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

The moon hung low in the sky, an orange orb illuminating the desert sands almost as if it was day. Although they’d brought plenty of flashlights this time, the group found that as they neared the coordinates on the map, the flashlights weren’t really necessary, relying instead upon the moonlight. The midnight hour encroached, and the temperature steadily dropped, leaving the girls hugging their arms around their bodies and wishing they’d worn heavier jackets.

“So much for global warming,” Anya muttered.

Giles peered up into the darkness, a relaxed smile on his face. “I think it’s really quite lovely. Bracing, actually.”

“That’s because it’s fricking Hawaii compared to merry old England,” the ex-demon commented.

At the head of the gang, Willow stopped in her tracks, her gaze riveted on a dark shape looming against the approaching knoll. “Ummmm, guys?” she said, her voice wavering. “Big black scary thing at twelve o’clock.”

Dropping the duffel from his shoulder, Rupert pulled out a crossbow and arrow, arming it with a deft hand. “Animal or demon?”

In the distance, the ominous form grew larger as it raised itself to face the new arrivals. Two tiny red pinpricks appeared against the blackness, prompting Willow and Tara to answer the Watcher simultaneously. “Hound.”

“Really?” Giles lowered the weapon, stepping up in front of the witches. “That must mean Buffy is nearby.”

“That would be my guess,” said Willow.

“Why isn’t it attacking us?” Anya asked from the rear.

“Because we’re not an immediate threat,” Rupert replied. “Most likely, should we advance, we’d find it slightly more intimidating.”

“Because six feet of dripping fangs and beady eyes is like Christmas,” the ex-demon muttered.

The redheaded witch cocked her head, watching the dog. “I don’t know, Giles,” she said softly. “Something’s not quite right. It’s not acting the same way it did in the alley, or in the cemetery the first time we saw it.” She took a tentative step forward, but was stopped by Tara’s gentle hand on her forearm. Turning, she looked at her girlfriend, a small line between her brows. “Can’t you feel it?” she asked.

For a long moment, Tara looked back at the Hound, then slowly released her grip on Willow. “Just be careful,” she whispered.

Giles raised the crossbow, aiming it at the dark mass in the cave’s entrance. “In case you’re mistaken,” he explained.

Taking a deep breath, Willow began walking forward, her gaze locked on the Hound. “Hey there, puppy,” she greeted soothingly. “Whatcha doin’? You waiting for somebody?” Her measured steps were short, unhurried, as she eased herself into the dog’s reach. Its ears perked, alert to her approach, but it betrayed no other signs of alarm. “That’s right,” the witch continued. “I’m not going to hurt you. See? Nothing in my hands.” She held them up as testimony before slowly lowering them back to her sides. “So why is such a pretty puppy out here all on his lonesome? Huh?”

The distance between the two had lessened with every word, until Willow stood only a couple feet away. Very slowly, the Hound sat back down on its haunches, its head tilted, its nose up as it sniffed at the air. “Does puppy smell something?” She brightened with understanding. “Are you hungry? You want my snack?” Without taking her eyes off him, she pulled open the flap on her bag and reached inside, carefully extracting something wrapped in tin foil. “I bet you like chicken, don’t you?”

From their vantage point, the remaining Scooby members watched as the Hound began nuzzling Willow’s hand, its giant teeth gleaming in the moonlight. Again, Giles lowered his weapon. “Incredible,” he murmured.

Tara glanced over at the older man, a smile lifting the corner of her mouth. “She’s got a way with animals,” she said. “You should see her with Miss Kitty Fantastico.”

“That’s all well and good,” came from Anya behind them. “But what about us? That thing’s probably got Buffy inside the cave. Is it just going to stand by and let us go get her?”

“Only one way to find out,” Giles said, and began the approach toward the knoll.

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

It only took the sight of Buffy’s blood to ignite the rage within the vampire’s breast, and he charged at the dark witch without any thought as to the headache it would afford him. He had only run a few steps, however, before a bolt of magic fired from Celie’s palms, slamming into the Slayer’s chest and pinning her even tighter against the wall. “Any further and she dies, demon!” she ordered.

Spike froze, but his face was a seething mask of hatred, his eyes glittering gold. “Let. Her. Go,” he said through clenched teeth.

She laughed. “Or what?” she taunted. “You’ll bite me? We both know you can’t, as much as you may wish to. Thanks to your companion there, I know quite a bit about your…limitations.”

Stepping forward, Xander held up his hands. “This wasn’t part of the deal, Celie.”

At the recognition in the other man’s words, Spike whirled. “Deal?” he yelled. “You made a deal with her? What in fuck’s sake were you thinkin’? She works for the bastard who’s after Buffy!”

“It wasn’t supposed to go down like this!” Xander argued back, his face flushed in frustration.

Within the hold of Celie’s magic, Buffy lifted her head, fighting to regain control of her own body. Blinking against the blood that was running into her eyes, she stared at the witch. “You obviously want something,” she said. “Are you going to enlighten us, or do we have to play twenty questions? Because I am sooooo not in the mood for this right now.”

“I want a trade.” The witch cast her black gaze toward Spike. “I release the girl, and in return, you take her place.”

The blond vampire felt his game face disappear as the situation crystallized for him. Of course, that’s why Xander had insisted on a bodyguard to walk him back to the cave’s entrance, and why he hadn’t exactly been thrilled when Buffy had announced she was coming along. He’d agreed to exchange the Slayer for Spike.

A glance back at the young man confirmed his suspicions, as Harris was doing his best not to look directly at him, focusing instead on his friend in the magical field. Spike had never really had strong feelings one way or the other for his ex-roommate, but in spite of it all, a new niggle of respect danced in his regard for him. It took courage to face the wrath of Buffy---and this would most definitely piss her off---and Xander had made the choice anyway, believing that in spite of the consequences, it would save his friend, which ultimately was both of their desire. As to why Daymon’s witch was willing to defy his command in order to satisfy her own plans, Spike had no idea, but if it meant Buffy went free, he was prepared to make the deal.

He swept his sapphire eyes across the cave, and met the Slayer’s. The silent understanding passed between them, and she began struggling again. “Don’t, Spike!”

“Quiet!” Celie’s command was accompanied by another flash of magic, this time knocking the young woman unconscious. Spike’s steps toward her were instinctive, but he checked himself as the witch stiffened, ready to attack again. “The choice is yours, vampire,” she said, her voice suddenly low and seductive. Inwardly, she prayed that he wouldn’t notice how much weaker she had grown with each assault, that she was only now barely able to maintain her hold, that sticking with her resolve would mean temporarily deserting the Hound and her duties in favor of teleporting the vampire out of the cave.

Xander hung back against the stone wall, confusion coloring his brown eyes. Why didn’t she just take Spike? he wondered. She had the power, so all she had to do was use it. Even more bewildering, why did it look like Spike was actually seriously considering her offer?

“If I agree, you let Buffy go. No more hunting with that demon dog of yours, and she walks out of this cave on her own two feet.” His voice was cold as he delivered his terms, but it burned in Celie’s heart as a flare of hope.

“Agreed.”

He cast one more look at the battered form of the Slayer pinned to the wall. Her shirt was torn, revealing magical burns across her abdomen, and the gash on her forehead still bled, but he could see that all of her wounds were superficial; she would heal quickly. Don’t know what the witch wants, luv, Spike thought, but I’m going to do my damnedest to get back to Sunnydale, one way or another. Be strong, and give my best to your mum and Niblet.

He turned to face the black witch. “Done.”

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

It felt like an enemy had ripped out some internal organ, and he howled into the night sky, a forlorn cry that ricocheted against the nearby fauna, bouncing back to sink into the desert sand. Blinking against the blinding light flooding from the cave’s mouth, Willow and the others held their ears while the Hound bayed in agony, no longer afraid for their own safety, but now concerned for his.

As the light faded, the redheaded witch reached out to stroke the midnight fur. “Did you feel that, Tara?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Her girlfriend nodded. “That was way powerful,” she agreed.

“Feel what?” Anya pried. “I didn’t feel anything.”

Before the witches could answer, a faint, “Buffy!” filtered from the cavern.

The ex-demon’s eyes widened. “That’s Xander!” she cried, and rushed past Willow and the Hound, following the sound.

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

He cradled her in his arms, brushing the stray lock of golden hair back out of her eyes. She was breathing, that was a good thing. As soon as Spike had agreed to Celie’s deal, the witch had turned, focusing her magics on the vampire, and the pair had disappeared in a dazzling flash. Once released from her hold, Buffy had fallen to the ground, landing in a crumpled heap, and Xander had rushed over as soon as he could see again. She didn’t appear seriously harmed, but since it was magic, he knew there was no way he could know for sure. He had to get her to Giles.

“Xander!”

His head jerked up at the sound of Anya’s voice, and he suddenly found himself in a stranglehold as his girlfriend flung her arms around his neck. “You had me so worried!” she said, her words muffled by his hair. “Don’t you ever do that to me again!”

“Anya,” he choked. “Can’t…breathe…”

Sitting back on her heels, she loosened her grip but didn’t let go, almost as if she was afraid he would disappear again if she did. She looked down at the Slayer’s bleeding forehead. “She’s not dead, is she?”

“No, but I wish Willow or Tara were here to check her out.” As if on cue, Giles and the witches came hurrying into the cavern. At the sight of his unconscious charge, the Watcher ran to her side, bending over her to peer into her face.

“What happened?” he murmured.

“Magic,” Xander explained. “Bad magic. But I think she’s OK.”

Looking around the otherwise empty cave, Willow asked, “Where’s Spike?”

The pang of guilt stabbing into his stomach was unexpected, but before Xander could answer, the Slayer groaned, stirring slightly in his arms. Everyone’s attention was immediately diverted, and they held their breath as her eyelashes fluttered open.

“Buffy?” asked Giles. “How do you feel?”

Her hand reached up to touch the gash on her head. “Like I got stomped on by Bigfoot,” she groaned, pulling herself away and sitting up. Using the wall behind her as leverage, Buffy slowly rose to her feet. “Where’d she go?” she queried, looking around, a line between her hazel eyes.

“She’s gone.” No point in delaying the inevitable, Xander thought, and added, “And so’s Spike.”

Buffy sniffed the air, and realized for the first time that she could no longer sense her lover, that his absence was like a palpable hole in her surroundings, and that for the first time since her kidnapping, she felt utterly alone. She turned in incredulity to Xander. “What did you do?” she demanded.

Although he now stood in order to more ably face her head on, the young man took a step backward, unsure of the source of the Slayer’s anger. “I found you. Isn’t that what’s important here?”

“By selling out Spike to the Princess of Darkness? After everything he’s done for me, this is how you repay him?” She turned on her heel and began marching toward the depths of the cavern, toward Cortina’s realm. When Xander took a step to follow her, she whirled, holding up her hand to make him stop. “You so don’t want to be around me right now,” she threatened.

“Buff, he went of his own accord. It was his choice.”

“Because he thought it would save me from…what was your little pal’s name, Xander? Because I didn’t quite catch it.”

“…Celie.” His voice was low, and his growing fear began to gnaw at his gut. This time, his screw-up had been of monstrous proportions and even he was beginning to realize that now.

She nodded. “Nice to know you’re on such friendly terms with her, considering just a few days ago, she was only trying to, you know, hunt me down. God, I knew you didn’t like him, but I never thought you hated Spike enough to do this.”

“Hey, in my own defense, the math seemed pretty easy. Vampire, or Vampire Slayer. Pretty easy calculation.” He was getting angry now. Why couldn’t she see that he’d just been doing what he thought was best?

“She’s not even a demon; how is he going to defend himself? Did you even once think of how Spike was going to get away from her?”

Giles finally stepped forward to intervene. “Buffy, perhaps you’re over-reacting just a bit. After all, it was only Spike.”

The young woman turned wide eyes to her mentor. “Only Spike?” she said. “Next time you’ll be saying, it was only Anya, or only Willow. It’s not ‘only Spike,’ Giles. Not after---.” She cut herself off, ducking her head.

Behind the Watcher, Willow and Tara exchanged knowing glances. Buffy knew, and even more importantly, their own conclusions about her feelings seemed to be accurate as well. They watched her as she let out a long, shuddering breath.
“You just have no idea,” she whispered. “He’s saved my life so many times now, I’ve lost count. I’m not about to just desert Spike so that this Celie person can do whatever she wants to him. Not after everything.” She raised defiant eyes up to her friends. “If you’re with me, great. But if you’re not interested in helping me get him back, thanks for everything, but maybe you should think about heading back to Sunnydale without me.”

“He could be anywhere, Buff,” Xander said quietly. “Don’t you think you’ve got more important things to worry about than a wild goose chase?”

“Oh! Oh!” Willow brightened. “She left the Hound here. Outside. We can use him to find Spike!”

The young woman relaxed. “That’s great, Will. Now, I have to check back in with Cortina---.”

Giles’ eyes narrowed. “Cortina?”

“It’s a long story; I’ll fill you in on the way.” Buffy half-turned, then paused. “That is…if you’re coming.”

The Watcher looked at the solemnity in his charge’s face. Experience taught him that when she set her mind to something, there was no changing it, but even he had been taken aback at her vociferous defense of the chipped vampire. Something was different; he only hoped that she trusted him enough to confide in him. Adjusting the weight of his duffel, he strode to her side. “Well, it appears to be the night for walking. Lead on.”

“What about the Hound?” Willow chimed in. “He’s too big to come with us.”

“Will he run if we’re not around?” Buffy queried. “There’s got to be entrances big enough for him to fit into somewhere. I just have to ask Cortina about them, and then maybe she can send some of her men back to bring him in.”

“I can try explaining it to him,” Willow replied. “He seems to trust me for some reason.”

The Slayer nodded. “Do it. I’d rather not have my best shot at finding Spike go off after a desert bunny or something.” Without even looking over at where Xander and Anya stood, she disappeared around the bend in the cave, with Giles right on her heels.
“So, what’s the deal?” Anya asked. “Are we going to help, or are we going home?”

He set his jaw. “We do what we always, hon,” he said. “We help.” And taking her hand, Xander led her after the Slayer…

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

Their toes dangled in the water, enjoying the warm caress of the stream, as Willow and Tara watched Buffy pace along its side. After explaining about Cortina, the Slayer had been silent for the rest of the entire journey, and they had both noticed her determination not to enjoy the beauty of her surroundings, especially in the carved-out lagoon, ignoring her friends as they oohed and aahed about the waterfall and benches. She’d taken up post near the entrance, only speaking when two squat demons had arrived, and then it was only to request that they fetch their mistress.

“I can’t believe we were so wrong about this place,” Willow murmured. “Definitely no more ooglies.”

“It’s all kind of romantic, don’t you think?” replied Tara. “Being shut away from the world, with this gorgeous grotto to play in. I’m not sure I’d want to leave.” She glanced over at Xander and Anya, cuddling nearby, and leaned into her girlfriend. “Do you think this is where Buffy and…?” she asked suggestively.

“Oh, goddess, definitely! I mean, wouldn’t you?”

Before Tara could answer, Cortina came sweeping in, her white caftan floating behind her. She went immediately to Buffy’s side. “My men told me you were back, and without Spike,” she rushed. “What happened?” The white demon noticed for the first time the other people in the cave. Her blue eyes looked questioningly back at the Slayer.

“These are my friends,” Buffy hurried. “You know Xander and that’s his girlfriend, Anya.”

“The ex-vengence demon.” Cortina called out to the pair. “Sorry again about the scratches!”

“The two with their feet in the water are Willow and Tara,” she said, gesturing.

“So they’re the witches,” the demon observed.

The redhead’s eyes widened. “How’d you know that?”

Cortina smiled. “I can feel your powers,” she explained. “Part of the whole Vrolek gig is our capacity for dampening magic. I could sense you guys coming in.”

Tara nodded knowingly. “That explains why our spell f-f-fizzled.”

Behind her, Giles waited patiently to be introduced. “And this is---.” started Buffy.

“Rupert Giles!” Cortina rushed past the young woman in order to get closer to the older man. Her frank appraisal of the Englishman brought a slight blush to his cheeks and he smiled nervously.

“You…know me?” he asked as smoothly as he could manage.

“Of course! A Slayer is as only as good as her Watcher. I’m sure that everything Buffy is today is completely due to your influence and training.”

Tara and Willow exchanged a surprised look. Cortina was flirting with Giles! What was even funnier, the Watcher actually seemed to be responding to it.

“Well, I can only take partial credit…” His words trailed off as he removed his glasses to smile at her more directly.

The white demon leaned into the Slayer. “You do surround yourself with the most handsome men,” she said. “Totally different types, of course, but handsome, nonetheless.”

A flabbergasted Buffy just gaped at her hostess. “That’s Giles,” she was finally able to spit out.

Cortina patted the young woman on the shoulder. “Oh, I know it must be hard for you to see him outside of his mentor role. Just trust me on this one.” She flashed a dazzling smile at Rupert. “You must have fascinating stories to tell.”

“Well, actually---.”

“Can you guys possibly do this later?” Buffy interrupted. “Like, outside of my direct line of sight? Right now, the issue is Spike.”

“God, how thoughtless of me!” Cortina pulled the Slayer over to one of the benches, forcing her to sit down. “What happened?”

“We were ambushed. The witch disappeared with him.”

The demon frowned. “Another witch? How did she use her magic in my caves?”

Buffy shook her head. “I turned the corner and, bam! Right into one of her blasts.”

“She must be very powerful,” Cortina mused.

“Oh, she is,” chimed in Willow. “But not so powerful that she couldn’t take the Hound with her.”

“That’s the dog I sent your guys after,” the Slayer explained. “It tracks things. We’re hoping it can find Spike.”

The demon’s eyes softened, and she reached out to stroke Buffy’s cheek, pushing her hair back out of her eyes. “I’m so sorry,” she said softly. “This must be really rough on you.”

There was a moment when Willow thought she saw her friend’s face soften, her hazel eyes gleam with unshed tears, but it quickly vanished. “I’m going to get him back,” Buffy averred.

“Of course you will.” Cortina stepped back. “In spite of her spell, there’s really only one direction she could’ve gone in. Her magic wouldn’t have worked in any other way, no matter how powerful she is. I’ll go get those maps I promised you earlier. You can still use them to pinpoint where your kidnapper is, but they should also help in getting you off in the right direction to find your---.” She broke off as Buffy’s eyes widened, her head shaking almost imperceptibly. “---Spike,” she finished. She turned and smiled brightly at Giles. “Would you like to come with me? I’ve got some wonderful books you might be interested in.”

The Watcher couldn’t respond quickly enough. “That would be delightful. I so rarely get to see anything directly from the demon realm.”

She laughed, hooking her arm through his, leading him away from the stream. “I know. We do have a tendency to be a little private about these things.”

The cave was silent as the group of friends watched Cortina and Giles disappear. Finally, Xander piped up. “OK, who else is weirded out by Giles macking on the demon chick?” He held his hand up and looked around. Without breaking their stares from the exit the pair had used, all of the girls simultaneously raised their hands in kind. “Thought so.”

Buffy was the first to break the spell. “I’m going back to my room to get my things,” she said to no one in particular. “If they beat me back here, just start looking over the areas that Cort thinks the witch could’ve taken Spike.” She strode away, her head low, eyes on the floor in front of her.

Willow leaned over to whisper in Tara’s ear. “I’m just going to---.”

“---go talk to Buffy,” the other girl finished. Squeezing her hand, Tara watched as the redhead rose, picked up her shoes, and followed after her best friend.

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

When Willow rounded the corner, she was surprised to see Buffy just standing in the open doorway, seemingly unable to cross the threshold. “I knew it was a lame excuse,” the Slayer said softly. “I mean, I was kidnapped. What things could I possibly have here?” When she looked up to gaze at her friend, the pain in her hazel eyes shone like a beacon. “So have you come to talk me out of it? Because hate to disappoint here, but it’s not going to happen.”

“No.” Willow shuffled her feet, unsure of whether or not she should approach. “I thought you might just want to…talk.”

“It’s OK, Will. Spike told me that you and Tara knew.” Leaning against the door frame, Buffy slid down it until she was sitting on the floor. “Go on. I’m ready. Give me the speech about how I’m doing this out of some stupid sense of responsibility just because he loves me.”

Very carefully, the redhead stepped over and sat down opposite the Slayer, her legs curled up underneath her. “Nope, can’t do that,” she said softly. When Buffy raised her questioning eyes, Willow added, “Wrong speech.”

“Then, can I have the one where you tell me that chocolate is really brain food? ‘Cause I’m in serious need of some good news for a change.”

In spite of the small joke, neither girl smiled. The redheaded witch wasn’t sure how to start, and eventually said, “You know, Xander feels really bad about what happened---.”

Buffy held up her hand, cutting off her friend’s words. “Don’t. Start. The boy is so on my shit list right now.” She shook her head. “I just don’t get the why of it. Once he saw that I was OK, why didn’t he just forget about this Celie person? Why go through with giving over Spike?”

“I don’t think he knows about the whole, you know, feeling thing.” Willow bit her lip, braving a quick look into her friend’s eyes.
“That wouldn’t have made a difference, Will. In fact, I think if he knew that Spike was in love with me, he would’ve put a big bow around him and handed him over to Celie on a silver platter.”

“I didn’t mean that,” the witch said. She took a deep breath. “I meant, he doesn’t know about your feelings…for Spike.”

The friends regarded each other, two sets of green eyes wary of how far each could go. Finally, Buffy sighed. “I don’t suppose it’s even worth me trying to lie about it,” she said.

“Nope, not really.” In spite of her discomfort, Willow smiled and scooched herself over so that she was sitting right next to the other girl. “I’ll understand if you don’t want to talk about what exactly happened, but you know I’m here if you need me, right?”

Ducking her head, Buffy felt the familiar sting of a tear and blinked rapidly in an attempt to make it go away. “How’d you know? Am I really that transparent? Lemme guess, your next trick is you tell me what I had for lunch.”

“It was lots of little things actually,” the Wiccan explained. “Stuff you said during the fever, how you acted when you realized Spike was gone. Oh, and your sex dream about him. That was the pretty big tip-off that kind of got me and Tara thinking about it in the first place.”

Buffy eyes widened in horror. “He told you about the dream?”

“Not specifics, just that you had it.” She couldn’t resist leaning in, a wicked smile creasing her face. “Was it at least a good one?”

“Ohmigod, amazing!” the Slayer blurted, then blushed a furious red at her own eagerness.

Willow giggled. “There’s no reason to be embarrassed. Spike’s a major hottie, even if he is a vampire and all Big Bad and everything.” She sobered. “Is that what you’re so afraid of? That it’ll be just like it was when Angel went all Angelus on us?”

“No, not really,” Buffy admitted. “I mean, yes, Spike has this chip so he can’t hurt people anymore, but that’s not the same thing as having a soul. He’s still a demon, Will, but I keep forgetting that every time he does something unexpected. Like telling me that he loves me. Or agreeing to trade himself for me with Celie.”

“Is that what happened back there?” At her friend’s nod, the redhead let out a low whistle. “Wow. I mean, we kinda figured it was something like that, but we didn’t know for sure.”

“There’s more.” The blonde took a deep breath, steadying her racing nerves. “Spike and I…had sex.”

Willow rolled her eyes. “Well, duh.” When an astonished Buffy just looked at her friend, the witch elaborated. “I’m not exactly blind. I was your roommate for a year, remember? I know what your bed looks like after you’ve slept in it.” She gestured to the unkempt four-poster behind them. “And I can recognize sex sheets when I see them.”

“And it doesn’t…freak you out?”

“Well, honestly, probably leaning a little toward the freaky.” She hastened to add, “But that’s my problem, not yours. You’ve got to do what’s right for Buffy, not what’s right for Willow, or Xander, or Giles. And if you think Spike’s the right thing…”

“But that’s just it,” the Slayer argued. “I don’t know if he is the right thing. What I do know, is that for the first time in, like, forever, I don’t have to hold back. He gets me, more than anybody I’ve ever known, and I don’t have to pretend to be something I’m not.” Finally, the tear that had been threatening to fall slid down her cheek, and she turned shiny eyes to her best friend. “Do you have any idea how much I hate the idea that the person I relate to the most is a demon? What does that say about me?”

Willow’s voice was low, soothing. “That says you walk in some pretty dark places, Buffy. But you’re the Chosen One, and that’s part of the whole package. We know that…why don’t you?” Both of them knew she wasn’t expecting a response; merely asking the question was enough. She plunged on. “You don’t think it’s a Riley rebound thing, do you?”

“I considered that,” she said, “but I’m going to say…no. What’s happening between me and Spike started a long time ago, way before Riley ever came into the picture. I think it’s just really weird timing.”

The pair sat in silence for a long moment, each lost in her own thoughts. For Willow, knowing the truth was a relief; she hated the uncertainty, the second-guessing that sometimes went along with being Buffy’s friend. The question that was consuming her now was, how long before Buffy told everyone else?

The witch had no idea that her friend was considering exactly the same thing. Willow had been the least of her worries when she’d thought about breaking the news to the Scoobies. The redhead was a soft touch, quick to turn the other cheek and believe in the best in people. What concerned Buffy was how her Watcher would react to her newfound relationship with an ex-Big Bad. Demons were to be slain, not brought into the bosom of such a tightly knit group as the Scoobies…

“Can I ask you a question?” Buffy said, wiping the tears from her cheek. “Slightly OT.”

“Sure, shoot.”

“What do you think of Cortina?”

Willow shrugged. “She seems nice. A little on the flirty side, maybe, but nice.”

“That’s what I thought. And she doesn’t seem to have an agenda, which for a demon is just…not natural.” Slowly, she climbed to her feet, stretching her muscles. “Sometimes, I miss the old days. Demons bad, humans good. Why did they need to go and change the rules?”

Willow stood and smiled. “That’s what makes it all so interesting. Everyone knows that.”

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

He stared up into the night sky, the cold twinkling of the stars reflecting off the black slits of his eyes. He had forgotten this…the frosty rush of air over his scaled flesh…the smell of the dirt as it settled into the dark…the freedom to taste and savor the creatures that populated the wasteland of this human dimension…

Now that he’d had some sustenance, Daymon felt stronger than he had in decades, stronger even than in the years prior to his first attempt at the cleansing ritual. Perhaps he’d been mistake in thinking that the ritual was necessary, that maybe he could just resume his previous life…wreaking havoc among the mortals of this world…sampling the many diverse bloods that flowed so freely. But, deep down, he knew that that was only wishful thinking. Even now, he could sense that, just as before, the demon that possessed him was diseased and if he didn’t want to die a horrific and agonizing death, he must be rid of it. Hence, the cleansing…

So many scents…hunting the Chosen One would almost be a pleasure. He must remember to be gentle with her; in order for the ritual to succeed, she had to be in perfect health. However, he could still taste the anger he’d felt when she’d run off and Daymon worried that it would color his battle with her, push him too far, force him to injure her beyond healing. He almost hoped that Spike would be with her when he discovered her whereabouts; it would be a delight to force the vampire to watch him snatch away his love, watch her get torn from his grasp and know that he was powerless to stop him…

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

He didn’t know where he was. All he knew was that he ached, from the tips of his boot-clad toes to the ends of his unmoussed curls. He hadn’t hurt this much since that bloody church had fallen in on him, and the irony of that certainly didn’t escape him. The Slayer had been the reason then as well, although this time, he’d actually invited it by choosing to take her place.

Thinking of Buffy distracted him from the pain, and Spike fervently hoped that the whelp had done the smart thing and gotten her back to Cortina’s. The Vrolek would help her find the bastard who was hunting her; he only regretted that he couldn’t be there to enjoy it when the Slayer kicked his ass. Still, he had every intention of keeping his promise and returning to Sunnydale. With Buffy there, only a stake could keep him away now…

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

His fingers caressed the leather spines, tracing the gold lettering as he scanned the titles. “You have the most extraordinary collection,” Giles murmured. “The Druxadian Diaries, the complete Minoan Chronicles…” He pulled out a thin black volume, and flipped it open to the title page. “I thought all the copies of Torvald’s Grand Histories were destroyed in the ice storms of 962.”

Cortina smiled mysteriously. “Obviously, not all of them.”

“I have to admit,” the Watcher said, removing his glasses, “I’m rather jealous of the resources you must be able to command with all this literature at your disposal. I know it would certainly make my job much easier if I had access to such a wealth of information. I’m very grateful you’ve allowed me to view them.”

“How else is a demon going to lure a librarian to her lair?”

Rupert’s eyes widened, turning to view a somber Cortina just staring at him with those translucent blue eyes. A moment of fear gripped his throat, constricting it, before the demon collapsed into giggles.

“Only kidding!” she said through her laughter. “God, you mortals are so easy!” She shook her head. “I guess Spike is the only one of you guys who knows anything about Vroleks.”

Giles relaxed, replacing the book back onto the shelf. “I’m afraid the Council’s official line is that your species is extinct, so there aren’t any details regarding your particular foibles in any of our texts.”

Cortina closed the distance between them, stopping only when she was a few inches away. “So, I’m sure you’ve been doing what you Watchers do best since you got here. Tell me what you’ve learned about…my kind.”

“Well, Buffy gave me some details. Allergic to sunlight and alcohol. This rather remarkable ability to impede magic is very intriguing.” His cleared his throat as the demon tilted her head, giving him a coy half-smile. “And there’s the sense of humor, of course.”

“Damn,” she said. “And here I was, going for charming and delightful.”

Giles laughed, in spite of himself. “I wouldn’t presume…”

“Ever the gentleman,” Cortina giggled, stepping back slightly to allow the Watcher a little more room to maneuver around the bookshelves. “Don’t think I’m going to let you hide behind that façade for too long, Rupert. I know all about your colorful history…Ripper.” She allowed him to see the twinkle in her eyes before ducking her head, turning to the desk and pulling open the bottom drawer. “Now, about those maps…”

A bemused smile twisted the Watcher’s lips as he watched her bend over, the ivory robe clinging to her curves. Although very little of the demon’s skin was actually visible, he found himself slightly aroused by her sensual grace and wondered absently if this was yet another trait of the Vroleks. “Cortina,” he started, “one thing still puzzles me.”

“Oh? What’s that?” Her voice was muffled as she dug around in the drawer.

“Now don’t get me wrong; I do appreciate all the help you’re providing. I just…don’t understand why, and I suppose I’m waiting for the proverbial other shoe to drop.”

The white demon straightened, her arms full of rolled-up charts. “And here I thought we were friends,” she joked. “It’s like I told Buffy when she refused to believe that I didn’t have some ulterior motive. I like my solitude and I’d like to keep it that way. And if doing this for the Slayer improves my odds, then I can do this one little thing. And as for Spike, well, that one’s just too easy. I’m a sucker for young love.”

The Watcher frowned as she began poring over the maps. “Young…love?” he queried.

Cortina’s eyes flickered shut. “Shit,” she muttered before looking directly at Rupert. “Another Vrolek trait? We suck at keeping secrets.”

Fumbling with the text in his hand, Giles felt the backs of his knees start to give and reached for the chair to steady himself. “And there’s a…secret concerning Spike and Buffy?”

“Well, I suppose the cat’s already poking out its head. I might as well let the whole thing out of the bag. Just don’t go telling that I was the one who blabbed.” She sighed. “You’re going to want to sit, I’m pretty sure.” She watched as he just dropped to the floor where he’d been standing. “OK, I meant the chair, but that works, too.”

“You’re not about to tell me that anything…untoward…is going on between Buffy and Spike, are you?” Please, he thought, not again. I’m not even blind this time.

Her laughter tinkled in the air, light and crisp, as she looked down at him. “Oh, hon, if untoward is what you’re worried about, you really don’t want to know about the six guys it’s taking to clear the cave-in they caused.”

Giles’ jaw snapped shut with an audible click. Buffy…Spike…sex…no… “Please…tell me it was a spell…even if you have to lie…” Willow had done it once, perhaps it had happened again.

Tilting her head, Cortina looked down at the Watcher as he removed his glasses and began chewing on the earpiece. His case of denial was definitely cute. “I believe we covered this already, Rupert,” she explained. “I’m a Vrolek, these are my caves, hence, no magic…”

“But Buffy wouldn’t…I mean…she couldn’t…not without…” His blue eyes peered up into hers, the lines on his brow standing out in stark relief. “My Slayer would know better than to get involved with someone so blatantly…evil.”

“Look,” the demon started, settling down on the floor beside him. “I don’t think you’ve got anything to worry about when it comes to Spike. He is absolutely head over heels for that girl. He’d never do anything---.” Giles’ sharp laughter cut her off, and she frowned. “What? What’s so funny?”

“I presume I can add incredible naivete to my list of Vrolek qualities,” he said harshly. “Those two have been trying to kill each other for years. I see no reason for their animosity to simply vanish overnight.”

Cortina shrugged. “Maybe you’re not watching as closely as you should be then,” she commented. “Because I just know what I saw.” Her delicate hand reached down, and began playing with the fabric of his trousers, making tiny pleats along his thigh. “And here’s a question for you. Let’s say I’m right.” As his mouth opened to disagree, the demon lifted her free hand to cut him off. “For argument’s sake only, if that makes you feel better.” Giles’ mouth slowly closed. “Let’s say, Buffy and Spike do have genuine feelings for each other. That maybe, for some unknown reason, Spike is exactly what she needs right now. Why ever in the world would you want to take that away from her?” She turned wide blue eyes to meet his, oblivious to the effect her touch was doing to distract him.

“I’m her Watcher. It’s my duty to protect her to the best of my capabilities.”

Cortina rolled her eyes. “Well, that doesn’t sound too much like something straight out of the Council handbook. Slayers don’t exactly have a long shelf life, Rupert. Let the girl grab what happiness she can.”

“I’m not against Buffy being happy,” Giles argued. “I’m against Spike. You don’t know him like we do. He’s spent the last hundred years torturing and terrorizing thousands of people. Chip or no chip, he is still evil.”

“Because he’s a demon?” Her voice was subdued and her smile had disappeared. “I’m a demon. You think I’m evil?”

He looked down at her tiny hand on his leg. At the moment, he didn’t know what to think. His arousal was now full-blown; Rupert was certain that she could see his excitement through the thin fabric of his pants, that she was deliberately baiting him in an attempt to make her point. Very carefully, he shifted his weight so that her grip on his thigh loosened. “You certainly don’t seem…” but he couldn’t finish the thought. Taking a deep breath, he tried again. “The only emotion that Spike could ever have for Buffy is hatred. He’s made that abundantly clear, time and time again. If he’s professing otherwise now, it’s because he must have some secret purpose that we’re just not aware of yet.”

She took a long time to respond. “Someday, Rupert Giles is going to come face to face with something that he’s not going to be able to explain away too easily. And I do believe that one of two things will happen.” Very slowly, Cortina rose to her feet. “Either he will become the best Watcher the Council ever trained, because he’s finally learned how to exist outside that tiny little box he’s been closeted away in. Or, he’ll go completely off the deep end and we’ll find him locked away in an English monastery, trying to convince the local townsfolk that the next Big Bad is living in that funny-smelling wardrobe stowed away in the loft.” She glanced down at him. “Personally, I’m voting for the former.”

Giles watched Cortina pull two of the maps from her pile on the desk and tuck them under her arm. She was a curiosity, this demon; if it weren’t for their present circumstances, and that included this Buffy/Spike issue---mustn’t dwell too long on that---he was certain that she would provide quite a few hours of interesting discussion, with her rather unusual…viewpoint.

She gestured toward the books behind him. “Feel free to borrow whatever you’d like,” she offered.

“That’s…very generous of you.” Slowly, Rupert stood, a genuine smile creasing his face.

“Not really,” the white demon said, crossing to the door. “I need to give you some kind of excuse to come back and see me.” And with a fleeting glance back at the older man, she floated out into the hallway.

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

She stared down in disbelief at the book spread out in her lap. “Do I really look like that?” Buffy asked, her voice incredulous. She held it up so that the picture was right next to her face. “My hair’s not that poofy…is it?”

Tilting her head, Willow’s forehead crinkled in concentration. “It’s more like freshman hair,” she said. “Kinda like that crimpy thing you got stuck on for a while.”

“Figures I’d be captured for all posterity with last year’s hair,” the Slayer sighed. She was about to toss the book aside when Anya lunged for it, snatching it from Buffy’s grasp.

“Do you have any idea how hard it was to get this edition?” the ex-demon defended. “You don’t just go throwing it on the ground. It’s still valuable merchandise.” She wiped a bit of imaginary dust from the cover before tucking it back into her bag.

“Merchandise or not,” Buffy continued, rolling her eyes, “there’s no way that prophecy’s coming true. I’ll just kill the demon before he can do the ritual.”

“And you don’t think he’s back at the ranch?” asked Willow.

The Slayer shook her head. “Daymon said we were flying ‘home,’ wherever that is, so he obviously wanted to take me to the demon. With my luck, it’ll be some dirty hole in the ground in Podunk, Iowa.”

“Actually, Daymon’s from Greece, so the d-d-demon’s probably there,” explained Tara.

Buffy brightened. “Oooo, Greece would be nice. Warm sand, hot sun, definitely a step up from the normal doom and gloom that is my life. So. All we’ve got to do is find Daymon, force him to take us to his boss, kill his boss, and then get back to Sunnydale and deal with this Glory disaster.” She snorted. “Since when did being the bad guy mean it’s OK to start passing the buck so much? I mean, this demon gets Daymon to find me, Daymon used Celie, and Celie used the Hound. Nobody takes pride in doing a job themselves anymore.”

“Be careful,” giggled Willow. “You’re starting to sound exactly like Giles.”

“And here I thought I wasn’t delusional from that fever anymore,” Buffy said. “Somebody slap me.”

“I heard that.” The Watcher’s voice came up behind them as he and Cortina entered the grotto, she carrying the maps and he with a stack of books. “Since you’re discussing the demon and the cleansing ritual, should I presume you’ve changed your mind about finding Spike?” he asked as he came up beside the group.

“No.” Her voice was firm, and Giles couldn’t help but notice how she refused to meet his eyes. “Spike comes first. There’s no way I’m going to let that witch lay a finger on him, and if that means I have to beat her senseless to do it, well, that’s just a bonus for me, isn’t it?” Brushing past her mentor, she went to Cortina, taking the charts from the white demon. “You said there’s only one way she could’ve gone.”

“Yes.” She stood behind the Slayer as the young woman rolled the maps flat onto the rock bench. “We’re here,” she explained, pointing with a dainty finger at the paper. “Normally, my influence prevents magic within a circle, but this…” Her hand slid across the page to a mountain range. “…manages to act as a barrier somehow. Magic works on the other side of it, just as if I wasn’t around.”

“And you think that’s where she went?” queried Giles, as he peered at the map over his charge’s shoulder.

“No, I know that’s where she went. There isn’t anyplace else close enough for her to teleport to safely. If she’d tried moving within my sphere of influence, her spell wouldn’t have worked at all, she would’ve just bounced back into the cave where she disappeared from, and you wouldn’t be here right now trying to figure out where she is.” Cortina smiled. “But I’ve got something else interesting to show you,” she added.

Buffy frowned. “Interesting good, or interesting bad?”

“Just…interesting.” The demon pointed to a third spot on the chart. “This is the cave you were in when my men found you. And based on what you told me about how far you’d traveled and landmarks you remember seeing…” Her voice trailed off as her finger returned to the mountain range.

“…that’s where Daymon’s ranch is,” the Slayer finished. “She took Spike back to her boss.”

Cortina shrugged. “Or at least near to his hold.”

“So, we could conceivably kill two birds with one stone,” offered Giles. “Rescue Spike, and at the same time, find Buffy’s abductor.”

“Finally!” The blonde began stretching her arms, bouncing on her toes. “Think we can find some vamps on the way? I am so in the mood for a good slay.”

The white demon smiled. “Not this far out in the desert, I’m afraid,” she apologized.

“Yes,” agreed the Watcher. “You should save your energy for our…confrontation.”

The smile that creased Buffy’s face wasn’t phased by her mentor’s mild chastisement. Good news was good news, and no stuffy Watcher was going to take that away from her. Just hang in there, Spike, she thought. Help’s on the way…

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

From the bowels of the adjoining cave, the only acknowledgment he made of having heard the Scoobies was a slow blink of his black eyes. So, the vampire was with Celie. What a shame he wouldn’t be around; he’d so looked forward to witnessing the bleached one’s pain. Oh well. He would’ve sighed, but he knew that silence was his best weapon at the moment. At least now, he thought, I have an explanation of a sort as to why the witch grabbed Spike in the first place. Her agenda remained a mystery, but since Daymon was now so close to obtaining the Chosen One, he no longer cared. Let her have her fun…

His one regret was that Buffy now knew of the ritual’s existence and would fight even fiercer in order to prevent it from occurring. His wish to keep from harming her would most likely not be met; he only hoped that her advanced healing capabilities would work well enough to mend what damage he might have to inflict. Although he couldn’t see them, he knew that those who accompanied her were the friends that Celie had briefly mentioned. They were an unforeseen encumbrance, but casualties were to be expected in a battle for supremacy.

And he fully intended to win…

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

She hadn’t made a noise, but even in the blackness, he knew she was there. Vanilla…the dry perfume of Cortina’s sheets…and sweat, a salty tang that caused his mouth to suddenly water, the image of her golden skin shining in the light as she slid on and off of his cock fixating on his inner eye. His erection was immediate; he only wished that he could turn his head so that he could see her approach, feast on her animal grace as she wound her way to his side. But the witch’s magic bound him in place, and he could no more look around than he could sit up.

Hot fingers trailed up the bare skin of his arm, and Spike found himself unable to suppress the shudder of pleasure the faint touch evoked. His eyes flickered shut as the Slayer traced the prominence of his clavicle before mirroring its path in reverse down his left shoulder. “Buffy…” he groaned, only to be silenced by her lips covering his, a firm caress sucking out what little air he had in his lungs. He longed to reach up, entangle himself in those blonde waves, pull her into the kiss harder…deeper…

“You didn’t think I’d just let psycho-witch get away with Lindbergh-ing my favorite Spike, did you?” she whispered, her mouth suddenly only millimeters from his ear. The sharp tip of her tongue swept along the ridges, and her teeth nipped at the cartilage of its upper arch, sending licks of flame down the vampire’s spine.

“We don’t…have that much…time…” he gasped.

In a flash, she was straddling him, her hair hanging over her shoulder and tickling his chest. “Then I better be quick with this,” Buffy murmured. He didn’t know when she had removed her pants---or his, for that matter---but there was no mistaking the slick channel of her pussy as it sucked him in, stretching around his girth, devouring his cock in one ravenous swoop. He waited for her inevitable slide back up…but it never came.

“She didn’t lay a hand on you, did she?” the young woman asked, holding him deep inside. “Give me a reason to hurt her.”

He chuckled. “Not yet, luv,” Spike said, his voice barely above a whisper. “She seems to be waitin’ for somethin’.”

“I know what I’m waiting for,” Buffy replied. Her head lowered and she brushed a feather-soft kiss across his mouth, her hazel gaze never breaking from his. “I love---.”

Her words choked off with a gurgle, and Spike felt the warm splash of her blood on his face. He couldn’t move, but the panic rose in his throat like bile as her body slumped against his, the pounding of her pulse already starting to fade, the glint of the scattered moonlight reflecting off the knife in her back…

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

“…Buffy!”

His scream ripped through the heavy musk of the stable as he bolted upright, his nerve endings racing as if he’d just sparred with the devil himself. A dream, a dream, it was only a dream, he intoned silently, but the taste of her blood on his lips…its scent as it spattered across his cheeks…too real, it had seemed so real…Even now, he couldn’t help his hands coming up, convinced that he’d still find rivulets of red etching his face.

Spike heard the witch stir on the other side of the pen and froze, hoping against hope that he hadn’t woken her. She was in a foul mood, constantly muttering under her breath about some stupid side effect of her spell before finally drifting off to sleep. From the thick aromas in the air, the vampire finally knew where he was; she’d moved them to the Hound’s quarters. He had yet to see the dog; he could only assume it was somewhere nearby. This was only a temporary pit stop; the witch was exhausted and in desperate need of rest before continuing on to whatever final destination she had in mind.

“Enjoy your sleep, demon,” she’d snarled. “It’ll be your last.”

The pen was surrounded by the same type of containment spell that had held Spike and Buffy within the bedroom in Daymon’s hold. The vampire knew from experience that there would be no chinks in the invisible walls; still, with Celie so fatigued and her powers so diminished, there was the chance that a crack did exist. As stealthily as the dry straw and his aching muscles would allow, he stood and found the edge of the spell behind him. He’d do this all night if it meant getting back to Buffy…

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

“I refuse to allow you to go alone,” Giles argued.

Her arms crossed over her breasts, Buffy tilted her head as she regarded the older man with a tinge of amusement. “Alone equals one. Last time I checked, Slayer plus Wicca plus big scary Hound thing equals three. I will not. Be. Alone.”

“And if Celie is in fact with this Daymon? Are you prepared to take them both on with so little help?”

“By that point, I’ll have Spike---.”

“---who could be seriously injured or even dead---.”

“---who would only be a last resort anyway since neither Boris nor Natasha are demons.” She sighed. “Trust me. I’ve seen this guy. Daymon’s such a non-threat, even Benedict Xander could take him.” She deliberately avoided looking back at him as she said this.

The young man shrugged. “It’s nice to know there’s at least one bad guy out there who would fall under the might of that which is me,” he joked, but felt the first flicker of hope since returning to Cortina’s lair. Maybe he could actually be of some help with this kidnapper…

Giles regarded his charge, his lips pursed. “Buffy,” he said tightly, “could I possibly have a word with you? Alone?” He gestured to the other side of the stream.

The Slayer rolled her eyes. “Because of course, now, alone can equal two,” she commented, but stepped past him anyway, walking slowly around the edge of the water and away from her group of friends.

Watching Giles follow after the young woman, Cortina stepped up to the group of friends. “OK, let’s dish,” she said brightly. “Anyone care to fill me in on the details of this little prophecy that’s got Rupert so hot and bothered?”

Willow glanced over at the demon. “He didn’t tell you?”

“He was a little distracted by my…books,” she replied, her pale blue eyes dancing mischievously.

Anya reached into her bag and pulled out the Tract of Telemus. “Be careful,” she said as she handed it over. “It’s quite old and very valuable.”

Cortina turned it over in her hands, before beginning to flip through the pages. “You’re kidding, right? Please tell me you didn’t pay a fortune for this.”

“Well, I’m…not sure,” Anya stumbled. “Why? It’s not a fake, is it?”

“Oh, no, it’s the real deal. It’s just not a very good copy.” She held it up to her nose, sniffed delicately at the papyrus. “Someone’s rebacked it, there’s foxing in the Middle Ages section, and…” She took another whiff. “…at some point, it’s been buried with a Plasonian demon.”

Xander let out a low whistle, leaning over to whisper in Willow’s ear, “Someone more freaky-deaky about books than Giles? Who’d of thunk it?”

“But the p-p-prophecies are still right, aren’t they?” asked Tara.

“Well, as right as they’re going to be for a manic/depressive with a god complex,” Cortina shrugged. “Where’s the one about Buffy?” Taking the text, not quite so gently this time, Anya turned to a page toward the end of the tome before handing it back. The white demon grimaced. “Crappy picture.”

Willow nodded. “It’s not high on the Buffy lovin’ scale, either.”

The demon read out loud,

“…And Chosen is the Chalice,
To war, with passion, with strength,
Then to devour, with equal fortitude
As the demon possesses her
Body, soul, spirit.
Radiance quickening,
For the cleansing of the impure calls forth the vermin
Who cling to evil’s underbelly,
Feeding from the Chalice
As she rains a shower of death.
And those she loves will burn.”

She was quiet for a moment, a tiny line between her brows, and then, “Huh.” Glancing up, her eyes went to the Watcher across the stream, and Cortina repeated, “Huh.”

“You only think it’s huh-worthy?” quizzed Xander. “I know you’re not part of the usual Slayer cortege, so maybe you’re not as bothered by the burning loved ones as we are, but you still seem a little blasé about the whole Buffy raining death thing.”

Very slowly, the white demon closed the book and handed it back to Anya. “I’m sorry,” she said, distractedly. “It’s just…if I didn’t know better---.” She was interrupted when one of her horned lieutenants came scuttling out of nowhere and began whispering in her ear, its guttural dialect lost on the young people surrounding her. Her translucent blue eyes widened, then darkened in anger, and she turned a flushed face back to the Scoobies. “Please, I must excuse myself,” she apologized, before rushing off after her guardsman in a white flurry.

The quartet stood there, looking around at each other awkwardly. “So,” Anya finally said, “how much do you think the book is actually worth?”

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

She didn’t know how to describe it…a cross between worried Watcher and angry Giles, perhaps? With a little of reluctant Rupert thrown in on the side for just a bit of flavor. She watched as he chewed on the ends of his glasses, his left hand tucked under his right arm, those lined blue eyes staring down at her. “So…” Buffy said, desperate to break the silence. “It’s been my experience that lectures usually involve some form of oral interaction, normally of the talking kind, although sometimes of the shouting. I do believe this is my very first reprimand of the mime variety.”

“I’m not angry.” His voice was clipped, even more so than usual, and the young woman felt the familiar ache of guilt as she averted her eyes. “Is there…anything you wish to tell me?”

He was giving her the perfect opportunity. He knew it. She knew it. And yet…the Slayer’s throat constricted, the words strangled before they could even be uttered. Why was this so difficult? She silently laughed. Hell, if she couldn’t say the words to Spike, there was no way she could say them to Giles. Maybe it was a them-being-British thing. “I just want you to know that I know what I’m doing here,” she finally said. “You have to trust me.”

“I do,” he murmured. “I always have. But that doesn’t stop my worrying.” He rubbed a hand over his tired eyes. “I’m not blind, Buffy. I know something has happened to you over the past few days, something you’re choosing to keep to yourself, for some inexplicable reason. I’m not going to demand that you divulge your little secret. What I am going to do, however, is insist that you listen to my expertise when I say that refusing additional aid is both rash and foolhardy, and will most likely cause someone their life.”

Deep down, in that place she kept locked away from outside eyes, the Slayer knew he was right, that not allowing the gang to help her was both risky and desperate. But to agree, to let them in, meant…sharing Spike…when she’d only just discovered him for herself…

“When this is all over,” she said, “I promise you that I will explain everything.” She forced herself to meet his blue gaze. “You won’t like it, and you’ll probably go Daddy Dearest on me, but I’ll tell you anyway. Because you deserve to know the truth, more than anyone else.” She took a deep breath, steadying her racing nerves. “For now, as long as you agree that we get Spike first, I’ll let you play Kirk and be all ordery. I’ll even listen,” she finished with a smile.

“Thank you,” he murmured, his face relaxing only slightly at the concession. “I don’t want you to think I’m against trying to help Spike,” he found himself adding as she began to turn away. Her hazel eyes came back to his. “He has proven…useful on a number of occasions.”

Buffy’s lips curled slightly. “Yes, he can be…useful,” she agreed. “Did I mention he helped me get over the fever?”

“Yes. Yes, you did.” Just go ahead and tell me, Giles begged silently. Put us both out of our misery.

“And of course, he’s been a tremendous asset when it comes to the whole Hound thing.” She was babbling now, more out of relief to be past the Spike issue for the moment than anything else. “Oh, and he was the Sherlock when it came to the cave Cortina’s men found us in. You know, for a demon, she seems pretty cool. I haven’t really figured her out yet, but at least she’s nice enough about it. Don’t you think she’s nice, Giles?”

At the mention of their hostess’ name, Rupert colored slightly and hastily replaced his glasses. “Very,” he said quickly, too quickly really, but Buffy was too distracted to notice. “Perhaps we should rejoin the others. Revisit our plan of attack.”

Anything to avoid this topic, he thought.

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

“Where’s Cortina?” Buffy asked as they returned to the group.

“Off on demon business,” Xander explained.

“Right. Well, we’ve decided to opt for a new strategy,” Giles said, ignoring the knowing glances passing between the younger people. “Rather than---.”

“Ssshhhh!”

All heads swiveled to look at the Slayer, who now stood stock-still, her body rigid, her eyes fixed on nothing as she strained to listen, to confirm or deny the…What had it been, a scratching…a rasp? The Scoobies held their breath as she stretched her senses, hoping to…

And there it was again. A dryness, rustling in the cave’s void, somewhere off to her left. Slowly, Buffy reached into her Watcher’s duffel, extracting the crossbow he had ready there. “Don’t move,” she whispered, not even looking at her friends, her gaze intent instead on sweeping the various exits that spanned the area from which the sound had emanated. “Eeny, meeny, miney, moe,” she murmured, and took a step forward, arming the crossbow without even looking at it. “Somewhere out there’s a demon ‘ho.”

She stopped, struggling to narrow her field of choices, eyes dancing from arch to arch. It was there, she could feel it in her bones, and she only had to be patient, wait for it to make its presence known. Inside her head, a tiny giggle bounced around. Nice to know the Slayer equipment still works, she thought happily.

Five…ten…thirty seconds stretched into a minute, and Buffy began to wonder if maybe she’d been mistaken. It still felt like something was out there, but there were no more sounds, no more clues as to its whereabouts. Maybe it’s just one of Cortina’s guys, she thought. Maybe with all this worrying about Spike, I’ve just gone into overload and one of those guards has set all this off. The crossbow perched on her shoulder lowered, and she half-turned to face the Scoobies, a sheepish smile of apology ready and waiting.

“Sorry, guys,” she said. “Don’t know what got into me…” Her voice trailed off as she took in Willow’s eyes, wide as saucers…Anya, clutching desperately at Xander’s arm…Giles, arm flung out to his side in some half-assed attempt to shield Tara…All of them were staring off to Buffy’s left.

Looking back seemed to take forever. When she had, she felt her heart sink to her boots. There, in the central exit, it stood. Seven feet tall if it was an inch…why are all these demons so damn big? the Slayer thought irrationally. It wasn’t a man, although it walked erect. It wasn’t a snake, although it had a tail on it that dragged along behind for almost five feet before disappearing around a bend in the corridor. Perhaps the closest equivalent would be some type of lizard, scaled in a deep brownish-green, black reptilian eyes staring coldly directly at her. No tiny limbs for this one, though. Arms as heavily muscled as a professional bodybuilder’s wielded an elaborate sword, its four-foot blade reflecting rainbows onto the stone walls, while the thick legs, although not quite man-sized, still made up almost half its height.

“You look so familiar to me,” Buffy said lightly, raising the crossbow back up to her shoulder, trying to look more confident than she felt. “I didn’t kill a relative of yours, did I? A mother, maybe, or a brother? Third cousin on your father’s side?” No response, no movement. “Although, must say, snake samurai? Soooo B-movie.”

As her finger tightened on the trigger, the demon spoke. “So good to see you in improved health, Miss Summers.”

The Slayer froze. That voice…so oily…slick…although with more of a hiss…Her grip relaxed on the weapon as the face of the demon melded with the face of the man in her mind’s eye…

…Daymon…

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

This was not how she’d hoped it would come down. First of all, he wasn’t supposed to be a demon. The man who’d arranged her abduction was a too-soft, too-privileged, too-oozy Onassis wannabe, while the…thing that confronted her now was as far from that as you could possibly get. Disabling Daymon should’ve been startlingly simple; this demon was lethal, with menace dripping from his every sinuous move, his every muscular curve. She had no idea how or when this metamorphosis of his had happened, but at least one good thing was going to come of this. Now, Buffy thought grimly, I can just go ahead and kill him.

Watcher viewed Slayer, and Giles’ eyes narrowed. It probably wasn’t obvious to any of the others that she’d relaxed her hold on the crossbow, but to the man who’d spent the last five years training her, honing her skills, molding the perfect weapon against evil, the movement was as glaring as if she’d dropped it to the ground. Somehow, she knew this demon…it knew her…and now they faced off with each other, each armed, each dangerous, both deadly.

“Probably should’ve warned you about that desert sun,” Buffy said. “I’d suggest a good skin cream, but I’ve a feeling, it’s a little too late for that.”

“Do not suppose that sarcasm will protect you from your destiny,” Daymon elided.

“No, I’m thinking that killing you is going to do that for me just fine,” she retorted, her finger simultaneously squeezing the crossbow’s trigger.

The arrow whistled through the air, a featherweight missile slicing toward its target. Its aim was true and sure, and by all rights, should’ve embedded itself deep into the demon’s flesh. Instead, the sword came up, deflecting it in a single lightning move, causing the arrow to ricochet harmlessly into an adjoining corridor.

The surprise in Buffy’s eyes caused Daymon to chuckle. “I am afraid you won’t find me quite as…sluggish as I was in my human form,” he said. He swung the blade lazily in front of himself, criss-crossing the air with an ominous swish.

The Slayer let the weapon drop to her waist. His reflexes were incredible; she hadn’t even seen the sword move. If he could do that every time, this sort of attack would never work. “So do you still go by Daymon?” she chatted. “Or do you have some special demon name I should call you?” As she spoke, Buffy casually maneuvered herself between her adversary and the Scoobies, serving as a shield in case he chose to target them next.

Her action did not go unnoticed. “Your friends do not have to be at risk,” the demon oozed. “Give yourself over to me right now, and they can simply walk away unscathed.”

Buffy brightened. “Really? Why didn’t you just say so?” She swiveled to face the gang. “You heard him. Don’t wait up for me.” With a liquid motion, she tossed her weapon at Giles, who caught it single-handedly in mid-air, a frown worrying his brow. His mouth opened to argue with her, only to snap shut as…

…she feinted left, then broke into a run around the far side of the scaled demon. Godzilla may be fast with the weapon, she’d decided, but there’s no way he could match her on foot. If she couldn’t kill from a distance, then it was better to be up close and personal…

Although she’d skirted him on the side opposite his sword, the Slayer hadn’t anticipated the length of his tail emerging from the corridor, swinging around to slam into her abdomen, sending her flying against the stone wall. The dust from the ceiling crumbled into her hair as it cracked behind her, and she landed on her feet, winded and slightly sore, but still vertical.

“I don’t wish to hurt you,” Daymon explained. “This will be much easier for both of us if you’d just come quietly.”

“Sorry,” she said, shaking her head. “Always been a Big Bang kind of gal.” And gotta remember to avoid that tail, she reminded herself.

Launching herself through the air, the Slayer angled her leg into a kick, twisting her body so that she could connect with his jaw from above and to the right. It worked, snapping his head in a clean jerk, but not before the sword had come up, its tip slicing her calf, drawing a thin line of blood. Buffy rolled away, sweeping her foot beneath his, sending him to one knee as she crouched just out of his reach.

They regarded each other warily. The heady aroma of the blood trickling down the Slayer’s leg ignited Daymon’s senses, his tongue darting out to lick his lips, nostrils flaring in hunger. “I find myself jealous of your vampire,” he said thickly. “He is most fortunate to have tasted the Chosen One.” His eyes flicked over the Scoobies behind her. “I do not see him among your friends. Perhaps your attempts to save Spike’s life were for naught after all. Was it worth his feeding from you only to watch him die anyway?” Although he knew the blond vampire had survived long enough to at least be captured, the demon also suspected that the topic of Spike---his feeding, his potential demise---might be enough to spur the young woman into making a mistake by acting rashly, in the heat of anger.

The flush crept up her neck, warming her cheeks. She knew what he was attempting, and the frustrating thing was, it was working. Between flashes of worry about her lover’s safety and the growing fear about her friends learning the truth, Buffy’s emotions threatened to overwhelm her. Only one way to stop thinking about it, she thought, and threw herself into the battle.

“Wow,” breathed Willow, her eyes wide at the new revelation. Around her, the group was frozen, each in his or her own personal shock at the demon’s admission, as they watched the combat unfold before them.

For Xander, the surprise was combined with a slight sense of relief as the real reason for Buffy’s emphatic reaction to his betrayal unveiled itself. Somehow, some way, she reciprocated some if not all of Spike’s feelings. She had to; that was the only way she would ever allow a vampire to feed from her. Her past with Angel only proved that.

Even though they knew about the Slayer’s true feelings, the two witches were as stunned as their companions. After the debacle with Riley, they would’ve expected any association with humans feeding vampires to have turned her off. However, the demon had said that it had happened as an attempt to save Spike’s life. Did Buffy’s feelings for him really run that deep?

It was her Watcher who was the hardest hit by the news. As much as he may want to deny the existence of any positive feelings between his charge and the ex-Big Bad, Giles knew that that possibility was now out of the question. To share in such an intimate exchange, to risk her future as well as her own life, Buffy had to love the vampire more profoundly than anyone suspected. He had no idea how it had happened; the two had been fighting like cats and dogs since Spike’s first arrival in Sunnydale, trading barbs and punches with more passion than any other enemy she had faced. Even after he was chipped, her fervor in dealing with the demon hadn’t diminished, and, on more than one occasion, the Watcher had noted with pride that she refused to allow herself be taken in by Spike’s somewhat domesticated behavior. Still…

He watched the pair fight at the other end of the grotto. Although Buffy was getting her hits in, dodging Daymon’s direct blows, he was still managing to reach her with the sword every once and a while, creating little nicks---one on her arm, another on her shoulder---and drawing just enough blood for her to feel it. He seemed slightly staggered by the force of the Slayer’s attack, but he had yet to take any serious damage. In fact…

Giles’ eyes narrowed. If he didn’t know better, he almost would have believed that the scaled demon was merely playing with the young woman, forcing her to tire herself out before going in for the kill. He’d claimed not to want to hurt her, and as much as he didn’t want to believe it, the Watcher thought that it might actually be true. Perhaps that would work to her advantage…

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

There had been nothing. Sagging against the wall of the pen, Spike’s head dropped into his hands and he closed his eyes as the reality of his prison sank in. The witch had made it impenetrable, and without the amulet they’d used to escape Daymon’s, there was no way he was going to be able to get out on his own.

“Did you honestly believe that I would allow you to escape after everything I have gone through just to get you here?”

Celie’s deep voice jerked Spike to his feet. There was no way he was going to let the bitch see him in such a vulnerable position, not while there was still the possibility of his getting away. “Can’t blame a bloke for trying.”

Her face darkened in rage. “It’s disgusting,” she spat. “How she can allow herself to consort with you, I don’t understand. Humans and demons do not mix. This Slayer of yours is an abomination of nature---.” She cut herself off as his game face slid into view, a snarl curling his lips. He stared at her, golden eyes glittering, daring her to continue, and she found herself shrinking back in spite of the knowledge that he was both contained and that he couldn’t hurt her even if he wasn’t.

“Don’t.” His single-word warning chilled the air, and Celie felt the familiar shiver of hatred down her spine.

“I will be glad when I am finally rid of you,” the witch managed.

His eyes narrowed. “Yeah,” he drawled. “About that…” He pulled out his pack of cigarettes and lit up. “I thought your boss had it hot for Buffy. Why the hell are you dragging my undead ass back to him?”

“This is not for Daymon. I captured you for my own purposes.”

His eyebrow lifted in amusement as his game face disappeared. “Really? Didn’t know I was that interestin’. Must be the English thing. You birds are always suckers for the accent.”

It was all she could do not to contain her revulsion at his attempts to charm. “Don’t flatter yourself, demon. I only want your blood.”

He hesitated as he lifted the cigarette to his lips. “I do hope you’re bein’ all figurative,” he said, taking a drag. “’Cause I don’t see you enjoyin’ the whole vampire gig.”

This time, she smiled. “No, I’m very much interested in your literal blood,” she explained, a smug note of satisfaction in her voice. “It will serve a very special purpose.”

“Only one thing a vamp’s blood is good for,” said Spike, exhaling a long stream of smoke. “And, hate to break it to you, but siring you is at the bottom of my Christmas wish list.”

Her laughter filled the close space of the stable. “I do so look forward to proving you wrong.” Celie’s black eyes grew darker. “Your ability to walk this plane for over a hundred years will serve me well. I am convinced that the power in your lifeforce will be more than sufficient for my needs.”

He had no idea what the witch was talking about, only that the certainty in her expression was more frightening than any words she might utter. What did she know that he didn’t? After a century of living the high and low life of a vampire, Spike could’ve sworn that he had it all figured out. Drink, kill, torture, mayhem…an existence based on violence…creating others when the mood struck…his blood could serve no other purpose…

His face tightened as the memory flickered into his consciousness. “That’s…a myth,” he said cautiously.

“Was a myth.” There was no mistaking her glee. “After so many years of studying, learning everything I could about magic and about vampires, I have finally managed to discover the means to make your existence worthwhile. And the answer lies in your blood.”

“Can’t be done,” Spike said, grinding out his cigarette under the heel of his boot. “Better witches than you have tried and failed. You will, too.”

“We shall see. And when it is all over, my…diversion will be easily forgiven. Daymon will understand that I had to forsake my responsibilities for the greater good.”

He watched her out of the corner of his eye. “For bein’ so pissy about my kind mixin’ with yours, you seem awful eager to be pleasin’ the boss man.” Her confusion at his meaning was written across her eyes, and Spike almost laughed as he realized that she really had no idea. “This is just rich,” he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Here you are, throwing a wobbler that me and Buffy have this thing goin’, while over in the red corner, you’re tossin’ around your respect and admiration for a different demon who’s actually got---I’m sure---diabolical motives when it comes to the Slayer.”

“Demon? I don’t…Daymon isn’t…” She didn’t know what to think. He wasn’t actually suggesting that…

“…he may look like a man, he may talk like a man, but somewhere under the George Hamilton tan lies the heart of a demon. Oh, he keeps it hidden well, but it’s there. I smelled it on him…” His voice trailed off. Bollocks, he suddenly thought. I never told Buffy. In the barrage of events from their escape to his capture by Celie, it had somehow slipped his mind. Inwardly, he groaned and wondered, how is she going to fight him if she doesn’t know what he truly is?

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

She didn’t want to admit it, but it wasn’t going well. Although she was landing the occasional solid blow, too many were just sliding past, or dodged completely, and Daymon was having far too good of luck with that blade of his. Too many cuts now graced her body, and although the vast majority of them were superficial, it was really too soon since her recent incapacitation for her to be really at her best.

Buffy dodged another swing from the sword, and rolled out of his reach for a quick assessment. Scoobies safe albeit stunned into silence…Slayer still in one piece…samurai snake still armed and dangerous…entrances still…

Her eye caught a flash of white within the far entrance, and it was all she could do not to jerk her head around for a solid look. She could hear the dull thud of feet scurrying along the cave’s corridors, and felt a glimmer of hope for the first time since starting this skirmish.

The sounds were not lost on Daymon’s sensitive ears, either. His scaled head turned in time to see Cortina appear in the opening, a horde of men just behind her. They scattered around the grotto, leaving their mistress alone where she stood. “I don’t appreciate uninvited guests,” she said coldly, “especially those who leave behind the dead bodies of my men.”

Daymon sneered. “This does not concern you, Vrolek.”

“These are my friends. Of course it concerns me,” and with that, she threw her head back and opened her mouth.

Her shrill scream pierced the air, causing everyone except her own men to clap their hands over their ears, trying to mute the cry cutting into their spines. Even the scaled demon was affected, and he shrank away from her, hoping distance would achieve what his hands could not. In a last ditch attempt to silence the penetrating shriek, he flung his sword directly at the white demon.

It sailed through the grotto, impaling Cortina in a single graceful stroke, and she went flying against the wall behind her. Her scream became gurgled before trailing off, and she slumped to the ground, the blade sticking out her back.

“Cortina!” The roots that had bound Giles’ feet to the floor disappeared, and he raced to the far entrance and the white demon’s side. With two hands wrapped around the hilt, he struggled to pull the sword from her stomach, listening to the sucking sound of her blood as it finally gave way, letting it fall to the ground as he knelt down to lift her head up and nestle it in the crook of his left arm. The red was flowing freely, staining the ivory of her robe, and he pressed his free hand against the wound, trying to staunch the tide.

The white demon’s eyes fluttered open, and a wan smile curled her lips. “Ever the gentleman,” she murmured.

“Just hold on,” Giles encouraged.

Willow appeared at his shoulder, her face tight with worry. “Can I do anything?” she whispered.

The Watcher was about to respond when Cortina interrupted him. “My library,” she said softly. “I have…medicinal herbs…”

Very gently, Rupert laid the female down on the ground. “Watch her,” he ordered the young redhead and dashed for the appropriate tunnel.

Buffy knew that this was her chance. Daymon still reeled from the aural assault and now, he had no weapon outside of his own two hands. Well, and that tail, of course. A powerful leap into the air brought her down on his back, and she pulled him over onto his side, rolling and mounting him so that his upper torso was pinned underneath her muscled thighs. Mercilessly, she began pummeling him…punch after punch…her face tight with anger and determination.

At first, he struggled, but as her attack became more vicious, the struggling grew weaker, less focused, until finally, he was just taking her hits, his head swinging back and forth as each fist connected with his face. Seeing that the scaled one was no longer a serious threat, Cortina’s men rushed in, using their blades to weaken him even further.

When he felt the Chosen One’s hands grasp either side of his head, Daymon knew that he was too drained to fight her further. “I am sooooo going to enjoy this,” she said, and he felt her tiny hands tighten their grip. Desperate times…

“Kill me,” he rasped, his tongue thick in his mouth, “and your vampire dies as well…”

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

His words curled icy tendrils around her heart, squeezing it, freezing her muscles with terror. She so wanted to just give a quick twist, to be rid of the demon once and for all, but his threat stayed the Slayer’s impulse. Spike’s with the witch, she tried convincing herself; killing Daymon won’t do anything but erase at least one problem from this mess that is my life. But if that was true…why couldn’t she just go ahead and do it?

Her hesitation was the opening he needed, the one he was hoping for. “I can take you to him,” he hissed. “Before Celandia …” He let the thought trail off, allowing Buffy to fill in the blanks herself.

“And see, here I thought you were going to offer something of the useful variety,” she said coldly. “We already---.”

“---know where he is, yes…” His forked tongue darted out, licking his lips. “But can you reach him in time? Can you travel fast enough, find where Celie has him quick enough…?” When he tried to shift underneath her, the young woman’s grip on his head tightened again, and he chuckled. “Kill me, Miss Summers, and you will never know. Could you have saved your vampire if you’d accepted my offer? Will nightmares of his death haunt your sleep, even after you’ve died?”

Against her will, Buffy’s eyes widened as sudden images of a tortured Spike flooded her mind. Blood dripping from open wounds…those deep blue eyes drowning in pain…his lips screaming her name… “I can’t accept an offer that hasn’t been made,” she said tightly.

Through his pain, Daymon smiled. “Such an intelligent young lady you are,” he crooned. “I do so regret not having the opportunity to spend more time with you.”

“Enough of the charm school routine. What’s your offer?”

“A trade.” His gaze was steady. “You spare my life and let me go. In return, I guarantee to deliver you to your vampire before Celie has…disposed of him.”

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

“I don’t understand,” Xander whispered. “What’s Buffy doing out there? Why hasn’t she killed him yet?”

Tara squinted, peering around the horned demons who were now effectively blocking her view. “I think she’s talking to him.”

“Talking?” The young man took a step forward, only to be held back by his girlfriend’s hand on his arm. “This isn’t talking time. This is supposed to be killing time.”

“I’m sure she’ll get around to it any minute now,” Anya comforted.

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

“I don’t even know why I’m listening to you,” Buffy said.

“Because you don’t want to risk losing your…Spike…” Daymon responded. “Tell me…do you love him? He loves you, you know. He wears it as a badge of honor for those who care to notice.”

Her cheeks flushed. “What my feelings are, are none of your business!” she snapped. “This is probably just a bluff anyway. I’ll bet you don’t even know where he is.”

“At my ranch, of course.” Silently, he thanked every demon god in existence that he’d waited to approach long enough to overhear their conversation about the vampire. “And who else but the ranch’s owner would make a better, faster guide?” He saw the doubt return to her eyes and pressed his advantage. “Tick, tock, Miss Summers. The longer you wait, the more likely you’ll find that your vampire has joined the winds of the desert…”

There was no reason for Buffy to trust him. Daymon had spent so many resources just trying to find her in the first place for this cleansing thingamajig; why did she think that he would suddenly walk away from that? But the answer lay between her own two hands, and she stared down at the black slits of his eyes, knowing that it would only take one twist to kill him. It was his life he was bargaining with, and it certainly didn’t seem that any ritual was worth that to him.

And then there was Spike. Sexy, smart, seductive Spike. Her thighs warmed just at the memory of his face…that strut of his when he walked into a room, owning it as no one else could…his biting sarcasm that cut to the bone with its truth…the way his eyes softened when he spoke her name…He had proven himself over and over again these past few days, giving without asking for anything in return. Hell, he’d made the trade with the witch without blinking an eyelash, his life for Buffy’s, and here she was waffling?

“This happens on my terms,” she said firmly. “Any resistance from you on that, and you’ll be dead before you can blink.” The smile that spread across the demon’s face was the only response she needed.

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

Rushing down the corridor, Giles pushed his glasses back onto his nose, readjusting the box under his arm as it started to slide from his grip. Finding Cortina’s herbs had been relatively quick; navigating his way through this endless maze of stone walls had not. He’d lost track of how many times he’d come face to face with yet another dead end, only to have to double back and try and pick up his path. Even now, he was beginning to fear that he was taking too much time to return, that the white demon would already be dead, that his Slayer may have already been vanquished by Daymon, that in fact, the entire Scooby gang had been slaughtered…

He rounded the corner and skidded to a halt to avoid running right into Cortina’s prone form. Dropping to his knees, Giles placed the box between himself and Willow, asking, “How is she doing?”

“She’s still alive, thank you for asking,” Cortina replied.

The Watcher looked down into her face. Her pale skin was taking an ashy tone, and there were lines around her eyes…eyes that were already starting to cloud and darken. He did his best to offer her a brave smile. “I’m afraid I don’t know your physiology well enough to know which herbs to bring, so I brought them all,” he said, opening the box and showing her its contents.

When the demon struggled to lift herself up onto her elbows, Giles slid his arm under her shoulders, raising her just enough to peer into the container. Her thin fingers picked through the various plants and packets, extracting first one purplish branch, then several multi-colored leaves, before handing them over to Rupert, the trembling in her hand apparent even to Willow behind him. “The violet one is b’taka root,” she explained.

The line between the Wicca’s worried eyes deepened. “But that’s poisonous,” she said.

“Only to humans,” Cortina elaborated. “You need to…rub it around the edges of the wound. The oil in the bark interacts with the oil on my skin and cauterizes it.” Her eyes blinked once…twice, and both Giles and Willow could see her struggling to even out her breathing. After a moment, they fluttered open again, fixing on the Watcher. “The other herbs need to be eaten, but in a specific order, or they won’t work. But we have to…stop…” Her voice got cut off by the sudden cough that shuddered throughout her body, a wet hacking sound that made Rupert want to wince in empathy. The sudden spreading of crimson across the abdomen of her robe, however, sharpened his attention, and he stiffened, clearing his throat.

“…the bleeding,” he finished. He handed the leaves over to his companion. “Hold these,” he instructed. “Give them to her as she needs them.”

Right, he thought. First step, get to the wound. His hands hovered over the fabric of her robe and Giles found himself hesitating as he realized he was going to need to rip it from those very curves that he’d been admiring only an hour earlier. Don’t be a bloody idiot, he chided silently. She’s a demon, nothing more, and she needs your help, so get off your ass and get to it.
Efficiency crisped his movements as the Watcher’s nimble hands tore the ivory material, laying bare the gaping injury as it continued to bleed, scarlet rivulets dripping down the curves of her sides, pooling in the small of her back. Laying one palm above the gash, he held her torso still as he slowly drew the flattest part of the root around the wound.

The reaction was immediate. Before his and Willow’s eyes, the edges of the cut burned and sealed, staunching the flow of blood with an audible sizzle. His blue eyes flickered up to her face, and Rupert was surprised to see Cortina’s own gaze fixed on him, her jaw locked in determination. The realization that the white demon was in agony, that she was bearing the pain in silence, only augmented his growing respect for her. “Now…the feathery leaf…” she murmured.

The redhead placed the herb on Cortina’s waiting tongue, and together, she and Giles watched as the wounded demon chewed it slowly, grimacing as she swallowed. “Tastes like…medicine,” she joked, before opening her mouth for the second. As she waited for the remedies to take effect, her eyes fluttered closed, her breathing slowed.

Absently, the Watcher reached out and pushed the long white hair off the demon’s forehead, his long hand cupping her cheek for a brief moment before pulling away. Willow’s gaze darted between the older man and their patient, and she bit her lip in amusement, busying her hands with the box. Maybe the earlier flirting had led to something more in the library, she thought mischievously. It’s about time. Giles really needs a girlfriend.

The color in Cortina’s face heightened, returning to its normal shade of ivory, and she opened her eyes to look up at the duo. Her lips lifted into a smile. “You’re cute when you play nursemaid,” she directed at Giles.

His responding blush was the only impetus he needed to settle back onto his heels. For the first time, he noticed the overwhelming quiet in the grotto, and he swiveled to look around. “Where’s Buffy?” he queried, slowly rising to his feet.
Willow scrambled up behind him, watching as Rupert stepped out to look around the edges of the stream more intently. “Well…um…” she stuttered, and flinched when he whirled to face her.

“And where’s Daymon?” he demanded.

“They’re…well, they both kind of…” The redhead flushed at the anger and worry in the older man’s voice. “They left,” she finally managed.

Marching to the other Scoobies, Giles glowered as he grabbed the duffel and began digging through it. “What happened?” he said through gritted teeth.

Xander exchanged a look with Willow as she came up on the Watcher’s heels. “There was a fight. Buffy won.”

“So Daymon is dead, then?” His tone softened slightly as he pulled out the bandages he’d been searching for.

“Not exactly.” The younger man edged away, pressing himself closer to his girlfriend. “More like in chains.”

“And she just left with him?”

“She said they were going for Spike,” Anya piped up. “That snakey demon thing was pretty beat up, plus she had its sword so at least this time she’s armed.”

Absently, Giles handed the bandages in his hand to Willow. “Go wrap Cortina’s wound,” he ordered. He turned to the remaining gang members. “Get your things together. We’re going after her.”

As he turned away, the Watcher was stopped by Xander’s grip on his arm. “Hang on there,” Harris said. “I’ve got an idea…”

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

The click as she returned the receiver to its cradle seemed to boom in the empty office, and she froze, waiting to see if her presence had been detected.

…Silence…

His cologne still permeated his workspace, hanging in the air like thousands of fingers massaging her senses, and Celie found herself reluctant to leave behind the reminders of her employer. The vampire’s accusation still rankled; how Spike could ever conceive of the notion that Daymon was such a monster was beyond her comprehension. After eight years of working for the Greek, she knew he was a man of upstanding moral character, fair and just to his staff, a lover of the aesthetically pleasing. It was unthinkable he could be a demon.

But still…Her hand hovered over the doorknob. His zeal in finding the Chosen One had bordered on the fanatical. How many dead ends had he dragged her on…Iceland…Moscow…Jamestown…the list seemed endless, each failure only strengthening his resolve. In all that time, she’d never questioned why, never doubted the virtue of his quest, but if she’d been mistaken, if her loyalties had been misplaced…Perhaps a quick search of Daymon’s office wasn’t completely out of order. She might not get this opportunity again.

His office was immaculately organized, but Celie hardly expected any differently, her employer’s demand for cleanliness infamous amongst his staff. There was little to actually be found, and the dark-haired witch was beginning to feel foolish in allowing the vampire’s allegation to cloud her judgment. About to resign her hunt, she looked down with a frown when her hand, quickly opening and closing his desk drawers, was stopped in its exploration.

Unlike the others, this drawer was locked, which in itself was curious as there were no keyholes or mechanisms to open it. Glancing around as if she might be observed, Celie extended her index finger in the direction of the desk, her silent incantation popping the inner lock, and the drawer slid open. Her eyes closed in relief. Whatever had been inhibiting her magic earlier now seemed to be gone, and she’d never been more grateful for anything in her entire life. The fear that something was sapping her strength, denying her the full range of her powers, had nearly crippled her, leaving her more helpless than she’d been in years. She didn’t want to go back to that.

The drawer was empty. Mentally, the witch shook herself. Of course it was empty; Daymon had nothing to hide. It was ridiculous that she had ever considered anything else, that for a brief insane moment, she had entertained the vampire’s claim. Experience should’ve reminded her that demons were not to be trusted and this one especially was all talk…

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

He kicked at the straw as he paced. After brainstorming for what seemed an eternity, Spike finally had a germ of a plan to escape, but in order for it to work, the witch had to be present. She’d disappeared soon after his telling her about Daymon, and though he’d kept his ear to the ground, he had yet to hear her return. Once she did, though, he was ready for the fireworks to ensue.

He dragged deeply on the cigarette, the tip a crimson flare in the darkening shadows, and he returned to the train of thought that had been keeping him distracted from the nightmares he’d had about Buffy’s death. Prior to meeting up with Xander, the Slayer had joked about rewarding the vampire for his good behavior; although he knew he’d blown it within seconds of the whelp’s syphilis crack, it didn’t mean he had to stop fantasizing about what she might have done.

Reward number fourteen…That one happened in Cortina’s grotto, where this time, he was the one walking in on a naked Buffy swimming in the stream. He’d stand back, watch as she emerged from the water, golden hair dripping down her spine, stopping just as the cleft of her ass became visible. She’d half-turn, spy him out of the corner of her eye, call out his name…

“Spike…”

He almost didn’t hear her, so lost was he in his reverie. She’d call out his name---wait…

He stopped in his tracks. That hadn’t been part of the daydream, had it? His nose lifted…twitched as the scent of her blood drifted into the stable…and was that vanilla…? The hints sent him reeling into the whirlwind of his nightmare, setting the nerves along his skin skittering in nervous anticipation of her weight against his, his mind racing as he tried to understand…

“Spike!”

A little louder, and no mistake this time…not a dream, most definitely real. He got as close to the pen’s wall as the spell would allow him, but he couldn’t see her. Outside maybe…He ran to the opposite wall, stared out into the clear night sky. She was here, he almost didn’t believe it, but more importantly…

…Buffy had come for him…

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

Through the ether of his pain filtered the desert music, the scritching of thousands of insects both above and beneath the loosely packed dirt, the far-off cry of a hungry hawk, the dry whistle of an occasional breeze. Normally, he would be basking in the seductive beauty of the night, but the chains he currently bore made that impossible.

She was so much stronger than he’d ever imagined; perhaps he should’ve been more diligent in learning more about the Slayer prior to seeking her out. All the texts, all the prophecies…they had all only referenced the Chosen One, so when he’d discovered that the two were one and the same, there had seemed little need for further research.

In spite of his recent injuries at her hands, however, Daymon’s respect for Buffy Summers was only growing. Here was a woman of vast beauty, incredible physical prowess, a shrewd and quick mind, with surprising compassion for her enemies. Under other circumstances, he would have enjoyed the opportunity to dally with the young woman. Now, though, his quiescence was over. For all her positive qualities, there was one that would prove most unfortunate for her…

The Slayer was far too trusting…

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

He was near, that Buffy knew, although if someone had asked her how she could be so sure, the young woman would have been at a loss to respond. How did you explain color to someone who had never seen the light of day? Or describe wind without using your hands? She just…knew. Yes, part of it was because of the whole Slayer/vampire thing, but more of it was because of something…bigger…deeper…and fully beyond her capability of expression at the moment.

When she’d been sure there was no one around, Buffy had called out the vamp’s name, hoping he’d hear her and shorten her search. She hadn’t expected Daymon’s ranch to be so expansive, or for that matter, that he’d be so difficult, so she’d left the demon at the edge of his property, chained to a large stone outcropping. She doubted he would escape. Between his earlier thrashing and their breakneck traveling, he was virtually exhausted, barely putting up a fight as she’d lashed him to the rock. What she was going to do with him when this was all over, she had no idea, but right now, it wasn’t worth wasting the brainpower on. Her priority was finding Spike.

The stables loomed in front of the young woman. Outside of the house itself, this was the last place for her to check, and she sincerely hoped she wouldn’t have to venture directly into Daymon’s hold. Running into his men was at the top of her list of things not to do, just as she hoped to avoid the witch, or at the very least, surprise her before Celie had the opportunity to use any magic. Again.

“Spike!” she repeated, her voice barely above a hiss.

This time, she was answered by more than the night silence. “Buffy…?”

Her heart leapt at the sound of his reply. Strong, steady, he didn’t sound as if he was hurt, or that he was worried that the witch might hear him. Good. Breaking into a run, she bolted for the building.

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

Escape was at hand, he thought, Buffy’s hand, to be exact. The irony of the situation didn’t escape the platinum vampire; in fact, in spite of seeing her running form disappear around the edge of the stable, Spike wasn’t entirely convinced that the Slayer was there just for him. She’s probably come back with the gang to tackle the Daymon issue, he justified. And I’m just a happy coincidence.

Had she ever actually said anything about her feelings for him? the vamp wondered. His mind raced over everything from the past few days. All her words, all her gestures…every smile…every frown…they were all emblazoned in his memory, forged there from long practice of savoring what tidbits he could glean from her. In it all, she’d never once voiced her feelings out loud. There had never been an, “I love you, Spike,” or even an, “I like you.” Innuendo, yes, a few cryptic references, but nothing concrete, nothing to suggest that he was anything more than a shag buddy, hardly worth going out of the Slayer’s way to save.

Yet…she was here. He heard her footsteps as she approached his pen, and the familiar flicker of anticipation at seeing her began its path up his gut to the cold void of his undead heart. These were the moments he could almost swear it was beating, come to life by the sheer force of his feelings for her…his Slayer.

Buffy stopped outside the door of his cell, knowing without having to look that this was where he was. The sword in her hands lowered, its tip touching the floor, and she suddenly felt a butterfly of nerves tickle her throat. Please be OK, she intoned silently. Please…just be OK.

Hazel eyes lifted to gaze over the heavy wooden slats of the door. He stood against the far wall, outlined in black by the streaming moonlight, and the young woman was struck yet again by his sheer physical beauty, the warming of her thighs the most natural reaction in the world for her now. The smile that curled her mouth was genuine as she saw that he was unharmed, and slowly, she pulled open the pen door.

“Took you long enough,” Spike drawled, his eyes never leaving her face.

“You try running with Excalibur strapped to your back,” she quipped. “Like you’d make better time.” Buffy began to stride forward to join him in his cell, only to be met by the resistance of Celie’s containment spell, forcing her to stop and step back. Her frown was immediate, mirrored almost instantaneously on the blond vampire. “Another spell?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

“Why isn’t that bloody amulet working?” Spike complained. “How many of the things does the bitch have?”

“It’s not working ‘cause it’s not on me,” Buffy said slowly. “You have it.”

He just looked at her, his head tilted. “Well, that makes sense,” he commented. “’Cause hanging around in here’s good for my health. You have the bleedin’ amulet, Buffy.”

“I don’t! You’re the one who carried me out, remember?”

“With the talisman clutched tightly in your hot little hand, if memory serves.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Lemme guess. You left it at Cortina’s.”

The Slayer frowned, her mind racing as she struggled to replay the events of the past day or so. Broke out of the bedroom…got caught in the cave…took a nap…She bit her lip as the image of the amulet on the nightstand came onto her mind’s eye. Shit. Spike was right.

The vampire sighed. “Guess it’s back to my original plan, then.” He pulled out his lighter and waved her away. “Better make yourself scarce. This won’t work if the witch knows you’re here.”

“What’re you planning on doing?”

“The witch thinks I’m valuable property,” he said, the unbidden pride creeping into his voice. “She wouldn’t want to lose me to a little barnfire, now would she?”

Buffy couldn’t help the surprise in her face. “You’re going to set the place on fire?” she asked, dumbfounded. “Are you insane or just incredibly stupid?”

“Look,” Spike started, his hands on his hips as he stepped closer to her, “I wasn’t expectin’ any help from the Sunnydale A-Team, so why don’t you just run off and go help out your little Scooby friends before someone turns them into little Scooby snacks. I can take care of this myself.” He turned and began piling up a pile of straw in the far corner, doing his best to ignore her remaining presence.

“That’s going to be kinda hard,” the young woman said. “None of them came with me.”

“You came to try and beat Daymon on your own? Now who’s the stupid one?”

Buffy frowned. Didn’t he get it? “I didn’t come for Daymon. I came for you.”

There was a slight hesitation in his work. She didn’t…did she? Quickly, the blond vamp resumed his gathering, hoping that she hadn’t noticed how her words had affected him. “Find that one hard to believe, Slayer. How could you know that I was here?”

“Cortina helped me narrow down the choices. I took a shot. I…had to.”

This stopped him, and he slowly turned his head to stare at her. “I never asked for paybacks, Buffy.”

“This isn’t about settling anything.” She swallowed, the sudden lump in her throat choking her words. “You really think I could just let you go poof without doing my damnedest to get you back?”

Spike walked forward to the pen door, halting only when the containment spell physically prevented him from getting any closer to her. His left hand came up, pressed against it. “You just love messin’ with my head, don’t you?” he murmured, the faintest hint of a tease coloring his voice.

Buffy’s right hand came up to the invisible wall, mirroring the vampire’s position so that their palms were level. “It’s one of my favorite body parts,” she joked. “I’m glad it’s still attached.”

“One of? What other parts of me could possibly be more interestin’ than my head?”

She laughed. “Pig.”

Two could play this game. “Tease.”

“Hey!”

“Sorry, luv, just call ‘em like I see ‘em,” but his smile belied the insensitivity of his words.

His blue eyes stared down into hers, and the overwhelming urge to just blurt it out, admit it and get it over with, filled Buffy like an inflating balloon. Do it, her inner voice urged, do it, do it, do it. “Spike…” C’mon, you can do this, just open your mouth and let the words come out. “I…don’t understand why you let this happen.” Chicken, she scolded herself.

“Thought I made that clear at Cort’s.” God, how he wished that he could touch her, run his fingers through those golden waves, brush his thumb over those waiting lips. For a brief second, a scorching hatred for the witch swelled inside him, shading his thoughts in black and red. “I love you, Buffy. I’d do anything for you. Anything.”

She knew it was true, could see it in those azure depths. But the knowing hurt, even as much as she prized having it, because the young woman also knew that the blond vampire didn’t believe it would ever make a true difference to her. How could he, when she didn’t have the nerve to share it with her friends, her family? They’d discovered what little they knew by accident, through a third party, and although Spike didn’t know about Daymon’s little slip, he wasn’t so blind that he wouldn’t acknowledge her lack of strength when it came to facing the gang. And he’d be right.

“Spike, I---.” She cut herself off when his head suddenly whipped around, staring back at the lone window in the pen. Instinctively, her ears pricked, searching for the sound that had ensnared the vampire’s attention. Footsteps…soft ones…approaching the stable. When his blue eyes turned back to meet hers, the Slayer just nodded and picked up the sword.

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

Everything was in place. Within the hour, she and the vampire would be on their way, and the culmination of her life’s endeavors would finally be within her grasp. Celie smiled to herself. Sometimes, life could actually be good.

Pulling open the door to the stable, there was a definite bounce to her step as she approached the vampire’s cell. Once I’ve finished it all, she thought, I’ll return for the Hound and for Daymon. He’ll most likely be very appreciative of what I will have done, and the Hound will forgive me for temporarily abandoning him once he gets his favorite treat. The dog may have been an excellent hunter, but it certainly wasn’t the brightest animal she’d ever worked with.

The demon was curled up in the straw in the corner, his face averted. Must have gone back to sleep, Celie thought. Probably just as well. He’ll be less trouble this way. Turning away to return to her own bed, her black eyes widened at the sudden presence of the young woman.

Before the witch could react, the Slayer’s fist had drawn back and connected with her jaw. “Just thought I’d let you know,” Buffy said as Celie crumpled, “nobody touches my boyfriend but me.”

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

As he rose to his feet, Spike couldn’t help the smile of satisfaction on his lips. She’d called him her boyfriend, without any prompting, and what’s more, she’d laid out her claim for someone else to hear. OK, it was just the witch, but still…The swagger in his hips as he walked up to the pen door was unmistakable. Bugger what she thinks, he thought. I’ve got every right to be chuffed to bits about this.

Buffy was bending over the prone form of the dark witch, searching through the pockets in her clothes. As he watched, he saw her go back over the same spots, each time coming up empty-handed. “Please tell me you actually saw her wearing an amulet,” she said without turning her head.

“Well…no, not exactly.” He stiffened when Buffy glanced back at his pen, her eyes blazing. “You ever been teleported? Hurts like hell if you’re not careful with the landing, which she wasn’t. And seein’ as how I’m not really one of her favorite people, she didn’t spend a whole lotta time just hangin’ out.”

“But then how was she expecting to get in and out? That needs an amulet thingy, doesn’t it?”

“Not if it’s your spell.”

The demon’s voice in the entrance of the stable jolted Spike’s attention from Buffy and the witch. Scaled and snake-like, but standing like a man, the vampire didn’t recognize him or his type. However, whatever or whoever he was, the thing was big, that was undeniable. But that voice…why did it sound so familiar?

“I guess you’re feeling better,” the Slayer commented, slowly rising to her feet. The vampire watched as her eyes darted to the empty pen she’d stowed the sword. Shit, too far away to just casually reach for it. “Not really a chainy kind of guy, huh?”

“I don’t appreciate being shackled on my own property,” the scaled demon replied, “especially since I’m the one who so conveniently aided you in finding your vampire.” Again, Spike was struck with the thought that he should know this guy, that that voice was someone…

He turned wide blue eyes to Buffy. “You came here with Daymon? Have you gone completely barmy?”

“I needed to get here fast. Besides, I made a deal with him---.”

“Oh, because he’s just so trustworthy---.”

“He was barely standing!” The young woman could feel her anger rising, but had to fight the urge to turn away and face the blond vampire. Can’t let this one out of her sight, not after this little trick. “And like I said, there were chains.” From where she stood, she could hear his snort of derision and bristled. “And a really big rock!”

“Obviously, not big enough,” Spike muttered.

“I am so sorry to disappoint,” Daymon commented. He straightened to his full height as he glided slowly into the stable. “But I’m afraid this is your night for disappointments, my dear.”

“Don’t count on that,” Buffy said through gritted teeth. “I beat you once, I can beat you again.”

“Yes, but you don’t have your Vrolek friend here to help you this time.” The glee in the demon’s voice oozed and Spike’s fingers itched to tear the bastard’s eyes out. He had to settle for watching, however, as Buffy began to inch her way toward her hidden weapon.

None of them were expecting the blast from behind the Slayer, slamming into her back, propelling her through the wooden door of the pen she’d been approaching, smashing the slats into pieces as she was thrown against the wall.

“No!” screamed Daymon, swiveling his head toward Celie and her outstretched hands. “How many times must I tell you, the Chosen One is not to be touched!”

The witch’s eyes went wide. No…it couldn’t be… it wasn’t possible…the vampire couldn’t have…been right…Slowly, she rose to her feet. “You’re not…”

The scaled demon chuckled. “You lack vision, Celandia,” he accused. “And your usefulness has just expired.” He lunged forward, ready to grapple with the young woman when her hands came up, discharging a bolt of magic, stopping his movement and sending him into a twisted heap.

“I do not consort with demons,” she muttered angrily.

“Told you so,” Spike commented, leaning against the invisible wall of the containment spell. “Didn’t want to believe me, but then again, everyone has a tendency to dismiss the chipped vampire.” At the witch’s angry glare, he shrugged. “No, really, go on with the show. I love having front row seats for this. Not sellin’ any popcorn by any chance?”

Across the stable, Buffy’s eyes blinked as she struggled to sit herself up. Gotta stop getting slammed with magic, she thought, turning her head to view Daymon and Celie facing off. The scaled demon was rising to his heavy feet, his head low, watching the dark witch through veiled eyes. After brawling with him earlier, she saw his move coming, anticipated his sudden charge. What she didn’t expect was the sudden flash of magic sending him flying against Spike’s cell, bouncing off the containment spell, and rolling past her own.

“You tricked me,” accused Celie. “You lied to me.”

“And you use far too much magic,” Daymon countered, rushing her yet again.

In spite of herself, Buffy shook her head in disbelief. Hello, magic girl is going to hit you again, moron, she chastised silently. Go for the hands. But her gaze widened as he dodged past her, heading straight for the invisible wall around Spike. Oh, nice one, she added. Use the ricochet to get her from a different angle.

But it didn’t come. As she watched, the scaled demon crashed through the door, slowing only slightly as he met the containment spell, rolling into the dry straw on the floor of the vampire’s cell. The blond one jumped back, as surprised by his sudden guest as the Slayer was, and felt his back touch the outside wall. He frowned. That wasn’t supposed to happen. Tentatively, he reached forward, his hand passing through the empty space of the window, and he smiled. Thank God for small miracles, even if they did come in the shape of big ugly snake guys…

With a roar, Spike jumped on the demon, his fury erupting in a violent rage, his fists pounding into its scales. An incensed Daymon whipped around his tail, knocking the vampire off his back, sending him through the wall of the stable and out into the night. “So it will be this way,” he said, following him through the aperture.

Edging around the pen, the sword dangling from her hand, Buffy emerged behind Celie. “I don’t have long, so I’ll make this quick,” she said, lashing out with her foot.

As before, the witch went flying through the air, landing in a pile of dry straw. She rolled, her hands coming out to fight back with her magic. Automatically, the Slayer spun out of the way, her head quickly darting back to look at the damage the bolt did behind her. Except…it hadn’t.

Celie looked down at her hands. “I…don’t understand,” she murmured. “My…powers…”

“I’d love to stick around and help you figure it out,” the young blonde said, jumping to her feet, “but I’ve really got to go kick your boss’ ass.” And without a glance backward, Buffy bolted for the opening in the wall.

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

The tires squealed to a halt, sending up clouds of dust into the night sky. “Xander! Please! This isn’t the Grand Prix!” chided Giles from the back seat.

“Sorry,” the young man mumbled, and pointed. “ But I think we’ve reached the end of the road.”

The Watcher looked out in the direction of his finger, past the hulk of the Hound as it came to a stop beside them. There, in the moonlight, Spike squared off with Daymon, each circling the other. The vampire appeared unhurt, and Giles felt a wrench in his gut as he realized that this was the first time he’d seen the chipped one since learning about his and Buffy’s involvement. He still wasn’t sure how to feel about the whole thing, and he could feel his reluctance staying his movement from the car.

“You think we should get out there and help?” asked Xander, voicing what the older man was thinking. As he spoke, however, Buffy appeared in the gaping hole left in the side of the stable. “Then again, it looks like he’s already got some.”

Giles looked down at the sleeping face of Cortina in his lap, his hands absently stroking the hair away from her eyes. "We’ll…give them a moment,” he said softly.

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

He danced around on the balls of his feet, the power surging through his body. “Haven’t had a good spot of violence in ages,” Spike drawled. “Aren’t you the lucky demon…” He faked a lunge to the right, before darting left under Daymon’s outstretched fist. He laughed. “Gonna have to do better than that, mate.”

Buffy saw it coming first. “Spike!” she called out. “Look out for his---.” She cringed as the demon’s tail swept around, knocking the vampire off his feet and flat onto his back. “…tail,” she finished. How did he manage to fall for that one twice? she wondered. If she didn’t know better, she would’ve thought the vamp was losing his touch.

He would’ve been winded had he had any breath in his lungs to worry about. Instead, it was his pride that was bruised, getting sent to his ass for the second time by the scaled demon, and both times in front of the Slayer. She’s going to start thinking I’m a nancy boy who can’t take care of himself, he thought grimly as he rose to his feet. All right, no more Mr. Nice Vamp, and, switching into game face, Spike jumped for Daymon’s throat, his teeth bared in his best nonverbal threat.

The bulky demon swung, grabbing the blond vampire around the throat, staying his leap with an abrupt gurgle. “I think not,” he murmured and straightened to his full height, Spike dangling from his grip, kicking and clawing at the hand holding him.

verhead, the low roar of an engine whispered in Daymon’s ears, and he turned with a smug smile to face Buffy. “It appears that this is just not your night, Miss Summers,” he laughed.

Raising the sword, Buffy took a step closer to the demon. “You’d be surprised how often I hear that,” she commented. “You weren’t really going for the whole originality prize, were you? ‘Cause, have to tell you, not really feeling the threat here, seeing as how I’m the one with the big pointy sword.”

“I have my own weapon.” His fist tightened around Spike’s neck, causing the veins in the vampire’s jaws to pulse as he struggled to get free. “He’s much like a dandelion, don’t you think? It only takes a moment for the head to just…snap off.” His black eyes narrowed. “And I do believe that’s as effective a method for slaying vampires as any other. But, you tell me. You’re the expert.”

Her face froze. “Let him go. He’s not the one you’re after.”

“No, that is correct. But he is extremely powerful bait, don’t you agree?” Daymon began gliding backwards, closer to the escalating thrum of the plane’s engine.

Buffy’s hazel eyes darted up to see the faint lights of the aircraft as it coursed through its descent. Daymon’s, maybe, the one he’d been planning on using to get her to Greece? But he’d been with her the whole time, what was it doing here now? It didn’t really matter, though, as the young woman watched it coast to a landing in the not-so-far distance, her adversary slowly creeping toward it with her lover still firmly in his grasp.

Damned if he wasn’t right. This really wasn’t her night…