This story takes place shortly after the season finale of season 5, after the Glory storyline. It is the fifth in the "Spike & Cerberus" series...

Cerberus sat sniffing the air as they sat outside the hospital. Spike gave him an absentminded scratch behind the ears.

"I know yer hungry, mate, so'm I. 'Aven't exactly had time to do any 'shopping' lately, what with things being so busy. To bad demon nasties TASTE nasty too, eh?" He surveyed the frantic scene. There were at least a dozen ambulances swarming around the entrance, doctors and paramedics milling about like ants. "Look's like we arrived just in time." He moved towards the excitement.

Cerberus started to follow.

"AH, ah, ah! None o' that now, mate, we been OVER this! No doggies in the nice, hygienic 'ospital!"

Cerberus whined.

"Sit!"

The dog obeyed after a slight pause.

"Stay!" he looked over his shoulder a few times as he walked on, just to make sure the dog obeyed. Cerberus had lain down and was giving him a sorrowful look. Spike just hoped no one stopped to pet him, thinking he was a "cute doggy". They might end up as the vampdog's equivalent of kibble.

It was nothing for Spike to walk on in through the scrambling figures. Something about being a vamp made it so people didn't tend to notice you unless you WANTED them to, and tonight his ability was helped by the confusion.

It looked like there had been a nasty accident. He lost count of the sheer numbers of gurneys he saw being rushed through the door. There were also walking wounded, cradling maimed limbs and head wounds. He knew the Scoobies would never believe it, but such scenes made him queasy. There was a time when he would have reveled in the sight of so much blood, sure-- IF he himself had been the cause. He wasn't so cruel anymore, to be certain, but food was food. No, it wasn't the sight of blood that bothered him, but the reason for it. These people were neither food nor fun. What had happened to them was completely pointless, just some bloke's carelessness. The idea of such horrible things happening to you, out of the blue and for no reason at all, made his flesh crawl, although he supposed it would have been right up Dru's alley. He might be dead, but he liked to believe life had a purpose.

He tried not to look at the tragic figures as he walked through the hall. He was headed for the blood bank to make a withdrawal. He was almost there when he caught a snippet of conversation between two doctors.

"What do you mean, we're almost OUT???"

"I MEAN, if we don't get some here soon, people are going to die! THREE DIFFERENT multi-car pile-ups in one night?!? It's unheard of! And now we find that we're MISSING some of our blood?!?"

Run out of blood? Did he hear her right? He felt a twinge of panic. He'd had a nasty run-in with a pack of vamps hadn't helped; he'd won, but he'd suffered heavy casualties, lost a lot of blood. The supermarket was closed, and he was out of pig’s blood. He hadn’t been buying it much, trying to stretch his money. He didn’t want to borrow form the Scoobies, and yet he didn’t feel right stealing anymore, not when he was looking after Dawn. He felt like he needed to behave himself, for her sake.

The smell of so much of the red liquid around the hospital was threatening to overwhelm him. He hurried out again, passing a multitude of shattered bodies waiting to be healed, leaking out their precious fluid all over as they did. He felt another twinge, one that felt more like guilt than hunger, and wondered why. He generally didn't care about any human's state of mortality-- after all, he was dead, and it wasn't so bad. But tonight he felt... BAD for these people. For the children who might loose a parent, or the parents who might loose a child. And not for food, which was the way of things. For having a very bad day.

It was only a momentary reflection, though, pushed aside by his growing need as he left the building and made for his faithful companion. He had told Giles once that a starved vamp was a pathetic creature, all skin and bones and no brains. He knew Xander might say it would be hard for ol' Big Bad to get anymore pathetic, but he was fast on his way there. He could feel his bones jutting out under his skin, knew without being able to look in a mirror that his cheeks were more sunken than usual, his skin more pale.

Cerberus was a little better off, but not much. He could see the poor pup's ribs quite well. Spike had let the dog have all the rats in their cemetery the past few days-- normally they shared-- but even those were becoming scarce.

He made a decision. He hated to do it, knew it was bad news to remind the Scoobies that he was a bloodsucker, but he had to ask them for help, for Cerberus' sake. Not to mention it wasn't too easy for him to protect Dawn if he was in such bad shape himself.

As if to emphasize the point, he began to swoon as they made their way down the street. He ducked into an alley and sat down, hoping in a moment his head would stop spinning. he expected to have to fend off Cerberus' tongue once he was within the dog's reach, but the pup ignored him. He was sniffing and tearing excitedly at something further down the narrow walkway.

Spike tried to get up to see what it was, and found he couldn't. He was getting "the shakes", the vampire version of withdrawal. For them, blood was more than food; it was a drug, that lifted them to new heights of the senses. To drink was like making love; to feel the blood coursing through you was an upper that put you on top of the world. A vampire was a nymphomaniac, a drug addict, and a starving man all in one neat little package.

He managed to drag himself towards what Cerberus was finding so interesting. Sensing his friend's need, the dog grabbed a hold of Spike's duster in his teeth, and began to tug. For a living dog of that size, it would have been a pointless effort, a laughable scene, but for the vamp dog it was nothing.

And then it hit Spike, the scent of fresh blood. He found himself looking at a body, one he was relatively certain was dead; vamps had a sixth sense about such things. He didn't even give himself a chance to think about it as he grabbed the man's wrist and started to drink.

It was the sweetest thing he's ever tasted.

At first he thought it was just because he was so hungry, and the blood so fresh. As he looked over the body while he drank, he thought then that maybe it was the man's diet. The body was dressed to the nines in a silver shirt and well-cut black pants. Undoubtedly the man'd come out of the club down the street, known for catering yuppies who wanted a taste of the rough part of town, and had gotten himself mugged. But as Spike drew near to finishing the body he realized what the real reason was. The man had been drugged out of his mind, most likely on heroin or even cocaine, judging by his economic status. And now so was Spike.

He felt gooooooood!

If he had been in better control of his faculties, he wouldn't have offered the rest of the corpse to the dog. If he hadn't been starved out of his mind when he found the body, he would've realised what the problem was earlier and stopped. He'd learned long ago to be more discriminating in who he ate.

The phrase "you are what you eat" was ever true, even for vamps. If a vamp drank from a drunk, he'd find himself tipsy. And, like drinking beer on an empty stomach, it hit you faster, harder if you were starved. During hard times once, Spike and Dry had shared a wino, one who'd drunk so much he had alcohol poisoning. It took a lot of alcohol to get a vamp drunk, but this was like taking an injection of it. Spike and Dru were sloshed. And because they were, they got the tar beat out of them by another group of vamps. Later Angelus had also got his licks in, punishing them for drawing attention to themselves. Spike vowed never to weaken himself like that again, and stayed away from drunks, as well as opium addicts. That vow had broadened as the variety of drugs available grew.

Now he was rethinking his vow. He hadn't felt so nice since... Since Buffy had kissed him!

The night seemed brighter, somehow, more colourful. The smells were sharper. The feel of his coat on his skin was like a lover's caress. All was right with the world, and he felt strong enough to lift it up and take it home.

Cerberus was bouncing off the walls-- literally. He was doing flips, chasing his tail, yipping hysterically. Suddenly he made a mad dash out of the mouth of the alley. Curious, Spike laughed and followed. he wasn't afraid of anything!

"--just saying it would have been a lot easier if he had come with, and it's not like him to not show up when he says he will!" That was Dawn!

He heard Cerberus barking happily.

"Hey! It's Cerbie!" Willow.

The barks became growls.

"Whoa! Hey boy, it's us!" Dawn again.

"I KNEW it was a bad idea to let Spike keep him! It's like having rabies!" Giles. The old sod.

"He's jus' ma-aaad," Spike told them as he rounded the corner of the alley and came out onto the street. " 'E don' like bein' called 'Cerbie', do ya boy?"

The dog raced mad circles around the vamp, eyes wild and tongue lolling. He LOOKED like he was rabid. Spike giggled.

Dawn raced up to him, calling to him, "Spike! where have you been?!?" She stopped short when she got close enough to see the blood around his lips, on his chin.

Spike smacked his head. "I'm sorry, sweet bit! I needed to do a li'l grocery shoppin', 'as it were."

"Spike, look's like you were a bit messy with a bag, pal. S'okay, I always had a problem with the Capri Sun bags myself..." she told him.

Spike laughed, and there was a bit of a hysterical edge to it. Giles and Willow stopped when they heard it, the hair rising on their arms. "What are you goin' on about, Nibblet?"

"Um.." Willow motioned in a circular fashion to her mouth. "You've... you've got a.. a blood mustache."

"Oh? Boy, have I got egg on MY face!" Spike laughed as he wiped it off. It left a pink stain. "Or I guess that's 'BLOOD on my face'!" He laughed far more than the joke merited.

"Dawn. Come here." Giles stepped in front of Willow and gestured for the younger girl to come back.

"Oooh, scared for your little girls, mister? Well, HE'S not the one you should be worried about!"

The voice came from behind them. It belonged to a burly street tough, who was accompanied by three more similar thugs. They all had knives out.

"Oooooh! Dessert!" Spike quipped happily. Cerberus began licking his chops.

They made short work of the muggers, to the horror of the Scooby threesome. Spike felt an odd buzz as his chip kicked in, but he thought it felt good. He didn't realise that the drug had deadened his nerves temporarily. The last thing he felt before the jolt knocked him out cold was the crunch of his fangs in one guy's neck and the warmth of the liquid as it flowed over his lips.

He woke up back in his crypt. It wasn't an abrupt awakening, more like slowly coming out of a fog. He could hear the people talking, but had no idea who they were-- or HE was, for that matter. The voices sounded muffled, like there was a wall separating them.

"-just CAN'T!!! You KNOW he's changed! What does he have to do to prove himself to you?!?"

"Once a vamp, always a vamp, Dawn. He swore to protect you, but we can't even leave him alone with you now!"

"But Xander, he SAVED us!"

"Yes, well, he might only have been fighting because he found it entertaining, not out of any sense of duty to us..."

"How can you say that, Giles?!? How can you just turn a blind eye to all he's done for us?!? FOR ME?!?" The girl's voice was hysterical.

"BECAUSE I CAN REMEMBER WHAT HE WAS BEFORE!" came the angry reply. There was a long silence. Then another woman's voice, "So we dust him just like that? No trial? He hasn't tried to hurt US...."

"And what about Cerberus, Willow?" he snapped. "You saw how he acted towards us. I told Spike we couldn't trust a vampire dog; we couldn't even trust HIM without the chip! And now it looks like the chip isn't working anymore."

"But it DID!" cried the girl. "Why do you think we had to carry him back here?"

"But it didn't keep him from killing!"

"Um, not to defend a vampire, here, but Buffy killed things." another woman's voice. "Allot! We put it on her tombstone!" she added cheerfully.

"'Saved the world a lot', Anya, not 'KILLED THINGS allot'..." pointed out the one called Xander.

"Oh, whatever!" Anya snapped. "You had a hamburger for lunch!"

Another pause. "What has that to do with anything?"

"You ate a living thing!"

"... It was dead when I ate it!"

"So lets go kill the guy who killed it for you!"

"What are you talking about?!?"

"So Spike killed the guy himself, and cut out the middleman! He was eating! He has a right to eat!"

"A PERSON, Anya! Not a cow! I thought the whole reason who did the vampire-hunting shtick was because they kill PEOPLE!"

"We hunt them to DEFEND ourselves.... and simply because they are evil demons. but I think Spike is reformed. Like ME."

"But you're human!"

"So what, we go kill Angel too then? Or Oz maybe?" asked Willow.

"So we wait until he's KILLED one of us?" Giles retorted.

"Yes. That's exactly what we do," another woman said. "Because Buffy trusted him with Dawn's life! And I trusted HER."

That brought Spike around. He remembered who Buffy was, and then himself and the others. And realised they were talking about dusting him. AND his dog. He felt Cerberus in the tomb with him, and hugged the dog close. "Don't worry, boy... whatever happens, I wont let them hurt you!" He whispered.

"Tara's right!" Willow, of course.

"Yeah!" Anya added.

Spike moved the lid of his tomb; the voices had been muffled because it was closed. He raised his hands in an "I'm unarmed" posture as he sat up. "I can explain everything." And he did.

"So essentially what you're telling us is that you've discovered a way to circumvent the chip?" Giles stated more than asked. "TWO ways, actually. Either you have Cerberus do the killing for you or you get drugged up first."

"It was an ACCIDENT!"

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

Spike sighed, and ran a hand through his hair, hoping the others wouldn't notice that his eyes were tearing up. "Look, I don't know what else to say. Kill me if you have to, but don't kill Cerberus."

"You must be joking." Giles' laughter held no humor. "He's even more dangerous than you!"

"NOT if he's somewhere where there are no people! Contact Angel, he can take him to... I don't know, sodding Australia!" There was no mistaking the note of desperation in his voice.

Giles regarded his former mortal enemy. Tara had a point. Buffy had originally been all for dusting the bleached-blonde, but could never seem to bring herself to do it. And in the end, she HAD trusted him with Dawn's life. He had FAILED, but not for a lack of trying. Giles thought about what Buffy had told him of her encounter with Spike after Glory had gotten her claws in him. How he had thought she was the 'bot, and told her he'd rather die than see her suffer. Why would he lie to a robot? He thought about how the vampire had been inconsolable when Buffy had died. No, you couldn't fake that, and even if he could, why bother? For the hope that someday he might be free of the chip and have them all for dinner? If that were his game plan, he could have killed them all earlier that night and didn't even try, had even stopped Cerberus from harming them. He thought about the old Spike, he killer. Even "evil Spike" had, in his own way, done the things he sis out of a sense of love and devotion-- towards Dru. Maybe he was wrong in assuming that all demons were inherently evil. Certainly humans, who HAD souls, were not inherently good...

And if Giles could forgive Angel, who'd killed is beloved Jenny, couldn't he do the same for this demon who had never really harmed them (though not for a lack of trying in the beginning), despite numerous opportunities? One who had actually taken numerous, often severe injuries, all to protect the Slayer, the one whose purpose it was to kill his kind?

He heard the incongruous sound of laughter and saw Cerberus getting a thorough belly-scratching from Xander and the girls, simultaneously trying to lick them all. He remembered what Spike had said about the dog seeing them all as "pack". How vamps killed to eat like any other creature, on the drive to live. How instinct told him to protect the pack because there was safety in numbers. Giles knew a little about "dog psychology". They were sticklers for hierarchy. They showed their vulnerable underside to those who were above them in the pecking order, a gesture of trust and submittance. Just as the dog was doing now, baring his belly to the girls. If he meant them harm, he wouldn't be submitting to them...

And Giles realised that Spike had done the same. He had bared all to the group, letting them see his "vulnerable" side in the love he had shown for Buffy and the affection he showed Dawn. No, they had nothing to fear from this one. Maybe he was a bit of an outcast, an omega, but he hung out around the outskirts of the pack because he wanted to JOIN them... Being the "alpha", with Buffy being gone, it was to Giles to decide his fate. He thought about what Buffy would have done. What she had ALREADY done. She had accepted the vamp. He could do no less.

He found Spike watching him intently. The vamp quickly hung his head, looking nervously up for only brief looks. Like a lower wolf that won't meet the alpha's eyes. To meet eyes was to challenge. His posture instead said, "I accept whatever fate you give me."

"All right, Spike. You both can stay in Sunnydale. For now, though, I would feel more comfortable if you didn't spend time Dawn alone."

The vamp swallowed and nodded, eyes downcast.

Giles stepped over and leaned against the tomb. They both watched the others, still playing with the dog. He said quietly, "And I'll se what I can do about getting you a steady supply of food from the hospital."

Spike did meet his eyes this time, the gratitude plain on his face.

The old Spike would have been thinking about how he might get a hold of more drugs, finally having the key to beat his handicap. Or been planning to try out Cerberus' hunting skills on a human. But Spike was truly just relieved and grateful. He would not contemplate anything that might loose him his tentative place with the only family he had now.

And he found, strangely, that he didn't want to. Humans ate most of their food in convenient little packages; why shouldn't he? It beat having to do any work, right? Besides, it made more sense to let the food supply remain living, like a milk cow. He remembered reading once that, when you ate an animal that had died a terrifying death, the meat contained the chemicals of fear and aggression, passing them on to you. So if the prey gave the blood voluntarily, didn't that mean it was... happier blood? And that would make him a happier being? That surely helped explain his change in attitude since he had stopped feeding off people! So wasn't that better than being angry and upset all the time? Better than having to work for his food? Better than the false happiness that drug addict had sought, which left you feeling worse than when you started?

Dawn looked up from their antics and smiled at him, a smile that reflected her namesake in every way. For a moment he thought he could see Buffy smiling back at him from behind her eyes.

Yes, this WAS better.