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

God, she was hungry. I should've eaten before I came through, Melinda thought grumpily. No telling how long this is going to take me, although sooner would most definitely be preferable to later. Listening to the grumpy fat man wasn't helping either, but she didn't really have a choice since she could tell it was daylight outside, leaving her stuck inside the club until the sun set. Stupid Tony, this is all your fault.

The redhead caught her attention as soon as she entered, not for the slight flush in her cheeks or the pounding of her heartbeat that Melinda could feel through her skin, but for the plain and simple fact that the female vampire recognized the new arrival. She'd seen the skimpy costume, the high heels, and the hair had certainly been unmissable, and if she hadn't known what the painting looked like before Tony had stolen it, Melinda would just have assumed that the cigarette girl belonged in this dimension. Except she knew different. Hours of staring at her most valuable possession had imprinted every aspect of it on her mind, and the redhead wasn't part of those memories. That meant only one thing. She had to be from Sunnydale.

She watched as the other girl noticed Lombardi and came rushing over. "What is it, Rosenberg?" he barked on her approach.

"I was looking for Tony. Have you seen him?" At the manager's blank look, she elaborated, "The trumpet player?"

Melinda's ears perked. Well, this just got interesting, she thought. What is she doing looking for Tony?"

"Band just broke up," Lombardi replied. "He's probably still in back, packing up."

"Thanks."

"Who's that?" Melinda asked, deliberately keeping her tone nonchalant, blue eyes glued to the redhead's retreating form as it disappeared through the exit to the back.

The manager shrugged. "Just Willow, the cigarette girl. No one you'll be dealing with."

As she followed him around to the bar, her thoughts were elsewhere. Lot you know about who I'm going to be dealing with, Melinda mused. "You know," she said out loud, "I think I need to use the little girl's room. Do you mind?"

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

Just left, just left, just left. The refrain drummed through Willow's head as she turned away from the band's conductor, green eyes scanning the dimly lit hallway before settling on the exit out to the alley. So, on his way back to his apartment, which means he'll run into Spike in the entrance, which means maybe I should head him off at the pass before we scare him away…

She saw him at the end of the alleyway, one foot hooked into the fence as he struggled to lift his weight up its height, the perspiration already dotting his forehead, dripping into his eyes. What's he doing? she wondered, a tiny line appearing in her brow. "Tony!" she called out, stepping out onto the single step before the door.

His body jerked at the sound of her voice, and he risked a glance back over his shoulder to see the redhead watching him. Shit. But it was only Willow, and as much as he liked the young woman, he knew at least that he could deal with her.

She didn't know what he was doing and was about to call out to him again, when the musician's hand reached out, pointing toward her, his lips moving but his words too low to be distinguishable down the narrow alley. Confusion reigned for a split second, but as the bright flash crossed the gap between them, Willow's throat constricted, her muscles tensing to turn and run…

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

She felt the familiar crackle of his magic crawling over her skin just seconds before she saw the redhead---Willow, he'd said her name was---crumple to a heap just outside the back door of the club. OK, so Tony wasn't glad to see the other girl either, Melinda thought irritably, rushing forward to stand within its frame. Leaning over as far as she dared without actually touching the sunshine that managed to slice its path into the alleyway, the vampire saw her ex's form clambering over the top of the fence, and grimaced. Fucker was trying to get away and there was nothing she could do about it except watch. Stupid sun.

Well, if I can't get Tony, I can at least find out what this bitch wanted with him, Melinda thought, and grasped the wrist that lay on the doorsill, pulling her roughly back into the safety of the club.

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

Gino appeared at the bottom of the stairs, walking through the smoke of Spike's cigarette to stand at the front door. "Is she still over there?" he asked, black eyes scanning the street.

"Yeah." Spike exhaled, dropping the butt to the floor before settling his toe over its scarlet tip.

"She's been gone a long time," the bouncer mused as he pushed open the door, letting more of the sunshine come streaming in.

"Hey, watch it," the blond scolded as he danced back away from the rays. "Some of us would like to make it through this without havin' to be taken back in a Hoover bag."

Gino wasn't even listening, his black eyes narrowed as he stepped out onto the sidewalk, gaze fixed not on the club but on the alley that ran down its side. Funny, for a second there, he'd thought he'd heard Willow's voice.

Spike watched as the other man began crossing the street, not even looking around for traffic, but heading determinedly for the tiny opening of the alleyway. Something had certainly captured his attention, but what it was, the vamp had no idea. He shook his head as a car honked its horn at the oblivious bouncer. That's what falling in love with a woman did to you, he thought. Made you blind to anything but her and her needs, and the potential of fulfilling them.

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

The alley was empty when Gino entered it, though he quickly noted that the back door to the club stood wide open. Mindful of the fact that he was supposed to still be incapacitated, the dark-haired bouncer crossed carefully to it, black eyes darting around in case someone should step outside. I get fingered and Buffy'll give me hell to pay, he thought, and then smiled. Can't believe I'm actually kowtowing to a dame. Go figure.

Willow's unconscious form was the first thing he saw as he peeked through the back entrance, and Gino rushed forward, his caution thrown out the window, scooping the redhead into his arms and ignoring the petite woman who knelt at her shoulders. His meaty hand came up and brushed the hair away from her closed eyes, and he felt the first rise of panic in the back of his throat begin to burn. "What happened?" he rushed, not even looking at the other girl.

"I don't know," she said. "I found her like that."

Gently, Gino began slapping at Willow's cheek, trying to rouse her. "C'mon," he whispered. "Wake up." His eyes scanned over the rest of her body, on the lookout for blood or torn clothing, anything really to explain her unconscious state, but returned to her face with nothing. What could've knocked her out without leaving a mark? he wondered. No bruises, no cuts…

When the possibility hit him, he quickly lifted his gaze, scrutinizing the darkened hallway. "You haven't seen a trumpet player by any chance, have you?" he asked, finally turning to look down at the other woman.

Her blue eyes narrowed. "Actually, yeah," she replied, her voice low and even. "He went over the fence in the alley." She stuck her hand out in greeting. "I'm Melinda, by the way."

"Gino," he said distractedly, and laid Willow's unconscious body back onto the floor, stepping out behind the club to survey the empty space. He was torn; part of him wanted desperately to take off after the musician, to catch him, bring him down, and then beat him within an inch of his miserable life. The other part knew he didn't dare leave Willow alone right now. Not when he didn't know what the hell was wrong with her.

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

The last thing Spike expected to see was a panicked Gino gesticulating like a madman for him to come over to the club. Bugger, he thought as he glanced up at the bright sky. I'm going to end up a big pile of dust for sure this time. He sighed. Life had been so much easier before he'd had to worry about friends.

He practically flew past Gino, throwing the flaming blanket from his shoulders as he skittered to a stop just inside the club. "Better be worth it," he growled, and then spotted the dark-haired man cradling Red in his arms. "Where's bugle boy?" he demanded.

"He took off. I didn't want to leave her alone here."

"Fuck," Spike muttered, frowning back at the sunlight.

"I'm going after him," Gino said, gently laying Willow back down onto the floor. "I think you better call Harris and get her back to your apartment. Maybe Mr. Giles can help her."

"She doesn't need the hospital?" He couldn't smell blood, but that didn't mean she still hadn't been hurt.

"I can't find anything wrong with her. I think Tony hit her with some of his magic."

Spike's eyes darted over to the fourth person in the mix, the petite brunette who'd slowly backed up against the wall since his arrival. Gotta have a word with him about talkin' like that in front of the locals, he thought and was about to look back when the realization hit him like a cold slap across the face. This one didn't have a heartbeat. His head tilted as his blue eyes narrowed, one foot stepping carefully forward, toward the young woman. "Don't recognize you, pet," he drawled.

"Oh, that's Melinda," Gino replied. "She found---." His eyes widened as he watched Spike leap forward, pinning the girl to the wall in a vicious move, his forearm pressing with barely contained fury into her neck.

"Let me go!" she hissed, fingernails clawing at his skin.

"So you can pull a Houdini? Don't think so. Not before we get some answers." His smile was vicious as he tightened his grip on her, enjoying the small wince that came out of her throat.

Gino frowned. "Who is she?"

Spike glanced back over his shoulder. "Say hello to the painting's owner. And Tony's vamp girlfriend." His head swivelled back. "Though, accordin' to him, it would be ex-girlfriend. That right?"

Her struggling grew more violent, lashing out with her foot to try and kick at his more vulnerable parts, only to be countered by being tossed against the far wall, landing in a small heap before Spike could pounce on top of her. "Just wait 'til Buffy gets her hands on you," he drawled, enjoying the feel of her squirms beneath him.

"Um, Spike?" Gino's frown deepened as his friend turned to look at him. "If she's from where you guys are, how come you're able to hurt her? I thought your chip didn't let you."

It hadn't even occurred to him, his natural instinct to attack the other vampire overriding any sense of programming the chip might have instilled in him up to this point. His sapphire eyes were calculating as he looked down at Melinda. "They shoved this thing up my brain to stop me from hurtin' humans," he mused. "Guess they don't mind if I take my frustrations out on other demons." His lips twisted into a smile. "Best bit of news I've had all day." He didn't even look back as he ordered, "Go call Buffy, Gino. Tell her we got her a little present here."

"What about Tony?"

"Yes," Melinda spat. "The longer you wait, the farther he runs."

Spike's head tilted. "Somehow, I don't think he's goin' to get very far with you in the picture," he commented. "Seein' as how you've come all this way just to get him back."

"But what about Willow?" Gino couldn't keep the anxiety out of his voice as he put forth the question.

Melinda snorted. "She's not in any danger," she said, glaring at the blond pinning her down. "Just one of Tony's stupid sleeping beauty spells." Her mouth curled into a sneer. "Of course, you don't get him back and she won't ever wake up."

Spike's fist shot out, connecting with her jaw with an audible crack, savoring the painfree pleasure of what hitting her was providing. "Never say never," he drawled. "Not as long as Buffy's still breathin'…"

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

OK, so far, so good, Buffy thought. He'd let her in, he was listening to her talk, and nothing bad had happened. Yet.

"Pardon me if I don't express my regrets," Mack said, and she stole a quick glance up to see him studying her, the look in his grey eyes not anger but more of a smug determination. She'd been there when Xander had made the phone call, knew the club owner was aware of Spike's faux death, but the fact that he was feigning ignorance slightly turned her stomach, the knowledge that he was enjoying her pain actually sickening to witness. "Why are you here?" he asked. "Because if you're expecting sympathy, you came knocking on the wrong door."

"I know…you didn't like Spike," she breathed, keeping her eyes down on the floor. This was much easier if she didn't actually have to look at him. "And I realize that all of this got sprung on you kinda fast, but you and me…" She swallowed; thank God Spike wasn't around to actually hear any of this. "…we go way back, and I was hoping that…as my…friend…you might let me just stay here for a little bit?" The next came out in a rush. "My place…without…just feels wrong…everything reminds me." Time to face the lion, Buffy; look up. "Just for a few hours. Until work tonight."

"Your husband gets killed and you're still going to work tonight?" Even Mack couldn't keep the incredulity out of his voice, and for a second the young woman feared that she'd taken it too far. If this doesn't work, she thought, no way do I tell Spike the specifics. I'll be getting I-told-you-so's for the next twenty years.

"It'll distract me," she replied, and then remembered the first night she'd met him. "And a girl still has to make a living, you know."

The tension visibly dissipated from his shoulders and there was no mistaking the small smile that twisted his lips. This was his Buffy, Mack thought. The beautiful girl who knew the value of a dollar. Turning his back on her, he crossed to the liquor cabinet, picking up the bottle he'd opened earlier to pour out another tumbler full of the golden alcohol, and brought it back to the couch without comment, offering it to the young woman who sat there.

Buffy stared down at the glass, the thoughts clicking over in her head. Shit. No way could she drink this. If she started in, all her control went out the window and that would most definitely be bad. "I…haven't eaten," she offered lamely, carefully setting the whiskey down on the table. "And if I show up drunk, Lombardi will have my ass."

Mack could barely hide his frown as he quickly slid a coaster under the tumbler, leaving it in front of her for her to pick up at her leisure. "Lombardi won't say a word," he assured. "Not if I tell him not to." Although he desperately wanted to sit next to the young blonde, he settled himself in the chair opposite, lounging back to watch her through hooded eyes. "So what happened?" he asked. "Please tell me it was painful."

He saw the flare of anger in her face before she could stifle it, resuming the mask of grief she wore with silent pride. "You don't really want the gory details," she said bitterly. "You're just interested in hurting me by making me relive it."

He shrugged. "Can't blame me for trying. I haven't been anything but straight-up with you, Buffy. I always thought I could expect the same from you."

"What are you talking about?"

"How do you think I felt when I found out you were married? When I realized that you two had already gone and gotten yourselves hitched when I saw you at the hospital? And you didn't say a word?" His frustration began to leak into his voice, and Mack struggled to maintain his composure. "It's as if everything I ever did for you meant nothing, and you were both laughing at me behind my back. And I don't like being made a fool of. You, of all people, should know that."

"We weren't laughing. It wasn't about you at all." OK, huge lie, but Buffy could feel her hold on the situation starting to slip, desperation taking hold as his anger began to become more obvious. He's really unhappy about this, she thought, and then almost laughed. Like ordering Xander to kill you and Spike didn't already tell you that? the little voice reminded her.

"Oh, that's right. I almost forgot. The world revolves around Buffy Summers and what she wants, regardless of what others may feel." Now there was no mistaking his fury, and he jumped to his feet, marching over to the front door and yanking it open. "I think you better get out of here before you start regretting coming around in the first place," he said, unable to meet her eyes, the muscles in his jaw twitching.

The Slayer stood, hesitating before taking a single step toward him. "You're…kicking me out?"

He steeled his nerve, raising his grey gaze to stare coldly at her. "I've never been one for sloppy seconds, my dear."

Crap, crap, crap, she thought as she crossed the room, heading for the exit. So much for plan A. "I'm sorry we can't be…friends," she said, stopping for a moment before him. Last chance, she told herself, and biting her lip, Buffy leaned forward and brushed her lips over Mack's, a feather kiss of farewell, before turning and walking out of the room.

He didn't move, not even as he heard her footsteps echo down the hall, away from him. Letting her go had to have been one of the hardest things the club owner had ever done, but pride didn't allow him to let her stay, not now, not yet. He may love Buffy Summers more than life itself, but damned if he was going to let her dictate to him how to live it. Mack played by his rules, no one else's, and one of these days, Buffy was finally going to learn that.

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

"It didn't work?" Anya's voice was incredulous, her hands on her hips. "How is that possible? That man was all beside himself last night talking about you."

Buffy shrugged. "Guess he didn't believe me," she said, but the relief was evident in her voice. Having to suck up to Mack had rated too high on the ick scale for her not to be happy she didn't have to do it anymore.

"I realize you're not Meryl Streep," Anya continued. "But couldn't you have at least pulled off Heather Locklear?"

"Well, I, for one, am glad Operation Little Big Mack was a big ol' bust," Xander said. "Didn't like it from the get go. And don't you dare be telling Spike I said that."

"Speaking of Spike," the Slayer said, rising to her feet. "I should probably go help them out with Tony since I'm not going to be of any use on the Mack front."

"Let us know when the spell's reversed," Giles instructed as he followed her to the door. "Xander and I will stay here for as long as necessary."

Buffy nodded. "I guess you got your way after all," she commented. "But if I hear one bit of gloating from you…" She waggled her finger at him in mock reprimand before heading down the outer corridor.

"I still don't see how he could've just turned her away like that," Anya said. "I was sure---."

"Let it go, Ahn," Xander interrupted. "It doesn't matter---." He cut himself off when the phone next to him rang, reaching over automatically to pick it up. "Hello?" There was a long pause, during which time the young man's face grew increasingly bleak. It finally ended with, "Sure. Got it, Mack. Just give me ten."

"What was that?" Giles asked as Xander put the receiver back in its cradle.

"I'm not so sure Buffy's plan didn't work after all," he commented. "Just not in the way she was hoping."

"Why? What's wrong?"

"Well, good news is he's called off the hit on Buffy."

"See? I told you he didn't want Buffy dead!" Anya said triumphantly, and then frowned. "Wait. Saying that's the good news means you have bad news, too."

"Yep." Xander slouched back against the rear cushions of the settee. "Mack wants to see a body."

"That's not so bad," Giles said. "Spike doesn't have a pulse, so there's no reason for Mack not to believe that he's dead."

"Yeah," Anya chimed in. "All Spike has to do is remember to keep his eyes shut."

Xander sighed. "He wants me to take Buffy, too---"

"That's still---."

"---so that she can place the order to get Spike cremated," Xander finished.

The trio sat in silence for a moment before Anya sighed. "You know, I'd say we've just gone out of the frying pan and into the fire, but that wouldn't really be very funny right now, now would it?"

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

The trio watched the female vamp struggle against the chains that bound her to the wall, the heavy irons around her wrists clanking mercilessly as she attempted to rip them from their hold. "And you're certain they won't…break?" Giles murmured, his voice shaded in worry. "They don't appear to be very strong."

"Trust me, they may look like toys, but they've definitely got staying power," Buffy affirmed, sneaking a glance at Spike out of the corner of her eye, the faintest of flushes tingeing her cheeks.

"We don't have much time before we have to go off and do Mack's little show and tell," the blond vamp reminded.

The Slayer nodded. The past hour had been a whirlwind of information---showing up at the club to find out about Tony's disappearing act and Melinda's arrival, calling Giles at Xander's only to find out about Mack's new order, convening back at Buffy and Spike's apartment to try and get what information from the female vampire that they could. It had been agreed that they'd put on a little show for the club owner at the morgue, allowing him to view Spike's supposedly dead body---OK, literally dead body, but right now she wasn't going to argue semantics---and then hopefully put the whole cremation thing off just long enough for them to get what they needed from Melinda, get Tony back, and get home. At least, that was the plan. Who knew what might actually happen.

"Then we should probably get started then," Buffy said, striding across the bedroom to face off with the other girl. "Hi," she chirped brightly. "I'm Buffy, the vampire slayer. And you are?"

"You know who I am," the vamp hissed.

"Wrong answer," Buffy said, her fist shooting out to connect with the woman's jaw, jerking her head back against the wall with the impact. "Let's try this again. I'm Buffy, the vampire slayer, and you are…?"

"…Melinda." She sucked at the blood between her teeth, her tongue darting out to catch the few drops that fell on her lips.

"See?" Her smile was wide, if not genuine. "That wasn't so hard. Now, let's say we get to the nitty and the gritty here. We know this painting is courtesy of your pocketbook, and we know the basics on how it works. What I'd love to have confirmed for us, though, is…who's the safety?"

"The club owner. Mack."

"And you reverse the portal by killing him?"

She rolled her eyes. "Well, duh." The collision between Buffy's fist and Melinda's abdomen caused the vamp to recoil in pain. She glared at the Slayer. "What did you do that for?" she growled.

Buffy shrugged. "Didn't like your attitude."

From behind her, Giles cleared his throat. "Any other…?" he prompted

"Oh, yeah." The young blonde turned back to face Melinda. "Outside of killing Mack, is there any other way to get out of this place? Some secret trap door that we don't know about? Click our heels three times and we're home?"

The captive's face screwed up into a frown. "No," she said. "Why would you need one? And if you knew Mack was the safety, why have you been dragging your feet about killing him? You could've saved me a trip into this place." She grunted as another blow landed to her stomach.

"I'm not sure you've got our roles down yet," Buffy said. "See, I'm the big bad interrogator, and you're the skanky ho interrogatee. 'Kay?" She pivoted to look at the other two men. "So we're back to finding Tony," she said. "Mack's a one-way ticket. We gotta get to him."

Spike nodded toward the chained vampire. "She came this far for him. I think it's a safe wager to say she'd know where he's rabbited to."

"I agree," Giles said. "Although why she's here is still a mystery."

Buffy frowned, swivelling back to face Melinda. "Yeah, I was kinda wondering that myself," she mused. "Obviously you got your painting back, but if that was all you wanted, you wouldn't have come into it. So what gives? What's the scoop on you and bugle boy?"

The two women stared at each other, cold blue eyes glaring at curious hazel. "His name is Tony," Melinda finally said through gritted teeth. "And he's my boyfriend."

Spike snorted. "Not accordin' to him, luv."

"He is!" she shot back. "He's just…confused right now."

"Sounds like you're the one who's delusional girl," Buffy commented.

"We've been together for almost ten years now. I'm not willing to throw it all away because of one little fight."

"Must've been a doozy if he was willing to run to a different dimension just to get away from you," Spike drawled.

"He wanted to hurt me," she retorted. "That's why he stole the painting; he knew how much I'd paid for it. But once he sees that I'm willing to have it destroyed just to get him back, he'll forget anything ever happened and we can go back to the way things were before." She turned beseeching blue eyes to Buffy. "C'mon, you've been in love, haven't you? Tony was the first boy I ever fell for. And I loved him so much, I didn't even turn him after I got bit, just because he asked me not to."

"Gee, that was generous," Buffy said dryly.

"Didn't stop the suckjobs," the other vampire added.

"Oh, like he didn't get anything out of it," Melinda snapped. "Me being a vampire opened a lot of doors for him and his stupid magic. I even helped him with most of his spells."

"You…helped him?" This from Giles.

"Well, sure. You think he learned that little sleeping beauty trick on his own? I taught him that. Just like I taught him most of the other spells he knows."

"What about…protection spells?" Buffy asked, suddenly tensing.

There was a moment where the female vamp just stared at the Slayer, and then her mouth formed a perfect little o. "Now, it makes sense," she said. "That's why you haven't killed Mack yet. So which one did he do? The fast-healing one? The disappearing one? What?"

"The lightning-bolt-from-the-chest-if-someone-makes-a-move-at-me one."

Melinda frowned. "That's not possible. That takes two people to do right." She waited for a response, but was met with their embarrassed silence. "Don't tell me one of you---?"

"She didn't know what she was helping with," Buffy defended.

"She? Tony got help from a girl?" The vampire's voice was rising. "I'll kill him. Little bastard thinks he can cheat on me."

"Hello? It was a spell. That hardly constitutes cheating. And Willow's already got a boyfriend. Kind of."

"It was Willow? That redhead he knocked out at the club?" Melinda's laughter began deep in her gut, bubbling forth from her bright-red lips to fill the room. "Well, fuck if you guys don't need my help," she sputtered in between giggles.

"Why? What do you know that we don't?" Giles stepped forward, his eyes narrowed.

"There's only way to reverse that particular spell, and it requires both of the castors to do it," Melinda explained, the smile still wide on her face. "So until you get Tony back to wake up sleeping beauty out there, you're shit out of luck."

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

Even if she was under the influences of magic, Gino loved watching her sleep, the delicate curve of her full lower lip, the tiny laugh lines around her mouth, the butterfly movement of her chest as she breathed. The innocence Willow fought so profoundly to deny while she was awake couldn't be hidden then, laying itself bare for anyone to witness, and it was all he could do not to scoop her into his arms right then, to shield her from any more hurt, hide her from any more pain.

He knew it was just a spell, and according to what that Melinda had said at the club, not a very dangerous one at that. Willow's not in pain, he had to keep reminding himself. She's just asleep. But the keen need to fix it, to wake her up from this slumber, was eating at his gut, a corrosive anger that chafed his patience. And the bickering couple next to the record player wasn't helping any.

"Just ignore him," Anya was saying. "We're going to get out of here soon anyway."

"And then what?" Harris replied. "I don't think you know what we're dealing with here, Ahn. Mack's dangerous all on his own. We ignore him and his orders, and there's no telling what he'll do."

"I admit, the man has a serious Napoleon complex," she argued. "But I hardly think he's dangerous."

Gino shot his black gaze at the other woman, his tolerance finally worn too thin not to respond. "Don't be a bunny," he barked.

Anya's eyes widened as she jerked back, his words almost a physical blow. "What?" she demanded. She turned to Xander. "Why would he say that? That's just mean---."

"He means, don't be stupid," her boyfriend explained.

"Oh." She visibly relaxed, and then straightened as Gino's full intent hit her. "Hey! That's still mean!"

"Your boyfriend's right," the bouncer said. "Mack didn't get where he is by playing nice. And if Harris doesn't do his dirty work, that don't mean he won't do it himself."

"See?" Xander said triumphantly. "Thanks, Gino."

The other man just waved his hand in dismissal and turned back to face Willow on the couch. She hadn't moved. Not that he really expected her to, but something, even a shift of her arm, would've been nice.

A loud crash from the bedroom jerked all of their attention to the door. "Buffy's going to bring down the roof, she keeps it up like that," Anya commented. "She can probably say good-bye to her security deposit."

Gino's eyes widened. "That was Buffy?"

"Probably," Xander shrugged. "Subtlety is not her strong suit."

"Neither is speed," Anya added. "How long is she going to take in there? We've got some killing to do."

On this, the dark bouncer agreed. Every second Buffy and Spike spent in the other room with Melinda meant one more second Tony got to get further away, which meant one more second Willow was under the spell. One too many seconds. And it wasn't as if he was accomplishing anything by just sitting here, holding her hand, waiting for someone to come out and actually do something. And even when they did come out, most likely they'd have to wait for the couple to return from the morgue before anything concrete was done about the trumpet player.

Xander frowned as Gino rose to his feet and headed for the door, face grim, hands flexing nervously at his sides. "Where you goin'?" he called after the other man.

"Out," came the terse reply. "Tell Spike I've got some work to do." And with that, he closed the door behind him.

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

When the trio emerged from the bedroom half an hour later, they each looked tired, shoulders slightly slumped, eyes drawn. Xander leapt to his feet at the sight, crossing the distance between them in just a few steps. "Well?" he asked. "Any satisfaction from our Vampirella?"

"Yes and no," Buffy replied. Her hazel gaze flickered over his shoulder to the couch. "Any change with Willow?"

He shook his head. "Still little miss Rip Van Winkle."

"Crap," the Slayer muttered. "That means Melinda's probably telling us the truth on the other stuff, too." For the first time, she noticed the absence of the dark-haired bouncer and frowned. "Where's Gino?"

"He left. Said he had some stuff to do."

"Just like that? No explanation?"

"Just like that. But then again, we're not exactly bosom buddies," Xander said. "I don't think he trusts me enough yet to tell me anything."

"What did Melinda say?" asked Anya. "Can we reverse the spell without Tony?"

Buffy shook her head. "And not without Willow, either. And we were right about the painting in Mack's penthouse being the way home. Once he's dead, we've got an hour window to touch it before it becomes permanently closed, and we're stuck here for good."

"So, chop chop. Let's get on the Tony-finding bandwagon," the ex-vengeance demon said, rising to her feet.

"As soon as we get this Mack business taken care of," Buffy said. "You wait here with Giles, keep an eye on Willow. We'll be back as soon as possible."

"Uh, hate to be the wet blanket here," said Spike, stepping forward. "But Gino took off. How'm I s'posed to get to the morgue without bursting into flame?"

"We'll have to drop you off first," the young blonde decided. She sighed heavily. "I am going to be so glad to get back to the Hellmouth. Slaying's going to seem like a vacation compared to all this."

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

It looked exactly like it had when they had left earlier that afternoon, the thick wood still staring back at him stolidly, mocking him with its closure. With one last glance around the empty corridor, Gino grasped the door knob and tested its lock with a firm jiggle. Strong, but maybe not strong enough. He took two steps backward, bracing his wide shoulders against the wall opposite the door, and lifted his foot, lashing out at the latch with all the force he could muster.

The wood splintered, but didn't break, and his shoe came up again, landing a second blow that forced the door to open with a sticky creak. For a split second, he froze, wondering if the sound would be heard by anyone else in the building, if all his efforts to break into Tony's apartment were just going to end up with him getting hauled into the slammer by the cops.

Nothing. Either everyone was out, maybe at work or something, or they were ignoring the very obvious signs of breaking and entering. Either way, there was no one rushing forth to stop him, to prevent him from getting into the apartment and find what he was looking for. Probably just glad it's not their place, Gino thought grimly, and stepped forward to push the door open wide enough for him to slip inside.

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

She stared into his grey eyes, chin held high, remembering Spike's last words before they'd dropped him off. "At the end of the day," he'd said, "Mack's just a guy who thinks he's in love with you. Even if you can't hurt him physically, that still gives you power. And power is what he's all about." He'd leaned in then, intending to just give her a light kiss in farewell, and though he'd been surprised when she'd pulled him to her, lips searching his, arms clinging to his broad shoulders, Spike had reciprocated in kind, only separating when Xander coughed, none too discreetly.

Deep down, Buffy didn't doubt that they'd get out of this painting alive and intact, but knowing the vampire believed in her, that he had no fears she would do what had to be done, armed her even more strongly as she faced off with Mack in the doorway of his penthouse. We will do this, she thought. Together.

"I wouldn't have thought you'd dress for the occasion," the club owner commented, his gaze sweeping over her made-up face, the sweater and trousers into which she'd changed, clinging to curves that only fired his temper further.

That's because I got vamp blood on my other shirt, she thought irritably, but said out loud, "In case we run late. I don't want to rush to get ready for work."

"Car's downstairs," Xander offered from behind her.

"Thank you." Mack's gaze slipped over her shoulder to his right-hand man. "I won't be needing you for this, Xander. Go ahead and relax until I get back, help yourself to some of that Dalwhinnie I just got. It's some of the best whiskey I've ever had." His hand curled around Buffy's hip as he pulled her out into the hallway and past the other man, oblivious to the panic that had risen in Xander's eyes as he watched the pair disappear around the corner.

"I'll just hold down the fort!" he called after them, and glanced back through the open door into the penthouse. Buffy alone with Mack…? Somehow, he didn't think that added up to anything good…

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

He knew it was just the fact that he was ultra-aware of the need to be quiet---that whole breaking and entering thing, though necessary, was still illegal---but Gino couldn't help but feel that every step he made in the tiny apartment was booming through the walls, announcing to the neighbors that someone other than the thin trumpet player was around, and that any second, a group of cops would come rushing in through the broken door behind him to arrest him. He was half-tempted to take off his shoes and walk around in his socks, looking for what he wanted, but knew deep down that that was ridiculous. Get a grip, he scolded himself. Remember why you're here.

An image of a sleeping Willow flashed across his mind's eye, and he set his teeth, glancing quickly around the room for where to start. Although his respect for Willow's friends was quickly growing, he was frustrated by their lack of focus, allowing Buffy and Spike to do all the work while they just waited in the wings, ready for the next order. Not that he was a leader, not by a long shot, but Gino hated having to sit on his hands when he knew there was something he could do. And they may be great at fighting demons and monsters back where they came from, but their vision was just a little too tunnelled to be truly effective here, not seeing the obvious right in front of their noses. Which was why he was in Tony's apartment, looking for the answers that would bring the musician back so that he could wake up Willow.

The desk. Start with the desk. The wood creaked as he pulled open the top drawer, and Gino froze for a split second, wondering if the sound had penetrated the thin walls. After a moment of resounding silence, he tugged it a little bit more, opening it just enough so that he could reach in and pull out its contents.

There wasn't much. A stack of bills, each carefully labelled paid with a date, none of them for anything out of the ordinary. A drycleaning receipt, probably for his tux for work. Gino certainly had enough of those to recognize it wasn't anything important, and set it aside. Some doodles…some more doodles…and as he shuffled the other papers aside, even more doodles stared back at him. The bouncer shook his head. What was with this guy and doodling?

When he reached the bottom of papers, he sighed, glancing around at the rest of the room. For whatever reason, Tony hadn't kept it in his desk which to Gino made absolutely no sense since that seemed like the most logical place to store it. Was it possible he carried it around with him? But why would he do such a thing? No, that made even less sense than not keeping it in the desk. It had to be here somewhere.

His feet carried him into the bedroom, and he stared around at the sparse furnishings before walking over to the nightstand. Sliding open the lone drawer, he was greeted with an empty space, and sat down heavily on the edge of the bed. Where could they be kept? There weren't that many places in the apartment to hide things, or to store things, or even just to keep things around, and for some reason, he'd pegged the musician as someone who'd be compulsive enough to…

He felt the hard outline under his fingers as he gripped the edge of the mattress. Frowning, Gino leant over, lifting the edge of the sheet to see the thin blue spine wedged into the bedframe, and he couldn't help the smile that spread across his wide face.

Jackpot.

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

The car ride had been silent, and Buffy mentally thanked whatever powers were watching over her for the brief reprieve from Mack's commentary. No matter what she said, he managed to turn it around into some snide remark about Spike, or her relationship with Spike, or something equally annoying, and she was beginning to get just a little ticked off at his whole attitude. Her palms itched from the desire to reach out and punch him in the nose, but she refrained, having to forcibly sit on her hands to keep them still, knowing that any offensive attack on the club owner would mean Kentucky Fried Buffy. There would be time enough later, once the spell was lifted, for her to take out her frustrations on the man. And she had every intention of enjoying every second of it.

As he led the way down the deserted hallways, Buffy trailing along behind him, Mack began to whistle under his breath, almost as if he were excited about the prospect of visiting the morgue. The young woman scowled in distaste. He was altogether too jolly for someone who was about to go and view a corpse, she thought. Not that he hadn't already been viewing it every time he saw Spike, but that was different 'cause he didn't know…Mentally, she shook herself. Stupid semantics. Stop thinking about it so much.

The only thing she was worried about now was that Spike hadn't gotten caught out by anyone who worked here. The arrangement had been for him to get rid of the staff---have them called away, whatever, as long as he didn't actually get rid of them in the sense of killing them---so that she and Mack could get in, take a look, and get out again before anyone was the wiser. She'd deal with the cremation order later if she had to; right now, she just wanted to get this done and over with so that she could get out and look for Tony.

"This place is like a morgue," Mack joked, as they rounded another corner and walked into silence, both of them noticing that they had yet to encounter another living person since they'd arrived.

"Can we just find the room, please?" she asked, unable to hide the annoyance in her voice.

His glance back at her was cool. "You don't seem particularly glad to be here," he commented.

"Because looking at Spike's dead body should be just like Christmas and my birthday all rolled up into one, right? Only without the getting presents and, you know, being happy part." She shook her head. "Even you can't think I could possibly be thrilled about being here."

"You could think of it as…" He paused in front of a narrow white door. "…closing the door on that chapter of your life."

"How do you know this is the right room?" Buffy asked as Mack reached forward for the doorknob.

"Xander said so," he replied as if it was the easier answer in the world.

She hung back as he pushed it open, grateful for the small relief that knowing Xander was still in the clear brought. At least she didn't have to worry about him getting on Mack's bad side. And he was so miserable right now with everything else that had been going on, he was in no danger from falling under the painting's spell. Having him in the club owner's good graces was definitely a bonus.

"Not that he's going anywhere," Mack said, glancing back at her over his shoulder, "but this will go much quicker if you don't dillydally in the hall."

Buffy realized as she stepped through the entrance that she'd been holding her breath, almost as if she was afraid of what they were going to find inside, as if she hadn't orchestrated this whole set-up in the first place. This isn't going to be hard, she reminded herself. Spike's body is already dead, therefore no pulse, therefore in and out, no harm no foul. Except being alone with Mack was giving her the creeps, and no amount of diversionary thinking tactics was keeping the goosebumps from crawling over her flesh, or the tiny hairs on the back of her neck from standing up on end.

The room was virtually empty, with the exception of a single gurney covered in a white sheet, the unmistakeable outline of a man's body underneath it. Though she knew what she was going to see once the sheet was pulled back, a cold, hard knot began winding its way up her intestinal tract, stiffening her from the inside out, the all-too real perspective of standing in a morgue about to view her lover's dead form suddenly blinding her to their true purpose here. She wasn't even aware when Mack eased past her, pulling the door from her lifeless fingers and gently closing it against the outside. Nor was she able to blink when his hand curled around her wrist and guided her to the gurney's side.

"I think you should have the honors," he murmured, directly behind her.

Sick, she thought. Sick, and twisted, and starting to get just a little too scary for his own good. But until she could hurt him---until she could kill him---Buffy didn't have a choice but to do what he said. After all, it wasn't as if she didn't know what to expect.

Taking a deep breath, she reached out, her hand steady, and grasped the edge of the top hem of the sheet, pulling it back just enough to expose Spike's head. His face was immobile, the harsh overhead lighting casting pallid shadows under the contours of his cheekbones, his lashes and brows too dark against his colourless skin. This was different to seeing him sleep; even then, there was some sort of play across his features as he dreamed---and she knew from experience that he dreamed---while now, there was just…nothing. I've seen enough dead people, you'd think this wouldn't wig me out so much, she thought irritably. But it did. And it took all her strength to take a step back from the gurney.

"Not quite so pretty when he's dead," Mack commented dryly, and brushed past Buffy, gazing coldly down at the other man's inert form. "Though I would've liked to see more damage, even a black eye perhaps. Pity how even in death he manages to walk away unscathed." His mouth curled into a cruel smile. "Well, except for the being dead part, of course."

"You've seen him. Can we go now?"

"Patience, Buffy. Patience." Pulling at the edge of the sheet, he further uncovered the vampire's shirtless torso, gleaming pale-white and looking more alive than the rest of him, courtesy of the tightly corded muscles that etched his abdomen, and the grimace of hate flickered across his grey eyes. With thin fingers, he plucked the dead man's wrist from the side of the table, holding it lightly within his grasp as he searched for a pulse.

"Are you happy? He's dead. Let's get out of here." Buffy couldn't keep the anger from her voice, folding her arms across her chest as she stepped backwards toward the doorway.

"Oddly enough, no." Mack's face was thoughtful as he glanced back at the young woman, one hand reaching into his jacket pocket ever so casually. "I'm not happy. I wonder why that is?"

"Because you didn't get enough cocoa in your Cocoa Puffs this morning?" she retorted. "'Cause that'll do it for me."

"I suppose it's because it still feels like he won," he murmured, and took a step closer to Buffy. "You still love him."

Her hazel eyes clouded. "You think that just because someone dies, the feelings go with them? Like they never actually existed? The body's gone, so sayonara to being in love, is that it?" She shook her head. "And you wonder why I didn't wait. If that's your definition of love, Mack, you're going to spend an awful big part of your life alone."

"Even more alone than losing you to that…third-rate goon has made me?" She saw the muscles in his face twitch as he fought to maintain his composure. "I loved you, Buffy. I would've done anything for you. All you had to do was ask. You wanted that apartment; I bought it for you. You wanted to be the best-dressed dame in the club; I made sure that happened. I did that. Not Spike. Me. Because I loved you."

"And that's exactly why you'll never be the man Spike is…was." She caught herself in her error, correcting it in hopes that he would just attribute it to the blond's too-recent demise as opposed to not being dead at all, and barrelled on. "You don't want to love me. You want to buy me. That's a massive difference. If you really loved me, you would've seen how happy I was with Spike and just said good for you and backed off."

"When exactly did I become the bad guy in all this?" Mack demanded, two spots of color appearing high upon his cheeks. "You left me. You were the one who made a fool out of me by fucking around with Spike behind my back. Then, you have the moxie to move him into the place I bought, the pair of you probably laughing about pulling a fast one on the stupid, rich ex-boyfriend, only he doesn't know he's the ex because you don't have the guts to tell me that to my face."

The blade appeared in his hand out of nowhere, and Buffy realized that he must've pulled the small pocketknife from his coat, the hand that had been tucked inside it now cradling the weapon with a lover's touch. Though it glinted in the bright lighting of the small room, she refused to give him the satisfaction of reacting to it. After all, just because she couldn't hurt him, didn't mean she couldn't dodge any of his blows. She was the Slayer; super-speed had to have some advantages in this scenario.
"Look," she started, her tone even. "I know it hurts---."

"Hurts? You think this hurts?" His grey eyes were almost black with anger. "You can't possibly have any idea how it feels---how I feel---until you've been where I am, Buffy. It doesn't hurt. It fucking burns." She watched as he turned back to stare at Spike's still form. "Just like he's going to. He'll know what it feels like then. To be consumed by the fire until the only thing you want is for it to end. Even if I can't bring myself to physically hurt you, Spike at least will get a taste of this hell you've put me in."

"Spike's dead, Mack. He can't feel anything anymore." She'd liked it better when he'd been coolly vicious, not this rabid spurned lover with enough venom in him to knock out a small Asian country. Just play it safe, she told herself. Try to keep him focussed on logic. Stay away from feelings. "Having him cremated out of some need for revenge isn't going to accomplish anything."

"Oh, but I think it will." Mack edged himself to the side of the gurney, staring down at the vampire in blatant disgust. "I like the sense of irony it has. It appeals to the aesthete in me." The knife came up, and he began tracing a winding path along the sheet with the flat of the blade. "I burn. He burns. We all burn together." The tip of the knife snagged on the fabric and skittered across Spike's arm, leaving a trail of tiny bloody dots in its wake.

Buffy's eyes widened at the sight, and she found herself holding her breath, hoping that the blond vamp wouldn't move; it was only a scratch, after all. Better to just get Mack out of here…

"So let's go sign the order," she said, stepping forward to his side, catching his elbow in her hand. "Right now. That's what you want, right? So let's do it."

"In due time…" He seemed mesmerized by the way his weapon was dancing in the light. Pulling his arm from her grasp, he slowly circled the gurney, putting it between him and Buffy so that he could look up into her face. "How long will you mourn him, I wonder? Black really doesn't suit you, you know. You look so much…lovelier in color."

"Do you have a point?" she asked quietly. "Because hanging out in morgues is not my idea of a fun afternoon. If you want to talk, or to yell at me, or whatever, can we please do it somewhere other than standing over a dead body?"

"I rather like the edge it gives me," Mack replied. "It's keeping you…alert. So, answer the question, Buffy. How long will you mourn?"

There was a long silence as the two regarded each other. I should just walk out right now, she thought. Put an end to this cat and mouse game he's insisting on playing. He'd follow me…I think. She was beginning to wonder if she could predict any of his behavior in the mood he was in right now. "Do you ever stop mourning the death of someone you love?" she finally answered. "I mean, life goes on, and you wake up every day, eat your cornflakes, go to work. You get through it. Maybe you fall in love again. Maybe you don't. But you don't forget. You don't ever forget."

"And how will you remember him?" His voice had taken a steely edge, and the hand that held the knife grew agitated. "With his arms wrapped around you? Making love to you? Hearing that damned English accent as he whispers sweet nothings in your ear?"

"There's no right way for me to answer that and you know it."

"No, I suppose not." Mack's gaze returned to Spike. "But I know you'll remember the face, that perfect face that the girls at the club are always talking about. Don't think I don't hear them, know how half of them would kill to be in your shoes, Buffy. And all because of this damned face." And there was the knife again, hovering over the vampire's cheeks, the tip impossibly close. "Maybe I don't want you to remember it this way. Just maybe I'd like for him to be…not so pretty."

The blade sliced through the air, carving an arc in the hollow beneath Spike's cheekbone faster than Buffy could blink. She saw the vampire's jaw twitch, his nostrils flare just ever so slightly, and then the crimson of the blood as it began to ooze down the side of his head…dripping into his ear…sticking to his hair…captured her attention.

Mack seemed oblivious to any response from the body before him, raising the small knife to see the viscous fluid that clung to its blade. "Still fresh enough to bleed," he murmured. She saw the gleam appear in his eyes, the sadistic lift of his mouth, and felt the first ounce of true fear since arriving here at the morgue. He was going to slice him open, right before her eyes, and poor Spike had no idea…

"Don't." Buffy swallowed, hating the fact that the next word was going to come out of her mouth. "Please."

His look of triumph was unmistakeable. "Ask again," he demanded.

Her heart was racing. "Please don't cut him," she repeated, before braving, "For me?"

"But that's what this has all been about." His face hardened. "All. For. You."

She sensed the movement before it actually came, and let her Slayer self take over, grabbing Spike's arm and yanking him from the gurney. As she pulled him to the far side of the room, his eyes shot open, and he stumbled against her, using her shoulder as leverage when he straightened. "Sorry," Buffy muttered, then caught the frozen stare of the man on the other side of the table.

"It's…not possible," Mack was murmuring, his breath suddenly coming in short, shallow bursts, his eyes glued to Spike. "You're…dead."

The vampire's laughter was more of a bark, and he sneered at the club owner as he wiped at the blood on his cheek. "Yeah, well, I've always been the one for surprises. Keeps people on their toes."

"But…" He seemed at a loss for words, the shock of what he'd presumed was a dead body suddenly walking…talking… "You didn't…no pulse…it's not possible."

Buffy sighed. "Well, looks like if we're already in this up to our neck, we might as well go whole hog." She glanced at Spike out of the corner of her eye. "Show him."

It took him only a second to realize what she meant, but the joy he felt when he did spread across his face like wildfire. "My fucking pleasure," he growled, and in the space of time it took him to swivel his head to stare over at Mack, Spike had slipped into his vampire visage, fangs elongating in a snarl, ridges jumping prominently onto his forehead. With one graceful sweep of his thumb, he swiped at the crimson still running down his face before bringing it to his mouth and licking it, the tip of his tongue a lethal point.

Mack staggered back at the sight of the demon who now stood before him. It was just like something out of the movies, only up close and personal, and why wasn't Buffy bothered by this? His grey eyes darted between the two, his muscles refusing to work, and he just stood there and gaped.

"I think this is an excellent time to, you know, run," Buffy whispered to her companion, and resuming her grasp on Spike's arm, pulled him out of the room, slamming the door shut behind her.

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

They came to a halt in the alley behind the building, panting only slightly as they stopped for a moment to assess their situation. "Guess this buggers up our deadline," Spike commented, back in his human face.

"Yeah, well, if Giles asks, I'm not the one who ruined the plan, got it?" She straightened, staring up at the early evening sky. "We'll just tell him you moved or something when Mack cut you."

"Like Rupert doesn't have enough reasons to hate me," he muttered, and glanced toward the end of the alley, and the car that was parked there. "Well, what now?"

"First, we get Xander and the painting the hell out of Dodge. No telling what Mack'll do when he comes to his senses, and the last thing we need is to be worrying about how we're going to get to the picture in time once he's dead."

"Gotta get our hands on bugle boy before that can happen."

"That's number two on the list." She matched his gaze to the car and grinned. "Feel like knocking out Mack's driver and stealing his car?"

He laughed. "Nice to know some of my influence is rubbin' off on you, after all," he chortled. "But no way am I takin' the blame for that one with your Watcher."

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

He stood before the closed building and mentally swore at himself. Should've been faster, he thought. Should've found it sooner. He'd rushed over as soon as he'd gotten what he wanted, risking more than one ticket as he ran a couple of red lights, and still he'd missed it. Closed at five o'clock. Stupid bank and stupid bank hours.

That was the one thing Gino had realized the others weren't taking into consideration. In order for Tony to run, he was going to need money, or else he wasn't going to get very far, and based on what the bouncer had read in his bank book, he didn't have enough moolah to just pick up and leave whenever the fancy took him. The musician was going to need whatever funds were in his savings account in order to get anyplace, which was why Gino was now standing in front of the First Union Bank, staring at its locked doors.

He wasn't good at the thinking bit; coming up with the money idea had been what he thought was his first and best chance at catching Tony. Now, though, he was faced with the very real possibility that the guy was gone for good, and that Willow wouldn't ever wake up, and that Buffy and Spike would eventually end up being dead because they couldn't kill Mack in order to…

Gino shook his head. Trying to sort it out gave him a headache. Better to just not think. I should probably just go on back to Spike and Buffy's, he silently resolved. They'll have a plan. They'll know what to do.

He turned around, hands stuffed in his pockets, ready to cross the street to get back in his car. The sense of failure overwhelmed him, and he gritted his teeth against the hollowness it left in his throat. Sorry, Willow, he thought, and then paused as the bus went thundering past, exhaust fumes filtering in the cool evening air. He had walked halfway over the road when he frowned, glancing up at the red rear lights of the departing vehicle. Tony didn't have a car; Gino's search of his apartment had proved that. So, if Tony was going to blow, he was going to need…

His smile was grim as he hurried to get into his car, sliding his bulk over the leather and fumbling with his keys. One more shot. Just a quick hop over to the station, find out what he wanted, and if nothing turned up, well, then he'd head back to Spike's. Of course, it would be better if he wasn't empty-handed…

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

Even for that hour of the night, there was a crowd milling around the bus station, people of assorted shapes, sizes, and ages, each with their own tale of why they were about to embark on this particular journey. It was easy to blend in, to lose himself among the nameless faces as they waited, and for the first time since seeing Melinda, Tony was beginning to breathe a little easier, hope seeping into his aspect in spite of his still-knotted stomach.

Everything was still all gone to shit, but at least it was all happening behind him now. As well as were all his clothes, and all his magic supplies, and all his…Crap. This had not been how he'd planned it. There was supposed to be enough of a warning that he'd have time to get back to his place, grab his bag, and get on the first bus out of town. Melinda wasn't supposed to come chasing after him like a vamp out of hell, and Willow wasn't supposed to have figured out what the protection spell he'd done was actually for, and the Slayer certainly wasn't supposed to be after him with her scary vampire boyfriend. Lots of things not supposed to happen. Somehow that didn't make him feel any better.

Getting the money from his bank account had been a nightmare. Without his bankbook or any kind of proper ID, the teller had refused to help him, giving him the runaround so long that he'd begun to despair actually making it to the bus station in time. It was only when the manager had stepped in, putting him through the longest interrogation he'd ever undergone as well as making him give several handwriting samples so that they could compare signatures, did anything actually happen. And even then, they wouldn't let him clear out the account, allowing him to withdraw just a few hundred dollars. It was enough for a ticket though, and would hold him over for a few days while he found work wherever it was he ended up. And that was better than nothing.

So now he waited, breathing in the stale exhaust of long-banished fumes, watching the anonymous pass in front of his bench, allowing himself to wonder now and again where a nun could possibly be going, or why wasn't anyone keeping an eye on that little girl with the teddy bear, or did that blonde really think she looked good wearing that much make-up. For a brief flash, he thought he caught a glimpse of a shoulder that looked familiar, but whoever it was disappeared inside the station, and Tony settled back and resumed his people-watching, his trumpet tucked safely between his feet.

When he heard his name over the loudspeaker, it almost didn't register, so lost in thought was he. He frowned, glancing back at the station doors, wondering if maybe he'd misheard. What could they possibly want with him inside? Two minutes later, the announcement was repeated, and this time, there was no mistaking who they were asking for. This just isn't my day, Tony grumbled, as he rose to his feet. If they tell me something's wrong with my ticket, I swear I'll zap them into rats.

The inside of the station was just as dark as it had been when he'd arrived an hour earlier, and surprisingly enough, just as deserted, considering how many people were waiting around outside. Marching over to the lone window, he set down his case, ready to argue with whoever was trying to make his getaway even more difficult, when a large hand clapped gently over his mouth.

"I got a bone to pick with you," he heard, and stiffened at the rumbled threat in the bouncer's voice. He wanted to argue with him, plead for his freedom, but Gino's grip tightened, pulling him slowly away from the windows and, more importantly, away from any witnesses.

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

They met Xander in the hall outside their apartment, and the younger man quickly scanned over Spike's torso before coming up to look at the cut on his face. "I'd say you look like hell, but I'm guessing you already know that," he commented. "Did you rob a goodwill store for that shirt?"

"Nicked it from Mack's driver," the vampire growled. "See how good you look in a shirt made for a man the size of a lorry."

"As entertaining as it always is to listen to you two go at it," Buffy interrupted, "we don't have time for this right now." She pushed the door open and waited for the two men to enter before stepping inside herself. Her brain was working in overdrive, trying to figure out what step to take next…how in hell they were going to find Tony…how she could use Melinda to get him to reverse the spells…if Xander and Giles were ever going to give Spike a break, especially since he was obviously going to be a bigger part of their lives from now on. She sighed. Just once it would've been nice to have a boyfriend that was easy to explain, or was easy for everyone to get along with. But then again, that wouldn't be her life, now would it? That would be too simple, and if Buffy knew nothing else, she knew that; a Slayer's life was never simple.

It was almost as if they'd never left. Willow still slept on the couch, Anya and Giles were playing cards at the coffee table, and from the bedroom, Buffy could hear the faint clanking of chains as Melinda still struggled to get free. "How's our guest doing?" she asked.

"Being very loud," Anya complained, and laid down her cards. "Gin."

"Are you all right?" Giles queried, rising to his feet and crossing to his charge. "Your phone call was rather…short."

"You can thank Mack the Knife for that," Spike said, and turned to face Buffy. "Don't really fancy usin' my good booze to clean this out properly, luv. Think we've got somethin' that'll work just as well?"

"First aid kit's in my bathroom," she replied.

"What exactly happened?" Giles asked after the vampire had stomped out of the room.

"Mack decided he wanted a new career as a sculptor, only with knives and dead bodies, and guess who was his first subject?" She shook her head. "I think I seriously underestimated him, Giles. He's pissed off as hell, and OK, maybe we bought a little time by freaking him out over Spike being a vampire---."

"Wait a minute." His blue eyes frowned behind his glasses. "You told him Spike was a vampire?"

"Well, kind of, in the not so much speaking way and more in the Spike vamping out in front of him way." She bristled under his disapproving glare. "Let's see how creative you get in ways of defending yourself against a jealous ex-boyfriend when you know you can't lay a finger on him. And did I mention the knife-brandishing? We're talking major jones for wanting some blood there, Giles. And why am I even arguing with you about this?" She brushed past him and collapsed into a chair. "It's done, it's over with, and I just want to find Tony and beat him senseless until he reverses the spell so I can give Mack a piece of my fist."

"I don't suppose you've come up with a plan for finding him?" Anya asked. "In between the having Xander steal a painting from a mobster and getting Spike to let the world know he's a vampire, I mean."

Buffy sat up. "Look, I certainly don't need your attitude right now, either," she barked, and then sighed. "But no. No plan. Not even a hint of a plan. I was kind of hoping you guys would've come up with something. I'm feeling planned out."

The other girl shook her head. "Nope. Only thing that happened around here while you were gone was Giles lost enough hands of gin to pay my rent next month."

"We weren't playing for real money, Anya," the Watcher reminded her.

Her scowl was immediate. "Well, then why was I trying so hard?"

"What about Gino?" Buffy asked. "Anyone heard from him?"

"No, which is probably just as well. Willow's going to have a difficult enough time separating from him as it is. If he's not here, then, perhaps…" He was interrupted by a short knock at the door, and watched as Xander crossed to open it.

"Well, speak of the devil…" the young man started, only to cut himself off when he saw Tony's unconscious form being dragged along beside the burly bouncer.

Buffy leapt to her feet, watching as Gino unceremoniously dropped the musician onto the floor. There was tape over Tony's mouth, and the bruise that covered the left side of his face was probably going to hurt like hell when he came around, but other than that, he was alive; even better than that, he was here.

"What…? How…? What…?"

Gino ran a thick hand through his hair, ducking his head. "Thought I'd try my hand at some good old-fashioned footwork," he said. "Found him at the bus station."

"Why the gag?"

"You gotta be able to talk for the magic stuff, right?" He blushed. "I just figured if he couldn't talk, I was safe."

"It also helps if he's out cold," Buffy muttered, squatting down to gaze at the musician more closely. "How'd you find him?"

"Just followed my nose and took a chance." He looked up as Spike came sauntering back into the room, buttoning a new shirt around his slim frame, the cut on his face cleaned up considerably. "What happened to you?" he asked of the blond vampire. "I didn't think you had to worry about that Melinda getting gashouse with her all chained up like that."

"We didn't. Met the wrong end of Mack's knife at the morgue."

Gino paled. "You didn't…well, no, you couldn't…" He hung back and watched as Buffy hefted Tony over her shoulder, carrying him to the chair she'd just vacated. The musician groaned as she plopped him down, the sound muffled behind the tape, and his eyelids fluttering open, panic quickly setting in as he realized where he was.

"Hi there," Buffy chirped with a wide smile. "Long time no see."

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

The bruise was starting to swell over his right eye, so glaring up at the Slayer lost some of its effect as he struggled just to keep her focussed. "As much fun as this is for me," she said, arms folded across her chest, "I'm getting kinda tired of asking. So this is going to be the last time, got it?" She didn't wait for a response. "Will you reverse the spells, please?" She grinned. "Look, you even got a please with this one. How can you refuse that?"

Tony grimaced, eyes darting to the people grouped around the room. He didn't believe it was going to be the last time she'd ask. If he said no, she was just going to keep on hitting him, and though he'd known from Melinda that the Slayer was a real threat, until he'd been on the receiving end of one of her punches, he just hadn't appreciated just how much it would hurt. And hurt it did.

Very slowly, he nodded, and saw the look of triumph light her eyes. "I'm glad you're finally seeing the fist of reason," she said. "Now, I'm going to take your gag off so we can get started. But if I think for a second you're pulling a fast one, you're going to be out colder than a dead fish. Got it?"

Tony nodded again, and watched as she reached forward, gripped the end of the tape, and ripped it from his face. The pain was searing, sucking the air from his lungs as it left, but he didn't make a sound, just scowled up at Buffy. "I always thought the Slayer was supposed to be a defender of the people," he said angrily. "Making me do this is the same as making me sign my own death warrant, I hope you know."

She sighed. "What're you whining about now?"

"You don't think Melinda's going to kill me at the very first opportunity she gets? Why do you think I ran in the first place?"

Buffy glanced back at where the female vamp was tied up on the other side of the room. "That true?" she asked. "You came all this way just to take a bite out of bugle boy?"

Melinda shrugged, but the delight in her face at the idea was obvious.

"See?" Tony demanded. "And don't think she won't pull the torture thing, as well. She likes to play with her food before she eats it."

"Ewww. So didn't need to know that." Buffy frowned. "Don't think I'm letting you stay here. You don't belong in this world."

"So he can just run when we get back to Sunnydale," came from Melinda. "That seems to be what he's good at." She smiled at her bruised ex. "But don't think I won't come for you, Tony darling. I found you here, I can find you there." She yelped as Spike punched her in the face, her head rolling back before coming back to face the Slayer. "Tell your boyfriend to lay off, why don't you," she snarled.

"You had it coming," Buffy murmured, and walked over to Giles. "I hate to say this," she said, "but he's right. I can't leave either one of them here, but I just know he's not going to be safe once we get back home." She bit her lip, lost in thought. "I think I got an idea…"

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

They sat in chairs opposite each other, both bound with their arms behind them, both gagged, though Melinda's gag was more from Buffy getting tired of listening to her melodramatic screeching than any real need to keep the vampire quiet. Their eyes were locked in venomous enmity, Tony's blazing in hatred, his ex's fired from anger, and for a split second, the Slayer wished that she could just kill both of them and put them out of her misery.

"All right." Giles' voice was calm, but hard-edged. "I'm going to remove the gags now. If either of you says anything untoward or if I hear even the beginning of an incantation, Buffy will proceed to show you exactly how well she's learned how to inflict pain with as little effort as possible. Is that understood?" He waited for them both to nod before reaching forward. "Fine."

Tony's face twisted in hostility as soon as his mouth was clear. "Bitch," he spat.

"Asshole," Melinda countered, momentarily slipping into her vampire face before a knock on the back of her head by Spike brought her back to her human mask.

"Well, at least it isn't magic," Giles murmured, before leaning back in the chair that completed the triangle in the middle of the room. "Now, let's get started, shall we?"

"I don't have anything to say to her."

"Like I'd even want to listen, you mortal jerk."

"Really? That why you decide to come slumming in the painting? Couldn't handle the fact that I was ready to move on? Or that maybe that I might be interested in someone with an actual heartbeat?"

The Watcher pulled off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes. "Buffy, not only is this wasting valuable time, but…this is ridiculous. I hardly think that couples' counselling falls within the realms of my responsibilities, especially when the couple consists of a vampire and a human."

She sighed. "Do you have a better idea on how to get them so they at least won't try to kill each other? 'Cause I'm fresh out, and we can't afford to be wasting our energy babysitting them when we've got our own Ed Gein out there to kill. If it'll make you feel better, you can think of it as practice for me and Spike." She caught her lover's cocked eyebrow. "Not that I'm expecting we're going to need counselling," she quickly amended. "But, you know, just in case."

"You could let me babysit him. I'll make sure he gets tucked in all nice and cozy. Maybe even read him a bedtime story. Something nice and bloody," Melinda growled.

Giles lifted a warning finger to the female vampire. "Threats are not constructive here," he chastised. "And if I hear one more from you, that gag is going back on your mouth."

"He started it," she whined.

Tony rolled his eyes. "Because I have such control over my life, right? I play your lapdog for how many years and the second I ask for a little room on the leash, you turn into some psycho bitch from hell. If anyone started anything, it was you."

Buffy leaned back against the wall, watching the pair in the middle of the room argue, Giles' head going back and forth like a spectator at a tennis match, every once in a while interjecting some piece of advice or word of warning as their fight grew more heated. Part of her couldn't really believe it was actually happening like this. This entire nightmarish experience---OK, not really that nightmarish, since she did get Spike out of it, and the dancing part had actually been kind of fun, but the rest of it most definitely qualified as bad dreamy---had all started because of a stupid lover's quarrel. Tony wanted some freedom, Melinda was afraid of losing him, and bam! Everything to hell in a handbasket. Or a demonic painting, as the case may be.

And it wasn't as if she could get super-pissed at either of them. Yes, they were annoying to no end, and if she had to hear any more of that histrionic drivel come out of the female vamp's mouth, all that poor me and what am I going to do crap, she was going to stake her just on the principle of the thing. But come down to brass tacks, and it was really all about a girl, and a boy, and what being in love had done to them.

Her hazel eyes glanced over at where Spike was hovering behind Melinda, arms folded across his chest as he did his best bouncer imitation. When was the last time she'd had a real boyfriend? Parker certainly didn't count; one week of what turned out to be his stock conversation pieces and a single night of "nice" sex hardly constituted a long-term relationship. And Angel? Sure, she'd loved him. How could she not? He'd been the fantasies teenaged girls drooled over. Tall, dark, broody, mysterious. OK, the vampire thing had thrown her for a bit, but he'd had a soul, did the whole white hat thing. The fact that he was naturally fanged could be overlooked. But then, of course, when Angelus had come back, it was bye-bye relationship, hello heartache, and nothing had ever felt the same after that.

Not until Spike.

By all rights, he shouldn't make sense. They shouldn't make sense. Slayer, vampire, been there, got the t-shirt. And he didn't even have a soul. That in itself should've been enough to scare Buffy off. But it didn't. And they did. And, though she didn't know why, she wasn't going to argue with it.

He must've felt her steady gaze, because his head tilted, glancing back at her out of the corner of his eyes, a tiny question lifting the corner of his mouth. She smiled in return. Oh, yeah, she thought. They made sense. Things might get crazy, and power-hungry, other-dimensional ex-boyfriends might decide to go all Norman Bates on them, but hey. She lived on a Hellmouth. What more could she expect from life?

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

Giles sighed, replacing his glasses on his nose, the lines seemingly deeper around his eyes. "Right, then. Where are we at? Tony?"

"I need to understand that Lindy needs to feel loved," the musician recited, his now-calm gaze locked on the woman opposite him. "Which means paying attention to the little things, let her know I notice when she does something different with her hair, or something like that. And just because she's whining about how bad her day was, or how she doesn't know how she's going to get rid of some enemy, doesn't mean I go into Mr. Fix It mode and try to solve all her problems. She just wants someone to listen."

"Melinda?"

"I need to appreciate that Tony is his own man and that sometimes he needs his space, which might not include me, but doesn't mean he loves me any less," the vampire replied. "And that I can't expect him to read my mind if I'm feeling something. I need to tell him what's going on inside my head because otherwise it's unfair for me to get angry with him."

"Or…?"

"Buffy will hunt both of us down," they said together, the pair of them glancing fearfully at the Slayer standing just behind the Watcher.

"Good." Giles rose to his feet, and turned to his charge. "For the record, this little addendum to my Watcher qualifications is going to cost you, but…they're all yours."

"Good." Buffy stepped forward, rubbing her hands together expectantly. "Who feels like a little magic?"