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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 . . .





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