From dust it came, from dust it returns.
An evil vanquished, no soul to burn.
It waits in silence, embraced in death,
For an undead soul to return its breath.

"I never thought I would find the answer to that riddle." Dracula bowed his head almost reverently. "Thank you, Spike, for falling in love with The Slayer. Thank you, Spike, for being the lovesick fool that you have always been, inspiring you to recover your soul."

Dracula gripped the glass cross more tightly. "And thank you, Spike, for accepting my gracious invitation. You will be the instrument that will help me to finally use the power trapped within the dust. Once you are here, once I have obtained a portion of your blood, I will mix it with Mon-Harkan's remains. It will be only I who will drink from my goblet; only I who will obtain the power of Mon-Harkan."

"For your example of being love's fool, Spike, has also saved me from a mistake I almost made. I would have shared the powerful cocktail with Elizabeth were it not for her defiance, which then reminded me how love made such a fool of you."

"So, yes, thank you, Spike, for helping me to reach my goal -- a goal that I have fought so hard and for so long to obtain. Soon. Soon all the creatures of this world will once again tremble at the name of Count Dracula."

Gripping his treasure, Dracula's thoughts turned to how he was going to rule this world. His plans were finally coming together. His dark army was nearly complete. He had a powerful queen to rule by his side. Once Spike arrived, the end to his quest would be at hand.

Reverently gazing at the cross filled with the powerful red dust, he slowly returned it to its hiding place within the goblet's stem. Taking the cup, he screwed the stem back on the goblet. He placed the goblet back within the alcove and closed his family's coat of arms. A loud click was heard as it snapped shut.

"Soon this land will flow with blood again," he sighed. "Victor!" he suddenly shouted. His back turned to the open door that led to the balcony, he shouted Victor's name again out into the hallway beyond the parlor.

Victor's heart leapt with fear. He spun around and rushed down the balcony and into the small sitting room, then to the door that led out. Quietly closing it, he ran to the next door that led into the large parlor where his master waited.

Holding one hand over his chest, he willed his heart to slow down. It would not do for his master to feel the excitement and terror that now rushed through his system. Hearing his master bellow his name again, he gripped the doorknob and slowly opened the door.

"Yes, Master?" Victor calmly asked.

"Any news of Spike's whereabouts?"

Victor abjectly bowed his head. "Yes, Master. I've been told that he and his team have been spotted at the nearest village. They stopped there to eat dinner and stay for the night."

"Excellent. Since the sky is so heavily overcast and with nightfall so near, I think I will meet them at the restaurant. Is everything prepared in the castle for his visit? I want him to feel as comfortable as possible."

"All is in place, as you ordered, Master."

"Excellent. I will be leaving soon, then. Daniel!" he shouted as he left the room. "I want my open carriage readied; not the coach. I will be going to the village." Dracula briskly walked down the corridor to his bedroom in order to dress appropriately for a visit with his old acquaintance.

Victor lingered in the center of the parlor, listening to his master's fading bootsteps. Quickly rushing to the door, he then quietly closed it and spun around. He ran to the alcove that held the Tepes family crest.

Reaching up, he touched the dragon's eyes in the same sequence that he had seen his master perform. After tapping the right eye for the last time, he heard a click. His hands shook as he pulled the crest open. There, within a hidden chamber, lay a jewel-encrusted golden goblet. He pulled the goblet out, removed the stem and examined the cross closely.

"You did not trust me enough to tell me about the goblet and cross, but you told her!" he snarled. "You see more value in Elizabeth and Spike, a weak-hearted fool, than in me. I've done so much for you, given up so much, and this is how you repay me?"

By Ldynwaitin

Victor tightly gripped the goblet and held the cross up to the light. "You have underestimated my true worth, my dear Dracula. Truly. We'll see who ends up being whose master."

~~~~~~~~

The tiny restaurant, where Spike and the rest of the Big B.A.D.S. sat waiting to order dinner, was as quaint and charming as the town of Bistritz itself. The décor was rustic, but since the town catered to tourists, the menu was quite extensive and had something to please every palate. It was also only a short distance from the village inn where they would be spending the next few days.

A pretty waitress in native Romanian costume dropped off their beverages, including a pitcher of dark ale, then took their dinner orders and hurried off towards the kitchen.

It wasn't long until their meal was before them, and they all dug in with relish. Exhausted from a long day of traveling, they ate in silence, preferring to talk shop after they had filled their stomachs.

Although they had received only a few curious looks from the locals when they arrived, the general atmosphere had been very quiet. But the silence had gradually been replaced by hushed bits and pieces of conversations from all around the room. Spike's vampire hearing made it easy for him to eavesdrop, and what he heard annoyed him.

One old man spoke in fearful whispers about virgin girls being spirited away by vampires from some other country. "Thank God," he had exclaimed, "that Count Dracula was able to drive off the intruders."

Several other patrons echoed his sentiment and voiced their gratitude for the count's prompt action and steadfast protection of their town.

Spike, of course, was appalled by their naïve and foolish devotion to their dark ruler. He leaned across the table and quietly confided his opinion to the others.

"Do you believe these bloody people? They're either all very stupid or just as clueless as the entire population of Sunnydale used to be every time my Slayer was waist-deep in protecting their arses from whichever dodgy demons were wreaking havoc."

Spike hadn't even noticed his slip in calling Buffy his Slayer. Subconsciously, he constantly missed Buffy and desperately longed to see her. For a moment, he sat there lost in thought until Mena cleared her throat and brought his focus back to the topic at hand.

Shaking his head, he continued, "I can't believe they actually think their kindly, old neighborhood vampire is looking out for their interests. Trust me, Drac only looks out for number one. That wanker's got them all on a tight chain -- too afraid to see the truth, even when it's slapping them full in the face. They'll be in for quite a shock when that truth finally comes out."

Xander looked up thoughtfully. "Well, Spike, you know that as far as Dracula and his influence over these people is concerned, it's probably been this way for... oh... say... ever." He realized what he'd said was pretty much a given, but he just shrugged and smiled as he popped the last morsel of his meal into his mouth.

Haley swallowed her last bite and said, "I agree with you, Xander." This caused a slightly shocked look on Xander's face, but he quickly recovered as she continued.

"These people may wonder who the rogue vampires are, where they came from, and who they work for. But I would be willing to wager that, given their blind devotion to Dracula, they would never suspect the intruders could be working for the very one they believe is protecting them."

Mena had been chatting with Illyria about some of the sights they had seen along their route to Transylvania. She caught the end of Haley's comment and directed her attention to her and the others.

"Do you really think so, Haley? While we were eating, I heard a woman at the table behind me say that Dracula killed the intruders who were caught. She said he did it for his people and promised to keep an eye out for any more strangers, which is probably why they scrutinized us so carefully when we walked in."

"Wouldn't be the first time the bastard killed his own minions," Spike sneered. "They do his dirty work, then he gets rid of them to keep the charade alive, and the townsfolk are none the wiser."

As the others continued to talk amongst themselves, Illyria suddenly felt uneasy but was not sure why. She decided that Spike and Xander had been right to convince her to wear Fred's features before exiting their vehicle. These villagers were indeed too rustic and narrow-minded to accept her blue 'rock star' appearance.

She began to study the other patrons of the establishment, many of whom had been trying to listen to their conversation and were now eyeing them suspiciously. Cautiously, she touched Spike's arm to get his attention.

"Spike, Xander? Several of the citizens are regarding us strangely. I detect a curious yet hostile intent from many of them, and I sense the possibility they may mean to inflict harm. I will make a pre-emptive strike and stop them before they can attack," she stated.

She began to rise, intent on facing a particularly hostile group and ready to test the powers she had retained in order to protect her friends. At that moment, several things happened simultaneously.

Xander opened his mouth and began to exclaim, "Illyria, no. Wait for--" Just then, his eyes landed on a newcomer to the room. His mouth remained agape, and he found it impossible to continue speaking.

Immediately on edge and breaking out in a cold sweat, Xander was painfully aware that Dracula had arrived at the restaurant. He would never admit to the others that he had sensed the count's presence the moment he arrived.

Frantically, Xander started quietly whispering the will-strengthening mantra that Mena had taught him. Mena heard his chanting and laid a friendly, reassuring hand upon his to let him know that she was there for him -- that they were all there for him.

In that same moment, Spike had also placed his hand on Illyria's arm in order to restrain her. "Blue, don't. It isn't worth it. Look!" he pointed to the entrance of the restaurant and the handsome figure standing there.

By Ldynwaitin

"Dracula!" he whispered.

Illyria tilted her head as she sat back down and examined the stranger with puzzled scrutiny.

"This is Dracula?" she asked incredulously. "This appealing yet otherwise unremarkable creature is the Dracula? Where is the tyrant who strikes fear in the hearts of his enemies and made the rivers of their vanquished empires run red with blood? I see no ruthless conqueror here -- only an insignificant half breed in odd theatrical garb."

Illyria shifted her eyes from Dracula to look at Spike in bafflement as he laughed at her assessment of the count.

"You got that right, Blue," he chuckled. "Poncy bugger always did go in for the dress blacks, cape, vest, and boots -- except for his typical poofy, white shirt, of course. Considers his style vampire chic, I'd wager. Told you the tosser was over-romanticized."

"Unlike you, Spike, this vampire is not the embodiment of a warrior," she concluded as she terminated her appraisal of Dracula. "I am, therefore, neither threatened nor impressed."

Xander slowly turned to look at what, or rather whom, was now the center of attention for the entire assemblage in the restaurant, save Illyria, who had summarily dismissed him from her concern.

"Yes, Illy, believe it or not, that is most certainly him!" Xander gulped as he returned his gaze to his table of friends.

He shuddered at the mere thought of being in the same country as Dracula, let alone in the same room with him. Trying desperately to calm his fears, he decided the best course of action would be to continue chanting. So that is exactly what he did.

Illyria shrugged. "Then I still wish to meet with this so-called legend. Perhaps his power will become more apparent if I see him face to face and have discourse," she stated rather dryly.

"Well, Blue, looks like your wish may very well be granted. The 'legend', and his little entourage, are on their way over here. Right now, in fact!" He nodded towards the group heading in their direction.

With slow, graceful movements, Dracula made the short trek to the table where the Big B.A.D.S. were seated. Although Spike was the one he was really here to see, the count made an exaggerated effort to mingle with every villager he encountered.

Some bowed humbly before him. Others just removed themselves from his path out of respect. Several of them even dropped to their knees and kissed their dark prince's hand before they scurried quickly out of his way. Dracula simply nodded his head and allowed his subjects to continue their show of respect and admiration.

Mena and Haley were fascinated by the obvious adoration the villagers displayed for their 'hero'. Xander, however, was squirming in his seat as the count drew nearer. He knew full well the power Dracula had over mere mortals.

Spike watched the whole display with a mixture of bemusement and disgust. He could see that Dracula considered these people more like pets and possessions than individuals of any real value.

Illyria simply sat back and considered the reactions of the others since she had already decided this prince of darkness held little interest for her.

As Dracula reached their table, he and Spike gave each other a wary look before their eyes locked and held. Both vampires gave a polite nod of recognition and feigned camaraderie, but in reality, neither one trusted the other.

Spike and Dracula needed something from one another, albeit for different reasons. One hoped to recover an object to help save the world; the other hoped to tap into a power that could help him control the world.

Flashing his most brilliant smile, Dracula proceeded to introduce himself, giving the others the opportunity to do the same.

"Good evening," he began, his voice almost hypnotic. "I am Count Dracula, and I welcome you to Transylvania. Spike and I have known each other for many years, but I have not had the pleasure of making your acquaintances."

Xander sat there silently miffed that Dracula had not remembered him from Sunnydale, but at the same time, he did not want to remind the count that he had once been under his thrall. Without looking directly into the vampire's eyes, Xander very quietly murmured his name in greeting.

Dracula smiled at him, then turned and bowed gallantly to Mena and Haley, who sat studying him warily but were definitely intrigued. Dracula, after all, was very seductive and charming and quite handsome. They smiled as they introduced themselves to the renowned vampire.

He then turned his attention to Illyria who regarded him coldly.

"I am Illyria, god k---," she began curtly.

Spike immediately interrupted her sentence to insert, "--goddess of the rock music world. Wait till you see her in costume." His eyes pleaded with her to remain quiet and also with the others to back him up in his ruse.

Mena caught on immediately and blurted out, "Oh, yes. Illyria and the Midnight Blues -- she's the lead in an awesome, new rock band. Perhaps you've heard of them, sir?"

Illyria gave Spike a scathing look but held her tongue. She had lost interest in the Transylvanian half-breed, anyway.

The count, however, had sensed something different about this woman. Although from all outward appearances, she was nothing more than a lovely, young woman, power still emanated from her body. Perhaps she was a witch.

Dracula looked upon her curiously for another moment, sensing her power, but said nothing. Needless to say, Spike and the others were more than happy not to give him any more information on Illyria at all.

Returning to Mena's question, Dracula replied, "No, my dear. I am sorry to say I have never heard of the Midnight Blues, although I am sure the lady's talents are quite extraordinary. I live a rather sheltered life here in this region and prefer to cling to more traditional vampire ways, unlike my good friend, Spike, who appears to have abandoned them altogether."

"Wouldn't exactly call us friends," Spike scoffed as Dracula turned to face him. "I mean, mates don't forget to honor their debts, now do they?"

Dracula rolled his eyes and chuckled. "Surely, Spike, you are not still holding such a petty grudge. That was a simple oversight--"

"Petty? Bloody hell, man. That was eleven quid. No paltry sum in those days, and now with interest and inflation, plus the value of real estate going up, I'd say it's amounted to a right sizeable fortune, and you still owe it to me. So be a friend and pay up."

The count continued to laugh nervously. "Ah, Spike, your tenacity for details is still as sharp as your sarcastic wit, but what does this have to do with real estate?"

"Dirt!" Spike exclaimed. "Always had to have your special dirt, didn't you? Couldn't sleep without it. Well, dirt is real estate, and from what I remember, you were plenty glad to have me provide it for you."

"Very well, Spike, but perhaps we should settle this private matter later," the count muttered in frustration. "I didn't come here to relive old grievances. I am here to reassure you about my offer of a truce." Dracula then began to address the entire team.

"I understand that you have undertaken a quest to secure a series of mystical artifacts, and that your search has brought you to my homeland. These artifacts will be used to perform the ritual Offering that will safeguard the existence of all magical creatures, myself included. Therefore, it is in my best interest to assist you in any way I can."

"That is the reason I sought you out, Spike. I wish to offer myself or any of my people to help you find whatever artifact you are looking for in my part of the world. Please be assured that my resources are at your full disposal." He had delivered his entire speech ever so elegantly and fully expected them to believe him.

The Big B.A.D.S. looked at one another in surprise. They certainly hadn't expected Dracula to be this forthcoming, not to mention -- congenial. One thing was certain though. None of them completely trusted him, and there was no way they were about to tell him that the artifact they needed was none other than his own goblet.

"Allow me to extend my hospitality to you and your companions, Spike," Dracula continued graciously. "Please accept my invitation and stay with me in my castle during your entire visit in my country. I am ready to receive you this very evening. Perhaps we can begin to search for the object you need. I insist."

His offer was met with nervous silence. None of them felt very comfortable spending time in Dracula's castle in broad daylight, let alone spending their nights there. They politely declined, explaining that they were very tired from their journey and had already moved their bags into rooms at the village inn, which had been not only reserved but also were paid for in advance by their employer.

"Spike, surely you are not too tired at this early evening hour," Dracula coaxed. "That is quite contrary to your very nature. Come, let us reminisce together."

Spike eyed the count knowingly, smirking to show he held no fear and also realized he was being goaded.

"No, I'm not all that knackered. The rest of you could get unpacked and have a good night's rest while Drac and I talk over old times."

He immediately got worried looks from all his teammates. Brushing off their protests, he addressed the count again.

"Sounds like a good idea to me. Like to see what you've done with the castle -- wager you haven't modernized at all yet. Just let me drop my mates off first, and then I'll follow behind you in the SUV."

Dracula turned to look at him curiously. "Why would you do that? There is no need to drive yourself when I have perfectly good transportation waiting right outside. The rest of your comrades can join us in the morning. Unless, of course, you are uncomfortable riding with me in my carriage? Surely you have nothing to fear from me, Spike," he scoffed as if offended.

Spike stood up and looked Dracula in the eye, clearly insulted. Despite his soul's influence, the Big Bad was still there. In spades!

"Never did consider you much to fear, mate. After surviving the demon trials and living through two apocalypses, I think I can handle a bloody, bumpy carriage ride with you. Just need to talk with my mates for a moment, and I'll be right with you."

Xander and Mena held their breath. It was apparent that Dracula's challenge had touched off some anger in Spike, and his macho bravado was taking over. Illyria was enjoying Spike's posturing, but the others hoped they wouldn't all end up regretting his impulsive behavior.

Dracula's smile broke the tension. "Excellent. Then it is settled. It will be good to have you as my honored guest again after so many years. Please, put your friends at ease, and I will await you at the door."

With another bow, Dracula bade them goodnight, promised to see them all again soon, and then moved toward the restaurant's exit.

Spike turned to the others, and they jumped on him all at once. Xander insisted that Dracula couldn't be trusted. Haley and Mena worried about him being stuck at the castle without the SUV. Illyria did not think it was a good strategy to split up the team in unfamiliar territory, although she knew Spike could more than handle this 'poor excuse for a legend' single-handedly.

Spike patiently tried to dispel their fears. "Look, I'll get a start on sussing out the whereabouts of this goblet, and then we can come up with a plan to snag it. Drac needs something from me -- I can sense it -- so I reckon he'll be on his best behavior."

Xander began to protest again, but Spike cut him off. "If there's any trouble," he said, patting his cell phone, "I'll call for reinforcements. Right, then. See you all in the morning."

As Spike walked through the room to catch up to Dracula, the villagers quickly moved out of his way. They were astounded by the brash stranger and his fearless attitude toward the count. When Spike reached the door, Dracula swept it open and guided him outside to a carriage pulled by a magnificent, black horse.

"I am very glad you accepted my invitation, Spike. We have so many years to catch up on, don't you think?"

"Yeah, if you say so, but somewhere along that trip down memory lane, you'd better come up with the money you owe me. And by the way, I have another bone to pick with you about making those moves on my Slayer."

Dracula looked embarrassed for a moment, but laughed as he responded, "Ah, yes, Miss Summers. I do apologize for that, although I had no idea at the time that you were so fond of her. I was simply trying to awaken her darker instincts, but it appears as though I was no match for your obviously more persuasive techniques."

"You'd do well to remember that," Spike boasted as he climbed up onto the carriage seat. "In fact, I'm half tempted to give you Buffy's special regards like she asked me to."

"I assure you that won't be necessary," Dracula nodded thoughtfully, "I learned my lesson where your Buffy is concerned, although I did allow her to 'defeat' me. Apparently, Spike, she has vanquished you, as well, although perhaps in a much more pleasant fashion. Yes?"

By Ldynwaitin

Spike grinned in agreement as the count ordered his coachman to take off. The whip cracked over the horse's head, and the carriage lurched forward, heading out of Bistritz toward the mountain pass and Castle Drakul.

~~~~~~~~

"Pay attention or you'll miss the turn!" Lia snarled, pointing to the map.

Mike abruptly pulled the Range Rover off the main road and headed up the mountainside on what looked like a forgotten cart path.

"Way ahead of you, honey." He smiled sweetly, mostly because he knew it would piss her off.

He was right.

Lia glared at him, and he chuckled triumphantly as she threw the map down in exasperation and then returned to ignoring him.

Mike's cheerful mood changed, though, as he drove deeper into the dense woods. It was already approaching dusk, and he was in unfamiliar territory.

Great, he thought glumly. Just what I wanted to do -- get even farther off the beaten path where no one ever hears your screams.

As usual, Wolfram & Hart spies had tipped them off that Spike and his team had left Budapest for Transylvania, with one of Dracula's castles as their ultimate destination. Mike had been faxed a map of the Carpathian Mountains and the surrounding area with directions to the residence where the Count was currently believed to be staying.

About half an hour earlier, Mike had also received an urgent phone call directly from Sirk and was now replaying that call in his head. The current CEO of the almost rebuilt L.A. branch of Wolfram & Hart hadn't even bothered to say hello when Mike answered the phone; he simply launched into one of his typically impersonal monologues.

"My more industrious informants have reported that Dracula has just met with Spike's team in the village of Bistritz and has extended an invitation to them to visit his castle. Spike, alone, has accepted the offer and is on his way to the castle as we speak. Since Dracula's intentions are at best questionable, and as Spike seems extremely adept at flying under your radar, I suggest you take this fortuitous tip seriously and transport yourself to the vicinity of the Count's castle immediately."

Mike tried vainly to explain, "With all due respect, sir, we've been aware of Spike's probable destination since he left Budapest, and we're heading there now."

But 'Mr. Personality', as Mike referred to Sirk in his private thoughts, was in no mood for excuses or explanations.

"Even when you've been aware in these past weeks, Rosales, the vampire has still managed to elude you. I hope, for your sake, you don't lose sight of him this time." Sirk paused for a moment to let the menacing tone of his words sink in and then continued on with his orders.

"At this point, all you need do is set up camp in the hills near the castle and keep watch from a safe distance. There may be no need to enter the castle; however, be prepared to come to Spike's aid should he require assistance, and above all, make sure he remains safe. That particular point I cannot emphasize enough. Spike's safety is essential for our firm's future. Is this understood?"

"Yes, sir." Actually, Mike had no quibbles with that one aspect of his job.

"And need I remind you that you have yet to obtain a single artifact? Make it your second priority to acquire Dracula's Goblet, second only to Spike's protection. Once his team has it in their possession, do your best to secure it before they have time to get it to safekeeping. Are there any other details I need to make you aware of, in particular the consequences of yet another failure?"

"No, sir," Mike had answered flatly, well aware of Lia's contemptuous smirk as she listened to their exchange. "I understand completely. Protect Spike and do everything we can to take possession of the goblet. We're on our way."

Without another word, Sirk had terminated the call, and Lia had begun her usual complaints against Spike for the zillionth time. To her annoyance, though, Mike had not risen to her bait. He had simply tuned her out and focused all his attention on his driving and his own thoughts. So Lia returned to studying the maps in preparation for any emergency that might arise.

During the rest of the drive, as he scrambled to get them into position in case all hell were to once again break loose, Mike's thoughts jumped from scenario to scenario. He tried to imagine just what Wolfram & Hart's endgame might be in regards to both Spike and The Offering on September 22.

On the surface, he would have thought their assignment seemed like 'business as usual', but underneath, there were some things making Mike feel increasingly uneasy.

After that big Pow Wow in Ann Arbor, in which Sirk and his band of dead Wolfram & Hart lawyers had faced off against the Council's two artifact gathering teams and their friends from The Powers That Be, the main crux of Mike's assignment had been to tail Spike's team, provide help only if needed, and above all -- maintain a low profile.

Ever since Nebraska, though, the emphasis had seemed to slightly shift, and Mike couldn't figure out why. Sirk had become increasingly more adamant that they try to secure one of the artifacts themselves. At first, he had used the excuse that it was sort of an 'insurance policy' in case either of the Council's teams were unable to gather all the mystical items needed for the ritual in time for the Autumnal Equinox.

Mike reasoned that finding an artifact on their own could be viewed as being helpful for a common cause. But stealing one from Spike's team before they got it to safekeeping? That wasn't helping to achieve a common goal. It was obstruction.

Additionally, Sirk insisted that Mike and Lia keep even closer tabs on Spike and ensure his safety at all costs. Mike thought that was a bit odd. Sirk didn't care about any of the others at all, not even the former god-king, Illyria. Only Spike. That certainly suggested that the firm planned to use Spike in some way.

Mike wondered if their screw up in Houston was behind Sirk's new obsession about Spike's safety.

When the first confrontation with Hyllus took place, they were on their way to lend a hand but had arrived at the Reliant Center too late. The local authorities, assuming some sort of terrorist activity was taking place, had the building completely surrounded, making it impossible for them to get inside to protect Spike.

Later Spike, Illyria and Xander had once again given them the slip when they faced Hyllus the second time and killed him. Mike and Lia had been parked outside the hospital, thinking they were all still inside with Mena.

Sirk had pretty much read the riot act to Mike when he found out. He had admonished Lia as well, although to a lesser degree, and threatened to replace them if they failed again to be in the right place at the right time. The self-righteous bastard had been absolutely livid when he accused them of negligence that had nearly resulted in Spike being dusted.

As far as the artifact gathering was concerned, Mike never really bought Sirk's crap about needing a backup plan. That pretence was nothing but a smokescreen. Mike had no doubts that Spike would do his part. The vamp had given his word, and it was clear that he had both a sense of honor and an understanding of the importance of the artifacts and The Offering.

Mike figured Sirk simply wanted possession of an artifact as a ticket to The Offering -- that Wolfram & Hart wanted to participate in hope of gaining still more power.

Of course, Sirk had given his word in Ann Arbor, too. He had promised that the Senior Partners would not interfere, and the firm would stop pursuing Spike -- at least, in terms of trying to convert him or trick him into joining them. They would send only Mike and Lia as backup, in case assistance was needed, and no other Wolfram & Hart operatives would have any hands-on involvement. Yeah, right.

Mike suspected that the intense concern for Spike's welfare was not the least bit altruistic, and he doubted that Sirk had ever intended to keep his promises in the first place.

At that very same summit meeting, Mike had overheard a conversation between Spike and Sirk's very foxy but ditzy secretary, Harmony. Any idiot could have seen that Harmony cared for Spike. She had quietly told Spike that she wasn't very happy working for Sirk, and she had hopes of maybe working with 'the good guys' again.

Even though Spike had pocketed Harmony's business card with her 'secret' cell phone number scribbled on the back, he had immediately distanced himself from her. Assuming Spike would not be contacting her, Mike had decided he could play on her affection for the vamp instead. He smiled to himself as he recalled how smoothly he had wooed the buxom blonde over to the less dark side.

~~Flashback ~~
Early June
University of Michigan Law Quad Corridor

"So, Miss Kendall," Mike crooned, "or do you prefer Harmony? That's such a lovely name, by the way, paled only by your bodacious beauty."

Hands on hips, she gave him a pretty pout as she asked, "Who are you and why should I care?"

"Actually, Harmony, I'm a good friend of Spike's," he lied a little, "and I couldn't help but notice that you are, too. That's why I think you'll be the perfect person to help me out with a little problem."

She smiled, so Mike knew she'd taken the bait, and he started to reel her in. Noting that Lia had left the building, deep in conversation with Sirk, Mike stepped up close to Harmony and drew her aside, so they could speak privately.

"My name is Mike Rosales, and I've been assigned to follow Spike and serve as backup, but I don't trust our employers. I have very good reason to believe that Wolfram & Hart, and your boss in particular, may not have Spike's best interests at heart."

"I knew it!" she exclaimed.

"I just overheard you tell Spike that you're not exactly happy in your current position, and that you'd love to work with the 'good guys' again. What if I had a way for you to do just that and help keep Spike one step ahead of the game as far as the firm is concerned?"

Mike had given her his very best James Bond impression, sans the British accent, and he could almost see the wheels turning in that pretty, if not over-bleached, head of hers. Unfortunately, though, she wasn't quite hooked yet.

by nmcil

"Well, I do want to help Spike," she hesitated, "but not at risk to myself, naturally. I mean, I don't have to get hurt or anything, do I? It would be different if he were still my boyfriend. You see, he used to be my Blondie Bear until that b---- until Buffy got her hooks in him and turned him into a Slayer-loving freak. Now he doesn't even give me the time of day, what with his 'soulfullness' and his 'white knight crusade', which he so wasn't into when he was with me."

Mike thought he was losing her, so he turned on the charm, the scare tactics, and the secret weapon -- cash.

"Look, Harmony," he pleaded, "I really am worried about Spike, and if you still care as much about him as I think you do, I hope you'll consider helping me. Spike saved my life, and I feel I owe him. Big time. I need someone on the inside who I can trust, and I just have this feeling that that someone is you. In fact, I'm so sure of it, I am willing to advance you a little, shall we say incentive for any and all information you can provide me with."

After handing her a wad of money, Mike hesitated, watching her face intently. Sure enough, that did it! This fish was as good as landed.

"Well, I did tell Angel that if he had only trusted me more, then I would've been more trustworthy. I really did want to be a loyal part of the gang."

"Of course. That only makes sense. You have to be willing to trust in order to gain someone's loyalty. I'll trust you, Harmony, and you can be loyal for Spike and me."

Mike gestured toward the money she was jamming into her purse. "I don't think you'll get a better deal than that, so what do you say? Can I count on you to help me look out for Spike?"

"All right," she finally agreed, "but it's only because I don't want to see anything bad happen to him -- not because I want him and Buffy to be happy together or something gross like that. I mean, I have no idea what he even sees in her -- she was soooo 'un-happening' in high school."

With one final sigh, Harmony added, "Also, I really don't like my new boss. Very snooty, if you know what I mean. And I've always thought I could be a fabulous Bond girl. Even my name sounds sorta like one, don't you think? So, what do you want me to do?"

Mike beamed at her and thanked God for his stroke of luck. Slipping her that first one hundred dollar 'incentive' had been worth it. He passed her his business card, so she'd know how to reach him, and she eagerly reciprocated.

"You can start helping 'the good guys', Harmony, by keeping your eyes and ears open and passing any interesting tidbits along to me discreetly. I'll do the rest."

~~~~~~~~

That was how, with the mention of Spike's name and a flash of cash, he had set up a little covert operation with Harmony Kendall, and they'd been in contact ever since.

Mike knew it was a dangerous game they were playing, but hell, Spike himself had mentioned 'leaving a back door open' to Wolfram & Hart. Mike figured there was no better back door than the one that Harmony had access to -- Sirk's office.

Hopefully, Spike would appreciate Mike's resourcefulness and would return the favor if he ever needed one. The way things were going lately, Mike was pretty sure he'd need that favor someday. If not for himself, then for his family.

Heading down the rut-filled mountain path, Mike's thoughts were jarred back to the present, and he glanced casually at his partner. She was staring impassively ahead, her jaw set in a permanent scowl.

Mike wasn't sure what she reminded him of most -- a ninja action figure or Bruce Lee in drag. Not that he ever wanted to explore that possibility, but Lia was puzzling him in other ways, too.

Her attitude towards him had changed a bit. Nothing drastic. She still hated his guts. She remained arrogant, verbally and mentally abusive, and as frigid and remote as the North Pole. But recently, she no longer watched him like a hawk. For some reason, that bothered Mike more than anything else.

It had been almost too easy the other night when he had slipped away to help Spike in the Hellmouth. His claim that he needed to find the kind of woman who 'put out' for the night had brought the expected look of disgust to her beautiful face, but other than that, she made no threats or protests at all. She simply turned and walked away. It was almost as though she had her own agenda.

He had no doubts that Lia had complained to Sirk about him. Maybe she even asked for a transfer, or to have him demoted, but Mike knew Sirk needed them both to complete this mission. He may have to deal with Lia later, but for now, he'd just make sure to continue to sleep with one eye open and keep his wits on alert.

There was one other thing bothering Mike, and he was almost embarrassed to admit it even to himself. Deep down inside the darkest reaches of his mind, the thought of actually dealing with Count Dracula, Prince of Darkness, was terrifying him.

Okay, he thought as he tried to reason out his fears, I know it's absurd. I deal on a daily basis with the occult world and all the big nasty evils it has to offer. So why is this bugging me so much? It can't be just the 'master vampire who has been around for centuries thing' because Spike's a master vampire, too.

Spike's well over a hundred years old and could easily outclass most, if not all, other vampires in the world. But then, he doesn't always act like a big, bad-ass master vampire, so maybe that's the difference. Okay, sure -- I've seen the demon in him, but for the most part, Spike just seems like a regular bad-ass, tough guy -- not a monster.

Dracula, though -- he's different. Bastard's pure evil, the stuff that nightmares are made of. Hell, I should know. The Count and his pals, Frankenstein and the Wolf Man, used to keep me up all night when I was a kid. You'd think I would've completely outgrown it by now -- but there's just something about dealing with a 'legend' that might still make me almost piss myself.

Mike laughed nervously as he tried to put his childhood fears behind him and concentrate on the road. The narrow cart path he was following suddenly widened and ended in a tree-lined clearing halfway up the hillside.

After stopping the SUV, he and Lia got out to survey the area. From their vantage point through the trees, they could look down on the main roads to and from the village; off to the right, against the mountain's rocky face, stood Castle Drakul. There was no sign of activity so far, except for the horse-drawn carriage in the courtyard, but soon they started to see the glow of lanterns within some of the castle's windows.

By Ldynwaitin

"Uhhh," Mike gulped as he felt cold chills rush through him at the sight of the castle. "It's already dusk. We have to get the tents up and mount the cameras before it gets too dark."

Lia gave him a puzzled look as she followed him back to the Rover. Mike rapidly pulled their gear from the back of the vehicle, all the time looking nervously around their wooded surroundings. He tested and retested the night vision equipment and loaded his 12-gauge rifle as well as several handguns.

"No doubt we're fresh out of the traditional silver bullets," he mumbled to himself as he continued to check the weapons.

By the time they had pitched the tents and rigged the tiny spy cams on the trees, darkness was upon them, and a damp fog began to descend on the mountaintops and the valley below. The wind picked up, and Mike listened intently to the rustling leaves and the sounds of the night.

Maybe it was just his imagination, but he was sure that over the creaking of the tree branches and the occasional hooting of an owl, he could make out the faint, yet mournful howling of a wolf. That sound, in particular, made his blood run cold and brought back memories of his "one on one" with those werewolves in Chicago. Memories he still struggled hard to suppress.

God! He shuddered as his mind flashed back on sharp claws, snarling fangs and fierce, golden wolf eyes. If it hadn't been for Spike, I would have had my throat ripped out.

Lia watched his distress with perverse pleasure and couldn't resist baiting him.

"What's the matter, Mike?" she sneered. "You expecting ghosts or monsters to come walking out of the woods? Maybe even some werewolves?"

Mike bristled at her taunting and thought of brushing her off with some false bravado, but he figured his cover was already blown. Lia would never back down now.

"Wouldn't surprise me to see that and a whole lot more," he replied. "This place just screams perfect setting for classic horror flick, with the thickening fog, the call of the wild off in the distance, and none other than the infamous Count's castle sitting right below us. That's creepy enough to freak me out. You, on the other hand, know no fear, of course. You probably never lowered yourself to watch any movie, let alone a horror flick."

Unable to control herself any longer, Lia burst into fits of raucous laughter. Mike found her exhibition frightening in its own right as he stood there, embarrassed and trying vainly to justify his fears.

"You mean to tell me that you're not even a little worried about Dracula?" he asked defensively.

Lia regained her haughty composure and began her verbal attack on Mike in earnest.

"What a pathetic excuse for a man you are, Rosales! Do you realize how ridiculous you sound? You work every day with the supernatural. Nothing demonic, mystical or evil should be frightening to you," she sneered in contempt, then continued before he had a chance to reply.

"That favorite 'super hero' of yours, Spike, is a vampire, maybe one of the worst in history, and you idolize him! Yet this vampire made infamous by cheap popular novels and trashy films -- Dracula, Prince of Darkness -- has you trembling in your boots and jumping at anything that goes bump in the night."

"I don't 'idolize' Spike. I do have a healthy respect for him because, whether you think so or not, he's earned it! If I fear Dracula, it's only because I don't trust the son of a bitch. Come on, Lia, you read the research on him the same as I did. He uses mind games to control his victims and has enthralled countless minions to do his dirty work."

Mike moved closer to Lia, until he was mere inches from her face and blasted her with more lurid truths.

"The bastard can control or take the shape of almost anything he wants: a bat, a wolf, even the fog. What other vampire does that? I'm just saying, I hope Spike knows what he's doing, meeting with this guy, because I'm definitely not looking forward to any face-to-face confrontation if we can avoid it."

Lia merely regarded him coldly and then continued her diatribe.

"Dracula," she spat, "is not our concern. Spike, however, is. Wolfram & Hart pays me good money to follow the object of their affection, so to speak, so that's exactly what I intend to do. Personally, I couldn't care less for the vampire's welfare, and I have a hard time comprehending your admiration for him. But you heard our orders. Sirk says Spike is critical to the success of this mission. Therefore, his safety is critical to the success of my career, so I'll defend him, despite what I think of him."

Lia's words were thick with contempt as she berated him. "I am sure that Sirk can count on me to do my job. What about you, Mike?" she smirked. "Can he depend on you to do your best, or will he once again find your performance severely lacking?"

Mike regarded her steadily for a moment, then shook his head. "I'm sure you'll give Sirk a full report of my shortcomings at your earliest opportunity," he said bitterly. "Of course, I'm required to turn in reports, too. You might want to keep that in mind."

Picking up his night vision scope and a thermos of coffee, he walked slowly towards the Rover. Opening the door, he turned back to see her still glaring at him.

"Actually, Lia, a little fear is what keeps me on top of my game. Don't worry, though, I'm sure Sirk will always consider you the best man he has for any job. Right now, I suggest you get yourself all safe and sound in your tent. I'm taking the first watch."

Smiling at the look of rage on her face, Mike got into the SUV and slammed the door.

~~~~~~~~

At the Wolfram and Hart Corporate Offices in San Francisco, Sirk waited impatiently as Harmony finished arranging the silver tea service and then proceeded to fuss over the assortment of biscuits on another tray. She hovered over her boss and his guest, pouring their tea and heaping their plates with endless sweets.

Her dutiful attention served only to further aggravate an already irritated Sirk. He consistently found Harmony mildly annoying and somewhat tawdry. Her skirts were too short, her blouse too low, her perfume overwhelmed him at times, and that dazzling smile was all but blinding. The only redeeming feature was that since he had 'inherited' her from Angel's former staff, she at least knew the ropes, so he didn't have to train another personal assistant.

Ethan Rayne, on the other hand, found the view of Harmony's shapely legs and ample cleavage quite exhilarating. He watched with obvious interest as she bent over to refill his cup.

"That will be all for now, Miss Kendall," Sirk muttered tersely. "I'm sure that we can attend to refreshments on our own."

"Oh, it's no problem, boss," she chirped. "I don't mind, and I know how to fix your tea just the way you like it. Angel always loved the special way I jazzed up his blood."

Sirk gave her a withering glance as Ethan raised his eyebrow questioningly.

"Yes, yes, I know you do, and I'm sure he did, but right now, my associate and I need to get down to business. You may go."

"Okay, but if you need me to take notes, or whatever, just call me because that's what I'm here for -- right?" She looked hopefully from one to the other, but Sirk's stern frown persuaded her to hurry her exit. "All right, well I ummm -- I'll be right outside if you need me. Bye now."

With a little wave and a pert toss of her hair, she left the office, pulling the door closed behind her.

When she was gone, Ethan winked at Sirk. "Charming!"

Sirk scoffed sarcastically, "Oh, indeed. But so very American. Too bad she's all beauty and very little brains. Nevertheless, she came with a letter of recommendation; both Angel and Hamilton found her somewhat --useful. Miss Kendall, however, is not a topic of importance. I suggest we move on to more pertinent issues."

"What do you want to know?" Ethan asked levelly.

"Will your associates be prepared to act on the 22nd of September, regardless of whether the COW teams are successful in securing all of the artifacts?"

"As long as the critical elements are in place," Ethan replied, "our commitment to you will be honored."

Sirk paused for a moment before asking his next question. "I understand that your niece is part of the vampire's team. Do you foresee that as presenting any problems for you?"

Ethan laughed softly. "Absolutely not. It's been years since I've even seen her; she may not recognize me at all. She was a mere child when I abandoned all family ties, so consequently, we were never close. I assure you, my benefactors are very committed to this cause and as eager as you are to see it come to a successful conclusion. Failure is simply not an option for any of us."

Harmony stood quietly outside Sirk's office door, pretending to organize the mail cart. She'd only been there a minute or so before she picked up on the 'all beauty and very little brains' line.

by nmcil

"Why, you insensitive, ungrateful jerk!" she pouted angrily but very quietly to herself. "See if I order your stupid Special Reserve Duke of Earl Grey or whatever tea the next time you run out. It's nothing but good, old Tetley tea for you from now on, bossy. And for your information -- maybe I don't have the biggest brain, but I'm not stupid! I'll show you, Mr. Stuffy Brit-pants. Who needs a giant brain when I have super vampire hearing to make up for it?"

After a few more minutes of shuffling the mail, she had heard all she needed to hear. She had promised to keep her eyes and ears open, and she had done that very well. Over the past few weeks, she had noticed Spike's name, or the words 'souled vampire' written on several notes on Sirk's desk.

The notes were next to some parchmenty scroll thingy with all these weird block letters and funny symbols on it. She had also heard Sirk mention Spike's name in a phone call and then again today in his conversation with that creepy Rayne guy.

Pushing the mail cart back against the wall, Harmony went to her desk and retrieved her purse and special, super secret cell phone. She headed off down the hall to find a private place to send Mike a text message, since she didn't want to risk being caught by any of her nosy co-workers. Being a spy was totally becoming way cool fun.

~~~~~~~~

On another continent and in a different time zone, Lia settled down into her sleeping bag at the campsite in Transylvania. She couldn't stop smirking as she recalled Mike's behavior a short while ago.

The man is a fool, she thought with smug satisfaction. I've known it all along, and I'll continue to make sure Sirk knows it, too.

Sirk had privately hinted to Lia his concerns that Mike didn't seem to be firmly committed to Wolfram and Hart's ultimate success in this mission. Lia took that to mean that Mike might soon be outliving his usefulness to the firm. She found herself hoping that when the time came, she'd be given the order to end his pitiful existence. All she had to do now was bide her time and live up to Sirk's expectations of her.

Just as she had expected and planned for all along, her own future with Wolfram and Hart was looking brighter all the time.

~~~~~~~

Mike stared intently at the spy cam images transmitted to his laptop. The mini-cameras trained down the mountainside to capture any activity in the valley below. So far, all was quiet. No sign of Dracula or Spike. He peered through the night vision goggles all around the campsite and, once again, was satisfied that nothing was amiss.

Just as he breathed a nervous sigh of relief, he felt that familiar vibration of his cell phone against his thigh and nearly jumped out of his skin. Cursing quietly, he grabbed the phone, flipped it open and saw he had another text message from Harmony. The note was short but gave him a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Overheard Sirk talking on phone about Spike. Saw Spike's name or 'souled vampire' on some memos. Sirk met today with creepy English guy who has a niece. Talked about Spike and artifacts and scroll with weird symbols. Oh, and Sept. 22. Thought you should tell Spike.
PS: Give Blondie Bear my love. Harmony

Mike leaned back against his headrest. "What the hell is that prick up to?" he asked himself in frustration.

Something was definitely rotten in Denmark, and it smelled like a double cross. Mike knew he had to warn Spike and his team. He also knew he needed to convince the vampire to help him secure asylum for his family and himself before things got ugly.

But right now, he figured Spike and the Count might be just sitting around, sipping cognac -- or whatever -- reliving the 'Gory Days', and there was no way he was going to walk up and knock on that castle door.

He also had no idea where Spike's team was staying in the village, and he sure as hell wasn't going to take a chance and go looking for them tonight. Not in this extremely heavy and increasingly spooky fog. He could barely see anything beyond the campsite without using the night vision goggles, as it was.

Thinking about that eerie fog made him glance nervously over both shoulders, and he felt the old childhood fears slowly creeping back again. He strained his ears to listen for any unusual sounds in the night. When he concentrated hard enough, he was sure he could still make out a muted howl in the not quite far enough distance.

Looking back at the tents, he could see that they were completely engulfed in the dense mist. Despite his terror, he found himself secretly, almost perversely wishing that if Dracula chose to make an appearance, or sent his 'children of the night' to do his bidding instead, that they would feast on Lia. And, of course, leave him alone.

"Aww, who the hell am I kidding?" he sighed. "With my luck, they'd find 'Bruce Lia's' ass too tough to chew, rip the SUV to shreds and eat me alive."

Trying desperately to shake those thoughts from his mind, Mike turned his attention back to the laptop screen. He wished he knew if Spike was all right down there.

"Jesus, man, get a grip on yourself," he muttered. Reaching for his thermos, he opted instead for the bottle of bourbon he had stashed under his seat. Downing several hearty swallows, he gripped his gun and his crucifix and prayed he'd see the sun rise.

~~~~~~~~

Spike sat in the impressive sitting room on the ground floor of Dracula's castle. Alone. A roaring fire blazed in the hearth, despite the fact that it was mid-August.

In contrast to Poienari, Dracula's original castle in the town of Brasov, where Spike had first met the count back in the day, this new residence was actually quite posh and extravagant. It even had a few modern touches here and there, revealing that Dracula was, quite uncharacteristically, entering the new millennium.

"Poncy bastard must be going soft," Spike chuckled to himself, admiring the ornate antique furniture, hand woven tapestries, and fine art that filled the room, as well as a state of the art sound system and shelf of CDs, tastefully concealed in a massive mahogany cabinet.

The soothing strains of a Liszt piano concerto played softly in the background, piped in from several speakers throughout the ground floor of the castle. Spike hummed along to the music, but after sifting through the count's limited CD collection, he concluded that Dracula's preference for classical music was a bit too bland to suit his own rock and roll enthusiast's taste.

He'd already been snooping around the immediate area, hoping that the damn goblet would be prominently displayed, but to no avail. Since he didn't think he should be so obvious as to search the rest of the castle, he had returned to his chair.

"How does a bloke surrounded by all this wealth justify not paying up on his debts?" he muttered. "On second thought", he shrugged, "maybe that's how he got so rich in the first place. Not like anyone ever forced the issue and lived to tell about it. Except for me, of course."

by Alllie

Somewhere in the foyer, a clock's melodious chimes rang out half past ten. Spike stood up and looked around impatiently. "What the hell is keeping that poser?" he grumbled.

During the carriage ride from the village, Dracula had been extremely interested in Spike. He'd asked endless questions about Spike's soul. How did he get it? Why? How had his life changed and what did he think his destiny was now? Spike had kept his answers brief and deliberately vague.

Similarly, Dracula had skillfully evaded any probing questions about himself or the strange occurrences in the area. In hopes of keeping up a pretence of good will, Spike had stopped short of accusing the count of being behind the rash of grave robbings, resurrections, and missing young girls.

Once they had arrived at the castle, the count had excused himself, telling Spike that there was someone very special he wanted him to meet. Inviting him to make himself at home, Dracula left Spike alone in the massive room and disappeared down the hallway. That had been nearly thirty minutes ago.

Spike hated to admit it, but he was feeling a tad uneasy about this whole situation. The opening of the Budapest Hellmouth and reports of marauding vampires carrying off young women from Bistritz seemed all too coincidental.

He had personally witnessed Victor's peculiar behavior, as well as the almost blind devotion of the villagers of Bistritz, so Spike knew that Dracula had to be behind it all and wondered what the count's endgame would turn out to be. Now, he found himself worrying about just whom or what the Count intended him to meet.

"Damn it all, Spike!" he cursed himself quietly. "Maybe the others were right to be worried. Should have taken my own advice and steered clear of this shifty bastard. Things are definitely looking right dodgy."

Spike couldn't believe he'd been so careless, allowing his pride and ego to make him throw caution to the wind and foolishly separate himself from his team. He hoped he hadn't led them all into a trap.

It wasn't that he couldn't take Dracula on in a one-on-one situation. He knew that was no problem. He just hadn't counted on there being a mystery guest with which to contend as well.

Pulling out his cell phone and praying the git wasn't sleeping like a log, he decided to call Xander and tell his friend to come pick him up. When his host returned, he'd just explain that he needed to get back to the Inn. He'd claim he'd forgotten that there was still a lot of information on the artifact they needed to review before they could enlist the count's assistance.

Once they were completely ready, they would return to seek Dracula's help in locating it. If the poof protested, he'd just say that his ride was already on the way. Then he'd make a quick exit -- or at least he hoped he would.

Quickly punching in Xander's number, he pushed the send key. The display flickered, and the words roaming -- no signal found trailed across the screen. Spike hit redial and then pushed send again. Still no luck!

"Bugger!" he swore, shaking the phone in frustration. Thinking that perhaps the thick stone structure of the castle was interfering with the reception, he decided he'd try to place the call again outside the walls. Just as he was about to leave the room, he heard footsteps and voices in the hallway.

The huge wooden doors swung open, and the count entered, accompanied by a stunningly beautiful young woman. Spike stood and stared in surprise as Dracula took the woman's hand to make a formal introduction.

"Spike, my old friend. Allow me to present Countess Elizabeth Bathory -- my new bride."

~~~~~~~~

End of Part 1 of Hearts of Darkness.

Hearts of Darkness Page1, 2

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By Ldynwaitin

What will Spike and Elizabeth think of each other?
Will Drac finally sire him or will Victor form an alliance with Elizabeth?
Will Nyanya's tea and mantra save Xander from Dracula's thrall? Will someone mix the cocktail of demon dust and Spike's blood and drink it from Dracula's Goblet?
Is there more information coming fom Harmony about Sirk and Ethan's plans?
And how will the Big B.A.D.S. fare once the temporary truce deteriorates into the inevitable face-off between Spike and Dracula?


To find out the answer to some or all of these questions, return to this site to read Part 2 of Hearts of Darkness. Coming as soon as we poor, tired band of buggereds can manage it during this holiday season.

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we'd also be interested in hearing any constructive
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Thanks again for reading our series
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Click here to read the first half of Hearts of Darkness

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Notfadeaway.org

We'd like to extend an invitation to all of our readers to check out the site we have created at www.notfadeaway.org. It houses a huge gallery of photos of James Marsters plus screencaps of Spike from the TV series. It also has a posting board where fans of Joss Whedon's TV series, as well as fans of the characters, actors and writers from the series, may post and read messages about a variety of topics, including our Spike: Soul Survivor series. In fact, we'd like it very much if anyone would care to discuss our series on this board. Feel free to either register and become an actual member of the board or just read and post messages there as a "guest". We have plans to add other special "extras" to this site in the future. Hope you enjoy the new site, again at: www.notfadeaway.org

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