Buffy walked through Shady Hill Cemetery, idly pondering over the last few weeks of her new college based existence while on the look out for any vampires hunting for their evening meal. She had recovered from her bout of self-consciousness after the disaster that was her ‘battle’ with Sunday and her waste-of-space minions and had finally started feeling like her old self again. Getting rid of Kathy, the annoying Celine Dion obsessed demon, was another high point in her recent weeks as well. Buffy had known she was a demon from the get go, but it had been another matter trying to convince Willow and Giles that it was more than a bratty only-child hissy fit at sharing her space with someone new.

Willow had moved in at the beginning of the week so no more psycho roommate for Buffy. Surely things would turn around for Buffy, the college girl now? She was enjoying her classes, especially her psychology course, and was finally finding a normal rhythm to settle into. Maybe she could even forget about the wonderful world of slaying for five minutes a day….

Buffy shook her head and smirked ironically to herself. As if. The sound of laughter up ahead combined with her screaming slayer senses alerted her to trouble. A group of four fledgling vamps carrying what looked like bottles of alcohol were happily making their way through the cemetery, unaware of her presence. They were probably heading to wherever they had decided to nest and following them may lead to a few more. At the very least she could get a location and get them tomorrow in daylight.

Happy to follow after her prey stealthily for now, Buffy let her thoughts slip back to her more mundane daily life. Like the cute older guy she’d met recently. What was his name? Peter? No, Parker. Maybe he’d be worth a shot. Willow was trying to nudge her in that direction, Buffy reasoned. A nice, normal college guy. What could be wrong with that?

She heard a small rustle and before she could even turn around, everything turned black.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Buffy didn’t know what had hit her. One minute she was busy tracking down a group of vamps, hoping they would lead her to their nest, while debating the merits of pursuing anything with Parker, the hottie she’d met last week, and the next she was waking up on a cold tile floor in a stark white room. Her head was pounding and her arms were tingling. She opened her eyes and looked around warily, but could only see sterile white walls, not quite the usual run-down demon digs she was used to.

Buffy moaned as she shifted her legs under her to stand up and take better account of her surroundings. Once on her feet, she turned out toward the corridor and was faced with a giant glass wall. Approaching it slowly she took note there were other rooms similar to the one she was in across the hallway. The one directly across from her contained a blue skinned demon she didn’t recognize, cowering in a corner, its head laying over up-drawn knees. In the cell next to it she saw a vamp, stalking the cell like a caged bear. He snarled at her when he caught her staring.

“What is this place?” Buffy muttered to herself. She placed the palm of her hand on the glass, but was immediately thrown back as volts of electricity shot through her. She crashed hard into the wall behind her, jarring her still rattled nerves even further.

“What the hell?” She shook her head, hoping to clear her vision, quickly learning to be weary of the glass partition.

Slayer senses on full alert, Buffy scrutinized her surroundings. She explored every inch of her cell, investigating every corner, before concluding that she was stuck there for the time being. She’d have to wait until her captors made their presence known to find out more about this place.

She didn’t have to wait long. Ten minutes after she had finished her exploration of her cage, the door at the end of the hallway slid open and a group of people emerged. Four were soldiers dressed in combat fatigues carrying what looked like weapons pulled straight out of a sci-fi show and the other two were a man and a woman dressed in lab coats, carrying clipboards in their hands.

“Well, Ms. Summers, it’s good to see that you’re awake,” the severe looking woman said as she approached Buffy.

“Professor Walsh?” Buffy gasped. She had only had a few classes with the psychology teacher, but she would recognize the woman anywhere. Buffy had known there was something off about her right from the start.

“Yes, well, it was unfortunate that we met under false pretenses,” Professor Walsh replied sharply, writing something on her clipboard. “But at least it brought your special skills to our attention. We are set to do some tests, and I trust you will be cooperative, Ms. Summers.”

“Tests? What tests?” Buffy said suspiciously, cold tendrils of dread spreading through her entire body, making her shiver slightly. Her instincts were telling her to run, but she had nowhere to go and there was no one here to help her.

“Nothing for you to be concerned about,” Walsh snapped, indicating that the cell was to be unlocked to one of the soldiers standing next to her.

The door slid open and Buffy backed slightly away, but soon found herself up against a wall. Though the men appeared to be human, and Buffy was sure she could take them, there was something about the cold look in their eyes that made her stop and stare. She hoped they’d be open to reason. But hey, reason was overrated, right? Two of the guns were aimed in her direction, and before she could think she engaged the nearest soldier in a fight. The electrical jolt that followed knocked her out in seconds.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The ringing of the phone caused Willow to look up sharply. It was past midnight and Buffy had yet to check in after patrol.

The redhead had come home a couple of hours earlier after staying late at the library studying with Oz. She figured Buffy would be out patrolling, but she was generally back by now on school nights.

“Hello? Buffy?” Willow answered, knowing only a few people would call this late at night.

“No, Willow. It’s Giles,” the Watcher’s voice came over the line. “But it is Buffy I'm calling in regards to. Did she forget that she was supposed to stop by tonight after patrol?”

“I don’t know, she’s not here, Giles,” Willow said, a hint of worry lacing her voice. Buffy may not be the most reliable person in the world, but if she wasn’t with Giles or here then Willow wasn’t sure where she could be. “Have you tried her house?”

“No,” Giles answered, sounding a little less at ease. “I suppose she might have stopped by her mother’s house. But I fear it is a little late to call her tonight. When you speak to her, let her know that I’d like to see her first thing tomorrow, please?”

“Sure, no problem,” Willow said, anxiety tugging at her gut. Buffy generally let her know if she wasn’t coming home at night in case she wanted some alone time with Oz. “I’ll tell her first thing in the morning. Goodnight, Giles.”

“Goodnight, Willow. I appreciate it,” Giles said before the line clicked off. Willow replaced the receiver and settled back into bed.

Buffy must be at her mom’s, she thought to herself. She just forgot to tell me. But the nagging feeling that something was wrong wouldn’t go away, and Willow tossed and turned most of the night worrying about the fate of her friend.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When Willow didn’t see Buffy in the morning, she became officially worried. When Buffy didn’t show up to Intro Psych, Willow slowly progressed into the panic mode. She called Mrs. Summers at lunch asking if Buffy had stopped by in the morning, trying to sound as normal as possible. When Joyce said she hadn’t seen Buffy since the week before, Willow knew something was really wrong.

Willow hurried back to her dorm room forgoing meeting Oz in the cafeteria. She threw her bags on her bed and quickly dialed Giles’ number. The tinglies in her belly had yet to ease, and she’d been getting better at tuning into the environment since starting with the Wicca group.

“Hello? Buffy?” Giles’ voice answered on the other end of the line, mimicking Willow’s answer from the night before.

“No, Giles. It’s Willow,” she replied, worry seeping freely into her voice.

“Oh, h-hello Willow. Have you seen Buffy this morning?” Giles asked immediately picking up on the anxiety in her tone.

“No, I haven’t, Giles. I’m really starting to worry,” Willow said. “I called Mrs. Summers at lunch and she hasn’t seen Buffy since last week.”

“Well, that’s troubling indeed. Can you get the supplies for a locator spell and stop by this afternoon? I’m sure she’s fine, but it never hurts to make sure.” Giles went on to give her a list of ingredients to pick up and to bring something of Buffy’s along.

“Sure, I’ll come over right away and stop by The Magic Box,” Willow said, hastily hanging up the phone before setting off in the direction of Oz’s room to let him know what was going on.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Buffy woke up with another blinding headache hours later. She rubbed her eyes softly and pinched the bridge of her nose in an effort to stop the dull ache behind them. She had briefly regained consciousness while strapped to what had appeared to be an operating table. She had immediately started struggling but was zapped again and hadn’t woken up during the rest of whatever they had done to her.

Buffy gently probed the sore spots on her body. She couldn’t imagine what had been done to her, but she knew it wasn’t her normal yearly physical. Anger burned in her as she looked down at a long bandage stretching down the length of her arm. After unwinding it she found a long incision, which they hadn’t even bothered stitching back up, running from elbow to wrist. She felt ill at the sight of the still open wound, feeling it throb as her body scrambled to heal itself.

Buffy moved toward the back of the cell, like a caged animal. She sat down in one of the far corners wanting to be able to see if anyone was going to return. There was a plate of food sitting in a corner along with a few bottles of water, but she didn’t trust it was safe to eat. Buffy felt strangely numb and horribly tired, but she struggled to stay awake and alert. She knew she needed to conserve as much strength as she could. It was anyone’s guess what the impostor psychology professor and her minions had planned for her tomorrow.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

That night at Giles’ house the Scoobies were gathered without their leader. Joyce hadn’t been alerted to Buffy’s disappearing act yet, but Giles feared they wouldn't be able to keep it that way much longer. Willow had done a locator spell which had shown that his charge was still at the university, but after searching all day, they hadn’t found a trace of her. Maybe the spell had gone wrong. Maybe she had been ripped into a different dimension. Maybe… There were too many maybes and not enough answers.

Giles didn’t know what had happened to his slayer, but deep in his gut he knew that it wasn’t good. She hadn’t run away and she was apparently still in Sunnydale. He was worried. Willow and Xander were unusually quiet, nervous for the fate of their friend, and this time, the oftentimes-patriarch of the group could offer them no reassurances.

He would contact the council and his friend at the coven. Hopefully they’d have some answers for them.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Buffy woke up in the morning to the sound of a small door opening and saw a sandwich appearing through it. She was starving after the events of the previous day and decided to risk it. Biting voraciously into the sandwich she looked around, noticing that the blue demon was gone. Probably off to the same chamber of horrors she had been submitted to. The vampires were missing, too, and for the first time, Buffy was starting to doubt her ability of getting out of there. Slowly the world around her started spinning and Buffy knew she’d been too hasty to trust the food. The sound of the door opening again was the last sound Buffy registered before her world turned black once more.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Spike had come to Sunnydale to find the small green rock he held in his hand right now. Smiling brilliantly he pushed Harmony out of his way and went off in search of sunlight and the Slayer. He hadn’t seen her around the last week or so which he found curious. She was always around to fuck with his best laid plans. The smirk that spread across his features as he stepped fully onto the densely populated campus was deadly and menacing. Now all he had to do was find that spunky little slayer.

After a quick lunchtime snack in the warm sunshine and an hour of fruitless searching, Spike was bored. Sure, the sun beating down on him made him wonder if he was going to freckle and it was something else to be out in an element he had feared for nearly a century. But without the little spitfire that was Buffy Summers there aiming to annoy and destroy him, the day seemed a little duller than it should have. He wasn’t sulking. He certainly wasn’t brooding. He was just disappointed that he wasn’t going to put a third notch in his slayer belt.

Night fell again and Spike was making his way through the graveyard thinking about the potential benefits of invincibility. That blonde trollop Harmony knew about the ring, and since she wasn’t the brightest crayon in the box, she may run her mouth off to the wrong people. It was probably safer to stow the ring away for a little while just in case anyone came looking for it. He could always chalk it up to her hair color and delusions of grandeur.

Having safely stowed away the precious gem, Spike made his way back toward the campus prowling for a midnight snack. He stood surveying the grounds below him, savoring the feeling of being back on the Hellmouth, full of its delicious and denial laden Happy Meals on legs.

Before he knew what hit him, the world around him turned black.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Spike woke up flat on his back in a place that was too bright for his enhanced vision. He groaned as he turned and groggily made his way onto his feet. He explored the area around him, running his hands over the white walls of the apparent cell he found himself in. Looking through the glass front he moved to lean against it. A large electric shock went through his body, throwing him back onto the hard floor he just got up from.

“For fuck’s sake!” he yelled, shaking his hands at the painful sensation. He got up again, this time stalking the invisible barrier like a lion caged in at the zoo. A hole opened in the roof and a blood bag dropped down with a dull thud onto the floor. Spike reached for it but a voice cut him off.

“Don’t drink it. It’s drugged,” a fledgling vamp in the cage next to him warned.

“Uh-huh. And who are you mate?” Spike drawled, bored with the twerp already.

“I’m a rat. A lab rat, just like the others. Just like you. They’re gonna kill us, all of us,” he replied, twitching slightly in the way only the truly paranoid could.

“And jus’ how are they gonna do that?” Spike asked, walking closer to the wall opposite of his chatty neighbor. Something smelled very familiar nearby.

“They starve you. When you’re ready to bite our own arm, they shoot out one of those packets. You drink, and the next thing, you’re gone. And that’s when they do the experiments,” the fledge finished in horrified awe. But as loony as the guy sounded, experiments didn’t sound like anything he wanted to mess with. He’d had his fair share of lab rats back in World War II.

“And, uh, they are? The government? Nazis? A major cosmetics company?” The somewhat familiar scent was driving him crazy while he tried to recognize it and the fluorescent lighting was making his skin twitch. He was close to snapping and nothing seemed close to stopping him.

“Who cares? All I know is, one minute I’m running from the Slayer, and the next thing, I’m here,” the other vampire said morosely scanning the hallways for any activity beyond his fellow captives.

“The Slayer! I knew it!” Spike yelled in frustration. He knew she would be behind something like this. She had certainly upgraded since the last time he had faced her. Had some fancy scientists, a whole soddin’ laboratory to work with. Spike was about to spew of a string of expletives when a breathy whisper came from the cell beside him, making him pause his internal rant.

“Spike?” The air seemed to still around him with the saying of his name. He’d recognize that voice anywhere.

“Slayer?”

TBC

“Slayer?” Spike moved warily toward the left-hand side of his cell, opposite to his irritating fledgling neighbor. The bitch was close enough to have heard the whole conversation, probably laughing over how she finally caught William the Bloody. Well, he sure as fuck wouldn’t go down without a fight.

“Yeah,” a soft bitter sigh assured him. “They got you too then?”

“Who?” Spike cocked his head to the side, caught off guard by what she said. The question had passed his lips before he had a chance to think it through.

Spike’s curiosity got the better of him as he tried to peer around the corner. All he could make out was her legs as she was obviously leaning against their adjoining wall. Glancing to the cell opposite her, he could make out her small frame reflected in the glaring glass of the Voracko demon situated in it.

“I don’t know,” Buffy’s worried voice drifted over to him. “It seems like they’re part of some military group studying demons.” She was whispering but Spike could clearly make out every word she said. He also heard her sharp intake of breath as she shifted against the wall. The Slayer was in a lot of pain by the sounds of it. The pungent aroma of rich slayer blood suddenly reached his nostrils and he realized she was hurt.

“Demons? Then why are you here? You’re workin’ with ‘em, aren’t you?” Spike let the frustration and accusation seep freely into his tone. A slayer trapped in a demon capturing operation? Not bloody likely! The Slayer let out a short humorless bark of a laugh.

“Yeah, because being poked and prodded Roswell-style and locked in a plastic hamster cage is my idea of fun, Spike.” Her snark lacked all of her usual pep, her voice sounding tired and weak above all else. But her choice of words made her the slayer he remembered and he could practically see her standing in front of him, arms crossed, one hip cocked to the side, rolling her eyes at him.

“‘S a bit hard to believe a demon capturin’ group would want you s’all,” he said, finding he believed her when she moaned softly again. He checked her reflection in the opposite cell to find her with her knees drawn up, cradling a bandaged arm.

“They don’t know what a slayer is. They think I’m some sort of demon. A ‘daywalker’ like Blade or something,” she snorted indelicately, sounding defeated. “They think their tests are wrong. They can’t make any sense of me. I’ve even been force-fed blood to see if I would reveal my ‘true face’.”

“What tests?” Spike’s suspicions rose. He may not trust the Slayer any more than Angelus on a bad day, but there was something about her tone and this place that made him believe her outlandish story. Besides, he would need someone strong to rely on if he wanted to have a chance in hell to get out of here. “What tests, Buffy?” he repeated when all he got in reply was a sniffle.

“Electroshocks, blood letting, pain tolerance, they broke my arm and fingers to check healing, they’ve cut me open,” Buffy’s voice sounded small and oddly child-like with a slight tremor in it. “There’s more, but, I-I just can’t…” she trailed off, obviously suppressing the memories of the trials.

Before Spike could reply, the door at the end of the hallway opened to let in a group of four soldiers carrying what appeared to be stun guns and crossbows. They appeared human, lumbering along the hallway toward him. One soldier, a bald African American man, slowed as they passed Buffy’s cell.

“How’s the arm, darlin’?” he sneered at her and Spike couldn’t help the warning growl rising in his throat and the flashing of his eyes. The Slayer was his. However, before he could give that anymore thought, the door to his cell slid open and he focused on the men in front of him. They were only four humans and being someone who wouldn’t let an opportunity like this pass, he lunged at the one closest to him. Before he had a chance to savor the sure kill, though, he felt an excruciating pain between his temples and the world went black.

Many torturous hours later during which he’d experienced Hell on Earth at the hands of a psychotic woman, Spike was dragged back to his cell. The last thing he noticed before slipping into the welcoming pit of unconsciousness was the empty cell next door. Buffy was gone.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Back at Scooby-central…

Nearly two weeks had gone by and there hadn’t been a single sign of Buffy. Not one indication that she was still alive even though every locator spell the Scoobies did showed the she hadn’t moved away from the university. Giles had finally told Joyce that Buffy had gone missing when the coven in England confirmed that she was detained by something or someone. Trapped in white lights but she was with a friend, whatever that meant.

Willow had spent the weeks constantly worrying over Buffy’s safety and location. She had scoured every inch of the university looking for any sign that Buffy was around anywhere. Every time she tried, she came up empty. But life hadn’t slowed down in Buffy’s absence. There had been the appearance of Veruka, another werewolf that apparently had no qualms accepting the beast within. Oz had promised her that he’d take care of the threat, and when it had come down to it, Veruka had been killed at Oz’s hands. Or jaws in any case. He had left her two days ago to find himself and he didn’t know when he would be back.

Willow was now more determined than ever to find her best friend. She was in desperate need of quality girl time, terrible movies about diabetes and lots and lots of chocolate ice cream. And she needed to find her. Two weeks without Buffy was something she didn’t want to repeat.

Willow sighed into the spell book she was reading. It held no more answers than the one before in terms of improving the locator spell. Maybe she could get some help from her new friend Tara in her Wicca group…

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Back at the Initiative…

He’d been awake for two hours in addition to however many he’d spent out cold on the floor, and Spike still hadn’t seen Buffy. He was starting to worry about her. Only because she would help him escape, not because he cared over what happened to her, of course…

Soldiers arrived at his cell again. This time they restrained him quickly and efficiently. He was sure he could get at least one of them down before the others could even so much as blink, but last time he tried it had resulted in hours of lost consciousness and one hell of a migraine. He had no idea what the army of wankers had done to him, but he intended to find out.

He was strapped down and muzzled Hannibal Lecter-style and taken into a large, empty room. It looked much like an operating theatre without any equipment. There was a row of windows high up against the ceiling and he could see a group of assembled people watching him intently.

He felt the restraints unlock and tore his limbs out of them before violently ripping away the muzzle. Spike paced the confines of the space, glaring up at the people observing him. He threw in the odd growl for good measure. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what sort of test they had devised for him now.

There was a click and Spike whipped his head in the direction of the sound. Another hidden door slid open to reveal a soldier violently pushing a battered slayer into the room. Buffy stumbled to stay upright, but fell helplessly onto the ground.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Buffy landed hard on the cool white tiles, identical to the ones in the room before, her whole body screaming in pain. She was exhausted. The commandos had just pitted her against a Kurlack demon after facing off against two vampires without a stake. She had never been a fan of the brutality of ripping a head from its body. Her arm was broken again and she had a new array of bruises and cuts for good measure. She was also pretty certain the constant burning on her leg was a result of the blue goo still soaking her pants after dispatching the Kurlack. It had to be a poisonous species of demon, didn’t it?

“Slayer,” Spike’s voice made her jump and automatically raise her arms defensively as she made her way back to her feet. An all out fight with one of her strongest opponents, just what she needed. “Relax, sweetheart. ‘M not gonna hurt ya,” he said softly, eyes scanning the room around them.

Spike looked over at Buffy. She looked like she’d been through hell and back. She was cradling what had to be her broken arm while limping and favoring her left leg. She had a mass of bruises running up her arms and deep gouges in her smooth skin. The sight of the battered young girl almost made him vamp out in anger. Not that she’d looked any better after fighting him, but it was the principle of the matter. The bandages around her wrists suggested that the tests done on the Slayer weren’t too different from his own and the thought made him shudder in disgust.

“Since you claim to be human, Ms. Summers, we’ve devised this little test here to see if your belief shows any validity,” a disembodied voice scratched above their heads. Buffy and Spike both glanced up at the faceless lab techs standing at the windows above them.

“We demand that you fight this vampire. Begin at will, Ms. Summers and you may get out of here.” There was no hint of promise in the voice and Buffy shot a desperate glance over at Spike who was growling softly. When he looked over at her, she shook her head, indicating that they wait the situation out.

At the Slayer’s head shake, Spike shrugged his shoulders and positioned himself next to her. He was all for not playing by the commandos’ rules and the Slayer looked ready to drop any minute. Rage at their situation simmered under the surface, causing his blue eyes to constantly flicker with gold, but he was in no mood to submit to their puppetry.

“Let’s just wait them out,” he heard Buffy’s faint whisper float across to him, not wanting to alert the researchers to their plan, he inclined his head only marginally. Minutes ticked by periodically interrupted by the static voice above trying to engage them in a fight. Spike had no clue as to how long they stayed in the arena patiently waiting for the lab techs to get bored. The constant drugging had disrupted his normal senses.

“I think they’re moving us,” Buffy’s voice again, this time the faintest trace of hope in it, and Spike dared a glance in her direction. She met his gaze and he saw for the first time how haunted she looked; her normally vivacious green eyes were now dull and flat, but there seemed to be a flicker of determination left in them. She wouldn’t go down without a fight, and neither would he.

“Alright,” the black soldier was back in the room, stun gun raised and ready. “You two won’t play nice now we’ll just have to wait you out,” he said before more of his commando friends piled into the room, restraining the two blonds. Spike growled at Buffy’s pained cry when one of the soldiers forced her broken arm behind her back. The two were forced back into the containment area, and to both their surprise, they were left in the same cell.

“I’ve always wondered how long it would take a vamp’s bloodlust to overcome the chip,” the black soldier sneered at the duo. “It seems we’ll finally get the chance to find out.” Another sadistic chuckle followed him as he locked the door and walked away, leaving the two super beings alone together.

As soon as the soldiers were out of sight, Buffy collapsed onto the floor, warily staring at Spike. She looked like she was weighing her options carefully, opening and closing her mouth a couple of times as if she wanted to say something. She cradled her broken arm in her lap and looked up at the vamp pacing the small cell.

“I know I’m probably not in a position to ask,” she started, looking up at him with pleading eyes as she leaned back against the wall. “But can we continue the truce until we find a way out of here?”

“Sure, Slayer,” Spike answered immediately, knowing that the best way of finding a way of getting out was with her help. He approached her slowly, kneeling down in front of her. “How’s your arm?”

Buffy glared suspiciously at him, but decided that a truce was a truce, and Spike always kept his word. Well, almost always anyway. “I think it’s broken again,” she mumbled, the pain and weariness after her fight settling in.

“Lemme have a look then, pet,” Spike carefully took the broken arm away from her, running cool fingers over her swollen skin. “I can reset it if you want, luv. But I don’ have much of a splint an’ it’ll hurt.”

Buffy looked down at where he was holding her arm, knowing it was better to reset the bone now before it healed crooked. Her natural accelerated slaying healing had slowed dramatically due to a lack of food and proper medical care.

“Help me out of my sweater,” she said, already struggling with it.

“My my, you move quick, pet. I know we’re trapped an’ all…” Spike smirked at her before tugging the thin fabric over her broken limb gently.

“You’re such a pig,” Buffy muttered, clenching her teeth against the pain. “Just use it to bind my arm.” Spike nodded, seeing the pain she was already in, he knew the resetting wasn’t something to look forward to. A deep breath by the Slayer and a vampire migraine later, Buffy’s arm was reset and Spike was bandaging the limb up with ripped strips from her favorite sweater.

“Bleedin’ commandos,” she heard Spike mutter as he continued checking the rest of her body for any injuries which needed urgent care. Why he was going out of his way to help her, she had no idea, but she wasn’t about to pass on it when her body felt like it was on fire from the various scrapes and incisions.

“What are you talking about?”

“Those tin soldier boys and their Jekyll crew ‘ave done somethin’ to me. Las’ time they tried to take me I fought back an’ it felt like a bloody bomb went off in my head. Now, with you,” Spike nodded to the bandaged arm, “I felt it again, jus’ not as strong.”

“Oh,” Buffy placed a small hand on the leather clad arm in front of her. She frowned and searched his eyes before continuing. She hesitated a moment before she spoke again. “I heard something about a behavior modification thing-a-mabob a little while ago. I wonder if that’s what they’ve done to you. Put a computer chip in your brain, I mean?”

“Behavior modification? Like Skinner’s stuff?” Spike asked and to his surprise Buffy nodded. Spike smiled at her, “Didn’t know you knew anythin’ bout the history of psychology, Slayer. But a computer chip sounds a bit Start Trek to me.”

Buffy glared at him mockingly, “I’m taking, well, I was taking, Psychology with Professor Walsh. But it turns out she’s the one in charge here. I knew there was something wrong with her when she droned on and on about Skinner and his oh-so-wonderful behavior studies. And I think a chip is perfectly plausible, they make tiny cell phones now…”

“Plausible? Slayer certainly has learned a new word or two,” Spike shook his head at Buffy. It was good to see some of her usual pep back in her tone. Enemies or not, it must be comforting for her to have someone she knew around. “But I’m not sure the existence of tiny phones proves it’s a computer chip.”

“Whatever, I think it’s a chip. It would shock your brain when you tried to hurt people, thus creating a positive punishment feedback, eventually training you to not do it anymore. Voila, your very own trained vamp,” Buffy said with a tone that dared him to argue with her.

Spike sighed heavily, not debating the Slayer further on her theory, which by the way sounded all too plausible. He was starting to get the unsettling feeling that there was something major going on with this organization and it didn’t look good for anyone involved. Aside from the potential futuristic computer chip imbedded in his brain, the wankers didn’t even know that Buffy was human, and a slayer at that. Seeing her so beaten and broken affected him on a base level, but he couldn’t understand why. He supposed it was something about seeing such a strong force brought so low by people who were too ignorant to understand the truth even if it slapped them on the face. Or perhaps it was William’s gentleman courtesy that seeped into his personality every once in a while. Whatever it was, he silently swore no more harm would come to her if he could do anything about it until they got out of this not-so-little shop of horrors.

“Spike?” Buffy’s soft voice broke into his thoughts. “I-I don’t know why they got you or what they’ve done to you. But I’m happy I’m not here alone anymore so I’m kinda happy they did.”

He cocked his head to the side, his earlier theory proving correct. “You enjoy bein’ in my company, Slayer?”

“No,” Buffy laughed softly, but winced when the movement strained her obviously broken ribs. “Call it temporary insanity due to being locked in a glass hamster cage with my arch nemesis.”

“Arch nemesis? ‘M flattered, pet.” Spike grinned at her, shrugging out of his duster before slipping off his red silk shirt. He sighed as he tore it into similar strips as he had with Buffy’s. “We need to bind those ribs, too.”

Buffy frowned at Spike, surprised again at his seeming care for her well-being. Spike motioned for her to lean forward so he could bind her ribs and she wordlessly complied, wincing as he pulled on the strips tightly. She had dismissed the pain from her ribs, but it was a relief to have the bindings tied securely around her midsection.

“Why are you helping me, Spike?” she asked softly, glancing down at his concentrated features as he was busy tying off the make-shift bandages. His too blue eyes shot up to meet hers with an unreadable expression in his eyes.

“Call it temporary insanity due to being locked in a soddin’ cage with my arch nemesis,” he replied with a devilish grin, using her earlier words.

Buffy smiled and shook her head. Spike was certainly unique. She felt the strain of the past few days of experiments and fighting trials wear on her and yawned widely.

“Come on, Slayer,” Spike moved away from where he was sitting in front of her. “You need some rest if we’re gonna find a way to get out of here. How bout you wrap yourself up all snug in my coat and get some shut eye. I’ll make sure none of these cardboard cut-outs bother you.” He held out the precious coat to the stunned slayer.

“You sure?” Buffy asked after a pause. She couldn’t deny how tired she was, and the thought of having some protection against the cool tiles was appealing.

“Yeah, luv,” Spike answered softly. “I’d offer my lap as a pillow, but I wouldn’t want ya to cut off my circulation.”

“You don’t have circulation to cut off, Spike,” Buffy smiled as she gratefully took the coat from him and bundled herself into it, shifting until she found a comfortable position next to the vampire on the cool tiles. She heard Spike chuckle and found herself feeling somewhat safe for the first time since her capture.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Professor and Commander of the Sunnydale Special Operations Unit Maggie Walsh looked over the assembled men with a grim sneer. She was not happy about the afternoon’s events. The young girl, Buffy Summers, had refused to cooperate, and much to everyone’s surprise so had Hostile 17. The two hostiles seemed to have some sort of pre-established relationship, but what it was based on she couldn’t begin to imagine. The security cameras in the containment cells had shown Hostile 17 actively tending to the young woman’s wounds. The relationship, however, would certainly go a long way in convincing the troops who still thought she was just a girl that she wasn’t, and shouldn’t to be treated as such.

“Agent Finn,” Maggie’s sharp voice startled some of her commanders. “Why do you suppose Hostiles 17 and 13 refused to cooperate today?”

“I-I’m not sure, m’am,” Riley Finn answered. “It appears that Ms. Summers has had some contact with Hostile 17 at some earlier point.” At Walsh’s sharp look, he quickly corrected Buffy’s moniker to Hostile 13.

“They may have had some form of business transaction, ma’m,” Forrest Gates added. “Or perhaps they work together on a regular basis. That would lend credit to our ‘daywalker’ scenario. She may be allied with other hostiles.”

“I’m not certain she is that involved, Gates,” Walsh smiled cruelly. “But perhaps it’s a start. We should look into her records and see if she has been violent or a disturbance in her earlier school days. She can’t have lain low too long. Agent Gates and Agent Miller, start looking into that now.”

The men in question, Forrest and Graham nodded curtly to their commander and left to complete their new assignment. Riley Finn looked over at Maggie, hoping that he would not be asked to extract Buffy for testing again. As much as he wanted to blindly believe what Professor Walsh and the Initiative were telling him, he was having doubts about Buffy Summers. She didn’t react at all similar to the other vampires during testing and she seemed like such a sweet girl.

“Don’t even think about it, Riley,” Walsh said softly, noticing where her favorite agent’s thoughts were obviously leading. “She’s not like us. You will treat her as you do any of the other animals in here. Refer only to her as Hostile 13. And as of this moment, you will be relieved of your guard duties in regards to her.” Maggie smiled down at the young man. She knew he had some attraction to the blonde girl, but she couldn’t nurture any deviance from him.

“I understand,” Riley said softly, standing to leave. “Do you think Hostile 17 will try anything?”

“We can only hope,” Walsh said with a cold smile. She was hoping that the implanted chip in Hostile 17’s head would finally yield some productive results. He was the only vampire subject to survive implantation so far and Maggie desperately wanted the data they could obtain from him. Who knew where it might lead them next.

TBC…

One Week Later….

Spike’s stomach made a horrible growling noise, waking Buffy who was sleeping restlessly beside him. Rubbing her eyes, she flexed her wrist carefully as she had every morning since she’d been put in the cell with the vampire. Today was the first day there was only a slight twinge of pain which caused her to smile. It was almost time.

The soldiers had been feeding her once daily while completely ignoring Spike. Sure, it hadn’t been great, but it had kept her strength up enough to start healing and gather her senses. The platinum blond had been her personal poison control, making sure the food wasn’t drugged. The gashes in her abdomen and wrists were still there though and infection hadn’t become an issue, yet. But without some proper medical care or food, the wounds were taking a long time to close properly and would most certainly scar.

She hadn’t let Spike know about the extent of her injuries not willing to admit that she was much weaker than normal. In the week that she had been locked up with the blond vampire they had been busy going through every possible alternatives to find a way out of the hell hole they found themselves in, but constantly came up short. Yesterday however there had finally been a breakthrough.

They had been able to gather some evidence towards Buffy’s computer chip theory as the week progressed. Forrest, the black soldier who loved torturing Buffy, was easy to provoke and had let it slip one day when he taunted Spike about being hungry.

“How does it feel to know you can’t eat what you want anymore, vampire?” Forrest sneered through the glass at Spike. “Once we know that thing in your head works as it should, it’ll be my pleasure to stake you myself.”

Forrest may have enjoyed taunting the vampire, but the information he’d let slip was priceless to the two super beings. Buffy had wanted to test the chip trying to coerce Spike into hitting her, but without a way of knowing when he would get any blood to repair any potential damage, he had refused.

While Buffy had been sleeping, Spike had overheard a conversation between the head commanding officer, Maggie Walsh, and another lab assistant. Apparently they hadn’t been prepared for dealing with Spike’s refusal to attack Buffy after being starved for a few days and were preparing to put them back into the gladiator-style fighting ring with threats of imminent death and torture to get the two blonds to comply. During their careful observations of the comings and goings, Buffy and Spike had established that there were a couple of corridors which would lead out. All they had to do was catch their captors off guard.

“Slayer?” Spike rolled towards her, voice scratchy from sleep and exhaustion. Buffy had been surprised by his incredible restraint during their captivity. Not once had he more than looked longingly at her neck, more out of respect for their awkward truce than fear of setting the chip off. She was starting to understand how he had survived to become the Master Vampire that he was. He certainly was a lot more patient than she had given him credit for initially.

“Yeah?” she inquired softly.

“Hand me that glass of water would you?” He was paler than she had ever seen him, his face sunken, obviously starving.

“Sure,” she said softly, reaching beside her for the glass and offering it to him. He drank greedily of the useless liquid that didn’t quench his true thirst.

“Thanks,” he said as he lay back down and closed his eyes. He was far from the powerful foe she remembered.

“I think they’re going to do it tomorrow night,” Buffy whispered, lying back down beside the vampire, speaking as quietly as she could, knowing he could hear her.

“Mmmm,” he murmured as a response. “I’m not sure if I’ll be of much help, pet. I’m weak as piss without any blood,” he admitted carefully, still wary of her in the same way that she was of him.

“I know,” she said, placing a small hand on his cheek, prompting him to open his dull blue eyes, all of the previous mischievous sparkle gone. “I think I have a plan.”

“Really?” Spike perked up a little, desperately clinging to what little optimism he had left.

“I can trust you, right?” Buffy started, not certain if it was a smart thing to do, but she was out of options. Seeing Spike nod weakly she continued, holding his gaze. “How much of my blood would you need to get out of here?”

“’S not possible, Slayer, you know I can’t bite you,” Spike grumbled, hope fading again within him.

“Just answer the question,” she whispered urgently. “How much?”

“A few mouthfuls at least,” Spike answered truthfully. “But the chip…”

“I know,” she hissed. “But if I cut my wrist open, you won’t be hurting me and you’ll have to stop before you take too much, or else the chip will kick in, won’t it?”

Spike’s eyes widened at her suggestion. “Maybe, pet. But I’m not sure I’m followin’ you. You want me to feed from you? I’m starvin’ here, pet, if the chip doesn’t kick in, I don’t know if I can stop.”

“If you want to get out of here, you will,” Buffy replied with a steely gaze. “Look, I know it’s stupid, reckless even, but what choice do we have? I’m not strong enough to carry you and I need you to get us both out of here. It’s the only way.”

“’S a bloody stupid idea, Buffy,” Spike grumbled, not quite willing to go along with the Slayer’s plan.

“Or brilliant. Think about it,” she whispered fiercely. “You take enough to get strong enough to get out, maybe fight a bit, then get me to Giles’ place and we’ll go from there. We have to do it tonight, Spike. There’s no more time.” Buffy was desperate now, she didn’t think there’d be a better opportunity to escape. Every great leader knew there would be sacrifices in lieu of victory.

Spike sighed and looked at her critically. He had to admit, they were out of viable options at this point. And with Slayer blood in him, he’d have an extra boost of strength if only for a little while. But even if they did get out, how was he to know that once, or if, they got to the Watcher’s place, the bloody Scoobies wouldn’t stake him on the spot.

“They won’t. I’ll be with you. I’m not turning my back on you now, Spike,” she whispered gently, as if reading his thoughts. They’d had a lot of time to just sit around and talk with each other over the past week and had come to grudgingly like each other in that time. Neither of them was well equipped to deal with boredom and add in a common enemy and the two got along quite well. He’d just have to trust her to uphold her end of the bargain once all of this was over.

“Alright, Buffy,” Spike replied, extending her the courtesy of using her given name. “Let me know how you plan to pull this off.”

Buffy’s face lit up with a breathtaking smile as she delved into the finer details of her plan as she related it to Spike. They would wait until nightfall and cuddle up in the corner of the room to hide their activities from the watchful commandos as Buffy fed Spike enough of her super-powered blood to get him up to snuff. Then, as they were set to be collected for the evening’s battle, they would lash out and run like hell. It was just crazy enough to work. The commandos wouldn’t expect Spike to be strong enough to put up a fight and Buffy had given little indication of what she was truly capable of. Powered up with slayer blood and adrenaline, he may be able to withstand the painful bursts from the chip for a few punches at least. Spike almost pitied the poor bastards for getting to deal with a brassed off slayer in all her might. As it was, he was evil and would savor every blow dealt by the slayer.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Later that night….

It was closing in on morning; Spike could sense it, even after all this time under fluorescent lights. Buffy was sleeping next to him, her face angelic in repose. Spike still couldn’t believe that she was willing to sacrifice so much for this plan, but he supposed that she was desperate. Trusting him to do the right thing was the only option she had left in the situation. It was certainly one of the last chances they would get to escape, and he didn’t want to spend another day down in this modern dungeon. He loathed waking her; she looked so peaceful sleeping trustingly beside him. He almost laughed out loud thinking of the expression on the Watcher’s face if he were able to see his slayer now, sleeping in the arms of the enemy.

“Buffy,” he reached over and shook her gently. The tin soldier outside was due for his quarter-hour pass in a couple of minutes and she needed to be awake for that.

“Sleepy,” Buffy mumbled, moving closer to him, snuggling into his side. Her warm body sent electrical tingles throughout his.

“Buffy,” Spike tried again, a little more forcefully.

“Five more minutes,” she mumbled, burying her head into his shoulder and slipping her arm around his waist. Spike had to take a deep calming breath as his exhausted body started to respond to the slayer’s unconscious affection. He didn’t want to think about how his chest felt a little tighter when he felt her sigh softly.

“Slayer,” he hissed. “Time to wake up, pet.”

“Spike?” Buffy mumbled, quickly realizing how intimately she was positioned. She looked up at his amused face, blushing slightly before pulling away.

“It’s time,” Spike said, listening intently for the sound of footsteps coming down the hallway, pausing in front of each of the containment cells. Buffy nodded, lying back down next to the vampire and joining him in feigned sleep.

The sounds of a soldier’s footsteps echoed in the hall and Buffy tried to slow her accelerated heart rate. Though she was anxious about the activity outside of the cell, it was what was about to happen in it that caused her the most distress. She was about to let Spike, Slayer of Slayers, have a taste of her. Something she had never imagined would happen. She had looked through all the possible options, but it all came down to needing Spike at his best. And if it took this sacrifice on her part to save them, then she would do so willingly. Besides, she’d done it before. Granted, that was to save Angel’s life, but this was to save her own.

As the footsteps retreated, Buffy pulled out the plastic fork she had saved from her last meal. She grimaced, knowing that what she was about to do was going to be not only painful, but also difficult and frankly disgusting. She felt Spike tense beside her and she could tell he was as nervous as she was about the next part of the plan. She didn’t know why, but she knew she could trust him. At least she hoped she could.

With a deep breath, she brought the fork down sharply into her uninjured wrist. She hissed in pain as the plastic tines broke her skin, and looked up to find Spike watching her intently. When the scent of her blood filled the air, his face shifted.

“Sorry, pet, too hungry to control it now,” Spike whispered as way of apology.

Buffy only nodded before twisting the fork slightly to open the small wounds more. Her blood flowed slowly from her wrist and she looked down to watch the dark drops slide slowly down her wrist.

“Don’t make me regret this, Spike. Please,” she whispered softly, raising her sparkling green eyes to meet his amber gaze.

“I promise I won’t, Buffy,” Spike murmured reverently, astonished that Buffy was actually going through with it. She searched his eyes with a small frown on her face before lifting her bleeding wrist to his lips.

He took hold of her small hand in his while holding her gaze. He lowered his mouth to her wrist, his mouth watering at the delicacy that awaited him. Fastening his lips around the small holes, he began to slowly suck the precious blood. Spike couldn’t help that his eyes rolled back in his head at the first taste of her blood. It was rich and full of power; a low growl broke from his chest as he swallowed the first mouthful of her coppery fluid.

Buffy had been bitten before. First by the Master, then Angel, and now Spike. All three were terrifying experiences, but each perfectly distinct and unlike each other. The Master’s bite was vicious and painful while Angel’s was driven by pure need. But Spike’s bite, though not much of a bite at all, was dripping in sensuality. Every nerve in her body was on fire as she felt him pull mouthfuls of her blood from her body. The slow heat that started burning at his first tentative licks built into a full blown inferno, spreading its tendrils throughout her body. She closed her eyes in pleasure as Spike fed from her, a wonderful pressure building within her and finally reaching a soft crescendo that left her breathless.

Spike monitored Buffy’s heartbeat as he slowly suckled at her wrist. After the first few mouthfuls he was only sipping, wanting to draw out the experience for as long as he could without hurting her or zapping too much of her strength. When her heart rate suddenly exploded in his ears he knew he’d thanked her as well as he could for her gift.

When Buffy opened her eyes to look down at Spike, she was surprised to be met by his familiar cerulean gaze. He had obviously stopped drinking and was lapping softly at her wrist, cleaning up the wound as best he could, not letting a single drop go to waste. The look in his eyes caused Buffy’s chest to constrict. Spike looked in awe of her, as if she was completely precious in that moment. She had no idea what to think of it all, but she knew she wouldn’t look at him quite the same way again.

“Thank you, pet,” Spike said gruffly before placing a soft kiss over the closed wounds on Buffy’s wrist.

“That was… wow,” Buffy said softly, still lightheaded from the experience. Spike chuckled, his chest vibrating against hers, only then realizing that she had moved flush against him. When she stiffened slightly, Spike laid an arm around her waist, silently asking her to stay close. Smiling up at him, she obliged.

“Yeah, pet, it was,” Spike looked down at Buffy affectionately. Something had changed between them. He didn’t know what that meant, but he’d worry about it after they found a way out. “Rest now, sweetheart. You’ll need to be in top shape for tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Buffy whispered before settling more comfortably against Spike. She had felt the shift between them as well, but the blood loss dulled the potential panic that would normally arise at that notion. For now she would sleep, they would need all their wits about them to ensure that the plan would work tomorrow.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Ready, Slayer?” Spike whispered when they heard footsteps and muted voices coming down the hall. Spike and Buffy were lying close together on the floor fully alert and ready for the fight of their lives, or unlife in Spike’s case.

Buffy glanced over at Spike quickly to see him grinning back at her. Leave it to Spike to anticipate a fight he couldn’t even fully take part in. He was already looking much stronger, with some color back in his cheeks, however much a vamp could have to begin with. His eyes had gotten the mischievous sparkle back and his anticipation would have been infectious, if only she wasn’t so nervous.

The two blondes quickly appeared catatonic when the soldiers’ steps came closer. The voices died down to a quiet murmur, but Spike could clearly hear what they were saying. They wanted to isolate Buffy first, thinking she was the stronger of the two. Their fatal mistake was that they assumed she was weakened due to the sparse food they had allotted her. Spike knew Buffy wasn’t in top form, but her obvious rage at their captors would more than make up for her lacking strength.

“Wake up!” Maggie Walsh’s sharp voice pierced the hushed cell. “You will come willingly or we will take you by force. It’s your choice. However, I strongly suggest the former.”

Buffy made a show of being in pain, getting up slowly off the ground. She looked defiantly at Walsh before glancing at Spike who was also making a show of getting up. He was leaning heavily against the wall, apparently too weak to stand.

“Move,” Walsh directed both soldiers and prisoners alike. Buffy sent Spike a look and preceded him out of the cell. As soon as Spike had passed out of the cell, Buffy attacked. Maggie Walsh had not anticipated just how strong a slayer was. As Buffy launched an attack against the five soldiers that had been brought along to escort them to the fighting ring, Spike swiped an access card from a lab tech who was too shocked by the surprise attack to defend himself. Card in hand, Spike checked back on Buffy who had already disarmed three of the soldiers and incapacitated two of them.

“Slayer!” he called, moving toward the door, punching another soldier in the face, and clutching his head as the shock moved through his brain. “Let’s go, princess!”

Buffy quickly dealt with the remaining soldiers, Maggie Walsh having disappeared behind another door as soon as the attack had begun. She ran towards him, and Spike slid the card through the reader to open the back door, pushing all the buttons in desperation. The doors of the remaining containment cells suddenly slid open, angry, desperate demons launching themselves at the panicked soldiers.

The steel door slid shut behind Buffy before she could think about leaving their human captors at the hands of some of the more ferocious of the captured demons. Spike led the way through the maze like corridors, following his senses which were indicating the surface was near. He could hear a group of soldiers frantically chasing them and searched for a way out of the monitored corridors. It wouldn’t take them long to catch up.

“There! A vent, Slayer. I’ll give you a boost,” Spike called over his shoulder to Buffy who was desperately trying to keep up. He stopped directly under the vent and quickly lifted Buffy up to it as soon as she reached him.

A group of soldiers came barreling around the corner, hot on their heels. One stopped and took aim, firing a wooden cross-bow dart which landed with a dull thud in Spike’s midsection, puncturing a lung, but thankfully missing his heart. Buffy looked over at him, panicked, but Spike merely growled and boosted her into the vent above. Buffy pushed through the opening and crawled out of the way to let Spike jump and pull himself into it as well. Soon they were crawling through what appeared to be an air duct as quickly as they could.

Buffy could feel her various incisions and injuries that had yet to heal properly pull and rip open. She was exhausted and more than a little dizzy but pushed through the pain. After what seemed like an eternity, they finally found the exit of the air vent.

Spike placed a finger over his lips and shot Buffy a look, indicating that he was listening for any activity outside. He nodded to Buffy, indicating that it was quiet, but she pointed toward his chest where the cross-bow bolt was lodged. He looked down at it, knowing he should pull it all out, but they didn’t have time. Buffy took the decision out of his hands by snapping off a portion of the shaft, leaving the rest to poke through his back. They simply didn’t have time for more right now. When he seemed confident the coast was clear, he preceded her out.

“Where are we?” Spike asked, not familiar with his surroundings.

“At the university,” Buffy answered, taking in the familiar buildings. “We have to head east to get to Giles’.”

“Right,” Spike said, reaching for Buffy to pull her with him. “The faster we get out of here the better.”

“Yeah,” Buffy said with a pained note to her voice. She followed Spike’s lead, quietly and quickly making their way through the streets of Sunnydale.

The duo kept themselves hidden in the woods surrounding the campus for as much as possible. The route through the woods was physically harder than running through the streets, but it offered more protection, something they desperately needed. Ten minutes away from Giles’ apartment, Buffy stumbled, a sharp pain shooting through her side.

“Buffy?” Spike whirled around to check on her. Seeing her slumped over on the ground in obvious pain, he rushed to her side. He took in her ashen face and took a deep breath, the scent of slayer blood heavy in the air. She was hurt, and badly.

“Can you walk, pet?” Spike asked, pulling her to her feet. When Buffy groaned in answer, he leaned down and scooped her up into his arms, leaving her to direct him to her Watcher’s house. Their frantic pace was forced to slow as Spike carried the Slayer through the quiet streets. Buffy was weakening quickly, the last weeks finally taking their toll. From their conversations while locked away, Buffy had been imprisoned for about three weeks, though she was unsure seeing as she was unconscious for a large portions of time. He couldn’t imagine what would happen when they reached the Watcher’s house.

Fifteen minutes and two close calls later, Spike arrived at the small apartment complex carrying the nearly unconscious slayer. He could detect multiple heart beats inside and assumed the Scoobies were gathered. Hopefully they wouldn’t stake him as soon as they saw him with his precious burden. When Buffy moaned, Spike shook himself and knocked loudly on the door.

“We’re here, pet,” Spike said to Buffy as she moaned again and curled into his body somewhere in between consciousness. “Jus’ hold on a few more minutes, luv.”

“Spike?” Giles’ voice caused the vampire to look up sharply. The other man’s face paled as he recognized the young woman in his arms. “B-Buffy?” he gasped, too shocked to do more than stare at the odd duo.

“Spike?” Buffy’s voice came weakly from Spike’s shoulder. “Are we there yet?” He registered the heat coming off her body and realized that she must be feverish. The rush of adrenaline had worn off, leaving her body more broken than before.

“C’mon Watcher, are you just going to stand there, or invite us in?” Spike growled, concern for Buffy hardening his glare.

“I-I…” Giles’ started, but his own voice hardened and took on a deadly tone. “What have you done? If you’ve turned her, I swear to God you’ll wish she’d killed you…”

“I didn’t hurt a single one of her shampoo commercial hairs, Watcher,” Spike said, throwing a nervous glance over his shoulder. “But you need to invite us inside now. We’re bein’ followed.”

“You expect me to believe that?” Giles sneered. “And followed by whom?”

“Giles,” Buffy’s voice halted the Watcher before he could say anything further. She looked up at him with tired eyes. “He’s telling the truth. We need to go inside, now.”

“I’ll even set ‘er down an’ you can take her inside without invitin’ me in,” Spike grumbled, wanting to give her caretaker every ounce of proof he could offer. He gently set the girl down on her feet, but she only sagged against him. Reaching desperately for Giles, the older man quickly went to retrieve her. As soon as she was safely through the doorway, invitation-free, Buffy turned pleading eyes on her Watcher.

“Come in, Spike,” Giles uttered contemptuously, and Spike was quick to obey, entering the home and closing the door quickly behind him. Buffy was still slumped against her Watcher, face ashen with the effort the escape cost her. Spike made a move to approach her, but was immediately stopped by Giles.

“Don’t touch her,” Giles growled. “We haven’t seen her in three weeks and suddenly you turn up with my injured Slayer, practically begging me to let you in. You better have a good explanation, vampire.” Before Spike had a chance to reply there was a muffled cry from the entrance to the living room.

“B-Buffy?” Willow choked out when she saw her friend. She rushed over to her side immediately, hands nervously wringing when she saw the state Buffy was in. Her clothes were torn and tattered, her hair dull, and she looked impossibly thinner than last she’d seen her. Makeshift bandages littered her arms and when she finally raised her eyes to look at her friend, the usually sparkling hazel orbs were dull.

“What happened? Where were you? You’ve been gone for almost a month…” Willow started babbling which caused the other members of the Scooby gang present to filter into the small hallway. Xander looked as shocked as Giles had initially and Anya smiled brightly. None of the Scoobies had even noticed Spike’s presence yet, but as soon as Buffy moaned in pain, he used his vampiric speed to get to her side before anyone could object.

“Spike!” Xander yelped, noticing him for the first time, while pushing his girlfriend behind him. “Spike’s here!”

“Very observant, Whelp,” Spike ground out, lifting Buffy’s small frame into his arms and shooting Giles’ a quelling glare, before moving through the assembled group and into the living room so he could lay the Slayer down on the sofa. Before he could, he took note of the woman standing staring at him as if he were the Messiah himself.

“Spike?” Joyce Summers said carefully, gasping when she saw who he was carrying. “Buffy?”

“She’s alive, Mrs. Summers,” Spike quickly informed her. “But we’ve got to have a look at her injuries; she’s still bleedin’ badly from somewhere. She didn’t tell me how hurt she was before we escaped.”

“Escaped?” Joyce said, moving ever so slightly to allow Spike to settle Buffy on the sofa before kneeling down next to her daughter. “Where was she?”

“We were in some sort of government lab,” Spike muttered as he looked around for something sharp to cut off the red bandages that were once his shirt. “Can you ask the Watcher for his first aid kit? Buffy’s strong, but she needs seein’ to.” Spike’s worried blue eyes caught Joyce’s; he hoped she may still like him enough to stave off some of the coming storm for him.

“What is going on here, Giles?” Xander’s irritated voice cut in. “What are we doing allowing bleach boy here inside? And why is he even near Buffy and not dust yet?” Xander’s eyes flashed dangerously when Spike looked up to see where the protestations were coming from. Spike had to bite his tongue, literally, to keep from telling the boy exactly where he should go.

“Rupert, Buffy needs help,” Joyce looked sharply at the older man, who clearly was still in shock. “We need bandages, and anything else you have here.” When no one made a move, Joyce added more forcefully, “Now!”

“She probably needs somethin’ to eat too, Mrs. Summers,” Spike said as he began to unravel the bandage on her left forearm where the lab techs had cut her open from wrist to elbow to have a look at her bones. He couldn’t help the growl vibrating in his chest when he saw the angry red edges, indicating the reason for her fever and slipping into unconsciousness.

“I’ve told you to call me Joyce, Spike,” the older woman shot him a small smile, worry etched into her features as she took in the wound on her daughter’s arm.

“It’ll probably get worse, Joyce. What they did to her isn’t pretty,” Spike warned gently, holding Joyce’s worried gaze. He could see a flash of panic cross her features, and she opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by Giles’ gasp.

“Who the HELL did this to her?” Giles roared, causing everyone save Spike to jump. He fixed Spike with an angry glare, daring him to try to tell him anything but the truth.

“I’m not sure,” Spike sighed, tired to the core after the adrenaline of the fight but still very wary of his safety in the lion’s den. “All I know is we were in some sort of military laboratory. Soldiers and doctors playin’ Doctor Frankenstein and cutting up demons. They didn’t believe Buffy when she told ‘em she was human. Tried pittin’ her against all sorts of demons, then they pitted ‘er against me.”

Giles stared intensely at him throughout the story. “And you’re saying you had nothing at all to do with her current injuries?”

“No, I didn’t. I couldn’t after I saw the sorry state the Slayer was in, and bein’ pitted against each other all gladiator-style didn’t appeal to either of us, so we decided we’d be better off tryin’ to find a way out of there together. We’d worked together before so it was jus’ a continuation of the truce really,” Spike quickly told the Watcher the rest of the story of their escape, including that they’d starved him to see if he’d give in and attack her, but withholding Buffy sharing her blood with him, knowing that would be a literal stake to the heart.

Joyce and Willow were busily patching up the exposed parts of Buffy, while Anya had gone off grudgingly into the kitchen to fetch something to eat for Buffy if she woke any time soon.

“S-So, it’s the same guys that we’ve been trying to find,” Willow broke the silence after Spike had finished his story. “The commandos? They’re doing Auschwitz-type experiments on demons?”

Spike looked over at the pretty redhead. Smart as a whip she was, and not one to deny information from the source. At least one thing seemed to be working in his favor: they had encountered the organization already.

“Yeah, Red, seems so,” Spike said, wearily seating himself in one of the recliners, he roared when the forgotten cross-bow bolt pushed further through his chest. Willow looked up quickly, and seeing the bloody wound she immediately went to his side, apparently forgetting the incident from the previous year.

“Spike, why didn’t you say anything?” Willow mumbled quietly, wary of touching him considering their history. When Spike paled, obviously in more pain than he let on, Willow steeled herself and set to direct the others.

“Xander, you and Anya go to the butcher’s and pick up some pig’s blood, and on the way stop in at the pharmacy and pick up more bandages. Giles, can you grab me some more towels in the meantime? Oh, and some brandy o-or scotch or something to help with the pain. I’ll call Tara and see if she’ll stop by the Magic Box and pick up a few ingredients for a simple healing spell.”

When she was met with a sea of dumbfounded faces, she quickly molded her features into her best ‘resolve-face’ which sent the ordered people scurrying to do what she asked. Joyce smiled over at her from where she was still attending to Buffy’s wellbeing, indicating that she agreed with Willow’s orders. Willow turned back to Spike and was amazed by his awe-struck look; he clearly hadn’t expected any kindness. She smiled reassuringly up at the powerful vampire, hoping she had made the right decision. Seeing his steely blue eyes soften, Willow knew that if Buffy trusted him, she could too.

“Alright, Spike,” Willow started softly. “This will hurt, but we have to get the arrow out.”

“S’okay, Red,” Spike mumbled, shrugging out of his long leather duster as Giles made his way back into the living room. The Watcher looked at him suspiciously, but seemed to acquiesce to the situation for the moment.

Giles wasn’t happy about having the vampire in his home, but they had Buffy back and alive, and that was all that really mattered. There seemed to be a common enemy now, one more dangerous than even Spike had been the previous years.

The time before Xander and Anya returned was spent aiding the two blonds as best as could be. Willow called her Wiccan friend who took note of what Willow needed and promised that she would be at Giles’ house as soon as she could. Joyce had procured a bathrobe from Giles and with Willow’s assistance, and the discretion of the two Brits in the room, the women had managed to get the tattered clothing off of the Slayer and the soft bathrobe onto her unconscious form. Giles had given Spike some of his secret stash of scotch before he extracted what was left of the crossbow bolt from his torso with the help of Willow. Xander and Anya came back just in time for Willow to dress the vampire’s wounds with fresh gauze.

Just as Willow was taping the last of the bandages down, there was a timid knock on the door. Anya answered it without fuss, and in walked a pretty blonde girl, who shyly smiled at the assembled group. Willow looked up from her work and smiled brilliantly.

“Tara,” Willow approached the woman, leaving Spike to settle back against the pillows. “Did you get everything?”

“Y-yes, t-they had e-e-everything,” Tara stammered, blushing. Spike watched her from his seat, noting the calming aura which seemed to surround her. When the witch looked up and caught his gaze he was impressed to see her smile softly at him.

“Tara,” Willow began, leading her toward the sofa where Buffy still lay unconscious. “This is Buffy, but she, uh, can’t really talk right now, but, well, there she is. And this is Spike. He’s um, well he brought Buffy here,” Willow pointed toward the vampire and busied herself setting up her supplies.

“’S a pleasure, pet,” Spike acknowledged, causing the witch’s cheeks to redden again, but she didn’t look away.

“H-hi,” Tara stammered. “Did you want me to start on the salve, and you can put the spell together?” Tara asked Willow, who nodded in response.

While the witches set about getting the healing implements in order, Giles checked on his slayer. Joyce quickly took command of the kitchen preparing hot chocolate and tea for all gathered, seeming familiar with the routine. She also prepared a mug of blood for Spike, who downed it in long gulps, accepting a second and third without stopping. It felt wonderful to be full for the first time in weeks. Spike watched the group carefully, as he sipped on his third mug of blood.

“Is h-he a v-vampire?” Tara had asked Willow softly when she saw Joyce bring him a third mug of blood. Spike flashed her a toothy grin while Willow assured her that he wouldn’t bite. Spike wasn’t sure Red believed that, but she was willing to say it to reassure the young witch.

The whelp’s girl, Anya, seemed bored by the happenings around her and didn’t seem bothered by his presence at all. The boy kept a protective arm around her while shooting suspicious glances at Spike at regular intervals. He had also made sure to keep a stake in plain sight at all times. Rupert and Joyce occupied themselves by checking on Buffy while Red and her friend worked the mojo. Spike mulled a little over the presence of the second witch, remembering the wolf from a year ago when he had kidnapped Buffy’s friends. Maybe she had moved on to greener pastures.

“Okay,” Willow said, drawing attention to her activities. “The spell is ready to go, and Tara’s finished with the salve for her deeper cuts. I’m not sure if she’ll wake up right away, but it shouldn’t take long.” She drifted off before starting a short incantation. There was a shimmering golden light which entered Buffy’s body, infusing her limbs in healing light. Everyone seemed to hold their breath as Buffy moaned softly, stirring under the comforter she was wrapped in.

“Buffy, honey?” Joyce said softly, holding her daughter’s hand.

“Mom?” Buffy mumbled, squinting up at her.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Joyce smiled down at her before turning a watery smile on Giles. “You’re home safe. Well, at Mr. Giles’ house, but safe.”

“Is Spike here?” the Slayer asked, much to everyone’s surprise.

“Yes, he is honey,” Joyce replied quickly. “Willow patched him up and he’s resting here, too.” She said, moving slightly so Buffy could see him perched in the chair. Buffy looked over at Spike with a soft expression he couldn’t read.

“Thank you, Spike,” Buffy said softly, smiling genuinely at him before turning her focus to her watcher. “Did he fill you in on where we’ve been?”

“Yes, Buffy, indeed he has,” Giles’ said, smiling down at her in relief. “Some sort of military experimental laboratory?”

“Yeah,” Buffy sighed, looking around the room and seeing the assembled group. “Wills! Xan!” She smiled widely at her best friends.

“Oh, Buffy! We’re so happy you’re okay… and that you’re here,” Willow said, tears shining in her eyes as she leaned down next to her friend to pull her into a gentle hug.

“Yeah, Buffster, we were starting to think we’d never see you again,” Xander quipped before also leaning in for a quick hug, careful not to embrace his friend for too long for fear of Anya’s jealousy.

“Hi, Buffy. We’re happy you’re not dead. Now hopefully Xander will give me lots of satisfying orgasms tonight instead of worrying over you,” Anya quipped in her usual way, looking over Xander’s shoulder.

Buffy hadn’t known that Xander had started a relationship with the former demon, but it appeared they had gotten closer during her time away. Buffy looked around the room again, noticing for the first time the new girl sitting close to Willow. She smiled over at the new girl, who returned her smile shyly.

“Buffy, this is my friend Tara,” Willow said with a beaming smile at the girl. Spike quirked a scarred brow, unnoticed by anyone else, as he saw more than friendly vibes floating between the young witches. But he kept quiet, knowing Buffy didn’t need any more shocks tonight.

Joyce and Giles moved away from the younger trio, letting the best friends talk quietly amongst themselves, assuring each other of their wellbeing. Buffy looked tired, but managed to eat the food prepared for her and indulge in a mug of her mother’s famous hot chocolate.

It was decided that the group should get some rest, splitting up until the following morning for some much needed rest. Joyce offered the Summers’ home to Spike and designated it meeting central the following day. Giles immediately questioned her invitation to Spike, but Joyce stood firm, insisting that he had brought Buffy home and deserved a safe place to stay as long as he needed. Giles insisted, as Joyce knew he would, that he should come along to keep Spike in line. The small group packed the injured parties into the back of Joyce’s Jeep, leaving Giles to sit in the front seat, leaving his car at home to not draw suspicion in case there had been any form of surveillance on Buffy’s friends.

The next morning…

Buffy sighed as she felt consciousness pulling at her. She felt disoriented, immediately wondering why she was warm and in a soft bed when she was used to waking up on a cold tile floor next to a sleeping vampire. When she opened her eyes and saw the familiar surroundings, she smiled widely and clutched Mr. Gordo to her chest. She took some time to luxuriate in her warm comforter and the sounds and smells of home before getting up.

Buffy reflected on the events of the previous evening. She had been unconscious or just about for most of it, but it seemed that Spike had informed everyone about what had happened. Beyond impressed at the vampire’s agreeableness, Buffy hoped that the fragile trust that had blossomed between them would hold. Spike would need more help from her in the future to deal with the burden of the chip.

Not that Buffy was too disappointed by the turn of events; the chip would go a long way in convincing the gang to trust him, but she couldn’t help the sympathy tugging in her gut that he’d been brought down by something that small. As a vampire he was a formidable opponent, both cunning and strong, and they had yet to test the restrictions of the chip beyond the events in the lab.

Though she had been preoccupied with their escape at the time, it seemed that Spike had still suffered strong electric shocks when he hit the soldiers. He had recovered from them faster than usual, but that could have been due to necessity to complete the escape or even her own potent blood healing him faster than normal. The bleached vamp had always insinuated how powerful Slayer blood was to a vampire, beyond the aphrodisiac effect Spike always emphasized during their fights.

Buffy yawned and stretched carefully, wary of the various wounds that had opened up during the great escape. She made her way quietly to the bathroom, turned the shower to hot and luxuriated under the soothing water. Just being able to have a proper shower was pure bliss, even with the stinging pain of the water as it sluiced over her wounds.

Stepping out of the shower, Buffy dried off and made her way to her bedroom. She opened her closet door to reveal her floor length mirror and looked at her reflection properly for the first time in weeks. Her hair was darker; the expertly dyed honey blonde highlights looking less than natural against her natural shade. Though it was still wet, small beads of water dripping from split ends, Buffy knew her hair was a mess.

Her face looked thinner than normal, her skin pale from lack of sun after spending weeks underground. The sparkling green eyes she was so used to seeing looking back at her were sunken into her face and had lost that innocent shine they’d had before. Buffy was startled to realize she looked older, not physically per se, but in the same way that the children you see on television in the news from war stricken countries did. They had that haunted look in their eyes that said they had seen too much to remain blissfully ignorant of the world. Taking a calming breath, Buffy let her towel drop to the floor, leaving herself naked and exposed for the first time.

Buffy saw immediately that she had lost a lot of weight, her ribs standing more prominently out against her paler-than-normal skin. She had various bruises all over her body, some from spending endless nights sleeping on a hard floor, some from the fight with the commandos. But the series of surgical wounds that littered her small frame were the more shocking. She had seen the cut they’d made from elbow to wrist, which was healing nicely after a night of true rest and Willow’s healing spell, but the gashes over her body stunned her.

There were burn marks on her legs from where the lab techs had tested her skin flammableness, cuts marring her ribs where they had checked her bone structure and further holes from different needles where she had been injected with various things. Lastly, there were a series of cuts over the flat planes of her stomach that made Buffy shudder imagining what they could have done to her.

Dashing away tears that she hadn’t noticed were falling from her eyes with her hands, she prayed that her healing would kick in soon. Quickly retrieving the spare medical kit from the bathroom she hurriedly re-dressed the wounds which seemed in most need of it. Dressing quickly, eyes averted from the mirror, Buffy made her way downstairs to the kitchen.

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Good morning, honey,” Joyce went over to embrace her daughter as soon as she walked in. “How did you sleep?”

“Like the dead,” Buffy replied, smiling to herself even though Spike wasn’t there to share the joke with her. “It was heaven waking up in a bed after sleeping in the lab’s floor for so long.”

“Well, have a seat, I’ll get some breakfast together for you,” Joyce indicated the stool next to Giles.

“Morning, Giles,” Buffy smiled softly at her Watcher who was still acting like he hadn’t expected to ever see her again.

“Good morning, Buffy,” Giles replied, shaking off the wonder filled gaze. “I hope you are feeling better this morning. Tara and Willow assured me that the salve and healing spell would get you back on your feet quicker than normal.”

“Well I’m all energized after that super-sleep,” Buffy replied, gulping down the glass of juice her mother set before her. “And it doesn’t really hurt anymore, but I’m still not one hundred percent. Though with the searing rage, I think I’ll be ready to take down a top-secret government Frankenstein facility in a day or two.”

Giles smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m sure that may be so, Buffy. However, I believe we have to exercise some caution in the matter. If they were able to bring both you and Spike down without trouble, along with many other dangerous demons species I assume, we may have to plan a great deal.”

“Yeah, and there’s something that Spike and I have to talk to you about as well,” Buffy said carefully as she dug into the big plate of eggs her mother had placed before her. “But I need to talk it through with him first.”

Giles frowned at her, about to argue, but stopped himself and changed tactics.

“Alright, if you think that’s best, I’ll go along with it.” Giles said carefully. “That’s not to say that I trust Spike at all, and I need to insist on being further informed about this deal that you’ve made.”

“’S prob’ly the smart thing to do, Watcher,” Spike’s voice carried into the kitchen, causing the three occupants to turn toward the entrance to the basement.

“Spike,” Buffy greeted with a soft smile. “I didn’t think we’d see you until this afternoon.”

Spike ambled further into the kitchen, avoiding the sunlit windows while keeping himself between Joyce and Buffy. Best to avoid the Watcher for the time being. Joyce smiled at him and set about preparing some blood for breakfast.

“Yeah, well, your little friends’ll be comin’ soon an’ I don’ want to be left out of all the fun,” he replied with a cheeky smile. “’Sides we gotta have us a chat before they get here, Slayer.”

Buffy’s smile faltered with the serious implication of the statement and nodded in reply before tucking into the feast her mom had prepared for breakfast.

Giles wisely remained silent through the meal, curious beyond telling about what had transpired, but realizing Buffy needed a break. She had color back in her cheeks this morning and after her shower looked more like her old self than the fragile young girl he had treated last night, but that didn’t mean she was out of the woods just yet.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

After breakfast, Buffy followed Spike into the basement to allow some privacy for their chat.

“So,” Buff said, unsure of where to begin. Being safe, relatively, in her own house with Spike after all that had happened the last few weeks felt almost awkward.

“You want me to tell them about my chip.” It wasn’t a question, Spike knew he’d have to, but he held Buffy’s eyes in an attempt to elude being involved in the decision.

“Well, I think we have to,” Buffy replied carefully, walking around the basement, eyeing the cot where he slept last night before settling on perching on the laundry machine.

“I suppose,” Spike mused, taking a seat on the cot Buffy had avoided.

“We have to tell them, Spike. Any plans we make have to take into account that you can’t hit people. And we don’t even know what the chip is capable of yet,” Buffy replied.

Spike immediately picked up on two things: Buffy hadn’t mentioned that he might try to hurt her mates and she’d already included him in the plans to bring down the organization. Interesting, very interesting.

“How d’ya know I want any part in your plans, Slayer?” he asked with narrowed eyes. “I could take off; find my own ways to get this soddin’ thing out of my brain.”

Buffy quirked a brow, unable to hide her amusement. “Are you trying to tell me you don’t want to get back at the people who put the chip in your head, tortured you, starved you, and conducted sadistic experiments on you?”

Spike shrugged, knowing it was useless. “No, I didn’t say that…”

“You want to concoct your own plan to bring them down, then?” Buffy smiled softly at the vampire, taking the sting out of her next words. “Because we both know how well your plans tend to work out, Mr. I-can’t-wait-until-Saturday-to-kill-you.”

Spike grinned at the Slayer. She was slowly returning back to her old self. He shook his head, foregoing an answer. He desperately wanted a cigarette, but he’d smoked the only pack he had at the lab and they came directly from the Watcher’s house to Chez Summers last night.

“Good, then you’re with us,” Buffy said, hopping down from her perch and walking toward him. “We’ll just have to figure out how this chip works. Willow may be able to help.”

“No magicks, Slayer,” Spike said immediately. “Don’ trust ‘em.”

“I was thinking more computer stuff,” Buffy replied. She stopped when she stood right in front of him.

“But we should probably test it first,” she said, frowning in concentration.

“Test it? ‘M not hittin’ you, Slayer. Not in the mood for a migraine.” Spike replied, standing to face her. He wasn’t sure he was happy with where she was going with this.

“Fine, then pinch me,” she smiled brightly, holding out her un-injured arm expectantly.

“Pinch you? What are you, five?” Spike snarked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I could punch you in the nose if you need motivation,” Buffy smiled, her tone syrupy-sweet. She batted her eyelashes for good measure, and then pouted when Spike failed to do as she asked immediately.

“Whatever you say, princess,” Spike sighed and pinched Buffy’s upper arm hard.

“Ow! That hurt you dummy!” Buffy squealed in true five-year-old fashion.

“Soddin’ hell,” Spike mumbled, feeling the electrical pulse through his brain, not as strong as when he punched the soldier, but a definite shock.

“Okay, so it works then,” Buffy supplied rubbing her sore arm. Spike glared menacingly at her, baring his human teeth in a mock growl.

“Yes, I’d say it bloody well works,” Spike replied, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“When you’re trying to hurt me,” Buffy mused, looking up at him. “What if you’re not trying to? Like sparring?”

“You’re awfully level-headed an’ clinical about this, pet,” he said frowning. “I didn’t have you pegged as the scholarly type.”

“Hey!” Buffy cried indignantly, crossing her arms over her chest. “I may have only been to a few intro psych lectures, but I know we have to test more than one theory. That was lecture two in fact, Experimental Procedures.”

“Right then,” Spike said with a smirk, secretly amused at her thorough test. “Want me to pretend to hit you knowin’ I’m not gonna hurt ya?”

Buffy nodded and Spike clenched his fist as if preparing to punch her. He brought his arm back and aimed straight at her face, stopping a millimeter from her nose. No pain. He tried a few more times, even ending in a light tap to her shoulder. Still no pain.

“Great!” Buffy smiled jubilantly. “It seems to work on intent then,” she said with smug pride at her incredible test assessment and deductive reasoning. No stupid vampire was going to call her un-scholarly. She totally rocked the academics.

Spike chuckled at her obvious delight at the success of the test. He wasn’t sure what it meant for him, but as long as he was putting all his eggs in Buffy’s basket, he’d trust her on this one. Besides, she was very cute when she was proud of herself.

“At least we know we can probably spar,” she said as she walked toward the stairs. “I’ve always liked fighting you. Let’s go tell Giles. He’ll wear out a whole notebook with this one, I think.”

She liked fighting him? Spike couldn’t help the indulgent smile that lit his features as he followed the Slayer up the steps. At least one thing seemed to be going his way after all. And watching the previously mentioned Slayer’s ass as she walked up the stairs ahead of him was certainly worth staying around for.


TBC...

Chapter Five


Buffy emerged with Spike from the basement feeling a little more confident about letting the Scoobies in on what had happened. But first, she needed to talk about it with Giles; he was all with the smarts and should be able to find out more about the chip in Spike’s head. He may also know how to approach the gang, especially Xander, about letting Spike join the crew.

She had grown close to the vamp over the weeks they spent imprisoned together and though she was sure many would cry Stockholm-syndrome, she had started to actually like him. Not like-like, but like him, as a person.

Giles looked up from where he was talking to her mother at the counter where she’d left them earlier. He narrowed his eyes at Spike as if he was trying to determine if anything untoward had happened between him and his charge, before smiling softly at Buffy.

“Giles, there’s something we need to tell you,” Buffy began, glancing over at Spike to reassure herself he was still fine with it.

“Of course, Buffy,” Giles answered, the excitement of finally getting some much desired answers dancing in his eyes, and Buffy had to fight the grin that twitched at the corner of her lips when she noticed this. “Shall we relocate to the dining room perhaps?”

“`Kay,” Buffy replied, turning to head in that direction, but she stopped when she hear Spike speak.

“Why don’ you join us, Joyce?” Spike cordially offered Buffy’s mother. When Buffy glanced at him questioningly he added, “Well, she’s bound to find out, an’ she’s basically part of the group. ‘Sides, I think she should be included considerin’ she put up with me for the night an’ all.” Spike smiled genuinely over at the older woman who beamed back at him.

“Oh, sure,” Joyce said happily, and followed the two blonds into the dining room where less natural light came in through the windows, making it safer for Spike to sit around the table.

“So what is it you need to tell me?” Giles asked when they were all seated comfortably around the dining room table, taking out his pen and notebook to make sure he didn’t miss a single important detail.

Spike smirked over at Buffy, acknowledging her earlier comment about Watchers and their need to keep methodical notes. Buffy grinned in reply before turning to Giles.

“First, I just want to tell you that I’m not sure I’ll be able to go into too much detail about what they did to me,” she looked down at her hands to avoid the looks of sympathy she was sure her mother and Giles were sending her. “I was in and out of consciousness most of the time and you’ve both seen what they did to my b-body,” she finished shakily, suppressing the shudder of distaste that itched to crawl up her spine.

“Of course, sweetheart,” her mother reached to grasp her hand and Buffy looked up to see her mother smiling at her. “You don’t have to tell us any of that if you’re not ready.”

Buffy shifted her gaze to her Watcher to see if he felt the same way as her mother. At his short nod she felt a little better about revealing the details of what had happened to her. When she looked at Spike she found him watching her intently with an unreadable expression.

“They did experiments on all of us,” Buffy said softly. “Some demons came back, some didn’t. The first few days I was there, they must have taken at least a dozen vamps to the labs, but none of them ever returned. I wasn’t sure at first what they were doing to them, and no one talked to me, cause hello, Slayer here. Not that they believed me though…

“But once they started taking me away to the experimentation rooms, too, some of them started telling me what had happened to them. Basically it’s all biological stuff, like what they could do, what they could withstand, what their weapons and natural defenses were. But then one of them mentioned behavior modification which explains why Professor Walsh drilled into to us the good points of its use.”

“Wait, Proffesor Walsh? Isn’t that your psychology professor?” Giles cut in when Buffy paused to take a breath.

“Yeah, she’s the nut job that’s leading the whole operation,” Buffy replied.

“Oh good Lord,” Giles plucked his glasses off his nose and polished them forcefully with his handkerchief. “So they are using the university to cover up their operations?”

“Well, I guess they could be,” Buffy looked over at Spike who nodded. “When we got out we were on campus, by the fraternity houses I think. So I guess that’s the connection.”

“Willow’s locator spells always showed you around campus, that would certainly explain a lot,” Giles muttered, more to himself than the others.

“At least we know where to start looking for them,” Buffy said with false optimism.

“So aside from these horrific experiments, what else were they doing that you know of?” Giles asked, looking over his notes briefly. “You said something about behavior modification?”

“Well, yeah, see, that’s where Spike comes in,” Buffy replied nervously, looking again at the remarkably calm vampire. Spike smiled at her again, indicating that she should continue. “They put a chip in his head.”

“They put what in his head?” Giles frowned, certain he’d heard wrong.

“A chip. A computer chip. At least that’s what our theory is, well, my theory,” she grinned over at Spike who shook his head playfully.

“A computer chip? What does it do?” Joyce asked.

“It stops him from hurting humans,” Buffy looked at her Watcher whose face had become a study of unanswered questions. He looked over at Spike with a bit too much enthusiasm.

“You can’t harm humans? How is that possible?” Giles was truly intrigued.

“I don’ rightly know. I can’t say when it happened, either. I jus’ remember the blindin’ pain when I hit one of the soldiers comin’ to get me for another one of their sadistic games,” Spike replied. “The Slayer an’ I were locked in the same cage after we refused to fight an’ one night we provoked one of the soldiers into tellin’ us what they’d done.”

“Have you tested its capabilities?” Giles asked, furiously writing details in his well-worn notebook.

“We tested it this morning,” Buffy replied, smiling at her discovery. “It seems to work on intent because when Spike knew he wasn’t going to hurt me, like with sparring, it didn’t fire.” Buffy beamed over at Spike, very proud of her amazing deductive skills.

“Fascinating,” Giles said absently. “Care to do a demonstration?” he asked, his nose still buried in his book. He looked up at Buffy before turning to Spike. “I-I mean, if you don’t mind. I’d like to see it in operation.”

“Fine,” Spike grumbled, but got up on his feet and approached the watcher. Buffy swatted his hand away before he could attempt to demonstrate on Giles. “Hey! He asked me to,” the vamp pouted.

“Yeah, right. Pinch me,” Buffy smiled at him, presenting her arm to him for the second time that morning.

“Fine, ruin all my fun, Slayer,” Spike reached out and pinched her arm hard. The electric shock was instantaneous and the pain of it registered on his handsome features. Spike didn’t utter a complaint, just rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands before pinching the bridge of his nose, waiting for the pain to abate.

Joyce gasped at the display and immediately went into the kitchen for a cool towel. She came in and fussed over the vampire as if he were a small boy, a display that made Buffy smile and Giles cringe. Spike was half-heartedly swatting away her attempts and protested when she told him to sit down and take it easy.

“’S just a headache, Joyce,” Spike muttered but looked at her softly. “Thanks.”

“Fascinating, and that only happens with humans?” Giles looked up at Spike, too involved in the recent discovery to be concerned about the vampire’s discomfort. Not that he normally would worry about a vampire’s discomfort at all anyway.

At Giles’ comment Buffy raised her eyes sharply to meet Spike’s. They had no idea if the chip was exclusive to humans or if he was restricted from harming anything in general. Maybe he could still hit demons.

“We don’t know, Giles,” Buffy replied when the Watcher looked intently at her. “There haven’t been any oh-so-convenient demons around to practice on unless you brought one of your very own. But I suppose we could patrol and try it.”

“Sure,” Spike replied when Buffy shot him a questioning look. If he could hurt demons, maybe his entire purpose in life wasn’t gone. At least he could still get into a decent scrap or two if he wanted to.

“I would suggest that perhaps you should wait another night before patrolling, Buffy. Get your strength up completely because you’ll need all your faculties in order to keep track of both demons and these soldiers,” Giles said, concern evident in his voice.

“Yeah,” Buffy replied. “Besides, I could use some quality down-time. I’m not as slay-happy as I thought I’d be. I’m actually kinda worn out,” she admitted softly.

“I’m sure you are, honey,” Joyce said reaching over to hold her daughter’s hand. “Why don’t you and Spike go relax on the couch and watch some TV until your friends come so you can have a bit of a breather.” She looked meaningfully at Rupert when it appeared he was about to disagree, before shooing the two of them into the other room.

Buffy busied herself with closing the blinds and curtains tightly, making sure no stray beam of sunlight filtered through before motioning for Spike to come join her on the sofa.

“Best do what Mom says, Spike. She’ll be in to check on us and spoil us with hot cocoa in about five minutes after she’s finished lecturing Giles over leaving us alone to rest,” Buffy smiled up at him from where she had settled on the sofa. He looked reluctant to agree, so she patted the cushions next to her and reached for the remote control.


Spike moved towards her slowly, unsure of this new easiness between them, his nerves still on edge after being imprisoned for so long. He wondered how long this truce would last between them now that she was free and clear of the situation. But when she smiled up at him warmly, he decided to let go of his fears for the time being and settled down beside her, allowing himself a much needed moment of peace.

“Did Wills and Mom see to you, too?” Buffy asked softly after a moment, shooting him a sideways glance. He was wearing a plain grey t-shirt rather than his trademark black one, so she could only assume his other clothes had been too damaged to wear.

“Yeah, the little witch squared me away,” Spike acknowledged, rubbing the muscles around his injured side. They were knotted and tight after trying to avoid sleeping on his injured side all night.

“Is it still sore?” Buffy asked, turning to face him when she noticed his attempts at soothing a pain. “Do you want me to have a look?”

“Nah, ‘s alright, Slayer,” Spike muttered, feeling oddly shy under all the caring scrutiny of the two Summers women.

“Then why are you rubbing your shoulder?” Buffy asked, shifting closer to him and gently pushing his hand out of the way. He grumbled a non-verbal objection, but she insistently pushed him away and ran her fingertips across his shoulders gently until she found the mass of knotted muscle. Her fingers felt like heaven as she massaged his shoulder with just the right amount of pressure, but he still insisted on moving out of her reach, unsure of how to handle the intimate gesture.

“Let me,” she whispered, looking up at him from under her thick lashes. “Please, it’s the least I can do,” she added when he shook his head in objection. Spike looked at her then, realizing that this was how she was choosing to thank him for divulging his new weakness to Giles.

“Alright,” Spike conceded and allowed Buffy to turn his back to her as she busied her hot little hands in massaging out each knot and kink in his back. He had to bite back a series of moans as she found a particularly sore spot on his spine, no doubt from spending weeks sleeping on a cold tile floor.

“Good?” Buffy asked as a moan escaped unchecked.

“Yeah, luv,” he replied, rolling his neck across his shoulders to further ease the tension. “You could probably pick up a few extra quid doin’ this for a livin’.”

Buffy laughed at the unexpected compliment and searched the expanse of his spine for any other neglected areas. She had learned massage out of necessity in her first couple of years with Giles so she could tend to any emergency muscle cramps on patrol or stiff legs on the mornings after a particularly bad fight. Her natural strength and dexterity had been used on many occasions by Willow on girl’s nights and after the few occasions where she came along for patrol. Massaging Spike was a way to show him that she appreciated what he’d done for her while they were imprisoned and to put him at ease knowing she wasn’t about to turn her back on him now that they were free.

Buffy ran the palms of her hands over Spike’s strong back to keep the muscles warm as she finished off, though whether that was a necessity when massaging vampires she had no idea. She moved herself away from him on the couch, patting him on the shoulder to indicate that she was finished. When he turned around, Buffy could see that some of the strained expression he’d been wearing the last few weeks had finally disappeared.

“Thank you, Buffy,” he said sincerely and held her eyes as he took one of her small hands in his and raised it to his lips for a kiss. “That was bloody brilliant.”

Buffy felt herself blush at the intensity of his stare and found the sound of her mother and Giles still arguing in the kitchen a welcomed distraction.

*~*

Meanwhile in the kitchen…

“You cannot be serious about this, Joyce,” Giles sighed deeply, feeling knots of tension build up between his shoulders from the stress of the conversation. He had thought that he had developed a relationship with Joyce these last few weeks and that she trusted his opinion in matters enough to listen to a friendly piece of advice.

“Dead serious, Rupert, if you’ll excuse the pun,” Joyce crossed her arms over her chest as she stared at the older man. No one was going to come into her home and tell her who she could and not allow to stay. Not even rather handsome man with whom she thought she’d been building the basis of something with.

“You can’t let Spike live here,” Giles stepped closer to her trying to emphasize his point. “He’s a killer. A vampire, no less. He’s tried to kill Buffy several times. And her friends.”

“I am well aware of that,” Joyce countered. “But now he has that chip in his head and he has nowhere else to go. And he saved Buffy’s life. He brought my baby back home.”

“Be that as it may,” Giles started, trying to find another way to explain the foolhardiness of the decision to allow Spike to remain in the Summers’ home.

“Enough, Rupert,” Joyce cut him off sharply. “I am offering him a place to stay and that’s final. The same people that are after Buffy are surely after him as well and he can’t fight back if they get him again. I won’t stand for it. Spike stays.”

Giles could only sigh heavily, knowing that he was out of options. “Fine, Joyce, but I’ll be here every day to check on him. And you should keep him tied up when you’re not in the house. Who knows what kind of trouble he could get himself into…”

“Don’t be absurd,” Joyce admonished, putting cups on a tray and handing it to the Watcher. “Now bring the kettle and tea into the living room. The rest of the children will be here soon.”

Giles grumbled but did as he was told, arranging the tray and motioning for her to precede him out of the kitchen. It was amazing what powers mothers had over others, even people older than themselves. Joyce smiled at him and walked ahead of him carrying a tray of snacks for the soon to be assembled group.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Giles remained back in the kitchen as he tried to digest what Joyce had said and insisted on during their conversation. The whole issue had come up while Buffy had been down in the basement with Spike, apparently testing the functioning of what Buffy believed to be a computer chip inserted into the vampire’s brain. Of all the things modern technology made possible. Giles nearly shivered at the possibility of what an army of trained vampires could do if they needed to.

Joyce had been so adamant in her defense of the bleached menace that Giles found himself almost believing what she had said about him being different than other demons. She recounted a story of a heartbroken young man who came and shared hot cocoa with her in her kitchen, seeking out the help of a motherly figure. It was a picture that certainly didn’t fit with the vicious killer he had always known Spike to be. The monster tortured people with railroad spikes for Pete’s sake.

Giles reached for the kettle as it began whistling, transferring the boiling liquid into the carefully prepared teapot as he continued to reflect.

He couldn’t forget the looks his precious Buffy had shared with Spike during their revelation, however. She had looked to him for affirmation, not only of facts recounted, but in order to tell more intimate details of their torturous time at the hands of the government. It was the type of look one could only exchange with a trusted confidant, though he was certain both super beings were unaware of just how much trust was evident between them. The growth of such a bond was certainly not unusual in such stressful circumstances, even enemy soldiers had formed such bonds in countless wars. He knew that he would have to trust Buffy’s instincts and place his own trust and confidence in the apparently restrained vampire.

Placing the cups on the tray, Giles could feel the finely tuned rage of his youthful alter-ego seep into his consciousness as he remembered the various wounds that had been inflicted on his soft hearted charge. The simmering anger threatened to overwhelm him and he gripped the edges of the countertop as he tried to get his tumultuous emotions under control. Whoever was responsible for touching even a single hair on that girl’s head had no idea just what Ripper was capable of given the right incentive. Some things, it seemed would never change.

Shaking himself and picking up the full tray, Giles smile wryly to himself. Trusting Spike, however reluctantly, seemed the only way forward into this new unknown enemy. And Ripper may have been young and foolhearty, but never in his wildest dreams would he think he’d actually trust a vampire. Some things did indeed change.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“They’re arguing about me,” Spike said addressing Buffy’s troubled gaze which was fixed on the hallway to the kitchen.

“You?” Buffy asked, sounding genuinely confused.

“Your Mum wants to offer me a place to stay,” he replied, watching her face intently for any clue as to what she would think about the situation. Buffy’s eyes lit up in confusion, then narrowed before fixating again on the hallway.

“Well it’s our house, Mom can offer you a place to stay if she wants to. Giles isn’t with the support here, is he?” she asked and smiled when he shook his head. “You know it’s pretty cool that you hear so well. I’ll have to keep you around to spy on all conversations I wish I could overhear.”

“’S that so?” Spike asked, smirking at her. He was amazed that she hadn’t made any argument against her mother’s decision about inviting him to stay. In fact, it didn’t appear to bother her in the slightest. “I could find a decent crypt to stay in, Slayer.”

“Oh,” Buffy said, fixating on his face once more. “I-I guess. But what if the commandos come looking for you? You won’t be able to defend yourself. It’s probably smarter to stick together.”

“You sayin’ you want me around, pet?” Spike asked, raising one scarred brow.

“Well,” Buffy started, looking anywhere but at him. “Like I said. Safety in numbers. That’s my motto.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Well, maybe it should be,” Buffy replied, put off by his casual dismissal of her tactics. “The guys help me patrol sometimes. Extra eyes never hurt anyone.”

“Sure, Slayer,” Spike replied, not convinced as he leaned back against the plush sofa cushions. He’d heard Joyce firmly put the Watcher in his place and knew they’d be coming through the doorway soon. And the slamming of a car door outside heralded the arrival of some of the Scoobies.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Back at The Initiative…

Maggie Walsh paced in front of the group of assembled soldiers, eyeing them critically. They were dressed in full night reconnaissance gear, complete with infrared sensors and temperature gages. Two of her best troop commanders stood ready to lead their forces in a large sweeping search for escaped Hostiles 13 and 17.

“Now remember, I want them both back alive, if possible,” Walsh barked out, mouth set in a grim line. “Hostile 17 is the first of the vampires who have survived implantation and I want that technology back here safely.”

The men nodded in reply, silently watching their leader as she relayed the latest surveillance information.

“Now we know that Hostile 13 has family and friends in the area. It is likely they seek them out for shelter. We are unaware if these people are aware of the Hostile’s dangerous status or if they are potential threats as well,” Walsh continued, pointing up to pictures and profiles on one of the screens. The photos portrayed an older man and woman with full details of names and occupations.

“Search their homes for presence of activity first, then follow the routes I have assigned each of you,” she clicked off the monitors and turned back to the assembled group. “Agent Gates, you will take search perimeter B, Agent Finn, you will take search perimeter A. Any questions?”

The soldiers shook their heads in unison and dispersed efficiently after quick commands from their leaders. Maggie smiled as she watched them go. The girl and troublesome vampire would be back in her clutches soon enough, and when they were she would make them sorry they ever escaped to begin with.


TBC…

Chapter 6


The Scoobies arrived in couples. First came Xander and Anya; Xander bringing the obligatory pizza and donuts while Anya had carelessly flopped down on one of the chairs, demonstrating her boredom with the situation. Willow and Tara had gotten there within minutes of the others, Willow obviously anxious to reassure herself that Buffy was alright and finally back home.

“So we ready to get some Scooby Searching on?” Xander said with a wide grin, scanning the collected members of their team. His new slang phrase was met with groans from Buffy and Willow while Spike tried to suppress a grin at the doltish line.

“Xan, honestly,” Willow said shaking her head, but she couldn’t stop herself from grinning at her best friend.

“What?” Xander protested, reaching for a slice of pizza as soon as Joyce set out napkins.

“Scooby Searching?” Buffy raised an eyebrow but couldn’t help the smile that tickled her lips. “Do we even need to explain?”

Xander blushed and busied himself stuffing his face with food. His embarrassment was worth the scolding if it brought a smile to his friend’s face, though. He watched her reach for a slice but to his horror she offered it to the vampire next to her on the sofa before getting one for herself. Spike smiled in thanks and proceeded to take a large bite out of the pizza, with a wink at Xander.

“What are you doing here anyways, bleached pest?” Xander asked, voice tinged with ferocity. He felt safe insulting the vampire from a distance due to Buffy’s presence in the room. “And aren’t you supposed to stick to a liquid diet, not indulge in garlic-y goodness?”

“Xander,” Willow admonished right away, glancing over at Buffy, whose face had immediately hardened at Xander’s comment. “Spike saved Buffy. He’s like an honorary Scooby. Sort of,” she finished glancing over at the infamous vampire.

“Right,” Xander scoffed, lowering his eyes to the floor, mildly annoyed for being chastised because of the peroxide pest.

“Xander,” Buffy waited until the boy in question had looked up to meet her gaze. “Spike saved me. Spike was tortured just as much as I was. We made it out of there together and we will bring them down together. If you have any problems with that…” she trailed off, not wanting to have to finish the sentence.

“I know, Buff,” Xander began, eyeing the vampire warily. “But it’s Spike. Bottle-in-face, evil-vampire guy. Let’s-kill-you-all-on-Saturday. Slayer of Slayers? Ring any giant oversized warning bells?”

“You’re that Spike?” Anya’s awe-filled voice piped up before Buffy could respond. “William the Bloody?”

Spike tilted his head at the woman, not sure where to place her in the group. She hadn’t been a part of the original gang, but she didn’t look older than the lot of them.

“Yeah, pet,” he drawled, a self-indulgent smile creeping over his lips. “And who might you be?”

“Anyanka,” Anya replied brightly. “I was a vengeance demon until these guys broke my necklace. Tried to get it back, met evil vampire Willow from another dimension, but that was a colossal failure. I’ve heard a lot about you. You’re almost a hero in the demon community. I mean, not a real hero, because you’re a vampire and therefore not a ‘real’ demon.” Anya shrugged her shoulders in what could have been an apology and smiled while the rest of the group looked on at her in shock.

“What?” Anya asked, looking to Xander for help. “What did I do now?”

“Nothing, Anya,” Giles said when Xander’s reply consisted of his best fish-out-of-water imitation. “We’re just not used to speaking about Spike’s past so, uh, frankly, I suppose.”

“Oh,” Anya settled back in her chair. “Well, you should. Killing two slayers, that’s a big accomplishment in the demon community. Especially for a vampire.”

“Thanks, luv,” Spike grinned, chuffed at the admiration he felt from her. Glancing over at Buffy and seeing the half amused, half pissed off expression on her face, left him feeling a little less steady. “All in the past, o’course,” he added for good measure.

“Yes, well, Spike’s ‘accomplishments’ aside,” Giles looked down at his note pad, hoping to redirect the group’s attention back to the matter at hand. “We have bigger issues to deal with.”

“Like Spike being an evil serial killer who’ll kill us all?” Xander grumbled under his breath, but not quietly enough to avoid being overheard.

“He can’t, Xander,” Buffy said softly in the silence that permeated after his statement. “If you’ll stop being all judgy for five minutes and let us talk, we may actually get somewhere this afternoon.”

Xander’s eyes shot up at Buffy’s statement, and he nodded, feeling ashamed about his constant interference. Buffy had been through a lot over the last few weeks. He’d be an idiot not to realize it, and it was only fair to let her speak. He figured he could at least talk to her about this when they were alone later on.

“Well, I guess I should start at the beginning,” Buffy began, glancing over at her partner for the last month.

“’S always a good place to begin, Slayer,” Spike said when she seemed reluctant to start.

“It started when Angelus was going to open Acathla…”

“Angelus?” Giles interrupted. “But that was two years ago… sorry, go on,” he said when Buffy sighed dramatically at his disruption. He picked up his notebook and flipped open to a fresh page and started making the appropriate notes.

“As I was saying,” Buffy continued, eyeing her watcher. “Spike came to me when Angelus was all for ending the world. He knew he couldn’t stop Angel by himself, so Spike and I made a deal.”

“I could have taken ‘im,” Spike groused from the other end of the sofa. Buffy glared at him, more because of the interruption than his complaint.

“Anyways, Spike came to me when Angel had kidnapped you,” Buffy shot a meaningful look at her watcher when it seemed he was about to interrupt again. Buffy continued on to tell the Scoobies the details of the truce from years ago and further explained the events of recent weeks, including Spike’s chip. The news was met with a series of troubled expressions and an empathetic smile from Anya when she heard that, much like herself, Spike seemed to be out of the let’s-do-some-evil club.

“So that’s the whole story,” Buffy finished, looking over the assembled group as they took in the information. “Spike has agreed to work with us when it comes to brining down the commandos. So I think the priority now is to find out all we can about them. Hack into computer files, follow them, do whatever we can.”

“Well, I can see what I can do with the computer stuff,” Willow said, shooting a glance at Tara who had remained quiet during the information reveal. “It may be tough though considering they’re probably top secret.”

“Do what you can Wills,” Buffy smiled encouragingly at her friend.

“You should talk to some of the demons in town,” Anya said, smiling brightly. “They are probably very upset about being kidnapped and tortured too. I’m sure they’re looking for a good bloodbath. Every demon loves a bloodbath.”

“Oh, um, well, we could see about that,” Buffy replied, sounding unconvinced. She glanced over at her watcher, hoping for some guidance since the idea seemed appealing to her, but was a bit grey in morality.

“Well, it may be quite difficult to talk to them,” Giles mused.

“Why? You see them everyday,” Anya replied, dumbfounded. “The guys that deliver pizza at night, janitors, fast food employees. I could take you to them in five minutes. Easy.”

“Really? Larry’s a demon?” Xander asked his girlfriend, referring to the aforementioned pizza delivery guys.

“Yes, demons take all the jobs in town that humans can’t or won’t do. Delivering pizza at night for example is a pretty dangerous occupation, so demons do it,” Anya explained in a tone that suggested it should have been obvious to the gathered group of self-proclaimed demon hunters.

“Yeah, ‘s why smart vamps order pizza during the day,” Spike added. “Stay out of the sunlight you get a snack delivered right to your door.” He smiled fondly at the memory. When Buffy punched him in the arm, he turned and winked at her, not sorry for what he had survived on for months while in Angelus’ clutches. When Dru had forgotten to bring him something back from their nightly hunting trips, or Angelus had forbidden her to, Spike would wait until they were asleep in the middle of the day and call out for pizza. Then he’d have dinner and a snack delivered in one easy transaction.

“Well, I am evil,” Spike said by way of explanation. “Think I can help you lot out with some of the demons though. There’s a weekly poker game at Willy’s that a friend often goes to. He may have some information.”

“Good,” Buffy said, forehead furrowed in thought. “I suppose if we can get some help from the demon community it could only be an advantage for us. I assume they’re losing many to the group.”

“Buffy,” Giles began, his tone already hinting at what he had to say. “Are you sure this is wise? These demons you speak of are unreliable at best. How would you convince them to help? And frankly, why would they listen to you?”

“It may not be, Giles,” Buffy sighed. “But what other choice have we got? Besides, I’m pretty sure I can take care of myself if any of them decide to challenge me.”

“They probably won’t,” Anya added. “I mean, why would they? If you’re helping them they have no reason to. Unless you’re rude and insult them, which you probably will. I’ve seen your interpersonal interactions with some of them and I could see how they would be insulted.”

“Huh?” Buffy was confused, not having any idea of the incidents Anya was talking about. She hadn’t exactly been around the gang long enough to notice.

“The school janitor?” Anya prompted. “Before you blew it all up? I saw how you treated him.”

“I had no idea…” Buffy trailed off, hoping to recall what any of the janitors at school had even looked like. She’d been a teenager in high school, not like she would have treated him any differently if he had been human.

“Well, it doesn’t matter,” Anya said, unfazed by the issue. “As long as you know the proper greetings and manners when dealing with the different species you should be fine. Like I said, they probably want to help.”

“Manners?” both Buffy and Giles asked aloud while the remaining Scoobies looked on with interest. Spike, on the other hand, was nodding subtly along with Anya.

“Yes, manners,” Anya said, a bit frustrated to be constantly repeating what she said before. “Like you have to knock three times in quick succession to announce your presence to the T’luctic demon household. Or that you have to incline your head and look at a Gryshnash’s feet instead of his eyes when you meet them the first time. Hasn’t your watcher taught you anything?” She turned accusing eyes on Giles where he sat dumbfounded.

“N-no, I’ve never even heard of demon manners,” Giles muttered, looking humbled by the information Anya was divulging. It had never occurred to him that she would know as much as she did about this. Though that idea in itself had been ignorant, she was over a thousand years old after all. Why wouldn’t she know more about demon species than anyone else in the room?

“Well, then I have no idea how you’re going to enlist their help,” Anya huffed. “These are commonly known facts. And I haven’t even started on the hostile demons yet. Those are just ones who live here peacefully. I wouldn’t want to insult the wrong species.”

“M-m-maybe Anya s-s-should help B-b-buffy,” Tara’s soft voice filled the silence which followed Anya’s warning. Spike looked over at the witch as she sat beside Red, blushing and keeping her eyes trained on a spot on the carpet, obviously hoping her idea wouldn’t be blatantly rejected. Personally, he thought it was a bloody fantastic idea. The Slayer would need all the help she could get trying to make nice with the local Sunnyhell populace.

“’S a brilliant idea, luv,” Spike said keeping his eyes on the girl. She looked up and blushed brighter when she noticed him watching her. “Slayer needs all the help she can get, and with Anyanka’s reputation backing her up, she’d do better than on her own.”

Buffy looked between the former vengeance demon and the vampire. Anya was grinning brightly, obviously happy to be acknowledged while Spike was looking at her intently, as if he was challenging her to say no. Her watcher hadn’t said anything yet so she considered the matter carefully. The last few weeks had taught her more about the grey areas of morality than being a vampire slayer ever had. Some of the species of demon that had been caught were perfectly harmless which she both knew and learned while talking to them. And if Anya could offer her a way in with them, it would be stupid not to take the opportunity.

“Okay,” Buffy said, smiling softly at the gathered group. “It does sound like a good idea, thank you, Tara. As long as you don’t mind helping me, Anya,” she added, respecting the woman’s right to refuse for the first time.

Anya tried her best to look put-out by the idea, but a small smile brightened her face. “Sure, I’ll help. But I’m not killing anything or helping you with weapons. I’m only there as a liaison. Any chance you can pay me for my services?”

“Unfortunately, Anya, I doubt that would ever happen,” Giles interjected with a smile. He was surprised at his Slayer’s decision, but proud that she seemed to have learned something about the girl. They all had, he supposed. Anya huffed and crossed her arms over her chest, but after Xander had whispered something in her ear, she broke out in a dazzling smile. Best hope whatever was said was left between the two lovers, Giles mused.

“Well, maybe we should take a bit of a break,” Joyce suggested, reaching to clear away the boxes littering the ground around them.

“Excellent idea, Joyce,” Giles conceded, seeing the hopeful expressions of the young people. “I’ll help you clean up.”

Joyce smiled and nodded at him and the two proceeded to pick up cartons and mugs from the coffee table. Xander moved to explore the Summers’ movie collection hoping to find something to mellow the group. Willow looked over at Buffy indicating that she wanted to talk to her alone and Buffy rose to go to her room.

“Slayer, I’m gonna catch up on some kip while you birds do your thing,” Spike caught her hand before she could move away from him. “Let me know when you need me.”

Buffy nodded and looked over at Willow. “You want to go upstairs?”

Willow nodded and looked over at Tara who shooed her away with her hands. “Go,” she said when Willow still looked reluctant to leave her alone with Xander and Anya.

“It’s okay, Wills,” Xander said, knowing she probably wanted to tell Buffy about Oz. “We’ll take care of Tara. We’ll start the movie and you can join us when you’re ready.”

“Thank you, Xan,” Buffy smiled at her friend, knowing he was probably jealous that Willow was getting some alone time with her. “We won’t be too long.”

Willow followed Buffy upstairs as the gang settled in to watch a light hearted comedy. Buffy finally felt a little more settled now that the gang knew about everything that had happened while she had been away. They had demonstrated the chip a second time and she suspected that Spike needed some time to rest from the two trials he had been subjected to in a day.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Riley Finn led his troop though the darkening streets of Sunnydale, alert for any signs of the escaped hostiles. He was making his way toward Buffy’s house, hoping to she had come home to her mother, which would certainly make it easy to recapture her and bring her back to The Initiative. Maggie would be very pleased with him if he managed to do just that.

The idea that Buffy, the small, sweet girl he’d run into at the campus bookstore could be a form of unknown demon seemed ridiculous to the Iowa raised farmboy. She had seemed so genuine, her embarrassment after dropping the pile of textbooks on his head was endearing and the small grin when he reassured her that he survived the attack was stunning. He had been so excited to hear that she was in Maggie’s class so that he could potentially have had the chance to talk to her some more, perhaps even ask her out to dinner one night. Or an afternoon picnic.

Still, the tests of her strength, speed, and reflexes had all shown superhuman qualities, much like those of the other vampires they had in containment. He’d watched the operations on occasion prior to Buffy’s capture. He’d seen what happened when you cut too deeply through their necks and severed the spinal column, causing their bodies to crumble into piles of dust. Maggie was always furious when that happened. They needed to keep the vamps alive for training purposes.

Professor Walsh had made him attend one operation on Buffy. He’d watched in shock and horror as they peeled back the skin over her ribs, poking and prodding before accidentally puncturing her lung. He’d left shortly after assuring himself that she would be fine and survive the procedure. After that day, the questions about what Maggie was doing grew in number. Maybe Buffy was a good guy? Like Super Girl or something. It could happen. Someone to balance out all the demons.

Riley shook his head, attempting to clear his head of the traitorous thoughts. He would try to locate ‘Hostile 13’ and then he would decide what to do. The soldier in him told him to blindly follow what his leader told him to do. But the well mannered young man inside him told him that the girl needed protecting, that maybe she wasn’t as evil as Maggie would like him to believe.

The troop of five soldiers behind him fell into step as they approached the residential area where Joyce Summers lived with her only daughter. Riley prayed that they wouldn’t find Buffy there.

Chapter Seven:

Buffy and Willow were sitting facing each other on Buffy’s bed. Buffy was toying with Mr. Gordo’s ears as she listened to Willow talk about Oz and Veruka, and the aftermath of his killing her. Tears ran freely for both young women as Willow talked about how it felt when Oz left and how broken she had been, especially without Buffy there to help her through it. Both girls loved Xander, but there were some conversations better saved for a girlfriend’s shoulder.

“But, in a way, that’s how I got to know Tara better,” Willow said, wiping at her cheeks. “With both you and Oz gone I spent more time at the Wicca group but the only one actually practicing and not in it for the bake sale was Tara. She’s a great witch; she’s been teaching me so much.”

“Well, that’s great, Wills,” Buffy smiled, happy to see that Willow had handled the split with Oz as well as she had. Breakups were always hard, but Buffy had suspected that her friend may have taken it harder than most. “She seems very sweet.”

“She is,” Willow said, smiling. “So, what’s the deal with you and Spike being all friendly now?”

“You mean aside from having to spend nearly three weeks in his constant company?” Buffy smiled ruefully. “I don’t know. We had a lot of time to sit around so we talked. Got to know each other a bit better, beyond the slayer-vampire stuff, I mean. Usually we just talked about how we were going to escape, the other demons, what the commandos were doing, and trying to work through as much of the information as we had. But sometimes we’d talk about non-slayer stuff. Everyday stuff. You know he likes poetry?”

“Really?” Willow responded incredulously. “I never pegged him as a poetry reading guy. More like a punk-rock, lets-kill-everyone guy.”

“Yeah, me too.” Buffy grinned fondly, remembering some of the not-so-bad times during their captivity. “But he’s really well read. Like beyond college, I-love-reading-type. He kept me calm…”

“Spike? Kept you calm?” Willow’s tone held more than a note of disbelief. After all, in her own experiences with the vampire, keeping someone calm didn’t seem like one of his greatest abilities.

“Well, yeah,” Buffy said softly, absentmindedly playing with Mr. Gordo on her lap. “I mean, he certainly has some experience with it after taking care of Drusilla for so many years. He told me stories about what the world used to be like, talked about places he’s been, people he’s met. You know Billy Idol stole his look right?”

“I-I had no idea,” Willow said, scrutinizing her friend who seemed to have changed her feelings quite drastically regarding her enemy. Maybe there was something to the whole Stockholm syndrome theory? But that was supposed to be about the captors, not fellow prisoners. “He did take care of Drusilla. She was a loony, so maybe he’s just applying those skills on you.”

When Buffy looked up at her, one eyebrow raised in question, Willow hastened to add, “N-not that you’re crazy… You’re very sane; I just mean that he applied calming skills with you. N-not insano-woman skills.”

Buffy was about to reply when there was an urgent knock on her bedroom door. When she got up to open the door she was faced with both Spike and Xander, a combination she had certainly not expected to see.

“Buffy, bleach-boy here says he heard some people outside,” Xander started, gaze darting around the room nervously. “Could be the commandos.”

“Thanks, Xan,” Buffy replied, glancing over at Willow who was already attempting to peek out of the window undetected.

“Heard ‘em trying to sneak around outside,” Spike added in a low voice when Buffy looked over at him. “Don’ know if they’ve seen us yet, but we should probably stay low.”

“Yeah,” Buffy said barely loud enough for her friends to hear. “Anything you can do to disguise us until we figure out what they’re doing here?” Buffy asked Willow who had given up trying to see through the curtains.

“Um, well,” Willow started, trying to think as quickly as possible. Tara would probably think of something that she couldn’t. “Let’s get down into the basement as quickly as we can. I’ll ask Tara to come along, she probably knows a cloaking spell of some sort.”

The small group snuck downstairs as quickly as they could, Willow motioning to Tara from the hallway that she should follow them downstairs. Xander stayed upstairs with Anya, Giles and Joyce making sure to stay in the living room so it would appear they had only stopped by for a friendly visit.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Once downstairs in the basement, Willow quickly explained the situation to Tara. Tara glanced over at Buffy and Spike knowing that a simple cloaking spell would keep their essences hidden for a while, but it wasn’t a permanent solution. It would help if they could actually see or hear what the soldiers outside were doing. She had no idea what stories about vampires were true, but if Spike had heard the group of soldiers approach, he should be able to overhear what they said from outside of the house.

“There’s a s-spell,” Tara said softly, her usual stutter subdued by the seriousness of the situation. “I-if you let me access s-some of y-your p-power, Willow, I s-should be able t-to get a c-cloaking s-spell up quickly.”

“Yeah, of course,” Willow agreed, making space to sit on the cold cement floor. “I’ll just focus my energy on you, so start whenever you’re ready.”

While Tara and Willow were busy chanting, Spike motioned Buffy closer. She approached him slowly and followed with her eyes to where he was pointing at a small window.

“Are they out there?” she asked, voice barely a whisper.

“Close,” Spike replied, eyes fixed on the window. “I can hear ‘em talkin’. Soon as the spell’s done, I’ll be able to focus better.”

Buffy nodded in reply, moving progressively closer to the window, Spike right at her side. Willow and Tara stopped chanting when the duo had reached the bottom of the window.

“It’s safe to talk,” Willow said softly, still wary of raising her voice too loudly for fear that the spell wasn’t strong enough. “We should be able to hold it for a few hours, but we’ll have to stay down here with you. We can’t just appear out of nowhere in case they have body-heat sensor thingies like in those space movies.”

“That’s ok,” Buffy whispered, focusing her eyes on Spike who seemed to be listening intently. Buffy raised a finger to her lips while glancing at Willow, who nodded and gestured zipping her lips. Spike stood perfectly still, eyes flashing amber, as he listened closely to what the soldiers outside were discussing.

“They don’ know we’re here,” Spike said softly after a while. “But they know you lot are workin’ together so they want to keep the house under surveillance.”

Willow gasped, reaching out to grasp Tara’s hand in surprise. The Scoobies had thought they were being pretty covert in their meetings while they were searching for Buffy, but maybe they hadn’t been as careful as they thought. But how were they to know that the army had already figured out that Buffy was working with them?

“They’re sayin’ somethin’ about monitoring all known persons associated with you, Slayer, but they have to clear it with Walsh first. They want to come back tomorrow night to install cameras,” Spike growled dangerously, feeling frustration boil over in him.

“So we have to get out of here by tomorrow night then?” Buffy asked softly. She had just gotten back home from that horrible place, where could they go now that the commandos knew about all of her friends? She shouldn’t have led them here in the first place.

“They’re headin’ back to somethin’ they call ‘The Initiative’” Spike added. “Probably the name of the organization, as far as I figure. Wankers.”

Buffy placed a soothing hand on Spike’s arm when he started to growl again. He stopped as soon as her flesh touched his, his eyes snapping down to meet hers. Spike’s eyes were cold and hard, flashing erratically between blue and amber. The whole situation had obviously gotten to him.

“Are they gone?” Willow asked after a few minutes of strained silence. Spike nodded abruptly and she let out a sigh of relief. “Emergency Scooby-sesh upstairs then?”

“Looks like,” Buffy sighed deeply, sharing a look with Willow. Buffy, her Mom, and Spike could certainly not stay at the house any longer and Buffy doubted that any of her friends or her watcher could stay where they were either if they wanted to stay involved with the fight. They needed to find a new place to stay, some place this ‘Initiative’ had no idea about. They would have to figure out something soon.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Buffy, Spike, Willow and Tara emerged from the basement to find Joyce busy washing dishes in the kitchen.

“Hey Mom,” Buffy said as she walked up to the older woman. “It looks like we may have to get out of here for a little while.”

“Oh no, sweetie, why?” Joyce asked, reaching to embrace her daughter as she approached her.

“The soldiers have found out you’re all working together and want to start monitoring everyone. It looks like we may have to hide out for a while until we know how we’re going to bring them down,” Buffy sighed and leaned in her mother’s arms for a precious moment of peace. She extracted herself quicker than she would have like, motioning the others into the living room where the remaining Scoobies still were.

“What’s up, Buff?” Xander asked as soon as he saw her enter the room. “Did the commandos leave?”

“Yeah, they did,” Buffy said, looking over at her watcher meaningfully. “But Spike managed to hear some of what they’re planning to do.”

After Buffy indicated that he should relay what he’d heard, Spike awkwardly took the floor. “Seems they call themselves ‘The Initiative’ an’ they know the Slayer lives here with her Mum. They know about you lot as well. Got dossiers on you I reckon.”

“How?” Xander asked looking increasingly worried. “It’s not like we’ve done anything bad. We patrolled while you were away, Buff, but nothing beyond that.”

“’S probly enough, Whelp,” Spike sighed. “The cardboard cut-outs said that they’re plannin’ on getting approval to monitor everyone of you an’ install cameras and the like tomorrow night. Had to get Walsh’s approval first, though.”

“So Professor Walsh is the commanding officer at The Initiative?” Willow asked skeptically, she still hadn’t had enough time to adjust to the idea that one of her favorite teachers could be involved in the whole ordeal.

“Yep,” Buffy said, popping the ‘p’. “And her TA works for her too. The guy from to bookstore? Ryan?” Buffy tried prompting Willow, desperately searching her mind for the right name. She had seen him around the halls after he’d stopped taking her to the lab for testing.

“Riley?” Willow was shocked. “Riley is a part of this, too?”

Tara placed a soothing hand on Willow’s arm when the redhead started to look around frantically. There was obviously a little too much stress involved in the discovery. She knew that Willow had a soft spot for the TA, she’d seen them talking a few times after class. It had to be a pretty devastating blow to her.

“Riley! That’s it,” Buffy said happily. “Yeah, he’s one of the, what do you call them? Like boy scout leaders?”

“Troop commanders,” Xander supplied for her.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Buffy replied. “I think he was assigned to me or something in the beginning. He used to bring me into all the experiment labs…” she trailed off as a barrage of images assaulted her memory. A shiver ran up her spine and she had to physically shake herself to snap out of it. When she opened her eyes again it was to meet a mixture of concerned and angry faces, and Spike’s eyes were filled with too much empathy for her liking.

“Well, in any case,” Buffy continued before anyone else had a chance to ask her anything about that. “I think we need to move somewhere safer. Any ideas?”

“We should go to Canada,” Anya piped up cheerfully, as if running away was the best possible option.

“I could contact the council, they have access to a number of properties in Sunnydale,” Giles said after glaring at Anya. “We won’t be running away from this one that easily, Anya.”

“Great, how long will that take?” Buffy asked, pacing the floor.

“Well, uh,” Giles started, polishing his glasses. “I would have to wait until tonight to contact them, then maybe a few days to set everything up.”

“We don’t have a few days,” Buffy said irritably. “We have to leave tonight, tomorrow at the latest.”

“I’m sorry, Buffy,” Giles looked at his slayer. “If you want the council to help in any way it would take a while. May I remind you that you are somewhat of a freelance slayer these days? They may need some convincing before they’d even agree to help us.”

“Freelance?” Spike asked, quirking a brow.

“I quit the council,” Buffy stated simply in a flat tone. “I’ll tell you all about it later if you’re interested, Spike.”

“Well, the dorms are out,” Willow supplied trying for an elimination approach. “The caves out by the woods?”

“I’m not living in a cave!” Anya said indignantly. “Xander, tell her we’re not living in a cave!”

“Relax, Ahn,” Xander soothed his girlfriend. “We’re just trying to come up with as many options as possible.”

“Fine,” Anya huffed, clearly not placated enough. “But no caves.”

“How ‘bout a crypt?” Spike suggested.

“We can’t house eight people in a crypt,” Buffy supplied. “No heat, no electricity, no running water. We’d have to leave too often for supplies.”

“A hotel?” Joyce suggested. Buffy and Giles both shook their heads. Too easy to find a group there.

“A cabin somewhere in the woods?” Willow piped up. “Sunnydale must have a bunch of abandoned houses.”

“I know of one,” Xander said quietly. He looked over at Buffy. “You may not like it though.”

“What is it? We’re kinda running low on the select-a-house menu right now,” Buffy muttered, too deep in thought to figure out for herself why Xander was being all cryptic.

“The mansion,” Xander said, eyes fixed on Buffy. “On Crawford Street. Angel’s old place. No one would know about it and it’s big enough to house all of us with heat and electricity to boot. Plus running water. Always a bonus for sneaky hideouts.”

Buffy visibly paled. She hadn’t been back to the mansion since the day Angel left Sunnydale for good. Staying in that place seemed more like a sick joke to her than anything else at this point. The place was filled with grief and death. She had killed Angel there, or sent him to hell rather. Giles had been tortured there. Buffy glanced over at Spike whose face had closed down completely as he watched her intently. She suddenly realized that he must have some pretty bad memories from that place, too.

“It seems to be the only viable option, Buffy,” Giles added softly when his slayer had yet to answer. “Xander makes a good case. No one would have any reason to look for us there.”

“And it would be easy to disguise our presence because the house is set far back from the street,” Willow added, considering the idea. It was certainly the best up for consideration. The place was huge, enough room to house the eight of them in separate sleeping quarters if they wanted.

“And if there is electricity, I assume there’s a stove,” Joyce added. “I could be your resident cook.”

Buffy had yet to break eye contact with Spike while listening to the decision slowly being made for her. She could see the pain flash through the vampire’s eyes at the same rate she assumed hers did. She wasn’t happy about going there, but the mansion seemed the best fit for all.

“Okay,” Buffy sighed. “We’ll go to the mansion. But we have to work out what everyone will say they’re going. Willow, Tara, you guys can’t leave until after finals. It would look too out of place. But at least Christmas break is coming up soon, so you should be fine.”

“Yeah,” Willow agreed looking at Tara who simply nodded. “We’ll just spread the word that we’re going away as soon as our exams are finished and join you in a couple of weeks. That way I can still try to hack their computer system while I’m out and about in the world.”

“Great,” Buffy agreed, shifting her focus to Xander and Anya. “What about you guys?”

“Well, we could just say we’re going on vacation,” Xander supplied, checking with Anya who nodded in approval. “I’ve got some vacation time put away that I have no use for. Should be able to organize that in a day or so.”

“Good. Willow could you work on cloaking spells for them so they can leave un-detected?” Buffy asked as she mentally ticked the boxes in her mind. Willow and Tara shared a look and quickly nodded.

“So that leaves you and Mom,” Buffy said, looking at her watcher.

“Well, I-I’m not sure,” Giles tried to think of a plausible idea.

“We could book tickets to go to England,” Joyce interjected. “I have a European buying trip scheduled for a week from now. I could just move it up to tomorrow.”

“We could make it appear that we are leaving together for England,” Giles added. “Perhaps make them think that Buffy has already left the country, throw them off her scent if you may.”

“Could work,” Buffy replied, finally feeling as if some progress was being made. “We should work out the finer details of the plan, too. Food, smelly old books for research, magic supplies, that kind of things.”

The gang busied themselves drawing up lists of supplies and timings for preparing the mansion for habitation. It would take a lot of work, most of the quickly approaching night and the following day. Joyce would arrange for a food delivery using a pseudonym, Giles would pack up all necessary books and magic supplies they could potentially need, while Buffy and Spike were to bring over as much of the weapons supply they deemed necessary. Xander and Anya would arrange some help from some of the local demons Anya was already in touch with and they would set about ‘disappearing’ out of Sunnydale. Willow and Tara planned to construct individual cloaking spells for the people who wouldn’t be moving to mansion immediately.

When everything was arranged and everyone knew what they were doing, they split up for the night. They would be spending enough time together in the next few weeks to last them all a lifetime.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Buffy had asked Spike to help her retrieve some of the weapons she stored around the house and the two were currently in the basement loading duffle bags full of swords, stakes, and battle axes. She had another stash in her room, but that may have to wait for a second trip.

“So you okay with staying at the Poofter’s old place?” Spike’s voice broke the comfortable silence the pair had been working in. “Not too many bad memories?”

Buffy sat back on her haunches from where she’d been sharpening a short sword on the ground. “I guess. There’s no other option really.”

“Oh, how very convincing, Slayer,” Spike muttered, shooting a glance her way from where he was arranging a bag. “Say it with a bit more feelin’.”

Buffy glared at him. He knew very well the very mention of Angel got her hackles up. Staying in his old mansion was not her ideal way of wasting precious slaying time.

“Like you want to go back there either, blood breath,” she shot back at him, surprised to see a shadow of hurt pass across his handsome features.

“Yeah, well, your lot’s bloody decision,” Spike growled, tossing the last batch of stakes violently into the bag. The Slayer was right after all. He never wanted to even look at that place again after spending weeks there with Angelus and Dru fucking each other senseless at every available moment. He was surprised they had ever come up for air long enough to plan Acathla’s awakening. Figuratively speaking of course.

“Hey,” Buffy’s soft voice shook him out of his miserable memories. “Neither of us likes the place, but there’s nowhere else to go.”

“Could get the hell out of here,” Spike grumbled while he hefted the bag over his shoulder.

“No,” Buffy said, mimicking his actions. “Well, I couldn’t. Sacred duty and all.”

“Yeah, sacred duty,” Spike huffed, not wanting to be associated with anything considered to be for the betterment of mankind. He was still evil after all. Couldn’t let the Slayer get too comfortable around him.

“Sarcasm, real helpful there, Spike,” Buffy said as she made her way toward the stairs. “Come on. Let’s get this first batch to the mansion and some of mine and Mom’s things. We’ll come back for more afterwards.”

Spike made a noise of agreement and followed the Slayer up the stairs for the second time in the same day, as per her instruction. Before they had reached the top, she abruptly turned around.

“What about your stuff?” she said, looking genuinely concerned. “Do you have any clothes at all with you anywhere?”

“Some of my stuff may still be at Harm’s,” Spike answered absentmindedly. Though the few things he had kept at her hideout weren’t worth going back for. He was better off finding his beloved DeSoto instead. There would be an extra duffel in the boot.

“Harmony? I can’t believe you,” Buffy huffed before turning to continue back up the stairs. “I thought you’d have better taste than that.”

“What can I tell ya, sweetheart, she was easy,” Spike smirked when he saw the Slayer’s back stiffen. When he caught a glimpse of her eyes again they were practically shooting daggers at him. Very interesting.

“Come on Slayer,” he said, leading the way to the door. “Night’s running away quickly. Better get the first load to the mansion. I’ve got to find my car before the night is over. Might be useful.”

Buffy glared at his back as she followed him out the door. He had picked Harmony because she was easy? And she had thought Drusilla was bad. Harmony must have made pulling teeth seem like an enjoyable alternative to time spent in her company. Well what could she expect from an evil, soulless bloodsucker anyway?


TBC...

Chapter 8

Buffy and Spike managed to get to the Shady Hill Cemetery to pick up Spike’s car without running into any trouble. The vampire had parked the DeSoto in the caretaker’s garage back before the Initiative had captured him. After paying the man for the trouble of keeping the old junk heap, Buffy reluctantly climbed into the passenger side.

“I don’t even have words,” Buffy muttered, pushing away some of the empty bottles by her feet.

“There’ll be no insultin’ my baby, Slayer,” Spike growled in reply, fondly running his hands over the steering wheel in a mock lover’s caress. He’d missed his old girl, and he was happy to be reunited with her again after so many long weeks of not knowing if she was safe.

“For something you like as much as you claim to love this hunk of junk,” Buffy said. “I thought you’d keep it cleaner than this, that’s all.”

Spike made a rumbling noise in reply before starting the engine, pleased when she roared to life with relative ease. He savored the short drive to the mansion, wishing he could just continue driving straight out of town. Keep both himself and Buffy safe from the Initiative wankers. That was out of the question, though, at least for the time being. With a pained sigh, he pulled his old girl smoothly into the long driveway.

They got out of the car and each of them grabbed half of the various bags they’d stashed inside the trunk. They made their way up to the house in silence, alert to any vagrants who may have taken up residence in the year it had been abandoned. There were no tingling warnings of anything demony about, so the Slayer proceeded into the ostentatious house.

Walking through the main hallway made Buffy weak in the knees. Her breath hitched in a short gasp as memories came flooding back over her. Angel’s soft expression after he got his soul back; so pained and resigned. The resistance of his torso against the sharp blade of the knight’s sword as it broke through his flesh. Helping him after he returned from Hell. Breaking up again after finally realizing it was all over before her prom. The pain of the memories still burned in her chest, but it was duller than before. She turned to look over at her companion and saw the hurt cross over his features as he got lost in his own painful memories.

Without thinking, Buffy reached to grasp his hand to offer him empathy and support. He hesitated for only a moment, before she felt his fingers weave with hers. They remained still and silent for a while, allowing the past to rear its ugly head in an attempt to scare them off, before silently slipping away in face of future challenges.

The memories Spike had been bombarded with as they stepped into the mansion, were as painful as Buffy’s, with the difference his were laced with bitter betrayal and even more bitter consequences. This place had been where he lost his Dark Princess forever after he’d pledged his allegiance to the girl standing beside him, with her warm hand wrapped tight around his own. Their combined misery and the weight of the past hung thickly in the air, causing the errand sounds of the night to still and disappear.

He turned to find Buffy staring up at him with her emerald eyes shining bright with emotion. They shared a look of sympathy for the shared pain that this house had brought them both before the Slayer controlled herself again.

“We should pick out our rooms,” she said in a whisper, aware of the full weight of the statement. Her eyes silently begged Spike to offer a viable situation. One that would keep Giles away from the room he was tortured in. That would keep them both away from Angel and Drusilla’s ghosts and their pasts.

“Right,” Spike reluctantly withdrew his fingers from hers. He moved further in, picking up the bags he’d dropped earlier, and assigning the aforementioned rooms to the various Scoobies. Xander and Anya were in Angel’s old room, Joyce in Dru’s old bedroom, and Giles in one of the unused spare rooms. Willow and Tara would share the last bedroom upstairs. Moving downstairs, he walked slowly towards his old room, pushing the door ajar and watching the dust float lazily around in the dim light. His old wheel chair still lay overturned in a corner by the bed.

“No one needs to stay here,” Buffy’s soft voice called him out of his nightmarish musings. It seems the weeks in shared captivity had taught her to read his emotions better than he’d expected. “There are a few more rooms on this floor.”

“Nah,” Spike said with feigned nonchalance, which Buffy saw right through. “’S alright for me to stay here. Not like I’m afraid of ghosts.”

“Spike,” Buffy started, reaching out to him.

“Leave it, Slayer,” he cut off whatever argument she would have started. There couldn’t be a more fitting place for him to adjust to his new crippling imprisonment, after all. He dropped his duffel in the center of the room, sealing his fate and ending any further argument before it began.

“I’ll take this one,” Buffy said, indicating the room across the hall, depositing her own bag down by the door. This way the two strongest fighters would be on the ground floor should anything attempt or even manage to come in past the wards the witches would be placing as soon as they had a chance.

“So, we’ll need sheets, towels, and basically everything to clean with,” Buffy trailed off, avoiding emotional turmoil by throwing herself into a plan of attack. The two moved back into the main room of the mansion as Buffy rattled off supplies.

“Slayer,” Spike attempted to cut off her rambling list, having noticed a small group in the front hall.

“Just a sec,” she brushed him off irritably, closing her eyes to go over her list again.

“Slayer,” Spike said a lot more forcefully. When she opened her eyes to glare at him, he pointed her toward the group.

Buffy immediately fell into a more defensive stance, surprised when Spike didn’t follow her lead.

“Mistress Buffy?” a soft voice broke through the silence. “We are here to help you. Anyanka sent for us.”

“Help?” Buffy asked dumbfounded. “With what?”

The small blue-skinned demon who had spoken to her took a few nervous steps forward, revealing a large pile of cleaning supplies and implements as well as bags full of what appeared to be linen and towels.

“To prepare your living quarters,” the demon continued softly. “Anyanka called on us and told us it was of urgent need. That the neferaili that have captured many of us are hunting you as well. If we offer you our aid, you may fight the neferaili and restore the balance.”

“Nefer-what-i?” Buffy asked. Spike looked at her sharply, and she paused before inquiring further. “I’m sorry, who and what are you? I am unfamiliar with your species.”

“They are Gourlack demons, Slayer,” Spike answered for her. “Harmless demons who are known for their love of order and cleanliness. Make great night janitors at all the big companies in town.

“Really?” Buffy’s brow furrowed in thought. Maybe the people of Sunnydale weren’t as ignorant as they appeared if they hired little blue demons to do the work.

“Nah, they enlist the help of demons that look more human,” Spike answered her unspoken question. “Then they work through a company they create. Smart little buggers they are.”

“What the vampire speaks of is true,” the Gourlack replied. “I am Hassfarita, and Anyanka employs us at the store she works at. She called and requested our aid here and explained what you are setting out to do, Slayer. We have lost many of our friends and family to the neferaili, the humans with the guns.”

“The commandos,” Buffy replied. “Yeah, I’m totally going to kick their gun toting asses.”

“We offer our aid to you, Slayer,” Hassfarita bowed deeply. “We will make this abode habitable for you and your warriors so you may defeat the menace and restore the balance.”

Buffy looked over at Spike, unsure of what to say and how to react. Spike tilted his head at her as if the answer should have been obvious.

“Thank you,” Buffy said and was pleased when Spike smirked at her. “Oh, and will you keep our location a secret, please?”

“Of course,” Hassfarita replied gravely. She turned and looked back at her crew of six Gourlack cleaners. “We will set to work now, Slayer. We shall be swift and silent and shall speak of this to no one.”

“Thank you,” Spike said with a short respectful bow to the small demoness. Buffy echoed his actions and the crew set off to work cleaning the place.

“Shall we then?” Buffy asked Spike, indicating that they return to her house to collect more weapons and supplies.

“Sure,” Spike shrugged, throwing a last glance in the direction of the demons who appeared to have spread out to various corners of the mansion.

~*~*~

Buffy stared out at the passing scenery through the open passenger side window of Spike’s car. The window had to be open for her to see out as they were still caked with the black paint he used on long trips. He normally cleaned them off if he was planning on staying in location for a while; he’d told her as much at the Initiative. The whole situation felt surreal to her. They had just filled the trunk of the car up with weapons and essential from Giles and Xander’s houses and were heading back to Revello for the final pick up. Spike sat relaxed beside her, smoking a cigarette and carefully blowing the smoke out the window so it wouldn’t bother her too much.

He had helped her load items from both her watcher and friend without so much as a word. He knew they were still weary of him and he had no real desire to get involved with them at all, but Buffy had been firm in including him in everything. Besides, they needed someone to keep the demons at bay while she focused on the human threat.

Human threat. It sounded wrong even in the hushed interior of her mind. Humans shouldn’t be a threat to her. Not to anyone around them at all. But humans were the ones who had inflicted the wounds on her body that still hadn’t closed and probably wouldn’t for days. Humans were the ones that had experimented on her like she was a lab rat and had held no regard for her whatsoever. Humans had treated her like a thing, a monster to be cast away. At least if she fought a vamp or a demon she knew it would be a clean fight. Well, for the most part, she realized, casting a sidelong glance at the driver. Spike didn’t always fight clean, but he was always fair.

“Deep thoughts, Slayer?” Spike asked when he became impatient of the heavy silence. The Slayer hadn’t said a word since they left the whelp’s house and he figured she was re-evaluating including him in the group.

“Yeah,” she sighed deeply, eyes returning to the road beside them.

“You gonna share, pet?” he inquired. If she was planning on getting rid of him at least she would have to man up and tell him.

“It’s nothing,” Buffy mumbled, sighing again. She wasn’t even sure she knew where her train of thought was leading. “It’s just that I’m not sure I even know what I’m fighting anymore.”

Well, that wasn’t what he had expected at all. “Sorry, but I don’ follow, luv.”

“The Initiative,” Buffy turned in her seat to face him. “They’re humans, right? I’m the Slayer. I’m supposed to protect them, that’s part of the whole Slayer package. I never thought I’d be treated like a monster by them. The Council excluded, of course…” she trailed off, not wanting to account for the actions of the Watchers now. Maybe what they had done to her when she turned eighteen was no different than what the Initiative did pitting her against demons in there?

Spike looked over at her, studying her for long moments. He knew she hadn’t had the best run with the Council in the past; she had alluded to it but had never gone into detail. And having human scientists treat her as if she was an abomination, no different from him or the other various demons in the place must have been a tremendous blow. It would have been equal to abuse, maybe even rape.

“They just wouldn’t listen to me,” Buffy continued to fill the silence. “They claim to know all about the demon world and they don’t even know about me. And then they cut me open to see what’s inside, to see if I’ll bleed like them. When I did, they just said I must be special.”

“You are special,” Spike answered with a cheeky smirk, taking the seriousness out of the compliment. “They jus’ didn’ know what to do with you. Probly thought the Slayer was a myth told to little demons to keep ‘em from bein’ naughty. Like the boogey man.”

The comparison caused her to smile briefly, but her mask of concern fell back into place immediately. “But how am I supposed to protect them when they tortured me?”

Spike knew she didn’t expect an answer. She also wouldn’t have voiced this aloud to anyone else, especially the Scoobies. They’d spout of some drivel about it being her sacred duty and she would just have to carry on. Spike eased the car into her driveway and put it in park, carefully turning the words over in his head before turning to face her.

“Don’ know, Slayer,” he said, eyes fixated on hers. “I’d kill ‘em all an’ drain ‘em dry. Make ‘em suffer long for what they did. But I’m evil. ‘S what I do. You’ve got the whole white hat thing goin’ for you an’ sooner or later you’ll realize that the idiots at the Initiative aren’t the same as the humans you protect every day. Humans are all different jus’ like demons are all different. Shades of gray and all that rot.”

Buffy was quiet for a while, trying to understand what Spike was telling her. “So, it’s like they are serial killers and murderers and I don’t have to be responsible for them?”

“No,” Spike replied. “It’s more complicated than that, pet. You can see ‘em as murderers, rapists, the like, yeah? But you can only turn ‘em over to the authorities. You can’t judge them, can’t kill ‘em. I could. But you could never take a human life.”

“But it would be like capital punishment, wouldn’t it?” she asked.

“Suppose,” Spike mused. “Would you want to be the bloke who pushes the button?”

“No,” Buffy replied softly after a while.

“See,” Spike smiled. “Too bloody noble you are, Slayer. Some of those wankers deserve worse than I could give ‘em. But some of them, they’re just followin’ orders. Doin’ what they think is right. Soldiers have to follow orders or they’re put in jail, or worse. Back in the day they’d be shot for disobeying orders. Soldiers have had to have that mentality since the beginnin’ of time. Just like you thinking all demons are evil.”

“All demons are evil,” Buffy responded automatically, but without the authority she used to.

“Really?” Spike raised a scarred brow. “An’ the little blue blokes cleanin’ the mansion for you right now, are they evil, too?”

“No,” she replied, looking away from his intense scrutiny. “At least they don’t appear to be evil.”

“An’ the ones that deliver your food after dark, work at the fuel stations, 24 hour joints?”

“They’re demons?” Buffy asked, shocked.

“Yeah,” Spike smirked at her. “You humans may not be the brightest lot, but you have enough sense to avoid those jobs in Sunnyhell. Not all demons are the same.”

“I’m beginning to see that,” Buffy replied. “But the Council, and Giles, they always said that demons equaled evil badness.”

“Of course they did, luv,” Spike didn’t seem bothered by the idea. “Slayers are young an’ impressionable. And you shouldn’t think anything else with all the things out there that want to kill you. You can’t be goin’ around wondering if the vamp you just staked was actually living peacefully off animal blood. Or if the demon had a family to support. You’re trained to kill. ‘S not much different from how soldiers are taught to kill the enemy durin’ a war, can’t kill a bloke if you’re thinkin’ he’s just like you with a family to support, can you? You have to see him as less than yourself. As evil, as the enemy.”

“You make it sound so crude,” Buffy said, horrified by how he explained her job.

“Well, it is. You’re made to kill the monsters. But sometimes the monsters aren’t as bad as you think. Like Red’s wolf, or the little blue things. But most of the time you come up against things like me, or even soddin’ Angelus or the Master from what I heard,” Spike finished with a grumble. “The Council may be a bunch of wankers, but they’re not completely wrong in what they teach you.”

“What about the Cruciamentum?” Buffy asked before she realized the words had slipped out. She looked up at Spike to see the immediate change in his previously relaxed features. Golden flecks intensified the vivid blue of his eyes, which had taken on a deadly look.

“They put you through that sadistic ritual?” Spike asked, barely restrained anger lacing his voice with deadly intent.

“Yeah, I turned eighteen so it was sort of part of the deal,” Buffy said, unsure of what had gotten Spike so angry. “I passed, sort of. I beat Kralick and Giles was fired for treating me too much like a daughter. He wasn’t going to let me do it in the end. But Kralick kidnapped Mom, so I had no choice.”

“They pitted you against Kralick? Without your powers?” Spike’s jaw ticked as he tried to keep his anger in check. He wasn’t supposed to be this angry to begin with. The Slayer could have died during the trial, was probably expected to, and he should have been happy to see her go. Instead, he was filled with cold dread at the thought that the famously insane and viciously cruel vampire could have had his one good day.

“Spike?” Buffy asked her tone softer than usual, surprised by the reaction her story got from him. She had obviously beaten Kralick seeing as she was here to tell the tale. She reached across the seats to lay a hand on his arm, wary of him as his eyes constantly flickered between gold and blue.

“They didn’t expect you to make it,” Spike said in a low voice.

“Yeah, I figured as much,” Buffy replied, having long ago come to terms with the Council’s dislike of her.

“They tried to kill you,” he reiterated, hand shooting out with vampiric speed to grasp her chin in his hand, forcing her to look at him. He was looking at her so intensely Buffy was terrified even though she knew he couldn’t harm her.

“They failed,” she said softly when Spike showed no sign of calming down. The hand that was on his forearm started moving in soothing circles, hoping to reassure him that it was in the past. When she pulled away, his grip on her face tightened briefly before he let her go, visibly shaking himself.

“Sorry, luv,” he said softly, staring straight ahead, arms resting on the steering wheel. “’S just a li’l too underhanded for my likin’.”

“You’d prefer to kill me in a clean fight,” Buffy said plainly, completely aware of their history.

“Used to,” he acknowledged, looking over at her with a soft look. “Not so sure I want to anymore.” And with that earth shattering revelation, he pushed the door open and got out of the car, leaving Buffy too shocked to move until he called her from the door. Spike didn’t want to kill her anymore? But then again, did she really want to kill him? Could she? After all they had been through? Buffy wasn’t so sure anymore. Shades of gray, indeed…



TBC…

Chapter 9

By the time Buffy and Spike returned to the mansion with the final load of supplies, the Gourlack demons lead by Hassfarini had gotten all of the bedrooms as well as the kitchen in order. The little demons certainly lived up to their reputation of being quick and efficient cleaners, especially since they had cleaned seven rooms including the kitchen as well as dressed all the beds, even in the spare rooms. The bathrooms both upstairs and down were spotless as well with running hot water which would certainly come in handy.

“Wow,” Buffy whispered as she entered the bedroom she had chosen, seeing it in all its glory for the first time. It was decorated in shades of forest green with a beautiful four poster bed stationed in the center of one wall. The upturned table and chairs had been placed carefully near the built-in fireplace and the Gourlacks had chosen a midnight blue comforter for the massive bed. The duffel bag she had carelessly tossed inside earlier that day had been placed at the base of the bed and a beautiful armoire stood open and ready for anything she would need to hang.

“Is it to your liking, Mistress?” Hassfarini asked as she appeared at Buffy’s side silently.

“Yes, I’ve never seen this place look so amazing,” Buffy’s voice was filled with wonder. It may have been Angel’s old place, but the gang would certainly be living in luxury while in hiding.

“We decided no to touch the gardens outside, Mistress,” Hassfarini continued. “It would make the mansion appeared inhabited and we assumed this was not desired.”

“No, you’re right. Thank you,” Buffy turned to look at the demoness. She paused for a minute, taking in the odd situation before looking at the small blue creature in the eyes. “Thank you for all the work you’ve done here. I don’t know what Anya has arranged to pay you…”

“No payment necessary,” the creature shrugged off with a motion from her hand. “Your services by equalizing the balance is payment enough for us. It will allow us to return to how things were.”

“I will do my best,” Buffy assured the demon.

Hassfarini nodded and disappeared back out into the main part of the house to aid in the last few tasks. Buffy indulged herself by flexing her tired muscles after depositing the bag of weapons she still had hanging over her shoulder on the floor. She would have to look through the whole house before settling down for a few hours of much needed sleep before her mother and watcher joined them.

The Slayer shut the door to her room softly and stared at Spike’s closed door across the hall. She’d just tell him where she was going, in case he wanted to learn the layout as well. He probably hadn’t spent much time upstairs the last time he had been in the mansion. It didn’t seem like it was too wheelchair accessible and she doubted that Angelus or Dru would have brought him up there. She took a few decisive steps across the hall and knocked softly before cracking the door open.

“Come in,” the vampire called out and looked surprised when Buffy’s face popped behind the door.

“Just seeing if you wanted to check out the upstairs level with me,” she said, glancing around the massive bedroom Spike had chosen. It was possibly more luxurious than her room, dark wood and navy blue detailing all around the walls. There was a fireplace in this room as well, along with a desk, table and chair arrangement which matched hers. There was even a matching armchair which had been angled to get the most amount of heat from the fireplace when lit. The platinum blond’s bed was decorated in shades of black and red, causing Buffy to smile. It was as sinful as the occupant.

“Sure,” Spike said, picking weapons out of the bag he’d tossed onto the bed. “Better make sure everything’s locked up tight before your mum comes. The witches said they’d be by in the mornin’ to set up the wards, right?”

“Yeah, Willow said she would be here before sunrise just in case the commandos started surveillance at her place,” Buffy leaned against the doorframe waiting until Spike had tucked away a few of the battle axes and short swords into the chest at the base of his bed.

“We don’ have much time then, luv,” he replied following her up the staircase.

Buffy nodded and set about checking each and every corner of the rooms upstairs while Spike went to investigate on his own. They were all as richly decorated as the ones in the first floor, giving her the impression they were in a European noble estate. They were decorated in shades of yellow, green, violet, and blue. Each of them had beautiful furniture and lavish drapes over large windows with view to the expensive property standing behind the manor. Each one had a personality all its own influenced by the color scheme of choice. The yellow room, for example, where Joyce would be sleeping was cheerful.

Willow and Tara would be staying in the violet room since Buffy figured it wouldn’t go over well with the boys. It boasted a large fireplace and soft, feminine decorative touches littered the room. Hassfarini and her fellow workers had filled the room with fresh flowers from the garden outside, giving the entire place a very homey feel. Buffy smiled from the doorway, feeling a little better about displacing all of her friends for the next few weeks.

Giles would occupy the stately green room which could have passed for a library. The thought made Buffy giggle as she took in the dark oak bookshelves which lined one of the far walls and the small sofa situated under the window to allow the most amount of light for reading. The rest of the decor was a little more Spartan than the other, more luxurious bedrooms, but Buffy figured the books would more than make up for it. Besides, it’s not like Giles was too interested in big, lavish digs. She’d seen his bedroom at his apartment. Not a love nest by a long shot.

She shook her head before heading back downstairs to organize her own room and wait for her best friend to come and set up the wards around the mansion.

Buffy had never even thought to look around the place while Angel lived in it, more interested in the occupant than the massive mansion he’d picked to live in. The brunet vampire had kept himself to the sparsely decorated living room whenever she’d been around and she had honestly never thought further than that, so she was very surprised at how beautiful it really was.

“All clear,” Spike said, coming up to stand behind her.

“Good,” Buffy replied, rolling her head around on her shoulders attempting to ease some of the strain on her tired neck. “Should we wait for Willow?”

“I can wait for her if you like,” he answered preceding her down the stairs. “If you wanna get some kip.”

“Not sure that’s such a great idea yet,” the blonde said as she collapsed onto one of the leather sofas. “Willow may trust you more than Xander or Giles, but I’m not sure she’ll be comfortable enough around you.”

Spike grinned happily at that and Buffy raised her eyebrow with a soft smile.

“What? ‘M evil,” Spike said with a lazy smile as he lit the cigarette dangling from his lips. They had made a special detour on their way to the mansion for him to buy a carton of cigarettes much to Buffy’s objection. But at least he had paid for it.

“Sure you are, very evil,” Buffy replied, not able to resist goading the vampire. When he started to pout, she burst out laughing. “That makes you look oh-so-scary Mr. The Bloody.”

“Whatever, Slayer,” Spike grumbled, hiding his own smile by taking a long drag of his cigarette.

“What would you have done if I hadn’t been at the Initiative?” Buffy asked, curious about the vamp’s apparent chameleonic adaptability. She could only imagine he would have found a way out on his own without a problem. But what he would have done afterwards was a whole other story. After his reluctant confession that he didn’t want to kill her anymore, she couldn’t help being curious.

“Dunno,” Spike replied eyes locked with hers. He stared at her for a while contemplating the question. “Reckon I would have tried to find a way to feed. An’ if I couldn’t, I probably would have gone to you.”

“To me?” Buffy frowned, thrown by his answer.

“Yeah.” Spike looked away and tossed the cigarette butt into the empty fireplace. “Probably would have figured the white hats wouldn’t turn me away. ‘Sides you always had a soft spot for me,” He threw her a leer meant to amuse her and deflect further questions.

“As if,” Buffy said, a faint blush staining her cheeks pink.

“Spin me another yarn, Slayer. You never did get into killing me,” he replied, long legs stretching out in front of him.

“Don’t flatter yourself, fang face,” Buffy muttered. “I just never had a good enough chance. Almost had you on parent teacher night, though,” she said, lifting her chin in the air to feign superiority.

“You had me?” Spike let out a bark of laughter. “If it weren’t for your mum you’d be six feet under right now.”

Buffy’s eyes shifted away, goose bumps rising on her arms at the truth behind that statement. She had never really liked looking back at her near-death experiences even though Giles always said they were perfect situations to learn from. She’d never told him what happened that night, though. How close she had truly come to dying… again.

“Hey,” Spike touched her arm and she jumped at the sensation. “Made it through that too, pet.” Genuine concern glowed from the depth of his eyes, a frown marring his handsome features.

“I know,” Buffy replied, strangely comforted when Spike dropped a reassuring hand onto her shoulder. “It’s not that. It’s all of this – everything that’s happened. I’m just shaken,” Buffy admitted, unsure of when acknowledging her fears had become a normal thing for her to do with Spike. But when he looked up at her with those too-blue eyes of his and a soft, sad smile she found it hard to care about the reasons why. He had been there with her. He had seen what they had done to her. No one else would ever know. They never could.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Spike watched the haunted look passing through Buffy’s clear green eyes. She had been back in that place too many times tonight. The Initiative and the Council’s betrayal had both shaken her beliefs about humans quite strongly he suspected. He sat beside her as she started to unwind the bandage that encased her forearm, wanting to check on the progress of her healing himself. When she revealed the deep reddish purple gash that had yet to seal completely, he had to bite back the growl that rose unbidden to his throat.

“It’s gonna scar,” she said softly, running a fingertip along the length of the incision.

He could smell her tears before they made tracks down her soft cheeks. Buffy swiped at them angrily, obviously not wanting to express any weakness in front of her sometime enemy. Spike felt his heart tighten in his chest as her frustration only added to the torrent of tears.

Without a word, he tugged her into his arms, allowing her to finally let herself go. He couldn’t judge her after living through the same brutal and inhumane experiments and held her tighter as heavy sobs racked through her small frame. She clung desperately to him, burying her face in his throat, allowing herself a moment of release.

There had been a few nights after a particularly sadistic experiment or a terrifying nightmare where he’d sensed her crying beside him. The first time, he’d awkwardly crawled over to her and patted her shoulder. Later, after they had started sleeping next to each other so they could plot their escape, he’d pulled her close and held her as she sobbed silently against him. A couple of nights he’d pulled her closer because he needed some kind of comfort, as well. She had never said anything, just burrowed closer to him and fallen back into dreamless sleep while he held on to her.

They wouldn’t talk about this tomorrow. They would go on as if it never happened. But for the moment until her sobs quieted and her tears ran dry, Spike took on her burden and let her be a wounded girl instead of the powerful Slayer. And to say it didn’t affect him would have been an outright lie. The time of denial was long gone for him now. He cared for her.

Buffy’s sobs gradually quieted to low sniffling, her tired body melting further into him, her soft curves molding themselves to the hard planes of his body. The torrent of emotion had exhausted the girl even further, her hands weakly wringing the edge of his t-shirt between her fingers. When her hands accidentally brushed against the cool skin of his stomach, it was all the vampire could do to remain calm.

“I’m sorry,” she hiccupped as she pulled away, cheeks flushed pink and eyes rimmed with red. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“Don’ worry, pet,” Spike said, wiping away the last remnants of her tears. “Secret’s safe with me.”

He pulled Buffy’s head back down to his shoulder silently, running his hands up and down her back in reassurance. She gradually relaxed against him again, her breathing evening out as the last of her tears dried up. Spike rested his chin on the top of her head, breathing in her scent as she sat so trustingly in his lap. They stayed in that position for long moments until Buffy stirred; apparently ready to leave the protective bubble that seemed to have formed around the duo.

She looked up at him then, eyes impossibly greener than before. Before he knew what she was planning she leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. Her lips were warm and soft against his. He didn’t even have time to react before she pulled away, eyes sparkling with some emotion which he couldn’t define at the moment.

“Thanks,” she said shyly. The opening and closing of a door alerted them to Willow’s arrival and Buffy pulled out of his arms and away from him, wiping hands over her face to clear the last remnants of her breakdown. She looked over her shoulder at him briefly before meeting her friend in the front hallway.

Yeah, he was definitely fucked, Spike realized. The Slayer had wormed herself under his skin and into his heart. And she was there to stay.

Chapter 10

Buffy hurried to meet Willow by the front door, noticing that the Gorlack demons seemed to be packing up their things and preparing to leave. She saw Willow coming up the driveway lugging a heavy bag with her.

It was the perfect distraction after her disturbing break down with Spike. She never thought she would find herself crying in his arms, even after all the two had shared during their imprisonment. But everything had just come at her at once, and when Spike said that he would have come to her for help, it was the straw that broke the camel’s back in the end. The floodgates opened, but now she felt like she was on shaky ground with the vampire.

“Hey, Buffy,” Willow said dropping the heavy bag on the ground. The redhead had dark circles under her eyes, evidence of her lack of sleep. “I got everything we need to set up the wards. I can’t make them as strong as I’d like without Tara’s help, but it was easier to come alone.”

“That’s alright, Wills,” Buffy replied, stifling a yawn. “Just do what you can for now and we’ll deal with the rest when Tara comes.”

“Mistress Buffy,” Hassfarani’s voice came from behind the Slayer. “We have completed our job for tonight. If you require assistance in the future, do not hesitate to contact us again. Anyanka knows how to reach me.”

“Thank you,” the petite blonde said with a genuine smile. “We appreciate all your help and I promise to put a stop to the Commandos.”

“We have faith in you, Mistress,” Hassfarani bowed shortly to Buffy, who returned the gesture out of respect. The blue demoness assembled her crew and the few supplies they were taking back with them and quickly disappeared out the front door.

“What – who was that?” Willow asked when the creatures were out of hearing range.

“Oh, Hassfarani is a Go-lucky demon. Anya hired them to clean the place up so we can live in it,” Buffy explained. “You should see the rooms we’re staying in, Wills. Who knew this place was so posh?”

“Well, it is a mansion,” her best friend supplied, a twinkle of humor in her eyes.

“Yeah, an’ Angelus always loved the high life,” Spike’s voice came rumbling from down the hall. Willow was visibly startled by him, but managed to calm down quickly. It would take some getting used to having the infamous vampire around and not fearing him.

“Hi, Spike,” the witch managed without a stutter, but there was a catch in her voice which indicated her fear. She watched him stalk towards them, sleek and predatory, though she was certain he wasn’t trying to intimidate her. It was just something inherent to Spike, something that set him apart even to people who didn’t know what he was.

“’Lo, Red,” he smiled at her, hoping to help slow her racing heartbeat. He still enjoyed the fact that he frightened her, but after the way she had cared for him the other night, and all that Buffy had told him about her, he no longer wanted to scare her.

“W-we were just getting ready to put up the wards,” Willow explained, eyes fixed on a spot behind Spike’s shoulder, not willing to meet his gaze directly for too long.

“This won’t affect Spike will it?” Buffy asked, not looking at him. She was still embarrassed about what had happened earlier and the fact that he had joined them in the hall unsettled her further.

“N-no, it shouldn’t,” Willow replied, looking over the notes in the book she still held. “I have made charms for all of us to wear so that we can pass through without setting off any alarms.” She stooped down to rummage through the bag at her feet.

“Ah!” she smiled triumphantly, pulling out three small bags. She passed two of them to Buffy, who in turn tossed the spare one over to Spike. He smirked at the Slayer, knowing full well what was running through that mile-an-hour mind of hers.

“Just wear these when you want to pass through the barriers,” Willow explained, tucking her charm into the pocket of her jean jacket. “We shouldn’t need them while we’re inside, but you should keep them handy if they’re not on you. And don’t lose them!” Willow stared sternly at her scatterbrained friend.

“I’m not going to lose it!” Buffy said indignantly. “I’m a good keeper of things…”

Willow arched a humorous eyebrow in response, not wanting to delve further into that statement. The petite Slayer wasn’t known to lose things, per se, but she wasn’t the most reliable person either. She looked over at Spike who was struggling not to grin as Buffy continued to mutter under her breath about best friends and their lack of trust.

“Alright, this should only take about a half hour or so,” Willow glanced over at Spike briefly before turning to Buffy. “If you guys want to get some sleep before Giles and your Mom get here, you can go. I’ll let myself out.”

“But what if it doesn’t work?” Buffy asked while stifling another yawn. “What if Spike disappears o-or goes poof into a pile of flaming vamp-dust?”

“I’ll know,” Willow said with a small smile. “And he’s not going to go poof. This is just a protective ward.”

Buffy looked exhausted. And she was certainly concerned about Spike’s safety. She would need all the sleep she could get in the next few hours. And it’s not like she would have had much while she was at the Initiative with Spike.

“Okay,” Buffy still sounded unconvinced, looking between the witch and the vampire.

“’S alright, love,” Spike said. “I’ll stay up with Red an’ make sure it’s fine. You toddle off to bed so you’re bright eyed when Mum gets here.”

“You sure?” Buffy asked the question, glancing between both of them. She wouldn’t leave Willow alone with Spike if she wasn’t comfortable with the idea.

“Yeah,” Willow said, looking Spike in the eye. “Go. You look like you’re ready to fall asleep standing up. I’ll be fine and I’ll try to get in touch with you tonight.”

“Okay,” Buffy walked over to give her friend a brief hug before turning and heading off in the direction of her new bedroom.

Willow let out the breath she’d been holding and started to gather the ingredients she had assembled for the spells. She noticed Spike approach her, which meant that he was trying not to scare or intimidate her. Sneaking up on her was second nature to a vampire.

“Need some help, Red?” Spike sat down on his haunches beside her.

“Um,” Willow hesitated, unsure of what the correct course of action might be.

“Be happy to help you set up,” Spike added, noting her discomfort.

“S-sure,” Willow stammered, finally looking up at him. She couldn’t help the small flinch as memories came flooding back of broken bottles and threats to kill her. “If you can just place these candles at these points,” she unfolded a diagram of the layout of the house.

“’Course,” Spike picked up the assembled candles and reached for the diagram to have a closer look. Seemingly satisfied he walked off to place and light each of them in the order Willow specified.

When he returned, Willow started chanting and sealed each of the entrances to the home with a mixture of herbs. She felt the magicks seep through her as the final phrase of her spell was uttered, extinguishing the candles and raising an invisible barrier around the home. Making a few additions, the wards were set up quickly and with relative ease. Watching Spike out of the corner of her eye, she noticed his defensive posture and the shiver that ran through him when the final wards were set.

“You okay?” she asked with concern. She didn’t think the spells would have any effect on the vampire as she had specifically included him in their protection.

“Yeah,” Spike muttered. “Magic jus’ makes my skin crawl. Never did trust it.”

“I-it’s just a simple protection ward,” Willow explained, nervous again in his company.

“I know, Red,” Spike fixed her with his penetrating gaze. “Not sayin’ anythin’ against it. Know you’re helping out.”

“Well, I – uh – do what I can,” Willow busied herself gathering the left over ingredients. “Tara will help me refine the spell once everyone gathers here.”

“Nice bird that Glinda,” Spike smiled before frowning, obviously contemplating something. “Not gonna apologize for what I’ve done to you, Red. I’m a vamp, bein’ evil’s what I do. But for what it’s worth, I won’t do anything to hurt you again.”

“Never?” Willow asked, awed by his apparent apology, even if he denied it.

The bleached-blond cracked a rueful smile. “Not unless I want to meet the pointy end of the Slayer’s stake I reckon. But you’re good stuff, Red. Been right decent to me, so I can only return the favor.”

Willow could only gape at him as he rubbed the back of his neck in apparent shyness. Though she had no reason to, she trusted that Spike was telling the truth and now she was apparently on his ‘Do Not Kill’ list. She could only hope that that list would get longer because she was starting to suspect there was more to this unusual vampire that met the eye.

“Gonna go get some shut eye,” Spike said as way of goodbye as he sauntered off down the hall. “Take care of yourself, witch.”

“B-bye, Spike,” Willow chocked out, unsure of what to really say to him. She shook her head, marveling at the turn of events during the last few days. Buffy was back finally, but she had certainly brought back a fair share of trouble. Spike not being the least of them. Willow had begun to suspect that there was something between the two super-beings, but was unsure of what it was. Besides, Buffy had already been through the vampire love interest with disastrous results, it wasn’t like she would make the same mistake twice?

Willow put the magic book on the kitchen counter before heading out into the early morning sunlight. Giles would want to have a look through it as soon as he got to the house. She would swing by his apartment before class to drop off the charms, as well as Xander’s so all the Scoobies would be allowed free access to their new fortress. They could only hope that it would keep them hidden away long enough to figure out how to deal with the new treat looming over Sunnydale.

TBC...

Chapter Eleven:

Buffy stirred slowly in the luxurious bed she found herself in. The realization that she was not sleeping in her own bedroom hit as soon as she cracked her tired eyes open. She looked quickly around the unfamiliar room but relaxed as the memories of the previous day came flooding back to her, filling in the gaps sleep had left behind. She sighed and stretched before reluctantly getting out of bed. She had no idea what time it was, but she assumed it must be around mid-day. No matter how late she stayed out slaying, she was always up by noon, even if her body protested every inch of the way.

Buffy stripped off the shorts she had worn to bed, slipping into a comfortable pair of jeans instead. After changing her shirt, she gathered her toiletries and headed to the bathroom to freshen up. She noticed that Spike’s door was still firmly closed, not unusual however seeing as this was his usual sleep schedule.

After freshening up, Buffy made her way into the main rooms of the house. The kitchen had been stocked at the same time as the house had been cleaned she noticed as she pulled open the door of a brand new refrigerator. How that had gotten there in only a few hours she couldn’t even begin to imagine.

Finding some low fat yogurt and muesli, the Slayer headed in to the living room to indulge in her breakfast. When she settled on the sofa she recalled her breakdown with Spike the night before.

Buffy had no idea what specifically triggered the breakdown, she never normally cried in front of anyone. She was, as always, the stony rock of the group. No tears, no panicked confessions. But she had certainly gone against that last night. It wasn’t seeing the incision, though it was quite horrifying to look at. There must have been something about the way Spike behaved around her. Like it was okay to just let everything go, if only for a moment.

There had been times when she cried at the Initiative as well. She had always waited until she knew that Spike was asleep, or she was as sure as you could be with a living corpse. But sometimes when she’d laid curled up in his duster beside him on the cold tile floor, she’d felt his arm go around her. A silent reassurance that she was alright and that she wasn’t alone. Buffy wasn’t sure she would have made it out of that place if it hadn’t been for the vampire. That thought in itself was terrifying. She couldn’t rely on her enemy to save her, she couldn’t be indebted to him.

But she was, and Spike hadn’t said a word about it yet. He hadn’t held it over her, and she had assumed that it was because he was as thankful to her. That he wouldn’t have made it out on his own. But if Buffy looked deep within herself she knew that wasn’t true. Spike would have found a way out of that hell hole even if he was alone. And he would have come to her for help. The Spike she knew now was nothing like she had ever expected to find.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When her mother and Giles arrived mid afternoon, Buffy had managed to take stock of most of the food and supplies the Scoobies now had available to them. There was enough fresh and canned food to keep them happy for at least a few weeks, and a large supply of animal blood for Spike in both the freezer and refrigerator. She had no idea who had arranged for that, but she was thankful.

“Sweetheart,” Joyce exclaimed immediately when she saw her daughter, closing the distance quickly to embrace her only child. It was a novelty just to see her standing before her, let alone healthy and well after so many weeks without her. A mother had to take any opportunity that presented itself.

“Hi, Mom,” Buffy returned her mother’s hug happily. “Giles,” she said, acknowledging the appearance of her Watcher, arms full of boxes of books.

“Buffy,” Giles greeted with a wide grin. “Would you mind terribly?” he asked, pointing his chin in the direction of the hallway.

“Nope, not at all,” Buffy said and quickly collected the remaining bags and books from the front hall. She showed her mother and Giles to the rooms that had been assigned to them upstairs and had to smile at her mother’s awed reaction. No one had known what a treasure this house was.

“I never expected…” Joyce trailed off as she set her bag down by her feet.

“I know,” Buffy sighed. “No one knew.” She added with a shrug before making her way back downstairs to the kitchen while the two got properly settled.

“’Lo, Slayer,” Spike’s deep voice came rumbling from behind her while she set about preparing the kettle as per Giles’ request. She turned to look over her shoulder and was floored to see Spike look like he just got out of bed. Which, duh, he just had, she chastised herself. He wore his usual black t-shirt and jeans but had left his feet bare and his usually slicked back locks were a rumpled mess on his head. She found herself staring at how incredibly delicious he looked.

“Got any blood?” he asked, oblivious to her revelation. He padded slowly into the kitchen, still shaking off the last of the cobwebs from sleep. Yawning, he stretched his clasped hands above his head, revealing a perfectly toned strip of pale flesh over his abdomen. Before Buffy had a chance to reply Joyce came bustling in.

“Oh, Spike, you’re here,” she said with a wide grin, looking like she wanted to smother him with affection. She had naturally headed up his new fan club and accredited him for getting her daughter back home safely. Joyce hesitated for a second before throwing caution to the wind and winding her arms around him in a fierce hug.

Spike met Buffy’s eyes over Joyce’s shoulder before tentatively returning the affectionate gesture.

“I’m sorry,” Joyce said a little flustered. “I just can’t thank you enough. Has Buffy shown you where your blood is?” Joyce made her way over to the fridge, the comment falling naturally from her as if blood was a staple food group in every all American home.

“She was jus’ about to,” Spike replied, smiling softly over at the still stunned Slayer. “Slayer wanted to get the kettle goin’ for you first. Jus’ rolled out of bed myself.”

“Oh dear, well I’ll finish up here if you kids want to go sit down. I know Rupert wants to discuss some things with you right away.” She shooed her daughter and the one hundred and forty plus year old ‘kid’ out of the kitchen.

“Spike isn’t really a kid anymore, Mom,” Buffy couldn’t help but playfully point out. Joyce shot her a disapproving look.

“I know, dear, but he looks like one,” she said glancing at the vampire.

“And acts like one, too,” Buffy added smugly, grinning at her former enemy. Spike morphed into full game face at her and snarled. When Buffy merely raised an eyebrow at the display he quickly returned to his human features and pouted.

“A child, indeed,” Joyce said quietly before resuming her kitchen duties.

“C’mon, Slayer,” Spike tried, sounding petulant. “You’re not even a bit scared?”

Buffy shook her head and smiled. “You didn’t scare me before.”

“Did, too,” Spike grumbled while trying to hide a grin.

“Did not,” Buffy said before flouncing into the soft cushions of the sofa.

“Could still tear you lot limb from limb if I wanted,” the vampire groused, sitting down at the other end of the long black leather couch.

“Sure you could,” Buffy replied patronizingly, sounding unconvinced. She opened her mouth to retaliate with some witty retort, but before she had a chance Giles walked in to the kitchen area.

“Ah, Spike,” he acknowledged the vampire warily. “I see you’re awake.”

“Sleep schedule’s still off after all that time underground,” Spike explained, smiling up at Joyce as she handed him a warm mug filled with blood.

“Ah, yes,” Giles muttered, picking up the tea tray before Joyce had a chance to return for it herself. He proceeded to pour tea for the four assembled, assuming even Spike would appreciate a good cuppa. He was English after all.

“So, Mom said you wanted to talk to us?” Buffy asked casually, heaping several spoonfuls of sugar into the steaming liquid much to the others’ disgust.

“Buffy, do you really need to…” Giles trailed off, waving a hand in the direction of her mug.

“What?” she asked, dumbfounded. “It’s all bitter and it’s not like I don’t burn the calories with the nightly slayage of evil.”

“But five spoonfuls?” Giles muttered, more to himself than for the benefit of the others. But Spike’s low chuckle and Buffy’s subsequent ‘Hey!’ indicated that at least someone had overheard.

“Sorry, Slayer,” Spike said, eyes alight with laughter. “But no proper lady would saturate a good cup of England’s finest with that much sugar.”

Buffy glared at the vampire who seemed too happily at ease while in the same room as the Slayer if you asked her humble opinion. When Spike just continued to grin and even wink at her, Buffy quickly returned her attention to her watcher.

“So, what’s the what?” she asked, sipping delicately at the sweet liquid.

“What’s what?” Giles said quietly before quickly catching on. Apparently being out of Buffy’s company for a few weeks had dulled his understanding of her way of speaking. “Oh, well, the first order of business is that I purchased some of these disposable mobile phones for us all. They should be quite untraceable, or so Willow assured me.”

Giles rose from his seat on the sofa and went to retrieve the boxed cell phones from a bag he’d left in the corner of the room. Buffy immediately ripped open one of the boxes and started fiddling with it to put it all together.

“We’ll need to charge them all as soon as possible,” she said after assembling the first of the phones. “Great idea, Giles.”

“Ah, well, it was mostly Xander and Willow’s idea. Xander suggested he’d seen it in a movie somewhere and Willow confirmed that using the prepaid phones would allow us to remain anonymous.”

“Good,” Buffy replied, smiling at her watcher. At least they had communications covered. It could come in handy. Seeing Giles fidgeting she looked back over at him. “And?”

“Well, Buffy, I thought perhaps it would be a good idea, since we are staying here and all that,” he stammered, plucking his glasses off the tip of his nose and polishing them furiously. “To to get in touch with Angel and let him know we’ll be making use of this place.”

Buffy looked down at the phone she still had in her hands as if it would start working immediately and she would have to face calling her ex right away. She hadn’t called him since she had come home, and she assumed that Giles or someone had told him about her disappearance. Though he wasn’t around when she and Spike came to Giles’ so maybe he didn’t know yet.

“We told him a-about your disappearance,” Giles said, answering her unasked question. “He came, but had to go back to Los Angeles after his associates called. But I can’t say he put in much effort.”

“Really?” Buffy asked in an emotionless tone, still staring at the phone in her hands.

“I’m sorry, Buffy,” Giles said, not explaining further, but there wasn’t much to tell. The souled vampire had come to town and stayed three days prattling on about having heard about Buffy being in grave danger, but not that she had disappeared. Then after a few days of idle waiting he had returned home, claiming to have some important business to attend to. Still, it would be impolite not to inform him that they were squatting in his home. Worse still, if he were to come back and find all the Scoobies and Spike hidden away in the mansion.

“That’s okay, Giles,” Buffy said, finally meeting his eyes. “He’s not the type to stick around. But I suppose I should call him. Let him know we’re here.”

“You gonna tell him ‘bout me, pet?” Spike asked, expression carefully guarded.

Buffy looked over at him, wondering what the right course of action would be. On the one hand, Angel should know that Spike was there. But on the other hand it may cause him to come running to Sunnydale and causing all sorts of problems by lording his ideas over everyone. Buffy shook her head. When had she started thinking of her former love as overbearing and out to cause bigger problems than he’d solve?

“I don’t think so,” Buffy answered quickly, realizing she had been quiet for too long. “He’d just come running here and we don’t need to worry about him on top of everything else.”

Spike tilted his head and studied the Slayer carefully. It wasn’t the answer he’d expected, though he knew she would keep his presence secret from his grandsire. But she genuinely seemed to want to avoid having him come here with guns blazing. Interesting.

“Are you sure that is wise, Buffy?” Giles asked, agreeing with her opinion, but was curious as to why she’d issued it. Either his slayer had grown up, or maybe there was a new influence in her life.

“Yeah,” she said, glancing between the two men who both obviously disliked Angel and generally had no qualms about showing it. “I’m sure. I’ll call him, tell him I was stuck in an alternate dimension or something. That can happen right?”

“According to some theories, yes,” Giles replied.

“A resoundin’ yes, luv,” Spike said, relaxing back into the sofa again. “Where do you think some demons come from?”

“So there really are alternate dimensions?” Buffy asked, amazed.

“Sure, some are even considered to be great vacation spots,” Spike confirmed. “Places even vamps can go an’ get a tan where the sun won’ kill us.”

“Are you quite serious?” Giles asked, taking a notebook and pen out from his pocket. It seemed Spike could prove to be an interesting resource, after all.

“’f course,” Spike rolled his eyes impatiently. “Where do you think vengeance demons hold court or take time off? Not everything revolves around this world, Rupes.”

“Vengeance demons?” Giles scribbled furiously. “That would mean that Anya could have further information about these alternate dimensions.”

“I guess,” Buffy replied, watching Giles scribble down pages of notes. “And she’s like a thousand years old or something.”

“Looks like you finally got a good source of information then,” Spike said, fishing his lighter out of his pocket, quickly growing impatient at the current idle state.

“W-why yes,” Giles looked up from his notepad. “Why haven’t we asked her before?”

“Because you refuse to see what’s right in front of you?” Joyce decided to make her opinion known. “The few times that I spoke to her she seemed to be an incredibly intelligent and well read woman. You just haven’t even given her the chance to speak yet.”

Giles looked down, flushing slightly and feeling thoroughly chastised. Buffy couldn’t help but smile at her mother while Spike openly laughed at the watcher.

“Well, lets get these phones set up and charged,” Buffy said, tossing an unopened box at Spike and handing one to Giles. There were ten in all, so she chose to set three up in working condition seeing as it would only be the four of them for the next couple of nights and it would be better to save some in case the others got discovered, lost or damaged.

“Wanna spar, pet?” Spike looked over at Buffy as soon as she had plugged the last charger into the wall. He was as restless as she was and it would be good to blow off some steam since there wasn’t much else that they could do for the time being. Giles was busy researching with some help from Joyce who was otherwise occupied with organizing and planning the kitchen and the meals for when the house would be full.


~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~

Meanwhile… back at the Initiative….

Maggie Walsh was furious. They had been looking non-stop for the two escapees for the last three days. It seemed that Buffy Summers had at least gotten in touch with her mother since she mysteriously left on a last minute art shopping spree in Europe for her gallery. Plausible, sure, but the timing was a little too convenient. The older British gentleman who often visited Mrs. Summers had also decided that a trip to the homeland was in order at the same time. Though Maggie had yet to understand what connection the older man had with the Summers’ women, he seemed to be deeply engrained in their lives and warranted a closer look.

“Agent Finn!” the petite professor barked out across the sterile lab.

“Yes, ma’m.” Riley Finn stood at attention awaiting the harsh words that were surely in store for him and his troops seeing as they had nothing to show for their long hours of searching.

“What is the current situation?” Maggie asked, looking over the files on display on multiple computer monitors.

“No success as of yet, Professor Walsh,” Riley stated, eyes staring pointedly at the picture of Buffy on the screen.

“I need more detail, agent,” the woman seethed, demonstrating her obvious frustration at the situation.

“The last sighting of Mrs. Summers was as she left in a cab earlier this morning, which surveillance followed to LAX and watched the target enter the terminal. She met with Mr. Giles, also known as Target B, and they proceeded to check in and enter the departure terminal together at eleven hundred hours. Continual surveillance of Ms. Rosenberg is being conducted, though her routine remains consistent within the school. She may have developed a more intimate relationship with the female target identified yesterday as Tara McClay. They remain in contact often, but stay in the school grounds for most of the day. As for the reconnaissance on Hostile 17, all sweeps of local cemeteries and common hostile locations have proved fruitless.” Riley concluded his report knowing that Maggie would not be happy.

“Is that all, Finn?” Maggie asked, narrowing her eyes at the young soldier.

“Yes, ma’m,” the agent acknowledged with a quick nod.

“Well, step up surveillance and get Forrest to get in touch with other factions of our agency overseas to see if we can pick up surveillance on Mrs. Summers and Mr. Giles. I fear that though we believed that there may have been a personal relationship between the escaped hostiles, they may have split up in order to save themselves. No honor among thieves as they say,” she quickly entered some new information into the dossiers of the escapees. “Perhaps we should widen the search radius in order to increase our chances of finding Hostile 17. He must be having difficulty finding something to feed on at this time. He won’t go far without sustenance.”

“Yes, ma’m. I will discuss the situation with Forrest immediately. Is that all?” Riley asked respectfully.

“Yes, agent, you may go,” Maggie dismissed him and Riley quickly made his way out of the lab in search of his teammate.

Riley was secretly relieved they had yet to find any trace of Buffy. He wouldn’t mind getting his hands on Hostile 17, that was a true monster, but he still could not believe that Buffy was anything evil. He was finding himself doubting Walsh more and more in the obsessive search for Buffy. Hostile 17 had a valuable piece of equipment lodged in his brain so the search for it was justified. Once they had the chip back and could confirm its function, then they could dispose of the creature and begin the next phase in the implant plans. If the hostile had escaped the confines of Sunnydale however, the search would become even more problematic.

Riley shook his head to clear it from the treasonous thoughts. It was better to just follow the orders set out for him and see if he could do something to help convince Buffy once she was recaptured. Perhaps he could convince her to admit she was a good demon, maybe then Maggie would see reason and let her help the Initiative capture more hostiles. With the combat skills she had demonstrated during her captivity she would certainly be an asset, even if they had to find some measures to control some of her more unruly behavior. Riley Finn knew that he had to trust in his job and country that he was doing the right thing.

TBC…

Chapter Twelve


Angel had set up a special training room in the mansion before he left for his shiny new life in LA. It contained the bare necessities for training, which were less than Buffy was used to, but there was a punching bag set up in one corner and thick mats laid out on the floor. The room appeared to have been built to be a private dance studio as the long wall was covered in floor to ceiling mirrors intersected by a thick wooden bar.

Buffy quirked a smile in amusement when she entered the room, watching the punching bag swing apparently of its own accord. Spike looked up as she entered and set about pulling the newly cleaned mats into the center of the room. She continued watching the mirror out of the corner of her eye as she unloaded some basic weapons from the duffle bag she had brought with her.

During their imprisonment in the Initiative, Spike had revealed that he had studied in Japan for about a year, learning all sorts of refined hand-to-hand and weapon combat. She was eager to expand her own knowledge in both fields under his tutelage.

After she had laid out an assortment of staffs and swords next to two longer wooden bos, obviously left there by Angel, she set about stretching her muscles during her usual warm up routine. Her muscles protested a bit as she slowly manipulated them into working order, the result of weeks of imprisonment had certainly been a compromise in both strength and flexibility for the Slayer. But that could be brought back with a couple of weeks of intensive training, she supposed.

“Ready, love?” Spike’s deep voice sounded from behind her when she finished off her stretching by sinking into a low split.

“Ready,” she replied brightly. It felt incredible to finally get the blood pumping through her veins again. And she couldn’t deny she was thrilled at the prospect of fighting Spike again, especially when she wouldn’t be in fear for her life.

**

Spike had watched the Slayer warm up her nubile, young body, feeling his own stir in masculine response to her various leg and back stretches. Cor, but she was beautiful. The small, dainty package that was one Buffy Summers certainly wouldn’t seem possible to contain such deadly strength and hairpin accuracy. When he watched her sink into languid splits he had to resort to a litany of disturbing and disgusting images to calm his body’s reaction to her agility.

“Ready, luv?” he inquired when he realized he wouldn’t be able to watch any more of her routine before embarrassing himself.

“Ready,” Buffy replied, full of California girl pep. She smiled at him as she joined him on the training mats, pulling each arm across her chest in turn, offering him an incredible view of her pert breasts. Spike rolled his head on his shoulders, cracking his neck in an effort to shake off any effect the Slayer still had on his all-too-aware-of-her body.

Buffy settled into a simple fighting stance, weaponless, and curled her fingers in a mocking come-hither motion. Spike couldn’t help the feral smile that broke out over his features as he slipped into an equally easy stance. They danced around each other for a few long seconds before the Slayer launched her attack.

Buffy threw herself into a full-on attack, not holding anything back in terms of speed and agility, though the strength behind her blows was tempered because of her still-healing injuries. Spike blocked each of her punches and kicks with expert ease and returned her attack with one of his own. They traded blows and blocks in almost equal amount as they moved elegantly around the space allotted by the mats. Buffy occasionally glanced over to the mirrors to watch herself battle an invisible foe and it was one of those moments of inattention that had her flat on her back, Spike’s human teeth nearly scraping her neck.

Buffy’s pushed desperately against his chest, attempting to keep him away from her throat, refusing to lose to him even in a sparring match. Especially after only a few minutes and a silly distraction. Buffy relaxed her arms marginally, throwing Spike’s balance off and twisted her hips to roll and toss the vampire off her. The move succeeded, for the most part, but Spike had managed to grab her left ankle in the process and now attempted to pull her closer.

Kicking out with her free foot, Buffy gave a solid blow to Spike’s unprotected side, causing him to relinquish her ankle with a groan. Buffy quickly bounced back to her feet grinning widely.

“C’mon, vampire, is that the best you’ve got?” She teased as she watched Spike get up from the mats, stalking the perimeter like a great cat. He smiled ferally at her, running his tongue over his teeth for good measure.

“Not even close, pet,” Spike replied before rushing towards her with a series of kicks and underhanded street fighting moves that had the Slayer panting for breath when they finally split. He could hear the rapid staccato of her heart rate as she pushed her body further than she had in weeks, her system desperately trying to keep up with the iron will of the small blonde.

They engaged each other in a few more rounds of fighting, each competitor pulling out dirtier and dirtier tricks as they became more and more desperate to best the other. Spike still had to watch the intent behind his moves and found that if he hit a little too hard or took a bit too much pleasure in landing a blow, the chip in his head would twinge in protest. The Slayer was hampered slightly by the still healing incision on her arm. She had stopped using it almost completely by the time she called for a time out.

“Need a drink,” she panted, rubbing her sore arm gently, attempting to get her increased circulation to benefit the healing of her limb.

“Sure,” Spike watched idly as she walked over to where she’d set down her supplies, taking greedy gulps from a water bottle. He made his way over to the weapons, inspecting each and weighing his options about teaching the Slayer about any of them.

“What are the big stick things?” Buffy asked, coming up behind him and pointing to the long staffs leaning against the wall.

“It’s called a bo, pet. It’s a Japanese fighting staff originally used by monks for both balance an’ self-defense. ‘S quite a useful tool,” Spike explained, picking up one of the two staffs and turning it in a slow circle in his hands.

“How is it used for self-defense? Looks like you could just spear someone with it,” Buffy remarked casually, picking up the second staff and mimicking Spike’s movements.

“I can show you,” he said, moving back to the center of the room, away from the training mats they were working on previously.

“Sure, teach me how, Mr. Miyagi,” Buffy quipped, giving him a short mock bow.

“Sensei,” Spike returned with a quirk of his lips.

“Huh?” Buffy replied inarticulately. “Sense-what?”

“Sensei,” Spike clarified. “Japanese word for teachers ‘n such. Right, so step into a relaxed stance, feet shoulder width apart an’ hold the bo with your right palm facin’ out an’ your left palm facin’ in.” Spike stood in front of her, demonstrating the proper technique before moving to one side.

“Now jus’ watch, an’ copy me when you think you’ve got it,” Spike started a simple series of advancing steps, swinging the bo in wide arcs, ending in a simple forward stance and thrusting the forward tip of the bo as he settled it by his feet.

He went back to the beginning beside Buffy and ran through the basic six step kata for her a couple more times before she joined him. When she had completed the first six steps, Spike added six more steps and demonstrated them again until she was able to follow him in synch. After adding two more sets of six and eight step formations to the kata, Spike talked her through what he had taught her.

“This is called a kata, or a formation,” Spike explained, each of his movements following the prior like liquid in a stream. “You use them in karate an’ judo an’ they’re used to both learn about the weapon an’ improve your understanding of how your body moves. My sensei taught me that the kata is as important to how you fight as sparring or open combat.”

Spike gradually added more power and speed to his thrusts and pivots, making the long staff twist and swing through the air with deadly accuracy. Buffy soon followed suit, and though her movements were nowhere near as fluid and practiced as the vampire’s, her natural grace and strength made her use of the bo quite stunning to watch.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Giles rubbed his eyes and let his glasses hang precariously from the tips of his fingers as he relaxed back into the sofa cushions behind him. He had been reading for over an hour and didn’t feel like he was getting anywhere. Usually he could spend endless hours lost in books and ancient translations, but this time he was unsure of what he was even looking for, what information could possibly be useful to them in their current situation. All he seemed to have accomplished was a sore lower back and an overbearing sense of frustration. Maybe he should go and see what his slayer and Spike were up to in the training room.

He entered the room quietly, having listened through the door to Spike’s careful instructions in the use of the ancient Japanese weapons. When he opened the door and slipped inside he was greeted with the sight of Buffy and Spike bowing formally, bos held perfectly against their sides as they prepared to spar.

Spike advanced slowly, bringing his bo towards Buffy’s head in a wide arc, allowing her plenty of time to block the blow. Buffy defended against it gracefully and counterattacked, sweeping her own weapon under the vampire’s feet. Spike gracefully avoided the move and progressively their movements sped up as the young slayer became more assured in her knowledge of the new weapon.

Giles was impressed and almost laughed out loud as Buffy planted one end of the bo on the ground and used it for leverage as she kicked out with both feet at Spike’s head. The move looked like it belonged in a cheesy Hollywood action movie, but Buffy, as always, made it look both deadly and graceful.

As the duo grew more comfortable it became more than evident that both were enjoying themselves whole heartedly. Buffy’s eyes were practically glittering in delight and Spike couldn’t keep a genuine smile off his face. Giles noticed the differences in body language between the dueling pair with some unease. Buffy flourished under the vamp’s instruction and seemed to revel in every well placed punch and block, whether delivered by herself or her so-called enemy. Spike watched the Slayer with an intensity Giles had never seen in their previous fights. Granted, he had only been witness to one or two, but there was certainly something else between the two supernatural individuals which hadn’t been there before their imprisonment.

In a move that caught the Slayer off guard, Spike had knocked her feet from under her and held one end of his bo at her throat. A killing blow would be only seconds away if this had been a fight to the death. Buffy admitted defeat with a heavy sigh and a put upon pout, dropping her weapon morosely and crossing her arms over her chest. Even lying on the floor, she made the motion look petulant.

“Tha’s the game, Slayer,” Spike said, smiling as he offered her a hand.

“That was way cool!” Buffy bounced up on her feet, smiling brightly at her partner.

“And an incredibly practical tool to learn, seeing as poles are a relatively commonly found tool in nature and streets alike,” Giles interjected, alerting Buffy to his presence. He would have liked to think that Spike had remained ignorant of his entry as well, but he was well aware that the blond vampire had sensed his arrival long ago.

“Giles,” Buffy said, a wide smile brightening her features. “How come you’ve never taught me to use this?” She spun the bo in a circle in front of her, marveling at the ease of the weapon in her hands. And sharpening one end of it would make it a formidable weapon against vampires.

“I, uh, must confess, I have no training in using it,” Giles shot an embarrassed glance over to Buffy’s new teacher. “Though a staff may seem a basic fighting instrument, it takes many years to finely hone your talents. I always preferred sword and dagger work. It was deemed more gentlemanly at the academy.”

“S’ true,” Spike said. “Fencing is a true gentleman’s sport.”

Giles chuckled quietly and shook his head.

“So, did you find anything news worthy?” Buffy asked as she put the staff back against the wall and walked back to where her Watcher stood. The training session had been fun and very useful, but her body was still weaker than normal and much more sore than she was willing to admit, so it seemed to be enough work for one day.

“No, it is rather more difficult than I thought it would be,” Giles replied shaking his head. “I cannot seem to shake my irritation at being transplanted to this place long enough to concentrate either, I’m afraid.”

Buffy wordlessly placed a hand on her Watcher’s arm, soft eyes shining up at him. She had accounted for her own and Spike’s issues about being stuck living in this place, but had only really given a simple acknowledgment to Giles’ own experience. It wouldn’t be much easier for him.

Giles met his charge’s eyes, so much wiser than he remembered them being. Buffy smiled warmly at him and squeezed softly before letting go of his arm and looking over to Spike who was walking back toward them. The three of them did share a hatred of the place and maybe that was enough.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Buffy walked into the kitchen, combing through her hair still damp from her post-workout shower. She found her mother in the kitchen cooking up a storm for dinner this evening.

“Hey, is that turkey I smell?” Buffy asked, plucking a slice of tomato off the chopping board her mother was working on.

“Yes, honey,” Joyce swatted away her daughter’s hands as she tried to sneak more veggies from the salad. “Amidst all the stress and worry, I nearly forgot about Thanksgiving. But seeing today is Sunday I thought it would be nice to do some celebrating. I certainly have an abundance of things to be thankful for this year.”

Buffy beamed at Joyce, happy to feel at home once more. “How did you get a turkey so quickly if you’d forgotten about Thanksgiving?”

“Well to my happy surprise there was a small one thoughtfully tucked away in the refrigerator this morning,” Joyce replied, tossing the prepared veggies through the salad. “Whoever did the shopping is certainly covering all the bases.”

Buffy nodded and retrieved a bottle of water from the fridge as she settled in to watch her mother cook. She wasn’t sure that she’d ever try to cook something as complicated as a turkey dinner. Besides, as far as Buffy-holidays and celebrations go, she’d probably be lucky enough to incur the wrath of some pissed off spirit in the middle of her dinner preparations. Best she stayed as far away from holidays as possible. Minimum input by Buffy generally equaled maximum holiday success had by all.

“Something smells simply divine,” Giles remarked as he came in carrying an armload full of books into the adjacent living room. Joyce’s face lit up with a stunning smile at the compliment and directed it at the Watcher.

“Thank you, Rupert,” she supplied, pulling open the oven to check on the progress of the turkey. “Dinner should be ready to eat in about half an hour.”

“And then it will be full turkey feasty goodness before the mass arrival of all the Scoobies,” Buffy added quietly, not entirely excited about being holed up in the house with all her friends, her watcher, and her mother. The idea made her claustrophobic, especially since she was already feeling trapped by the Initiative once more by circumstance. How dare they take away her house when she finally got back to it?

“Yes, we’ll certainly be filled to the rafters,” Giles muttered in response, sharing Buffy’s dislike of their present situation.

“Without all the fun of perfect comedic timing and a sitcom laugh track,” she winked at her Watcher. Giles gave her a smile and turned back to his books while Buffy turned back to watch her mother. It was a pleasure just to be in her presence again when she’d considered herself lost to her normal world.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dinner had been a surprisingly pleasant affair for the four occupants of the mansion. Giles had managed to find a few bottles of well aged red wine and even Buffy was allowed to indulge with her mother’s blessing even though she wasn’t twenty one yet. Spike had made a crack at the ridiculousness of allowing people to vote at eighteen, drive at sixteen, and yet not be able to drink until their twenties. Giles had found himself siding with the Victorian raised man and immediately looked like he’d swallowed something vile. Buffy and Joyce watched the exchange in amused silence which quickly dissolved into giggles as Giles turned a motley red.

The turkey was cooked to perfection and Buffy had finally relented and helped her Mom make a divine pumpkin pie. After the relentless giggling earlier, Giles had put all thoughts of Spike’s vampiric nature aside and pretended he was just another fellow Englishman who knew the intricacies of football and was surprisingly well read.

Buffy was more surprised that Giles had finally set his prejudices aside and started talking to Spike at all. When she and Joyce left the men to their after dinner drinks to clear up the kitchen their departure was hardly noticed because the Brits were deeply involved in a discussion which left them oblivious to anything else. When the two women came back not too much later, the men were still so deep in discussion they hardly seemed to notice their arrival.

“Thank you for a lovely dinner, Joyce,” Spike turned his attention away from his discussion with Giles and fixed a genuine smile on the woman.

“Oh, thank you,” Joyce blushed slightly, looking proud of herself.

“It was superb,” Giles agreed, visibly refraining from re-engaging the vampire in the discussion once more. He’d learned more about Spike in the last two hours than he ever thought he would. Anya may have been an unused resource up until this point, but with Spike’s vast knowledge of both demon and human history, he was someone else to bring in to the research fold as well.

“Yeah, Mom. It was the greatest,” Buffy grinned at her mother. “Not as good as my fantabulous pie making skills, but…” she trailed of with a mischievous wink.

“Well, of course not, honey,” Joyce agreed in good humor. The rest of the evening passed in relative ease, conversation flowing smoothly between the four residents of the Crawford Street mansion. The following day full chaos would reign when two more Scoobies would take up residence.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Willow looked up just in time to prevent an exceptionally embarrassing collision with a rather large man as she rounded the corner of the library stack she was busy searching in. Instead of falling flat on her butt, she merely collided with him, causing her stack of papers and pens to litter the floor around her. She had a massive paper due in Economics and she really needed to finish it as quickly as possible if she were to have time to organize everything for the gang before Christmas break.

“Oh! Sorry,” Willow exclaimed, bending down to collect the notebook and pens she had dropped in the collision.

“Not a problem,” a male voice said and Willow saw his hands busy picking up her fallen pens. Willow pasted on a fake smile, annoyed at the interruption, and looked at the man she had collided with. When she saw that that man was in fact Riley, commando and TA extraordinaire, she paled and her smile faded.

“I’m really sorry, I wasn’t paying attention,” Riley said with a guarded smile. He frowned at her as if trying to place her, though Willow knew that Riley probably had a thick dossier on her back at the lab. “It’s Willow, isn’t it? You’re in Professor Walsh’s Intro Psych course?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” Willow answered shortly, taking the pens offered from Riley’s outstretched hand.

“So how are you enjoying the course?” Riley probed carefully.

“Oh, you know, it’s interesting. I’m learning a-a lot of n-new things,” Willow tried desperately to calm her speeding heart. Riley couldn’t do anything to her here in the library. She’d scream or run away. Even if he was some super commando shaped person.

“Well, that’s great to hear, I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself. Not quite the same as that blonde friend of yours who was there only the first few weeks,” Riley joked, but his tone was serious.

“Oh, um, Buffy,” Willow searched her brain, desperate for a reason she would have left. “H-her mom. Um, got sick. Really sick, so s-she had to leave school to take care of her.”

“That’s quite unfortunate,” Riley replied before narrowing his eyes. “I certainly hope she’s okay. I mean, her mom too. Having a sick parent is always difficult. She’s okay?”

Willow got the distinct impression that Riley was asking about something more than what he has saying. Was he actually concerned about Buffy or was he trying to figure out if she knew where she was? She did, but she definitely couldn’t tell Riley that much. Still, Willow got the impression that Riley wasn’t quite as bad as those he was associated with.

“She’s fine,” Willow replied, looking him in the eyes. “It’s hard for her. I mean, taking care of her mom like that, it’s not easy for her. Lots of responsibility and the emotional trauma. But she has friends like me to lean on.”

“Well, that’s good to hear,” Riley responded, nodding solemnly. “I’ll see you in class for the final.”

“Yeah,” Willow called after his retreating back. As soon as he was out of eyesight Willow sank down to the floor, body quivering in fear. Had she said too much? Did Riley realize that Willow knew where Buffy was? Were they coming after her next?

‘Stupid questions, Willow,’ she admonished herself. ‘Of course they think you know where she is. You DO know where she is. I’ve got to go tell Buffy about this.’




TBC...

Chapter 13: Hush Re-written Part 1

“No, Xander! The man is supposed to carry the woman’s luggage! I read it in Cosmo,” Anya’s voice floated up the hallway causing Buffy to roll her eyes at her mother. “Besides, I like watching you do manual labor, it’s sexy and makes me picture you naked.”

“Anya, please,” Giles muttered entering the kitchen after the ex-demon. “The rest of us lack the desire to hear anything about your fantasies.”

“I second that,” Buffy remarked as she dried the last of the dishes watching her best friend and her Watcher struggle under the weight of Anya’s luggage. She knew she should offer to help, but part of her couldn’t resist letting the two men battle it out for a little while.

“Whatever,” Anya sighed as she sank onto one of the couches. “You’re just jealous you don’t have your very own sexy hunk to fornicate with.” She smiled cheerfully as if she had solved a particularly bothersome problem.

Buffy shook her head wearily before grabbing the bags Xander had deposited gracelessly on the floor and was currently panting over, exhausted. Hefting their weight easily, she ascended the stairs and dropped the bags off inside the nearest empty room.

Her peaceful life was quickly being stolen from her with the appearance of two more Scoobies at the mansion. Just thinking about the relentless whining and bickering the two newest occupants alone would bring made her silently wish that something would steal their voices away. She sighed as she heard Anya’s voice floating up towards her. It was going to be a long few weeks of strategizing.

~**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Buffy stretched as she yawned the following morning, pausing to rub the sleep out of her eyes. Collecting a change of clothes and her towel she trudged down the hall to the bathroom she shared with Spike on the ground floor.

The blonde wrinkled her nose when she discovered his wet towel in a heap in the corner.

‘Slob,’ she thought to herself as she stripped down and stepped under the hot spray of the shower.

Half an hour later Buffy entered the kitchen dressed to face another day of Xander and Anya’s bickering and nauseating make up sessions, Spike’s incessant humming - ‘What self-respecting vampire hums anyways?’ - and Giles’ subtle questions and mind probes. The petite slayer opened the fridge door to pour herself a tall glass of juicy goodness as her Watcher walked in, ruffling his hair and adjusting his glasses. Buffy was certain she would never get used to morning, bed-head Giles; it seemed so contradictory.

“Morning, Giles,” Buffy said but paused as no sound came out.

Giles cocked his head to the side, a gesture eerily familiar to that of a certain bleached pest. Buffy cleared her throat to try again with the exact same results. Her green eyes widened comically as Giles attempted to speak without so much as a muffled whisper escaping his lips. His blue eyes narrowed in concern before Xander came running down the stairs gesticulating widely and appeared to be complaining non-stop. His sudden appearance was in stark contrast to Anya who sauntered into the kitchen, fixed a glass of juice for herself and sat calmly on the sofa. When the ex-demon became aware of everyone’s shocked stares she simply shrugged her shoulders in an unimpressed fashion.

The shrill chiming of Buffy’s cell phone pierced the air and caused the Slayer to reach for it, reading Willow’s name on the caller ID.

“Hello,” she said silently before shaking her head at her own stupidity and hanging up. She stared morosely at the small phone and resisted the urge to send it on a collision course with the wall.

A small tone heralded the arrival of a text message.

~ It’s affecting you guys too? No one here at school can make a sound. Everyone’s panicking. I’m going to find Tara. W ~

Buffy held the phone up for Xander and Giles to read before replying. Xander started pacing while ranting silently. Buffy smirked as she figured at least one positive thing had come from this latest turn of events.

~ Same here. We’ll get busy trying to figure out what’s happening. Come by tonight if you can. Stay safe. B ~

She allowed Giles to approve the short missive before pushing the ‘Send’ button. A minute later the witch’s response came through.

~ We will. Keep us updated on anything you need. xo Willow ~

The Slayer sighed as she set the phone on the counter, looking up at Giles. He snapped his fingers and disappeared into the dining room that had been converted to research central over the last few days. A few minutes later, the Watcher emerged with a stack of notebooks and markers for each of the residents of the mansion. He scribbled furiously in his own before showing it to his charge.

‘Go check on your mother. I’ll try to rouse Spike. This cannot be good.’

Buffy nodded and proceeded upstairs, notebook and pen in hand to wake Joyce.

‘I make one teensy-weensy complaint and wish for a little more quiet,’ the blonde thought to herself. ‘I didn’t want complete silence…’

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*

The first day of silence passed in infuriating monotony. After rousing a nonplussed vampire from his beauty sleep, Giles had been the recipient of several near-heart attacks when the aforementioned creature of the night spent the remainder of the morning employing his silent stealth to jump out at him in retaliation. The pseudo stalking had only ended when Joyce had given the mischievous vampire her patented look of motherly disappointment before shoving the book Giles had insisted she read at the petulant pest, much to Buffy and Xander’s disappointment. It had been very entertaining to watch the vampire sneak up on the normally composed Watcher.

Willow had kept in contact frequently during the day, reporting via text message the state of the Sunnydale populace. Preachers silently ringing in the apocalypse and the liquor stores running dry.

Xander had deemed his own time best spent watching dull newscasters telling of the citywide laryngitis outbreak that seemed to have no discernable cause. At three in the afternoon the city was declared quarantined with no residents leaving or entering until the CDC had determined the cause for the sudden outbreak.

Buffy found herself frustrated and bored, idly picking at her long shirt sleeve, covering the long scar running down her forearm. She hoped her recently recovered Slayer-healing would work in her favor to heal the scar further before she was deemed ‘suicide-girl’ for the rest of her life.

Giles placed a warm hand on her shoulder before handing over his notebook, filled with his elegant handwriting.

Will you patrol tonight? After dark so you can take Spike with you. I imagine the demon population may take advantage of the mayhem. Stay on your guard, the Initiative will be out in full force as well, I suspect.

Buffy nodded with a wide smile. A good slay or ten would certainly improve her mood since she’d been on house arrest since the escape.

Giles reached for the notebook, writing another short missive.

I’m certain I don’t need to tell you to be extra vigilant tonight and to come back at the first sign of trouble.

Buffy shook her head no, tearing out a sheet from her own notebook after scribbling a quick “Patrol tonight?” and scrunched the paper into a ball, before aiming the paper missile at Spike’s head. She shocked the napping vampire awake with her well-aimed throw causing him to jump up and shift into a silently growling game face. He looked around confused before seeing Buffy laughing silently; he glared at her with yellow eyes and reached for the offending piece of paper.

The blonde motioned for him to open it while trying unsuccessfully to stifle her giggles when she was offered an irritated two-finger salute. Spike scanned the note and looked up at the Slayer, who was smiling widely at him. Though he’d never normally consent to patrolling with the Slayer of his kind, he was feeling just as antsy as she was and was itching for a good fight. This may be a good opportunity to test if he could still brawl with the best of them, even if he was restricted to demons. With a gleam of excitement in his amber gaze, which he attempted to hide by sprawling back down on the sofa, he nodded to the Slayer before sending Anya a toothy grin.

Anya watched the exchange with a smirk, nonplussed by the display of sharp fangs. Xander chose that moment to saunter back over to the group and took a couple of faltering steps backwards, tripping over his own feet in the process. He pointed at the reclining blond, eyes wide in panic causing the assembled people to erupt in silent laughter, Spike’s vampire features shifting back into his human visage. The mood in the old Crawford Street mansion was considerably lighter and no one complained as Giles indicated it was time to get back to the dusty old tomes in the adjacent room.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Two hours later, and no closer to any answers, Buffy laid her head on the book she was reading and closed her eyes wearily. She felt overcome by the need to sleep, and figured a quick power-nap would make her patrol that much easier.

Buffy knew she was dreaming as she found herself in her old psychology classroom with Willow sitting beside her. Professor Walsh was lecturing away at the front of the assembled students.

“Communication,” she starts in a cold, clinical voice. “Talking about language, not the same thing. It’s about inspiration. Not the idea, but the moment before the idea when it’s total. When it blossoms in your mind and connects to everything. It’s about the thoughts and experiences that we don’t have a word for.”

She crosses the floor to stand in front of her desk.

“Well?” The professor sweeps her piercing gaze over her students. “How about a demonstration? Summers, Buffy,” she looks up from the roll call list. “Will you come down here, please?”

Buffy looks over to an equally perplexed Willow who shrugs her shoulders before mouthing ‘go’ silently. She walks down to the front of the classroom, shooting nervous glances up at the assembled students who are studying her intently.

“A typical college girl, one assumes,” Professor Walsh addresses the class before turning to face the small blonde once more. “Lie down on my desk.”

Buffy throws a confused glance at the object and looks back at her professor.

“Really, it’s alright, no one will hurt you,” Walsh says with a calculating look.

Reluctantly Buffy hops up on the desk and leans back on her elbows, following the older woman’s progress around to the blackboard. Walsh nods towards the TA standing in the corner and he moves toward the door. Opening it, he reveals Riley Finn leading Spike into the classroom. Buffy wrinkles her brow in confusion. It’s daytime and the vampire is moving freely through stray beams of sunlight, apparently unfazed by the usual deadly effects. He walks towards her slowly, a soft smile playing at the corner of his lips, his deep blue eyes filled with amusement.

“Now class, watch closely, see how these beings mimic human behavior. Attraction is communicated the same way across all species,” Professor Walsh’s voice seems to come from far away as Spike moves to stand over Buffy’s reclined form. He doesn’t say a word as he slips one hand behind her head and the other slides down her side to rest at her hip. Buffy parts her lips, running her tongue out to wet her lips as the vampire draws closer to her. She feels her heart start to race as Spike moves closer, inclining his head as if to kiss her. He stops a breath away from her lips and looks intently into her green eyes.

“This feels very strange,” she says, feeling nervous at his close proximity.

“Don’t worry, if I kiss you it will make the sun go down,” Spike’s voice rumbles over her, and he does not hesitate before brushing his lips softly against her own. The kiss starts slow and sweet, but as the world melts away around the Slayer and vampire it intensifies, drowning out the noise from the assembled students, leaving Buffy breathless as they pull apart.

“See?” Spike looks around, and the young blonde is startled to find that they are now alone in the classroom, and night has fallen around them.

“Fortune favors the brave,” Buffy said with a small smile at the vampire. Suddenly humming could be heard from the hallway, and the slayer shot Spike a worried look. “Do you hear that?”

She wandered out into the darkened hallway, drawn by the haunting chanted rhyme.

‘Can’t even shout, can’t even cry, the Gentlemen are coming by,’

Buffy paused as she saw a young girl standing at the end of the hallway, singing what sounded like a nursery rhyme she had heard when she was young, but the words were all wrong.

‘Lookin’ in windows, knockin’ on doors, they’re gonna need seven and they might take yours. Can’t call to Mom, can’t say a word, you’re gonna die screaming but you won’t be heard.’

Buffy was just studying the small wooden box the girl was holding when she felt a hand fall heavily on her shoulder. Expecting it to be Spike she looked back and was startled awake as she set eyes on the gruesomely grinning white face of a demon standing right behind her.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Buffy woke with a start, bolting upright and knocking her watcher’s hand off her shoulder. She looked around herself dazed to see Xander eyeing her with concern, Anya with disinterest and Spike speculatively. The petite Slayer turned to Giles and mouthed clearly ‘Slayer Dream’ causing the older man’s eyebrows to furrow into deeper ridges.

Frantically she grabbed a notebook scribbling down as much information as she could remember.

“Can’t even shout
Can’t even cry”

The Gentlemen are coming

Song? Rhyme?
Night/eclipse

“They’re gonna take seven and they might take yours”

She thrust her short notes at her Watcher and looked up at him beseechingly. Giles quickly scanned the page looking down at his golden-haired charge and shrugged. He didn’t recognize the information but something seemed to be forming in the back of his mind. He knew that given a bit of time the idea would form completely but for now he would leave it alone.

Buffy looked up at him with a small, sad smile. In a rare show of fatherly affection, Giles ran a hand over her soft curls.

“I’ll look into it,” he mouthed and was rewarded with one of her brilliant smiles that had been so rare since her return. He reciprocated her smile with a grin of his own before looking over to the expectant group. He moved over to one of the dry erase boards and quickly made a note of Buffy’s premonition information in short form.

The Gentlemen?
Can’t shout/can’t cry
Need to have seven
7 what?

The two oldest honorary Scoobies frowned at the new information but neither seemed able to place it. Giles sighed as he sank back into his chair and reached for a new book. Things were going nowhere fast.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Meanwhile at the Initiative…

After a terrifying elevator ride due to his own idiocy, Riley Finn found himself awaiting instruction from Professor Walsh along with the other team leaders. The techs at the base had managed to dig up some old dictation software allowing their leader to communicate and dispense orders to the small unit. He was seated at the table and after an hour of infuriating nonsense and town diagrams his patience was running thin. Walsh had finally told the leaders to assemble their squads and prepare to spend the evening in town. Riley was hard pressed not to roll his eyes when one of the leaders asked why.

“Because there will be chaos. Dress as civilians. A military presence will increase panic.” Came the halted, tinny instruction from the computer.

Riley was getting fed up at the lack of relevant information. He grabbed his note pad and scrawled ‘What is happening?’ raising it up for Maggie to see.

“We are looking into it. Go. Help maintain order. We will find an answer.” Professor Walsh trained a sharp look on the team leaders, before pausing significantly on Riley. He held her gaze stonily before gathering his writing implements and left to prepare his team for the long night ahead. He sincerely hoped he would not run into Buffy tonight and be forced to apprehend her. The soldier could only guess what would happen to her if she was brought back in to the Initiative when Professor Walsh’s team was as irritated and frightened as they currently were.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The rest of the evening at the mansion passed uneventfully for the assembled Scoobies as they tried desperately to find answers from the ancient tomes available. After a frantic text message from Willow the much anticipated patrol was put on hold due to the presence of the commando boys all over town. A very disgruntled group made their way to bed that evening.


TBC...

Chapter 13: Hush Re-Written Part 2

Tara woke up from her unsettled slumber next to Willow in the middle of the night. Fearing she would wake the redheaded witch with her tossing and turning, she slipped quietly from bed to grab a bottle of water from the bar fridge in the room.

The blonde silently padded to the window, looking out over the dark courtyard below. The bottle of water slipped from her panic-seized fingers at the sight below her. Two groups of creatures made their way eerily towards the dorms. One tall, grotesquely grinning demon clad in a black suit reminiscent of a hellish undertaker glided over the ground accompanied by four stumbling creatures wearing what appeared to be straight jackets and chains. One of the demonic undertakers looked up at the window, smiling his complacent, ghoulish grin, and held up an old doctor’s case for her appraisal.

The action prompted the young witch into action, quickly gathering the makings of a rudimentary room protection spell and warding the door to their dorm room against any malevolent intruders. Tara could only pray that it would hold against the creatures as she shook her girlfriend awake and wrote out the events of the night, complete with a charmed portrait of the tall demons.

~*~*~*~*~

Willow and Tara made their way to Crawford Street at first light to avoid both the things that go bump in the night and the Initiative soldiers. The mansion was still quiet as the wards the redheaded witch had set let the two lovers through. Tara immediately set out to copying out a thorough account for Giles as well as refining the hastily drawn portrait of the demons while Willow set off to awaken a notoriously morning-shy Slayer.

Willow managed to rouse the petite spitfire and after narrowly avoiding a few selectively thrown projectiles, Willow moved on to the Watcher’s room where the older man was already awake with his nose stuck in a book.

The television was turned to a horrifying news report regarding two people found in the morning missing their hearts, which apparently had been cut from their chests using surgical precision. Speculations about a sophisticated serial killer were rife on the news, warning the residents of the small California town to stay inside and lock their doors. One could always count on the Sunnydale news reporters to not spare the innocents who were lapping up the information, terrified in their homes. Willow had always wondered what sort of creature was truly in charge of their local station.

As the morning wore on, the Scooby gang woke up one by one and busied themselves at the research table grudgingly. When the mid-morning news caster announced that a total of two heart-related murders had been committed the previous night a switch seemed to have been thrown for Giles. Dashing for the adjoining room he came back in carrying a sinister-looking book of fairy tales and wearing a proud grin while gesticulating wildly.

Buff penned an abrupt ‘Huh?’ on her notepad, causing her Watcher to sigh and turn to the dry erase board. Through a series of poorly drawn pictures and a scattering of short sentences he described the probable foe.

They were called The Gentlemen, horrid nightmarishly ugly creatures from the world of cautionary fairy tales passed down through the generations. They stole hearts from seven people after stealing their voices so they couldn’t scream. In the story the town’s princess managed to find her voice once more and when she screamed it destroyed the creatures and saved the town. It was the only time any place was safe from the horrors of the Gentleman. No recorded or simulated voice would do to destroy them, only a true human voice would do. Giles added the theory that there would be a receptacle of some sort, a box or container, which the creatures used to contain the towns-folks voices. They would need to find this first, release the voices and scream like hell.

‘Buffy, you and Spike will patrol this evening. Stay Alert! Keep away from anyone you see (soldiers)’

The Slayer grinned broadly at this and cracked her knuckles in a very un-ladylike show of anticipation which earned her a hard glare from her mother.

‘You must get your voice back. It is the ONLY way to destroy the creatures.’ Giles scribbled out on the dry erase board, emphasizing the word only by underlining it several times.

Buffy nodded her assent and practically skipped happily from the room to raise her patrol partner from his daytime slumber.

~*~*~*~*~

Night fell quietly over the silent town. In a twisted version of the old Christmas rhyme, not a single creature seemed to be stirring that night, even the demons and vamps who usually thrived on such mayhem stayed in. There was a very negative energy in the air that seemed to deter almost everyone.

Buffy was alight with energy, joyfully pacing around the house, driving every member of the household save one, crazy with her happy anticipation. Her mother had banned her from helping with dinner and Giles had barred her from the research room in a move that amazed every member of the Scoobies. Only Spike seemed nonplussed by her enthusiasm, watching her nervous excitement with a gleam in his deep blue eyes. He understood how much this meant to her, facing an unambiguously evil foe and finally expressing some of that pent up anger and fear. His Slayer was going to be something to watch tonight and he couldn’t wait to see what she would do.

The vampire observed as she made her way to the kitchen counter where her mother and Tara were busily preparing the evening’s meal. Joyce eyed her daughter warily as she gave her a cheeky grin before stealing one of the freshly peeled carrots and loudly crunching into it. The sudden noise, paired with Buffy’s bright grin, made both Joyce and Tara break out into small smiles and silent chuckles.

The soft ding of the microwave sounded, causing the Summers’ matriarch to turn and fetch a mug of perfectly heated blood from the machine. She handed the mug to her daughter who made her way across the open space to the sofa where Spike lay spread out, lazily taking up as much space as possible.

His senses peaked at the smell of the ruby liquid steaming slightly in the girls’ hands. He could tell it was human, and smiled up at the blonde before he took the first sip of liquid ambrosia. He needed to be fit to fight tonight, hopefully the demon theory would hold and he would be able to assist the Slayer in her epic battle against the forces of evil. Or however she would justify finally getting a good spot of violence in. He could feel his own anticipation humming through his veins, warmed by the fresh blood.

Buffy settled in the second sofa, lying down and merrily continuing to crunch on her veggie treat. Spike shot her a look and quirked one dark brow up in question as she smiled contentedly at him.

“Improves night vision,” she mouthed clearly with one side of her soft lips turned up and a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Spike chuckled silently in response and turned his attention back to the soap on TV. They had all needed a break from the constant news reports telling the silent residents of Sunnydale to remain indoors with their doors locked against the serial killer currently plaguing the town.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Buffy and Spike made their way through the silent town, vaguely in the direction of the college campus. They were on constant lookout for any indication of The Gentlemen, their demonic patients, or the Initiative soldiers. Buffy was nervous and her heart rate sped up with each step closer to the place of their imprisonment. She hated that the place still had power over her, but she couldn’t stop the tightening in her chest as her mind flooded with memories of torture and fear from the last few weeks. She slowly lost sense of the world around her as each horrifying experiment played out in Technicolor in her mind.

The blonde was shocked out of her fearsome thoughts when she felt two hands grip her upper arms and found herself staring into a leather-clad chest. She let her eyes slowly wander the hard planes of the vampire’s chest before seeking out his intense blue eyes. Only as she met his concerned gaze did she realize just how distracted she had become.

“Are you okay?” he mouthed clearly, staring deeply into her glazed green eyes.

Buffy nodded abruptly and gave her head a quick shake to clear it. She smiled bravely up at the bleached blond man and pulled out of his grasp before looking toward the campus. Spike laid a hand on her shoulder, pointing towards the eastern part of town. The campus was likely to be a final destination, so they were better off trying to find where the creatures came from.

The petite Slayer nodded and the mismatched duo made their way quietly into the older part of the city. Many areas around there were decrepit and vacant; the perfect place to set up shop if you were storing something as precious as human hearts. The streets were eerily quiet and mainly deserted, save for a lonely straggler or stumbling drunk on a quest for more distraction.

Spike’s enhanced senses were in overdrive, sensitive to the smallest sound or slightest rustle of movement in the shadows. At least he could be relatively confident that the human predators were nowhere near. That amount of heartbeats, breathing, and heavy footsteps was bound to be picked up in his state of hyper-awareness.

Suddenly, Spike grabbed the back of Buffy’s jacket, pulling her to a sudden halt. She didn’t stumble as she slowed down, looking back at the vampire for an indication of what his preternatural senses had picked up on before hers.

Pointing one long, pale finger down a narrow alleyway he revealed a small group of Initiative soldiers, in full covert-makeup heading in the same direction they were. The clutch of soldiers had yet to notice the duo, so Spike quickly pulled the Slayer down a parallel road, avoiding at least the potential of on site discovery. Hearing his self-assigned charge’s heart skip a beat and quicken he looked her over once more and happily discovered the girl he had met that first night in a cold dark alley.

Buffy’s soft, feminine features had hardened into a mask of defiance, her eyes glittering dangerously with both anticipation and anger. This was the Slayer he’d hoped to see tonight. This was the Slayer that could take down an army of vampires with one hand tied around her back. This was the Slayer that could beat the best of the best, if he did say so himself. She glanced up at him and her eyes softened briefly in acknowledgment before she again took the lead down another alley.

As the condemned clock tower loomed at the end of a pitch-black street, both supernatural beings heard the telltale shuffle and eerie clinking of one of the henchmen in the distance. The deformed creatures surrounded the skeletal Gentlemen as enforcers, feeling no pain and relentless in their pursuit of protection. The Slayer glanced at her sometime-foe whose features shifted seamlessly into the face of a demon as they both took in their quarry.

Buffy lead the attack, tossing an injured henchman to her ally to finish off as their first test of her theory about the annoying piece of hardware he was now saddled with. The sensation of fist hitting solid flesh hadn’t been as satisfying as that first thrown punch in nearly a century for the immortal fighter. Spike crowed a silent roar of appreciation as he quickly decapitated the first of their foes as Buffy was set to engage a second and third.

As both fighters worked with synchronized efficiency, they both noted the tall, pale forms of The Gentlemen gliding out of the corner of the condemned clock tower. With a short nod, Buffy took off at a full-pace run towards the tower while Spike stayed to finish off the remaining henchman.

The Slayer felt an exhilarating rush of adrenaline as she pushed her body faster towards her goal. Using her momentum she was able to knock another straight-jacketed demon to the ground, knowing that he would be taken care of. She watched the one pair of Gentlemen turn slowly and notice her approach, their toothy, metallic grimaces causing a shiver of disgust to race up her spine. Having no time to deal with the potential threat, she charged up the stairs into the building.

She encountered another fiend wrapped in chains on the staircase and her body sang in triumph as she flipped, punched and kicked him down the rickety staircase. She was thrown roughly against the wall by another and quickly scanned her surroundings for anything that could help her until Spike managed to catch up. The dull gleam of metal attracted her line of sight and the Slayer launched herself at the old chains hanging from the ceiling, hoping it would hold her weight.

“Beggars can’t be choosers, isn’t that what Mom always used to say?” She snickered silently to herself as she let her momentum carry her back towards her prey, both of her charmingly heeled feet ready to send him over the edge. Flipping her body upwards she stuck a shaky landing on the top-most step and rushed into the bowels of the clock tower. She pulled up short as the business end of a semi-automatic weapon was pointed at her chest.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Spike watched the Slayer rush ahead of him with glee as he tackled a barrage of oncoming henchmen. For each one he incapacitated, another two seemed to arrive and take its deranged place. Not that he was complaining. His blood was practically singing from the violence he was able to unleash on the dimwitted creatures. Each neck snapped with an incredibly satisfying crunch and he screamed silently in delight as he tore the throat out of another.

The sight of a lone black-clad human brought him up short, however. Just seconds after the blonde Slayer had disappeared into the building the Initiative soldier had followed her inside. Spike knew in that instant that he had to make more of an effort to progress towards his ally rather than enjoy his first good fight in decades.

Quickly dispatching of the remaining three assailants, he ran towards the tower, neatly entering just before the lethargic, manic Gentlemen were able to float through. They were running out of time fast and the added variable of the soldier did not bode well for the escapees.

The vampire took in the sight of the collapsed staircase and leapt as high as he could toward the remnants of a dangling pull chain. He swiftly ascended the length and saw Buffy’s predicament.

Captain Cardboard was pointing the muzzle of a terrifying gun square in the chest of the Slayer. She could survive a lot his brave girl, but a bullet to the heart would kill her in an instant. Making a split-second decision, he leapt toward the scene, hoping to knock the soldier off balance.

The resulting knock sent jolts of electricity dancing through his brain, minor tremors of intense pain shooting out to the very tips of his fingers and toes. He screamed in agony, face shifting back into his human visage after the worst of the effects had ceased. He pried open one eye to see if his plan had worked and found Buffy kicking the soldier’s weapon over the edge of the platform and hurrying over to his side.

She laid a small, warm hand on his forehead, frowning down at him, before turning her head to watch Agent Finn make his way to his feet. Before either human could engage the other in combat, another small group of henchmen appeared and the three fighters had new problems to worry about.
The bleached blond looked furtively around for anything that may house the voices of the town’s people so that he and Buffy would be able to make their escape from an enemy far more sinister.

Spike followed a meticulous line of jars, two containing human hearts, before laying his eyes on an intricate wooden box. He glanced over his shoulder at the petite blonde spitfire and shouted ineffectively. Shaking his head at his own stupidity he grasped the edge of a demon’s collar before twisting his neck until the bones cracked and broke. The brunet soldier dispatched of his own nuisance just as Buffy sent hers flying through the window behind them.

Grinning at Spike, caught up in the exhilaration of the fight, Buffy turned towards the table. This move cued the vampire to pointing towards the box just as two of the Gentlemen made it up to the platform where the battle had waged. Buffy didn’t take any chances before picking up an old heavy piece of wood and smashing the small receptacle into hundreds of pieces. A white mist rose from the broken container and split off into a series of small wisps. As Buffy inhaled, she started to scream as loud as she could.

The two pale, long-fingered demons in their immaculate black undertaker suits grimaced in distress, as much as their frozen grins would allow. They covered their ears to no avail as Buffy’s voice rang out in the empty night before their heads exploded in a mess of green goo, the straight-jacketed helpers falling at their feet and spasming agony before finally lying still.

Buffy smiled happily at Spike as he reached a hand out to help her to her feet from where she’d squatted behind the table to avoid the majority of the demon brains which exploded from their enemies heads.

“Neat, huh?” she said with a happy giggle before abruptly realizing they weren’t alone and that a very real threat was scrambling to find his footing.

Though he couldn’t be much help without being incapacitated, Spike shifted Buffy behind him, protecting her as much as he could from any onslaught from the cut-out soldier. The duo stared down the young man as he rose to his feet, radio squawking to life now that his companion’s had figured out their voices had been returned. The others would be there soon, and with the pistol attached to the Agent’s hip, he could easily stop them from leaving. Buffy was shaking with fear, her heart racing while she clung desperately to his arm.

“Go,” Riley Finn said quietly as he looked at the two so-called ‘evil’ demons in front of him who had known how to destroy what his boss hadn’t. When Buffy and Hostile 17 only looked briefly at each other he repeated himself forcefully. “Go! Run, the others will be happy to bring you back in. They’re only seconds away, go while you still can.”

This caused the two to spring into instant action. The chipped vampire simply shot the former college co-ed a relieved look before jumping gracefully to the floor below. Buffy looked at Riley a moment longer, a small smile quirking one side of her mouth.

“Thanks.”