Chapter 1
 
Spike clenched his jaw and gripped the steering wheel so tightly that it creaked in protest. Pressing relentlessly upon the accelerator, he scowled at the moonlit road ahead and ground out, “I will not turn back again. I. Will. Not. Bloody. Turn. Back. Again!”
 
At the last second, he swerved the DeSoto and felt the solid old vehicle shudder slightly as he smashed through the sign. He expertly steered back onto the road and let out a triumphant whoop of delight. He had finally done it! He was back in Sunnydale at last!
 
He took one hand from the wheel and with his thumb, traced the symbols engraved on the smooth surface of the talisman in his pocket. The mage in New York who had prepared it for him had more than earned his fee. As promised, he had been able to withstand the mounting pressure to divert away from the town over the Hellmouth. Then as soon as Spike had passed into the city limits, the compulsion to stay away from Sunnydale had faded to a faint unease, allowing him to relax his constant effort to resist the effects of the spell.
 
Now, if he could just find the slayer…
 
Spike drove slowly through the quiet town. As he had expected, the streets were practically deserted. It wasn’t yet midnight though, so he knew that the slayer would most likely still be patrolling.
 
As he passed the Sun Cinema, he noticed the first few patrons emerging from the late evening screening so he parked and waited for the slayer to show up. If his patchy memory could be relied upon, she would be close by, checking that none of the clueless residents of her town would end up being vamp snacks before they could reach the comparative safety of their cars.
 
When the small crowd had dispersed with no sign of the slayer, Spike sucked on his teeth and tapped the steering wheel thoughtfully. For her to miss this stop on her patrol, something must be going down in another part of town.
 
With a resigned shrug, he got out of the car and ambled along, quartering the town centre and then checking the closest cemeteries. Occasionally he lifted his face and flared his nostrils to scent the air, seeking any fresh trace of slayer musk.
 
Finally, he turned towards the warehouse district. It wasn’t long before he heard the sounds of a scuffle in the distance. Reasoning that a fight at this time of night would very likely involve the slayer, he trotted towards the source of the noise.
 
Turning into a dark, smelly alley, he came upon two women engaged in a vicious hand-to-hand battle. His heart unaccountably lurched in his chest as he caught sight of the tiny blonde slayer. Grinning, he paused to watch her in action.
 
He frowned in confusion when it quickly became apparent that despite its slender human form, not much taller than the slayer herself, the demon she was fighting was far stronger than the slayer who, despite her best efforts, was coming off second best by a wide margin.
 
Spike instinctively started forward to intervene, but before he had taken more than two steps, the demon caught the slayer in the chest with a massive punch. The small, leather-clad figure flew back to slam against a brick wall and crumpled to the ground to lie quite still.
 
Spike was slightly surprised that rather than taking the opportunity to finish the slayer off, the demon ran its fingers through its tousled hair and straightened its figure-hugging dress before stalking off down the alley away from Spike, muttering incoherently about needing a brain.
 
He cautiously approached the slayer, reassuring himself that her heart still beat strongly and she was merely knocked unconscious. He found himself brushing a wisp of hair away from the cut on her forehead. It had already stopped bleeding. He ghosted his fingers over the yellowing bruise on her cheekbone. That wasn’t fresh; given the rate of a slayer’s healing, it had to be a day or two old at least. Had that come from this demon as well?
 
He turned to assess the retreating form of the demon in time to see it pause in its stride and suffer some form of seizure. His eyebrows shot up when, accompanied by the harsh sound of tearing fabric, the blonde with the unfortunate perm abruptly morphed into the form of a well-built young man at least six inches taller.
 
Spike blinked. It was a shape-shifter! He impulsively decided to dispose of the demon who had been giving the slayer so much trouble. He was going to need her full attention and she wouldn’t be much help if she was distracted by a super-strong shape-shifting demon on the loose.
 
He gently moved the unresponsive form of the slayer into a patch of deep shadow beside a nearby dumpster where she should be safely hidden from any casual passing demon, and then ran after the shape-shifter.
 
In its male form, it was very conspicuous in its torn dress and flimsy high heeled shoes which caused it to totter and stumble until it huffed in frustration and kicked them off. Understandably therefore, it was keeping to dimly lit streets and alleyways, which suited Spike just fine.
 
Spike silently caught up with it and tapped it on the shoulder. When it turned to face him with a startled yelp, he smirked and said brightly, “Sorry, mate. Nothing personal, but I can’t have you going around beating up my slayer. I’m gonna be needing her alive and well.”
 
The demon opened its mouth to respond, but before it had a chance to speak, Spike gripped its head in both hands and twisted, wrenching it to the side. The satisfying crunch of bone and gristle informed him that its neck was well and truly broken.
 
Spike allowed the lifeless form to drop to the ground and regarded it in puzzlement. He could have sworn that it had had a human heartbeat. It had smelt human too. Giving a little shrug, he dismissed the thought. It had clearly been a very gifted shape-shifter.
 
He left the body where it had fallen and retraced his steps to where he had left the slayer, only to find the space beside the dumpster empty. Growling in frustration, he tested the air to catch her scent trail. This was a simple matter now that she had been bleeding and he quickly set off in pursuit.
 
It didn’t take long for Spike to catch up with her. She was limping along, cradling one arm to her chest. She hesitated for a moment and turned to scan the street behind her, an expression of pained resignation on her face.
 
Realising that she had sensed his presence, Spike stopped and stood utterly motionless in a patch of shadow.
 
Her gaze passed over him with no hint of recognition. After a few seconds she turned and resumed her halting pace.
 
As Spike watched her walk away, he reconsidered the wisdom of his plan to confront her tonight. She was tired and injured and very unlikely to be in the mood to hear him out. He would have to try again tomorrow night.
 
Once he was certain she had got far enough ahead so that he would no longer register on her slayer senses, he cautiously followed her to ensure that she didn’t fall prey to any other demon while she was vulnerable.
 
When she turned into a quiet residential street, he paused on the corner to see where she went. He stood under a tree, hesitating to light the cigarette dangling from his lower lip until she had passed safely out of sight into a house. He blew out the first plume of smoke just as a light flicked on in an upstairs window.
 
With a satisfied little nod, he made a note of the house number and street name and then turned away to find a place to crash for the day. Coming to a cross street, he paused and changed his course. Perhaps it would be a good idea to drop into Willy’s for a drink first, to catch up with all the local gossip…
 
 
~*~*~*~
 
 
Sipping his mug of blood, Spike wandered from room to dusty room of the empty mansion. After what he’d learned at Willy’s the night before, he had been mildly surprised to find the building still vacant. It was unusual to find such a prime residence unoccupied. It made a perfect nest, particularly as the water and power that Angelus’ minions had hooked up were still functioning.
 
He paused in the great room and pushed the French windows open. He smiled sadly when he remembered how much Drusilla had loved the fragrance of jasmine in the small courtyard garden. It was a relief that it was the wrong time of year for the heavily scented flowers to be blooming. His memories of that period were vague at best but were so painful that he wasn’t particularly eager to regain more of the same. It was mostly the completely blank months following Dru’s desertion that he was so desperate to retrieve.
 
Spike turned to look back into the room and tried to make sense of the rambling snippets of information he had gathered at Willy’s once his cash had bought enough alcohol to loosen a few tongues.
 
How did a vampire get out of Hell anyway? He shrugged. At least the bastard hadn’t hung around for very long.
 
He had taken some convincing that Angelus had his soul back and was in L.A. running a detective agency. A vampire P.I. He snorted in derision. Only in California…
 
He frowned at the idea of a secret government agency attempting to build an army of controllable demons. He shuddered at the thought of being captured by crackpot scientists and being subjected to their sadistic experiments, glad that the slayer had put paid to that little venture before he had made it back to town.
 
It appeared that while he had been attempting to fill the holes in his memory and struggling to make his way back to Sunnydale to confront the slayer, who he was convinced was behind the enchantments he was under, he had missed some interesting times.
 
Finding his mug empty, Spike made his way back to the kitchen, dumped it in the grimy sink and grabbed his duster.
 
Time to go find the slayer and get some answers.
 
Checking that he still had the amulet and the card bearing its activation spell safely tucked away in his pocket, he set off on foot through the cool February evening towards Revello Drive.
 
Perhaps he’d get there early enough to catch the slayer as she set off on patrol so that he wouldn’t need to waste time scouring the whole town for her.