DISCLAIMER: The characters are Joss’, of course.
PREVIOUSLY ON BUFFY: Giles has had a talk with Jenny, and Joyce has had a discussion with Spike about his relationship with Holly…

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

Two days.

Not even two days. Thirty-eight hours and change.

It was all the time she had left. She was even further away from her goal now than she’d been two weeks previous, because now she was missing two of her Watchers.

And Maria was just inches away from killing the one that remained.

She sniffed as Silas wiped at the perspiration that dripped down his face with a sweat-stained handkerchief. “Stop being so melodramatic,” she scolded. Her voice was colder than the frigid air within the rental car. “They did nothing beyond the scope of their duties.”

“I feel rather like No. 6,” he wheezed.

“Hardly. All they did was ask you a few questions. No wonder you performed so poorly with the Council. I’m surprised you’re still able to control your body functions at all.” She sneered in the face of his profuse sweating. “Oh, wait. You can’t.”

“They could’ve discovered the truth about why we were there.”

“But they didn’t.”

“Why didn’t you get us out of there? Why did you let us be subjected so?”

His rising voice bordered on histrionic, grating down Maria’s spine with a chalkboard ease that made her stiffen. “Because they were looking for Paul and Rupert,” she replied through gritted teeth. “I stayed on the chance that they would be brought in.”

“What are we going to do now?”

“We’re going to continue our search,” she replied. “Since Paul and Rupert are beyond our reach at the moment, we’ll focus our attention on Mrs. Summers instead.”

“But---.”

The flash from her hand left Silas gasping for air, clutching at his throat as he fought to loosen his tie. Keeping her palm facing him, Maria ignored his desperation, instead closing her eyes and focusing on the spell she’d placed on Mrs. Summers’ vehicle. It pulsed with a silvery tenor, calling and stretching before her mind’s eye with a tenuous precision that exemplified all her spells. That was her style. Clean and simple.

It was only when she heard Silas begin pounding on the steering wheel that she released him from the magical bond.

“Now stop asking ludicrous questions,” Maria said, lowering her hand. Her eyes were still closed, her mind still concentrating on the path she was seeing before them. “In fact, do me a favor and don’t speak unless you’re spoken to. If you can’t abide by that, I’ll remove your tongue, do you understand?”

“Yes,” Silas croaked. His gasps rattled in his chest.

“Drive,” Maria instructed. “Go back to that Wal-Mart we saw Mrs. Summers leave from. Our path starts there.”

She was relieved when he didn’t speak and only turned the key in the ignition. Once they started following the trail left by the spell, she’d be able to determine where it was Mrs. Summers was headed. If luck was on Maria’s side, she went straight to the Slayer. That meant, she was likely with Holly, as well.

Maria smiled as the car vibrated around her. Thirty-eight hours was plenty of time. There was no reason yet to worry.

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

The sun was streaming in through the curtains when Giles finally woke up. Blinking against the brilliance, he saw Paul sitting at the table with Doyle, bent over a map as his thin fingers traced over an unseen route.

“Seven hours, if my calculations are correct,” Paul said.

“Eight, with the way Giles drives,” Doyle said.

“Oh. Well, yes, I suppose that’s correct. And we mustn’t forget the stops for the restroom---.”

“I only stopped once, you nattering twit,” Giles complained. Propping himself up on his elbows, he squinted at the two men, trying to see them through the bright sunshine. “What on earth are you doing?”

“Plotting the course back to Sunnydale,” Paul explained. “We’ve come rather far out of our way, and as I’m not familiar with the area---.”

“Why didn’t you wake me?” Fumbling on the nightstand, Giles grabbed his glasses while he sat up. “What time is it anyway?”

“It’s just gone noon. We thought it would be best for you to get as much sleep as you could considering your ordeal yesterday. How do you feel?”

Tentatively, Giles twisted his torso, testing the give and take of his ribs. When there was no immediate pain, he exerted himself a little more, grinning as he relished his newfound vigor. “Quite well, actually,” he said. “It’s rather…surprising.”

“That’s Jenny’s doing,” Doyle said. “She pulled in a few favors with the Powers to heal you up quicker.”

Mention of her name was a soft burn somewhere in the region of his heart, and Giles sagged slightly as he remembered their conversation in the wee hours of the morning. “You’ll have to thank her for me,” he said.

“Actually, you can do it yourself.”

All three men turned to see Jenny standing by the bathroom. Her tone had been light, but there was no smile on her fine features. “Good afternoon,” she said when she had their attention. “Except, a little light on the good, as it turns out.”

“What are you doing here?” Doyle asked. “I thought---.”

“We’ve got problems,” she interrupted. “Maria-sized problems.”

Bolting to his feet, Paul skittered away from the exposed window, pressing himself into the wall. “Is she here? Are we in danger?” he spluttered.

“Not here, but on the move.” Her eyes locked with Doyle’s. “She must’ve put some kind of spell on Joyce. Maria’s taking the exact same path Joyce did yesterday.”

“Damn,” Doyle muttered. He looked back at the map, the pen he’d been holding tapping against the paper. “I guess blowing up her car yesterday didn’t slow her down as much as we would’ve liked.”

“If Joyce hasn’t found Buffy,” Giles started.

“She has.” Jenny nodded when he opened his mouth to speak again. “And they’re both perfectly fine, so you don’t have to worry about that, Rupert.”

“How long before she reaches them?” Doyle asked, still intent on the map.

“It depends. Estimates say five hours until she reaches the car, but how long it will take her once they start searching the forest, there’s no telling. Once she crosses the barrier, we’ll be out of luck.”

“Barrier? What barrier?”

She turned back to answer Giles’ question. “The one that’s keeping Buffy and Spike from abandoning their duty. It doesn’t dissipate until midnight tomorrow night. That’s---.”

“---when Maria runs out of time for her purpose for Holly,” he finished. “If she discovers them tonight, she’ll have an entire day to perform the ritual.” He rose to his feet. “We have to stop her.”

“That’s why I’m here,” Jenny said. “And that’s why Tara’s on her way to warn Buffy and Spike.”

“What happened to the Powers wanting us to keep them out of it?” Doyle asked.

“They changed their minds. Start packing.”

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

When he woke up, he could hear the melodic cadences of female voices down below, and Spike couldn’t help his smile as he rolled over onto his side to listen.

“I’m telling you, she won’t eat it. It’s orange.”

“Oh, Buffy, you have so much yet to learn. How do you think I got you to eat things when you were little?”

“I’m just saying---.”

“What is it?”

“It’s good for you.”

“It’s orange. Orange is yucky.”

“Look.” The sound of lip smacking was followed by Joyce’s throaty “mmmm.” “It’s really good. You don’t know what you’re missing.”

“Yes, I do. Yucky stuff.”

Buffy giggled. “Told you.”

“One little bite, Holly? Look at how tiny that is. That’s not even a bite. That’s a nibble.”

“Little yucky is still yucky.”

“Buffy likes it. Don’t you want to be like Buffy?”

“Buffy can have mine then.”

The fit of giggles was now full-blown laughter. “Mom, this is a lost cause. Spike and I have been trying this for a week now. It’s not going to work.”

“It will. You just have to be patient.”

“What’s patient?”

“It means…you keep trying or waiting without getting upset or giving up.”

“Like Spike was when Buffy got sick?”

Silence.

He wished he could see their faces.

“Yes,” Joyce said quietly. “Like that.”

Spike’s eyes drifted shut again. He’d still been awake when Joyce came down at dawn, and yielded to her command that he sleep upstairs while she took care of breakfast. By the level of light that permeated the loft, it was already after lunch---or during lunch, from the sound of the conversation downstairs.

The fact that Buffy and Joyce weren’t arguing about him, too, was a good sign. Spike had spent the rest of the night trying not to replay the conversation he’d had with the elder Summers woman in his head, wondering if he’d made things better or worse for them, and had finally decided that he thought too much. Better to just let things play out. All he could do was be himself.

It was certainly enough for Buffy.

He was just starting to doze again when a new voice seemed to join the others, low and soothing and oddly familiar. Before he could bother to wake fully to find out who it was, though, the soft creak of the ladder crept past his senses, and he opened his eyes in time to see Buffy’s head poke over the top rung.

“You’re up,” she said.

“Just,” Spike replied. His voice was oddly hoarse, and he swallowed to wet his throat.

“Can you come down, please? It looks like we might have some trouble coming up.”

The mirth that he’d heard in her earlier conversation was gone, replaced by the gravity that was so typical of her Slayer-mode. Instantly, Spike’s mind sharpened, and he kicked off the blanket as he reached for his jeans.

“Give me two ticks, luv,” he said. “Be right there.”

He dressed in record time, sliding down the ladder to see Buffy and Joyce sitting on the couch, with Holly playing near the tree. The fourth in the room was fidgeting near the window, and Spike frowned as he met Tara’s eyes.

“Something tells me this isn’t a social call,” he remarked.

“It’s not,” Tara said. “It’s about Maria.”

His gaze was immediately drawn to an unaware Holly. “Should little ears be in on this then?” he asked.

“Probably not, but I need all of you to hear this.”

Spike crouched at the child’s side. “You wanna do me a favor, pidge?”

“What?”

“Remember how you asked if we could play hairdresser? Well, I’ll do it if you go in the bedroom to play for a bit.”

Wide eyes scanned the room before returning to Spike’s face. “Is everything OK?”

“Everything’s just fine, but this is goin’ to be boring grown-up talk. Trust me, if there was a way for me to cut out of this, I’d be in that bedroom with you. So, do we have an agreement?”

“OK.” Gathering her toys, she waddled to the bedroom with her arms laden down, only pausing when she got to the doorway to look back at the adults.

“What’s this about then?” Spike said, once the door was closed behind Holly.

“Maria’s heading this way,” Tara said. “We think she must’ve cast some kind of spell on Mrs. Summers to track her, because she’s taking the same path on the highway that Mrs. Summers did.”

“I never saw her,” Joyce said with a frown. “How could she have done that?”

“We’re not sure, but what matters is that she did. And since she can feasibly conduct the ritual she needs to any time before now and tomorrow midnight, you have to be on the alert should she turn up.”

“She’s human, right?” Buffy asked, casting a sideways glance at where Spike was perched on the arm of the couch.

“Yes, but very powerful. The scope of her magic exceeds anything I’ve ever encountered before.”

“That doesn’t mean she can sneak in and out past your little fence, does it?”

“In, but not out,” Tara clarified. “If she manages to cross, she’ll be stuck inside until the deadline, just like the rest of you.”

“Her magic won’t work on the little one, though, right?” Spike confirmed. “Moptop should be safe from her that way, at least.”

“Well, except for the ritual, which we still don’t understand how she’s going to get to work.”

Joyce frowned. “What exactly was this ritual supposed to do?” she asked. “Something about Slayers?”

Tara’s gaze ducked. “It has to do with Holly’s blood,” she started.

“It kills ‘em.” The muscles in his jaw twitched as fear suddenly lanced through him. “Moptop’s blood is lethal to Slayers.”

“We think…Maria plans on using the blood to steal Slayer power for herself,” Tara explained. “Which would---.”

“Kill Buffy. Believe that’s what I said.” Leaping to his feet, he began pacing behind the couch, his hands balled into fists at his side. “What the hell am I doin’ here then?” he demanded. “Bitch is human, which means I can’t touch her. What good am I in the grand scheme of things?”

“Maria uses demons all the time to do her dirty work. You’ve been doing wonderfully protecting Holly from them---.”

“You’re more than useful.” Buffy interrupted Tara and rose to block Spike’s path, forcing him to come to a stop and glare down at her. Her hand reached up to cup his cheek. “Holly and I would’ve both been dead by now if it wasn’t for you. You’ve saved both of us. Don’t you dare forget that.”

The simple heat of her touch seemed to leech the anger from his flesh, and his head turned automatically to press his lips to her palm. Briefly, his eyes caught Joyce’s, but for the first time since her arrival, he saw no reproof in them, only understanding.

“It might not come down to that at all,” Tara said. “Doyle is on his way with Mr. Giles and the other Watcher. If they can get to Joyce’s car in time, they’ll drive it as far from here as possible. Hopefully, that’ll divert Maria long enough to get us past the deadline.”

Joyce frowned. “Doyle didn’t want them anywhere near here. He’s been spending the last week trying to convince me not to come. Why would he change his mind?”

“He’s not. We don’t have a choice any longer. We’re going to need all the help we can get.”

Buffy turned away from Spike, suddenly alarmed. “Spike and I were everywhere out there last night,” she said, her eyes jumping to the window. “Our footprints are all over the place. And they lead straight back here.”

“Bollocks,” he muttered. Not only were their tracks all over the place, they’d broken a few branches in their games, and there was at least one bush that was entirely smashed flat from where Buffy had shoved him out of a tree when he’d tried climbing up after her.

“I’ll have to clean it up.” Buffy began heading for the door. “How long do you think we have until Maria shows?”

“They’re driving. You should be safe until at least sundown.”

The Slayer nodded as she pulled on her jacket. “Spike, stay here and keep Holly occupied. Don’t let her know what’s going on. If you can, go through everything we have as weapons and get them ready for a fight. Mom? Feel like helping to avert your daughter’s potential demise?”

Joyce stood. “Considering some of those footprints are mine, I think that’s only fair.”

He was speechless as both Summers women disappeared faster than he could protest, leaving him with Tara. As soon as the front door closed, the bedroom door opened, and Holly poked her head out.

“Is the grown-up talk all over?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Spike said. His voice was brusque. He knew with his head that that this plan was the best; with at least another four hours of sunlight, he was useless to help clean up outside. But it didn’t stop the waves of worthlessness washing over him, and it didn’t prevent the all-too familiar sense of impotency from leaving his muscles feel like lead.

Tiny arms wrapped around Spike’s legs, and he was jerked from his momentary bout of self-loathing to glance down at the top of Holly’s curly hair. When she looked up at him, her dark eyes seemed to engulf her face, and without saying a word, he knew she’d heard every word that had been said, regardless of his efforts to protect her from the worst of it. With a small smile, he patted her shoulder.

“So, who goes first, pidge? You or me?”

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

Covering their prints in the snow gave her purpose, purpose that had been oddly lacking in the two weeks since their confinement. If Buffy was honest with herself, she’d have to admit to missing the rush of fighting for her life. Not that she got off on the danger, but that adrenaline that so often fueled her everyday life had grown complacent in the past two weeks. She only hoped it hadn’t left her soft, too.

She knew Spike would be chomping at the bit by the time she got back to the cabin, but as she and her mother worked to mask all the activity that had occurred outside, Buffy consigned herself to making it up to him later. He was doing a necessary job at the moment, and if he didn’t see the value in it, she would just have to find some way of convincing him, once they got past the threat to Holly. What part he could possibly play in that fight, she had no idea, but the Powers wouldn’t have wanted him there without a reason. They would just have to wait to see what that reason would be.

“I’m sorry,” Joyce said as they brushed the pine fronds over the snow, obscuring the footprints. It was the first thing either woman had said out loud since leaving the house, and Buffy jumped at the sound.

“What are you sorry for?”

“If I hadn’t come here, Maria would never have found you. This is all my fault.”

She shook her head. “It’s not anyone’s fault. If it wasn’t you, it would’ve been something else. You’d be surprised how easy it is sometimes for the bad guys to find a way.”

“Still---.”

“Look, Mom, no offense, but now is really not the best time for true confessions. I appreciate it, honest, but there are better things we can be doing, OK?”

Joyce sighed. “All right.”

They continued working in silence, the sun creeping lower over the horizon with every step. Finally, Buffy said, “If you’re truly feeling all remorseful, though, you can make it up to me with a shopping spree when we get back home. Take me to all the best post-holiday sales.” She grinned. “We can even drag Spike along. I bet he’d love a makeover.”

She caught her mom smiling out of the corner of her eye. “It’s a deal.”

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

He was glad he didn’t have a reflection. What the little one was doing to him was beyond horrific, he was sure.

“Done yet?” Spike asked. His eyes were closed, and her warm breath fanned across his forehead as she leaned in to examine her work.

“No,” Holly said.

He winced as the edge of the pencil caught on his eye again, and her mumbled “sorry” was accompanied by a rapid pulling away. “What about now?”

“Not yet.” There was a shuffle among her supplies, and then, “Be patient.”

Opening a single lid, Spike peered at the bowed head before him. “Who’re you, and what’ve you done with my moptop?” he taunted.

Holly giggled. “I’m right here, silly.”

“Can’t be. My Moptop doesn’t use words like ‘patient.’”

“Buffy’s mommy taught it to me.”

He closed his eye again. “Why does that not surprise me?”

For a long moment, the only sound was the soft hush of her breathing. Then…

“Are you scared?”

This time, he opened both his eyes, and looked straight into the haunted gaze of the child. Her cheeks were bright pink from where he’d applied the rouge, and there were fake curly lashes drawn up from the corners of her eyes, but there was nothing comical about the way she was watching him.

“I never get scared, pidge,” he said with more bombast than he actually felt.

“You were scared when Buffy was dying. Wouldn’t you be scared if it was me?”

His head tilted as he lifted a hand to cup her tiny face. “Of course, I would,” Spike replied. “’Cept nothin’s going to happen to you so there’s nothin’ for me to be scared about, understand?”

“But…Buffy left.”

“She and her mum just needed to get some fresh air. They’ll be back any minute.”

“I don’t want to hurt Buffy any more.”

“And you won’t. And little girls should stop eavesdropping when they’re sent to the other room to play.”

Holly nodded, her eyes ducking to the make-up that was strewn around them. Spike had raided Buffy’s stash, knowing this was one time she wouldn’t argue at the invasion, and it had served to distract the child for a bit, but time was stretching thin. Even Spike was starting to feel the itch as the sun disappeared into night. Where the hell was Buffy?

“Pidge, listen to me.” He lifted her chin with a single finger, and his heart twisted at the shine of unshed tears that met him. “There is no way in hell I’m about to let anything happen to you or Buffy, understand? I will fight until I’m dust before I let anyone so much as lay a finger on you, I promise you that.”

“I don’t want you to die, either.” All of a sudden, Holly launched herself at him, her arms squeezing tightly around his neck. “I’m scared, Spike,” she said, her voice muffled by his shirt.

He held her close, his strong hands rubbing at her back. “I know,” he soothed. “But you don’t have to worry. Me and Buffy are goin’ to take care of everything.”

If Buffy ever decides to come back.

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

Her feet were numb, and they had long ago stopped trying to make conversation, the encroaching sunset bleeding all sense of merriment from their paces. Buffy’s eyes were starting to blur from staring at the snow, but she was fairly certain they’d done a thorough job at masking a good portion of the activity. Nothing led directly back to the cabin, and that was all that mattered.

Their steps were heavy as they climbed the stairs to the porch. Kicking the rest of the snow from her shoes, Buffy caught her mother’s scrutiny out of the corner of her eye. “What?” she asked.

“Nothing,” Joyce said.

“No, it’s something,” Buffy countered. “You’ve been looking at me like that since I told you not to apologize.”

Joyce’s lips pressed together, as she weighted her words. “It’s just…I want you to know how proud I am of you,” she finally said. “You’re doing an amazing job here.”

Buffy’s brows quirked. “You’ve seen me in Slayer mode before, Mom.”

“It’s not just that. Well, it’s partially that, but it’s also…Holly adores you. You should hear her go on and on about you and Spike. It’s quite cute, actually.”

“She loves him. She has since she got here. It wigged me out in the beginning, but I got it, eventually.”

“She loves you, too.”

Buffy shrugged. “Except when it’s time for punishment. Then, not so much with the loving, trust me.”

She pushed open the door, ready to continue the denial, but was cut short by the sight of Spike and Holly hugging on the floor in front of the couch. It wasn’t the hugging that was so surprising, however. It was their appearances.

Buffy stifled a giggle. Playing hairdresser, indeed.

Holly looked like any little girl who’d been allowed to dip into her mother’s make-up. But it was Spike’s get-up that brought the smiles. His hair stood up in clumps all around his head, kind of punk if it was being done by a blind stylist with club fingers. Red lipstick filled his lips, and a good half-inch around them, while thick black eyeliner made him look like a raccoon.

The sound of the door opening made the pair break apart, and she was surprised when Holly rose and dashed to hug the Slayer’s legs. “What’s wrong?” Buffy asked, meeting Spike’s gaze. “Other than having my make-up bag explode all over your face.”

“Think she’s just glad you’re back,” he said, rising to his feet. His hand rose to his hair, and he grimaced as he felt the clusters that had been lacquered into place. “Think I am, too. Means I can go shower and wash all this junk off.”

“But it’s such a good look for you.”

“She’s right, Spike.” Smiling, Joyce nudged the front door closed as she slipped off her coat. “It’s very sexy.”

Though he grinned, Buffy turned shocked eyes back to her mother. “Mom!”

“What? Just because I may not like the idea of my daughter dating a vampire, doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate that he’s actually a very attractive man.”

“Always knew you were a smart bird, Joyce.”

“More like a perv,” Buffy protested good-naturedly. “That’s my boyfriend you’re talking about, Mom. Lusting after him is my job, not yours.”

“You want me to go back to disapproving of him? Because I can---.”

“And that would be my cue to scarper off while the goin’s good,” Spike interrupted. He gestured toward the odds and ends on the floor. “Time to clean up, pidge,” he said. “Beauty show is all done.”

Tilting her head back, Holly gazed up at Buffy. “Can I do you, too?” she asked.

Spike snorted as he headed for the bathroom. “Good luck with that, pet,” he said before disappearing.

“I’ll start getting some dinner ready,” Joyce said.

Kneeling down to look at the little girl face to face, Buffy said, “I think Spike’s right. I’ve got some other things I need to get done tonight. But, if you want, I can help you pick it up this time. I won’t disappear like a certain bleached vamp we both know.”

Holly nodded, and then paused. “He only does that for little stuff,” she said. “He promised me he’d take care of me.”

She smiled, pushing back the hair that tumbled over the child’s cheek. “I know. He’s pretty good at that.”

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

The nearer they reached their target, the more fearful Maria grew. Her eyes were glued to the road ahead of them, brazenly intent on the asphalt that was illuminated by the twin beams of light. It was coming---the path that drew her was short---but what she was going to find left her with a sickening sense of dread.

“Stop the car.”

Silas knew better than to hesitate. Immediately, he decelerated along the country highway, angling the nose of the rental to the snowy shoulder. Though he turned the engine off, he left the headlights on, wary of what he was going to be asked to do next.

“Wait here,” she instructed. Her fingers were stiff when she opened the door, her gait even more awkward as she emerged. Maria’s gaze was fixed forward, and she began the trek that would lead her to her target.

The instant she saw the rear fender, she realized her mistake. “Damn it!” she swore, and her voice echoed into the loneliness of the surrounding forest. She’d cast the spell on the vehicle, not on Joyce Summers herself, because she’d never dreamed that the car would be abandoned at this point. And yet, here it was, clearly left behind, with a complete absence of any radiant heat to suggest it had been deserted recently. There was even a “Police Aware” sticker in the rear window.

Slowly, Maria turned in a circle, her eyes surveying the surroundings in their entirety. It occurred to her that the car accident had happened near here, but civilization was still miles away. It was one of the reasons that she’d chosen this spot in the first place. But why would Mrs. Summers come back here? And where could she possibly have wandered off to?

Making her way back to the rental car, Maria cut a path across the headlights’ beams to reach the driver’s side window. She tapped on it once, and waited for Silas to roll down the window. “Get out,” she said. “We’re continuing this on foot.”

She could see the desire to argue with her in his eyes, and lifted a single eyebrow as she took a step away from the car, almost daring him into countermand her order. Instead, Silas visibly gulped and reached to turn off the lights, leaving them in near darkness as he lumbered out to join her on the road.

“Where are we going?” he asked. His voice was still hoarse from the near strangulation earlier.

Maria’s eyes narrowed as she scrutinized the forest again. “That way,” she announced, pointing off to her left. “But first, we mustn’t forget our supplies.”

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

Dinner was an odd balance of far too many jokes and stiff silences when nobody knew exactly what to say. More than once, Spike caught Holly staring at him and Buffy in wide-eyed anticipation of what more he could only guess. When that happened, he did his best to liven up the conversation again, desperate to keep spirits up and away from the sense of foreboding that was already weighing down the tiny cabin, and was relieved when Joyce seemed to pick up on his intents.

“Who wants to help me clean up?” Joyce announced when the meal was completed.

Automatically, Holly shrank down into her chair, trying to disappear from sight.

“If somebody’s too tired to help, somebody’s probably ready to go to bed early then,” Buffy said loudly.

“I dry!” Holly shouted, leaping from her seat.

Joyce turned expectant eyes to Spike. “Does that mean you’re putting away?” she asked.

He glanced at Buffy before answering. “Think Slayer and I have to sort out some of the details ‘bout what’s goin’ on tonight,” he said. “Make sure all our i’s are dotted and t’s crossed.”

“Don’t forget stakes sharpened,” Buffy offered with a smile.

“Well…” Joyce cast a glance back at where Holly waited with a towel in her hand. “…considering the circumstances, I suppose I can let you two off. This time.”

Giving her mother a grateful smile, Buffy rose from the table and jerked her head toward the bedroom door. “For some privacy,” she said in explanation.

Spike agreed with the reasoning, but every step they took away from the kitchen, he felt Holly’s eyes grow heavier and heavier on his back. The little one was terrified beyond belief, and the fact that he couldn’t do anything more than try and reassure her that she was going to be safe uprooted every feeling of impotence he’d had since getting the bloody chip. It was almost worse than how he’d felt trying to save Buffy from dying. Fuck, he hated this.

“Are you OK?” Buffy asked, as soon as the door was closed safely behind them.

“Just want this over with,” he growled.

“I thought you loved a good fight.”

“Do. But not when I stand to lose something that means the world to me.” He leveled burning eyes at her. “You of all people should know that, luv.”

“We’re not going to lose Holly. I’m not going to let that happen.”

“And you think I will?” He couldn’t contain his pacing, his boots heavy on the wooden floorboard. “What the fuck am I s’posed to do in this, Buffy? You heard the ghost. This chit is human. Unless she calls on her demon hordes, I’m goin’ to be watching this one from the bench.”

“Spike, stop.” Her hand shot out as he passed in front of her, grabbing his forearm and yanking him to a halt. “This is why I needed to talk to you. I want you to be the one who keeps an eye out for Holly. I want you to make her your number one priority.”

“She already is.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I know you want me to stay out of the fight.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“Funny, that’s what I heard.”

Exasperated, Buffy released her hold on his arm and threw her hands up. “Why do I even bother? Oh, yeah. Because I love you, you jerk. Now shut up and listen to me for a change.”

Pressing his lips together, Spike crossed his arms over his chest, his feet widespread as he faced off with her. She had a small point, but it didn’t negate the worthlessness she seemed to be perpetuating with her request.

“OK,” Buffy continued after taking a deep breath to calm down. “This is the way I see it. This is a two-person job. One to take on Maria, one to make sure Holly is safe. Tell me where the flaw in my logic is that doesn’t make you the better one to do the Holly job, and I’ll let you have a go at the witch.”

His eyes blazed. He hated it when she was so fucking right. Didn’t mean he was going to admit it out loud though.

“That’s what I thought,” she said when he remained silent. She lifted a tentative hand to his cheek, and it was all he could do not to flinch away. “This is our fight, Spike. I know that. I know that you made a promise to Holly to protect her no matter what. I just want you to know that I’m making a promise, too. I’m not going to let this bitch hurt anybody I love. That means Holly, that means my mother, and most importantly, that means you. If you’ve got a problem with that, then speak now, because for some reason, I thought you liked that part of me.”

Her eyes were pleading with him, chipping at his frustration as surely as if she’d taken a sledgehammer to it. Exhaling to relieve some of the tension in his body, Spike nodded in acquiescence. “All right,” he said. “I s’pose---.”

A small knock at the door was followed immediately by the knob turning and both Buffy and Spike turned in time to see Holly poke her head through the crack.

“I’m tired,” she said in a tiny voice. “Can Spike read me a bedtime story?”

“Sure, pidge,” he replied automatically. His eyes closed when Buffy reached up to kiss his cheek. She was right. This was his responsibility. He was just going to have to do it to the best of his ability, was all.

“Can you tell me the one about the three piggies again?” Holly asked, all of a sudden materializing at his feet.

“Got a better one,” he said. He scooped her into his arms. “This one’s all about a Slayer and the devilishly handsome vampire who loved her.”

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

Giles felt his stomach sink as they neared the spot Doyle directed him to. He’d been driving like a madman ever since he’d been told the plan, desperate to make up for the lost time. Maria had started out ahead of them, but she had Silas as a chauffeur, so perhaps some measure could be gained from that.

It was a hope he held onto until he saw the two cars parked at the side of the road. Then, he knew it was too late. Then, he knew he’d not been quick enough.

Both were empty.

“Damn it,” Doyle muttered beneath his breath. He turned his head to stare into the inky blackness of the forest, and Giles wished that he could see what was going on in the ghost’s intense eyes. He needed to know just how bad this was for them.

“What now?” Paul asked from the back seat.

“We find Maria before she finds Holly,” Doyle said, his voice tight with determination. Out of the car before Giles could even kill the engine, he was marching to the rental with long strides, his jaw tight as he reached the trunk and crouched to begin playing with the lock

“What’s he doing?” Paul slid forward to peer through the windshield.

“Taking the next step,” Giles replied.

He didn’t wait to be followed, but instead turned the key in the ignition and exited the car to join Doyle just in time to see the trunk pop open.

“Gotta bless the Powers,” Doyle said. He began rummaging around in the car’s interior, though when Giles leaned over his shoulder, he could see nothing of consequence.

Paul appeared behind them, blocking out some of the illumination from the headlights. “What’ve we found?”

“Nothin’,” Doyle commented. “Whatever she had in here, she’s taken it with her.” Straightening, his gaze returned to the forest, all humor vanished. “Looks like we’re hoofing it, men. We can only pray that we find Maria first. Now, go get your weapons.”

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

The only sounds in the room were the crackling of the flames in the fireplace, and the clink of the dishes as Buffy put them away. From behind the closed bedroom door, Buffy imagined she could hear the low rumble of Spike’s voice, and found comfort in the fact that Holly was safe in there with him, tucked away in the bed with the pillows cushioned around her. He would make sure she stayed unscathed by whatever might come, most likely even with his life.

She was reaching to put the last of the glasses into the cupboard when a knock resounded throughout the room. Buffy jerked, her shoulders tensing. When she glanced at her mother, she saw Joyce’s eyes slide to the front door, and slowly, Buffy’s followed the same path.

Silence.

The curtains were still drawn so she couldn’t see if anything was actually out there, or if it was merely a trick of her nerves. Holding her breath, Buffy waited.

Until the knock came again.

This time, there was no mistaking the fact that it was someone at the front door. Immediately, her hand curled around the knife that still sat on the drying rack, and she stepped in front of her mother, motioning for her to stay quiet.

The ghosts didn’t knock. There was nobody else it could be except an unwanted guest.

Before Buffy could get any closer, the door flew open, slamming against the wall as the broken lock splintered into tiny shards. A small, middle-aged woman stood on the threshold, her cheeks pink from the cold, her eyes black with flashing magic.

“Where is she?” she said, and lifted her palm to face Buffy.

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

He’d been too busy telling the story of what had happened at Thanksgiving to notice the footfalls on the front porch. It wasn’t until the faint knock at the door had stilled all action from the outer room that Spike hesitated in his tale, lifting a finger to his lips to indicate Holly should remain quiet while he crept to the closed bedroom door to listen.

The closer proximity was a waste, however, when the walls reverberated from the blast of the front door being slammed open. Spike’s hand was already on the knob to lunge into the clash between the new arrival and Buffy when he made the mistake of glancing back at the bed.

Only the top of Holly’s head and her eyes were visible from where she’d burrowed beneath the blankets. Staring at him in silent terror, the child was quivering from the force she was exerting over her body not to respond to the obvious threat on the other side of the door.

Spike hesitated.

As much as he wanted to go out and see what the hell was going on, he’d made a promise. Two of them, actually, though they were essentially the same. He’d sworn to Holly that he wouldn’t let any harm befall her, and he’d vowed to Buffy to protect the little girl, no matter what. He couldn’t just abandon her now.

Quickly, he assessed the situation. If the fight moved into the bedroom, there were few places for the little one to hide while he and Buffy took care of business. Spike didn’t like the fact that anything that happened in there would leave Holly so vulnerable, but being cornered in the room like they were didn’t leave him much of an option, either.

His eyes fell on the two windows. One pointed to the front of the house and was clearly visible from anyone who stood on the porch. The other, however, was on the side, facing the direction of the lake. It would be possible to climb out of it without being detected, as long as whoever it was at the door---and he strongly suspected that it was that bitch Maria at this point---didn’t have a perimeter of guards stationed around the house.

Silently, Spike began scooping up the clothes that were scattered about the room, grabbing anything he could add as a layer to Holly to shield her from the winter cold. Her shoes were in the outer room, but if he put a few pairs of socks on her and carried her instead of letting her walk on the snow, she should be safe enough from frostbite.

She seemed to understand what it was he doing without having to be told. Pushing back the blanket, Holly rolled off the bed to keep it from creaking and landed with a whisper onto the floor. She stood still as Spike dressed her, only helping when he caught her little toe on the first sock. By the time she was done, she might as well have been papoosed, with the only exposed part on her body her tiny little face.

He could hear voices in the outer room, but he didn’t have time to dwell on who they were or what they were saying. Picking Holly up in his arms, he grabbed the blanket off the bed and managed to looped it over his arm as he walked silently to the window.

“Where are we going?” Holly’s whisper was barely a breath in his ear.

“Somewhere safe,” he replied, just as quietly.

She stayed silent as he undid the latch. Praying that it wouldn’t creak, Spike pushed it open just enough to allow them to slither through.

“Spike…” Holly whispered before he could throw a leg over the sill. “I don’t do down.”

“You do with me, pidge.” He tightened his grip and flashed smile he didn’t feel. “Now hang on.”

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

A blast of cold air swirled around Buffy’s ankles as she glared at the new arrival. “Rude, much?” she snapped. “You’re going to have to pay for a new door, you know.”

The woman’s eyes slid past Buffy to settle on Joyce, narrowing slightly at the recognition. “I see you found your daughter after all,” she said. “How charming.”

A rustle of movement behind Maria---who else could it be, considering that she knew Buffy’s mom---made all the women start in surprise, though neither Maria nor Buffy lowered their hands.

“My apologies,” the heavy man stammered as he stooped to pick up the weapon he’d been carrying. His breath was huffing in white clouds around his head, and his cheeks were crimson from the cold. To Buffy, he looked very much like he was going to drop dead on the front step from a heart attack, and briefly, she wondered just who the man really was in all this.

“I asked you a question, young lady,” Maria said.

“Yeah, right after you barged in here uninvited. Did I mention rude? I’m not so sure that deserves any special treatment, to be honest.”

“Considering I can kill you as easily as look at you, I would think you’d be a little more interested in being nice to me.”

Buffy smiled. “I think you’d be surprised just how often I hear that.”

She acted with Slayer speed.

With deadly accuracy, Buffy threw the knife she’d been holding straight for Maria’s chest, before grabbing her mother and tossing her to safety behind the couch. Before she could join her, though, she saw Maria flick her fingers at the oncoming weapon, slowing its path in mid-air just long enough to step out of its way. Instead of the witch, the blade embedded itself in the heavyset man’s gut, and he fell to his knees with a startled shriek, clutching the wound.

“Damn,” Buffy muttered. Diving to join her mother behind the sofa barricade, she said to her, “Please tell me that was a bad guy.”

Joyce nodded. “That must be the other Watcher,” she said. “The one Rupert and Paul were so wary of.”

“It’s a good thing I don’t work for the Council any more, then,” Buffy said as she reached under the couch for the weapons bag that was stowed there. “Something tells me they might not be so excited about me stabbing one of their own guys.”

“You weren’t aiming for him. Maria ducked.”

She couldn’t help but grin. “Go Mom, on the justification for my senseless violence.”

“Just as long as you start aiming some of it at that bitch. I don’t want her to get her hands on---.”

The couch was flipped forward by some unseen force, cutting off the conversation and leaving them exposed to Maria again. “Get my hands on who?” Maria asked. “You wouldn’t be speaking of Holly, now would you?”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” Buffy said. Slowly, she eased her bottom over the open end of the bag, her hand moving carefully in its interior to wrap around a stake. Maria wasn’t a vampire, but it would do in a pinch. “But Mom was talking about me. Prized daughter and all.”

“Yes. Prized, indeed.”

“Maria…” The man at the door lifted his head to gaze helplessly at his partner. “Help me.”

“Shut up, Silas.” She didn’t even look at him, her venomous gaze locked on Buffy. “Give me the girl, Miss Summers, and I’ll spare your life. It’s a fair trade. I strongly suggest you take it.”

She rolled her eyes. “Except whatever you do to her is going to kill me. I may be blonde, but I’m not stupid.”

“Maria…” Silas’ voice was even more insistent. “You must…help me.”

“And I told you---.”

“I’m bleeding out on the floor,” he interrupted. He coughed, and a spattering of crimson sprayed from his mouth to speckle the wood beneath him. “If I die…”

But the rest of the thought went unsaid as another paroxysm took control of his body, and he wheezed and panted as he tried to regain some semblance of peace.

Maria hesitated, clearly caught in some dilemma that was known only to her. While Buffy watched, the woman edged back until she was within arm’s reach of Silas, and then rested slim fingers on the pulse point in his neck.

“Damn it,” Maria said. Her gaze was black again when she turned to look at the two Summers women, and the single word that came out of her mouth was quiet and grim. “Impedio.”

Buffy saw nothing, but she felt it, most definitely. A molasses taking control of her muscles and making them leaden, impossible for her to move with any dexterity. Her grip on the stake slackened, the wood tumbling to the floor, and it took all her strength simply to rise to her feet.

“What…did you…do?” she demanded. Well, she tried to sound demanding. With as much effort as it was taking even to speak, she sounded more like a broken-down wind-up doll.

But Maria ignored her, content that she’d slowed the Slayer enough to tend to the task at hand. Shoving Silas onto his back, she moved forward to kneel at his side, oblivious to the fact that he was now half-in, half-out of the open doorway. She grimaced when her foot slid in the blood that had pooled on the floor, and began undoing the buttons of his jacket and shirt in order to get to his bare skin beneath.

Though she couldn’t move with anything remotely resembling her usual grace and speed, Buffy knew this was her one shot to gain an advantage. Maria wasn’t holding back on using her magic, and once she got around to doing whatever it was she was doing with the Watcher, she wouldn’t refrain from turning that magic back on the occupants of the cabin. Briefly, Buffy wondered whether or not Spike was listening on the other side of the bedroom door. It was impossible for him not to have heard the door being forced open, but so far, there was yet to be a peep made from the adjoining room.

She didn’t have time to dwell on that, though. She had to trust that Spike was doing his best to protect Holly. All that mattered was that neither of them was out in the middle of all this.

Her hands weren’t going to work with a fine weapon; the fact that she’d been unable to hold onto the stake was testimony to that. Something bigger, then. Something within easy reach. Something deadly.

The heat from the fire just behind Buffy was starting to get just a tad too uncomfortable on the backs of her legs. She started to edge away from it, when a sudden picture of what exactly she was walking away from sprang before her mind’s eye.

Buffy smiled, in spite of the seriousness of the situation. It would actually be kind of funny if it worked.

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

The instant she saw Buffy glancing at the mantle, Joyce knew what her daughter had in mind.

Watching from where she’d been locked frozen by the spell, Joyce saw Buffy edge backwards toward the fire, the upended couch serving to obscure her from Maria’s sight. As if in slow motion, Buffy’s arm lifted, stretched, came into contact with one of the antlers of the deer head mounted above the fireplace. She didn’t settle there, though. Instead, Buffy curled her hand around the animal’s stuffed nose, a larger target that didn’t require the finer motor skills she seemed to currently lack.

Their eyes met. Understanding passed between them, and Joyce held her breath as she waited for Buffy to make the move.

In the doorway, Silas groaned in pain. It was that moment Buffy chose to tear the deer head from its mount, the sound masked by the Watcher’s grunts of discomfort. Swinging it forward, she aimed directly at Maria’s back. The arc of her arm was languid and definite, but the moment Buffy opened her hand to let it go, the animal took on its own energy, free from the fetters of the magic, and soared through the air.

It collided with Maria’s back, one of the antlers embedding in the witch’s shoulder and sending her tumbling forward onto Silas’ torso. As soon as contact was made, the spell around Buffy and Joyce was shattered, sending them lurching sideways and to the floor, off-balance from the sudden freedom.

Silas began shrieking beneath Maria, and pushed at the weight that held him down. The witch’s eyes were still open, and the jarring movement of Silas’ scrambling was enough to dislodge the precarious hold the antler had in her flesh.

“You…” Maria hissed. She turned black eyes to Buffy, her hand reaching around to the bloody wound on her shoulder. Sparks jumped between her palm and the injury, glowing brighter as they made contact, and the witch growled in pain.

“This isn’t over, Slayer,” she said. Somehow, she rose to her feet, and in a blinding flash, disappeared.

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

OK, so that hadn’t gone exactly as Buffy had intended, but the fact that Maria was nowhere to be seen had to be better than having her around.

“Spike!” Buffy called out, rushing for the bedroom. She leapt over the injured Watcher in her haste, knocking him back to the floor with a groan, and threw open the door.

The bedroom was empty. The blankets were pulled from the bed, and the curtains on the far window billowed from the slight breeze drifting from outside.

“It looks like Spike got her to safety,” Joyce said, suddenly behind her.

“Yeah, for as long as Maria was here,” Buffy replied. She turned her heated gaze back to Silas. “Problem is, we don’t know where she went to. And worse, Spike doesn’t know she’s out there now.”

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

He just wanted to get some distance between them and the cabin. Wrapped up in the blanket, Holly was trembling against him as he ran, but Spike knew it wasn’t from the cold. Pidge was terrified, and even with his strong arms keeping her close, she was having a hard time not panicking about the situation. It was probably too similar to other close encounters the little one had had with this Maria; Spike just hated that he couldn’t do something more than he already was.

His range was limited with the magical perimeter hemming them in. Angling himself toward the lake, Spike kept crooning under his breath in a vain attempt to distract Holly from the moment, but he held little hope that it was actually working. He wasn’t even sure how long he could keep her out there. Buffy wouldn’t mess around in delaying to kill the witch, but what if the bitch pulled some mojo of her own?

Spike stopped. What if the Slayer needed him? Here he was running away, and she could very well be lying dead or dying back at the cabin.

The edge of the blanket fell back and Holly tilted her head to look at him. “Why aren’t we moving?” she asked in a tiny voice.

His doubt vanished when he saw the trust gleaming from her eyes. Buffy was an amazing Slayer; she would be able to hold her own. And she’d given him a task, a very important one. Spike wasn’t about to let her down now.

“Just gettin’ my bearings, moptop,” he replied. He pretended to peer into the darkness, and then nodded. “Fancy takin’ a look at the lake?”

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

She’d expected to appear back at the car. That was how she’d configured the teleportation spell to work. Instead, Maria found herself standing in the middle of the forest, her shoulder aching in spite of the magic balm she’d placed on the injury. When she took a step forward, she was met with an electrical charge from some unseen force, and fell onto her ass from the impact.

A barrier. Meant to protect Holly, no doubt. And now it kept her from leaving.

Damn interfering Powers.

However…if there was a wall, there was a reason for that wall. Holly had to be here, just as she’d originally thought.

Slowly, Maria rose back to her feet, ignoring the throbbing of her shoulder as she turned around and surveyed the dark forest. She and Silas had traipsed through the trees, stumbling across the cabin completely by accident. Could she find it again so easily?

“…my bearings, moptop.”

She stiffened at the man’s voice, her head jerking toward the sound. She couldn’t see anything in the murk, but after a moment of silence…

“Fancy takin’ a look at the lake?”

Then, footsteps. The crunch of snow under heavy feet.

Maria smiled.

Perhaps finding the cabin wasn’t necessary, after all.

To be continued in Chapter 53: She Didn’t See Me Creep…

Storming from the bedroom, Buffy marched straight for the prostrate Watcher, and hauled him into the warmth of the room, kicking the broken door as closed as it was going to get behind her. He groaned, clutching at his stomach, but she pushed his hands out of the way to expose the wound.

“Get the first aid kit from the bathroom,” she instructed her mother.

“It’s…too late,” Silas said.

“It’s never too late,” Buffy shot back. “But if you’re going to keep the negative attitude, I might just let you bleed to death after all.” She grimaced, looking down at her now bloody hands. “Well, maybe not. You’re getting it all over the floor and it’s going to be a bitch to clean up.”

He squinted as he looked up at her, as if he couldn’t believe what she was doing. “I’m sorry,” he rasped. “I had no choice---.”

“OK, you’re going to have to stop right there,” she interrupted. “There’s always a choice and if you’re about to tell me Maria was blackmailing you or something into helping her, you’re only going to piss me off even more. I suggest you shut up.” She glanced up when Joyce approached with the kit. “Thanks, Mom,” she said, taking it from her.

The edges of the wound were clean, and Buffy chewed at her lip as she decided if it was worth taking the time to stitch him up. She wanted to get out and find Spike, let him know it was OK to come back to the cabin for now. She hadn’t anticipated having to spend time taking care of the man who’d helped Maria find them.

In the end, she merely staunched the flow of blood and bound him as tightly as she could. For his part, Silas held to her request and stayed silent for the duration of her tending, but she was very aware of his eyes on her while she worked.

“There,” she announced, sitting back on her heels. “All done.”

“Thank you,” he said. Then… “Is it true, then? Have you been harboring Maria’s daughter?”

Joyce snorted. “I can’t believe you fell for that story,” she said to him contemptuously.

“What? What story?”

“Holly’s three,” Buffy said. “She’s not any relation to Maria.”

“But…the ritual…”

“You mean, Maria’s little game to kill all the Slayers? Hate to disappoint, but you guys had it all backwards. The only thing Holly’s a threat to is chocolate.”

His eyelids fluttered shut at the pronouncement, his breathing shallow. “Should’ve known,” he murmured. His voice was heavy with self-recrimination. Then, his eyes shot open again, more bright and demanding than they’d been since his arrival. “Remove the bandages, Miss Summers. You must kill me.”

“What? Why? And this isn’t something you could’ve told me before I wasted all that time patching you up?”

“The ritual…it requires Watcher blood in order for it to work. Something about…completing the circle, Maria said. That’s why she saved me. She needs me in order to complete it. I’d thought…she’d said Watcher blood would counter Holly’s intent, but if what you say is true---.”

“You’re the last ingredient in Maria’s Slayer stew,” Buffy finished. Her lips thinned. “Well, I’m not going to kill you, so you’re out of luck there.”

“But you must!”

“We’ll find another way. If Maria does come back, we’ll just stop the ritual using good old-fashioned violence.” Standing, she went behind his head and grabbed beneath his armpits to drag him toward the bathroom. “For now, you’re going to hide while I go get Spike and Holly back here. He doesn’t know Maria’s on his side of the wall now, and I can’t risk her finding him without having some back-up.”

Joyce hovered near the entrance with Buffy’s coat. “What do you want me to do?” she asked.

“I’m thinking hiding is a good strategy right now,” Buffy replied. “I don’t know if Maria’s been contained by the magical fence or not. If she hasn’t, we might have a little more time, but if she has…”

She left the thought unfinished. They both knew this was the only shelter within the confines of the forest. A hurt Maria would likely return if she had nowhere else to go.

“I won’t be long,” Buffy promised, shrugging into her coat as she headed for the door. “Just stay put, OK? I don’t want to have to go looking for you, too.”

With that, she vanished into the cold winter night.

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

Doyle had warned them about the barrier that prevented Buffy and Spike from leaving, but they didn’t have much choice but to hope that they were able to stay on the right side of it while they searched the forest. Splitting up meant they covered more ground, though Giles was beginning to suspect that just meant more spinning of their wheels. So far, he’d found only a dead squirrel. When it came to tracks, the forest looked very much like it had been swept clean.

He ran into Doyle near the lake he’d been circumventing, but the ghost only shook his head as they approached each other. “Damn,” Giles muttered, and squinted into the darkness. “Do you have any clue how Paul is doing?”

“I haven’t seen him since we left the road,” Doyle replied. “I’m about to head off to the cabin. I think we might’ve been too late.”

“I haven’t encountered the barrier you mentioned. Have I managed to cross it without realizing?”

“No, you’re still on the civilization side.” He pointed out to the middle of the lake. “It cuts through there and makes a circle around the house. If you---.” He stopped in mid-sentence, his eyes narrowing. “Uh oh,” he said, and then sighed.

“I hate that sound,” Giles complained, but turned to see what Doyle was watching.

On the other side of the lake, a rustle of shadowed movement emerged from the trees. It was man-shaped, though any features it had were indiscernible from that distance. Only the glow of the moonlight of the man’s white hair gave Giles any indication who it was.

“Spike…” he said.

“And Holly,” Doyle added.

Giles peered more closely, then shook his head. “Where?”

“He’s carrying her. I can see her hair poking out from the blanket he’s got her wrapped up in.”

“What in blazes is he trying to do?”

“I don’t know,” Doyle admitted. He jerked his head toward the lake. “I think we need to get a closer look.”

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

It was the scent of blood that he caught first. Fresh and heady with heat, it called to Spike through the dark, taunting him with its growing proximity, offering him a quick meal if only he’d turn around. It was human, and maybe any other time, Spike would’ve succumbed to its lure, but not now. Now, he had to keep Holly away from the bitch back at the cabin.

They stepped from the cluster of trees to look out over the still-frozen lake. Moonlight sparkled across its crusty surface, and even Holly took a moment to appreciate its beauty.

“Pretty,” she murmured, her small face turned to the horizon.

“Always been a little partial to this, haven’t you?” Spike asked softly.

“It looks like home.”

The ensuing silence heightened the sounds of the forest behind him, and Spike heard footsteps whispering across the snow at his back. It was the source of the flowing blood, strange and piquant, but the mystery of who it could be only brought a surge of fear to Spike’s mind.

“Want you to do something for me, moptop,” he said. Slowly, quietly, he crouched on the shore, setting the child down to stand in the snow. “Want you to take a little walk, maybe go see if you can catch any of those moonbeams for me.”

She didn’t look to where he gestured toward the lake, her eyes dark as they stared intently at him. “What’s wrong?” she whispered.

“Nothin’,” he replied. He unwound the blanket from around her, glancing down to her feet and praying that they were protected enough from the cold. There was no way for him to know if he was doing the right thing---the ice looked like it was going to hold, but that just might be a trick on his eyes---but if it really was Maria behind him, the more distance between her and Holly, the better.

“Are you coming with me?”

“Not just yet, pidge. Got some business to take care of first.” Grasping her shoulders, he met her eyes with all the love and power he could muster. “I need you to make me a promise, though. Until we get back to the cabin, I need you to do whatever I tell you, no questions asked. Understand?”

“OK.”

He started to stand, but was startled when tiny arms wrapped around his neck, her warm breath tickling in his ear.

“I love you, Spike.”

Squeezing his eyes shut against the rush of emotion that her simple words evoked, Spike hugged her back, careful not to hold her too tight. “Love you, too, pidge,” he whispered, and then pushed her gently toward the ice. “Now go.”

She was ten feet out onto the ice when he heard a dry stick crack in half behind him. “Stealthy’s really not your thing, is it?” he drawled, slowing turning around to see the new arrival.

She wasn’t what he was expecting. Short gray hair, a slim form only slightly larger than the Slayer. This was the witch that had the Powers running so scared? His respect for them had just dropped even more.

But it was her blood he’d been smelling, and he saw how one of her shoulders drooped more than the other. Buffy’d probably got a good piece of her before the witch had scarpered off, which meant that she could be hurt. Maybe this Maria bitch wasn’t as powerful as everyone kept saying.

She frowned, her eyes narrowing as they scrutinized him closely. “You’re a vampire,” she said, and the fact that it was the last thing she’d expected to find rang clearly through the night air.

Spike snorted. “Not so bright either,” he commented. “How is it the likes of you has got half the county runnin’ so scared?”

Ignoring his question, her eyes slid over his shoulder. He almost groaned out loud when he saw the delight shine there; she must’ve caught sight of the little one.

“You didn’t kill her,” she commented, turning back to him with even more confusion. “Why go to all the trouble of getting her away from the Slayer and then not kill her?”

She didn’t know he and Buffy were in this together. Throwing back his shoulders, Spike decided to see how far he could take this new twist.

“Because the daft chit’s not scared of me,” he said, with mock annoyance. “What fun is the kill if I can’t taste the fear in her blood?”

Maria’s lips quirked. “They broke her sense of right and wrong, keeping her around all those vampires all the time,” she said. “It’s highly unlikely you’ll be able to overcome that without some sort of aid.”

“Yeah, well, I would’ve thought the Slayer would’ve taught her otherwise.”

“The Slayer is just a temporary guardian for her.”

He took a step nearer. “Sounds to me, you’ve got more than a little knowhow on this particular meal of mine,” Spike said. “Care to share?”

“Not really.” When he took another step, her palm came up, poised for an attack. “I suggest you stop there,” Maria said, her voice cold. “Any closer, and I will kill you.”

It was a stalemate. While Spike knew that she held all the power in their current struggle, he also knew that the witch apparently had no clue he couldn’t do a thing to harm her directly. She was still treating him like a threat, which definitely worked to his advantage at the moment. He had a sneaking suspicion it was the only reason he wasn’t already dead.

“What’s a tasty morsel like you doin’ all the way out here, anyway?” he asked. Experience told him the charm worked regardless of the age or sex of the intended party, and he was willing to play it for as long as he needed to. He gestured toward her shoulder. “And should I be worried ‘bout whoever it was who already got a taste?”

“I’m here for the child,” she said. “The Slayer proved…uncooperative.”

“That’s funny. I found her a right doddle.”

Her chin jerked toward the ice behind him. “It would appear that Holly’s not nearly as accommodating. You’re letting her get away without even blinking.”

“Holly? Is that her name? I was just callin’ her ‘dinner.’”

“Then, your dinner is getting away.” She paused, eyes narrowing. “I’m beginning to think that maybe this situation isn’t as I originally thought.”

He was losing her, but before Spike could get her back to her misconception, there was a crash from the forest.

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

The rumble of a man’s voice pulled Paul back in the direction of the lake. He’d already walked by it once with no results, but apparently someone was out there now. Since the voice was male, he assumed it was Giles or Doyle, and with Paul’s hands and feet currently numb from the cold, he was eager to reunite with his partners and get back to the car. He desperately needed to warm up.

When he heard Maria, her tone calm, he froze in his tracks. She was here. Every instinct in his body told him to flee, but Paul swallowed down the lump of fear in his throat and forced his feet to remain still, listening to the conversation playing out on the other side of the trees.

“…a right doddle.”

Who was that? Paul wondered. An accent from home, coarse but with a hint of refinement beneath its veneer. Was there another Watcher involved in this that he didn’t know about?

Maria seemed to be unclear as to who he was, as well. As Paul listened to the conversation, his body pressed forward, inching around the tree that provided him shelter from being seen too readily. First one foot, and then the other, but when he took the third step, his heel found a hole beneath the snow and slipped. His ankle twisted, sending him crashing into the scraggly bush at his side, and he swallowed a mouthful of snow as his face was buried in a drift.

Strong hands pulled him from the cold, but when he was righted, he found himself staring into a set of golden eyes instead of Maria’s. Paul shrieked in fright, prompting the vampire to clamp a hand over the Watcher’s mouth to silence him, but surprisingly, none of it hurt. It was almost as if the demon was just doing his best to keep him in check.

“Paul. What an interesting surprise.”

His gaze flew past the vampire to see Maria approaching. There was an odd tilt to her body, as if she’d been hurt, and then he saw the unmistakable stain along her shoulder. His eyes widened.

“You know this wanker?”

“Apparently, not as well as I thought I did,” Maria replied. She was obviously amused by the situation. “You’ve shown more fortitude than I would’ve imagined, Paul. When exactly did you grow a spine?”

He didn’t answer. How could he? His tongue was lodged somewhere in his throat, his panic rising. All he could do was stare at her in growing trepidation.

“Can I get back to my dinner now?” The vampire sounded bored. In Paul’s experience, a bored vampire was never good. “This one’s likely to be a tad stringy for my tastes.”

“Not yet,” Maria said. “I have a use for him.”

The knife appeared from nowhere, and Paul’s heart hammered inside his ribcage as she stepped closer. For a second, he thought the demon’s hold on him loosened, but quickly dismissed the thought as ludicrous.

Especially when Maria grabbed his hand and ran the blade across his palm.

“Ow!” The cry was muffled behind the vampire’s hand. Tears of pain stung Paul’s eyes and he began to sob as Maria sliced his flesh again, this time perpendicular to the first mark, creating a deep X across his skin.

“What’s that for?” the vampire asked.

Maria took Paul’s hand in hers as if to shake it, and an electric tingle made the blood he could see flowing sizzle. “He’s just made my life much simpler,” she said. Her smile was a virulent gleam in the darkness as she tucked her blood-soaked hand inside her coat as if to protect it. “Now, let’s go get your dinner back.”

“Don’t need your help,” the demon said.

“You’re getting it. You said it yourself, the child’s not scared of you. I need her, which means I need you.” Her free hand angled off to the side and a blast of magic set a small tree ablaze before swinging back at the vampire again. “And you’ll allow me to come with you to retrieve her or find yourself in flames. The choice is yours.”

Paul collapsed to the ground when he was suddenly released. The vampire was muttering under his breath, a collection of colorful invectives that were impossible to ignore, but he was already striding back toward the lake in accordance with Maria’s wishes.

Her dark gaze fell with disdain on Paul where he was huddled in the snow. “When I’m done with Holly,” she said, “be prepared to feel the extent of my anger, Paul. You’re only alive now because I want to ensure that you’re punished to the full scope of my powers for your treason.”

With a malevolent smile, she turned and followed the bleached vampire.

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

Her feet were starting to get cold, but Holly knew that she had to keep walking. Spike hadn’t called to let her know it was time to come back yet. Until he did, she would do as she was told. She had been taught well. There were times for playing, and there were times for being serious. This was a serious time.

The ice was making funny sounds every time she took a step. It was solid, and the surface was roughened from the frost, but each step Holly made caused the ice to sound like it was angry at her for walking on it, whining and high-pitched as it scolded her for daring to cross. She stopped more than once, kneeling to pat at the scattered moonlight that danced across the shine, and that was better. If it wasn’t so cold, she could do this all night.

She only halted when she heard the footsteps behind her.

“Told you she wasn’t scared of me,” she heard Spike say.

Turning, she saw him approach her slowly, his eyes focused on her. Behind him, a woman older than Buffy’s mom watched her just as obsessively, but the look on her face wasn’t anything like the warmth on Spike’s. It made her tummy feel all squishy, like the woman wanted to eat her up. For real, not like Spike played at.

Automatically, Holly shrank away.

“Hey now, none of that.” Spike’s hand shot out and curled around her wrist. It didn’t hurt, but nothing he did ever hurt. She let him pull her closer, snuggling into his chest when his strong arms encircled her.

“It would appear you were correct,” the woman said. She stepped around to get a closer look at the pair, and Holly saw the blood stains adorning her coat. A knife dangled from the hand she didn’t have tucked into her pocket. It looked scary. But not as scary as the woman.

“I think the little one would do just about anything I told her to,” Spike said, but it looked like he was almost directing that more at Holly than he was at the other woman. He released his hold on Holly and stepped back. “Like, if I said jump, my gut tells me she’d do it without giving it a second thought.”

She saw the request in his eyes and nodded, proceeding to start jumping up and down. Every hop made the ice shudder beneath her, making that squeaky sound she hated so.

“Stop!”

Even though it was the woman who ordered it, Holly complied. This wasn’t someone she wanted any angrier.

“You’ve made your point,” the woman continued. “Now, bring her to back to the shore.”

She disappeared from Holly’s view when Spike crouched again, blocking out anything but the sight of him. His eyes were dark and serious.

“You heard her,” he said. “Time to go back to the shore, little one.”

His arms were around her again, but where she expected him to pick her up again, Spike instead turned her around so that she faced the opposite shore. It was the same direction she’d been headed in prior to his coming out on the ice. It was away from where she thought the woman wanted them to go. It was away from him.

“Don’t fuss about me,” he murmured. “I promise I’ll be the one to tuck you in tonight.”

His hands grasped her upper arms and he pushed her forward. Though he said it in a very low voice, Holly heard the simple order Spike uttered as clearly as if he’d whispered it right in her ear.

“Now run.”