Chapter One - Frustrated, Helpless and Alone

“Explain it to me again.”

Giles did not want to dwell on this subject. Buffy was not the type of girl to understand when to cut her losses.

“There’s nothing new to. . . .", he began with a long suffering sigh.

“Go though it again.” Buffy ground out slowly.

He could tell this wasn’t going to be one of her reasonable days. Giles laughed sadly to himself. Did she even have reasonable days? Why on Earth couldn’t she grasp the enormity of the situation?

Addressing her with as reasonable a voice as he could muster, “The Key was living energy. It needed to be channeled, poured into a specific spot at a specific time. With all attendant ritual, of course. The energy would flow into that spot, the walls between the dimensions break down. It stops -- the energy is used up -and the walls come back up. Glory uses that time to get back to her dimension, not caring that all manner of hell will be unleashed on Earth in the meantime.”

Excellent. More inane arguing; this time from the entire lot. How could he expect mere children to understand a concept as painful as the needs of the many outweighing the needs of the few. Except, of course, that Anya wasn’t a child. She was a thousand year old ex-vengeance demon who somehow still managed to retain a tremendous amount of idealism. It was time to stop the raging debate. They were running out of time.

“The blood flows, the gates will open. The gates will close when it flows no more. When Dawn is dead.” he interjected. It was quite simple when it came down to it. They would need to stop the ritual before it ever began. Otherwise....well he didn’t want to know how Buffy would react to “otherwise”.

Giles ruminations ended when the sound of Buffy’s voice caught his attention

“Pretty simple math, here. We stop Glory before she can start the ritual. There's still a couple of hours, right?”

“If my calculations are right, but Buffy...”

“I don't want to hear it!”

“I understand that...”

“No you don't understand! We're not talking about this!”

Giles leapt to his feet with the vehemence of his response, “Yes we bloody well are! If Glory begins the ritual... If we can't stop her ...”

“Say it. Come on, we're bloody well talking about this, tell me to kill my sister!”

“She's not your sister.” Giles quietly reminded her.

“No. She's not. She's more than that.....more than family... my sister, my daughter...” Buffy was desperate to explain a relationship she barely understood.

Trying to diffuse the tension in the room Xander quipped, “She's your sister and your daughter?” Badump-bump. He looked around for the appreciation of his fine wit and saw blank stares. Oh come on! How could anyone not get the Chinatown reference?! Times like these he really missed Oz.

Buffy seemed to finally pin down her thoughts, “She's me. The Monks made her out of me. I hold her and I feel closer to her than... It's more than just the memories they built, it's physical, it's... Dawn is a part of me. The only part that I...” At that she lost her momentum and dwindled into silence.

There was no hiding from the fact that it was going to be a difficult night.

~’~,~’~,~’~,~’~,~’~,~’~,~

“Weapons in the chest by the TV. I'll grab the stuff upstairs –“

Buffy was halfway up the stairs before she noticed Spike still hovering on the landing.

“Uh, Buffy ... “

She’d forgotten that he couldn’t come in anymore. How could she have forgotten that? How could she have forgotten how dangerous he could be, especially with his new obsession. She shuddered as she remembered the feeling of chains around her wrists.

Spike saw the shudder, “If you wanna just hand them over the threshold…” Last thing he wanted was to remind her of the night he made his boneheaded declaration of love. She seemed to have started to trust him again and he didn’t want to lose any ground he may have gained. He couldn’t bear returning to the crypt alone again. Even the derision of the Scoobies was better than the empty, silently mocking crypt.

The sheepish expression on Spike’s face made the decision for her, “Come in, Spike.”

“Presto. No barrier.” The flippancy of the comment belied how much Buffy’s invitation affected Spike, made him feel close to her. Moving towards the weapons chest he cleared his throat before he commented loudly, “Won't bother with the small stuff. Couple of good axes should hold off Glory's mates while you take on the lady herself.”

“We're not all gonna make it. You know that.”

He was surprised to hear her reply. He’d thought she’d gone upstairs and he was talking to himself. She was right. There was no way everyone would make it through the coming battle. No matter what he had to do she and the bit would be alright, though. Odds were against his survival but he didn’t mind as long as his girls were safe. He walked back to the stairs slowly so he could school his features before facing her.

“Yeah. Hey, I always knew I'd go down fighting. Sure as hell never thought it'd be on this side...or for this reason...” he looked up at her and was again surprised. This time by the open look on Buffy’s face. She rarely allowed him to see anything but aloof disdain.

“I'm counting on you, Spike. To help protect her.”

Spike’s feelings overwhelmed him to the point of almost choking him, if he could choke that is. He returned Buffy’s earnest expression. “'Til the end of the world -- even if that happens to be tonight. Nobody touches the Little Bit while Spike's around. I promise.”

The earnestness on Spike’s face made Buffy uncomfortable. She turned to continue up the stairs, “I'll just be one minute.”

Spike’s voice startled her before she could go two steps. “I know you'll never love me.”

At least Buffy stopped her retreat long enough to let him continue, “I know that I'm a monster. But you treat me like a man, and that's...” Spike choked up again, seemed like the day for it, “Get your stuff. I'll be here.”

~’~,~’~,~’~,~’~,~’~,~’~,~

Dawn stared down at the ground far, far, far below. Ironic that a sacred spot existed a hundred feet in the air in the middle of nothing; ironic and terrifying. Nothing about it looked sacred.

She was trying to be brave. Trying to do what Buffy would do in this situation.

What a joke. Buffy would break the chains without even having to try and take out the disgusting demons guarding her without breaking a nail. It was so unfair. Dawn was a magical being, a portal that could end the world but she didn’t even have the power to break a chain and punch out a demon with bad skin.

She wished she weren’t so alone in the dark with a dozen scaly disgusting demons. Was this how Buffy felt at night? Dawn doubted it. Buffy was always the center of a crowd that worshipped her. She wasn’t a sniveling coward who couldn’t stop crying. She was powerful and strong. Buffy never felt helpless.

~’~,~’~,~’~,~’~,~’~,~’~,~

Buffy never felt so helpless before in her life.

Spike was distributing the weapons amongst the gang. Xander and Anya were gathering the rest of the equipment from the supply room downstairs. Willow was at the table making final adjustments to their secret weapon. Next to her, Tara was rattling on and on like the madwoman she currently was. Buffy so needed to shrug off the guilty feeling Tara ’s condition provoked. She couldn’t afford the distraction. Not tonight. Hey, if they were really lucky there would be no reason to feel guilt.

She wished this waiting were over. If Tara didn’t get moving soon Buffy thought she might go crazy.

Finally Tara stands and creeps towards the door, stopping only once to call Giles a killer. Buffy leaps to her feet allowing the familiar pre-battle calmness envelope her. “ Willow , stay close but don't crowd her. We'll follow in a minute. Everyone knows their jobs. Remember, the ritual starts, we all die. And I'll kill anyone who comes near Dawn.”

She stares at Giles during the last of the speech.

As he is handing over some of his weaponry to Giles, Spike snarks, “Not exactly the St. Crispin's Day speech, was it?”

Giles smiles cynically, “We few...we happy few...”

He desperately hoped he’d have reason to smile when this was over.

Chapter Two - We Band of Buggered

Two things became apparent fairly early in the battle; first, that Buffy was going to remain very busy taking care of Glory and second, since their opponents were of the human variety Spike wasn’t going to be very effective on the ground.

Once Dawn’s screams could be heard it was easy to decide their next step. Willow would create an opportunity for Spike to climb the tower to protect Dawn. Panic doubled his pace the moment he realized Dawn was not alone on the platform. It wouldn’t do to have made a life altering promise to Buffy only to fail a couple of hours later.

The relief in Dawn’s eyes was plain when she saw him clear the platform. The demon’s annoyingly familiar. “Doesn't a fellow stay dead when you kill 'im?”

Doc made an inane response and Spike lunged, confident he could easily overcome the tiny, elderly demon. The song and dance began. Spike knew the words and the steps. He was a consummate performer. The last thing that occurred to him was that his unassuming opponent would turn out to be a veritable Broadway star.

The knife dug deep into his ribs and he was in a headlock before he even realized the last note had played. Horrified he looked at Dawn. He failed. It should be a familiar feeling but this time it broke his heart.

The last thing that went through his mind before Doc threw him off the tower was that he’d broken a promise to the two people he loves most in the world and that it would be his fault if things are never be the same again.

Then he hit a pile of bricks and broke every bone in his body.

~’~,~’~,~’~,~’~,~’~,~’~,~

When Buffy reached the platform she didn’t even acknowledge the knife wielding demon. He’s grabbed and thrown over the side as an afterthought in her desperate attempt to reach her sister.

Dawn was already bleeding when Buffy arrived at her side. The blood ran down her leg and off her foot into the air before Buffy could reach out to stop it. The sisters sensed a powerful force opening up beneath them Buffy smiled reassuringly at Dawn and reached into her jeans pocket.

“It’s gonna be okay, Dawnie. You know that, right?”

Dawn cried impotently. “How can it be? The portal is open!”

“It’s gonna be okay because we know how to close it. Right?” Buffy smiled wider as she pulled out a handkerchief and a small tube. She bent down and wiped the dripping blood off of Dawn’s legs. When she was satisfied with the results she reached up and pressed the sides of the first wound closed. The tube came up and Dawn realized it’s Superglue. Buffy systematically squirted lines of glue over each cut sealing the edges shut, stopping the blood flow.

“The portal will close when the blood flows no more. Presto. We saved the world with Superglue.”

“I can’t believe you glued me closed! Do you have any idea how gross that is?”

“Oh pooh! It’s not that bad. Did you know Superglue was invented as a battlefront emergency suture? I just used as it was originally intended.”

“Well, if you have any bright ideas about gluing me to a girder you can just forget it! I wanna go home!”

“In this case I can comfortably say, your wish is my command,” Buffy smiled in relief. Unfortunately neither of them noticed the swirling ball of unformed energy beneath them. It zigged back and forth before seemingly finding a direction and lashed up into Dawn’s retreating form knocking her off her feet.

“Dawn!” Buffy screamed. Dropping to her knees to keep her sisters head from slamming into the steel platform.

Dawn giggled from underneath hair that sparked and stood on end like a frightened cat. “Wow! That hurt. A lot!”

“Dawn are you okay?”

Buffy watched, trepidation in her eyes, as her little sister struggled to regain her feet.

“That felt really weird and I kinda feel drunk, or at least I feel like I think drunk feels, but I’m pretty sure I’m okay, Buffy.” Dawn swayed on her feet but remained standing.

“Oh God, let’s get you home.”

The sisters descended the stairs and greeted the rest of the gang.

~’~,~’~,~’~,~’~,~’~,~’~,~

Unable to even roll over, Spike listened to the sounds of battle around him with the preternatural hearing for which his kind was renowned. He heard Giles’ conversation with the doomed Ben and heard Ben’s dying gasps. He heard something strike Anya Xander’s voice, anxiety barely hidden, reassuring her that she’d be alright. He heard the Witches take care of the last of the crazies before their touching heart melting reunion and he heard every word and action taken on top of the tower.

He couldn’t believe how easily Buffy eliminated the threat of Doc. He felt woefully inadequate when he heard Doc’s body land several feet from his own. He desperately wished he could turn his head and see Doc’s finally dead body, but his neck had been the first to break when he’d landed.

Finally he heard the joyful reunion as the sisters reached the foot of the tower and joined the rest of the Scoobies. He waited patiently for someone to come check up on him. He wasn’t a large vamp so he figured between the boy and the Watcher they’d be able to pour him into a car and get him out of the threat of the rising sun.

When he heard it his first reaction was disbelief. He had to check again and still he’d had a hard time believing his ears. The cheerful voices were moving away from him. They were walking away. Leaving him to the sun. He tried to call for them but a punctured lung prevented him from operating his voice box.

Here he’d thought that Buffy inviting him back into her home had been a sign of forgiveness. Now it looked like she’d never intended him to survive the night. Why not invite the neutered vamp in if you were going to make sure he died before a new day dawned - or because a new day dawned

Despair swamped him and tears fell from impotent eyes as he heard the voices fade into the distance. They’d left him like a piece of trash. The last thing he heard before pain swamped him driving him into blissful unconsciousness was mocking laughter.

~’~,~’~,~’~,~’~,~’~,~’~,~

Doc stared at the lifeless body of the insignificant host of his glorious goddess and felt his rage grow to unfathomable proportions. He’d have revenge for her. He’d make every member of the Slayer’s team beg for the release of death before he was finished with them. He’d start with the arrogant vampire they so carelessly left behind.

He trod nimbly over the rubble towards the unconscious body of the broken vamp. He wouldn’t get much satisfaction torturing this one, it was so damaged already, but it would make an adequate appetizer for the destruction he intended to wreak on the rest of the presumptuous gang.

He grabbed the vampire’s foot and dragged him out of the construction site. Hearing a multitude of broken bones grind together, he hoped the vamp’s body would stay intact during the short trip to his home. It would be annoying if the vamp dusted before he got to torture it.

Chapter Three - The Wisdom of Crocodiles

An appeaser is one who feeds a crocodile, hoping it will eat him last.
-----------Winston Churchill

When I was a boy, I went into the forest and climbed to the top of the tallest tree. Near the top, I slipped, and managed to just grab a branch. It was a long drop. I hung there until the blood in my head pounded in my ears. I can't remember much, but I remember the fear of falling.
------------ Steve Grlscz “The Wisdom of Crocodiles”

It took several days for the effects of the energy ball that hit Dawn to wear off. On the one hand it was quite amusing because it looked like Dawn would grow up to be a funny drunk. On the other hand Buffy started to worry about Dawn’s school attendance, even though there was no way they could get away with sending a semi coherent girl whose hair stood straight up to school without someone noticing who had the authority to take her away from Buffy.

It was no surprise then that Buffy showed obvious relief when it seemed that the effects were wearing off. Little did anyone know, however, that it would be the beginning of their real problems concerning Dawn. A warm sunny weekend mornings, sunbathing and mocha lattes were supposed to be relaxing!

“What do you mean you haven’t seen Spike since before the battle!”

Buffy was confused. She didn’t understand why Dawn was so upset. Spike had often taken long disappearing acts since he’d gotten chipped.

“It never occurred to me to hunt him down after he ran away in the middle of the fight.” Buffy had been extremely hurt when she got home and realized Spike was nowhere to be found. She’d actually believed him when he promised to keep Dawn safe. When would she learn that vampires and trustworthy were unmixy things?

“Did you even look for him? How could he even get up to run away after what Doc did to him?”

Buffy blinked uncomprehendingly at Dawn. “Who’s Doc and what do you think he did to Spike?” Buffy was starting to get a burning feeling deep in her gut and part of her, a large part, didn’t ever want to hear what Dawn was going to say next.

“Doc was the creepy little demon who you threw off the tower! Right before you got there to save me he threw Spike off. If Spike hadn’t been there to stall Doc you probably wouldn’t have been able to keep the portal from opening! How could you just leave him there? He was hurt and it was my fault! Did you even look for him?!”

Buffy’s face was flaming red and she was starting to get angry. “I was busy being worried about you! How was I supposed to know something had happened to Spike?!”

“You could have asked!” Dawn was actively crying now. “Your realize that the sun was coming up? He may have been laying there, helpless in the sunrise!” Neither girl noticed crackling noise that was growing behind them. “Buffy, if Spike’s hurt it’s all my fault! He got hurt trying to save me!” A loud sob escaped from Dawn echoing the one in Buffy’s mind.

Suddenly a loud clap of thunder interrupted their argument as a huge cloud moved to block the sun. Buffy glanced up to look for signs of rain and was shocked when she saw a dragon circle their heads before it headed towards Breaker’s Woods.

~’~,~’~,~’~,~’~,~’~,~’~,~

Spike had no idea how long it had been since he’d woken to the voice of an angry and vengeful Doc demanding Spike wake up so as to not ruin Doc’s plans for torture. However long it had been, Doc had obviously maximized his time. If he could trust his internal clock, Spike reckoned it had to be close to a week and he was extremely confused why the Slayer and her kiddies hadn’t found him yet. It wasn’t until Doc realized what was keeping Spike’s spirits from breaking that Doc filled him in on the Slayer leaving him behind. Spike had actually managed to forget that fact in his delirium.

That had been about 2 days ago and nothing Doc said or did after that revelation had managed to get a response from the vampire. In the mean time, Spike had managed to heal to the point where the felt, given the opportunity, that he’d be able to escape on his own, if only to give the bitch a piece of his mind before he packed up and got out of Sunnyhell once and for all.

Spike might be Love’s Bitch but even he had limits to how much he’d put up with before he moved on. He’d survived Cecily, in all the ways that mattered. Dru hadn’t managed to break him. There was no way that silly slip of a girl was going to finish the Big Bad! He’d show her! If it took the rest of his unnatural life!

“Ah, I see we’re awake again.” Doc’s oily voice came from behind the dentist chair (and how ironic was that?) Spike was chained to. Even his head was strapped down. That was new.

Spike heard movement as Doc came around the front of the chair holding a water pic attached by a long tube to the sink station next to the chair.

Is this where you ask me if it’s safe?” Spike easily managed to sound bored.

“Ahh, but you’re no Dustin Hoffman and I’m certainly much more debonair than Olivier.” Doc smiled, “and unfortunately for you I’m not concerned with anything but vengeance.”

“You with the D’Hoffryn gang or some such?”

“No. Much worse. I’m Sebek, you little worm! I was sworn to protect the goddess Glorificus until you and your precious humans interfered! I am a God! I was worshipped by Cleopatra’s ancestors! How dare you piddling insignificant bugs think you can conquer me!”

“Not to quibble, but they’re not my humans. In fact, given half a chance I’d take out every single one of ‘em except the bit.”

“It’s a shame you’ll never get the chance.” Doc raised the wand in his hand, “Open wide.”

Water sprayed from the nozzle in a tight and powerful stream. Spike actually had a moment to wonder what the hell Doc was thinking shooting him with a souped up water pistol before the burning set in.

He was screaming before the thought ‘holy water’ could actually manifest in his brain.

Doc aimed carefully for Spike face. He had a plan and he needed the vampire incapacitated enough to warrant the Slayer’s compassion but not enough to impinge too much on the vampire’s mobility. As he saw smoke rising from the blonds eyes he smiled to himself.

Everything was going to go swimmingly. He could tell.

Chapter Four - Who Escapes Duty

Poetry is not a turning loose of emotion, but an escape from emotion; it is not the expression of personality but an escape from personality. But, of course, only those who have personality and emotion know what it means to want to escape from these things.
------------------Emily Dickinson

Every person has free choice. Free to obey or disobey the Natural Laws. Your choice determines the consequences. Nobody ever did, or ever will, escape the consequences of his choices.
------------------Alfred A. Montapert

When one door closes another door opens; but we often look so long and so regretfully upon the closed door, that we do not see the ones which open for us.
------------------Alexander Graham Bell

~’~,~’~,~’~,~’~,~’~,~’~,~

Spike never thought he’d miss the ability to pass out from an overabundance of pain. Especially after the long periods of unconsciousness he’d experienced in the past fourteen days. Unfortunately he was dead. His brain no longer functioned in the usual sense and therefore could no longer short circuit from discomfort, no matter how great the level.

The holy water had done a significant amount of damage but it was all superficial. Skin had burned away. His tongue had cleaved to the roof of his mouth and he felt sure he was missing a significant portion of it. The last thing he remembered hearing had been his severed earlobes hitting the floor. His chest and arms were laced with bleeding welts and no matter how much Spike didn’t want to think about it, he no longer had the use of his eyes.

All this damage would heal, of course, given an appropriate amount of time. His bones were finally sound, though he hadn’t had a chance to test them being tied to the chair. The problem, however, was that Spike didn’t feel like time was on his side. Sooner or later that bastard Sebek was gonna tire of the severely damaged vamp and go after his next victim. Not that Spike was concerned for the next victim. After almost 2 weeks of torture, which included more holy water showers than he’d like to remember, Spike no longer cared about anyone but himself. Without sight, hearing or the ability to speak, his entire world had been reduced to feeling pain.

The total pisser had been when he discovered that in Ancient Egypt this guy had been a God of water. If that didn’t take the bloody cake. All the bastard had to do was speak a few words over the nozzle and ”Bammo” an unlimited supply of holy water in an instant. If that wasn’t bad enough his nose hadn’tstopped working. For an immortal god of water and fertility and crocodiles and all that shite, the man smelled like a damned Dock Street fish market. Not one of the modern ones, either, but the dank, rotten smelly ones of his youth before the discovery of refrigeration.

It was completely beyond him why he hadn’t noticed before.

Spike focused his thoughts again. There was something he’d been trying to remember. Something on the tip of his tongue...Spike paused to chuckle hysterically at that thought...something important about his future.

It came to Spike in a flash of coherency. The straps. The straps were looser because of the slipperiness of his skin. All that blood outside the body could actually be put to good use. Spike started to giggle again and briefly wondered if he was still sane. Not that it mattered. Right now the only thing that mattered was that he wanted to live and if he wanted to live he needed to take advantage of every situation he could manage. Spike inhaled deeply trying to take stock of his surroundings. He could smell Doc’s lingering fish odor, the water slowly dripping out of the nozzle by his side, the wood of the door and nothing else. If there was a time for escape it seemed to be now. His internal clock told him it was well past sunset so he needn’t worry about sunlight.

Spike wriggled his wrists slowly freeing them from the straps that held them. Oddly, Doc, or Sebek as he liked to call himself, had aimed well away from his hands and legs. His bare feet were damaged, since the bastard had taken his Docs, but although walking would be painful it would definitely be possible.

Once Spike’s wrists were free he removed the remaining straps and pivoted himself onto his feet. Unfortunately this was the first time he’d tried to stand since the fall from the tower and he found himself in close smelling proximity to the floor, which was extremely regrettable for his already overtaxed nose.

Spike struggled back to his feet and made his way towards the smell of wood. Once through that door he was momentarily at a loss how to maneuver through a room he’d never seen. He took another deep sniff. Tarmac. He could smell tarmac to his left. That had to be the street.

Spike bumped into several unidentifiable objects on his way to the door. Unfortunately there was no way for him to tell if he’d made a significant amount of noise so he soldiered on. It took him nearly twenty minutes to make it from the door of his makeshift cell to the door that led outside.

Regrettably, there was no way for him to tell that reptilian eyes had calmly followed him through his entire journey.

~’~,~’~,~’~,~’~,~’~,~’~,~

Between raising a fifteen year old girl, making ends meet, hunting a runaway dragon, searching for a missing vampire, and her usual Slayer duties Buffy’s stress levels were on permanent overload.

She entered the Magic Box for a pre-patrol meeting with Giles and the rest of the gang with every hope that they’d managed to come up with a solution to just one of her problems. It didn’t matter which one, really. Just one thing off her plate right now would mean a little sleep at night. Something she’d had a hard time getting since she’d realized that Spike was among the missing not just among the off sulking.

Dawn wasn’t helping, either.

She was either bitching about Spike, ditching school or pitching fits over the unusual amount of supernatural activity that had been going on in the Summers home. They’d had a pooka, a gremlin, an elf (and who knew they even existed, anyway and they were so NOT cute, like elves were supposed to be!), and several small, verminous demons in the past week. Things were constantly turning up missing, broken or sticky with no one wanted to know what. The more these visits occurred the more angry Dawn seemed to be getting. It was going to drive Buffy out of her tree.

The only thing that saved her sanity were the several hours a night she spent “slaying.” Well, 20 percent slaying, 80 percent looking for signs of Spike. She was hampered by the fact that she had no idea what she was looking for but patrolling in a set pattern while trying to “feel” Spike was keeping her sane so she kept at it nightly.

She planned to do the same thing as soon as this meeting ended.

“Hey guys! You will not believe what I found in the oven today!”

“Buffy, I’m glad you’re here. I was just telling Xander an Anya that I think I’ve found a way to track this dragon of yours.” Giles was excitedly gathering books from his private shelves.

“So not my dragon, Giles.”

“Of course it’s not your dragon,” Anya interjected, “Everyone knows that you’d have to be a virgin for the dragon to agree to follow your commands.”

The room went still as everyone processed the fact that they had actually heard Anya correctly.

It was during this stillness that assorted screams filtered in the front door.

“What in the nation of tar is that?” Xander jumped up to look out the window.

Buffy was through the front door, stake in hand, before Xander had a chance to reach for the curtain. She scanned the street for the source of the disturbance. The movie theater down the street was letting out and the crowd was agitatedly separating leaving a staggering figure alone in the space being vacated.

A staggering figure with bleached blond hair.

Buffy sprinted towards, what she assumed (hoped?) was Spike.

~’~,~’~,~’~,~’~,~’~,~’~,~

It was odd, but Spike could smell the panicked movement of the crowd he’d found himself in. It was extremely disorienting and he could no longer tell if he was moving in a straight line. Just as his energy gave out and he fell to his knees he realized that he recognized one of the scents.

Buffy!

It was at that moment that Spike learned that the undead could pass out from an over abundance of pain.

Chapter 5 - For All the Good He Didn’t Do

I'm not concerned about all hell breaking loose, but that a PART of hell will break loose... it'll be much harder to detect.
-------------George Carlin

Concern should drive us into action and not into depression.
-------------Anonymous

Every man is guilty of all the good he didn't do.
-------------Voltaire

~’~,~’~,~’~,~’~,~’~,~’~,~

Buffy looked down into Spike’s face and struggled not to scream. There wasn’t an inch that wasn’t severely burned and she was sure she saw places where bone peeked through skin. Where his ears should have been were two fleshy nubs that barely covered the opening to his eardrums. His eyes were sunken to the point that she was afraid to look too closely at the crisped lids as she wasn’t sure there was anything behind them. His nose was severely lacerated and blood dripped out in a slow trickle. He looked long dead. Worse. He looked like he’d burned to death and then been left to rot for a few weeks. If he were human, that is.

Luckily...or maybe unluckily for Spike...he wasn’t human. Buffy kept repeating to herself that as long as there was a body he could recover but there was a large part of her that was afraid he was dead already. She looked up and saw the gang surrounding her with various looks of horror on their faces.

“Xander, help me get him into the Magic Box.”

It was a testament to how utterly trashed Spike looked that no one questioned her decision. In fact Xander gave Spike a pitying look before he bent down to carefully lift his legs and maneuver him into the open shop door.

They carried Spike through the shop to the back room where they laid him on a pile of workout mats. Willow, Tara and Giles followed like a funeral procession as Anya rushed to make sure all necessary doors were wide open.

Buffy looked up at Giles with tears in her eyes, “What do we do now? Is there any way to help him?”

Giles cleared his throat uncomfortably, “There are various healing spells we could try that would deal with some of the damage but the best thing for him would be fresh blood. A great deal of fresh blood. Unfortunately he would have to be conscious for that and with the lacerations in his throat I’m not sure he’d currently be able to swallow it.”

They both looked up in surprise when Anya burst through the door from the front of the shop.

“The authorities are here. Someone from the movie house called them”

Buffy’s eyes widened in shock. “What do we do?! They’ll think he’s dead and take him away before we have a chance to help him!”

There wasn’t time for an answer as the door banged open again and a police officer and two paramedics rushed through with a gurney. They quickly moved everyone away from the body as the paramedics knelt down to take Spike’s vital signs and the officer fired questions at the assembled group.

Surreptitiously Giles moved to Willow’s side and whispered to her. She slowly made for the door to the shop while Giles moved back towards Buffy.

“Do you know the victim?”

Buffy answered, a keening sense of deja vu causing her to feel panicky and out of control. “Yes. His name is William.”

“Full name?”

Buffy hesitated for a split second before improvising “William Blood.”

“Do you have any idea what happened to him tonight?”

“No. He’d been away for a few days and then showed up in the street just now looking like that.”

“When was the last time any of you saw him.”

“About 18 days ago.”

Willow came back into the room from the shop front and blithely made her way over to Giles.

“Does he have any relatives?”

Before Buffy could answer Giles interrupted, “Buffy here is young William’s fiancée and I am his uncle.”

Except for a minor choking noise from Xander none of the group disagreed with the Watcher.

The police office turned back to Buffy, eyes narrowing, “You’re his fiancée but you haven’t seen him for 20 days?”

Buffy actually started crying when the accusation in his voice clashed with the guilt she was already feeling for not finding Spike in the first place. She still managed to improvise, “We’d had a stupid fight over where we were gonna live after the wedding. I’ve got a little sister I’m take care of ever since our mom died a few months ago. I thought it was a bad idea to leave the house we lived in with Mom while Spike felt Dawn needed a fresh start.”

“Spike?”

“William. We call him Spike. His...hair is spiky.” She finished lamely.

“Do you know anyone who would want to harm Spike?”

She looked the officer directly in the eyes and avoided his question with a deft lie, “I have no idea who could have done this.”

Giles made his way over to Buffy and put his arm around her shoulder, “Officer, please, we’ll be happy to answer any questions you have, but can we do it another time. Buffy must be very distraught.”

At Giles’ signal, Buffy let her feelings go and burst into tears. Giles moved around to hug her while whispering into her ear. “We need to get this amulet somewhere onto Spike’s body and it will simulate vital signs until we can figure out what to do.”

He slipped a small charm into Buffy’s hand and visibly squeezed her tight before letting her go.

Buffy calmed her tears and moved over towards where the paramedics were working on Spike. They were just about to declare him dead when she threw herself onto his still form furtively lacing the chain securely around his wrist while hysterically screaming his name. Once the chain came in contact with Spike’s skin the portable heart monitor picked up a steady beat and Spike appeared to start breathing.

At the sound of the heartbeat Buffy reared back in unfeigned surprise and the paramedics hurried back to their original positions trying to “stabilize” the badly damaged vampire. Once they felt secure that that heartbeat wouldn’t stop again they shifted him onto the gurney and wheeled him to the ambulance. Buffy managed to get on and ride with Spike and the team promised to follow as soon as they found something that could help Spike heal.

~’~,~’~,~’~,~’~,~’~,~’~,~

Xander found himself staring blindly at the wall in front of him. Buffy had been gone for about 20 minutes and the remaining Scoobs had sat down around the table in a frantic effort to find something that speed up the healing of Spike’s brutal injuries. Xander kept seeing the badly beaten and burned face of the one being he honestly would have said he hated most in the world an hour ago.

Now?

This was the second time the vamp had been badly tortured because he was helping them. Actually, this time made the first seem like a sports injury or a bad fall. He didn’t understand why the vampire stuck around. All he seemed to gain was pain and suffering.

Questions continued to swirl about in his head causing a severe headache and irreparable damage to his world view as he vaguely listened to the conversation that went on around him.

“There’s ‘The Blood of the Sire.’”

“Not really applicable and we don’t know where to find Drusilla, anyway.”

“How about Slayer blood? That worked for Angel, right?”

“That was an antidote for a specific poison. In actuality it’s only urban legend that Slayer blood is any different than regular human blood. Although I believe some vampires do consider it to be an aphrodisiac in the way that humans consider oysters to be. I believe it has something to do with the heightened levels of adrenaline in most Slayer blood. It causes a rush, you know.”

“Well, at least since they think he’s a real burn victim one of the first things they’ll do is hook him up intravenously to human plasma. That’s the most effective cure for vampires, anyway. It’s not like he’s a Xytol demon and can heal by simply being exposed to air.”

The sound of Anya’s voice brought Xander’s thoughts full circle.

“I’m going to the hospital.”

The group at the table all stilled at the sound of Xander’s voice.

“They let friends and family donate blood for admitted patients and one of the only good things my genetics provided is the fact that I’m a universal donor.”

Tara raised her head at that. “I’m a universal donor as well. I’d like to donate some blood for Spike. In the mean time you might want to research aura sharing and chakra cleansing. If we all formed a protective circle around him I believe they’ll speed Spike’s natural ability to heal.”

She got up to walk with Xander to the door.

~’~,~’~,~’~,~’~,~’~,~’~,~

The vampire had escaped and would soon be back among the rest of his gang of villains. Doc smiled thinly as he sat back in his chair and waited patiently for his bomb to go off.