by
Lisa Y. Drexel
Chapter One   Chapter Two   Chapter Three   Chapter Four   Chapter Five  Chapter Six
Chapter Seven   Chapter Eight   Chapter Nine   Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven   Epilogue

~~~Chapter One~~~

"Here’s to longevity," Mike Evans mumbled under her breath as she downed the double shot of Jack Daniel’s. It was her fourth one in less than two hours and Immortal metabolism being what it was, she had yet to feel the blessed effects of drunkenness. Maybe a dozen of these, and I’ll forget how much of an asshole Methos is, she thought to herself as she held up the empty glass for the bartender to see.

The tall, pale-skinned red head nodded as he picked up another rocks glass and set it on the bar top. Without a glance, he reached under the bar and pulled out the half-empty Jack Daniel’s bottle and poured the amber liquid into the empty glass until it was a little over half full. He slid the drink over to her. "This is from the blond-haired gentleman over there," he said tipping his head to Mike’s right.

Mike leaned forward and got a glimpse of her benefactor who was sitting two stools down and smiled when their eyes met.

Although he appeared younger than her, his eyes seemed to reflect the same ageless quality Mike had seen in Immortals. But no buzz, she thought to herself. Great, now you’re seeing Immortals everywhere, she silently berated herself. Feeling his eyes still on her, she looked back over to him and grinned.

Thanks, she mouthed to him as she picked up her drink and brought it to her lips.

Turning back, she closed her eyes and tipped the glass, allowing a nice-sized gulp to slide down her tongue. She swallowed, reveling in the feel the liquid fire in her mouth as it made its way down to her stomach. If only that feeling of relaxation could remain, maybe should could handle this separation from Adam.

Yeah and maybe, if I could cut out my heart, I could win the Game. Either scenario was unlikely, she told herself as she thought back to the last 48 hours and how drastically her life had been altered.

Three days ago, she was walking hand in hand with Adam along the Seine, talking of history—ancient to modern, of art and artists and whether beer was better then or in the 20th century. And now, she was sitting in a neo-gothic club in the Central West End in her hometown of St. Louis—the US of A—by herself.

And desperately trying to drown in her sorrows. It was pitiful.

Hell, this had been the first time in her 33 years of life that she had gone out drinking by herself. And since becoming Immortal, this was the first time other than her two-week stay at that convent in Seacouver, that she had been more than a dozen miles from her three protectors: Adam, Mac and Richie.

Well, that sure did sober me up, she thought as she sighed.

But not near as sobering as the picture in her mind of Adam and that Raven woman locked in lusty embrace in front of her and Adam’s apartment building two days ago—before the sun had even fully risen. She had been up, and by that time, had already packed and called a cab, because he hadn’t come home the night before. After calling all over Paris, trying to find him and scared to death that he lost his head, she finally got out of Richie, that he and Mac’s old friend, Raven, had left together from Joe’s Le Blue’s Bar around 2 am.

Of course, neither Mac nor Joe offered her that tidbit of truth. She shook her head thinking of all the shit Richie was going to get into by ratting on the Old Man. As a way of thanks, Mike offered to buy Richie a ticket back to the States before Methos realized who snitched on him. Richie jumped on the chance and was now back in Seacouver. Of course, it was on Methos credit card, but as far as Mike was concerned, it was very apropos. Hell, the Old Man paid Mike’s way back to the States, as well as her car rental fee and her deposit and three months rent for the flat she got today not even a block from the bar she was at now. She also had to buy some furniture and clothes. The way Mike saw it, the Old Man’s indiscretion was going to cost him dearly—if not emotionally, then financially.

"Men," she whispered to herself. It doesn’t matter how fucking old they can get, they’re still assholes. You would think after 68 fucking wives, he would know when to commit and when not to, she thought as she felt her eyes water. "Damnit," she muttered, wiping the offending tear off her face. He doesn’t deserve my tears—at least not until he can decided whether or not he really wants to be in love with me. In every sense of the word.

Feeling a bit more resolved, she picked up her drink and downed the rest of it in one huge gulp, sighing out loud as the muscles in her shoulders relaxed.

"Now, that’s what I like in a woman!" a cocky male British voice said.

"Oh God, not another one," she said groaning as she glanced to her right and saw that the man who had bought her last drink, had slid over to sit next to her. Welcome to Hell, Mike, where you’ll be surrounded by gorgeous men with English accents and smart-ass’ senses of humor—all clamoring to break your heart! Yep, this has gotta be hell!

She shook her head at herself and sighed. Well, here goes nothing’! she thought with a grin on her face. "I aim to please." She watched his eyebrow go up as his brown eyes twinkled. Yep, a definite smart-ass on the make.

"Well then, luv, I’ll just have to buy you another one then," he said as he nodded to the bartender. He turned back to her and smiled. "The name’s Spike," he said still smiling at her.

Spike!? She bit her lip, desperately trying to squash the giggle that was threatening to erupt. "Spike?" she asked, knowing she was blowing this ‘pick-up’ totally and really didn’t give a rat’s ass if she did. "What in the hell did you do in your past life to get a name like that?" She asked as the smirk she had been desperately trying to control, let loose.

His eyes darkened even though his smile remained as he shrugged. "You wouldn’t believe me if I told you," he whispered as he sipped wine from his glass.

"Well, I gotta give you credit. It’s an interesting name," she said smiling, noting the mood change and deciding to ignore it. If he wanted a piece of ass, he was going to have to work for it, because I sure as hell ain’t, she thought to herself. She turned to face him and found him watching her with an intensity that sent an uneasy chill through her. Again, she decided to let it go, a part of her liking the danger his eyes flashed when she poked fun at him. What the hell? she thought. I’ve got forever to fuck up and he’s not an Immortal. So what if he turns out to be a psycho. I’ve survived one serial killer, I’ll survive this.

"Must be a wonderful conversation tool—especially in situations such as this. The visually imagery is a definite plus," she said, forcing her face to remain expressionless. Before she could gage his reaction, the bartender interrupted the pair by serving their drinks.

Mike picked up hers and noted that Spike had ordered another glass of wine. Not a beer or gin drinker that she had pegged him for. Interesting.

"I never quite thought of it that way, pet. But now that you mention it," he said, his voice low and dripping with sexual innuendo. The grin he gave her told her exactly what he wanted to do to her.

She shivered and took a hefty mouthful of her drink. Again, she felt that moment of total relaxation, but it was gone before she could really savor it.

"So, what do I call you, luv? Or is luv okay?" he asked, his eyes glued to hers.

At that moment she felt as if she was the most important person in his life. It felt as if all his attention was directed at her. And her response was a typical females: she blushed. And it wasn’t an ordinary blush of embarrassment—no, this was one of those that spread all the way from her face to her toes. The one of being sexually aroused.

God, three days, and I’m flirting with a Billy Idol look-a-like in a bar and ready to hop his bones right now! She took a deep breath as she tried to calm her beating heart.

"I like to be called Mike. And before you ask, no my parents weren’t expecting a son; Mike’s short for Michelle." She ran her fingers through her hair. "But if you want to call me luv, be my guest. I’ve been called worse."

He reached over and took her hand. She gasped as she felt how chilled his skin was. Gently, he lifted it to his lips, all the while, his eyes remained focused on hers. His kiss was cool and soft. Mike sighed as a wonderful shiver glided down her spine and centered on her sex. Oh boy, I’m in trouble she thought to herself.

"Pleased to meet you, Mike." He lowered their hands, but didn’t release hers. And, despite the little voice screaming at her to leave, Mike allowed it. At least I can’t get AIDS, she thought and quickly blushed as she realized she was actually considering having sex with a man she had just met. His thumb gently caressed her hand, adding to her arousal.

She finally just sighed and chuckled. "You’re pretty good at this, Spike. I think that you have Seduction 101 aced," she said, briefing flashing onto the last time she said that to another English gentleman. Not now, Mike! No Methos!

"Just 101? And here I thought I had at least a doctorate," he quipped as he stood up and pulled her out of her seat. "Come on, luv, let’s dance. It appears that both of us are in desperate need of diversion tonight," he said as he watched her stand. His eyes traveled the length of her body appreciatively and instantly Mike felt her nipples harden in response. And again, her skin reddened under his scrutiny.

"I’d love to see what that blush looks like underneath all those clothes," he whispered in her ear, as he pulled her to him. She bit back a moan. He flashed her a big smile and Mike found herself envious of his high cheekbones. He then turned back to towards the dance floor and began walking.

Of course, Mike followed, considering he was still in possession of her hand.

I’m in real big trouble, she thought as he stopped, tilted his head, listening to the loud drum of music. He suddenly smiled as a slow song started and pulled her possessively into his arms. His cool body pressed against her hot and sticky one. His hands rested in the small of her back and every time she attempted to put some distance between them, he easily pulled her back to him. She could feel his arousal through his black jeans and idly wondered how the hell she got in this position in the first place. As it stood now, she doubted if she could’ve said no, no matter how much her mind wanted her to remain chaste for Adam.

Spike had her lock, stock and barrel.

"Enjoying this, luv?" he whispered in her ear. His voice sent shivers down her spine. God, was he sexy, she thought to herself.

"Almost too much," Mike muttered, as her knees were beginning to weaken.

"Do you live around here?" He asked as he lifted a hand and gently cupped her face. She nodded yes.

"About a block away. I walked here."

His fingers lightly drifted down her face to the opening of her button down shirt. "Do you know that it’s been ages since I’ve seen someone with as beautiful of blond hair, as you?" His hand slipped to her back and played with her curls. "So soft and curly, begging to have my fingers run through it...

"All right! You win!" she groaned as her body shivered. "Let’s go," she whispered as he finally relaxed his hold on her, smiling as a victor would after winning a battle. God, I feel like a trophy, she thought to herself and found herself turned on even more by that thought. Biting her lip in frustration, she walked back to the bar, pulled out a twenty from her pants pocket and dropped it on the counter. She stepped up on the rail under the counter and leaned forward over the bar to the stool where her coat lay. "Thanks for keeping an eye on it for me," she called out to the bartender. He nodded, smiling at the couple.

"Have a good evening," the bartender said. Mike nodded and began walking towards the exit. Maybe, if she got lucky, he would lose her in the crowd. Then she wouldn’t have to feel guilty for not only having sex with a stranger, but for cheating on Adam. Unfortunately for her, the other part of her—the one dying to spend hours naked with Spike was just as vocal as her chaste part.

She had not a clue, which part of her she wanted to win.

~~~~~~~~~~

As Mike headed towards the door, the bartender turned towards Spike and with inhumane speed, grabbed the blonde’s arm. "Be careful," the man whispered so quietly that only another vampire could hear. "She’s not what she seems, man. And she’s under LaCroix’s protection. "

"What the hell does that mean, mate?" he snapped as he saw her scurrying out the door. She’s trying to get away, he thought to himself as he turned back to the other vampire.

The bartender smiled, his eyes flashing gold. "You’ll find out sure enough." He let go of Spike’s arm. "But watch out for big swords, my man."

Spike frowned and downed the last of his blood wine. "I’ll keep it in mind." He nodded briskly to the bartender and followed Mike out of the bar.

As Spike caught up with Mike, he thought of what the bartender told him. Who was this Mike to be under the protection of one of the Ancients? For the millionth time in the past two weeks, he silently cursed Dru for leaving him. Loneliness and hunger was what propelled him to the Wolf’s Bane in the first place. If he was totally honest with himself, it was what sent him to St. Louis.

Once Dru left him, all he had for company was his thoughts. And for the first time in over a hundred years, he actually found himself taking an inventory of his life.

He didn’t like what he found.

He was lonely. And it started way before Dru physically left him. Thinking about it, he couldn’t even pinpoint when it started or when he wasn’t. All those years with just his thoughts for company—all the while protecting and caring for his dark goddess. Pouring all that energy—all his demonic energy into caring for her and pleasing her, because if he didn’t, he might really think about where he was going with his ‘unlife’ and how, even for a demon, how empty this vampiric life really was. Somehow, even the demon knew that without the distraction of Dru, he might just give up.

For a vampire, that was sinful.

So what does a member of the undead do to find his place in the world? He searches for others like him.

And he found them. In St. Louis.

Vampires with a brain. And hopefully, with their sanity intact.

For over a century, he had spent the vast majority of his time with someone who was insane. And the rest of the idiots, those fledglings that were under him, hadn’t had a brain between the whole lot of them. He knew, through the vampire grapevine, that Toronto was now a shallow reflection of what it used to be four years ago, and that if he wanted to be around vampires with a brain, then he should go to St. Louis.

So, he did.

After a year at Sunnyhell, he wanted to be as far away from a mystical energy center as he could. Just plain vampires were just fine. No slayers. No demon hunters and no irritating slayerettes. Just Enforcers. Hell, he could live by the code. He’d done it before—before Dru. He could buy the bottled variety of human blood. He could hunt discreetly and not leave his leftovers for the local police to find. Hell, he could feed and not kill. And strangely enough, his demon didn’t seem bothered by this whole personality change. It was almost felt like it was his demon’s decision.

Sighing, he felt the Hunger gnaw his being as he watched the woman walk. She had long, curved legs that didn’t seem end. A behind that was attractive and round. Her waist was small, her hips were big and her breasts were not huge, but very attractive. Voluptuous was the word to describe her. His eyes drifted to her hair, watching it as it gently tapped her behind with each stride. He was telling the truth when he said he couldn’t remember seeing hair that beautiful before. Not only was it long, but it was wild, curly and wavy—almost whimsical—and soft to the touch. This woman was nothing like his Dru. She looked older, yet had almost a cynical innocence about her. A gentleness that he hadn’t seen in someone this old in a very long time. The Slayer’s friend Willow was much like this one. But Willow was only 16 years old.

How long had it been since he had mingled with older mortals?

Like vampires with brains, mature mortals had not been on his agenda for a very long time.

A bolt of loneliness struck him as he thought about the last time he had made love with a woman. It had been Dru, before his time in the wheelchair. No wonder he set about to seduce this beautiful woman standing in front of him. He was craving contact as well as blood.

Before the bartender’s warning, he was contemplating draining her after bedding her, but now he knew that would be impossible.

To cross the ancient was suicidal at best. The General was not one to mess around with. Even though he was not of the same brood as Spike, a 2000-year-old vampire still equaled a strength that Spike had yet to develop. Although the Brit may be a master vampire in his own circle, LaCroix, with his human face and above ground living, was far more a master than even Lothos was.

Spike shuddered at the thought. LaCroix and his kind had at one time irked the vampire almost as much as the souled-Angel. But since Hellmouth, he found he craved their company. Although he had no idea how much he had changed since working with the Slayer, he felt he had. Mindless driven demon-infested-vampires no longer held any appeal to him. They sickened him. As well as old spell books and rituals that would bring about evil for no purpose but bloodshed, seemed redundant and short-sighted. Here he could find other vampires, although souled, that enjoyed the power of the bloodlust as much as he did—but without the prophecies and senseless destruction that always seemed to follow.

He shook his head, thinking of how much the Slayer and Watcher didn’t know about vampires. They had no knowledge of the souled ones, as his kin called LaCroix’s kind. Where Spike and his kind were actual demons, LaCroix and his type were descendants of the god now known as Dionysus. When they were ‘embraced’ as they called it, they kept their souls. Because of this, the slayer and other demon hunters were not prone to hunt them as they were Spike’s kind.

That wasn’t to say that they didn’t have their own problems. Enforcers and Hunters were the first two that came into Spike’s mind. Enforcers were the equivalent of vampire KBG, who strictly enforced vampiric code and law among their kind. This enabled ongoing existence of vampires to continue. Enforcers rarely bothered Spike’s kind, leaving his brood to the Slayers’ mercy.

He finally caught up with Mike and grasped her hand. She jumped in surprise and turned to smile at him. "God, how did you do that? I didn’t even hear you."

He gave her an innocent smile. "I just walk quietly," he said as he slipped his arm around her waist. "So, were you trying to run away from me?"

She dipped her head and shrugged. "Maybe."

He stopped and pulled her into his arms. Her heart sped up, making Spike’s head spin in hunger and lust. So intertwined, yet a need so intense, that even after two hundred years, he had yet to totally master it. Willing his demon back, he lifted his hands and cupped her face. "Why?"

She closed her eyes and sighed. "Broken heart. And the thought that I might be jumping the gun here." She blushed. "I usually don’t allow my passions to override my sensibilities." She grinned. "But you’ve been very persuasive." By the time she finished talking, Spike had bent his head down so their lips were nearly touching.

"You haven’t seen nothing yet, luv," he whispered as his lips touched hers.

~~~Chapter Two~~~

At first, his lips gently touched her bottom lip, softly nibbling at it—patiently coaxing her to open her mouth. Like everything else between the two that night, she relented as a longing sigh escaped her lips, giving the blond vampire the opening he desired. Once his tongue touched the inside of her mouth, the kiss suddenly evolved into a passionate embrace. Mike found herself pressing her body against the long length of his, feeling his hardness press against her jeans-covered mound—enjoying the knowledge that she was exciting him—doing that to him.

He started gently pushing her backwards until her back hit the brick wall and a sharp pain cut across her back.

She broke the kiss, cursing at her stupidity. "Shit!" she mumbled as she reached back under her coat and felt the cut in her shirt and her blood soaking into the material. "Another damn shirt ruined," she said as she pulled out her hand, squinting to get a better look at the blood. It was then she heard a harsh hiss as Spike grabbed her hand and pulled it to his lips.

"What the hell?" she snapped as she glared up at her companion, instinctively trying to yank her hand away from his. But she stopped mid-action, once she saw Spike’s face.

In her thirty-three years of life, nothing prepared her for what she saw. Instead of the handsome, high cheek-boned, brown-eyed, blond-haired man that had been seducing her for the past hour and a half, a red-faced, yellow eyed monster with over-sized brows and deep ridges was sensuously sucking her fingers, cleaning the blood off them.

She almost fell back against her sword again. "Holy fuck," she whispered. "What the hell are you?"

He looked up from her fingers and laughed as his face morphed back to the familiar human facade she had just been kissing. With her fingers still tightly clutched in his hands, he roughly pulled her back to him. "I could ask you the same thing, luv. The only time I’ve ever tested blood this powerful was when I sipped off a slayer right before I broke her neck. And I know, you’re no slayer."

Slayer? Neck? Sip? Blood?

Her heart sped up to an incredible pace—enough that she wondered if an Immortal could die from fright. "A vampire?" she squeaked, her voice taking on very unattractive high pitch. He nodded, seemingly enjoying her reaction. She shook her head in amazement. "I’ll be a son-of-a-bitch. I don’t know why I’m surprised—hell, how much stranger is it than Immortals running around beheading each other, just so they can win some stupid Game, that no one even knows how it began!" Spike released her hand. Immediately, she began to pace in front of him. "I wonder what else is out there? Fairies? Elves? Werewolves? Witches? Ghosts?"

He started laughing. Mike growled at him and he laughed even harder, suddenly bending at the waist, clutching his knees.

"What?" she snapped, feeling incredibly embarrassed that somehow she was left out of the supernatural loop—considering she was a member.

Spike’s laughter slowed down to an easy chuckle as he held out his hand for her. "How ‘bout we finish this at your place? Umm?"

For a moment she just stood there, weighing out her options. He still couldn’t kill her...and he was incredibly sexy. And imagine where her fantasies could take her, after sleeping with a vampire. She giggled at the thought. God, the Old Man would shit, she thought. Mike looked up and met his brown eyes. She nodded as she took his hand.

"So are you going to tell me what the hell is so funny?"

He chuckled again as he shook his head. "You had no idea that there were such things as vampires?" He watched her shake her head. "Do you know a Lucien LaCroix?"

She nodded yes. "Yeah, he’s a friend of my ‘mentors,’" she snapped. "He owns the Wolf’s Bane."

"He’s a vampire, luv."

"No way!"

Spike nodded. "And before we left, I was warned that you were under LaCroix ‘protection’," he told her as she led him up the stairs to a two-family flat. "I just think it’s ironic that you had no idea that we even existed, and yet you have one the oldest of our kind, watching out for you."

She stopped at the door with her hand right outside her jeans front pocket. "That son-of-bitch," she whispered, more to herself than to him. "I can’t even leave him, without one of his ‘contacts’ keeping an eye out for me." She lifted her head and met Spike’s eyes. "I guess the next time I run away, I shouldn’t be so predictable." She pulled out her house key. Opening the door, she stepped inside and over to the side, waving him in.

"Luv, you have to invite me in."

She frowned, remembering she had read about that somewhere. Oh goody, what else is true? "Come on in, Spike. As a friend says, ‘Mi casa es su casa.’"

Bowing his head, he stepped inside, instantly noticing the lack of furnishings. His eyebrow went up in question.

"I just moved in and haven’t had a chance to buy any furniture except the futon, TV and a kitchen table."

He nodded slowly, eyeing the three five-foot windows in the living room. "Do you have any dark, heavy blankets?"

She shook her head and shrugged. "Although I’m a night person, the light doesn’t bother me."

~~~~~~~~~~

"Well, unfortunately for me, I can’t say the same." He turned and watched her shrug off her coat and lay on the back of the couch. Afterwards, she headed for the back of the apartment.

"Can I get you anything?" She called out as he heard the water from the kitchen sink being turned on. He followed her voice and stopped at the doorframe, leaning against it casually. "Not unless you have a fresh, live body stashed somewhere around here."

She gasped and Spike watched her nearly drop the glass coffee carafe. Seconds later, he was by her side, gently taking the coffee pot out of her hands. She watched him, shaking her head. "I guess I’ll deal with non-breakable items. A lot less dangerous," she muttered to herself as she pulled out a coffee filter and stuck it in the container.

He laughed quietly as he placed the full coffee carafe on the counter next to the coffee maker. He turned and leaned against the sink, watching her. "So, you’re immortal?"

She nodded wordless as she scooped the coffee out and into the filter.

"Does your kind ever die?"

She nodded again. "But it’s hard. There’s only one way for us to die. And it’s best if one of our own does it."

He frowned, but decided to let that one bit of information go. His eyes fell onto the rip in the back of her shirt. He moved over and slid his finger inside, touching her skin. She jumped, whipping around to face him. "Not even a scar?"

Her face lit up in realization and giggled. "Nope. Like I said, we heal pretty quick. Especially if it’s not life threatening."

"Blood loss kill you?"

"Well sorta; we just don’t stay that way. That’s how I died my first death. Multiple stab wounds." She watched his eyes in confusion, when suddenly she smiled. "You’re hungry, aren’t you? That’s why all these questions."

He nodded, his eyes revealing a weariness that she herself felt. "Bloody hell, I’m starving. You were going to my dinner until that bloke from the bar told me about LaCroix," he said as he shrugged. "Sorry," he mumbled. "It’s been awhile since I’ve looked at humans as anything other than happy meals with legs."

She shook her head and started laughing. "Happy Meals with legs?" Her eyes began watering as her body shook. "What a crazy, fucked-up night! One little thing, and suddenly my whole view of the world around me has taken a skewed turn." She shook her head. "Happy meals with legs? If vampire lore has any truth to it, weren’t you once a ‘happy meal?’"

He shrugged. "That was nearly two hundred years ago, luv. Things change."

She chuckled. "Obviously," she commented, her voice laced with sarcasm. "So, you need to feed, right?"

He nodded, finding himself feeling both curious at her reaction and ashamed at his actions. "Where are you going with this?" He asked as he shucked a cigarette out of the pack. After hopping onto the counter top, he lit it, inhaling deeply.

She pursed her lips, her head bent upwards, and her eyes shut tight. She sighed and looked over to him. "I must be nuttier than a fruitcake for suggesting this," she said as she walked over to him, until her body was touching his legs. "But my curiosity is getting the better of me. And I’m Immortal, right? So, why don’t I start acting like it? I mean, if I play my cards right, I could live a long, long time—as long as the Gathering keeps up this pace—and more Immortals are born." He watched as she pulled away and began pacing in front of him.

Obviously, he wasn’t the only one that had issues. Figures, he’d find another fucked-up immortal.

"I mean, so what if he screwed around on me? I mean, I’ve got forever, figuratively speaking. It’s not as if I’m gonna die old and gray in sixty years. If I keep my head, I could live ten times longer than that. Even more. Even if he’s in love with me, obviously that doesn’t mean commitment to him. So, why not have a little fun? Why not learn about this other world that I always believed was a figment of everyone’s darkest fears?

"Am I making any sense?" She stopped, her hands on her hips as she watched him.

He grinned. "About as much sense as I’ve been making lately, luv. But, I think I know where you’re going with this. You’re trying to justify being with me, aren’t you?" And feeding me, he added silently.

Tears filled her eyes as she nodded. "I thought I was in love. Hell, I am in love. But he doesn’t know what to do with me. He’s been married 68-fucking-times! Sixty-eight! I can’t even fathom living that long to have that many mates." She shook her head. "Yet, I’m the first Immortal woman he’s allowed himself to fall in love with."

His mouth dropped as he flicked the cigarette butt into the sink. Sixty-eight wives? How old could this guy be? Even if it was a wife every 50 years, that’s nearly 5000 years. And I thought LaCroix was old, he thought to himself.

"And he doesn’t know what to do. I could live forever! Longer than any of his mortal wives or lovers. It scares the fuck out of him. And he ran right into the arms of the first easy lay he could find." She wiped her face angrily and stared off to the side. "So, it’s time for me to let go. At least, of the ‘lover’ part." Her eyes met his. "So, yeah, I guess you’re right. " As she walked back towards him, he slid off the counter. She stopped about three feet in front of him. "So, you wanna hang out for awhile? I’ll show you my world and you can show me yours?" She asked, grinning. "You get benefits," she said as she pulled her hair off her neck, baring it to him. "Unlimited supply of blood, just for the asking’—all I ask is that my head remains attached to my body and—"

Quicker than a blink of an eye, he reached over and yanked her body to his and slammed his lips onto hers, not knowing if he was trying to shut her up, if he was just horny or hungry. But the kiss took care of all three. He felt her body mold to his as she moaned. Her arms wrapped around his neck as he tried pulling her even closer to him. Finally she pulled away, her face flushed as she bent down gulping huge mouthfuls of air. "Unlike you, I have to breath," she said smirking as she straightened. "So, I guess that means you’re game, eh?"

He hooked his fingers through her belt loops on her jeans and slowly pulled her back to him. "One thing," he said, wondering why the hell he was going to ask this in the first place. But like everything else lately, the demon apparently didn’t mind acting out of character. "Why? Why do you trust me?"

Frowning, she dropped her eyes. "I don’t know. But my little voice, you know the one that tells you when to run and when to stay. Who to trust, who not to trust, has been uncharacteristically quiet. Which, to me, means, that despite who and what you are, that it's all right." She looked back up at him, grinning. "Besides, how many other people could say they were a vampire’s meal and live to tell about it?" She joked, but Spike noticed her eyes had no humor in them. They pierced his, bolting him to his spot. This woman, young by anyone’s standards, trusted him. She didn’t run away screaming when his demon emerged. How could this be?

"You’d do that for me?"

She nodded as she wiggled herself out of his grasp and went over to the coffee maker and poured herself a mug of hot coffee. Leaning against the counter on her hip, she faced him. "Spike, you can’t be that evil. I’d know. You have a sparkle of light in those brown eyes of yours. Believe me when I say, I’ve met worse, far older than you and far more responsible for innocent lives lost than you’ve been." She shuddered, nearly spilling her coffee onto her hand. Once she calmed, she sipped her coffee and watched as he pushed away from the counter angrily and began to pace in front of her.

"Worse than me? I find it hard to believe, luv. I’m a fucking demon. The epitome of evil! How could one of your kind be worse than that?"

She laughed quietly and made another left turn in the conversion. "Okay, so in the eternal battle of good and evil, you say you’re definitely on the dark side, right?"

He nodded slowly once he stopped pacing. "Your point?" he snapped, as he stood staring at her with his hands on hips defiantly. "Are you going anywhere with this, pet? If not, clue me in and I’ll just eat and run and forgo the sex, okay?"

Spike watched her face tighten and her jaw clench. Bingo, he said to himself. Finally pissing her off! Good! He was smart enough not to ask himself why this was so important to him. He ignored his gnawing fear that it might have something to do with his fears of his own inadequacies. So, in its stead, he blamed the demon.

"You can be a royal asshole, you know? But," she shook her head as she put her coffee mug back down on the counter, "I’m not gonna let you squirm your way out of this. So, am I right? That evil is predestined to be demons and whatnot and that you’re on the dark side of this ongoing battle?"

He pursed his lips and nodded his head once.

"Let me ask you something. Why does evil have to mean a demon? To me, Ted Bundy was evil. He didn’t have a fucking excuse. He didn’t need to feed on the living for his existence. He just wanted to kill. Period. Because it was fun. Because he hated women. Or maybe it was because his mother was a bitch. Hell, who knows? Maybe it was just because he could.

"I’ve been lucky so far. I’ve only met a couple of Immortals that were so dark, their Quickenings made me sick to my stomach. They screamed chaos and blood and death. I still have nightmares about one. And he’s still running around here, somewhere, because he disappeared before Adam or Mac could take his head. Or me even. Son-of-bitch murdered my father with a sweep of sword. My father was mortal. An old man who couldn’t defend himself." Tears ran down her face. "And you know what? You don’t have a Quickening, but whatever makes you you, isn’t nearly as dark as him.

"So, before you get on your high horse about how bad and evil you are, remember this. It wasn’t vampires that composed the legendary Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. It was Immortals. And, ironically, I love the only remaining member of that exclusive killing machine that’s still alive today: Death."

One word and he felt all that anger boiling inside of him, slip away. Death. How? He asked himself. How could she love someone, souled, that wreaked that much destruction? He always secretly believed them to be demons—not live, breathing men who chose to kill and spread chaos everywhere. Men with souls. I have no soul, yet I helped save the world. The same world they wanted to bring down under their tutelage.

Maybe she was right. Hell, wasn’t that what he was thinking when he decided to move here? That maybe his demon wasn’t all evil, for he seemed to have lost his stomach for bringing about death and destruction. As he watched his sire, Angelus, a demon who reveled in his power and pathos, Spike couldn’t help but compare himself to the newly-unsouled Angel, and gratefully found himself lacking in the evil department.

He shook his head, forcing himself to think about the present. When he lifted his eyes, he noticed that she had stepped away from the counter and was now standing in front of him, shifting back and forth on her feet. Impatience surrounded her.

"So are you going to drink or die of starvation?"

"What the hell," he said and with preternatural speed, grabbed her head and kissed her. She grinned and wrapped her arms around his neck. His hands dropped down to her waist, enjoying the softness of her body. After a minute or so, she started to pull away but he stopped her. His arms like steel, he crushed his mouth onto hers, forcing her mouth open. She moaned as she felt his fangs descend and when he nipped her bottom lip and began to gently suck her blood, her knees nearly buckled. He reached down and slid his hands to her bottom and easily picked her up. Instinctively, she wrapped her legs around him, allowing him to carry her. He stopped at the table and gently laid her down, with him still sucking on her lip. Finally, his lips left hers and he began to kiss around her mouth and down under her chin, to her neck. All the while, his hands were busy touching other areas of her body. He sucked and nipped on her beautiful pale skin, reveling in her arousal as he felt her push her pelvis hard against his groin. Feeling the demon emerge, he finally relented and easily sunk his teeth into her neck, as one hand rubbed her pants-clad sex.

With a second taste, he realized her blood wasn’t really like a slayers. A slayer’s blood just was potent and fulfilling, almost like a vampires, whereas Mike’s blood was just more alive—almost as if he were sipping the Earth’s life-force itself. It energized him and immediately after his second swallow, he knew that if he could drink from her, he would never kill again.

The other surprise her blood gave him, was the exchange of selves. As he felt her essence, what made Mike special—or what was Mike’s soul—sing from her life’s blood, he experienced her life. And could feel him giving himself to her as well. While Mike was engrossed with the metamorphous of William Atkinson, bastard son of Sir Atkinson become William the Bloody and finally Spike, he had been doing the same with her. He saw her life, felt her pain and anguish, felt her First Death as if he was the one being raped and stabbed. He felt her lose her virginity, marveled with her when she saw her first Immortal Quickening. He felt her joy at realizing that not only was she in love with her mentor, Adam, but he was with her. Her confusion and then realization that her mild mannered friend and love, was once Death of the Four Horsemen—Methos.

And finally, he saw what propelled her to leave Paris and the home she had shared with Adam. A dark-haired man and a beautiful young blond, embracing in front of her apartment building, in the dawn’s early light.

He felt her body tense then shake as she yelled out his name. Her orgasm was his signal that he had taken enough and he gently disengaged himself from her neck, licking the wound clean. He stood up, watching her chest rise and fall and glanced at her neck wound. It was then he saw an Immortals healing process up close. A flicker of blue lightening surged through and about the wound and when it stopped, the holes closed. Within five minutes, there was no physical trace of his feeding from her.

She sighed heavily as her eyes flickered open. She blinked back the tears, and smiled crookedly. Her face was still flush and wet with excitement as she shook her head. "No wonder no one ever told me about vampires. They wanted to keep you guys to themselves," she joked as began to sit up. He grabbed both of her arms and pulled her to her feet.

"Are you alright?"

She nodded, but Spike could tell something was off. It was then he realized he could still feel her emotions. He dropped her hand and stepped back. "What the hell?" he whispered to himself. He ran his fingers through his hair. This had never happened to him before with a human. And very few times with other vampires. He turned back to her. "Do you feel it?"

She tilted her head, her brows furred in concentration. "You’re scared?" Her voice rose in question. "I take it, this wasn’t normal for you, was it?"

He shook his head. "Never before with someone who wasn’t a vampire. Damn," he shook his head, an ironic grin forming on his face. "if you didn’t taste so good, and it hadn’t felt so good, I’d be out of here faster than you could blink. Luv, demons aren’t into lovey-dovey bonding moments."

She grinned at him, wearing an ‘I told you so’ look on her face. He rolled his eyes and turned to leave the kitchen. She followed him to the doorway and watched him begin pacing again. "Is angst a prerequisite for immortality, Spike?"

He stopped mid-step and glared at her. "Let it go. It was enjoyable—for both of us."

Spike found himself once again shocked by her. He stood there, his eyes taking in how she leaned against the doorway, one hip extended. Her breasts pushing against the light blue shirt. Her nipples visible and erect. He could almost see what she would look like naked and spread out before him with that pale, ivory skin flushed with excitement. Once again felt the stirring in his groin. After all that, he still wanted to fuck her. And ironically enough, the demon wasn’t waging any protests.

He grabbed her hand, tugging her to him. "You’re right, luv. Let’s get out of here and go to my hotel room," he whispered. He felt her tremble in response. Grinning, he twirled her around so that her back was to him and pressing against his front. He lifted her hair and began nibbling on her neck. Her heartbeat increased as Spike could feel her body temperature rise. He slid one hand to her right breast and squeezed it gently. The other hand drifted downwards to her abdomen. He rubbed it lightly. "I still want to see what you look like under all these clothes..."

She giggled. "I take it I tasted alright, um?"

"Alright? Luv, I’ve never tasted anything as wonderful as you."

She fell back onto him. "Oh God, Spike, you sure know the way to get into a girl’s pants, don’t you?"

He chuckled. "After two hundred years of practice, I would hope so."

She turned around in his arms, wrapping her around his neck. As she stood on her tiptoes, she kissed him. "Okay, let’s get the hell out of dodge," she whispered on his lips.

Spike didn’t need to be asked twice.

Little did either of know how much their fates were now entwined.

Two weeks later

It took all of two weeks for Mike to begin to feel the first pangs of guilt for spending Methos’ money while setting up house with Spike. Maybe it was because, despite all her attempts to maintain an emotional distance from the vampire, she found herself very happy with him.

And, during those few times when she was alone, physically aching because he was gone, did she admit to herself that she may’ve, much to her dismay, fallen in love with him as well.

For someone who prior to her Immortality, had one semi-serious relationship when she was eighteen, in which she believed she was in love, this newest development completely and thoroughly messed with her mind. She never believed she could be in love with two men at the same time. When she had heard of it before, she would shake her head and think, "Bullshit. They’re just too chicken to choose."

She wished that were true.

The first time she sat back and mentally compared the two, she nearly ran out of the house screaming. Until then, she believed they were as different in personalities as they were in looks and species. But then, she thought about the characteristics she loved about each man and found the lists were very similar when all was said and done. The biggest difference was Spike’s ability to love compared to Methos’.

For a demon-possessed vampire, Spike had no problem committing himself. For nearly a hundred years he stayed with Drusilla and loved her throughout that whole time. Sure there were times he hated her as well. But never was he apathetic or emotionally shut off. Mike knew without a doubt, that if he had been given a choice, he would’ve still been there—by her side. Even after all the jealousy and anger and betrayal. Spike was not a leaver.

Mike couldn’t say the same about Methos. For him, being in a long-term relationship while in love meant maybe, if he was lucky, 40-50 years of being together. And going in, he always knew that it wasn’t forever. When mortals fell in love, they really believed that forever was forever. As an Immortal, Methos never could make that leap.

Which was why she was here, back in the same place that she ‘died’ three years ago, while he was in Paris with some 1000-year-old blond bimbo he didn’t love. Because, to love Mike, Methos would have to accept the responsibility that came with loving and being with an Immortal love. After 5000 years of maintaining some sort distance from the rest of humankind, she really doubted that he would be able to make the leap needed for her and him to remain together.

And it wasn’t like she was looking for this. Hell, when she first in love with ‘Adam’ she had never met the man in person, much less known that he was an Immortal. For three years, their relationship was solely based on email, chatrooms, and phone calls. She had no idea she was a pre-Immie or that ‘Adam’ was really Methos when he called her up and asked if he could visit that July night.

Who, in their right mind would want an Immortal as a life-long mate? Hell, people couldn’t stay married 10 years now days, much less five hundred years. But by then, she really didn’t have a choice. She was already in love with half of the man—Adam. All it took was a few months, and she was in love with the whole man—Methos.

She sighed silently. He didn’t have a choice either. Like her, he had already fallen half-way in love with her before he even stepped into her apartment that night to discover her blood-torn body dead on the mattress with only a small, Immortal buzz to warn him of what was to come.

But one of the many things Methos could do better than Mike was run. So, she left before he got his track shoes on, she forfeited the race by leaving him to his fun. Mac, Joe and of course Richie all knew where she was and if the Old Man wanted to get a hold of her, he knew where to look. But for some odd reason, Mike didn’t think she would be hearing from him anytime soon.

And here, in her bed and definitely in her life, was Spike. He had been burned much worse than Mike could ever imagine, yet somehow was able to explore possibilities with her. Granted, it was much easier for him and her to become emotionally intimate when every time he fed from her, their minds linked. It kinda gave them a hand up, so to speak.

In some ways, she was closer to Spike than she had ever been to anyone else. When he drank from here, not only did he feel all that was her, she had gotten to know the real William Atkinson. An instant intimacy that went beyond anything either of them had ever experienced. It was almost of if they were telepaths, meshing their minds to during the most passionate love sessions of her 33 years of life.

And when he fed from her without the sex, they discovered much to their surprise, the joining was nearly as explosive as it had been with the sex involved.

Then there was the link. Any other time, she would’ve believed it to be intrusive. But not with Spike. He used it to keep an eye out on her—to protect her. When they were apart and he wanted to let her know he was thinking of her, suddenly she would feel all this caring surround her whole being—almost as if it was an invisible bubble protecting her from negative emotions.

This bond they formed seemed to become something much larger than either one of them alone.

Mike silently sighed as she reached over and touched the sleeping vampire. Both of our lives are so convoluted, it’s enough to give a gal a migraine, she thought to herself.

She caressed the cool, marble skin and felt a wave of contentment flow into her. "Must be a good dream, Spike," she whispered into the dark room as she pulled her arm away. She rolled back over onto her back and studied the ceiling.

How can you not love someone who knows everything there is know about you—yet is still there, and loves you as well?

That question seemed to be the theme song for both of them as they struggled to deal with their relationship in the ashes of their other loves.

"Whatcha thinking about, luv?" Spike whispered as she heard the lamp switch on.

Mike blinked her eyes, adjusting to the sudden light and sighed. "Did I wake you?" she asked as she flipped back to her side and watched him light a cigarette.

He shook his head. "Nah luv, I just woke up."

"I think I’m going to get a job," she said quietly, watching his face. His eyebrow arched in question. She found herself smirking. "I think he’s paid enough for his transgression." She sat up and faced him, sitting cross-legged. "Besides, it would be one thing to let him support me if I was alone and miserable—"

"—and another thing, if you’re not," he finished for her as he stabbed out his smoke. He reached over and pulled her into his arms. She rested her cheek on his chest. His cool fingers traced her profile. "I’ve got money, luv. One of the benefits of being a vampire. Lots of wallets end up being ownerless."

She chuckled softly. "And of course, you just had to provide a home. Now I know where they got the term ‘blood money.’"

He poked his finger into her stomach as he groaned at her joke. "Not funny, my dear," he said, humor lacing his tone.

She laughed. "I thought it was," she said and sighed. "No, seriously. You can do your share, but I need to begin to build my nest egg. I don’t have the options of relieving funds from my food like you and I’m gonna be around for a while. I might as well start acting like it."

He shrugged. "Whatever you think’s best. So, what are you thinking of doing?"

"Two things," she said. "The first one’s easy—call Joe and see if I can get my old job back with the Watchers. I haven’t taken a head yet, so I’m officially—according to the Watchers—not an Immortal. That’s the reprieve Joe gave me. I just hadn’t taken him up on it yet. The other one, you’re gonna get a kick out of," she said, grinning.

"What?"

She smiled. "My present guardian angel—oh, he would love to hear me call him that—one Lucien LaCroix offered me a job at the Wolf’s Bane as a waitress. Since I know of vampires as well as being ‘marked,’" she spat out, hating its implications in the vampire community. As if she was Spike’s property or his Renfield. She shuddered and Spike’s hold tightened as she felt a wave of caring and protectiveness wash over her from their link. She lifted her head and smiled at him. "And Immortal, his clientele as well as Enforcers won’t consider me a threat."

He nodded as a grin slowly spread across his face. "So luv, how does it feel to be a marked woman?"

She growled, swatting him on top of his stomach. "Asshole! Fuck you!"

He rolled over, effectively pinning her down. "I’d love you to," he said softly, speaking against her lips. He then began to shower her chin and neck with small kisses, until he managed to move over to her ear. He blew in it and Mike shivered in response. "Up for it, luv?" he asked her, speaking gently in her ear.

"I thought that was my line," she murmured as she pulled her arms out and wrapped them around his cool body.

"It was? Oh well," he said as he mouth clamped down onto hers, effectively silencing her and enabling him to have the last word.

Her last coherent thought was the next time, she was going to get in the last word—if she had to gag him to do it.

~~~Chapter Four~~~

Three months later

It was the little things that Spike noticed at first. After over two hundred years of battling the demon for possession of his body, to not feel that demon took him by surprise. And when Mike commented one night while they were making love, that his face didn’t change, he knew something was up.

And then there was the whole reflection/no reflection thing.

He could now see himself in the mirror.

The last piece of the puzzle came to him when he went to Wolf’s Bane for a drink and to wait for Mike to get off work. It was there, surrounded by LaCroix’s vampires, that he realized that the feel of them were different. Before, when he first arrived in St. Louis, when he felt them, it was almost an uneasiness that seemed grab at his gut. With his type of vampires, it was more like he was psychically intuned with them. An awareness would seep into his mind, and he just knew.

Strangely enough, it seemed to reverse itself. As he walked up to Wolf’s Bane, he could hear almost a strong static fill his senses. Once he glanced at the bouncer, a vampire as well, a sense of rightness seemed to fill him. It was as if he felt a part of him. His senses were heightened, yet an easiness that never had been present before, filled his being. Through all that, he could feel Mike through their link and her happiness that he finally arrived, fill him.

Shaking his head at the strangeness of it all, he entered the club, spotted Mike, leaning against the bar, and walked over to her. Wrapping his arm around her, he lifted her up and kissed her hard on the lips, feeling her skin flush and hearing her heart rush in excitement.

"Miss me?" he asked as he slowly let her down.

"Terribly. It’s been a horrible night. " She frowned and met his eyes.

"Why?"

She shook her head as she filled her bar tray. "I don’t know. Everyone’s just on edge. Especially you-know-who," she added quietly. "I’ll be right back," she said as she picked up the tray and disappeared into the crowd.

Still smiling, Spike sat on a bar stool and nodded to Peter, the same bartender that served them three months before. Peter poured a glass of the house special for him and leaned over the bar.

"Better watch out for the General—he’s on the warpath tonight."

Spike arched his eyebrow in question. "Nicholas?" Spike mouthed.

The bartender smirked as he nodded. "What else?"

Spike sipped his drink, grinning. "What else, indeed?" He swung his stool over to face Mike, who he felt return and saw her frown, her eyebrows crinkled in concentration as her eyes locked onto the door. "What is it, luv? One of you?"

She nodded silently. Spike turned to face the door and saw a young kid, with short reddish-blond hair walk in. Although wearing a short, leather coat, he had a duffel bag swung over his shoulder, and Spike just knew that’s where the man kept his sword. The kid’s eyes searched the bar and finally landed on Mike. A big grin appeared on his face.

Spike turned back to Mike and saw her smiling as well. "It’s Richie. I know I told you about him. I’ll be right back and introduce you two," she said as she squeezed his arm and took off towards the other Immortal.

Spike watched as the other Immortal picked Mike up and swung her around in greeting. Almost instantly he felt that all-too-familiar tinges of jealously slice its way into his heart and he could feel the ‘beast’ (as they called it) rise. He downed his drink and called for another one, his eyes never leaving the two. Inwardly, he was reminding himself that Mike was not Dru and just because she cared for that kid, didn’t mean she was going to fuck him. He watched her pull on his arm and lead Richie towards Spike.

"Spike! I’d like you to meet the closest person I have as a brother or cousin, Richie Ryan. His mentor and my mentor are best friends. Richie helped me a lot during that first year," she said as grinned at the other kid. "And Richie, this is Spike. A very close and dear friend of mine. We met as two broken hearted souls and became fast friends...and then some, "she added quietly.

Richie stuck out his hand and Spike shook it. "Pleased, Mate," he said. "So what brings you here to the Gateway to the West?"

A shadow passed over Richie’s face. He turned back to Mike. "I’m not suppose to say anything. He made me promise."

"What? Is he okay? What happened?"

"It got out, Mike. Somehow it got out and now every headhunter on the face of the Earth is after his head."

Spike felt the shot of pain shoot through her heart as she heard the news through their link. Instinctively, he wrapped his arm around her, pulling her to him as she began to cry. "Shhh, luv. It’s okay. Everything you’ve told me about him—says he’s a survivor, eh?" He felt her nod. Spike turned to Peter. "She’s off, isn’t she?"

Peter nodded. "Is LaCroix in?"

"Yes, in his office. Are you sure?"

"Bloody hell, I don’t know. Can you call him and ask if we could see him? Tell him we have some news about Adam?" He glanced at Richie, who nodded. "Pierson. "

"He’ll want to know," Mike said quietly. "LaCroix’s known him most of his life." She wiped her face with a cocktail napkin.

Richie looked at Mike and back at Spike, confusion evident on his face. "What’s going on here?" He asked as he leaned in closer to Spike. "I’ll explain once we get back home." Spike stiffened as he felt the ancient’s presence. He turned to see the Roman standing just outside his office door. He inclined his head and disappeared back into his sanctuary. "We’ve been summoned," Spike muttered as he stood up. "Come on, Richie. Time to spread the good news."

The three walked down the hallway to Lucien LaCroix’s office.

~~~~~~~~~~

Having never been summoned to the ancient vampire’s office, Spike couldn’t help but feel a bit tense. Especially when LaCroix handed him a glass of bloodwine and congratulated him on ‘evolvement.’ Spike took the glass and nodded a thanks, still puzzled about the whole thing.

"Will you explain this to me sometime?" he asked. "I never heard of such a thing."

"There are many mysteries in this world, William. One just has to discover them." Then the ancient turned to Mike and Richie. "Michelle, Methos called me yesterday and today, this was delivered," he said as he handed a small box to Spike. "He didn’t want to interfere with your life here. He wasn’t even sure if he wanted you to know about this latest development, but he had a feeling that young Mr. Ryan would show up."

Spike glanced at Ryan and caught him blushing. "Damn Old Man. Does he ever quit?"

LaCroix smirked. "No, he does not, my dear young man." His face darkened. "And let’s hope he remains the same for the next couple of years; it’s what kept him alive this long."

Mike reached for the box and Spike handed it to her. He glanced over at Ryan. "Will you take her home?"

"Sure thing," Richie said as he stood up. "Come on, Mike. Let’s get you home."

She nodded numbly and turned to Spike. "Are you all right?"

He felt her concern and smiled gently at her, all the while still amazed at how much one person could change his life. He leaned over and softly kissed her. "I’ll be fine, luv. I just have a few things I need to discuss with LaCroix."

She gave him a quick hug and stood up. "Thank you, LaCroix. And if you hear anything?"

"Of course, Michelle. You’ll be in tomorrow night?"

She nodded. She sent a quick smile to Spike and left, closing the door after her. "An amazing woman, don’t you think, William?"

Spike nodded, still concentrating on their link as he felt her leave the building. After a minute or so, once satisfied that she was all right, he turned back to the General. "Yeah, she sure is. So," he sipped his bloodwine, "is he going to disappear? I think Mike said that he usually did that."

"Most likely. Methos, I believe has had enough of killing. And no desire to be an active participant in their Game. "

Spike nodded, flashing on what he learned of her the first time he drank from her. "Well, at least I don’t have to worry about him coming back into the picture too soon," Spike added.

"You were worried?" Spike nodded. "As you should be. For most of my Immortal life, I have known Methos. And this is the first time I’ve known him to be in love with another Immortal."

Spike felt a surge of anger sweep through him. "He sure as hell as a funny way of showing it, mate! Why the hell did he do that to her? He broke her heart!" The younger vampire downed the last of his drink.

"And you were there to pick up the pieces. Do you regret that?"

Spike chuckled quietly. "Hell no!" He turned back to the ancient vampire. "What happened to me? What did Mike’s blood do to me?"

LaCroix reached over and picked up Spike’s glass and refilled it. As he set it on the desk he sighed. "Although it’s said that we, our type of vampires are descendants from the gods, that is not totally true. We are descendants of the demon-vampire. Someone, some time ago, sipped the blood of an Immortal, found it sustaining enough and fulfilling enough, that they didn’t need to feed nightly like animals on a blood scent. The Immortals, who are known in ancient legends as the First Ones, hold the magic of life in them. Their Quickening is life. When vampires fed off them, they evolved into a strange mixture of both darkness and light. No longer was the ‘demon’ resident in the vampire, being pushed out by the light of the Quickening. Their hunger no longer ruled their lives—and their souls remained housed in their bodies.

"Sure we suffer from the Beast—when angered and hungry and aroused. But even the Beast is nothing compared to the destructive nature of demons."

"So that’s what happened to me. I became like you? That’s why I have a reflection now? I have a soul? But where’s my guilt? I knew a re-souled vampire. He was bloody miserable and depressing company. Spent nearly 100 years killing his own kind to make up for his destructive stint as a demon."

"Ah, Angelus. I’ve heard of him." LaCroix moved over to sit on the corner of his desk. "Let me ask you something, William. Why did you help the Slayer?"

Spike flinched. How the hell did he know about that? He sighed, silently hoping the ancient wouldn’t suck him dry when he answered. "A couple of reasons. One, Angelus was prick with delusions of grandeur. He lived to make everyone around him miserable, soaking up their negative feelings as if it were virgin blood. He also stole my Dru—right in front of me, while I was incapacitated. Flaunting their sexual liaison in my face. Constantly belittling me." He felt his fangs drop in anger. "And finally, because I had no desire for this world to be sucked up into hell. What kind of fool would off the very thing that keeps us alive? And why get rid of music? Or movies? Or a good computer game? Bloody short-sighted, if you ask me."

LaCroix chuckled. "Indeed. Although I’m not as ‘humane’ as my son or daughter, I have to agree with you. You did the right thing, William."

Spike scowled. "Not likely. Only if I stay in places like here, where your—or my kind—resides. I’m sure by now, Dru has told the whole lot of them of my traitorous deeds." He stared at the carpet. "No more Sunnyhell for me—unless I like to spend eternity in a Dustbuster."

"You are a lot more powerful than you were before. It’s strange how the transformation works. Demon-vampires live much shorter lives than us—"

"That’s because they lose whatever constitutes a brain, once the demon emerges. A bunch of idiots."

"That too. You were a ‘master’, correct?"

Spike nodded.

"Two hundred years old?"

"About. I was born in 1799."

LaCroix finished the last of his drink. "You’re more powerful than my son now. He’s almost 800 years old. "

Spike’s eyes widened. "Shit," he whispered. "How old do I feel?"

LaCroix closed his eyes, silently concentrating. Nearly a minute later, he opened them and gave Spike a small smile. "About a 1000 years old."

Spike collapsed onto the couch. He couldn’t believe it. All because he wanted to feed on a beautiful blond after a long, passionate evening in his bed. A part of him was tempted to run to the Slayer’s Watcher and impart this last little tidbit. Hell, if they had an Immortal handy, Angelus wouldn’t have ever turned.

"Amazing."

"That it is, William." LaCroix stood up and gathered the empty glasses and placed them on the small bar behind him. Spike followed his lead and grabbed his coat and headed for the door. "LaCroix, can I come to you if I have any more questions?"

LaCroix nodded. "And then maybe you can do a small favor for me in return."

Spike shrugged, thinking that that was fair. "Sure. Just ask. Have a good night."

LaCroix smiled. "Take care of Michelle. A lot of dangerous people are concerned for her welfare."

Spike grinned as he opened the door. "Like I have any choice in the matter, eh? The woman’s gotten under my skin."

~~~Chapter Five~~~

Richie walked back into the living room to see Mike standing at the mantel holding a picture. Recognizing the frame, he knew it was the one of her, Adam and Joe taken at Joe's bar in Seacouver. Joe was behind the bar, laughing, while Adam had just finished goosing Mike. Her expression was priceless. Her eyes were as large as saucers--in shock--while a smirk was forming on her lips. Richie

was the one who had taken the picture and had his own copy of it at home. It was one of his favorite pictures of her and the Old Man because it was a prime example of how she always seemed to bring out the playfulness in Methos. It was also taken before Arhiman and her father's murder. It was during a time when Immortality and pain didn’t seem to be synonymous.

Sighing, he placed the two mugs of coffee on the table and walked over to her. Gently taking the picture from her, he placed it back on the mantle and took her hand. He then led her back to the futon. After they both were seated, he turned to face her, bringing one leg up onto the cushion "Talk to me, Mike."

It was her turn to sigh as she rearranged the pillows so she could lean against the arm of the futon comfortably. "What do you want to know?"

"How does LaCroix know Methos?"

She shrugged. "I'm not sure how they met, but I think it was when LaCroix himself was mortal. In Pompeii, sometime."

"How?"

"You haven't figured that out yet?"

He frowned as he shook his head. "No--what should I have figured out? He's not an Immortal, right?"

She grinned. "Not really. Sorta. Just not our kind."

"There's others?"

"That's what I said, when I found out." She took a deep breath and appeared to be preparing herself for something. "He's a vampire, Richie. An honest-to-god vampire. Before he was brought across, he was a general for the Roman Empire."

He felt his mouth drop open.

"Really. So's Spike. A different kind, but still a vampire."

"You're shitting me, right?"

She chuckled as she looked over to the coffee table and picked up a remote control. Richie watched as she aimed at the front window and depressed a button. Suddenly, from behind the curtains on each side, came black metal shades that met in the middle with a long lip on one side that guaranteed that guaranteed complete closure. "Now, why would I, one who loves an airy, bright home have shades like these unless I needed it for someone who had a dangerous allergy to the sun?"

Richie stared at the blinds and then back at Mike, then back to the blinds. "You're serious, aren't you?" he finally asked her. Vampires? What else hasn’t Mac told me? First Arhiman and now vampires? he asked himself.

She nodded. "Yeah, totally. I wouldn't have believed it myself, if Spike hadn't vamped out on me the first night we met," she added, smirking.

"What happened?"

She blushed. "I don’t want to get into too many details. It’s kinda embarrassing. But let’s just say that I caught his eye and it’d been a while for him."

Richie frowned. "Been a while for what?"

She managed to blush even more. "Guess."

"Oh."

"Yeah," she said, giggling. "And during a most inopportune moment, while we were kissing, he pushed me against a wall and my sword dug into my back."

Richie laughed, picturing Mike cursing and blushing in equal parts when that happened. He could almost see it. He shook his head.

"It gets better." She took a deep breath. "I pulled away, reached behind me, felt the wound and then held out my hand, looking at the blood. Before I even could say boo, he grabs my hand and starts sucking my fingers. I try yanking my hand away and I find that his grip’s like steel. So, I’m ready to glare at him, getting all righteous and shit and I look up and see this thing—with these huge ridges and yellow eyes and fangs sucking on my fingers. I almost fainted.

"Once he was finished cleaning off my fingers, his face morphs back into the facade that you know. The same face he wore when he picked me up earlier that night and whisked me off my feet. It was incredible.

"And him. He had not a clue what the hell I was. He could tell by my blood that I wasn’t a normal human. Our (Immortal’s) blood’s special. So, once I got over the shock, I decided I wanted to know about vampires and at least he couldn’t kill me, so I decided not to run away screaming." She shrugged. "He’s the one that told me about LaCroix. I had not a clue that that man was a vampire as well. I should’ve known that something was off when I got the flier on my door that first night I had moved in here, advertising the Wolf’s Bane. Methos asked LaCroix to keep an eye out on me for him. And apparently LaCroix takes his responsibilities seriously. He had fliers made up and placed them on the doors of the whole block, just to entice me to go there."

"Jesus, Mike. All this just because you were pissed at the Old Man?"

She nodded.

"It’s pretty weird how life does this," he said thinking about what she told him. He picked up the remote and hit the open button. The blinds folded and disappeared under the curtains, leaving the window bare. "Remote controlled, even?"

She laughed outright. "And guess who paid for them? Spike picked them out—wanted to pay for them too, but I said no. I figured it was the least Methos could do for him, since Spike looking out for me."

"That's cruel, Mike. I didn't know you had it in you."

"I didn't. Not before I met Methos up close and personal."

It was then it hit him. She was calling him Methos, not Adam, like she had done before. "What happened to 'Adam?'" he asked.

She bit her lip and looked down at her lap. "He disappeared. Methos took over. It was Methos that cheated on me. They're different people-at least in my mind. Adam: he's funny, a smart-ass, intelligent, quick, caring and loving. Methos is all those too. Plus, add on fearful, devious, manipulative, evasive, high-handed and wise-but also foolish. I can handle all those, Richie. Hell, I'm in love with a fucking vampire whose literally a demon.

"But the irony of all this is that Spike has one thing on Methos-he's not afraid to care and commit." She stood up and began to pace. "I mean, who could've figured that something like this could happen?" She stopped at the coffee table, eyeing the box that Methos sent her. She picked it up and sat back down. She started ripping the packing tape off. "I sure as hell didn't. When I went to the Wolf's Bane that first time, all I wanted to do was get drunk. And I couldn't drink fast enough for it to work. And here's this blond-haired Billy Idol look-alike hitting on me. My first words to Spike were, 'Oh God, not another one!' because his English accent sent chills down my spine, just like Adam's," she smiled as she pulled the cardboard flap up. Suddenly she closed her eyes, not going any further.

"What do you think's in there?" Richie asked.

She bit her lip as she leaned back. "His last chronicle. Probably keys or directions to where he keeps all of his journals. A new identity for me. A couple of Swiss back account books. Maybe some credit cards." She sat up and handed him the box. "Tell me if I'm right."

Richie tilted his head in question. "Are you sure?"

She nodded and closed her eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~

Mike wasn't sure what she was feeling as she leaned her head back against the couch, waiting for Richie to open that damn box. Fear? Anger? Love? Pain? Maybe, all of them combined into a weird whirlwind of emotions that threatened to drown out everything else. Although she may've appeared calm to her friend when she gave him the package, inwardly she was battling her own anxiety demons. In some ways, this gift from Adam might be the last she would ever hear from him—her last touchstone with the man who had changed both her mortal and immortal life.

She sighed softly as a ready curse came to mind. She had so many of them ready to fire at that impossible man who stole her heart nearly five years before with a simple email message. She wanted to scream at him for making her love him, and for him loving her and then leaving her. For being there for her after her father's murder.

For all of it.

And for herself for feeling.

She heard the flap being ripped open as a tinge of uneasiness slipped into her mind. She squirmed in her seat and opened her eyes, searching for something, but having not a clue as to what it was.

She stood and slowly turned full circle, visually inspecting every darkened knick and cranny in the apartment. A fleeting thought entered her mind...they can't come in unless they're invited...

Spike! She mentally called out as she tweaked their link. Relief, anger, love and fear flowed back into her. "Damn!" she whispered as she jogged to the table and grabbed her coat and Richie's duffel bag.

Richie was already standing and it took her a few seconds to realize he was speaking to her. "Mike, what the hell's wrong with you?" he yelled.

She shook her head and tossed him the duffel bag. "Spike's in trouble! Vamps-the bad kind!" she told him as she was already out the door. She heard the front door close and Richie right behind her as they ran down the street.

"Where are you going?"

She shrugged. "I'll know when I get there! It's not far though," she added as she turned down Boyle Ave. After nearly a block and a half, she stopped and glanced down the alley. "Down there," she whispered in between breaths. "Have to be real quiet. Vamps got super hearing. And Richie, don't fuck around. Just take their heads, okay?"

Richie nodded despite the confused look on his face. They crossed the street and started inching their way down the alley. Their link was strong now and Mike had to bite her lip from screaming in pain when she felt the stake go into Spike's stomach. "Shit!" she whispered as she doubled over. She took a deep breath, forcing her mind to focus away from his pain. After nearly a minute, the pain receded a bit and she stood up, still feeling shaky. Richie's face was etched in concern and worry. She tried to smile.

"It's the link," she said quietly. "He's been staked in the stomach. I can feel it."

He nodded slowly, the expression on his face rapidly changing from confusion to conviction. Mike had to smile, knowing exactly what was going through his mind. 'Nobody fucks with Mike' or something to that sort. Still grinning, she turned back and started jogging towards the empty parking lot where she now knew they were.

A half a block down, she skidded to a stop, feeling Spike's presence. Praying that he could feel her as well, she poked her head around the derelict garage to the parking lot and bit her lip again when she counted ten vampires circling her lover.

She reached back and grabbed Richie's hand and pulled him up so he could see. As far as she could tell, Spike was holding his own. Moving much faster than the other vampires, he could attack and dodge out of striking range before the vampires knew what hit them. In just the few minutes they spent watching him fight, he had already dusted two. She wondered how many were sent to kill him.

Taking a deep breath, she looked back at Richie and nodded. Seconds later they joined the fight. With the three of them, the remaining eight vampires were dusted within ten minutes.

"'Bout time you got here, luv," he said as his knees buckled. Mike caught his body and fell down with him, breaking his fall.

"Is it still in there?" she asked as she pulled open the coat.

"Nah pet, I got it. But I think there's splinters in there or shard. It's not healing right. "

She nodded and took a deep breath as she gently fingered the wound.

He hissed. "Bloody Dru! She knows I'm here and couldn't leave well enough alone." He sucked in a deep breath. "Damnit, Mike! That hurts!"

"Sorry," she whispered, blinking back the tears. Suddenly she stopped and held out her wrist. "Here, drink! It might help." She turned around and spotted Richie walking around the parking lot. "Richie! I need you!"

The young Immortal ran up and dropped down beside Spike. "What can I do?"

"Do you have a lighter or something that'll help me see?"

Richie nodded, pulling out silver Zippo lighter.

"Hun, can I have my wrist back. We don't want me to die of blood loss before we get those splinters out, do we?"

He managed to grin through the pain. "I suppose not, luv. But I've never seen you revive. It could be interesting. All helpless and dead-like."

She laughed. "Necrophilia now?" She nodded to Richie and he flicked the lighter on. He moved it down and to the side, avoiding making shadows with his hand. Immediately, she found two small shards of wood and pulled them out. "I never knew you had that hang-up, hon. Anything else you need to tell me about?" She asked grinning as she closed her eyes and felt around the wound. God, this is gross. He really is dead or undead, she thought to herself as the cold flesh and blood clung to her hand.

"Luv, I hate to break it to you, but what do you think a person who sleeps with a vampire is?"

"Uh guys, do you really think I want to hear about your sex life?" Richie interjected as Mike pulled out her hand and rubbed her jeans.

With her clean hand, she double-checked the other to make sure the splinter was no longer there. As she began poking into his wound, she noticed that it had gotten smaller. "You're healing a bit. There must be some still in there, because it hasn't closed yet."

"Ah come on, mate, how old are you?"

"Twenty-four," Richie said. "And don't start on me. I know I'm just a kid. I get told that all the time. Hey, I'm sorry that you're the first vampire I've met."

"Got it!" Mike yelled as she sat back on her heels and watched his wound close.

"About time!" Spike muttered as he sat up. "You Immortals live sheltered lives. You need to get out and live a little!"

"Spike," Mike said, purposely trying to sound as if she was scolding him. She stood up and held out her hand. He grasped it and pulled himself up and into her arms.

He kissed her hard. Once he pulled away, he lifted her hand up to his mouth and began sucking on her bloodied fingers. Mike rolled her eyes and glanced over at Richie. She had to giggle at the horrified look on his face.

"Richie, calm down. Hell, would you pass up licking off your girlfriend's chocolate covered fingers?"

"No, I guess not. But that's-he's-it's blood, Mike!"

She shrugged. "Well it's like chocolate to him."

"And a damn fine, rich chocolate at that, mate!" Spike said, totally unrepentedly. He glanced around the parking lot, eyeing all the dust piles. "She sent a bloody army after me!"

"It wasn't exactly an army as much as a platoon. Twenty-five dust piles," Richie said, watching the vampires face as it hit him how many he had defeated.

"Damn, LaCroix was right. I'm a lot more powerful now," he said glancing at Mike. "I've never taken on that many before."

"What did LaCroix tell you?" Mike asked as the three began to walk back home.

"Later, luv. It's too long of a story to get into right now."

Mike nodded. "So, she knows, huh?"

He nodded solemnly.

"That's not good, either, is it?"

He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her to him. "No, luv. Unfortunately, it's not."

Mike sighed. Now, both of her men were in trouble. Could the gods be any crueler? she asked herself.

Yep, her little voice answered when she felt the buzz of another Immortal.

Richie and her stopped. "Shit! Could this night get any more convoluted?" Richie asked, glancing at Mike.

Spike turned and faced both of them. "One of yours?"

They both nodded.

"Bloody hell!"

"I second that!" Richie lifted his sword.

"I should've known they wouldn't waste any time!"

"How right you are, my pretty one," a strange accented male voice commented as he stepped out from behind a house. He was nearly six feet tall wearing the trademark trench coat of almost all the Immortals Mike knew. As he stepped out into the light, she saw he was dark-haired with dark eyes and skin. Arab, she thought to herself. "I've been looking all over for you, Michelle Evans."

Suddenly three mortals, all men, stepped out from various hiding spots in the alley. As Mike glanced at each one, she noticed they all had guns pointing at her, Richie and Spike.

"No, Michelle. I'm not cheating. You're bait. So, do you know where he is?"

"Who?"

His pleasant smile instantly disappeared leaving a cold, hard face in its place. "Don't play me the fool, woman! You know who I'm talking about! Your teacher, Adam Pierson! Or would you rather me call him by his real name: Methos."

She shook her head. "I don't know where he is. Honest."

He chuckled slightly as he shrugged. "Oh well, no matter." He glanced back at his men and nodded his head once.

Mike barely had time to feel the burning pain of the bullet enter her chest before she died.

~~~~~~~~~~

For the first time in three months, Spike was grateful that the ancient hadn't trusted him with Mike's life. When he felt another of his kind, seconds before all three of them were shot, he mentally cheered. They would get out of this alive. Although the guns were equipped with silencers, he felt the bullet go through him and at the same time smelled the rich, life-giving blood of Mike's as she fell dead at his feet. Without realizing it, he roared and lunged at the Immortal.

The Immortal had a sword, but Spike didn't let that bother him as he dodged the man's swings at him. Once he was within striking distance, he yanked the sword out of the man's hand and bared down on his throat. The Immortal was screaming, and fighting back, but he was no match for a tired and an emotionally strung-out vampire. Within minutes, the Immortal was drained and Spike dropped the body, readying himself to kill the mortals.

But there was no need. Only one being was standing where there had been three. And this one was one of his kind.

Willing his beast down, he glanced at the dark-haired vampire. "LaCroix sent you?"

He nodded as he walked over to Richie's body and picked him up. "Javier Vachon, at your service."

"Spike," the blond vampire said as he kneeled down at Mike's body. The link, which was such a living breathing thing for the last three months was eerily silent. "I was just kidding when I said I wanted to see her revive," he mumbled as he gently picked her body up. He glanced over to the other vampire. "Our apartment?"

Vachon shrugged. "Sounds good to me. Get your things. But I think you guys need to stay at the Wolf's Bane tonight. Between you and her, you've got a helluva mess on your hands."

Spike sighed as he took off into the air, not even having a chance to enjoy his second time flying. "You got that right, mate. A bloody mess."

~~~Chapter Six~~~

Within minutes, the two vampires set down in the backyard of the flat. Growling softly, Spike shifted his lover’s body as he dug into his jeans’ pocket for the house key. Managing to balance her and the key, he opened the back door and stepped inside.

Once they were inside, he motioned the other vampire to follow him into his and Mike’s bedroom. Both vampires gently deposited their loads on top of the bed.

As Spike threw open the closet door, he suddenly remembered the bodies they had left back in the alley. "Did you drain them?"

"No, I didn’t even kill them. Just knocked them out. I figured we didn’t have enough time for clean up," Vachon informed him as he caught a duffel bag that Spike had thrown to him.

Spike nodded. "Go to the bathroom and pack some essentials while I grab some clothes."

The Spaniard nodded and disappeared while Mike pulled open Mike’s underwear drawer. After nearly a moment of indecision, he finally just tossed a couple of matching bra and underwear sets, some socks and two pairs of jeans, and a couple shirts. He did the same for himself.

As he was zipping close the duffel bag, he heard a gasp coming from behind him. He turned around to see Richie suck in another mouthful of air as he sat up.

The immortal moaned. "I hate this," he muttered as his eyes scanned his surroundings and stopped once he saw Spike.

"What--?"

"Later," Spike said as he tossed Ryan’s duffel bag at him. "Did you unpack?"

Richie shook his head. "Didn’t get a chance."

"Good, because we have to get out of here, before that asshole revives."

Spike left the disorientated Immortal and headed towards the front of the flat. He stopped at the table where Mike’s laptop sat and quickly began packing the machine. After tucking the various electrical cords and drives into the backpack, he placed it on the floor by the futon. His eyes then scanned the living room, looking for that box her mentor sent her. He saw it halfway opened, sitting on the coffee table. After only a couple of seconds of inner debate, he ripped open the other flap and turned it upside down over the futon, emptying it of its contents.

Out fell two bank books, a passport, a California driver’s license, a MasterCard, visa and American Express, a stack of bank-wrapped hundred dollar bills, a key, a book of some sort and an envelope addressed to Mike. The Old Man didn’t disappoint him. He unzipped the duffel bag and crammed all the contents of the box into the bag.

Standing up, he took one more look-see around the room and stopped at the couple of pictures on the mantel. One was of Mike, Methos and a mortal that Spike didn’t know and the other was one of her father. Hesitating for only a second, he growled as he grabbed both pictures and packed them as well.

He felt the other vampire enter the room and turned to tell him that they were ready when he felt the link come alive. He released a sigh of relief as he jogged back to the bedroom. "She’s up," he muttered as he went passed the other vampire. He stopped at the bed, noticing that Richie was gone, and sat down next to her and waited. A minute later she gasped, her eyes wide open and in shock. After a few deep breaths, she sat up and fell into Spike’s lap.

"Dying sucks," she whispered as she wrapped her arms around his waist. He smiled as he twirled her hair through his fingers.

"I know, luv." He dropped his hands to her waist and pulled her up. She giggled as she wrapped her legs around his waist. He groaned as he felt himself go hard. "Ah, Mike," he stopped and kissed her. "Don’t get us started. We have to leave." He scooted over to the edge of the bed and stood up, still holding her to him. "Drop your legs, luv. You need change your clothes. We’re staying at Wolf’s Bane tonight."

She pouted, her bottom lip just begging to be nipped. He obliged, causing her to squeal, as he gently lapped her blood from her lip. "Now down love."

She frowned and dropped her legs, using her hold around his neck for support. Once her feet were safely touching the floor, she tiptoed and gave him a peck on the lips and pulled away. He sighed in relief as he readjusted himself and sat back down on the bed to watch her change clothes.

"I really wish I could take a shower," she said as she pulled another tee-shirt over her head. "Walking into the Wolf’s Bane smelling like blood isn’t one of the most sensible things to do."

"I know, luv. We’re just going to have to hope that between Vachon and I, as well as LaCroix’s warning, will be enough to keep the young ones off you two. "

She nodded in agreement as she sat down next to him and pulled her socks on. "So, I guess that asshole’s awake by now, hmm?"

"He was older than you, right?"

Mike frowned as finished tying her tennis shoes. "Which means he’s probably on his way right now."

She stood up and walked into the living room, Spike right behind her. She saw her backpack, coat and two duffel bags sitting by the table. As she put her coat on, she realized that Richie and that other vampire were waiting for her as well. "I’m hurrying," she muttered as she slipped the backpack over both shoulders.

Spike grabbed the two duffel bags and her hand and led her to the backdoor. Once outside, he handed her the duffel bags and stood in front of her. "Luv, trust me?"

"Of course."

"Then wrap your arms around my neck and your legs around my body."

"What?" she sputtered. "We’re not alone," she whispered.

The other vampire laughed out loud. "We’re flying," he said.

"Flying?" Both Richie and Mike yelled.

Spike rolled his eyes and grabbed Mike around the waist, lifting her off the ground. Instinctively, she wrapped her legs around him. "There luv. Just hang on," he whispered as he kissed her on the lips.

She swallowed hard and Spike could feel the racing of her heart. Shaking his head, he took off to the sky.

Below him, he heard Richie’s protest, Vachon’s impatient growl, and Spike chuckled softly. He glanced over at Mike and watched as her eyes widened in wonder.

"This is incredible, Spike. Is this part of the lack of demon shit?"

"Yeah baby. I’ll explain it later. Let’s just put it this way, I’m not like I used to be, thanks to you," he said as he spotted the Wolf’s Bane. Setting down in the alley behind the bar, Mike unwrapped her legs and stood up.

"That was fun!" She kissed him hard on the lips. "Can we do it again, sometime?"

Laughing, he nodded. "Sure thing, luv. Anything for you."

She blushed and shyly looked up into his face. "Thanks."

"Jesus H. Christ!" Richie yelled as the two touched down beside Mike and Spike. Richie was hanging onto the vampires shoulders, apparently balancing precariously on Vachon’s back. "Never again!"

"No problem for me," grumbled Vachon as he opened the back door. "He’s waiting for you in his quarters. Just follow me."

Spike nodded, thinking about how crazy this night had been. Wasn’t just hours ago, when we were in conference in LaCroix’s office? Somehow, it seemed like days ago.

As they were walking upstairs, both Mike and Richie stopped mid step. Mike glanced back at Richie, with her head to the side. "Is that a pre-mortal?"

He nodded slowly. "I don’t think this day is ever going to end."

Spike was about to agree with him when he felt something strange—almost reminiscent of the vampires he had encountered earlier. He turned to Vachon and the Spaniard nodded. "I have no idea, Spike. No one was here when I left."

"Bloody hell, this evening is turning out to be loads of fun. Kind of reminds me of my stay at Sunnyhell. Excitement daily. Just what I spent the whole summer avoiding. And, if I have my way, the rest of my bloody immortal life."

He felt Mike squeeze his shoulder and tweak their link, sending him feelings of love through it. He turned and smiled at her, grabbing her free hand. He leaned over and kissed her. "Thanks, luv."

Vachon knocked on the door and waited in front of it. LaCroix opened it, waving his hand inside, inviting the four inside.

When Spike entered LaCroix’s quarters, he spotted the back of a tall, dark-haired vampire pouring a drink. If Spike had a heart, it would’ve dropped into his stomach as he felt the familiar essence of his sire standing in the room. Next to the bar stood the second to last person he expected to see here, the Slayer’s friend, the redhead Willow.

"Bloody hell, Angelus, aren’t you supposed to be in Hell?" He growled, tossing the duffel bags onto the floor, feeling his eyes flash gold. Too bad I can’t show off my wrinklies anymore, he thought to himself. "Can’t I go anywhere without you dogging my ass!"

~~~~~~~~~~

Mike’s mouth dropped open as she stared at the tall, dark-haired vampire as he walked around the bar with two drinks in his hand. He handed the girl sitting on the couch a glass of what appeared to be orange juice, as he sipped his drink. He then walked over to Spike, stopping right in front of her lover.

Spike squeezed her hand once and then dropped it, reaching in his coat and pulling out a pack of cigarettes. He shook one out and lit it, never taking his eyes off of Angelus.

Mike pulled her eyes away from the sire and son and spotted LaCroix on the other side of the room, watching the whole incident with an arrogant and amused smile on his face. Nervously, she bit her lip as she rolled her shoulders and took off the backpack, placing it by the two duffel bags. She took her coat off and hung it on the rack standing by the door.

"Spike, I don’t know whether I should thank you or kill you, for beating me with that crowbar. But I must say, you fooled me. I had not a clue."

"Angel," the red head stood. "That wasn’t you—that was the demon."

Spike rolled his eyes. "Well, if we’re going to play that game, pet, we might as well say that that wasn’t me, that was my demon that wanted to bash my sire’s brains out."

Mike inched her way over to Vachon and leaned over to speak to him. "Are all sire-childe relationships this wrought with anger?" she asked, careful to keep her voice low.

She watched him shake his head, his eyes twinkling in amusement. "Not all," he whispered back. "But most of them are."

Mike nodded and glanced back at Richie, who looked as if he had just reached his limit. She smiled sympathetically at him and took a deep breath.

"LaCroix, don’t you think introductions are in order for those of us who haven’t met?" she asked, interrupting Spike and Angel’s rather anger-filled ‘discussion.’

LaCroix smirked. "Of course, my dear. My apologies. This beautiful young woman," he said pointing the redhead, "is Willow Rosenberg, who has come from Sunnydale, California, to speak to William. The gentleman that accompanied her here is Angelus O’Malley, or Angel as he likes to be called now, who’s also from Sunnydale.

"Angel, Willow, you both know William, um?" Angel scowled as he turned around and Willow nodded meekly. "And the lovely woman with William is Michelle Evans, the young man standing behind her is Richie Ryan and by the door is a friend of mine from Toronto, Javier Vachon. He’s been helping me keep an eye out on Michelle" LaCroix walked over to the bar and pulled out two more wine glasses. Once he refilled his, and filled the other two, he looked back at Mike and Richie. "Would either of you like a drink?"

"A beer," said Richie.

"Jack Daniel’s—straight. It’s been one of those nights," Mike commented as she walked towards the bar and grabbed the two wine glasses. She gave the first one to Vachon, and handed the second glass to Spike, accompanying it with a kiss. "You okay?"

He nodded briskly. "Better when I find out what the hell is going on."

She squeezed his arm. "Me too."

She walked back to the bar and picked up Richie and her drinks. Richie, standing behind her, took his Heineken and sat down on the couch. Mike glanced over at Spike and knew he wasn’t going to relax around Angel and sighed to herself. She sat down by Richie. Willow sat by her, nearly hugging the arm of the couch. Mike felt for her. She was obviously young and terrified, but whatever propelled her to come to St. Louis in search of Spike, it had to be very important. Mike was sure the last place she wanted to be was to share a room with four vampires and two unknown humans. Mike felt Spike’s eyes on her and lifted her head and smiled. He calming leaned against the door, watching everyone, waiting for the ancient to speak.

And LaCroix seemed to be enjoying himself just a bit too much for Mike’s comfort.

Must be the age thing, Mike thought to herself. Adam looks like that sometimes.

She watched the eldest vampire sip his bloodwine, his eyes studying everyone in the room until he finally stopped at Mike. "From the smell of you, my dear, it would appear that the headhunters are already on the move, um?"

Mike blushed as she was once again reminded that she hadn’t had the chance to take a shower before to wash off the blood. "My apologies, LaCroix. We didn’t have time for either," she pointed at Richie and back to herself, "us to take a shower." She took a nice sized gulp of her drink. "And yes, you’re correct. I didn’t even get his name, but he sure as hell knew mine as well as my whereabouts.

"I have to get out of here. I don’t want to end up being used as a way to get to Adam."

LaCroix nodded. "It’s unfortunate, but I must agree." His eyes fell on to Spike. "And you, William?"

Mike felt a flash of anger so intense, she gasped. She swung around and watched Spike as his eye’s once again turned gold and his fangs descend. With his jaws clenched, he glared at Angel. "Drusilla."

"Drusilla?" Willow piped out. "Why would she want to kill you?"

Spike scowled, staring at her pointedly.

She blushed. "Okay, so you betrayed her by helping Buffy—it’s—it just doesn’t make any sense—"

"What do you mean, Willow?" Mike asked, sensing that there was more to the young pre-Immie’s confusion than the obvious.

Angel sighed and faced Mike. "What Willow’s trying to say is that Dru is the one that sent us to look for Spike. She didn’t tell us where he was. Only that we had a week to find him."

Mike felt Spike’s anger and disbelief before he voiced it.

"Why in the hell would she do that?" he asked after he downed the last of his drink. "And more importantly, why would either of you agree to it?"

Willow shifted in her seat, staring intensely at her clasped hands. "She’s got Buffy," she whispered. "and wants to trade her for you."

"Like I’m a bloody piece of cattle at an auction?" Spike ran his fingers through his hair. "Shit." He looked back down at the seated Willow. "How did the Slayer get caught?"

Mike felt the young woman’s body tense up and once the immortal saw her face, she unconsciously backed away. Willow’s face had scrunched up in anger as she shot out of her seat. "Like you care! How many times did you try to kill her?" she yelled, seemingly unaware of her audience.

Spike stepped back in surprise and Mike felt a tingle of amusement tickle their bond. "So, you do have a spine," he commented, smirking. "Haven’t you figured it out yet, Willow? You’re supposed to be the smart one. What’s different about me? Ask him." Spike pointed to Angel.

Willow tilted her head and studied Spike. After nearly a minute passed, she turned back to her traveling companion. "What’s he talking about, Angel?"

Angel closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "He has soul now. And he’s not like me anymore. He’s like them," he said as he glanced at both LaCroix and Vachon.

"Oh," she said as she covered her mouth. She turned at looked at Vachon and then back to Spike. "What do you mean different?

"Pet, you remember my demon face, right?" Spike asked.

Willow nodded. "Oh yeah, I remember. Boy do I remember. I remember Angelus’ too. And Drusilla and the Master. I remember."

Spike grinned. "I don’t have one anymore." He turned to Mike and held out his hand. She had no idea what he was planning, but she did trust him. She took it, enjoying its coolness in such a stuffy room. "Remember how I looked when I was angry or getting ready to feed or fight." Willow nodded again. "Well this, pet, is how I look now." He eyes turned yellow and felt his fangs descend as he lifted Mike’s wrist to his mouth. Mike turned and watched Willow’s eyes widen in shock as she felt his fangs gently break the skin. A sensual chill traveled down her spine and she shuddered in response. No sooner than he started to drink from her, he stopped, holding her wrist out for Willow to watch. "And this is why I changed. Watch the wound."

The Old Man is going to kill me, Mike thought to herself as she heard Willow gasp. She glanced down at her wrist to see the last of Quickening weave its magic and heal her.

"How—what? What are you?"

"Immortal. No one knows where we come from or how we came to be. But LaCroix here, and other older vampires call us the First Ones." Mike shrugged. "But, I’m far from the first. I’m actually 32 years old—I’ve been Immortal for 18 months. We live normal lives up until our First Death. Whether it’s karmic or what, Immortals or pre-Immortals tend to attract violence. Although I was never a fighter, or athletic, I attracted a serial rapist and killer. That’s how I ended my mortal existence. At the end of some prick’s knife while he was getting his rocks off." She took a deep breath. "Sorry. It’s only been eighteen months," she said with her head down. She took another calming breath and looked back up to Willow.

"Anyway, there’s a lot more to it than that. But we’re human—other than we can’t get sick, age or die by nearly method known to man. A long time ago, although it was kept secret—probably for some practical reasons—that our blood evened the score in a vampire’s existence. It melded the condition of vampires with their soul, leaving the vampire a predator, but without the demon."

"But Angel, he has soul, but he still has the demon?"

"I’m a true-bred," Angel said, chuckling. "When I didn’t have a soul, I couldn’t stand the Souled-Ones, as we called them. They were too human for us."

Vachon laughed out loud.

"What?" Angel asked.

The Spaniard shook his head and smiled. "It’s just that I can’t imagine anyone thinking that LaCroix was too human. Or me, for that matter."

Willow flopped back down on the couch and glanced at Richie. "Are you Immortal too?"

He nodded apologetically. "Sorry, kid. But don’t worry, I’m not that old either. My First Death was five years ago. I was nineteen."

"So, I’m the only one that’s normal here? But then I guess that wouldn’t be normal, because normal here would be immortal and immortal I’m not." She rubbed her eyes. "I’ve got a headache." She leaned against the back of the couch and shut her eyes. "A really bad headache."

Angel reached over and squeezed her hand, grinning. "Don’t worry Willow, you’re not normal. I don’t think anyone here can say that they’re a witch except for you."

"Oh," she said smiling. "You’re right, Angel. Thanks. ‘Cause I did get you your soul back and I got you out of Hell. Not normal. That’s good."

Mike got up and stretched, working the kinks out of her neck. Her stomach growled and she heard Richie’s answer in response. She grinned as she met his eyes. "Dying does that, doesn’t it?"

He nodded sheepishly. "Every time."

"We’re going to Sunnydale, aren’t we?" she asked Spike as she walked over to him.

He nodded slowly and Mike felt his indecision and fear for her through the link.

"It’s okay. I have to leave anyway. Might as well use the new ID and book us few red-eye flights to the good Ole Hellmouth for tomorrow night." She laughed to herself. "When I said I wanted to see your world, I don’t think I realized until tonight watching you fight Dru’s minions, how dangerous your world could get."

"I have to, luv. I know why she did this. It was one thing to leave me, stranded, in the middle of Oklahoma with nothing, but at least she could still feel her Spike. She can’t feel me anymore—not like she could. And with her Angel gone, she doing the only thing she knows how to do to get us back."

"Kidnap the one person she blames for both Angelus’ demise as well as Spike’s betrayal—Buffy," Angel said as he held out his hand for Willow. She gave it to him and he pulled her up.

Mike’s stomach growled again. "I have to eat." She looked over to the corner and saw LaCroix standing quietly, as he had for the last hour. "Can I cook up something for us poor humans that have to eat actual food?"

He nodded yes. "But Michelle, I would recommend that you clean up first. You, Spike and Richie can share Janette’s suite—down the hall. There’s a room on each side of the suite that are also available for Willow and Angel." He walked over to the French doors and opened one. He turned back to Vachon. "Vachon, watch over things while I’m gone. Ask Peter to help you settle in the young ones in the basement. I’ll be at home. If there’s a problem, you can call me on my cell phone."

"Sure thing, LaCroix."

"Thanks again," Mike said as she walked over to him. "I don’t know what you got out of all this, but I hope it was enough for the kindness that you’ve shown me for the last three months."

LaCroix reached for her hand and lifted it to his lips. "Methos is right, my dear. He said that in some ways, you were more a warrior than he ever could be. A warrior of the heart has a much more strenuous road to travel than the one of battle." His cool lips touched the back of her hand. "Au revoir, ma Michelle." He bowed slightly and stepped off onto the patio. Mike watched him take off in flight as he flew home.

~~~~~~~~~~

Forty-five minutes later, Mike yawned as she watched the three hamburgers cook on the grill. The old saying, ‘a watched pot never boils,’ flittered through her mind, but she easily shrugged it off. It was either study the cooking meat or think of what had just transpired not even an hour earlier upstairs. And as much as she wanted to think about everything, her mind had a hard time wrapping itself around it all on an empty stomach. The only coherent thought that stayed with her was Willow’s pre-Immie status and how the odds were against her experiencing her First Death before the age of twenty-five. Willow would have to be an incredibly lucky person living on the Hellmouth and fighting the bastions of evil to make it even to eighteen years old. So, what she should she do? Mike was hardly the person to take the young woman under her wing. Mike herself barely knew enough to stay alive. Would Richie do it? Was he old enough to take a prentice-witch Immortal under his wing and teach her how to fight and survive this close to the Gathering?

Should Mike call Amanda? She found herself shaking her head at that one. The last time she talked to the Immortal-thief, she had settled down in New York City, trying desperately to make a life for herself. Who else? Mac.

Mike sighed again. Good ole MacLeod. Would he do it? She made a mental note to ask Richie about that when she went upstairs. She glanced at the hamburgers and decided it was time to take a closer look. She was getting up when she felt a presence behind her.

She jumped and turned to see Angel leaning against the doorway watching her.

"I’m surprised that Spike let you go down here by yourself," he said as he walked over and jumped on top of the metal cooking counter.

Mike shrugged, unwilling to jump to the enticing bait of defending her lover. "Everyone knows better than to mess with me," she said as picked up the meat turner and flipped over the first hamburger. "I’m under LaCroix’s protection. Besides," she shrugged again, "it’s not as if anyone call kill me by draining me."

Angel frowned. "How did you manage to get one of the oldest vampires in existence to protect you?"

She flipped the second hamburger. "By being the student and former lover of the oldest of my kind," she said, glancing over at Angel. "Who’s also got a few thousand years on LaCroix."

Angel looked stunned and Mike found herself smiling as she nodded at him. She turned the third hamburger over and then walked over to the cooler and pulled out a bag of fries. She dumped three handfuls into the waiting basket and lowered it into the fryer.

"How did you meet Spike?"

Ah, another angle, thought Mike. She smiled to herself. He really doesn’t understand why I would willingly accept a demon into my life and heart.

"He picked me up here," she told him as she leaned against the table, next to him. "I was pissed off at Adam, my mentor, and had flown home from Paris to lick my wounds. That night I was trying to get drunk and wasn't succeeding very well.

"Spike thought I’d be an quick lay and meal—until we discovered one another’s secrets." She shrugged. "Once he tasted my blood, he was intrigued. Once I saw his demon face, I was more than a bit fascinated and once he fed off me, I was hooked."

She smiled to herself, thinking about that evening.

"How could you?" Angel’s question shook her out of reverie.

"Angel, he came to St. Louis to get away from demons, end-of-the world plans, and everything else that Sunnydale represented. I think," she paused and pulled out three plates and lined them out on the counter. "I think that your counterpart’s attempt to awaken that demon and suck Earth into Hell was the final straw. And then once he took Dru and ran, hoping to live a couple of decades in obscurity, only to be dumped, literally, by her once she was strong enough to do so, he had reached the end of his rope. His demon, was as tired of all that bullshit as he was. Coming here, living among the ‘souled-ones’ was just the type of existence he had been craving.

"In reality, other than the obvious physical differences, he’s not much different now than he was when I first met him."

She arranged the hamburger buns on the plates, placed the lettuce, tomato and onions on it and finally scooped up the three burgers and placed them on top of the bottom buns. The buzzer sounded, signaling that the fries were done. She reached over pulled the basket up, letting the grease drain. She turned back to the vampire.

"We have another problem—on top of all the others."

"What?"

"It’s Willow. She’s going to be one of us. Pre-Immies give out a muted buzz and some of us can recognize it. Both Richie and I caught it. And you know, as well as I do, that living on the Hellmouth in not conducive to a long life. She’s probably going to die her First Death soon. When that happens, I need you to call me or Richie and let us know. She’s gonna need a teacher and if her death is really public, she’s gonna have to start a life somewhere else."

Angel jumped down from the counter and shifted uncomfortably on his feet. "Why are you telling me this? Why don’t you just tell her?"

Mike grabbed the tongs and began divvying out the fries onto the three plates. "It’s not our way. She should have the opportunity to grow older before she becomes Immortal. Live a normal life. That won’t happen if she finds out. At least she knows about Immortals, so she won’t totally freak when she wakens from her First Death. And because of all the craziness she’s had to live, immortality shouldn’t be too much of leap for her to digest."

Mike picked up the three plates and settled them onto her left hand and arm. "Could you grab some ketchup and mustard? I’ll take these to our suite and she can eat there." She started heading out of the kitchen, but stopped. "Angel, this thing about Willow is important. I like her. She’s brave and gentle at the same time. She deserves the chance to be the one."

~~~Chapter Seven~~~

One night later
Sunnydale, CA

Mike growled as she watched the baggage carousal go around for the third time and had yet to see her sword case or Richie’s. Spike chuckled, wrapping his arm around her waist and tugging her body close to his.

"Luv, you’re beginning to sound like me," he whispered huskily into her ear. "All that growling—it’s enough to make me want to drag you into the closest available closet and ravage you." He nibbled her neck.

"Mmmm, that feels good." She leaned against his hard body and sighed. "I wish we had time."

"So do I, pet." He stepped back and moved to her side. "But the week ends tonight and unfortunately, with this reinstated conscience and all, I can’t let the Slayer die for my mistakes."

She frowned, feeling her eyes water. "Hon, it wasn’t your fault. She left you."

He sighed, his eyes staring blankly at the carousal. He ran his hand through his hair and shook his head. "No, luv. I should’ve left the country like I promised. I just really didn’t think she would miss him that much once we put enough miles between us and Sunnyhell. I really believed she lo—" he stopped and reached down to pick up a long, hard carrying case. "Yours?"

She nodded. "Now we wait for Richie’s."

He looked up at her, and frowned. "Why did that boy come with us? Wasn’t it enough that LaCroix sent Vachon?"

"Jealous?" she asked, teasing him.

"Not bloody likely," he said scowling. "It’s just I don’t understand what good he’ll do here."

She nodded in agreement. "If it makes any difference, I don’t think it was his idea. I think Mac sent him."

He picked up another sword case and Mike nodded, recognizing it as Richie’s. "It’s his." She picked up her duffel bag and swung her backpack over her shoulder. "Let’s get out of here. I’ve had enough of airports tonight."

Spike nodded in agreement following her as he held his carry-on in one hand and the two sword cases in the other.

~~~~~~~~~~

Willow sighed as she leaned against the Jeep Cherokee. This week had been just too weird for words. Her mind was cluttered with all these new facts as she desperately tried fitting them into what she already knew.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t working too well.

Immortals, vampires, the souled-ones. The list seemed to go forever. And LaCroix. She shivered involuntarily at the ancient vampire’s memory.

So other-worldly.

She risked a glance at Vachon, and saw that he was leaning against the other side of the car, so still, that if she hadn’t known better she would’ve believed him to be dead. Really dead, not just undead dead. 500 years old. And he didn’t think of himself as old. He even played the guitar and sang in a rock band. A Lestat wanna-be, she joked to herself, smothering her giggles. Where’s Angel? she asked herself as she pushed off the car and walked to the other side.

She stopped about five feet from him and straightened her shoulders. Carpe diem, she thought to herself as Vachon turned and tilted his head, watching her. Is that a smirk I see? she asked herself. Closing her eyes, she willed her heart to slow and took a deep breath.

"Did Angel and Richie say where they were going?" she asked, grateful that her voice didn’t crackle in nervousness. "I mean, they’ve been gone a while and I was wondering if we should be worried that they’ve been gone this long or is it that whatever they’re was supposed to take this long?"

He blinked twice at her slowly and shrugged. "They didn’t say."

She opened her mouth to say something, only to close it. She tried to speak again.

"Oh."

He really smiled at her this time, and for a second, she felt her insides turn to mush. Why are so many vampires so good-looking? she asked herself. Bad girl. Xander. Think Xander, or even think Angel. Or even Oz. But not him. Bad Willow.

"I make you nervous, don’t I?"

She nodded without thinking. "It’s just that you’re a vampire and before yesterday, I thought all vampires were bad—except when Angel has his soul—and suddenly you’re not bad and I’m supposed to automatically not be afraid. But I can’t be just ‘not’ afraid. And Spike. He was really bad and even tried killing us a few times and now suddenly he’s good and has Mike—and Mike. Immortals? Why didn’t Giles tell us about Immortals? I mean, if we had known what an Immortal’s blood could do, we would’ve forced-fed Angel—when Angel was Angelus—and then he would’ve been Angel with all these neat extra powers and Ms. Calendar would still be alive and my fish would’ve been strung up on a string like that." She glanced up and saw his smile, if possible, grow. "I’ll shut up now. I’m babbling and babbling's not good." She turned on her heel and started to walk back to the other side.

"Willow," Vachon called out.

She turned around slowly. "Yes?"

"It’s okay to babble. I think I might’ve babbled too if I ever were in your shoes."

She smiled and shuffled her feet. "Thank you, Vachon." She saw Vachon stand up and stare passed her. She turned around to see Angel, Richie, Spike and Mike walk down the lane towards them.

Once they got close enough, she heard Mike and Richie talking. "I’m telling you, Mike. It was him. Not good. Something’s weird about him. Angel could feel him. He can’t feel me or you."

Mike shuddered. "It’s his Quickening, Richie. It’s so black and just so wrong."

"What happened?" Vachon asked as he opened the back of the Jeep.

Angel sighed. "Richie felt one of his kind and decided to see if he could find out who it was. I went because he didn’t have his sword. Backup." He shook his head. "But this guy, he felt wrong. Just something was just not right."

Willow frowned, glaring at Richie. She found herself liking him and Mike. And she didn’t want to lose any more friends. "Why would you do that? Don’t your kind go," she made a sword motion in the air, "swoosh-swoosh when you meet?" she asked Richie.

Richie sighed in frustration. "Yes, it was stupid. Mike has already yelled at me. I just—"

"He was looking out for me, Willow," Mike said interrupting. She tossed her bags into the jeep. "Although normally, I would’ve been a bit miffed that he did this, I have to say this time, I’m glad he did."

"Why?"

"Because it was the bloody asshole that murdered her father," Spike said as he tossed his baggage into the Jeep.

Willow’s mouth dropped open as she reached for Mike’s arm. "I’m sorry," she said automatically.

Mike squeezed her hand. "It’s okay Willow. We’ll get him one of these days. One of us will."

~~~~~~~~~~

Sunnydale High School

Library

"Well, I see we’re all here," Giles said, nervously cleaning his glasses. A sigh escaped when his eyes landed on Spike. "Oh dear," he murmured softly. "Now will someone please tell me what is exactly going on?" he asked, shifting his focus onto both Angel and Willow.

"Yeah, Will. It’s one thing to have Dead-boy here, but former Roller-boy?"

Spike growled, ready to shoot out of his chair if Mike hadn’t grabbed his arm. Oh great, another comedian, she thought to herself. Scowling, he sat back down and pulled out his cigarettes, lighting one.

"Do you mean we have to go through all this bloody again! No wonder Dru’s got the Slayer, you people spend all your time yapping instead of fighting!"

"Spike!" Mike whispered, taking a deep breath and looked over at Willow. "How ‘bout I start since this whole mess could actually be blamed on me,"

"Luv, that’s bullshit and you know it!"

Mike shook her head. "No, if I hadn’t been so willing to test out my immortality and to forget about the asshole in Paris, I wouldn’t had let you drink from me. And if you hadn’t drunk from me, Dru would still be wandering around, looking for her Angel, clueless that you now have changed. You were changing on your own, that night when we met. But she wouldn’t have known, because physiologically you were the same."

Tears flooded her eyes as she bit on her bottom lip to keep the sob inside. God, I love him, she thought to herself. He reached over and caught one, bringing it to his mouth.

"Luv, I wouldn’t have changed a thing," he said, wiping her face.

She nodded. "Neither would I," she said. Taking another big breath, she pulled away from Spike and glanced around the table, relieved that everyone had began their own conversations, giving Spike and her a moment of privacy. She stood up and began.

"I’m an Immortal. I cannot die unless someone takes my head. We are human, no different from mortals un