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Two hours earlier…

“I’m just saying, I think they’re kind of…intimate,” Jenny said as they watched the teens leave the bookshop.

“I’ll admit there’s a certain amount of chemistry,” Giles admitted. “But really, do you find it so abhorrent that there is? We’re not altogether platonic, either.”

Jenny smiled, walking her fingers up his chest. “I know. You really couldn’t wait to jump me last time, could you?”

Giles’s look turned darker and he skimmed a hand down her back, pulling her closer. “I still can’t,” he said, and lowered his mouth to hers.

“Now, now…what would your Slayers say if they caught you at this? It’s a disgrace, it is.”

Giles and Jenny jumped apart. The British man’s eyes narrowed. “You must be Angel.”

The vampire smiled crookedly. “Would you look at that? I’m famous,” he said, his voice lightly mocking.

Giles felt Jenny go tense beside him. When he looked at her questioningly, she shook her head and said to Angel, “You seem…happy. Did you spike your blood?”

He chuckled at that. “Now, Jenny…why don’t you just say what you’re thinkin’? We both know I’m a pet theory of yours.” He held up a manila folder. In Jenny’s slanted cursive writing was written his name.

Giles was becoming rather confused at that point, which irked him to no end. “Jenny? What does he mean, a theory?”

“Our lovely little pagan’s been explorin’ my soul.” Angel smiled; somehow, it seemed an abomination. “She’s got some nifty little theories about it. Seems she thinks that maybe, just maybe, my soul might not be as safe as you think it is.”

Suddenly, Giles felt sick. Not the sort of nausea that one garnered after eating too much; no, this feeling went much deeper. Angelus. The Scourge of Europe, the vampires even higher order demons had reason to fear. A pure sadist, who enjoyed causing pain above all else.

He was back…and looking Giles straight in the eye.

“Your soul,” Jenny blurted out, clutching her companion’s arm. “How—“

“Now, now, Jenny—we don’t have time for pleasantries,” Angelus said with an almost gently rebuking smile. “I’ve got places to go, other people to kidnap…”

Before Giles even had a chance to process that statement, Angelus was beside him, twisting his arms behind him. “You don’t mind if I borrow the pretty little Gypsy, do you?” he hissed, and brought the bookend down on Giles’s temple.

He passed out immediately…before Jenny even had time to scream.

~*~

The graveyard was dark. Well, duh; it was nighttime. But somehow, to Buffy, the graveyard seemed darker than usual. “Spike?”

“Yeah, pet?”

His voice was oddly comforting, slicing through her fear and placing an almost visible damper on her uneasiness. “Is it just me, or is it darker out here than usual?”

He shot her a look, sharp blue eyes taking in the uneasy lines of her face. “Bloody—are you scared?”

“No!” Buffy winced; her voice was high, shrill, and entirely unconvincing. “Well, okay, maybe a little,” she admitted. “It’s just…what if Angel really did lose his soul?”

Spike forced himself to shrug nonchalantly. He, unlike Buffy, was rather well-educated in the more famous of vampires. The idea of Angelus loose upon the world again chilled his bones. “Dunno, luv. ‘ve heard…stories of what Angel was like b’fore he was cursed.”

“But you said you’d never heard of Angel before!”

“That’s b’cause I hadn’t,” he said flatly. “As far as the Council is concerned, after he got his soul, he dropped off the face ‘f the earth.”

“And now you think he’s all ooky, like he was before he got it?”

Spike sighed. There weren’t words to describe how much he was not looking forward to giving this particular nugget of information to Buffy. “He wasn’t just ‘ooky’, Buffy. He was…he was the worst.”

Buffy was silent; he could feel just enough of her emotions to know that she was measuring up all she’d seen over the past few years with what ‘the worst’ could possibly be. “Oh my God,” she whispered finally, fear coming into her eyes.

“Don’t tell me you actually believe in him?”

Both blondes whirled upon hearing the mocking voice. Smiling congenially, Angelus strolled out of the shadow of one of the mausoleums.

Buffy’s fists were up in a defensive maneuver in seconds; Spikes’ followed. “Get the hell outta here, Angelus,” he ordered through gritted teeth.

“Now, now, Willy,” Angelus said patronizingly. “I’m not here to talk to you. It’s the girl I want.” He leered at her. “In more ways than one.”

He recognized that rushing one of the worst vampires in the history of vampirism was not the wisest thing to do. Unfortunately, pure instinct had taken over; and now, his instinct demanded an attack upon the creature who’d hurt his girl.

“Spike!” Buffy yelled—but it was too late. Angelus had dealt him a blow that sent him sailing backwards, where he smacked into a stone statue and fell solidly to the ground.

Ow. Was it just him, or was the world spinning? Spike struggled to his feet, trying to ignore the way everything looked like he was taking a trip to the carnival funhouse. Buffy had her stake out now, and was circling Angelus with what could only be called deadly intent.

“Don’t you want to talk, Buff?” Angelus asked, sounding almost like his usual, perpetually wounded self. “I gotta say, I was expecting a warmer welcome.”

“Yeah, well, flinging my boyfriend across the cemetery wasn’t a very good way to get one,” Buffy snapped. She ducked when Angelus rushed at her, kicking him in the back and flinging the stake at the exposed spot between his shoulder blades.

Buffy had never seen a vampire move so quickly—one second, her stake was about to get real well acquainted with his heart, and the next, he’d whirled around, caught the stake, and hurled it to the ground.

Angelus glanced over to Spike, who was still struggling with almost crippling dizziness, and laughed. “The Chosen Two,” he said between snickers. “An infatuated little girl and a boy who can’t seem to go two seconds without seeing double. Oh, this will be fun.”

Buffy couldn’t help herself; she threw a punch at him, followed quickly with a flying front snap kick that at least knocked him down. “Did you have any reason for coming here?” she asked waspishly as he got up. She knew better than to try to attack him again. Spike had called him the worst; before she wanted to square off against the demon who’d stolen Angel’s body, she wanted to talk to Jenny and find out just how bad he was.

“Not really,” Angelus drawled. “I’ll just tell Jenny you said hi. She’s just dying to see you again.”

Realization hit: Jenny. She’d been fighting Angelus—not even fighting him, really, more like taking pokes at him—and his minions had been taking Jenny from her. “You bastard!” she screamed, right before she launched herself at him wildly.

Buffy, no!

She heard Spike’s voice echo in her head…right before Angelus’s fist slammed into her face, tearing skin and bursting blood vessels.

Angelus kicked her ribs in contempt. “You know, I’m rather disappointed in the two of you. Maybe this won’t be as much fun as I’d thought.” He sighed. “I suppose I’ll just have to go torture your Watcher, then.”

She passed out, of course…but she had plenty of time to scream before she did.

~*~

Buffy! Dammit, Buffy, wake up! You silly, stupid little chit, if you don’t open your eyes soon I swear to God I’ll rip your sodding throat out!

Probably not the best way to ensure that she’d wake up, but Spike wasn’t feeling particularly logical right then. All he knew was that he hadn’t been able to get to Buffy in enough time; that Angel had hit her and she’d crumpled like a rag-doll, unable to fight him.

He knew that when she woke up, she wouldn’t blame him. For all her ornery ways, she wasn’t a jerk; she’d recognize that when he was so dizzy the ground kept comin’ up to meet him, not being able to watch her back wasn’t his fault.

But he felt like it was.

“Buffy, please,” he said desperately, grabbing her shoulders and hauling her into a semi-upright position. “Please, pet, wake up.”

“Mmmpf,” she muttered, her head lolling to one side. And ugly purple bruise marred the right side of her face, glistening by virtue of the tears staining her cheeks. “Jenny,” she whispered, agony in her voice.

“No. Buffy, no. She’s not dead, jus’…we can get her out, Goldilocks, but you gotta wake up. C’mon, luv, don’t do this to me! Wake up!”

“S-Spike?”

Her voice was weak, tremulous, but in light of her waking, he hardly noticed. “Buffy!”

“Yeah, that would be me.” She grimaced as she tried to sit up. “Spike, we have to get to Jenny, Angelus said—“

“Shh.” He slipped his arm beneath her legs and picked her up, standing with no difficulty. “We’ll get her back, luv, but we have to find Giles first.”

“Where’re we going?” she mumbled, stirring restlessly in his arms.

“We’re gonna swing by your house an’ grab some weapons. Hopefully, Giles’ll be there, too.”

”If he’s not?” There was dread in his girl’s voice, and it made him tighten his hold on her.

“He will be. He’ll be waitin’ and we’ll go an’ get Jenny. It’s all gonna be fine.” He walked a little more quickly, some small part of him drawing hope from the way she, even in her half-conscious state, clutched him so tightly.

He was more than a little worried for the old man, as well as Jenny. He knew that if they didn’t find the two soon, then they might both be Angelus’s next playthings. So as he walked, he repeated his assurance to Buffy over and over in his mind, a mantra that he refused to relinquish: It’s all gonna be fine.

~*~

A/N: *dodges projectiles* Thanks for all the support I've been getting!





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