Facing The MirrorsBy Raeann
Part ThreeCutting cross-country, over rooftops and down back alleys, Spike reached the edge of the Sunnydale campus in record time. He broke into the open of the inter-mural fields and headed for the tree line where nature took over from civilization. He was stepping onto the last blacktop when the Sport Utility Vehicles cut him off. Tires squealed and high beam headlights were trained on the vampire from three sides. Spike heard doors popping open and the click of firearms being leveled. The only escape available was a full retreat and he had no intention of taking it.
“Bloody fuckin’ hell,” Spike screamed, his whole body tensing for a migraine-inducing charge. “Out of my way or I slaughter the lot of you.”
“Spike don’t,” Xander ordered from the back of one of the vehicles. “They’re here to help.”
The vampire whipped around, peering in the direction of the man’s voice. He couldn’t see anything beyond the bright lights and tinted windows. “Harris? What is this? I haven’t got time to jack around playing capture the castle with these wankers.”
Xander didn’t answer. Dozens of vaguely human-shaped shadows poured out of the SUV’s. Spike was surrounded by the sound of booted feet and the rattled of weapons being primed. He moved nervously. Coiled tight, he paced the lighted confine like a cornered leopard. Three men stepped into the arc of headlight beams. One of them was Harris. The second one was obviously in command. But it was the third man that caught and held Spike’s attention. He was achingly familiar. They stopped just inside the circle of vehicles and waited for the vampire to approach.
“Must be a soddin’ Boy Scouts’ Jamboree in town,” Spike commented. “Up to our eyeballs in the merit badge winners.”
“Hostile Seventeen,” Graham nodded, cordially.
“G.I. Jane,” Spike returned, nodding back.
There was a stirring in the darkness as a few of the soldiers took exception to the vampire’s snide remarks. Graham flashed a small, tight, barely amused smile. He was all military spit and polish. First in line to the commander, Spike figured, and not easily ruffled.
“Graham,” the Commander barked, shifting the stub of his cigar to the corner of his mouth, “get on with it.”
“You know where he has her?”
“Yeah,” Spike confirmed. “You know what it is?”
“Sub Terrestrial A-Class Hive Entity,” Graham replied. “Very nasty.”
“Scyllain!” Spike corrected. “And too right about the nasty.”
“What’s he going to do to Buffy?” Xander asked. He was anxiously hovering about on the edge of the conversation. He looked at Spike for his answer. “He wouldn’t…I mean, RILEY…wouldn’t hurt her.”
“Finn’s dead,” the Commander returned not even glancing at the civilian. His comments were intended for the troops. “I want that understood. He never came out of the jungle in Belize.”
“Not how it works,” Spike said with a quick shake of the head. “Not with the Scyllains. He’s in there somewhere. Mad as a March hare and tied up inside the whole of the thing but still self-aware. He’ll know your weaknesses.”
“He’ll know yours, too,” Graham returned.
“I only got the one.”
“We can help you,” Graham urged. “Help you get her out alive. If,” he stressed the word, “you can lead us to them.”
Spike narrowed his eyes at the man. Then he turned to stare into the distance for a minute, considering the offer. He mentally weighed his chances of survival if he simply broke for the trees.
“This is your patch,” he stalled. “Government? Initiative? Why you need me?”
“We don’t,” Graham conceded, “but you could make it easier to find them. Quicker! All of the detailed maps of this area are classified; we can’t access them in time. We’d have to use heat sensors and feel our way.”
“And you could take them there before things turned nasty,” Xander added, waving his hands for emphasis. “You know, Spike? Buffy in the mortal jeopardy?”
Spike shot an unreadable look at the carpenter and then shifted into a more upright and relaxed stance. The vampire bobbed his chin at Riley Finn’s army buddy.
“You got a flame-thrower?” he asked.
“Two!”
“Watch where you point them,” Spike warned.
Graham took it as acceptance. He stepped back and nodded at the Commander.
“Unit two, fall in,” the officer ordered over his shoulder. “Tanner, lock and load. Graham, hold here with Unit one. Wait thirty minutes for my signal then advance. You,” He snarled at Spike, “take point.”
“What about me?” Xander asked, stepping forward.
“You stay here,” Spike and the Commander said together.
“Like hell,” Xander returned. “Buffy is my friend. And I got her into this. I encouraged her to spend time with Riley. I let him stay at my house and…”
“You had no way of knowing what he was,” the Commander excused, softening slightly in the face of the other man’s emotions. “Don’t blame yourself, Son.”
“The best way to help is to just stay out of our way,” Graham advised. “This is our job and we know how to do it. You go in, you’ll only get hurt.”
“I can handle mysel…” Xander started and then yelped as Spike grabbed him hard by the arm and hustled him to one side.
“Stay here,” the vampire hissed. “I need you outside with the second group.”
“Why?”
“Because if we fail,” Spike whispered, leaning in close, “they have orders to put a bullet through the Slayer’s head.”
“Wha…h-how?” Xander stuttered, jerking back. He lowered his voice and demanded. “How do you know that?”
“Vampires have good ears,” Spike replied, sotto voce. “You need to get to Red.”
Xander turned to glance back at the car where Willow and Anya were waiting under guard.
“Okay, then what?”
“Have her cast a protection spell around Buffy.”
“Willow’s sworn off magic,” Xander reminded.
“I don’t give a damn if she’s taken the bloody oath on her Mother’s soul,” Spike snarled. “She’s casting that spell or you are going to have to contact Tara. I don’t care which witch you use but you make damned sure that someone slaps the mojo on My Girl.” He paused to check for eavesdroppers and then added, “Because if that thing has its way with her we’re all as good as dead.”
“Huh?”
“She’s the SLAYER you soddin’ git,” Spike growled. “Think what kind of power boost she’ll give that Scyllain when he takes her in.”
“You mean…” Xander frowned, as understanding dawned.
“Yeah,” Spike said, giving the man the raised eyebrow encouragement, “Now you’re getting it.”
Xander used his hands to illustrate the connection as he put it all together, “That thing will have Buffy’s strength AND ….”
“…all of the punch it already has,” Spike confirmed. “It means to mate with Buffy and then assimilate her into the hive. That’s why Riley’s here. It’s not all about broken hearts, ships passing in the soddin’ night and what shoulda/coulda been. It’s about power. Because Scyllain plus Slayer equals….”
“…so long Sunnydale?” Xander guessed. Spike nodded and the young man gulped. He looked over his shoulder again toward the SUV with the girls. His jaw set in determination. “Okay, I’m on it.”
Spike gave his arm a manly slap as they parted but, after only a few steps, Xander turned back and called out to him.
“Spike?”
“Yeah?” Spike said, shifting impatiently at the far edge of the light.
“You won’t,” Xander hesitated, unsure how to phrase his question. “You won’t…let him hurt her?”
“No,” Spike said, simply, and then he stepped back blending into the darkness.
Xander listened to the crackle of men entering the woods. He waited until all he could hear was the rumble of the SUV engines around him and then he went to see Willow.
“Love and other moments are just chemical reactions in your brain
And feelings of aggression are the absence of the love drug in your veins, in your veins.
Love come quickly
Because I feel my self-esteem is caving in
It’s on the brink
Love come quickly
‘Cause I don’t think I can keep this monster in.
It’s in my skin.”
The music was beginning to get on Buffy’s last nerve. It was the same song, over and over…and over…programmed to endlessly repeat. The insanity of that coupled with the pinch and pain of Riley’s actions was having a numbing effect on the Slayer’s mind. He was kneeling in front of her, using a sharp knife to strip off her jeans. Occasionally, he nicked her flesh. Buffy tried to think of something else…
“…I’m gunning down romance. It never did a thing for me, but heartache and misery. Ain’t nothing but a tragedy…”
…it was hopeless.
“Can you at least change the damn song?” she snarled, as Riley stood up.
He tilted his head, as if trying to understand her words. He looked for all the world like a rabid dog struggling to recall a loved master. Buffy prayed she could reach him. Riley hadn’t really hurt her yet. Though he had bruised her ribs with a hard punch after he’d tried to kiss her. His cheek was bleeding from the attempt. He had cut off Buffy’s air so she would open her mouth but he’d gotten too close to her teeth.
The Slayer watched her ex warily as he circled her. Every time he turned away, she twisted at her left wrist chain. She was certain now that the links were giving way near the ceiling.
Riley stepped in close to her again. Turning the blade of his knife up, he slid it along her throat. It left a hair-thin line of crimson in its wake. Flicking the tip of his weapon down, he sliced diagonally across the front of her blouse, exposing one taut breast. He licked her and then laid the blade flat against her nipple. Buffy instinctively shrank from his touch. Then she took herself in hand, stilling her body and mind as he fondled her again.
“Who is this band anyway?” she asked, conversationally, “I want to never buy their CD.”
Riley pulled back and slapped her, all his weight behind the swing. Buffy moved with the blow but didn’t acknowledge it beyond the motion. Her unraveling ex stalked to the lab table and hefted his scimitar again. Turning suddenly, he pointed it at her heart. She smiled at him, daring him to strike.
“You know you really should have paid more attention to Momma Walsh in Psyche 101. It’s not the size of a man’s sword that matters it’s….”
There was a movement in the shadows and Buffy’s taunt died in her throat as the Scyllain demon shuffled into the room. It was naked just as it had been in the cemetery but this time it was obviously aroused. Its masculine equipment was no longer shielded by its carapace. The Slayer felt suddenly light-headed as she privately admitted that size could play a factor in the equation after all. Riley followed the direction of her wide-eyed gaze.
“Oh, no,” he said, shaking his head. “We had a deal.”
Stepping away from Buffy, he impatiently snapped off the CD player. Then he turned to confront the Scyllain directly.
“It’s not time,” he insisted, negligently tossing his sword onto the table, “I’m not finished here.”
“They are coming,” the Scyllain chorused. “It is time.”
“No,” Riley whined, stomping one foot like a petulant child. “You said I could have her first.”
“They are coming,” the many-throated beast, repeated, “we must not be whole when they arrive. We must take her now.”
“But you promised….”
The Scyllain reached out one taloned paw and lifted Riley’s chin forcing his downcast eyes up. Buffy was amazed at the gentleness of the hideous thing. Its touch was tender as it played with a lock of Riley’s hair.
“She is resistant,” the Scyllain said, its many voices soft as the stirring of fallen leaves, “and there is no time. We must be one now before they come. When they arrive we must be separate again. Come inside and experience her surrender with us.”
“Come inside,” someone repeated from the far corner of the room.
Buffy jerked her head toward the new voice. A soldier came out of one of the tunnels. He was African-American, six feet tall and remarkably fit. He stripped off his clothing as he walked. Six more uniformed men trailed into the room from the surrounding passageways and then a diminutive girl who was apparently of Asian descent.
“Come inside,” they chanted as one.
Riley was chanting, too. As Buffy watched in horror, her former lover embraced the Scyllain demon, sliding erotically against the green prickly body of the thing. The demon tore away Riley’s clothing. It entered him. Riley’s flesh parted before the Scyllain’s thrust as it pulled him into its body. All the way into its body until there was no Riley left. Buffy’s stomach heaved.
The others were surging forward, surrounding the Scyllain, stroking it and each other. They writhed together. Their limbs tangled, male and female parts melting, merging like some hellish orgy scene. The demon bulged and shifted to accommodate the others within its body. Its gelatinous flesh flowed viscously, engulfing the individual hive members, until only the Scyllain remained. It shrank back into its original shape, but it seemed denser, more menacing. Its skin rippled with anticipation as it turned to study the bound Slayer. Its fanged maw opened to address her.
“You will come inside,” it commanded in its hive tongue.
“I’m just saying I don’t think I can do this,” Xander whispered.
“Of course you can, Sweetie,” Anya returned. “You raised that pointy-chinned demon. This will be much easier. All we need is a handful of Motherwort.”
“And it looks like this?” Xander said, indicating the tiny drawing on his palm.
“With pink or white flowers,” Willow reminded, “not purple ones.”
“How am I suppose to see the flower color in the dark?”
“Or we can just forget the whole thing,” Willow snapped, rubbing her damp hands against her thighs. “I can’t believe you even asked me to do a spell after all of the lectures I’ve listened to from you. I mean aren’t you the one always saying…‘Why do you have to use magic, Willow?’ or ‘Isn’t there an old-fashioned, normal way to do that?’”
“We only want what’s best for you Willow.”
“Oh, yeah,” Willow nodded, “of course, everybody only wants the best for me…as long as it’s convenient for YOU. But then when you want to stop the bullets…you don’t want to do things the,” she air-quoted, “‘normal way’ then do you? I’m supposed to whip up a spell for you no questions asked, right? And then…poof…I am suppose to just go back to being regular, everyday, old-fashioned Willow again…la, la, la!”
“Okay, okay,” Xander sighed, making shushing motions with both palms. “Enough with the la, la, la’s. I’m just saying…what if I mess up? Say the wrong words or pick the wrong flower? Buffy’s head explodes or something?”
“Probably that won’t happen,” Willow said.
“PROBABLY?”
“We should be quieter,” Anya hissed as a soldier walked by the window. “And,” she said turning to look Xander in the eye, “we should think about how we are all going to be dead soon if you don’t do this spell.”
“Right,” Xander nodded. “I’m Spell Guy…off to find my Mother’s Mole.”
“Motherwort,” Anya and Willow said together.
The demon shuffled forward, slow and relentless as a glacier’s march to the sea. Buffy shifted away from it, pulling on her weakening chain. A bone deep chill washed through her as it approached. She wasn’t afraid to die but she was afraid of the half-life this demon offered. Buffy didn’t think she could stand being enslaved to another being for ten minutes let alone for the next thousand years. She, also, didn’t think she was going to be given a choice in the matter. She was staked out, spread-eagle, and totally defenseless against this demon.
The Scyllain touched her bare stomach. Its palm was uncomfortably hot. It slid its taloned paw along her flesh. Simultaneously, it sliced into the Slayer’s mind, assaulting her with a hundred random thoughts. She sensed Riley in the multitude. His jumbled thoughts centered on impressing her. There was a blonde girl dreaming of a marriage that would never be. And another girl, bitter and alone even in the midst of the hive mind. There were soldiers, still fighting endless battles. Men plotting strategy and men raving aimlessly.
There were dozens of lost souls in the Scyllain’s hive. Each of them had a voice. But all of them were enslaved under one master. All of them screamed out their desperation in Buffy’s head. It was psychically devastating. But the insanity was also liberating. The Slayer found herself wanting to let go of her independent identity, to be one of the many. To be freed of responsibility for her action, tormented and yet somehow unburdened. The hive invited her inside. She was overwhelmed. Unguarded impressions slammed into her like fists. She screamed in rage and agony, flailing against her restraints. The Scyllain held her tight, dragging her close as it pressed its engorged phallus against her.
There was a gentle tap at the door. Willow checked for guards and then eased the latch open to let Xander back inside the car. The carpenter was festooned in greenery. Twigs and leaves decorated his black hair and bunches of flowers peeked out of his jacket pockets.
“What’s all this?”
“Flowers, herbs,” Xander said as he began dumping vegetation on the car seat. “All I could find. The right one must be here somewhere.
“I drew you a picture of the right one.”
“Yeah,” Xander nodded, “small problem…it’s dark out there.” He held up his palm, “Couldn’t see well enough to read your notes.”
“This is hopeless,” Willow groaned, as she contemplated the abundance of the wild salad.
“No, look,” Xander disagreed. “I got every plant in a three block radius. If it’s out there, it’s in here. What about this one? It’s pink!”
“That’s periwinkle,” Anya said.
Xander frowned at the little flower, “Are you sure? It doesn’t look periwinkle to me…more like a mauve?”
“That’s the name of the flower, Sweetie,” Anya sighed, exchanging a pained glance with Willow.
“You’re kidding me,” Xander said, also looking to Willow.
His friend gave him a tight smile and nod, “That’s what we call it in the big ol’ magic workin’ circles,” she said.
Buffy’s enraged scream echoed in the labyrinth of tunnels. Spike broke into a run, headless of the soldiers following behind him. He charged into Adam’s old lair, snarling up his game face as he ran. Barely checking his speed, he targeted the Slayer’s attacker. Leaping to the top of a metal table, the vampire pushed off. He tackled the Scyllain at shoulder height.
Wrapping himself around the other demon’s body, Spike gripped its head in both hands. He twisted the creature’s neck around, letting his forward momentum carry them both away from Buffy. They toppled sideways into the computer console. The offensive music skipped and squealed into life again. Buffy blinked dazedly as the din in her head died away, replaced by a purely auditory assault.
She brought the room into focus. A squadron of soldiers was pouring out of one of the converging tunnels. They took up offensive positions. Unslinging and readying an array of weapons, the newcomers targeted the battling demons.
“Spike,” the word formed on Buffy’s lips as she noticed her lover for the first time.
The vampire was horribly outclassed. He looked like a tiger trying to take down an elephant. He worried at the Scyllain, clawing and biting at it. Snarling and spitting, he scrambled about. Time and again he avoided the behemoth’s crushing paws by millimeters.
A soldier maneuvered close and shot a blaze of fire at the Scyllain. His shot went wild, spraying flames across a wide area. Spike sprang away from the fight to avoid being burned. He slipped, stumbled and the green demon caught him a terrible blow to the head. The vampire somersaulted. He landed flat on his back on the floor between Buffy’s shackled feet. Momentarily disoriented, Spike looked up at his beloved and his face shifted back to human form.
The Scyllain finally deigned to notice the menacing soldiers. It roared out a challenge. The various pinecone-like bristles on its body swelled and popped up so that it seemed three times as large. Then the appendages exploded outward. Separating from the parent demon, they twisted and expanded in the air. At least two-dozen men and women emerged from the demon’s scattered seeds, as each swollen bristle became an individual hive member. They sprang up around the chamber as if they’d been sown from dragons’ teeth and rushed into combat.
The hive members were naked, unarmed and virtually unstoppable. Buffy saw one of them take a bullet in the face. The injury didn’t even slow its attack. The Scyllain turned away from the battle. It continued its remorseless shuffle toward Spike and Buffy. Pausing at the torture table, it picked up Riley’s sword.
“Spike, get up, now,” Buffy cried. “Come on, Luv, snap out of it!”
The vampire frowned at her, puzzled. He was fairly certain that he hadn’t heard her correctly. He rolled over onto his hands and knees. His head hung low and he shook it as he struggled for clarity. He tried to stand, failed and tried again. Using the Slayer’s body as a crutch, Spike levered himself to his feet. His back was to the advancing demon.
Beginning to panic, Buffy swung against her weakened chain. Spike reached up to help her, adding his own strength to hers. The metal links groaned and buckled and finally parted. The sudden and unexpected shift in resistance sent Spike stumbling to one side and Buffy spinning to the other. Only her tethered legs kept her from whirling like a top around her other chained wrist.
“Well, THIS is a big improvement,” the Slayer groused, struggling to turn back toward the Scyllain.
She had no traction; no way to turn herself around. But her current position allowed her a perfect view of the rest of the battle. Unfortunately, there was no chance of help from that direction. The friendly soldiers, quite obviously, had their hands full with the Scyllain’s hive. Flamethrowers blazed and edged weapons sliced into flesh as the Slayer looked on, impotently.
Completely frustrated by her helpless situation, Buffy swayed her body to build up momentum. She tried to lunge up and grasp her still solid chain. Cool hands gripped her waist, lifting her. Spike had her. She caught hold of the links above her wrist and used that tension to turn her body. She was opening her mouth to say thanks when she caught sight of the Scyllain. The demon was a foot away, raising its sword to slice the vampire in two.
“Spike,” she yelped, “look out.”
As if her thoughts were his, the vampire moved even as Buffy spoke. He dropped and rolled backward. Slipping under the Scyllain’s strike, he hit it mid-calf. It overbalanced, compensated and came on again. Spike scrambled clear but then suddenly froze his attention captured by something on the floor near the pile of Riley’s discarded clothes. He lunged back toward the demon, putting himself in the direct line of its sword. He scooped whatever he’d seen off the floor even as the behemoth’s blade guillotined down toward him.
Using her broken chain like a whip, Buffy lashed out. She captured the Scyllain’s blade in her snaking links and with a flick of her wrist sent the sword flying. Turning on the Slayer, the green demon bellowed again as it surged forward. Spike’s growl was almost as fearsome as he went back on the offensive. He stepped between Buffy and the beast.
“I’m only going to tell you this once,” Spike rumbled, as he flashed his fangs. “You stay the Hell away from my woman.”
Lifting his knee high, he took his rival full in the crotch. The force of the blow staggered the other demon. Spike danced back as it fell forward. Balancing on the balls of his feet, the vampire spun a roundhouse kick at the Scyllain’s head. Connecting, he sent the behemoth to the mat. Spike came out of the spin tight up against the Slayer’s body. Leaning in, he dropped his hand along her free arm and slipped a small metal object into her palm. Buffy’s eyes widened as her fingers recognized the shape in her hand as a key. Riley must have dropped it when he merged with the Scyllain.
“About to get my ass seriously kicked, Pet,” Spike said close to her ear. “So as soon as you’re not so tied up….”
The Scyllain surged to its feet. Spike ducked as the beast hurled itself at him. He kicked out backward and shoulder rolled to the right. Coming to his feet, Spike scampered sideways. As he’d hoped, the Scyllain followed him, leaving Buffy to escape. The vampire couldn’t help thinking about Bailey Conger as he scrambled to stay out of the Scyllain’s clutches. Though he was reluctant to touch the thing, he moved in closer. Thrusting up under the green demon’s elbow, he twisted its arm behind its shoulder. Using the Scyllain’s own weight against it, Spike spun it head first into the pillar next to Buffy. The behemoth left an impact crater in the concrete but didn’t go down.
A stray bullet whizzed past the Slayer’s head. She stayed low as she used the key to remove her restraints. She tried to keep one eye on her embattled suitors as she worked. Moving far quicker than Buffy thought possible, the Scyllain whipped around on the vampire. Spike tried to get out of range but he wasn’t fast enough. The Scyllain landed a brutal punch to the small of the vampire’s back. Spike’s knees buckled. He fell forward and the other demon dragged him upright. It lifted him up by his hair and threw him halfway across the room. Spike launched himself back into the fray as soon as he skidded to a stop.
Buffy unlocked her leg restraints, kicking free of the chains. The overhead lights were swaying wildly, creating a strobe-like effect in the room as Buffy scrambled to her feet. She assessed the situation. There were bodies everywhere, dead and dying. The Slayer and the Scyllain appeared to be the last two living things standing. Only Spike was still fighting. But he was staggering drunkenly, obviously tiring.
If she was going to help him, Buffy needed fire or an edged weapon. With the hive members slaughtered, the Scyllain was momentarily whole; she had to kill it before it divided again. There were three knives on the torture table but nothing large enough to disembowel the huge demon. Buffy snatched up the knives, anyway. She fired them off in quick succession as she scanned the floor for something deadlier. The Scyllain barely twitched when the blades penetrated its flesh. It had Spike again. It lifted him overhead and hurled him to the ground. Then it bent low to retrieve a shaft of broken wood from the floor.
The Slayer spotted what she needed just as the Scyllain turned Spike over and heaved him onto the computer console, exposing the vampire’s chest to the stake. Calling on every ounce of her Slayer instinct, Buffy turned her back on her lover’s danger. She dashed toward the center of the room and the Scyllain’s fallen scimitar. Behind her the creature morphed into Riley’s form.
“I told you, before,” the Riley-shape said to Spike. “I told you if you touched her we would do this for real.”
“And, now, I’m telling YOU,” Spike snarled back, “Touch her and I’ll be on your bloody welcoming committee in hell.”
The stake fell. It hit the floor and rolled away. Spike looked into Riley’s eyes. It was hard to say which of them was more surprised. Then Riley looked down at his chest. Six inches of cold steel protruded from his heart. As he watched the blade ripped through his torso in a jagged circle, spilling the Scyllain’s guts to the floor. Riley toppled sideways and Spike found himself facing the Slayer. She gripped her bloody sword in a shaking hand.
“Buffy?” the remains of her former lover spoke and she knelt beside him.
“Riley?” she said, softly. She brushed the sandy brown hair back out of his eyes with her free hand. He blinked up at her, trying to focus.
“See,” Riley said with a small smile as his eyes misted over, “you don’t need…anyone.”
He choked and blood trickled from the corner of his mouth as the spark of life faded from his face.
The Slayer looked down at her sword. Gagging on a curse, she threw the weapon away from her. She watched as the Scyllain demon consumed Riley Finn for the final time. Demonic green flesh crawled over his human features, burying them in the monster. Buffy covered her own face with her hands. She pulled herself into a tight ball beside the dead thing.
Spike frowned, not sure what was expected of him. He looked from the fallen demon to the woman he loved. Finally, he wandered over to retrieve a jacket from one of the many bodies. There was a stirring in the cavern. People coming. Spike walked back and placed the garment around the Slayer’s shoulder. She didn’t react. He reached out a hand brushing over her hair. Buffy jerked violently away from him.
“Luv?” he questioned.
She raised her head to pierce him with her stare. It wasn’t Buffy, looking out at him. It was the Slayer. Her eyes were cold and hard and glinted like diamonds. Spike fell back a step as she rose up, filling the room with her primordial power. She was bruised and bloodstained but unbowed. Her tattered near nakedness seemed natural, primitive and splendid.
“You stay away from me,” she ground out in a low dangerous tone.
Spike shook his head.
“Won’t,” he said with suicidal stubbornness. His eyes softened as he amended, “You know I can’t!”
“Don’t you get it?” the Slayer snarled, every muscle in her body coiled tight. “Don’t you understand? You…are…a VAMPIRE…A DEMON!”
She pointed a shaking finger at the body on the floor. “This!” she said, her tone measured, “This is what I do to demons. This is what happens to my boyfriends. They love me. They turn evil. And I KILL them.”
Without warning, she sprang, snatching up Riley’s fallen stake. She slammed into Spike, carrying him into the wall. Caught totally off guard, the vampire stumbled back, hitting his head hard. He started to black out, sliding into oblivion he struggled to focus on her. Buffy wrenched him to his feet, pressing her weapon into his chest. A blood red rose bloomed under her point. Her eyes were icy, flat, and totally emotionless when she spoke again.
“Angelus dead. Riley dead. Spike dead. Do you understand me?” she asked, shaking him for emphasis. “I am the Slayer. I kill your kind. I slay. You die. You…Spike…are GOING to die by this hand.”
A bullet slammed into her and bounced harmlessly away as Xander’s protection spell kicked in.
“Hold your fire,” Graham barked. “She’s killed it.” He couldn’t say how he knew that the deadly thing before him wasn’t Scyllain in nature.
Buffy turned her cold gaze on the newcomers. Graham was at the head of a second battalion of soldiers. They surveyed the carnage and the tiny half-naked blonde at the center of it. She glared at the commandos dispassionately for several long moments and then negligently tossed Spike aside. His head struck the floor and he lay still, a heap of black leather. The Slayer picked up her borrowed jacket and stalked toward the exit. Graham’s men hesitated, looking to their leader for guidance, and then at his signal parted before her.
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