It takes one to know one...his mum used to say when he was a nipperkin, and he'd always understood that. And, events in his life had borne it out more than once.
Afterwards...long afterwards, he would sometimes wonder what it was that had first alerted him...a look, a turn of the head, a sudden change in tone?
It was soon after they'd returned to Sunnyhell once more....Spike knew that. Perhaps the pernicious pull of the hellmouth was to blame...or perhaps they were simply homesick?
They had been gone for over eighty years...there were no familiar faces left. He'd been only too eager to get her away after her final break with Angelus; he'd never trusted that wanker to keep away from her forever. So they had departed....
Memories flashed through his mind...strolling hand-in-hand through the narrow twisting streets of Salzburg, listening to Strauss at the Vienna Opera House, tearing through the clubs and pubs of London.
And always his care for her, his tender devotion...until he'd won her from any lingering thoughts of Angelus...until she was entirely his in the same way he was hers.
Spike could no longer remember which one had expressed a wish to visit Sunnyhell again...it didn't matter. He found a house for them, a large Victorian with an enclosed garden, not far from the cemetery. They'd known some of those who were now in that cemetery- it gave them an added sense of belonging. Who had more right to the hellmouth than they?
The Vampire Master Khalifer had been well-established when they arrived...but together they were close to invincible, and they'd made short work of him.
The problem was...his minions. Khalifer had sired quite a few- most without the will to strike out alone. Fearful of the dangers surrounding them, lonely as their kind often were, they sought the protection of a powerful vampire, gravitating to the strongest in the vicinity.
Spike was resigned to the presence of a few minions...they were inevitable, like stray dogs needing a home. He was willing to tolerate them- even though the only company he truly wanted was hers. He had built his world around her...dancing with her when she was happy; soothing her when her psychic visions troubled her dreams.
What he could not tolerate- not for an instant- was interference...someone trying to come between them.
Devon was his name; he'd been sired by Khalifer when that Master had first established his sway over the hellmouth.
He'd been a singer in some band that sounded like an Aussie movie...and soon he was making songs for *her.* There were other things too- little things...comparing her eyes to stars, and her lips to flowers. Spike snorted at that...the pillock wasn't even original.
Then there was the way Devon hovered near her...always lurking in the background, eager to fetch any small thing she wanted.
Spike became first watchful; then angry. He hated anyone else touching her...always had; and when Devon brushed against her "accidentally" once too often, Spike's suspicious mind screamed a warning.
At one time, suspicion alone would have prompted him to kill the younger vampire...but he had changed in recent years. So he waited until he was certain.
It happened late one afternoon...in the large tower bedroom he shared with her. It was a sumptuous room, all gold and ivory and apricot, tapestry and lace....and, best of all, a huge bed.
His love slept in his arms, head resting on his shoulder, one hand curled against his chest. He felt, rather than saw, Devon enter the room and stand at the foot of their bed, staring at them.
He stood there only a moment...then left; but Spike knew he'd be back, again and again, drawn by his tortured jealousy.
That night Spike did not go out with the others. He lingered in the garden until he heard Devon returning.
"Good hunting, mate?" he asked genially, lighting a cigarette.
Devon tensed at the sight of him. "Uh, yeah, Spike. I uh, picked up a snack at the Bronze."
"The Bronze is always good for a nibble," Spike agreed. "Especially since the current Slayer is based in Richmond."
"Well, I guess I'll go and..." Devon gestured toward the house.
"Go and what, Devon?" Spike asked, tossing away the cigarette. "Go and make eyes at my girl?"
Devon started nervously. "What?! No, Spike..."
"Fancy her, do you?"
"No, Spike!" Devon was alarmed now, backing away frantically.
Spike held up his arms. "Hey, I'm not blaming you. I used to feel the same, back in the old days. She wasn't mine then, you see. She belonged to another vampire named Angelus. That's how it was, when I first knew her. Later he left her, and I started to feel safe- but then...the wanker came back again! Can you imagine how I felt?"
Devon nodded convulsively.
Spike smiled. "Thought you could."
"What...what did you do?"
"Do?" Spike said. "I got rid of him- permanently! That's the thing to do with a rival...get him out of the picture."
Devon swallowed. "You killed him?"
"There was no need. He left. She was never meant for him, anyway. So now- I'll tell you the same...she's not for you! I know you are planning on getting rid of me so you can have her; but it'll never happen. No sense throwing yourself to the lions; the lions are on to you, mate."
Deliberately he turned his back on Devon, and made to stroll into the house...but when the attack came he was prepared.
Devon's rush made Spike pivot smoothly, pulling out the stake he had concealed beneath his leather coat.
With an agonized scream, Devon exploded.
Spike studied the pile of ashes for a long minute. "Well, that's that."
He wasn't sorry it had ended this way...he'd known it was destined, ever since that night he'd recognized that look on Devon's face.
The same look that used to be in his own eyes when he'd watched her with soul-boy.
The look of love...and pain, and concealment. The look of death.
Spike took the stairs two at a time. As always, he couldn't wait to get back to her.
"Pet?" he called, entering their room. "Where are you, kitten?"
"Right here," she sat up in bed, blonde hair fetchingly tousled, blue eyes sparkling. "I thought you were never coming to bed!"
"Sorry, sweetheart. I had an annoying thing to take care of; and then, I got to reminiscing."
"Oh, about what?" she asked curiously.
"About the old days, when we were mortal enemies, and you were in love with Angel; and I was so jealous I couldn't see straight."
"Ohhh..." she laughed about that. "Back in the dark ages, hmm?"
He grinned at her. "Absolutely, love."
She raised one eyebrow. "You never get jealous now, do you, Spike?"
Hastily, he shed his clothes and climbed into bed beside her.
"Me, jealous?" He pressed his mouth to hers.
"Never, Buffy."