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

The hold looked like it had been hit by a cyclone. Empty boxes and crates were stacked against the walls, with their contents strewn about the room---bags of fruit, packets of blood, blankets, clothes---while a pile of discarded cargo straps sat near the space’s only exit. Buffy and Spike stood back, her arms folded across her chest, his arms wrapped around her, both of them surveying the mess.

“Well,” the Slayer announced, “that’s what we got.”

“So what you’re saying is, weapon-wise, we got squat.”

“Yep,” Buffy nodded. “Just this side of diddly.”

Almost twenty hours in the plane had brought next to nothing in the way of ideas for a clever escape. Every time one of the pair came up with a scheme, it invariably got shot down with the caveat that both were convinced was going to be their downfall---by the time they landed in Greece, it would be nine or ten in the morning, and unless there was some minor miracle, the sun would be blazing, limiting Spike’s mobility outside of the aircraft.

He was blaming himself for their difficulty in settling on a feasible solution. To be honest, the vamp wasn’t worried about their lack of formal weaponry; he’d seen the Slayer in action often enough to know that you could put a pickle in her hand, and she’d still find a way to use it against an opponent. And they definitely had better possibilities than pickles, he thought wryly. No, what was disturbing him was how much he was holding her back. She wouldn’t be in this mess if it wasn’t for you, Spike scolded himself. Shit, she wouldn’t even be on the plane if Daymon hadn’t used you as bait. He didn’t like being responsible for this, for knowing that by all rights the Greek should’ve been dead already, that he was the reason they were stuck here, but he was keeping those thoughts to himself, holding them away from Buffy so that she could more rightly concentrate on their task at hand.

The Slayer turned around in his arms, lifting her own so that they rested on his shoulders, and smiled. “It looks like all we have to do now is wait. Whatever are we going to do to pass the time?”

His own lips curled into a knowing grin. “And here I thought us vamps were the ones with insatiable appetites.”

“Don’t you want to---ow!” She cut herself off and pulled away, her fingers going to her left ear.

“What is it? What’s wrong?

Buffy scowled. “My ear just popped. God, I hate flying.” She was about to return to his embrace and had made it halfway there, when she froze, hazel eyes lifting to meet his blue ones. The change in air pressure could only mean one thing, and both of them knew it; the plane was beginning its descent.

“You ready for this?” the young woman asked.

Spike smirked. “You ever see me turn down a good fight?” he responded.

Opening her mouth to give him his appropriate comeback, Buffy stopped when an audible scraping sound came from behind the exit. She turned her head, Slayer senses suddenly on alert, and set her jaw. “Sounds like showtime,” she said.

She was already moving by the time the door swung open, leaving Spike in plain sight of the new arrivals, a huge grin on his face. “Didn’t know you were stoppin’ by,” the vampire said nonchalantly as two of Daymon’s men crept in, crossbows cocked and ready. “Too bad you won’t be stayin’.”

He watched as Buffy leapt at them, lethal grace in mid-air, tackling both in one blow and sending them sprawling before rolling herself to safety. One had dropped his weapon as he fell, and the Slayer had snatched it up, steadying it in her arms and aiming it at them, before either had a chance to react.

“Is it too much of a cliché to say, drop it or I’ll shoot?” Buffy asked the one who was still armed. “’Cause I’m thinkin’…drop it, or I’ll shoot you.”

The man hesitated, the crossbow dangling from his hands as he struggled to regain his composure, his eyes darting from Buffy’s annoyed face…to the weapon in her arms…back to her face. After only a moment, he opened his fingers and let it clatter to the floor.

“Tie them up, Spike.” Buffy stood back, watching as the blond vampire grabbed them by their shirts and hauled them back against the wall, picking up a couple cargo straps on his way. “You know,” she continued lightly, “maybe I’m giving Daymon too much credit here. I mean, he really can’t hire for shit, ‘cause these guys are just pathetic. And that guard back at the house? One hit, and he was out colder than a dead fish.”

Neither of them noticed the shadow in the doorway, nor the shiny muzzle glinting in the dim light in the hold. It was only when she felt the sharp prick in her shoulder blade did the Slayer whirl around, crossbow raised and ready. “What the hell?” she said, reaching around her body with her left hand, clutching the small dart she found embedded there, before staring at it incredulously. She tossed it at the third man. “I am so not in the mood for…” Her voice faded away as the room darkened…dipped…swirled around her…

Spike’s head swiveled just in time to see the young woman crumple to the floor, eyes rolling back into her head, lashes fluttering. “Buffy!” he called, and jumped to his feet. His switch into game face was automatic, and he turned glittering golden eyes toward the door. Bugger the pain, he thought, and leapt at the man in the entrance.

Even though he’d been advised that the vampire couldn’t actually hurt him, the guard’s eyes went wide, and his finger squeezed reflexively on the trigger of the tranquilizer gun, once…twice…both times finding its target, but not slowing the demon’s advance. They went over in a tumble, and Spike snarled as the pain shot through his head. Don’t care, he thought wildly. Not after what he did to Buffy…

The last word floated away on a black cloud as the darts took effect, stealing into his system, and sending him downward into a spiral of nothingness…

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

The sun blazed over them, its gentle heat belying the brilliant radiance that made the group squint as they gazed out over the azure waters. Dolly had been true to her word, teleporting the five of them, along with the Hound, to Cape Tainaron, and leaving Willow the means to contact her again once they had rescued Buffy. Those were the words she’d used, never admitting the possibility that they might fail, and the Scoobies were desperately holding on to that optimism. They didn’t want to think about what could happen, should they not succeed; the threat of a demon Slayer was not something they exactly relished and none of them wanted to even consider the prospect of having to kill their close friend. Better to stay positive and contemplate the fight that they soon expected right at their feet.

“Now, we’re sure this is the right dock?” Xander asked for the millionth time.

Giles sighed. “I’m not going to say this again. Everyone I spoke to in the town agrees that when Daymon flies in, he always comes in at this dock. The dockmaster even said there’s a scheduled arrival this morning, so yes, Xander, this is precisely where we need to be.”

“And you tipped him enough so that he’s not going to lie to you, right?” the young man continued. “You didn’t screw up the money conversion thing and accidentally insult him by giving him ten cents instead of ten bucks, did you?”

“No, I bloody well did not,” the Watcher replied through gritted teeth. “And if you ask one more inane question, I’m going to instruct Willow to give you to Elvis as his mid-morning snack.”

Xander held up his hands in mock defense. “Hey, just want to be clear here,” he said. “I mean, we’re basing this whole dock theory on a crazy witch who no longer happens to be around to verify any of this. You can’t blame me for being a little worried we might mess this up.”

“You don’t think D-d-daymon did the ritual on the plane, do you?” asked Tara, hoping the change of topic would stop the two men from squabbling.

“That’s highly unlikely,” Giles replied, grateful for the diversion. “There seems to be too much significance in the fact that his property houses the mythological cave of Taenarum. It must have some mystical draw to it, or perhaps a confluence of energies that allows more demon activity than normal. Regardless, he seemed much too eager to bring Buffy back here if he was merely going to perform the cleansing on the journey.”

“You know, I was thinking about the prophecy,” Willow chimed in, her voice thoughtful. “And I’m not one hundred percent sure we’re in any actual danger anymore.”

“Oh, really?” asked Xander. “And which part of ‘those she loves will burn’ isn’t dangerous?”

“Look at it this way,” the redheaded witch continued. “Buffy loves Spike---.” She rolled her eyes when she saw both men visibly cringe at the words. “Get over it, guys. I’ll say it again. Buffy. Loves. Spike. Spike’s a vampire. And what do vampires do when they get in direct sunlight?”

“They burn,” answered Tara, her blue eyes wide. “Wow, I totally didn’t see that.”

“Is anyone else thinking that we’re spending way too much trying to decipher this stupid prophecy?” Anya interjected. “’Cause all these interpretations are only giving me a headache and not doing us any good in finding Buffy.”

“We know where Buffy is, Ahn,” Xander said, patting her on the shoulder reassuringly. “On a pl---.” He didn’t finish the word as a distant thrum in the air caught his attention, raising his eyes to the sky. Shielding his gaze from the sun by placing his hand over his brow, the young construction worker frowned as he saw the lumbering form of an airplane appear from behind a cloud, headed into a descent toward the mainland. “Uh, Giles?” he asked. “I thought Celie said this place had too many mountains for someone to land a plane.”

The Watcher mirrored Xander’s movements and together they watched the craft zoom overhead. “Damn,” he muttered, before turning and sprinting toward the dockmaster’s office. The group watched as he began arguing with the swarthy man, his words unintelligible but his intent more than clear. The Englishman’s face grew darker and darker, and the girls’ eyes widened as Giles grabbed the other by the shirt collar, pulling him within inches of his face, his voice suddenly a low rumble in the distance. It was all they could do not to cower when he came rushing back, having thrown the Greek against the wall. “Follow me,” he ordered, his words tight and crisp.

Clambering to their feet, the young people scurried after Giles as he hurried over to the parking lot, scanning the few cars there before settling on a truck parked nearest to the water. “What is it?” asked Willow. “What did he say?”

“He said,” the Watcher said as he yanked open the driver-side door, “Daymon’s arrival had just been cancelled because they were flying directly to his home instead.”

“Is that it?” an impatient Xander pushed. “He didn’t say anything else?”

His blue eyes were livid behind his spectacles. “I believe the last thing he said was ‘ow’.” His head disappeared under the dashboard and the group heard the distinct sound of wires being ripped out.

“Giles? Do we want to know what you’re doing?” Anya questioned.

“I’m…hotwiring…this car,” came the older man’s muffled voice

“You know how to d-d-do that?” asked a flabbergasted Tara.

On the heels of her question, the truck roared into life, and Giles sat back up. He looked out the window, his eyes now calm, but even more dangerous. “I know lots of things,” he said. “Now get in.”

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

As he returned the headset to its base, the wiry Greek leaned back into his seat, rubbing tiredly at his eyes. “You ever landed on this strip before?” he asked his co-pilot.

“Nope,” came the response. “It wasn’t even there last time I was here.”

“He said he had it built specially for this trip,” said the first. “Must have something to do with the American girl and her boyfriend.”

The co-pilot looked at him steadily. “Don’t be thinking of asking any questions,” he warned. “This guy is not someone you want to be messing with. Likes his privacy and wants to keep it that way. Private, I mean.”

“I know, I know.” And he did, even if he didn’t like it. He wasn’t fond of passengers dictating the flight plans, especially when they changed them in mid-stream, and he really wasn’t fond of landing aircrafts on unknown runways in the middle of the mountains. Anything could happen.

“We’ll be all right,” the co-pilot added, as if he’d heard his partner’s internal doubts. “The master wouldn’t be willing to risk losing his cargo on something as foolish as poor planning. And that holds true for the strip as well. I’m sure it’s fine.”

I hope you’re right, the first Greek thought, and gently, he maneuvered the plane downward.

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

Velvety oblivion surrounded his being, his eyes blind, his limbs unable to move, and Spike wondered for a moment if he’d finally been staked and this was what true death was really like. Then, their voices filtered through the fog in his head, their words indecipherable, their numbers unknown, and he knew…remembered…and raged at his own impotence. Somehow, in spite of his determination, in spite of the heads-up, in spite of everything, they’d beaten him again, stopping him with something as simple as a tranquilizer dart, and he hated himself for it. Hadn’t he learned his lesson after the Initiative? Wasn’t he smart enough to know better than that? Especially since he saw Buffy go down by exactly the same thing?

Whatever they’d used, it was powerful stuff, ‘cause he bloody well couldn’t move. The vamp didn’t even have a clue as to how much time had passed. For all he knew, the ritual was already over and the Slayer was now either dead or some snake demon. The brief wonder about what it would be like to shag her in that particular form flittered across his brain, but he quickly shoved it aside. No. Not his Buffy. Wasn’t going to happen. Not while he could still walk and talk and fight.

But the thing of it was…he couldn’t do any of those things. It was impossible for him to tell if he was bound or if this was merely an effect of the drug in his system, but either way, Spike was completely immobile and ignorant of where exactly he was. And why the hell am I still alive anyway? he thought irritably. I’ve got no purpose in this whole mess now that that bastard already has Buffy. Why keep my undead ass around?

The questions eddied, bouncing around his skull like mortar, destroying what little control he had left until he felt like roaring out his frustrations for all to hear. If---no, when---he got out of this, nobody was going to be safe, he vowed. If he had to have his head explode, he was going to make sure that each and every one of Daymon’s men paid for their involvement in this little escapade, but more importantly, Spike was going to ensure that the demon himself would hurt in ways that he had never hurt before. His mental chuckle was sadistic. If anything happened to her, his Slayer would most definitely be avenged…in oceans of blood…

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

Her head was killing her, pounding like a sledge hammer, and Buffy groaned as she struggled unsuccessfully to sit up. She was lying horizontally on a hard surface, something heavy wrapped around her chest and legs, pinning her arms to her sides. When she tried to move her hands, the Slayer discovered that someone had even gone to the trouble of binding them tightly, making it impossible to flex or make a fist or even use them in any type of helpful capacity. The soft fabric over her eyes meant she was blindfolded as well, although Daymon---it had to be him---had left her mouth ungagged.

The tingling in her skin told her she wasn’t alone. “I hope this isn’t your idea of foreplay,” she said, knowing instinctively that it was the Greek demon who was with her, “’cause gotta tell you, it’s really not working for me.”

“I am glad to see you’re finally awake,” Daymon responded, ignoring her slight gibe. “I feared my men might’ve misjudged the dosage.”

Buffy felt a slight bump and heard for the first time the engine rumble surrounding her. She was in some sort of vehicle, out of the plane, probably on the way to wherever this ritual needed to occur. And if she was bound this tightly, she knew Daymon wouldn’t have made the mistake again and left Spike free as well. He’s gotta be loving this, she thought, amused, and then stopped, sniffing the air, her heart rate almost immediately starting to accelerate.

“Where’s Spike?” she demanded. “I swear, if you’ve dusted him, they’re going to have to come up with new words to describe how badly I’m going to hurt you.”

The demon chuckled. “Normally, I would be envious of such a bond,” he said. “To know your lover is not even here in spite of being bound and blinded, that is a very rare gift indeed. But today, I do not worry about lacking this, because today, I already have you, and now it is only time that stands between me and my quest.”

Buffy’s heart thumped in her chest, threatening to break free from her ribcage. “But, you didn’t kill him, right?” she asked, desperately trying to maintain some sort of control over the waver in her voice. “I mean, he’s still alive---well, dead---well, undead, right?”

She heard him sigh and imagined he was shaking his head at her. “Yes,” he finally volunteered. “I’m keeping him for some…amusement. Afterward.” Buffy tensed as the dry touch of a scaled hand trailed down her cheek. “It really is a shame we do not have more time,” Daymon said, his voice low. “You are incredibly beautiful. It is so unfortunate I will not be able to enjoy that loveliness of yours after the ritual.”

“You’re not still thinking that’s going to happen, are you?” The young woman laughed. “My friends know all about your plan and they’re probably waiting for us as we speak. They’re very resourceful that way.”

“You are bluffing,” the demon replied. “Brave for doing so, but bluffing nonetheless. However, if it cheers you to believe that they will come to your rescue, then please, by all means do so. I only wish for you to be comfortable for as long as you can.”
“If that’s the case, then why don’t we make with the untying and let me go?” Buffy chirped. “That would definitely make me more comfortable.”

“In due time.”

They rode along in silence, a heavy mantle hanging in the air, and the young woman began flexing what few muscles she could in an attempt to test the limits of her bonds. Whoever had done it had been an expert, because the hand thing was a stroke of genius. She had nothing but her own strength to use as leverage, no way to claw or dig her way free, and even that didn’t seem like it was going to be enough as she strained to lift even her shoulders from the platform underneath her.

“It’s really no use to struggle,” Daymon said. “I’ve ensured that they are more than secure.”

“You’re really not for giving a girl a fighting chance, are you?” She was joking, but the anger and frustration that was already beginning to saturate her conscious crept into her voice anyway. “I mean, the tranquilizer dart was a little overkill, don’t you think?”

“You’ve proven more resourceful than I originally anticipated,” he responded. “How else could I be certain of success?” There was a pause, followed quickly by another insidious chuckle. “You really should have killed me when you had the opportunity, my dear.”

“Funny,” the Slayer remarked. “I was just thinking the same thing.”

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

The sun was blinding as Giles thundered over the crest of the mountain, ripping the steering wheel sideways as he skidded around a curve. Beside him, Tara clung to Willow’s arm, who in turn gripped the armrest in her door, knuckles white, her face even whiter. She screeched as a bird flew in front of them, almost hitting the windshield, burying her face into her girlfriend’s shoulder.

“I said, stop screaming!” Giles reprimanded, his face grim as he maneuvered the vehicle around yet another curve. “It’s very distracting!”

“And the last thing we want right now is for him to be distracted!” added Xander from the back. “I’d like to live long enough for Daymon to kill me, fair and square, thank you very much.”

The silence was grim as they careened around another hairpin, the concentration tightening the Watcher’s face, narrowing his already rapt attention. They had lost sight of the airplane over half an hour earlier, and even though it had not seemed that far on the map, the circuitous route they were being forced to take through the mountains was delaying them longer than Giles was happy with. How long would it take for them to disembark? he wondered. If Buffy and Spike put up a fight, perhaps it could slow them down enough so that the gang could arrive with the weapons. He almost laughed out loud as he considered what he’d just thought. If they put up a fight? The idea that they wouldn’t was ludicrous. Both of them were natural survivors, born to refuse conceding defeat without a battle to the end. They would do everything in their power to make it difficult for Daymon; the only question was…would it be enough?

“There it is!”

Giles almost jerked the wheel as Anya’s arm came shooting out from behind him, pointing and jabbing excitedly at the small airstrip that was now lying before them. His heart sank as he saw how deserted the area was; there were no people about, only a lone covered truck parked a short distance away. “We’re too---,” he started to say, only to cut himself off when he saw the two men emerge from behind the plane and head for the only other vehicle. “Get ready, Willow,” he ordered, pushing the accelerator back down to the floor, “and hang on.”

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

He would never have deliberately chosen guarding a vampire from the duty roster, but considering what his alternative could have been, Nico was grateful for the task he’d been delegated. Anything was better than having to go out to the cave. Since he and Titus were the two who had been instructed to rig up the cage in the back of the truck anyway, it had only made sense that they be the ones to return their cargo back to Daymon’s house. Neither man had been expecting that they’d be transporting a drugged-up demon, but they weren’t arguing. He was harmless, the crew had said. And you’ve got more than enough firepower to take him out should he prove otherwise.

Nobody else was around except for the flight crew and they were all still on board the plane. “You hungry?” asked Titus as they shuffled over to the truck.

“Starving,” the younger man said. “Think we have time to stop for---.” His words became a gurgle as the dog appeared from nowhere, sailing through the air in an effortless leap, throwing him over twenty yards away from the plane so that he landed with a bone-crunching thud in the dust. He started to yell at his partner, only to realize that it was already too late. The snarling beast was atop Titus, its muzzle dripping as it bared its fangs, and Nico realized that the other man had already passed out, although if it was from actual injury or mere fright, he had no idea.

The roar of an engine erupted from behind the young man, and he twisted his body to see what was coming, only to groan out loud when the pain went shooting down his back. It wasn’t until the truck came roaring past did he see the new arrivals. That’s not one of Daymon’s, he thought.

As Nico struggled to sit up, the back door of the vehicle popped open, allowing a young man to jump out, a crossbow already cradled in his arms, training it directly on the Greek on the ground. Behind him, the other occupants poured out, all of them armed, but most of them women…young women…young, very pretty women, he noted. It was only when the driver finally emerged that Nico realized just who exactly was in charge.

The older man wasted no time. “Where is your master?” he demanded in Greek.

“Gone,” he replied, then bit his lip, remembering the warnings that had been passed down to him from the elders about revealing too much about Daymon’s plans.

This obviously didn’t please the leader, who turned to face the young people who surrounded him. He barked at them in some foreign language---English, maybe?---and looked over at the truck before swiveling back to address Nico. “Where has he taken the girl?” he asked this time.

The young Greek shook his head. “I can’t. Daymon will kill me.”

Before he could react, the older man’s foot had shot out, driving into his stomach, sending a crescendo of pain radiating throughout his body. He screamed, curling up into as tight a ball as the injury would allow, not noticing the worrying looks the younger people were throwing at their leader.

“I’ll ask just one more time,” the man said. “Where has he taken the girl?”

It was excruciating, hurting more than anything ever had before in Nico’s short lifetime. “The…cave…” he finally managed, and groaned. He would be punished for sure now; he only hoped that it would be quick. His eyes were squeezed shut from the agony, but he heard the babble of voices as they seemed to be arguing amongst themselves. Please go away, he thought. Maybe I can still make a run for it…

“You’re going to take us to him.”

That opened the Greek’s eyes faster than anything else the older man could’ve done, and he stared at him, appalled. “You must…be joking,” he sputtered.

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

It was a rhetorical question, because they both knew that his demand was a serious one, but it didn’t stop Nico from trying to get out of it anyway. “He’ll kill me,” he whined. “If I take you there, I might as well be signing my own deathwish.”

“And if you don’t, you’re dead already.”

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

The drugs were wearing off. Although his head was hurting more than if the chip had just gone off, Spike was grateful for the pain because it meant one thing…he was still in this world, which meant that he could still help Buffy. His eyes fluttered open and, although it was dark, it was by no means the void he’d been experiencing earlier, merely shuttered from any outside light. He could see the faint outlines of iron bars along the walls, covered with what looked like some sort of heavy black fabric, and the vampire knew at once that he was in sort of mobile cage, being shielded from the outside sunshine so that he didn’t combust. Although the daylight certainly threw a spanner into the works, Spike was determined not to let that hold him back. He couldn’t. Buffy needed him.

Gingerly, the blond vamp sat up from where he’d been thrown on the floor, being careful not to jar his aching muscles, before using one of the bars as leverage to pull himself to his feet. The world swam before him, but he closed his eyes and waited, knowing the dizziness would pass. Soddin’ drugs, he thought irritably. One of these days, I’m goin’ to find the bastard who invented ‘em and pound him into the ground.

The voices he’d heard earlier were long gone, and Spike had been beginning to wonder if he’d just been left to rot when the sound of an approaching car roared into his consciousness, followed quickly by a lot of slamming doors. More Greek, and then…was that English? He stumbled in the direction of the new arrivals, pressing his ear against the fabric. That one was a girl, and the dulcet tones that followed were yet another female…Tara? Which could only mean…

“Hey!” He’d meant for it to be a long, loud shout. Instead, it came out as a croak, barely audible even in the confined space of his cage. Spike tried again. “Hey!” This time, it was louder, but he didn’t think he’d managed to grab their attention yet, as the conversation didn’t seem to be stopping. Grabbing onto the bars, he began rattling them with what little strength he had, screaming, “Giles!”

That brought a halt to the talking outside and the vampire struggled to pick out the sounds of light footsteps, running, approaching his confinement. They stopped, and were immediately followed by, “Spike?”

“Red!” The flood of relief that suffused his body was greater than he expected, and the vamp slumped against the bars. They’d found them. Somehow, some way, Giles had led the Scoobies right to where they needed to be. Not going to slag off Rupes anymore, Spike vowed. Not when he was now giving him the best chance he’d had in days to save Buffy.

The fabric was thrown aside, allowing the sunlight to knife through the air, instantly brightening the cage and sending the blond vamp scuttling backwards to avoid bursting into flame. Willow’s broad smile greeted him as he blinked against the radiance. “You’re alive!” she exclaimed.

“Not for bloody long, you keep lettin’ in the light like that,” he grumbled. His squinting eyes relaxed as she let the fabric fall slightly. “And it’s about bleedin’ time you showed up,” he added. “Everything’s gone all pear-shaped.”

The witch nodded. “We know. Buffy’s already on her way to the cave. We think that’s where Daymon’s going to do the ritual.” She straightened. “And for your information, we’ve been in Greece longer than you have. If anyone should be complaining about a certain someone being all tardy, it should be us about you.”

Spike just looked at her, his dark eyes hooded. She flushed, beginning to squirm, then turned to look over her shoulder. The vampire’s gaze followed hers, and he watched as Giles approached the truck. Right, he thought. Buffy said the Watcher knew, not goin’ to back down from it. He doesn’t like it, he can just sod off.

“Are you all right?”

It was probably the last thing he expected to hear from the ex-librarian, and Spike cocked an eyebrow as he tilted his head, looking at the other man in amusement. “It’s been a crackin’ day, thank you for askin’,” he replied. Giles’ jaw tightened, and the vampire felt an edge of guilt for being so flip. Don’t be such a prat, he chided himself. You don’t have time for it right now. “Bastard’s men used tranquilizers to knock me and Buffy out,” he added. “That’s how they separated us.”

The Watcher nodded. “He’s prepared,” he said. “He’s allowed for all contingencies.”

“I’ll lay money he hasn’t allowed for you,” the vamp countered. “We can still get him, Rupe. He’s not expectin’---.”

“There is no ‘we,’ Spike.” Giles looked down at the redheaded witch at his side. “Go help Xander tie those men up, Willow.”

“But Anya’s the one who’s the bondage expert,” she argued, then stopped, her eyes widening, as she realized what he was really saying. “Oh. You’re getting rid of me.”

“Obviously, not very effectively, but yes, I’d like for you to go. I want to have a word with Spike alone.”

Willow waggled a finger at the older man. “Play nice. For Buffy’s sake,” she said, casting one last look at the blond vampire in the shadows. “That goes for you, too,” she added, before spinning on her heel and disappearing from view.

Spike couldn’t help the smile that curled his lips. So Red was on his side. Not that it surprised him much; she and her girlfriend were the soft touches of the bunch. Giles, on the other hand…

“How much did Buffy tell you about the prophecy?” he was asking.

The vampire shrugged. “Just the basics. Demon comes out of Daymon, demon goes into Buffy. End of story.”

“There’s more to it than that,” the Watcher said. “I don’t have the luxury of having time to explain it to you, but trust me on this. You cannot come along with us. Buffy’s life could very well be in even graver danger should you do so.”

“And trust me when I say, there is no way in hell you’re leaving me out of this!” The rage boiled in Spike’s head, thrusting him forward to the edge of the shade, as close to the other man as he dared without bursting into flame. “If you think I’m just going to stand back while Buffy needs me, you’re not nearly as smart as I thought you were, Rupe.”

“I know you love her,” the older man said tightly. “And I know she loves you. That doesn’t mean I like it, or that I even condone it, but it does mean that I know to what lengths you will go to protect her. I know your history, Spike. I’ve read about what you’ve done, about some of the things you did for Drusilla. Out of love. And I’d be a fool to believe that that might somehow change because you’ve transferred those feelings to my Slayer---.”

“Our Slayer, Watcher. Our. Slayer. She’s mine, just as much as she’s yours. Something happens to her, and we’ll both suffer. Some how, someway, I’ll get to Buffy, and I’ll do my damnedest to save her. Now, that would be a helluva lot easier if you just took me along, but if you’re still so blinkered that you can’t see what’s staring you in the face, then I’ll do it on my own. If I have to rip this cage apart bar by bar, and burn in the bleedin’ sunshine the entire way, I’ll do it. Because I love her.” He paused. “She’s everything to me. You know that, right?”

There was a long moment as Giles regarded the vampire, blue eyes narrowed behind the lenses of his glasses. “You can’t leave the cage,” he finally said. “I’ll take you with us, but you have to promise to stay out of it. That’s the only way I’ll allow you to come.”

His heart leapt at the chance. “Whatever you say,” Spike promised. “Just don’t leave me behind.” He watched as the older man turned away, calling for Xander. One step closer, the vampire thought. Hang on, luv. I’m on my way…

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

His knuckles were white on the steering wheel, the only visual testimony to the tension in his body, the adrenalin surging through his veins. So much had happened over the past two days, so many things that Giles would’ve thought were years behind him. He’d killed another human---albeit a very evil one---and though he recognized the necessity of it, the reality that he’d done so because of…feelings, for a demon yet, was proving more overwhelming than he was prepared to deal with at this time.

But that was the least of his worries at the moment. As the truck lurched along the tiny country road, the Watcher’s thoughts were mired in the consequences of the vehicle that followed him. What if Cortina’s interpretation of the prophecy was correct? Allowing Spike to accompany them to the cave was inviting disaster, and should it be his demon that brought about Buffy’s destruction, Giles would never forgive himself for being the one to permit it to happen. He could’ve just told the vampire the whole story; that might’ve been enough to convince him to stay behind. But, deep in his heart, the older man knew that wasn’t true. As someone who was ruled by his emotions, Spike would never be able to just sit back, to wait as others attempted to save his love, not when he thought he might be able save her himself.

Although he knew that it wouldn’t have made a difference to the vampire’s response, Giles was already beginning to regret not being more specific about Buffy’s potential danger. Information itself was a weapon; how many times had he professed that himself to the Scooby gang? And yet, here he was, deliberately refraining from telling Spike the whole story. He knew it was because of his own stubborn refusal to accept the vampire as an equal in this whole Daymon mess, to not believe that his Slayer could actually have fallen for yet another demon, but that didn’t make it any easier. If Xander or Willow had pulled such a stunt, Giles would’ve been the first to reprimand them. How could he hold himself no less responsible?

“Are you prepared?”

The Watcher’s head jerked to look at the bound man at his side. In his reverie, he’d completely forgotten about the Greek who was directing them, and he frowned. “Prepared for what?” he questioned.

“For the cave,” the young man elaborated. “You do understand its dangers, don’t you?”

No, Giles thought. Not more blasted complications. Out loud, he said, “I’m not in the mood for games. What in bloody hell are you referring to?”

The Greek sighed, shaking his head. “I’ll only tell if you promise to let me go when we arrive. I am a dead man if my master learns of my betrayal. If I run, I may be able to escape his wrath.”

“Yes, yes, just tell me what we need to know.” No time for negotiations, the Watcher thought. Once we’ve reached the cave, he won’t be any use to us anyway. And he’s right about his life being in danger. Might as well give him a fighting chance.

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

He watched as Willow gripped the bars of the cage, hanging on for dear life as Xander careened over the bumpy road. “You could’ve sat up front, you know,” he commented. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

The redhead grinned, in spite of her discomfort. “I think Giles would disagree,” she said.

Spike glowered. “Watcher can’t see what’s right in front of his face,” he muttered. “I just want to help Buffy, but bloody wanker won’t see that.”

Willow’s eyes softened as she watched him bury his head in his hands, long fingers pulling at the soft curls. “What did he say?” she queried gently.

“Thinks I’ll make things worse by bein’ around,” the vampire answered, and lifted his face to look at his riding companion, the unshed tear shining in his blue eyes. “I love her, Red. I’d never hurt her.”

The anguish tore at his voice, and Willow felt her heart melt at the sincerity in his words. “He’s just worried about Buffy,” she said quietly. “He doesn’t want to take any chances.”

“What’s it goin’ to take?” Spike asked. “How many times am I goin’ to have to save her before you guys start takin’ me serious? ‘Cause this second-class citizen crap is gettin’ old, and I don’t want Buffy gettin’ caught in the middle of it.”

She knew his questions were valid ones, that his observations were right on the money, but she didn’t know the answers any more than he did. “I don’t know, Spike,” she admitted. “I just don’t know.”

The truck jerked to a stop, sending both of the cage’s occupants sprawling to the floor. “Harris couldn’t find a stick shift if it was stuck up his ass,” the vampire growled, scrambling to his feet before offering a hand to Willow to help her up. He thought for a moment that it was just another of their pit stops as Xander and Giles got their bearings, but this time, the engine was almost immediately killed and he heard the slams of both front doors opening and closing. The look from the redhead was all the confirmation he needed and together, they bolted for the rear of the cage, waiting for someone to come around and open it up.

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

Xander squinted as the dark Greek sprinted toward a nearby hill, his legs moving faster than the construction worker would’ve thought possible for someone not being chased by a demon. “You really think it’s a good idea to just let him go like that?” he asked the Watcher as he rounded the corner of the truck.

“He’s served his purpose,” Giles replied, fumbling with the large ring of keys he’d taken from their newly released prisoner. “I see no reason to harm humans who have agreed to help us with Buffy.”

“Oh, yeah?” commented Anya. “Tell that to the witch you killed at Cortina’s.” She visibly shrank as the older man turned venomous eyes toward her, his face a dark thundercloud ready to explode. “I’m just saying,” she added defensively, clutching at her boyfriend’s arm.

Drawing back the curtain that covered the cage, Giles was greeted by a waiting Willow and Spike. The vamp retreated slightly as the light filtered through the bars, but with the truck parked facing the sun, most of its rays were aimed at the front of the vehicle as opposed to the rear, making it unnecessary for him to move very far. Slipping the key into the lock, the Watcher undid the latch, allowing the door to swing free.

Spike just watched as the redhead jumped to the ground, his eyes narrowing as Giles let the gate loose, clanging slightly as it bounced off the cage’s clasp. They were parked just outside the cave’s entrance and to be perfectly honest, he didn’t get what the big fuss was about. To him, it looked quite ordinary, with a smallish opening; there weren’t any dead bodies laying about, or any demon markings. What in hell were they just waiting around for?

“There’s only one way in,” Giles was instructing. “One path with only enough room for us to go single-file. Don’t look around, just stay focused on the person in front of you---.”

“Why?” asked Tara.

“Apparently, the walls are covered with demonic artwork that drives men mad.” He held up his hand as the young people rolled their eyes. “I’m not saying it’s true, but young Nico seemed fairly adamant about keeping your eyes straight ahead. He claims that men who view the scenes leave the cave babbling idiots and eventually kill themselves. Right after they start attempting to re-enact what they’ve witnessed.”

“Sounds like absolute rot to me,” snarked Spike from inside the truck.

Giles just glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. “Frankly, I’m not inclined to believe it either, but, just to be safe, we’ll do as suggested. Understand?” He waited as the Scoobies slowly nodded. “Good. Now, do we have everything? Willow?”

The redhead patted the backpack slung over her shoulder. “Yep, all set.”

“And Xander and I are on weapons.” He glanced around at the horizon. “Where did Elvis get to?”

“He should get here any minute now,” Willow reassured. “I gave him the scent, so he knows where he’s heading.”

“That dog will never fit inside that cave.” Spike was pacing back and forth at the edge of the sunlight, watching the gang organize themselves, not stopping even when Giles turned to look at him. “If you’re hoping poochie’s goin’ to be some help in there with your demon---.”

“That’s not our plan,” the Watcher interrupted. “He’s for stopping anything from escaping once we’ve already entered.” He swiveled on his heel, heading for the cave opening, his voice floating back to the vampire behind him. “And for keeping you in your cage…”

Spike growled as the Scooby gang disappeared, one by one, into the cave. So close and yet…so far. Although they’d left the cage door unlocked---something he wasn’t sure that they even realized---the sunlight was as good as keeping him captive, not to mention the damn demon dog that would be showing up any minute to stand guard as well. He felt like raging against the unfairness of it all…Buffy was so close…and she needed him…how in hell was he going to get to her?

As he plopped down onto the lone bench in the cage, Spike felt a soft bundle under his foot, and glanced down. Red’s jacket. In such a hurry, must’ve forgotten all about it. He bent over to pick it up, then froze, as the germ of an idea rooted itself in his head…

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

He’d kept her blindfolded during the entire journey, even when whatever she was in had jolted to a halt. She’d been slid out, still on her back, and had only known she was in sunshine by the direct heat on her face, the warmth suffusing her torso, creeping down her legs. It was reminiscent of her first dream about Spike, and she imagined his fingers as they thrust themselves deep inside her. The tingle the memory sent through her thighs was enough to make her sigh, and she heard Daymon stop whatever he was doing and approach her.

“As much as I would like to believe that it is for me you sigh so longingly,” he’d oozed, “I suspect you are thinking of your vampire lover. He is quite the lucky man to have a woman who gets aroused merely at the remembrance of his touch.” He chuckled. “Do you think he will want you as much after the ritual? Or will he be repulsed when this lovely skin of yours is covered in scales?”

“It’s not. Going. To happen,” Buffy had said through gritted teeth, and began doing her best to wrench free from her bonds yet again. Her struggles had ceased, however, when she felt the men who’d removed her from the truck grab hold of her yet again, walk with her out of the sunlight, and immerse her again in an icy coldness. Gone was the day, replaced by a frozen glove encasing her skin, and her Slayer senses starting exploding all over the place. She wasn’t sure where she was, but one thing was certain…it was evil.

How long they’d walked, how far…she had no idea. The only thing the young woman was aware of was the encroaching sense of disaster. It was taking too long; with every passing minute, Buffy knew that the odds of the gang or Spike getting to her in time to help her escape were diminishing, and she wasn’t exactly sure she could get out of this one on her own. They weren’t physical bindings holding her in place; it was magic, and all her super-Slayer strength did absolutely zilch when it came to fighting that.

And when they laid her out, and she felt the cold stone beneath her back, the knot in her stomach grew tighter, hardening into a frigid lump, and she had to swallow hard in order to breathe properly. She felt scales brush against her cheek, and it was all the young woman could do not to physically flinch at Daymon’s touch.

“Very soon,” he crooned, and those long fingers slid under the blindfold, liberating it from her face.

The sudden explosion of light blinded her, and Buffy blinked as she tried to clear her vision. Vaguely, she saw the outline of the Greek demon towering over her, then slide away, presumably to do something connected with the ritual. She wanted to follow him with her head, but all of a sudden, she couldn’t move that either, her muscles frozen…immobile…and it was then that the fear really began to settle in…

From off to the side, Daymon’s voice began to chant in a language she couldn’t understand, Greek most likely, she reasoned. She had no idea what he was saying, but the poetic cadences of his words seemed all too familiar. I’ve been around Willow long enough to know what magic sounds like, Buffy thought. It’s the ritual. It’s too late.

And then the light around her burst into flame, exploding with a radiance too overwhelming to perceive…and she wanted to look away…but she couldn’t…her breathing ragged, her pulse racing…watching as it swam before her…the scream being torn from her lips even before she realized it…

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

It was the chilling echo of his Slayer’s screams that spurred Giles to hasten his step. They were close, he could feel it, but the agony in her voice made him worry that it was already too late, that all their efforts had been for naught. The windings of the path had stolen his sense of direction; he only knew forward...only knew onward…but in that way lay Buffy, and he would drive on.

All of a sudden, the trail widened, and the group spilled out onto a narrow ledge encircling a shallow pit. The stone of the passageway was replaced by earth and the Scoobies edged around, each one’s gaze locked on the tableau laid out before them.

Buffy lay spread-eagled on a platform at the center, her mouth wide open as the screams still gushed forth from her throat. She was barely clothed, and her skin shone in the brilliant light that seemed to be hovering all around her. Just off to her side, Daymon knelt before a tiny lectern, a scroll spread out on top of it, the ancient words of the cleansing rolling from his tongue.

“It’s already begun,” Giles murmured. He looked over at Xander, whose jaw twitched in anger, and nodded. “Aim for its head,” he instructed, and lifted his crossbow.

Two arrows went slinging through the air, but within feet of their target, they stopped, bouncing as if they’d struck a wall. The chanting faltered, then continued, while both men quickly reloaded…tried again…

The light grew suddenly brighter and the scaled demon lifted his head to stare up at the arrivals with cold, black eyes. Victory shone there as he slowly rose to his feet. “She told me you would come,” he said, “and I laughed at such an innocent bluff. I see I have underestimated yet again.” He smiled. “But you are too late. The cleansing has already begun. See how the powers are already preparing?” The demon turned his back on the group, gesturing toward the radiance that now engulfed Buffy. “No man can stop the ritual now.”

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

All he could hear were her screams, and they tore at his heart as he ran down the cave’s corridor, the burns on his hands already forgotten. The dog had been easily fooled by the scent of Willow’s jacket, and Spike had made his break for the cave’s entrance with the coat draped over him, hoping and praying that his vampiric speed would get him o safety before he burst into flame. He’d been fortunate; only his hands had burned, but that pain was nothing now that he was drowning in the sounds of Buffy’s terror.

He burst into the cavern, his sight immediately assaulted by the glow that permeated its center, oblivious to everything but the sight of the woman he loved and the demon towering over her. “No!” he screamed, and launched himself downward, aiming directly for Greek’s shoulders. As he flew through the air, he heard the Watcher’s voice cry out…

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

“Spike! Don’t!” Giles yelled at the blond vampire as he rushed past them, vaulting himself into the pit before them. There was no sign of recognition that he’d been heard, and he felt the bile rise in his throat as the older man realized that he wasn’t being stopped by whatever had stayed their own arrows…he was soaring through…

As they watched in horror, he tackled Daymon in mid-turn, catching him off-guard, the force of the impact sending the scaled demon sprawling away from Buffy and driving Spike to his knees. He shook his blond head as if to clear it, starting to stand, and the group held their breath as the light that had been engulfing the Slayer suddenly rushed forward, slamming into the chests of both the young woman and the vampire at her side.

Time froze, and the Scoobies could only stand by as the radiance seemed to shriek, the voices of Slayer and vampire mingling as one…then dying down…

Buffy’s inert form slowly began to rise, straightening inch by inch, while at the same time, Spike’s body was being forced down, stretching out as it went more and more horizontal, matching the other in speed. Each looked asleep, their eyes closed, their faces in repose, and the irrational question of whether they were both dead flickered across the Watcher’s mind as he stood helpless to prevent it from finishing.

Their movements ceased, leaving Buffy in mid-air, her arms still akimbo, head hanging, golden hair hiding her face. The vampire was now prone on the earthen floor, and Giles found his gaze riveted on the chipped demon. He seemed to be changing, right before his very eyes…skin darkening---reddening, really---almost as if…

A piercing squeal tore from the light, and the brilliance immediately abated, although didn’t disappear. Was it over? But no…it still surrounded the pair, albeit much softer. There was a movement on the floor…had to be a trick of the light, but must inspect further…

And it was then that the Watcher’s pulse skipped a beat, his head raining torrential denials against his skull, because he’d seen it. It had happened. And there it was again…

…Spike’s chest rising…falling…rising again…

…as if he was breathing…

His blue gaze tore upwards, gluing to his Slayer, watching her head slowly rise, the hair clinging shamelessly to her cheeks, hiding her…until she turned, her lids fluttering open…

…and stared at the Scooby gang with the golden eyes of a vampire…

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

Something was different. He was himself, but not, and he didn’t know why, could feel only the yawning barrenness gnawing at his gut, echoing in his head, creating a tympani of tremors throughout his body. Unconsciously, Spike took a deep breath to try and steady his nerves, then froze. What the bloody fuck was that? his mind demanded. Vampires don’t need to breathe; what are you playing at? He tried holding himself still, steeling his chest, refusing to inhale, but within seconds his lungs were screaming for satisfaction and he gulped at the chill air. It was real. He was breathing.

Thoughts…questions…churned inside his skull. How was it possible? Humans were the ones who had to breathe, not…

And the reality of his situation began to crystallize, sending waves of shock rolling through his body. The ritual…jumping Daymon…then the light…The prophecy had been fulfilled through him, not the Greek, and if he opened his eyes, Spike knew that he would be greeted by a vampire Buffy. And Giles…he had known, had tried preventing him from coming. Why the hell didn’t he just tell me what could happen? he raged, only to be answered by a tiny voice at the bottom of his consciousness. Because he knew it wouldn’t make a difference, it said. You would’ve shrugged away the possibility and argued that Buffy needed you.

She still does, he thought. Not goin’ to let this happen. The magic that had been pinning him down seemed less now, and his eyes fluttered open, his head slowly turning. There she was. Her back was to him, but her head was turned, eyes staring sadly at the Scoobies congregated on the ledge. Golden eyes. Once upon a time, he’d loved another set of golden eyes, worshiped at the shrine of his ridged princess, but this…this was Buffy….this was…

He frowned, the disparity scratching at his skin…

…not quite right…

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

It had scorched her from the inside out as it smashed into her chest, and Buffy gasped as the pain began to eat at her innards. Nothing in her life had ever hurt this much, not even that stupid vamp the previous fall who’d managed to stake her with her own weapon. She knew she’d screamed from the agony, but she didn’t care; the only thing that seemed to matter was finding a way to vent the torture. She’d felt everything…the lifting of her body…the twisting sensation as whatever that had entered her took root…

And she could’ve sworn she’d heard Spike, but that couldn’t be…had to be part of the nightmare that was swirling around her. But what if it wasn’t? What if by some miracle of chance the vampire had managed to find her, to do his best to rescue her from Daymon? She had to look, had to see…

It had been a struggle to even lift her head, her body suddenly not her own, fighting as if walking through tar. When her hair had fallen from her eyes, she’d seen the gang, clustered along the rim of the cavern, their faces ranging from frightened to worried, to aghast. Something was wrong about them, though…off, as if someone had been playing with the color adjustment on the television. In fact, the entire world was like that…tinged in gold…

She saw him then, sprawled on the earthen floor beside her, frighteningly fragile-looking as he looked up at her with those deep blue eyes. Her heart wrenched as she realized just how achingly beautiful Spike really was…the mad desperation that carved his face in agonizing splendor…the trim muscles that seemed to scream to be touched…that chest she’d fallen asleep against just hours previously…

It was then that she saw it move, and almost immediately saw what had happened to him, what had happened to…her. It explained the gnawing hunger that was growing in her belly, the growing insurgence of thoughts that seemed foreign, yet familiar.
Turning her attention inward, Buffy concentrated on those, trying to make sense of them, understand just what they were…what they meant. Flashes of running girls, swooshing skirts…a high-pitched feminine laugh…the gentle sway of a subway car…and blood, lots of it…its smell, its taste, its power as it suffused her being…

And she understood, without having to ask, without knowing why. These were Spike’s memories, an integral element of his demon, now an integral part of her, and it all seemed to make sense at once. The images were coming in fast and furious now, and she felt her heart thunder in her chest as the wide range of his emotions manifested themselves in her core…the anger…the bloodlust…the frustration…the futility…and the strongest of all…

…the love…

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

He could feel the grit of the floor beneath his head, and the realization that he’d been thwarted began to burn in Daymon’s gut. The ritual’s magic was oppressive and only now, with the first step undergone, was it abating enough for him to lift his head, to survey his surroundings. The vampire had taken his place in the cleansing and now lay prone just a few feet away. Only, he wasn’t a vampire anymore. Daymon could smell the humanity on him, coating the air in layers of musk, the fear dripping off his skin.

And there, just above the platform she’d only recently rested upon, was the Chosen One, looking around with her newly formed demon eyes, and his hope plummeted. It was too late for him. The Chalice had already been filled.

The fury rose in his throat like bile, and Daymon swung back to survey the blond man who had brought about his failure. How many times had he had the chance to kill Spike, only to allow him to live, either through Buffy’s interference or his own vacillation, and now it was this same creature who repaid that favor by stealing from him the rebirth he had so desperately sought for decades. The irony of it shook him, and he slowly struggled to rise, fighting the heavy cloak of magic that still permeated the pit. Spike would pay for it…and Daymon would bathe in his blood…

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

It started as a rumble, and Willow and Tara exchanged a look of alarm before the first tremor hit, sending the group stumbling to their knees. In the pit, Daymon was thrown aside as the vibrations began to multiply, pitching the world around him, growing louder, more intense. The quaking sent Spike rolling away from Buffy, but for the first time since the transference, he found himself free of the magic’s shackles, his muscles his own again, and he clambered to his hands and knees as he fought for his balance.

The only one not affected was Buffy, and she watched as the others in the cavern were thrown about by the earthquake. Dust from the ceiling began to sprinkle the air, to expand into larger clumps as the tremors grew in strength and in number. In one corner, an entire section of the roof caved in, allowing the sunlight to send sudden illumination bouncing around and exposing the results of the quake for all to see.

Giles lifted his head, his eyes widening in alarm as he saw the ground begin to split, chasms suddenly appearing throughout the cavern, and the irrational fear that they were all going to be sucked into some demon pit of hell flashed through his head. That was quickly dispelled, however, as the truth almost immediately made itself known.

Beside him, Xander’s sharp intake of breath only exacerbated the chills that were running down the Watcher’s spine. “What…are they?” the young man hissed.

“’The vermin who cling to evil’s underbelly,’” Giles quoted, his voice barely audible in the din, his gaze locked onto the hands that were clawing at the earth, pulling the re-animated bodies from the soil, their ridged faces empty of anything but hunger, their fanged mouths agape.

“Oh, sweet goddess,” breathed Tara. “What are they doing?”

The newly-born vampires were crawling toward Buffy, clambering over the debris in their way, even if it took the form of a scaled demon or a blond human. When the first reached her, it grabbed at her ankle, using it to hoist himself up, and the Scoobies could only look on in horror as it sank its fangs into the flesh on her thigh. Others followed suit, and it was only after the third and fourth had attached themselves to her did the young woman react, her legs kicking out as she flailed to free herself.

“They’re…feeding,” Giles murmured. He was transfixed by the strength that Buffy was displaying, battling the ritual’s magic as she fought for her own…humanity? His head whirled. But she houses Spike’s demon, he argued. She has the eyes, the power of a vampire. How can she still fight if she has been…

And the discrepancy that had been chewing at him became clear. “Willow,” he hissed. “Get your bag.”

The redhead frowned, but did as she was told. “But it’s too late, Giles,” she said as she pulled out the heavy book, struggling with it as another tremor sent her reeling to her bottom. “Buffy’s already a demon.”

“Not yet.” The Watcher took the tome and immediately began flipping through the pages, looking for the text that Cortina had pointed out to him in her library. “We still have time.”

“How is that possible?” demanded Anya. “Buffy’s our very own golden girl. You saw her eyes.”

“Yes, but I didn’t see any ridges,” Giles explained. “Plus, she’s still alive. That’s why the vampires are leeching her. In order for Buffy to complete the ritual, she must die. And we’re going to stop that from happening.”

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

Spike didn’t know why they were ignoring him; he was an easy kill. Without his demon strength, these new vampires could’ve taken him had they chosen, yet they didn’t. Instead, they concentrated on getting to Buffy, and his heart leapt to his throat when he saw the first bury its teeth into her tender flesh. Had to stop it, had to find a way…even if it meant he had to die himself…

With what energy he had remaining, the blond scrambled over the rising body of a nearby demon, clutching at the ground for support. The scabby fingers of the newly-animated corpse wrapped around his ankle, holding him back, and he glanced back, his face twisted into a snarl, lashing out, the boot of his heel connecting with the creature’s jaw, snapping its head back and breaking its grasp.

It seemed to take an eternity. For every foot forward, Spike was pushed back, and he could feel his strength start to wane. Each obstacle, though, only steeled his resolve, urged him onward, until, finally, he was at her feet.

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

There were too many. In spite of the infusion of power surging through her veins, Buffy could sense that she was losing the battle, that the vampires who were drinking from her were slowly beginning to overwhelm her capabilities, and she began to panic. No, she thought. It can’t end like this. I refuse to let them win.

As she shoved yet another corpse away, her gaze was caught by the blond head swimming toward her in the sea of death. Seeing Spike only fortified the young woman’s tenacity, and she punched with extra vigor at a demon attached to her left arm, knocking it down into the throng, allowing her lover the extra clearance to reach her.

“Spike…” she whispered, and bent down, offering him her hand.

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

The sparks jumped over the heads of the feeding vampires, and Willow’s eyes widened as she witnessed the fusion of her best friend and former enemy. Unable to look away, she nudged her girlfriend gently, and together the two witches watched, spellbound, as the light surrounding Spike and Buffy electrified, charging the atmosphere of the cave with its power. With excruciating grace, the blond man rose to stand beside the Slayer, his blue eyes locked with hers, before turning to start beating down the newly born away from the young woman.

Their grip never broke. Using their combined strength, the pair became a symbiotic dance of death as they fought the horde, an elegant study of animal magnificence. Willow was mesmerized. If before she’d had any doubt, it was now banished. They were perfectly matched, their movements synchronized as if by some unseen force, complementing the other’s strokes as she’d never seen before. She almost didn’t hear Giles when he hissed, “Willow! Pay attention!”

Tearing her gaze away, the redhead resumed laying out the herbs as the book instructed. “I don’t think the cleansing is working,” she said. “I think Spike’s messed it up somehow.”

“Well, that’s a bloody surprise,” the Watcher muttered. “When doesn’t he?”

“I’m serious,” insisted Willow. “Look.”

An unwilling Giles lifted his eyes and was met with the sight of two golden-eyed fighters availing themselves against the onslaught around them. He was about to turn away, then stopped. Two?

“The demon’s confused,” Anya offered. “Spike’s put himself into the place of the Chalice and it doesn’t know where to go.”

“It would certainly appear so,” the older man murmured, and watched as a particularly powerful kick on the part of his Slayer sent a vampire flying through the air, crashing into the wall, landing directly in the pool of sunlight introduced earlier during the quaking. Almost instantly, it burst into flame, self-immolating before exploding into dust.

Willow and Giles looked at each other, the same thought in each of their heads. They were closer to the surface than anyone had realized. That meant…perhaps they weren’t as weaponless as they’d originally believed. “Tara can bring it down,” she said. “I’ll focus on the reversal.”

The Watcher nodded, and he grabbed the blonde witch by the wrist, pulling her away from the others. “This is what we’re going to do,” he started.

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

She’d never felt so powerful. The energy that bound her to Spike was invigoratingly robust, and she could feel the hunger inside her dissipating. Once, she stole a glance at the man beside her, and was met by his golden eyes glittering in the scattered light. Buffy didn’t question it but instead innately recognized the demon reflected there. After all, it was still a part of her as well.

The vampires were tiring, and in spite of the blood that now flowed freely from her various wounds, the Slayer’s strength never flagged. Her body was a whirlwind of kicks and punches, and it wasn’t until she saw the rising form of the scaled demon at the edge of the platform that she decided. Enough was enough.

She didn’t even have to tell Spike. Together, they turned to face Daymon, imbued with the force of their bond, and started their attack.

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

Against one, he might’ve stood a chance. Against two, the Greek demon found himself floundering, unable to gain control. Everywhere he turned, he was met with violence---a punch in the jaw, a kick to his chest---and the constant battering quickly took its toll. He felt his muscles begin to scream in protest under the barrage, a torturous exercise of fire and mutiny, and started to shrink away, the sudden fear that he would lose this battle overcoming his sense of honor. Must live, can’t fight, must run. As he started to back up, retreating from the two who were so determined to bring him down, the scaled demon tripped over the inert form of an unconscious vampire, landing on his back with his tail broken beneath him, helplessly staring up at the duo with black eyes suddenly shiny with fear.

As one, Spike and Buffy leapt from the platform, alighting atop Daymon, continuing their assault with hardly a break in rhythm. Left punch…right kick…power yielded as deadly as any sword, they were intent on their victim, venting their own angers on his now motionless form. As the world started to fade around him, he heard the chanting from the ledge, and wondered briefly what the witches were up to. It doesn’t matter, he thought, as he began to drift away. All is lost anyway…

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

Buffy saw the light in Daymon’s eye fade and the sudden elation that surged through her jump-started her heart. It was almost over. Glancing at her partner, she reveled in how his blond hair shone in the growing light in the cavern, his mouth a firm but sensual line. Almost imperceptibly, Spike nodded.

It was the only encouragement she needed. Breaking contact with her lover for the first time since he joined her on the platform, the Slayer leaned over and grasped the scaled demon’s head, wrenching it sideways with an audible crunch, the delicate bones in his neck shattering and the black eyes going cold and lifeless, before letting it fall with a satisfying thump back onto the earthen floor.

She was about to turn back to Spike when the sudden clump on the top of her head caused her to look up. There, in the ceiling, a fissure…and another…joined by yet more. What the…? she wondered, then saw the focused Tara chanting and gesticulating on the ledge. A spell for…And before she could finish the thought, a huge section of the cavern’s roof crashed to the ground, letting the bright Greek sunshine free rein to irradiate the dim space.

A group of the newly-raised vampires were caught in the blast, and almost instantaneously burst into flame. Buffy’s smile was wide. God, she loved having friends, especially ones that were as resourceful as the Scoobies. Around her, the remaining demons tried scrambling to safety, but their movements were too slow. One by one, they vanished into a sparkle of dust.

The sound of Willow’s voice began to rise above the din, and the Slayer swiveled to look over at her best friend, only to stop when she saw the flames beginning to lick up Spike’s arm. Her heart stopped, her reaction automatic as she launched herself at him, throwing both of them against the platform, her body covering his, shielding him from the deadly sunshine. Frantically, she beat out the flame with her bare hand, heedless of the sudden pain it was causing her, before looking back to see the ridges start appearing in his forehead. She didn’t know what was happening, but she didn’t care, as her eyes blazed with longing for him, her body all too aware of how he felt underneath her, his growing erection against her hips causing her own arousal to intensify. Without breaking his gaze, Buffy lowered her head, meeting his lips with hers, seeking and finding the sanctuary Spike offered her.

The crack pierced their eardrums, deafening all within the cavern, causing each to cringe in pain, and the sudden brilliance blinded them to everything surrounding. By the time Giles could look up, blinking rapidly in an attempt to clear his own vision, Tara was already gazing down into the pit, her mouth open, the fear etched in her eyes. Slowly, he turned his own gaze to the ritual platform.

Although he could barely make out the form of the vampire underneath her, the Watcher could see Buffy quite clearly and he knew what frightened the young woman at his side so.

With blood trickling from her ears and nose, his Slayer lay motionless atop an equally unconscious Spike…

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

With a crisp grace, Giles leapt from the ledge, circumventing Daymon’s inert form as he bolted to Buffy’s side. The blood was dripping from the tip of her tiny nose, pooling on the earthen floor, while her hair was starting to mat where it coagulated amidst her tresses. Gently, the Watcher slid his hands under her stomach, lifting her away from the blond vampire, turning her carefully in his arms so that her head hung back, the elegant lines of her neck exposed to the open air. Although he was relieved to see the steady pulse that beat there, Giles was only too aware of the multitude of wounds that still bled across her body, weakening her with every passing moment.

“Willow!” he called, the harshness in his voice contradictory to the flurry of anxiety in his gut.

She was already moving, gathering her magic paraphernalia, scooping it into the duffel before easing herself over the edge and into the pit. The power from the reversal spell still surged through her system, and the redhead felt as if she could do anything at the moment, command whatever forces she desired; she only had to say the words. That, however, was the furthest thing from her mind right now. Right now, she had to help Buffy.

“She’s alive,” Giles said unnecessarily. “But she’s weak.”

“Whaddaya want me to do?”

“Get ‘er outta here.” His voice was weak, but steady, and the duo looked over at Spike with surprise, almost as if they’d forgotten he was there. At some point, his game face had slipped away, and now his clear blue eyes gazed up at them, the worry apparent even to them. “There’s still residual magic here,” he elaborated. “It’s drainin’ her. I can feel it.”

“But what about you?” Willow asked.

“It doesn’t want me,” Spike said softly. “I’m not the human one anymore.” He started to lift himself up onto his elbows and winced as the pounding in his head caused the world to swim around him. His discomfort didn’t go unnoticed, and the blond vampire was surprised when Giles pressed him back onto the floor, his touch firm but unthreatening.

“Don’t move,” the older man said. As Spike watched, he gestured to the remaining gang members, and waited until they were in a circle around him. “Get him up onto the ledge,” he ordered. “And make sure you keep him out of the sunlight.” Giles turned back to the vampire. “Remind me when we get back to Sunnydale that I wish to discuss your lack of impulse control, Spike.” There were no recriminations in his face though, the unspoken understanding passing between the two Englishmen as Xander eased his arm under the vampire’s shoulders, helping him clamber to his feet.

“So, we need to let our candles do the walking, right?” asked Willow.

“What?” A confused Giles blinked once before realizing what she meant. “Oh, yes. Dolly.” As the redheaded Wicca set up her transdemonic call, the Watcher wiped the blood staining his Slayer’s face, brushing back the hair from her eyes, remembering all too vividly the way she’d appeared during the ritual. His nightmares about her being turned had diminished over the years, but it didn’t make them any less frightening, any less disturbing. The ordeal might be over for her, but for Giles, it would last a lifetime.

Although he only had Spike’s word for it, somehow the older man knew that Buffy had reverted to her human self, that the vampire’s demon had been expelled from her body. What he didn’t know was if its temporary inhabitance would have any permanent effects. He’d witnessed her extra strength while she was fighting Daymon, and had seen how it had been augmented when Spike had joined her on the platform. He didn’t want to consider the grander implications of what that meant, but he’d be a fool to ignore them. Still, there was a time and place for everything, and right now, that meant getting Buffy out of here.

Dolly’s appearance was startlingly quick. As she materialized within the cavern, Giles watched as she turned around, surveying the fissures in the floor, the gaping holes in the ceiling. Slowly, she shook her head, her tongue audibly clucking in spite of not yet being solid. “You went and broke it,” she commented. “I know some demons who aren’t going to be very happy about losing their summer retreat.” When she turned back to look at the Watcher, she noticed the bleeding young woman in his arms for the first time. “Did you break your Slayer, too?” she asked.

He ignored her comments, rising to his feet with Buffy still held tight to his chest. “She needs out of here as quickly as possible,” Giles said. “Get us back to Cortina’s. Now.”

“You don’t want a hospital? I thought all you humans went running to the doctor every time you got a little scratch.” Although she didn’t cower, his withering gaze was enough to cause the demon to redden slightly. “All right, all right. Cortina’s it is, then.” She looked around at the others, adding as she started to fade, “I’ll be back for you guys in a bit.”

Spike was the only one who didn’t watch as the green-haired demon vanished with Giles and Buffy. He didn’t need eyes to know that the Slayer was no longer in the cave; the hollow in the pit of his stomach was more than enough to broadcast the lack of her presence. The bond they’d shared prior to their arrival in Greece had been strong; now, after everything, it was almost as if they shared the same skin, the same heart…even if his didn’t beat anymore.

Although he hadn’t lied when he’d told Rupert that she was human now, he hadn’t been completely honest, either. Yes, his demon was no longer housed within her body, but something had most definitely been left behind...some fragment of the essence that was Spike. The time they had been joined up on the platform…he’d felt everything she was feeling…had heard her thoughts as if they were his own…had experienced her memories as if he had actually been there. Some of it was expected---the overwhelming sense of duty and responsibility, her fierce protectiveness of her family and friends, the power sheathed within her tiny frame---but others had been a shock, and not all of it pleasant. For instance, going through her heartache as Captain Cardboard had lifted away in the helicopter was something the platinum vampire could’ve spent an eternity without knowing, as well as having to feel the innocent young love she’d had for Angel. Even the brief flash of it now across his mind’s eye was enough to bring a grimace to his features.

Mistaking his disgust for pain, Tara knelt over the blond vampire, her blue eyes searching his own for some sign of what was wrong. “Do you need something?” she queried. “I could probably do a l-l-little spell to ease the pain.”

“Not necessary. I’ll be right as rain soon enough.” He watched as she straightened, starting to turn away. Bollocks, he thought. Just do it. “Thank you,” he said abruptly, unable to meet her startled gaze as she looked down at him.

A crooked smile slowly spread across the witch’s face. “You’re welcome,” she replied.

It was as if Tara’s approach had opened some unseen door, and Spike could only watch as Xander sat himself down next to the vampire. Without looking at him, the young construction worker started speaking. “What you did for Buffy,” he said, “that took guts. And…you were right. Hooking up with Celie was a pretty dumb thing to do.” It was the closest he was going to come to an apology, and both men knew it. It didn’t matter. It was enough.

Red was next. “You do know that your intervention is what saved Buffy, right? If you hadn’t jumped in to save her, it would’ve been Daymon’s demon that went through the ritual and we would’ve been too late.”

“Too late for what?”

“The reversal,” she explained. “Vampires need dead hosts, and since Buffy wasn’t, that gave us enough time to do the spell. So, mucho gracias.”

“Is that what it was?” he grumbled. “Felt like a bloody stake in my chest. And how come Buffy didn’t spill about that little goldmine? She made it sound like we were pretty much puppets in this whole cleansing show. That kind of spell changes everything.”

“She didn’t know,” Willow admitted. “Shoot, we didn’t know until Cortina brought it up as a possible countermeasure. Even then, we weren’t sure it would even work. So yeah, you were pretty much Kukla, Fran, and Ollie there.” She frowned. “Wait. Wasn’t one of them of the non-doll-like variety?”

“Fran,” Anya chimed. “She was the host. Very much human.”

The witch turned back to Spike. “So, Kukla and Ollie then.”

“Well, on behalf of Ollie, the effort’s appreciated, Red.”

There was a long, comfortable silence, during which time the gang just looked around at each other, finally settling on Anya as she hung back near the cave’s wall. She bristled. “I didn’t do any of the magic or inadvertently get another bad guy involved in the mix, so I really don’t have anything to add,” she said defensively, “but since it seems I must say something…Spike, thank you for being the one who got set on fire instead of us.”

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

Once away from the cave’s influence, Buffy’s Slayer healing skills started kicking into overdrive, and Giles realized there was very little that he actually needed to do for her, other than make her comfortable. Although she never woke, her breathing grew stronger, the bleeding from her various orifices seemingly stopping of their own accord. Even some of the bite marks were already fading, and the Watcher found himself wondering how many scars she would have as a result of this latest averted disaster.

Part of him felt as if it was his failure, his fault that Buffy had suffered as greatly as she had. He knew it was irrational, that prophecies had a sneaky way of happening whether you liked it or not, but as her mentor, he was the one who was ultimately responsible, whether she liked it or not.

Everyone was asleep. The others had returned not too long after he, and immediately crashed, each to his or her previous bed. Even Spike had disappeared, once he’d checked with Giles that Buffy was going to be all right. He had watched the vampire’s retreating form as he ambled down the corridor, and realized that the other’s presence was going to become quite a familiar thing, now that he was involved with his Slayer. The Watcher may not like it, but he could no longer ignore the fact that Spike had risked everything for Buffy, had in fact refused to accept the gift of humanity in exchange for the woman he loved. That in itself was admirable.

In the wake of all the excitement, Giles was restless, unable to stop thinking long enough to relax, pacing the hallways until he’d found himself standing outside Cortina’s library. There had been no sign of their hostess since their return; Dolly had said that she was still recuperating…wherever it was she’d been taken. Frankly, he’d been disappointed. A part of him---a big part of him---missed the white demon…her teasing…the laughing blue eyes…her forthright manner…and though logically he recognized that such serious injuries as hers required time to heal, Giles couldn’t help but feel slightly let down by her absence.

His hand hovered over the door knob as he debated whether or not he should enter. Surely, Cortina wouldn’t mind if he spent a few hours looking over her books; her earlier invitations had certainly seemed as if she wasn’t averse to his interest in her library. And it wasn’t as if he didn’t know how to properly treat such valuable pieces of literature; after all, he wasn’t Xander.
The room was in darkness as he stepped inside, and Giles wondered briefly where a demon would put a light switch, whether it would be on the wall or in some obscure place that he’d never imagine would house one. As his hand groped around the edge of the door, he heard the audible squeak of a chair behind him, and froze. Must be one of Cortina’s men, he thought. Better let them know who it is so I don’t end up as someone’s shish kebab.

“No need for alarm,” the Watcher said. “It’s only---.”

“Rupert.”

Her voice was the last Giles was expecting, and he blinked as the library suddenly flooded with illumination. His sudden erection took him completely by surprise, but the smile that spread across his face was unabashedly pleased. “But, Dolly said…” he started, taking a single step toward the desk, unconsciously taking off his glasses.

“Isn’t she the best?” Cortina teased, as she slowly rose to her feet. “It’s always nice to have friends who’ll help with…surprises.” Casually, she leaned against the desk corner, her robe draping just enough to outline the curve of her hip, accentuate the rise of her breast.

Giles’ eyes swept over the delicate features of her face, searching for any evidence of her previous trauma, and he was surprised---pleasantly so---to find her skin glowing blemish-free, the ravages brought about by the alcohol nowhere to be seen. “How…?” he queried, gesturing abstractly to his face. “I mean, do healing capabilities come as part of the Vrolek package as well? Not that I’m not thrilled you’ve been restored to such good health, but it just seems rather…sudden.” He blushed, his blue gaze ducking slightly. “You look marvelous, by the way.”

“I only wish I could take credit for it,” the white demon said, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on her leg, drawing the Watcher’s gaze back to her, to the hidden promise of her thigh. “Dolly teleported me to a dimension that handles time differently than this one. You might’ve only been gone a day or two, but I’ve been away for over a month. And as much as I appreciated the special nursing, I haven’t been that bored in decades.” Her head tilted, a sweep of hair falling against her cheek. “You have no idea how glad I am to be back. Or, how good it is to see you. I don’t think I have to worry about being…bored anymore.”

“Yes…well.” Glancing over at the books, Giles cleared his throat before continuing. “I must thank you for the texts you let us borrow. They proved most valuable in Greece.”

Cortina affected a pout. “You want to talk about work,” she sighed, straightening. “OK, if you insist, I guess I can do that.” As she began to close the distance between them, she continued, “Everything worked out all right then? Dolly said she brought both Buffy and Spike back.” She stopped before the older man, raising her hands so that they fluttered just at his collar, nimbly undoing the top button before dancing downward to the next.

The breath caught in Giles’ throat as he glanced at the elegance of her fingers skating across the cotton of his shirt. “All…right, yes.” He could only watch as another button slipped from its fastening.

“You didn’t need the witch?” And yet another escaped…

“No.” Although she wasn’t even touching him, he could feel the heat from her hands etching a dangerous path down the center of his torso. God, how long had it been since a woman had affected him in this way? Not a woman, a little voice argued. A demon. Giles shoved the thought away. Doesn’t matter…

“I haven’t thanked you yet for saving my life,” Cortina said casually, lifting her pale blue gaze to his face. “You impressed the hell out of Dolly with that one. Not that I ever doubted you were capable of something like that…”

His fingers wrapped around one of her wrists, locking her movement, preventing her from finishing the disrobing she’d started. “That’s not what…this is…is it?” the Watcher queried. “Because I don’t want---.”

Cortina’s free hand ran down the side of his hip. “One doesn’t have anything to do with the other,” she said. “Inopportune timing on my part. I’m sorry.”

Giles didn’t respond, only slid his grip, interlacing her fingers with his own, and lifted her arm to his mouth, his lips pressing firmly to the inside of her wrist before parting to allow his tongue to outline the tiny throbbing veins. She tasted of honey-roasted almonds, the perfume of her skin a delicate mixture of heather and freshly turned soil, and his mouth watered at the anticipation of further exploration. Gently, his teeth nipped at the tender flesh of her inner arm, traveling downward to the crook of her elbow, sucking at the heat it found there as if it provided some lifeforce necessary for him to breathe.

The sensations arched the white demon’s back, hardening her nipples so that they stood erect against the soft cotton of her robe, and she pressed her hips into his, feeling the outline of his erection straining against his trousers. “So,” Cortina breathed. “Who am I getting? The Watcher?” Her pale blue eyes gleamed. “Or Ripper?”

Giles tore his mouth away, letting her hand fall gently to her side, and brought his face within inches of hers, their gazes locked. “The joy of experience,” he murmured, “is that you get both.” He circled his arm around her waist, scooping her up against his chest, at the same time bending his head to devour her lips with his own.

The moment he made contact, felt the tiny point of her tongue sweeping along his teeth, Giles knew…knew how much he’d been wanting to feel her weight in his arms…knew how devastated he’d been when he’d thought she’d been killed by Celie…but most importantly…knew how much brighter his world seemed now that it was inhabited by her ivory splendor. It had been a long time since he’d felt such an overwhelming hunger for a woman, longer still since he’d acted on it. He wasn’t about to let this one go.

Never breaking the passion of their kiss, the Watcher stepped forward, carrying her to the edge of the desk, leaning the white demon backwards until her shoulders pressed into its hard surface. His arm slid out, hands sliding down to catch the hem of her robe, gathering it upward to expose the arch of her calf…the succulence of her thigh. His fingers quickly discovered that she wore nothing underneath as they found the naked curve of her hip disappearing into her tiny waist.

Cortina broke the kiss, pushing him away slightly with the flat of her hand. “I think it’s better off,” she said with a coy smile, taking the fabric away from his grasp. “I just hate the feel of all that material bunched up around my neck. It’s very suffocating.”

Giles watched as she whipped off the garment, tossing it behind him to land with a soft plop on a stack of books. He had to admit, he’d been wondering what she would look like without it, if her…demon-ness manifested itself in other ways, not apparent while she was clothed. However, for all intents and purposes, she appeared human…very much a woman…with full breasts that seemed to be begging for his mouth. There was no sign of her stabbing, no scar where it had sliced into her stomach, but even without that particular roadmap, Giles knew exactly where her wound had been, and laid his hand gently over the spot.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked, his voice a husky whisper. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Cortina’s laugh was gentle, but genuine. “Oh, Rupert,” she gasped. “And here I’ve been worrying about being the one to hurt you.”

His mouth lifted upward into a smile, and the gleam returned to his eye. “No reason for both of us to be holding back then,” he said wickedly, and leaned his head over, snagging the nearest erect nipple between his teeth while his hand raked along her inner thigh…

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

He waited until the Watcher was gone before slinking his way back to Buffy’s room, taking special care not to wake any of the others as he meandered through the corridors. Giles had deposited the wounded young woman in a different room than the one she’d shared with Spike before, and the platinum vampire wasn’t entirely certain where exactly she now rested. Should’ve been paying closer attention, he chided himself angrily. Or better yet, should’ve just stuck around and told Rupert to bugger off.

Even as he thought it, though, Spike knew he’d never have said it out loud. Something had changed between him and the Scoobies---their behavior back in Greece had been blatant testimony to that---and, whether he liked it or not, he wasn’t so blinkered that he didn’t realize being a part of the Slayer’s life meant accepting and supporting her friends. In all fairness, Giles had been the one to ensure Spike didn’t turn into torchboy under the cloak of sunshine that Tara’s spell had created, and he hadn’t argued with the vampire’s assessment of Buffy’s wellbeing, had instead accepted it without question and acted appropriately. Always a first for everything, he thought, shaking his head. Only been telling them what they’ve been needing to hear for three years now.

The tingling started in his skin before he’d even rounded the corner, an electrical charge that threatened to burn its way deeper as it wrapped him in its fiery embrace. This was it. He’d found Buffy. Spike thought he’d been sensitive to her presence before, but this new awareness sent those old beliefs scattering in the wind like dust, consuming him with its fervor. If the vampire was forced to put a label onto it, he would’ve said that this newfound receptivity made him feel almost…alive.

His feet took him automatically to the first door on his left, but when he lifted his hand to turn the doorknob, the vampire hesitated. Perhaps he should just let her sleep; after all, it had been a helluva day for her. Spike almost snorted out loud as the irony of that hit him. Hell, it had been a bitch of a day for all of them. Nothin’ like goin’ from vamp to human and back to vamp again to throw a spanner into his bodyworks.

As he stood there struggling with his indecision, the door opened, revealing a very much awake Buffy just standing there, her head tilted as she watched him hang back. “You’re never going to stop lurking, are you?” she said lightly, the tease a vague glint in her hazel eyes.

Spike’s gaze swept over her tiny form. She’d gotten some extra clothes from somewhere, and these managed to hide most of the bite marks from their earlier adventure. All that was visible was the sweep of her neck…her wrists as they arched into those small but powerful hands. He frowned when he saw the bandage swaddled around her right, reaching out to cup it gently in his own before rational thought could stop him. Even through the wrapping, he could feel the burn radiating its heat up her arm, and remembered how she’d used it to extinguish the flames that had threatened him back in Greece. Yep, most definitely preferred Action Buffy…

“It doesn’t really hurt,” the young woman said softly, lowering her gaze.

Spike’s lips curled up in one corner. “Liar,” he retorted.

At his gentle accusation, Buffy looked up, saw the worry hiding behind the bravado in his face. He could feel the pain as if it was his own, just like she could feel the ache in his arm where the sunshine had done its flaming damage. Beating out the fire had seemed like the most natural thing to do, and even with the burns that now seared her hand---probably putting her out of fighting commission for a few days at least while it healed---she wouldn’t have done anything differently. Not when she could’ve lost him.

“Is Giles gone?” she asked, peering around him at the dark corridor.

“For now. Probably off in search of some bum-numbing demonic texts that only Cortina can provide.” He shook his head. “Rupert really needs to find some better ways to relax.”

Turning around and stepping back into the room, Buffy grabbed the blanket off the bed. “Great,” she said. “I’m just dying for some fresh air.” She brushed past the blond vampire, and was halfway down the hall before she stopped and glanced back at him. “You’re coming, right?”

It took only a moment for Spike to make up his mind. She was asking for him; how could he possibly say no? As he sauntered up to the Slayer’s side, his blue eyes flickered to her outstretched hand, the left undamaged one, and he slid in his own to clasp it. The intertwining of their fingers was automatic, a comfortable familiarity welcomed by both, and they walked in silence down the hallway.

Buffy was the first to speak. “She really wasn’t that pretty, you know,” she said, glancing up at him out of the corner of her eye. “Kinda pasty, in fact. A regular Pillsbury dough girl. And don’t get me started on her hair. The only thing worse than that was her really sucky sense of timing.”

Spike’s eyebrows knit together. “What in bloody hell are you talkin’ about?”

“Cecily. That was her name, right?” At his tentative nod, she shook her head. “She makes Cordy look like Mother Teresa. What a bitch.”

“You…know…” The vampire’s azure gaze darkened, the confusion etched in his face. “How…?”

Buffy shrugged. “Who knows how any of this works?” she said quietly. “The memories started when your demon jumped into me, and then they went into super-turbo overload when you came up onto the platform.” She hesitated. “Did…you…get any of mine?”

There was no point in lying. “Yes.” His face relaxed as he smiled. “You know, if I still had the Gem, we could’ve acted out that little dream of yours. Maybe finished it properly.” Her blush was his only response, and he chuckled as he gave her hand a squeeze. “And you’re right. She was a bitch.”

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

As she emerged from the cave, Buffy tilted her head back, inhaling the crisp desert air, closing her eyes in bliss as it filled her lungs, refreshed her tired muscles. Somehow it seemed like a century since she’d been outside, and she was mildly surprised to find that she was really missing her nightly patrols. It would be such a relief to get back to those once she was home again. And now, Spike would be able to officially help her with those.

The vampire hung back, watching as the Slayer revelled in the cold moonlight, stretching her arms over her head before bending deeply at the waist. Although her feline grace was a joy for him to behold, part of him tugged at his head with doubt. “Don’t be overdoing it,” he cautioned. “Rupert’s just lookin’ for an excuse to put a stake through my heart.”

Straightening, Buffy glanced back at him over her shoulder, a twinkle in her eye. “Since when is Big Bad afraid of a little ol’ Watcher?” she teased.

“Since he found out I’m in love with his Slayer,” Spike growled, grabbing her around the waist and pulling her against him.

As her own arms twined around his back, the young woman met his azure gaze, darkened by the velvet sky, and felt her heart skip a beat. “Do you feel…different?” she queried. “Now…after what happened in Greece?”

“You mean other than knowing what Captain Cardboard likes in the sack?” Spike responded dryly. “’Cause that’ll scar a man for life.”

“Oh, like I’m not going to be stuck with Drusilla dreams for all eternity,” Buffy retorted. “No, I mean…inside. God, I wish I knew how to describe it. Kinda like, all of a sudden, when I look at you…I am you. And I can see me as if---.”

“---you were inside my head,” the vampire finished. One hand came up and pushed the golden hair off her forehead, sliding down to cup her cheek. “Yeah, know exactly what you’re talkin’ about.”

Abruptly, the Slayer pulled herself from his embrace and reached over for the blanket she had tossed on the ground immediately upon exiting the cave. Spike watched as she opened it up, laid it out on the desert soil, and sat herself down near the edge, knees bent, arms propping up her torso as she leaned back and looked expectantly up at him.

Rather than sit at her side---something he knew she was expecting---Spike stepped around her, settling himself behind the young woman, long legs splayed to surround hers, and pulled her backwards so that she could use his chest as support. His hard cock pressed into her ass, and he couldn’t help but smile at the sigh of contentment that escaped her lips. He had waited a long time for this; now that it was here, it almost didn’t seem real.

“It is real.”

He was glad her back was to him, that she couldn’t see the surprise or shock on his face at her vocal reassurance of his unspoken thoughts. If she could sense his, then maybe…And he knew, without hearing it, without her saying anything or moving in any way. He just…knew.

The vampire’s head lowered, and his lips brushed softly against Buffy’s bare neck. A shudder ran through her body, sending a wave of tremors undulating through her skin…into his...and he drank in the heady perfume of her scent as he attempted to control the impulses that were racing throughout his system. Not that way, he told himself. Not tonight. Tonight is going to be…magic.

His lips were a feather as Spike’s tongue outlined the vein in her neck, following it upward to her jaw, and then tracing the path back to her earlobe, taking it between his teeth in a gentle nip. Her gasp announced her arousal, even more so than the distinct musk emanating from between her legs, and the platinum vamp felt the quickening of her heart as it sent vibrations through her skin and into his. Though the urge was strong to do otherwise, he deliberately slowed his pace even further, tracing the inner scroll of her ear with just the very tip of his tongue, tightening his arms around her almost imperceptibly.

Buffy’s hands reached down, grasped his thighs, holding on as if the very touch of him would ground her, prevent her from floating away into the star-speckled night. The fire he was building inside her was smoldering, fanned by his dancing caresses, and the young woman yearned to just throw caution to the wind and jump him then and there.

His chuckle was a rumble in her ear. “Do that, and you won’t get this,” he murmured, and his icy hand slipped under the hem of her shirt, stroking her abdomen, before gliding downwards…under her waistband…over the cleft where her hip met her thigh…into the slick channel between her legs.

She bucked as she felt his fingers slowly slide inside her, the cry ripped from her throat as her nails dug into his legs. Quickly, Spike pulled her back against him, forcing her to stay in contact with his chest, pinning her so that she was helpless to struggle against his lazy exploration. A calloused thumb flicked over her clit as he pushed his hand deeper, and he was rewarded with another scream, this one cutting through the silent desert sky with its passion.

“Please,” Buffy breathed, her breathing ragged.

It was the only invitation the vampire needed. Pulling his hand out from her core, he kept it inside her pants as he slid it around, grabbed her hip, using it as leverage to twist her around and lean her back into the blanket. Her golden tresses splayed around her, catching the moonlight, and he drank in her loveliness before lowering himself to her lips.

Although gentle, there was a spark as the two made contact, barely touching, eyes still wide open so that each could watch the other. Swallowing her very breath, Spike closed the gap between them, his chest against hers, pressing her down into the ground, all the while dancing over her mouth, sending icy shivers down her spine, curling her toes into the blanket. Buffy’s hands reached around and cupped his ass, guiding his hips even closer to hers, marvelling yet again at the caged power contained within his lean frame. Will I ever get tired of this? she wondered. But the answer came quickly, fast even by her standards. Not in a million years…

Their kiss deepened, lips exploring the other’s as if for the first time, ice melting in flame as Spike swept her mouth with his tongue, tasting her…savoring her…delighting in that unique flavour that was all Buffy’s. Neither had thoughts; each was running on instinct, the simple drive that powered them…defined them…created their very world. There was no desert; there was no moon; there were no stars. There was only him…and her.

Somehow, their clothes seemed to disappear, and the young woman clung to her lover’s bare back as she felt his erection tease along her wet opening. Without a word, she lifted her legs, curled them around his hips, guided him in, sheathing him with her heat. Spike shuddered as he felt her inner muscles clench around his cock. He was home. This…this haven of her embrace…this was where he belonged…and there was nothing he wouldn’t do in this world to hang onto it. Slowly, almost languorously, he began pumping into her…

…sliding in…and out…

…one hand tangled in the coils of her hair, keeping her mouth to his…

…the other on her hip, thumb stroking her skin as he regulated their pace…

Time stood still, ignoring the passionate young lovers as they rocked against each other, their moans echoing across the desert floor, the scent of their sex wafting along on the dry night breeze. A cricket chirped, but neither heard, lost as they were in the glory of their union.

Spike’s tempo quickened, his thrusts gradually growing harder…more demanding…and Buffy found herself matching him, stroke for stroke. Pulling away from his kiss, she gazed up into his face, eyes flickering over the shadows cast by the moon across his cheekbones, devouring his azure eyes as they stared back at her. “I love you,” she whispered, and saw the gleam of pleasure as he hastened his movements, riding her even more strongly, burying himself with each penetration…

The wave started in the pit of her stomach, swelling as it threatened to emerge from her skin, and her breath caught in her throat, sending the world into a spiral of music and laughter. Instead of being swept away, oblivious to her surroundings, however, Buffy found herself locked to Spike, feeling the explosion in his body as he let out an animal roar and slammed into her, his cock shooting icy fire deep into her core, that familiar face disappearing as his demon emerged, his fangs elongated. She didn’t even think, just grabbed his head…pulled him down into the curve of her neck…holding it there as his teeth sank into her tender flesh.

The bite ignited the fireworks within the young woman’s being, obliterating any trace of the outside world…giving her only the ecstasy of Spike’s embrace…the storm of their emotions a gale to ride in abandon.

As it abated, Buffy felt Spike retract his fangs, lick daintily at the small wound he’d created in her neck, before lifting himself up to look down into her face. “You didn’t have to do that,” he murmured. “You’ve lost a lot of blood already today. I shouldn’t have---.”

She cut his words off with a kiss, the coppery taste of her blood still lingering on his tongue. “Like you hated it,” she laughed, her voice low. “It’s your fault anyway. If you weren’t so damn right all the time…”

The blond vampire cocked his eyebrow. “What is that supposed to mean?” he quizzed.

Buffy reached up and ran her index finger over his bottom lip. “You were the one who said it about me,” she said. “And it’s true.” Her hand slid around to the back of his neck, pulling him closer, lifting her own head so that her lips hovered just beside his ear.

“…Yours…”

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

The gentle breeze ruffled the Hound’s fur as he laid his head down onto his paws. He was tired; it had been a very, very long day, and now he was happy to be able to rest. His new caretaker slept, and though she wasn’t close, he knew she would be there for him come morning. Unlike the dark one, she would not let her charge suffer, would tend to his needs, just as he would do whatever it was she asked. He didn’t know what tomorrow was going to bring; he was only aware that his current job was done…

…that he could sleep in peace…

…and that the hunt was finally over…

The End