I have a picture of her. Nicked it from the mantelpiece that summer she was dead. I pried it loose from the frame. It was standing in a group of pictures, partly in behind. Don't think anyone noticed it was missing. I picked it because it was small enough to fit in a pocket. Used to carry it on patrol, everywhere really, it gave me some comfort.

It's not a bad shot of her. Not the best; I've seen her look more beautiful than this; but it'll do. It must have been taken at some gathering before her Mom died, because I never saw her smile that way afterwards. As if she had no cares. Her hair is pulled back as if she was just back from patrol or about to go out, and she's smiling at someone outside the frame. Don't know who. Not me, for certain.

It reminds me of her at her best; the warrior princess surrounded by the people she loves, happy, confident, unbowed. I fell in love with this girl. I used to look at the photo whenever I felt as if I couldn't go on, that long grinding desperate summer.

I wonder now if she ever existed. I didn't know her that well then. Before she died. Maybe she was never that confident, that happy, that unscarred by her burden. Perhaps she just hid it better, or I didn't know her well enough then to see. Maybe she was always broken.

Not a reason not to love her, even if it's true. In fact it activates my protective instincts, and if I didn't have any I wouldn't have spent a century with Dru, now would I. So she wasn't what I thought she was. Who is? Life is a constant voyage of discovery, as one of my tutors always used to say. Before beating the crap out of me again, usually.

That's not my problem.

My problem is that I don't know why I fell in love with her to begin with.

Actually it's worse than that. I have a sneaking suspicion that I do know. And it chills me.

Sure she was the queen of the pack I ran with, once I was chipped and we're all naturally attracted to the alpha of our social group. I didn't spend all my time watching telly, occasionally I'd pick up a book. And she's a nice looking kid, and then vampires have a thing for Slayers, I mean, we all do, it's not just me.

Though I'll be honest, I always had more of a thing for Slayers than most. I wanted the first one I killed, that's one reason I was all charged up afterwards, gave Dru the shagging of her life. The second one I prolonged the fight out of sheer pleasure.

So Buffy, queen of the pack, Slayer, cute blonde, lively - sure she had enough going for her to hang a major crush on. I won't argue. Even before I had the chip in I thought about giving her a ride or two before I killed her. Once I couldn't kill her, another word I've read somewhere is "sublimation". What's the next best thing?

But falling in love was not in the cards I held. I know this. I know who I was. She didn't have what it takes to make me really want her. I was love's bitch, but Buffy's - no.

And still I woke up one morning helplessly infatuated. Worse; in love. I know what love is like and I was in it. And it never went away, no matter what happened, what I did, what she did. God knows I tried to escape. Nothing worked. I could feel the giant velvet jaws capture me, and I felt it when the pressure began to mount. When the teeth began to tear the flesh. And when the agony was finally too much to stand and I ran to Africa, for something to ease the pain.

Which it did. I suffer ten thousand other torments now, but that one at least is gone. I look at the picture, and not a quiver. I think, nice girl; pity she has such a hard life. Good luck to her. And I put it away without a trickle of desire to see her again, to speak to her, to do anything with her at all.

I don't even remember what her voice sounded like. Last summer I heard it every night in my dreams.

So maybe the relentless shag-and-thump routine finally burnt it out of me. I may be a vampire, but even I have my limits, and it stopped being fun a long time before it stopped. I just kept hoping she'd wake up to what she was doing, giving it one more chance, hoping the way a love-whipped fool will that somehow things will all magically come right if he only hangs in there long enough, when anyone watching could tell him not to bother. But pleasure? Not after the first little while, once the rules became clear. Humiliation was never my favourite game. Maybe I stopped loving her because the way she treated me finally made me see she wasn't the girl I took her for.

But I don't think so. Because I was still stuck on her months later. Still rerunning the endless loop, the if-onlys and the maybes and the what-ifs that somehow magically all led to Buffy taking me back, telling me she loved me, and this time it would all go well, I wouldn't screw it up, she wouldn't hate me anymore. Still utterly miserable because not even I, no matter how drunk I was, could make myself believe that any of them would ever actually happen.

I was truly shocked that I actually tried to rape her that night. I knew how I felt for her and rape just wasn't in my possible range. I wanted to make love to her, that was all. That was really all. Maybe I shocked myself into realising that this wasn't good for either of us. Maybe that's when my feelings changed.

But I don't think that either. That's all so rational. Besides, I know when I felt different, and it was quite sudden. It was when the soul took over. Maybe I shouldn't be surprised. Different person now, innit?

Only I don't feel like a different person. I still like beer, and fags, and chicken wings, and if I ran into Dru again I'd probably want to give her a tumble, though I don't think I'd do it; she's too unpredictable. I wouldn't do Harmony again, okay. But I don't know why I did her the first time. I have more empathy now, sure. I don't want to kill anyone, or not many people at least. I probably feel more empathy for Buffy than I did when I was hanging desperately on her every divine breath. I can see how much she has to carry, and how well, all things considered, she manages. Wouldn't mind giving her a hand, if I happened to be out that way. But I'd do it for anyone who needed the help.

So here's my theory. And it frightens me.

I didn't fall in love with Buffy for the usual random reasons. I fell in love because I was meant to. Because The Powers That Be, that I always thought were overlooking me, had me in their sights all along. They wanted me to fall in love with her - and why? So that I'd do exactly what I did do. Go and get a soul for love of her. One raging poof wasn't enough, apparently. Maybe they decided they needed a backup.

The Powers probably got the chip put in as a first step. So I have them to blame for that too. I don't know now if I've had any real choices since I got to Sunnydale. I've been marching in lockstep with the Powers, doing exactly what they wanted me to do, since the first time I laid eyes on the Slayer. If not before. Maybe long before.

Spike, Scourge of Europe, Master Vampire, Rider of the Winds of Chaos, Lord of His Own Destiny. My ass. For all I know the last time I made a free choice was when I staggered into that alleyway and met Dru.

So I did what they wanted. I fell in love, I did my best, and when it wasn't enough, I went and got a soul. It felt like my own choice. Like everything else, it felt like my own choice.

Only once I had a soul, the Powers didn't need me to love her anymore. And I think that's why I don't. I don't feel the compulsion now. The jaws have released me. I'm free to go. I actually do have choices now. I can tell. It all feels different.

So I look at this picture. I would have died for her. I nearly did, more than once. I was drowning in her. I was desperate, passionate, enraged, aroused, blinded, surrounded everywhere I turned, waking and sleeping, by her voice, her eyes, her scent, the rustle of her clothes. I was breathless, truly, with desire, with longing, with despair.

And she looks like a nice girl. A little sad, perhaps, I can see that now. Got reason enough to be, God knows she's got enough on her plate. I feel sorry for her. But that's all.

I could go anywhere I liked, I can tell. I'm not being pushed one way or another anymore. I can stay here in Morocco for the next 20 years if I like. Run a nightclub maybe. I've got choices now. And no reason to pick one place over another. No reason to go back to Sunnyhell, certainly. If I want to apologize I can send her a postcard.

Have to say I wouldn't mind fighting the forces of darkness though. Odd but there it is. This sitting around in bars all day sounds relaxing but the fact is it's dull as hell. I'd rather be out there swinging. Wouldn't mind trying to make a bit of a difference, if I can. Somewhere. Doesn't have to be Sunnydale. Could be real helpful anywhere frankly, I know a lot more about evil than that pathetic Council.

Still like a good fight, have to admit. I can go most places for that too. Though I won't get better than I'll find on the Hellmouth. If I'm looking for a short, exciting career, that's the place to be.

Picture's pretty creased now, I've been carrying it around with me over a year. She looks worn. Not just the picture. Tired. It's a lot for one kid to carry.

I don't have to go back there. But the fact is, it's where I can do the most good. I've been there, I know the ropes, I know where the evil is and how to fight it, or I can usually guess.

If I'm going to lend the good guys a hand, that's probably the best place to do it.

I don't need her anymore. I don't - want - her anymore. But she's fighting the good fight over there. And she looks like she could use a hand.