DISCLAIMER: The characters are Joss’, of course. And the chapter titles are courtesy of Robert Burns.
PREVIOUSLY ON BUFFY: Travers has requested a meeting with Giles, Buffy and Colin, while Duncan has conned Riley into a plan to get Spike…

*************

Some time during the night, the storm had stopped, leaving the countryside crisp and shiny, a fine frost shielding the damp heather from the approaching sun. Any other time, Riley might have taken the time to appreciate the beauty of the mountains around him; now, though, he was a man with a mission, focused on the task he’d been assigned by Travers, preparing himself to help Buffy in any way that he could.

He was going to kill Spike.

His knuckles were white around the steering wheel, his eyes locked to the narrow road ahead. At his side, Duncan---in the shape of Hornbrook---peered through the window, eyes darting over the horizon. “Pull over here,” he ordered, motioning to a layby.

With the efficiency inherent from years of training, Riley did as he was told, turning the key in the ignition before glancing over at his partner in this expedition. The man looked better than he had the previous evening, the bruises on his face not quite as mottled, and he moved with an easier lumber that belied the wound Riley knew he still sported in his shoulder. He couldn’t help but wonder if he’d been hurt as badly as he claimed if he was healing so quickly, but hastily dismissed his internal questions, waiting for the next instruction in Travers’ plan.

“We’re going in the rest of the way on foot,” Duncan explained. “If we go in the front, they’ll be expecting us.” That, and we can’t risk running into the others as they’re leaving, he silently added. If that happens, this whole plan will be shot to hell.

“What about weapons?” Riley asked. “Not that I don’t think I can take Spike one on one, but I can’t kill him without at least a stake.”

“There’s an arsenal within the castle,” the kelpie said. “You can get to that without being observed and get what you need from there.”

“Me? What about you? Aren’t you coming with me?” The young man’s face was furrowed, an insetting doubt beginning to peal through his brain. Orders were orders, but these were starting to not make sense. Safety in numbers, and all.

Duncan chuckled. “I’m not really at my fighting best at the moment,” he said, gesturing to the assorted bruises on his face as he tried to steer Riley back to the task at hand. He smiled as the other visibly relaxed and continued, “Besides, Mr. Travers was very clear on what our roles in this plan are. Your job is Spike. Mine is the harness.” Well, partially true. With Buffy and the two Watchers in town, Spike was really the only threat within the castle; the young Xander was hardly dangerous, and the girls were, well, just girls. If it weren’t for his wounds, markers that would remain on his form no matter which shape he took, Duncan would’ve taken care of Spike himself. As it was, he had to be satisfied with Finn filling his place. Regardless, whether the vampire died or not, Duncan needed him occupied while he searched for the harness. He couldn’t risk any more interruptions. He only hoped that the remaining guardian had died out on the mountain.

*************

She couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face as she pushed open the door. He was still asleep, arm flung over his head so that the muscles of his chest stretched in a hungry line that made her mouth water, the blankets kicked to the floor so that the bottom of his bare feet greeted her as she stepped inside. The sweats she’d bought him at the market hung low on his hips---put on as an afterthought in anticipation of unwanted callers in the morning---and Buffy could tell even before she stepped into the room that he would be waking with an erection. Silently, she shook her head. She wasn’t sure if it was just a guy thing, a vampire thing, or a Spike thing, but he got hard and stayed hard more than anyone she had ever known. What that was going to mean for her, though, sent a warm tingle down the inside of her thighs.

He moved before she’d made a sound, rolling onto his side and opening his eyes to gaze at her in the doorway. “Mornin’,” he croaked, the vestiges of sleep hoarsening his voice. His lids were heavy, eyes dark, sweeping lazily over her as Spike rested his head on his bicep. “Don’t we look thoroughly edible today.”

Buffy blushed as the most recent memories of what exactly had been in the vampire’s mouth just a few hours before came rushing to the foreground of her mind’s eye. “I look like I’ve been up half the night being ravished by a handsome but insatiable vampire,” she corrected, crossing to the bed and setting the thermos on the nightstand.

As soon as she was within range, his hand came up to begin caressing her thigh, kneading the muscles there as the corner of his mouth lifted. “I seem to recall someone waking me up around six with a lovely little tongue bath,” he murmured. “So, which one of us is the insatiable one?”

Her color deepened. “Still, not exactly the best image for me to be putting forth when I have to go out and face the masses. Tends to lower my credibility as a card-carrying member of the legally sane.”

Spike frowned. “What masses?” he queried. “Since when does doin’ research require masses?”

“Not research,” she replied. “And actually, it’s just a mass of one. I’m being dragged before the English Inquisition again.” At his continued confusion, she elaborated, “Travers is in town. Pissed as hell apparently, and looking for Slayer blood because somehow he found out about you and me.”

Spike’s frown disappeared, to be replaced with a vague annoyance as he rolled his eyes. “Well, that’s one mystery solved. Least now we know how Whitebread got here,” he said. His fingers curled around the back of her leg, tugging her gently forward so that she fell to a sitting position on the edge of the mattress. “Does this mean you’re goin’ to be squarin’ off with him as well?”

Buffy shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe. Probably, if that’s really how Travers found out. Giles seems to think so, at least.”

“Just give me a minute to get dressed then.” He was halfway up when her hand stopped him, settling on his chest in a warm splay. “What?”

Her mouth was grim. “You can’t go.”

“Why not? Tuck me under a blanket in the back seat. I’m not lettin’ you face this one on your own. If this is about the both of us, then the both of us should be there.”

“I agree, but Travers said not to bring you.”

The confession hung between them, its blade swinging from one to the other, neither liking that it was there. The muscles twitched in Spike’s jaw as he stared up at Buffy. “They think you’re in some thrall, don’t they?” he queried, his voice low, dangerous.

“Nobody’s said---.”

Abruptly, he rolled in the opposite direction, jumping to his feet on the far side of the bed and storming to the wardrobe. “Can’t leave well enough alone,” he was muttering as he yanked out a shirt. “It’s fine to set me up as their little spell lackey, but am I good enough---?”

Her small hand on his forearm cut him off, and the vampire froze in mid-dressing, blond head turning to look down at her. “Travers doesn’t know the whole story,” she said firmly. “I’m going to tell him in no uncertain terms that there’s no brainwashing going on here. If you go, you’ll just…lose your temper. And that won’t look good for the I’m-totally-safe-around-Spike argument I’m going to have to make.”

“You shouldn’t have to do this on your own. That’s my job, remember? Watch your back.”

Her head tilted, golden hair tumbling over her shoulder. “So you can watch it from here,” she countered. “Keep an eye on the gang for me. Duncan’s still out there somewhere, and he knows I’ve got the harness now. There’s no telling what he might do.”

“Thought you were going to give it back to the guardian.”

“I am. But I don’t have time for that this morning. We’re running late as it is. Giles has gone into over-efficient Watcher mode, being all English and proper and ‘we’ll get some answers this time, by gum.’ So between him and Colin the bluster bunny, I’ve got no time for dawdling.”

The prospect of other methods of dawdling brought a gleam to Spike’s eye, and his hand came up to brush the hair away from her face. “If you want,” he said, “I can take it back to our resident kelpie watchdog. One less thing for you to worry about when you get back.”

Buffy shook her head. “That would be a good idea except for two things. One, Frank doesn’t seem to trust anyone here but me. Apparently, he only told the guys the bare minimum of factoids last night before skedaddling for a midnight swim, so I’m not sure how he’d react if someone other than me showed up with the harness.” She took a deep breath. “And two, I’m sorta taking it with me.”

She was answered with another frown. “You’re not seriously considerin’ givin’ it to that wanker, are you?” he asked. “After the way they set us up here?”

“No,” she assured. “I made a deal with Frank. I intend to stick to it. But the way I figure it, it’s a bargaining chip for me with Travers. Maybe he’s got information on how to stop you from turning into combusto boy with the closing spell. Plus, it gives me some credibility in not being under your thrall. And---.”

Chuckling, Spike held up his hand to cut her off. “I got it, I got it. Lots of reasons to take it with. Right.”

“Besides, he already knows I have it---.”

That threw him for a loop. “How’s that? Only people around here who know you’ve even got it are me and Red.”

“Willow told the others. Both Colin and Giles know I’ve got the harness as well. Oh, and Frank.”

“So, basically everyone in Dall Rath.” His eyes narrowed. “You don’t think Junior’s decided to play for both teams, do you?”

Shaking her head, Buffy stepped away from him, heading back for the door. “Not with how nervous he’s acting down there,” she said. “But not knowing who Travers’ source is, is just another reason why I have to go see him.”

His voice stopped her in the entrance. “What? So no goodbye kiss?”

Looking back over her shoulder, she saw him gazing at her, blond head tilted as he watched her with barely disguised desire, and felt the tremors return to her own body. “You promise it’s just one kiss?” she asked with a half-smile. “Because I’m in big enough trouble as it is. If I’m late because I can’t keep my hands off you---.”

He was at her side in a flash. “Nah,” he drawled, head bowing so that his mouth grazed the side of her neck in the faintest of caresses. “You’ll be late because I can’t keep my hands off you.”

*************

So far, so good. Hornbrook had been right about slipping into the weapons cache undetected. The trickle of voices from the other end of the hall showed no indication of lessening, laughter and light conversation drifting along the stone walls in invisible curls. For a moment, Riley felt a pang of anger at being excluded from the camaraderie, that his friends were in there laughing without him, that he was most likely the current butt of all their jokes. Stupid Soldier Boy, he could imagine Spike saying with that annoying smirk on his face. Not even man enough to hold onto his girl the first time she spends any kind of time away from him.

Not that he really blamed Buffy. He’d spent the night tossing and turning, doing everything he could to rationalize her behavior, and finally settled on it being a Slayer/vampire thing. It was really the only explanation that made sense. Well, it was really the only explanation that made sense to him. And even he could begrudgingly admit that Spike wasn’t exactly hideous. Plus, he had that whole bad boy, dangerous vibe Buffy had seemed to favor in the past. If he’d decided to make Buffy his little sex slave, it probably hadn’t been that difficult to convince her, which meant…

He shook his head, returning his attention to the weapons before him. No. Not going down that road. Slayer/vampire thing. Had to be.

Hornbrook had told him that Spike usually spent his mornings upstairs, away from the others, which worked out well for Riley. Of course, he’d thought the same thing last night and look where that had gotten him. Still, there was no disputing the nocturnal tendencies of the vampire, and he was going to lay odds that Spike was still asleep. It would make his job a lot easier. As long as Buffy wasn’t up there, too.

The only part of this plan that was bothering him---well, not the only part, but the biggest part---was the absence of one of the cars that had been out front the previous evening. Someone wasn’t here, and though the daylight pretty much prevented it from being Spike, it was a detail out of place, something that could throw a wrench into the entire arrangement Travers had made. Maybe someone just ran into town for some supplies, Riley reasoned, sliding a stake into his belt before reaching for a long dagger. Yeah, that had to be it.

*************

Why did this man always make her feel like such a child? Buffy wondered as she looked up at Travers standing next to the fireplace. His face was grim, his eyes cold, and he stared at her with a barely contained disappointment, worthy of a gold star from the Parenting Guilt Trip Hall of Fame. And he wasn’t even related to her. It wasn’t fair.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” Quentin asked, his gaze steady.

Buffy’s eyes darted from him to the two Watchers who stood behind him, looking very much like Tweedledum and Tweedledee with their hands stuffed deep into their pockets, their eyes locked on the carpet in front of them. She was alone on this one; Travers had made it clear that he wanted no interference from either of his employees as soon as they had stepped into the room.

“Does it matter?” she countered. “You’ve already made up your mind about it, so what does hearing what I have to say make a difference?”

Travers shook his head. “I’ve done no such thing, Miss Summers. I came here with an open mind, ready to hear both sides. It’s your rather erratic behavior that has me most concerned, though. I would think a Slayer with such experience as yours would tend to be just a little more…rational.” He ignored the snort of amusement from Colin behind him, and instead took a step closer to her. “So you’re not denying your involvement with the vampire?”

She could end the thing right now by lying, she knew. Tell them what they want to hear, pack up, and then just deal with the fallout when she got back to Sunnydale. It’s not like she hadn’t been lying about it before. Except…that was before. Giles knew the truth. Colin knew the truth. And most importantly, Buffy knew the truth. And no way was she going to deny Spike again.

“Spike’s on our side now,” she argued. “And since when did you start paying attention to jealous ex-boyfriends with unresolved demon issues anyway? Whatever Riley told you---.”

He cut her off with a wave of his hand. “Mr. Finn only confirmed for me what I had already retained from another source,” he said. “And you’re avoiding the issue.”

“The issue is that there is no issue.” Her face was tight, her hands clenching into fists in her lap, and she was beginning to wonder if Spike should’ve come along to make sure she didn’t lose her temper. Breathe, Buffy. Don’t let him get to you. “Who I see is my business, not Council business. And as long as it doesn’t interfere with my slaying, you have no right---.”

“Oh, but it does. Or are you going to dispute the fact that you have the harness in your possession?”

“You mean the harness you tried to bribe Spike into stealing for you?” she shot back. “The one we weren’t even supposed to know about? Is that the harness you’re referring to?”

His only reaction was a tightening around his mouth. “I can see, Miss Summers, that as usual, you have managed your resources in such a way as to surprise me. Again. You were never meant to learn about the harness’ existence in the first place.”

He hardly looked surprised. If anything, he looked annoyed, and it was pissing Buffy off to no end. “Just like I wasn’t supposed to learn about your little spell switcheroo, right? Let me tell you something, Mr. Travers. Promising the world and then not following through are not really the best methods for inspiring loyalty in your employees,” she said. “Spike’s not stupid. Even he could see that you were just playing him with the chip-free world you were painting. What I don’t understand is what is so important about this harness in the first place, that you’d convince my stoolie ex-boyfriend to snoop around for you. Because he’s the only one I can think of who could sell me out on such short notice.”

“Mr. Finn’s involvement in these matters is at his own behest, Miss Summers. I had already decided to come to Scotland on my own when he arrived in my offices. When he claimed you were in danger, I decided to allow him to accompany me here. But his…excursion to Dall Rath was done without my knowledge, so any conspiracy theories you may be harboring regarding our ‘partnership’ can be completely discarded. They are unfounded and untrue.”

“Why then were you coming to Scotland?” It was the first time Giles had spoken since arriving at the bed and breakfast, and he stepped forward so that he could look at his former employer directly. “Buffy only obtained the harness yesterday.”

“Ooo, good question,” the Slayer cooed. “I’d love to hear the answer to this one.”

“We had lost communication with our contact regarding the harness business here,” Travers explained, not even skipping a beat. “And our attempts to reach Mr. Sadler were unsuccessful.”

“Poor signal,” Colin muttered, his eyes darting to his superior only to hastily return to his favorite spot on the floor.

“Are you talking about Hornbrook?” Buffy asked. “Because I can answer that one for you. He’s dead. Been dead for days, by the look of things.” When all three Englishmen turned their gazes to stare at her, she straightened defensively on the divan.

“Why did you not mention this sooner?” Giles quizzed.

“Nobody asked.”

“And how do you know this?” This one came from Colin.

“His was one of the bodies I dug up out at the Kelpie Cave.”

“How then do you explain his contacting me regarding your alliance with the vampire just yesterday? Or the beating you gave him when he told you he’d expose your relationship?” Each word was clipped, bitten in careful precision as Quentin contained his temper. “He told me everything, Miss Summers. And for you to say otherwise---.”

“Hang on. I beat him? I’ve barely said two words to the man. The only thing my fist has been anywhere near lately has been…” Her voice trailed off as all of a sudden, everything made sense, and her hazel gaze snapped to her Watcher, the look in her eye telling him even before the name came out of her mouth.

“Duncan.”

*************

He couldn’t find it. As he pressed himself into the wall of the stairwell, Duncan closed his eyes, fighting to control the urge to just scream out in frustration, his fingers clawing into the stone behind him. The Slayer bitch had won again. Either she had given the harness to the guardian---in which case he could pretty much say goodbye to ever getting it back---or she’d hidden it too damn well for him to find on such short notice. Fucking bitch.

His time was running short. Eavesdropping on the others in the great hall had revealed nothing, and Finn was on the upper level, preparing to deal with the vampire. While he rather fancied the idea of seeing Spike get the beating of a lifetime from the vengeful ex-boyfriend, the small niggle that he might actually need the bleached one at this point wouldn’t leave the back of Duncan’s brain. If Buffy had told anyone about the harness, he would be the one. He just hoped Finn didn’t kill him so quickly that the vampire didn’t talk about it first…

*************

When he heard the footsteps in the hall, Spike rolled his eyes. Great. So much for having some peace and quiet while Buffy was gone. Probably Harris wanting to bug him some more about the poem. Right, he thought as he rose to his feet. Goin’ to head this one off at the pass.

He should’ve expected something when he felt the knob begin turning under his hand, even before his fingers had tightened his grip. “Look,” Spike said as he swung the door open. “I already told you, you can see the soddin’ po---.” He froze at the sight of the unexpected visitor before him.

“Hello, Spike,” said Riley.

“Drive faster!” she hissed, fingers turned into claws around the leather seat in front of her.

“Any bloody faster, and I’ll rip out the transmission on this damned road!” Giles growled.

In the passenger seat, a white-faced Colin held a handkerchief to his mouth, every once in a while gulping at the air as he fought to quell his nausea. “It won’t do anyone any good if we die before we get there,” he stuttered.

“And it won’t do any of you any good if Spike is dead before we get there,” Buffy warned, and threw herself back against her seat. Ever since they had discovered Riley and Hornbrook’s---make that Duncan’s---absence from the bed and breakfast, she had been on autopilot, immediately ending the meeting with Travers and rushing the two Watchers out to their own vehicle. She didn’t know what the kelpie’s exact plan was, but she knew it wasn’t going to be good; the Council head had made it quite clear that Riley had been visibly distraught at the prospect of her and Spike being involved.

For a brief second, she felt sorry for her ex, being duped into helping the demon in retrieving the harness, his misery getting exploited by Duncan to further the kelpie’s own goals, but that was quickly shoved aside. He asked for it by flying out here in the first place, Buffy thought grimly. He shouldn’t have abandoned Mom and Dawn, not to mention the Hellmouth, just because his feelings got a little hurt. The fact that home was now not only Slayer-free, but Slayer-backup-free, did nothing to distract her current worry, though. The only thing she could think was, if he’d just stayed in Sunnydale, everything would be fine right now.

She just hoped she got back to the castle in time to stop him from doing something stupid.

*************

“Well, well, well,” Spike drawled, head tilting as his gaze flickered over the tense man before him, resting only a moment longer on the dagger that was cradled in the palm of his hand before returning to Riley’s uninviting aspect. “Not really big on the knockin’, are you?”

He felt him move before he saw it, and had leapt back and out of the way by the time Riley lunged, putting the bed between them as he saw Finn go sprawling to the floor, tucking at the last minute to avoid his head colliding with the stone and rolling to safety against the far wall. Blue eyes sweeping the perimeter of the room, Spike assessed his situation with a century’s experience of getting out of tight scrapes before settling his gaze on the other person in the room.

“Is this about Buffy?” he asked innocently. “Or does this have more to do with that oversized Iowa ego takin’ control of that pea-sized brain of yours?” He pretended to sniff at the air. “If I didn’t know better, I’d almost say that’s pure testosterone I’m smellin’.”

“You’re a dead man, Spike,” Riley hissed, sparking a derisive laugh from his opponent.

“Welcome to the land of obvious, Soldier Boy,” he replied, spreading his arms in supplication. “Part of what bein’ a vampire’s all about.”

Slowly, the ex-soldier rose to his feet, switching the knife from one hand to the other, and then back again, as he regained his composure. “And would the other part have anything to do with trying to bag as many Slayers as you can?”

Spike considered this for a moment, before half-nodding, half-shrugging. “Yeah, that about covers it,” he said nonchalantly. “Don’t tell me you stopped by for a little refresher course in Vamp Psych 101, ‘cause hate to break it to you, but my class is all booked.” His eyes glittered. “Guess you missed your shot.”

The double meaning wasn’t lost on Riley, and his mouth thinned as his jaw locked. Don’t lose it, he warned himself. Don’t give him the edge. “It won’t work, Spike,” he threatened. “Your little quips aren’t going to distract me. I am going to kill you.”

“Slayer’s the one with the quipping habit. Not me. Maybe the change in time zones got you all confused.” He stopped, cutting himself off as if a sudden thought had just occurred to him. “Oh, wait. No, you’re right.” The vamp smiled. “Looks like that’s just one more thing Buffy and I have in common.”

The boy was off his game, Spike decided, as he dove to the side to avoid the next attack. Both moves so far had been telegraphed far enough in advance for him to effectively dodge, and though he wasn’t any closer to the still-open door, he knew that if he could just stay out of the way of either Finn’s fist or knife long enough to make a break for it, he could get downstairs to the rest of the gang and see if they could talk some sense into the deluded pillock. They wanted to be his friend? They could bloody well talk their other friend out of killing him.

“How’d you do it?” Riley was demanding. “Is it a thrall thing? Tell me it’s a thrall thing. That’ll make killing you just so much more right.”

“You don’t want to know the answer to that, mate. Don’t think your fragile sensitivities could handle it.”

Riley snorted in contempt. “I think you’d be surprised what I can handle.”

He knew he shouldn’t, but seeing the prat’s smug face staring at him and knowing he couldn’t smash his fist through it made Spike want to lash out in other ways. And it wasn’t like he hadn’t asked for it, so really, it was his own fault.

“You wanna know how I got to Buffy?” he asked, cocking his head. “Simple. I just gave her what she wanted. What she needed. You know. Respect. Space to be her own Slayer. That kind of thing. Seems they were missin’ from her life.”

“I respect Buffy---.”

“Which is why you abandoned her sis and her mum to the dangers of the Hellmouth to go racin’ across the globe to protect your little ego, right?” Spike shook his head in mock dismay. “Nothin’ says I love you like leavin’ those she holds nearest and dearest to the mercy of a world of nasties. Remind me not to buy your book on one hundred ways to please your lover.”

Another lunge from Riley had the vampire dancing closer to the door, keeping it in sight of the corner of his eye. “You know nothing about love, Spike,” the ex-soldier spat, feeling the first twinge of doubt spark his step. Three swings and he had yet to lay a finger on the demon. But he wasn’t out yet. “You’re depraved, and immoral, and incapable of feeling anything for Buffy that could even come close to what real love is all about.”

Name-calling he could handle; hell, there’d been a time in his undead life he’d taken pride in being called depraved. But it was the accusation that what he felt for Buffy wasn’t real, that his feelings lacked the depth necessary for what she needed, that stung, clawing Spike’s hands into fists, his nails digging into the palms until he could feel his own blood begin to drip down his cuticles. Remember the chip, remember the chip, he intoned, every muscle in his body screaming otherwise.

Deliberately, he grinned, a wicked smirk mirrored in the azure depths of his eyes. “I think Buffy would disagree with that little assessment,” he said. “Too bad you didn’t show up a tad earlier last night. You missed quite the show.”

“I saw enough.”

“See, and now, I’m beginnin’ to think that maybe you didn’t. Although, I gotta ask, you know, man to man here.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “Has the Slayer always been such a screamer? Not that I’m arguin’ because it makes her come all that much harder, and I guess it was the shaggin’ of a lifetime, but still, she would’ve brought down the bloody roof if I’d let her.” He shook his head in wonder. “And those special muscles she’s got…? Shoulda given a bloke some warning. Girl’s nothin’ short of a miracle in the sack. Frankly, I’m surprised she didn’t snap you in two.”

This time, Riley’s feint started before the words were even out of Spike’s mouth, and as the vampire dropped to roll out of the way, he felt the sharp edge of the knife graze against his arm, followed almost instantly by the pungent scent of blood. Damn, he thought as he glanced at the crimson trickle. Too caught up in my own sarcasm. Gotta be a little more careful about that.

The sight of the slight injury to the vampire was enough to bolster Riley’s confidence, whirling to face Spike again, knife at the ready. Though the room was small, it was that fact that had given the vampire the advantage; the lower ceiling made the taller man more self-conscious of how he was moving, slower in his reflexes as he fought to ensure he didn’t accidentally bang his head. Being smaller and generally more lithe, Spike was more in his element. Plus, he knew the layout, so when Riley drew his first blood, it was enough to renew his hope that he could finish what he had set out to do.

“Look, you tosser…” Spike ground out. The time for games was over. “Face the soddin’ music. Buffy’s moved on. Not that she ever loved you anyway, but the least you could do is be a man about it, and…Back. The hell. Off.”

“That’s what you’d like, isn’t it? Just because you can fool Buffy, doesn’t mean you can fool her friends---.”

“Our friends. And there’s no foolin’ involved. Mutual trust and respect’s what we got. Well, that and the unlimited sexual compatibility. Gotta give that one some credit there.”

Riley’s laugh was a ragged rasp in the air. “Was it out of this respect you convinced her to steal an artifact from the Council?”

For the first time since the other man’s arrival, Spike was thrown, his brow wrinkling in confusion. “What in bloody hell are you talkin’ about?”

“Like you don’t know. But Mr. Travers is on to you, and your little plan to run away with Buffy and the harness---.”

“Are you completely off your box? We don’t even know what the thing is for. Why would we want to run with it? And who in the name of everything evil and unholy would be claimin’ we would?”

“Mr. Hornbrook---.”

“Hornbrook’s dead, so not exactly a prime source of information these days.”

“You’re lying.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Because you’re a vampire maybe? Or maybe, because you can’t handle the fact that as soon as I can tell Buffy the truth about you, about how you’re just using her to further your own agenda, she’ll stake you faster than you can squeeze out one more ‘bloody hell.’”

Spike stared at him through hooded eyes, his teeth clicking as he fought to control his temper. “Only agenda I’ve got is to make sure Buffy’s happy and safe,” he said, his voice low and dangerously calm. “Which means I’m goin’ to explain this usin’ short, simple words that’ll hopefully penetrate that thick, cornfed skull of yours. ‘Cause, bugger if I know why, she still cares what happens to your sorry ass, and I’m not goin’ to be the one who lets her down on that.”

It was a backhanded reference to Riley’s decision to kill Spike, in spite of Buffy’s avowal the previous evening, and both of them knew it, staring at the other in measured dislike. “There’s nothing to explain,” Riley finally said. “I’m telling you, Mr. Hornbrook’s not dead.”

“And I’m tellin’ you, Buffy saw the body herself. Bloke got himself killed by the same demon who stole the damn harness in the first place. Remember that bite on her shoulder? Well, she’s not the only thing he’s been sinkin’ his teeth into, apparently.”

“He told me---.”

“Then you’re talkin’ to ghosts, you git, ‘cause I’m tellin’ you he’s dead.”

“But he’s here,” Riley argued. “He came with me so that he could get the harness.”

It was the last puzzle piece Spike needed to splice together the story of what exactly had happened, and why Buffy had been called on the carpet the way she had. “You realize you’re makin’ Harris look like Albert-fuckin’-Einstein, don’t you, Finn?” he said, shaking his head. “The wanker’s usin’ you. Took advantage of the situation to have you keep me occupied so I wouldn’t suss him out.”

Riley was triumphant. “Aha! So you admit, Hornbrook is actually alive then.”

“No, sorry, he’s still dead. Ever heard of a kelpie, Soldier Boy? That’s what we’ve been dealin’ with here. They’re shapeshifters.” He enunciated the last word with careful deliberation. “And the one you’ve decide to partner up with is the same one who’s gunnin’ for Buffy.” The vampire grinned. “Nice show on gettin’ back on her good side, though. Sneakin’ with the enemy? She’s goin’ to loooove that.”

“What’re you talking about?” Though he was still tense, still ready to attack him, the argument Spike was making was confusing him. He’s just trying to cloud the issue, Riley thought. Stop listening to him. “It’s not going to work, Spike. You’re just interested in saving your own skin.”

“Well, you got me there. Doesn’t change the fact that it’s still the truth, though.”

“It wasn’t even Mr. Hornbrook’s idea to come out here, you know. It was Mr. Travers’.”

“The same Travers who called Rupes and Junior last night requestin’ a powwow with them and Buffy this morning?”

The missing car. Buffy wasn’t even here. But Hornbrook had said…

“That wasn’t part of the plan---.”

“Maybe not your plan, but you can go ask the others downstairs if she’s here or not. They’ll back me up.” Spike frowned as he watched Riley slowly lower the weapon in his hand. Not the response he’d been expecting, but certainly not one he was going to argue with.

“Hornbrook’s…looking for the harness right now…”

This wiped the frown from the vampire’s face, making him laugh out loud instead. “Then he’s bang out of luck, ‘cause Buffy took it with her.”

He didn’t want to believe him; the last thing Riley needed right now was to have to side with Spike about anything. But if this was true, and he was just a pawn in some plot he knew nothing about, killing the vampire would be playing right into his hands. Hadn’t he just spent the last hour listening to the man coax and goad him into staking Spike? Not that the desire hadn’t been there already, and not that it was gone now, but the other’s thirst for it seemed to be just as great. And what made it worse was that, by lying to him about Buffy, it could only mean he was her enemy as well. And he couldn’t do that to her, even now. He still loved her.

“So, if Mr. Hornbrook’s dead,” Riley finally said, his voice low and deliberate, “who the hell did I drive here with?”

*************

That was the problem with humans, Duncan decided as he crept away from the open bedroom door. Send them in to kill someone, and they waste all their time talking instead.

The ex-boyfriend was useless to him now. Spike had divulged just enough information, cast just enough doubt to make Finn pause, and now the vampire was playing it for all it was worth, calling it a truce for Buffy’s sake while they “sussed” out what the hell was going on. And what was worse, Finn was actually listening to him. Whatever happened to good old-fashioned vengeance? Duncan thought miserably. A little slice and dice amongst enemies? When did it get so damn chatty?

The only good thing to come from the two men talking was at least now he knew what had happened with the harness. The Slayer still had it. Which meant it was still possible for Duncan to get it back. Unless she ended up giving it to the old man. In which case, even better for him. Killing Travers would be infinitely easier than either Buffy or Spike, and anything that made the kelpie’s life simpler at this point was to be embraced. He just had to wait until she returned.

*************

She was out of the car even before it had completely stopped, allowing for the slowing momentum as her foot hit the earth, using it to begin propelling her toward the castle, her strong arms pumping as she ran for the door.

Colin frowned as he unbuckled his seatbelt, shaking his head as he watched Buffy’s retreating back. “I don’t think spying that car in the layby really helped matters much,” he commented. “Do you suppose he’s actually here?”

“If he is, Buffy will find him,” Giles replied as he turned off the car’s engine. “And God help him if she does.”

“If something has happened to Spike,” Colin muttered as he followed his elder to the entrance, “God help us all.”

*************

The two girls collided as Buffy rushed in, knocking both of them to their feet. “Will!” she cried out, jumping immediately back up and rushing to her friend’s side, offering her a hand to help her up. “Oh, my god, I’m so sorry. Are you OK?”

The redhead’s smile was wan as she rubbed at the back of her head. “I think I might have loosened a screw or two in the old noggin,” she joked, but when Buffy turned to bolt for the stairwell, her hand shot out, grabbing the Slayer’s arm. “Where are you going?”

“Spike…Riley…big mess…” Yanking her arm free, a flustered Buffy was halfway down the hall before Willow could speak again.

“Spike’s fine!” she called out. When the blonde stopped to gaze back at her, the witch offered a small smile. “He’s in the great hall.”

“Oh.” Her head was whirling, the adrenalin still coursing through her system as she slowly stepped back toward Willow. “And…um…I know this might sound a little, I don’t know, wacky, but---.”

“Riley’s fine, too.”

Her ex’s name stopped her in her tracks. “He’s here?”

The redhead nodded. “Now, before you start totally freaking out on me, I want you to take a deep breath.” She waited, watching expectantly for her friend to comply. “I mean it, Buffy, relax and hear me out.”

“OK, any sentence that ends with ‘hear me out’ can never lead to hugs and kisses.” Determinedly, she crossed the distance between them. “What’s going on?”

“Everything’s fine,” Willow assured, and began to inch her way back toward the great hall. “We took a vote and decided it was better if we caught you when you got in, so that we could…you know, prep you.”

“Prep me? For what?”

“For what you’re about to see.” She stumbled slightly as Buffy brushed past her. “Just remember, we had good reason to do what we did, so don’t get mad, ‘kay?”

She barely heard the last few words as she reached the door and shoved it open, jaw already dropping to speak. When she saw the spectacle before her, though, the Slayer instantly froze, hazel eyes widening as they darted from one end of the table to the other.

“What the hell is happening here?” she demanded as she drank in the sight of Riley and Spike both tied up in chairs, sitting at opposite ends of the long dining table, their eyes locked on the other in sullen aversion.

Xander was the first to reach her side, a wide smile on his amiable face. “I know it looks bad,” he started, “but in all fairness, this wasn’t completely our idea.”

“Darn right,” Spike growled. “Blame it on the farmboy.”

“Hey!” Riley shot back. “I just suggested they tie you up. I never said a word about me having to go through this.”

“Like I can even lay a hand on you---.”

“Like you wouldn’t try even with that chip in your head…”

“I told you we should’ve gagged them,” Anya said, rolling her eyes as she joined them at the doorway. She looked at the other blonde. “Can you please do something about this? They’re your boyfriends.”

“Can we start with something easy?” Buffy asked. “Like, why are they tied up in the first place?”

“Because neither one of them trusts the other not to kill him,” Xander replied.

“I’m not the one who showed up unannounced, twice now, with stakes and daggers, lookin’ for blood,” Spike said.

“No, you’re the one who tried throwing Riley into the fireplace,” Anya said.

At Buffy’s raised eyebrow, Spike shrugged. “It was there, he was there, it was too good an opportunity to miss.” He looked pointedly at the other man. “Not like I didn’t get a headache for my troubles.”

“OK,” Buffy said. “Now that we’ve gotten that established, does someone mind filling me in on why Riley’s here in the first place?” She stepped up to the table, folding her arms across her chest, and addressed him directly. “Like, maybe, Riley can.”

His lips were thin, his nostrils flaring, but for some reason, he couldn’t meet her eyes, fixing them instead on the bleached vampire opposite him. “He told me it was Mr. Travers’ plan---.”

“Who told you?”

“Mr. Hornbrook.”

“OK, first of all, that’s not Hornbrook.”

This time, he looked at her. “I know that now,” Riley said. “But when he showed up last night, the things he said…” His gaze darted back to Spike. “…made sense.”

“It made sense to come here and kill Spike?” She held up a hand. “Wait. Never mind. I don’t want to know the answer to that.”

“Our Galloping Gourmet is still lurkin’ about here someplace,” the vampire offered, turning an annoyed cerulean gaze toward the group of Scoobies congregating at the door. “I could’ve probably sniffed him out if he was still in the castle, but not when I’m trussed up here like last year’s Christmas turkey.”

“It was for your own good,” Xander said.

“He’s after the harness, isn’t he?” Buffy directed her question to Riley, who nodded in response. She took a deep breath. “Guess he didn’t figure on me taking it with me,” she murmured.

“Did you give it to Travers?” Spike asked.

She shook her head. “We had a little meeting interruptus when we realized Duncan was back in the mix. And that he’d decided to bring Riley along to play this time.”

“We’ve been filling him in on the big picture here,” Willow volunteered. “Apparently, Duncan, aka Hornbrook, is still sporting some pretty nasty bruises from your little skirmish yesterday.”

“Well, that’s at least one point in our favor.” Now that she could stop worrying about ex-lovers killing current ones, Buffy was back onto the kelpie problem, eyes darting to random points in the room as she began to pace the length of the table. No matter which way she turned, it all kept coming back to one thing, and it was about time that one thing got taken out of the equation.

“OK,” she said, turning her back on the two men tied up at the table to regard her friends in the door. “Here’s the immediate plan. Duncan’s still around here someplace, I’m sure of it. He didn’t go to all this trouble to just walk away empty-handed. Which means we have to find him. Split up. Girl/guy teams. We can’t risk Duncan using his charm thing against us by putting all our ovaries in one basket. And take weapons. He’s hurt, but he’s still dangerous. Remember, he could be anywhere, look like anything.”

“Way to go for giving us the easy job,” Xander muttered.

“What are you going to do?” Willow asked.

Buffy’s gaze darted to the two Watchers who had come up behind the young people, her mouth tight. “I’m getting rid of the temptation,” she said. “Frank’s getting his harness back as of right now.”

She was nearly out the door when Spike’s call stopped her. “Hey! Still tied up here, y’know!” he shouted, then eased back against his bonds when she turned to look at him. “You’re not just goin’ to leave us like this while you get to have all the fun, are you, pet?”

It took her a moment of considering the two men before she would reply. “What guarantees are you going to give us that you’re not going to kill each other if we let you go?” Buffy asked. “Because I don’t have time for male posturing right now, so if you want to help, you’re going to have to shelve those alpha male tendencies of yours for awhile.” Her gaze hopped between the two. “That goes for both of you.”

Spike shrugged. “I’ll give you my word for it, but only for as long as Captain Cardboard there keeps his hands to himself.”

“Riley?”

In spite of his steady hatred for the vampire across from him, the young man was smart enough to realize that revenge was not his best option right now, and slowly nodded in acquiescence. “But if I see him do one thing to threaten you, Buffy---.”

“You won’t, you nit.” Spike’s tone was low, his barely concealed disgust at the mere suggestion curling his lip. “But same goes for you.”

It was the best she was going to get, and she knew it. With a quick smile at Spike, she turned on her heel and walked down to Riley’s end of the table, leaning over so that her words would be slightly more private. “There’s a lot of stuff going on now,” Buffy said softly. “And I know that I’m the one to blame for how you’re feeling, but you’re going to have to work with me---with us---on getting it sorted out. That means playing for the team, Riley. So if you can’t do that, you need to tell me now and get your tail out of here before you get in the way even more.”

“What about him?” The ex-soldier nodded brusquely at the vampire across the table.

Buffy glanced back over her shoulder and saw her friends starting to untie Spike, his blue eyes locked on the pair opposite him. Her smile was automatic, a response to what she knew already, and it brought a corresponding quirk of the vampire’s own lips. Riley might not get it, but she sure as hell did, and by the looks of things, so did her friends. She swung back to look at her ex. “Spike’s one of us,” she said simply.

*************

“Frank!”

Her voice seemed hollow in the mouth of the tunnel, and awkwardly, Buffy stuffed the amulet and paper back into her pocket, the muffled clarion call of the harness pealing through the heavy sack as it shifted against her body. The cavern seemed deserted, and she silently prayed that he’d been telling the truth the previous evening in his plans for returning to the stream. Now is not the time to be lying to me again, Frank, she thought grimly. Don’t make me resort to, “Here, kelpie, kelpie…”

Calling out his name again, the Slayer began walking down the bank, further into the depths of the tunnel, balancing her flashlight with the bag. She had to be quick about this; the rest of the gang was upstairs, combing through the various floors and rooms in search of the missing Duncan, and she wanted to get into the hunt as soon as possible. It wasn’t just a matter of wanting to rid herself of her kelpie infestation; the worry that Riley and Spike might somehow end up at each other’s throats was still very much there, in spite of their mutual promises to behave. And the sooner she could be there to referee, the better.

The splash in front of her brought her to a halt, and Buffy watched as a dripping Frank emerged from the stream, her gaze automatically scanning his torso for signs of yesterday’s battle. They were still there, but much fainter, and he no longer moved as if in pain. Guess those really are healing waters, she thought.

“You’re looking much better,” he commented, his dark gaze sweeping over her form before resting on the site of her earlier injury. “How is your shoulder?”

“Good,” she replied with a small, tight smile. “Looks like you got your own bit of mending done as well.”

He nodded, but it was obvious he was most interested in the bag she held in her arms. “The harness?” he asked.

“Yep. Just like I promised.”

“Does that mean the traitor is dead?”

She didn’t have a chance to respond. The arrow came swooshing through the air, cleanly missing her shoulder to embed itself in Frank’s abdomen, causing him to grunt in pain, bending slightly as his hand flew to the wound, the blood already seeping through the claws.

Buffy whirled, the bag still clutched to her chest, to see Duncan, back in his shape of the cook, standing at the bend in the tunnel, crossbow in his arms, a wide smile on his face.

“So sorry to interrupt,” he said lightly. “But my ears were burning…”

*************

She could hear Frank’s ragged breathing behind her, the pungent aroma of his blood already filling the air, but remained impassive, staring at Duncan in cool detachment as he carefully reloaded the crossbow. There was a good thirty feet between them, and though the light from her flashlight kept him in outline, it was the ambient luminance within the tunnel itself that kept his details visible to her. He was making no effort to close the gap, nonchalantly standing there as his dark eyes flitted from Buffy, to the guardian behind her, and then back to her, almost as if he was waiting for something. For what, though, she had no idea.

“Having a good day?” Duncan asked casually, a small smile playing on his lips. “It’s quite lovely out. Must be the after-effects of the storm last night.”

“Actually, I’m a little tired,” Buffy replied, playing along with his repartee. “I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“Yes, I heard Spike gave you quite the workout.” He chuckled at her obvious surprise at his candor. “You missed a great fight earlier. I have to admit, even though Mr. Finn didn’t succeed in actually killing Spike, listening to the two of them go back and forth on the subject of you almost made up for it. Nothing like a little strife and chaos to bring color into the world.”

“Speaking of color, can I say? Black and blue really works for you.” She smiled, shaking her head to brush back the hair that had fallen across her cheek. “I would’ve thought you were more of a fall, but hey, if winter colors look good on you, too, I say go for it.”

They both heard the scraping behind her at the same time, and Buffy watched as Duncan stiffened, readying the weapon in his arms as it trained on the guardian behind her. “Don’t even think about shifting,” he told Frank, the mirth gone from his voice. “I’ll have an arrow through your head faster than you can blink.”

“You OK back there, Frank?” Buffy asked, her hazel eyes never leaving the demon in front of her.

“Other than bleeding all over the ground, I’m fine,” he replied, but she could hear the faint edge of pain in his voice and wondered just how bad it really was. For some reason, she got the impression the guardian was used to being the stoic; if he was severely injured, she wasn’t sure he would let on exactly how serious it was until it was probably too late.

“I can put him out of his misery, if you like,” Duncan offered. “Then we can just make this between you and me.”

“Isn’t that the way it is now?” she countered. “I have the harness, you want it. That looks like just you and me, to me.”

“Ah, but our guardian friend would also like the harness. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? To ‘get rid of the temptation’?” Casually, he tossed her words back at her, smiling at her sudden frown. “You know, you didn’t need to bother with the amulet to get in here. The harness would’ve just let you pass right on through. Probably would’ve made your load just a little bit lighter, as well.”

Buffy’s frown deepened. “What’re you talking about?”

“Mr. Travers didn’t tell you? Well, then maybe he doesn’t know. That’s entirely possible. The man is very…narrow in his perspective.”

“Tell me what?” There was no hiding the irritation in her voice, and the increasing sense that Duncan was just toying with her was doing nothing to ease it.

“The harness’ true power. Why your Council is so eager to get its greedy little hands on it.”

“Give me the harness, Buffy.”

Although Frank’s words were a mere whisper, within the walls of the cavern, they bounced like an echoing bullet, falling on the other kelpie’s ears in spite of the distance that separated them. Distracted, she never saw Duncan’s finger move, and it wasn’t until the arrow was swishing over her head that Buffy realized he’d shot again.

It connected with the guardian’s flesh in a gurgled cry, and the Slayer heard him fall with a thump to the ground, his breathing choking into a fluidic wheeze that told of blood seeping into lungs. She wanted to look around, to inspect the damage that had been done, but knew she couldn’t; one glance away from Duncan and there was no telling what he might do.

“Told you,” the cook said lightly. “Now it really is just you and me.”

Grimly, Buffy inched herself sideways, toward the stone wall and away from the edge of the water, containing the rage surging through her body at Duncan’s unnecessary cruelty with deep, controlling breaths. It wouldn’t do to lose her temper in front of the kelpie; as much as she detested what he had done, she had to keep her focus here. Which meant coming up with a plan.

In her search for Frank, she had ventured further through the entrance to the Otherworld than any previous sojourn, twisting along the path that ran by the stream. The banks were still as treacherous as they were in the spot she and Spike had originally been attacked, only now the path was narrower, the walls sloping in, so that maneuverability was far from optimal. Even without the harness in her hands, a fight between her and Duncan would be difficult; the fact that she was also minimally armed did nothing to boost her confidence in success.

When her gaze flickered to the water, Duncan chuckled, shaking his head. “Not your best idea,” he said. “I’m primarily a water creature, remember? I’d have your tight little body in my hands before you could even come up for air.”

He was right, and it only served to infuriate her more. There was little room for escape within the confines of the tunnel, and a battle would be short-lived if he got close enough to touch her. Her only options lay in either getting the crossbow from him, or stalling him in hopes that one of the others might wonder what was taking her so long and come down after her. Right now, she was going to go with the latter.

“So what’s so special about this thing anyway?” Buffy asked casually, giving the bag a shake so that the bells rang a muffled call through the cavern. “Seems like everyone’s going to a lot of trouble for something that looks like it belongs on Santa’s sleigh.”

“It offers what everyone seeks. It offers power.”

The Slayer rolled her eyes. “Well, big duh, there. That’s what all these demon artifact thingamabobs try to deliver. I’m just curious as to what makes this one so much different from the others.”

“Does it matter?”

“Maybe I want some,” she shrugged. “Ever think of that? Maybe I’ll just keep it for myself.”

Duncan chuckled. “I’m afraid it doesn’t really go with your ensemble, Buffy. Now, be a good little Slayer and toss it here.”

“Or…what?”

“Or I’ll kill you.”

“You’re just going to kill me anyway, so why should I make this any easier for you?”

It took him a moment to respond. “Because if you don’t cooperate, I promise you that as soon as I get out of here, I’ll kill each and every one of your friends. Starting with Spike.”

She was used to threats. Usually they were empty ones, offered up by over-confident vampires with a hidden deathwish, but still, they were nothing Buffy wasn’t accustomed to hearing every day of her life as the Slayer. The only problem now was, for once, she was in the weaker position, against a demon she knew would have no qualms on following through on his promises, and her usual sarcastic banter might not be enough to save her this time.

“You wouldn’t stand a chance with Spike,” she said, holding her chin high. “He’d wipe up the floor with you.”

“Not only could I do it,” Duncan replied gleefully, “but with the harness, I could even get him to kill himself. I wouldn’t have to lift a finger. How’s that for romantic? The reformed vampire finds true love in the Slayer and then stakes himself when he discovers she’s dead.” His smile was wide. “I actually think I like that. Thank you so much for giving me the idea.”

OK, not going to plan, Buffy thought. She had no idea how the harness would ever be able to convince Spike to off himself, and right now, she was beginning to think she didn’t want to know. The only thing she was certain of at the moment was that she had to keep it away from Duncan. If it was capable of what he claimed, there was no way she could let it get out into her world.

“Buffy…” Frank’s voice was merely a breath, her name a faint disturbance in the air, but just the sound of it was enough to wipe the smile from Duncan’s face.

“Aren’t you dead yet?” he complained, readying the weapon as he turned it toward the guardian on the ground.

“No!” The single word came out as a shot, and Buffy glared at the cook as she edged herself back toward Frank. “Leave him be.”

Duncan’s lips thinned to a white line as he debated how to proceed. “Fine,” he finally said. “You want him to suffer all that much longer, be my guest. His pain can be on your head.”

She almost slipped on the pool of blood that surrounded the downed kelpie, and carefully avoided getting any more of it than necessary on her boot as she squatted at his side, her gaze darting from Duncan to the two wounds that marred the guardian’s torso. He’d taken the second arrow high up on the chest, and clutched at it now as his other hand reached forward to pull her closer.

“He must not…get…the harness…” Frank murmured, the blood dripping from the side of his mouth as he spoke.

Buffy’s eyes were hard as she glanced back at Duncan. “I know.”

“Save…it…”

Hearing him speak actually hurt, knowing his lungs---or whatever it was that kelpies used for breathing---were slowly filling with blood, and the Slayer returned her gaze to his face, the unspoken apology for not being able to help him written behind her eyes. “Can it really do what he says it does?” she asked softly.

Frank’s nod was almost imperceptible. “There is…a way…to save it…”

She immediately stiffened. “How?”

From his vantage point at the bend in the tunnel, Duncan saw Buffy get pulled in toward the dying kelpie, golden hair falling over her face to obstruct it from his view, and frowned as for the first time, he failed to hear what the guardian was saying.

It wasn’t much, just a single word, but it landed on the Slayer’s ear with a simplistic clarity that made her wonder why she hadn’t thought of it herself.

“Run...”

*************

They were the last two to be armed, and Spike rubbed at the rope burns on his wrists as he watched Colin hand a studded club to Willow, hiding his smile of amusement as she immediately dropped it.

“Maybe something a little less of the heavy,” she said, with an embarrassed blush as the Watcher leaned over and picked it up.

“Just hurry it up,” Spike said. “At this rate, Finn’s goin’ to be the one to find the nasty, and then I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Still don’t see why we have to take the dungeon,” Willow grumbled as she took the dagger Colin offered.

“Because me and Buffy are the two who know the layout of it the best,” the vampire countered. “And since you’re stuck with me---.” He stopped, the other man’s sudden frown catching his attention. “What is it?”

“Well, I know the dagger I’m missing is the one Mr. Finn stole to kill---.” The Watcher cut himself off, glancing at the vampire out of the corner of his eye before rushing forward. “But there seems to be a crossbow missing as well.” His gaze narrowed, scanning the wall as he began to count under his breath.

“So?”

“So I didn’t give one out.” There was a pause, and then Colin’s eyes jumped to the beginning again, this time his numeration more deliberate, his lips clearly moving as he audibly tallied his stock.

“Maybe your inventory is off,” Spike commented impatiently. “Can you do this later? We’ve got us a kelpie to catch.”

“Perhaps Buffy took it,” Colin murmured, reaching for a sword for the vampire.

Willow grabbed Spike’s arm, stopping him from taking the weapon, and her eyes were wide when he looked back at her. “Buffy didn’t take any weapons,” she said. “And this is Colin’s inventory we’re talking here.” At the confusion in his face, she added, “Flow-chart-for-everything Colin?”

She didn’t need to say another word. Whipping around on his heel, Spike had bolted from the weapons cache, his boots echoing against the stone floor as he ran down the hallway, before Colin had even managed to turn around, his frown deepening as he watched the redhead follow after him.

“Where are you going?” he called after their retreating backs.

“To the tunnels,” she yelled back. “To check on Buffy!”

“Wait! You’re going to need…” They were gone already before he could finish the sentence. “…the other amulet.”

*************

It took a moment for it to register, but even when it did, Duncan couldn’t believe what he was actually seeing, his muscles locked in surprise. She was running? And the kick of it was…she was running away from him, further into the tunnels, headed deeper through the entrance and toward the Otherworld. Before he could react, she was already gone, the muffled voice of the bells within the bag clanging her exit in a tinny cry, and it was only then that he sprang into action.

His healing wounds made quick movements painful, but he sprinted as best he could, hesitating when he reached the side of the guardian. Gazing down at him, Duncan’s lip curled in disgust, and he kicked at the kelpie’s side, rolling him closer to the dangerous bank and the rushing water of the stream. “You had to make this difficult, didn’t you,” he said viciously. “You couldn’t leave well enough alone.”

Another kick and Frank was in the water, a scarlet trail floating atop the surface as he quietly submerged. For a few minutes, bubbles broke through the ripples his plunge had made, but the other demon wasn’t there to witness their fade, already gone around the bend of the tunnel in pursuit of Buffy and the harness.

*************

He was the first one through the barrier, pushing his way past the unsuspecting Colin to rush into the darkness of the passageway, leaving Willow and the Watcher to trail after. His mind burned in red, hatred for Duncan for so far evading capture, fear that Buffy had been injured in some surprise attack on the part of the kelpie, but most of all, fury with himself for not knowing that this was the sort of stunt the cook would pull in the first place.

Should’ve gone with her, Spike ranted silently as he dove through the winding curves. S’posed to watch her back, and what do I do? I leave her open for that wanker to make his move. Stupid, stupid, stupid. If anything happened to her, he would never forgive himself.

“Buffy!” he yelled as soon as he broke free from the tunnel, skidding to a halt before the edge of the stream as he quickly scanned the open space. He could hear the footsteps of the others coming behind, but didn’t care, his only attention focused on finding her, his vampire visage automatically coming to the fore in order to better sense her out.

It was deserted, but she’d been there; he could still smell her delicate scent, even as it was fading from the moist air. What frightened him, though, was the overlaying aroma that almost obliterated it.

Blood. Lots of it.

It wasn’t human; he could take some small comfort in that, at least. But just because she might have managed to wound the demon, it didn’t mean she wasn’t hurt herself, lying somewhere within the depths of the tunnel too hurt to even cry out. Or unconscious. Or bleeding to death.

Each scenario his head created became worse than the previous, until by the time Willow and Colin appeared in the cavern, Spike felt that he couldn’t even see straight, his nerves racing in an erratic pattern across his skin. “I’m goin’ after her,” he said as he returned to his human face, and grabbed the flashlight from the Watcher’s hand before turning to head down the tunnel.

The splashing from the stream caught all their attention, halting the vampire in his steps as he leapt toward the edge. If it was Buffy, he wanted to be the one to pull her to safety; after letting her down like this, it was the least he could do. But if it was Duncan, he was going to rip his soddin’ throat out. And take great pleasure in every single tear.

It was neither. The dark claw of the guardian kelpie grabbed the bank, pulling his bleeding form from the water and onto the shore, oblivious to the cuts the jagged edges was making along his body. Willow rushed forward and knelt at Frank’s side, worried eyes scanning the score of injuries that dotted his flesh.

“Where’s Buffy?” Spike demanded, oblivious to the demon’s pain.

Speaking for him was difficult, but his mouth worked anyway, taking care to form the words so that they would understand him without the need for repeating himself. “Headed for…the Otherworld,” he said.

“What?” Colin stepped forth, shock wrinkling his brow. “Why in heaven’s name would she do that?”

“She had…no other choice. The traitor…barred the way and…was armed.”

Cursing under his breath, Spike whirled away, stomping toward the depths of the tunnels. “I’ll give him armed,” he muttered.

“Wait…” The guardian’s command seemed stronger this time, and though the vampire stopped, he only half-turned, the tension within his wiry frame attempting to pull him further along. “If you go…you will die,” Frank continued, his dark eyes jumping to meet Spike’s blue ones.

“What about Buffy?” he demanded.

“She has…the harness. She will be safe unless…”

“…unless that blighter catches up with her,” Spike finished bitterly. Furious, he began pacing along the bank, nostrils flaring as he kicked at the loose earth, doing everything he could not to drive his fist through the stone wall behind him.

“She’ll be OK,” Willow assured, but there was no confidence in her voice, and when the vampire turned his angry visage toward her, she ducked her head, unable to meet his eyes.

“This is bloody ridiculous!” Spike spat. “I’m not goin’ to just sit around here, twiddlin’ my thumbs, waitin’ to see if she’s---.”

“There is…a way for you…to help her.” The water lapped against Frank’s legs as he spoke, colored red from the blood that still flowed from his wounds, but he held himself up as he stared back at the trio.

“The only way I want to help is to go after---.”

“But you can.” He didn’t shrink under their gazes, instead turning his eyes to Colin. “With your closing spell.”

*************

The sudden shift in light as she emerged from the tunnel blinded Buffy, causing her to halt for the first time since taking flight, bringing her hand up to shield her eyes from the brilliance. It took a moment for her to adjust but when she did, her eyes widened, taking in the glorious countryside that spread before her, the expanse of emerald plains that seemed to stretch all the way to the horizon, broken only by the occasional flower-laden knoll. Overhead, the sun blazed down in golden dignity, warming her through for the first time since arriving in Scotland. Except I’m not in Scotland anymore, she thought. This has got to be the Otherworld. And all I can say is…wow.

Somewhere, back in the stretches of the tunnel, Duncan still followed, but Buffy knew she had gained quite some distance on him, his wounds slowing his pace enough for her to stay far ahead. Now, though, she was unsure what to do. Her priority was getting the harness to safety, but what that meant around here, she had no idea. Plus, every step she took announced her presence clearer than if she was singing at the top of her lungs. Maybe I can hide, she wondered, glancing around. But there seemed no appropriate place, and she knew that the longer she looked, the closer Duncan got.

Better to just run, she decided, put some more distance between us so that he can’t hear me anymore. She wasn’t sure what kind of tracking abilities kelpies had, but somehow, she didn’t think they could be that great; she’d been able to approach him out during the storm the previous day with little effort on her part. Still, anything that helped her at this point was good, so adjusting the weight of the sack in her arms, she broke off into another trot, grateful that she was in the shape she was, refusing to let her mind dwell on the possibility of failing.

It just wasn’t an option at this point. Not when she was on this side of the entrance. And not when Spike was on the other…

*************

He had yet to stop moving. Prowling around the edges of the cavern, Spike’s muscles screamed for release, fettered by the warning from the guardian that further egress into the entrance without preparation would only result in death, and it was all he could do not to roar aloud in frustration. Buffy was alone, unarmed, with a shapeshifting kelpie on her heels, and he was stuck here babysitting an injured demon while Willow went for the first aid kit and Colin went for the rest of the gang. Not only wasn’t it fair, it was a bloody waste of his talents, and if it wasn’t for the Slayer’s odd affection and respect for this Frank, Spike would’ve been the first to ignore his cautionary words and ventured to the Otherworld on his own, consequences be damned.

“She’s strong. Resourceful,” the guardian said, watching the other demon as he paced. “She will be all right until you can reach her.”

Sapphire flashed as his gaze flickered over Frank’s prone form at the edge of the stream, the kelpie’s body half in, half out of the water. With every passing second, the guardian seemed stronger, and though the blood still flowed freely from his wounds, his pain appeared to be waning, making his voice stronger, his words firmer.

“She’d be even better if she’d just stayed put,” he barked in response. “Or better yet, held off on handin’ over that damn harness ‘til we had Duncan under wraps for good.” Spike frowned when an unmistakable smile appeared on Frank’s face. “What’s so funny?” he demanded.

“You…make an interesting team,” came the reply. “In many ways, she is just as impetuous as you, and yet…she trusts me.”

“Slayer’s got a soft spot for people who save her life.” His eyes were hard. “I don’t.”

“No, I don’t suppose you would.” Frank grimaced as he tried to shift his weight against the bank without causing even more damage to his flesh. “She is doing the right thing, you know. The harness---.”

“I don’t care about that bloody harness!” Spike stopped near the edge of the water, the veins in his neck bulging as he struggled to contain his temper. “I just…need her to be safe. And takin’ off in the opposite direction of everyone who can help her is about as far away from safe as she can get.” Not to mention as far from him, but right now, that wasn’t the point and he knew it. “What could she have been thinkin’?” he continued. “She’s not the sort to just run from a fight, and if that’s what that wanker wanted…” He shook his head, his mind a tumble of questions, questions, and more unanswered questions, with nary an answer in sight.

“It…couldn’t be helped.” For the first time since being left alone with the vampire, Frank turned his gaze away, looking instead at the water rolling over his legs, his thoughts retreating even if his body couldn’t.

Spike’s head tilted, his eyes narrowing. “Thought you said Buffy didn’t have a choice,” he said slowly, and the suspicion bled into his voice as he slowly squatted to his haunches, his study of the wounded kelpie never wavering.

“Fleeing to the Otherworld was her best option.”

“Best…” The vampire played with the word, rolling it over his tongue and dragging it out as tiny flecks of gold glinted within his eyes. “Funny. You told the others…only.” He waited for some semblance of a response from the guardian, but was met with an awkward silence that drew his reach to the other’s arm. “What’re you not tellin’ me here, Frank?” The stress he put on the name was the only indication of the barely checked restraint he was enforcing on his muscles, the desire to pull and rip the kelpie’s arm from the socket almost overwhelming. If Buffy had been there, she would’ve recognized the silky tones of his voice that predicated his more violent tendencies and probably pulled him away then. As it was, he had to hold himself back.

“There was no harm,” Frank finally said, his voice barely perceptible in the wide space of the cavern, his eyes unblinking.

The possibility of what he was hearing tightened Spike’s grip, and the scarlet anger began to lick around the edges of his control. “Were you touching her?” Pause. “Was this your suggestion?”

“There was no harm,” the guardian repeated, a little louder this time. “I did not hurt her.”

In a clean jerk, Spike hauled him from the water, his face twisted into a furious snarl. “This is your---,” he started, only to be interrupted by the emergence of the others from the dungeons.

“Spike!” Giles shouted, shock and anger bulleting his voice. “Put him down!”

Willow came rushing from behind, up to the vampire’s side. “He needs to stay in the water,” she ordered, boldly tugging at his arm to get him to release the kelpie. “That’s the only thing keeping him alive right now.”

“Wanker doesn’t deserve to be alive,” Spike said through gritted teeth, ignoring the shocked surprise of the rest of the group. He gave his captive a rough shake, sending tiny droplets of blood spattering through the air. “Tell ‘em what you did.”

“I did…nothing wrong.” The blood was dripping from Frank’s body, pooling at his feet that dragged along the earth. Though he was easily several feet taller than the vampire, his injuries made him a ragdoll within the other’s grasp, and he could only stare at his attacker, his bold adherence to his innocent culpability firming his gaze. Unwavering, he seemed to be holding his own; it was only the growing wheeze of his breath that spoke of his worsening condition.

“Put him down,” Giles repeated, wrapping his hand around Spike’s forearm and forcing him to open his grip.

With a muffled thud, Frank crumpled to the ground and rolled back into the water, floating almost lifelessly as it began to lap over his limbs. His breathing was labored again, rasping in his chest, but his dark eyes remained calm, locked on the pale countenance of the vampire before him.

“What is going on here?” Colin asked, stepping forward from the throng. “We left you to watch him, Spike, not to try and kill him.”

Tearing his eyes from the guardian, Spike turned to face the others. “Buffy didn’t go gallivantin’ off to the Otherworld because she wanted to,” he said. “She did it ‘cause Frankie boy made her.”

“How is that possible?” Riley asked, braving a step forward to square off with the vampire, immediately prompting Xander to jump to the front of the fray. He desperately wanted to add on a, “nobody can make Buffy do anything she doesn’t want to,” but the realization that it was the exact opposite of that belief that steered him across the world just to confront Spike stayed his tongue. Instead, he added, “This…demon has done nothing but help us by telling us what happened to her. So much for being on the good guy side, Spike. Figures you’d show your true colors when Buffy’s not around to witness it.”

“It’s the kelpie magic touch,” Xander explained, planting himself between the pair, ensuring that there wouldn’t be a repeat performance of their earlier display in the great hall as he saw the vampire’s hands curl into fists out of the corner of his eye. “All he has to do is lay a finger on her, and he can get her to do whatever he wants.”

“And the pillock wanted her to run,” Spike added.

“And I still believe…it was the best option,” Frank defended. “The harness---.”

“That soddin’ harness!” The vamp whirled on his heel to glare down at the kelpie. “Buffy’s more important than some fancy party favor.”

“As much as I’m sure it pains you to hear this…no, she’s not.”

“What exactly is the power behind the harness?” Giles’ voice was low, his words directed to the guardian. “Why is it so important for us to keep it from Duncan?”

“And the Council,” Colin added. “Don’t forget the Council.”

“Time to spill, Frankie,” Spike said, eyes glittering, folding his arms across his chest, daring the other to disagree with him. “No more secrets. Not if you don’t want to end up going to the glue factory for good this time.”

He didn’t wish to speak, that much was obvious, his dark eyes darting from one grim face to the next. But in his weakened condition and knowing that they would not continue until they were satisfied, the guardian sighed, realizing defeat on this issue was inevitable. “The power of the harness lies in its control over its subject,” he said softly. “It’s been imbued with the essence of kelpie power. The ability to manipulate the will of others.”

“That’s like what we read,” Tara offered. “About how to get a kelpie to do your work for you.”

“But if it’s to control kelpies,” Anya asked, “what good is it going to do out in our world? Is there some secret kelpie population that we don’t know about?”

“No, you don’t understand the magnitude of what I’m saying here.” Frank sighed. “Its power isn’t limited to my kind. Place the harness on anything…and you gain control over it. Indefinitely.”

The group was stunned into silence, the only sound in the cavern the hollow trickle of the water, as each mulled over the implications of what he was suggesting. It was the ultimate in dominion, manacles that would chain any number of creatures to its master. In the right hands, it would prove a valuable defense mechanism, but in the wrong…

“Well, at least we understand now why Mr. Travers has been so persistent,” Colin murmured. “But surely it’s merely a temporary effect. It would only be good for as long as the bearer wore it.”

Frank shook his head. “Once someone has been shackled with the harness, its effect is permanent. Only death can nullify its power, which is why, theoretically, it is possible to create an entire army using its charm. That is why the traitor must not be allowed to obtain it,” he added. “He is unscrupulous. His motives are not noble.”

“Does Buffy know about this?” Spike queried, and snorted in disgust at the shake of the guardian’s head. “Nice to know that trust goes both ways,” he muttered.

“There was no time for explanations,” Frank said simply. “The thief was---.”

“---armed, yeah, we got it.” The vampire’s anger toward the kelpie seemed to dissipate slightly in light of the new revelation, the severity of the situation---and of Buffy’s---refocusing his attention. “Right, then. No more piddlin’ about. Tell us what we need to know to get through so we can help her out.”

“You said something about our closing spell?” Colin asked. “How is that going to aid us in reaching Buffy?”

“There are hazards within the entrance that will kill those who attempt to venture through who do not belong,” Frank explained. “Your closing spell will fortify its participants with Otherworld essence in order to allow them safe passage.”

“And how exactly do you know this?” This came from Giles, a deep furrow across his brow as he regarded the demon in hesitant curiosity.

“We learned of the spell’s secrets from the witch who conducted it the first time.”

“And she just…told you this?”

Frank’s gaze was hooded. “We…have our way of getting information,” he replied obliquely. In light of their reaction to the true reason for their friend’s flight, the guardian suspected they would be less than amenable to discussing the finer points of the kelpie’s innate necromantic skills. Better to just stick with the generalities. “Merely do your spell, and you will be able to venture forth to help the Slayer.”

“But we can’t.” A range of eyes turned to look at Tara, but she didn’t shrink from their scrutiny. “Buffy was part of the triad. Without her, the spell won’t work.”

“Someone must take her place then,” Colin said. “She was selected because we believed her strength would be enough to protect her from the power of the living spirit. Whoever takes her place---.”

“I’ll do it.”

“Oh, no!” Spike barked, whirling to face off with Riley again, prompting Xander to edge his way back between the two. “Don’t think I’m lettin’ you anywhere near her after the stunts you’ve pulled. You’re not exactly the poster child for sound judgment these days, Finn.”

Riley’s lip curled into a sneer. “Must be something in the water then,” he commented. “Because I’d say that lack of good judgment is just flying around here.”

“The only thing I’m regrettin’ my judgment on is not managin’ to get that cornbread mug of yours shoved into that fireplace faster---.”

“Spike…” The brunette put his hand flat on the vampire’s chest, holding him back and pressing him away, forcing him to take a few steps back from the group so that they could have a little more privacy. “Outside of you and Buffy, Riley’s the strongest one here. If anyone can do this, he can.”

“One of the Watchers---.”

Xander shook his head. “We both know Riley’s our best shot at not only getting the spell to work, but to come out of it with all our skin still intact. And, whether you want to admit it or not, he really does love Buffy. Hasn’t he shown he’d do just about anything to protect her?”

“Protect his ego, more like it,” Spike muttered, but bit his tongue against saying anything further. Xander was right; he didn’t want to admit it, but somewhere deep down, the vamp knew this was probably the best choice. Riley would fight tooth and nail for Buffy, and of the options they had at hand, he would be the best to have in a scrap, should things come to a direct clash. Didn’t mean he had to like it, though.

“Besides, Buffy told you two to play nice, and I do believe I heard some kind of promise come out of that pasty face of yours agreeing with her. So, do what needs to be done here, Spike.” His eyes were calm, but kind. “Prove to us---prove to Riley---that we’re not all just making a huge mistake by putting our faith in you.”

The words could’ve stung, but the vampire could see the ingenuousness in the other man’s face, and pursed his lips to hold back the retort that sprang automatically to his lips. Right. Made a promise to Buffy. Was goin’ to keep it even if it meant his head exploded in the process. And for some reason, somewhere buried deep beneath his driving dedication to the Slayer was the desire to do just what Xander had said. Prove it to them all, he would. Especially that prat Finn.

“But we still can’t do it,” Willow said, green eyes darting from Giles to Spike, and back to Giles again. “We haven’t figured out how to stop the spontaneous combustion phase yet. If they do this, Spike’s going to go up in flames as soon as they get back.”

The Watcher turned to Frank. “I don’t suppose you know how to circumvent that aspect of the spell,” he said.

When the guardian shook his head, the vampire merely mirrored it with his own headshake. “Doesn’t matter,” he declared. “I’m doin’ it anyway.”

“But you’ll---.”

Blazing blue eyes choked the redhead’s words in her throat as Spike swung his head to look at her. “Do it anyway,” he finished for her. “And if it bothers the lot of you that much, you’ve got the time while we’re gone to suss out how to stop it.”

“We’re going to have to wait until the sun sets,” Willow said. “Our window won’t open until then.”

“That gives us time for you to tell us everything you do know about the spell,” Giles said, folding his arms across his chest as he regarded Frank. “We have a lot of questions.”

“Whatever you want.” There was no point in any further games. If he’d been asked, he would’ve professed only anxiety for the safety of the harness; pressed, however, and Frank knew he would admit to a certain worry for the Slayer as well. The dedication she inspired in those around her was contagious, he decided. That had to be the only reason he was concerning himself in her aid. “Just ask.”

*************

Waiting was the worst. Not a patient creature at the best of times, Spike found himself standing in the doorway of the castle to Dall Rath, lighting cigarette after cigarette in a desperate attempt to keep himself distracted until sunset, only smoking them down halfway before dashing them to dust beneath his boot, igniting the next before he had even finished tamping the last. Giles and Colin had pulled aside Finn to give him the lowdown on the spell, the details that Frank had not provided, giving him the wherewithal to understand completely what he was getting himself into, while the witches were making the magical preparations. Anya and Xander had taken over the tending of the guardian’s injuries, which had left Spike officially to his own devices. Hence…the chain smoking.

His skin crawled with an itch that couldn’t be scratched, not until they were through the entrance and readying to face the trials Frank had described. The trials involved defeating a magical-bonded creature, capturing and entrapping it within the urn, which would mean a fight, and at this moment in time, that’s what Spike wanted most of all. Actually, he wanted Duncan’s blood on his hands, but he’d settle for what he could get until he could have his chance with the kelpie; he only hoped that Buffy would be able to evade the blighter’s pursuit until they could get there and help her out.

Buffy…Just thinking of her name hurt, the sense of failure for having not been there eating at his gut with razor-sharp teeth. He knew the others were worried about the bursting into fire problem the spell still gave them, but Spike didn’t care. What they failed to realize that without Buffy here, he might as well be a big pile of dust. He’d only just got her and the promise of the light she would bring to his life was worth whatever risk it took to get her back. Because if he failed…

No. Not going to fail. She would be safe. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

“You know, you’re entitled to a last meal, as well,” Xander said from the hallway behind him. When Spike glanced back at him, blue eyes narrowed, the dark-haired man flushed. “Probably not the funniest thing to ever come out of my mouth,” he commented. “Sorry.”

“Not too far off the mark, though,” the vampire replied, exhaling the smoke loudly. “Not unless the witches sort something before we get back.”

“I think you’ve sent Giles into shock.” Xander stepped out into the brisk afternoon sunshine, squinting as he gazed out over the heather that bowed gently in the breeze. “The last thing he expected was for you to serve yourself up flambé-style in order to save Buffy.”

“That’s ‘cause he doesn’t get it.”

“He’s starting to, though.” Brown eyes were kind as they swung back to look at the vampire. “As much of a word man Giles is, he’s much more of a believer in actions. Doing what you did down there is going to help when we get back to Sunnydale, mark my words. He might even throw you and the Buffster a little congratulatory party, you keep it up.”

“Look, Xander…” It was one of the few times he’d ever called the young man by his first name, but right now, Spike wasn’t in the mood for being coddled, or lied to. He’d had enough of both to last him a lifetime.

“I know what you’re going to say, and stop.”

“And you stop livin’ in denial. Odds are---.”

“If you know anything about us, you know that we actually do our best work when we’re working against the odds,” Xander interrupted. “How many times did we kick your evil-doing butt, back in the day? Frank said the Council thought this trial would take a few hours, plus with having to help Buffy, that gives Willow and the rest plenty of time to counteract the recipe for Kentucky Fried Spike we’re cooking here. Don’t be going into this with such a negative attitude, Spike. Buffy doesn’t need that right now.”

He couldn’t help his grin as he dropped his cigarette to the floor, mashing it into ash with the others. “Didn’t know you were the resident cheerleader of the bunch,” he said. “That rub off from your high school bird?”

Xander smiled, ducking his head at the slight gibe. “Just don’t be mentioning Cordy’s name in front of Anya,” he warned. “For some reason, she goes all banshee whenever the subject comes up.”

“You want to do something for me, you just make sure Captain Cardboard stays as far from me as possible,” Spike said, his seriousness returned. “He gets in my way or in any way bollocks this up, I swear mine won’t be the only dead body coming back from the Otherworld.”

“Riley wants this to work just as badly as you do.”

“I’m just sayin’---.”

“You’re new to this playing-nicely-with-friends game, Spike, so I’m going to cut you a little bit of slack here. But when it comes to Riley, the one thing you have to realize is that deep down, he’s basically just a good guy who happens to love Buffy, too. OK, so he wasn’t the long haul guy for her, and maybe it’s a little hard for him to see past that right now. But he’s not going to do anything to put her in any more danger than she’s already in. You’re going to have work with us on this one.”

“If he’d stayed back on the Hellmouth, we wouldn’t be in this mess right now.”

“And that’s still not the point, Mr. Deadman Sulking. We’re a team. You, me, and Riley. Operation Kick the Kelpie’s Ass. If you’re in, you’re going to be in all the way, or I’m going to tell Giles this won’t work and we’ll leave Buffy to manage with Duncan on her own.” It was an idle threat, but Xander knew exactly what strings to pull when it came to the blond vampire, and the Slayer string was the strongest. He knew it was going to work.

“Below the belt,” Spike growled, but the set of his mouth told the younger man that he’d accepted the conditions proposed. Besides, he’d made a promise to Buffy. No way would he let someone as insignificant as Riley Finn be the reason he broke it. “If I didn’t know better,” he went on, “I’d almost say you’d been takin’ lessons on negotiation tactics from your girlfriend there. Isn’t below the belt her favorite holiday place?” The last was said with a crooked grin, a hint of mockery in his voice.

“It’s her favorite anytime place,” Xander quipped. “And no, I learned that one all on my own little lonesome.” His smile was broad. “Hang out with demons long enough and some of it’s bound to rub off one way or another.”

“Maybe we should work on your style sense next,” Spike said as he began to saunter back toward the dungeon.

“As soon as you learn that black on black is not the piece de resistance of the fashion world, we’ll talk.”

“Hey, I own other colored shirts, you know. Just haven’t gotten around to wearin’ them yet.”

“Lemme guess. Buffy bought ‘em.”

“Well, yeah. So?”

“I rest my case, Spike.”

*************

Though the players were different, the tableau was the same.

A triangle of stones was arranged on the shore of the underground stream, with Xander, Spike, and Riley seated at each of the points within it, the same clay urn at its center. At the points along the outside, the Watchers and Tara stood with lit candles, while Willow was off to the side, the spell book open in her hands.

“Ready,” the redhead murmured, her eyes fixed on the group before her. “Keep your eyes on the urn,” she instructed before lowering her gaze to the text.

The men within the cairn watched the clay pot begin to quiver as the witch started the incantation, the dull music of its bottom vibrating against the earth drowning out the song of the stream. Every word she uttered only quickened its pace, setting the nerves of the participants on fire, until, as the last sound fell from Willow’s lips, its dance halted and the familiar tendrils of Otherworld essence slithered upward from its mouth, entwining and slinking toward the ceiling before breaking apart to slam into each of the triad’s chests.

This was where the similarities to their first attempt stopped. Each of the three stiffened as they were possessed, heads thrown back, eyes closed, veins bulging in their necks that spoke of untold tension within their bodies. A keening began to fill the air, but it came not from any of the men but from the now-still urn, rising in volume until those outside the triangle clapped their hands over their ears in an attempt to close it out. The only one not affected was Frank, who watched from his vantage point at the edge of the water, eyes dark and calm.

Just when the others thought they wouldn’t be able to handle the high-pitched wail any longer, it stopped, ending simultaneously with the impromptu extinguishment of the candles, leaving the group in what should have been darkness. Instead, three points of white light came from the triangle, one in each of the chests of the men, and as the rigidity began to ease from their bodies, the luminance faded, seemingly swallowed by their flesh.

“Xander?” Anya’s voice was barely a whisper, and she stepped forward from the wall, her heart pounding in her chest as she watched her boyfriend sit unmoving within the cairn.

“Why aren’t they moving?” Tara murmured, eyes darting from one to the next. “Did it work?”

As if in response, the trio’s lids opened simultaneously, the faintest of white glows buried in the pupils. “Well, that was interestin’,” Spike drawled.

“How do you feel?” asked Giles.

The first thing the vampire did was look down at his tee, running the flat of his palm over the smooth fabric. “Well, not losin’ my shirt’s a good start,” he commented.

“The burning must’ve been an effect of the spell’s failure the first time,” Colin observed.

“Burning?” Riley frowned. “Nobody mentioned anything burning except for Spike.”

“And we’re not goin’ to mention that again, either,” Spike bit back. Slowly, he rose to his feet, stretching his arms as he seemed to test his body. “I’m goin’ to say it worked this time. I feel---.”

“Wow.” Xander’s eyes were wide, his cheeks faintly flushed. “That was…wow.”

“If Xander’s been rendered speechless, I’m going to agree with Spike and say it must’ve worked,” Giles said. Setting down his candle, he stepped away from the triangle, and glanced down the darkness of the tunnel before turning back to the three men. “Right. On your way then. No dawdling.”

Spike was the first one to move, followed almost immediately by Riley, and the pair had paced off several steps toward the Otherworld entrance before Xander had even risen.

“Don’t forget the urn,” Tara prompted him.

“Oh, yeah.” He grabbed it as he straightened, and right away, felt it slip within his grasp, visibly bobbling it.

Like a shot, Spike was at his side, yanking the pot from the younger man before it could hit the floor with an annoyed growl. “This’ll be over before it starts if you break the soddin’ thing,” he complained.

“I’ll carry it,” Riley said, turning back to take the urn from the vampire.

“I thought I was the official urn-bearer,” Xander argued, reaching out to take back ownership.

“You’re goin’ to be the official spell-breaker when you drop it,” Spike shot back, and batted his hand away from the urn. “I’ll be the one…”

As the three bickered between them, Anya tilted her head, watching the spectacle with a small grimace. “This is not starting out well,” she commented to Willow at her side.

“You don’t think they’re going to kill each other before they make it to Buffy, do you?” the redhead queried.

“I’d be surprised if they make it around the first bend,” Colin said, and together, the gang watched as the first of what was probably going to be many skirmishes amongst the trio began.

Though the sun had set hours earlier, there was no drop in temperature, one plus Buffy was grateful for as she realized just how unprepared she really was for this particular flight. Not your brightest idea, she chided herself. You have no idea what you’re doing here, who you’re looking for, or even what to expect. Whatever you thought you were doing when you started running, you were either on drugs or…

And her mind flickered back to the moment in the tunnel, and without fail, felt the what-should-have-been-familiar touch of the kelpie on her arm as if he was standing next to her at that very minute. He hadn’t…except he had, and the Slayer frowned as a flash of disappointment in Frank cut through her, knowing why he’d resorted to such a method to convince her to run yet not happy that he’d actually done so. If anyone understood what duty really meant, she did, but did that mean he had to resort to some kind of Jedi mind trick in order to get her to help? Of course, they hadn’t really had the time to stand around and debate the issue, but if he’d asked, maybe told her about what to expect by doing it, she would certainly have considered it. And now here she was, stranger in a strange but gorgeous land, with a stolen artifact nobody knew she was bringing back, looking for...god knew who. Or what.

In all the time she’d already spent in the Otherworld, Buffy had yet to encounter another creature, eventually slowing her run when she realized she couldn’t even see Duncan behind her any longer. The stream beneath Dall Rath had ended almost immediately upon her emergence, but another had picked up the trail, gurgling and meandering through the grassy hills in indigo wonder. Knowing what she did of kelpie make-up, she decided to follow the path of the water, paralleling its course with enough distance between them so that she didn’t have to worry about a surprise attack from there, but close enough so that she never lost it from her sight. Now, bathed in the soft darkness of the night, though, exhaustion was beginning to seep into her bones, and she wondered if she should stray in order to find shelter to safely rest.

There had been a few caves along the way, and though she didn’t imagine that they were completely safe, Buffy knew that they offered her the best chance for some undisturbed sleep, keeping her eyes alert for the next break in the grass. It took only a few minutes to spy one, and steering herself toward it, she disappeared into its dark mouth, senses heightened in anticipation of unseen dangers, only to be met with complete silence. For the first time since taking flight, she lowered the bag from her arms, the small shift causing them to ring in a muted call, and settled herself next to it. It wouldn’t do as a pillow---not when every move she made would only set it clanging yet again---but there was no way she could abandon the job she’d set out to do, so curling her body around it, being careful not to jar its placement, Buffy rested her head against her arm and closed her eyes to the Otherworld night.

Immediately, images of Spike rose before her inner eye, and the question about what was going on back at Dall Rath finally broke through the Slayer’s concentration. She had been studiously avoiding thinking of the subject during her trek; it was easier to just focus on the task at hand rather than to worry about things she had no control over. She didn’t doubt that Frank was dead, which meant the others would have no idea what had happened to her. She suspected that Spike wasn’t going to react well to that, just like she knew she would respond poorly if all of a sudden she didn’t even know if he was still alive. Betcha Riley takes the brunt of that frustration, she thought. Except Spike promised, and she knew he would stick to it. Even if nobody else believed it.

I’m just going to have to make this as fast as possible, Buffy decided as she felt the first veil of sleep cloud her head. In and out. No reason to dawdle. God, I’m starting to sound like Giles…

*************

Passing from the tunnel into the Otherworld was all it took to bring the trio to a grinding halt.

The differences Spike had professed had been felt by all, but once the issue of the urn had been resolved, the three had walked the path along the stream in silence, faces grim, focused on the duty before them. Find Buffy. Kill Duncan. Go through the trial. Return to the dungeon. It seemed fairly straightforward, each task clear in the men’s minds, and even as they had the end of the tunnel in their sights, they continued to dwell on just that.

But the reality of it hit them like a railroad train as soon as they emerged into the warm night.

Xander had known before he’d opened his eyes back in the cavern that something was different. All of a sudden, he went from feeling fear, anxiety, and just a little bit of excitement about what the spell was going to do to him, to knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that he could take whatever it offered, that all he had to do was try his hand at it and everything would turn out all right. It wasn’t just feeling stronger---although that was certainly a big part of it---but more of a calm knowing suffusing his being. The same phrase kept flitting through his head---it was, it will be, and always shall---and though he didn’t even try to pretend he knew what it was talking about or that it was in any way an original thought, it gave him a sense of purpose as he strode through the tunnel. Toward his task. Toward his friend.

Riley’s revelation was more subtle. He’d always been aware of his own strength, especially the changes in it when he’d come off the government crap they’d shoved into his body, so waking from the effects of the spell feeling more powerful didn’t seem all that unusual, more of a step back to the way things used to be. And, if he was being honest with himself, the briefest of thoughts---if only Buffy could see me now, she could see that I can be who she needs---flickered across his brain before being lost in the very real argument that had ensued about the urn. It had taken all his self-control to come out of that one without laying a finger on Spike, and though he had in the end been the one to carry the pot through the tunnel, the whole experience had only distilled his thoughts into one coherent point. The mission. This was about the mission. Save Buffy and get her home.

And then there was Spike. His power of observation was only one of the reasons he’d managed to survive a century, so as soon as he’d opened his eyes, had seen the faint white glow that seemed to outline everything he saw, he knew it had worked. Physically, he felt very much the same, still strong, still a vampire; it was the external changes that had driven the awareness of the spell’s success home. He had always been sensitive to the living flesh that surrounded him; now, all of a sudden, he seemed too conscious of the dead, the smells of the men who had been killed weeks earlier by the guardians suddenly flooding his nostrils, the gritty feel of the dried blood in the earth beneath his seat an ever-present reminder of the mortalities the cavern had seen. Shoving them quickly aside, he’d concentrated on the issue of the urn, yielding to Giles’ intervention when it came, and then led the others as they began the trek through the entrance. None of the changes mattered to him at that point. He had only one thing on his mind. Buffy. Had to be there to back her up this time. Couldn’t let the wanker win. The fact that he wasn’t expected to survive the closing didn’t even register. He wasn’t going to fail her a second time.

One step from the tunnel, though, and each of the three halted in his tracks, the sudden plethora of sensations coursing through their bodies almost crushing in their intensity. If they had felt different in the cavern, the exposure to the actual air of the Otherworld magnified those changes a thousandfold, leaving each breathless---or figuratively breathless, as was the case for Spike---eyes wide, and in sudden awe of the world surrounding them.

“OK, tell me this isn’t just me,” Riley said, shattering the quiet.

“If you mean, feeling like you’ve just walked into the world’s biggest Krispy Kreme after having been starved for months, and then being told they’re free,” Xander said. “Then, yeah. I’m right there with you.”

“And here I thought we were goin’ to be needin’ a bit of a kip when we got here,” Spike commented, lifting his head to stare up at the star-laden sky.

“I feel like I could go all night.”

“Me, too.”

The vampire looked at his two partners. “Then let’s get on with it,” he said. “Not like my sunlight issue’s gone away or anything, so the faster we get this sorted, the better my chance of going poof in a nice cozy dungeon surrounded by friends than out in the middle of bleedin’ nowhere with you two at my side. So…how do we want to start this thing?”

“We start with finding Buffy,” said Xander. “Unless the mystical trial thingy decides to make its presence known first. But we’ve got all night to get that done.”

“I agree.” Riley’s voice was firm. “Buffy comes first.”

“Good to know we’ve got some common ground then.” For a moment, Spike contemplated reaching into his pockets for his cigarettes, more out of habit than anything else, but immediately brushed the desire away. Not here. Somehow, it didn’t seem…right.

“She’s had a headstart on us. We’re going to have to make double-time if we want to catch up.”

“How do we know which direction she went in?” Xander scanned the horizon, and if it wasn’t for the faint glow deep in its depths, his dark eyes would’ve been lost in the velvety night.

“That way.”

They spoke in unison, pointing in the exact same direction towards the grassy plain, and both Riley and Spike frowned as they swiveled their heads, gazing in a mixture of curiosity and skepticism as two sets of eyes scanned the other’s face. “I can smell her,” Spike said slowly. “What’s your excuse?”

It took a moment for the ex-soldier to respond. “I don’t know how to explain it,” he finally said. “It’s like, I’m…aware of everything living that’s passed through here. And Buffy’s…trail is practically glowing. You don’t see it?” This last was asked with just a trace of hopefulness, the desire to not be alone on this peeking through his words. He visibly deflated though when the others shook their heads. “Still…it’s there. We have to follow it.”

“No argument from me.” Spike’s head tilted, unable to let the issue go. “You can see it?”

“That’s what I said.”

“And…anything else? Smell her perfume, hear her heartbeat…any of that?”

“No.”

“What ‘bout how far she’s gone? Can you suss that?”

Riley’s face was grim. “Far enough. The trail is faintest here by the entrance. But it disappears over that hill.”

“What about the kelpie? We didn’t find him on the way here so he must still be after her.”

“There’s another that runs close to hers. Could be---.”

“Uh, guys.”

There was a slight waver in Xander’s voice and when his comrades looked over at him, they saw the young man staring off into the horizon, eyes lifted, jaw slightly dropped. Quickly, their own eyes followed his path forward and up, and immediately both froze.

“Maybe…not just yet,” Spike said slowly, as life began to return to his muscles. Carefully, he edged himself sideways, taking a position several feet away from the other men, seeing Riley set down the urn and do the same in the opposite direction out of the corner of his eye.

“This isn’t the trial, you don’t think?” Xander asked, glued to his spot in a sudden fear that curdled his gut.

“Somehow, I don’t think eight feet of ugly is goin’ to fit in that itty, bitty urn,” the vampire drawled. “So my money’s on no.”

“What was that Giles said about not needing weapons,” Riley muttered, shaking his head for his own lapse in persistence. Outside of the urn, the three had come through the entrance empty-handed---Frank had insisted---and here they were, thirty seconds in the Otherworld, facing…well, he wasn’t sure what they were facing. Except that it was big. Really, really big. And brandishing a sword bigger than Spike.

If it wasn’t for the now-getting-annoying white outline that seemed to etch everything now, Spike wasn’t sure that he would’ve been able to see their new arrival that clearly against the night sky. Definitely a relative of Frankie, he thought ruefully, eyes scanning the heavily muscled shoulders as they swung the blade in dangerous sweeps before it. Black skinned, hairless, with tiny beady eyes glittering back at them, the biggest difference lay in the lack of needle-like teeth in its mouth. Instead, a gaping maw grimaced back at them. Probably took one too many to the face, Spike decided.

An abashed smile creased Xander’s face and he held up his hands as if in surrender. “We come in peace,” he said in a voice too loud, his words over-articulated. “We have no desire to fight you.”

Spike rolled his eyes. “Like that ever really works,” he sniped.

“Nothing wrong with trying a little reason,” Riley countered, and held up his own hands to mirror Xander’s.

“Have you both gone completely bonkers?” the vampire demanded. “It probably doesn’t even understand a bloody word we’re sayin’---.”

“You trespass,” the creature said, a sibilance to its words that made them bleed through the night air.

Spike shrugged. “Or maybe it does,” he commented, and held up his own hands in mimicry of his compatriots.

“We’re looking for our friend,” Xander tried, but jumped backward as the creature took a step toward him.

“You have no friends here,” it said. “You trespass.”

“Yeah, yeah, got that the first time, mate.” Spike was growing annoyed. This was taking far too long.

“Maybe you’ve seen her,” Riley tried. “Blonde, very pretty, carrying a big…” He audibly swallowed as the creature turned its head to look at him. “…bag…”

“I have seen no one. You---.”

“---trespass, yeah, don’t you know any other songs?” Spike complained, and dropping his hands, took a strong step toward it. “Like, how ‘bout cryin’ uncle?” A single leap through the air had him tackling the demon, sending both of them flying to the ground, but not before it had launched its sword, the blade whistling in a straight path before embedding itself in Xander’s abdomen.

The blow should’ve sent him reeling backward. It didn’t. As it was, the young man remained riveted to his spot, screaming from the impact, his hands automatically going down to clutch at the hilt protruding from his stomach. His eyes were wide as they darted from a surprised Riley and an even more surprised Spike.

“Harris…mate…I didn’t…” the vampire tried, but quickly lost his words as fury overtook him, his fists pummeling at the demon in his grasp, his own demon within jumping to the fore. His fault. Again. None of this was goin’ to bloody work because he couldn’t work as part of a team. And Harris was goin’ to die as a result. Not fair.

“Ow.” It was almost a question, not that loud and definitely not that firm, but after only a moment, Xander frowned, looking down at his stomach. “No, wait. Not ow.”

Rushing to his friend’s side, Riley’s eyes scanned to the area surrounding the sword. “Where’s the blood?” he questioned softly, and lifted his gaze to meet Xander’s confused brown orbs. “You’re not bleeding.”

“How’s that…” But his words trailed away, his hands tightening around the blade’s base, and with one clean yank, Xander pulled it from his flesh.

The metal of the sword was clean, no bodily fluids clinging to it, no pieces of skin torn along its edge. Gingerly, Riley lifted the hem of Xander’s shirt to inspect the site of the injury and felt the air stop in his lungs as it was met with the smooth expanse of the other man’s stomach.

“How is that possible?” The ex-soldier’s voice was crisp in awe, his shoulders straightening as he involuntarily took a step back, away from his friend.

Before Xander could reply, a roar from Spike diverted their attention, and they both turned in time to see the vampire grab the creature’s head and give it a vicious yank, audibly breaking its neck in a cracking snap. His eyes glittered in gold as he let it drop lifeless to the ground, kicking at its torso one last time. “That’s for stabbin’ my friend,” he growled. “Not to mention for bein’ an all-around pain in my ass.”

“Spike.”

He seemed to become aware of them for the first time since witnessing the blade’s flight, and immediately reverted to his human face, head tilting in curiosity as he saw the sword, not in Xander’s body, but dangling from his hand. “Hey,” he said. “You’re not dead.” He closed the distance between them, eyes locked on the wound-free abdomen of his friend. “Why aren’t you dead?”

Xander’s body twisted away as Spike began poking skeptically at the brunette’s stomach. “Stop that,” he chided. “That tickles.”

“That thing sliced through you like butter,” the vampire continued, walking around him to look at his back. When he lifted the shirt, Xander skittered away, out of his reach. “So why aren’t you one of the walkin’ wounded here?” Spike added.

“Maybe it’s the spell,” Riley offered. “The way Giles explained it to me, each of us is inhabited by an aspect of the Otherworld. Xander got the immortal part.”

His brown eyes widened. “I got made into a god?” he said in wonder.

Spike snorted. “Great,” he muttered. “From empty vessel to unkillable bein’ in less than twenty-four hours. Talk about gettin’ a swelled head. You’re goin’ to be unbearable now, aren’t you?”

“But it makes sense.” Riley was on a roll, the pieces suddenly fitting together for him, and his eyes almost glowed as he rushed forward with his explanation. “That’s why I feel so…attuned to everything. Because I got the living part of the equation.” He turned to the vampire. “You’re the dead. What have you noticed?”

The memories of what he’d sensed in the cavern came rushing back. “Some of the same,” Spike admitted. “Makes sense.” He turned his azure gaze back to Xander. “But don’t be gettin’ any big ideas about provin’ your godness, or I swear, when we get back, I’ll thump you into next week, I don’t care what kind of headache I get.”

The threat was good-natured, and Riley’s eyes narrowed as he saw the answering grin on Xander’s face. He’d heard what Spike had said as he was killing the demon, the bandying around of the term friend as if it was an everyday occurrence. And now, witnessing the camaraderie between the two men, he found himself greeted with the same sense of out-of-placement that he’d felt when walking in on Spike and Buffy. Like there was something there that he was missing. Like everyone else was on a different page of the book, and they were all waiting for him to catch up. It was disconcerting, to say the least, especially knowing Xander’s predilection for hating vampires. He was the last person Riley would ever expect to embrace Spike’s presence in their lives.

And yet here he was. And seemingly enjoying every second of it.

“We should be going,” he said, turning away to step over to the urn and pick it up, desperate for anything that would get him away from the current mood. “Buffy’s still out there someplace.”

The mention of the Slayer’s name was all that was needed to sober the other men up. “Right,” Spike said, and glanced down at the sword still clutched in Xander’s hand. “You goin’ to be able to manage that?” he asked.

Tentatively, Xander hefted its weight, giving it a practice swoosh through the air. “Yeah,” he said. “I think it’s OK.”

“At least we have a weapon now,” Riley added. “That should count for something.”

As they walked past the dead body of the demon, Xander glanced down at its inert form. “I wonder what it wanted,” he mused. “What its purpose was.”

“Doesn’t matter now,” Spike said dryly. “It’s dead.” He didn’t want to be bothered with issues that were already gone. Right now, he just wanted to find Buffy. Every step was just another reminder that this wasn’t their home, that their real home was an entire dimension away. He only hoped they found her in time to make sure she could get back to it in one piece…