*****

"I'll show her," Spike growled as he kicked his way through dusty streets. A camel made the mistake of getting in his way and Spike lashed out at it, slapping the poor animal across its fleshy muzzle. The camel brayed and kicked out, catching Spike on the shin. A group of men near the camel laughed, pointing at the foolish vampire. He flashed his gameface at them before hurrying away. "I bloody hate bloody Africa with a bloody passion," The blonde swore. "Bloody camels, bloody dust, bloody sun, bloody heat, bloody stench. I hate this bloody place!"

He stormed off in a huff, determined to locate this demon he'd heard about. No chip meant he could give Buffy what was coming to her. And wouldn't that be a lovely thing indeed?

...

"You want to return to your former self."

"The bitch is gonna see a change," Spike informed the rather disgusting demon. "Yeah, a change, all right. The Big Bad's gonna be back, and then we'll see who's beneath who."

"The rules are as follows," The demon stated, unfurling a long scroll. "You must pass the test. If you do not pass the test you do not get what you want. If you pass the test, you get what you want. In order to pass the test you must defeat any and all challenges set before you. You do not have the right to deny, turn down, or refuse any challenges. Any attempt to do so shall be deemed a forfeiture on your part, at which time your contract will be considered null and void and I will stake your ass to the desert floor and let the sun roast you."

The demon continued to read. "I reserve the right to rebroadcast all tests, battles, cage matches and talk-show appearances at a later date. Any and all royalties attached to those rebroadcasts shall belong to me and me alone. In the event of a weather delay, your test shall be postponed until the next stormy night. Be aware that some of the individuals participating in your tests may be members of a union and may go on strike at any time. If this occurs, you must wait until all contract negotiations have been completed before continuing your test."

"Fine, fine, let's get on with it," Spike said, pacing.

"You understand, then," The demon said, rolling up his scroll.

"Yeah. Yeah, it's not like you haven't been clear about it, oh great mysterious one. This is a test. I don't get what I want unless I pass said test. That about the size and shape?" Spike said.

"Yes," The demon conceded.

"And since your pad is decked out gladiator-style, and no number two pencils have been provided ... I guess we're not starting with the written," Spike continued.

The demon disappeared without answering. Spike looked around for several minutes, trying to decide what the test was. Maybe he was supposed to try to get out of this room. He searched until he found an exit door, which wasn't that difficult because it had an enormous, backlit 'Exit' sign posted overhead. As soon as he walked through, the scenery changed. "What the..." The hallway he was in morphed from dull rock and dust to plain, smooth white plaster. Ancient asbestos tiles tapped under his shoes and fluorescent lights hissed and flickered overhead. Someone came rushing behind him, knocking the vampire into the wall as he passed. Spike recovered, surprised to see a sort of gnarly man standing where he had been. The guy was holding a stake in one hand and a crossbow in the other, and had the look of someone who hadn't taken a good shit in ages.

"Excuse me," The man said curtly. "Do you know where..." He fumbled for a crumpled piece of paper that was sticking out of one pocket. "213b is?" Spike frowned and shook his head. He had no clue what the guy was talking about. "Damn, look at the time. I'm going to be late!" A small white rabbit appeared in midair above the man's head and fell into his hair. The rabbit started cackling as it slid down his face, pushing off to back-flip and somersault its way to the ground. Spike watched, fascinated, as the furry animal loped off down the hallway, whistling Dixie. The man scowled after it.

"That was odd," Spike murmured. "Listen, mate. I'm here for a test--"

The man jerked his thumb over one shoulder. "This way. Come on, I'll show you; hell, maybe someone in the testing center can help me find 213b." Spike followed the man down the hall, noting murmured voices in some of the rooms they passed. Even with the occasional noise, the place was deserted... and strange. That rabbit had been just a bit strange.

"Here you go," The guy said, holding a door open. Spike glanced inside, only to find the room full of little cubicles. A pretty, dark-haired receptionist noted their arrival and smiled. "Holtz! What brings you here?"

"This one's here for a test, Miss French," Holtz answered, shouldering his crossbow. "And where's 213b? They moved our group session."

Miss French giggled. "Oh, 213b? That's easy. Just go down the hall to your seventh left turn, go right, up the stairs six flights, take a left, go past three bathrooms and turn right at the second water fountain, down that set of stairs until you find an exit door, straight ahead, past the glass phone booth, swing a right beside the ferret cage, and it's just at the end of that hall."

Holtz sighed. "Thanks. By the way, I let another rabbit loose."

The receptionist rolled her eyes dramatically. "That's five this week, Holtz. We're going to have to start charging." Holtz shrugged and walked out the door. "So, you'd be..." Miss French flipped through the files on her desk. "William the Bloody? Prefers Spike or the Big Bag. Also known as Blondie Bear. Likes to be called Horace in bed."

"Big BAD," Spike corrected. "And that Horace thing's just a nasty rumor. Never said that."

"Mm hmm," Miss French hummed as she corrected her files. "So you're here to be tested. I think Mr. Flutie's got an opening. Follow me." Spike followed the shapely receptionist down aisles of cubicles. "You're in...fine shape, Mr. Bloody," She murmured. "Busy after your test?"

Spike stared at the woman. "Ah, yes. People to kill an' all that."

Miss French snorted and waved him off. "Stupid workaholic men. Please! How do you expect to attract a mate if all you do is jobs that never pay? Of course, it's not like *I* care about things like that; I'm more of a one-night-stand kinda girl. But what are you thinking?"

By the time she'd finished ranting, they'd reached a cubicle containing a rather nondescript man in a badly fitted suit. "Mr. Flutie? I've got a test here," She said, gesturing with a file towards Spike.

"Ah, great!" Mr. Flutie said, standing up and extending his hand towards Spike. "Please, come in! Have a seat."

Spike obeyed, mostly out of shock. This 'test' was odder than he'd first imagined. Maybe they *were* starting with the written.

"Now," Mr. Flutie started, pulling out several file folders. "Normally we start out with a wee little interview, just so we know each other. Makes the whole process much cozier, don't you think?"

"Whatever you say," Spike murmured.

"Good, good. Now, my name is Mr. Flutie," The man said. He paused, waiting for Spike to answer.

Spike rolled his eyes. "Spike."

"Spike," Mr. Flutie echoed. "How interesting. I grew up in Boise, Idaho and went to college in Canton, Ohio before taking a job at Sunnydale High School. After many years of hard work, I was promoted to principle. Then some of my students ate me."

Spike snorted. My, my, that must have been an exciting life. "Born and raised in London, England, went to Oxford, got turned by Angelus, spent a century causing bloody mayhem, got chipped by the government, tupped the Slayer and am here, trying to get back to bloody fucking normal!" Spike did not like answering autobiographical questions.

Mr. Flutie looked a bit...flustered. "Very well, Spike. I can see you're resistant to divulging personal information. We can just move right along to the tests, then. Now, for this one, I am going to show you a series of pictures. There is nothing special about these pictures. What you should do is tell me what you see in the pictures. There are no right or wrong answers."

Spike was about to comment when the man flipped over the first card. "That's a bloody inkblot," Spike snapped. "I see an inkblot."

"Yes, it is an inkblot," Mr. Flutie replied. "What do you see in it?"

"I see ink. Ink spattered on a card. It's an inkblot," Spike replied flatly.

"So you don't see anything? No pictures?" Mr. Flutie said softly. "Are you sure? Completely sure?"

"It's a picture of ink on paper. I see an inkblot," Spike grated out.

"Not even a teddy bear? A butterfly? A satanic coven of nubile young witches dancing naked around a bubbling cauldron?" Mr. Flutie continued hopefully.

"Er, no?" Spike murmured. He squinted a bit. "Well, if you just look at this part, it sorta looks like a spleen, right after you rip it out of someone's chest cavity."

"Ah!" Mr. Flutie said happily, scribbling down the answer. "Anything else?"

"An' this part looks like brains, smeared over concrete. With a bit of gore mixed in," Spike said, pointing to a corner of the card. "This little bit here looks like an enflamed appendix, and over here is a liver, well just one lobe, but a liver nevertheless. That looks like a moldy rat, this here is the Slayer's navel lint, and all along the edges look like the coast of Finland."

"Oh," Mr. Flutie replied, writing quickly. "Let's look at the next card." He traded the first one for another, which had several colors on it. Spike leaned forward, by now engrossed in this mindless game.

"This one's even better! It's a baby holding an ice cream cone, only the kids' been mauled by a hell hound. See, right there's a squashed eyeball, and that blue streak is the ice cream, mixed in with the blood from where the hound tore off its arm. An' there? See that? Some enterprising young vamp drained the baby before the hell hound got to it. Probably stole the ice cream cone, since that tasty snack is missing. This corner reminds me of small bowel, after it's been hanging from a tree branch for three days. And the edges look like the coast of Finland."

"Here's the next one," Mr. Flutie mumbled, looking a bit green around the edges.

Spike gave a squeal of glee. "It's one of Dru's paintings! This here is the bile, that's the blood, and oh, you even got one with marrow. Looks a bit like Angelus, after he's tied one too many on. And spent the night shagging Darla. See? The ugly bastard's flabby ass is here, that peasant face is in this corner--it's missing an eye, though. Looks like he's lying on top of a few dismembered bodies. That's a hand, and maybe a knee. Mmm... Cartilage is tasty, all chewy and white. And the edges look like the coast of Finland."

"Perhaps this picture?" Mr. Flutie tried, holding up another one. Spike was making him ill with all the graphic descriptions of violence and gore.

"Butterflies," Spike said decisively. Mr. Flutie smiled. "Right after Dru pinned them to the wall and pulled off their wings. Then she'd find spiders to put with them an' eat them alive. The wings she'd string up on the ceiling and use for mobiles. Kiddies always loved them, right before she snapped their necks and drained them dry. But this part is the very image of Darla's twat. At least you didn't put the smell on there. Enough to turn a vamp's stomach. This corner looks like Mickey Mouse getting it up the arse from Donald Duck--an' enjoying it. And the edges look like the coast of Finland."

Mr. Flutie slapped down the cards. "I believe I've tested you enough. If you'll just hand this note to Miss French, she will direct you to your next appointment." The man handed Spike a folded piece of paper and then proceeded to evacuate his stomach in his wastepaper basket. Spike jumped up and walked back to Miss French's desk, glad to be away from that odd little man.

The secretary was just finishing lunch and had a spot of something sticky and red on her mouth. She saw Spike and wiped it away quickly, grinning. "You got done fast!"

"Here," Spike said, thrusting the paper at her desk. She took it, reading quickly. Her eyes got very wide. "Oh. I see. Ah. Very interesting."

"What the bloody hell does that mean?" Spike demanded. "And what's the next part of my test?"

"You need to go to room 1491, just down the hall," She said, pointing to the door. "I'll call ahead and tell them you're coming."

"I don't have bloody time for this," Spike muttered. Miss French winced just as a huge white rabbit appeared above Spike and came crashing down on his head. It caught him by the paws and pressed a garlickly, wet kiss to his forehead before jumping to the ground and running off, screaming like a madman. "I don't want to know. I just want my chip out," He said as he pulled open the door.

Spike stalked down the hallway, watching for the right door. He'd been expecting a good, bloody fight as the test to get his chip out. Smash heads with a few demons, duck stakes and acid-snot baths, keep from getting torn in half by a troll or three... but this institutional setting was unnerving him. And there was something off about the receptionist. Spike swore she'd been snacking on organ meat--human organ meat.

"1487, 1498, 1491," Spike murmured as he reached the correct room. He stepped inside, less surprised than he should have been at finding a circle of student chairs in a classroom, complete with chalkboards on every wall. The place was empty save himself, so Spike began poking around. He quickly found a box of white chalk and began drawing on the boards, and doing quite nicely at it. His lessons with Angelus had paid off. Of course, the souled version of his Sire probably wouldn't appreciate a graphic drawing of his childe ripping Buffy's heart out through her navel, but the Broody PoofT had no damned sense of humor.

He was just about to start on a lovely silhouette of Willow in gameface when the door opened. The newest arrivals were already talking as they walked in. "Honestly, as long as we don't have to do that crying therapy again, I don't care what Maggie does to us today."

"Yeah, you say that now. Just wait until she pulls out the mirrors and tells us to locate our feminine sides," Graham spat. "And you know she'll do it."

"Maybe we'll get to use the computer therapists?" Riley said hopefully.

Graham shook his head. "Can't, not today. The Failed Villain Re-Education Therapy GroupT has the tech lab, and Oz told me that Holtz put a crossbow bolt through one of the CRTs. And you *know* how slow they are around here with replacing stuff we break."

"Fuck," Riley spat.

Spike growled menacingly. He knew those voices. It was Riley, the Slayer's boy toy--and one of his friends. So *this* was his test! The vampire shifted into gameface and stalked towards the men. He'd find a way to eviscerate them, chip be damned.

"Er, Ri? Isn't that Hostile 17?" Graham said curiously.

"Yeah, it is," Riley confirmed. "Hey, Spike? Sorry to see you here. I thought you'd last longer than this."

Spike stopped in his tracks, confused as hell. "What?" He asked, shaking his head. "What the bloody hell are you talking about?"

Riley frowned. "And how'd you end up in here, anyway? This session is for Buffy & Co.'s Jilted LoversT, not Failed VillainsT. That meeting is in--"

"213b," Spike guessed. "Guy with a crossbow went that way."

Graham leveled an appraising stare at Spike. "So, who'd you do?"

"Huh?" Spike grunted.

"He's a villain," Riley explained patiently. "They sent him to the wrong place."

"Oh, I don't know," Graham said. "He looks pretty good. Surely *somebody* did him. I mean, at the very least Xander."

"Xander would do anything that didn't move so fast he couldn't catch it," Riley muttered. Graham shot him a dirty glare. "But you were different, I know. He *loved* you."

"You boffed Baggy BritchesT?" Spike said incredulously.

Graham shrugged. "I was horny and he was handy."

"But the stupid lug fell for him," Riley shot back. "And when Xander decided that being faithful to a former Vengeance Demon was a good idea, out Graham went."

"Which doesn't answer the question of who Spike fucked to get here," Graham murmured. "My money's on Buffy."

"He was in love with her; that's not fair," Riley whined. "And besides, she's got better taste than that."

"What, for picking you?" Graham sniped. "That's not saying much, Ri."

"Ah, it was Willow," Riley insisted. "She probably got tired of the blonde girl."

Spike watched the two men bicker with something akin to horror. "Buffy," He said, hoping to shut them up. "I shagged the bloody Slayer, alright?"

Graham looked suitably impressed. "Five challenge points to the vampire for fucking someone who loathes him."

"Minus five; she's fucked other vampires before," Riley challenged. "Two of them."

"Five for fending off Xander," Graham contended. "I mean, you do have a point, Ri. The kid would screw a lamppost."

"Are you comparing me to a lamppost?" Spike said indignantly.

"Who's a lamppost?" Oz asked as he and Pike walked in. "Hey Graham, Ri. Gray? You left this last night," The werewolf said, handing the former soldier a bright green ball gag. Graham pocketed the toy with a smile.

"Nobody's a lamppost," Riley explained. "But Xander would fuck one."

"That he would," Oz agreed. "Hi, Spike. Been awhile."

"Bloody hell," Spike muttered, kicking a nearby chair. This was getting worse and worse. When was his test? What was his test? Surviving this, maybe? "Who the hell else is going to show up, eh?"

Riley looked around the room. "Today? Just our therapist, Maggie."

"Maggie," Oz echoed, shuddering. "She checked out the mirrors."

"Lots of mirrors," Pike said dazedly. "With handles."

"But I don't have a vagina," Riley moaned. "This is going to be so bad."

Spike was about to give up and just leave when the door opened one more time... and in walked one of his most horrifying personal demons. The bloody scientist who'd shoved the chip in his brain. "Hello!" Maggie Walsh said in a chipper voice. "I see we have a new face. William, isn't it?" Riley, Graham and Oz took one look at the mirrors she held and winced. This was going to be really, really bad.

"Spike," Spike hissed, picking up a chair. "But you'd know me better as Hostile 17." He hefted the chair over his head and stalked closer to the woman.

Dr. Walsh edged back. "Ah, yes. The charming English vampire. So you're here for some help, right? We do that here. Help, that is. We talk, and play games, and sing. Friendly, emotive therapy for heart and mind. Getting you on the road to recovery," She babbled, trying to avoid the vampire with the chair. "Helping out the best way we can! Humanistic therapy, open-ended, client-centered methods! Personal investment counseling?"

Spike threw the chair at Dr. Walsh, immediately falling to the floor, blinded by the pain his chip caused. He fully expected the other men to attack him, stake him for doing what he'd just done. Instead, he heard a gasp, a snort, and a chuckle. Then a warm hand fell on his shoulder.

"Need a hand?" Graham asked softly.

Spike looked up, teary eyes wide. Dr. Walsh looked very much the worse for wear; he'd really put some force behind the throw and now the good doctor had a pair of chair legs stuck in her head and chest. They would definitely *not* be finding their feminine sides today. "She's dead?" He asked, wanting to make sure. Maybe that had been his test...

"The brains on the floor say yes," Oz replied. He too walked over to the vampire, offering assistance. "Very dead."

Riley was still staring at the dead woman. "She's dead."

"She is no more," Pike said.

"Ceased to be," Graham murmured.

"Expired," Oz added.

"Gone to meet her maker," Graham stated.

"Shuffled off this mortal coil," Spike whispered.

"Wouldn't voom if you put four million volts through her?" Oz offered.

"Pushing up the daisies," Pike said firmly.

Riley blinked. "She's really, really, *really* dead?"

"That is what the whole Monty Python interlude was implying, yes," Graham remarked.

Something very remarkable happened then. Riley's face split into a wide, sunny grin and he began to laugh. Spike was momentarily worried, until he realized that this was not the laugh of the mad, but rather of the incredibly relieved. He'd heard Dru laugh enough to know the difference. The young man abruptly stopped laughing, though, in favor of staring at Spike. The vampire's worry returned when Riley licked his lips and walked right up to where the vampire was crouching on the floor.

Riley almost giggled at the look of absolute shock on Spike's face when he kissed him. It was truly priceless--Riley doubted Spike had been taken by surprise like that for a very long time. "Do you have any idea how *long* I've been waiting to do that?" He murmured as he released the vampire's mouth.

"Ever since you first saw him," Graham guessed. "He *is* you type, you know. Bony blonde."

Spike wasn't aware that he was whimpering. No, the vampire was a bit preoccupied by the fact that his version of reality was being turned upside down and shaken violently. "I think you broke him," Oz told Riley. "He's making broken noises."

"Are vampires supposed to sound like that?" Pike inquired. "'Cause I've *never* heard a vampire make those noises before."

Riley couldn't help but smile. "Oh, he'll recover. Vampires are very resilient."

"Tell me again why you waited?" Oz asked. "I mean, he's been on the loose for... ages."

Riley shrugged. "It was a contract thing, really. Maggie had it in stone that I couldn't touch any guys. Said it would hurt her image or something. And since Willow went...uh...gay, and nobody in their right mind would touch Anya with a ten foot poll, that left Buffy."

"Of course, what Maggie *really* wanted was Riley in her bed," Graham added.

"But that was so not going to happen," Riley stated quickly.

"Maybe we should do something," Oz suggested. "He's still making those weird sounds."

Spike glanced from man to man. Oh, look at the pretty laddies, all strong and young and sweet-smelling. And they were touching him! How wonderful, how lovely. Big hands, small hands, all picking him up and pulling off his coat, which was a good thing because now those nice hands were taking his shirt off too, and someone was untying his boots. Spike saw unnaturally pale hands, ones that looked just like his, reaching for Graham, inviting him to be as naked as the vampire himself was.

"This is way too easy," Graham said as Spike yanked him down for a kiss. "Ri, you ok with this?" He asked as Spike began licking up his neck.

Riley watched as Spike devoured Graham's mouth. "Oh yeah, I'm *very* ok with this," He said in a low voice. How could he not be? His favorite blonde fantasy and his old boot camp fuck buddy... and Oz wasn't anything to sniff at. The young man finished undressing and slithered up Spike's legs, until his mouth was level with Spike's cock. Pike moved around behind Graham, producing a tube of lubricant from the depths of his coat pockets. The former soldier grunted into Spike's mouth as Pike prepared him quickly, smearing slick stuff along his ass.

Spike was just starting to count Graham's molars when the most perfect, glorious, wet *heat* started pulling on his cock. He looked down, only to see Riley, the Slayer's Private Orgasm MachineT, sucking him off. The werewolf wasn't lying by idly either; he had worked himself between Riley and Spike and was teasing the former soldier's balls with an agile tongue.

"He's been wanting to do that for months now," Graham whispered into Spike's ear. "And I've had to listen to it. Every night, Riley moaning, crying for you cock in his mouth. He just loves to give head. And he's good at it, too," He continued, slowly stroking his own cock. Spike whimpered and pulled Graham down for another kiss, needing to distract himself from the sight of Riley between his thighs, the words Graham had just said, and the look of utter exaltation on Pike's face as he pushed inside Graham.

Graham let Spike consume him, content to be the focus of the vampire's oral fixation. Pike was pounding into him, hitting his prostate with every stroke. He wouldn't have thought the skinny kid could get it going like that, but damn. After a minute he glanced over at Oz, who was apparently enjoying distracting Riley. Graham reached for one of Spike's hands, placing it around Oz's erection. The blonde vampire caught on immediately and began a slow, easy pull on the werewolf's cock.

Riley looked up and nearly lost his rhythm. Spike was still trying to crawl inside Graham's mouth, kissing him with an almost animalistic ferocity. Graham himself was masturbating over the vampire, nearly ready to shoot his load all over that cold, pale flesh as Pike drilled into him. And Oz... gods, the werewolf was driving him crazy, sucking on his balls like that. Spike had him well in hand, though, fisting Oz roughly. Riley bent back to his self-appointed task, easing Spike's cock deeper into his throat. Then he swallowed.

Spike howled into Graham's mouth, taken by surprise. Riley's throat rippled around him. Then the boy began to hum. Spike froze momentarily, than thrust wildly as he came, filling Riley's greedy mouth with cold come. The vampire's hand flexed around Oz's cock, making the werewolf growl and hiss. Riley looked up and smiled, moving over to replace Spike's hand with his own mouth. Soon he and Oz were sucking each other off while Graham finished with Spike.

Spike released Graham's mouth just in time to catch the first spray of come to shoot across his face. The young man coated Spike with semen from head to navel, leaving warm, ropy strands all over ivory flesh. Pike bit down on Graham's shoulder as he came, filling the soldier with hot come. Spike ran his fingers through the stuff, licking at it absently as he watched Oz and Riley finish each other off.

"So," Graham began, taking a seat against Pike, next to Spike's head. "How are you liking group therapy?"

Spike turned to look up at the man. "Not bad. Not bad at all."

Riley shot first, followed soon thereafter by Oz. They spent a few minutes cleaning up before joining Spike and Graham in a tangled mass of sated bodies. "Thanks," Riley murmured into Spike's chest, where he was cleaning up the last of Graham's come.

"For what?" Spike asked curiously.

"Getting rid of the Wicked Bitch of the WestT," Riley replied happily. "I owe you one."

"So do I," Graham added. "She was going to make me look for my--"

"Femininity," Oz interjected.

Spike thought for a moment. He was never one to let an opportunity pass him by. "You owe me, eh? Then hows about you get this chip out of my head and get me out of here, wherever we are."

Riley glanced at Graham, who looked over at Oz, who was staring at Pike with newfound respect. "Can we come with you?" They all asked at once.

Spike grinned. Four willing bed toys wanted to come with. Who was he to argue? "Of course you can, mates."

Riley nodded, already thinking. "Our best bet is to get a hold of the counselor for the Failed Villain Re-Education Therapy GroupT. He probably knows how to get out of here or at least who to talk to."

"Yeah, Merl knows *everything*," Pike added. "They're still meeting, right? I mean, we can catch them at break."

Spike nodded. "What about the chip, mate?"

Graham waved him off. "Adam's in that group. He'll know what to do."

"Bastard lied to me before," Spike growled. "Why should I trust him now?"

"He's studying to be a CPA," Riley stated. "And he's getting much better with the megalomaniacal tendencies. You'll see."

Before long, the five men were dressed and winding through the hallways. Fortunately, Spike remembered the instructions Holtz had been given, so he led the others to 213b. "What time do they get out?" Spike asked, peering into the room.

"No--" Graham cried, too late to stop Spike from asking about the time. A rather scrawny white rabbit appeared in a flash of light, striking Spike on the head. He batted the thing away and it landed on the floor with a soft plop. The rabbit peered up at Spike, grinned widely, and started hopping away, waggling its little bunny tail.

"Anyone want to tell me why those bloody rabbits keep showing up?" Spike muttered as the bunny disappeared.

Oz smirked. "Get a wrist-mounted personal appointment management device and stop making references to the commonly accepted method of marking the movements of the earth around the sun."

Spike frowned as he worked through Oz's explanation. "Oh, you mean get a watch and don't talk about time?" Right on cue, two big, fat rabbits landed on his head in a one-two punch. The first fell down his back, hind legs punching him on the way. The other got caught in the crook of his arm. Spike flung the animal down the hall when he saw that it was chewing on his coat. "Bloody animals," He swore. The two rabbits followed the first one towards the stairs, laughing like hyenas.

"Er, could you not do that again?" Pike asked. "It's kinda creepy."

"Why do they laugh?" Spike asked, dusting rabbit pellets off his coat.

"Search me," Riley said. "But they all laugh, and they all hit you on the head. Take Oz's advice, though. The building managers *really* hate rounding them up, and the pellets get stuck in our shoes."

"Anything else I should know about?" Spike inquired. If they were going to have to wait around for this other group to get out of session, he might as well pick up a few pointers for this place.

Graham smiled evilly. "If you argue with a door, every one in the entire building will start slamming itself uncontrollably."

"Right," Spike murmured. This place was possessed.

A couple of minutes later, room 213b opened up, spewing forth a mixed bag of clients. Spike recognized the guy with the crossbow, Holtz, who was in a heated argument with some plain-faced chick with a chip on her shoulder. The vampire hissed when he saw Glory, dressed in a really baggy nylon sweat suit, chatting with Ethan, Ripper's old fuck buddy.

"I can't believe them," Glory said, flouncing. "I mean, who *cares* if Holtz double-crossed Justine? They should just hop in the sack and get over it."

"Yes, but then we'd get to move on to your supposed 'identity crisis'," Ethan reminded the goddess.

"I do *not* have an identity crisis!" Glory shouted, shaking her little fist in the air. "I really *do* turn into a guy!"

"Right," Ethan murmured. "And we've seen this how many times?" He stepped aside just as the rabbit fell.

"Like, ninety billion!" Glory cried.

"Funny, I don't remember that," Ethan told her. "Just that you're a histrionic with borderline personality disorder and a really nasty case of the clap."

"Where's this counselor?" Spike growled at Riley, yanking his eyes away from the multiple soap opera story lines surrounding him.

"Probably getting his stuff together," Riley assured Spike. Adam came out a minute later and the former soldier went to talk to him. "Adam, man! Got a minute?"

Adam turned around. "Not really, Ri. I've got a test this evening and I haven't studied."

"Then I'll make this quick," Riley promised. "Spike's here and wants his chip out."

Adam shook his head. "No can do. Even on a vampire, once the chip is in, it's in for good."

"Fuck," Riley swore. "That just sucks."

"But it doesn't matter anyway," Adam continued. "It'll stop working soon."

Riley's jaw dropped. "It will?"

"Sure. The battery's only good for about two years, total, and who knows how long they sat on a shelf somewhere before that bitch started using them. I'd give him another month, at most," Adam explained. "It's a lot easier than trying to get it out, and it's sure to work. So chill out, okay?"

Riley nodded and the pastiche demon hurried off to study, briefcase clutched in one hand. "Spike?"

"Yeah?" Spike murmured. "Did Merl come out yet?"

"How the bloody hell should I know? I've never seen the tosser," Spike snarled.

"He's still in the room," Graham murmured. "Maybe we should just go in."

Oz led the way into the room, where they found the mottled demon hunched behind a desk. "Merl, man, how's it hanging?" Pike asked as he sat down on the corner of the desk.

Merl jumped straight up into the air. "Aaahh! Pike! Riley! I didn't do it!"

Graham coughed to hide his laughter. "We didn't say you did," Riley assured him. "We just want a little information."

"I have no idea," Merl said quickly.

Spike shifted into gameface and pinned Merl to the wall. "Try again," He said, eyes flashing.

"Ah, could you repeat the question?" Merl asked Riley, voice squeaking.

"Sure thing. So, we're looking to get out of here," Riley began. "And since you're a guy who's in the know, I figure you could help us out."

Merl shook his head rapidly. "Me? No way. No way in hell do I know how to get out of here."

Spike shook the demon viciously. "Are you sure about that?" Graham inquired.

Merl winced as his head rapped against the wall. "Yeah, yeah, I'm sure! Look, do you think I'd be here if I knew how to get out? Why don't you try that orderly who takes care of The Dead Aurelius ClubT and The Small Time Evil Residential Therapy GroupT?" Yet another rabbit dropped out of nowhere and ran away.

"Who's that?" Riley asked. "Last I checked, Some guy named Whedon was watching those two groups."

"He got promoted," Merl replied. "Working in middle management now, in human resources. I don't know the new guy by name, but I hear he's the guy to go to for outside stuff, so maybe he knows how to get out of here."

Spike shook Merl a few more times for good measure, and then pitched him to the ground. "What now?" He asked Riley. This was taking a bit more time than he'd have liked.

"Now we go over to the seventh floor and track down this orderly," Riley said. "Let's go."

Graham, Oz, Pike and Spike followed Riley out of the room. "And what is 'The Dead Aurelius ClubT'?" Spike asked.

"It's where they stick all the dead members of the Order of Aurelius," Graham explained. "Angelus was there for a while, before he got rehabilitated and sent back."

"I thought he was in hell," Oz murmured.

"They enrolled him in Bob Ross's painting lessons," Graham explained. "He spent a century painting happy little clouds."

"So he *was* in hell," Pike said. "Damn, what'd he do?"

"Tried to end the world," Riley answered. "Generally a bad idea."

Spike followed the men through winding hallways, narrowly avoiding some guy made out of maggots who fell apart in the middle of the floor. "Well, this is it," Riley said, stopping in front of a massive set of steel doors. "The Small Time Evil Residential Therapy GroupT."

"Damned rabbits," He spat as the most recent one shat on his shoe. "What are we waiting for?" He asked. "Go in and find the bleeding orderly."

"Exactly," Graham said.

Spike cocked his eyebrows. "What?"

"This group is... a bit violent," Oz murmured.

Riley pushed open the door, only to be thrown backwards as a tall, haggard man rushed out of the room. Spike and the others moved out of the way as the blood-covered man ran by, a tallish vampire chasing behind.

"Bloody Dracula," Spike muttered as he saw who the vampire was. "He *still* owes me--"

"Watch out!" Graham yelled, pulling Spike up onto a table. A pack of teenagers bounded towards the vampire, teeth gnashing. One of them had an arm in its jaws.

Riley managed to pull himself up and out of the way before the pack of hyena-possessed kids could reach him. He ran into the room, hoping to find enough of the orderly to help them. He found the remains of a solidly build blonde and a crowd of athletic-looking amphibians in one corner and a dark-haired young man cowering under a table. After evaluating the contents of the room, he decided that the young man was in all likelihood the orderly they were seeking out. He walked over and crouched down. "Hey there. Ah, you doing ok?"

The kid looked over at him. "Doing ok? They *ate* Amy! And that vampire, Dracula? He bit one of the swim team and went fucking nuts--he decided that Rack was putting the moves on him and *bam* fur started flying. No, I'm not doing ok!"

Riley reached out with one hand. "Come on, we'll get you out of here," He promised. The kid studied him for a moment before accepting the hand and pulling himself out from under the table. "And, uh... do you know how to get out of this place?"

The kid pointed at the steel doors that now hung on bent hinges.

"No, the whole place. Merl said you might know," Riley explained as they walked through the doors. He reached behind himself to punch the swimmer who'd been about to attack the young orderly, knocking the amphibian out with one hit.

"Er, maybe," The orderly hedged.

"Devon?" Oz whispered.

"Oz?" Devon said incredulously. "What are *you* doing here?"

"Jilted LoversT, you?" Oz replied.

"Minor Characters Written Off Without a Satisfactory Resolution Welfare to Work ProgramT," Devon answered.

"Oh. I wondered where you went off to," Oz murmured. Devon grinned wryly.

"Wrong network for you and me, Wolfboy," The singer said.

"Doesn't matter now," Graham commented. "Since we've been booted."

"Hey!" Spike growled. "I've still got a job!"

"For now," Riley said. "So, Devon, how do we get out of here?"

"And what about my bloody chip?" Spike asked.

"What chip?" Devon said confusedly.

"Cool it on the chip, Spike," Riley answered, rubbing the vampire's shoulder. "It'll die in the next few months. Adam said the battery wasn't good for more than two years. Besides, trying to take it out just isn't going to work."

Spike frowned but said nothing. Maybe waiting a few months was his test. If so, he'd do it. Anything to get back to his old self.

"And what about getting out of here?" Graham said, bringing them back to the more important issue.

Devon shrugged. "Your best bet is the lady who comes to visit The Dead Aurelius ClubT," He replied. "She's from the outside."

"I didn't think we were allowed visitors," Riley murmured. "I mean, I haven't seen anyone from outside who wasn't here to stay."

"She's doing their counselor," Devon stated. "Some wormy guy who gives me shit whenever I go in to check up on them. Parker. Real asshole. This lady, though, she's the one who gets me my stuff. I keep quiet about her little visits."

"Well then, it looks like we're off to see your old buddies," Riley told Spike. "Grandsire, cousins, brothers..."

Spike rolled his eyes. "Bloody lot of lunatics," He muttered. "Well?" He gave Devon a pointed look and the boy led them down the hall.

"So, if you *do* find a way out of here, can I come with?" Devon asked the group as a whole.

The guys glanced around at each other. "He's game," Oz told them. He knew Devon wouldn't mind the others, not at all. The boy was a bit of a slut.

"Why not?" Riley said. The others nodded. What was another willing body? Fun, that's what.

Devon led them through another maze of stairwells and hallways until the reached a couch-lined hallway. At the end was a huge set of double doors. He motioned for someone to help him open them. As Riley and Graham struggled to push the mahogany slabs out of the way, Spike heard a voice he didn't think he'd ever hear again.

"Dru?" He whispered. It couldn't be. She wasn't dead. Well, she was dead, but she wasn't *dead* permanently. But this was a dead vampire group...

Devon glanced at the obviously distraught vampire. "Uh, she's not exactly dead," He said softly.

"She's not?" Riley asked, confused.

"Well, she... uh, she *thinks* she is," Devon replied. "I mean, she showed up here insisting she was really dead, wanting to be with her grandsire Darla. I think they put her in here to shut her up. That doll of hers is a real pain in the ass."

"Miss Edith," Spike murmured. He rushed in, wanting to see if his Dark Princess was really alright. Yes, she was in his past and he didn't want to be with her anymore, but that didn't mean he wanted her to be dust.

Inside the room, Spike found most of his order lounging around a sunken seating area, arguing in their usual self-absorbed manner. A tall, dark-haired lady was in a heated conversation with Darla, who was sprawled on top of Penn. The puritan vampire was lobbing popcorn at a pair of vampires Spike only vaguely recognized. They too were arguing, over some stupid love issue.

"It's soooo overdone," The female vampire whined. "You *ripped* your heart out. How trite."

"I was *distraught* because you were *dust*," The male vampire said heatedly. "It was a *show* of *love.*"

"It was *stupid*," She muttered. "I mean, you ended up dust. What, I'm supposed to like the fact that you turned yourself into a pile of ash in my memory?"

"Yes," He growled.

Spike turned from the arguing lovers to look for Dru. She was perched on a settee, holding a squirming little girl on her lap. The girl was in a horrid, lacey frock. "Leave me alone, you..."

"Oh, Miss Edith!" Dru cooed. "We'll have tea! And you can whisper in my ear and tell me what the stars are saying!"

"Uh, Spike?" Riley whispered. "What's with the kid?"

"Dunno," Spike admitted. "Miss Edith's a doll."

"Spikey!" Dru screamed upon seeing the blonde vampire. "Come meet Miss Edith!"

Spike quickly walked over to the dark vampiress. "So this is Miss Edith," He murmured, smirking at the miserable little girl.

"I am *not* Miss Edith," The child hissed. "Lilah, get me out of here," She grated at Darla's verbal sparring opponent.

"I'm trying," Lilah replied. "But Her Royal Highness over here won't let you go."

"She amuses Drusilla," Darla said airily. "And anything that keeps that chick happy is fine by me. No deal," She told Lilah. "Come back when you've got a better offer."

"Dru, baby," Spike said quietly. "Why are you here?"

"Darla needs me," Dru said brightly. "Penn is such a bore, and the Master," She said with a shudder, "Is addicted to infomercials." She pointed to a corner, where the cloven-hooved Master was glued to a television screen, phone in one hand as he ordered some sort of organic cleaner. "Darla needs company."

"Don't you want to leave?" Spike asked. "Find a nice... slimy demon to settle down with?"

Dru shook her head. "No, no, never that. I've got Miss Edith now," She replied, shaking the little girl. "The stars gave her to me! And Penn chains me up!"

Spike returned to his harem. "So we just ride the smelly bitch's coattails out of here?" He asked Devon.

"I guess so," He said. "Ask her."

"Ask who what?" Lilah inquired, butting into their group. "And where did *you* come from?" She asked Spike.

"Wouldn't you like to know," He murmured. "Care to get us out of here?"

"What's in it for me?" She asked bluntly.

"You want the little girl back, right?" Spike stated.

"Yeah," Lilah said. "She's... useful."

"I can get Dru to give her to you," Spike said.

"Uh huh," Lilah hummed doubtfully. "How?"

"Tie her up, make her bleed a bit," He said cheerfully. "Works every time." Another rabbit appeared, but he batted it away.

"So do it," She challenged. "And I'll get you out of here."

Spike shook his head. "Show us how to get out and I'll get your rugrat back."

"Like I'm gonna do that," Lilah spat. "You first."

Spike glanced over at the guys. "I'm feeling a bit... run down. Wanna try out the bed over there?" He asked them. They studied the huge bed, which was probably Darla's, and nodded.

"Sounds like a plan," Pike replied. "And I am a bit tired."

"Me too," Graham swore. "All those stairs really wore me out."

"I could sleep for days," Riley added.

"Yup," Oz murmured.

Lilah rolled her eyes. "Fine, fine. Let's get Parker and I'll show you the way out. But then you get me the kid back!"

She led them out of the room, stopping by a small office to fetch Parker, who was sleeping on his desk. "Come on, slutboy," She snarled, kicking him in the shin. "Time to go." She punched the rabbit that appeared, knocking it into a wall.

"But we haven't fucked yet," Parker whined as he stood up. "And who are they?"

"Shut up," Lilah grated out, pushing Parker down the hall. "Just help me open the goddamned door."

Spike and the others followed Lilah and Parker down a long hallway. The further they got, the more white rabbits they encountered. Bunnies of every shape and size, everywhere. They covered the floor, spilled into adjacent rooms, and generally made the place reek. Even the stoic Oz was beginning to retch at the odor.

Parker and Lilah each pulled out a key and inserted them into a pair of locks. Then they reached together for the door handle and pulled it open, revealing a portal. Spike could just make out what looked like the aisles of a grocery store on the other side. "That's it?" He asked, peering into the portal.

"Yeah," Lilah said. "Not much, but it works. Now, little girl." She continued, holding out her hand. "You give me the girl, I get out of the way."

Spike glanced at Riley and Graham. A quick nod confirmed their plans. Pike, Oz and Devon caught on and moved slightly behind Spike. As one, they rushed Parker and Lilah. Oz and Pike went for the keys, pulling them out of the locks. Riley and Graham picked up Lilah and Parker, throwing them back down the hall. As soon as they were out of the way, rabbits began rushing the portal. Spike called out for the others and they too entered the dimensional gate, closing the doors behind them.

"Damn," Graham swore as he landed on his ass next to a display of canned pineapple. A white rabbit hopped by him, carrying a can of Spam in its mouth.

"We're out," Riley whispered. "I didn't think we'd *ever* get out of there."

"Me either," Oz agreed.

Spike sat up from where he'd fallen in a pile of Little Debbies. "Where were we?"

"Past Characters Rehabilitation Clinic," Pike said. "It's where they send everyone who's been thrown out of Buffy's universe."

"But I wasn't thrown out!" Spike growled. "I was just taking some bloody test so I could get my chip taken out."

"Really?" Graham said. "Huh. Funny."

"Maybe you got sent to the wrong place," Oz offered. "'Cause most of us get a one-way ticket into the Clinic. They only dust one of us off occasionally."

"Anyway," Devon said, standing up. "What now?"

"I still wanna go back and give the Slayer what she deserves," Spike swore. "Only I can't because this bloody chip still works."

"What does the Slayer deserve?" Graham inquired.

"He just wants to kill her," Riley said.

"Not very original," Oz commented.

"Oh, and you've got a better idea? Just how *am* I supposed to get my knackers back after acting like a bleeding idiot for a season?" Spike spat.

Pike looked around the group. "Show up with five hot guys in your bed and ignore her skank ass?"

Spike considered. Then he thought a bit more. "Works for me," He said finally.

"I'm in," Riley added. "She's got one coming to her."

"Hey, if it means lots of sex, you can always count on me," Graham agreed.

"Better than playing Monopoly with Holtz and Glory," Oz said. "Sure."

"Right," Spike said, gathering up his lovely boys. "I wonder how far we are from Sunnydale?"

--The End.