DISCLAIMER: The characters are Joss’, of course. And the chapter titles are courtesy of Robert Burns.
PREVIOUSLY ON BUFFY: Spike, Xander, and Riley have arrived in the Otherworld to close the entrance and to help Buffy with Duncan…

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

“Do you think some of the effects might last after we get out of here? I bet Anya would love that. And man, what I wouldn’t give to have some of those guys from high school see me now. See how they like getting a wedgie from God Xander himself, make ‘em pay for being such jerks to me. Oh! And I could help Buffy with patrol! Be her number one back-up man. SuperXan to the rescue! Faster than a speeding stake. More powerful than a locomotive. Able to leap tall demons in a single bound.” His laughter filtered through the night air. “Yep, not too shabby for being an empty vessel.” Slipping into a bad Scottish accent, he brandished his sword. “I am Xander McLeod, of the Clan McLeod...”

Gritting his teeth, Spike stuffed his hands deep into his pockets, quickening his step to lengthen the gap between him and the young man prattling along behind him. “Can’t you do something to shut him up?” he demanded from Riley as he came up to his side.

Riley glanced down at the vampire before reverting his gaze to the trail ahead of them. “You’re his new best friend,” he said tightly. “You shut him up.”

“My way of shutting him up involves him losin’ some teeth and me with a blindin’ headache,” Spike grumbled.

“Doesn’t sound so bad to me.”

They lapsed back into the uncomfortable silence that had wrapped around them since venturing into the Otherworld, the only sound in the clear air the joyful chattering of the young man in the rear of the pack. He hadn’t stopped since his unexpected discovery of his newfound status, and the glee in his words was wearing thin on his partners. When the splash came from the stream at their side, Spike almost sighed in relief, automatically turning to face the water, stepping back as Xander pushed his way to the front.

“Are we some kind of mystical demon-nip or something?” the vampire complained. “This makes the fifth soddin’ nasty to jump us in the last half hour. ‘Course, if these buggers could be killed by talkin’ it to death, we’d be all set.” He stared pointedly at Xander brushing past, oblivious to their irritation.

“The guardian warned us that there would be obstacles on the way to the trial,” Riley said, backing away as he cradled the urn in his arm.

“Obstacles I can deal with,” Spike muttered. “Annoying demons who just slow us down are another thing entirely.”

When the second kelpie-like creature had attacked them, Xander had rushed forward before the other two could stop him, swinging his weapon in a clean arc that had severed the demon’s head from his body, turning to face them with a huge grin across his face. “Didja see that?” he’d announced, picking up the new sword the demon had dropped and handing it to the vampire. “I’d say this empty vessel was pretty darn full.”

“Certainly full of something,” Spike had muttered.

Since then, they had just stepped back when the attacks came, allowing the brunette to have his go at the third while they watched in silence, almost interfering with the fourth when it decided to make Xander’s hand its new chewtoy. He’d emerged from that fight with his arm drenched in demon slobber, but still as animated as when he’d started. Not even nearly becoming a giant loogy could drag him down.

“Maybe we’ll get lucky,” Riley said as they watched Xander raise his sword. “Maybe it’ll cut off his head. Without a mouth, he can’t talk.”

Spike’s lips quirked in an unbidden smile, and was about to come back with his own rejoinder when he saw the demon pull back its weapon to swing, its path clearly lined up with Xander’s neck. Maybe it was a learning curve or something, but this one wasn’t offering up any warning before going in for the kill, and the over-confident young man was oblivious to the danger that stood before him.

Before he could even think, Spike had leapt forward, tackling Harris and sending them both flying away from the creature, its sword cleaving the air just above their heads in an audible whistle. They landed in a tangle, Xander’s cry of pain muffled by the vampire’s forearm across his throat, and it took only a moment for Spike to return to his feet, whirling to face off with the new enemy before lunging again and sending both of them into the stream.

In a flash, Riley was at Xander’s side, helping him back up, frowning as they both turned to watch a livid vampire use the demon’s blade to skewer him in a vicious slice. When the dead body fell with a splash, coloring the water in crimson, Spike turned an angry visage to the pair on the bank.

“What the hell are you playin’ at?” he demanded as he waded his way back to the shore. “Do you have any idea how close you came to bein’ separated from your second favorite body part there?”

“Your chip didn’t fire.” Riley’s voice was low, edged in steel with just a hint of fear creeping around the corners, and slowly he placed himself between Xander and the vampire, using his larger frame to shield the brunette from Spike’s advancing step.

“What’s that?” His dark brows knitted together as his eyes darted to Xander, watching as the young man rubbed at his neck. “I didn’t hurt you with that, did I?”

“Well, yeah, you kind of did.”

“But…” His voice trailed off, the realization that Soldier Boy was right hitting his gut like a sledge. The chip hadn’t gone off, and in the rush to make sure Xander came through this whole thing in one piece, he hadn’t given it another thought. “Must be the spell rubbish in us,” Spike mused out loud. “Messin’ with my head. You’re not wholly human anymore so I can whollop you as much as I want without turning into the king of pain here. Not that I’m goin’ to,” he hastened to add when he saw Xander’s eyes widen. “But that’s got to be the explanation for it all.”

“Does that mean you can hit Riley, too?” The question came out of Xander’s mouth before he could stop it, and felt instant regret as he saw the wicked gleam appear in Spike’s eyes, his blue gaze sweeping over the tall form that stood between them with new interest. It was obvious he was contemplating the possibility, and Xander found himself holding his breath, momentarily forgetting about the newfound alliance the vampire had made with the gang, only to exhale loudly when Spike shook his head.

“Made a promise to Buffy,” he said, turning away to pull his shirt over his head. “Not goin’ to go breakin’ it now just ‘cause the opportunity’s there.” The muscles in his back flexed as he wrung the water out from his tee. “Besides,” he went on, “can’t very well close the entrance if there’s only two of us, now can we?”

“Speaking of closing the entrance,” Xander said, eager to change the subject. “Any idea on how much longer we’re going to have to wait until we find our---.”

“Spike! Look out!”

He reacted to the warning instinctively, dropping to the ground only to feel the presence of a sixth demon soar above his body. Jerking his head around, the vampire rolled out of the way as he saw Riley shove the urn into Xander’s hand, grabbing the sword away at the same time, and rushed forward to plant his boot in the small of the creature’s back, sending it sprawling just as it was starting to rise from its leap. The fight took only seconds; a clean sweep of the blade sliced through the attacker’s midsection, neatly dissecting him into two pieces, and Spike frowned as he slowly rose to his feet.

“Thanks,” he said hesitantly, wiping the dirt from his hands onto his jeans. His eyes narrowed as Riley turned away, the question of why exactly his rival had been so quick to defend him lingering in the blue depths.

“Made a promise to Buffy,” Riley said quietly.

Xander’s gaze leapt between the two men, and made up his mind almost immediately. “I’m going to scout on ahead,” he said. “See what I can come across. Buffy’s just following the stream, right?”

Riley nodded. “Just keep your eyes open,” he warned. “The attacks are coming faster now. You have to be on your toes.”

“Yeah, or you’re goin’ to lose ‘em,” Spike added. “And I’m not carryin’ your ass if that happens. You don’t have a long, pointy stick this time to make me your beck and call vamp.” He knew what Harris was doing and in a way, was almost grateful. Not that he really relished having Finn all to himself, but too much needed to be said between them and with the chip working in the vampire’s favor at the moment, now was the time to say it.

“Thanks again,” he repeated once Xander had ambled off. “Could’ve been a nasty one back there.” The gratitude was more for appearances’ sake; Spike knew that reiterating it---even if he’d had enough trouble with it the first time---would make this whole conversation go down a little easier. For both of them.

“You said it yourself. It’s going to take all three of us to finish this spell,” Riley said, keeping his eyes straight ahead as he felt the vampire fall into step beside him. “And it’s not like you didn’t just do the same thing for Xander.”

“Somehow, I don’t think him pullin’ a Marie Antoinette was s’posed to be part of the whole god thing. Not that havin’ him quiet for a change wasn’t appealing, but still---.”

“I’m never going to like you, Spike.” His voice was cold, his words terse, prompting the same sort of response from the vampire at his side.

“Feeling’s mutual, Soldier Boy.”

“Tell me this…thing between you and Buffy didn’t start back in Sunnydale. Give me that, at least.”

“It didn’t. Well…not for her, anyway.”

“She deserves so much better than you. Hell, she deserves better than me, but I guess I thought…” Riley’s voice was quiet, his self-control only registering by the rigid tension in his shoulders. “You think you love her, don’t you?”

“No.” The single word was brusque, and ice-cold, and Spike turned blazing eyes to glare at the man next to him. “I know I love her. And the sooner you get that through that thick skull of yours, the easier all this will be.”

“It’ll never be easy.” He swallowed, the sudden lump in his throat burning like bile. “I can’t believe I’m even having this conversation with you. I must be channeling my inner masochist or something.”

“Well, if you need help in takin’ some pain,” Spike drawled, “we don’t seem to have my pesky little chip problem holding us back. Nothin’ sayin’ we couldn’t have us a little scrap here and now.” He bridled under Riley’s accusatory stare. “What? It was a joke!” His gaze returned to the night ahead, before he muttered, “Mostly.”

“I just don’t understand how she could let you touch her,” Riley continued. Now that he’d started, he didn’t seem capable of holding back the frustration that had been mounting since his arrival in Scotland. “This vampire fascination she has is just…wrong. And twisted. How she could do this to me---.”

Spike’s hand around the other man’s upper arm jerked him to a halt. “You can say whatever you want about me,” he warned, his voice low so that Xander ahead couldn’t hear. “Not like I give a toss what you think. But don’t for a second think that any of this has been easy for Buffy. It’s been eatin’ her up, wondering how she was goin’ to tell you. And for you to try and turn this around on her, after everything, just goes to show you’re an even more self-absorbed prat than I gave you credit for.” The glint in his eye was dangerous. “Get over yourself, Finn. Life’ll be a lot simpler for everyone when you do.”

They stood in silence for a moment before Riley carefully extracted his arm from Spike’s grasp. “Not that it matters,” the young man said. “But I always knew she wasn’t completely happy. With me. I just thought…if I could change just enough, I could be what she wanted. What she needed.” Riley shook his head. “Not that I expect you to understand. You have no idea what it’s like knowing you’re not good enough for the woman you love, knowing you’re just…second-best.”

Memories of Dru fawning over Angelus while Spike had been in the wheelchair came flooding into his head, followed quickly by the fleeting images of Cecily as she just stared disdainfully at him during his confession, and it took all his willpower to shove them aside. Finn wasn’t looking for commiseration and any attempts on the vampire’s part to tell him how mistaken he was would only be met with disbelief. But Soldier Boy was wrong. He knew exactly what he was feeling.

“I’ll never hurt Buffy,” Spike said quietly, turning away to begin following after Xander again. “You’re goin’ to have to believe me on that one.”

“You better not,” Riley replied. His tone was grim as he fell into step beside the vampire. “Because I will kill you if I find out you have.”

“If I do,” and this time Spike looked up at him, waiting for him to return his gaze before continuing. “You have my permission to do it.”

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

She’d been dreaming of Spike, hazy clouds of cool fingers dancing over her skin, blue eyes that seemed to appear from nowhere, that deep chuckle of his that seemed to resonate from somewhere deep within his chest. No guilt, no pain. Just carefree playing that was oblivious to the dangers that surrounded them.

That had to be the reason she was so slow to wake, even when her Slayer senses seemed to have been kicked into overdrive.

As her eyes flickered open, trying to adjust to the darkness that surrounded her, it took Buffy a moment to remember exactly where she was. Only when she moved, jarring the bag she was curled around so that the bells inside jingled faintly against the fabric, did everything come back, and she immediately sat up, hair swinging over her shoulders as she scanned the cave. It was dark. Too dark. Even when she’d settled herself in for her short nap, she’d been able to see the light from outside trickling in through its mouth. Now…there was nothing.

Silently, she stood, tensing her body in preparation for a fight. The tingles running over her skin told her she wasn’t alone, but no matter which direction she turned, there was no lessening of the sensations, no way for her to tell where exactly it was standing. Or lying. Or squatting. Hell, the stupid thing could be jumping up and down on a pogo stick and she wouldn’t have a clue; that’s how dark it was inside the bowels of the cave.

“You might as well give it up now,” she called out, her voice echoing against the walls. “I know you’re here.” The chuckle that answered her came from behind Buffy, causing her to whirl to face it, then freezing as its familiarity glided over her arms like a lover’s caress.

Duncan.

“One thing I do like about you, Buffy,” he said, and this time there was no mistaking where he was, “your confidence. Now, is that because you’re American, or is it a Slayer thing? Because if all the young American girls are like you, I do believe I’m going to have to make that the first stop on my trip around the world. Maybe…Sunnydale? Isn’t that where you’re from? I’m sure I’ll feel right at home on the Hellmouth.”

“You are home, Duncan,” she replied, and edged herself forward, making sure to place herself between him and the harness. “And you’re not going anywhere near Sunnydale. Not while I’ve got a say in the matter.”

“Remind me to tell Sunnydale to have you removed from their welcoming committee,” he chortled.

She heard the click of the crossbow’s trigger before the arrow ever left its sheath, and instinctively threw herself sideways, tucking to roll herself to safety, only to be met with the very real solidity of the cave’s wall. It dazed her momentarily, making her shake her head as if to clear it, but just as quickly, Buffy was back up, feet parted in a fighting stance, knowing now the parameters of her space so that if another missile came flying at her, she’d be able to avoid it without turning herself into wall putty at the same time. Not that she was going to let him have another chance at her. She just had to get her hands on him first.

Somewhere at the rear of the cave, the arrow hit the wall, sending a cascade of loose dirt in a rainfall to the floor. “I don’t know why you have to make this so difficult,” Duncan said. “It’s just a silly little harness. Not even of your world.”

“Exactly. Not of my world. Which is why it needs to be brought back.”

She threw herself to the floor as she heard another arrow whistle through the air, but its course was so far from her position that Buffy laughed, ignoring the dirt that fell into her hair when it hit the ceiling above. “You really need to brush up on your---,” she started.

She never got to finish the sentence. Even as she was laughing, he’d reloaded the crossbow, firing again so quickly under her words that she didn’t hear it coming. The sharp pain as it embedded itself in her calf strangled the words in Buffy’s throat, eliciting instead a sharp cry of pain, and she rolled sideways, feeling the shaft of the arrow snap off, the blood already dripping down the inside of her trousers in sticky rivulets into her shoe.

“I take it from that delightful little shriek of yours that I actually managed to hit you this time,” Duncan commented. He was closer now, and Buffy inched herself against the wall, pressing herself against it as she reached down and yanked the arrow from her flesh, grimacing in silence at the fiery knives of pain shooting up her leg as she did so. Getting poked like a stuck pig was not part of the plan, she thought irritably. Of course, don’t really have a plan here, more flying by the seat of my pants, but still, even if I did, this would most definitely not be part of it.

Another arrow whistling overhead sent even more soil to the ground, and Buffy held her breath so as not to cough in the dust that suddenly seemed to proliferate the air. Not going to let him know where I am this time. Not going to give him that advantage again.

“Have you managed to rid yourself of the harness already then?” he asked, his voice even nearer. “You’re moving far too quickly to be bearing its burden.”

She bit back the quip that came automatically to her lips. Self-restraint, thy name is Buffy, she thought.

Another arrow. More dirt. It was getting increasingly difficult to breathe, and this time, a good portion of what had been dislodged landed directly on her head, sending her scooting off to the side during the noise it created so that he wouldn’t be able to accurately determine her position. Now that he’d ventured deeper into the cave, the entrance was unblocked, allowing some of the ambient light to return to the darkness. Not only could she focus on his stealthy footsteps, but now she could see the faint outlines of his body against the wall, and Buffy prepared to launch herself for his legs.

But if she could see him, he could see her, and before she could react, Duncan had whirled, aiming the crossbow directly at her, sending his last missile streaking through the dust.

The force of it drove her back as it drilled itself through her shoulder and buried itself into the wall behind her, pinning Buffy like some hapless butterfly waiting for the second to secure its remaining wing. Her hand came up to the injury as she cried out, tears of pain springing to her eyes, blinking them rapidly away as she saw Duncan smile at his success. Shouldn’t have fallen asleep, she thought dizzily, feeling the world beginning to spin slightly around her as the blood spilled from her body. Should’ve just kept on going. Stupid Buffy.

Lowering the weapon, Duncan sniffed appreciatively at the air, his lips curling into a smile as he began advancing toward her. “Wonder how your vampire lover would react if he could see you now,” he commented. “All that blood. Do you think he’d be able to restrain himself from sucking you dry?”

Buffy lifted her eyes, refusing to allow him to see just how helpless she really was. She was firmly stuck; any more wriggling on her part would make the blood flow even faster, and she was losing too much as it was. “If Spike was here,” she said, “you wouldn’t be standing right now. Especially since you can’t rely on your little crutch there.” She nodded toward the crossbow that dangled from his hand.

Glancing at the empty quiver, Duncan shrugged. “I’ve bagged my limit, it appears,” he said, and tossed it aside.

Inwardly, she cringed when she heard the clarion call of the harness ring through the cave as the weapon landed with a soft thud against the edge of the bag. She watched as the kelpie’s face creased into a smile, his dark eyes gleaming even in the dim light, swiveling his head to pounce on his new discovery.

“Well, well, so maybe you weren’t able to get rid of it yet after all.” He was at its side in a moment, heedless to its ringing as he scooped it into his arms and turned to look back at her with a hungry grin. “Thank you ever so much for keeping an eye on it for me.”

Her fingers tightened around the arrow, the sudden realization that Duncan was going to kill her sharpening her senses just enough to drive away the growing sleepiness in her limbs. He was walking toward her now, his smile fading with each step, and she knew that her time was short. She had to do this fast, or she wouldn’t be able to do it at all.

“Such a shame it had to come to this,” Duncan murmured, stopping before her to gaze down at the gold of her hair as it caught what faint light filtered into the dim cave. The sudden possibility of a use for the harness darted through his head, the possibility intriguing, and he couldn’t help the return of his grin. Wouldn’t Spike just hate that, he thought. Oh, but wouldn’t it be fun to see the vampire’s face, right before Duncan told Buffy to kill him…

Lifting the flap of the bag, the kelpie extracted the string of bells, squatting as he did so. “I’d wager you’d look lovely wearing this,” he said softly, and leaned forward, ready to slip the harness over the Slayer’s head.

It burned as she wrenched it from her flesh, but Buffy was unaware of the pain as she focused her strength on burying the arrow into the arm of the demon before her. He screamed in agonizing surprise, eyes widening, and almost dropped the harness as he stumbled back. Now free, she gathered what remaining strength she had to position the heel of her boot against his stomach, sending him flying against the opposite wall before slumping into the pool of her blood that had gathered at her back.

He knew he should kill her. Seeing her chest heaving from the exertion of kicking him, Duncan suspected the Slayer had expended what strength she had to fight off his attack. But what if he was wrong? He had the harness now. He should just run. The first arrow had landed in her leg; there was no way she would be able to keep up with him on foot. And if he tried to get close to her again, he wasn’t completely certain he wouldn’t fall prey to yet another thrust from her powerful legs.

Buffy watched as he rose to his feet, weaving slightly as he clutched the harness to his chest. With a grimace, Duncan pulled the arrow from his arm, tossing it to the ground, and gave her a little salute before turning away. “Have fun dying,” he joked as he stepped toward the mouth of the cave. “So sorry to miss it.”

The sight of his back disappearing through the mouth of the cave was the last thing she saw before everything went black.

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

They had ignored him for most of the last hour, buried in their stacks of books, each and every one of them searching for the answer that would stop Spike from becoming a ball of fire upon the spell’s completion. From his vantage point in the stream, though, Frank could hear every word of their conversation, heard the doubts they shared about the vampire’s odds of survival, and felt more than one twinge of remorse for forcing their hand. It was for the sake of both our worlds, he reminded himself. The thief would only use the harness for evil. Buffy would not want that.

They were speaking of her now, and the guardian pricked his ears as he strained to pick up the thread.

“…get through,” the redheaded witch was saying.

“She’ll just come through with Spike or Xander, won’t she?” That was the other witch, the soft-spoken one.

“Just because they’ve got a pass, doesn’t mean Buffy will,” the other countered. “What if it won’t let her back?”

They continued their debate, but the meaning of it had already settled in Frank’s head. There was a chance that the completion of their closing spell would strand the Slayer on the other side, caught in his world when all she had ever wanted to do was help him. Well, maybe not all. She had her own motives as well. But her presence there was his responsibility. And it was up to him to ensure that she was paid appropriately.

With a silent splash, the guardian slid his body under the surface of the water, his limbs slicing carefully through the stream as he began swimming toward his home. He had a duty, an honor to uphold. He would not fail her.

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

He saw them almost as soon as he emerged from the cave. Well, he saw the young man. The others were trailing far enough behind that it took Duncan a good minute to realize that Xander was not alone.

Damn, he thought, as he froze in his step, melting against the darkness of the cave as he surveyed the landscape. Although he had briefly dwelled on the possibility of someone coming in after the Slayer, he had hoped that it wouldn’t happen until after he’d already left. And the fact that there was three of them he had to contend with did little to ease the sudden rush of nerves that gripped the kelpie’s flesh. He didn’t like being cornered; he much preferred being the one doing the cornering, but then again, that was probably a generalization that could be said about just about anybody. Damn.

The blood was dripping down his arm, and the bruise he knew he was sporting on his abdomen from Buffy’s well-placed kick ached with a surety of internal damage. He still hadn’t recovered fully from her assault the previous day; these added injuries were only making things worse. With the added worry of her rescuers---and he had to admit to being mildly amused at seeing both the vampire and the ex-boyfriend in the entourage---the doubt that he was going to get out of here both alive and with the harness began to tickle at the base of his brain.

The harness…

His eyes flickered from Xander to the two other men walking so far behind, and then back to the brunette again. He was armed, but the sword was of little consequence if he could just get close enough.

A sly smile creased the kelpie’s face. Yes, escaping might yet be possible…

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

He wasn’t sure if the fact that he couldn’t hear them speaking anymore was a good thing or not. On the one hand, it could mean that Spike and Riley had hashed out their differences about the Buffy situation and everything was copasetic now. Maybe not best buds, but hopefully not at each other’s throats. On the other hand, it could also mean that they’d given up on words and were right now duking it out. Knowing the pair of them the way he did, Xander knew that was a more than real option. He just couldn’t bring himself to turn around and look to make sure.

And then again, he could’ve just walked far enough ahead that their voices weren’t audible any longer. That was always a possibility, too.

“Xander!”

Although it was hardly surprising, her voice wasn’t exactly what he’d been expecting, and the young man halted in his footsteps, swiveling his head toward the sound, his eyes widening as he saw a bloody Buffy stumble toward him. The harness was clutched to her chest, but the only thing he could see was the very real wound in her bicep, jagged pieces of her flesh oozing and spreading crimson as she collapsed against his chest.

“Buff! What happened?” he asked in a rush, feeling the tremor in her muscles as she fought to stay vertical. Dropping the sword to the ground, he began pulling off the long-sleeved shirt that covered his tee, only to be stopped by her quivering hand.

“Duncan…” she breathed. “He…back there…I hurt him, but…” She stopped, gulping at the air, her eyelids fluttering closed, and Xander’s hands gripped her shoulders tightly as she seemed to weave before him.

“You’re hurt,” he said unnecessarily. “We’ve got to get you back. Spike and Riley are here. We’ll---.” He cut himself off as her strength seemed to fail her, falling against him yet again, the harness a cold weight between them.

“Can’t…hold this…” she murmured, and turned beseeching eyes up to her friend. Slowly, her arms lifted, raising the bells. “Could you…please…?”

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

Their arguing had stopped just minutes earlier, and now they walked in silence, both faces grim, both bodies tense, two sets of eyes determined to stay on the path before them and not stray to the man at the side. Xander had long disappeared from view, and Spike was beginning to think now was just about the time to catch up to the boy when they rounded the crest of a hill and spied him in the distance.

Riley immediately stopped, eyes narrowing as he focused on the horizon. “What’s he doing?” he asked, all memory of his dissension with the vampire gone in the face of his confusion. “That looks like Buffy he’s talking to, but…” He shook his head, and broke his gaze away, darting to the side and back in front again. Buffy’s trail had been burning brighter as they’d progressed, but somewhere between them and Xander, it veered off to their left, disappearing into a flowered knoll, not to reappear. Yet, the blonde form who know stood in the distance was undoubtedly her, and he didn’t understand how that could be.

A few steps closer, and Spike had halted, the excitement about seeing the Slayer that had permeated his undead flesh doused by a clawing fear in the pit of his stomach. “That’s not Buffy,” he said through clenched teeth.

It looked like Buffy; there was no mistaking that. But where the Slayer breathed of fire, thrummed against his flesh in shades of crimson and gold, this was a pale imitation, a copy bereft of the energy that was so her. And if it wasn’t her, there left only one other explanation, one he didn’t want to waste time dwelling on because that would mean…

“Hey!” Riley frowned as Spike suddenly bolted toward the pair across the glen, a flurry of black and white against the night sky. How’d he know that? he wondered as his own feet took flight, following after. Too far away for vampire senses to kick in, and he can’t see her trail like I can. But the questions were sliced through by the sudden sight of gold twinkling around Xander’s neck, a faint chime of clarion calls ringing through the air.

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

He was still twenty feet away when he skidded to a halt, muscles tense in anticipation of what was to come. It wasn’t the sight of the harness that now hung around Xander’s neck; it was the smug smile of satisfaction that defiled the beautiful face of his Slayer behind him. Not his Slayer, Spike reminded himself. That fucking Duncan.

“Are you totally thick?” he demanded of the young man, choosing to ignore the blonde for the moment. “Do you not remember a bloody thing Frankie boy told us about that?” He gesticulated wildly at the harness.

Xander glanced down in confusion. “What?” he asked. “It’s harmless. Buffy said so.”

“That’s. Not. Buffy.”

He watched as Duncan in Buffy’s body snaked his hand up Xander’s arm and noted with pleasure the fresh wound that adorned its arm. “Don’t listen to him,” the kelpie was saying, its cajoling voice so carefully mimicking the Slayer’s. “I told you. He’s been against us from the start. We have to kill him.”

“And why would Buffy put that thing around your neck in the first place?” Spike argued. “It’s just tryin’ to use you to get past us, mate.”

“She’s hurt!”

“No, he’s hurt. And with any luck, the Slayer’s the one who did it to him.” He let his eyes slide to the blonde, nostrils flaring in barely controlled anger. “You better hope she’s still alive,” he threatened. “Or you’re goin’ to be havin’ bodily fluids comin’ out of more holes than you can count.”

Duncan’s grip tightened. “He’s lying,” he murmured into the brunette’s ear. “Just like he always does. I’m your friend, Xander. He’s a vampire. We kill vampires, remember? You have to help me kill him.”

“She’s right.” Slowly, Xander raised the sword, easing himself away from the blonde to take a step toward Spike. “You’re evil. You always have been, you always will be.”

“Evil, huh?” The more the kelpie spoke, the more automated Xander’s responses seemed to be. It was as if everything that had happened since they came to Scotland had been swept aside, leaving the angry young man who hated vampires in its wake, responding with answers that could’ve sprung from any moment prior to their budding friendship. For a second, Spike felt a flash of regret, missing the camaraderie that had developed between the two. It was quickly replaced, however, with a determined fury not to let Duncan win. Keep the boy talkin’, he thought. Keep him distracted ‘til I’ve got a clean shot at killin’ the wanker myself.

“Was it evil who just saved your sorry hide back there?” the vamp shot out. “You’d be the headless horseman right now if it wasn’t for me. And was it evil who let you see his bloody awful poetry?” He felt Riley come to a halt behind him, but didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. All the frustration---at himself, at the changes in his relationships with the Scoobies---came pouring out in his words, sparking them against the night.

“I told you how much I loved Buffy and how it was tearin’ me up that I couldn’t show her properly. You think I would’ve spilled my guts like that if I didn’t think of you as my friend? You think I would’ve embarrassed myself by showin’ you the tripe I tried passing off as poetry if I didn’t in some small way value your opinion?” Azure blazed against his pale skin, skin taut as even the muscles in his face tensed.

“You were using me to get to Buffy,” Xander said calmly, too calmly. He took another step closer. “It didn’t mean anything. It wouldn’t surprise me if you go boasting to all your demon buddies back in Sunnydale how you pulled one over on the silly Slayer.”

“Boasting?” Even Spike couldn’t keep the astonishment from his voice and he began prowling back and forth in front of the pair by the stream, the energy radiating off him in waves. “You think I’m proud of what’s happened? Hello! Scourge of Europe makin’ nice-nice with the local do-gooders doesn’t really rate high on the demon scale of crimes against humanity, so I think boasting’s about the last thing I’m goin’ to be doin’ back in Sunny D.” He took a deep, unnecessary breath, his hands clawing into fists at his side. “But…it’s done, it’s over with, and whether you like or not, you Stepford prat, I’m your friend---.”

“You don’t know what a friend is---.”

“---which means,” he went on as if he’d never been interrupted, “that not only do you get to benefit from my sharin’ secrets that would make that little bird of yours blush, but you also have to put up with me tellin’ you how completely and utterly daft you are when you let yourself get sucked in by the biggest wanker this side of the Hellmouth.” He let his gaze slide pointedly to the blonde. “Who, by the way, does the worst Slayer impersonation I’ve ever seen. Even Captain Cardboard here could do Buffy better.”

“Put down the weapon, Xander,” Riley said, keeping his voice even. “You have to believe us when we tell you that isn’t Buffy. It’s manipulating you with that harness. Don’t you remember what the guardian said?”

“You’re just angry with me because I picked a vampire over you,” the faux Buffy said, settling her eyes on the tall young man. She turned to Xander. “I’ll prove it’s not the harness.” Thin fingers slid under the bells, removing it from his neck and cradling it in her arms. She wasn’t even pretending to be overly weakened anymore; although the injuries were still serious, there wasn’t any need for the theatrics since the new arrivals could see through her façade. Didn’t matter, though. Not when she had control over the best friend.

“That doesn’t make a bloody difference,” Spike said. “And you know it. Not that it won’t be my pleasure to kill you to break him from your thrall, but---.” A gentle breeze wafted across his skin, breaking his concentration from the scenario at hand as the aromas tickled his nose, jerking his head to the side to stare with narrowed eyes at a flower-covered rise on the horizon. The sudden salivation in his mouth was instinctual, but the realization of what it meant gripped his unbeating heart in dread, leaving him to feel the cold of his flesh in a more shattering certainty than anything he’d felt in the last century.

Blood.

Slayer blood.

Her blood.

And too much of it.

Riley noticed the difference in him immediately. “What is it?” he asked the vampire, not breaking his gaze from the pair in front of them.

“Not a what…a who…” he growled. “Buffy…” With a harsh thrust, Spike shoved the sword he’d been carrying at the ex-soldier. “Stay here,” he ordered as he began to run. “Don’t let the bastard get away.”

When Xander stepped forward to follow after the blond vamp, Riley found himself automatically lifting his weapon and barring the way, listening to the retreating footsteps behind him. “You’re not killing him,” he warned. “Buffy wouldn’t want that.”

“Oh, but I do,” crooned the faux Buffy. “Go get him, Xander.”

A quick slice through the air of his weapon punctuated Riley’s terse words as he forced the brunette back with a cautionary parry. God, he thought. This is the last thing I ever thought I’d be saying, but he was right about this not being Buffy, so… “Can’t let you do that, Xan,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re just going to have to go through me first.”

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

He would’ve been the first to admit that the scent was the ultimate aphrodisiac, an elixir of life that sharpened the edges of everything else as it flooded through the system, and maybe, if it had been five years earlier and this was Spike’s first introduction to this particular Slayer, he would have gloried in the anticipation of feeling it glide past his lips, course down his throat, soothe the icy rage inside with its heat.

Now, though, it was different. It was Buffy. And that was her life honing the air, creating a stench so thick of copper and fire that Spike had to stop and collect his thoughts as he stepped into the cave.

It was dark, but not overwhelmingly so, the light from the sky outside affording just enough illumination for him to see fairly clearly. He didn’t need eyes to find her, though. Not when her scent was making him dizzy. Not when the pulse of her heartbeat seemed to skip every couple of seconds, like it was having trouble keeping up with the rest of her body.

Not when she needed him.

She had slumped sideways against the wall, her injured shoulder exposed to the open air, and Spike saw the blood staining her shirt as he rushed to kneel at her side. It still flowed, although not as freely, and without thinking, he pulled his shirt over his head, tearing the still-damp cotton into pieces in order to staunch the blood’s course. It wasn’t the best solution---he wasn’t sure how well wet fabric could catch the viscous fluid---but it was the only one he could think of at the moment, his fear about her condition tremoring his hands as he pressed it into the wound.

“Buffy,” he murmured, cradling her shoulders into his side as his other arm slipped behind her back. “C’mon, pet, time to wake up now. We got us a demon to go kill.”

No response. Just her shallow breath fanning across his palm as Spike pushed back the hair that clung to her cheek. His thumb feathered across her chin, blue eyes quickly scanning her face for more trauma before sliding down her body, over her stomach, finally stopping at the dark stain that spread along her calf. There it was. He knew there’d been too much blood for just the single wound.

“Buffy.” A little louder this time, a little more insistent. He wanted to give her a little slap to wake her up, to make her snap out of it, but not knowing if it was going to hurt her held him back, prompting him instead to roll her against his chest, relieving the pressure on her shoulder to slide his arm under her knees. Taking care not to exacerbate the bleeding, Spike rose, carrying her toward the mouth of the cave. Lying in your own blood’s not good for anybody, he thought grimly. Just needs a bit of fresh air to bring her around.

A tiny groan escaped the Slayer’s throat as he laid her on the ground, her head turning to the side as her body settled. In the moonlight, the pallor of her skin was more pronounced, the shadows under her eyes darker, and Spike returned to his determined ministration of her wounds, desperate to distract himself from the growing fear that gnawed inside. Calm down, he reminded himself. No need to panic. Just concentrate. Pulse. Check her pulse again.

It was steadier than it had been in the cave, stronger than he’d thought, and though he couldn’t smell the beginnings of death anywhere on her, it didn’t stop the possibility from being there. No need to panic, he repeated. Just…play it cool. Wake her up. Once she’s up, everything will be fine.

Somewhere in the distance he heard the metallic clang of swords echoing in the night, the underlying baritones of the two men arguing a quiet blanket beneath it, but was oblivious to its implications. Frankly, he was oblivious to anything but the prone form of the blonde before him, and decided to hell with a headache, reaching up to begin lightly patting her cheek.

“Don’t need any more beauty sleep, luv,” he said. “You’re beautiful enough as it is, so let’s just say sayonara to Mr. Sandman and come back to the real world, all right?” His gaze flickered to the outcropping of flowers around them before returning to her face. “Or the Otherworld, as the case may be.”

Still nothing. Only the pale visage of the woman he loved lost in unconsciousness. And the panic was starting to return, his emotions already frayed from the confrontations with both Riley and Xander. Too much, too soon. Must stay in control.

“Buffy…please…” His voice was taking on a pleading quality, one that would’ve made him cringe under any other circumstances, but Spike’s mounting anxiety was gaining the better of him, leaning him toward her, searching for a sign that she would wake, anything to ease the sense of loss already filling him. “Luv, don’t do this to me. Don’t even think about packin’ it in. Not to that wanker. Not---.”

She moaned again then, this time her lids fluttering open to stare blankly at the tall grass at her side. “Spike?” she whispered, her voice hoarse.

His hand was instantly on her face, turning her head to look up at him. “Right here,” he soothed, fighting back the urge to crush her to his chest in a tight hug. Instead, he leaned forward, raining kisses over her brow before his lips swept down the bridge of her nose to light at her mouth, relief pouring into the gentle caress as he maintained the contact, needing to feel her beneath him, needing her to know just how much he really loved her. And how grateful he was she was still alive.

When he finally pulled away, he watched as her gaze danced over his bare torso, the tiniest of lines appearing between her brows.

“Not that I’m complaining,” she said, her voice faint but undeniably stronger than he’d expected, “but where’s your shirt?”

“Stoppin’ the blood from pouring out of your body.”

She smiled, not wide, but definitely there. “Is it just Scotland or do you always go through this many shirts?” she teased. “Because if it’s you, picking out Christmas and birthday gifts is going to be cake.”

He couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled from his lips, a heady mixture of relief and amusement as the fear dissipated from his muscles. A joking Slayer meant an OK Slayer, and any doubts that Spike had about her ability to recover from her injuries vanished with his fading chuckles.

Grimacing, Buffy struggled to lift herself up onto her elbows, wincing from the exertion. Like a shot, his hands were on her shoulders, guiding her back down to the earth, replacing the cotton that had slipped from her wound.

“Gotta take it easy for a bit,” Spike scolded, but the gentle caress of the back of his hand against her cheek belied the gruffness of his words. He tried for making the mood lighter. “Let your body catch up and do some of that fancy super-Slayer healin’ you’re always bragging about,” he added with a half-smile.

“I don’t brag,” she pouted.

“And Harris doesn’t stuff his face twenty-four hours a day. Now shut up and let your blood cells do their clotting.”

Though his eyes were dark, there was no mistaking the love in them as he gazed down at her. Several minutes passed in silence as they just looked at each other, each passing second strengthening her heartbeat, evening her breathing. His voice was softer when he finally spoke up again. “Don’t scare me like that again, all right? Don’t think for a second I’m givin’ you up that easy, not after what I’ve had to put up with today.”

Something in his words made her stiffen, eyes flying wide as she pushed back against his hands. “Crap!” she cried out. “Duncan! He’s here. He’s got the harness. He’s---.”

“---over there with Finn and Harris,” Spike finished. “Yeah, we know.”

“And you haven’t killed him yet?” The incredulity in her voice rang against his ears and Spike stiffened at the hidden accusation.

“We just got here!” he defended. “And for your information, there’s been a slight…hitch.” He didn’t know how much she knew about the harness, but somehow he suspected that hearing one of her best friends was now playing Punch to the demon’s Judy would not fill her with feelings of joy. The longer he could stay away from that topic, the happier he was going to be.

“I don’t want to hear about hitches. I want to hear about dead kelpies who think shooting Slayers is the sport of champions.” With more strength than he realized she had, Buffy pushed against him, knocking him back onto his bottom before rolling herself into a sitting position, holding it for a moment as the world swam around her. OK, too fast, she thought. Maybe I’ll stand just a little bit slower.

“Why does she have to make everything so bloody difficult,” Spike muttered, but there was no malice in his tone as he jumped to his feet, hurrying to guide her the remaining distance up, steadying her with a strong arm as she straightened. Her heart was racing, evidence of her effort even if she refused to acknowledge it vocally, and the vampire shook his head. Stubborn little bint. But an alive, stubborn little bint, his inner voice reminded him, which at this point in time, is all that really matters.

“You’re in no shape to be fightin’ him,” Spike chastised as they began walking toward the fray.

“So you can have the pleasure for me,” she said. She would’ve loved to argue with him about this, but as she slowly limped across the grass, Buffy knew he was right. The pain from the wound in her calf shot up her leg with every step, while the ache in her shoulder throbbed with an insistent rhythm that most likely promised another scar on her Slayer body. The strength of Spike against her side, across her back, fortified her will, sending a wonderful comfort throughout her limbs that made bearing the pain all that much easier, and she couldn’t help the sigh that escaped her lips as she leaned her head against him.

“Thank you,” she whispered, a delicate sound on the evening breeze, knowing that she wouldn’t have to elaborate, that he would know what the gratitude was for.

His lips brushed across the top of her head. “Any time, Slayer,” Spike murmured.

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

Riley was beginning to feel the burn of fighting with Xander, the brunette’s unflagging attacks obviously another side effect of the closing spell. “This is getting ridiculous,” he grunted, as he deflected a blow aimed for his head. If it wasn’t for the fact that the young man was now determined to kill the same vampire he’d just spent the last twelve hours defending, Riley wasn’t sure he would’ve been able to tell a difference in him. He seemed completely normal, just…more focused. Like he’d been given a mission. And run with it. Too well. “I’m your friend, Xander. You’ve got to listen to me.”

“As soon as you start making some sense, I’m all ears.” He danced back before lunging forward, this time directing his blow for the ex-soldier’s legs, only to be stopped by the forceful contact of Riley’s sword against his own. “Just call me Dumbo.”

“With emphasis on the dumb.”

“Why are you protecting him? You hate Spike as much as I do. C’mon, Riley. Be a pal and let me pass. It’ll put all of us out of his misery.” His brown eyes shone with sudden inspiration. “You could get Buffy back if he wasn’t around.”

For a moment, Riley faltered, the prospect of a return to their pre-Scotland status beckoning with an allure that made him forget momentarily where he was. Buffy back. It was all that he really wanted, wasn’t it? And yet a small voice piped up from the back of his head, refusing to be ignored this time. You want Buffy to be happy, it said. And like it or not, she’s made it clear that Spike is the one who does that. What would she think of you if you let Xander kill him? Do you really think that she’d come running back into your arms, crying her eyes out? No, she’d have you on the ground in a second, beating you senseless because you let it happen, holding you personally responsible for her misery. It would be as bad as if you staked Spike yourself. Damn. Well, so much for that…

He woke from his reverie just in time to dodge another blow, bouncing back on the balls of his feet as he stared at the other man. “Buffy wants Spike,” he said simply. “End of story.”

“You forgot ‘dead.’ Buffy wants Spike dead. She told us, remember?”

“No, the demon told you. And I thought Spike was your friend now. Why would you want to kill your friend?”

“It’s just another lie from the stable of lies he’s been telling all of us since he blew into Sunnydale. Just like he lied to Buffy about how he felt about her.”

He didn’t believe he said it, even as the words came tumbling out of his mouth. “Spike loves Buffy,” Riley replied.

Xander snorted. “Spike doesn’t know what love is.”

“Then why did he risk his skin by going through with this closing spell just to help Buffy?” he demanded. “Giles told me he doesn’t think they’ll figure out how to stop him from bursting into flame once we get back. And Spike’s not stupid. He knew he had lousy odds doing this, but he did it anyway. For Buffy’s sake.” It was the argument that had been rolling around in Riley’s head ever since they’d sat down in the triangle of stones, the one thing he couldn’t explain away. The rest of it---the sex, the so-called connection between the pair---he could reason into one of his convenient little slots, tuck it away as explicable if not logical. But this…this broke through the boundaries, defied any rationalization he could come up with, leaving him with only the very real---and increasingly obvious---belief that the vampire truly did love the Slayer.

Not that that actually mattered. For Buffy’s sake, he knew he had to give Spike the benefit of the doubt. It was just a little easier if he could allow himself to think there might be some genuine feeling from the vamp. Not that any of this was easy. Not by a long shot.

The brunette had no response for him, and instead came at the ex-soldier again, renewing his attack with increased vigor. Neither was aware of the approaching duo until Buffy’s voice crackled through the air.

“What the hell is going on here?”

Immediately, Xander stopped, brows knitting together as he gazed at the wounded Slayer leaning against Spike. Whipping his head around, he scanned the area behind him, only to turn back in confusion. “How’d you get up there?” he asked. “And where’s the harness?”

The vampire’s gaze had followed Xander’s, and he stiffened as his lips pursed together. “Thought I told you not to let him get away,” he barked at Riley.

“I didn’t---.” His voice cut off as he saw the wide, empty space along the shore of the stream, realizing that sometime during his clash with Xander, the kelpie had managed to slip away. Guilty eyes turned back to meet two sets of furious ones. “Sorry,” he said. “Guess I’ve been a little busy keeping Braveheart here away from Spike.”

It was then that he saw the fresh blood staining her clothes, and instinctively took a step closer to her, hand in mid-reach before he checked his movement, the obvious curl of the young woman against the demon at her side reminding him yet again that she wasn’t his anymore. “Are you all right?” Riley asked instead.

She half-nodded, half-shrugged. “I’m going to live. That’s always a bonus,” she said with a small smile. “Now, will someone please tell me what’s going on here? I did not undergo kelpie acupuncture just to have Duncan get away with the harness again.”

“Step aside, Buffy.” Xander stepped forward, weapon poised, his brown eyes locked on Spike. “I’ll finish him off, just like you said.”

The vampire rolled his eyes. “Oh, bollocks,” he muttered. “I don’t have time for this.” Easing himself away from the Slayer, Spike moved toward the young man approaching him. “This is going to hurt you a helluva lot more than it’s going to hurt me, mate,” he directed toward the brunette, and with a flying kick, he had knocked the sword from Xander’s grasp, landing just to his side and swinging with a strong left hook before the other could turn around.

Buffy watched as an unconscious Xander crumpled to the ground before turning surprised eyes to the vampire. “You hit him,” she said, stunned. “And your chip didn’t go off.”

“It’s a long story, luv, and we’ve got a chef on the run here. Let’s say we fill you in while we go after him, OK?” He glanced at Riley. “Don’t s’pose you can do your little seeing eye trick and suss out where he went?” he asked. “Seein’ as how you’re the one who let him get away in the first place.”

Biting back the retort that sprang to his lips, Riley swept his gaze over the land around them, before turning back to gaze at the water. “He went in the stream,” he said. “Probably on his way back to the castle.”

“And you can see that?” At her ex’s sheepish nod, Buffy turned her gaze to Spike. “This story is sounding like it’s going to be a doozy.”

“You haven’t heard the half of it, pet.” When he saw her sway slightly, Spike was at her side in a flash, steadying her with a strong arm around her shoulders.

“Does it explain why Xander wants to kill you?” she asked, leaning into him. Unthinking, her hand curled around his waist, her thumb absently stroking the skin it found there.

He nodded, then looked to Riley standing off to the side. “Think you can manage draggin’ his ass along with us?” he quizzed, jerking his head toward the brunette on the ground.

It took him a moment to respond, his eyes locked on the possessive bent of Buffy’s head against Spike’s bare chest. “Yeah,” Riley finally said, his throat all of a sudden too dry. “I got it.”

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

As soon as she jerked herself free from him, stopping to stand there with her hands on her hips, hazel eyes flaring even in the darkened night air, Spike knew he’d been right in saving that little tidbit for last.

“Are you completely crazy?” Buffy demanded, forgetting for the first time since venturing from the cave the pain from her injuries. “Why would you do such a reckless thing?”

“Didn’t have much of a choice,” the vampire retorted. “You were gone, Duncan was gone, Frankie was pretty much chopped liver. Our list of options was pretty much a list of one.”

She swiveled her head to stare at Riley, who had stopped in front of them to look back at the arguing pair, Xander’s still unconscious form flung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “And you let him?” she asked, and then held up her hand. “Wait. Never mind. Look who I’m asking here. The guy who hopped a midnight plane to nowhere.” She ignored the pressed set of his mouth, the flaring of his nostrils while he held back his rebuttal, and turned back to the vampire. “Knowing you took such a risk does not thrill me, Spike.”

“Not ten minutes ago, you were happy we were here, Slayer.”

“And ten minutes ago, I didn’t know you’d decided to go kamikaze on me. Not to mention dragging Xander along for the ride so that he could become Duncan’s little finger puppet.” As if in response to his name, the brunette moaned, eliciting quiet from the trio as they all swiveled their heads to look at him, waiting to see if he would awaken. When he didn’t, Buffy rushed forward as if nothing had happened. “Which part of this plan resembles sanity to you? Because I’m wandering blind on this one. You should’ve stayed in Dall Rath. Why you would---”

His lips choked off the words in her throat, bruising and searching as he pulled her against him, his hands gliding to her waist to dig into the curves of her hips. “That’s why,” he said when he broke away from the kiss, his voice ragged from the pent-up fear, and he trailed a path of icy fire to her ear. “Love you so much, pet,” he murmured, each syllable seeping into her skin. “Makin’ sure you’re still one of the living’s the farthest thing from stupid in my book. Can’t bear to think what would’ve happened if you’d lost much more blood.”

He made it so hard to argue with him when he held her so. He did have a small point; she was more than aware that she’d lost a lot of blood in the cave prior to his arrival. If he’d taken much longer, Buffy wasn’t convinced she would’ve been strong enough to walk out of there on her own two feet. Still…what was the point in saving her if he wasn’t going to be around long enough after for her to appreciate it?

All too quickly, she became aware of her body’s reaction to his semi-nakedness, his hands sliding and caressing along her arms, and Buffy stiffened as she remembered Riley’s proximity. Not fair to him, she thought as she eased herself away, her cheeks aflame as she did her best to appear unaffected by the embrace. A sly glance at her ex out of the corner of her eye, however, told her that it was pointless; his discomfort in watching the tender scene screamed silently from every muscle in his body.

Riley cleared his throat, tearing his gaze away from the pair to look forward in the direction of the tunnels back to Dall Rath. “It’s not a foregone conclusion,” he offered, voice tight. “Giles and Willow are researching while we’re here---.”

“They’ve been researching this for days,” she interrupted. “And they still haven’t come up with anything. What difference is a couple hours going to make?”

“A couple hours can be a lifetime,” Spike said softly, catching her chin to turn her head back to him. His eyes were dark, shiny, the white glow from the closing spell delineating them in silver as he scanned the planes of her face, almost as if he was trying to etch them into his memory. The pad of his thumb brushed over her swollen bottom lip, coaxing it to relax from the firm set she had returned it to when she’d pulled away from their kiss. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be by wastin’ your energy on bein’ mad about something you can’t change.”

She held his gaze for a long moment before grimacing. “I hate it when you’re right,” she grumbled, and then sighed. “What if we didn’t do the trial?” The tiniest glimmer of hope crept into her voice as she looked down at the urn she now held. “The spell wouldn’t get finished and maybe then you wouldn’t go poof.”

His eyes narrowing, Spike tilted his head, mulling over the possibility that seemed so obvious and yet heretofore had not been considered. “Never thought of that,” he said slowly.

“Wait a minute.” Riley frowned, uncomfortably shifting his weight as the burden of the man on his shoulder ground into his torso. “You’re telling me you’d actually consider not closing the entrance after everything we’ve done here? What about the guardian? He’s counting on us.”

A snort of derision came from the vampire’s throat. “This the same guardian who charmed Buffy into coming through in the first place?” he countered. “We wouldn’t be in this mess if he’d just kept his hands to himself.”

“It doesn’t matter,” the Slayer intervened. “Our priority at this point is catching up to Duncan and killing him once and for all. You said that was the only way to break his hold over Xander?” She waited for the nod of assent from the two men. “And you haven’t even found the trial yet. Just those demon things coming from the water, right?”

“And we haven’t even been attacked by those since we realized Spike’s chip wasn’t working on us,” Riley clarified.

“I wonder why none of them bothered me,” Buffy mused, a small line appearing between her brows.

“Does it matter? Think you’d be grateful not to have to be fussed with them.” Letting his arm return to her waist, the vampire began guiding her back along the stream. “Let’s just get this show on the road. The sooner we get rid of that pillock, the happier I’m goin’ to be.”

Buffy glanced over her shoulder as they walked by Riley. “You OK?” she asked, gesturing with a small nod toward Xander’s unconscious form.

“I’m fine,” he replied. He wasn’t---the young man was heavier than he looked---but he wasn’t about to give Spike the satisfaction of knowing he couldn’t pull his own weight on this. Or Xander’s weight, for that matter.

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

Swimming with the harness was far from simple, weighing him down and slowing his pace until Duncan began to debate whether or not it might not be easier to just walk along the bottom of the stream. It was deep enough for that along its center, but the bottom was mucky and the kelpie feared that the pull at his feet would tire him more quickly; his strength was flagging enough as it was. No, better to keep on swimming, and just take it slow and steady. It wasn’t as if he had to worry about the completion of the closing spell with the harness now in his possession. That was going to be his free pass through just about anything, now.

He wasn’t worried about the humans---and vampire---catching up to him, nor was he anxious about the ones waiting on the other end. He’d merely bide his time within the stream until they all left, then use the powers of the harness to go through whatever magical barriers they erected over the tunnel to the dungeon. Escaping would be simple, as long as he stuck with just that. No more playing around with trying to kill any of Dall Rath’s tenants. That had gotten him into too much trouble as it was.

The water began to muddy, indicating Duncan was nearing the caves that led to the human world. He would miss the beauty of the Otherworld, that was certain, but the power that lay promised to him as the new owner of the harness was more appealing, thoughts of harems of beautiful human girls catering to his every whim dancing before his mind eye. They were fragile creatures, but not without their charms. It was only a shame he couldn’t have taken the Slayer along for the ride. Perhaps one of the others...the redhead maybe, or young Xander’s girlfriend. Now that one was a spitfire.

So lost in his daydreams, he didn’t see the shadows darken before him, and it wasn’t until he caught the gleam against a dark orb did Duncan realize he was no longer alone in the waters. Quickly, he dodged to the side, hoping to evade notice with this one as he had the two others he’d come across on his trek. But the claw around his ankle stayed his movement, jerking him to a halt, and he glanced back to see the battle-scarred guardian glaring at him in contempt.

Frank’s lips curled back into a snarl, the glint of glee at his success shining in his eyes. He was taken off-guard, though, when Duncan lashed out with his other foot, his heel connecting with the guardian’s jaw, the impact whipping his head to the side. His fingers loosened, and the thief took the opportunity to take a strong stroke toward the surface, breaking the grip around his leg as he fought to get away.

Swimming through the water had worked wonders in healing some of the superficial wounds that adorned the guardian’s body. Though he was still fairly badly injured, he could see that the thief was as well. Even better than that, he could see that the thief had the harness. Although that meant that the Slayer was most likely dead---and the twinge of guilt at being the cause of it burned in Frank’s gullet as he shoved the thought aside---it also meant that this could end here and now. All he had to do was kill the traitor.

Their heads broke through the surface almost simultaneously, and the guardian frowned as he watched Duncan leap to the shore. Fighting on land would be taxing; he much would’ve preferred remaining in the water. But that was where the harness was, and so that was where he would follow…

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

Because they walked in silence, they heard it far sooner than they saw it. Growls and grunts shattered the night quiet, carrying on the same slight breeze that had alerted Spike to the scent of Buffy’s blood, and the sounds brought tension to the muscles of the group, each one suddenly wary of what they might be approaching.

Spike was the first to see it, the pair blacker than the sky behind them, and noted with a returning ire that Duncan had now reverted to his kelpie form. His eyes flared when he saw the guardian stumble to the ground, and his body jerked forward, anxious to join the fray.

“Is that Frank?” Buffy asked, gaze narrowed as she peered into the darkness.

“The wonder kelpie himself,” the vampire muttered, and stepped in front of her, staring down into her eyes as he cupped her face. “Stay here,” he ordered quietly. “I’m going to finish this once and for all.”

“You can’t do this on your own,” she said. “Take Riley.”

Spike shook his head. “You’re in no shape to be putting up a defense in case the Galloping Gourmet up there makes a runner for it.” His gaze flickered back to the other man. “You’ll watch her.” It wasn’t a question; it wasn’t an order. It was a tacit understanding between the two that no matter what, they would do everything in their power to protect Buffy, albeit at varying ranges.

She, however, was having nothing of it. “I’m feeling stronger,” she argued. “I hardly need a babysitter.”

“Then think of it as me protectin’ his ass then,” Spike shot back. “He’s been totin’ Harris around for the last half hour, as well as having to play Errol Flynn back there while I got you out of that cave. He’s tired, which means he’s a liability---.”

“Hey!”

“---and I don’t want to have to be watchin’ his back as well as my own,” the vamp finished, ignoring the protest from Riley. “So he stays.” Before she could respond, his head descended, mouth settling over hers in a firm kiss, his tongue seeking entry even as she opened to let him in. The caress was short but searing, his fears and desires for her scalding in each sweep, setting the nerves of her skin alight as her hands came up to clutch at his biceps. When he pulled away, his lips skated across her cheek to rest at her ear, nipping the corner of her jaw in the process. “I’ll be right back,” he murmured, and then he was gone, the sword hanging dangerously from his hand as he strode in pale glory toward the pair in the distance.

Carefully, Riley set Xander’s unconscious form on the ground, balancing his weapon as he stepped between Buffy and the fight, studiously avoiding looking at her flushed face. “As long as that…boyfriend of yours doesn’t decide to showboat,” he said tightly, his throat almost choking on the description of the vampire, “this shouldn’t take too long.”

She sighed, oblivious to her ex’s discomfort as she stared at Spike’s pale back sauntering toward the battling demons, and rubbed her hands over her suddenly chilled arms. “It’s those showboating tendencies that I’m worried about,” she said softly.

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

“You should’ve just died back under Dall Rath,” Duncan grunted as he leveled a foot at the guardian’s abdomen.

At the last moment, Frank rolled away, edging his way toward the harness the thief had been forced to abandon to the side. “You are not worthy to have my death on your hands,” he said, and eased himself up onto his haunches. In spite of his injuries, he was holding his own against the traitor, the only indication of effort on his part the slight raggedness to his breath.

Duncan rolled his eyes. “You guardians are so full of yourselves,” he mocked, and began circling around him, maintaining his wracked body between the kelpie on the ground and the harness. “It’s all about your duty, your honor. Where was your precious honor when you sent the Slayer scurrying into the Otherworld? I’m surprised Spike didn’t kill you on the spot when he found that bit of information out.”

“Not that the idea didn’t occur to me,” the vampire drawled from behind them, “but turns out he’s more useful alive than dead.”

Whirling, Duncan found himself facing the bleached demon, and watched as the moonlight glinted off the blade he so casually sliced through the air in a practiced stroke. His lips curled into a sneer. “Shouldn’t you be tending your beloved Slayer?” he hissed. “Or, and please tell me this is true, were you too late to save her? She was a little worse for wear when I last parted her company.”

Spike shook his head. “You should’ve learned by now Buffy always bounces back. It’s goin’ to take something a helluva lot more dangerous than you to be the one who brings her down.” His eyes flickered to the guardian. “How you doin’ there, Frankie boy?”

“I’ve been better,” Frank replied from his position on the ground. There was no longer any doubt in his mind as to how this battle would finish. The vampire glowed in the moonlight from barely contained fury, every sinew of his undead flesh an exercise in danger as he advanced on the thief. As long as he could keep the other kelpie occupied, Frank would be able to retrieve the harness with little problem.

Another swish of the sword and Spike was several feet closer, closing the gap in lightning moves that surprised the kelpie in their quickness. “You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do this,” the vampire murmured, and before Duncan could react, he lunged forward, driving the tip into his shoulder and then extracting it in a sticky gurgle, the blood bubbling in blackened rivulets around the edges of the hole it left behind.

He screamed in pain, his hands automatically going to the fresh wound, and lifted blazing eyes to stare at Spike.

“Just a little taste test of what Buffy’s goin’ through,” the vampire drawled, eyes hard in hate. “Care to try another one?”

Another sweep, and a scarlet line appeared on Duncan’s calf, sending the kelpie diving forward in rage, under the retreating weapon, to tackle the vampire around the knees before he could move away, sending both of them sprawling to the earth and the sword flying through the air. Immediately, Spike vamped, eyes glittering golden as his mouth contorted into a snarl.

“Payback’s a bitch,” he commented, and brought up his feet to plant them against the kelpie’s abdomen, flipping him back over his head to land flat on his back behind him. He kept hold of the demon’s arms, however, and felt the joint in one of its shoulders snap from the socket, smiling widely at the yelp of pain that came from the kelpie’s mouth. As he released the limb, Spike rolled to his side, pouncing to retrieve the sword from a nearby patch of flowers before turning back to face him.

Duncan’s breathing was labored, his strength already sapped from the battles with Buffy and the guardian. Having a vampire attacking him at full-force was going to kill him, he knew, and he found himself summoning upon his reserves to shapeshift, believing that would be his only method of escape. Something small, he thought desperately. Perhaps a bird…to fly away…

Spike was faster. Almost as if he knew what the kelpie was considering, he raised the blade over his head, bringing it down in a clean arc to slice through the downed demon’s wrist, severing his left hand from his arm in a gush of blood.

The metamorphosis Duncan had been instigating halted in a curdling scream, ringing through the night as he rolled to get out of the way of the approaching vampire. Dark eyes lifted to stare into the smiling face.

“Really, if you think about it, this is all your fault,” Spike said casually, tilting his head. “Told you to keep your hands off her, but you just didn’t listen, did you?” He tsked his tongue in mock reproval. “Something tells me, though, that maybe that’s not enough to teach you your lesson.”

He was ready for it this time. As the sword came down a second time, Duncan tucked himself into a ball and threw himself toward Spike, his bleeding arm held tight against his torso as he made contact with the vampire’s shins.

The blade swung wildly as Spike stumbled backwards, and he fumbled at the weapon, grabbing it by the honed edge before he lost it completely. It sank into his palm, and he snarled at the sting, quickly switching hands before bringing the cut up to his mouth and sucking at it viciously. “Any time you feel like helpin’ here, Frankie,” he called out, “be my guest.”

“You seem to have everything under control,” the guardian replied. During the battle, he had edged himself closer to the harness, and was just then reaching out to grab it, the sight of the golden bells causing his heart to thump wildly. Finally. He would be able to save his honor. Now if the vampire would just go ahead and kill the traitor, he thought, life could back to normal.

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

“What in hell is he doing over there?” Buffy asked, a perplexed frown wrinkling her forehead. Her eyes were glued to the tableau of demons in the distance, watching as a certain platinum head began circling one of the downed kelpies, the moonlight catching glints of silver off the sword that hung from his hand.

Riley’s face was grim. “From this angle, I’d say he’s showboating,” he said dryly.

“This is so not the time for this,” she muttered, and began marching forward, only to be stopped by her ex’s hand around her forearm.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to kill Duncan,” she retorted. “And then I’m going to beat some sense into a certain show-off vampire.”

Behind them, Xander started to stir, and the pair looked back to see his eyes flicker open. “Knew he was evil,” they heard him mutter as his hand came up to his head. “The vamp is going down.”

“Great,” Buffy said under her breath. Pulling her arm from Riley’s grasp, she took advantage of his distraction to make a bolt for the fighting. “Spike!” she yelled as she ran. “Hurry your ass up!”

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

He heard her call his name and silently cursed her impatience. Got everything under control here, he thought irritably as he ran his sword through yet another of the cook’s limbs. Don’t know what she’s so hot and bothered about.

His blue eyes were trained on the bleeding kelpie, darting from one injury to the next, savoring the damage he’d inflicted. Numerous stab wounds dotted his flesh, and Spike was starting to hope he could make a pattern of the various punctures before the blighter up and died on him when he saw Buffy come to a halt on Duncan’s opposite side, arms folded across her chest, that what-the-hell-do-you-think-you’re-doing look plastered across her face.

“You look luscious when you’re all brassed off like that, pet,” he said with a smirk.

“Stop goofing around,” she said. “You’re acting like a kid who plays with his food before eating it. Stick a fork in him. He’s done.” She noticed for the first time the severed hand resting just several feet away, and her eyes widened, jumping back to see the amputation on the kelpie. “What’s with turning him into Captain Hook?” she demanded.

Spike shrugged. “Thought he needed a reminder to keep his hands off you,” he said.

“He needs to be dead. Our resident zombie’s awake.”

A quick glance over her shoulder saw Riley struggling to keep Xander from rushing to join the fight. “Bloody hell,” the vamp muttered, before returning his gaze to the kelpie before him. “Fine. Have it your way, Slayer.”

And before Duncan could move, the sword came down between his shoulder blades, burying itself in his flesh, pinning him to the cold, hard ground.

With a quirk of his lips, Spike looked up into Buffy’s face. “Better?”

“Other than being a tad on the extreme side, I’d say much.”

The vampire shrugged. “You’re the one who said ‘stick a fork in him.’ Figured I’d improvise.”

Though she shook her head, there was no mistaking the amusement that flickered in Buffy’s eyes as she watched him step around to join her. “You’re impossible,” she commented as he pulled her against him.

“And you love it…” Spike replied, the words almost lost as he buried his mouth in the curve of her neck.

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

Brown eyes widened in shock as he saw Riley’s fist come hurtling through the air toward his face. “Hey!” Xander yelled, throwing himself stomach first to the ground in a desperate attempt to avoid the blow. “What did I do? What did I do?” he screeched, his voice rising an octave in fear.

Riley stopped, freezing in mid-punch as he frowned at the young man cowering in the grass, his arms over his head as if to shield himself from a massive beating from the ex-soldier. “Xander?” he questioned hesitantly. “You…OK?”

Xander peeked between his arms. “Am I OK?” he squawked. “Am I OK? You’re the one who’s gone all Rambo on me.”

“I’m trying to keep you from killing Spike.”

That made him pause. “Why would I want to kill Spike? I thought that was your thing.” He sat up, head swiveling as he surveyed his surroundings. “Where is Spike, anyway?”

Relaxing his stance but still alert to any trouble, Riley ignored the question. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

Xander’s face wrinkled into a frown as he thought, and it took a full ten seconds before his eyes went wide, jerking his head to stare up at the other man. “Buffy’s hurt!” he exclaimed. “She’s---.”

“---right here,” the Slayer finished as she stepped up behind Riley. “How’re you feeling?”

“Frankly, a little confused.” Xander’s gaze darted between them, jumping to Spike’s approach, with a harness-laden Frank limping along behind. “Did I miss something here?”

“Only all the important stuff,” the vampire said dryly. “As usual.”

“Well, at least that’s one thing back to normal,” Buffy said with a sigh, rubbing tiredly at her face. “Which leaves us the million dollar question. What now? Do we go ahead and close the entrance, or do we take a chance and try it again later when we know how to keep Spike safe?”

The vampire was about to respond, but his attention was captured by a splash from the water. Turning his head, his eyes narrowed as they watched the creature emerge from the stream, and his lips pursed. “Think that,” he said, gesturing toward the dripping form approaching them, “pretty much gives us our answer.”

In many ways, it resembled the demons they’d been fighting since stepping foot into the Otherworld. A sleek ebony coat, large dark eyes, the toothless mouth. There, the similarities ended, though. Where the ones who’d attacked had towered even over Riley, this one barely came to Buffy’s shoulder, its slighter form and leaner muscles making it appear as a stray pet rather than a threat.

The biggest difference, however, was that this one stayed away, hovering near the edge of the stream as it watched the group with mild curiosity, eyes wide as they moved from person to person. There was no malice in the black depths, but neither was there fear, and Buffy felt the tension that had sprung to her limbs at its arrival begin to ease.

“Well, no wonder Xander had no problem killing the other ones,” she commented with just a hint of amusement. “This is like a baby kelpie or something. Except…didn’t you guys say the others were armed?” She turned away from the stream to look back at the three men who were staring at the new arrival. “We seem to be minus some swashbuckling here.”

“That’s not like the others,” Xander said, his eyes fixed on the creature. “Saying they’re the same is like equating Ewoks with Bigfoot.”

“The fuilafior,” Frank murmured. His grip on the harness had loosened, his attention transfixed in a combination of awe and disbelief. Buffy noticed he had taken a step away from the stream, and even now, seemed ready to run should the new demon approach any closer.

“What was that?” she asked.

“The fuilafior,” he repeated, a little bit louder, a little clearer, and the word brought an instant frown to Spike’s face.

“Please tell me that’s not part of our trial,” he said to the guardian.

Buffy grabbed his arm, pulling him around to look at her. “You know what it is?”

He shook his head. “But I know my Gaelic, which makes me just a tad uncomfortable if that’s s’posed to be what we’re sent here to catch.”

“Why? What’s a foo…fue…” She grimaced as her tongue refused to wrap around the word. “What is it?”

“A myth,” Frank said softly, shaking his head. “Not real.”

Spike snorted in contempt. “Standin’ there in the flesh makes it pretty damn real to me, Frankie boy. And anything that’s name means ‘blood from the water’ doesn’t make me pleased as punch when I’m s’posed to be settin’ to kill it.”

“We’re supposed to be killing it,” an annoyed Riley reminded the vampire. “Don’t be getting delusions of grandeur about your own importance just because you happened to get rid of that other kelpie. This doesn’t happen without all three of us contributing. Giles and Colin made that perfectly clear.”

“What exactly did they say?” Buffy asked. “I missed this part of the research. Not that I’m complaining, mind you. Just…would be kind of nice to know since we’re now stuck here, faced with the decision of whether or not we’re actually going to go through with it or not.”

“They didn’t know what kind of creature we’d encounter,” her ex explained. “All the texts referred to it as being ‘magically bonded’---.”

“The fuilafior were said to be created from magic,” Frank interrupted, the reverence deepening his voice as his gaze returned to the creature on the bank. “That is most likely what the books meant.”

“You weren’t offerin’ any of this back in the castle,” Spike said. “If you knew so much about our little closing spell here, why didn’t you speak up then?”

“I didn’t know then,” the guardian argued. “All my information regarding your spell came from the first witch who attempted it. And she had no idea what they would find here.”

“So you’re supposed to kill this thing?” Buffy asked, glancing back at the creature still watching them from the side of the stream.

“We’re supposed to capture it and put it in the urn somehow,” Riley said, and shrugged sheepishly. “We just…assumed it meant kill.”

Doubtfully, the Slayer looked from the fuilafior, to the small pot in her hand, before lifting her skeptical hazel gaze to the men. “Um, I don’t think so,” she commented. “Unless some mystical Cuisinart suddenly materializes to slice and dice him up into small enough bits to fit in here, there is no way that’s happening.” She sighed. “Look, I’m going to make a judgment call on this one, and Frank, I’m sorry, but it’s probably not going to have you doing cartwheels. The best chance we’ve got for Spike not bursting into flame when we get back is by not finishing the spell in the first place. So, let’s not. Let’s just ignore whatever this thing is, and whatever might show up on our way, and head on back to the castle. We can try closing the entrance again once we know how to protect Spike. Frank’s got the harness back, and as long as we’re careful about keeping an eye on the stream, there’s no reason this whole thing can’t wait.” She paused, waiting for some kind of reaction from the others, an argument as to why she was wrong. None came. Giving them a short, sharp nod, Buffy turned away, preparing to return to their journey along the stream’s bank. “Good. Let’s just go then. I hear the call of a long, hot bath in my very near future.”

Two steps forward, however, and the Slayer found herself face to face with the fuilafior, bringing herself up short as it barred her path. She frowned, and took a step sideways, only to have the creature mirror her movement, blocking the way. A step back in the other direction was met with the exact same reaction, and her lips pursed in exasperation.

“Someone else try going past it,” she instructed, never letting her gaze stray from the demon before her.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Spike’s pale form immediately step forward, ready to circumvent the nearby stand-off. The creature saw it as well, and casually lifted the arm closest to the vampire, a single finger drawing invisible circles in the air.

There was no flash of electricity, no squeal of magic piercing their eardrums. Spike couldn’t even say that it really hurt all that much. But, as soon as he’d drawn level with the fuilafior, he was stopped, picked up like a ragdoll by some unseen child, and deposited ten feet back, landing on his rear with an indelicate grunt.

“Now whose turn is it to be the puppet gallery’s main attraction?” Xander commented, reaching out a hand to help the vampire back to his feet.

“Think our new friend here doesn’t want to be left alone,” Spike said when Buffy stepped back to re-join the group. “Which means we’re back to the original plan.”

Her displeasure was immediate. Avoiding completing the spell had seemed like the best opportunity for saving the vamp, and now the choice appeared to have been taken out of their hands. “Could it be another obstacle?” she quizzed, not really believing it but ready to grasp at straws. “How many of those things did you kill, anyway?”

Xander did a quick tally on his fingers, his lips moving noiselessly as he counted them off in his head. “Six,” he announced, and was met with a crestfallen Slayer.

“Which is a multiple of three,” she muttered, shaking her head. “Well, I’ll say one thing for this place. At least it’s consistent.”

“So, because Spike killed that last demon, we’ve now completed some…supernatural obstacle quota?” As he said it, it sounded catty even to him, but Riley was past playing the gracious loser. No reason to hold back on his true feelings anymore, not when he was pretty sure he’d lost any chance with Buffy.

“Hey!” Spike barked, stepping in front of him. “I killed number five. You were the one who offed the last thing that went bump in the night here. So if this is anyone’s fault, it’s yours.”

“Nobody’s to blame,” Buffy interjected with a roll of her eyes. Frankly, she was getting a little tired of all the posturing going on between the two, and their petty arguments were doing none of them any good in finding a solution to their present predicament. “You did what you had to do, which means…we see this through to the end, and then deal with the consequences once it’s over.” She gave the three of them a shooing motion with her hands. “Now, go do…whatever it is you have to do to let us get past it.”

She waited expectantly, hazel eyes darting between the three, watching as each suddenly seemed incapable of meeting her gaze. Her brows lifted. “You do know what to do, don’t you?” she said, folding her arms over her breasts.

“It’s like Riley said, Buff,” Xander finally offered, an embarrassed flush to his cheeks. “We figured we had to kill the thing. We just thought it would be an itsy bitsy thing.”

“So go kill it.”

“And then what?” Riley asked. “You said it yourself, Buffy. It’s not going to fit into that urn.”

She sighed. “Maybe once he’s dead, the urn expands to accommodate him. Or he shrinks. Or he could get turned into some kind of Otherworld dust like vamps do. Or something. How am I supposed to know? It’s magic. I’m sure if this is what you’re meant to catch, something magicky will probably happen. That’s usually the way it works. Have none of you been paying any attention to the various disasters we’ve averted on the Hellmouth? Just…do it. We’ll deal with the fallout later.”

They stood frozen for another moment before Spike shrugged, picking up the sword that had flown out of his hands when he’d been barred from passing. “Looks like a grand night for carnage,” he said, strolling toward the stream. He didn’t get five feet from it, however, before the weapon was ripped from his grasp, sluicing through the air to bury itself tip first in the earth behind the creature.

The vampire stopped, shoulders stiffening. “He seems to prefer a good old-fashioned round of fisticuffs.” He smiled, eyes turning golden as the ridges molded onto his forehead. “My kind of demon.”

Buffy watched as a snarl ripped from Spike’s throat, his pallid muscles shifting in feline deadliness as he lunged for the creature. They grappled in tense harmony, rolling to the ground in a nearly silent tumble before the fuilafior backhanded him in a blow that sent the vampire flying.

“Thought this was s’posed to be a joint effort,” he shot back to the other two men as he hopped to his feet.

His tone spurred them into action, driving them forward in a flurry of fists and kicks. Buffy bit back the smile that rose to her lips as she surveyed the battle before her. Under normal circumstances, watching Spike fight was exhilarating, every move graceful, each swing carrying with it a deadly promise. Riley himself was an accomplished fighter, and what Xander lacked in technique, he more than made up for in enthusiasm.

Now, however, was a different story.

Each press forward was met with an almost nonchalant reaction from the demon, repelling each man with little effort. They were spending more time soaring through the air and picking themselves up off the ground than actually fighting, and if it wasn’t for the fact that none of them seemed to be taking any actual damage from the blows, Buffy would’ve stepped in and intervened herself.

Actually, and she had to bite down on her lip to restrain the smile, she was having problems not laughing out loud at the whole thing. The show presenting itself before her didn’t look like a demon fight; it more closely resembled some sort of primitive Scottish game where the men stood around and threw tree trunks. Except in this case, the men were the things getting thrown. How do you score something like that? she thought absently. Distance probably, maybe landings. They’d probably get extra points if they could actually stick their landings as well. Oops, there goes Xander again…

Her distracted musings were cut short when Spike caught his hand on one of the fuilafior’s claws, eliciting a growled, “Bloody hell.” Only then did she say a word.

“Stop!” she ordered, rushing forward to pull the vampire away from the fray, ignoring Riley and Xander as they rose from their respective seats on the ground. Grabbing his hand, she held it palm up, inspecting the slice across its fine sinew. Immediately, her head jerked up, eyes staring into his. “This isn’t a fresh wound,” she accused.

“Never said it was,” Spike replied, pulling away to lift it to his mouth, tongue flicking out to lap at the blood that was now running down his wrist. “Opened it up fightin’ off the Naked Chef. And as much as I love the idea of you playin’ nursemaid, I’ve got a little business to take care of, so if you’ll excuse me…” He turned, and before she could stop him, had launched himself yet again at the fuilafior.

It looked like any of the other attacks, the pair falling to the ground, the demon rearing its hand back to send the vampire airborne again. This time, though, Spike pre-empted the strike by throwing a quick punch into the demon’s maw, the blood still seeping between his fingers in tiny rivulets that appeared black in the moonlight. None of his previous hits had done more than slightly daze his opponent, but it didn’t stop him from trying again. He just wasn’t the sort to give up.

This blow was different. As soon as the vampire’s flesh made contact, the creature screamed, yanking itself away from Spike as if burned, scrambling along the stream to a safe distance several yards away, gazing back at them for the first time in fear.

“What did you do?” Xander asked, amazed, as he came up behind the vamp. “Why’s he turning tail all of a sudden?”

“Bugger if I know,” Spike muttered, eyes glittering in confusion as he slowly rose to his feet. He looked down at his still-clenched fist, turning it over in the light, once…twice…and then opened it to see the blood still oozing from the cut. There wasn’t even a lot of it---his healing capabilities were already kicking in---but it still managed to shine against his skin before disappearing between the crevices of his fingers to drip leisurely to the earth.

“Did you hit some kind of soft spot?” Riley quizzed.

Xander shook his head. “Couldn’t be,” he replied. “Even I got a punch in that landed on his mouth.”

“What did you say its name meant again?” Buffy’s voice was a ghost at his side, her hazel gaze settled on the blood that dripped from his fist, and when Spike caught the tiny line between her brows as her head turned to look at the fuilafior, the connection between the two sparked inside his skull.

He had grabbed the nearest sword and turned back to face the other two men with it raised before they could react. “Whoa,” Xander said, holding up his hands. “I thought we’d already established that going all Zorro was about as effective against this thing as throwing marshmallows.”

“Not for him,” Spike said, a grim smile on his face as he advanced. “This is for you.”

“What?” The suspicion creased Riley’s normally placid features. “Just because your chip isn’t working, doesn’t mean---.”

“Shut your gob, you stupid git.” Holding out his injured hand, the vampire slowly ran the edge of the blade over the slice already there, opening it up wider so that the blood flowed even more freely. “I’ve finally sussed out how to get at that thing on the damage front.”

“Not that I’m arguing against your self-mutilation, but what does one have to do with the other?” The ex-soldier seemed fascinated by the display Spike was making, the vamp clenching and unclenching his hand to make the wound bleed more profusely. When he seemed satisfied with what he had, he lifted his amber gaze to stare at the others in anticipation, causing both Xander and Riley to take an involuntary step backwards.

“Blood from the water,” Frank murmured, and turned wide obsidian eyes toward Spike, a newfound respect for the other demon glinting in their depths. He’d always assumed he was more a creature of visceral instincts, and to show an intellect like he had---even knowing the true meaning behind the fuilafior’s name---surprised him. His gaze flickered to Buffy, the understanding of the appeal the vampire held for her deepening before he turned to the other two men.

“Your blood has been infused with the spirits of the Otherworld,” the guardian explained. “Combined, it will carry with it the essence that governs my world. That should be what it takes to defeat your foe since he is a mythical creation.”

Xander grimaced. “Isn’t there a less painful way for us to do this?” he complained. “It can’t just be our blood that’s been sanctified here. What about spit? That’s a bodily fluid. Maybe we could just all spit on him.” He looked around expectantly, the hope glimmering on his face as he waited for a response.

“OK,” Buffy said. “First of all, can I just say, ewwww? That’s disgusting, even coming from you, Xan. And secondly, you both saw how that thing reacted when Spike hit him that last time. And the only difference was the blood on his hand. So stop with the sissy talk and let’s get on with this.”

“Could be worse, Slayer,” Spike said, a mischievous grin spreading his lips. “He could’ve suggested other bodily fluids.”

“Oh!” Xander brightened. “I didn’t think of that! It’d be like when you get stung by a jellyfish, right? I think I saw that on TV somewhere. Something about the ammonia.”

It took her a moment to realize what they were saying, but when she did, Buffy’s eyes widened before her nose and mouth scrunched into a moue of distaste. “And again with the ewwwww!” She couldn’t keep the shock at what they were suggesting out of her voice as she continued. “All bodily fluid talk ends now. Blood. This is about blood. Nothing else. No spit, no…nothing else. Capisce?”

As Spike took another step closer toward the other men, Riley stepped back again. “No offense---,” he started.

With an exasperated growl, Buffy set the urn to the ground and yanked the sword from Spike, marching to her ex to grab his hand in hers before running the blade cleanly across his palm. “Baby,” she muttered before turning to Xander and repeating the action.

His smile was one of delight as the blond vamp watched her glow in indignation, her face intent on her tasks at hand. When it came to getting things done, nobody really did it in the same style as the Slayer. Never had, never would. She was one of a kind. And his.

“Right,” he said when she finally stepped away. “Think the best way for us to do this without it goin’ all to cock is to go at it all together. United front and all that rot.”

When the men turned around, they saw that the fuilafior had returned to its previous post, no longer afraid, as if the recent memory of the blood in its mouth had been wiped from its mind. “Is this a count of three kind of plan?” Xander asked.

“This is get-the-soddin’-thing-done kind of plan,” Spike replied, and immediately charged toward their adversary.

Only seconds separated the vampire’s attack from the others’, and Buffy found herself holding her breath as she watched fists and feet become a blur against the demon, the delineation between the warring bodies unclear in the rush. She didn’t doubt that this was the way; she only feared what the outcome might actually be.

It had been noticeable before, not that she’d really paid that much attention to the strange white outlines in the trio’s eyes, but the moment that each of their hands made contact with the demon’s flesh, the white flared to silver, absorbing all color as the spectacle seemed to stop in time, every one of its players consumed by some inner power that locked their muscles in unrelenting arrest. The fuilafior’s scream rose in an agonizing wail, perforating the air with its pain, and as the young woman watched, its body began to steam, blazing from some inner fire, the wisps eddying and tunneling and swirling into the air before whisking its way to the abandoned urn at her feet.

Its brays lingered even after its body was gone, fading into the night’s ether like a cirrus draft whispered away by the wind. Only when the world was completely silent were Spike and the others released from whatever mortis had held them, sinking to the earth in a spent exhaustion, chests heaving from battling the forces within.

She was at Spike’s side in a millisecond, dropping to her knees while she watched Riley sit back on his heels, Xander curl his fingers into the grass. “You all right?” she murmured, thin hands sweeping over the angles of the vampire’s face, looking for something---anything---out of the ordinary before beginning their search down his bare torso, the tactile reinforcement to the visible testimony necessary to keep her own nerves in check.

Slowly, Spike reached up and secured her hands in his, oblivious to the open wound in his palm as he entwined their fingers, and leaned his forehead heavily against hers. “You Summers women are all a bunch of fussbudgets,” he said wearily, the faintest hint of a smile in his voice even as his eyes remained closed. Gone was his game face, vanished with the last vestiges of the clash, and when his lids finally lifted, the white had diminished back to a faint glow around the sapphire.

“Did it work?” Xander asked, his breathing still labored. He was still doubled over, holding on to the ground as if it was going to fall out from underneath him, and the question of when the world had decided to play tilt-a-whirl with his brain tumbled around inside his skull with all the comfort of a skittering bag of marbles “Please tell me it worked. I don’t think I have it in me to do that again.”

“It worked,” Buffy affirmed. “That should be it now. The entrance should be closed.”

Riley shook his head. “It just seems a little extreme to me,” he commented, looking down at his hand. “Why the cutting and the blood?”

The vampire rolled his eyes at the farmboy’s narrow-sightedness. “’Cause it’s always about the blood, you nit,” he drawled. “How’ve you lasted so long on the Hellmouth not knowing that?”

“Just once I wish it was about the donuts,” Xander muttered, finally able to settle back onto his bottom. He shook his injured hand, trying to cool the faint sting still remaining from the slice. “Can I just say that at this moment in time, the Hellmouth is seeming a lot more Xander-friendly to me than Scotland? I just want to get back to a place where I don’t have to worry about getting beat up by drunk rugby players, or being smote with gout, or getting turned into the bad guy’s butt monkey---.”

“Actually, there was that whole deal with Dracula,” Buffy offered, interrupting.

“---or getting the paper cut from hell,” he finished, ignoring his friend’s lighthearted reference.

Behind them, Frank cleared his throat. “Not that I’ve really had the opportunity to share this bit of information yet,” he said, “but there’s something I really do need to tell you about this closing of yours.”

Her eyes narrowed as the Slayer pulled herself away from Spike. “Now is not the time to be telling me bad news, Frank,” she warned. “I am sooo not in the mood for that.”

“Not…bad news, but not…great news…exactly…” His gaze darted from the urn, to the men on the ground, and then back to Buffy. “One aspect of suggesting using the power of the closing spell to come aid you escaped my…attention earlier,” he said. “While it’s true that Spike and the others can return to your world relatively…unscathed, the same unfortunately can’t be said…for you.” He seemed to visibly cringe as this time he was met with four sets of angry eyes, not just hers.

“What do you mean?” Xander demanded. “Are you saying we did all this for nothing? I thought we’d be able to take her back with us. Carry her or something.”

Frank shook his head. “The entrance will bar any living creature to pass through it that wasn’t a direct part of the spell,” he explained.

“Thought you said this wasn’t bad news,” Spike said, and there was no mistaking the menace in his tone. “’Cause it’s soundin’ remarkably like it.”

“Buffy can still go back,” Frank assured. “Just not with you. I will have to be the one to take her.”

“Are you saying guardians can still go through the entrance even though we’ve sealed it?” Buffy asked.

He shook his head. “No. But we can use the power of the harness to pass. The closure is a magical construct. The harness affords its bearer the authority to ignore magic.”

“You are not puttin’ that thing on the Slayer!”

She had to physically restrain Spike from going after the guardian, his fatigue forgotten in light of the coming threat from the kelpie’s mouth. “That wasn’t what he was suggesting,” she said, locking gazes with the other demon. “Because Frank’s not that stupid, are you, Frank?”

“No, no, not at all,” he rushed. “I can carry you while wearing the harness myself. That will work sufficiently.”

Everyone visibly relaxed. “Well, that’s all right then,” Spike said.

“Except…”

“No. No soddin’ excepts.”

“…I doubt I’ll be able to make the trek back on foot,” Frank apologized. “It would be too tiring.”

“You’re telling me I’m going to have to swim for it?” She was liking this less and less with every word that came out of his mouth.

“No, I can carry you once we reach the tunnel. That’s where we’ll have to part company with the others, I’m afraid. The dangers of traversing through the entrance are still very much real and in your weakened condition, it would be a risk to allow you to walk all the way to the new seal.” He tried to smile. “I’ll carry you above the water, obviously, since you lack the capacity for breathing under the surface for extended periods of time as I do. I don’t think your friends would look too kindly on me if I were to return with a drowned Slayer in my arms.”

His joke fell on deaf ears. Instead, Buffy was frozen from the sudden realization that they had actually done it. The guys were about to walk back to Dall Rath, and they were going to take their places within that damn triangle of stones, and Spike was going to go bye-bye in a grand puff of smoke, and what was she going to be left with? Ashes. And an ex-boyfriend who would be more than willing to pick up the pieces but left her feeling cold and empty, and…she was going to have to spend her last few hours in this whole adventure away from Spike, in the arms of a different demon, without being able to give him a proper good-bye.

Unless Willow or Giles came up with a solution.

Deep down, though, she didn’t believe it would happen. So much time had already been wasted in their quest for a resolution with no visible results. What could possibly have happened back in the dungeon that would change anything?

Spike felt the change in her body immediately, the tension knotting her shoulders, the thin set of her lips as she lifted her gaze to stare at Riley and Xander. “I have a favor to ask of you guys,” he heard her say softly…

AUTHOR’S NOTE: For those of my readers who are following the Celtic mythology in this particular tale, I have a slight confession to make. I made the fuilafior up. Whereas I’ve attempted to make all the rest of the mythology as authentic as possible, I just couldn’t find a creature I liked well enough to use in the trial, so I went to my trusty Gaelic dictionary and made up a word that meant what I wanted. Creative license and all… :)