A/N: Warning some icky bits and description of main character's death.



It had only been a week since Angel had bundled off Joyce and Dawn. Spike had been unusually sombre the evening they had gone. If she hadn't known better, Buffy would've thought he was brooding. There had been several hushed phone calls which Spike had ended as soon as he realised he wasn't alone. She had no idea what it was all about and whenever she had tried to say something to him, Spike had changed the subject or distracted her with a kiss - and who was she kidding? His kisses were totally distracting.

So here they were - staking out The Bronze. It was about 10pm and the club was heaving with bodies. Buffy had stopped breathing - the scents of arousal, excitement and sweat pouring off the clubbers was intoxicating. Her demon was scratching around the edges of her soul - asking for an out. She was terrified of giving in. Buffy could still taste the hot blood from her first and only victim pouring down her throat; could hear his pitiful screams tapering off into a gurgle as she drained him. His clawing hands as he tried to get away from her fangs; his tight grasp that had been so strong at first until he batted at her weakly, before falling still as the last drops of his blood had been sucked from his thick neck.

Her body craved those tantalising sensations again, but her soul stopped her thankfully from falling to that delicious red haze. She was stronger than her demon. Buffy pushed aside the gnawing hunger - focusing her human and Slayer sides on her insistent demon, and with their combined strength, manage to force the blood lust into the far reaches of her mind and soul.

Unbeknownst her, Spike had watched her struggle from across the catwalk spanning the ceiling of the Bronze, his body taut, ready to leap to her rescue if she succumbed to her blood lust. He had picked out the spot to watch over his Childe, Tara and Anya. His whipcord lean black clad form stood opposite where Buffy was leaning on the rail, looking down over the dance floor. Spike had watched in concern and then with pride as his diminutive Childe had vamped out and her eyes had flickered from lavender to hazel over and over as she had battled her metaphysical inner demon - and won. 'That's my girl,' he thought proudly.

This was Buffy's first time out in a public area filled with heaving bodies. Up until now she had only been exposed to her friends and family - not a room filled with mortals and the intoxicating sounds of their heartbeats thrumming in her ears. Let alone the scents she had consciously just battled.

Anya and Tara sat at one of the tall tables - intent in their conversation, or so it appeared. But to a seasoned predator such as Spike, the two women’s alertness was easy to spot, their eyes constantly flickering around the crowded room. Searching for something or someone, never alighting on an individual for more than a second. Their frames were taut with tension, and not reflecting the ease of other people around them - who were lost in the daze of partying and letting lose. Instead they sat upright and sipped on their drinks while scanning the room.

Spike shook his head and reminded himself to teach the two birds the ins and outs of a stakeout.

He had hesitated on lecturing the two of them before hand as both Tara and Anya had come undone as the result of a single letter.

Spike growled deep in his chest at the two girl’s reactions to the scribbled missive that had been posted to The Magic Box. Giles had sat between Anya and Tara and tried in his fumbling way to soothe them. It had been from Willow, her first communiqué to Tara. Liberally dotted with tear stains, Willow's neat handwriting was unusually for her a scrawl signalling her state of mind clearly to the readers, it was a mish mash of apology and remorse. It was filled with such self-recriminations and apologies for falling so far and so hard that it had broken Tara's heart again, and Anya's had shattered alongside the quiet Wicca, as she had no news of her missing lover, Xander.

When he and Buffy had arrived, his Childe had whisked the two women off into the training room, leaving Spike and Giles to sit at the table. Buffy had taken one look at Tara and Anya's red-rimmed glassy eyes and trembling lips, and she had realised something was amiss. Much to Giles's flustered relief. He had no idea how to cope with one woman's tears, let alone two.

The British men's male discomfort over feminine tears surprisingly added another strong bond to the tenuous friendship that was evolving gradually over time and circumstance. In the end they had resorted to a bottle of whiskey and sat at the table surrounded by musty volumes, and sipped from their glasses as they plotted Drac's downfall. Spike and Giles were of the same mind that it was to be a painful and prolonged death, with an added dash of castration just to spice up the fun.

Their plotting lead to the two men establishing that they had to locate the Transylvanian, and the only way was to establish his and his minions feeding patterns.

Which lead to them sitting in the Bronze - waiting for something happen.

Spike and Buffy had patrolled nightly, searching for a clue, a scrap of information to lead them to Dracula or the skank who had attacked them in the factory - the day they had nearly dusted and also discovered Dawn's true nature. But there had been nothing on either front. Both of the villains had seemed to have gone to ground. The only clue they had that Drac and his hell bitches might still be around was the plethora of bodies with so-called neck trauma. So the decision had been made to stake out the Bronze in the hope of finding one of the vampires hunting. It had been their only option-- to patrol a prime vampire feeding ground, and so far nothing.

*********

"Hey there, handsome. Wanna dance?"

Spike twitched in surprise. He had been lost in thought and focussed on the dance floor searching for a vamp - any vamp. He hadn't heard the young woman approaching until she had spoken to him.

"No thanks, luv," he responded without even turning to face his admirer.

"Oh come on! A honey like you shouldn't be on his lonesome!" The persistent
woman reached over and tugged on Spike's elbow, trying to get him to look at
her.

"He isn't!" Buffy's voice was hard and cold with anger. She slid past the annoying woman and slipped into Spike's welcoming arms. Buffy eyed the flirty woman. She was tall and slim and dressed in skin tight hipster jeans and a form fitting top which was see through, revealing a black bra filled with an ample bosom. Buffy crossed her arms over her smaller breasts and suppressed a growl, one that vanished with the touch of Spike's hands over hers.

"Beat it, honey." Buffy smirked at the now flushing woman as Spike pressed an absent kiss to her throat. Buffy had spotted the slutty bitca within seconds of her going up to the oblivious Spike, and something predatory was unleashed inside her. Something so possessive that her blood lust paled in comparison. Spike was hers and no one else was getting their grubby paws anywhere near him. She suppressed another angry growl and eyed the woman who was now clued into how taken Spike was.

"Oh right…okay...my bad." The woman turned and walked off.

Buffy pinched Spike's side. "Good boy with the whole ignoring!"

Spike nuzzled his face into her throat with a purr, his eyes never leaving the dance floor. "You're the only one for me, pet," he purred and gave her earlobe a good nibble while he was at it.

Buffy, unable to resist, slipped her hand under his duster and gave his firm ass a good squeeze, "as if you'd look at another woman - you're mine."

"Behave missy!" Spike eyed his impish girl with a serious look in his eye.

"No time for romancing me, luv - besides you know I'm a sure thing!" A warm glow of happiness filled his entire being over Buffy's declaration. And also for her actions in protecting him from the feminine wiles of the poor bint who had only wanted a dance. Before he could tease his overprotective Childe, he was interrupted.

*Spike, something's happening* Tara's soft tones echoed through the blond vampire's mind. Spike's head jerked slightly in surprise. He had not expected Glinda to have that sort of whammy. Peering down at the two seated women in surprise, he noticed that the blonde Wiccan had a small crystal cupped in her hands, which was glowing. Something she had used to give her a boost, he guessed. Tara gave him a tired smile and jerked her head to the exit. Spike nodded and then gave Buffy a gentle nudge.

"Come on. Glinda's spotted something iffy." He took Buffy's hand and they began to make their way down the stairs and headed over to Tara and Anya.

Buffy gritted her teeth as they wove between all the tempting bodies in the club, her fangs itched for something to bite - but she manage again to suppress the urge to run riot and drain everyone dry. With a tiny growl she gripped Spike's cool large hand and raced after him, hiding behind his slightly taller body, using him as a buffer. Which also was kinda painful when you ran into it.

Buffy rubbed her nose ruefully, her eyes watered from the impact with Spike's muscled duster-covered back.

"You okay?" Spike turned around to face her, concern and mirth filling his eyes. "Not one of your best moments, eh?"

"Yeah, and less with the ‘ha ha, Buffy's a clutz’, " she grumbled as she went and sat next to Anya.

"What's up?" Buffy asked.

"We overheard some guys talking about a freaky chick in the alleyway, who had cold hands," Anya hissed excitedly. "Said that she tried to get them to come with her for a threesome - but was kinda pissed when they said no thanks, they weren't into girls!"

Spike's eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared, "really? Can't smell anything? Can you pet around the swelling?" he asked with a grin.

"Laugh it up, peroxide boy." Buffy rolled her eyes. Turning to Anya and Tara, "stay in here and keep with the staking out stuff - we'll go check out the frosty handed gal."

"Sods law the bint finds the only light-footed blokes in the area - bet she's not a happy li'vampy." Spike's voice trailed off as he headed out after Buffy's determined little figure.

**********

Buffy took a deep breath as soon as she and Spike exited the Bronze - filling her dead lungs with the yummy scents of Alleyway - which was infinitely better than sweating humans with loud pulses. She ignored the twinge of pain from her bumped nose and happily inhaled the stinky odours of garbage, which quickly dispelled the mouth-watering blood lust inducing scents of mortals.

"Better, luv?" Spike looked down at her strained face, worry tingeing his voice.

Buffy nodded and vamped out, using her enhanced vision to scan the alleyway for any vampiress who were either desperate or dumb enough not to notice the scents of the two guys she had approached.

"I was watching you in there and you did me proud." Spike ran a soothing hand down her back, calming her instantly with his touch.

"Really? I nearly lost it in there - all the sounds and smells, it was almost too much. Even when I followed Anya's advice and stopped with the breathing."

"Yeah, but you didn't run amok and eat the teen population of Sunnyhell," Spike replied proudly.

"Pity she didn't. That would've been fun to watch!" A disembodied voice floated down from above them.

Buffy froze.

If her heart still worked she was sure it would have been pounding out of her chest.

Buffy recognised that silky voice - it still haunted her dreams.

Spike grabbed hold of his shivering girl as fear was pouring off her in waves.

"What is it, Buffy?" His voice shook with worry.

But she didn't reply. Instead Buffy bared her fangs and a feral look filled her countenance. The turned Slayer was operating on animal instinct - and that was to kill, destroy and avenge.

Tearing away from his firm grasp, she turned and sprang for the fire escape. Moving so fast she was a blur of blonde hair.

Spike swore under his breath and launched himself after her, his duster flapping behind him as he climbed up the rickety metal ladder and stairs after his irate Childe.

Within seconds, both of them had scaled the metal ladder and leapt onto the roof of the Bronze. They stood side by side, a stunning combination of black leather, denim and blond hair.

Buffy growled loudly, her lavender eyes flashed with an unearthly glow of pure ire as she scented the air. Trying to locate the source of THAT voice.

The still night was broken with a mocking laugh.

Spike's head turned in the direction he thought it had come from, and with a snarl allowed his face to shift. His brow thickened and his sharp fangs dropped. All he could think of was to protect his Childe - he had some suspicions about what was going on and he was ready to follow Buffy's lead-- this was her fight.

"Ohhh, what a handsome face - can I play with you?" The mystery voice mocked from a different direction.

Spike shifted back to his human face and turned towards their adversary's new location. He tried to tune out the conflicting emotions that were filling him - all of them pouring through the Sire/Childe bond. Buffy was a mess of emotions and now was not the time to let them in, usually he savoured their bond - but for now he needed a clear head.

"He is mine, bitch," Buffy howled and launched herself at the shadows. Only to stumble against the chimneybreast with a resounding thump.

Spike again was filled with pride and happiness that Buffy claimed him as hers and that she blatantly acknowledged it - he had never been so openly loved before. Dru had loved him, but her heart had belonged to her missing daddy. Never before had he felt so completely loved and had not realised how much he wanted this kind of declaration, not until now and from his Childe, Lover and precious Slayer-- he was hers and she was his.

Buffy pushed herself away from the coarse brickwork; wiping her grazed hands on the seat of her jeans, she whirled to face Spike.

"Where is she?" Buffy hissed.

"Right here."

And then the niggling clues that Spike had clicked into place, his suspicions were confirmed as to why Buffy was so incensed with anger and filled with such fear.

It was one of Drac's floozies.

His last thoughts before Buffy flew at the taller vampire was - oh shit.

**********

"They've been a while. Do you think we should go and see if everything is okay?" Tara glanced over at the door Buffy and Spike had exited through.

"And do what? Either watch them fight, get knocked out by the baddie or worse, eaten in a not so good way by a vampire?" Anya slurped at her cocktail and cocked her head in question.

"Well, when you put it that way." Tara fidgeted on her stool and sighed.

"Yes, indeed - I put it in a succinct way and you didn't roll your eyes or try to stifle me - thank you." Anya reached over and patted Tara on the shoulder.

Tara looked over at Anya and raised a fine eyebrow at her and gave her a lopsided grin. It was weird, now that Xander wasn't around to 'Ahn' the ex-demoness all the time; she was starting to adjust to Anya's way with words more easily. "So what do we do?"

"We wait, until one of them comes back to get us I guess, or we could call Giles?" Anya suggested. She coughed as a cloud of dust floated down from the rafter and waved her hand over her glass. "And maybe some fresh drinks - I think that this place is due for a building inspection."

Both women looked up and the ceiling and frowned when there was a noticeable shudder of the woodwork.

*********

"I hate you!" Buffy launched herself again at the taller vampire and unleashed a flurry of blows on the Bride's face and body.

Spike pulled himself up from the ground and began to climb back up the fire escape; he tried to ignore the interesting grating noises his ribs were make with each movement. He was rather pissed off that the Bride had managed to wrong-foot him and toss him off the roof like a whiffle ball.

Very embarrassing. He was glad there was no one around to see him do his Flying Spikeini impersonation.

Buffy ducked as the older female vamp kicked out, and then followed through with a sucker punch that sent the turned Slayer flying. She hit the roof with a resounding thump and rolled over onto her side and coughed. Blood poured unchecked from her mouth; Buffy grimaced and spat out the crimson fluid. Kneeling shakily, Buffy took a hard kick to her unprotected side, which sent her spinning through the air in a flurry of limbs.

Buffy hit the side of the chimneybreast again with a sickening thud and then slumped to the ground. Despite her anger fuelled energy, facing off against one of her tormentors had caught her off guard as soon as they had begun to fight. Terror and recalled sensual tortures, filled Buffy's mind to the point where she was not fighting at her top potential. Something the other vampiress was taking advantage of.

Dracula's bride took long strides across the roof towards the slumped form of the blonde vampiress she knew intimately. She wanted to taste that delectable blood again - the scent of which was flooding the air and filling her mind with flashes of luscious memories.

The smaller woman pinned to a satin covered bed - her wrists and ankles secured with heavy and unbreakable enchanted chains, while she feasted on the Slayer's warm succulent breasts. Blood pouring from the scratches left by her Master's nails. The taste of this Slayer's blood had been incomparable.

Her particular favourite memory was the anguished look in the imprisoned Slayer's eyes as she had brought her to orgasm using her mouth and fingers, while her two sisters had suckled at the Slayer's small breasts, blood streaming from her abused nipples. The pleas for the three of them to stop only heightening the Brides enjoyment and egging them on to more depravities.

Depravities that stripped all the innocence from the warrioress of light during the days and nights that they held her captive.

But the one image that surpassed all others was the sight of her Master sinking his hard cock into the Slayer's depths as she and her two sisters had held their imprisoned Slayer's legs open for him. The weak struggles and the screams had been the best thing she had experienced since the Boer war and the last Slayer they had played with.

Even after her little sister had joined them, screaming her unwanted orgasm out as Dracula had turned her, all of them had still wanted her - despite her blood being as dead as theirs. There was still some power in it, and also the delight in adding to the humiliation of the Slayer with their sexual games was just neat.

"Think I'll have a taste, little one. I've missed your blood and body," she purred and leaned down to lap at the blood seeping from Buffy's hairline.

"Ohhhh. Aurelian blood as well now, how exquisite!" She leant over and lapped at the exotic combination of blood. Her nipples stiffened in excitement and the moisture between her long legs began to flow.

Spike sprang over the edge of the roof and landed flatfooted with a menacing growl.

"Get your filthy tongue off her."

Spike threw himself across the roof, fury filling his battered frame. Reaching out he wrenched the Bride away from Buffy and threw her over his shoulder, with barely any effort on his behalf. Whirling, he stood over Buffy's still form, his fists clenched and he roared possessively at the smirking woman who stood up and straightened her hair.

"Really, that's not friendly of you. I only wanted a taste. My little sister is just sooo tasty, ripe and swollen with your blood as well, now." She smacked her lips and leered over at Spike. "Pity it wasn't from the source, though. Maybe if I ask nicely you'll let me have a nibble?"

"Bite this." Buffy had woken while the Bride was taunting Spike and had moved without either of the combatants noticing.

A small fist sailed out of the shadows and caught the leering bride in the nose. It broke with a resounding crack and blood and splinters of bone poured down the Bride's startled face.

Spike roared with laughter and tucked his thumbs in the waistband of his jeans, "not looking too fresh now, are you, luvvie? Wonder if Drac'll give you a 'go' now?" he sneered.

The injured bride stumbled back, her hands clutching at her ruined face, shock and for the first time in centuries, fear colouring her eyes. "How?"

Buffy appeared from the darkness and shrugged, "like this." With that she landed another hard blow on the stunned and bleeding vampire. Dracula’s bride doubled over and vomited up what seemed to be pints of borrowed blood.

Buffy stepped back, a moue of disgust on her face. "Ewww, and on my suede boots."

Spike shrugged and sauntered over to her, "I told you that those were no good for patrolling or fighting - it's a bugger to get entrails outta suede, best toss em when we get home."

Buffy didn't take her eyes off the gasping Bride, "why?"

"Not having that bint's scent all over the place, bound to put me off my nosh!" Spike said, his face deadpan.

The Bride fell to her knees and clutched her stomach. Looking up, her pale face was crisscrossed with trails of deep red blood. Loathing filled her eyes and, unable to resist it, she began to taunt Buffy with details of their nights spent together. She wanted the upper hand in this battle and if it meant dishing the dirt to wrong foot her opponents, that who was she to care?

Spike's jaw tightened as the fallen vampiress maliciously listed all the horrors that she and her brethren had inflicted on his Buffy; he had heard most of it from his girl's lips, but to hear this foul woman boasting and taunting Buffy was too much. His entire being tightened with a fury he had never before felt in his entire existence. Spike's frame shook with anger, his fists tightened, the knuckles on both hands cracked loudly.

"Oh, didn't she tell you all the fun we had?" The Bride staggered to her feet and ran her hands over her breast and down her sides, her mouth twisted into an exaggerated leer.

Buffy had frozen as soon as Dracula's concubine had started talking. It was one thing to know and recount the horrors of her repeated rapes and turning. But for someone else to talk about it as if it had been all fun and games was unbearable. Buffy's slim shoulders hunched slightly as she waited for Spike to say something about the humiliation this being was visiting on her.

"Awww, has the littlest vampire got nothing to say? Maybe she can't because she's afraid that she might let slip how much she enjoyed our touch?" the Bride mocked cruelly. "Oh." A pale hand fluttered to her chest in a mockery of coquettish behaviour, "maybe she doesn't want to hurt your feelings, Spike? Do you satisfy her as much as we did?"

Spike glanced over at Buffy and their eyes locked; a small grin appeared at the edges of Spike's lips. Buffy was mad, 'this was going to be fun...hope she makes sure the slut’s in agony before she puts the Bride outta our misery.'



Buffy rolled her eyes, all the taunting and sneers had weakened her momentarily, but when she had looked into Spike's golden eyes she had found her inner strength again. He was hers and she was his, no matter what was said and done. Spike trusted and loved her no matter what, and was ready for her to make her move.

So she did.

Revenge was sweet.

Especially when it was so bloody and painful for her rapist.

Buffy moved fast - one moment she was by Spike's side, the next she had the vampiress pinned to the ground and was methodically breaking every finger on the taller woman's hands. Her lavender eyes flashing with anger and hatred, Buffy's fangs bit into her lower lips as she concentrated on destroying the same fingers that had once been inside her body. She wanted them destroyed.

Not a single word spilled from Buffy's mouth. Her face was set with a grim determination. As a rule she never played with her opponents, but this one was deserving of everything she meted out on her.

But her eyes never wavered from the screaming Bride's face.

Buffy then pulled the injured vampiress up and threw her against the chimney.

Backing away she waited for a move from her opponent. She was done with the torturing - it had sickened her slightly, but her demon had howled inside her for vengeance and for the first time she allowed it reign. Buffy fervently hoped Spike wouldn't be disappointed by her actions. Buffy, panting unnecessarily, focused hard on pushing her demon down and waited. Sated with its call for vengeance, the demon subsided in her and allowed for the cooler head of the Slayer to take control.

Spike reached over and ran his fingers softly over Buffy's trembling back. He had been surprised at her bloodthirsty actions, but understood.

"How dare you!" The Bride screamed in fury and agony. The dried blood on her face cracked and flaked off in places. She held her ruined hands up in front of her, the long fingers were twisted in different directions and in some places the bones were pushing through the skin. Blood seeped down her hands.

Spike arched a scarred brow at the bitch. "Gotta bit of Lady Macbeth going there, have you?"

The Bride turned and faced Spike, anger and fear mingled in her countenance.

"What, cat got your tongue? No more ‘lets taunt Buffy with all the horrors I inflicted on her?’" Buffy growled and took a threatening step forward.

The cornered vampiress flicked a glance over at her tormentor and shook her head. She began to search for a way to escape-- she needed her Sire.

"Think the bint's looking for an exit, luv," Spike drawled.

The Bride growled and launched herself at Spike, her mutilated hands clawing at his face.



"I'll destroy you just like I did her last boy toy!"

"Huh?" Spike batted the vampire away easily; her strength was depleted from her injuries.

Buffy frowned at her words, but then there was a surge of protective instincts overwhelming her, pushing aside any concerns over the Bride's comment.

Something was wrong, she could sense it.

The Bride had fallen and as she had hit the ground, she reached into her boot and pulled a stake out, wrapping her broken fingers awkwardly around the wooden death sentence. Pushing herself up with a roar of triumph, she launched herself at Spike's unprotected chest. One final torment to visit on her little sister before she made her escape-- destroy her new Sire. And leave her alone in the darkness.

"No!" The Bride stopped mid strike, her nerveless and broken fingers dropped the stake and her hands rested over her chest. Covering the gaping wound over heart. She looked up at her killer with startled eyes, her fingers clutching at her wound. She looked down again. "No," she whispered faintly.

Buffy opened her blood stained hand, revealing the Bride's heart that she had pulled out in one swift movement.

"But…I can't die...not now, he made a deal, we're safe...Glory promised." The Bride gasped out as she felt her insides turning to dust. The stolen blood in her veins dried up and the vessels collapsed in on themselves. Slowly her pale skin cracked and began to crumble, her fine reddish brown hair began to frizz and break off. A gurgling sob escaped her ruined mouth, a final death rattle.

"One down…two to go." Buffy blew a mocking kiss at her torturer.

Spike stepped to her side, he head cocked in interest as the Bride dissolved slowly into dust. "Taking her time, ain't she?"

*********

Across town Dracula fell to his knees with an anguished howl.

His two remaining Brides clustered around him, tears of sorrow pouring down their faces.

*********

"That was really satisfying." Buffy dusted her hand on the seat of her jeans and turned to face Spike. She checked him over worriedly and then with a sigh, wrapped her arms around his waist.

Spike stood silent, his mind whirling with thoughts.

"Spike?"

"What did she mean by your last boy toy?" Spike hated himself for voicing it.

Buffy frowned, "I dunno...you sure she said that?"

"Yeah," Spike ran his fingers through her hair, reassuring himself through constant contact that she was safe and here in his arms. When she had faltered in her fight with the Bride he was worried that he had lost her, just when he had found her. But eventually Buffy had rallied, and fought back with a ferocity that had surprised him. Spike knew that Buffy would fret endlessly about how she had tortured Dracula's Bride before dusting her.

Buffy pressed her face against his chest and sighed softly, enjoying his ministrations. His touch calmed her and soothed her. Buffy had known that there would have been a confrontation eventually, but to have finally faced off with one of her tormentors had been terrifying. Succumbing to her demon's demands had also terrified her - but on the other hand had also satisfied her.

"You heard from Captain Cardboard since the dry humping incident?" Spike hated himself for asking, but someone had to say it. If what he suspected was true, they needed to find out Finn's fate.

Buffy peered up at him, her now hazel eyes solemn. She shook her head sadly, worry filling her. "I'll call his apartment when we get home."

She didn't want to voice her worries to Spike over her ex. Buffy knew that he was still a bit touchy over Riley, so she kept quiet.

"Come on. The birds'll be wondering what the hell happened to us." Spike lifted Buffy in his arms. Ignoring the pain shooting from his ribs, he sauntered to the roof’s edge and, unable to resist showing off, he jumped from the roof and landed in the alley.

Buffy clutched at Spike's shoulders and wondered when her stomach would catch up with her. "Spike," she exclaimed.

"Wot?" Spike put her down and chivalrously offered his arm to Buffy.

As they headed into the Bronze his voice floated back into the now deserted alley,



"Hang about. Who the bloody hell's Glory?"