"He was dead on the operating table," Dr. Robbins told Grissom. "They put him under anesthesia and when he was hooked up he was already dead."
Grissom shook his head. "What killed him?"
"Well I haven't gotten a chance to poke around yet, but I'm thinking that this bullet wound killed him," Dr. Robbins said, poking his finger into the hole roughly.
"That's a fairly safe bet," Grissom said.
"The bullet entered into the ribcage, nicked a lung and cracked a rib in the back," Dr. Robbins said. "Approximately 13 centimeters deep. The anesthesia probably stopped his lungs and he died. There was a lot of bleeding going on in there."
"Greg told me that this bullet matched the others," Grissom said, picking up the bullet in his gloved hand. "So William Henninger was his latest victim."
"It certainly seems that way," Dr. Robbins agreed. "Shall we open him up and shed some light on this?"
"Yes," Grissom said, setting down the bullet.
Dr. Robbins pulled down the sheet to the bleach blonde's waist and picked up a scalpel, starting the Y-cut at Spike's shoulder, down to the center of his chest, then from the other shoulder down, and a straight line down past his navel.
The cuts started bleeding heavily.
Dr. Robbins grabbed some cotton pads, attempting to soak up the blood.
"Why is he bleeding?" Grissom asked, perplexed.
"Could have been more internal bleeding than I thought," Dr. Robbins guessed. "Or he hasn't been dead long enough."
They waited until the bleeding stopped.
"Can we open him now?" Grissom asked.
"I'll have to make the cuts deeper," Dr. Robbins replied, throwing the bloodied bandages away and wiping off the blood from the pale skin. He pressed the scalpel to Spike's shoulder again, restarting the cut and making it deeper. "Get the saw ready. I think we'll have to cut through the rib cage to get in and see what made this guy die in his prime."
"The cuts are still bleeding," Grissom said.
"They'll stop," Dr. Robbins said, cutting a little deeper.
"OW! Bloody hell!" Spike growled, moving to get his shoulder out from under the blade and causing Dr. Robbins to slice across his shoulder.
"Holy shit," Grissom jumped, and Dr. Robbins moved away.
Spike thumped back to the table, too weak to move and looked up at the bright florescent lighting. "What the hell is going on?" he mumbled, slightly slurred and breathing heavily.
"Dr?" Grissom asked.
"I-I've never had this happen before," Dr. Robbins admitted, then moved back to examine Spike.
"Who - who are you?" Spike asked. "Don't touch me."
"I was about to dissect you," Dr. Robbins informed him.
"S'that why I thought I was being eaten by Gnarl?" Spike mumbled.
Grissom was stunned and grabbed bandages, pressing them to Spike's cuts. "Why didn't you wake up when Dr. Robbins first cut you?"
Spike coughed a laugh. "I'm a heavy sleeper, mate. Where the hell am I?"
"In the morgue," Dr. Robbins replied. "Having an autopsy."
"Oh. You know, I thought they were just gonna dig out the bullet," Spike said. "Don't see why I had to be drugged up and brought to a morgue. Thought I was back in the Initiative for a second, there."
"Spike, you died during operation for a good half hour," Grissom said. "This is a miracle. We have to get him back to a hospital."
"S'the bullet out?"
"Yes."
"Then stop bloody well digging into my cold dead corpse," Spike muttered, sitting up. "Why the hell am I still naked?"
"Corpses don't wear clothes," Dr. Robbins replied, wiping his scalpel clean and sterilizing it.
"Call a doctor," Grissom said, trying to push Spike back on the table.
"I don't need a sodding doctor," Spike said. "Just need to get this finished up and go crawl into a bottle. Got a light?"
"You just woke up on an examining table and you want a cigarette?" Grissom asked. "Spike, you had no heartbeat!"
"Yeah, well, unless you fit me with a pacemaker this is old news," Spike retorted, pulling the sheet around himself. "Try having your face ripped off by a Que'lu demon and then getting tossed fifty feet into a brick wall."
"Que-lu demon?" Grissom repeated.
Spike nodded, then had to lay back down. "What the hell did you give me? This is worse than Woodstock."
"I went to Woodstock," Dr. Robbins said.
"You're still coming out of anesthesia from the surgery," Grissom said.
"Surgery?"
"To remove the bullet that was lodged in your chest right before it exited your back," Grissom said. "You should be in recovery, but you died. Sarah's gone to contact your significant others."
"I don't have any significant others."
"Buffy? Willow?" Grissom asked.
"They're not even friends," Spike said bitterly, turning his head away. "Only my sire's left he doesn't care."
"Grissom, we should get him some proper medical attention," Dr. Robbins suggested, gesturing to his cane.
Grissom nodded and left quickly, calling for a doctor.
"Buffy Summers?" Sarah asked.
"Yes," Buffy said.
"It's that girl again," Dawn said, stopping on the stairs.
"Miss Summers, can we sit down?" Sarah asked.
"No," Buffy said. "What happened?"
"I'm sorry," Sarah said. "William passed away."
"What?" Buffy frowned.
"He's dead?!" Dawn cried.
"Dawn, stop," Buffy said, but her sister ran upstairs.
"Willow!" Dawn screeched.
"What's going on?" Tara asked as Dawn flew into Willow's arms, crying.
"Spike's dead!" Dawn cried.
"Dawn," Buffy said in a tight, hushed voice. "They probably think he's dead. He might've fallen asleep and you know vampires."
Dawn shook her head, bleary-eyed. "Go ask."
Buffy went back downstairs where Sarah waited with obligation.
"Spike turned to dust?" Buffy asked.
"What?"
"Where is he?"
"In Los Vegas," Sarah said. "They're doing an autopsy to determine cause of death, but it looks like he died from internal bleeding from the gun shot wound."
"What gun shot wound?"
"You didn't know?" Sarah asked.
"Dawn and Spike were friends," Buffy said. "But we weren't very close."
Sarah nodded. "Do you know any immediate family? He gave us a name of someone who doesn't exist."
"Just Angel," Buffy said. "Spike didn't have family. You're doing an autopsy?"
"Yes."
"Spike's not gonna like that," Buffy said under her breath. "Can I come back with you to pick up the body?"
"Yes, of course," Sarah nodded gravely.
"Okay, thanks," Buffy said, going back upstairs. "Dawn, Spike's not dead."
"He's not?" Dawn asked tearfully.
"No, there's still a body," Buffy explained. "And when vampires die they dust, right? Spikes still alive. Well, he's still undead. And he'll be pissed off if they cut him open to see what killed him."
"They're doing an autopsy?" Willow frowned.
"He got shot apparently," Buffy said. "I'll have to go to Los Vegas to save him from being buried again."
"Los Vegas," Tara smiled. "Have fun."
"Grissom," Greg said. "I've got the stuff from Mr. Henninger processed."
"What did you find?" Grissom asked, going into the lab.
"Weird stuff, Gris. Weird stuff," Greg said, handing Grissom print outs. "The finger nail clippings are clean, mind a little nicotine. Some black polish, a little dirt, but nothing major. The boots have blood on them. Unidentified human blood, not our vics, and whole lot of unknown blood and unknown substances resembling goo."
Grissom frowned. "That's odd."
"Socks are clean, shirt and pants came back covered with blood, cigarette smoke, the same weird goos, human blood, still not our vic, mostly Mr. Henninger's blood."
"Makes sense. He gets into bar fights, people get bloody noses," Grissom said.
"Possibly. His blood matches the blood that got on the suspect's clothes, so we know he was shot by the guy. Bullet matches all the other bullets, and his fingerprints matched absolutely nothing. Hair matched nothing, lighter was clean, and saliva matched nothing. However, the coat has plenty of soot, blood, goo, gun shot residue and unknown substances."
"What type of blood?"
"Mr. Henninger's, various unknown people, none of our vics, and pig's blood."
"Pig's blood?" Grissom repeated.
"Yup. It's on his coat, his shirt, his pants, his shoes, and in his saliva," Greg said. "Talk about weird. You'd think this guy bathed in it."
"But nothing that ties him to the other scenes or gives us reason to believe he has a connection with the killer?"
"Nope," Greg said. "Maybe this guy was a butcher, or liked ham, or something. But get this. We searched high and low for a William Henninger and the guy has no criminal record. In fact, the only record of him was birth records and a death certificate."
"Death certificate?"
"Yeah. William Henninger died in 1880. There's even a little article about it. He was killed in London, England, COD was an animal attack."
"Animal attack?"
"Yeah, something that goes for the jugular," Greg said. "They killed a lot of wolves back then, and wild cats."
"This guy lives in Sunnydale," Grissom said.
"A town famous for vicious animal attacks," Greg finished. "But no one ever sees them."
Grissom frowned, putting everything together.
"Did I help?" Greg asked. "Figuring out the case?"
"Yeah, I think you helped, Greg," Grissom said. "If you're done with the coat, Spike wants it back."
Greg frowned, handing Grissom the coat. "I thought Cath said that you were with Dr. Robbins doing an autopsy on him."
"He was still alive," Grissom said. "His heart wasn't beating for well over forty minutes while they removed the bullet, but he woke up when Robbinson was making the cut."
"Yeesh!" Greg shuddered. "This guy is seriously weird. How do you come back if your heart stops for over forty minutes?"
Grissom shrugged. "They say death is only possible when your brain dies. But it'll be unrepairable after just a few minutes without oxygen."
"Maybe they kept his lungs going," Greg said. "You should talk to the doctors. Where is Spike now?"
"Back in the hospital, coming out of anesthesia and recovering post-op," Grissom replied.
"Man. I want to talk to that guy when this case is over," Greg said, wagging his pen. "When you figure this thing out, let me know the details, because I rarely see how the case plays out and this one is really catching me. I want to know what's up with him."
Grissom nodded, going through the files. "I'll look into his blood on the suspect's clothes. I think we have our murderer, we just have to reel him in."
Greg nodded. "You da man, Grissom."
"Oh, and by the way, they still can't find a heartbeat on him, but he's breathing steadily," Grissom informed Greg, leaving the boy stunned and confused.
"Where's Spike?" Buffy asked when she recognized Grissom.
"Miss Summers," Grissom said.
"You didn't gut him, did you?" Buffy asked.
"No," Grissom said, looking at Sarah. "Miss Summers, Spike is still alive."
"What?" Sarah blinked.
"He woke up during the autopsy," Grissom said. "The anesthesia must have depressed his breathing and caused his heart to stop. But we still can't find a heartbeat."
"And you won't," Buffy said. "Where is he?"
"In the hospital, recovering from surgery and being treated for the scalpel cuts," Grissom said. "He's breathing, but his heart isn't beating."
"How is that possible?" Sarah frowned.
"We don't know," Grissom said.
"It's a rare, rare medical condition," Buffy said.
"That's not possible," Grissom frowned.
"Then you don't know Spike," Buffy said. "And you have no business being in my town. You'll rule Spike out as having a part in the murders and leave us alone. You can't begin to understand this, and you probably shouldn't."
"what are you talking about?" Grissom asked.
Buffy shook her head. "I have to see Spike. My sister is upset and I'm taking him home when you let him leave."
"He said you weren't friends."
"No, but my sister loves him like a brother and as much as I don't like Spike I'm not leaving him here," Buffy said.
Grissom nodded and gave Buffy a bag. "These are his clothes. When you go to the hospital he may want them."
"You took his clothes?" Buffy asked.
"Yeah," Sarah said. "I did. He's a hottie."
Buffy shuddered, trying to clear naked Spike thoughts. "Which hospital and how will I get there?"
Grissom turned and found a man walking by, clapping him on the back. "Nicky can go with you and Sarah."
"What?" Nick asked.
The nurse let Buffy and the two investigators into the room, warning them that Spike needed to heal.
"How ya feeling?" Buffy asked, trying not to snicker at Spike in a hospital bed.
"Sore," Spike muttered with such pain that it wasn't too hard for her to control her sense of humor. "Trying to figure out how much these bastards will charge me for going into surgery, dying once, then coming back for more stitches. You know, those assholes trie to cut me open."
"Who you calling an asshole?" Sarah demanded.
"What did you do, Spike?" Buffy asked.
"Got shot."
"I can see that," Buffy said. "Sarah came to my house and told me you were dead and Dawn started crying."
"Really?"
"Duh! She loves you!" Buffy cried. "And she's gonna kick your butt when we get back. Who shot you?"
"The same man who's killed four other people," Sarah said.
"And you were just at the wrong place at the wrong time," Buffy said sarcastically. "Were you playing super hero again?"
"No."
"I told you to stop trying to help me so you come to Los Vegas and end up in a morgue?" Buffy asked, folding her arms.
"They told you about that, huh?"
"I got your coat."
"Oh thank bloody god. Is she okay?"
"She? Did you name it?"
"Her, Buffy, her," Spike corrected. "And no, she's too good for any names."
"Just pet names, then."
"You bet, luv."
"I heard Sarah stole your clothes."
"Yeah, she's a right devil," Spike said.
"Well I hope you're in a lot of pain because when you heal I'm gonna beat the hell out of you," Buffy said.
"I hope you don't mean that," Sarah said.
"I do," Buffy said. "You actually made me worry about you."
Spike raised an eyebrow.
"Oh, shut up."
"I didn't say anything."
"Well don't look so smug! I was worried because Dawn was worried."
"You were worried about me."
"I was not," Buffy said, turning to the side.
"Admit it!" Spike grunted, trying to sit up as well as he could. "Come on. Why can't you just admit you love me?"
"I am not talking about this now," Buffy said, and the two investigators shifted uncomfortably.
"We'll be outside," Sarah said, tugging Nick's arm and leaving.
"Buffy, can't you just love me back?"
"I don't love you."
"Bullshit!" Spike got up, grunting at the pain in his chest. "Why can't you just admit that you have feelings for me?"
"Feelings, yes," Buffy said.
Spike tore open the bag of his clothes and hauled off the hospital gown, flinging it away and getting his pants on.
"What're you doing?" Buffy asked, blushing at his brief nudity.
"I want to talk," Spike said, pulling on his shirt and finding his boots.
"Well I don't."
"We have to talk," Spike persisted, tying his shoes.
"No. We don't," Buffy said flatly, leaving the room.
"Damn it, Buffy!" Spike ripped out an IV and followed her. "Buffy!" he caught her arm and Buffy spun to glare at him.
"What?"
"Look, I know that I've made some mistakes but I'm trying my best to show you that I love you."
"I know that, Spike."
"Then why won't you listen? Buffy, you have to give me a chance."
"You're evil Spike."
"But I'm trying to change! For you." Spike followed her as she continued walking away. "I love you and your sis and Dawn adores me and you know that Willow and Tara are my favorite witches and I don't give a bloody damn about Xander and Giles. Why can't we just be happy? They'd understand."
"How can they understand when I don't understand?" Buffy asked, stopping to face him. "I don't love you."
"Then why did you come to Los Vegas."
Buffy bit her lip. "To keep you from being cut open. This is stupid."
"It's not stupid. You love me. I know you do."
Buffy grit her teeth. "Come on," she walked down the hall, Spike following her.
Nick looked at Sarah. "Should we-?"
"Come on, Nicky," Sarah said, towing the co-worker along.
They found Buffy and Spike in the parking lot, beating the hell out of each other.
"Hey!" Nick yelled.
"Hey, knock it off!" Sarah cried.
Buffy punched Spike in the face, grabbed his hair and slammed his face into the wall.
Spike coughed and chuckled, then spun and kicked her in the jaw. The Slayer stumbled back at another kick to her side and Spike caught her fist. "What the hell is wrong with you? You won't love me back!"
Buffy kicked Spike in the face and grabbed his throat in a tight grip.
"I don't want a tender lover. I can't stand to have to protect you or think I need protecting. Slayers shouldn't get attached to people. I learned that the hard way."
Spike took her hand in a more crushing grip. "You have friends, family."
"My mother is dead!" Buffy snapped, punching him. "I fear my friends will be next every day. Angel, Parker, Riley, they all broke my heart."
"And who's been here for you the last two years?!" Spike demanded. "Riley and Parker are chicken shit and Angel is just a pompous old bastard. They will never love you the way you deserve."
Buffy grit her teeth and brought a knee into Spike's stomach, winding him.
"We can't both be fighters. I'm not going to grow attached to you just for one of us to wake up and you're not there."
"Buffy, you have to be brave," Spike growled. "I'd prefer to die with you, in battle, but if you're gone I will take care of Dawn. No one will ever love you as much as I do. I just want - I just want to sleep with you and actually sleep! I want to relax and have you still lying next to me in the morning. I want to finally be loved back. I can be whatever you need, but we both know I'm all that you've got."
Buffy's chin trembled and she punched Spike again in the nose, breaking it with a blinding pain and a spurt of blood. Spike growled in pain and vamped out and she flipped him to the ground, landing on his back with a heavy thud. She started pounding him in the face until Spike managed to roll them over and pin her down. He smacked her head back against the pavement and punched her until she rolled them again and kept hitting until he slid back into his human face. Buffy trembled as Spike reached up to touch the hair falling over her shoulders.
"You're beautiful, you know that, right?" was all Spike could say before he was crushed in a fierce kiss and hugged her shoulders to him tightly.
"Holy shit," Nick muttered.
"I know," Sarah agreed. "They're completely psychotic."
"What the hell happened?" Grissom asked when he saw Spike and Buffy sitting together on a bench in the hallway.
"Um, they got into a fight," Sarah said.
"I can see that," Grissom said. "With who?"
"Each other," Nick said.
"Spousal abuse?" Catherine guessed.
"Seems like," Sarah agreed.
"He walked out of the hospital and they were arguing about whether or not she loved him," Nick explained. "We get out to find them beating the hell out of each other like they walked out of The Matrix. Then they just start making out. Neither of them are pressing charges."
Catherine looked surprised and studied the two. Buffy was leaning against Spike's chest and talking inaudibly, a hand resting across his stomach while he pressed kisses to her hair and neck. "Maybe they're the young, angry, bad childhood, self-loathing types. They've sparked a fiery passion. It's not uncommon."
"It's not healthy, either," Grissom retorted.
"She lives in the suburbs, Sunnydale, California," Sarah explained. "Nice house, good neighborhood - bad town. Death rates are high, mostly unknown or animal attacks. Her mother is dead, she has legal guardianship over her fifteen-year-old sister, Dawn, and live with her best friend and best friend's girlfriend. She has involvement with murders, has a police history of being suspect in crimes and vandalism of property. He has no file, no criminal records, no residence, and no immediate family. He seems like the sort to lay down and take abuse."
"They look abused, alright," Warrick said.
"Hey Warrick," Nick greeted. "How'd the case work out?"
"The daughter killed the step mother."
"Wow," Nick shook his head. "Didn't see that one."
"Oh, she was a bitch," Catherine assured.
Greg came out of his lab. "Grissom. Are you done with that Spike guy?"
"He's been ruled out as a suspect, yes," Grissom said.
"Can I talk to him?" Greg asked. "I'm going crazy here."
Grissom shrugged. "If he'll answer."
"Spike?" Warrick repeated. "Isn't that a dog's name?"
"And Buffy is a cat's name," Sarah smiled.
Greg approached the couple, the other's following out of curiosity.
Catherine gave a low whistled. "You two look like you got hit by a freight train."
Buffy glanced at Spike, who had a split lip, blackened eye, scraped off skin from being slammed into a wall, and bruises, whereas she had bruises on her cheek and a cut on her forehead.
Spike tightened his grip on Buffy. "I find any girl who can kick my ass extremely sexy."
Buffy smiled. "And any guy who can get shot, nearly cut open, take a beating from me and still bruise me and have enough conscious for five straight hours of sex earns my respect."
Spike groaned. "How 'bout four?"
"How about we patrol instead and sneak in for a hot shower and just sleep in until ten?"
"Both of us?" Spike asked. "In the morning? Oh, I like this plan."
"I gotta know," Greg said. "Why don't you have a heartbeat?"
"Should I tell them?" Spike asked.
"That's your choice," Buffy replied.
Spike looked at the six expectant faces. "I'm a vampire."
"A vampire," Catherine repeated.
"Well that explains everything," Greg said, satisfied.
"Can you fly?" Nick asked.
"Vampires don't sodding well fly," Spike answered, annoyed.
"I've seen vampires and the vampire lifestyle," Catherine said. "A psychotic man who had sharp, irregular canines thought he was a vampire and preyed on fourteen-year-old virgins."
"Spike has a strict diet of pig's blood," Buffy assured. "Virgin is like veal. Tasty, but no more for Spikey. It's bad."
"Like I'm really gonna run out and bite someone and loose you," Spike retorted.
"Do you use denture glue?" Catherine asked.
"Luv, there are plenty of psychopaths out there who want to be 'Children of the Night'. Lemme give you a 101. Vampires are primal, feral killers that rarely have enough brains and self-control to think about anything but blood. I'm royal blood, of course, of intelligent vampires. We live in packs in shitty warehouses, not castles with harems. We don't wear capes - except Dracula and Angel, the pansies. Most of us are terrified of flying in aircraft. Why would we want to be closer to the sun? We don't sleep in coffins. Not if we have posh girlfriends to ravish. Candles are for romance and if you don't have electricity, but are dangerous. Only Dracula and royal bloodlines can hypnotize people. We're very orally fixated. Garlic reeks. I did die in 1880. Any vampire out on Halloween is a trick-or-treater or mentally retarded. Only wood through the heart or decapitation kills us. I'm 127, happy, not killing, not threatening you, so don't kill me, K?"
"Most vampires are... taller," Nick said.
"Don't get petty on me."
"Don't you have fangs, then?" Warrick asked.
"Nah, like to pass as human."
"Show them," Buffy said.
"But Buffy, they'll scream and you'll-"
"They stare at dead bodies all the time. Just show them so they'll know we've been nothing but honest."
Fine," Spike closed his blue eyes, willed the changed, and opened them yellow.
"That's a real vampire," Nick blinked.
"It's like a big cat," Sarah commented.
"Now I've seen everything," Catherine mused. "And now I know that I've seen vampires before."
"I'd love to take a dental mold," Greg gushed, awed. "If you promise not to kill him, will you bite me?"
"Sure, luv," Spike agreed with a devilish grin. "Ow!" he shifted back into his human face as Buffy smacked him. "What was that for?"
"He says 'bite me' and you say 'sure, luv'?!"
"He was offering himself to me! It's not like I could kill him, or even hurt him. I don't see the problem."
"Human blood makes you crazy. You'll kill me in my sleep."
"But you'd just come back," Spike joked.
"I guess it's true when they say vampires are bisexual," Buffy said, folding her arms.
"Hey! I do not like guys. I - I ogle Willow all the time. And Anya. But mostly you. You've got the prettiest neck, you know. But I'm a male vampire and I have other needs than just sex. I'm friggin hungry and I want blood."
"You want blood?" Buffy backhanded him, setting his nose bleeding again. "There. Blood. That's for ogling Willow and Anya."
"Least I'm honest," Spike said. "And you do have the prettiest neck."
"Oh, that's not sanitary," Catherine said as Spike licked the blood off of his fingers. "Come on, Warrick," she said, walking away with the co-worker.
"You understand me, luv," spike said.
Buffy rolled her eyes. "Sun's almost down. If you guys ever get a case of weird animal bites, demonic attacks, werewolves, spells, you know where to find me."
"Alright," Grissom agreed.
"come on, Spike," Buffy stood up and pulled Spike to his feet.
"What's your fascination for breaking my nose?" Spike asked.
"Stop being a baby," Buffy said. "Uh, we'll need a ride."
"I'll drive," Nick said. "Let you guys finish up that case."
"Thanks Nick," Sarah said. "Come on, Grissom, let's go wring a confession."
End
