The sun dawned on the shores of what is now the British Isles. The morning mists of spring hung over the soft moors, as delicate as lace of a spider web. The day had dawned chilly, but the temperature was gradually warming up as befitted the spring weather. The buds of the trees were coaxing out into full bloom, the increasing greenery promising a beautiful and rich summer. The Roman Legion was enjoying the warm morning, after the harsh winter they had endured, many soldiers were bathing in the near by river, or just enjoying the peace of the morning's stillness.

A stillness that was shattered by an all too familiar voice screaming a profanity which put every man on edge, "BLOODY HELL"

General Aurelius Spictorous was a hardened soldier who had seen thirty two winters and summers, seventeen of them having been a soldier, twelve as an officer and seven as a general.
The general had a fierce reputation as a tough commander and prowess on the battlefield; his many victories against the Picts were living proof. The general was also a man of control, he rarely shouted; instead speaking in a deadly voice which scared even the most seasoned officers.
Now, however, the general paced in his tent in front of senior officers, screaming and cursing in seven different languages.
The senior officers Antonious Osbornious and Alexanderous Severious stood patiently watching their leader slam and throw objects, while the scroll they had brought to him remained tossed on his desk.

General Spiectorous, known to his senior officials in private, as "spike" , stopped his pacing and turned to confront his officers once more.
" How in the name of the gods did Angelous' men get over Handrian's wall? Are the sentries so stupid that they can't see a bloody bunch of tribesman picts coming and send us a message before they bloody well attack? Now we have no time to recall the reserve legions in the South and our men are too few to fight even if they were in top condition. I didn't spend the last seven years of my life and that frozen hell last winter destroying rebels and driving them over the wall, for Angelous to come and destory us in a few days!" Spike paused for breath, glaring at his officers.
Osbornious, know as "Oz", spoke in his quiet monotone. " An alliance with the tribe clans are the only way, General."
Spike shouted, " In the seven years I've been a general I have never made alliances with the tribe clans and I'm not about to start now!"
"But-" began Alexanderous, known as "Xander".
"NO," shouted Spike, " I'll kill Picts, sleep in trenches for Rome, give my life, my sword, but no way in bloody hell for the empire, for glory, or the gods, am I making an alliance through marriage!"
Oz spoke quietly, “Would you like to tell the emperor that when we lose the battle?”
Spike snarled, but didn’t make a coherent reply. Xander and Oz exchanged looks; they knew Spike would fight and scream, but in the end there was no other option.



Across the river, not far from the Roman camp, a young woman of about nineteen winters was laughing, as her horse galloped faster, and faster. “Buffy!”, screeched her lifelong companion and body guard, Willow. Rolling her eyes, Buffy slowed her horse down as Willow approached her. “In the name of the Goddess, how am I supposed to protect you, when you continually run off?” sighed Willow in an exasperated tone.
Buffy shrugged her shoulders and gave her friend an apologetic smile. “ I’m sorry Wills, but every time I’m outside, I feel like I can fly away, you know? No responsibilities, no pushy father, just freedom.”

“ You are the chosen one of our people, a slayer, a woman warrior born to lead our tribe, you know that Buffy. You also know that as your father’s only living child you are essential to the alliance your father will make with the Romans.”
Buffy’s eyes narrowed until they were thin slits of emerald fire. “ I am a princess of my people, high priestess to the Blessed Goddess, and I WILL NOT be sold to the highest bidder, or to a Roman who would take me far from my beloved home. Any man who wishes to come to my bed, must fight for the privilege!” Upon uttering these words, Buffy drew her sword, looking every bit the lethal warrior she was.

Willow felt a jolt of fear run through her as she saw her friend don the regal mask of a Chosen one. Then in an instant, the warrior was gone and only an apologetic Buffy remained.
“I’m sorry, Wills. I just hate feeling helpless, let me take Gordo for one last gallop and then we can return to the settlement.” Willow nodded and watched as her friend galloped to a tree on the far end of the river. But as Buffy was returning to where Willow was, several men on horseback wearing the symbols of the tribe of the Picts, began chasing after Buffy.
“BUFFY!” Willow screamed.
“ Willow, get out of here!” Buffy shouted as she drew her sword.
“ As the princess of the tribe, I command you to return to my father and tell him what happened. You can’t help me if you’re dead!”
Helpless to do anything but obey, Willow urged her horse into a fast gallop up the hill. Oh Goddess, let her be alright! Willow silently prayed as she escaped.

As Willow escaped, Buffy turned her horse Gordo around so she could charge her attackers. As the first one drew near, Buffy sliced his head off.
“Angelus must be hard up for help if he thinks such idiots can take me down.” She commented aloud. One of the minions, jumped at her, knocking her off of her horse and on the ground. Both the minion and Buffy fought for several minutes. The minion slashed her deeply on the arm, and Buffy gritted her teeth, trying to ignore the pain. Her efforts were rewarded when she wrestled a dagger from the minion and slit his throat. Gasping for breath and trying to not pass out, Buffy staggered to her feet , looking for the other three minions only to see men in silver armor and red cloaks killing them. It registered in Buffy’s exhausted brain that these men might be enemies as well. Thinking quickly, she grabbed her dagger and launched at the silver-headed man who had dismounted and was walking toward her. Her loss of blood made extremely sloppy and the man easily grabbed the dagger from her hand, which caused her to fall on the ground. The last thing she saw before she succumbed to the darkness was the azure color of the man’s eyes.

Spike had still been pouting in his tent when his guards had informed him of a commotion across the river. Eager for a spot of violence, Spike had led several men out to investigate. He had then laid eyes on the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. A slender nymph, with golden hair and emerald eyes was fighting with all the fire of Fury from Hades. After preventing the escape of the other three minions, Spike had approached the girl who seemed extremely weak, but potentially dangerous none the less. As soon as she had collapsed, Spike bent down gathering her into his arms. He turned mounting his horse. “ Marcus!” He ordered the young lieutenant. “Get back to camp and tell the surgeon to be ready to operate!” The youth nodded and sped off on his horse.
Spike slowed his horse’s speed to a walk, not wanting to jilt the wounded girl. Spike turned to his other men. “ Search those Pict warriors’ belongings, see if you can find anything that might be of use, then burn the bodies. We don’t want vultures here.”

Arriving back at camp, Spike instantly headed for his tent where the surgeon of the camp was waiting.

Casius Cleminus had known Spike since boyhood; he had become a successful doctor treating senators and patricians while Spike entered the army. ‘Clem’ as he was called, by Spike anyway, had joined a few years earlier out of his own free will. Spike trusted his opinion and regarded him as a doctor of the mind as well as of the body.
“Clem,” Spike said by way of greeting. “So, who’s the patient: officer or legionnaire?” Clem inquired. Spike lay the young woman down on his own bed and then stepped back to allow Clem to examine her. “By the body of Jupiter, Spike have you seen this?” Clem asked in surprise.
“Seen her wound? Yeah, doesn’t look that bad, what’s all the fuss about?”
Clem turned to him with raised eyebrows. “I wasn’t talking about the wound Spike, well not the current wound anyway; I meant all these scars on her body.” Spike leaned over to see what had caught Clem’s eyes. The young woman lay sprawled out, her clothes having been removed so Clem could examine her better. Spike did see her numerous scars and his admiration swelled for her, however, another part of his anatomy swelled upon seeing her naked perfection of tan skin and gold hair. Spike longed to reach out and sate his hunger for her, but Clem’s voice broke through his thoughts. “I’d be willing to bet my entire fortune that this girl has seen more battles than half your legion. Probably a very lethal warrior..."

Previously
Spike longed to reach out and sate his hunger for her, but Clem’s voice broke through his thoughts. “I’d be willing to bet my entire fortune that this girl has seen more battles than half your legion. Probably a very lethal warrior.,,”
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Buffy’s head felt like it had been stampeded by a large herd of deer. The silky texture of the sheet beneath her-was she in a bed?- combined with the low conversation of two voices she didn’t recognize, confirmed her suspicions that she wasn’t in familiar surroundings. The last thing Buffy could recall was the approach of the men in red cloaks and silver armor. Had she been captured?
She then heard one voice murmur,” I’d be willing to bet my entire fortune that this girl has seen more battles than half your legion. Probably a very lethal warrior.” Buffy’s stomach twisted and she felt her heart sinking; she had been captured!
Well she wouldn’t submit quietly, she would prove who ever had spoken, right; she was a lethal warrior. Trying to keep as still as possibly, she maneuvered her right hand that was lying next to her thigh. Since the person or persons were standing at the other side of the bed, Buffy felt that she stood a better chance since her thigh hid her hand’s movements, to a degree anyway.
She shifted and wriggled her hand until she had grasped what she was looking for: her dagger. She was determined to show her captors what a princess of the tribes was capable of…
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Clem tied the last of the bandages over the girl’s bare shoulder. “ Well Spike, that’s all I can do for now. Her shoulder should be healed in a few days. Until she wakes up she best not move, alright? Spike? Spike? Spike!”
“What!?” Spike snapped, tearing his gaze away from the voluptuous goddess who currently lay sprawled our on his bed.
Patiently Clem replied. “ I said that the girl is going to have to stay her for a couple of days, I wouldn’t recommend moving her; it might hurt her shoulder, which means you’re going to have to bunk down on the floor for the next couple of days.”
Spike smirked at the thought of having this little jewel near him for the next couple of days. He nearly groaned aloud at the idea of her naked body in such close proximity to his, maybe he could convince her to-um reward him accordingly-him being her rescuer and all. “Don’t worry Clem, I’ll take good care of our guest..” Spike drawled as Clem left the tent, shaking his head and sighing.
When Clem was far away from the tent, Spike reached up to brush the girl’s hair out of her eye when suddenly he found his hand in a death grip. Struggling to free himself he suddenly met blazing emerald fire.
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Even though Buffy had been unable to catch most of the conversation between her two captors she could ascertain that the man addressed as ‘Spike’ had no intention of letting her go. Determined to fight her way free Buffy had waited until the opportune moment when she felt one of her captors touching her in close proximity and then she had acted.

The girl yanked Spike’s wrist propelling him with almost supernatural strength over her head and then tackled him on the floor, straddling his waist.
Spike struggled while she slammed her fist into his face twice-he was sure she broke his nose in the process-, but grabbed her wrist the third time and flipped them over so that he was on top.
The girl snarled in a way that reminded Spike of a wild cat. She squirmed and flailed her body, which gave Spike quite the challenge in attempting to restraint her. “Let me go!” the girl screamed. “Tsk, tsk, luv. I don’t think so my little hell cat, or you just might start cutting me apart and I happen to like living thank you very much.”
The girl let out another howl of frustration and renewed her efforts to get free. “Would you just bloody, calm down?” Spike panted. “Just calm do-oof” Spike felt a burning kick delivered to his precious area and grunted from the pain.
The girl shoved him off of her and sprinted for the entrance of the tent. Spike struggled to regain his senses in an effort to prevent her leaving. “Guards! Guards! Prisoner escaping!” Spike shouted.

For the second time that day, Buffy found herself knocked off her feet by figures in red cloaks. In her normal state Buffy was certain she could have fought both guards off and not received a scratch, unfortunately it wasn’t her day. One of the guards managed to seize her around the waist and tackle her to the ground. The loss of blood from her wounded shoulder overcame whatever adrenalin Buffy had left and she felt the darkness overcome her once again.

Spike grimly surveyed the slumped figure on the ground. Who was she?
Spike could see that she was in no condition at the minute to answer his question and Spike did want answers.
However, he had ever intention of seeing that his manhood remained intact. How to incapacitate the girl without harming her and assuring that she couldn’t harm him? Spike studied the girl for a minute contemplating his options.
Suddenly a grin appeared on his face. “Bring her back into my tent.” He ordered.
Turning on his heel, he reentered his tent and opened a large chest that was on the far side of the tent. He smiled again to himself as he found what he was looking for. It was time to use his favorite toy.
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For the second time in less than a day, Buffy roused herself from the dark abyss of unconsciousness, finding herself in a dimly lit tent just after sunset.
The first sensation she could identify was her burning shoulder, which had already been wounded when she made her escape attempt and was throbbing twice as badly due to her scuffle with the guards. In an attempt to keep her mind off of the throbbing in her shoulder, Buffy tried to move her other body parts to assess the damage.
When she tried to move her arms and legs however, she found she couldn’t. Tilting her head, she managed to make out heavy chains pinning her legs and arms separately to each of the four bed posts.
She made a weak attempt to yank the chains, but her energy was drained and she felt as weak as a kitten. A low chuckle came out of the darkness. Buffy sat up as best she could, trying to assess where the new threat had come from.
“I must say kitten, you do seem to love a bit of a rough and tumble” drawled a low voice.
Buffy’s head turned in the darkest direction of the tent where the figure stood. The figure took a few steps forward and into the light. With a gasp, Buffy recognized the platinum haired man from earlier. “You!” she snarled, as she flailed her limbs uselessly against the chains.

Spike smirked, “Hello cutie.”

Previously
“I must say kitten, you do seem to love a bit of a rough and tumble” drawled a low voice. Buffy’s head turned in the darkest direction of the tent where the figure stood.

The figure took a few steps forward and into the light. With a gasp, Buffy recognized the platinum haired man from earlier.
“You!” she snarled, as she flailed her limbs uselessly against the chains.

Spike smirked, “Hello cutie.”

******************************************

Buffy felt outrage, anger, and a sense of helplessness sweep over her as she eyed her captor who decreased the distance between them by moving steadily forward to the bed. As he came into the light, Buffy had to bite her lip to keep from gasping.

He was magnificent; his slender body was muscular in a way that reminded her of a sleek wolf that was seen as sacred to her people because of its predator instincts and beauty. His pale blonde hair that was practically white seemed to gleam like white gold, while his blue eyes shone like midnight. His physique reminded her of the statues of the Roman Gods she had seen in the Roman outposts; she wouldn’t have been surprise if he wasn’t human at all.

“ Pet, quit shaking I’m not goin’ hurt you, alright?” her captor’s voice jolted Buffy out of her thoughts and back into the harsh reality that was staring her in the face. Bad Buffy, she scolded herself. No naughty thoughts about the guy who kidnapped you and is probably going to sell you as a slave.

*********************************

Spike had no idea what was running through his little hell cat’s mind. She seemed to be calculating another attempt at escape and Spike wasn’t worried about her attempts to escape ( the camp was too well guarded and she was too weak) , but what he wasn’t certain of was whether she was a spy for the local tribes.

Spike wouldn’t have put it past Angelous to have resorted to any dirty tactics to obtain information to defeat Spike. For all Spike knew, Angelous could have had the whole thing staged as attempt to get the girl inside the camp. Spike knew that this girl was no helpless maiden in distress; Clem himself had verified that the girl was a seasoned warrior. The question was: whose warrior was she?

“I demand that you let me go,” the girl’s vicious and direct tone of voice attracted Spike’s attention. Spike raised his eyebrows.

“Don’t think so luv, not until we suss out who the hell you are and what the hell you’re doing here.”

*************************************

Who was she and what was she doing her???? Buffy felt like clawing his face off. “Alright, you insufferable idiot. My name is Buffy and I’m from the Fianna Tribe, I’m a daughter of Fai, warrior and future leader of my tribe.” Though the man infront of her was a true Adonis, Buffy had the feeling that he didn’t exactly have the brains to go with it because he stood staring at her with his jaw dropped.

“ A woman, leading a tribe?” he scoffed. “No wonder, the empire is taking over this pathetic island so easily.”

Buffy lost her temper. “While your EMPIRE was still using horse shit to fertilize your fields, our people built a true kingdom that is descended from the gods of old, this land is our blood and our home, which we will defend until the world ends, whereas you mercenaries will hold out until your empire’s treasury runs dry!”

If Spike hadn’t seen the girl’s wounds for himself, he would have died laughing, but this girl spoke not as a bleeding heart, brain washed savage, but as a warrior equal of his attention.

Spike suddenly caught sight of the half moon crescent on her forehead. “You’re a Caillech, a chosen one trained in the ancient arts of war.”

Buffy nodded. “Now that you know that I’m not a spy, will you kindly let me go.”

Spike suddenly felt a pain at the thought of this beautiful goddess leaving so quickly, besides her wounds demanded proper care and attention, AND he had yet to suss out whether she was a spy or not. “Sorry luv, no dice. How can I be sure you’re really not a spy? I don’t fancy being stabbed in the middle of the night so the chains stay on. Furthermore, until I find out the whole story about you, you’re not leaving.”
*
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Buffy’s frustration had upgraded from wishing him serious injury to a long a painful death that started by removing certain articles of value. Still she struggled to maintain her composure and speak calmly to convince him of the truth of her story. “Look, send word to my tribe and they’ll vouch for my story. Call in an interpreter or someone who speaks my language and I’ll show you that I speak the language of my tribe- What in the name of Fai are you doing!?” Buffy’s attempt to reason with the man had been cut off as he had moved to the bed and was suddenly too close for her liking.

Spike rolled his eyes at the accusation in her voice. “Kitten, all’s I’m doing is taking this blanket and wrapping it around you so that you don’t get cold, alright? Secondly, save the story for tomorrow, we’ll sort it out then, I personally am not sure if you’re working with Angelous or not.”

Buffy fired back, “ I’ve no reason to lie to you and why would I lie for Angelous?”

As Spike bent his head over to check her chains though he muttered, “His reputation to pry apart women’s thighs is notorious, so excuse me if I don’t trust the word of a woman.”

That did it. That was the straw that broke the camel’s back or more appropriately, Spike’s nose. Buffy was so enraged by his last comment that, as soon as Spike’s head was close enough she head butted him as hard as possible.

“Bloody HELL!”

**********************************

An hour later a very tired Clem sighed as he wrapped Spike’s nose. “Spike, hold still. Gods man, you act as if you’ve never been wounded before. So for the love of Jupiter, quit whining!” Spike’s scream earlier had alerted the guards, who had dragged Clem out of bed to examine the “wounded” general. In Clem’s opinion, it was Spike’s pride that was wounded, not his nose.

“Now Spike, remember to clean it, wrap it every- Spike! Let her alone, the poor thing is just dead tired.”

Spike cast another murderous look at the “helpless”, sleeping figure on the bed. Right, he thought, helpless my arse. Too lost in his thoughts, Spike failed to notice that Clem was trying to get his attention again.

“SPIKE!” Clem barked. “ take that medicine, get some sleep, and leave that poor girl alone.”

Spike snorted. “For the love of Venus, Clem I’m the one with a broken nose! Who are you siding with anyway?”

“Good Night Spike.” Rolling his eyes, Clem shook his head and left the tent.

Once Clem had left, Spike turned to glare at the sleeping angel, who looked no more dangerous than a baby. Wincing, he pinched his nose to alleviate the pain and approached the bed, careful to stay out of range for fear of a black eye.

“I know you’re awake, but go ahead and pretend you’re asleep, makes no difference to me. Alright, Goldilocks this is it,” he gritted out. “As of right now, I’m done playing nice. Make no mistake this is not over yet.”

As Spike curled up in a cot on the other end of the tent, the blonde girl opened her eyes to smirk at his figure. Both were thinking the exact same thing : ‘Bring it on’.