02:14

He wished he was drunk.

He wanted nothing more than to crawl in the bottle and never clamber back out because it would hurt less than this.

Spike was sat on the plass by the invisible lift, watching everyone coming and going. He was sat in the shadows, careful that Buffy wouldn't see him as she came and went from the hub. At one point he had to witnessing her practically dry-humping with Jack against the water tower. He wondered, if he snuck up behind the couple, if he’d have chance to snap Jack’s neck before Buffy killed him for it.

He doubted it. Plus he really needed to stay alive to save them from themselves.

The thought of Buffy and Jack together was almost as sickening as the thought of Gwen and Jack.

Or Faith and Jack.

He shuddered.

At least Buffy and Jack made a moderately sexy couple.

He hit himself on the forehead to push out his thoughts. Buffy was his; he wasn’t going to accept this, even if she did look happy.

Fake happiness.

It was fake, damn it.

He hated sitting on his own in the dark. There hadn’t been any movement by the hub for forty-five minutes and Spike was starting to get fed up. He couldn’t even take a swig of bourbon because he needed a clear head for saving the Torchwood team’s collective asses.

He chuckled darkly; oh, how fun tormenting them with lines like ‘I saved your asses’ would be for years to come. He grinned to himself for a moment before he saw a solitary figure walking towards him from the direction of the tourist office. His vampire night vision allowed him to focus on the figure, seeing the face and raising an eyebrow. It was Ianto.

Perfect.

Then he chased after him.

02:16

He felt so dirty, so guilty. He wanted to kill himself; take his gun, put the barrel to his chin and pull the trigger, like Suzie. He knew how she felt now; the guilt, the pain ... The wrenching pain in his gut whenever he thought of the girls he killed.

They were so small, so fragile, their bodies reminding him of...

Yes, that was when he'd killed his first. The blonde girl.

He'd killed her because she'd reminded him of her.

Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

It had been the day he'd found out Buffy and Jack were together. He'd been angry, so angry, and he'd wanted to take that same gun and shoot her...

But, no, he'd rather do it bare handed, wrapping his fingers around her throat and squeezing the life out of her, slowly.

But he didn't stand a chance against the ever powerful Buffy, so he'd gone home, walking because his car was having it's M.O.T. done and wouldn't be ready until the next day.

He'd walked in the dark. He hadn't planned for it to happen, but he'd seen her. She was the right height, with blonde hair and large eyes and a face which, in the right light, could be Buffy's.

So he'd followed her, fooling himself into thinking it was the Slayer herself he was stalking, that it was Buffy getting more terrified by the minute as she quickened her pace.

He walked faster too, his footsteps echoing her own, but louder, until she stopped to confront him and he had pounced.

His first blood.

And it had felt so good.

Then he'd called Adam, panicked.

It was the next night that he started stalking Buffy. He never made a move to get closer, or harm her, but remembered what it felt like killing her.

Or, the poor copy of her.

He'd killed again the night Buffy didn't walk home. She'd stayed at the hub, all night, with Jack.

And that girl, her hair drenched with rain had looked so much like her...

His latest victim had been after he'd caught Buffy and Jack, late one night when they'd thought he'd gone home, shagging on Gwen's desk.

That murder had been particularly violent and had been so satisfying.

Ianto wanted to tell Jack. Tell him what he'd done, and to lock him up with the other monsters in the cell. But Jack would never understand. He'd threatened to kill him after Lisa, but hadn't. This time he would.

If Jack found out about the three girls he would take that gun and shoot him dead then and there.

Because he'd never forgiven him for Lisa. Because he never would.

He knew that now.

He supposed he'd always known.

And that's how Ianto Jones found himself getting up from where he'd been sobbing on the couch and heading out to find himself another victim.

He needed to kill again.

Tonight.

Next: Chapter 4b