Chapter 1

Walking off the plane, Spike huddled under his duster. He really wasn’t afraid of the sun popping out in the cloudy sky, but Buffy was worried. Not only was she worried, but hormonal, too. When she asked him to don the coat, he refused, but she pouted let tears form in her eyes. She made it virtually impossible for Spike to say no. She didn’t even bother to use their link to get him to agree; he caved almost instantly.

Grumbling all the way off the tarmac, Spike hit the building first. Then Buffy and Giles entered. Spike whipped off the duster and looked around. It had been awhile since he had been in the Heathrow, but it still looked the same. The last time he was here, Drusilla and he were looking for a tourist to eat. She called it exotic food. He smiled at the memory of his earlier life. They had some wild times here. Buffy sauntered up to her vampire mate, “Thinking about old times?”

Spike shook the memories out of his head and smiled, “Love, you know you’re the only one for me. Wouldn’t trade you in for the world.”

“I know, but it’s nice to hear it every now and then.” She smiled and kissed his chin, letting her lips linger on his pale skin. She knew that he was just reminiscing and not yearning for that life again. The claim told her that he was more than happy to be next to her for the rest of her life and then some. Buffy mused about how her life had changed in the past two months. Through the claim, Spike seconded her thoughts of increased happiness. Smiling at each other, they melted into a kiss.

Giles cleared his throat, temporarily breaking their bond and bringing them back to the outside world. They were standing inside the doorway, next to the windows, when the sun just started to peek out from behind a cloud. Jumping out of the light and patting down his smoking arm, Spike swore, “Bugger!” He put his leather jacket on and looped an arm around Buffy. All three headed to the baggage claim.

~*~*~
Headed east on the road, Giles easily drove on the left hand side of the street, leaving Buffy momentarily carsick. “It’s just not right.” Buffy whined as they drove closer to London proper. Giles gave up on stopping Buffy from whining about the differences in driving laws in England.

The lump of blankets and leather spoke up from the backseat, “Love, it’s the bloody yanks that have it wrong. The rest of the world knows which side you drive on.”

“I don’t think so Bleach Boy, we drive on the right side hence being RIGHT!” Spike knew she was pouting the front seat and it was driving him nuts. If it were up to him, Buffy would be absconded to the backseat, wrapped up in the blankets with him, and they wouldn’t be having this conversation.

“Please, children! ” Giles spoke up as he turned to head north towards the Council headquarters.

“Hey, watch it Watcher, I’m older than your grandfather.” Spike spoke from the back.

“Yeah, and I’m far from being a kid, too!” Buffy pouted again.

“You two are acting like two bleeding brats and I’ve had it. Stop the bickering or I’ll… I’ll…” Giles didn’t know what he was going to threaten, but it was going to be good.

“Oh, I know this one… you’ll turn the ‘bloody’ car around. Am I right?” Buffy jumped in her seat, unused to the smaller car and hit her head. “Owe!” Buffy rubbed her head. “You know, it is very disconcerting sitting in the driver’s seat and not driving.”

“Yes, I know, you’ve told me about ten times already.” Buffy looked over at Giles, he had the look where you knew he wanted to clean his glasses but couldn’t.

“How much longer because I’m going to boot.”

“The boot is what you call the trunk, ducks,” Spike said in his sweetest voice that he could muster while being trapped under fifty pounds of blankets.

“I’m serious, Giles, pull over.” With a look of abject horror, Giles quickly turned the car onto a side street and let Buffy get out.

Five minutes after Buffy got out of the car, Spike didn’t hear anything and he got anxious. “Rupes?”

“Please, don’t call me that.” Giles said in a flat tone, Spike could have sworn he heard the squeak of him cleaning his glasses.

“What’s going on?” Spike started to itch under the covers. He felt, through the claim, that Buffy was in distress, nauseous with a strong headache. He knew he couldn’t do anything for her and it was driving him crazy.

“She’s fine. Hasn’t gotten ill, yet. She was looking quite green for a moment or two. Walking around the road. She’s coming back.”

Spike felt the tiny car dip under her weight as she settled. “All right love?”

“Sorry. We can keep going.” Giles smiled and pulled the car around as they set off to the Council Headquarters.
~*~*~

The building on the old north side of London loomed in front of the trio. Cobblestones lined the drive making the car ride bumpy. “Geeze, Giles. Didn’t they ever hear of pavement?”

Giles sighed and kept steering the car up the drive. Setting the parking brake, Giles reiterated, “This won’t be easy. They will fight us all the way.”

Buffy turned around and faced the bundle of blankets in the backseat. “It’s OK, Spike. The building is blocking the sun.” She turned to Giles, “They can try and fight, but I’m not giving up.”

“Very well, dear. Let’s go.” Giles exited out of the right-hand side of the car while Buffy and Spike took the left-hand side.

Looking up at the columns and pretentious architecture, Spike whistled a low wolf call. Buffy snickered, “Looks like someone is trying to make up for a lack of…” Giles glared at Buffy, silently praying she didn’t finish the sentence the way he thought she would. “POWER.”

Spike evidently agreed with her comment and nodded. “See, that’s why I had the crypt, didn’t need to over compensate.”

Buffy looked over at Spike with his tongue licking his lips and eyebrow wiggling, “Uh huh, honey, sure.” She stepped up the stairs, heading for the large front door.

“Oi, come back here! Slayer!” Giles and Spike had no choice but to follow. Buffy didn’t bother to knock and opened the front door. Inside, Buffy stopped, looking around. The walls were marble, made to intimidate and strike a feeling of awe to those visiting. Looking down from the second floor landing, Quentin Travers sneered at the trio. He knew that she had him beat; he’d played the chess game and lost his queen. Without missing a beat, a much perkier Buffy commented dryly, “No wonder why they don’t pay slayers, they had to buy all this marble.” Although Spike and Buffy were slightly entranced with the adornment to the Watcher’s Council, Giles wasn’t. He used to visit the building a lot.

“Miss Summers!” Quentin admonished.

“Whatever. We’re here for the meeting.” Buffy strode further into the building with Spike closely behind. This place smelled foul and he wasn’t going to leave Buffy’s side if he could help it. Giles followed Buffy and Spike up the stairs. They stood in front of Quentin, waiting for the man to show them the way. Eye to eye, toe to toe, Buffy stared into Quentin’s gray eyes, daring him to weasel his way out of the arrangement. Spike growled low in his throat, reminding the older watcher that he was once again a threat and prepared to follow through. Looking at Giles, Quentin nodded his head and turned around. The trio followed the old man through the marble encrusted corridors. He stopped and opened the door. Buffy looked in and saw a huge library filled with people. “Go on in, Miss Summers. We don’t bite.” Quentin looked at Spike as he spoke. “Unlike others,” Spike shrugged and followed Buffy into the room. “This is our library and most of the watchers are here.” Giles stepped into the room. Quentin closed the door after him. Walking over to a large boardroom table, Quentin announced that the meeting would start. Everyone stopped what he or she was doing and sat down at the table. With a condescending smile, Quentin declared, “This is Buffy Summers, the oldest Vampire Slayer.” A hush fell across the room as all eyes stared at Buffy.

Chapter 2

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Spike watched Buffy pace through the sparse room. After the meeting that Quentin ran, announcing her presence and reason whys she was there, Buffy was shown to her room. Then, it was announced that Spike would not be allowed to stay at the council’s headquarters. Without missing a beat, Buffy announced that he was staying in her room and if anyone had a problem, they could quit the council and save them the time and hassle of firing them at a later date. No one protested. Giles was set up in a room across the hallway.

So there she was, like a caged animal, planning and scheming in her head. No words needed to be spoke as the link through the claim was wide open and each knew what the other was thinking. With his sensitive hearing, Spike heard the buzz of bugs around the room, ready to pick up their conversations in hopes to use against them. But, they didn’t need to voice their thoughts and the council did not know about the claim. Her initial wounds were all but healed, leaving a raised white scar on her skin. Without looking closely, one might even miss the little bruise. But, Giles knew. He talked to both before they left for the airport. The fact that a Slayer has never been claimed by a vampire, let alone a master vampire worried Giles. Words like thrall and dangerous weapon were thrown from his mouth. Buffy understood his concerns, in actuality both her and Spike worried about the same things, but their faith in their love superceded any doubts. After Giles revealed his worries, he let the subject lie. There was no arguments about how it was wrong, no way to change the past.

Buffy flopped onto the bed next to Spike. The sun was still high in the sky, leaving him to inside activities and therefore leaving Buffy inside, too. Both decided to practice the meditation techniques Giles taught them. The constant flow of feelings and perception between the two were getting to be too much for both to handle. Closing off the link and opening it up bit by bit helped them deal with processing all the information that they shared.
~*~*~
The sunset freed Spike and Buffy to wander around the streets. The council’s headquarters was situated in the outskirts of London and didn’t have many tourist sites for Spike to shoe Buffy. The neighborhood that surrounded it was mostly business, but held a few small family owned pubs. The damp, cold air breezed past the lovers as they headed to the local pub. Spiked wrapped the duster around himself andBuffy huddled down in her pink wool coat, both hoping to stave off the cold. Stepping down the uneven cobbled steps, Buffy entered another world. The quaint town pub was dark, yet homey. With few residents in the area, the pub was virtually empty. Buffy suspected that some of the council’s workers were in the pub. Spike followed Buffy in, and headed to a table in a dark corner. Sitting her down, he went up to the bar and ordered their drinks. Good English ale was hard to come by in the states and Spike couldn’t wait to taste it again.

The couple mulled over their drinks, talking about inane things. “Brrr. You know, living in Hawaii had really thinned my blood out.”

“You lived in California, pet. It wasn’t that thick to begin with.” Spike chuckled. Buffy was enamored with the dancing light in Spike’s eyes. His baby blues looked more cobalt in the low light of the pub and it set a secret thrill through her.

“It was cold!” Buffy argued, “You know for that one week a year, it’s cold.”

“Yeah pet. Sunnydale was absolutely frigid.” Their hands intertwined as they enjoy the slight reprieve of getting the council reorganized.

“Hey, are you making fun of me?” Buffy pouted. Her eyes twinkled letting him know she was still joking around with him. Spike groaned when her lip quivered, giving it’s best try at being noticed.

“Come here, love.” Spike hauled Buffy around the table and sat her in his lap. She snuggled deep into his embrace, wiggling her ass on top of him. “Hey stop that!” Spike’s arms wrapped around her waist, holding her tightly. “You’re teasing me, again. Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to tease a vamp?”

Buffy moved so she could face him, she stuck her bottom lip out in mock indignation, “You started it, you big bully.”

“Hey there,” Spike lifted his leg up, making her body shift closer to his torso. “None of that.” Buffy smiled at him and nuzzled his neck when she got close enough. “I’m only your big,” he thrust his hips up, grinding his burgeoning erection on her thigh, “bad,” another thrust, “bully.” With another grind, he continued, “And don’t you forget it.” Spike moved his arm that was holding her, making her squeal as her torso was dipped. Smiling, he brought her back up and nuzzled her neck. Spike only thought that this was the life he wanted to lead forever. His slayer on one hand and a cold English Ale in his other.
~*~*~
Night passed slowly for Giles. He stayed in the Watcher library, looking for references of vampire claims and their consequences. Except one researcher that wanted to know if he could help, no one bothered Giles as he looked through the texts. The clock chimed two, alerting Giles that he needed to go to sleep. Research on claims could wait, it had to wait.

Stepping out of the library, he was met with a jovial Spike and Buffy. They just walked home form the pub arguing who won at darts. Spike insisted that he won and Buffy insisted that she did. “I know you don’t want to admit it, pet, but face it, I won.”

“You so did not!” Buffy laughed as they rounded the corner, running into Giles. “Omph, Giles! Hey there, look, its Giles.”

Spike smirked and helped the tipsy Buffy stand back up without swaying. “Yeah, pet, you won, you can’t even stand without swaying.” Rolling his eyes he looked apologetically at Giles. “Sorry about that watcher, she’s not sued to the English ale, yet.” Giles shifted his feet and brought his handkerchief out to clean his glasses. “Just getting her to bed so she can sleep it off.”

“Uh, yes. But, your room is down the opposite corridor.” Giles motioned between them.

“Spike, you got us lost? See, I’m not the drunk one, you are! ‘Trust me, Slayer, I know where we are going.’ Uh huh, you’re drunk face it!” Buffy whipped around to accuse Spike, but lost her balance and started to fall. With quick reflexes Spike hauled her up and over his shoulder.

“Yeah, pet. I’m the one drunk. Let’s get you to bed, yeah?” With a slap to her ass, he motioned for Giles to lead the way to their rooms.

“Hey put me down, YOU! Big! Bully!”

Spike followed Giles down the corridor with Buffy on his shoulder, “I told I’m your big bad bully, love. Do well to remember that.”

Giles turned down another hallway, and whispered harshly, “It’s past two in the morning, do be quiet.”
Stifling a giggle, Buffy enjoyed the ride back to her room.

Chapter 3

Travers walked into the dining room as Buffy finished her bagel. Giles sat on the other side of the table, sipping on his morning tea. Spike was still sleeping in the room. Quentin sat down at the head of the table and glared at Giles. “Heard you were doing a little research, Rupert. Care to clue me into what you are looking for?”

“Just a little research on the slayer line, Quentin.” Giles looked directly at Quentin and sneered.

“I could have my research team look for you; you don’t have to be up until after two in the morning.”

“Strange, how did you know how late I was there?” The war of knowledge and power had commenced between the two. Buffy sat back and watched the two Watchers duke it out verbally and intellectually.

“My Miss. Summers and her pet vampire making all the racket down the corridors, of course.” With a smug smile, Quentin got up and started to leave the room. Before he walked out, he turned around, “There is a staff meeting in the solarium in three minutes.” Buffy and Giles exchanged looks of confusion and shrugged. Who knew what Quentin was up to?

~*~*~
The meeting lasted three long hours. Buffy was bored senseless. Luckily for Spike, the bond told him of the mind-numbing meeting going on downstairs and he decided to stay in the room. He really didn’t want to leave Buffy alone for any extend time period, but knew that Giles was by her side. Every couple of minutes he would open that bond and tell her a dirty joke, just like he did when they went to the Rain Forest nightclub. Suppressing giggles, Buffy tried to listen to Quentin and his team drone on about research methods and demonology. Giles slid a few dirty looks towards her during these times, pleading with his eyes for her to behave. Walking out of the solarium, Giles pulled Buffy aside. “When are you going to make your move?”

“Soon.” She smiled sweetly at Giles as a bunch of researchers past.

“Seems to me you’re letting him take over.” Giles harshly whispered in the hallway.

“Giles, if he feels threatened he’s going to bolt and we won’t have anything. We need him.” Buffy answered in the same tone.

“We don’t need him, Buffy. Just yank him out of there.”

“Giles, I really would have through you would be more logical about it. We need to evaluate it all and then act.”

Giles stepped back and thought about it. “When did you become the thinker?”

“I’ve always relied on my instincts,” Buffy tried to imitate Scarlet O’Hara’s accent.

“Please don’t do that ever again.” Giles pinched his forehead indicating a start of a headache.

“What? You’re saying my accent isn’t good?”

“Precisely. So, where do you want to start with Travers? We are going to have to start something or we will loose any footing that we have.”

“I know.” Buffy opened the link to Spike and asked him to come down. “Spike’s going to meet us at Quentin’s office. We’re going have a little chat with our favorite head of the Watcher’s Council.” Buffy started to walk away from Giles and head to Quentin’s office. Giles had no option other than to follow.

~*~*~
“Miss Summers, Mr. Giles, Spike. What can I do for you?” Quentin walked out to his secretary and greeted the trio.

“We have a few things to discuss, don’t you think?” Buffy stood up in front of Spike and Giles.

“Miss Summers, this isn’t a good time.”

“Oh, this is the perfect time.” Buffy side stepped Quentin and entered his office. Spike followed, knocking Quentin over a bit. Giles followed demurely. Huffing, Quentin followed the trio inside his inner office.

Perched in his desk chair, Buffy smiled sweetly at Quentin when he finally closed the door. Spike sat on the edge of the mahogany desk, facing Quentin. His black duster hung ender his body, creating an effective drape on the edge of the desk. Giles sat in one of the chairs in front of the desk. “Please, Quentin, sit down. We have lots to discuss.”

“Miss Summers, this really isn’t a good time to have a discussion.”

“Shush, Quentin. This is the perfect time, isn’t it baby?” Buffy touched Spike’s knee. He nodded and she continued. “Wow, what kind of chair is this? It’s comfy.” She bounced lightly up and down in the chair. Swiveling and propping her legs on the desk she looked at Quentin. “So what’s the big evil that’s brewing that makes this a bad time?”

“Really, Miss Summers, put your feet on the floor like a lady!” Incensed, Quentin was red faced.

“Oh, can it, wanker. My lady is a lady when she needs to be. So what’s the big evil?”

“You!” Quentin leveled his gaze on Spike. “William the Bloody, slayer of Slayers. Part of the Scourge of Europe. You are the big evil that’s brewing. Don’t think we don’t know what you’re doing.”

Spike growled at the old man. But Buffy sent a silent warning through the link. “Quentin. I don’t think you understand your position. You are no longer in charge. Any real or perceived threat against Spike, Giles, myself, or anyone I care about will be viewed as an act of war. Trust me, you don’t want to go to war with me. Remember, I took down Glory. And she was a god.”

Quentin’s face visibly paled. “Miss Summers, all due respect, but…”

“There are no buts, Quentin.” Buffy launched her body from the chair and over the desk. Her muscles were taunt as she landed, the expression of her body was clearly anger. “I do believe you agreed to resign from the head of the Council, and that we would come in and evaluate how things are run, because from where I am sitting, it’s been mismanaged. If you would like to actually have a Slayer working in the field, then step down. Every Slayer from now on will answer to me. I will train them, I will teach them, and I will be honest with them. If you want any to work for the council, I suggest you not piss me off anymore.” Buffy stopped to inhale and calm down. “Now, if you think that investigating my mate is in your best interest then go ahead. I can guarantee that you won’t get far.” Buffy’s hazel green eyes brightened with flecks of yellow. Spike growled from behind Buffy, effectively intimidating Quentin to step down from his pedestal.

“Very well, Miss Summers, we will do it your way for now.” Quentin looked at his pocket watch. “Now, if you would excuse me, I am late.”
~*~*~
The bedroom door shut and Buffy found herself thrown to the floor with a very horny Spike on top of her. “Mmm, when your eyes light up like that and you get all dominatrix, it turns me on.” He ground his large erection into her ass, “But you knew that, baby, didn’t you.” Spike’s head dipped and nuzzled the soft skin of her neck. She felt his cool breath on her neck. “Your voice grows deep and demanding, love the way your nose twitches.” Spike’s hands weaved their way underneath her, cupping her breasts through her top. “I can smell the power coming from you, intoxicating.” To prove his point, Spike buried his head in Buffy’s growing hair and inhaled her scent. “God, I love this hair, are you growing it long for me?”

Buffy smiled, his words turned her on, the soft lilt of his voice as he whispered the comments to her like they were precious drove her crazy. She felt her arousal pooling between her legs. His hands squeezed her breasts, eliciting a gasp from her when she didn’t answer his question. “Maybe.”

Spike growled deep in his throat and thrust against her cheeks. “It’s starting to curl at the ends, gods, I love the way it curls around your face as you ride me to a gallop and squeeze me like warm champagne.”

Buffy started to giggle, she couldn’t help it. When Spike questioned her, she answered, “That sounded so like Faith. Something she would say.”

“You said it to me, love. Remember at the Bronze… you were all hot over that bird breaking free… oh, yeah, the body swap, I forgot.”

Buffy twisted underneath him, now looking into his eyes, “She said WHAT to you?”

Spike smirked, noticing the flare of her eyes, his lust renewed when there was a knock on the door, “Bullocks! Who’s there?” Buffy smiled, pushing Spike off of her and headed to the door. Opening the door, she was not surprised to find Giles standing there, ready to start working on the Council’s books with her.

Chapter 4
“So let me get this straight,” Buffy ventured. “Active Watchers are given a stipend to pay for living expenses.” Spike watched Buffy’s face flame, “Yet Slayers are not paid, not even health insurance?”

“It’s not all that much, Buffy.”

“Giles, just answer the question,” Buffy warned. Her voice was cold and demanding. Anger shot through her body and out her eyes as Giles explained the Watcher’s job specifications and pay.

“Correct.” Giles stared directly into Buffy’s eyes. The years when he hadn’t worked for the Council were not terribly difficult; the Council really didn’t pay all that much in the first place. “Most Slayers are under the care of their guardians, and when health insurance became a common occurrence the Council decided that Slayers did not need it because they had Slayer healing.”

“Not to mention that one dies another is activated, mate.” Spike smirked. Giles nodded slightly, validating Spike’s view. Giles didn’t want to impress that to Buffy, though. The Council, specifically Quentin Travers, did see the Slayers as expendable.

“In the 1970s they did a survey, the conclusion was that it was more expensive to keep the current Slayer alive than to train the next one.” Spike’s eyes flare golden, all too aware how close Buffy had been part of the statistic, that she was part of that statistic twice. Giles tried not to make eye contact with Buffy; he was ashamed that he was part of the research team that came up with that recommendation. Being a young, inexperienced watcher his main purpose in the Council was to research. Idealistic and worried about the financial base of the Council, young Rupert Giles didn’t take in consideration that Slayers were real people with real lives. The recommendation purported was based strictly on financial dealing, not human morals. Since he had met Buffy, since he had come to love her like his own, he had carried that guilt around with him. The “gifts” he gave Buffy after Joyce died had been fueled by it, but Giles had never indicated to Buffy that he felt guilty for being part of the reason she was in financial straits.

“That doesn’t account for the lack of pay, Giles. You know what I went through when my mom passed away. Dawn, the house, everything!” Buffy noticed the missing eye contact, but didn’t want to read into it too much. Giles had helped her out, paying for repairs to the house and helping her live on a budget.

Giles sighed and took his glasses off. He methodically wiped them down with his handkerchief, still avoiding Buffy’s stare. Before he put them back on he looked at her and said quietly, “Most Slayers don’t live long enough to support a family.”

The implications of the statement weighted heavily in the air. Most slayers died long before their eighteenth birthday. Died during their first year as a Slayer. The war beat the humanity out of those who did survive, isolating the girl from family and friends. The mission outweighed anything else. But that’s not how Buffy survived. The friends and family that surrounded her kept her alive. Buffy sat looking at Giles very carefully. Just as quiet and calmly as Giles spoke, she returned with, “Well, maybe if they paid for health insurance and living expenses they would.”

“Probably, Buffy.” Giles looked over at Spike, he was sitting across the library table from Buffy. His duster draped over his arms and down to the floor. Spike’s pale skin appeared even paler after the discussion of a Slayer’s lifespan. Not only was he responsible for two of the shortened lives, he was now battling for a third. His protective demeanor towards Buffy was overwhelming at times. The bond between the two, the claim he placed on her, went further beyond anything Giles had ever read about. Sharing thoughts and feelings willingly with each other was amazing. The bond scared Giles to his core. If Spike would ever go back to killing people for fun, or even food, it would destroy Buffy. It would rip out the rest of her heart, leaving only a shell, and Giles was afraid she would follow Spike down the road. Trying to break out of his thoughts, Giles shook his head. He could not let Buffy know he felt this way, that he thought she wasn’t strong enough to resist Spike’s pull if he chose to go back.

“So we have to fix that.” Buffy stated, effectively interrupting Giles’ thoughts. He looked over at Buffy, surprised at how strong her voice was. “What? It’s not fair that I’m the only Slayer to make it past 24 and head to my 30s.” Buffy gasped and looked at Spike, sticking out her tongue. “Stop it, horn devil.”

Giles rolled his eyes, not wanting to know what Spike was up to. Spike arched his eyebrow and wiggled his tongue between his thick lips towards Buffy. Exasperated, he sighed, “Yes, please stop it. We have work to do.”

“Don’t know what kind of work you think you have, sounds like my lady just said insure the newbies, pay them a living wage, and keep them alive longer. Doesn’t seem so hard.” Spike flicked his boots over the arms of the chair.

“Well, yes, as you stated so eloquently, but we need to do it in the confines of the Council’s budget.”

“Sod the budget, Watcher. Tell the rat bastard Travers to do it if he wants to keep his job. Or, better yet,” Spike smirked, “let me do it.”

“I think it would be better coming from me, Slayer of Slayers.” Giles looked pointedly at Spike, “Kind of strange that the killer of two Slayers would order the measures to keep Slayers alive longer. Don’t think it would be adhered to if it came from you”

“Yeah, well,” Spike propped his feet up on the table, “Got myself a new mission, mate.” Giles stared at Spike’s dirty boots next to an irreplaceable volume of demonology.

Buffy giggled, Spike could be so silly sometimes, “Put your feet down, Spike. You’re getting all the dusty books more dusty and Giles’ is about to have a heart attack.” Spike pouted, but did as Buffy requested. Buffy stood up and started out the door as she said, “So, I’m not a numbers girl, you can do the budget thingy, right?” Spike followed quickly, anxious to continue what they started earlier.

They exited without looking back; if they did they would have seen the gleam of Ripper in Giles’ eyes. “Sure, Buffy. No numbers involved with running a night club.” Giles sighed and sat down to work on the budget.

~*~*~
Spike listened to Buffy’s breathing calm down. Her heartbeat, still erratic and fast, pounded against his chest. These were the moments where he felt almost alive, her heart beating against his still one, transferring the beats to him. His body hummed with exertion and pleasure. He felt her sigh on top of him, legs still pressed tightly against his thighs, locking their bodies together. Spike felt her slick, hot body begin to cool so he threw the comforter over her. Nuzzling her nose against Spike’s chest, she sighed in contentment again. “Sleep, kitten.”

“Mmmm, Spike. I love you.” Buffy whispered before sleep claimed her. Lying underneath Buffy, being intimate with her, was heaven for Spike. Her strength and passion flowed through their bond, leaving her utterly vulnerable to him, trusting him to touch the deepest recesses of her mind. Trusted him with the secrets she didn’t even know she contained. Spike inhaled their combined scents, pure ecstasy, more potent than any drug. Slowly, he drifted off to meet Buffy in his dreams.

~*~*~

Giles was busy researching the Council’s budget. In the protocol paperwork, he revealed that Watchers were supposed to take care of their Slayer charges with the meager allowances the Council gave them. Virtual guardians of the protector of the world expected to support a teenage girl on a wage barely livable for one. Interesting, Giles though as he cleaned his glasses, he had never heard of that protocol. When he was sent to Sunnydale, he was instructed not to remove Buffy from her family by the decree of Quentin Travers, head of the Watcher’s Council. Giles didn’t think much of the decree; once meeting Buffy he realized that he wouldn’t want to take in a spoiled brat like that. Her mother seemed to be able to handle most of her human needs, leaving Giles to take care of the Slayer duties. Giles continued to read the different protocols.
~*~*~

“The termination of the Slayer brings about the birth of a new Chosen One from the vast pool of Potentials. Finding the most viable potential vessel, the Slayer uses the magicks infused within the spirit.”

“Geeze Giles, get anymore impersonal? Termination of the Slayer? Potential vessel?” Buffy interrupted Giles’s reading of the book. Yellowed pages, almost brown with age, crinkled under the weight of Giles’ breaths. When she received a glare from the older Watcher, she shrugged, “Go on.”

“The alignment of Mars and Jupiter over the moon creates the temporal disturbance throughout the universe, leaving a trail to the best-fit vessel. Aged young, no more than seventeen earth years, the potential vessel is assessed emotionally. This brings the menstrual cycle early, creating the infrastructure of demonic tracking using hormonal imbalances within the new body. High emotions facilitate the process without any dire repercussions.”

“So it’s the Slayer’s fault that I had my period for two weeks in a row? Oh, I’m so going to kick her primitive ass next time I meet her.” Spike smirked over at Buffy. He sat, once again, opposite from her, watching her take in the new information about Slayers. Giles had tracked them down, sparing in the gym, when he found the history of the Slayer in the ancient book translated from a North African ancient language referred to as Berber. The symbols, primitive hieroglyphics, lines and circles dotting the cloth they used. Buffy, excited that she finally was going to learn of her history, the Slayer’s history, quickly followed Giles into the library once again.

Giles continued as if Buffy hadn’t uttered a word.

“The power of the Slayer transfers over to the vessel of the Potential, infusing the new Chosen One with the strength and skill to hunt the vampires. Balancing the scales once more, the new Slayer is assigned to a trainer to teach the art of combat.”

“Ah ha! The Watchers come in. You’re supposed to be a trainer.” Buffy rolled her eyes when Giles looked at her, his eyes gray as steel, silencing her once more.

“The Slayer, hardened by the daily battles, strengthens as the vessel ages, creating a virtually unstoppable force against the spread of demonic evil, potentially eradicating the demonic presence from this reality.”

Giles stopped reading and looked up, finished with the passage.

“What that’s it? That’s the whole ‘this is how a Slayer is made?’ That was lame.” Buffy crossed her arms over her chest and sat back in her chair, disappointed that the book didn’t hold more information.

“That’s all I have translated so far. It does shed some light on how a one is chosen.”

“Ha! Shed some light! The moon, the stars, the great beyond. Blah, blah, blah.”

“Buffy…” Giles chided.

“I’m sorry Giles, it’s not fair, I know. But did you hear what you were saying?” Giles stood, nodding, while Buffy talked. “It’s a virtual crap shoot on who is chosen to be the next Slayer. Moon alignment and hormones? That seems awfully flimsy.”

“I know, but that’s what is in the book. Maybe I can translate more and get a better idea.”

“I think we need to ask Quentin why this book was never translated in the first place. I never understood the Slayer, why I was chosen, etcetera. Kendra grew up knowing she had the potential to have this destiny. I never had that. One minute I am stilling on the steps of school, waiting for a boy and the next thing I’m staking a guy in the cemetery. No handbook, no explanation, just a stake and the speech about being chosen.” Buffy was so angry, she was almost shaking. Spike could feel the frustration pouting out of her. “It would have been nice to know about this. Remember right before the battle with Glory… I thought I was loosing my ability to love, to care. I was. That was the Slayer doing it to me. Strengthening herself for the battle, but I didn’t know that.” Taking a calming breath, she continued. “And, you know… the virtual unstoppable force… you know what I mean… be nice to know that a couple years ago.” Spike looked confused and sent her a silent question, only to have it returned unanswered. The spies and bugs in the building were listening, leaving Buffy biting her tongue before it slipped out. “Why was the Council hiding this?”

“I don’t know,” was Giles only answer. The fact that Buffy turned into the virtual unstoppable force weighed heavily on Giles. Her instincts steadily grew within the past couple years, leaving her skills and strength unmatchable, even in demonic terms.
~*~*~

They had to get out of the oppressive building, fleeing from the prison that was created for them. Ears and eyes, on the look out for anything that could be used against them, pried deeply into their subconscious. New revelations of Buffy’s increased abilities. Her internal demonic radar’s power increase amazed Spike. She never let on about her strength or the fact she could sense him all those times he would be at her hotel after their fight. They strolled along the edge of the closest cemetery, quietly discussing the new information. Their thought and emotions were broken by the sound of a struggle behind a brownstone. Swiftly running into action, Spike and Buffy rounded the corner to see two humans, a man and woman, surrounded by seven large, brown demons. Spike moved first, throwing the closest brown demon away from the main group. The muscular arms reached out for Spike, barely missing him. Spike looked around, spying a jagged piece of metal. He picked up the piece, hitting the blob like head, breaking a few bones in its structure. The demon, not stopped by having his skull broken, charged Spike, pushing him into the brick wall. Regaining his footing, Spike threw a punch towards the torso, hitting the slimy, squishy, brown flesh. Still holding the piece of metal, he lifted it up to impale the demon.

Standing over the dead demon’s body, Spike wiped his hands off and turned around, ready to help Buffy only to find the other demons lying on the ground, unmoving. Buffy was staring at the two people they just saved. The woman, athletic and tall, stood up. Her face littered with scars and wounds, leaving a once beautiful woman not as attractive as she was remembered. The large man, hidden in the shadows from Spike, stepped out. “Riley?”

Chapter 5

Riley stepped forward, closer to Buffy. Time had not been kind to the soldier. Slices of scar tissue littered his face and arms. Lumbering over six feet tall, the once ‘normal’ boyfriend now resembled car accident victim. His once shiny, healthy brown locks of hair were peppered with wiry, gray strands. Dull and limp, it hung from his head like a helmet. His eyes reflected the light dully, no longer sparkling with life. His skin, pasty and ashen hung off his bones with a bit too much padding underneath. The health conscious soldier must have disappeared through the years, leaving the body to survive on its own. Barely standing on his own, his limp forward proved his self hurt. It was obvious to both Spike and Buffy that the soldier had many injuries that had not healed properly, leaving him disfigured. Gone was the innocence of the boy and in its place was the tough, hard knock reality of the universe. Gone was one Riley Finn, soldier extraordinaire.

The woman standing by his side, supporting his hefty weight didn’t look much better. Littered with just as many scars as her husband and partner, Riley. Her long, dark hair was now cropped close to her head and lighter, probably out of necessity. Her hands, peppered with hard life wrapped around Riley, holding him closer. Her gray eyes reflected hate towards Buffy. Samantha Finn, strict human version of Buffy, fought beside her husband for the greater good, the human species. Her military training had toughed her feminine body and attracted the heart broken soldier all those years ago. Her taste for adventure seduced Riley quickly, causing him to fall head over heels for the soldier girl. Married on the run in South America, the two found desperate peace in each other’s arms.

Standing back, Buffy studied the couple they saved. Feeling guilty that they lived such a hard life while she lived in the lap of luxury, she couldn’t form words. Fighting evil was her mission, her destiny, her calling, but it was their choice, their mission, their life. Choosing the good over evil during times when the odds seemed insurmountable was what they did and they paid for their choice in more than one way. Spike stood closer to Buffy, waiting for the anvil to drop. The hatred and the accusations to start flying from Riley, the rejection from Buffy, but it didn’t come. The soldier straightened, standing on his own and stepped forward. “Buffy, good to see you.”

Buffy smiled coyly, feeling the guilt once again. “Hi,” her voice wavered. “What are you doing here?”

Riley smiled, revealing a chipped front tooth. “Fighting the fight, you know?” Riley raised his arm, indicating Sam to step forward. “You remember Sam.”

Buffy nodded and smiled at Sam, not know what to say. The woman before her didn’t resemble the woman that Buffy met before. Her smile no longer touched her lips, leaving a scowl on Sam’s mouth. “Yeah.” The two couples fell silent, not knowing what to say. Spike stepped closer to Buffy, wanting to mark his territory. He wanted to tease Riley that he had the girl, but he didn’t have it in him. Somehow pointing out the obvious, kicking him while he was down, just didn’t seem like fun. “So, England, huh?”

“Yeah, England.” Riley looked aver at Spike. “See you’re still hanging about. Lurking in the shadows still.”

Spike growled, but Buffy stepped forward, resting her hand on Spike’s arm. “Actually, we are together. Spike found me a while ago and we decided to try and give it another go.”

“Ah, I see. So how’s that going?”

“Wonderful, Riley. I am really happy. I don’t know what took me so long.” Buffy said quietly, looking at Spike the whole time. Giving him, his demon and human selves, the reassurance that he needed.

“That’s good.” Sam looked around, not comfortable with her husband talking to his ex-girlfriend. Not that she ever liked Buffy much for that, but she’s also the Slayer and still beautiful. Her hair looked healthy and growing long. The darker shade of blonde shimmered under the moon light, giving her an unearthly glow.

“So what have you two been doing these past couple years?” Spike put his arm around Buffy waist, resting comfortably. Sam imitated the pose, leaving nothing to the imagination on her intentions. Riley was hers and she wasn’t going to give him up. Spike felt the same way about Buffy.

“Traveling. We’re mercenaries and go where we are needed.” Riley looked around, on alert for any demon activity. “You?”

“Working. I write for a travel journal. I now live in Hawaii.” A genuine smile erupted from Buffy’s face. Even though she felt guilty that she was living a normal life, she couldn’t help but be happy about it. “We’re here visiting the Watcher’s Council.

“I see. Got quiet a tan on you. How about you, Spike? Stalking the beaches, going to get a suntan anytime soon?”

Spike growled, leaving Buffy’s side. Before anyone knew it, Riley’s injured leg gave way and he fell to the hard ground with Spike standing above him. “Look, ma, no chip! Shut up, pillock!” Spike backed away towards Buffy, who was barely stifling her laughter. Spike’s swagger increased as he neared her, letting his black duster wave in the dark night.

Sam helped Riley stand up again, careful of the new abrasions on his skin. “No chip? Are you crazy? Buffy, what is going on?” Riley spat angrily.

“Don’t Riley,” Buffy warned, letting her arms wrap around her vampire. “I don’t need any lectures, or warnings. I’m not under any thrall. Yes, those are bite marks that you see on my neck, but no, I am not a vampire. I am alive. Spike and I are mated. We are in love and nothing, not even the narrowest point of view, will change that.”

“Whatever, Buffy. Just don’t turn your back on him.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. If Riley only knew what they had been through. Angel’s torture, Xander, the Council. Turning her back was the last thing Buffy needed to worry about. “Noted, Riley. So, really, what are you doing here?”

“Told you, fighting the fight. Got a call about two weeks ago about some trouble brewing over here.”

Not believing a word that Riley was saying for the whole truth, Buffy nodded. Buffy and Spike started their own inner dialog. “Trouble brewing here? Only a few feet from the great Council of Wankers?”

“Spike, behave! I know, he isn’t telling the truth.” Buffy leaned into Spike; reveling in the comfort he gave her.

“Look at the bird, maybe Captain Cardboard doesn’t know why they are here.” Spike wrapped his arm tighter around Buffy’s waist. Something wasn’t right about Riley and Sam popping up.

“Could be. He never was one to think through things. Reminds me of some blond vampire I know.”

“Don’t! Ever! Compare! Me! To! Him!” Anger rolled through her, leaving her feeling cold. Spike moved away slightly, leaving inches of air space between the two.

“Sorry, didn’t mean it.” Buffy smiled at Riley, trying to keep up with what Riley was saying about Egypt and spider demons released from a tomb. “Spike?”

“Yeah, love?”

“I was just kidding.” Spike moved closer to Buffy, his arm inched up to her waist again. All was forgiven.

“Riley, Sam. We’re staying at the Council’s headquarters. It’s just around the corner. Want to come and maybe sit down with some coffee and talk?” Buffy offered. Riley looked at Sam and agreed.

~*~*~
The kitchen had closed a few hours ago, leaving Buffy to riffle through the cupboards looking for the coffee and filters. Only finding tea, Buffy resigned herself to make tea. “Guess the Brits aren’t up on the coffee.” She said while letting the teakettle warm.

“No problem, Buff. Come sit down. Tell us about your travel magazine.” Riley and Sam sat on one end of the kitchen island. Spike stood in a corner of the kitchen where the cupboards met, leaning on hip against the counter. Buffy stepped forward, leaning against the island facing Riley and Sam. The bright fluorescent lights did nothing to help their complexion. Life really didn’t treat them well. Riley’s skin was patchy with color, almost as if burned with acid.

“Well, I started out doing it on the side, picking up a few bucks as I traveled around the states. I got pretty good and was offered a job in Upper New York. Moved about a year later to Colorado and finally settled in Hawaii. My article isn’t made up of tourist traps, but from the local prospective. I own a hotel and night club in Hawaii.”

“Wow, so how’s the slaying?” Riley looked over Buffy’s perfect skin. Almost perfect, Spike’s claim still marred her neck.

“Retired for a while. Came out a few weeks back to train a new one. Faith died. I don’t know if you remember her, but she’s…”

“Yeah, a guy can’t forget that, trust me.”

Buffy blushed and looked down at her hands. Her nails were long and needed a manicure, the polish chipping at the ends. Looking over at Sam’s fingers, she noted that her right ring finger was cut off half way. Her skin was dirty and puckered, leaving scar tissue to surround her fingers. None existent nails grew out of the dirty stumps she had as nailbeds. Buffy’s guilt returned. “Yeah, well. When she died, another was called and so on. I’ve been in the training mode.”

“Ah, so how’s retired life?”

“Seems to be looking up.” Buffy spared a glance at Spike. Appearing bored with the conversation, Spike picked at his black nail polish, also noticing Sam’s injured hand.

Sitting around the kitchen seemed so strange for them all. The conversation strained and stayed away from certain subjects including the undead. “Want a short tour of this fine establishment? Can’t show you the upstairs, but the downstairs is pretty pop and circumstance.”

Riley and Sam followed Buffy, leaving Spike to trail behind. Riley listened intently to what Buffy was saying. She repeated the same nonsense descriptions of the artwork on the walls and different furniture that one of the young Watchers bestowed on them. Sam looked around, studying everything, every nook and cranny. Her eyes never ceased to travel along the walls, the corridors, and the floor. Spike felt like she was casing the joint, memorizing its layout. “Where are all the Watchers?” Sam asked in the foyer. “Shouldn’t they be milling around?”

“Um, probably upstairs or already left.” Buffy said distractedly. Sam looked up the stairs, hoping to catch a glimpse of a Watcher. She hesitated and then started to move toward the staircase.

Spike stepped forward and grabbed her arm, “Afraid you can’t go up there, pet.”

“Let go of me, you demon!” Sam pulled her arms away, twisting her body, almost loosing balance on the bottom stair.

Buffy stopped Riley from going after Spike while his back was turned, watching Sam disengage herself. “I believe the Slayer told you not to go up there.”

“What? It’s not like she’s in charge.” Sam snorted, happy with herself.

A large booming voice interrupted the four, “Actually, Miss Summers is indeed in charge here.” Buffy looked up to see the plump, yet surprisingly supportive, Quentin Travers on the stair landing. Quentin walked slowly down the stair with his chest puffed out. He stopped a few stairs about Sam. “Mr. And Mrs. Finn, I heard you were in town.”

“Sir.” Riley saluted, his military training shining through.

“The infamous married mercenaries. You aren’t very quiet when you stroll into a town, are you?”

Sam stepped of the staircase, surprised to be faced with the head of the Watcher’s Council. “Mr. Travers. I have a matter I need to discuss with you.”

Riley looked shocked, not knowing Sam knew Quentin Travers by face or name. “Sam?”

“Hush, Finn. Prime directive from the Source.” Sam glanced at Riley.

“Any business you would like to discuss should be with Miss Summers here, she is now officially Head of the Council.” Both Spike and Buffy looked strangely at Quentin, his change of attitude surprised them greatly.

“No, I believe this concerns you.” Sam’s voice rose in volume, trying to assert herself in the eyes of Quentin.

“No, I believe Miss Summers would like to know exactly why you are here in England. More specifically near the Council of Watchers.” Buffy looked questionably towards Quentin and then towards Riley. Riley looked as surprised as Buffy and Spike felt. “I think she would like to know the apparent disbandment of the covert United States government mission subtitled the Initiative is not so much disbanded anymore. Isn’t that right, Mrs. Finn?” Quentin stepped down to the main floor. “The nefarious dealings of your troops in the Sudan and Sri Lanka hasn’t bypassed the Council. We are aware that your cause has gained support from the Middle East and the guerillas of Central America. And, Mr. And Mrs. Finn, I would like to go on record of telling you to back off. Human wars maybe your prerogative, but the demon war is mine. Stand down.”

“Mr. Travers, you don’t understand. We are on the same side.” Sam stepped closer to Quentin, trying to get her point across.

“No, Mrs. Finn, I don’t believe you heard me. Stand down! Go back to your army in Nicaragua and live on the human side of this reality. Forget the demons and the ethereal beings because it is not your war to fight. Leave now and never come back.”

Riley, clearly angry and disoriented, dragged his wife out the front door and into the night. Shocked still, Buffy and Spike listened to the explanation Quentin bestowed on them. The Initiative was once again active.

Chapter 6

Quentin sat behind his desk in the dark. In front of him sat a thick file of information on the covert multi-governmental operation nicknamed the Initiative. The behavioral modification experiments they had done in the past did not please him. Not because demons like Spike who happened to escape from their clutches did complete their behavioral transformation, but because the operation, the government, and the scientists had no right to meddle into that world. They had no clue into what they were messing with, the power of the balance between demon and mortal. The covenant that the Watchers agreed to should be held in the highest regard. The ability to protect the mortals on this plane should be revered, but it wasn’t. These humans, as technological advanced, as they were, still held no candle to the Watchers Council’s abilities.

The precarious balance between demons and mortals were supervised by a higher power. The prophecies and loopholes written into the works of their fate were carefully orchestrated millenniums ago and should not be meddled with by mere mortals; civilians that had no right, no insight into the bigger picture, no education and training to decipher the deeper meaning behind the words. The mystical pact between the upper and lower worlds to share the paradise known as the Earth was forged years ago, leaving a plane of existence that was balanced with good and evil, light and darkness, mortal and immortal. No one mortal or immortal could maintain the balance of Earth, creating the triumvirate commonly called the Powers-That-Be.

Quentin threw the file across the room, scattering papers and photographs on the floor. Vibes of disgust and frustration flew off the head Watcher in waves. You didn’t have to be clairvoyant to know that one Quentin Travers was angry. The support staff, secretaries and pages, didn’t dare go into the inner sanctum of his.

‘The Initiative,’ Quentin thought bitterly. ‘Armed and trained militia with the intents and purposes to eradicate the demon population from this realm. Damn them! Who did they think they are?’ Quentin grabbed a bottle of scotch from the bottom drawer of his desk. Pouring a glass of the stiff liquid, Quentin sat back and thought about the situation around him. The Slayer, her Vampire, and her Watcher trying to make changes they wanted and the new threat of the Initiative. Everything bottled up within him shook violently. Today was not a good day.

~*~*~
Night fell on England once again. The cold wind blew across the nation, closing windows and doors as it swept through the fields. Spike watched the greens in the gardens dance around in the bitter wind. Blowing and cursing around the evergreens the wind tried its best to kill the remaining life on the earth. Spike exhaled smoke and watched the blue/gray pollution dissipate in the atmosphere. The white stick with a glowing tip he held in his hand gave comfort to the vampire. Bringing it to his mouth, he took a puff, inhaling the plumes of thick smoke into his dead lungs, letting the death seep into his body as if he wasn’t dead enough. Slouching his shoulders forward, he nestled himself deeper into his leather duster, trying to stay a bit warmer than the air outside.

Buffy stepped out on the veranda behind Spike, watching him puff away on his cancer stick. Not that Spike could get cancer, what with no living cells, but a cancer stick to everyone around him. Pulling her wool coat closer to her body, she stepped out from the under hang towards the love of her life. His white hair sparkled in the moonlight, shining silver in the deep dark night. She coughed a bit, alerting her presence, ‘Knew you were there, love.’ His voice popped in her head.

Smiling, she walked to him, wrapper her arms around his middle. Spike switched the hand that held the cigarette and wrapped his free hands around her shoulder, bringing her closer to him. Finding his jacket was open, she insinuated herself into him, telling herself that they were sharing body heat. ‘Yeah, so, I had to cough.’ Spike snorted out loud, breaking the silence. ‘Like, I’d warn you, fang face.’

‘Hey, what’s with the old names, pet?’ Spike looked down at her, her eyes shining with love and trust.

‘Don’t know, just popped in my head. What are you doing?’ Buffy snuggled closer, grimacing as Spike continued to smoke.

‘Saluting the Queen’s mum, what does it look like? Smoking a sodding cigarette, is that all right with you?’ Buffy felt Spike’s anger, but didn’t understand it.

She stepped away and bundled herself up in her coat, ‘Geeze, chill there. I was just asking a question; don’t have to get shirty with me.’

‘Shirty?’ Spike’s eyebrow rose. ‘Do you even know what that means?’

‘What is your problem Spike?’ Buffy looked over at him, something or someone set him off and it wasn’t her.

‘Nothing, just go inside, love.’

‘No, something is wrong. Did I do something?”

‘Go inside, Buffy.’ Spike reiterated.

‘Spike, please, baby tell me. I’ll fix it.’

“Go inside Slayer.” This time Spike didn’t use the bond, he spoke out loud. The message was clear and she obeyed.

With one final glance at him, she headed inside. Before she shut the door she turned around, “Don’t shut me out, Spike.”
~*~*~
Spike stayed outside in the garden a bit, something was off with Captain Cardboard and his little wife’s visit. Why did Quentin stick up for Buffy? Announcing she was in charge? That was strange. Something was off, something smelled off. This house, mansion, the people in it. The stench permeated the marbled wall, leaving traces of something. Spike reached out in the bond, trying to find Buffy. She was sitting in the library, talking to Giles. She was safe, but something told Spike that she wasn’t as safe as they thought.

Spike threw his last fag away, littering the veranda littered with the burned cigarette butts and headed inside. Ignoring the Watchers and Watchers-in-training, Spike headed straight for the library. He stopped and took a breath, inhaling her scent. He heard her melodic laugh through the door and walls. Stepping forward, he pushed through the heavy wooden door.

Buffy looked up as Spike entered, only to look back down at the book she was reading. Spike sighed, knowing she was hurt and angry with him. He felt it, even if she refused to talk to him over the link. In fact, she tried shutting down the link a couple times as he headed up here. Spike slumped down in the chair next to her. ‘Sorry, love.’ Spike looked at Giles, his nose in one of the ancient books that was supposed to contain the secrets of the Slayer line. Buffy didn’t answer his apology, but she didn’t try to shut him out. ‘I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I’m sorry.’

He saw Buffy’s lips twitch, trying to repress a smile. Her anger ebbed away as he talked. ‘Taken what out on me?’

‘Is nothing, love. Don’t worry about it.’ Spike grabbed a text in front of him, staring at the Latin words, Spike tried to help.

‘That makes me worried even more.’ Spike looked over at Buffy, her lower lip jutted out in a pout.

‘Don’t do that! You know what that does to me.’ Spike smirked over at Buffy. Their eyes met and both knew it was pointless to stay mad at the other.

‘Spike, what is it. Don’t shut me out. I know you are worried about something. I can FEEL it.’

‘Something just bloody isn’t right here, Slayer. First, Quentin treats you like a second, wait third class citizen and then he’s spouting off about how you are in charge. Doesn’t make a bit of sodding sense to me. And Captain Cardboard? Come on! His damn bird starting the Initiative without his knowledge? Sounds fishy at best. I know he isn’t the brightest crayon in the crayon box, but you can’t be that oblivious.’

‘Spike, he seriously was shocked as we were.’

‘I know, but it doesn’t make sense.’ Both stopped pretending that they were reading and looked directly at each other, having a silent discussion. Giles stopped his pacing and reading to stare at them. Spike’s eyes rippled amber every now and then while Buffy’s rippled from yellowish brown to green. He knew they were talking, probably something important if they weren’t using their voices. Giles noticed that when he was around Buffy made a conscious effort to not talk through the bond. ‘How can he not know that she’s been heading a revamped version of the Initiative while good ole’ boy Travers does?’

‘I didn’t know about you, Doctor.’

‘Oh, sodding hell! I wasn’t the Doctor. I was holding those eggs for someone. I told you.’

‘Uh huh, honey, pull my other leg.’ Buffy crossed her legs, jiggling one in front of him.

“I was not the DOCTOR!” Spike roared. Everyone in the library turned and looked at him.

“Spike, come on, admit it was one you your hair brained schemes.”

“It wasn’t a scheme, those eggs weren’t even Suvolte. They were… oh sod it, it’s not like you’ll believe me.” Spike stood up and headed out the door, his duster blowing behind him.

“He sure likes to make his entrances and exits, doesn’t he?” Giles mused.

“That he does.” Buffy answered, still looking at the door. “Guess I better go after him.” She got up to follow him, leaving Giles alone, once again, to continue the search of the Slayer secrets.

Chapter 7

The rain of the day made a muddy trek to the cemetery. Buffy felt Spike’s aggression and the thirst for violence. His pent up energy plus the pressures of being at the Watcher’s Headquarters was weighing heavily on the vampire. She trudged through two cemeteries, following his destructive path. She found the remains of four fledglings rising and their subsequent demise. Buffy trudged through another puddle, soaking her jeans and boots with brown goop. Her boots, bought in a specialty shop in Hawaii that cost and arm and a leg were practically ruined now. Sneering, Buffy shook off the moisture and headed towards Spike. He sat on a grave marker, looking at a new grave. He must think there is a fledgling trying to rise. She approached, but left a lot of space between them. She watched him turn to his demon visage right as the fledgling started to move the upper earth. Mud and sod moved and bucked up as the new vampire started to rise. Impatient as ever, Spike hopped off of the grave marker and grabbed the hair of the fledgling, dragging its body out of the mud. Without preamble, Spike dusted the fledgling easily clearly not relieving any of his tension. His eyes riveted towards Buffy’s space. ‘Go home, Buffy, before you catch your death of a cold.’ He turned around and walked away, intent on finding a proper fight, even if he had to start it himself.

Buffy followed behind, refusing to go home until she knew he was fine. His duster floated behind him as he stalked on to the next fledgling. “What is wrong with you?” Buffy was so frustrated she couldn’t even use the bond; she had to talk out loud. His demeanor and words screamed that something was wrong, that he was hurting, but she couldn’t figure out why. She realized that it was more than accusing him of being the Doctor. And she knew he wasn’t the Doctor. The demons that she destroyed in his lower living area were not the same species of demon as the Sulvolte. Insect-like legs and bodies scurrying around his lower crypt did not resemble the Sulvolte Demon she killed with Riley. She should have listened to Spike in the first place.

Spike stopped and looked up into the stars. She saw warm puff of air coming from his mouth. The unnecessary breathing proved that he was frustrated and angry. Nothing she didn’t already know. His eyes twitched, a nervous habit he developed over the years. ‘Spike?’ He kept walking. Buffy launched into a light jog to catch up to him. ‘Spike, stop!’ He turned around and glared at her. They hurt in his eyes bored into her soul, ‘I’m sorry, honey. You aren’t the Doctor. I’m sorry for thinking that you were. I know you aren’t, you never were. I’m sorry.’

Spike could see she was sincere in her words. His anger and hurt melted away. He couldn’t really blame her for thinking the worst. His intentions, although only to benefit her, were nefarious at best. He was holding the eggs for money and they were demons, but they weren’t Suvolte. Spike knew of the Doctor, he knew where to find the Doctor that night, but his lust for Buffy outweighed his better judgment. If he only helped her that night instead of shagging her brains out, she would never have broken up with him. Kicking the muddy ground Spike accidentally pelted Buffy’s pants with more brown water and mud. He heard her gasp before he realized what he had done. She looked at him, her mouth set in a firm line and hands on her hips. Spike had sense enough to look sheepish. ‘Sorry, love.’

‘Yeah, well, I’ve apologized and now I am going back to the house. You can stay out here for all I care.’ He watched Buffy turn around and walk away from him. Sighing, he followed closely behind her. ‘Spike, stop following me. It’s obvious you are mad at me and won’t take my apology.’

Spike quickened his stride, easily catching up to her. ‘Love, I’m sorry. I… just… something just isn’t right around here. You know?’ Buffy stopped and looked at him. They were now out of the cemetery, near the main road. ‘It’s like… I don’t know.’ Spike looked down the road. ‘I was not the Doctor.’

‘I know.’ Buffy stepped closer, wanting to hold him. His blue eyes were still filled with unshed tears and hurt. She wanted to wipe away all the pain she had caused him. All the emotional battery and physical abuse he took to be with her. She wanted to make it better for him.

‘But, to be honest, love. I knew who was.’ Buffy’s eyes widened and she gasped. He was hiding that fact. She narrowed her eyes, trying to stay calm. ‘I didn’t know what he was up to, I swear. I thought we had time to… find him, later. I’m sorry.’ Spike looked down at the ground. He shuffled his feet as he waited for Buffy to digest the information and give him his walking papers. Spike’s conscious weighed heavily on his soul. If he had helped her, if he had told her, if he did a lot of thing differently, they wouldn’t have missed the past six years. Life was preciously short, Spike knew, and a Slayer’s life was even shorter. If he was honest way back then, he would have had six more years with her than without her.

Buffy felt his guilt. The pain of mistakes in the past weighed heavily between them. Both wanted to change the past, but knew they couldn’t. ‘Is that why you got mad at me? Because you were feeling guilty?’ Buffy touched Spike’s upper arm. Spike flinched a little from the sudden contact, but didn’t push her away.

He looked up sharply; she wasn’t going to reject him. ‘A bit.’ Spike stepped forward, letting his hands find her waist. ‘I just… it wasn’t me. You know. If it was, I wouldn’t mind fessing up.’ Buffy hands moved up Spike’s leather clad arms to rest on his shoulders.

‘I know.’ Buffy let a small smile touch her lips. She rested her cheek against his chest, enjoying his scent and safe embrace. The moonlight shone down on the couple, enveloping them in its mysterious glow.

‘If I took you over to Willy’s when you first came to me, it would have been avoided. Or if I told you I was babysitting those eggs, but I didn’t.’

‘Wait… Willy was the Doctor?’ Buffy stepped away with an amazed look on her face.

‘Technically there isn’t one Doctor, per say. The Doctor is made up of five or so bootleggers around the world. But, in that instance, yes, Willy was trafficking the eggs.’

‘Well that little weasel!’ Buffy let a full smile touch her lips. ‘Forgive me?’

‘As you wish, my love.’ Spike brought Buffy closer to him, crushing their lips together. His tongue dueled with hers, letting them dance and retreat around their mouths. Buffy’s body pressed tightly against Spikes, letting them share in every possible molecule between them. Both were preoccupied to notice a blue van pull up only ten feet away. They didn’t notice the black clad, heavily armed troopers exit said van. Spike felt a sharp pinch at the back of his neck before his sight went black. He felt Buffy slipped out of his arms as the ground rushed up towards him. Buffy felt Spike’s body go limp as he fell to the muddy ground, the look of shock and pain still on his face. She had enough time to look around and see three masked people surround her. Crouching into a fighting stance, she never saw the taser gun. With a yelp at the sting of the gun in her ribs, she slowly slumped to the ground, unable to control her muscles. She saw the black boots of Spike, covered in mud from the cemetery. Trying to reach out to him, she felt another sting of another shock before the world went black.

~*~*~
Two things were apparent to Buffy as she regained consciousness. She was tightly tied to a wooden chair and that she was blindfolded. Gasping for air, she tasted the air: musty and cold. She tried shifting around, only to find herself immobilized. Her muscles did not cooperate with her, refusing to move. Ordering her body to move once again, Buffy growled in frustration.

“Ah, she’s awake.” A harsh whisper hit her ears. Not able to tell the gender of the speaker, Buffy tried to speak, only to have her mouth and tongue not cooperate. Another growl, the only indication that she was in fact conscious was emitted. “Now, now. Can’t have the Slayer calling in the Calvary.” Buffy’s muscles tensed up once more as the taser was used. She slumped forward in the chair, heedless of the ropes cutting into her circulation.

Chapter 8

The binds didn’t loosen, no matter what Buffy tried to do during the times she was conscious. Of course, she didn’t stay conscious for long. Every time she would waken from her dark slumber, she would be shot with electricity, incapacitating her. Buffy tried to be still, to reach out with her mind to Spike, but couldn’t fathom the miles between them. Either the distance blocked their communication, or Spike was unable to answer her pleas for help. She didn’t know how long she had been sitting in the chair. Days could have passed and Buffy wouldn’t know. Mouth parched and stomach burning with hunger, Buffy tried once again to struggle. The blindfold knocked loose, letting a bit of light reach her sore eyes. The room that she was in was large and empty from what she could see. Without making any movement, trying to pretend to still be unconscious, Buffy wiggled her nose, trying to get a better view. The building, almost reminiscent of Spike’s old factory, was dirty. The floor, not swept in a long time had piles of debris around. Buffy yelped as she saw a huge rat scuttle by her. Sighing, she knew that her captors knew she was conscious again. The heavy footsteps approached her on her blind side. Her efforts to try to identify her captors in case she could contact Spike were thwarted, though. Right as she turned her head to see a bit of the fatigue uniform, the person slapped her. Buffy’s body fell, along with the chair onto the dirty floor of the factory. The smell of soot and decay assaulted her senses. Now her good eye, one that could see a bit from the blindfold was on the ground. She felt the person standing above her, staring down. She felt that person stoop down next to her. She felt cold metal against her arm, knowing it was a needle, she tried to scoot away but couldn’t. Her captor didn’t say anything as the needle penetrated Buffy’s skin. A cool rush went through her arteries and veins, washing over her. Buffy raised her head, trying to shake the heavy, watery feeling from her senses. Her captor moved around to Buffy head. Before she blacked out, Buffy saw the green and khaki fatigues that military personnel wear and heavy boots. “There, that should keep you unconscious for a while.” The voice, still whispered, seemed familiar, yet not so familiar.

~*~*~
Spike stirred slightly on the cold ground. Frost had overtaken the underbrush, leaving white residue on everything it touched. Groaning, Spike lifted his hand up to his neck. The sharp jolt of electricity still itched his skin. Rubbing his sore neck, his eyes began to focus again. The cold grass tickled his cheek as he rose up from his horizontal position. Panicked, Spike remembered Buffy. They were together when the attack came. Where was she? Spike jumped up quickly, swaying a bit from the force of his departure from the ground. Inhaling the air, he smelled the moist air. It rained while he was unconscious. Her scent, along with their attackers disappeared, not even leaving a cold trail. Spike studied the ground, hoping to find a clue to Buffy’s disappearance, only to find four tracks of footsteps out to the road. No tire tracks on the cement. Growling, Spike felt the prickling of sunrise on his skin. He cursed, running straight for the Council’s headquarters. He knew something was wrong last night!

~*~*~
Giles poured over the ancient texts once again. The library was empty except for him. Little information was unearthed from the remaining texts. The cloth used to account for the making of the First Slayer was torn apart. From what he could piece together, the First Slayer was a human, virgin girl on the Savannah. Her tribe, family back then, sacrificed her purity and faith to the higher power. Infused with demon blood, attacked by the immortals, raped by the higher powers, the girl rose above the ashes like the phoenix. She had the power and knowledge to balance the power on Earth. Forged through triumph and misery the First Slayer fought against the demons and vampires. Giles shook off the images that the text described. The pure girl was literally torn apart sexually by the powers, leaving a hardened fighter in her place.
~*~*~
Quentin fell into a fitful sleep. Tossing and turning, Quentin worried that his past was coming to haunt him. He worked hard to get where he was: the protector of the human race against the demons. Quentin clenched his jaw; another dream of past rivals assaulted his mind. Stepping over his friends and family, crushing them under his foot, didn’t faze Quentin; he had to do what he had to do, but the faces of his loved ones were what haunted him. His mother, his dear mother with her onyx eyes, was staring at him sadly. His betrayal of their family stared back at him through her eyes and through the years. Her plea for him to stop his training haunted his mind. Quentin’s dreams skipped over to his Watcher training. The young Watchers that were in the training program were tightly knit group. Friends by trial and fire, trusting each other to a fault, the young Watchers moved through the ranks of the Council together. Their research parties at night, decoding prophecies and demon weaknesses. Quentin relived those nights of comradely with his friends. Shuddering, Quentin woke up with a start. The alignment of the universe was off. Something was wrong.

Quentin flew out of his room and down the corridor. Still dressed in his nightclothes, Quentin was heedless of the stares of his employees. He ran down the stairs, heading towards the library where he knew he would find Giles. His hair, usually coiffed in a stiff do, was tangled and messed from sleep. Running down the hall like a mad man with bare feet and pinstriped pajamas, Quentin huffed past his employees; he had to get to the library. Bursting into the room, he encountered Giles and a very angry, vamped out Spike.

“What did you do?” Spike growled before he made a move. Suddenly Quentin was pushed against the library door. His feet left the ground as the vampire used his claws around Quentin’s neck, pressing his body up on the wall. The rage in the vampire’s eyes shook Quentin to the core. Nothing, not even in the eyes of those who tried revenge against him, had held so much hate, malice, and fear such as Spike’s did at that moment.

“Nothing.” Quentin chocked out. He felt the piercing of his skin from Spike’s claws, his skin sliced like soft butter, leaving red welts and trickles around his throat.

Spike considered Quentin’s answer. As truthful as his scent told Spike Quentin was, he wasn’t through. Lifting Quentin away from the wall, he slammed the rotund body back against the hard surface. “Wrong answer, mate.”

Quentin made eye contact with Giles who was looking, rather proudly, at the scene of Quentin at least six inches off the floor. “Do something, Rupert!” Quentin ordered. Spike’s hand clenched further around his windpipe, leaving him suffocating before their eyes.

“What would you like me to do?” Giles came towards Spike and Quentin. He took his glasses off and started to clean them with his handkerchief. He started to pace a few feet parallel to the wall that Quentin was being held against. Chocking and gasping for air, Quentin’s eyes followed Giles’ movements. “Seems to me, that you aren’t dying.” Spike looked at Giles as he passed and nodded. The pressure on Quentin’s neck, although extremely uncomfortable, was not a death grip. “You know something happened to Buffy?”

Quentin coughed and tried to wiggle free, only to have Spike’s grip increase, a warning to answer Giles’ questions. “No, woke up from a dream. Something is off in the universe.”

“What do you mean?” Spike growled low in his throat. After he found Giles in the library they came to the conclusion that Buffy was kidnapped.

“Don’t know, just that something is off.” Spike released some pressure from Quentin’s windpipe. As much as he would love to snap his neck, he knew he couldn’t for Buffy. If Quentin felt something was wrong with the Slayer, he might be able to help.

“How?” Giles stood in front of the two near the wall. Spike allowed Quentin’s feet to touch the ground, but still had his neck pinned to the wall. Quentin looked away, not wanting to give away all the Watcher Council secrets.

“You know mate,” Spike asked conversationally, “I’m feeling a bit peckish.” Spike smiled, revealing his teeth. “Having to find my lady and all, going to need a lot of nourishment.”

Quentin looked at Spike with disgust. “You’ll never find her, if you do.” Spike growled and slammed Quentin’s head against the wall. The old man slumped down to the floor, unconscious.

Spike looked over at Giles who had a look of fatherly pride in his eyes. “Seems to me he’s hiding something.”

“Looks like, Watcher. So what do we do now?” Spike backed away, wiping his hands on his jeans.

“Don’t think he had anything to do with her disappearance.” Giles looked disdainfully over at Quentin’s form.

“No, he doesn’t know what happened to her, I can smell liars. But he did know something happened.” Spike sat down in the last chair Buffy sat in. Hoping to feel her.

“Wonder if they have this room bugged, someone could have alerted him…”

“Got rid of the bugs yesterday, Slayer’s request.” Spike shot down that argument. “Don’t hear the buzzing anymore.”

“Locator spell? It’ll give general idea where she’s at.” Giles picked up a magic book and flipped through the pages. “Need something of Buffy’s the more personal, the better.” Spike nodded and went to retrieve something of Buffy’s. Her hairbrush? No, he sometimes used it. Panties? Spike dismissed that, he was the only man allowed to see and touch those. Her toothbrush? Can’t get much more personal that that. Spike headed into their bathroom and grabbed Buffy’s toothbrush. He glanced at the mirror, almost afraid to see his frantic face, but only saw her toothbrush floating in the air. Spike exhaled, not knowing he was holding his unneeded breath and went back downstairs to find Giles.

Chapter 9
Faint scratches along the floor vibrated through her head. The dirt ground into her face as she tried to move. Buffy’s head felt like it had been hit with a ton of bricks, and then someone dropped another ton of anvils on her. She tried to move, but every muscle, ever fiber of her being, protested. Her limbs felt like they were on fire. Weak and confused, Buffy moaned only to alert her captors and fall back into her drug induced coma.

~*~*~
Spike trudged through the streets, a man on a mission. Tears already fallen, sleep not taken, blood barely ingested; Spike was a shell of his former self. Worry about his mate tore him deeply. The pain of separation cut through him sharply, leaving its jagged edges through his soul. Pain, he knew it well, and it comforted him. The only thing he could count on was the pain to bring him through this trial. Pain and misery to keep him company while Buffy was isolated from him. Several times he thought he felt her during the day. Cold and confused, slight images of the old burned Factory where he used to live flashed through his mind. He tried to reach out to her, help her calm down and give him a better direction of where to look, but every time he did the connection was severed.

Giles tried to do the location spell right away. Her toothbrush anchored the spell directly to her, but the map did not indicate where she was being held. Spike watched Giles try to spell three more times before he lost his temper. He left the library where Quentin’s body still lay and walked through the house. He glared at the Watchers they went about their daily activities. He passed hushed whispers in the corridor, a Tai-kwon-do training session in the small gym, and weight training in the other gym. Spike practically ran down the corridors, looking for an empty room. Finally, he reached a small study with no windows. With an old couch, end table, and chair, the room was furnished sparsely. Spike picked up the chair first. Stuffing fell out, dousing him with the foam right before he slammed it against the wall. The plaster gave way under the girth and momentum of the chair, splattering around the impact. Spike grabbed the chair once again, twisting it around to hurl at another wall. Satisfied with the crunch of the wood frame breaking, Spike moved on to the cushions of the couch. He first tore all the edges, his muscles straining over grabbing the fabric. He threw the tattered cotton to the other side of the room. He picked up the end table above his head. Spike used his whole body to throw the wooden object across the room and watched it splatter into pieces. Spike went over to the couch and lifted one end up. The couch flipped over easily, leaving Spike standing there, breathing heavily, and with nothing more to destroy. The sobs came first, tearing away from his soul into the cool air. Tears followed shortly after, bringing him to his knees. Dust flew in the air, leaving his anger to fall to the ground. Spike didn’t know what he was going to do. He couldn’t live without Buffy, not now. Not after everything they’d been through. She stuck with him, even during the bleakest looking moments. Gave him strength when he needed it. She stuck by his demon when he bit her, sucked down her rich blood, only to love him more. He needed her, not because of what she was, but who she was, who she became. Her strength and ability to give her body, heart, and soul and then give that much more proved to him that she was The One. In all his years of walking on this earth, he had been searching for her and he couldn’t give her up now.

Spike walked down the street, heading to an old warehouse district. Away from tourists and homes, Spike walked down another alley. Maybe if he got close to where Buffy was being held, he would be able to link with her, save her. Spike hunkered down into his duster, rain starting to pour down on the abandoned streets. His white hair, usually slicked back, started to curl up, leaving a mass of curls on his head. He felt the cold rain drip down his face, numbing him. His duster protected most of his body, but Spike didn’t notice. His blood had already grown cold, freezing his bones in place. His boots trudged through the puddles forming in the streets, splashing the cold water onto his jeans. Feeling his blood grow colder and his heart grow emptier, Spike refused to stop his crusade. IF Buffy was out there, scared and alone, he would find her if it was the last thing he did. The frigid air stuck to Spike like his coat, covering his body in a thin layer of ice. Spike shook his head free of the icicles forming at the tips of his hair and ducked into an entry way. The buildings around here looked like the building Buffy was trying to send him, but not quite. Something was different about these warehouses and factories. Spike went back out into the storming night, stalking through the midnight curtain that covered the Earth’s ground. Spike moved through the district easily and quietly, leaving no trace of his presence behind.

Five hours later and still no luck, Spike started on his way back to the Watcher’s Headquarters. All the warehouses he visited held no clue to Buffy or where she was being held. He thought he felt her a while ago and he had run at top speed towards a burnt out factory only to find nothing but ashes. Grumbling, Spike kicked a trashcan from the street. The metal can flipped over, making a loud banging noise on the pavement. Spike walked past it and through gates to a cemetery. The crunch of frosted grass didn’t even faze Spike. The emptiness he felt overwhelmed all his other senses. Buffy was in danger and he could have saved her. If he moved faster, paid more attention he could have saved her, or figured out who took her. But he failed.

Spike moved through the gravestones. Older markers were large, looming over the rest of the cemetery. He barely paid attention where he was going, just barely managing to head in the right direction. His walk was lethargic, leaving him looking like a bum. The clouds blocked out the moon temporarily, curtaining the earth in pure darkness. Spike used to love nights like these, he could stalk around and no one knew he was there. But the joys he used to feel were nothing, not without Buffy.

Spike heard a little girl’s voice in the night air, singing a little song in the graveyard. Spike stopped in his tracks, what was a child doing out at this time of night and in a cemetery? Spike crouched down, trying to hide his white hair when the moon peeked from underneath the cloud’s curtain. Spike heard the voice again, definitely a girl. The folk tune she sung sweetened the night air seemed so familiar. Spike felt entranced, his thoughts and fears seemed to dim as he stalked closer to the sound. Spike peaked around a large grave marker, an angel on a pedestal with the marbled wings worn by wind and rain. Spike sat down on his haunches to peer over to where the sound came from. A light drizzle started to fall, drenching Spike’s head once again. He hunched over to the duster took the brunt of the winter rain. Spike looked around, not able to see anyone, and decided to move forward. Spike started to crawl around the lower tombstones with the markings of their occupant’s life and death. He idly read the markers that he scooted by.

Aida Johnstown 1803-1840 Wife, Mother, Beloved.
Wyndam Prince 1835-1840 His laughter brought joy.
Tucker Taylor 1789-1850 Loved by all.
Fiona Dixon 1860-1901 May you rest in peace.

Spike scooted on top of these graves, trying to catch a glimpse of the girl in the cemetery singing. Finally, he got a clear shot of the girl. He was shocked to find not a little girl, but a grown woman turned away from him. Her dark hair hung loose down her back. Long and wet, it clung to her. From his partial view, he saw she was wearing a deep blue, long, velvet dress. The hem was tucked underneath her legs as she sat on the cold ground. Her pale fingers danced in the air, sparkling with ice that formed from the cold air and rain. Spike wanted to go over to the woman and shoo her away from the graveyard, but something stopped him. He stayed were he was, feeling the cold mud seep through his jeans. The woman stopped singing and her head popped up. Spike pulled back, hiding behind the gravestone. He heard the rustle of her dress as she stood up. He held his unneeded breath, just incase he would make a sound. He heard her move away, leaving him cold and huddling in the cemetery. He finally stopped hearing the rustling of her dress and peered around to read the grave marker on the grave she had sat upon.

Drusilla Chamberlain. May she walk with God now. 1837-1860

~*~*~
a/n: go to my website (www.geocities.com/karbear57) to vote who YOU think is Buffy's kidnapper. Could it be our Initative friends Sam & Riley, our favorite crazy vampire, Drusilla, or boring, old, fat English man known as Quentin?

Chapter 10

Spike ran out of the cemetery, following Drusilla. The familiar melody, her voice, the pull he felt towards her; he should have known. He tracked her rather easily. She didn’t try to hide her tracks or the direction she was heading in. He caught a glimpse of her as she turned a corner, moving away from the Watcher’s headquarters. He didn’t heed the warning of the dawn of the new day, intent on finding Drusilla. Her black hair was still plastered against her head and back, limp and undone. Her dress hung heavy, weighing her form down. Spike ran through the street, intent on catching up to her. It’s been so long since he saw her. His Dark Princess. His salvation from mediocrity. He saw her duck into a store front, opening the front door and walking in. Spike caught up and breathed deeply before he entered. The shop was only a few blocks away from the Watcher’s place, giving Spike a good opportunity to run for there if he needed to. He twisted the cold metal knob and opened the door.

~*~*~
The warm blue ocean encased her. Breathing easily, Buffy dived down into the deep blue abyss. She spotted a herd of dolphins to her right. Their dorsal fins broke the surface of the water, allowing the land dwellers to peak into the ocean’s secrets. She kicked her feet back and forth, propelling her body down into the shadows. She felt the pressure bare down on her lungs, stifling the air there. . Buffy opened her mouth, breathing in the ocean’s water, only to dive deeper into the darkness.

~*~*~
Spike walked into the dark store, he changed into his vampire face, hoping to catch a glimpse of Drusilla scampering away, but, unfortunately, there was no movement in the abandoned store. He stepped further in to the room and inhaled, trying to get Drusilla’s bearings. Her scent trailed back to the back of the building. Spike carefully stalked down the aisle, careful not to make a sound. He ran his hands through his hair, squeezing the water out. His coat dripped the remaining moisture to the floor, leaving Spike dry once more. He rounded the corner to the back storeroom, he spied Drusilla standing in front of him, only twenty feet away. She was not facing him, but when she sensed the invasion of her privacy she turned around. Already in her vampire visage, she snarled. Her dress hung on her generous curves. The fabric of her dress hung on her heaping bosom, leaving her breast looking like ripe, wicked plums. Her hair was drying in the stale air of the storeroom. Spike stepped forward out of the shadows of the store. Drusilla’s dark eyes widened as she watched Spike’s white hair come from the shadows. “My William!” Drusilla’s face turned smooth and she clapped her hands together. Spike could see the light dancing in her eyes, turning them a chocolate brown. Her demeanor became more child-like; she smiled and batted her eyelashes at him.

“Dru.” Spike walked parallel to Drusilla, leaving a wide distance between them. He cocked his head to the side as he watched her sway from side to side. Her dress rustled on the floor, picking up dust and dirt. Curious to as why she had showed up at this precise time, he eyed her dangerously. “What are you doing here, pet?”

“My love!” Spike winced at the term of endearment thrown his way. “Miss Edith told me to come here and visit my birthplace. Play with the wiggling worms, she did.” She stepped forward and swayed. “She said you needed help, that you lost something and couldn’t find it.” Spike stepped back, trying to keep the same distance between them. “Oh, my Spike. Has Miss Edith been lying, or do you need me?”

“Dru…” Spike stopped moving. Drusilla quickly moved over to him, standing before him in her magnificence. He swayed towards her, as if in a trance.

“My William is alive.” Drusilla smiled sweetly. “He has a pretty poppet to keep him company. Are you happy, Spike?”

Spike felt like he was drowning in her bovine eyes, so wide and brown. His salvation, his effulgent love. His mind tottered on the edge of sanity and reality as he stared into her eyes. Such passion and intrigue held within. His fingers twitched to touch her silk hair, to run through it. Her skin smelled so sweet, peaches and honey. One lick would be like ambrosia. One sip of her tepid blood would be like a brush fire. Spike’s head swayed to and fro, leading him towards her.

Suddenly, Spike jumped back. His sense restored, he roared. “You bloody bitch!” Spike stalked away, pacing quickly a few short steps this was and that. “You… you… bint. Stop it!” Spike pointed at Drusilla. Her lip puckered out, drawing into a pout. She clasped her fingers together, watching Spike panic. “Stop it, I mean it Dru. I’m not in the mood for your games. Just bloody stop it!”

Drusilla held her arms out, reaching for Spike, “My Spike. Shhh, we will find your lost girl. Shhh.” Her fingers graced her mouth, “The stars say she is alright… for now.”

Spike looked at Drusilla. The clarity he found in her eyes scared him. “Dru… did you…” he didn’t want to say it, but he continued, “Did you do something to Buffy?”

“Shh, my William. I did not harm your precious Slayer. I did not take her to be with the rats and dirt.”

Spike stomped closer, grabbing her by her shoulders, “Do you know where she is?” His voice was low, almost a growl. Drusilla’s eyes widened,; she was almost scared of her own childe.

“No, my Spike.” Her voice was soothing, making Spike release his hold on her. He backed away from her, leaving a considerable amount of space between them. “She was taken by humans, Miss Edith says.”

Spike arched an eyebrow and cocked his head, “Humans, you say?”

~*~*~
Her body felt so heavy. She was one with the environment around her. Pitch black and cold. She felt the creatures around her brush up against her, prickling her skin with their scales. She breathed in that water, filling her lungs with it. She felt so tired., Closing her eyes from the dark depths of the ocean, she fell asleep.

~*~*~
Quentin was sitting in his meeting room. The rich wood grains of the table and inlayed woodwork surrounded him, leaving him feeling superior. The Slayer had been missing for twenty-eight hours and no one knew where she went. The spells that Giles had tried did not succeed. The Council was once again sans a Slayer and Quentin couldn’t be happier.

He chuckled to himself, if Buffy was gone, that meant he was in charge. The takeover of the Council had failed and he was left standing. He looked over the documents that Giles had given him with a new budget and rules that pertained to Slayers. He didn’t have to adhere to them. Buffy was gone, he could have the de-invite spell worked out for Spike and kick Giles out of the Council. Things were looking up.

Chapter 11

Quentin walked quickly through the corridors confidently. His gate was long and hurried; he was a man on a mission. He nodded hello to the employees he passed. Watchers and researchers littered the hallways in the morning, drinking their morning tea, eating scones, and catching up on the past night’s activities. But Quentin didn’t have time to listen in on the latest gossip. He opened the door to the library in a strong push, leaving the door to bang against the wall. Giles sat in his normal spot on the large research table. “Mr. Giles!” His voice boomed through the room. He heard scurrying of early researchers in the upper stacks trying to get away from the inevitable confrontation. Quentin’s voice was too loud and too cocky for the conversation to go well.

“Quentin,” Giles nodded with his head cocked to one side. Perplexed at the situation, Giles took his glasses off and stuck an earpiece into his mouth, nibbling on the edge. “What brings you here this early?”

Quentin stayed quiet, slowly walking towards the research table covered in old texts and notes. ‘The Slayer’s Hypothesis’, ‘Growing up chosen’, and ‘The hunter’s latter years’ were the texts on top. “Mr. Giles, it seems to me that Miss Summers has been missing for over twenty four hours.”

“Yes, Quentin. Spike is out looking for any clues as we speak.”

Quentin walked over to the curtains and whipped them open, “Seems to me the pet vampire is missing, too.” The sun filtered through the window, illuminating dust particles in the air. “Hope nothing happened to the bloodsucker.” Quentin’s round belly giggled with mirth. He rubbed his chin and continued, “Miss Summers and you came here to- what was it again? Oh yes, push me out of power and take over. Well, Mr. Giles. Heed this warning, without Miss Summers or her pet, you have no grounds to throw me out of power.”

“You already called the council and stepped down, Quentin.” By this time Giles had stood up. His rested on hand on the table and pointed with his other. “We will find Buffy and when we do I make sure she knows how much you helped out.”

“Mr. Giles, with all due respect… well, you don’t deserve any, but as an English gentleman, I am giving you a pittance. I have rescinded my resignation and expect you and the pet vampire out by a fortnight. Do we have a understanding?”

“The Council will not take it back, I have friends.” Giles felt the Ripper boil inside him.

“As do I, Mr. Giles. Do take me serious. I will not allow you to take this duty away from me” Quentin bowed slightly and walked out the door. The glove had been thrown, now it was only a matter of time before the duel started.
~*~*~

The sun was high in the sky as Spike paced through the abandoned store. Drusilla was sleeping in the corner, leaving him to his own devices and thoughts. Spike opened the link between him and Buffy, trying to contact her. He reached out in his mind, searching for a crumb from her. He felt around the cosmic space between them, hoping to feel a glimmer of hope. Staggering back, Spike’s mind was filled with images. Blue water surrounded him, encompassing his dead body. The salty taste infiltrated his senses. He watched as a school of yellow fish darted past him. A smile tugged on the corners of his mouth. He looked up, the sun played at the surface of his blue container, sparkling through and touching bits of plankton and such. Spike looked around, his body feeling strangely buoyed. He looked down and saw a reef with an abundance of fish swimming around it. He felt at peace, the beauty that surrounded him gave him that sensation, yet he felt like he was missing something, someone.

When his body hit the floor, Spike was knocked out of his vision. He knew it originated from Buffy; only she would be able to visualize the beauty of Hawaii like that for him. Spike felt strangely calmed by his vision. If Buffy was able to send him the visualization of calm nature, then she was all right. But, Spike wondered why she would send him the images of water. Where was she?

~*~*~
The books lay spread out in front of Giles. His eyes ached, his neck had a crick, and his body protested against the long hours, but Giles continued to research the Slayers’ secrets. Bits and pieces of a Slayer’s life enfolded, leaving a puzzle for Giles. Not many Chosen girls made it to womanhood, and those that did seemed to disappear from the Watcher’s diaries. It was only when the next one was activated that they knew the older one had perished. Giles did find an account of a Chosen One that disappeared at age 28 with her Watcher. The mystery of the missing two was never solved, leaving a gap of twenty years of the Earth not being protected against the demons. It was hypothesized that the Slayer and her Watcher moved to a remote part of the world, leaving civilization. Another theory was that they went underground, her skills so honed that even the demons didn’t know who she was before they perished. This theory was substantiated by a substantial decrease of paranormal and demonic presence in South East Asia. Whole clans of dangerous demons were extinguished, leaving the human population to thrive. Even to this day, the hot, tropical jungles in Asia were considerably lacking in demon nests.

Giles put his research to the side. Spike had been missing all night and now all day. Nobody spotted him on his or her way in the predawn. Giles rubbed his eyes; it wasn’t like Spike to disappear. Well, Giles thought, he really didn’t know Spike all that well anymore. Giles had observed his devotion to Buffy over the past few weeks. Now that Buffy was gone, what would Spike do? Disappear again for parts unknown? Become the vicious monster he had once been? Giles pushed that thought out of his mind. If anything had happened in the past six years, Spike had changed. Not to impress a girl, or seek acceptance from anyone. He had changed for himself. He left his natural instincts behind and moved beyond the primitive lifestyle he had once lived. Giles looked over at the setting sun, wondering if the same people that took Buffy now had Spike in their clutches.

~*~*~
The moon rose high in the sky, kissing the sun goodnight on its journey. Spike escaped the storefront as soon as the shadows crept their way across the town. He started to run away from the prison of the shop and head for the Watcher’s Headquarters. He crashed through the door and leapt up the stairs, looking for Giles. Looks of displeasure passed him as he wound through the hallways, passing the younger Watchers still on duty. He ran into the library, knowing Giles would probably be there.

“Spike,” Giles took his glasses off when faced with the Master Vampire. “Where have you been?” He sounded almost worried.

“Looking for Buffy then got caught by the sun.” Spike walked over to the table Giles was sitting at. He felt Drusilla near. Spending the whole day with her had acclimated him to her presence once again. “Not a lot of time to talk, Watcher. Found Drusilla while trying to get back here this morning. She was sitting on her grave, singing. When I caught up with her she told me about Buffy.” Spike took an unneeded breath, “She seems to think she knows who took Buffy. She said it was a human.”

“Drusilla, you say?” Giles wiped his glasses with his handkerchief. “Do you think…?”

Spike lifted his boot and set in on a chair, he rested his arms against his knee. “No, she wouldn’t have been able to keep that secret, mate. Would have been spouting it off the moment I confronted her. She said that a human or humans took her. Was pretty adamant that Buffy was alive and unharmed.” Spike rubbed his forehead, “I think she followed me. I tried to run away fast, but she must have gotten my scent. She’s outside. She thinks that she can help us find Buffy.”

Giles stood up and put his glasses on. “Why would she do such a thing? No offense Spike, but she’s soulless, has nothing to gain from helping find Buffy. I think it’s a trap.”

“That’s not entirely true,” Spike mumbled. When Giles looked at him he continued, “She… she indicated she wants me happy and she knows Buffy is what will do that.” Suddenly, they heard a commotion downstairs. They ran down the hallway and arrived in the front of the mansion to see a dozen young Watchers load up with weapons and heading to the front door where Drusilla was standing near. “Dru, get out of here.”

“Can’t, my William. The pixies tell me tonight is important for our young heroine.” Drusilla turned her back on the house and the eager Watchers that were now armed with cross bows and stakes. “They say that herbs are taking over, leaving her head quiet.” Drusilla clutched her head and whimpered, “Why would they do that? She’s so lost Spike. Help her!”

Spike stepped out of the mansion and blocked the Watchers’ aims. “Drusilla, you are in danger here, go. I will find you later.” Spike turned to go back but Drusilla turned around and grabbed his arm.

“No!” Spike turned to face her. “The pixies, Spike, they say tonight we have to search.” She clutched her head, “Spike, please, she needs you.”

Spike looked over at Giles. The older Watcher nodded his head in approval. If Drusilla was this coherent for this long, she must know something. Spike turned back to Drusilla and nodded his head. They walked away from the Watcher’s headquarters without incident.


TBC…
a/n: my muse, Edward, is on strike, a fasting of words. He told me unless I gt lots of reviews he wont write andother word... HELP!!!!!!!!111

Chapter 12
The wind whipped around the waterfront warehouses and factories. Drusilla and Spike finally made to the Thames River. They followed on the north side of the river all night, making their way further away from London Proper. Spike looked down at his watch on his wrist. They still had three hours to look for Buffy before the sun came up. Drusilla slowed Spike down with her insistence to talk to the pixies, but she did try to hurry along. She did not complain when her dress got muddy along the riverfront. Spike was a bit impressed at the change in his Sire. He never remembered her to be this concentrated on one task that wasn’t about death and blood.

They walked on the streets next to the river, concentrating on dilapidated buildings. The fresh rain from the night before wiped out any lingering scents of Buffy, making it hard for Spike to catch her scent, if she was being held nearby. Drusilla started to walk off the road, heading for a cemetery. Her dress was ruined, Spike noticed as he followed her. The wind sailed through the graveyard, rustling leaves.

He kept alert, turning around every time he heard a squirrel scurry past on their way to hoarding more acorns. After midnight and countless blocks that they walked, Drusilla started to zone out. Spike watched as her body started to sway in the wind. He really didn’t want to have to deal with one of her spells, but didn’t see anyway around it. “Drusilla, do you know where Buffy is?”

She moved her arms up in the air, dancing her fingers in the cool air. “Shh, my Spike, she’s close.” Spike stopped watching Drusilla sway in the wind. “Do you hear them, Spike?”

“Hear who, Dru?”

“The stars… they are talking.” She stopped abruptly and giggled. “They tell me their name. That one is Gilbert.” She pointed up to a bright star. “And that one is Edward. He’s the brightest of them all, my Spike.” She pointed across the sky to the full moon. Spike didn’t have the heart to tell her ‘Edward’ was not a star. “That’s Gilbert, and Gilbert, and Gilbert. Oh, there’s Gilbert.” Drusilla moved her finger, naming all the stars. Spike stood eyes to the heavens as she named them all Gilbert except for the moon, which was called Edward.

“Dru, what about Buffy?”

“Oh, Gilbert said he would help us.” Drusilla stopped pointing to the sky right as a squirrel past her. “Ah! Ugly rodent!” Her shriek could have woken the dead. Before Spike knew it, his arms were filled with Drusilla. She scurried up him like a cat in a tree, holding on for her unlife. “Bad rodent! Bad. Gilbert is going to strike you down, little one, and use your pelt to whip his behind. Liars, all of you. Spouting tales of triumph and victory. May blood pour over your souls for eternity.” Spike cringed at the imagery. He had definitely mellowed out these past few years. His patience for her antics had grown weary and he moved to put Drusilla down. “Oh no!” Drusilla shifted her weight causing Spike to loose his balance in the mud.

They fell down, Spike on bottom with Drusilla perched above him. “Bollocks!” Spike felt the mud seep into his gelled hair. Luckily his duster could be hosed off and it would be all right.

“Oh, Spike!” Drusilla shifted on top of him, now straddling his hips while she sat up. Still too stunned to figure out what was going on, Spike didn’t see her attack before it was too late. Her mouth swooped down, engulfing his own, bruising them as she sucked them into her mouth. Astonished, Spike pushed her away. Drusilla anticipated the move and held on tighter. “Don’t you see, my white knight? The sunshine isn’t for you.” Spike shook his head, grabbing the arms and wrenching them away, pushing her body away. She rolled to his side, her movements like silk. Spike stood up and looked at her, shaking his head. “Yes, you see it, Spike!” Spike stepped back denying her. “You do.” Drusilla stood up. “Gilbert told me so, he did. You belong to the dark, like me.” Spike felt energy from the earth rose up, encasing them in a cyclone of its own. Air crackling with magic and power, leaving the mortal world behind. Spike felt the tickling of his demon underneath his skin. The call of his sire, his Dark Princess, had woken a primordial essence inside him, leaving his mind confused.

“No, Dru, don’t.” He continued to step back, tripping over gnarled roots sticking up from the mud. He couldn’t believe this was happening. He felt his demon rage toward Drusilla. The unadulterated nature of his inner devil being ripped forward from his being. It tore Spike though his core. To be embraced again by her, for only a second, would calm the evilness inside him for years to come. “You said you wanted to help!” His voice pleaded with her.

Her eyes glowed wickedly, “My Spike. Don’t you see that you belong with me? We’re eternal!” He body flowed towards him like a snake, slithering and sliding towards him. It would be so easy for him to give into her. It would only take a moment to do and then everything would be clear again. “The stars say she’s lost, my love, give in.” She trapped him against a crypt, leaving nowhere for him to roam. Her delicate fingers twitched their way up his chest. “Give in to me, Spike. Be in my eyes, be in me.”

‘Her eyes are like glorious blood,’ Spike thought. He remembered when he would get lost in the swirls of color in her eyes, the beauty of carnage that they represented. Lost in the sensations that would overcome him when he looked into her eyes. The promise of violence and blood raining down from the rafters of their lair. Shaking his head, Spike blinked away the sheer contentment he was feeling. “Stop it. You’re not a bloody siren, calling me to my death. Already done that once, I suppose, but I’m not falling for it.”

“Spike.” Drusilla stepped away from him, giving him a bit of room. “You know you want it. Want me.”

“Wanted you, Dru. Wanted as in past tense. Just like you. I want Buffy. I love Buffy.”

Suddenly the air didn’t crackle around them. He saw the black seep back into her eyes, leaving only clarity and insight. “Gilbert said you are a good boy, Spike.”

“What are you talking about?” With his brows furrowed and his head cocked to one side, he watched Drusilla raise her arms to the sky and twirl around.

“He says,” she giggled at the night air on her skin, “you’ve passed. Your love is waiting for you and she is safe. The box will help, my dear.”

“Drusilla,” Spike warned and stepped forward, ready to snatch her from her little dance under the stars. Then they both stopped at the sound of a twig breaking. Then another. The suction of cheap boots in the mud slopping towards them alerted them into hiding.

Spike peered around the crypt they managed to run behind. And then there he was, trudging through the mud. Good old Captain Cardboard. Spike felt his face twitch into a smirk. He was alone and Spike was chipless. Brilliant place for Drusilla to have an episode.

Chapter 13
Spike stepped out from behind the crypt as Riley went past it. Clouds covered the full moon, dropping a black veil on the cemetery. “Hasn’t anyone taught you corn-bread Yanks not to be going walking alone in the black of night in a cemetery under the light of a full moon?” Spike saw Riley hesitate and stop in his tracks. Only a few feet from each other, Spike could smell the stench of vampire whores on his skin. “Wow, Cap-i-tan, still getting suck jobs from two bit whores. What must the little lady think?”

Riley turned around, facing Spike under the veil of night. “Spike.” Riley stood tall, bringing his shoulders back trying to increase his girth. “What are you doing out here all by your lonesome. Thought you would be hiding behind Buffy skirt-tails at the Council’s Headquarters.”

“Felt like a bit of fun, myself, pillock. Those Cows back there wouldn’t know fun if I bit them in their arse.”

“Biting again? Can’t say that I am really surprised. Told Buffy not to turn her back.”

“Oh, give me a break, Cardboard. I was being sarcastic! You know what sarcastic, don’t you?” Spike spied Drusilla behind Riley, wondering what she was doing; he called out, “Eah, Dru. What are you doing?”

Riley turned around just in time to see the pools of Drusilla’s eyes, swirling with her incantation. Her fingers came up like a cobra ready to strike, pointing into Riley’s own dull eyes; softly she sang, “Be in my eyes, be in me.” Spike watched Riley’s overgrown body sway in a timeless rhythm. When Riley was suitably under, Drusilla turned her eyes on Spike. “Naughty boy, you will not get any ripe peaches tonight. Our little box here,” she patted Riley on his shoulder. “He knows, my Spike. He sees the koi and the serpent dance under the veil of blue.” Drusilla slapped his pouchy face, “Don’t you, boy? The parrot will not sing the lovely song if it is for your cat gobbles her all up.”

Riley stood still, his body barely registering her slap to his face. “Drusilla, what are you saying?”

“Spike, the stars, do you hear? Whisp, whisp, whisp. Gilbert says the naughtiest things, my Spike. Do you hear the jungle cat roar?” Spike watched her body move around, the moon uncovered from the clouds. “Quickly!” Drusilla yelled. “Time is of the essence!” She lifted up her dirty skirt, “You must, you hear? You must find the koi before the cat has a dip.”

“Drusilla what cat, what koi?” Spike could see she was agitated. “Drusilla!”

“No time, my Spike. Gilbert tells me the stories of the night and they are haunting me. Please, take him. Take him to the Owl, they call him the Pueo! Hurry Spike.” Drusilla grabbed his hands, squeezing them briefly before she ran, disappearing into the black night. Something in her voice, the urgency, the soft demand, made Spike move first. Riley was hiding something and, if Spike knew Drusilla as well as he thought he did, that something had to do with Buffy. He thought of the words she used, the references to fish, Hawaiian words, Spike shuddered, it all came back to Buffy.

Sighing, Spike looked at Riley, the thrall of Drusilla was wearing off, leaving Spike with a dilemma. Finding a rock next to the crypt, Spike picked it up and swiftly brought it down on Riley’s head, knocking the military man to the ground.

~*~*~
Luckily, Spike caught a cab, explaining Riley’s condition on being drunk. The cabbie asked no questions while he drove to the Council’s headquarters. He was amazed how far Drusilla and he got from London. Definitely too far to get back on foot, especially with Riley knocked out. Spike stepped out of the vehicle, dragging Riley’s bulk after him. He walked through the door into the dark and deserted main room. Sighing, Spike hefted Riley up the stairs and towards the library. “Oi, Watcher!” he called out.

Rupert looked up to see Spike push Riley into a close chair. “Spike?” The question rang silent as Quentin followed Spike and Riley to the library.

“Oh, you’re back. No luck, I see.” Quentin commented while looking disdainfully towards Riley’s unconscious form. “You brought that soldier here?”

“Looks like,” Spike sauntered up to the research table and sat upon it. He fished out a cigarette and lit it. Quentin glared at Spike, “Can’t stand the smell of the pillock, got to cover it up somehow.” Spike shrugged and looked towards Giles, “Found him traipsing through a cemetery down by the Thames. Bloody awful neighborhood. Smelled the vamp whores on him again. Think he picked up him old habit. Dru gave him the one two, I saved him, of course.” Spike puffed up his chest, “She said he knows something about Buffy.”

“Really? You could discern her crazed ramblings?” Quentin didn’t look like he believed Spike for one minute.

“Look, she isn’t crazed. She’s just… misunderstood. Said to bring the pillock to the owl, who is Giles, by the by. And we should torture the information out of him.” Spike drew the smoke into his lungs, filling them with warmth that he was missing.

“I very much doubt that torture is the correct course of action.” Giles murmured, moving around the room, picking up texts and then putting them down. “Seems to me Riley would sing just fine with a bit of threat.”

“Take all the fun out of it, Watcher,” Spike grumbled.

“Yes, indeed.” Giles stopped his travels when he heard Riley moan. A few moments later, Riley’s body twitched a bit. “May I suggest some ropes, seems to me that even though torture isn’t the correct course, we should restrain him a bit.”

“Oh, can I chain him to the bathtub?” Spike jumped off the table, overflowing with excitement.

“Spike,” Giles looked past his glasses at Spike, admonishing him, yet was smiling. “Quentin, where may we procure some strong ropes?”

“Giles, I do not think that the Council is jumping at your demands anymore.” Quentin smiled sinisterly. Spike looked between the two Watchers, realizing that the power struggle was not finished, but in fact started anew with the missing Slayer. Time was of the essence; every moment that they spent arguing Riley was becoming more conscious.

With lightening speed, Spike extinguished his cigarette and pinned Quentin to the wall. His forearm was pressing against Quentin’s throat, leaving the older Watcher short of breath. “Look here, I’m not playing any games. This bloke knows something about my Buffy and I’m not going to place her life into your power hungry hands a minute longer.” Spike’s eyes turned past golden and bordered on amber as he threatened Quentin. “Get us some ropes or chains or whatever else you have sitting in that dungeon of yours and get them up here now. I’m not playing here. He knows something about Buffy and I want to know it, too.” Quentin was about to say something, but Spike pressed harder on his windpipe. “I’m not expecting a verbal answer, you see. After we find Buffy safe and sound you can have your little power tantrum. Right now, I am not interested in it.” He backed up a bit, relieving some pressure from Quentin’s throat. “The only reason why you aren’t dead and drained is because of her. If it was up to me, you would not have left Sunnydale alive.” Spike looked over his shoulder. “I’m sure Giles would agree with me. Do we have an agreement? No more tirades about who is in charge?” Quentin choked and gasped, “I will take that was a yes.” Spike let go of Quentin completely, letting the old man sag against the wall. Spike watched carefully as he choked and wheezed. “I suggest you call your minions pretty damn quick or I’m going to have to incapacitate cornflake, here, another way.”

Quentin walked over to the phone and managed to squeeze out his orders. Giles watched Riley closely, waiting for any sign that the man was awake. A long length of sturdy rope was delivered within minutes, giving Spike something to do while he fumed. It was obvious that something deeper was going on in the Council. Something didn’t smell right in Spike’s mind; it was just to easy for Quentin to take the council back over. But, he had plenty of time to figure that out later, it was time to find out where Buffy was.

Chapter 14
The three men watched as the soldier awakened. He didn’t move or groan; it seemed like he wasn’t surprised to find himself tied to a chair. Spike stood a few feet away, calmly smoking on another cigarette. The two Watchers sat on opposite sides of the prisoner, waiting, watching, and anticipating. “Wakey, wakey, pillock.” Spike growled out, tempted to strike him awake.

Riley’s overgrown head rolled from shoulder to shoulder, an avoidance move not lost on all three men. “What the fuck did you do to me?” Spike smirked and strutted towards the bound man.

“Saved your ass from being lunchmeat for my dear old ex.” He hooked his thumb in his jeans, standing confident in front of Riley.

“You mean your crazy mate. Playing on the other side now, I saw you two chummy. Probably caught you in the middle of your killing spree.” Riley looked around the library and noticed Giles and Quentin. “Why do you still trust him?” he looked over at Giles, “Where’s Buffy?”

Spike’s fist flew before he could stop the descent. Riley’s chair fell backwards, toppling over from Spike’s momentum and Riley’s girth. The chair stayed in tact and held Riley down. Spike stood still, deeply inhaling the air around him. “Don’t say her name.” His fists clenched and unclenched. “You have no right to say her name.” Giles watched Spike carefully; noticing Spike’s eyes glistening with unshed tears. Angry, Spike grabbed Riley and threw him across the room. “You did this,” He stalked closer to Riley, his vampire visage coming forward.

“Did what?” Riley spit out, trying to get free.

“You took her, or one of your goons did.” Spike grabbed Riley, still bound, but now free of the chair and sat him up, propped up by the wall. “I have over a hundred years of experience you know.” He continued conversationally. “Angelus and Darla taught me well.” Spike took out a long blade from underneath his coat, playing with the tip. “Dru never was one to actively participate back then, she liked to watch, but after the whole Angel thing, she got a taste for it.” Spike leaned, whispering to Riley. “Me, too, you know? Got me one big thirst for it too. Giving, taking, smelling the fear, the blood. Knowing the cusp of consciousness. How much blood has to pump through those thick veins of yours to keep you alive. The different positions a human body like yours can get into.” Spike sat back on his haunches. “So you see Mr. Finn, I would advise you to tell us what you know.”

Spike smelled the sweet scent of Riley’s fear and then the ammonia of his urine as he lost control of his faculties. He watched Riley try to regain composure; trying to withstand any torture Spike could throw at him. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Don’t lie to me white bread. I don’t need to sleep; I’ve got you to drink. I can go for days, maybe weeks.” Spike looked over at Giles while he still picked at his fingernails with the tip of the knife beside Riley. “Watcher! See if you can get anything from him. The stench of him is giving me a headache.”

Giles walked forward, placing his glasses at the end of the research table. “What do you want with Buffy?”

“What?” Riley looked at Giles, acting like he did not understand the question.

“I said,” Giles fist came forward, hitting Riley in his thick jaw. “What did you do with Buffy?”

“Nothing,” Riley said when he regained his voice. “What do you mean? Where’s Buffy?” He looked around the room, noticing the other Watcher, “You know he took her, him and that crazy whore. Probably raped and drained her before they went hunting for me. Trying to pin it one me!”

Quentin walked forward deliberately. “I don’t think so, Mr. Finn. The way I see it, this loathsome creature,” he indicated towards Spike, “has been looking for his mate and I know for a fact that he could not do harm to her.”

“He’s an animal!” Riley exclaimed.

“Yes, an animal. But so are we. Mr. Finn. You and me. You know what I am talking about.” Quentin looked down at the soldier, “In fact, the whole human race is animalistic. The wars, the sex, the over consumption. We all are animals on this planet. Some animals have souls and some do not. Some have morals and some don’t care.” Giles moved away from Riley, allowing Quentin to get closer. He reached out with his hand and banded his fingers around Riley’s throat. “Some care and some do not.” He squeezed further; Riley struggled for breath. “You. You understand, don’t you boy?” Riley managed to shake his head in assent. “Good. Now, we know that you have information to where Miss Summers is, please tell.”

Riley took a big breathe of air when Quentin removed his hand from his windpipe. The three men stood near to the bound body, waiting for information. “Buffy’s missing?”

“Oh for the love of…” Spike yelled, stomping over to Riley’s position. At the last moment before Spike drew his leg up to kick him, he stopped and dropped down. “Okay, wanker. I’ll try a new tactic only because I know you have information that we need. Buffy was kidnapped a few nights ago when we were out patrolling. Someone drugged us and took her. Now, Drusilla said you have the information that we need.”

“I don’t know anything!” Riley reiterated and then looked at Giles, “You’d believe a crazy vamp before me?”

“She isn’t crazy,” Spike spoke with deceptive calmness, “Just misunderstood.”

“Oh give me a break,” Riley said without thought, resulting with Spike clocking him across the jaw.

Giles stepped forward, addressing Riley, “She is a well known seer; her visions are well known through any circle. So, yes, I believe that you know something, even if you don’t know that you know.”

The watched his head roll back, hitting the wall with a thud, “Sam is gone, too.” Giles found a chair and sat down, “She left. Said that I was no good to her, filled my purpose.” The three men in the room looked at each other. “Haven’t seen her in two days. Three if you count today.”

“So, what? You’ve been getting your kicks with whores?” Spike spat out. It was all too apparent what actually happened.

“Shut up, Spike.” Giles answered. His head hurt from research and the new turn of events. “Do you know where she went?”

“No, she just packed up and left.” Riley slumped down, still trying to wiggle his way free.

“It occurs to me that her leaving and Buffy going missing are related.” Giles surmised. Quentin looked at their prisoner, knowing they were not going to get anything more out of him. He bent over, tapping Riley to get his attention away from Spike and hit him directly in the jaw, knocking him out.

“No shit, Sherlock,” Spike lit up a cigarette inhaling the smoke into his dead lungs. His demon was fuming. Buffy was taken by Sam Finn and they were not one step closer to finding her. He paced away from the group, trying to keep his frustration and anger inside of him, trying to prevent making the situation worse when the flashes hit him. Scrapping noises in his ears at first. Then his eyesight went black, like a curtain. Spike stumbled, hitting the floor hard. He vaguely heard Giles run to his aid, only to wave him off. “I’m fine,” he groused. The curtain lifted, graying and becoming lighter. He saw a dirty floor, an expanse of covered concrete in front of him. He blinked, lifting his head to the side. Army issued boots came into his view. Pacing along the floor, kicking up dust. He blinked away the dust, feeling the grit in his eyes. He looked up, no windows in the building. Or as he studied his surroundings, the building had been boarded up. Just as quickly as the vision hit him, he was released, still kneeling on the floor, sobbing with unresolved tension. “Ahhhhh!” He picked up the long research table; it was the closest thing to him and threw the heavy piece of wood away. His breaths came quickly and short. “She’s out there, Giles.” Giles was taken aback by the use of his name from Spike, “And I can’t bloody do anything about it.” Giles moved, blocking Quentin’s curious staring of Spike’s tear drenched face. “She’s calling for me. My blood to hers. Hers to mine. Calling and I can’t do anything. Can’t find her, can’t torture it out of soldier boy.”

“There, there,” Giles patted Spike on his back, this was a new thing for Giles to deal with. The Englishman inside him rallied against comfort, but his more American nature allowed it. Giles stood up stiffly, his older bones not used to as much physical action as they’ve been getting. “What happened to our guest?”

“Went to sleep.” Quentin smiled slyly, the joke passed between the two Watchers, “Ah, I see. Well, we better make him more comfortable. I believe that we will be going out tonight.”

Quentin called for someone to take Riley to a private, secure room for his stay and then left the room in search of Council matters. Giles and Spike walked out of the room, both worried about the fate of their Slayer. “Didn’t think he had it in him,” Giles commented quietly as they left the library.
~*~*~

The cab pulled up to the Watcher’s Council headquarters mid day. The passenger got out of the tiny car, picking up her bags on the way. She handed the driver enough money to cover the actual fare and a generous tip. Carrying her two bags up the steps, she stood outside, waiting for someone to answer the door.

Dawn moved her long hair behind her shoulder, looking around at the building. She was quite surprised to find London very similar to the big cities she already knew. In fact, London didn’t seem to be all that different than the United States on the surface. The only difference she noted was the weather, cooler than California and a bit drearier, Dawn was forced to cuddle in her coat. She braced herself when she heard heavy footsteps coming towards the door and smiled.

Giles heard the ringing of the door when he was in the kitchen. Waiting a moment, he didn’t hear anyone head towards the front of the building and decided to answer the ringing of the front bell. He stepped into the corridor and walked quickly to the front of the building. He opened the latch door, drawing the heavy doors in and peered out. To his surprise, Dawn stood there, luggage in hand with a huge smile on her face. “Giles!” She exclaimed, very happy to see it was him who opened the door. “Thank God you were the one that opened the door!” She stepped through the threshold, coming in from the outside.

“Dawn, what are you doing here?” Giles asked as he took her bags.

“Oh, that… something is up, Giles.” She looked around in the main room.

“Dawn…” Giles wondered if he should tell Dawn about her missing sister, but when he looked into Dawn’s eyes, he already realized… she already knew.

Chapter 15
“Why can’t I go, too?” Dawn followed Spike through the corridor heading towards the library. “She’s my sister, you know.”

Spike set his jaw straight and kept walking, refusing to be baited into an argument. “I know, bit.”

“I can take care of myself. Buffy taught me… and Traci… I patrolled with her in Sunnydale.” Dawn stepped forward and grabbed Spike’s arm. “Stop it, Spike. I’m an adult and Buffy is my sister.”

“Dawn,” Spike sighed, his body slumped, leaning on the wall. “It’s too dangerous, love.”

“I can handle myself.” Spike watched Dawn employ Summers’ Patented Dirty Trick Number 13, the deadly pout. “Buffy would let me go.”

“Come on, nibblet!” Spike diverted his gaze by rolling his eyes. “A, I doubt very much Buffy would let you go and B, Buffy and I couldn’t handle ourselves, hence Buffy being kidnapped.”

“Fine, whatever,” Dawn flipped her hair behind her and continued to walk to the library. Dusk was only minutes away and the Council had been organized. Riley had been persuaded to help look for Buffy and Sam. A spell had been performed indicating that Sam’s energy was near the Thames, across from where Drusilla and Spike were last night. The army of nine young Watchers, one older Watcher, a Master Vampire, and a Soldier got their gear together and walked out of the Council’s headquarters.

Stepping into the night air, the group started to load up the three vans that they were taking to East London. The witches that the Council employed indicated down to one square mile where Buffy was being held. The energy of the earth was increased plus the presence of Sam brought it all together.

“Spike,” Drusilla’s soft voice wafted toward the group, “Look at all these people.” All bodies turned to watch the vampiress float towards them, “Are they nice people?”

“Dru, pet, what are you doing here?” Spike stepped forward between the group and Drusilla. He smelled a fresh kill on her and didn’t want anyone else to get the right idea about her.

“I saw the dead fishies, Spike. They didn’t swim anymore.” Her voice dropped down to a whisper, “The shark is coming.” She looked over his shoulder at Riley. “It’s your shark, you know? All the blood and the guts on your hands. You did this to her! She used to be beautiful. Raven streaking through the night, but you made her ugly. Scars and holes through her body, breaking her, molding her, breaking her, molding her.” Drusilla broke free from Spike, leaping towards Riley, only to be stopped by Giles, “She just wants what she can’t have, what the sun has. It’s not fair, she thinks. Yes, not fair for the fish to be forever strong, never wavering in her might!” Giles pushed Drusilla back to Spike.

“Spike, please.” Giles pleaded, both aware of the other Watchers around them.

“Oh, Rupert,” Drusilla’s hand came up to Giles’ face, stroking his cheek. “Don’t worry, the angel has been watching over you.” Giles stepped back as if scorched, he could have sworn he was looking into Jenny Calendar’s eyes. He shook his head, knowing Drusilla had used that trick on him before. “Don’t be afraid, Rupert, for you are the wisest of all, bringing the knowledge to the power and beyond.” Drusilla shook her head, as if she was shaking herself out of a trance, “Spike! Hurry. The river will run red by the morning!” She turned around and grasped Spike the biceps. “She needs you, Spike!”

“Spike, we need to hurry,” Giles whispered to him, “We can’t take her in the van!”

“Sh, Rupert.” Drusilla looked over at Giles. “The ashes that have fallen to the ground are now covered in sunlight. There is no more for me to do.” She looked like a lost woman, staring into the black night, “I’m afraid it’s Spike now. The tin soldier is just a pawn in the queens game and the black knight is just dust in the wind.” Her voice dropped back down to a whisper so only Spike and Giles heard her, “Be careful of soldiers that ride like knights, not all is what it seems. Not even for the king in this castle. The deeper meaning of the past has yet to be revealed and the future isn’t written.”

“Dru…” Spike questioned.

“Shh, Spike. Go find your princess; she will be glorious and safe in your arms.” Spike looked at Drusilla confused, his head cocked to one side. “Go, William. Your wings are no longer clipped and you must fly to the sun, she is your salvation, your future.”

“Dru,” Spike stopped and looked at Drusilla. Giles and the rest of the Watchers were already packed into the vehicles. Unspoken words past through Sire and Childe: understanding, love, commitment, and closure. Spike stepped away, he knew what he needed to do tonight and knew that he was going to come back with Buffy in his arms.
~*~*~
The caravan of vehicles arrived on the south side of the Thames in a warehouse district. The stench of industry hung heavy in the soiled air. The posse unfurled themselves from the vans, stalking through the night. Three teams of four separated, hunting the buildings for a sign of the fallen Slayer. Spike took control of three Watchers, Giles and Riley were in a group with two others, leaving a group of four Watchers as backup. Going around a large warehouse, the most probable place that Sam was hiding Buffy. The windows were boarded up, just like Spike’s vision. The smell of the seawater permeated the air, Spike looked around, still too far inland to smell the salt. “Salt.” He whispered. He inhaled the air around him, “And fish…” His team looked at Spike like he was crazy. “Fish, you Wankers! Fish!” He dashed off quickly, searching for Giles’ team. He ran towards them with all his speed pouncing into Giles. “She’s here, mate.” Spike was almost smiling, elated with the knowledge that they found her.

“You can feel her?” Giles asked quietly.

Spike stood stock still for a moment, trying to reach her through their bond. “No, she’s unconscious or something. But the visions… fish, I smell fish and she sent me visions of fish in Hawaii… or swimming with fish. This has got to be the place, mate. This is the place!”

“Very well, Spike. Go back to your team and we will find her.”

“Right,” Spike nodded his head and was gone in the black night.

~*~*~

They watched the back door open and a large man in fatigues walk out of the warehouse. Spike sniffed the air and caught a softer scent, the scent of his mate coming from the soldier. Grinding his teeth, Spike stayed put with every fiber of his being. He watched the soldier climb into a small car and drive off. He motioned for his team to follow, crawling along the dirty ground. Spike got to the back entrance first, listening against the steel door for motions inside the building.

Opening the door slowly, Spike peered in with his vampiric eyes; the back room was dark and deserted. He stepped inside, allowing the rest of his team to enter. Making their way over to the other door, Spike peered inside. Wide open, the main floor of the warehouse Spike saw her. On the floor, chained to a cinderblock wall, she was laying on her side, curled into a fetal position. Bruises covered her arms and legs. He couldn’t see his face; her hair now red with blood was blocking his view. He shifted his attention, afraid if he looked at Buffy a moment longer, he would just charge in there. Eyes on the bigger picture, he counted five male soldiers playing poker on the other side of the warehouse. Looking around for the bitch that took Buffy, he didn’t see Samantha Finn. Giving the go ahead, he sounded the signal for Giles to enter from the main door. The loud roar from Spike’s lips filled the huge building, alerting the guards that they had company. Spike allowed the watchers ahead of him, wanting to be between Buffy and the fighting, protecting her unconscious body from any further harm. He watched as Giles and Riley barged through the large door in front, leaving a huge hole, allowing the rest of their team, plus the backup team to enter. One of the soldiers got through Spike’s team, running towards Buffy. Spike growled, latching on to the man’s neck, biting through his tough skin. The soldier slowed down, his blood escaping his body too quickly, Spike threw his remains across the room, skittering against the floor. Blood now dripped from his mouth; he didn’t swallow much of the soldier’s blood, not interested in the kill, just saving Buffy. The eleven others in his team seemed to have taken care of the soldiers, leaving Spike to tend to Buffy.

He walked to her side, bending down on one knee to touch her bruised skin. She wasn’t noticeably bleeding, but the scent of it hung heavily in the air. When he touched her, he heard her heart pick up slightly, so faint. Her breath was shallow and short, taking in only the needed amount to keep her alive. With tears in his eyes, he moved her hair away from her face. Spike gasped, unaware of Giles approaching. “Oh dear!” Giles muttered. Buffy’s face was purple with bruises. One eye was swollen shut, the other almost so. Her lip was split open in two places, many punches evident on her face. Bits of dirt stuck to her face, marring her injuries further. “We have to get her to a hospital.” When Spike didn’t move from his position, Giles bent down, ready to pick Buffy up himself.

“No!” Spike growled and pushed Giles away. “She’s been beaten.” He whispered, “Like Glory beaten.” His hand ghosted down Buffy’s body, feeling for broken bones. He felt the pain radiate through him, touching his nerves with her pain. “She’s got a couple broken ribs, can’t be picked up.” Spike looked around for a makeshift gurney. “We can carry her out on that…” He pointed to an old cot in the corner. “Can’t be jostled too much.” He petted her head, still looking for bruises and lacerations. “Here, move it behind her. Going to pick her up a bit and you slide it under.” Spike lifted Buffy off the ground, her body so light. “There.” Giles and Riley took their posts at the ends of the makeshift gurney. Spike listened intently to the blood rushing through Buffy’s body. Still alive, he chanted to himself. She was still alive, but for how long?

Chapter 16
The clinic that the Watcher’s drove them to was almost forty minutes away from the warehouse. Buffy was situated along the first backseat of the van with Spike kneeling next to her body, keeping her makeshift gurney as still as he could. Giles sat in the front passenger seat with another Watcher driving. Two watchers sat behind Buffy, silent through the trip, all listening to the soft breathes of the legendary Slayer. Riley was ushered in another van not heading towards the private clinic. Spike didn’t care what happened to the Army brat, just as long as they would find his bitch, Sam. His demon raged inside of him as he stared at Buffy, his mate, his love. Tiny moans broke through his brain, alerting him to Buffy’s pain. He smelled the drugs on her, the stench of the toxic combination of sedative and something else mixing with her blood. Spike monitored her heartbeat, the not so steady hum of the blood as it rushed through her veins and arteries. He didn’t even realize he was growling until Giles turned around in his seat, “How is she?”

Spike couldn’t answer, only shook his head in dissent, his hand clutching at Buffy’s torn clothes. With tears threatening to run down his cheeks, Spike looked out the window; they were now in London, passing the older buildings on the way north. They drove past the Council’s headquarters, not bothering to stop to tell the occupants that they had retrieved the Slayer. “Spike,” her whisper was inaudible to everyone in the van except him. She moaned a few incomprehensible words and fell back into her drug-induced state. Spike’s throat constricted, he felt like bile would rise through his gut and escape, but he knew it wouldn’t, it couldn’t. Buffy’s heart rate dipped again, even shallower and slower than before. The only movement was from the bouncing of the car on the old roadway.

After another fifteen minutes, the van slowed to a stop in front of an unmarked building. Giles slide out of his seat and opened the back door. Spike growled, his demon feeling trapped. “Spike,” Giles sighed, “They didn’t spend all this time and energy to save her just to hurt her again.” Placated by his words, Spike helped them get the gurney out of the van and into the building. They were met by two doctors and three nurses inside the door. Inside, the building looked like any hospital. They laid Buffy’s beaten body on a rolling gurney, running her down to an exam room as quick as their human legs could pound on the tiled floor. Spike refused to leave Buffy, running after them quickly. He heard Giles shout, but paid him no heed; he refused to let Buffy out of his sight. He stayed out of the way, knowing that she needed medical help more than his presence near her side. He chewed on his thumb nail, pacing in a small space, watching the doctors pull her blood, taking her vitals, and hooking her up to a bunch of machines. He heard the doctors grunt and whisper their medical terms to each other. Spike itched for a cigarette, felt the need in his bones, but he stood in the room, refusing to leave.

A few hours later…

The doctors were gone now. About thirty minutes after she came in, her body started to move. At first, it was a twitch here and there, but it soon escalated in her whole body trembling. She seemed to calm when Spike got near, his voice, his touch, even his scent would calm her. He grabbed a stool and carried it over to sit next to her bed. The bruises on her face were now clean, thanks to the nurses that took care of her. Spike liked them with their gentle touches and voices seemed to not only calm Buffy’s nightmares, but also his. He watched her labored breathing, counting in his head how long it took her to take the next breath.

He didn’t feel the moisture running down his face, or notice his blurred vision. He sat next to her, barely touching her, trying to will her well. He hadn’t seen Giles yet, but was unwilling to go looking for the watcher. His demon kept tracked on the humans in the small private clinic; he knew no one had left and everyone still carried a steady heartbeat. He sniffed, noting a nurse coming closer to the room. “How is she?” The nurse popped her head into the room.

“Same, heartbeat down a few beats again and heart is pumping less.” Spike managed to choke out.

She came around Buffy, opposite to Spike, looking over the monitors. “Hmm,” she adjusted the IV flow and checked Buffy’s pulse. “She’s not responding to the drugs like she should. Maybe have to up the dose.”

“Bloody, got enough drugs in her,” Spike growled then his eyes softened, “Sorry, Melanie. Is not your fault, have they figured out what was given to her?”

She shook her head, “I’m sorry, Spike. The lab is working double time, triple time, and quadruple time on it.” She lifted the blanket on Buffy, feeling her rib cage. “She isn’t healing properly. We are going to have to reset those bones.”

Spike looked up at Melanie, shocked, “Aren’t healing properly? She’s the Slayer, she should already be knitted back together.” Spike kicked back the stool when he stood, wincing at the noise that sounded. The chair flew across the room, hitting the wall, and coming to a stop.

“No, feel this…” She touched Buffy’s torso, “That’s definitely in the wrong place and still broken.” Melanie pulled the sheet down further, revealing Buffy’s naked skin to anyone that could walk in the room.

“Bloody hell, stop… she wouldn’t want everyone gawking at her bruised bits.” He grabbed the blanket away from Melanie, holding it so if someone would walk in, they wouldn’t see Buffy’s body. Her legs were purple with red deep lacerations and punctures dotting their way across her limbs.

“You’re right, she should be healed… at least half these things should be almost healed,” Melanie moved her examination down Buffy’s body, “It’s almost as if…” her whispered voice trailed off. Spike felt the fear start to roll of her, her body temperature rose, and her breathing quickened.

“Like what?” Spike growled, angry that he hadn’t noticed Buffy not healing faster.

“Nothing,” Melanie grabbed the blanket from Spike, covering Buffy’s body up again.

“That wasn’t bloody nothing. What is going on?”

“I’m not a doctor, Spike,” she tried to reason with him. Her hands were up, palms facing him in a placating gesture.

“Tell me what the doctors aren’t telling,” his brows were nit together, intensely concentrating on not ripping Melanie’s throat out, he already suspected what she was about to say.

“Dying. She’s dying, Spike.” Spike knew she was sincere when her eyes twinkled with tears.

“Go,” he growled, he needed to kill something, anything; and he didn’t want it to be the nurse who was nothing but kind to him and Buffy.

“I’ll get the doctor,” she said, trying to make it better.

Melanie stepped out of the door as someone entered, “Spike,” he heard her voice and he couldn’t bear it. Couldn’t bear for her to see Buffy like that, to see Spike like that.

“Nibblet,” Spike choked the word out.

He felt her come closer, finally getting a look at Buffy, “Oh, God!” she sobbed. “No!” Spike moved to hug Dawn, touch her, but she moved away, closer to Buffy, “God, no!” Spike’s heart broke, listening to one Summers girl cry and another’s labored breathing and heart beat. He needed to hold her, comfort her, make it better. Have her make him better. He waited for any sign that Dawn wanted or needed his touch, but it didn’t come. She gathered her composure. “Who did this?” The sound of her voice so strong after being so week just a moment ago startled him.

“Cardboard’s bitch.” Spike spat out. He moved forward, laying his hands on her shoulders. “Going to find her, bit. I promise. She’ll pay.”

“Can’t,” she answered, “Travers got her chained up in the basement. Brought her in about an hour after you left. They had the mystics do a spell to find her, they had a feeling.”

“Yeah, bit. I bet they had a feeling.” Spike rested his head against hers. “Bit, she’s going to pay for what she’s done.”

“Is she dying?” Her voice was quiet once again, almost as if afraid to speak.

“Bit…” he didn’t want to admit it as if speaking it out loud, accepting it, would doom Buffy.

“She is, isn’t she?” Dawn’s tears renewed themselves. He pulled her into his embrace, Dawn facing away from Buffy, letting his shirt soak up her tears. “That can’t happen.” She sobbed, trying to regain composure. “She can’t, Spike. Don’t let it happen.”

“It’s the poison that bitch gave her.” Spike said, “Call Travers to get the name out of her. Then we’ll find a cure.”

“No,” Dawn pounded against his chest, fighting for her sister. “You can’t let that happen. Not after everything!”

“Dawn,” his voice implored her to calm down. “Buffy knows what’s going on around her, hears my voice, calms her. Talk to her. Look, she recognizes you, her head is tilting this way.” Spike felt his demon edge closer to the surface. The threat to his mate had almost broken him, but something could be done. His mate could be saved. Spike’s inner turmoil confused his senses; it would mean killing Buffy. Destroying what made Buffy so strong in the first place, made her care for friends, family, and innocents.

“Because this is the last time I’m going to talk to her?” She asked anger laced through her words.

“No, because she needs to be surrounded by love to bring her out of this. She needs you. I’ll go find Giles and tell him about the bitch chained up, right?”

“No,” She grabbed on to his upper arm when he started to move away. “Do it, Spike, save her!”

He was confused, looking at Dawn and then Buffy. Realization dawned on him and he shook his head, his demon agreed with Dawn, selfishly wanting to have is mate back with him. “Bit, she’ll be all right, doctors going to save her.” Buffy’s body decided to shake at that very moment, convulsing on the gurney. The straps on her arms and legs held fast, refusing to let her go.

“They can’t you know it, not in time at least. You can do it. She’ll be all right with you.” Dawn pleaded. “Come on, Spike. Save her.” Her pleads hit his ears, heart, soul, and demon. Everything in him wanted it. Everything in him needed her.

“Bit,” he knew he had tears running down his face again, “please don’t ask this of me.”

“Do it,” she held his closer to her, both hands on his coat. “I can’t lose her again.”

“Dawn…” Spike closed his eyes, blocking Dawn’s pleas out. He couldn’t, not to Buffy. Even the demon knew, he learned a long time ago, Buffy wouldn’t be the same. Inhaling, Spike reopened his eyes, “It doesn’t work that way bit, she won’t be the same. She’ll be different.”

“I don’t care, Spike. I can’t lose my sister.”

“Bit, it won’t be your sister coming back, it will be a demon with one thing on it’s mind, hunting and feeding. She won’t care about you.”

“What you mean is she won’t care about you, isn’t it?” Dawn pushed him away, “You don’t think she’ll love you, that’s the real reason, isn’t it Spike? You’d rather have her dead instead of saving her. Selfish demon.”

“Dawn,” Spike felt his body change, the demon taking over. “Bloody hell, shut up.”

“No!” She screamed. “You can’t shut me up. You don’t love her, do you? That’s why you won’t save her, because Xander was right this whole time, demons can’t love. You crave it, yet you can’t give it, not true love, anyway.”

“Shut the bloody fuck up!” Spike voice roared. “You don’t know what you are talking about. You’re upset.”

“You refuse to save her!” She countered.

“Turning her will not save her, Dawn. In fact, if I didn’t love her as much as I do, I would turn her. I would have done it all those years ago. Shagging in secret. I would have turned her, made her my Childe and taken her away from the lot of you. I could have controlled her, made her do things. I would have spent the next couple centuries shagging the buggering hell out of her, having her beside me, hunting, killing for me. You know nothing, Dawn; if you don’t think that I would want anything more than that, because I don’t. To have her, be in the dark with me, want me, need me.” Spike saw the fear in Dawn’s eyes, but he had to keep going, had to drive the point home. “Eternity. Do you know what that is, Dawn? I suppose the key inside knows about it, awakened with the thought of eternity. She doesn’t have eternity, Dawn. I know that, and I hate it. But exchanging her soul for a demon… just for eternity when it wouldn’t be my Buffy… it’s not worth it. I’d rather spend five minutes alone with my Buffy than an eternity with a demon inside her body. Bit, do you understand?”

“Willow could do a spell… like with Ang…”

Spike pointed a finger at her and growled, “So help me if you say like Angel,” he growled, unable to control himself any further. “Don’t. Just don’t.” He pushed her away, towards the door. “Find Giles, leave us alone.”

“You have to save her, Spike, please.” With one final shove, Dawn was back in the hallway; she watched Spike turn back towards Buffy, his right hand on his head, pulling at his hair. “Do it, Spike. Save her,” Dawn whispered and moved down the corridor.

Chapter 17

Spike picked up the fallen stool and set it beside Buffy. He rested his fingers against her fevered skin, barely touching her. He finally allowed his emotions sweep over him. Burying his head between his arms and the bed, Spike felt the sobs shake his being. The torment of watching Buffy die was too much. She didn’t deserve it. The torture she must have endured to end up here, he felt his own skin prickle at the thought. The thought of Buffy dying period, it terrified him. After all these years of being apart and fighting through Sunnydale, coming out on top and with her by his side. He couldn’t… wouldn’t let her go, not yet. It was too soon. She was supposed to grow old next to him, allow him to take care of her. Hold her hand. But he couldn’t hold her hand; it was cut up. Long slices through her skin; he remembered the barbaric practice of blood letting. This was worse, in his mind. The marks and tracks from the needles they used still fresh on her body, the evidence of their torture refusing to heal. He felt it, every cut, every bruise on her battered body; he felt it on his and it was killing him.

It would cure things, he thought. Fix matters; fix her. She would be forever his, eternally young, like him. They could go away together, maybe to the Riviera. Lying on the sand enjoying the pale moonlight making love until their lust was satiated but he knew that when it came to Buffy he would always be insatiable. Being with her, loving her, having her love him. Being together. Mates. Hunting scantly clad prey didn’t hold much of an appeal anymore. Seven years ago he would have jumped at the chance, reveled in the destruction they could cause. The carnage that she could wreak with just one word from him. It could happen. It wouldn’t take long. He could start the process here. Drain her of the poisonous blood and give her his pure blood. Strong blood from a Master Vampire. It would make her strong. Make herhis all over again and this time he would be aware of it, enjoy the bite. Spike inhaled unnecessarily, the tear flow staunched for now. Sire. He could be her Sire. He would be her lover, her friend, her teacher, her everything, her reason for existence. He would encompass everything that was her, love her, cherish her, protect her.

Kill her

He knew it for a fact. It would take him killing her. Killing everything that made little girl Buffy into the woman that was willing to stand next to him in front of opposition, in front of her friends. It would kill her essence, leaving behind an empty shell. He could fill that shell. Fill it with him, his essence. Teach her, love her, help her. Be everything to her because she was his.

She could be like him, retaining a part of humanity. Become something more enhanced. She could, with his help. Still care for those around her, the innocents of the world. She could love them; protect them. He retained it, didn’t he? It allowed him to change what he was taught. To hunt and kill indiscriminately without mercy or restraint. Carnage. Pure and simple. Create anarchy in the world. That’s what Angelus taught him. But something changed. The essence that didn’t die that fateful night with Drusilla sparked something inside him years later. Something that was dormant for so long, bidding its time. And, the time did come. Spike might not want to believe it, but it all started that first night at the Bronze. Watching her. Wanting her. Maybe at first it was an obsession. Something to possess, to conquer. But she conquered him in the end. With everything that she was and everything that he was. Overtaking him, molding him into something else, something even better.

He felt the tears again, unable to stop them. Why did it have to be so hard? Why? It should be simple. A couple years ago, he wouldn’t have thought twice. But now things were different. Even his demon was at war with itself. Be selfish and keep her forever, or let her go onto a better place? He knew he wouldn’t end up there with her, a creature that had done the things he did would never end up there. A scourge, that’s what he was, what he is, and heaven would never allow such a creature in its gates. But he also knew he would sit outside of the gates for eternity, spouting off his bloody awful poetry in hopes that she would hear him, love him despite it all.

“Buffy, love,” his voice cracked from the internal pressure. “Can you hear me?” She made no move, just laid there, letting the machines do the work. “Buffy? God, Buffy!” He felt the words tumble out of his mouth, not knowing what he was saying. “I want to save you. Please, give me a sign. A bloody crumb, baby.” He heard her lungs rattle with air. “I know I’m not a good man, not even a man when we think of it, eh?” He smiled a bit, laughing at the little inside joke. “I want to be. Be a better man for you. Be a better creature. Be what you deserve. I know I’m not. Baby, please. Give me something.” His hand moved to hers, lying on top of her overheated one. “Baby, I don’t want to lose you, not after all this time.” He leaned forward and brushed his lips over her arm, kissing her. “After all we’ve been though. God, this is so hard.” Inhaling, he looked up to the ceiling. “Why is this so hard? It’s an easy choice. Not even a choice, love. Shouldn’t be, not for me. It isn’t for Dawn. She asked me to…” he trailed off, “… you know…” He exhaled, “turn you,” he whispered. “Baby, it’s not like I don’t want to. You know?” He brushed his fingertips over her hand, feeling the blood pump in her veins. “Baby, I would if I knew you wanted me to.” He looked over her body, scanning the white sheet on top of her. “A bloody sign. Just one, love. Give it to me and the next second I will. No hesitation. I’ll keep you forever. Just give me a sign. Just one, Buffy.” He pleaded as he looked at her beaten, purple face.

He heard her heart flutter, the beats becoming sporadic. Spike shook from restrained frustration. Buffy’s pulse weakened under his finger. The doctor walked into the room and stopped, “Mr… er… Spike.” The shorter man came around Spike to examine Buffy. He looked at a computer screen with all of her vitals, making small noises like ‘hmm’ and ‘huh.’

“Bloody spit it out, Quack.” Spike growled. His tears had since dried up, no one needed to see him break down; he was still the ‘Big Bad.’

“Nothing, sir. Just checking her vitals.” Spike bared his teeth, his demon visage in full mode since Dawn left. “Please calm down.” Spike could smell the fear rolling of the short doctor in waves. A couple more seconds with the growl and Spike knew the doctor would break down. “It’s just,” he stuttered, “she’s not responding like we hoped she would.”

“Really, Sherlock?” Spike stood there in his black as midnight clothes, staring down the doctor. “Those wankers find a cure yet? Took a bloody gallon of hers to test.”

“Please, calm down,” the doctor trembled, moving away when Spike came towards him, Buffy still between them. “We’re doing all that we can.”

“Well, it’s not BLOODY ENOUGH!” His roar echoed in the room and down the hallway. The doctor quickly moved around Buffy, scurrying quickly out the door.

Yeah, it would fix a lot of things.

~*~*~
Sam Finn hung limply attached to chains on the ceiling. Her hair fell lifelessly in front of her, blocking her face. But the only other creature in the room didn’t need to see her face to know that she was dead. The fresh red blood still ran down her body, pooling on the dirt floor. Three deep scratches marred her torso, tearing into her flesh, allowing her guts to seep out. Her arms and legs, both torn up, sliced almost to the bone stayed still. Black eyes watched the red liquid slide down the dead body. Her once racing heart now at rest; sweat evaporating from every pore of her skin. The black eyes blinked once, twice. Now, cool gray eyes stared at the carnage surrounding him. The man slowly backed away from the body hanging from the ceiling.

“Call a clean up crew,” He said on the way out of the door. A man in the corridor skittered away, in search of the tools necessary to clean up the mess.

“Did she talk?” A deep British voice spoke from outside the room, shadows hiding its owner.

“D’shunk’hamb venom. Not much, just enough to start to decompose the red blood cells.”

“Cure?”

“None.”

“How long does she have?”

“Don’t know how much is in her system.”

“Isn’t it deadly?”

“In a large dose, instantaneous. The trooper didn’t know how much would do the job; she’s been building it up in the Slayer’s system. Torturing her body with the pain of being ripped apart from the inside. Said the Slayer should pay.”

“The mystics get an insight?” the voice in the shadows asked.

“Nothing we didn’t already know. The U.S. government pumped her with the psychotropic drugs for years, altering her mind until it was jelly. Virtually no conscious. Perfect weapon, no questions about morality. She wanted what the Slayer has.”

“What’s that?”

“You know, don’t you?” The man in the room started to whip his hands on a rag, dying it red. Looking at the visitor. The man in the shadow made a movement with his head, nodding it in acknowledgement.

“Did the government send her against the Slayer?” The shadowy voice became colder.

“Rogue for over a month. Her troops didn’t even know they were AWOL.”

“What happened to them?”

“The ones that survived you, Ripper, and the vampire are being held in a containment cell on the eighteenth level of outer master dimension.”

“I will want to see them.”

“Don’t you have a Slayer to attend to?” Cold gray eyes peered deeper into the shadow, watching Giles clean his glasses.

“Very well,” Giles stepped out of the shadows, peering into the blood soaked room, “Anything you want me to pass along to Buffy for you, Quentin?”

a/n: what ever is with Quentin?? Please review

Chapter 18
The door was shut tight, the lock firmly in place, leaving the room private. Spike slowly circled the room, looking for something to block the tiny window in the door. He didn’t want anyone interrupting him. Not now, not when he’d made his decision.

Coward

He growled at himself, the demon snapping at his soul to be quiet.

She trusted you

Spike inhaled the stiff air of the clinic. This wasn’t what he wanted, what he envisioned. Nothing was like what he envisioned. Nothing. Ever. Was. He felt the air pick up in the room, and he shivered. He grabbed another cover from the cabinet. He neared Buffy, smoothing the blanket over her legs and then her torso. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. Inhaling, Spike blinked his amber eyes once, twice. It would be all right. He would fix her; make her better. He bent down, inhaling her human scent one last time. No more sweat, no more blood pumping through her arties and veins. Just her. Her natural essence, the animalistic scent that made her, the atoms and molecules. Artificial scents, now. Shampoo, perfume, lotions. She would be covered with those. Would her body betray her and still smell like the sweet nectar of a Slayer? Would they spend as much time running from demons as killing them?

He felt her pulse increase with his proximity, “Slayer,” he whispered reverently. Spike moved her hair away from her face, pushing and petting it behind her head. Her hair felt grimy, days of being held prisoner, being abused would do that. “We’ll get your hair washed and pampered. Maybe one of those hot oil treatments you told me about.” His fingers ghosted around her neck, smoothing her skin out. “And, I’ll find us one of those hotels with a Jacuzzi. Cover you in rose scented bubbles. Doesn’t that sound grand?” He felt the tears hedge their way to the surface. “Bloody take care of you, love.” His voice cracked. This was the only way to save her, to keep her. Spike exhaled, it was now or never. He moved her head away from him so he could latch on once more. “Baby, we’ll do it right, next time, yeah?”

His face came forward, licking her neck clean. He felt her breath hitch. Her body was no longer stable; he knew it was almost too late. He closed his eyes, not wanting to watch her fight the bite. He licked her neck once more before his fangs pierced her healed skin. Her body jumped, a reflex. He grabbed her shoulder, holding her upper body down and sipped deep. He tasted the sour poison in her sweet blood and cringed. This was what was killing her. Her arms jerked, attached to the straps on the bed. Her body tried to move, slither its way away, but Spike kept his mouth attached to her body, drinking her. “Spike.” He swore he heard her moan his name, pleasure rippled through him. The aphrodisiac properties were still present in her blood. “Spike.” It was there again, the love in her voice. He took another deep drink from her neck, trying to commit everything to memory. “Spike,” he knew he heard it in his ear now. A bit weak, but he heard it, heard her say it. Breaking away, he turned his head to look at her face. His nose to her cheek, he didn’t see any movement. Her eyes were closed, mouth slightly open. It must be the Powers-that-be messing with him when not only did he hear it, but he saw it, too, “Spike,” her weak voice moaned again.

“Buffy?” He felt like he was choking on her blood, like bile would rise from the depths of his bowels. Her eyelashes fluttered on her bluish-purple cheeks. Her green eyes adjusted to the sharp light of the room. She blinked, closing her eyes, “Hold on, love.” Spike stumbled away, almost as if in a dream. He hit the light switch, dimming the room when the florescent lights pittered off. He came back, staring at her once more. She inhaled deeply, wincing when her lungs were restricted with bandages, “Got some ribs broken,” she smiled slightly despite her pained look. “Oh, baby,” he grabbed some gauze, noticing her neck was bleeding out. “Baby, I’m so sorry,” he broke down, his tears hitting her face and chest as he held down the gauze on her neck. “So sorry.” Spike’s soul screamed in pain. He almost killed her.

Despite his tears, Spike saw her smile. He felt the warmth in her heart directed at him, “Shh, Spike,” her voice cracked from misuse, “I know.” Her hand moved, wanting to touch him, comfort him, but it was still in the restraints. His hands fumbled with the buckles, his voice whispering apologetic words. Her muscles stretched themselves when free, reaching for him.

“Buffy,” his voice rose with emotion, as he grasped tightly onto her. Her arms found themselves around him, holding him tighter to her broken body, uncaring of her own wounds. His nose buried itself deep within her dirty, stringy hair. “Love,” he felt her hot tears run down with his cool ones, intermingling together, flowing as one.

“Spike,” her voice was gaining strength, she held on tight, enjoying the comforting embrace. “What happened?”

Spike loosened his hold, but not letting go, so he could look into her eyes. Dark green, almost brown from this angle, surrounded by her blue tinged skin. “So much,” his voice broken, tears running down his cheeks quickly. “Bitch of Finn’s got you, baby, I’m so sorry. Wasn’t there.” He buried his head into her neck, shaking with emotions.

“Spike,” Buffy moved her head to look around the room. She felt so disoriented and lethargic. “Where are we?”

His head popped up, realizing that her fever had subsided; the warmth of her skin returning to normal, and her voice was stronger. “Council’s clinic,” he looked at her, his face changing back to human. He didn’t understand this miracle, her being alive, awake, and still loving him, but he wasn’t going to question it. “They said you wouldn’t make it…” his emotions bubbled to the surface again, “I’m such a bleeding ponce, love.”

“Shh,” her green eyes flashed with love. “Baby, I’m all right. I’m okay.” She held him close, feeling her bones heal. “Huh, I can move again.” She let go of Spike to stretch her torso up and rotate it. Spike smiled, happy that she seemed to be all right. She grabbed Spike, pulling him impossibly close. She smiled, feeling their bond strengthening. “Why so weak?” She mumbled in his chest.

“Been unconscious, love.” He whispered, holding her head still, inhaling her scent, and relishing the sound of her blood pumping through her veins.

“I feel like I’ve been underwater, like I was drowning.”

Tears prickled behind Spike’s eyelids once again, but he shook them off quickly, “You were, baby. But you’re safe now.”

She smiled, feeling more like herself and looked around, “Why’s the door barricaded, Spike?”

He pouted, how could he tell her, admit that he was a selfish monster ready to turn her, just to keep her with him, “See… there is a good explanation for that,” he avoided eye contact with her, scratching the back of his head with his hand, “Love, the Bit…”

“Shh,” her fingers ghosted over his lips, “I know, Spike. She asked you to save me, to turn me.” His eyes were wide with shock. “Its okay, Spike. I felt it, like I was here, but I wasn’t, you know? Way wiggy.” She shivered unconsciously and looked at him, grabbing his head so he would face her, “Hey there, look at me,” her eyes met his, despair hidden deep in his blue, “No! Don’t go there, Spike. There is nothing to feel guilty about.” He tried to tear his gaze away, but she held him steady, “No, Spike. I feel it in here,” She patted her heart. “The love, your devotion, the fear. I feel it. I’m not leaving you. You were doing what you thought you had too. Spike, please baby, look at me,” hot tears ran down her cheeks, “I’m not saying you have an invitation to turn me, but honey, I understand. I love you.”

“No,” he backed away from her, “Monster,” he spat, “How can you love a monster?” His words failed him, the bloody awful poet sulking in a corner, disgusted with himself. “Shouldn’t,” he backed away from her, tripping over the equipment hooked up to her, measuring her vitals. He watched in horror as the IV needle pulled out of her skin, ripping along the way. Her hand recoiled as soon as the needle emerged, holding it to her body, she didn’t notice the electrodes popping off of her chest. “No!” He reached out to her, fear in his eyes. She looked up at him, tears running down her face, “Please,” he begged her, no apparent reason behind his words.

Buffy shook her head clear, for a moment, her eyesight clouded over. “Spike, I…” she felt her eyes close, body suddenly very heavy, she inhaled, feeling like she couldn’t breath. “Help me,” she whispered before being overtaken by the dark once again.

Chapter 19

Buffy felt herself floating, her arms and legs prickling. Then she heard voices. She strained her ears to understand the mumbling, but couldn’t put her finger on them. She heard Spike, felt him; she felt the distress and abundant guilt through their claim. “Spike,” her mind desperately wanted to reach out to him, to comfort him. She heard Dawn, her cries and pleas. Struggling, Buffy fought for consciousness, knowing that they needed her, “Spike,” she whispered, her lips dry and cracking, but able to move. She felt him rush towards her, the voices now shouting. He touched her hand, holding her fingers in the palm of his hands. She focused all her energy on moving her fingers, wrapping them around his hand. She heard the voices raise once more, excitement in their voices. She felt something sharp pierce her right hand and inhaled sharply.

“Coming around… responsive… eyelashes fluttering…. BP stable, 102 over 72, pulse 85… she’s coming around.” She felt the mattress move, Spike’s cool body next to her.

She felt Spike encouraging her, and she smiled at him. “She’s awake,” Dawn screeched. “I saw her, she smiled at you, Spike!”

Buffy groaned, wincing even though her eyes were still closed. “Hey,” she licked her lips, feeling better.

“Buffy,” she felt his breathe on her cheek, his whisper barely audible. She knew that his head was next to hers on the bed. She opened her eyes, wincing at the brightness of the lights once again, but kept them open so she could see his blue eyes staring back at her, “You all right, love?” His eyes were shimmering with untold emotion, and she smiled at him.

“Getting there, I feel it, Spike… dissipating, it doesn’t hurt as much.” She blinked, the bright lights still bothering her eyes.

“Turn down the bloody lights!” Spike growled, “Its okay, love. Dawn’s here.”

Dawn appeared before Buffy, behind Spike’s body, which wasn’t moving from his close position. “Hey Buffy!” Her voice was quiet, almost reminiscent from when Buffy first came back from the dead all those years ago. “How you doing?”

“What is my sister doing in England?” Buffy asked Spike, her green eyes flashing yellow in anger.

She felt his chuckle, moving the hospital bed in his mirth, “I’d say it’s safe to say Buffy is feeling better,” a large smile erupted on his lips. They shared a short moment, reveling in the reality Buffy was in fact getting better.

“Sha!” Dawn rolled her eyes, “It’s not like my sister was kidnapped by some vapid soldier ho half way across the world and no one bothered to tell me.” Buffy could have sworn she heard a bit of her mother’s voice in Dawn’s. Buffy rolled her eyes, she couldn’t argue with Dawn, not only was Dawn right, but Buffy didn’t have energy to argue.

Instead of answering, she closed her eyes, rolling her head toward Spike, “I love you,” she whispered to him.

She felt his lips on her slightly heated skin, “I love you, too.” Buffy sighed, feeling Spike next to her, holding her lightly.

“Dawn?” She questioned softly after dozing off a bit.

“Here, Buffy,” Dawn’s voice came closer, “just sitting on the stool over there,” Buffy opened her eyes to find the room dimmed again and Spike lightly growling next to her. She could feel him sleeping, the pull of his dreams tugging on her.

“Where are we?” She looked around the room once more.

“A clinic owned by the Council.” Dawn picked up the stool and brought it to the side of Buffy’s bed.

“Oh,” Buffy closed her eyes again.

“How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” Buffy opened her eyes again, smiling, “but feeling better. What did they do with Sam?” Dawn looked over at Spike whose growls became sharp and loud suddenly. Buffy moved and kissed his cheek, “Shh, baby. It’s okay.” When Spike’s growl became more of a purr, Buffy looked apologetic towards Dawn, “Better not say the S word.”

“Yeah,” Dawn shook her head away from Spike’s form. “Travers captured her when Spike and Riley went to find you.”

“Riley?” Buffy questioned, she tried to remember what happened while she was kidnapped. She remembered seeing Sam and a couple Army type people, but not Riley.

“Yeah, Sa… the bitch, she totally pulled one over on him, such a wanker.” Dawn and Buffy shared a smile, “And, she left him. Riley went back to the vamp hoes to suck the life out of him and Spike and Drusilla found him.”

“Drusilla?” Buffy questioned. Her heart started to race. Drusilla was in town? “Drusilla?” She whispered again, repeating the name.

“Is all right, love,” Spike opened his eyes, “She helped me find you.” He cuddled closer to her, wanting to assuage any doubts Buffy had. “The bloody stars told her I needed her to find the sunshine or something like that rot.” Buffy felt the truth in his words, comforted with the knowledge that Spike held no romantic feelings towards his Sire.

Buffy blinked, her emotions too turbulent to analyze right now, “Where’s Giles?”

“Out in the hallway, talking to the doctors, I can go get him for you?” Dawn asked.

“Okay…” Buffy answered, still a bit tired. “I’m getting sleepy,” she commented after she yawned.

“Is all right, baby. He’ll be here when you wake up, then.” Spike shifted, as Buffy turned over, allowing her to rest partially on top of him.

“I’m not hurting you?” She whispered while she waited for Giles to come into the room.

“Never,” Spike said emphatically. He played with a clump of her hair, grimacing that it was still grimy. “Tell you what, love. Get some more rest and then we’re going to pamper you so good. Bubble baths, manicures…”

“Oh, can I have a pedicure?” She sounded excited.

“Got a foot fetish, do you?” He smiled into her forehead, enjoying the quick wit between them once again.

“Do, but you do, too” She lifted one leg carefully, drawing it up his.

Spike growled playfully, “Better stop it, or I will be forced to flip you over and make love to you for hours. I missed you so much,” he closed his eyes, willing his emotions to rest.

She smiled, ready to tell him she wouldn’t mind what he threatened, when Giles walked into the room. “Are you all right, my dear?” Giles sat down on the stool Dawn brought over.

“My blood still kind of burns, but a lot less than before.” She turned her body back so she would face Giles. Spike wrapped his arms around her, bringing her head back so it would be pillowed on his chest. She closed her eyes, “What happened?”

Giles took his glasses off and started to wipe them with a handkerchief. “Not very clear. I’m afraid that Quentin was a bit hasty with the disposal of her body,” he put his glasses back on and looked at her. “There are a few things we need to discuss.”

Spike felt her inhale sharply, “It’s about it, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Giles answered simply. Spike felt confused. Their cryptic words sent shivers down his back.

“Not now, Giles, okay? Give me a few…” Buffy closed her eyes, exhaustion over taking her.

“I understand, dear girl.” She heard his last words before drifting back into the sea of black.