AN- thanks to all that have reviewed; you humble me. And a thank you to my fantastic beta, Kat, who's really awesome. And another thanks to Slaymesoftly, who was kind enough to help me with some of my grammar problems. Hope you all enjoy : )

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chapter three

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It was late afternoon when Spike awoke. As his senses sharpened, he could feel the sun slipping past the horizon. He gingerly sat up and blessed his vampiric healing when his body barely protested at being moved. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and called out to Drusilla. When he received no response, he sniffed the air. He could smell her, but her scent was faint. She’d been gone for over a day.

Spike’s face twisted into a small snarl. Bloody Drusilla had left him like some untried fledgling. Muttering to himself, he stood. Spike stumbled slightly, and leaned against the wall for support. While accelerated healing was a wonderful perk of vampirism, it couldn’t make up for the fact that he hadn’t fed in several days. His stomach’s loud protestation reinforced this fact, and forced him to put hunting down his black goddess on the back burner. First he needed to feed.

--

Spike pushed the girl away harshly. She stared up at him with tear streaked cheeks and an unmarred neck.

“What the bleedin’ hell is happening to me?”

He couldn’t feed. He had had the girl in his clutches, his fangs poised at her throat, but he just couldn’t slide them into her. Her seductive, delicious blood pumped under her fragile skin, just waiting for him to bite into her like a ripe peach - but he couldn’t do it. He felt bad. Guilty. He didn’t want to harm the innocent girl.

Bloody hell.

Since when did he care about innocents? Looking down at the girl, he licked his lips. He was starving; he needed blood. Drinking from a human, as Spike had done countless times before, should be easy. Grabbing the girl with superhuman speed, he plunged his fangs into her throat.

But he didn’t drink. He told himself to tug in a draught, but he couldn’t. Something inside wouldn’t let him. It wasn’t just the warm weight in his chest, though that was making its own disapproval known, it was something else within him. Something inside him that he couldn’t ignore, no matter how hard he tried.

Extracting his fangs, he backed away from the sobbing girl. He growled, his eyes flashing rage and confusion. He let out a bemused howl before he turned and fled.

--

Spike banged into the Sunnydale High School library. He had tried two more times to feed, but each time he hadn’t been able to go through with it. His desperation and confusion were rising. He needed answers.

And where better to find answers about demons and vampires than a Watcher?

The high school library was empty. On the threshold Spike paused momentarily. He needed information about the occult, about magic; subjects most schools seemed to consider taboo. The Watcher surely wouldn’t have left such literature out in the open for any student to come across, would he?

Spike roamed through the aisles. Minutes later he came across a magic / mythical beasts section. He raised a scarred eyebrow. Interesting.

Shortly, Spike had books covering the entire surface of one of the library tables. Not a half hour later he groaned in frustration, and threw one of the books at a wall. He’d found nothing that would help him. Everything was generic, or the information was more suggestion than definite fact. Perhaps the Watcher had not left the important texts available for just anyone to come across.

Spike cocked his head. He could hear footsteps. Lifting his head he sniffed. Watcher. Spike grinned.

--

Giles sipped his tea, the hot liquid sliding deliciously down his throat. Distractedly, he shifted the books he was holding in his arms. Balancing the books and tea with one arm, he pushed open the door to the library with the other.

Giles came to a stop on the foyer. Lines between his brows bunched together in confusion. He knew he hadn’t left any books out when he left earlier…

Walking further into the library, Giles looked at the texts spread across the table. Seeing that most of the books dealt with the occult, Giles’ first thought was that Willow must have been researching something. But wasn’t Willow at a mathletes meeting, or some such thing? Deep in thought, the Watcher failed to notice he wasn’t alone until a strong, pale hand reached out and grabbed him by the throat. The books Giles was holding dropped to the floor, and his hot tea spilt down his front.

“Good lord!” Giles choked out with surprise and pain.

“Oh, sorry ‘bout that mate. I mean, no. Pain is good. For you. I like giving humans pain. Grr.”

Giles twisted his head, trying to view his captor. “Spike!” he said incredulously.

Spike grinned nastily. “In the flesh.”

Giles paled, his lips forming a tight line. He tried to twist out of Spike’s grasp, managing to a sharp elbow into the vampire’s gut.

Spike smirked, unaffected. “Oi, now, Watcher. I appreciate the effort, but I’m not here to kill you.”

Giles stopped struggling. “You’re not?”

“No,” Spike confirmed. “Now, when I let you go, you be the good gent I know you are. No funny stuff. It will only cause you a lot of unnecessary pain.”

Giles hesitated. “Okay,” he said slowly. Spike immediately let him go. Giles ripped himself away. When several feet separated him from the vampire, the Watcher faced Spike with a cross in his hands.

Spike looked impressed. “Where’d you get that?”

“My pocket.”

“Convenient, that.”

“Indeed.” Giles shook his head, brandishing the cross. “Back, demon!”

Spike rolled his eyes. “Bleedin’ … didn’t I just say I wasn’t going to eat you?”

“Like I would trust a demon’s word,” Giles scoffed.

Spike darted forward, knocking the cross away. The Watcher dropped it with a yelp. Spike took a step back and watched Giles rub his arm. “Can’t we discuss this like gentlemen? I promise I won’t eat you.” Spike did the Boy Scout’s signal with a smirk. Then, narrowing his eyes, he glared at Giles. “If you stop trying to piss me off, that is. I am mighty hungry.”

Giles stared at the vampire, studying him. “What do you want?” he asked finally.

“Some information,” Spike said simply.

Giles blinked. “Information?”

“Yeah. I need some info on some demons.”

Interested in spite of himself, Giles asked, “What kind of demons?”

Spike shrugged. “Not sure, really.” He held up a hand, and continued, “They’re ‘bout yay tall. Ugly blighters with hanging skin and pointy ears. Smelled terrible. They got accents – a bit German, I’d wager. And … they have magic abilities. Curses and such.”

Giles narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “I have a couple of books I could look into.” He moved to walk away. Spike grabbed his arm.

“Where’re you going, mate?”

“My office,” Giles said, pointing.

Spike nodded. “Alright, but don’t get any smart ideas.” He followed Giles into the small office. The Watcher walked over to a bookcase full of large, old books and removed several fragile volumes. Spike leaned against the wall watching Giles’ every move. The Watcher flipped through a few pages, muttering quietly to himself.

“Well?” Spike asked impatiently.

Giles frowned at the vampire. “I’m not a bloody magic eight ball. You can’t come in here, shake me up, and expect answers right away. This takes time. This takes research.”

Spike growled, “Watch it, mate.”

“If you’re so impatient, why don’t you pull up a chair? Mind you be careful with these books.”

Spike grumbled a moment before doing as Giles suggested.

A couple of hours later they had flipped through half the books, and they had also finished half a bottle of scotch. An hour or so into the impromptu research session, Giles had pulled out the scotch and gruffly asked Spike if he wanted a glass. Spike, never one to turn down free liquor, was quick to accept the offer.

In the motion of pouring himself another glass of alcohol, Spike exclaimed, “That’s it!” He emphasized his words by stabbing a finger at the page Giles was reading. “Those are the demons!”

Giles pushed up his glasses. “They’re called Samduri demons.” He scanned the page before continuing. “Rather nasty fellows; they eat brains and such. They’re worshippers of a deity called Mahtiki. Ah, look at that. They’re hatched out of swan eggs. Fascinating.”

Spike nodded impatiently. “Yes, yes. Get on to the magic. Curses. What does it say ‘bout that?”

Giles ran his eyes down the page. “Ah, there we are.”

“Well? What is it?” Spike asked anxiously.

“They’re not magical per se, but more conduits of magic. If I’m reading this correctly, Samduri demons only gain magical or rather … supernatural powers from their god, Mahtiki.” Giles raised an eyebrow. “Mahtiki, it seems, is a god of souls. It’s not exactly clear, but I assume Samduri demons are Mahtiki’s earthly vessels … that Mahtiki gives them the ability to control souls. Or some such thing.” He paused, tapping his index finger to his lips. “I’m sure I’ve heard of Mahtiki before … I think I may have another book that mentions him.”

Spike stood suddenly, his chair spinning violently out behind him. Giles jumped at the movement, looking up at the vampire warily. Spike was beyond pale; a sick pallor coming to his cheeks. Words ran through his mind: Mahtiki. Soul. God of souls.

The warm weight preened. Spike looked inwardly. Soul? The warmth expanded. Spike gasped, and physically and mentally threw himself away from the warmth.

Spike stumbled into the wall, whispering “no” repeatedly.

“Are you alright, Spike?”

Without sparing the Watcher a glance, Spike tore out of the office.

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