CHAPTER 1 -- Part 1

The minions gathered around their God in her rose red mini that clung to her curvaceous figure. She lay stretched out across her plush bed, her head propped up in an expertly manicured hand. She was pouting her ruby lips as her minions spoke:

“Not only will the Slayer and her friends not give up easily, Your Godliness, whomever the Key is, Most Noble One . . . they won’t come silently.”

Her Godliness sat up, throwing her wavy locks off her shoulders, “Well . . . I didn’t exactly think it would take this long to acquire my Key, so take this.” She slid off the wine silk sheets, retrieving a box from a wooden shelf, throwing a crossbow at one of her minions in the process. She opened the box to reveal a gold arrow with a gleaming sharp tip. She gingerly caressed it, picked it up, and loaded it into the crossbow.

“With this lodged into their heart, it not only should slow down my Key enough for you halfwits to grab it and bring it to me, it will only keep them alive for mere days, unless they get the antidote.” The gentle soothingness in her voice vanished. Her gaze turned to a glare. “So if you idiots screw this up again . . .” The woman’s hardness again faded as she collected herself. The softness returned, “The poor sap will still have to come to me if they wish to continue living. Because I am the only one who holds the little gold bottle.” The vial suddenly appeared in her palm, shining.

Now with their mission, her henchman turned and began to file out of the room.

“Oh, and boys. . .” they turned to adhere to their queen, “This is your only shot.” She waver her hand in the general direction of the new weapon, “Those gold thingies don’t come cheap.”

________________________________________

The gang was sitting around, gathered at the Magic Shop at the wooden circular table -- waiting. Xander, ever the pessimist, was the first to gripe:

“Why are we waiting? We should have been gone on patrol long ago.” As Xander finished his sentence, the bell rung out and the door burst open. Buffy, followed by Spike, hurried through the threshold.

Xander stood up, “Could ya be a little bit later?”

“Sorry, my watch stopped working back in 1925,” Spike snapped.

Xander, beaten by the fact that Spike was alive during the invention of the wrist watch, closed his mouth.

Buffy, already having wasted too much time as is, interrupted them, “OK, let’s get going.”

Spike, still smirking over his winning verbal battle, spoke up, “Yeah, let’s go kill some nasties.”

Buffy, already reaching for the doorknob, stopped, “Oh, no. You’re not coming. You’re on babysitting duty.”

Spike’s smirk faded, “I’m what?” The smile transferred to Xander.

Giles never thought he would do this, but he found himself uttering some words in Spike‘s defense, “But Buffy, don’t you think Spike could be of help to us?

She shook her head, “I don’t care- he’s not coming.”

Spike was not done yet, “You’re telling’ me Harris here gets to go kill things and I have to . . . Baby-sit?” he spat.

“Well I don’t like you either,” it was Dawn. She had been slouched down in a chair listening the whole time.

Spike turned to the younger Summers, “No, Bit, it’s not you . . .” Spike tried to redeem himself.

This was better for Xander than any verbal sparring match with Spike. Buffy had picked him over Spike -- “The Big Bad”, “William the Bloddy”, “The. . . .” Buffy and Spike were going to go at it -- they just had to.

Much to his dismay, Buffy calmly continued. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Xander looked on as Buffy pulled Spike into a darkened corner of the store where no one could hear what they were whispering. He didn’t know exactly what it was, maybe the way they were looking at each other, the glazing tenderness in Spike’s eyes, the disturbingly closeness they were standing in, or how they were giving each other their undivided attention, made him nauseous. Buffy would never . . . Would she? No, it was Spike, a blood sucking thing that killed people. Well, he used to anyway . . . Different now with the chip. Had been for some time. But that didn’t change anything. She only kept him around as another pair of fists, and he only listened because she would dust him if he didn’t. Xander nodded in satisfaction at his reached conclusion.

Buffy addressed Spike in a grave tone, “Spike, I need you to watch Dawn.”

“The boy can’t do it?” Spike gestured to Xander who, he noticed, was staring intently at them from across the room.

Buffy pursed her lips and sighed, looking for the right words. “I know you can handle anything that might try to harm her.”

Spike started at her words, “Buffy, I wouldn’t let anything touch her, you know that.”

“That’s why I need you to stay with her. She’s scared, I’m scared. I need someone strong enough to protect her.”

Spike was taken aback by her last comment. She thought that, besides herself, he was the best one for her lil’ sis’. The added responsibility hit him hard. Buffy’s endless eyes pleaded into his. It didn’t take much, but Spike tried to resist a little bit, just to keep his dignity. Spike had the feeling that she would always have this unexplained power over him.

“Right then,” agreed Spike, nodding.

Minutes later, from the doorway, Spike and Dawn watched together as the gang filed out of the Magic Box, venturing out into the exciting darkness, “Stinks being left out doesn’t it?” Dawn stated dully.

Spike sighed as he closed and locked the door, “Yeah.”


Cont . . .

Spike sat across from Dawn in complete concentration. Finally, after what seemed to Dawn like hours, he looked up; satisfied:

“I think it was the Slayer, with the stake, in the graveyard,” he smiled at Dawn, who returned it. She finally looked a bit relaxed. He had tried all night to play her lil’ games; whatever she wanted, he obliged. Dawn looked at him expectantly for a real answer, “Professor Plum, candlestick, library.”

Shooting down his answer, Dawn watched as Spike crossed the clues out on his notepad. Suddenly feeling a little bit chattier, Dawn sat up straight, “So how long have you known Buffy?

Spike smirked, a little reminiscent, “Know her or known of her?” he cocked an eyebrow.

“It’s just that . . . You’ve never been around much before. Buffy always kept things so secrete-ee. But now she talks about you all the time.”

His face immediately sobered, “She does? Well, what does she say?” Spike perked up innocently.

Dawn shrugged, “Mostly about how much she can’t stand you, or how she doesn’t want to put up with you . . .” Spike visibly sulked at her words, “But she has said how much you’ve changed.”

“Changed? She noticed that, huh?”

Dawn nodded, “For the better. And she has said how much she needs you.”

“How much she needs me?”

“Well, she hasn’t said that exactly, but I can tell she does.”

Spike’s eyes bounced around the floor. A feeling that he had kept pushed down in the deep folds of his stomach leapt up to his throat. He sat, taking unneeded deep breaths to calm himself. Dawn’s face was furrowed in confusion of his sudden freak out:

“Your roll.” A distracted Spike picked up the dice and rolled. The dice crashed to the cardboard, “Six. One, two, three, four, five, six. Okay, let’s see . . . I think it t’was . . .”

“A really ugly guy in a robe,” Dawn answered.

Spike’s head shot up, confusion marring his face, “Don’t think that’s a character, luv.”

But Dawn’s face was filled with horror. “No . . . a freaky guy in a robe . . . Look.”

Dawn was staring past him and Spike pivoted in his chair to follow her gaze. Looking through the window was a short, brown monster with a long hooked nose with many imperfections, staring at them through the window, searching.

Pure instinct drove Spike to jump from his chair, wrapping his long pale fingers around the closest axe. The monster fled from the window. Spike’s gut told him where the thing was headed.

“What was that?” Dawn asked, completely freaked out.

“A minion,” Spike answered, his eyes not leaving the window where the troll had disappeared.

“A what?” Dawn repeated.

But Spike ignored her question, “We have to go warn Buffy.”


_____________________________________

Even on Spike’s speeding motorcycle, by the time he and Dawn found the rest of the gang, they were already being attacked. Spike found that Buffy her friends had not gotten far -- just to the middle of the graveyard that they all were so familiar with.

“Buffy!” Dawn screamed in reaction to the hoards of minions surrounding her sister.

Buffy was to involved in her own swordplay to notice the two extra bodies, but pivoted at the sound of her sister’s voice, “Dawn, what are you doing here! You were supposed to stay with Spike!”

“I’m here,” a British accent replied closely behind her -- practically breathing into her neck. Buffy whipped around to see his stab two of her attackers with the axe he and Dawn had been wise enough to bring. He could sneak up on her so easily. Buffy pushed the thoughts of Spike’s physical powers out of her head to concentrate on the fight at hand.

The minions came at them in a new wave. Xander and Anya pressed their backs to each other, flailing their swords around them. Willow was hidden behind a tree, mumbling spells while Tara supported her, watching for attackers. But strangely, no one even noticed them. Giles also had his own heavy sword and it swung awkwardly, throwing his own weight from side to side.

Spike thrashed out at all sides, trying to horde off the Minions. But something was not right, he could feel it. This wasn’t just any attack. Things were too quiet, something was brewing.

It was the gleam of gold that first caught Buffy’s attention. There was a huddle of minion in a circle, but they weren’t gathered around someone. It was a something. Buffy fended off her attackers while never letting her eye stray from the group. She watched in horror as they revealed a crossbow and aim it in Dawn’s direction. No one was attacking the girl, she was huddled by a tree, arms crossed in front of her not moving. It was as if everything was in slow motion. Everyone around her faded except for Dawn. “No! Dawn!” Buffy tried to leap for her, but hit into a wall of the little deformed men.

The thing that held the bow let the arrow fly.

Dawn was in shock. She had fallen against a tree as all her loved ones fought to save her. Her eyes searched the ground, not wanting to see her sister and her best friends in the struggle. She had no idea that a golden poison arrow was streaming towards her. The screaming around her sounded muffled. She wasn’t startled awake until a black form leaped in front of her. The form shuttered and convulsed suddenly before slumping to the ground. Dawn had flinched when the body fell, closing her eyes into her own little world. This can’t be happening. Please make it stop. Please . . .

Buffy’s voice shattered her thoughts, “Come on Dawn! Go! Run!”

Buffy hauled her sister off the ground and began to run. Abruptly, Buffy gave her sister a sudden push in the direction of the Magic Box where the rest of the group was already retreating, and turned back.

“Dawn keep running!” Dawn continued to run until she caught up to Willow, who was waiting for her. They turned to stare at Buffy running back to where a few minions had been stupid enough to hang around, before continuing to sprint.

Buffy returned to where the few straggling monsters were huddled around, beating the wounded form. Buffy quickly threw the remainders off until they all ran, broken and beat. Buffy watched them disappear before crouching down to where the body lay bleeding.

His eyes were closed as he drifted in and out of consciousness.

“Spike, Spike look at me,” Buffy demanded.

Spike weakly opened his eyes; lifting up his hand to see the blood from the wound in his chest. He groaned, “Bastards bloody shot me.”

Buffy was quick, “I’m going to help you up.” The statement was more for Spike to brace himself for the pain that she knew would most likely scream through his body on movement. Putting Spike’s arm around her neck, she got him to his feet. He helplessly leaned on her for support, obviously in pain, as she lead them away.

Back at the Magic Shop, the rest of the gang slumped around the table, staring at the floor. Buffy had yet to return from the graveyard. Dawn sat away from the rest, ignoring their prodding and futile attempts to cheer up. Nothing working, they had all sat in silence. Xander was the first to stir.

“I should have went back and helped Buffy. Why did she go back? She had a clear get-away. They had Spike, they would have took him back to Glory, she would have been back here, no problem.”

Dawn stared at the floor, not listening at first. But the last comment on throwing Spike to be their scapegoat had irked her, and she lifted her head to speak.

Just then the door burst open and everyone jumped. Buffy stumbled in with a limp Spike.

The gang just stared as she balanced his weak body.

Buffy, struggling under the weight of Spike, who was growing more and more limp by the step, addressed the room, “Some one help me.”

The only answer she received was Dawn, who jumped to help when she came in the door. The rest stood -- watching. They practically dragged Spike to the counter and threw him up onto his back. Spike remained silent, drifting in and out of consciousness.

Xander was the next to speak from the other side of the room. “What are you doing bringing him in here? He probably left a blood trail all the way to the door. Glory will find us easy because of him. You better be bringing him here to die alone because, Buffy, you and Dawn have to get out of here.”

“Don’t let him get blood on the money!” Anya chirped at Spike’s close proximity to the cash register.

Buffy ignored her and turned defiantly towards the rest of the group, “Willow can you help him?”

Willow opened her mouth.

“Magic won’t do anything,” a voice interrupted. It was Spike, laying on the counter with his eyes closed in pain. He opened his eyes. Seeing their confusion, he continued. “Bloody hell,” he shook his head at their lack of knowledge, “It’s an Arrow of Havilon. And it doesn’t just go into the skin, but . . . .”

“It’s like a cactus with it’s thorns that hook into the body,” Tara finished. “But it’s like a flower in that it blossoms open, releasing black poison that will slowly kill unless the origin reverses it back.”

Willow, Tara, and Giles all looked at each other in graveness.

“Origin?” Buffy interrupted.

“Glory,“ Giles mumbled. His glasses were itching to be wiped, but he didn’t budge. The situation was well beyond cleaning glasses. “We have to go to Glory to get the antidote.”

“But he’s a vampire.”

“That doesn’t mean he can’t be slowly tortured and killed. This poison could kill anything. Even you. Buffy,” Giles continued, “even under these circumstances, I must admit that the best thing for us is to get as far away from here as possible.”

“Giles, I’m not leaving. He saved Dawn’s life. He took an arrow for her.” Buffy’s voice was rising, causing Giles to be slightly taken aback. She shook her head, “I’m not leaving him.” She paused, ignoring the stares and silence of the gang. “Giles help me.”

“Buffy, it’s no use. All we have is magic and though it may slow the process, it would be useless, the arrow will still release it’s poison.”

“We’re going to have to get it out of him then.”

Giles hesitated at the sight of his Slayer. In her defiance, she seemed to stand head-lengths above him. She was too compassionate -- too human to be a killer. This vampire that had hurt her so many times over, produced this. She could have easily let him lay there and die, but instead she alienated all her friends.

He was proud of her.

Giles smiled slightly at her authority, nodded, and scurried to get what medical supplies he had.

All the sudden confusion of the upcoming procedure left Dawn by herself in the corner. She gazed over Spike’s still body. She couldn’t tell if he was dead or alive and she worried whole-heartedly for him. Her body ached at the pain he must be feeling -- pain meant for her. She walked wearily over to the counter towards Spike. She stood over him, studying his face. His sparkling eyes, which he only let shine for her and Buffy only, lay closed. His lips pursed together, albeit, loosely. His arms lay palm up at his sides.

Spike, sensing her worry, opened his eyes. He gaze met hers and tears silently streamed down her cheeks. Shock and concern immediately sprung to his face and an lump lodged in his throat. Oh, God, she’s crying, what was wrong? What happened? Was I unconscious that long? Then, realization spread. She wasn’t crying for herself, or any of the Scoobies. She was crying for him. For his pain. No one had ever done that for him before.

“Don’t worry, luv, I’m not dead yet,” Spike smiled weakly at her, she smiled thinly back.

Spike stared at the Lil’ Bit. She was so important to Buffy. And he couldn’t help but share in the love that she had for her younger sister. Jumping in the way of that arrow -- there wasn’t even a choice in his mind. It was pure reflex. Even knowing the outcome, he would do it again with the same determination.

It was strange, being through all that she had, having Glory searching for her this very minute, would have given her the right to be the most frazzled of them all. But just the opposite had resulted. In a room of trepidation, Dawn seemed the only calm one. Spike was able to draw from this placidness, keep himself from grabbing Xander, who was getting frightening close with those pliers, and throwing him through the farthest wall. He was only thankful he had made it in time. The smallest hesitation and it could be her laying on this table. Spike looked into the little one’s eyes, playing with the idea of the horrible role reversal.

Dawn stood, getting lost in his piercing blues. He had saved her life. There was no other way to put it. All the horrible things he had tried to do to Buffy in the past faded. He was good down deep inside, Dawn just knew it. Maybe it was a perk of being the key. She could see into people, look past the unnecessary exterior and see what really mattered. There were not many perks to being the key, but Spike serving as her unofficial protector was a major one. What if he hadn’t jumped in the way? What if it was . . . “

“AAAAAHHHHH,” the uninhibited cry of pain shook Dawn out of her thoughts. Spikes head was thrown back against the table in pain. Buffy was over him gentle dabbing the wound with gauze. Dawn’s view of her protector was lost in the sea of people quickly gathering around him with all the medical supplies they could muster.

Buffy watched as Giles fumbled through the brown leather bag, finally pulling out scissors. Giles held them up to the light, adjusting his glasses.

“Giles, please tell me you know how to work a pair of scissors,“ Buffy gawked as his confusion.

With an annoyed glance, he leaned over Spike and begun to cut his black t-shirt to expose the wound.

The shirt now open, Giles pulled Buffy aside.

“Buffy, it’s no good just bandaging him up, he has to get that arrow out of him.”

“Yeah, let’s do it then,” Buffy said matter-of-factly, thinking that that decision had already been made.

“Buffy, I hardly have the right supplies here to bandage a paper cut rather than perform surgery.”

“Where do you want to take him, the hospital? Glory is there, Glory is everywhere. We can’t trust Ben, she has control over him. Giles we have to do something. Now.”

“Buffy, what we have to do now is get out of town. It’s just not safe here.”

“I’m not leaving yet. Take Dawn and get out of here. I have to stay. I’m not going to run from her for the rest of my life.”

“I didn’t say run from Glory; just get away were we’ll be safe for just enough time to make a plan.”

“What about Spike? I’m not going to leave him here for Glory to get to him.”


Giles gave her a pointed look, “Buffy, when have you started caring about what happens to Spike?”

“I don’t,” she paused. “He knows about Dawn. Glory didn’t get anything out of him before, but she might. He saved Dawn, I owe him my life. Giles please help me.” The pleading in her eyes ripped at him. Anything Glory could do to him was nothing compared to how she looked at him now. Giles nodded and turned back to Spike.

Buffy, now realizing the seriousness of the operation turned, “Willow, take Dawn and go into the training room.”

Dawn was defensive, “No, I want to stay.”

Buffy was in no mood to deal with her stubbornness, “No you don’t.”

Spike, weakly lifting his head a little, “Trust me, luv, you don’t want to see this.”

Dawn turned, she was beat. The two people she trusted most had decided it wasn’t good for her to be in the room. She would listen, but it didn’t mean that they were right.
Spike turned his head back toward Giles who was holding sharp, shiny instruments he obviously does not know what to do with. He let out a snide remark before plopping his head back onto the table: “Oh, dear God.”

Willow led Dawn into the other room. Willow had expected more of a fight from Dawn. She idolized Spike. She thought they were all clear as they crossed the threshold. But, as they entered the room they heard Spike’s screams of pain and Willow had to hold Dawn back from returning to where Spike is being operated on. Even Willow herself, did not want to see the group ripping through Spike’s skin. Vampire or not -- there would still be a grotesque sight.

Cont . . .

Glory addressed her monsters, “You had my vampire on the ground with an arrow in his chest and you couldn’t kill him!?”

The first monster spoke, “We tried O Most Beautifully . . . Irate One. He was as good as dead until the Slayer came back to save him.”

“You mean, she didn’t run with that key of mine yet? She might still be here?”

“I believe so Most Intelligent One.”

“Then what am I doing sitting around here listening to you losers. Since you morons obviously can’t do the job, I’ll have to do it myself.”
_____________________________

Night had now fallen back at the Magic Shop. Buffy lifted a hand to rub her temples as she sat at the round wood table. They had decided to take turns staying awake, seeing to Spike and watching for signs of Glory. Buffy had decided to take first shift, and had never went to wake any of them to relieve her. She had poked her head into the training room where they all lay several times. It had been a horrendous, long process of getting that arrow out of Spike’s chest. With no anesthesia to work with, Willow and Tara had tried a spell to ease the pain, but the poison being what it was, it barley helped. Even Xander felt for Spike as the make-shift operating team ripped through layer and layer of skin. They had offered to knock him out, but Spike insisted that if “the Watcher” or “Idiot Boy” were going to be anywhere near him with sharp utensils, he wanted to be able to see them at all times. Giles had led them in the operation, aided mostly by Xander, while Anya kept cool wash cloths on Spike’s face and Buffy blotted and pressed on the wound as the two men worked around her. Tara had done some aiding spells and Willow kept Dawn company.

Buffy looked over at the little gold object lying on the counter next to Spike’s still body. It looked so tiny, yet it had caused him so much pain. Yes, the arrow was no longer lodged in his skin, but they were hardly out of the woods. The poison was in him, and the only way to keep it from killing him was to get the cure off of Glory.

Buffy sighed and lifted herself to her feet, glancing down at her blood stained clothes and arms. Deciding to check on the patient, she set upon the counter. With the exception of the giant bandage on his chest, you couldn’t even tell Spike had been operated on. Anya had done a good job of keeping him, and inadvertantly her precious
merchandise, clean. Gingerly, Buffy continued to Spike’s side.

Buffy lowered her voice to a sheer whisper, “Spike? Spike?”

Receiving no response, she wasn’t surprised. With no pain killers, he had blacked out all through the operation and evening. He had gritted and been so strong -- at one point Buffy intertwined her fingers with his. He had stopped tossing his head at this, soaking in her eyes. She nodded at him, silently telling him it was okay to hold onto her. He knew she was the only one strong enough to share in his anguish and pain, so he did not hold back as his powerful hand tried to crush hers as another sharp object protruded into his skin.

“Spike. . . if you can hear me. . .”

Buffy hadn’t noticed Dawn in the corner watching her. She had slipped out to see Spike, but instead felt herself content to watch as Buffy had sat beside him, periodically soaking his already chilled skin with a wet cloth.

Buffy studied Spike, looked at his bandaged chest. She lifted her frail hand, slightly sore from his grip and gently traced the bandage with her finger tips, down his arm, and paused before slipping her fingers into his. Buffy stared at him a little longer. Then, as if making a sudden epiphany of a decision, Buffy slowly lifted up off her heels and kissed Spike, lightly but lingeringly, on the lips then whispered in his ear.

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

She let her hand stay intertwined with his a little longer before slipping out of the room.

Dawn, still unnoticed, smiled widely.

TBC