When the very large man with the very scary teeth tackled John to the floor, Buffy froze. He looked like he should be in a public service announcement for the dangers of ‘roid rage: crazy eyes, shaved head, covered in tattoos. She was terrified.

She couldn’t even see John once they hit the floor; his attacker was just that big. But she could hear a wet, gurgling sound, like someone being choked, and a dull thudding, like a head striking concrete.

Then, suddenly, like a switch flipping in her head, Buffy’s fear turned to fury, and John could feel nothing but cool air on his body.

He pushed himself up on his elbows to see the giant flying through the air and colliding headfirst with the wall – thrown by itty-bitty Buffy Summers.

John and Buffy stared at each other.

“What did you do to Mr Teeth?” he asked hoarsely.

“I don’t know.” A wide, proud, grin spread across Buffy’s face. “But it was cool.”

Mr Teeth struggled back to his feet, shaking his head to clear it of plaster. Ignoring Buffy, he went straight back to where John still lay on the floor and kicked out at his head.

To John’s surprise, he was able to dodge the kick and jump to his feet in what felt like one fluid movement. He’d gathered he was in good shape, but … this? Definitely not just a cook.

The giant roared and came at him again, ducking his head and gnashing his teeth. John gave him a Glasgow kiss that didn’t land quite right – he assumed – because it hurt him a hell of a lot more than it seemed to hurt Mr Teeth. John fell back to the ground, howling in pain, feeling like someone had just shoved a red-hot poker into his brain.

“John!” Buffy cried.

Mr Teeth grinned. “You’re pathetic,” he growled, kicking John in the ribs as he writhed on the floor. “Impotent. Just like everybody says.”

“Hey, Ugly!” Buffy said. “Stay away from my boyfriend!”

He turned, confusion flitting across his brutish face. “I got no beef with you. Walk the fuck away.”

Buffy smiled sweetly up at him. “Oh, but I have a very big beef with you.” Then she kicked him in the balls.

He dropped to his knees with a whimper, bringing his face level with Buffy’s. She winked coquettishly at him before delivering a vicious roundhouse kick to his face

Mr Teeth dropped sideways, unconscious and minus a few of his pointy teeth.

------------------------------------------

Dawn was so ready to kick some vampire butt.

And with everyone already in the know, she didn’t even need to sneak out. All she had to do was grab up a few stakes from the trunk of weapons in the living room, shout “I’m off for some slayage!” and that was that.

Of course, she’d waited until Willow and Tara were the only ones in the house.

And in their room, with the door shut.

And by “shout”, really she meant, “say quietly under her breath”.

Same diff. Not sneaking.

------------------------------------------

“John,” Buffy said, pulling him up into a sitting position. “Are you alright?”

The movement was way too fast. He tried to smile reassuringly, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Reckon I’ll live,” he said muzzily.

Buffy could see he was struggling to focus. She never would have thought it possible to weave while sitting down. But apparently this was something her guy could do. “Something tells me you attract trouble,” she said grimly.

He listed slightly to one side when she let go of his shoulder. Every movement was sending shards of pain splintering through his skull. He laid his head gently on his hands and waited for the room to stop spinning.

It occurred to him that he really needed to stop hitting his head.

------------------------------------------

Dawn was bored. The only movement she’d seen so far was from rats.

Also she was cold.

She looked down at her tank and combat shorts.

Guess Lara Croft chic only works in the jungle.

She heard rustling behind her.

It wasn’t a rat.

------------------------------------------

Buffy stood up and went over to examine the unconscious Mr Teeth. “No wallet or anything,” she said. “But he’s got a pretty ring for such a scary guy. I woulda thought something with skulls’d be more his speed.”

John watched Buffy move around with a mixture of reverence and desire. “You move like poetry, you know.”

As their eyes met, some of the tension seeped out of Buffy’s shoulders. If he was still thinking lusty thoughts, he couldn’t be that badly hurt. Partly in relief and partly in genuine amusement, she giggled. “Guess I’m some kinda superhero or something.”

John’s slightly dopey smile slipped and his eyes widened in fear. “Not a superhero – a Slayer. Which means Dawn—”

“Which means Dawn isn’t.” Buffy’s face went ashen.  “Can you walk?”

John didn’t bother answering. He was too busy running.

------------------------------------------

“This is pointless,” Anya said, throwing down the book she was reading. “We can’t remember anything. There’s a great gaping hole in the shelf where the big bad books of memory spells ought to be. And your notes clearly show you found nothing useful from however long you’ve spent in here already.”

Rupert pursed his lips. “What would you suggest, then, oh fount of all knowledge?”

Anya glared at him.

The faintest hint of a smile twitched over Rupert’s lips. She really is quite fetching when she’s brassed off.

“You said that one girl still remembers how to do magic, right?”

“Tara, yes.”

“So let Tara and her sidekick find us the spell to fix it. Hell, one of them probably did it in the first place!”

“Surely not,” Rupert chided.

“Most victims know their attackers,” Anya said blandly. “Why should a magical attack be any different?”

Rupert sighed. He didn’t want to believe that one of those girls could be capable of something so dark. “We can hardly sit here and do nothing.”

Anya sighed. “Right now, any one of us would gaily invite our worst enemy in for coffee and cake. Probably hand them the appropriate ceremonial dagger to cut out our entrails while we’re at it.” Her eyes took on a slightly dreamy look.

Rupert blanched slightly. Perhaps best not ever make her too angry.

Anya started searching through the papers scattered over the table. “I’m sure I saw some notes here somewhere on how to ward from physical attacks.” She paused, looking up at Rupert. “Maybe we should do a little home security?”

Giles raised his eyebrows. “That’s actually quite a good idea.”

Anya rolled her eyes.

“The house I woke up in,” Rupert continued, “it looked like it’s seen a lot of fighting recently.”

“You should trust your business partner. I’m clearly the smart one. You probably just sweep up or something.”

Giles raised his eyebrows, looking between Anya and the table covered in his notes. “Clearly.”

Anya flushed slightly. “Shopkeepers sweep! It’s a thing.”

Giles cleared his throat and bent his head to begin going through the notes again.

“We’re just so vulnerable right now,” Anya whined. “I don’t want to die.”

------------------------------------------

John knew before they reached the front walk that Dawn had already left the house.

It was weird. If he hadn’t known better, he would have said he could smell her. But that was just crazy.

He stopped and turned, grabbing Buffy’s hand to keep her with him, and hared off after something he couldn’t define but that definitely couldn’t be Dawn’s scent trail. Could it?

------------------------------------------

The first few seconds were okay.

Dawn didn’t scream when she saw the vampire, and there was a certain pride in that. Plus, she had a stake ready, so when he slammed her up against a crypt wall, it went straight into him.

After that? Not so much with the okay-ness.

The stake had missed the heart by a good inch.

Dawn started out more embarrassed than afraid – after all, the Chosen One wasn’t supposed to miss. But then she realised that no matter how hard she struggled, she couldn’t get him off her.

She started screaming then. But it only made the vampire laugh.

She could smell the tangy copper of blood on his breath.

And then he bit her and there was only pain and the certainty that she was going to die.

------------------------------------------

John heard screams – familiar, high-pitched screams that made his eardrums ache. He was already pushing himself to his limits, only distantly aware of his injuries. But now he pushed himself harder, until everything around him was no more than a blur.

Buffy had been struggling to keep up with him from the beginning. By the time they neared the cemetery gates, she knew she had to rest, catch her breath. This winded, she wouldn’t be good for anything.

She slowed, tugging him back. Without turning or slowing, he let go of her hand. She stopped, doubled over and gasping. When she finally looked up, she saw the cemetery’s name in wrought iron letters over the gate.

Mount Pleasant Cemetery? Seriously?

John was aware that Buffy had stopped somewhere behind him, but he was so focussed on getting to Dawn he barely noticed.

He knew now that she was hurt – bleeding – in the same inexplicable way he’d known how to track her. Panic and fear over Dawn’s safety vanished, drowned in a tidal wave of rage and a desperate thirst to slaughter whoever had dared harm her.

The bones in his face shifted, rearranging themselves.

Dawn was so thin, so … breakable. How could he ever have ever left her alone? She wasn’t safe and it was all his fault.

And then – impossibly – he could hear her heartbeat. It was dangerously slow and heavy.

The other vampire never even saw him coming. John ripped his head right off his shoulders while he was still lapping at Dawn’s neck.

John’s first thought was that it absolutely should not have been possible for him to rip someone’s head off.

Guess I’m some sort of superhero an’ all.

John’s second thought was that he’d killed the bastard too quickly – not enough blood or fear or pain.

------------------------------------------

Mr Teeth woke up on the laundromat floor in a world of hurt and burning with embarrassment.

He staggered out into the night, looking for a phone booth.

No one had expected the Slayer to be protecting Spike. Plus, he was almost sure she’d called him her boyfriend.

This was going to complicate matters considerably.

------------------------------------------

Despite her lethargy, Dawn opened her eyes when she felt the gentle shower of dust coating her skin. Another vampire, heaving with rage, filled her field of vision. Her struggling heart started beating even harder, more desperately. Then her knees buckled beneath her, too weak to carry her weight.

“Hey,” John said gently, dropping to his knees and reaching out to stroke her shoulder. “You’re safe now, pet.”

Dawn curled in on herself, as far away from him as she could get. “P-please don’t kill me,” she begged breathlessly. “I don’t want to die.”

John couldn’t see her face, but somehow he knew it was wet with tears.

“It’s John, luv. I’m here. You’re safe,” he said softly. He tore a strip of fabric off of his t-shirt, pressed it into her hand and then held her hand against the wound. “Press down and hold.”

Dawn whimpered, fear continuing to roll off of her in sick-smelling waves. “Y-you’re not John,” she whimpered weakly, finally looking up at him. “You can’t be. You’re a vampire.”

John stared at Dawn in horror, her words forcing him to acknowledge that it was him she was so afraid of. She was cringing away, making the inches between them feel like miles. He opened his mouth to argue with her, but as he moved his lips, he felt teeth where there really shouldn’t have been teeth.He ran his hands over his ridged face and felt for his non-existent pulse. He finally accepted that he could smell the salt from her tears. Like he could smell her blood. And her fear.

He felt like he was about to throw up.

In abject misery, he said, “Dawn, you’ve got to believe me … I didn’t – I would never—”

She just kept staring at him like he was a monster.

You are a monster, you stupid git.

------------------------------------------

The hospital kicked Buffy and John out as soon as Dawn was settled in for “overnight observation”. She’d needed stitches and a blood transfusion, but the doctors had assured them she should be fine in a couple of days. They even gave Buffy a neck trauma note for the school.

John had been weirdly silent and standoffish the whole time.

When they got outside, she stopped. “So you gonna tell me what’s wrong?” she asked.

He hunched further into himself. “Turns out I’m a vampire,” he said quietly, staring at his feet and refusing to meet her eyes.

Buffy tried so hard to hold it in, but the laughter just kept bubbling out of her until she could barely breathe and tears were streaming from her eyes.

John stared at her, slack-jawed with shock.

“Well, duh!” she gasped out finally.

------------------------------------------

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Willow asked dubiously.

“Of course,” Anya said coldly. “I own a magic shop. Clearly, I’m an expert.”

“Clearly,” Rupert said drily.

Anya blushed.

“Oookay,” Willow said, looking back and forth between them. “If you say so.”

Anya opened her mouth to speak, but stopped when they heard the front door opening.

“Hello?” Buffy called out. “Oh!” she said, seeing Anya in the living room, surrounded by the other occupants of the house. She and John dropped the bags of clean laundry they were carrying. “Who are you?”

“This is my business partner, Anya,” Rupert said. “Anya, this is Buffy and John. They live here.” He turned back to Buffy. “We thought it might be prudent to cast a protection spell on the house, to dispel attack.”

“Huh,” Buffy said. “We can do that? Cool.”

“You sure it’s safe?” John asked warily.

“I am a natural at the supernatural,” Anya said.

Rupert coughed. Anya glared at him.

“Now,” Anya said very slowly, as if speaking to a child. “You put these circles of thorns over each doorway.” She handed a small brown paper bag to Willow. “Perhaps over the windows as well. You have many broken windows here, you know.”

“Yeah, we kinda noticed that,” Willow grumbled, taking the bag.

“Thank you, Anya,” Tara said. Then she peered around the couple in the doorway. “Wasn’t Dawn with you?” she asked, suddenly worried.

Buffy and John looked at each other, and then back to Tara.

“You didn’ know where she was?” John said a little bit too calmly, a muscle in his jaw beginning to twitch.

Buffy put a warning hand on his arm. “She’s at the hospital.”

“Is she okay?” Willow asked.

“She will be,” John said coldly.

“A Slayer shouldn’t need a hospital except for the gravest of injuries,” Giles said quietly. “I doubt very much that Dawn is okay.”

Buffy took a deep breath. “Dawn’s not the Slayer,” she said. “I am.”

There was dead silence in the room.

“Who’s Dawn?” Anya asked, finally.

------------------------------------------

Rupert drove Anya home in Tara’s car after they’d completed the protection spell. He still wasn’t sure what their relationship was, but … he thought he understood now why she was his emergency contact.

When he returned, the porch light was out – but so were all the other lights at the front of the house, so he wasn’t worried. He never saw Mr Teeth lurking in the shadows.

He was unconscious before he could get the key in the lock.

Mr Teeth tried three times to kick the door in, but it felt like he was bouncing off some kind of force field. For a minute, he was worried he’d have to go through the hassle of kidnapping the old guy and exchanging him for the vampire. Then he got a better idea.

------------------------------------------

Anya was exhausted by the time she let herself into the apartment.

It was almost completely dark inside – the only light the flicker of the television reflecting off of Xander’s eyes and the collection of empty bottles surrounding him.

“Where’ve you been?” Xander asked, slurring his words more than a little bit.

“Out,” Anya said, wrinkling her nose at the beer-stink suffusing the apartment. “Have you seriously done nothing but drink and watch TV since I left?”

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Mr Teeth dragged Rupert out into the middle of the front lawn – he wasn't part of the contract, and still might come in useful as leverage.

Then he walked around the perimeter of the house with the can of kerosene, splashing it against the wooden cladding of the house.

The wicker chair on the porch seemed as good a place as any to start the fire.

He figured no protection spell could last forever against a fire.

And neither could a vampire.