The first thing he noticed as the world came rushing back to them was the warmth of the sun’s rays falling on his face. However, before he had the chance to enjoy the sensation for the first time in over a hundred years, the second and more immediately important detail of their new world was brought home to him painfully as an arrowhead suddenly exploded through the front of his chest, emerging just slightly to the right of his heart. With a gasp of pain he hit the ground, dragging the slayer down with him.  

“Spike?” Buffy held him, frantically searching for the cause of his sudden collapse, seconds later she located the arrow and her stomach turned as she took in its proximity to his heart. Another arrow whizzed overhead and Buffy scanned their surroundings looking for their attacker.  

They were in the open near the outer-edge of a clearing, thick woods surrounded the small glade and the remnants of what appeared to be a stone keep nestled on the fringes a short distance away. She couldn’t see who was shooting at them but from the trajectory of the arrows that continued to fly past them she could tell that their sniper was situated in the trees on the far side of the clearing. “Spike,” she squeezed his arm as she spoke, drawing his attention and when he turned pain-filled eyes on her she continued, “We need to get to shelter, there’s a castley thing just over there,” she indicated the direction with a nod, ‘do you think you can make it?” 

Spike nodded, “I’ll be right, Slayer. Don’t you worry ‘bout me. ‘m right behind you, pet.” 

“No, Spike, you’re right beside me,” Buffy stated and as he opened his mouth to protest her decision she continued, “Look, we can stay here and argue about this until Tonto,” she raised an eyebrow at him, “over there manages to turn us both into pin cushions or you can do as I say and we both make a run for it. Which is it gonna be, Spike?” 

Spike chuckled, and then groaned in pain as the movement jarred painfully at his wound, “Whatever you say, Slayer.” he agreed affably, knowing there was no point arguing with her when she put her foot down. God had never created a creature more stubborn than his slayer.  

“Good,” Buffy responded, reaching her arm around his waist and grasping his belt, “You ready?” When he nodded his agreement she tightened her grip, helping him to his feet and they took off, dodging missiles as they ran towards the relative safety of the dilapidated keep. 

Having safely made their way inside the keep Spike took the lead, pulling the slayer in his wake as he made his way to the narrow vertical slits in the building’s stonework. 

A small, dark haired boy cautiously entered the clearing a longbow almost as large as himself drawn and at the ready as he crept slowly closer to the abandoned keep. A man emerged from the shadows to the left of their location, calling out in some strange language and Buffy frowned wondering how they could have come from a world so similar to their own to suddenly find themselves in some kind of weird King Arthur meets Geronimo world.  

Spike’s pained snort of laughter drew her attention away from the small slit ‘window’, “what’s so funny?” she asked.  

“I’m thinking that’s as justified as you can get,” he replied sardonically, indicating the arrow still protruding from his body. 

“Oh? And why’s that?” Buffy enquired as she bent to examine his chest, her fingers probing gently. 

“He just told his old man that he shot an ‘English devil’ guess the boy couldn’t have been more right if he tried,” Spike answered. 

“You understood him?” Buffy stopped what she was doing to stare incredulously at the vampire. 

“Bits of it, love. Had a Welsh housekeeper when I was a lad. I picked up a little; course this is a lot older, but for the most part I can work it out.” Spike frowned slightly as he listened, straining his ears to pick up the thread of conversation between the boy and his father. 

“Older? How so?” Buffy asked continuing her examination of the arrow. 

“As in several hundred years before my time,” Spike raised his hand signalling for quiet as he took advantage of his preternatural hearing to eavesdrop on their attackers. 

“Seems we’ve landed ourselves right in the middle of a war, pet.” Buffy’s questing fingers halted once more, her eyes widening at his announcement and he continued, “It appears we have landed inside Welsh territory, Gwynedd if I’m not mistaken.” 

“As in Paltrow?” Buffy asked with a frown. 

“No, love. That’s Gwenyth, this is Gwynedd,” he pronounced the two words slowly, “as in a Welsh principality. As in Llewellyn the Great, at war with England.” At her continued blank looks he shook his head, “Do they teach you anything in school?” He grumbled.  

“Anyway,” he continued, “we aren’t the only ‘devils’ to have come this way, the old man chased a swarm of them, or so he claims, a league or so west of here. My guess is that’s our girl and the piece of slime that’s taken her, so at least we know which way we’re heading when we get out of here.” 

“And how are you planning on us getting out of here, mister-know-it-all?” She asked, ignoring the yell and string of curses that fell from his mouth as she snapped the arrow shaft unexpectedly. Buffy was pleased at the information he had garnered but was still smarting from his comment about her education, or subsequent lack thereof and having established for herself that he was in no danger of dusting she allowed herself to take a moment’s pleasure from his discomfort. 

She reached for the arrowhead in order to draw the arrow out only to have her hands slapped away, “I’ll do it myself, slayer.” Spike snapped just as the amulet around Buffy’s neck began to emit the strange warm glow once more, “Shit.” Spike swore, dropping his hand from the arrow to twine firmly with Buffy’s as once again they spoke the words together. 

***** 

“B?” A too familiar voice asked, hesitantly. 

Buffy’s head snapped around her shock-widened eyes focusing intently on the girl in front of her. 

tbc