NOTE: Once again another story in my Buffy/Spike series. If you feel the

burning need to read the rest of the series, they can be found at:

http://www.fortunecity.com/roswell/gypsy/190/index.html

NOTE2: This story takes place several days after 'Of Battle Scars

and Peroxide' words found between < > are thoughts.

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

Forfeit (1/4)

by Samantha McCullah

Buffy tossed the duffle bag out her window and was rewarded with a

muffled growl of "Watch it, Slayer," from Spike. They were trying to

move Spike into his own apartment and out of Buffy's room without

attracting the attention of Buffy's mom. Unfortunately, they weren't

succeeding.

"Whoever's out there, I have a very large weapon!" Buffy heard her

mom shout from the front porch.

"Spike!" Buffy hissed softly. Using a supernatural burst of strength

and speed, the vampire managed to make it up the tree and into the

relative safety of the branches before Joyce walked around the corner

of the house. Spike glared at Buffy as her mom spotted her hanging out

her window; she held her breath knowing her mom had seen him.

"Buffy, what are you doing?" she asked.

"Doing?" Buffy replied. "I'm doing...cleaning. Right, I'm cleaning the

roof."

"Honey, it's past eleven. Don't you think it's a little late to

be cleaning the roof?" Joyce commented, humoring her daughter.

"Right, I'm going to bed now. Here's me going to bed," she replied,

letting out the breath she'd been holding. Joyce looked once more

up at Buffy, then shook her head in confusion before walking back

into the house. She waited until she heard the front door close

before turning to Spike. "Could you possibly make a little more

noise?"

"You're the one who hit me with that bag," he replied, sliding out of

the branches and dropping to the ground. Buffy sighed softly while

pulling herself out the window and grabbed a branch. She pivoted

and landed with a plop on her back on the ground. Spike held out

a hand and helped her to her feet.

"If you hadn't pulled that stunt with Xander we wouldn't be in this

mess, now would we?" she replied, brushing herself off.

"That's right, Slayer, all your worldly problems are my fault," Spike

replied.

"Good, glad you see things my way," she commented, picking up the duffel

bag and heading towards the sidewalk. Spike sighed softly before letting

a small smile play over his lips. <That's my girl,> he chuckled as he

followed her. "So where's this apartment of yours?" she asked when he

caught up to her.

"In the bad part of town. Right next to the cemetery," he replied, taking

the duffel bag from her.

"Figures," she responded as Spike linked his fingers with hers. She looked

over at him suspiciously; he glanced at her expectantly. She relaxed and

let Spike hold her hand, and they walked the rest of the way to his place

in comfortable silence.

"So, Slayer, what exactly did you tell dear Xander?" Spike asked as the

neared his new apartment.

"I told him the truth. That you tripped and grabbed me for support, and

we just sorta ended up on the bed," she replied.

"And he believed that?"

"Well, no, not exactly, but he accepted it," she replied as Spike let

go of her hand to fish through the multitude of pockets in his trenchcoat

for his key.

"Looking for these?" Buffy asked, a playful smile spreading over her

lips as she held up Spike's keys.

"Not only the Chosen One but a pickpocket as well," he replied,

snatching the keys out of her hand.

"Giles taught me to be stealthy."

"You've been around me too much," he commented, pushing open the door

to his place. The apartment was lavishly decorated in black leather,

red velvet, and white lace.

"Geez, Spike, who did your decorating? Gothic Martha Stewart?" Buffy

asked, plopping down on the black leather couch.

"What did you expect? Pastels?" Spike retorted. She picked up one

of the remotes on the table and pressed a random button. She looked

up at the whir of machinery as the cabinet across from her revealed

a full entertainment center.

"Wow," she muttered, pushing another button. Across the room, a panel

in the wall turned to reveal a full bar. "Spike, how can you afford

this place?"

"I never did tell you where I got my money, did I?" Buffy shook her

head. "Let's just say, Angel's gonna get a surprise when he checks

his bank account."

"You're stealing from Angel?"

"One-third of whatever he puts in filters into my account. The wonders

of modern technology," he commented, laying down on the couch next to

her. She continued to push buttons on the remote until she saw an

extensive movie collection. She untangled herself from Spike and walked

over to it.

She ran her finger over the titles until, shocked, she turned to face

Spike. She cocked and eyebrow and held up the tape. "Dumb and Dumber?"

she asked, choking back laughter.

"It was Dru's," Spike replied, a little too quickly. She continued to

stare at him and swallow laughter. "It was funny, alright." She placed

the tape back in its place and continued down the line, carefully

ignoring the other Jim Carrey movies. Finally she settled on an old

horror movie 'London After Midnight' starring Lon Chaney.

Spike held open his arms, and the Slayer settled back in his embrace

as the movie started.

__________________

Two hours later, both were deeply unsatisfied with the movie; of course

neither had seen much of it between make out sessions. The parts they did

see were punctuated by Buffy's comment of "I could stake him," followed

by Spike's "No vampire acts like that."

After the credits finally rolled, She pushed away from Spike and stretched;

Spike pushed himself off the couch as well. She commented, "The credits

were by far the best thing in that movie." She looked down at her watch.

"Ugh, gotta go."

"Stay with me?" Spike offered, grabbing Buffy's hand and pulling her to

him. "Sort of a house-warming party," he whispered before bringing his

lips down to hers.

"Sorry, Spike, Mom wants to do the mother/daughter thing tomorrow.

Tomorrow night, on the other hand...," she replied, as his lips

found hers again. She tried to pull away and head for the door.

"At least let me walk you home," he offered, refusing to let her go.

"With Angel out gunnin' for you again..." he trailed off as the all

too familiar pain surfaced in her eyes.

"I'll be fine, I promise. I'll make a quick run of the cemetery, so

I can tell Giles I patrolled, then I'll go home. Ten minutes tops,"

she replied, trying to reassure him. He reluctantly took his arms

from around her waist.

"All right, but you do me one favor," he ordered as she headed for

the door; when she turned to face him, he continued, "Call me when

you get home?"

"I don't know your phone number," she replied.

"I'm in the book."

"Under what? Spike?"

"No, under William Addington."

"Addington?" Buffy whispered. "Is that you're real name?" Spike nodded.

"Now, go, Slayer, because if you stay one minute more, I'm not going to

let you leave, your mother be damned." Buffy tossed Spike a smile over

her shoulder as she left his apartment. "I love you," he muttered, too

softly for her to hear.

_____________________

"Hello!? Time to come out and play!" Buffy called out softly, hoping

no one would take her up on the offer. She took a stake out of her

arm sheath, tossed into the air, and caught it with one hand. She

continued her toss and catch game as she traversed through the

tombstones. "Guess no one's home," she muttered, putting the stake

back in its sheath. Then her Slayer sense went wild; she knew who

it was before she turned around. "Angel! Long time, no slay."

"Hello, lover. Glad you remembered me," he replied stepping out

from behind a mausoleum. "I see Spikey couldn't make you forget

me."

"Are we gonna fight, or did you just come here to catch up on old

times?"

"Oh, we could fight, but that just doesn't appeal to me anymore."

"Really? So, you came here to tell me you've taken up sunbathing?"

"No, I came here to kill you." Angel stalked around Buffy, moving

quietly. "You see, I've had a thought--"

"Is it lonely?" That earned her a glare before Angel resumed his

diatribe.

"It seems that you're nothing more than a whore that shacks up with

the first vampire that offers, so you're not worth the time it would

take to fight you. Spike, however, has to pay for that incident in

the mansion; I still have marks from where he hit me with that crowbar."

"I have to go to the bathroom. Are we done yet?"

Angel continued to ignore her, "So, I figure, I'll make him hurt by

making you hurt." He pulled the crowbar out from his trenchcoat;

he held it up and turned it around in his hand. Then he smirked over

at Buffy. "The same crowbar he used on me. Poetic, isn't it?" he

asked as he lifted the crowbar and swung it towards Buffy.

Buffy managed to block the crowbar with her right arm, then grimaced

as she felt the bone snap under the force of the blow. Angel meant

business, and as he swung the crowbar again, this time at her

legs, she tried to dodge. The crowbar hit her ankle, and Buffy gasped

as pain laced through her body.

"Now, Slayer, scream for me," Angel taunted, lifting the crowbar above

his head. He brought it down swiftly, but she managed to catch it in

her good hand. She gripped her end, then pivoted, twirled, and slammed

the crowbar into the side of Angel's head. His body ricochet into

the mausoleum; he pushed himself away and turned back to her.

"Lucky shot, lover. Good for me, I have a back-up plan," he commented,

pulling the handgun out of his coat. "I'll tell you, Buff, its been

fun." He lifted the gun and fired one shot into her knee; she screamed

as her knee shattered. Angel sighed in pleasure at the sound. "Now

that's what I love to hear." He fired again into her other knee, and

Buffy fell onto her stomach.

Tears were rolling down her cheeks as she looked up into Angel's eyes.

"Why?" she whispered. <Why me? Why you? Why did you have to love me?>

her mind frantically wished she could as those words.

Angel laughed a short, bitter laugh, "Because you were there." Then

the gun fired again, and Buffy's world went black.

_____________________

"Hello, Ms. Summers. I was wondering if Buffy was home?" Spike asked

into the receiver. He glanced up at the clock, noticing Buffy was

over due to call him. <Be there. Be there to tell me you just

forgot.>

"Don't you think its a little late to be calling, young man?" Joyce

replied.

"Its, um, its Slayer business," he stated, hoping she just went

up there to check.

"Is it urgent?"

"Life and death."

"I'll check, but if she's asleep, it'll just have to wait until morning."

Spike heard the receiver being set down. <Please be home. Be asleep, be

anything. Just be there.> Faintly he heard Buffy's mom call out "Buffy?"

<I've got a bad feeling about this.>

His eyes narrowed slightly when he heard the sound. It was a faint,

popping noise. <Fireworks,> he decided. He heard Joyce call out again

frantically, "Buffy!" His eyes narrowed further, as he heard the popping

again. <Not fireworks, only one pop, like a...gunshot.> His eyes widened

in realization. <SHIT!> He hung up the phone, not waiting for Joyce to

come back.

He ran out of the apartment and into the street; he frantically looked

everywhere, not knowing where the sound had come from. Then the gunshot

came again, and Spike followed the sound to the cemetery.

He ran through rows and rows of tombstones searching desperately. <Please

let me be wrong. God, please let me be wrong.> What he saw when he neared

the row of mausoleums shocked him more than anything he'd ever seen

in two hundred years. Angel standing over a bruised and bleeding Slayer

holding a smoking gun.

"NO!" he screamed, rushing over to them. He leapt at Angel managing to

wrestle him to the ground. He twisted Angel's wrist, causing the gun to

fly out of his hand. Angel slammed his elbow into Spike's chin, sending

the blond sailing back.

Angel stood up and brushed his clothing off. As he adjusted his jacket,

he smiled down at Spike. "Dru sends her regards," he commented before

blending back into the shadows.

Spike crawled over to Buffy's broken body; he noticed the blood pouring

down her knees and from the back of her head. Desperately, he searched

for a pulse; he didn't find one. <Oh, God,> his mind as frenzied as

he searched for any sign of life. <Dead, no, please,> he begged.

He kept his hands on her pulse point.

"Please, Slay--Buffy, I know you're in there. You can't be dead, so

prove it. Show me, please! Just wake up and breathe," he ordered, tears

streaming down his face. He raised her torso gently and took his hand

away from her neck. Then he pounded his fist onto her chest, not hard

enough to break anything, but hard enough to wake her up, at least he

hoped.

"You never ran from anything in your whole life. C'MON FIGHT!" He hit

her chest again, but still no response. <Let her go,> some part of him

begged in the back of his mind. "Please, Buffy, I need you." He laid her

body back and laid his head down on her stomach. <I love you. Don't

leave me,> he begged silently.

The he felt it. The long shuttering breath of a body back from the dead.

He looked down at her and smiled in relief as her body gulped in air.

Her eyes fluttered, then opened. They were clouded in pain, but she was

alive. And that's all that mattered to him.

"Spike?" she whispered.

"Its me, Slayer," he replied, pushing the hair back out of her eyes.

"Giles...not far," she murmured before passing out again. But he caught

her drift. <Her Watcher lives nearby.>

___________________

Giles stumbled down the stairs still half asleep as his doorbell rang,

and what he saw when he opened the door, startled him into full

awareness. Spike stood in the shadow of the porch light holding a prone,

bleeding Buffy in his arms.

"Watcher, we have a problem," was all he said.

"Sir, if you can give us any more information...," The cop trailed off.

"Look, I told you everything. I was walking past the cemetery after

visiting my friend, Mr. Giles; I heard gunshots, ran into the cemetery

and found her just lying there."

"You didn't see her attacker?"

"I saw a man running away, that's all."

"And that's everything?"

"Yes," Spike growled, letting his eyes flash gold. The cop backed away

slightly.

"Um, I think that's all I need to know," he muttered, trying to walk

away without looking scared. Spike put his hands in his head and didn't

hear Giles walk up behind him.

"Her mother's on her way," Giles offered, sitting down next to him in

one of the waiting room chairs. Spike didn't reply. "What really

happened?"

"Angel," he stated.

"Angel?" Giles asked, and Spike nodded in reply. "Dear God."

"Giles!" the voice cried out from the waiting room door. Both turned to

find Willow standing by a slightly dazed Xander and a boy Spike didn't

know.

"Willow --," Giles began, rising to his feet.

"Oh, Giles, What happened?" Willow asked, running over to him followed

shortly by Xander and the boy.

"What are you doing here?" Xander hissed at Spike, glaring at the vampire.

Spike glared back, refusing to take the bait.

"Mr. Giles?" the tentative voice asked. Once again everybody's attention

was focused on the doorway. Joyce stood in the frame, staring at the group.

"Mr. Giles, may I speak with you?" Giles nodded slowly and followed Joyce

out into the hallway.

"What did you do to Buffy?" Xander asked, his attention still focused on

Spike.

"Saved her life," he replied.

"I bet you did, probably after you used her." Spike growled softly, feeling

the demon surging to the surface; he grabbed Xander's shoulders and pushed

him back into the wall with enough force to hurt Xander but not attract the

attention of the hospital staff.

"I would rather die than see her hurt," Spike hissed.

"That can be arranged," Xander replied.

"HEY!" Willow called out. Spike released Xander's shoulders, and they both

turned to look at her. "Our friend's hurt, and we need to know why. We don't

have time for immature displays of dominance." The boy standing behind her

placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, and she leaned back into him.

Xander looked up at Willow sheepishly. "Spike, what happened?"

"Angel decided to move ahead with his plan to kill her, and he succeeded--"

"She died!" Willow gulped.

"Again?" Xander added. Spike sighed softly, still not quite used to dealing

with human questions.

"Yeah, she died. But she's back--," he began.

"How? You don't breathe, so no CPR," Xander interrupted.

"Can I *get* a complete sentence out?" Spike snarled. Willow, Xander, and

the boy took an unconscious step backwards. "She's alive now, that's all

that matters."

"No, that's not all. This Angel guy has hurt a lot of people, right?

Including you," the new boy put in. He turned to Willow. "And you."

Willow nodded, probably remembering her fish. <Good thing she didn't

have a puppy,> Spike thought absently.

"So I say, we find a way to make him pay," the boy added.

"Oz?" Willow asked, shocked. <Oz? Who names these people?> Spike

asked himself. "This isn't like you."

"I know, but I'm the loyal type. Nobody hurts my girl." He smiled

at her; then all the humor drained from his face. He stared at Spike.

"Or her friends."

"That's all well and good, Dog Boy, but what do you propose we do?"

Xander asked. Then he turned to Spike as well. "And you. How do we

know you didn't betray Buffy to Angel, hmm? We can't trust you."

"No, I don't suppose you can," Spike whispered.

___________________

Joyce pulled Giles out into the hallway.

"What is he doing here?" she asked in a hushed whisper.

"Who?" Giles replied, already knowing who, but still hedging the question.

"That boy. The Billy Idol look-a-like. What is he doing here? You do

realize he *is* a vampire, don't you?"

"Yes, well, um, it seems that, well...." Giles took a deep breath before

the words came spilling out. "He and Buffy are involved. I realize he's

a vampire, and I have discussed it with her. But you know your daughter

and you know she can be quite, well, strong-willed." His forehead creased

in concentration. "How did you know Spike is a vampire?"

"He came to the house that night. The things he and Buffy talked about...

It was obvious. And Strong-willed is putting it nicely. Stubborn is more

like it," Joyce replied, smiling softly. She grew serious. "What happened,

Mr. Giles?"

"That's the question of the night. It seems that Angel attacked Buffy in

the cemetery, Spike found her, and brought her to me--"

"You didn't invite him in, did you?"

"No, no, not after Jenny...," Giles trailed off, not wanting to

bring up those memories.

"Did Angel...Was he the one who...," Joyce trailed off as well.

Giles looked up at her with haunted eyes. They both decided to

leave that train of thought.

"Ms. Summers?" a doctor asked stepping up behind them.

"How is she?" Joyce replied, turning to face the doctor.

"Awake, and asking for you." Joyce opened her mouth to ask if

she could see her, but the doctor held up a hand. "But I need you

to understand this. While her all her wounds are non-life-threatening,

she was shot in the knees, and if they don't heal correctly, there

is the chance your daughter may never walk again."

_____________________

Giles stumbled into the waiting room, looking haggard and worn as if the

past year had finally caught up to him. "My God," he muttered, sliding

down into a chair.

"Giles, what's wrong?" Xander asked, pushing himself out of his chair.

"Where's Ms. Summers?" Willow asked at the same time. Spike and Oz just

stared at the Watcher.

"We got word about Buffy," Giles replied.

"And?" Spike shot to his feet. Giles looked up at him.

"She may never walk again." All eyes turned to Spike as he growled,

his vampire face revealed. The vampire turned to Oz.

"What's the plan about Angel?" he hissed. He was aware of the shocked

looks on their faces. "Like you said, nobody messes with my girl. For

this, Angel's gonna die."

"Mom?" Buffy asked weakly.

"I'm here, honey," Joyce replied softly, stroking her daughter's head.

"Is Spike?" she asked.

"Honey, I don't think--"

"Mom," Buffy interrupted. "Please?"

"He's in the waiting room," Joyce sighed. "Buffy, have you considered

the consequences of being with this man?"

"Vampire, Mom, Spike's a vamp."

"I know, honey," she smiled.

"And, yes, I have considered the consequences. But I don't care. I

lo--" Buffy broke off.

"You love him?" her mom whispered. She nodded slightly. "Buffy, honey,

you're seventeen, you can't possibly know what love is."

"Don't give me that, Mom," Buffy replied, wincing as she shifted her

body. "I know what I feel." Her mom sighed, knowing she couldn't

reason with her.

"I could forbid you to see him," Joyce commented.

"I'd find a way."

"I know." Joyce sighed. <I seem to be doing that a lot lately.>

"Everyone is here. Do you want to see them? I can talk to the

doctor." Buffy nodded her head, and Joyce got up to go get

them.

"Mom?" She turned to face the hospital bed. "Can you send Spike

in first?" Joyce smiled slightly before nodding in return.

Joyce exited the room and went in search of Buffy's doctor.

____________________

She finally found the doctor and after a few minutes of bargaining,

Joyce managed to get permission for Buffy's friends to visit if only

for a short time. When she neared the waiting room door, she stopped

outside just in time to here Spike commented, "For this, Angel's

gonna die." Then she entered the room to find Spike on his feet

pacing in front of the window in full vampire mode.

"Spike?" she asked. The vampire looked up at her, his face returning

to its normal human one. "She wants to see you."

As he headed for the door, Xander spoke up, "I don't think he needs

to be with her alone." Spike just watched Joyce for a reaction.

"Buffy trusts him, and that's good enough for me." Spike

began to pass her but was stopped when her hand clamped down

on his forearm. "But if you hurt my little girl, the next ax I

hit you with will *not* be aimed at your head." Spike

nodded then continued out the door.

___________________

Buffy rested her eyes as she waited for Spike to show up and was

quickly lost in her own thoughts. <Should I tell him? What if he

doesn't feel the same? What if laughs in my face?> Then she stiffened

slightly as her Slayer sense went off, but she relaxed as she

recognized the feeling.

"Come in," she invited, opening her eyes to see Spike cross the

threshold. "Hey," she whispered.

"Hey," he whispered back. Worry clouded his eyes as he looked at her.

"Are you all right?"

"Well, I won't be running any marathons for a while," she joked. "But

other than that, yeah, I'm fine. My head wound is almost gone. Slayer

healing powers, gotta love 'em."

"He shot you in the head," he muttered, sitting in one of the chairs by

the bed.

"Lucky for me, Angel hasn't used a gun in a hundred years. He was a bad

shot. His last shot was only a flesh wound, barely grazed the back of

my head. But I did lose a lot of blood."

"Head wounds are the worst bleeders," Spike offered. At Buffy's

questioning eyes, he muttered, "I've cause a few in my time."

"Spike, thank you. If you hadn't come along, I'd be dead. Hell, I was

dead."

"Don't thank me, Slayer. If I'd gone with you--"

"If you'd gone with me, we'd both be dead. And besides, you brought

me back." Spike looked up at her, shocked she remembered his pleading.

"At the risk of having a cliched near death experience, I saw everything

from outside my body." Spike looked embarrassed to know she'd heard his

words. "I went back because you needed me. I couldn't go on, knowing

that you--" Her words were interrupted when Spike pressed his lips to hers.

"Gently," she hissed.

"Slayer--" he began.

"Say my name. Please."

"Buffy," he breathed her name. "I can't stand to see you like this."

"Are you going to leave?"

"What? Why?"

"Are you going to leave me? Are you going to leave know that I'm not

strong anymore?"

"Love, I stayed with Dru for as long as she was sick, and I'm not like

her. I'm not going to go away because you're weak."

"Good, because if you did, I'd have to kick your ass." Spike chuckled

at her words. "Spike--" she began.

"Say my name," he turned her words back at her. She beamed up at him.

He caught his breath.

"William. I like that. William," she rolled his name off her tongue.

"Call me Willy and I'll kick *your* ass."

"William, I heard the doctors." Humor drained from both their faces.

"Slayer, don't--"

"They said I may never walk again."

"I know," he sighed.

"Spike, I'm scared." She reached for him; he stood and sat next to her

on the bed. He waited for her to continue. "Hold me?" He gathered her up

in his arms and rocked her gently.

"I'll make it right," he muttered, stroking her hair and trying not to

let the tears overwhelm him. Then his voice got cold as he continued,

"Angel will pay dearly."

The End

You know I think I'll end the series there, and just leave everybody

hanging. Just kidding. The next story is coming (hopefully) next week

(depends on when my proofer gets it back to me)

Comments? Send too Samantha McCullah

Get me back to Angel of the Night!

Get me back to Spike's Corner!

Get me outta here period!