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~*~


Giles wasn’t at the Summers' house.

By the time they arrived, Buffy was able to walk on her own; when they walked in she headed straight for the weapons chest, pulling out a long and dangerous-looking sword.

Spike arched a brow when he saw it. “Hero complex, luv?”

“He took Jenny,” she replied grimly. “There’s no way I’m letting that bastard get away with it.”

He might have taken Giles, too—that thought was first and foremost in Spike’s mind. Angelus was a sick fucker, and he probably knew that if he killed Giles when they thought he was alive simply because he hadn’t mentioned capturing him, then both Slayers would be devastated.

Keeping that in mind, he picked up an axe. “You can have your needle. ‘m goin’ in with the best weapon I can get.”

“An axe?” she said skeptically.

“Hell, yeah. That’s what I was fightin’ with that first night, remember?”

He watched her relax a little. He knew what she felt, since the same emotions were running through him. Every other battle either of them had fought, they’d done it alone; now they had each other.

Something told him that two Slayers would be a hell of a lot more effective than one.

They were leaving the house when Spike spotted the envelope lying on the ground. “Looks like your mum’s got mail, Goldilocks,” he said, stooping down and picked the envelope up.

He didn’t see the finger until it rolled off the envelope and bumped against his boot. “What the hell—“

He froze. Blood was still sluggishly dripping from the severed appendage; and when he saw the ring that had fallen off the finger, rage overcame him.

It was a simple silver band, heavy with inscriptions that had been worn down to the barest of scratching, but Spike would have known it anywhere.

“He’s got Giles.” Spike’s voice was flat; inside, he felt like screaming.

“Spike—“ Buffy reached out to touch him, and at the same time he felt the gentle brush of her mind against his. He flinched away from both. “The bastard’s got my Watcher!”

“I know,” she said. “He’s got mine, too. But we have to—“

He stood up suddenly and whirled around to face her, pure fury rising in his mind. “What? Stay calm? How the fucking hell do you expect me to stay calm when some vampire friend of yours cut—“

Her fist to his nose stopped his insults. “My friend?” she spat, sounding every bit as angry as the male Slayer. “You think he’s my friend? He took my Watcher too, you judgmental ass!”

“But he didn’t maim yours!” Spike yelled back, every bit as incensed as she was yet reluctant to hit her. Some part of his civility still remained.

“No,” Buffy said quietly, her voice venomous. “He might have killed her instead.”

Silence took over the porch. Spike was shaking, fighting off the urge to destroy something, anything; he couldn’t get the horrific image of his Watcher’s finger out of his mind. Giles was being tortured—and it was all his fault. He was the Slayer. He had a responsibility towards Giles, and he’d failed.

He wouldn’t fail again.

Abruptly he hefted the axe on his shoulder and said grimly, “Let’s go, then. Time to put that bastard in the ground.”

She put her hand on his arm to stop him, her touch gentle. “Spike, we can’t,” she said softly. “Angel—I mean, Angelus—he’s—“

“He’s just another vampire, Buffy,” Spike said shortly. He saw her flinch at the coldness in his voice. Fine, then; let her flinch. Let her be hurt. It wasn’t his problem. First and foremost, he owed his loyalty to his Watcher.

“No, he’s not,” she insisted. When he turned to glare at her, she caught his eyes with her own—and suddenly he found himself falling through her memories and witnessing the fight she’d had with Angel nearly a year before.

It was horrific. Not because he was hurting her, but because that for all that he was a weakened creature, supping off pigs’ blood and deliberately curbing his strength, he was still faster and better than the Slayer he faced. He didn’t move quickly, the way both the Slayers did; instead he moved sinuously, like a snake. Not so quickly, but every move was calculated, and when he wanted to, he could snap out like lightning.

If he charged in seeing red, Spike knew he wouldn’t last.

He forced himself to accept the calming force radiating off of the female Slayer, taking a deep breath and clenching his jaw.

Better now?

The light brush of her mind on his as she spoke to him soothed him more than he’d ever be able to tell her. Little bit. How’re we gonna play this?

He watched her bite her lip. Even in the middle of a crisis, she was adorable. Angel…doesn’t think I’m all that bright, she admitted after a moment of thought. I could go to him, play the scared little girl, ask him what’s wrong—distract him. And then maybe you could rush in and get Giles and Jenny free?

He’ll try to hurt you, luv. Spike tried to inject his disapproval into that thought. The idea of Buffy taking on that bastard alone made his blood run cold.

It’ll only be for a minute, she assured him. Just long enough for you to get the bo—for you to get them out.

He’d felt what she was going to say before it reached her brain. Taking her hands and pulling her closer, he said, They’re alright. They have to be.

She leaned into him for a second, sighing. I know, she said, but she sounded unsure. It’s just…really not with the believing in happy endings right now.

I know. Spike took a deep breath and said aloud, “Well, ‘s as good a plan as any. You’re positive you can hold off this bastard till I get ‘em out?”

Buffy nodded grimly. “I couldn’t kill him, but I’m pretty sure I can at least distract him enough for you to get Jenny and Giles out.”

He watched her fingers tighten around the hilt of her sword; she was just as scared as he.

“Let’s move out, then,” he said.

They departed hand in hand, both fighting to smother the fear that screamed out the names of their Watchers as they walked.

~*~

Drusilla cocked her head, cooing to imps that no one but she could perceive. “I hear them, Daddy,” she said, clapping her hands in delight. “The little tin soldiers are coming to give us a visit.”

Angelus turned to her, smiling benevolently. “That’s excellent news, Dru.” He turned back to the two figures chained to the wall. His smile widened. “Isn’t she a wonderful childe?” he asked the two. “So very perceptive…Drusilla, darling, I think I’ll have to reward you for that.”

Drusilla squealed. “Is Daddy going to give Princess tea and cakes? The men at the castle called to me, said it was tea time. We shall drink from golden plates and dance with the stars.”

Angelus cocked his head at her. “I don’t know if I can get what yer talkin’ about,” he said, “But how does a nice little torture session with one of the Watchers sound?”

She took the proffered knife and approached the Watchers with the same wicked smile Angelus wore, made all the more terrifying by the insane light that sparkled in her eyes.

“Naughty, naughty,” the vampire scolded, shaking the knife and causing the blood on its blade to spatter the two pale faces. “Shouldn’t have gone outside, not when Miss Edith told you to stay with the picnic. Such bad, bad little dollies.”

She traced a deep line down Jenny’s cheek and smiled when the witch whimpered in pain. “She dances with the starlight and laughs at the fire,” Drusilla whispered, almost to herself. “Now—let us see if she will scream.”

~*~

A/N: Are there any really tall people who want to beat up my writer's block for me? ;) Thanks for all the support I've been getting!





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