Were you eavesdropping on the Slayer?" he demanded in an indignant, whiny voice -- a bit too loudly for Spike's comfort.

"No!" he protested, an offended note in his voice. "What I do is none of your bloody business, boy!" he retorted. "Show a bit of respect for your superiors. Now be a good lad, and sod off!" He put as much menace into his tone and expression as he could, considering how he had been caught off his guard.

"You were!" the minion insisted, wide-eyed and incredulous. "You were listening through the door to her conversation!"

As Spike tried to think of a reasonable explanation, he suddenly became aware that Faith's voice on the other side of the door had suddenly become silent. At any moment, if she had not already, she would hear the disagreement taking place right outside her door, and come out to see what was going on. Spike knew that this pathetic little git would leap at the chance to get in good with Faith by ratting him out.

He could not let that happen.

He reached into his pocket and took out an unusual weapon for him to be carrying -- a rather small, light stake that he had taken to carrying lately. He did not trust Faith in the least, even less lately than in the past, and he knew that it would be a simple thing for her to have one of her minions stake him in the back if she thought that he was becoming a liability to her.

And lately it seemed that that was a definite possibility.

So he made a point of always being prepared to defend himself against his own kind, as well as the psychotic Slayer he pretended to serve.

"Sorry, mate," he muttered, grabbing the smaller vampire and slinging him against the wall, raising the stake to strike. "Shoulda minded your own business." And with that he plunged the stake into the heart of the shocked vampire, too surprised to even attempt to stop him.

As the dust settled to the floor, Faith's door opened, and she stepped out into the hall, frowning.

"What's going on?" she asked him.

Tossing the stake casually in his hand, Spike shrugged. "Caught one of your little lackeys out here eavesdropping at your door, love. Figured you don't need that kind of headache; dusted the wanker."

She looked bemused and surprised at the stake in his hand, as she drew slowly closer to him, reaching casually to take it from his open hand, looking it over closely, testing its weight in her own hand.

"You carry a stake around now?" she asked, meeting his eyes with a curious smile.

"A fella's gotta be prepared, pet," he shrugged, his eyes on the stake in her hand, his calm expression and tone giving nothing away. "Might now seem like much to a powerful super-human being like yourself, love, but a lot of vamps would literally kill to take my place."

His piercing blue eyes searched hers for any spark of recognition, any reaction to his words, as he remembered her discussion of his death and when it would be acceptable to her on the phone with what he could only presume to be just such a vamp as he had just mentioned -- one hoping to step in to take his place once he had dusted him.

She just smiled, not showing any reaction whatsoever to his words. "Yeah, probably so," she agreed, tossing the stake in her hand. "Eavesdropping, huh?" she commented, bringing the conversation back to the matter at hand. "man, I *hate* that!"

Suddenly, in a lightning fast move that he could not prepare for, she lunged at him, shoving him back against the wall, thrusting the stake forward toward his chest.

He kept smiling, did not even flinch, and the forceful thrust stopped short less than an inch from his chest.

"Nice," she commented with a smile, glancing appreciatively at the stake in her hand, as if she really had only been testing its worth the whole time. "If I'd actually wanted to dust you, you'd be dead already."

He nodded, returning her smile easily. He knew from her own words which he had overheard on the phone only moments before that she would not actually stake him. "If you wanted to," he repeated with a smirk. "But that'd be such a waste, wouldn't it, love?"

She just laughed, lowering the stake and placing it back in his hand; he returned it to his pocket as she spoke again. "Thanks for taking care of that eavesdropper for me -- whoever he was. They're all the same to me," she said dismissively, as she backed off to allow him to move away from the wall.

She paused before meeting his eyes to add, "If *I'd* have caught him, he'd have gotten a lot worse than a quick dusting. I *hate* people I trust sneaking around behind my back."

He could not tell if he was imagining the slight question in her eyes, the challenge in her voice. He just smiled innocently back at her and laughed, "Lucky thing then that you don't trust anyone, eh, pet?"


“I don’t know about this, Buffy.” Willow’s voice was anxious and a little shaky as she turned her wide, worried eyes on her friend. “Why do I have to be the distraction? I’m not very distracting!” she insisted, shaking her head emphatically. “Nobody *ever* notices me!”

“Don’t be silly, Will. You’re exactly the sort of girl a big, bad vampire *would* notice,” Buffy argued, then frowned as she realized just how very *not* helpful her words were to her friend’s frightened state. She reached out and took both of Willow’s hands in hers, looking her in the eye with an encouraging smile. “You’re going to be fine. I’m gonna be really close the whole time. I won’t let anything happen to you, I promise!”

Willow let out a slow, shaky sigh. “Okay,” she agreed reluctantly, her voice small and timid. “Let’s go.”


Spike breathed out his mingled relief and frustration as he stepped out of the mansion and began walking down the sidewalk. After dealing with the increasingly irrational, paranoid Slayer, he needed some time away from her and all of her annoyingly pathetic minions, a little time just to be alone and think through his plan and the way things were going – and possibly to find a good meal, if he happened to run across any humans foolish enough to be out so late.

He was so caught up in his own thoughts, as he walked along, not really looking around him, that he was oblivious to the instinctive danger signs he should have noticed. He could not stop thinking about the recent developments in his situation.

What was that phone call about? he wondered again. Faith had been talking to someone who apparently knew him, and wanted him dead. Someone the other Slayer would also recognize. This person was in Sunnydale, but for some reason, Faith did not want him to know that. The dark Slayer had some little scheme in the works which she was hiding from him. And from the sound of the implicit permission she had given her unknown accomplice to kill him once everything went down – her plans in no way included him.

He was not the least bit surprised.

Hopefully, he would be able to maneuver his way into creating another confrontation between the two Slayers. He knew that Buffy, who was still half out of her mind with grief-induced rage, and at her fiercest as far as fighting went, would be able to overcome Faith eventually. And if she couldn’t – if it came to it and she needed a little help – he would gladly lend a hand to see Faith dead.

And then he would kill Buffy himself.

And that thought brought up a whole new set of worries.

He wanted to kill Buffy. He *did*. Granted, she had been rather decent to him, all things considered, before they had all left Sunnydale the year before, what with the truce and all. She was the Slayer, and by rights should have been trying to dust him and Drusilla, as well as Angelus, but she *had* stuck by their agreement.

But she *was* the Slayer, and he still wanted to kill her, he told himself. He was William the Bloody, Slayer of Slayers. That was what he did – kill the Slayer.

Not dream of her. Not imagine kissing her…holding her…her body pressed to his in a passionate embrace…

*Bloody hell.*

He was still pondering this confusing turn of his thoughts, when he got the sudden sensation that someone was watching him – from very close by. He was being followed, he suddenly realized. Cursing himself for allowing himself to become so distracted that he had not noticed it earlier, he whirled around to face whoever it was behind him.

He found himself face to face with a trembling, wide-eyed young girl. He immediately recognized her as the Slayer’s friend. He glanced around, but saw no sign of anyone with her. He focused hard, but could not sense any other presence nearby besides hers.

A slow smirk turned up the corner of his mouth as he tilted his head to one side curiously. “Well. What have we here?” he asked softly, his voice gentle and non-threatening – belying his true intentions.

The girl let out a little half-whimper at his words, taking a step backwards away from him.

“What’re you doing out so late, pet?” he asked her, advancing on her with the smooth grace of a predator, smoothly turning as he did, so that she was backing into a dark alleyway.

Not that it really mattered. All parts of Sunnydale were equally dangerous these days.

“L-looking for you,” she squeaked out, her voice shaking in fear.

He stopped for a moment, frowning, taken aback by her unexpected answer. “Really,” he replied. “Hmm.” He paused, before shrugging his shoulders and heading toward her again, his smile back in place.

This changed nothing.

By now Willow’s back had hit the brick wall behind her, and she let out a surprised little cry of fright at the unexpected contact. Spike kept advancing on her, until he was standing less than a foot from her, his startlingly blue eyes gazing into hers with a look that was both terrifying and mesmerizing.

“And might I ask why you were seeking out a big, bad master vampire all by yourself, pet?” he asked her slowly in a low, almost seductive voice, reaching out a gentle hand to stroke down the side of her cheek.

She flinched away from his touch, but her eyes never left his. Despite her fear, the girl was fascinated. “The – the Slayer wants to talk to you…she s-sent me to…to…” Her voice trailed off as he leaned in subtlely closer to her, breathing in deeply the scent of her fear, and her blood, drawn near to the surface by cold and fright, as her heart frantically pounded it through the veins in her throat – so near to his lips.

“And so she sent her little *friend* to come and find me?” he asked, slight laughter in his tone, his eyebrows raised in surprise. “To – what? Arrange a meeting?”

Willow nodded frantically, swallowing hard before she spoke again. “Y-yes. Exactly.”

He laughed out loud at that, shaking his head in disbelief – and a little disappointment. It didn’t seem like the Slayer to be so foolish. “Well, I’m sorry, pet, but it doesn’t quite work that way,” he laughed softly. “You can tell the Slayer that I’ll only talk to her if she can work up the nerve to come and find me herself.”

“Wait…no.” He paused, frowning slightly in thought, before his face broke out into a smile again. “Scratch that.” He reached out a hand and gripped the back of her neck, tipping her head back and drawing her closer to him, and she let out a little whimper of fear, as he went on with a cruel smile, “She’ll have to figure it out for herself.” He leaned in to speak softly into her ear, “It was a *very* bad mistake, coming here alone.”

“She’s not alone.”

Surprised by the sudden familiar voice behind him, Spike released Willow and whirled around. Before he even saw who was standing there, only a couple of feet away, he felt a sense of fury at himself for not seeing the trap sooner. Why had he not sensed her coming? he wondered briefly as his eyes fell on the one who had spoken.

The Slayer.

He had only a split second to register the heavy piece of lead piping she held in her hand before she slammed it down into his head, hard, and his knees buckled and he collapsed to the ground.

“She’s with me,” he faintly heard Buffy’s triumphant voice, echoing hollowly in his head, in the few moments before everything went black.