Buffy stepped quickly between the injured vampire and the dark-haired slayer. “Stay away from him,” she growled, making no attempt to disguise her distrust of the other girl. 

Faith raised her hands, grinning as she spoke. “Easy, B. Don’t know what your deal is, but I’m not after your honey. Was just gonna help, okay?” 

“No, it’s not okay. We don’t need your help,” Buffy all but snarled at her fellow slayer as she wrapped her arm protectively around the injured vampire’s waist. “And what are you doing walking around free, anyway? Last I heard you were locked away where you belong.” Allowing herself a quick glance at her surroundings, Buffy recognised the lobby of Angel’s hotel in L.A. “Where’s Angel?” she asked suspiciously. 

“Dead,” Faith snapped. “Just like you’re supposed to be.” With a sigh, the brunette relented. “Look, why don’t you get down off your high horse for a while so we can work out what the hell is going on here? Cause the last time I saw you was in the Hellmouth, dying from a sword through your gut just before Angel started his little light display and everything went to hell.” 

“Hellmouth? What…” Buffy’s voice trailed off for a moment before she looked her sister slayer in the eye. “Dying?” she asked, her voice betraying her with only the faintest hint of a tremor.   

“Ladies, I hate to interrupt the happy reunion, but do you mind if we take this somewhere else? Say somewhere with a nice comfy couch?” The slight tic of his jaw and the barely-detectable tension in his voice were the only indication, to any who knew him well, of just how much pain the vampire was in.  

“Oh god, Spike. I’m sorry,” Buffy apologised, horrified at having forgotten his current predicament. Tightening her grip on his waist, she led him a nearby couch and watched in concern as he lowered himself carefully to the seat. 

“Spike?” Faith queried. “This is William the Bloody?” 

“Faith, are you…” The voice faltered as its owner descended the stairs to the lobby. “Buffy? How?” 

“We were just about to get to that part,” Faith informed her former watcher as she reached surreptitiously for a stake. She turned her attention once more to the new arrivals. “So, B, wanna explain how it is that you’re walking around in the land of the living, rubbing shoulders with the so called slayer of slayers to boot?”   

“We’re not from here,” Buffy answered, her attention on the arrow still jutting from Spike’s chest. “We’re from another dimension.  This demon kidnapped Dawn, and we’re trying to find her.” She broke off her study of the wounded vampire for a moment and caught the other slayer’s eye. “You do know who Dawn is, right?”  

“You’re from another world?” Faith asked in disbelief. 

“Actually, there are many theories involving parallel universes; it’s all quite fascinating, really. I remember reading a particular theory…”   

“Whoa.  Easy there, Watcher boy; you’re drooling, you know?” 

“What? I’m…” Wesley joined them, glancing down quickly before offering Faith a tight, wry smile. “Yes, very funny. You, my dear, will keep.” 

Turning his attention to their visitors, the watcher studied them carefully for a few moments, noting the surprising lack of aggression from the injured vampire and the slayer’s obvious concern over his welfare. “So a demon kidnapped your sister? And you’re… tracking them somehow?” 

“’s right,” Spike answered. “Snatched the Bit right from under our bloody noses,” he added dejectedly. “Harris’ bird and the witches came up with this amulet, traces Dawn’s signature or something. Bloody thing’s been dragging us around from one world to the next without so much as a glimpse of the Nibblet. Talking of …” He inhaled deeply, his eyes closing in concentration as he searched for a trace of the missing teen. “Nothing. She hasn’t been through here or, from what I can tell, even been close.  So why the bleedin’ hell is it bringing us here?” he growled.  

“We’ll find her, Spike,” Buffy assured the frustrated vampire, one hand coming to rest gently on his chest as she looked deeply into his eyes. “She’ll be all right.” 

Spike sighed and nodded slowly. “You’re right. There has to be some reason we were brought here. Nibblet can’t be too far…  Bloody hell!” he roared, surging to his feet and fixing the slayer furiously with angry golden eyes. 

“Oh, don’t be such a baby,” Buffy chided him, unmindful of the vampire’s fury as she tossed the blood-coated arrow aside and pushed him firmly back onto the recently vacated couch. “It had to come out, and this way you weren’t all tensed up. Now sit down and let me look at it.” Buffy carefully examined the wound; there was some small amount of bleeding from where she had removed the arrow, but that was slowing quickly as his vampire healing kicked in. The wound itself was fairly clean, all things considered, but the flesh and muscle were pretty torn up from all the moving around they’d had to do. “You need blood,” she stated, looking around for his pack. “Where’s your gear, Spike?” 

The vampire frowned and looked around hopefully, as if he could summon it from the ether by searching hard enough. “Don’t rightly know, pet. Tryin’ to think when I last had it.” 

“I don’t remember you having it in Wales,” Buffy offered. 

“No. Me either, pet. Musta dropped it back with your not-so-pleasant self.” 

“Okay, time out,” Faith announced, glancing quickly at Wesley.  Exchanging a faint smile and the barest hint of a nod, they reached a silent agreement.  Having recovered from the rather unusual sight of the furious master vampire and the supposed-to-be-dead slayer facing off in their hotel lobby, they had each concluded that this particular Slayer of Slayers posed no immediate threat and that he and the slayer before them could use whatever assistance they were able to offer.  “How bout we all sit down?  Wes can get you the first aid kit, and you guys can start again from the beginning.” 

Buffy nodded and, wrapping her arm around Spike once more, helped the protesting vampire as they followed their hosts into what appeared to be their living area. “I’m not a bloody invalid, Slayer,” Spike growled in protest, even as he relished the feeling of the warm, strong little arm banded protectively around his waist.  

“I know you’re not,” she agreed, all too pleasantly, yet refused to loosen her hold or withdraw her support. 

After settling themselves around the large dining table, Buffy set to work cleaning and dressing Spike’s wound, ignoring the vampire’s grumbling protests. As Buffy worked on her reluctant patient, she and Spike filled Faith and Wesley in on both recent and not-quite-so-recent events.

tbc