DISCLAIMER: Everything but the plot is Joss'. Too bad.
SPOILERS: Everything through Blood Ties, S5, but happens before Crush so Spike and Buffy haven't had their heart to heart yet.

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

Crisp and clear, the night air carried the scents of the cemetery to him in gentle waves. There was the usual...freshly turned earth...an occasional flower, daisies perhaps...even the distinct smell of the undead. None of these concerned him, though, for they were not his---. The hair on his back prickled as an underlying current penetrated his awareness. Lifting his nose into the air, he inhaled more deeply, soaking in the scent he'd been searching for. It was here. Finally. The hunt would soon be over. Only one thought filled his consciousness now.

Prey.

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

Buffy kicked at a dirt clump next to the headstone she was sitting on. It was a slow, slow night, and she was bored, bored, bored. Not one vamp had made an appearance in the two hours she'd been on patrol...well, not a vamp she could stake, at least. Just after she'd arrived, she'd spotted Spike's platinum head off in the distance, somewhere near his crypt. Probably just going home, she'd thought. Or she'd hoped. She didn't want to have to think about Spike tonight. Lately, thinking about Spike tended to give her a headache and, with Glory and Dawn and her mom, she didn't need that.

The dry snap of a stick alerted the Slayer's senses and she slid silently off the headstone. The comfortable weight of her stake hugged the small of her back as she crept in the sound's direction. It didn't feel like a vampire, but that didn't rule out demon. She stopped. There were two outlines in the darkness. Damn! she thought looking up at the starless sky. Why did cemeteries have to be so poorly lit? She waited, poised for the attack, as they drew near.

"Buffy?"

The voice was just a low whisper, but it immediately set her at ease. She straightened. "Sneaking up on a Slayer is not usually a good idea, Will."

As they drew closer, Buffy was able to make out Willow and Tara walking towards her. A smile of apology was on Willow's face.

"We thought you might want some company tonight," Tara said.

"Things have all been so stressy, you know," Willow added. "So...surprise!"

Buffy smiled. "Thanks, but I think I'm done for the night. Not much slayage for me if the vamps won't come out and play. Feel like getting a pizza?"

"Pizza over vamps? No contest."

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

Spike was watching her from a distance tonight, just keeping an eye out in case she needed his help. Not a vamp in sight and he was disappointed at not having an excuse to get just a little closer to the Slayer. Then, the two witches had shown up and he knew his chances were gone for the night. Exhaling the last of the cigarette smoke, he dropped the butt and ground it under his heel.

When he lifted his blond head, the smell almost immediately assailed his nostrils. Spike stiffened, concentrating on the unfamiliar musk. Not human...not vampire. What? Demon? Possibly, although he doubted it. Too clean.

Then, he heard it. His head jerked in the direction of the sound, his blue eyes probing the darkness. His gaze went right over it on his first pass around. It was only after he swept his search back that he caught the slight shade differential in the black. Darker than the night itself, it moved with the stealthy grace of a predator, and for a moment, Spike found himself admiring its killer beauty.

He crept along, following its vague form, until he realized where it was headed. Spike's head jerked to see Buffy and her friends, oblivious to the approaching menace, and knew that he couldn't reach her in time. His legs began to pump underneath him and his voice ripped from his throat.

"Buffy!"

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

It was the urgency in Spike's voice that caused the Slayer to whirl and duck at the same time. Within seconds, she felt the breeze as something very large sailed over her head. She turned around in time to see Willow and Tara scramble out of the assailant's way.

Why didn't I sense something as large as that?!? she thought before realizing that whatever it was had already turned back to face her. Two red eyes stared at her from the black muzzled face she could barely make out in the dim light. It was huge, six feet at least, and it was only then that she noticed---

"Buffy! Look out!" Willow screamed.

It had leapt again, and Buffy's foot shot out, aiming automatically for its jaw. When it hit, though, it was as if she'd kicked a wall and she felt herself tumbling sideways from the jolt. As she rolled into a crouched position, a flash of black leather flew through the air, landing on the beast's back.

Spike wore his game face as he tackled the creature he'd smelled. He snarled as one hand gripped its fur, desperate to stay on, while his other arm hooked itself under its powerful jaws. The beast stopped in its tracks, and the momentum threw the vampire over his head so that he dangled in front of him. He wasn't letting go, though, not if this thing was after his Slayer.

Buffy jumped up and started running toward the pair. Spike was doing his best to twist the creature's neck, but it didn't seem to be working. As she watched, the creature snapped its jaws at the vamp, locking around his forearm. Spike roared in pain and only then noticed Buffy's approach.

"Get out of here!" he yelled. "It's too strong!" Desperate for anything, he sank his fangs deep into the fur.

Hands were grabbing at Buffy, pulling her back. "Buff! Come on!" Willow and Tara were dragging her backwards, away from the fight.

"No! I can take him! I just have to---"

"Go!" Spike screamed. Blood was dripping from his arm and smeared his face. For a second, Buffy hesitated. What was he doing? The fool was going to get himself killed. Nobody could kill Spike but her.

Her feet were already moving her forward when she heard Willow's voice hiss in her ear. "We have to run. Now!" With more force than she would've expected, Buffy felt herself being yanked from the spectacle. Tara was already way ahead, almost to the road where they'd left their car. With only a fleeting glance over her shoulder, Buffy broke into a run for safety.

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

"So, what exactly was it that attacked you?"

The three girls looked at each other before turning to face Giles.

"It was...a dog," Buffy finally said.

"A really big dog," Tara interjected, trying to help.

"Massive," was Willow's contribution.

"Yeah, we're talking small SUV here." Buffy waited as the Watcher pulled off his glasses and began cleaning them absently.

"Well, not pleasant, but hardly a serious menace, I should think." He stepped behind the register, already dismissing their encounter.

"No, Giles. You're not getting it." Buffy followed him around. "I totally didn't hear this thing coming. Nothing. No Slayer sirens. Nada. And when I tried to fight it, it was like kicking the proverbial brick wall."

"Well, you were distracted. Didn't you say you were already headed home?"

"Yes, but---"

"It was probably just a stray looking for a meal. A very large stray," he added when he saw Willow's mouth open in argument. "Many animals can be quite stealthy when they hunt, you know."

"OK, but how many of them have glowy red eyes?"

"And if it just wanted to eat, how come it didn't come after me and Tara? Why did it just try to get Buffy?" Willow's brown eyes were wide with expectation as they waited for Giles to respond.

Very slowly, he replaced his glasses on his nose and looked them over, one by one. Normally, Buffy wasn't a hysteric when it came to reporting this kind of thing, but circumstances lately...Perhaps some of the stress was starting to get to her. And Willow. The most reliable of the Scooby gang. She wouldn't exaggerate so wildly about a seemingly random animal attack.

Giles was about to reply when the bell over the shop door jangled and a smoking mass flew into the Magic Box. The four of them turned in time to see Spike drop his blanket and stamp out the last of the flames. When their visitor looked up, Giles frowned when he saw the fresh cuts and scratches on the vampire's face.

Spike sauntered to the counter, his duster billowing around his legs. He stopped when he realized that the quartet was just staring at him. "What?" he demanded. "I got blood on my face or somethin'?"

Giles sighed. "What do you want, Spike?"

The blond vampire hopped up onto the counter, his black jeans pulling tight across his thighs. "Thought you might want my thoughts on Slayer's little adventure last night."

The Watcher turned to his charge. "You didn't tell me Spike was there."

Buffy shrugged. "I didn't think it was important."

"Hey! Wasn't for me, you'd be dogmeat right now, Slayer!"

"So you saw it too, Spike?" Giles asked.

"Saw it? I fought the bloody thing. Nearly lost my arm and for what? Bitchy Slayer attitude? No thanks." He slid from his perch and grabbed his blanket.

With two confident steps, Buffy was behind him, grabbing his arm and whipping him around. Even Giles noticed the wince of pain as Spike pulled from the Slayer's grasp.

"You want bitchy Buffy, I can give it to you, but right now, I need you to help me convince Giles about what we saw."

"Thinks you're being a silly bint, does he?" His blue eyes looked past her to her Watcher. "She's not." To Buffy, "Can I go now?"

Giles came out from behind the counter. "Let's see your arm, Spike."

Rolling his eyes, Spike slid the leather coat from his shoulders, his face impassive as his tightly corded muscles came into view. Even Buffy's eyes widened as she saw his wounds for the first time.

Even with his vampire healing ability, his lower arm still looked freshly mangled. Blood was crusted around numerous puncture wounds, and a nasty gash snaked along his arm, disappearing under his t-shirt sleeve.

Giles took Spike's arm in his hand, turning it ever so slightly as his eyes measured the distance between the bites. "Quite a large beast," he murmured.

"Bloody right it was. Had a caravan once that was smaller than this thing was."

"And you heard it attack Buffy?"

"He's the one who warned us it was coming," Willow interjected.

Spike stiffened at the Watcher's accusatory stare. "I didn't have nothin' to do with it, so you can bloody well get that thought out of your head. And no, I didn't hear it. I smelled it."

"You...smelled it." This came from Buffy, who cocked her head as she waited for Spike's explanation.

"Well, yeah. Thing was blacker than the night, couldn't see it very well, now could I? That's more than Slayer here was able to sense. Wasn't for me---"

"Yes, yes, dogmeat, we know." Giles turned away, his brow creased in a familiar frown. "Well, I suppose it's more than we had when we first started researching Glory---"

Willow clapped her hands in glee. "Research party!" she exclaimed. At Buffy's look of dismay, she consciously calmed herself down. "I mean, yuck, more research."

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

"I think I've found it!" Tara's exclamation stopped everyone in their reading and they looked up to see her beaming at them. Her smile faded slightly under their scrutiny and she blushed. "I'm n-n-not usually the one who gets the answers," she stammered.

Both Giles and Buffy rose and crossed to stand behind Tara, looking down at the picture at which she was pointing. "Looks like a dog," Giles murmured.

Buffy sighed. "That's what we've been telling you."

"And does this look like the creature that attacked you?"

The Slayer nodded. "That's it."

Giles picked up the book and began wandering around the shop as he read the passage accompanying the picture. "Oh my," he said under his breath. Then, a moment later..."Oh my."

"Enough of worried Watcher routine," Buffy said. "What is it and how do I kill it?"

Giles cleared his throat. "It appears that your attacker is the Hound of Laelaps." He looked up, only to be met by the blank stares of the Scooby gang. "It's a mythical creature---"

"Mythical?" The disappointment in Buffy's voice was evident to everyone. "Not another god."

"No, not a god. No, the hound is most definitely mortal."

"So I can kill it."

"Well, theoretically, yes. But---"

"God, I hate the buts. Can we skip the but this time?"

"I'm afraid not. The Hound of Laelaps is thousands of years old and the fact that it's still around implies it's not the easiest creature to kill."

"He's right, there." This came from Spike and for the first time, the gang realized that the vampire was still hanging around the shop. "I was able to distract it for a bit, but I don't think I did any serious damage."

"So what's the oh my news?" Willow asked.

"The Hound of Laelaps originally belonged to Artemis, the Greek goddess of the hunt. She, in turn, gave the hound to one of her followers."

"Boring, and not helpful, Giles." Buffy crossed her arms. "Give us something to work with here."

"Oh. Yes. Well. The hound is fated to never miss its quarry."

The Slayer turned to a wide-eyes Willow for clarification. "Basically, it hunts and hunts until it catches what it's hunting."

It took a moment, but it finally began to dawn on Buffy what her best friend was saying. "This hound thing is hunting me?" Her hazel eyes darted from one Scooby to another, willing them to look at her. Not even Spike seemed eager to jump in with one of his usual snarky remarks. To Giles, "Someone told Cujo, 'Go get me a Slayer'?"

"It...appears that way."

"So I've gotta kill it. End of story." With a determined step, she began heading for her punching bag in the back, only to be stopped by Willow.

"But, Buff, we never even saw it coming last night. How can we find something we can't see until it's already ripping out our throats?"

"I'm afraid Willow's right. It knows you're here now. It's not going to give up that easily."

"Actually, according to the myth, it's not going to give up at all," Anya piped up.

"Yes, well. Regardless, it's just a matter of time before it finds Buffy again. When it does, we need to be prepared because we might not get a third chance." Giles cleared his throat. "I can't believe I'm going to say this, but I think our best option at this point is Spike."

"Spike?!?"

The vampire's blond head snapped to attention for the first time that evening. His blue eyes darkened as he noted Buffy's flushed cheeks, her hazel eyes sparkling with anger. Without warning, he felt his jeans tighten across his hips. God, he loved seeing her like this. Before anyone could notice, he slowly pulled his duster closed.

Giles continued. "Buffy, you've said yourself that not even your Slayer senses helped you become aware of the hound's presence. Spike is the only one who seems to be able to tell when it's near. Our priority is keep you safe, so I think, for the time being, you should...stay with Spike." Under his breath, he muttered, "I don't believe I just said that."

"Spike is not staying at my house!"

"No, I agree. The hound will probably find your home relatively quickly. It's better if...you're not there." Giles couldn't meet Buffy's eyes and pretended to be preoccupied with straightening some amulets on the shelf.

"If I'm not there..." Buffy's voice trailed off and she looked back at Spike as she realized what that meant.

"Hey, Watcher, I'm not a bleedin' Holiday Inn." Spike pretended to be offended, but was secretly pleased at this sudden turn of events. The Slayer. In his crypt. Maybe the dogfight had been worth it after all.

"We'll make it worth your while, Spike," Giles said.

"What about Dawn? And my mom?" Buffy asked.

"They should be perfectly safe. The hound only has one prey at a time, and...you...seem to be it." He seemed almost apologetic with his reply.

"Tara and I can cast some extra protection spells around them, if that'll help." Willow smiled, trying to reassure her friend.

Buffy looked over the group. Most were avoiding her eyes, and she wasn't sure what Anya's hands were doing under the table, but they all seemed resigned to Giles' suggestion. Her gaze flickered to Spike's perch on the stairs. He was watching her, gauging her reaction, his mouth slightly open, his tongue resting on the edge of his top teeth. She felt the familiar rush surge through her veins at the sight of him. Sometimes, it was all she could do not to plunge Mr. Pointy into his chest. Anything to get him away from her, let her keep her body under control.

"I don't think it's necessary, but every little bit helps," Giles was saying. "Buffy---"

"I'll do it." The words surprised even her, and she couldn't miss the smirk that curled the vampire's lips. "Just get some answers fast before you find me shacking up with Spike dust."

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

For one last time, Spike looked around the crypt. His Slayer shrine was hidden away; no chance of Summers finding it and staking him out of spite. Harmony was packed and gone, hopefully for good this time. Everything was in order for his impromptu guest.

His thoughts lingered on the bed. How many dreams about Buffy had plagued his sleep since he'd realized his feelings for her? It seemed like every night there was some variation on that first dream...they fought...got all sweaty...kissed...he woke up. He always seemed to be waking up before any of the good stuff really happened.

The door to the crypt slammed open and his head jerked to see Buffy outlined in the evening twilight. She just stood there, a bag over her shoulder, her hip cocked. The last of the sunlight shone through her hair, and Spike felt his throat constrict. God, she was beautiful.

"OK, new house rules." Buffy dropped her bag and stepped down into the crypt. "One. You stay out of my way, I stay out of yours."

"Funny. Thought this was my house."

"Two. I get the bed. I don't do coffins and I don't do dirt floors."

"Bed's big enough for two, luv." Spike smiled and caught her wrist before the punch connected with his jaw. "Just for your information, of course." He laughed as her cheeks reddened. "How 'bout some of my rules?"

Buffy crossed her arms across her chest, suddenly aware of the tiny tank top she was wearing. "Like what? No blood in bed?"

"Actually, that's one of my favorite places for it." His lips twisted into a smile as he turned away. This was definitely going to be fun. "No. Contrary to your storming in here whenever you want, I'm not particularly fond of visitors. So no Scooby gang unless I know about it in advance." He paused before asking, "What 'bout your mum? What do she and Bit think?"

"Actually, they don't know I'm staying here." She began wandering around the perimeter of the room, doing everything she could to avoid looking at him directly. "They think I'm on some Slayer training exercise. Giles is going to keep a low profile and bring us our supplies until it's time to go after this hound dog thing."

"What? So no patrolling or going out? At all?"

"Nope. Giles says it's too dangerous. He figures that the crypt should hide me long enough for them to get the answers. And if I go out, it just ruins the whole plan." Buffy said this last bit as if she'd argued extensively with her Watcher about it. And lost. She crossed to the musty couch and flopped down. "So what's there to do around here? I'm bored already." She began to reach for the TV's remote control.

Spike's hand closed around Buffy's as he pulled the remote from her. "Don't think so, Slayer. TV's my domain. You watch what I watch when I watch it. Got it?"

Buffy glared at the blond vampire as he towered over her. "Not very hospitable of you, Spike."

"I figure it's a fair trade. You get the bed, I get the TV. Course, we might be able to arrange some sort of sharing agreement..."

"Eeewwww! I don't think so!"

Spike shrugged. "Your loss. Now shut up. Passions is about to start." He settled on the couch next to her, that familiar vanilla scent filling his nostrils.

"Passions was over hours ago."

His smile to her was defiant. "Got every episode on tape, luv. Passions is always about to start." And his thumb slowly pushed the power switch.

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

Buffy paced the length of the crypt, the heels of her boots echoing in the silence of the room. She glanced at her watch. Two-fifteen. In spite of the late hour, she wasn't tired, even though she'd had to sit through endless videos of that stupid soap Spike was addicted to. Speaking of the blond vampire...Her eyes wandered to the ceiling, wondering what he was doing up there. She'd begged off his marathon by claiming exhaustion, but now that she was down here, she couldn't bring herself to climb into the bed she knew he rested in. It loomed against the wall, reminding her of its regular occupant, and the thought of sliding between its sheets made her skin crawl.

From overhead, she heard the TV go silent. Was he finally asleep? Don't be silly, Slayer. He's a vamp. Night creature, remember? So what was he doing? For the first time, she wondered what Spike did all day...night...whatever. Smoking cigarettes and lurking could only take up so much time. He always seemed to be free when she stopped by the crypt. What the hell was he doing up there now?

Almost as if he was reading her mind, Spike's voice filtered down. "I know you're still up, Slayer. Bored?"

Damn, she thought. How the hell did he hear me? "Whaddaya want, Spike?"

"Fancy a bit of a spar?"

It was actually a good suggestion. Fighting might exhaust Buffy enough to fall asleep, regardless of whose bed it was. Before she could answer, though, the entrance had been slid aside and Spike was suddenly at her side. "Hey!" she exclaimed. "I could've been undressed down here."

"You haven't done anything but pace since you came down, Slayer." His blue eyes slid to the untouched bed and the corner of his mouth lifted, ever so slightly. "Not feelin' lonely, are ya?"

"NO!" Her vehement denial was louder than she'd expected, echoing against the stone walls, and she bit back the smartass comment that would've naturally followed. "My brain just doesn't seem to want to turn off tonight."

"I wouldn't think that was usually a problem for you." Spike's eyes glittered as he deliberately baited her, watching the casual grace of her shoulder as her fist swung around to meet his jaw. His own steel grip caught her hand, staying the motion, and they stood there for a moment, blue locked with hazel.

It was Buffy who broke the contact. Yanking her fist from his grasp, she stepped away, her jaw set. Although her breathing was even and controlled, her fingers burned from his slight touch and she worried that the heat in her hand would somehow be evident in her face. Still, she managed to spit out, "You're not going to get me that easy, Spike."

His step toward her was languorous, excruciatingly so, and his eyes never left hers, even as he leaned forward until their noses were just inches apart. "Of course not, Slayer," he said, his voice a satin rumble in her ears. "That's half the fun."

That was the final straw for Buffy. With lightning speed, her right leg shot out, sweeping Spike off his feet and onto his back. He grinned in spite of the jolt. "Thought you weren't that easy, luv."

"I'm not." Buffy stepped back and crossed her arms. "Just my way of saying, 'Night, Spike.'"

The vampire put his hands behind his head, his grin even wider. "Always knew you'd like me on bottom, Slayer."

"Bigheaded much?" she retorted. "I like my men to have blood, not drink it for breakfast."

"Right." He dragged out the word, making it sound almost sensual, as he jumped gracefully to his feet. "Wouldn't the poofter love to hear that."

Buffy blushed, turning away so that the blond vampire couldn't witness her discomfiture. Oh God, she thought. I forgot completely about Angel. How could I do that? Especially in front of Spike?!? No matter how hard she tried, rational thought just seemed to fly out of her head every time she got around the chipped vamp, and she found herself acting out those rotten impulses she'd worked so hard to overcome for the last five years.

So lost in self-recriminations, she wasn't even aware of his approach until she felt his silky voice in her ear. "When you're ready to keep dancin', you know where to find me, Slayer." Buffy forced herself not to turn around as his boots echoed against the stone floor. His final words before returning upstairs came floating back. "Pleasant dreams..."

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

The sun licked its way across her skin, caressing her bare stomach, heating her thighs. Through the blanket, the hot sand massaged her back, curving to her own muscular contours, filling those nooks where a single touch could send thousands of shivers down her spine. She could see the light through her closed eyelids and a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. This was the life.

A shadow momentarily darkened the radiance in which she was bathing. "The Riley man has excellent timing," Buffy murmured. In a single fluid movement, she rolled over onto her stomach. "Can you sunblock me?"

Deft fingers pulled the drawstring of her bikini top, baring her back without even touching her skin. She heard the soft plop of the bottle being opened, followed by what seemed an eternity. She was almost ready to turn around and do it herself when she felt the first drops hit her skin. Instinctively, her back arched, reacting to the chill of the lotion. "No more keeping sunblock in the cooler, 'kay?" Buffy laughed softly and settled back down, crossing her arms under her head.

Within moments, the cream was being spread across her shoulder blades. The pressure was light but exquisitely firm, and Buffy marveled at how strong her boyfriend really was. His hands danced down her spine, sliding along her waist, too strong to be ticklish but light enough to be sensual, and she felt the familiar warmth begin between her legs. Almost against her will, a low purr escaped her throat.

There was a pause as she heard the squish of more lotion being squeezed from the bottle. Her breath caught as she felt the now-familiar sensation, this time along the back of her calves. He massaged the sunblock into her skin...kneading the tightness of her legs...stroking as he skated upwards...closer...onto her thighs...and then...even higher. The chill seemed warmer now, mingling with the heat of her body, and Buffy moaned. She hadn't been this relaxed in ages; it was almost as if none of the last few months had ever happened. No Glory, no worrying about the Key, no unknown illnesses attacking her mother. The only thing that mattered was the here, the now, and the staggering sensations that were beginning to flood through her body.

Keeping her eyes closed, Buffy pushed against his hands so that she was flat on her back again. There was a moment of hesitation before his touch returned, this time on her taut stomach. She was aware that in turning over, her bikini top had twisted underneath her so that it was slightly askew. Although she didn't think there was any nipple exposure, she could feel the heat of the sun on part of her left breast that had definitely been covered before. Did he notice? Would he do anything about it?

Almost as if he was reading her mind, she felt a tickle along the curve where her breast met her abdomen. She squirmed, allowing him better access. His hand felt cool, cooler than she would've expected in this heat, but the contrast set her pulse racing. Please, her mind begged. Please...And in response, his thumb and forefinger found her nipple, pinching it just enough to cause her to gasp.

"Yes..." It came out more like a hiss, but he must've heard because she felt his other hand graze her thigh. "Higher," she whispered. This he definitely heard, as a long finger slid under the elastic of her bottoms, tracing the outline of her hip as it wandered closer to her now-soaking slit. So close, yet he refused to actually touch her, choosing instead to wind through the wiry curls, taunting her with the proximity of satisfaction.

"Please..." she murmured, this time out loud. That same strong finger found its way past her warmth and she gasped as it slid inside, filling her. He pulled out, only to have a second finger join in the journey back in. Out again, this time to be replaced by three. She clenched around him, trying to pull him even deeper, willing him to never leave.

Her moans quickly turned into groans. This seaside seduction was moving excruciatingly slow; what she wanted more than anything was...Her sex thoughts froze and instead, her concentration focused for a moment on the hand between her legs. Yes, those were fingers buried deep inside her, but what was on that fourth? It was cold, metallic...a ring? Riley didn't wear jewelry...

Buffy's eyes flew open. Instead of the beefy shoulders she'd been expecting, she was greeted by the tightly corded muscles of a gleaming white Spike...in the sunshine?

"Hello, luv." The velvet tones of his voice belied the steel in his eyes. "Surprised?" Slowly, deliberately, he extracted his fingers from her bikini bottoms and lifted them to his mouth. She was mesmerized as his tongue licked at the juices that clung to him, but it was his pinky...the ring...the green stone...

"But we got rid of the Gem," she whispered.

"Yeah, well, looks like I got it back," Spike taunted.

She was suddenly aware that her nipple was still caught between his fingers and knocked him away as she struggled to get up.

"No more Mr. Nice Guy," he hissed. His hand shot out, catching hers in one tight grip, and twisted her arms so that both wrists were pinned over her head.

In spite of Buffy's thrashing about, she couldn't shake him. When in hell did Spike get so strong? she wondered. She could only watch as his free hand purposefully slid down her stomach...how did she not notice the iciness of his touch from the start? He crept lower, savoring the journey, finally disappearing under the thin fabric of her swimsuit. She gasped as those lean fingers penetrated...plunging deep inside her...stroking her inner walls...and all the time, his blue eyes were locked on hers.

Without conscious thought, Buffy thrust down against his hand, forcing him even deeper, her hips beginning their own rhythm in spite of her silent screams of protest. "Fuck Mr. Nice Guy," she panted.

Spike grinned. "That's my Slayer," he said. With one swift motion, his head lowered to hers, crushing her lips with a bruising kiss...

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

"...No!" Buffy shot upwards, her body rigid. What the hell was that all about? Her nerve endings still tingled from the memory of his touch and there was certainly no mistaking the wetness between her legs. She'd been so close, just a few more seconds...

"What is it? You OK?"

Spike's sudden presence next to the bed jerked Buffy from the remnants of her dream. Her hazel eyes widened as she drank in the sight of his bare chest, the sculpted muscles exactly as they'd been on the beach. "Nothing," she stammered. "Just...just...a nightmare."

His shoulders relaxed. "Didn't know you were a screamer, Slayer." His eyes drifted over the pajamas that covered her from neck to toe. "Flannel definitely becomes you."

Buffy flopped backwards onto the bed. Damn him! she thought as he returned to...whatever it was he'd been doing. After finally falling asleep on top of the blankets instead of underneath, here she was having wet dreams about the most annoying man in her life right now. Hold it, Summers, she admonished. Not a man. Vampire, remember? He's just stake food.

With a long, slow breath, she willed her overloaded senses to calm down. Back to sleep, Buffy. And this time, no Spike-sex thoughts...

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

Upstairs, Spike inhaled deeply. A nightmare? Not bloody likely. Her musky scent was strong enough to reach him here in front of the telly, and the sudden stiffness in his jeans wasn't going to let him go back to sleep any time soon.

So...the Slayer's having sex dreams while she sleeps in my crypt. On my bed. Maybe...of me? He smiled, his tongue tapping against teeth as he thought over the possibilities. He very much doubted he played any significant role in her excitement; he knew from experience that dream lovers could take just about any form. Still...

He lounged back against the couch, stretching his legs to ease the tension in his thighs. Regardless of how this all turned out, when this little hound problem was solved, he'd have Slayer smell all over his bed. This was definitely going to be worth it.

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

Pressing herself against the stone wall, she watched his still form on the couch in silence. Even though she'd witnessed Angel on more than one occasion, the complete immobility of a sleeping vampire still wigged Buffy out. No chest movement, the alabaster skin. He might as well be one of those Greek statues...the marble ones...the ones with the impeccably carved muscles...

She shook her head. Enough, Slayer, she thought. You have more important things to be worrying about than Spike's physique, or his strong fingers, or that mouth. Think about this dog problem. Concentrate on that.

"Sleep well?"

Buffy jumped at the sound of his voice, her pulse automatically accelerating. Damn it! Why did dreams insist on leaving their residual crap around while you were trying to function from day to day?!? He hadn't even moved when he spoke; he was still laying there, his eyes closed, looking completely dead. "Fine," she quipped. "Just dandy. You?"

His lids opened, and his appraisal of her was slow and obvious, lingering on the bare midriff that showed under her top before trailing down over the denim that hugged her hips. "It's a little early for me, luv, but somethin' tells me you're not staying down below while I finish my beauty rest."

"It's almost noon. Giles will be here soon."

Spike groaned. "Just what I need. The Watcher on an empty stomach." He rose and sauntered to the fridge.

Buffy watched as he pulled out a fresh bag of blood and reached for a cup. "Eeewww. You're not actually going to eat in front of me."

"Don't like it, Slayer, you know where you can go."

"Like I have a choice, Spike."

"Nobody's got you in chains." He cocked his scarred eyebrow. "Unless that's your thing."

"This is so not the conversation I want to be having right now." Buffy flopped down on the couch, started to reach for the remote, and froze as Spike clicked his tongue in reproval. "You can't be serious. Didn't you get enough last night?"

"I can never get enough Passions---." A timid rap on the crypt door stopped his thought. “Well, who would've bloody thought it? Somebody in this town actually knows how to knock. Come on in, Watcher," he called out.

Sunlight streamed inside as Giles pushed open the door. "Hey!" Spike cried out, dodging the stray ray that hit his arm.

"Oh, sorry." The bespectacled Watcher hurried inside the crypt, closely followed by a breathless Willow. Both arrivals were laden down with bulging paper bags threatening to burst, but the young witch still managed to nudge the door closed with her hip.

Buffy jumped to her feet and grabbed the sacks from her best friend. Peeking inside, she grimaced. "Jesus, Giles. You storing us up for the winter?" She expected one of his quiet sermons about the wisdom of being prepared, and waited for his denial. Instead, she watched as he ignored her comment and walked over to Spike, handing over the rest of the bags. "Giles?" she prompted.

"Did you have a nice night?" Giles asked as if she hadn't said a word.

Buffy shoved the supplies aside. "Hello? I'm in a crypt. With Spike. You do the math." As Giles and Willow sat stiffly on the edge of the couch, she felt the first prickles of alarm on the back of her neck. "What's wrong? What's going on?"

"Actually, nothing. Things are relatively quiet for a change."

Folding her arms across her chest, she began tapping her foot. "Will?"

The redhead shook her head. "All's quiet on the Glory front."

"And the hound thing? Have you guys found anything more out? When am I going to be able to get out of here?"

"Yeah, love you too, Slayer." Spike made it as sarcastic as possible, hoping she didn't hear the truth behind his words.

"We're...not sure. We've discovered some new information---."

"Like what? Anything we can use?"

Willow jumped in. "It's just more of the whole 'I'm a myth' thing. The Hound did get stopped once---."

Buffy's face lit up. "Great! What do we do?"

"It's not quite that simple," said Giles.

"So? We've done hard before."

"Let him speak, Slayer." As much as he loved her, sometimes Spike found Buffy's constant interruptions of what should be a simple conversation annoying.

"Thank you, Spike." Giles' response was automatic in his distraction. "The story isn't actually very helpful. It seems that someone tried using the Hound of Laelaps to catch a fox that was terrorizing Thebes---."

"A fox?" Buffy was trying her best not to laugh, but the image in her head was just too funny. "Like that fluffy little red Disney character?"

"Not quite so cute and cuddly," said Willow.

"Nasty little buggers," Spike interjected. "Ones I've known didn't do the singin' and dancin' bit."

"Anyway," Giles stepped in, "this particular animal was fated to never be caught, so the whole arrangement created a paradox."

"One of those unsolvable problem thingies?"

"Yep." This came from Willow, who continued the story. "So this god, he got really pissed about the whole I'm-going-to-catch-you-No-you-can't thing, so he turned them both into stone. Which is why it's gotta be just another myth, 'cause if it was true, it would probably be someone's lawn decoration and not sniffing around Sunnydale."

"Good point," she murmured, and sank into the sofa. The hope in her eyes faded as she mulled over this new information and Spike felt a twinge of pity for the hazel-eyed beauty. Nothing ever seemed to come easy for her. "Anything else?" she asked, not really expecting an answer.

Giles cleared his throat before speaking. "Nothing concrete. There are several ways for us to approach this. The simplest is to just kill the beast---."

"OK, can we say deja vu? I suggested that already. You shot me down."

"Well, you may not have been completely wrong with that. But, we still have other options at this point, although they aren't quite as attractive as getting rid of the hound entirely."

Buffy looked at Willow. "What about something magicky? Could you and Tara turn him into stone like that god guy?"

"We're looking into it..." Her voice trailed off as her brown eyes sought out Giles', pleading for help.

"I'm afraid that would be a temporary measure at best, Buffy," Giles said, his voice low and soothing. "As soon as the spell is reversed, the hound would be after you again. No, I'm afraid we're going to have to find something a bit more...permanent." He rose, his eagerness to depart apparent in his rigid shoulders.

As if on cue, Willow also stood and smiled reassuringly at her friend. "Don't worry, Buff. Xander and Anya are cracking the books so that Tara and I can look up the magic stuff. We'll figure something out."

Buffy walked them to the crypt door. "Yeah, I know. I just wish..." There was no point in voicing her concerns; both Giles and Willow would do everything in their power to find out what she needed. They didn't need to be worrying about her in the process.

"Oh! I almost forgot!" Willow hurried over to where Spike lounged against his coffin, pulling a small bottle from her skirt pocket. "Tara and I made up this potion for you, just in case."

His brows knitted together as he turned the ornamental vial over. "Hope your idea of just in case lets me muzzle the Slayer when she won't stop nattering on," he said dryly.

"No," giggled Willow. "It's a canine affinity potion. It attunes you to doggy-type things. At least..." Her head ducked in embarrassment. "...we think it does."

"Great. Just love being your guinea vamp, Red."

For the first time since they arrived, Buffy smiled, rushing forward to yank the bottle from Spike's hand. "This is great, Willow! I can't believe you almost forgot to tell us about it."

The young witch reached forward and took back the vial. "Um, it's not for you, Buff," she apologized. "It's just for Spike to use."

"But why? If this can make me tell when that hound is near, I can get back to life as normal."

"It's a very potent brew," Giles interjected. "There's a possibility it might not even work."

"Yeah," added Willow. "The spell was kinda vague about dosages and stuff." She glanced at Spike before leaning in to whisper to her friend, "We're not even sure it's supposed to be taken orally."

"Not inspiring confidence, Red," mocked Spike. He watched through hooded eyes as Willow put down the vial and grabbed Buffy's arm, pulling her to the doorway to stand conspiratorially with the Watcher. Even though they spoke in hushed voices, his sensitive ears caught every word.

"I'm serious, Buffy," Willow was saying. "I can't guarantee what kind of effect it would have on you. At least with Spike, he's got the whole vamp constitution thing going for him to help counteract any of the more...unexpected side effects. And if anything does happen, well, it's just...Spike."

"We need you in top form," Giles added. "It's just a matter of time before we get the answers to fight this hound, and then there's the whole Glory situation..." He left the thought hanging, knowing his charge's sense of responsibility would fill in the necessary blanks for him.

Buffy sighed. Reason told her they were right, but the feelings of her inadequacy were bubbling just under her skin, constricting her throat, turning her rational thoughts to slush. "OK," she finally said. "Whatever you say." She held the door open as Willow and Giles slipped out.

Out of the corner of his eye, Spike watched as a dejected Buffy shuffled around the edge of the room. "If it'll make you feel any better," he said, slipping the vial into the refrigerator, "I probably won't even touch the stuff. Don't really fancy being the Scooby Doo in your little gang."

"Gee, thanks, Spike." She was trying desperately to be sarcastic, but it came out too soft, too gloomy to truly be effective.

"You want to talk about it?" The offer had escaped his lips before he could stop it, and he inwardly cringed. I sound like some bloody ponce, he thought. Slayer's going to think I've gone soft in the head.

"You wouldn't understand."

"Oh, that's right." His platinum head ducked, nodding in sarcastic agreement. Buffy watched as his lower lip curled in, letting his tongue snake along its length before he added, "Guess the chip makes me stupid as well as harmless."

"It's just..." How could she get him to understand? "I've never felt this helpless before." She began ticking off her problems on her fingers as she rattled them off. "I've got this Glory bitch god on my back, and every time I try to fight her, she knocks me on my ass. I've gotta protect Dawn because some monks think, hey, the Slayer saved the world once, she can save it again. I can't even tell my friends about the Key because it'll put them in too much danger, so I get to keep that little secret all to myself. Mom's brain thing is freaking everyone out because no one knows what the hell is wrong with her. And now someone has decided to go Buffy hunting and I'm not allowed to do anything about it. So, feeling pretty worthless over here, Spike, and if you don't mind, I'm just gonna go downstairs and feel sorry for myself for a bit, 'kay?"

Turning her back to him, Buffy had only taken a step before Spike's fingers closed around her upper arm, jerking her back to face him. The muscles in his cheeks were twitching from the set of his jaw, and his eyes were darker, harder, than she'd seen them in a long time. His nostrils flared as he spoke. "Sorry to break up your little pity party, Slayer, but you're preaching to the wrong person," he hissed. "Think you feel powerless? Try being a vampire who can't have a decent human for tea without getting a five-alarm headache. I got a demon inside of me that loves the kill, but since the only thing I can dust are demons, I get to spend most of my time dodging those guys I used to hang out with. And I've spent the better part of the last year trying to get you and your little slaymates to believe that just maybe I might be some help to you, that maybe this Big Bad might care just a little about what happens to your asses. So don't think you're all alone, ducks. 'Cause I'm with you every step of the way on this one, whether you like it or not."

He half-expected her to storm out, to run away from any truth that he might have to say. That was her usual modus operandi. Instead, she flew past him to the fridge, grabbing the potion before Spike even had time to register where she was. "Oh really? Think this makes us equal, Spike? My best friend doesn't even trust me with one of her spells! She'd rather let you play Big Bad protector, than risk that my little Slayer constitution can't handle a side effect or two."

The vampire took a step forward, tilting his head as he said, "You're the one who agreed to this little arrangement, remember? I never asked---."

"Oh, like you're hating this, right?" Shaking her head, she felt her pulse begin to quicken at their familiar banter. "You are so getting off on having all the control right now."

"I'm getting off?" The sneer on his lips flickered into his steel-blue gaze. "Tell me, Slayer...your little nightmare. Think I can get top dollar for those sheets? I know a vampire down at Willy's who gets a hard-on every time you walk into the place. What do you think he'd do if I told him about your little cumfest last night?"

Buffy felt the heat rise into her cheeks. He knew. Somehow...he knew. "You---you---perv!" she spat out. OK, so not her best comeback, but the way her mind was racing, it was a struggle just to maintain control.

Spike clicked his tongue, the anger dissipating as he enjoyed her discomfort, the laughter starting to dance in his blue eyes. "Next time, give a vamp some warning. I know some guys who'd be bloody chuffed to have some bootleg Buffy."

The fire in her hazel eyes blazed. "It was hardly a cumfest, as you so eloquently put it, Spike. For your information, I woke up before you could get me to---." She stopped, suddenly aware of how much she had just given away. Too much. Would he notice?

The air was palpable as the truth hung between them like a pointed sword. For Buffy, the walls seemed suddenly too oppressive, her ex-enemy too close, her lungs themselves betraying her by refusing to function properly. For Spike, though, the admission was an exhilaration, a wave of heat that spread flames through his dead veins. His eyes flashed as the growl he'd been trying so hard to suppress began to surge to the surface, and he took yet another step closer to her.

"No more games!" she barked. "I'm leveling the playing field right here, right now." With one liquid motion, she pulled the stopper off the vial and raised it to her lips.

"Slayer! Don't!" Spike leapt toward her, arms outstretched, long fingers scrambling to get the bottle before it was---.

Too late.

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

The potion slid down her throat, a frosty bitterness gushing into her system, suffusing her body with a glorious sense of simplicity. With her head still thrown back, her eyes flickered closed. Why had Willow any doubts about this spell? Buffy could consciously feel her head clear of the doubt and anxiety that had been plaguing her, and fill instead with...

Her nose pricked with a sudden smell. With her normal Slayer senses, she was always aware of the stale cigarette smoke/leather combo that mingled around Spike in a cloud of don't-fuck-with-me sex appeal, but now...there was something more...something...primal, that made her mouth unpredictably salivate. She swallowed hard...unhurried...and drank in the musk that raised goose bumps on her bare shoulders.

Spike knew something was different as soon as Buffy's hand dropped to her side, fingers still barely holding the vial. With her head back like that, the delicate curve of her neck lay exposed to him, and he saw the throb of her pulse quicken, becoming a staccato rhythm that resonated in his head. A sense of deja vu overwhelmed him, and he flashed on the hundreds---no, thousands---of times he'd seen that exact same pose...before he'd been chipped...when he'd still been a proper vampire...

So lost was he in his reverie that he almost didn't catch the new fragrance emanating from Buffy's skin. His blue eyes narrowed as he inhaled, and the sudden stiffening in his groin seemed the most natural response to the pheromones she was now emitting. "Slayer...?"

Her golden head lowered, and her hazel eyes opened to meet Spike's. There was almost no iris left; instead, her desire had expanded her pupils until they glittered in sooty hunger at the blond vampire. "Spike..." She drew his name out, purring rather than speaking, and her pointed tongue darted out to moisten her upper lip.

A sharp hiss escaped through his teeth, and he felt the demon inside him struggle to gain control. The animal instincts in Buffy had taken over, and it was all Spike could do to keep himself in check. "You shouldn't have done that," he said, taking a step back.

She countered his retreat with a step forward of her own. "But everything's so much clearer now," she said.

"That's just the potion talkin', luv."

Buffy cocked her head. "Really? Then why my dream last night? You were right, Spike. I was sooooo close..." Her right hand reached up and she ran a finger down, between her breasts, trailing across her stomach, tracing her waist under the band of her jeans.

As hard as it was, the vamp tore his eyes from her seduction to look up into her face. She's not herself, he admonished. She's acting more like a..."Bitch in heat," he muttered.

"What was that?"

"That's what the spell's done for you, Slayer," he continued, a little louder. "We were talking about sex, and it's concentrated your intentions on that. You're acting like a bitch in heat."

She took another step, narrowing the gap between them. "And that's bad because...?"

His mind blanked. God, why was it bad? She was standing there in front of him, and there was no mistaking the scent of her excitement, the hardness of her nipples, the jut of her hip. How many of his fantasies had played themselves out like this, with her standing there, looking just as scrumptious as she did right now? It would be so easy...just reach forward...touch her...

"Dreams don't mean anything," he heard himself saying. Where had that come from? "Hell, mostly they're just ways to get off when you can't do it awake. And you fix on whoever's convenient. I even had one 'bout Red once." The words tumbled forth of their own accord, and even Spike didn't really believe the line he was feeding her, although the dream about Willow had been true. But he couldn't let this go any further. If he did, as soon as Buffy got over the potion's effects, she'd be telling him to bugger off, and he would've ruined any chance he'd ever had.

Her response was swift and violent. Both slim hands rested on his shoulders and shoved him back against the wall, following him with her own body. Grinding her hips against his upper thigh, her smile was a lascivious snarl. "So it's gonna be hard to get time. I like that."

Her forearm came up and pressed against his throat, pinning him in place, while her free hand slid down to his waist. The muscles in his stomach twitched against her touch and he gritted his teeth as she found the button to his jeans, yanking it open and unzipping him at the same time. "I've always wondered...briefs or boxers...?" Her fingers burned a trail inside his pants, outlining the dripping head of his throbbing cock, and her smile widened. "Commando!" she squealed in delight. "I should've seen that one coming."

He gasped as she suddenly grabbed him, pumping upwards ever so slightly. His head slammed back into the wall, and he muttered, "Bloody hell," as her thumb grazed the tip, using the wetness she found there to lube her journey back down.

Buffy arched herself upwards, her neck craning to move her mouth closer to his ear. "Isn't this better than fighting?" she murmured, her hot breath flaming his undead skin, her tongue darting out to lap at the firm line of his jaw. "And I'm going to bet we get just as...hard...of a workout."

Squeezing his eyes shut, Spike couldn't help the groan that escaped his lips. The urge to just turn his head, meet her lips with his own, taste the sweet tang that was her tongue, was almost insurmountable, but he knew, with his head if not with his body, that this wasn't really....no, not the Slayer...not his...

"Buffy..." Her arm across his throat made it difficult to speak, although it didn't distract him quite as much as her mouth...her fingers..."We can't...you...don't..." He was cut off in a strangle as he felt her teeth nip at his neck. He had to put a stop to this before it went too far, before he wouldn't be able to...stop...

With his last reserve of will, Spike pushed against the Slayer's arm, jerking her hand from his jeans, causing her to stumble backwards. Before she could regain her balance, however, he'd scooped her over his shoulder, bending her at the waist, and moved away from the wall.

Buffy giggled. "Oooo, I knew you'd wanna play!"

Sighing, Spike was about to snap back when he felt her tiny hand slap against his ass before sliding inside the waistband to cup his cheek, her nails raking along his already sensitive skin. She wasn't making his choice any easier. So many games, so much pleasure...With long strides, he was quickly standing in the corner.

Her body turned to see why they'd stopped. "The bed's downstairs, Spike," she started, but her voice froze as she saw him reach for the handheld shower he'd rigged up. Her jaw dropped as the first spray of cold water hit her face, quickly drenching her, sending shivers through her shoulders. Twisting in the vampire's arms, she hit the stone floor and skidded along, driving her jeans into the crack of her ass.

Stepping away from the stream, Spike watched as Buffy struggled to get to her feet. "Not quite a hose, but it'll do," he said.

"You...you...I can't believe...not playing fair, Spike!" she sputtered.

"We'll talk about fair once the spell wears off, Slayer." He lifted a heavy boot to step over her still thrashing form, but found himself flying through the air instead, when Buffy grabbed his heel and shoved with all her strength. He collided against the opposite wall, crumpling into a black heap on the floor.

"Not going to let me play, I guess I better work instead," grunted Buffy as she regained her footing. Through a rapidly swelling eye, he watched as she headed for the crypt door. "I'm thinking...dogcatcher. Definitely." And she disappeared out into the sunshine.

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

Slamming the book shut, Xander slouched back in his chair, sighing heavily.

"Anything?" asked Willow.

"Oh sure. A splitting headache, couple of tummy rumbles, minor nerve damage in the posterior region. I got lots."

"The Hound." Giles glanced at him from behind his spectacles, a stern wordless warning.

"Oh, then, nothing." Picking up a pencil, he began tapping out a rhythm on the table, oblivious to the dirty looks from the other gang members. "I still don't get why we can't just get all Bazooka Joe on its ass. Sprinkle a couple doggy treats, wait for Fido to come sniffing around, then bam! Crispy fried canine burgers."

"As...appealing as that sounds, Xander, I'd really rather not kill it," Giles said. "It's not evil, just...misguided." He slid another volume across the table toward the young man. "Try this one."

The bell over the door jingled, a distant carillon to the absorbed Scooby gang. From behind the counter, Anya was the only one to look up, her shopkeeper smile an automatic response. "Hi! Welcome to the---." She cut herself off, dropping the facade as she recognized the arrival. "Oh. Hi, Spike."

"Spike?" Giles leaned back to see the blond vampire drop the blanket by the door. "What're you doing here?"

"More importantly, where's Buffy?" Xander stood, glad of an excuse to escape the convoluted texts.

Spike stopped. "So she's not here."

Leaping to his feet, Giles crossed the distance between them faster than the vampire had ever seen him move. "You let her go out? On her own?"

"Didn't have much say in the matter, Watcher." Spike ducked his head, but the bruise around his eye was apparent even to those still sitting around the table. "You feel like laying some blame, just point your little finger over at Red there."

"Me?" Willow's eyes widened. "What did I do?"

"Thanks to the little witches, the only thing Buffy's missing is a little tail to wag." He hopped up onto the counter, pulling his duster out from under him to let it hang over the edge.

"B-b-but that potion was meant for you," Tara argued.

"Try telling that to a pissed off Slayer," came Spike's retort. "She swallowed down your little concoction, then went doghunting without me." No reason they needed to know about their little fight beforehand, or what had sparked it.

"And thus endeth the research," Xander announced.

"We don't necessarily have to stop," said Tara. Everyone turned to look at her and she looked at Willow for support. "We could just do a locator spell on Buffy, couldn't we?"

"Well, yeah, I suppose. I mean, we haven't gotten the kinks out of it yet, but yeah, we could give it a go." She turned to Spike. "How much of it did Buffy drink?"

His response was a flick of his wrist as he tossed her the empty vial.

Willow stared down at the bottle. "Guess we better get working on that spell."

"How long has she been gone?" asked Giles.

"Less than an hour."

"And how long to see if the spell will work?" This time to Willow.

The two witches exchanged a look before Willow replied, "Fifteen, twenty minutes."

"Good, good." With a new determination in his step, Giles headed for the training room. "I'll get everything prepared for a foot search, just in case it doesn't work."

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

Buffy walked down the sidewalk, her head a cacophony of both familiar and foreign scents. The exhaust...the tangy sweat of pedestrians...too many perfumes and colognes to even catalog...how did Spike exist in a world this fragrant, this...distracting? There were so many aromas that she didn't recognize, and it had dawned on her very quickly after leaving the crypt that she had no idea what this hound smelled like.

The thought of the crypt and what she'd left behind brought a twinge to her thighs. She sighed. Spike had been so unreasonable, especially with the water dunking thing at the end. If her dream last night had been any indication, they could have played for hours and she could've gotten her mind off everything. And he'd certainly wanted it. She'd been so tempted to just bend over, take him in her mouth...

She shook her head. Gotta stay focused, Buffy. No sex with Spike, just think about dog duty. She had a plan and walking through the streets of Sunnydale was an important part of it. Just walk...

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

There had been no more signs of his prey since his encounter in the cemetery. The attack from the leathered one had been a surprise, but not a real worry, as his size just made him a flea to be swatted. He did carry marks from the assault, but his caretaker was keen on his well-being and nursed the cuts and bites until there was no memory of their existence.

She disliked him going out during the day, but he found this the perfect time to prowl the less-populated portions of the town. At one point the previous evening, he had been convinced he'd found her again, but the trail had been an old one. A home, probably hers, but she hadn't been there in a few days. Still...worth monitoring during his nightly patrols. Now, though...

The hunt continued...

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

The last of the flames flickered to life in the dark training room, and Willow straightened, stepping back to survey her work. At the center of the waxen display, a map of Sunnydale lay in half-shadow, its roads and landmarks barely discernible to the onlookers, the normally vivid colors now a dull gray. The candles' incense prickled their noses, burned their eyes, and, for what seemed the millionth time since she started, Willow hoped that the spell would come off.

"Tick tock, Red," growled Spike from the corner.

"Yes, Willow," Giles added. "It's been almost thirty minutes. Right now, timeliness is our primary concern."

"We're ready." Linking fingers, Tara and Willow sat opposite each other within the circle, eyes locked, their breathing slow and even. The dim light cast shadows across their pale skin, dancing in pirouettes along the walls, and their voices became a gentle murmur in the stillness. None of the words were distinct enough to be caught, but their power resonated along the men's spines, rooting them to their respective posts, quelling any arguments that may have remained.

As they watched, a faint glow began radiating from the center of the map, hovering just inches above the creased paper. It fluttered as if caught in some tiny, imaginary breeze, and they soon realized that it was moving in rhythm to the witches' cadences. A dart here...a dash there...it seemed unsure, hesitant.

How long is this bloody spell going to take? Spike thought irritably.

As if in response to the vampire's doubt, the spark of light started to inch toward the edge of the map, cautiously at first, then stronger, jerking along a jagged path of its own design until settled on a point unseen to the onlookers. With a luminous flare, it disappeared into the city plan.

The chanting stopped, and, loosening her grip on her partner's hands, Willow leaned forward to begin tracing the streets of Sunnydale with a thin finger. Her brow creased as her shoulders slumped.

"Did it not work?" asked Giles.

"I don't know," Willow confessed. "It looks like it did, but the result doesn't make any sense."

"And that's different from normal how?" piped up Xander.

"Where does it say Buffy is?" Giles prompted, shooting the young man a withering look.

Her brown eyes swept over her audience. "Right here. In the Magic Box."

"Knew we were wasting time," Spike muttered, and strode forward to snatch the map from the circle. "Right. Who gets what?"

Giles stepped up to look over the vampire's shoulder. One finger reached out to touch the spell's mark on the paper, and he glanced at the witches over the rims of his spectacles. "You didn't tell me it would burn my only map of Sunnydale."

"Sorry." Their apology was simultaneous, and encompassed more than the charred paper. It was always disheartening when one of their spells didn't work out as they expected, or not at all, and this one had obviously fizzled.

"I'll take the tunnels until sundown," Spike was saying. "Then I'll get the cemeteries. No reason for you non-vamps to have to worry about stakes and such when you've still got one pro left on your hands."

"I'll cover the neighborhood around Buffy's house," Xander volunteered. "Maybe she went to check on her mom and Dawn."

"Good, good," murmured Giles. "Now, Willow and Tara should..."

So lost in their ruminations, the gang didn't hear the back door of the shop swing open, or the soft step cross the threshold.

"Hey, guys," said Buffy. "What's going on?"

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

The red smolder of his cigarette was the only illumination in the cluttered shop basement, and Spike exhaled the smoke harshly through his teeth. The Slayer's sudden arrival had sent the Scooby gang scurrying to make sure she was OK, and everyone had promptly forgotten about his presence. As usual. Even Buffy had deliberately ignored him, only once glancing in his direction, and the anger that still seethed there made him want to take her out back and thrash some sense into her, once and for all.

He wasn't sure what he expected. How many times had he said that he didn't give a bloody rat's ass what happened to the lot of them? And it wasn't as if they were the most forgiving bunch. Xander still had a major problem with the poofter, and he'd worked side-by-side with the gang for years before taking off to LA. One lapse into Angelus and all his goodwill credit was withdrawn from the Scooby bank. How could Spike expect to be treated any differently?

He sighed, an unnecessary physical need but somehow obligatory in his current state of mind. It was times like this that he craved the simplicity of his pre-chip undead life. A bit of violence here, a killing spree there, he'd never had to worry about such silly notions as responsibility or a moral code. Dru had accepted him, loved him even, for the very things that these...children, really...seemed to hold in disdain, and he wondered yet again why he didn't just leave Sunnydale and his unrequited feelings for the Slayer behind.

The door at the top of the stairs opened and Spike heard the soft tread of a female foot on the first riser. Most likely, the ex-demon coming down for some stock, he thought, and melted further into the shadows so that she wouldn't notice him.

"Spike?"

The voice was soft, slightly breathless, and Spike frowned. Not exactly who he was expecting. He held back, though, as her gentle step began to descend the staircase.

"Spike? You down here?"

The overhead light came to life above his head, and the vampire blinked against the sudden onslaught. "What is it?" he growled.

Biting her lip, Tara stopped where she was, her eyes riveted to the hunched form. A cigarette dangled from his fingertips, and she saw the remains of several others scattered around him. Although she was finally managing to get to know most of Willow's friends and acquaintances, this one still confused her, the colors surrounding him sometimes blacker than ebony, sometimes a rich crimson. Now, though, his aura was tinged with a light brown. How odd, she thought. What does Spike have to be discouraged about?

"Everyone thought you'd left."

"Sorry to disappoint." He straightened, glancing over at her. He could never remember this one's name; she always seemed to be trying to blend into the background, yet in Willow's presence, she glowed. Amazing what love could do to someone.

"Actually, w-w-we were kinda hoping you'd still be around." His gaze upon her was disconcerting, those steel-blue eyes probing more than made her comfortable. He was so perceptive; she doubted that very little escaped his attention. It was curious; was that a product of being a vampire, or was it just part of his nature?

"Maybe Spikey doesn't feel like playing right now," he said derisively. "I'm not the Slayer's beck-and-call vamp, you know."

"But Buffy said---." She broke off as she caught the involuntary wince on his part at the sound of the Slayer's name.

"Yeah? What does the bitch want?" He glared at her. "I assume she's still under the effects of the potion."

Tara's blush was all the response he needed. "We were only t-t-trying to help," she stammered. "And B-b-buffy's got a plan now."

"Oh? Let me guess. She's going to kill it, regardless of what her Watcher says."

"Yes. How'd you know?"

Because she's about as subtle as Velcro, Spike thought, but kept silent.

Tara went on. "Even with the potion, she didn't know how she'd recognize the hound. So, instead of getting taken by surprise, she left a trail for him to sniff out, so that she can fight him on familiar territory here at the shop. Plus, we've got the weapons here to handle him. And Willow and I can try some spells to help."

"Sounds like you've got everything under control then." Grabbing his duster from a nearby stack of boxes, Spike tossed his cigarette butt onto the floor and stepped on it, extinguishing its scarlet embers. "I'll just be heading back to crypt-sweet-crypt then. Tell Giles I'll drop my Slayer-sitting bill in the post."

"Wait." Her voice was firmer, strong enough to cause the vampire to hesitate. "Buffy's not herself right now, and yes, that's our fault, but that makes her...vulnerable." Her clear eyes met his and the pain she saw buried in their blue depths gave her the courage to run the risk. "I know if I thought Willow could be in danger, I'd do everything in my power I could to try and help her."

Stiffening, Spike's eyes narrowed at her implication. "I'd be careful who you said that in front of," he rumbled. "Someone might think you're sayin' Big Bad's got a soft spot for a certain Slayer."

Tara rushed on before she lost her nerve. "It's OK, it even makes sense, in a weird, cosmos out of whack kind of way. I mean, all right, I haven't known you guys that long or anything, but that gives me a little distance, you know? And you and Buffy, you both hide behind this big tough guy, I-just-dare-you kind of image, 'cause you think if you don't, you'll just end up getting hurt. Of course, there's the whole, she's good, you're bad thing going on, but it's just two sides of the same coin." Her voice trailed off as she realized she was babbling and Spike still hadn't moved a muscle. Lowering her eyes, she stammered, "Then again, m-m-maybe I shouldn't have taken that abnormal psych class this s-s-semester."

The soft leather crumpled between his lean fingers as the vampire slowly sank onto a box, unaware of the duster dragging along the floor and through his forgotten ashes. "Word of advice, witch," he said, his voice subdued, his eyes darkening. "Buffy's not too keen on being confronted with truth, in fact, she sucks at it, so if I were you, I'd keep your little theories to yourself."

They both knew it was as much of an admission she was going to get from him, but it was enough. Tara smiled. "I'll let the gang know you're down here," she said, and started back up the stairs.

"Yeah," Spike muttered. "I'll be right here."

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

Buffy sat on the step outside the door, staring up at the stars pinpricking the black velvet sky. Already, the spell was beginning to wear off...scents not quite as sharp, her head not quite as clear. Instead, if felt as if her body was slowly overheating, a small furnace deep in the pit of her stomach, alternating blasts of tremendous fire along her skin with tendrils of excruciating cold. Nobody knew about those; everyone was too focused on her decision to take the potion herself.

"How could you be so rash?" had been Giles' remark.

Willow hadn't questioned her actions; instead, she'd just pursed her lips in displeasure and quizzed her endlessly about what she was sensing, what she was thinking, how she was feeling. Between the two of them, they made Buffy feel about six years old.

Like a phantom, Spike appeared behind her, and Buffy realized that her extra sense of smell wasn't completely gone. Part of her still wanted him desperately, ached for him to grab her...throw her against the wall...drive himself deep to her core...block out the rest of the world. Between her dream the previous night and her very overt appeal this afternoon, the possibilities of their coupling caused her mind to whirl, the colors to shift maddeningly behind her eyes. Still...she had a fight waiting, and she had to focus her energies on that.

"It's near."

His voice was a rumble, coldly detached, and Buffy fought the urge to apologize for her earlier behavior. Instead, she took a deep breath and stood. "Where?" she asked.

He didn't have to reply. The red eyes pierced the darkness, announcing the hound's presence before it moved into the light that bathed the alley. For the first time, Buffy had a good look at her new enemy and began to speculate on her plan's ability to work.

He was a beautiful animal, luxuriant jet fur that seemed to disappear against the night sky, a long muzzle delicately framed by those small eyes and tiny ears. Easily six feet at its shoulder, it would've stood taller if its head wasn't down, poised for the prowl, while its body was over eight feet in length, heavily muscled, yet graceful as it slowly padded toward her.

"Nice puppy," Buffy crooned, edging away from the door to allow Spike and the others access to the alley. Her fingers scrambled against the wall, searching for the niche she'd found earlier, wrapping tightly around her weapon once she'd found it in the crevice.

Spike began circling in the opposite direction, his step slow, steady, his eyes never leaving the hound. In the doorway, Willow and Tara appeared, fingers already dipping into their tiny leather bags, their lips moving almost silently as they chanted their incantation.

The Hound of Laelaps, though, never took its scarlet gaze off Buffy, following her movement with its head, its pace even and controlled as it encroached...closer...twenty yards...fifteen...ten...

In a flowing sweep, the two witches tossed the contents of their bags into the air, blowing in the dog's direction, and waited for the spell to take effect. As the dust settled over the animal, however, a loud clap echoed throughout the alley, followed almost instantly by a golden flash. The girls blinked against the sudden brightness, but then stared as the beast continued moving, impervious to the effects of their charm.

"What happened?" came from Xander, as he leaned forward to whisper in Willow's ear.

"It's under a protection spell," Willow whispered back, her eyes wide. "Nothing magicky we do is going to touch it."

The realization that her friends' efforts didn't have an effect on the animal sent Buffy's heart racing faster than normal. Out loud, she said, "What's wrong, poochie? Don't have a taste for witchcraft?" She shook her head. "Not nice to let my friends down. They get cranky."

Spike wasn't sure what her little diatribe was supposed to prove, but it didn't stop or even slow the dog from its measured approach. His blue eyes flickered to her hazel ones, waiting for her signal.

For the spectators in the shop doorway, everything seemed to happen all at once. The stiletto that Buffy had curled against her back flew from her fingers, aimed with deadly accuracy at what she perceived the dog's only weakness to be...its eyes.

Roaring, Spike leapt into the air, hurtling himself toward the animal's back, attempting to control it from there, to allow the Slayer to come in for the kill. And the hound...what was it doing?

Instead of attacking its prey, the creature dropped to the ground, its head resting on the cement, its legs coiled to spring. The dagger flew harmlessly over its head to clatter against the dumpster, while Spike completely overshot his target and collided with the opposite brick wall, crumpling to the ground. He staggered to his feet, blood dripping from a gash on his forehead, and immediately vamped out. So, Rover wanted to play rough.

With her dagger lying on the ground instead of being embedded in the beast's eye, Buffy found herself suddenly facing the hound, each armed only with their own natural weapons. Its jowls lifted slightly as the growling increased, and she could see the razor-sharp teeth lining its mouth. OK, she thought. Take stock. He's stronger than me, probably faster, too. Those teeth are killer, but I'm smarter, right? I've got to be...

From behind Willow and Tara, Xander watched the battle unfold, his foot tapping nervously. Not looking good, he worried. The Buffster without any weapons...the witches' magic just bouncing off the hound from hell...Spike looking seriously overmatched, even in full vamp regalia. And here he was, standing behind the women, doing nothing...yet again. "Not this time," he muttered, and disappeared into the shop.

The hound was only five yards away now, and Buffy wondered for the first time why it hadn't yet attacked her. Without her dagger, she was almost defenseless against its strength, and it seemed the perfect opportunity to take her out. She certainly would've, if she'd been in his position. Instead, he seemed intent on cornering her. Was he just playing with her, torturing her in the anticipation of feeling her bones crunch between his jaws?

Before she could give the thought any further consideration, however, she saw Spike land on the animal's back as he'd originally planned, his long fingers tangling themselves in its fur as he struggled to regain his balance. Since he'd already realized the fruitlessness of trying to bite the beast, this time he'd opted for a different tack.

His hands inched forward, reaching for the corners of the hound's mouth and behind its deadly teeth. The muscles in his arms and shoulders strained as he worked his lean fingers inside, and Spike clenched his jaw as the exertion tore at his back. The animal's saliva dripped down his wrists, inside the sleeves of his duster. Great, he thought. Doggy drool.

His golden eyes caught the movement in the doorway as Xander pushed his way past the witches, the gun cradled in his arms. The young man's jaw was set in determination, a cold steel in his normally laughing eyes, and Spike had no doubt that the young man would hit his target. The question was, would he somehow manage to get the vampire at the same time?

Oblivious to all but the prey before him and the vamp on his back, the hound maintained his careful course, keeping the Slayer in his sight as she inched back against the wall. He was aware of nothing else, even as Xander brought the gun up to his shoulder, sighted along the barrel, and began to squeeze back the trigger...

"No!!!!!"

The woman's scream ripped through the night, disrupting everyone's attention in the alley. Xander's shot went wild as his arm jerked back at the sound; Willow's head whipped around to see the female outline on the roof across the street. Even the dog stopped in its tracks, mesmerized by the urgency in the cry, slowly swiveling its head to turn around and look at her.

Muttering under his breath, Xander hurriedly prepared for another shot. He'd lost his first opportunity, but it looked like this woman was going to distract the creature long enough for him to get another. The gun rose back into position.

Barely discernible against the ebony sky, the woman raised her arms, but Spike was the only one who could hear the familiar rhythms of her voice as she started to chant. Looking back at her, his eyes glittered in the darkness and he could've sworn he heard her hesitate. Did she see him? Regardless, she quickly resumed, and the vampire knew he had only seconds to get off before...

...a furious clap of thunder saturated the alley...

...a sudden gust of wind whipped Buffy's hair into her eyes, obstructing her view...

...and then...

Silence.

Both the dog and the woman were gone.

Scrambling to his feet, Spike wiped the dust from the seat of his jeans and began walking toward the shop's back entrance. The gang in the doorway was standing frozen, staring at the empty space behind him.

"What happened?" Tara murmured.

"I don't know," said Willow, her voice just as low. "A teleport spell, maybe?"

"And just when I was about to---." Xander interrupted his own wisecrack as his brown eyes widened, the gun dropping to his side, his heart suddenly racing.

Spike frowned, and with the rest of the gang, slowly turned his platinum head to look at the opposite corner of the alley.

In the spot where the hound had cornered her, Buffy lay in an unconscious heap.

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

Buffy thrashed in his arms, forcing Spike to tighten his grip on her wrapped-up form. Even through both their sets of clothes, her body was a living flame against his, and the flush in her cheeks only made her hazel eyes seem even more brilliant in the starlight. They flickered open now, staring up at him in confusion before again fluttering closed as she slipped once more into unconsciousness.

"What's the problem, Red?" he growled.

Ahead of him, Willow stood in front of the crypt door, pushing ineffectually at it. She blushed with embarassment. "I can't get it open," she confessed.

Rolling his eyes, Spike lifted his boot and lashed out at the stone, driving the door open, pushing past the witch to get Buffy inside. Although the crypt wasn't much warmer than the evening air, it was at least better protected against the elements, and the sooner the Slayer got into bed, the better. Nothing had been said out loud, but he knew this sudden fever was a result of the potion. That was the only reason a worried Giles would insist Willow tag along.

"Bed's downstairs," he grumbled as he noticed the young witch looking around. "Follow me."

The blankets were still tousled from Buffy's slumber the night before, and Spike waited as Willow pulled them back. She frowned when she saw the black satin sheets, refusing to meet his eyes, but held her tongue as she watched him lay Buffy gently down. "Can you get me a cloth and a bowl of cold water, please?" she asked, removing her jacket and tossing it over a nearby chair.

He didn't answer, only disappeared around a bend, to return a moment later with the requested items. She noticed the furrow between his blue eyes, but couldn't quite look past the shields he'd erected to see what might be causing his distress. Tara had made some cryptic remark earlier, something about being able to rely on Spike, so maybe this was related. Regardless, Willow's primary concern at the moment was getting rid of Buffy's fever.

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

To her burning eyes, the room seemed hazy...smoke-filled...too bright...Breathing was an exertion, a vise around her chest, and Buffy found herself having to settle for short, shallow gulps of air. The familiar satin under her cheek sent her mind whirling..."Where...?" she mumbled. "Spike...?"

Willow reached forward, pushing her best friend's sweat-drenched hair away from her face. "Sssshhh," she soothed. "It's OK. You're going to be OK."

"Thirsty," she croaked. Within moments, the cool texture of a glass pressed to her lips and she sucked greedily at the water she found within. It felt as if all her blood was boiling right under her skin, leaving her core glacial, allowing the river that ran between
to wage its war against her body.

When her eyes flickered open again, she blinked, once, twice, trying to discern the figure leaning over her. Who was it? She knew that voice, but the name of its owner escaped her. "Spike...?" she tried again.

Oh goddess, Willow thought. Maybe I should go and get---.

"I'm s-s-so sorry, Spike" Buffy was saying. "I sh-sh-shouldn't have..." The trembling overtook her for a moment, setting her teeth to audibly rattle, and Willow began to worry that maybe she needed to get another blanket for her friend.

"Relax, go back to sleep."

"No!" Buffy's fervent denial bolted her upright and though it took all the young witch's strength to press her back into the bed, Buffy still clung to her shoulders in a desperate hug. "Y-y-you've been trying s-s-so hard, and I've been such a b-b-bitch about it..."

Willow heard the heavy boots descend the ladder and glanced over her shoulder. "Were your ears burning?" she asked.

"How is she?" Spike murmured as he came closer to the bed. His normally clear eyes were cloudy under his concerned brow, and his lean fingers tapped agitatedly against his thigh.

"She's hallucinating."

"...don't...must hate me...try...harder..." Buffy's arms fell from Willow, and she began muttering, too low for even Spike to catch.

"What has she been saying, Red?"

Willow shook her head. "Just gibberish. There was something about her being sorry, though." Her brown eyes looked up at him. "Did you guys have a bigger fight than normal or something?" His shrug was noncommittal, but she could see the thoughts swirling behind his hooded gaze. She'd try a different tack. "Tara said---."

His reaction was immediate, violent, and she shrank back as his fist slammed into the wall, sending shards of stone and dust flying through the air. "Bloody hell!" he yelled. "Can't any of you keep your bleedin' mouth shut?!?" Stomping across the room, he began pacing, paralleling the wall, his tread heavy and sullen. "I suppose you've gone and told the Watcher, too. Should probably be expectin' some early morning guests to drag my undead ass to fry out in the sunshine, right?"

"Spike, I haven't---."

"You're all so damn protective of her; nothin's ever good enough for your little Slayer, is it?" He stopped in front of the young Wiccan, lowering his face until his eyes were level with hers. In a calmer but no less dangerous tone, he continued, "Well, so what if I've got feelings for her? I wouldn't be the first vampire in her life, now would I? And, for your information, she's having sex dreams about me, too, so maybe it's not just a one-way street, know what I mean?"

Willow's eyes widened. This was so not what she was expecting. Tara hadn't even hinted that Spike might...wow. Spike in love with Buffy? It would explain so much. But...Buffy having dreams about the blond vampire? She shook her head as if to clear it of the fog that seemed to have suddenly settled there. Not possible...she would've told Willow about them...

Spike knew almost immediately that his little tirade came as a revelation to Willow and mentally kicked himself. He ducked his head, muttering, "Me and my big mouth." Stepping away, the vampire turned his back on the young witch, unable to meet the disgust he just knew would be in her eyes. "It's not like I planned it or nothin'," he went on, a little louder. "Bloody inconvenient, if you ask me."

The mumbling from the bed stopped, and Willow glanced back to see that Buffy had passed out again. "Does she know?"

Laughing, Spike commented, "You think she would've agreed to this little arrangement in the first place if she did?"

Willow smiled in spite of herself. He had a point there. Still...she could hear the pain beneath his seeming good humor. "Do...you want to talk about it?" she offered, hesitantly. "I don't think Buffy's in a listening kind of place right now, and it might...help you to get it off your chest."

For a long moment, he just stood there, his black t-shirt pulling across his shoulders, outlining his honed muscles, and she began to think she'd made him angry. Willow watched as he reached over for a spare pack of cigarettes and lighter that rested on a nearby dresser and couldn't help but notice the tremor in his fingers.

"Might as well get comfortable, Red," he said, sliding a cigarette between his lips. "This could take awhile."

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

She stood outside the crypt, a cloak wrapped around her ample frame, staring at the stone door. The hunt had not progressed as she'd anticipated; they hadn't expected the Slayer to be surrounded by such potentially powerful allies. She could still feel the reverberations of the witches' spell, and was grateful for the extra care she'd taken in preparing the hound. And the young man with the gun...not a weapon for which they'd planned, and all too dangerous to all involved. But the blond one, the vampire...

Her nostrils flared as the memory of his fangs, his golden eyes, flooded her inner eye. The Hellmouth was a beacon for many creatures of the night, so she'd expected vampires to be around, just...not working with her prey. And now that she'd seen one...how could she not use this opportunity to exorcise her own demons?

She turned around to face the group of men milling around, waiting for her command. "The Slayer's inside," she said. "You know your instructions; she's not to be harmed. She must be delivered in one piece and alive. The man who fails dies as well." Pausing, she hid her eyes so they couldn't see the flurry of emotions churning behind them. "She's not alone. There's a vampire and a witch in there as well, so take caution."

A man spoke from the back. "Do we use any means necessary?"

"No. I want no reason for the authorities to come after us, so, though the witch will most likely be protecting the Slayer, disable her with as little force as possible. The vampire, now..." She hesitated, her dark eyes even blacker with the knowledge that her hunters were not going to like what came next. "I know some of you have encountered them before, but I don't want you to kill this one---."

"But they're a scourge! We can't just let it go---!" The complaints among the group were vigorous, too loud in the tiny cemetery, and she held up a hand to quiet them.

"You're not. I want this one taken. Alive." She pulled herself straight, daring them to defy her, her jaw locked and jutting forward. No need for them to know her reasons; they wouldn't understand anyway.

Some shuffling feet and angry grumbles remained among the men, but no one voiced any more dissension, and she let her shoulders relax as she turned back to the crypt.

There would be few problems with their attack. Something was wrong with the Slayer; for some reason, she was weakened, making her more susceptible to an easy capture. She'd watched from afar as the blond vampire had carried the young girl inside, and her skin crawled that the red-haired witch could have allowed such blasphemy. From observing the fight in the alley, she knew, for some inexplicable reason, the monster wouldn't harm the Slayer, so the important thing was that her prey still lived. For now...

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

Willow sat stiffly in the chair, her hands folded in her lap, her lip caught between her teeth, while her head mulled over this new information. Over the last ten minutes, Spike had been spilling his unbeating heart to her, confessing it all, from the dreams to the
lurking, to his own hopes for reciprocity from Buffy. She now understood Tara's comment, and in spite of her own history with the platinum-haired vampire, she could appreciate what he was going through. She of all people knew that you didn't get to choose who you fell in love with.

He was watching her now, trying to gauge her reaction, pretending he didn't care but hoping that she'd understand. For some reason, he'd always liked Red, and her burgeoning powers certainly made her one of the more interesting members of the Scooby gang. If he could get her approval, maybe the Slayer wouldn't be too far behind.

Willow was about to speak when the squeak of the crypt door filtered downstairs, pricking Spike's ear. Cocking his head to listen more closely, he held up his hand to the young witch, warning her to be quiet. He was trying to count the number of visitors upstairs, but the footsteps were too many, too muffled. "Stay with Buffy," he murmured, and started the ascent to face his guests.

There were six of them waiting as he emerged from below. All were swarthy, armed to the gills, and unknown to Spike, and his launch towards them was more reflexive than deliberate. As his fist met the jaw of the closest man, though, the pain exploded in the vampire's head, blinding him with white heat, shooting down his spine until he folded in half from the torture. Humans...? Who the hell had he pissed off now...?

Strong arms held him down as the manacles went around his wrists and ankles. One of the group stood in front of Spike, holding up a large cross, his black eyes glittering with hate. They even know I'm a vampire, he thought. My lucky day.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw two more men hunched over, speaking in some foreign dialect, gesticulating toward the hole in the floor. Buffy! his mind screamed and was about to echo it aloud when the black tape was slapped over his mouth, effectively shutting him up. He could only watch, helpless, as they disappeared into the chasm.

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

Gentle hands were on her shoulders, shaking her awake, and through the ether of sleep, she could hear Giles' low voice. "Willow! Willow, wake up!"

Her brown eyes blinked, tried to focus, but all was a blur, and what was that pounding in her head? Her fingers fluttered to her brow as she winced against the pain, only to touch the dried patch of blood that had formed there during the night. "What...? Where...?" She tried to speak, but the room was spinning and her only thought was to lie back...

"No, you can't go back to sleep!" His touch was rougher now, forcing her to stay awake. This time when she opened her eyes, she could see Giles staring down at her, his own gaze wild with worry. "You've got a concussion; you must stay conscious. Do you understand?" She nodded as best she could. "Now, what happened? Where's Buffy?"

In spite of the pain, Willow turned her head to look over at the empty bed. "Oh goddess," she breathed. "They took her..." She turned wide eyes to her mentor. "There were these men, I don't know how many. They...hit me with...something, before I could use any magic to stop them. Spike had gone up..." She froze, afraid to ask the next question. "Did they stake Spike?"

Giles shook his head. "He's not anywhere around, and there's no indication of any vampire dust in the crypt, just...normal dust."

"Then..." Their eyes locked as the truth crystallized for each of them.

Both Buffy and Spike were gone.