Warning: Spoilery for Season 5, through "Forever."

Author's note: Just wanted to apologize for the long delay between chapters.  Life has been hectic in some not-so-good ways for the past couple of weeks. But thanks for all the wonderful feedback--that's a big part of what keeps me going with this monster!

Disclaimer: All characters herein are property of Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy-even Spike (darn his sinister attraction). I'm just borrowing.

DEAD RINGER

Chapter 5

FIGHT OR FLIGHT

*Twenty-twenty-twenty-four hours to go, I wanna be sedated. Nothing to do nowhere to go oh, I wanna be sedated...*

Spike tuned in to the familiar refrain seeping through the headphones of the sullen teenager across the aisle.  Huh. Kid wasn't even born when that song came out. He remembered the last time he'd heard it. He'd sung along...

"Twenty-twenty-twenty-four hours to go, I wanna be sedated..."

He glanced at the Slayer across the De Soto's bench seat.

"You like the Ramones?"

She looked at him as if he were crazy.

And he bloody well was, wasn't he? In love with his mortal enemy, the woman with whom he had less than a snowball's chance in hell. The woman who despised every undead inch of him--and who was finally ready to do something about it.

But she was also the woman who had made an uneasy alliance with him to save the world. Who'd allowed him to sit in the same room and chat with her mother. The woman who'd failed to stake him for the past year--when it would have been *so* easy. The woman who, for a moment, had trusted him to protect those dearest to her.

The woman who had uninvited him from her house.

Who'd kissed him so passionately when under a love spell.

The woman who had said, "The only chance you had with me was when I was unconscious."

Yeah. That was her. The Slayer. *His* Slayer, in more ways than one.

The bus was scheduled to arrive in Los Angeles a few hours before sunrise. So he'd have some time to prowl, find a place to crash--a place where his darling grandsire wouldn't find him. Unless, of course, he *wanted* to be found. Spike emptied the contents of his pockets onto the seat next to him. Zippo, smokes, seventy-five bucks, tattered wallet-shot of the Slayer, and a funny little bracelet made out of wooden beads strung onto elastic. The beads were turquoise and pink, and some of them featured little designs. Except for the ones in the middle. They were plain varnished wood, with letters on. Letters spelling out "Dawn."

"Take me with you," she'd said.

"Niblet, that's crazy and you know it. Talk about incentive for big sis to make with the stake..."

"Yeah, but nobody here really understands. I'm dangerous to them--all of them--I don't want anyone else to get hurt because of me. When I saw those crazy people at the hospital, and I thought about what Glory did....The longer she's around here, searching for The Key, the more people she'll do stuff to. And not just strangers--Xander, Willow, Mr. Giles...Buffy. I'm scared to leave, Spike--but I'm more scared of what'll happen if I stay. If I go away, maybe she'll give up."

"Listen Dawn, even if you skip town with me, it would only prolong the inevitable. Glory'd still be looking for The Key, and since she doesn't know it's you, it'd make no difference to her whether you left or not. Unless, of course, it tipped her off that there was something 'unusual' about you. Then what? Either way, people'd still be getting brain sucked. That's going to happen regardless of where you are. But if you leave, it hurts your family, your friends, way more than you realize. Not knowing where you are, if you're safe-it'd destroy Buffy. And I *know* you don't want that. You're a smart person. And a good one. Anyway, don't worry--the Slayer'll make everything OK, like she always does. And I'll keep in touch."

Dawn nodded acquiescence, even as a tear rolled down her cheek. She looked up at him with a watery smile.

"Yeah, well you'd *better* keep in touch. Hold on to this just to remind yourself. Hopefully, it'll make you  think about me and feel guilty. So you'll call and write me...a lot."

She dropped the trinket into his palm, squeezing his hand closed with both of hers. Her hands were so warm. His throat felt tight. Those wacky feelings again. Damnit.

"I'm a vampire, remember? I don't feel guilt."

"Whatever. There's a first time for everything. And an exception to every rule. And a whole bunch of other clichés I won't go into right now. Just don't forget about me, OK?"

********

Spike re-pocketed his meager collection of possessions. His other valuables remained back in Sunnydale. The De Soto, which he'd otherwise have been driving, needed a bit of tinkering, and there hadn't been time to mess around with it. He'd hated leaving it behind--not having wheels really undercut his independence--not to mention his image. Well, he'd go back for it as soon as the coast was clear. His TV was locked in the trunk. No point leaving it in the crypt--no telling who or what might bust in there while he was away. A car and a television set...those were his "valuables." A Slayer and her little sister. They meant more to him than anything he could beg, borrow, or steal.

*Shit. Better off with the sodding TV. Better companionship, and at least it's not trying to kill me.*

He looked out the window. They were finally pulling up to the depot. He watched as the other passengers filed off the bus. The kid with the Walkman, the old lady he'd chased away from the adjoining seat with a dirty look. The pregnant girl with the sad eyes. Just about the Slayer's age, that girl. She didn't seem too thrilled about her condition.

Spike lit up the minute he hit the pavement. Damned if this dead body wasn't addicted to nicotine. That, or just desperately in need of oral gratification. Which reminded him. He was hungry. Ducking into an alleyway a few blocks from the bus station, he reached into the plastic grocery bag he'd been toting. Dawn had swiped a couple of blood bags for him. Getting sneaky, that little one. He'd have been proud, but he knew the kid would catch hell when and if her big sister found out what she'd been up to. Another thing to count against old Spike--more fuel to the fire, as if it were necessary. He drank one bag.

*Save the other for later, mate. You don't know when you'll see your next meal.*

As he tried to get his bearings, he heard a scream that quickly choked off to something more muffled. The sound came from behind an adjoining building. Curious, he rounded the corner. The smell of fear hit like a wave. He heard a single pounding heartbeat, and expected the scent of blood to be next. But it wasn't in the air. Not yet, anyway. The scream had come from the pregnant bus passenger. She was being pushed up against a dingy brick wall by a male vamp. Another watched the action but, strangely, hung back from assisting his companion in the kill.

"Well, boys, really. This simply won't do. Don't you know it isn't nice to pick on ladies who are in a family way?"  Spike sauntered over. Man, the one holding the girl was ugly, not to mention dirty. And smelly. Spike grabbed his shoulder and whirled him around before he could sink his fangs into his prey.

"Gah, Junior--you stink--blokes like you are an embarrassment to the species." He ducked a wild swing from Pepe Le Pew, and decked him in one. Spike stole a glance at the girl as he knelt on the vamp's chest. She was shaking like a leaf and holding an arm protectively around her belly.

"Get out of here, luv--now." Smart girl--didn't need to be told twice. She ran for her life, never looking back.

"And as for you, ya putrid pillock..." The stake Spike kept in the back of his jeans made short and dusty work of the hapless fiend. But he hadn't forgotten the other one. He turned, expecting that it had fled--it hadn't seemed much of a fighter. Instead...

"I-I'm sorry. I don't know...I don't know how! I don't want to do this....Help me!"

*What the hell?* Tears were streaming from the other vamp's eyes--but they weren't tears of fear, so much as despair. And it was more than uncanny insight that told Spike this. He felt it. He felt himself inside the kid's--and he *was* a kid at his turning, only seventeen or so--head. Inside his heart. This was something more than empathy. This vamp had feelings--of remorse, of sorrow--that Spike was experiencing as if they were his own. He wasn't going to be able to dust this vamp, because this was more than a vampire. There was something wrong, here. Something fucked up beyond belief.

He shook his head at the boy. This was too much. Too bloody much for him to take.

"I can't help you, kid. But I won't kill you, so count your blessings."

"N-no! You *have* to kill me. I can't take this anymore--I don't wanna be a monster. Please, do what you did to Brad. Stake me. Make it over, please!"

The boy dropped to his knees and clutched at Spike's duster, begging for his own death.

"Forget it, kid. I don't know what's wrong with you, but whatever it is, I can't help. Get out of here. If you want to off yourself, go ahead. There are plenty of ways. But don't ask me to do you in. Now go-get lost!"

Suddenly, the boy grew still. His eyes were deadly calm as he held the elder vampire's gaze.

"Of course, you're right.  It's *my* responsibility. I'm responsible. I'll take care of it."

Spike didn't like the sound of that. Especially once he realized that the kid's lips hadn't been moving when he'd said it. In fact, his lips hadn't moved for the duration of this "conversation." Spike had heard a voice, but it hadn't come from the other vampire's mouth. The boy hadn't properly "said" anything. Yet Spike had heard every word.

*Oh, this is lovely. Just when I thought things couldn't get any stranger. First loving the Slayer, then channeling poncey William. Now I'm an undead sodding mind reader. What's--*

He was slow to react as the boy lunged toward him. In a flash, the hand that a moment ago had held his stake...didn't. But another hand did. And as the young vampire plunged it into his own heart, Spike heard...nothing.

Nothing except the clatter of wood against asphalt.

*Welcome back to La-la Land, Spikey Boy.*