"Spike," her light French accent caresses his name. "Haven't seen you around here in, what? A decade or two." If anyone didn't know Janette, they might assume she was talking to an old school friend as Spike didn't look older than his late 20's. But Spike was as ageless as his hostess, though not quite as gracious.

"Janette," he acknowledged. But offered no more. Ah, poor puppy was in a mood, thought Janette.

"Not traveling with Dru these days?" Spike's back arches tensely. Ah, that's hit a sore spot.

"I don't see your precious 'Nichola' around either. Oh, wait, that's right, he's found a soul. Or whatever you northern vamps have for an equivalent. Let me guess, he calls it a conscience." He returns to his drink. Broody and moody. Janette knows better than to take it seriously. "You know, I have a friend in L.A. he'd get along with disgustingly well." He shakes his head in disgust.

"Nicholas is at work, true. Saving the poor mortals from each other and us. And speaking of which... Spike... a reminder about the hunting rules while you're in town." Spike rolls his eyes. He tries to wave her off, but she's insistent.

"You know what happened the last time you were in town. LaCroix had to run you out himself. He's not going to be happy to hear you're back if you're going to cause trouble again."

Spike tosses down the last of his drink and hands it back to the bartender for a refill. Janette does keep a good stock, he'll give her that much. "Look, I'm not here to cause trouble. Well, that's wrong. I'm not here to cause trouble for you." At her look. "Or his lordship LaCroix. I'm here on business."

Janette nods in acceptance. "As long as your business does not become our business, I wish you a... productive visit." She watches as Spike straightens in his seat. A tall, aristocratic-looking blonde-haired man in an expensive suit enters the club carrying a briefcase. He sees Spike and starts to approach. Janette raises a delicately arched eyebrow. "Moving up in the world, William?"

Spike stands to meet the newcomer as he answers Janette over his shoulder. "Trying to, love. Trying to." He greets the well-dressed man. "Kenneth Irons, I presume?" But Irons looks at Janette, recognizing what she is and dismissing her from the vicinity with a glance. With an amused glance at Spike, Janette crosses the room to separate an over-enthusiastic vamp from victim at a corner table. She asks the youngster to take his meal into the back and is lost amongst the wandering patrons. Irons re-focuses on the vampire before him.

"I've flown all the way to Toronto to meet with you. I hope," he emphasizes the word strongly, "that you've not wasted my time."

Spike wants to pull an attitude, but he needs Irons. For the moment. "I told your lackey," the vampire looked around as if expecting to see the strange, protective Ian Nottingham standing behind him, but there was no sign of the odd, dark mortal. "I have reason to believe the book you were looking for is on exhibition here. The one with the stories about," Spike lowers his voice, "the Witchblade."

Irons looks unimpressed. "And I need you to get it for me... why?"

Here Spike looks more sure of himself. "Because only an immortal can open the casket it's encased in. It's cursed against humans." Irons looks mildly interested. Spike can tell the wheels are turning in the mogul's head. Spike smiles, as he watches Irons weighing the value of using Spike who's there and seems knowledgeable on the matter vs. using another demon or other immortal who owes him a favor. Or wasting a mortal or two testing the strength of the curse and trying to open the casket. Of course, while people are as dispensable to Irons as they are to Spike, Irons is also interested in what Spike wants from him.

"And if I let you procure this item for me. What would you want in exchange?" Irons idly runs his fingers over the gold clasps on his briefcase, but knows Spike wouldn't have called him for anything so common as money. Still, whatever the vampire wants, Irons suspects it will be as valuable to him as the book is to Irons.

"I want you to buy me a building." Spike cocks his head slightly and smirks at the raised eyebrows this statement earned. But a building is pocket change to a businessman of Irons' resources and they both know it. Though Irons is curious, Spike can tell by the slight nod as Irons thinks it over that he's got his building. Still Irons has to ask...

"I don't suppose you want to tell me what you want it for?" Irons doesn't even bother asking which building Spike is interested in. It's a small enough price for the item he wants. Spike, feeling victorious, leans jauntily against the bar.

"It's a surprise... for some friends." Spike tosses down his second drink and drops a few dollars on the bar to cover his tab. The two make arrangements to meet again at The Raven two nights later. Irons will have the papers drawn up including the deed of purchase. Spike will bring the book. Business clearly over, Irons nods and turns to leave the club, silkily avoiding the embrace of an amorous leather-clad vampire. Janette returns to Spike's side.

"Find what you were looking for?" Janette watches the back of Irons as he departs, then returns her probing gaze to Spike.

"Getting there, brightness. Getting there." Janette cheekily flashes her fangs at Spike. He winks and heads for the door.

As Spike moves out onto the sidewalk, he nearly bumps into an old friend. Who promptly grabs him by the throat and pulls him into an alley next to the club.

Trying not to choke, Spike greets the vampire strangling him. "LaCroix. Always a pleasure." Lucien LaCroix, an elegant middle-aged man with blonde hair cropped in a buzz cut, dressed all in black aside from the small silver sword pin at his collar drops his hold on the younger vampire. Spike readjusts his jacket. "Just not for me."

"Spike." LaCroix is clearly annoyed with his presence. "I do recall that the last time you darkened our doorstep I told you not to do it again." The angry yellow eyes slowly returned to a more human norm as LaCroix controlled his temper.

"Yeah, well, there was no help for it. Business, you know." LaCroix isn't buying it.

"And you can take that business elsewhere. Your earlier business in our city involved too much clean-up work for Nicholas. And while I will never understand his need to work for these mortals, it does keep him happy. And out of my way, so I can go about my business comfortably."

"How sweet," Spike could care less. "Like sire, like son. Always worrying about what the humans will think. I remember a time when you made the rules, LaCroix. What happened to you? Go as soft as your offspring?" But LaCroix won't rise to the bait and merely smirks.

"What are doing here, Spike? You know I can dust you if I choose. Or I can make it more painful. Why risk that? What's worth making me angry?" Spike wants to bluster, but he needs to stay in town. And in order to do that, he needs to coddle the old man.

"I am not here to get in your way or gorge on your 'flock'. I'm here to retrieve an item, then I have some business across town. None of it will get in your way."

"Or Nicholas'?" LaCroix warns.

"Or Nicholas." Spike acknowledges the implicit threat. LaCroix stands, arms crossed, contemplating. Spike waits. Almost patiently. LaCroix nods finally.

"All right. But if you do get in our way, this time you won't leave town. Ever." Spike gets the threat. Ye gods, these northern vampires were so pedantic!

LaCroix nods his head in acquiescence. "In that case... good hunting."

Spike moves off quickly into the gathering shadows.

The next night after the sun has dropped below the horizon, Spike hurries up the steps of the Toronto Library. He brushes past the mortals, barely letting the smell of the blood around him distract him from his goal. There. Ah, the indignity of this. Spike enters the janitor's closet and prepares to wait for the library to close. The bustle outside the door finally slows to a crawl. The lights coming underneath the door dim. The footsteps fade away.

After waiting for what seemed like ages, Spike emerges. Really, he thinks, this hide and cringe is not his style, but better than pissing off the oldster. And as much as Spike doesn't want to admit it, LaCroix just might be able to pull off his threat of dusting him or worse. And then of course, there's his current... condition to consider. Damn the bastards. More importantly, though, Spike needs that building, which means he needs Irons, which means getting the book quickly and quietly. Spike moves through the library into the main exhibition hall, which is filled with various fenced-off displays with small placards explaining the contents. Including... ah, there it is...

Spike reaches for the small casket and mutters the incantation to unlock it. He reaches for the clasp and opens it. An old leather-bound book is inside. Spike picks it up. Nothing happens. His sources were right. No curse against an immortal taking it. He starts to tuck the book under his coat when he hears a man's voice coming his way. Damn. Times like this it would be nice to be able to fly like those northern vampires. Unfortunately, he doubts LaCroix would be interested in giving him lessons. He settles for hiding behind a large statue.

"Yeah, my daughter Jenny, said she left her backpack in here. Thanks, Roger." A heavyset dark-haired guy in a cheap suit enters the exhibition hall. If he didn't smell like a mortal, the dated sideburns would've made Spike think he was a vampire who hadn't changed his look since the 1970's. The man calls out to the guard who's stayed in the other room. "She said she left it next to the 'treasure chest'."

"Yo, Schanke, look for the locked green casket off to the left," suggests the guard who's clearly too busy watching a basketball game on his portable TV to come help.

Skanky, thinks Spike. How appropriate. Until he realizes what the man is about to find.

"Hey, Roger, did you say 'locked' casket? 'Cause something got out if you had it in! Oh, wait, there it is!" Schanke reaches down towards the ground.

Roger calls back from the other room. "You find the chest?"

"No. I mean, that's definitely open, my man. But I did find Jenny's backpack." He holds it up in triumph.

Finally Roger comes to investigate. "Whaddaya mean open?" The minimum-wage security guard in the cheap rent-a-uniform stares confused at the open green chest. "Now, Schanke, I'd swear that was closed when I did my rounds not twenty minutes ago!"

Schanke doesn't look particularly concerned, but offers to use the phone to call in his partner to take a look around the place, make sure there are no vandals hiding inside. Roger appreciates the offer.

Bugger all, thinks Spike, still waiting for Dumb and Dumber to move along. Finally they move back to Roger's station where Schanke calls his partner who conveniently seems to be in the neighborhood.

But Spike is already on the move. He actually makes it out the door and down the library steps before he's grabbed by yet another interfering vampire.

"Well, if isn't Spike. What are you doing in the area, Spike? Does LaCroix know you're here?" Nicholas Knight, vampire cop, pulls the book out from under Spike's jacket. "And let me guess this won't show up on your library card."

At that moment, Nick's partner, Schanke comes down the library steps and takes in one of Nick's hands holding Spike in place and the old book held in the other.

"Is that what was in the chest, Nick?" Schanke looks expectantly at his partner. "This our perp?"

Spike gives Schanke a dirty look. What planet was this guy from?

Nicholas gives a warning look to Spike. "No, I think Mr... Williams, here was just going to return a book to the library. He didn't realize it was already closed." Nicholas tucks the book under his arm. Spike looks back and forth between Nick and Schanke. He should be able to take them both. But then there's LaCroix. He'd really piss him off if he dusted his favorite. And of course, that other little problem might kick in. But damn it was tempting. He watches as Nick sends his partner back into the library and promises to join him in a minute.

"Okay, Spike. What's this about? Doing a little late reading?" Spike tries to take the book back, but Nick keeps him away from it.

"Look, it's mine. Just let me have it and I'll be going on my way." Nick smiles.

"Sorry, Spike. Random vampire comes to town and first place he goes is to the library? Uh-uh. I don't buy it." Spike tries again to grab the book.

"Hey, who are you calling random?" Spike is exasperated now. So close. Nick waits. Spike shrugs. "Fine. I'll tell you. That book. It's about the Slayer. And she's my problem, not yours. So if you'll just give it to me, I'll be going."

"The Slayer?" This gets Nick's attention. "That's that girl down south who kills vampires?"

"Right. Right. Nasty piece of work she is. Dangerous to all of us. Best to be rid of her. So if you'll just give it to me..." But Nick is interested.

"Sounds like some interesting reading. Maybe I'll just borrow this myself. See what I can learn." Spike is tired of this dancing around but gives it one last shot.

"Look. It's no use to you. It's in ancient Sumerian. You up on Sumerian? Didn't think so. So I'll just take that." With this Spike lunges and tries to grab the book out of Nick's hands. But Nick holds on tight. He may not be as old as LaCroix, but he's centuries older than Spike and won't be taken easily. He grabs Spike's shirt in his free hand and pulls him over to his parked car, which he shoves Spike down into.

"Spike. Stay."

"I'm not a bloody dog, you know." Spike looks like he's ready to have a good sulk.

Nick takes the book and returns to the museum to help his partner.

"Now what?" He measures how quickly he could grab the book and be out of the car. Nick watches Spike calculate and puts the car in gear and pulls away from the curb.

"Now you come back to my place."

"Thanks, but you're not my type." Spike wonders if Nick will make him put on his seat belt, too.

"I know a professor who reads fluent Sumerian. Thought we could get a translation of this book for you." Nick waits for Spike's reaction. Spike thinks.

"Fine. Translation and a snack, then the book and I will go."

"First, no snack. The professor's a friend, not a meal." Spike doesn't even bother rolling his eyes. "Then, we'll figure out what to do with the book once we see what it says." Spike shrugs nonchalantly, playing it cool. They continue the drive in silence.

The elevator arrives at Nick's loft and Spike and Nick enter. Spike is impressed despite himself.

"Must be nice not to have to live on a cop's salary." Spike walks around examining the furnishings. He runs his fingers over the keys of the grand piano in the corner. "Good tone."

Nick goes to his answering machine to check messages. One from a woman named Natalie gets fast-forwarded (at a look from Spike) to listen to later.

Spike wanders over to Nick's kitchen. Discovers the donated blood bags in the refrigerator. "Oh, that's disgusting." He looks at an un-disturbed Nick - he's used to that reaction. From everyone. "How can you drink that stuff? It's not even fresh." Spike maintains his tough-guy attitude.

"It suits my needs." Nick stands by the phone, idly flipping through the book until he stops at an illustration of a bracelet with a picture of a knight next to it.

Spike wants to distract Nick from the book. "Yes, but does it suit your pleasures? Or don't you feed those anymore either?"

Nick isn't falling for it. "So are you going to tell me why you really want this book, or do I need to call my friend and have it translated? Which could take a few weeks if his schedule is busy." Spike looks panicked at the word 'weeks'. Is it time to 'fess up? The lies clearly aren't cutting it.

"Look, Nick. I need that book. I promise you, it's got nothing to do with you, vampires, or feeding on humans, okay? In fact I don't think it's got anything evil in it at all."

"You don't think it does?" Nick sees Spike is on unsure ground here and presses him. "So what does it have to do with?"

Spike feels cornered. "It's... for a friend."

"A friend? And what does your 'friend' want the book for?" Spike can see Nick is not going to let go of this.

"Okay, he's got a serious jones for something called a Witchblade and this book has the dirt on it. I give him the book; he gives me what I need. Nobody even dies in the process. And we're all happy."

"Which brings us to - what do you need, Spike?"

"Oh, what do we all need? Peace, love and understanding, I say." But the smile does nothing for Nick who awaits a real answer.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Try me," Nick suggests.

"I need a building..." Spike continues as Nick's eyebrows arch at the unfolding tale.

The next evening Spike enters The Raven and sees Irons already sitting at one of the tables, briefcase closed in front of him. The omni-present dark bodyguard or whatever he was to Irons (Friend? Lover? Slave? Spike couldn't tell), Ian Nottingham, stood beside him, head and eyes cast down, long hair pulled back into a tight knot, hands clasped together in front of him, but every inch of his taut body was aware and ready to spring as Spike pulled up a seat at the table.

"Call off your dog. We have a business transaction to complete, remember?" Nottingham's expression never changes, but Spike has amused himself and knows he was heard.

"The thing about dogs, Spike, is that you never have to question where their interests lie. Why have you been with that policeman? And why did he follow you here?" Nottingham smiles a secret smile at Spike's sudden discomfort. But Nick, spotted, soon joins them at the table.

Irons smiles his reptilian smile at Nick and offers his hand. "I don't believe I've had the pleasure, Detective."

Nick can sense the danger in Irons. But he's just there to see that the transaction moves along. As well as Irons himself. "The pleasure is mutual, Mr. Irons. Shall we conclude the transaction? I'm sure you need to be getting back home. You must have far more important business to take care of there."

"My business is wherever I am, Detective Knight. But it will be concluded here shortly. Assuming Spike here has accomplished his task."

Spike pulls the book out from under his jacket and puts it on the table. Nottingham reaches to take it, but both Nick and Spike keep a hand on it. Irons laughs and opens his briefcase, pulling out several sheets of paper.

"Gentlemen. I believe you'll find everything in order here." Nick scans the paperwork, nods and passes it to Spike who looks it over and pockets it. Nick and Spike let go of their hold on the book. Nottingham again reaches for it, places it reverently inside Irons' briefcase and locks it. He picks up the briefcase, holding it at his side, awaiting Irons. Irons again offers his hand to Nick, who shakes it. To Spike he merely nods. Spike shrugs. No offense taken. Spike has what he needs.

Iron stands and accompanied by the silent, submissive Nottingham, he exits The Raven. Mission accomplished.

Nick turns to Spike. "Shall we?" Spike nods. Curtly. This is the moment. And he's ready.

The two vampires arrive outside the brick three-story building. Nick points to the lockbox by the door. "That should have the keys." Spike checks the combination listed on one of the sheets of paper in his hand. He opens the box. The keys are there. Good. They enter the building.

Inside it's dusty. Leftover furniture too worn to be worth anything litters some of the rooms and hallways. Spike nods. This'll do nicely. He turns to Nick.

"You're sure you want to do this?" Spike still can't understand any vampire's desire to protect and serve. Anyone.

Nick grins. "Actually, Spike, I think it's a great opportunity. Besides, someone has to keep an eye on... your friends."

A figure steps out of the nearby darkness. LaCroix. "And what I want to know is... why you would want to do it. And why we should invite so many... guests into our city?"

Damn. Still, Spike knew LaCroix would cause problems if he wasn't onboard with this. Looking at Nick, he decides to let the offspring convince his sire.

"LaCroix. They can't cause trouble. If this chip works the way Spike says it does..."

"If..." LaCroix let the word hang.

Spike bristled. "Look, mate, I'll put on a dog and pony show for you if you like. But it works. The chip neuters demons and other undesirables. They've got nowhere to go and no way to survive the way they're used to. I know one bloke who's reduced to eating kittens, for crying out loud!" Spike ponders for a moment. "Or maybe he prefers them. But the rest of them don't. They can fight the demons who are coming by to mock them, but they're still afraid. They don't believe the Initiative is gone and are terrified the next time the U.S. government comes calling they'll never get away again. They want to get out of the country. They just want some place they can feel safe."

"And you've brought them here. How kind of you." LaCroix isn't impressed by Spike's 'selfless' desire to help. "And when they start overrunning our city?"

"They won't overrun anything, LaCroix," Nick interrupts. "Spike says he knows just over two dozen who escaped this group. They can live here and I'll keep an eye on them. I might even be able to make a few of them into productive citizens." Even Spike snorts at this. But Nick continues, "If they get out of hand… I'll threaten to send them back to the Initiative. If that doesn't work, I will send them somewhere else."

"Ah, yes, let them be someone else's problem then." LaCroix doesn't understand how Nick can be so many centuries old yet still so naïve.

"I don't think it'll come to that. LaCroix, we've had times where we've needed help from others. Mortals, immortals. While we can turn around and do the same, it's our obligation to do so."

Spike watches eagerly to see if LaCroix's falling for this stupid line. But he seems to have more sense than that.

"Really, Nicholas, appealing to my 'moral obligation' to our fellow damned? You don't think that argument will work, do you?"

Nick is exasperated. "Fine, LaCroix. Then let it be my obligation. And if they get in anyone's way, I'll help Spike find another place for them. Out of the city. Out of your way."

LaCroix sees Nick's determination. He knows that stubborn look. "Very well, Nicholas. Be it on your head then. Keep them out of my way. I wash my hands of this." LaCroix looks down at his hands as if somehow expecting to see them covered with blood. But to the tips of his immaculately polished nails, his hands are clean. To the naked eye.

Spike thinks he may be free. But LaCroix has one last question for him.

"Spike. I know you do nothing out of the empathy that has stricken my poor Nicholas. Tell me. What is your obligation here?"

Spike looks away, then turns his eyes to meet LaCroix's piercing gaze. His bravado drops for a moment. "I know what it's like to be trapped, LaCroix. To have no way to get away. While they're running around Sunnydale, they're still as much in a cage as when the Initiative was experimenting on them. This place may be just a more gilded variation, but at least they're not looking over their shoulders every minute. No one should live like that." But the vulnerable moment quickly disappears. "Besides, how can it hurt to have two dozen demons owing you favors? That's bound to be useful at some point."

LaCroix processes Spike's explanation. "Indeed. And in fact, Nicholas, they should be aware if they come here, that they will also owe us." LaCroix sees the value in that. He turns back to Spike. "That should conclude your business here, Spike. Shall I see you out of our fair city? Again?"

Spike puts his hands up in a surrender gesture. And he's glad to leave. "Going. Going. Gone." But before he can leave, Nick stops him and offers his hand. Spike looks down and takes it.