Placing a fairly short yet more than deadly sword in her canvas bag, Buffy slid the zipper shut, glancing up at her already prepared friends. Morphing her features into a militant nature, she began rattling off the procedure. “All right. Does everyone understand exactly what they’re supposed to do?” her voice was tight, almost stressed. At first, the thought of having Spike back was relieving, but after explaining the situation to the Scoobies, and waiting the required three days, tension had begun to build in her system, popping up every now and then. 

When her friends tossed out looks that said ‘I’m pretty sure I know, but I’m not totally sure’, Buffy’s head dropped. Skimming over everything she had planned, the Slayer quickly picked her eyes up again, making contact with each of her friends. First, she would explain procedure, then she would go back over the rules. “All right…” focusing upon Xander and Anya first, Buffy’s tone remained orderly.

“Xander and Anya, I want you guys to stay in town” upon seeing the questioning look on the carpenter’s face, Buffy cut him off before he could begin. “I don’t want you guys getting stuck in the woods with no way to defend yourselves except weapons. We don’t know what to expect from Spike, and it’s best if you’re in a crowded area when you find him” her gaze held its caring yet serious mask as she spoke.

Waiting only a split second before turning to the pair of witches, Buffy assigned the next group. “Willow, Tara, you guys sweep the cemeteries. Be extra thorough in the one where Spike’s crypt used to be but check every one carefully”. Both sorceresses nodded and the Slayer did so as well, allowing the smallest of smiles to caress her features.

Sighing as she finally faced her Watcher, Buffy’s arms were crossed by now. “Giles, you and Dawn are coming with me” she turned more toward her friends at this point, her next words being partially for their benefit as well. “We’ll search the forest, check out the other less-populated areas where you guys won’t be going”.

Everyone’s heads dipped in compliance, understanding their tasks perfectly. Still not finished, Buffy continued briefing her troops after another concerned sigh. “Remember: we don’t know how Spike will react. There’s a chance that he’ll be as harmless as Mary Poppins, but for now we’re going to assume that he’s completely insane. So that means we’re dealing with a mindless vampire who happens to be missing a certain government chip. Understand?” she said seriously, casting a look around the group.

Each Scooby member nodded in comprehension. Although Spike had turned to dust on the sheets of Joyce’s bed, ashes tossed ceremoniously into the wind afterward, his chip implant had somehow survived the process. Of course, now that the group needed it more than ever, the plastic device was sitting in Spike’s duster, the leather article of clothing hidden within the depths of Buffy’s closet.

“So what you’re saying is…” Xander clarified for everyone. “At the first sign of trouble we either run like Hell, shoot him with the tranquilizer gun, or cast a spell” referring with his hands to each group and their particular form of protection, the carpenter was satisfied with the Slayer’s nod and gave a proud smile.

“Right. Don’t forget: meet back at my house before dawn. Now is everyone ready?” the Slayer’s most intimate friends took hold of their particular weaponry and set a determined gaze upon their female hero. Thanking them with a silenced smile, Buffy seized the handles on her duffle bag and paused only a moment to collect herself. Glancing at her long-time friend and fated Watcher, the Slayer instantly turned her attention to reaching the Magic Box’s front door, her friends falling into pace beside and behind her. Each humanoid wore a look of slightly frightened courage, the whites of some knuckles already beginning to show. It was one thing to tame a soul-bearing Angelus, it was quite another to attempt controlling a tortured, insane, natural-born killer by the name of William the Bloody.

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Except for the fact that every out-of-the-ordinary sound had the ability to make her jump, Buffy’s night had been relatively slow. Not a single rogue vampire or easily disposed demon. Chipmunks and squirrels seemed the only variety of non-human life roaming the forest that evening.

Silence made Dawn nervous, it tingled the back of Giles’ spine but kept him thoroughly curious, and held Buffy in an overall alert state. The Slayer was somewhat nervous with having her little sister tag along on patrol, but for some reason, leaving Dawn at home alone, or even sending her to a friends’ house just didn’t seem like the most responsible idea.

“How you guys doing?” she asked absent-mindedly, needing something to fill the endless and shadowed void surrounding her trio.

Dawn glanced to Giles for some form of direction, but found only a solemn, focused stare. “Um, okay…” her voice slithered nervously out, ending up as a resonation not much stronger than the average whisper.

“Giles, have we looked up there yet?” Buffy seemed to ignore her sister’s response upon being unable to ignore the appearance of a rather large hill not far in the distance. They had been searching for perhaps two hours already, and the closest they had come to success in capturing anyone was when they had accidentally stalked someone for twenty minutes, not realising that he was only out for a midnight stroll. In the end, Buffy had insisted that the man’s hair had been blonde, not red.

Stopping in his tracks, Giles turned around as a way of orienting himself, seeking out various landmarks. When his vision was trained upon the hilltop once more, a small shaking of his head occurred. “No, I… I don’t believe so. We came from… that direction,” he pointed behind and to the left of them. “So we couldn’t have”.

“Nope, haven’t been there yet. I would have known if we had been by Crazy Adam’s” Dawn supplied, receiving an odd stare from each of her comrades. “Long story… there was a snowboard and some apple pie involved,” she added, failing to erase the confused looks she was getting.

Snapping out of her distracted thought process, the Slayer was able to look back at Giles without thinking of apple pie. “Well then, what are we waiting for?” re-adjusting the shoulder strap on her tranquilizer gun, Buffy turned toward the hill. Whether they found Spike at it’s peak or not, the mound of earth would definitely be an excellent vantage point.

Their trek was neither long nor difficult. Within seconds it seemed, they were floating atop the sea that was Sunnydale, on a deserted island amidst the oceanic city built on one of earth’s few Hellmouths. And yet, despite the promise of having her only vampire colleague returned to her, Buffy was able to find absolutely nothing of interest that couldn’t have been found at the hill’s base. “Well, that was pointless” she said without her usually stealthy tone of silence.

Turning to her sister and Watcher, the Slayer’s eyes bore a tone of angered disappointment. “I mean, who am I kidding? This whole thing is pointless! How are we ever going to find Spike? Even if he actually does come back, there’s a thousand places he could be!” she sighed in exasperation, throwing her hands partially upward with her words. “We’re never going to find him…” shaking her head, Buffy took an impromptu seat as she flopped to the earth, sighing with exasperation.

“Now Buffy, don’t be so hard on yourself. If worst comes to worst, we can always have Tara or Willow perform some kind of locating spell” Giles said comfortingly, knowing that it didn’t take much to lower Buffy’s spirits. “We simply have to keep looking. Spike will turn up tonight… it’s simply a matter of where and when” he said, maintaining a soft, optimistic smile.

“Giles is right” Dawn added. “We’ll never find Spike if we just hang around here” when her sister didn’t make any sort of reaction, Dawn thumped her heel against the ground. “Besides… Spike is gonna need us. We can’t just leave him out there” her eyes roamed the forest as she spoke, wondering what chances the blonde vampire would have in the somewhat dangerous environment.

Listening to the words of her Watcher and sister, Buffy could feel some of her energy returning. Looking up to either of them, wondering how she had come to be on the ground in the first place, Buffy nodded. “Okay,” she said, beginning to haul herself upward. “But I definitely think we need a new plan. This whole going-through-the-bush-blindly thing really isn’t working,” she said convincingly, hoping Giles would have a suggestion.

As if he had read her mind, the older English man spoke up. “Well, may I suggest that we simply stay here for a while? It is very likely that Spike will arrive by means of a portal, and from this viewpoint, we’ll no doubt be able to see it” he offered, noticing with the other girls that almost every inch of Sunnydale’s forest could be seen from the hill’s summit.

Taking only seconds to decide in favour of Giles’ suggestion, Buffy nodded. “Sounds like a plan. All right then… Dawn, you watch over there, Giles you can take that region, and I’ll scan get the rest” dividing what they could see into three main sectors, the Slayer rattled off her orders. Having changed from pessimistic to overly optimistic with only a few words from her loved ones, Buffy could feel determination solidifying in her veins once again.

Dawn, she realised, had been right when she’d said that Spike would need them upon return. Whether he was brutally insane or as helpless as a kitten, the vampire would no doubt require some assistance to remain part of earth’s dimension. Dying again by some avoidable incident was something Buffy was not willing to tolerate. They were going to find Spike, and they were going to do it tonight, no matter how hopeless the cause might seem.

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An hour crawled by, slithering with leisure past the Slayer and her comrades. Midnight was only a half hour away now, the likely deadline for Spike’s return creeping closer with each miniscule moment that passed by. Despite all of her determination to find and save the vampire from yet another untimely death, Buffy couldn’t help feeling discouraged, doing an emotional one-eighty yet again. Failure was never an option in her eyes, but in the rare times when it became a reality for her, the Slayer was devastated.

Eyes glued to her portion of Sunnydale’s vast territory, Buffy searched for any supernatural occurrence, ready to jump at the first sign of unnatural light from a portal or petrified screams from a possible victim of Spike. “Find anything yet?” she said to Giles and Dawn, wondering how they were coping with the agonizingly slow and uneventful pass of time.

“No” came Dawn’s teenaged voice, followed quickly by a yawn.

“Nothing yet, Buffy” Giles said, obviously more used to a Slayer’s crazed schedule of stakeouts and hour-long hunts. Rupert had a silent notion that Buffy’s motives for bringing the vampire back extended a little further than fighting capabilities, but he wasn’t about to say anything. Living his life as a father figure for the young woman, Giles had learned to see past her barriers. It was obvious to him that Buffy felt a little more for the peroxide freak than the emotions that usually develop between allies- perhaps a twisted form of friendship. The Watcher had mixed feelings about such a fact, but kept his secrets away from the sometimes-judgemental Scoobies.

Feet hurting from having to stand for so long, Buffy shifted her weight for the umpteenth time that night, glad that she had at least worn running shoes for the event. “I’m sorry you guys. I know how pointless this must seem” she sighed, wondering absently if Dawn had school the next day. “What was I thinking, dragging you all out here? We might never find him… Spike could be” she stopped. In her somewhat unique way, Buffy had been in the process of rolling her eyes when the sought-after spark of supernatural light suddenly snagged the corner of her peripheral vision.

Having been prepared for Buffy’s rant to continue on, Giles was slightly shocked when an abrupt halt occurred in her line of speech. Hoping that the rise of optimism in his chest would soon be justified, the Watcher turned to his Slayer. “Buffy?” he questioned, resisting the urge to give his glasses a nervous scrub.

“Giles, look…” she breathed, wide emerald eyes fixated on a single illuminated point in the distance. Vaguely, Buffy heard Dawn turn around as well, her gasp no doubt caused by the rapidly growing oval, its entire mass illuminated by unseen candles. “Is that…?” she stumbled, hoping to God that she wasn’t dreaming, hoping that she hadn’t fallen asleep at some point in the past hour without realising it.

Even though neither girl could see him do so, Giles nodded faintly. “Yes, I- I believe so. From this distance it’s hard to tell the nature of that… phenomena, but I’d say that our chances are very good” the Watcher answered, bringing his classic form of English calm to the scene.

Believing her elder’s commonly accurate assumptions, Buffy turned on her heel to face him. Determination had carved deep ridges in the pits of her olive eyes, solidifying in her other features as well. Wasting no time with formalities, she instantly spoke up. “Giles…”

Before she could get a second word out though, the older Brit put a soft hand on her shoulder, his smile equally warm. “I know… Dawn and I will catch up” he said with understanding, not blind to the situation’s pressing urgency.

“Thanks…” she said simply, glancing at Dawn with mixed emotions. There were so many reassuring words she wanted to offer the teenager, but time was of the essence. “I’ll see you,” she said simply, quickly hugging the young girl.

“I know” Dawn answered, though her eyes held more depth than such a effortless response. Smiling, she used a meaningful amount of pressure to return the blonde girl’s hug, hoping in the crypt of her mind that they were about to get Spike back.

Tightening the strap on her tranquilizer gun, Buffy exchanged a last set of glances with her loved ones after pulling away from Dawn. Giles simply smiled, giving her a look that said ‘you’d better get going’. Dawn was silent, her lips slightly curled into a smile, no secret message held in her casually riveted posture. Deciding to take her Watcher’s advice, the young, seemingly frail girl turned on a rubber heel, facing the night for a single calm moment.

And then she ran.

Branches, twigs, rocks, and fallen trees; whatever nature could conceive of made an attempt at slowing the Slayer. Through her panicked, blinding velocity though, the blonde girl hardly noticed. Hands reached without a second thought to push away the low-hanging limbs of trees, her head and body flexed in accordance with various horizontal obstacles, and it seemed as if her legs had mapped out an injury-free route hours ago.

Every ounce of the portal’s brilliant light had been shed only seconds ago, and Buffy’s eyes remained fixed on its last location. After hours of arduous searching and listening to the doubtful whispers in her subconscious, the Slayer’s wish had finally been granted. Nothing, whether its origin be Heavenly, Hellish, or earthbound, was going to stop her from completing her mission. Nothing was going to stop her from reaching Spike.

Halt!

Contracting each of her skilled muscles, Buffy obeyed the command, not realising at first that it had originated from within her. Eyes still fixed forward, it took another moment for her peripheral vision to register the existence of a synthetic object, something that didn’t belong in the forest. Allowing the emerald centres of her orbs to cautiously slide downward, the Slayer’s chest tightened with her shocked gasp.

At first, Buffy considered herself foolish for undertaking such a reaction. After all, she had been given ample time to prepare for Spike’s return. Of course, such an event was incredibly underrated in its ability to shock people. Buffy had been expecting Spike; she had been ready to receive him from Hell and hopefully recuperate his surely broken mind. But this was something different. How could anyone prepare for the shock of stumbling upon a once mortal enemy, his naked, ruined, and quite shivering body within a ten-foot proximity?

Cascaded in a blanket of moonlight, its beam slightly interrupted by overhanging trees, Spike’s naked, shuddering form appeared infinitely less threatening than it actually was. Although he had only just escaped from some ungodly Hell dimension, Buffy couldn’t help but take the time to realise that his creamy complexion was unmarred. Either it was a condition of being reincarnated, or Spike had possessed a rather skilled aptitude for self-preservation, which he maintained over a century or so of unlife.

Oh, God! Focus, Buffy, focus! You’ll have plenty of time to ‘ooh’ and ‘ahh’ over Spike when you get him home and in the safety of restraints… Buffy asserted herself, not wanting her easily distracted mind to wander even a millimetre from its line of duty. Taking in a deep breath, the Slayer shuffled through the rather concise process of readying her faithful tranquilizer gun.

Lifting the barrel to what she guessed was the correct height, Buffy let out a long breath. “Say hello to suspiciously easy” she said, a faint hint of worry resonating at the edge of her usually confident voice. Buffy gave the trigger a fluent squeeze, and Spike’s body responded with a signature jerk, the silver dart penetrating his flesh, relaxing venom instantly finding its way through his veins.

Replacing her weapon in its cradle across her back, the Slayer now stood before the unconscious form of her resurrected ally. Amidst absolute silence, the soft ripple of Spike’s erratic shuddering now dissipated, Buffy permitted her mission a moment’s hiatus. Jade orbs taking in the blonde vampire as their subject of focus, the Slayer forced herself to really look at him for some unknown reason.

The fact that Spike’s face was not visible made it easy for Buffy to admit something to herself; all things considered, he was a fairly handsome creature. Never before had the vampire’s flesh been quite so exposed to her, muscular triceps and rippling back always hiding beneath the leather of Spike’s loyal duster. Although he wasn’t the tallest or most brawny of his species, concealed within such a lean build was strength that even Buffy found difficult to overcome at times.

Bodily functions keeping her sewn to reality, the Slayer gave her head a light shake, distracted thoughts quickly dispersing. Consuming what few feet separated her from the vampire, Buffy took a knee beside him, suddenly wondering what her next course of action was to be. Of course, it was obvious that she needed to get him back home, but what then? Was it stupidity to bring Spike back from Hell, to hope that there would be some way of restoring what sanity he once possessed?

Spike’s visage now within full view of her slightly glazed orbs, the Slayer realised just how troubled he appeared. Fright and chaos were scrawled messily across the vampire’s features, his face twisted into a crumpled heap of tension. Wherever he had been moments ago was most definitely a place Buffy would be willing to wait an eternity to visit. Any dimension that could cause Spike to look so utterly disturbed had no potential for friendliness.

“Buffy!” the Slayer snapped to attention, head whipping to face the voice’s origin. “Buffy!” Giles repeated, the Englishman’s signature call not difficult to identify.

“I’m here, Giles!” the blonde girl answered, eyes flickering to the lifeless shape before her. Perhaps it was the absence of his dark, mysterious jacket, its poise about his body utterly intimidating, but with an absence of clothing, Spike seemed so… vulnerable. Absence of clothing? Her mind repeated the phrase, finding it a little too grammatically perfect. Absence… of… clothing… oh, God! Spike! Naked Spike! Giles! Dawn!

After years spent concealing the unacceptable and unexplainable, Buffy’s reaction to remove her jacket was almost instantaneous. With fluid movements, she draped the faux-leather garment over Spike’s nether regions, hands cautious to avoid contact with them in the meanwhile. How the Hell was she ever going to get him home like this?

“Buffy!” her Watcher’s voice penetrated the evening stillness once again, followed closely by an echo from Dawn. Glancing in the sound’s general direction, Buffy could make out what she assumed to be the vague, wandering contours of her companions. Standing up, she double-checked the fact that Spike’s appearance was of a strictly PG-13 nature before responding to Giles’ call.

“Over here, Giles!” she returned, throwing a momentary glance at Spike before stepping toward her comrades. Intercepting them within seconds, the Slayer was lucky to have done so in a region that made Spike rather invisible to her family. “Hey,” she greeted them with a slightly breathless smile, purposely putting her body in front of Spike’s.

“Ah, there you are” Giles breathed upon approach. Heaving in necessary litres of oxygen while speaking, the Watcher glanced behind his protégé, able to see the faint outline of what he supposed to be a vampire. “You found him?” he asked, wanting confirmation.

“Yeah… Didn’t put up much of a fight though,” she said, eyebrows flickering upward momentarily. “Which, to be honest, gives me a major wiggins…” at Giles’ questioning glance, Buffy gave a deep sigh. “I mean, if the Powers did that on purpose… If they were willing to just hand Spike over to us, shouldn’t that be a bit of a warning?”

“I’m afraid I’m having a bit of trouble understanding you…” Giles said, Dawn nodding silently.

“It’s just… How crazy can Spike be if the Powers were willing to make it so easy to find him? What exactly have we gotten ourselves into?” arms crossed with concern, Buffy shook her head to the side in an attempt to reset a stray lock of hair. Watching as comprehension washed over Giles’ features, Buffy gave a slight nod, briefly turning to look at the vampire.

“Giles, I want you to take Dawn home. See if you can round up the others on your way… I’ll meet everyone at my house in an hour” although she sounded confident, the Slayer was constantly posing new questions for herself. Carrying Spike home was one thing; carrying a naked Spike home while trying to coordinate the placement of her leather jacket over his private parts was quite different altogether.

“But Buffy, won’t you need help getting Spike home? I know you have Slayer strength and everything, but it’s kind of hard to sneak through Sunnydale with some guy tossed over your shoulder” mimicking her sister’s crossed arms, Dawn finally chose to speak.

“If you’re suggesting that you’d like to help, the answer is no. I’d rather give the good people of Sunnydale a lesson on human anatomy than my little sister” Buffy returned with bitter sincerity.

Dawn’s eyes spread to full width in that moment, head sliding forward in curious disbelief. “You mean… Spike’s… He’s…?” she stumbled over a wanted sentence while attempting to look past her sister’s barricading body.

“Yes. He is. The Hellmouth has a strange habit of sending back its torture victims without their clothing” dryly responding to her sister, Buffy decided then to turn back to Giles, constantly readjusting her position to match Dawn’s inquisitive manoeuvres. “Please take her home, and make sure the spare bedroom is ready when I get there… Dawn, stop it!” ruthlessly putting Dawn in her place, Buffy’s gaze slid back to Giles within seconds.

Chuckling softly when his Slayer’s temper snapped, Giles placed a soothing hand on her already tensed shoulder. “Everything will be ready. I’ll see you in an hour” smiling gently, he then took Buffy’s tranquilizing weapon from her, knowing the projectile would only get in the way. “Be careful” Giles said, fully trusting that his Slayer would not put her own life in danger for the sake of Spike’s.

“I will” drinking a cleansing breath, Buffy’s eyes remained locked on her sister and Watcher. “See you soon” the Slayer smiled with only partial confidence, turning from her companions after the proper salutations had been executed. How am I going to do this? Buffy vaguely heard herself think yet again, consciousness now focused completely upon the vampire.

Fishing in her pocket briefly, the Slayer was relieved to find an extra tranquilizer dart. “Please don’t make me use this,” she mumbled, kneeling next to the chalk-skinned reincarnate. Emerald eyes wanted desperately to roam the vampire’s form, mysteriously curious about moonlight’s effect on his various rippling muscles.  It was mind over matter though, and for once in her life, Buffy’s mind was winning a usually futile battle.

“All right, Spike… God, it’s so weird to be saying that… Well, it’s even stranger that I’m standing here talking to myself, but…” realising that she had started what could possibly become a drawn-out conversation, Buffy paused, shaking her head. “Let’s get you home” the Slayer’s eyes focused on Spike in that moment, vocal chords having gotten back to their original trail of speech.

Thankful that the opening in her jacket was currently spread across the side of Spike’s thigh, Buffy quickly fastened the buttons, figuring it couldn’t hurt to keep the garment around him. As she came up with different tactics for carrying the vampire, Buffy also tried to imagine different excuses should she run into people along the way.

Fireman’s hold: practising to be one of the first female Sunnydale Firefighters… her first and foremost thought was created with a somewhat logical explanation. Holding him under the arms and knees… he thought it would be funny if I carried him like the bride for once… she would definitely have to modify that one. Piggyback… he fell asleep at a friend’s house… I just live down the street… hey, it didn’t sound totally crazy. Of course, undermining each of her genius explanations was the fact that Spike was wearing only a girl’s jacket, the garment furthermore being worn around his waist.

Buffy groaned aloud at the absurdity of her situation, knowing that no matter what, she would appear completely insane to anyone who passed her by. Randomly choosing to start off with an over-the-shoulder hold, the Slayer closed petite palms over Spike’s upper arm and leg. Balancing the vampire’s weight properly over either shoulder, the blonde woman set a determined set of brilliant green orbs straight ahead, right leg falling forward, planting itself perhaps two feet in front of her other appendage.

Alright… Buffy thought internally. One footstep down, about four thousand to go…

“Shouldn’t Buffy be back by now?” there was a slight quiver in Dawn’s voice as she spoke, brown-haired teen studying what could be seen of Revello Drive. It had been nearly an hour since her last sighting of big-sis, and the teenager was beginning to worry.

“Well, it depends. Judging by her rather unique situation, Buffy could have run into any sort of difficulty along the way” Giles said soothingly, gaze also flowing from the front window. “I wouldn’t worry just yet, Dawn”

“What do you think he’ll be like?” she said softly after a brief pause, momentarily glancing at the Watcher.

Giles frowned in response, hoping the other Scooby members would be able to offer their opinions. As he groped for words, the older man glanced around the room, blank stares being the majority response.

“Absolutely crazy” Anya jumped in, receiving a few odd stares at her confident statement. “I once sent someone to Hell for a day… He came back all jittery and a little insane” she justified, speaking in a frighteningly casual tone.

Frowning, Willow vaguely nodded, glancing to a slightly embarrassed Xander. “I think I’d have to agree with Anya” surprised eyes were thrown in the Wicca’s direction, her decision to concur with the ex-demon a sign that Hell was most definitely beginning to freeze over. “Well, we all heard about what Angel was like when he came back… and Spike was gone for twice as long as he was…”

“And he was crazy enough before he died” Xander laughed dryly, adding to the group’s general feeling of nervousness surrounding Spike’s return. “Do you think Buffy realises what she’s getting herself into?” the carpenter asked no one in particular, the question veering in Giles’ direction on its own accord.

“I’m not totally sure to be honest with you,” the older man said gently, not wanting to stab at his Slayer’s judgement more than necessary. “But seeing as though it’s Spike we’re dealing with, Buffy must know what she’s doing” Giles explained, attention now averted from the window.

Silence fell upon the group then, no one able to come up with a reasonable objection to the Watcher’s statement. Sunnydale’s current Hellmouth situation was not a pretty one; the vampire population was growing steadily, a once revered subspecies becoming nothing more than over-intelligent rabbits; there was also the arrival of a new demon clan. No name had been placed on the overly intelligent group yet, but for the Scoobies, any demon with an intellectual capacity capable of outweighing that of a human’s was definitely threatening. Even Xander had begun to hope that Spike would be successfully recuperated.

Shattering a cloud of idle silence was the rough reverberation of wood being mercilessly cracked open. Anticipating glances were tossed from Scooby to Scooby as everyone jumped up, needing no second guesses to name the meaning of such a sound. “Honey, I’m home!” came Buffy’s strained voice, her back thoroughly aching from her awkward cargo.

“Hey, Buffster! We were beginning to worry about you!” Xander was the first to speak, no mention given to the vampire slung over his best friend’s shoulder.

“Aha, yes, well…” she said quickly, cutting off anyone else’s chances at speaking to her. “I’d love to chat and everything, but you have no idea how heavy Spike can get after an hour… is everything ready upstairs, Will?” Buffy threw a glance at her red-haired friend.

“Yeah, uh… Tara will be here in a few minutes” she smiled, fingers clasped around the ends of her sleeves. “We just forgot to pick something up at the Magic Box”

“All right” the Slayer half-grunted, eyes suddenly fixed on the staircase before her. Heavy footfalls took her forward, the slightly astounded gazes of her friends following her along every inch.

“Need a little help there, Buffy?” the carpenter offered, wondering if Buffy, Slayer strength and all, would be able to ascend the monstrous staircase.

“No…  Thanks, but… I think I can make it up the stairs” she croaked. Drinking in a recharging breath, the Slayer continued toward the staircase, her footfalls taking on the form of a running start. Rubber sole met oak tread and Buffy’s quadriceps contracted immediately, scaling the next four vertical obstacles within seconds.

Five sets of lungs remained without movement in the meantime, the Scoobies simply staring after Buffy. Thump, thump, thump, three more stairs… Thump, stomp, stomp… She cleared the landing in a split second, executing the final steps with perfect accuracy. It was only then that the Slayer’s companions followed, having dreaded the thought of being caught on the stairs behind a potentially unstable Buffy.

Dropping Spike to the cushioned surface he had turned to dust upon months ago, the Slayer’s first reaction was to stand up straight. Hands at the base of her spine, she tipped her head back, arching in the same direction. Groaning with relief as several kinks and knots were quickly banished from her vertebrae, Buffy wanted nothing more than to be lying beneath the experienced hands of a masseuse.

A thunder of hooves though, and her peaceful setting was destroyed, the faces of her friends appearing from behind the corner. Buffy straightened at the sight of them, gaze tossed to the still half-naked form on the bed. “Hey” she said, melting farther into the room to accommodate for the five extra bodies. All the while, her gaze remained fixed upon Spike, lost in some far-off world of thought. 

“So it really worked,” Willow said quietly, the first to catch her breath out of the quintet. Her gaze studied Spike, mature mind immune to his indisposed state. 

“It really worked” bluntly answering her friend, Buffy tore her gaze away from the pale, unconscious figure. “Of course we still have a long, long way to go… but at least it’s a start” she sighed gently.

“Who votes that we start by getting some clothes on him?” Xander broke in, fracturing the rather apprehensive atmosphere.

“Splendid idea” Giles returned, eyesight having not even skimmed the vampire since his appearance in the front entrance.

“Agreed” speaking with thorough concurrence, Buffy uncrossed her arms and moved behind the group, coming to rest by her mother’s makeup bureau. Especially to the relief of Xander and Giles, her new position caused their gazes to be aimed in the completely opposite direction of Spike. “Right, uh, Dawn, you’re going to stay here and go through mom’s drawers. See if you can find some old track pants or something. Willow, go downstairs and wait for Tara. The second she gets here, let me know. Giles, I want you to get me some more rope… whatever you can find. I have a feeling we’re going to need it. Xander, Anya, I want you guys to go back to the Magic Box and pick up a few more tranquilizer shots. If you see an all-night hardware store open along the way, stop in and buy a few locks. Hurry back” tossing out orders as they flew through her mind, Buffy’s voice was assertively calm.

“In for a little more than we planned, Buff?” came Xander’s slightly nervous voice, though he chuckled airily at the comment.

“I think so,” Buffy admitted, eyes flickering past the group to Spike’s still comatose body. “I just don’t want to take any chances…” she sighed, emerald jewels flickering back to the slightly jarred faces of her friends. “All right guys, let’s get going… I don’t know how much longer that stuff is gonna last” at the drop of her imaginary hat, everyone was in motion.

Willow, Xander, and Anya shuffled from the room as quickly as possible. Giles’ wise gaze lingered upon his instinctive Slayer for a moment before he too turned away, already thinking of the various locations where he would find heavy-duty twine. Meanwhile, Dawn crossed the room, abruptly halting before her mother’s dresser. Closing her eyes, the teenager tried to push away any feelings of guilt and dread, attempted to treat the wooden case like any other stash of clothing. But she couldn’t do it. Dawn couldn’t bring herself to shuffle through her mother’s things…

“Buffy?” the teen’s shaky voice attracted her sister’s attention as Dawn turned away from her mother’s wooden furniture.

“Yeah?” the blonde girl said quickly, emerald eyes flickering over the young girl’s form with a neutral tone.

“I… I can’t…” she began, running into immediate difficulty with the task of finishing her sentence.

Dawn’s quivering voice, along with her position in front of the dresser told Buffy what words could not. Sighing gently, emerald orbs fixed empathetically on her sister, the Slayer stood up. “It’s okay” her whisper was soft, surprisingly understanding in such a hurried situation. “How about you go downstairs and wait with Willow?” running a finger through Dawn’s hair, Buffy let her hand simply fall to the teen’s shoulder.

“Ok-okay” Dawn gave a miniscule laugh, attempting to flush out the various shivers running amok along her spine. “You sure you’ll be all right?” eyebrows lifting, her blue eyes glanced toward the still half-naked figure on Joyce’s bed.

“Yep… the situation is under control” she smiled then, taking the hint of her sister’s need for a lighter mood. “Besides, even if Spike does wake up, I have one more dart left, which should be enough to keep him asleep until everyone gets back” her gaze flickered to Joyce’s nightstand then, Dawn’s eyes doing the same.

“All right… We’ll let you know when Tara gets here” Dawn gave an incredibly faint smile as she spoke. Realising though how essential time was to their mission, the younger girl ushered past her sister, succeeding in her attempt to not glance in Spike’s direction as she did so. Thankfully, the brown-haired teen was smart enough to close the bedroom door before making her way downstairs.

Fixing her gaze on Joyce’s dresser, Buffy resentfully approached the towering piece of furniture. Months had flown by since her mother’s passing, and only now was Buffy filled with enough courage to open the haunting drawers. Closing her eyes as she pulled at a wooden handle, the Slayer was forced to ignore whatever floral scents bombarded her. Now was not the time to get stuck in an emotional bubble.

Shuffling briskly through the drawers, attempting to waste no time on formalities, only seconds passed by before Buffy’s hands emerged from the neatly-folded stacks of clothing, slender fingers clutching a pair of yellow track pants. Mom had yellow pants? Shaking her head, lightly humoured by her mother’s various tastes and habits, Buffy came to rest at Spike’s side, the pants dangling between either hand.

“Well” she gave a light sigh, jewels drinking in the vampire’s vulnerable flesh. “Here goes nothing” eyebrow raising at the comment, mouth twisted in a manner that exposed the awkwardness of her situation, Buffy got to work on the task of redressing her fated foe. Then again, after all he had done for the Slayer and her cause, Spike could hardly be classified as a ‘foe’ anymore.

God, he was beautiful though. Buffy couldn’t remember what she had thought of Spike upon first meeting him; the fact that he was trying to kill her didn’t open a lot of opportunities to admire his appearance at the time. But now, suspended beneath moonlight’s gentle gaze, each of his perfectly preserved muscles dusted with silver powder, the vampire was incredibly alluring. “Please be curable,” she whispered gently, securing the elastic waistband around Spike’s hips. Every molecule of her sometimes cynical mind hoped for the best to come out of Spike’s current condition; vampire or not, it would be no easy task if she were required to execute the blonde-haired man for a second time.

Time seemed to stand still as Buffy went about the fairly simple task of lashing Spike to her mother’s sturdy bed. Doubting that any normal means of restraint would be able to hold him down, the Slayer was forced to criss-cross his arms behind his back, securing his left arm to the right side of the bed, and vice versa. Note to self: don’t let Dawn have any friends over… Buffy thought mentally, knowing that teenagers would draw the wrong conclusions from seeing a man fixed in such an unconventional manner.

Tightening the final restraint, Buffy shot a glance at the clock on her mother’s nightstand. 2:39 am. Fairly certain that Spike had returned around midnight, a magical hour for all supernatural activity, the Slayer had to assume that perhaps thirty minutes remained until the vampire awoke from his artificially-induced sleep. 

Idly glancing around the room, Buffy’s eyes casually wafted over different objects, but were suddenly snagged at the sight of a single object. Beneath the bedroom window, a burgundy easy chair summoned her presence, tired, aching limbs strongly wishing to comply. Groaning, the Slayer practically fell toward her cushioned saviour, petite form sagging into its wine-coloured embrace before she even realised what she was doing.

Lazy eyes firmly secured upon Spike’s soon-to-be-stirring form, the Slayer decided that perhaps sitting wasn’t such a bad idea. After all, with a killer back from Hell taking up residence in her mother’s bedroom, Buffy didn’t foresee many chances at a good night’s sleep in the near future. Having only just finished an hour-long trek through some of Sunnydale’s most challenging terrain, she at least owed her body five minutes worth of rest.

“Are you guys all finished up there?” Buffy was the first to speak, having glanced up to see Willow and her blonde lover descending the staircase.

Reaching the landing, Willow gave an affirmative nod. “One vampire barrier successfully installed” her smile was nervous, almost shaky. “We’re not totally sure if it worked though…” she glanced Tara, who was equally uneasy. “Doing a de-invite for an entire house is one thing… Protecting just a little portion…” Willow tipped her head ever so slightly to the side, features becoming uncomfortable.

“It’s okay, Will,” Buffy gave a sympathetic smile. “Whatever you can do to help is great… I appreciate it” the Slayer’s voice was soft and collected, hardly displaying the veins of fear rupturing everywhere within her.

Silence fell over the group then, everyone retreating into their own particular worlds. Mostly, the Scoobies were frightened, the reasons for such practically running a marathon through their minds. Only Buffy knew what to expect of the bleached vampire; no one else had seen Angel when he’d returned, didn’t know just how insane he’d been.

Idle thoughts of Spike thrummed several chords within the Slayer, and she became painfully aware of how soon he’d be waking up. Reading the troubled body language of her friends, she gave a light sigh. “You guys had better get going… Sleeping beauty will be waking up soon, and I really don’t think you want to be around for that” Buffy’s eyes lifted as she spoke, as if she could see Spike through layers of wood and drywall.

“Are you sure you don’t want one of us to stay with you?” Xander tossed in, despite the fact that he was already on Dawn-duty for the evening.

“I’m sure. The last thing I need is for Spike to escape while one of you guys are around… especially since he’ll have a major lacking in the sanity department,” she said seriously, eyebrows lifting to complete the mood.

Final statements were mumbled, a few last offers of aid auctioned to the Slayer, but she accepted none of them. Feet moved about almost robotically as the Scoobies closed in on the front door, exchanging salutations with Buffy before heading out. Willow offered her friend a hug, Tara simply smiling in the midst. Xander and Dawn copied the redhead, while Anya added a chirpy and quite unusual comment of encouragement. Giles was the last to go, simply placing a hand on his Slayer’s shoulder, softly speaking words of assurance and trust. Everyone’s farewell was met with an equal sense of thanks by the blonde hero, and within a few, unrecalled moments, she was left leaning against the interior side of her wooden door, staring at the staircase with determination for a second time that evening.

Time to face yet another chapter of my twisted destiny…

¤+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+¤

Only seconds passed it seemed before Buffy was listening to the first muffled whimpers of a tortured vampire attempting to arise from artificially induced sleep. Standing in a shaded corner of the moonlight-soaked bedroom, the Slayer had decided that it was best to allow Spike some time to adjust before approaching him. Each of the vampire’s movements were carefully observed though, a corner of Buffy’s mind apparently fascinated with his situation.

Beautiful features crinkled as Spike’s head twisted from his left shoulder to his right, and then back again. Every so often, his upper arms would tense suddenly, biceps muscles protruding from the vampire’s milky skin. Whatever was swimming through his mind at that moment surely couldn’t have been pleasant.

Whimpers turned into strained moans though as Spike’s entire body arched from the bed’s cushioned surface, every muscle fibre in his well-toned body seizing this time. Arms tied behind his back, any woman would have marvelled at the show as he then turned slightly in Buffy’s direction, pain seeming to originate from his right side. Although they were mortal enemies, the Slayer couldn’t help but feel a pang of sorrow for his obvious torment.

Perhaps five seconds passed through oblivion before Spike relaxed suddenly, air expelling from his dead lungs at blinding speed. Reflexively, Buffy sighed in the same moment, eyes closing for a moment to regain her focus. Opening her pair of emerald jewels, the Slayer was startled to see that Spike’s eyes were also unfastened. Not just ajar though, she noticed; the vampire’s azure optics were completely exposed, lids drawn back to their full allowance.

For a moment, the spheres remained still, completely relaxed in their newly restored eye sockets. Stay put… Buffy ordered herself, a sudden urge to step forward instantly shot down by the two syllables. Mesmerized, the Slayer watched as Spike’s eyes began rapid movement, oscillating from one region of the bedroom to another, never remaining fixed upon a certain position for more than two seconds. All motion was abruptly severed though when his line of sight grazed Buffy’s hidden form. Right… night-vision… the Slayer reminded herself, keeping silent nonetheless.

Panic had become a natural reaction for Spike’s animalistic mind over the centuries. New environments generally meant torture; Hell, any environment meant torture. But when his eyes became cemented upon Buffy’s form, everything came tumbling down for the vampire. Usually he was spared at least a moment to adjust to any new surroundings, left alone as terrified suspense solidified within his system. Today was different though, apparently; the bringer of anguish had already arrived.

Apprehensive eyes evolved into a hating nature as Spike gave a last, snarling attempt at scaring his attacker away. Buffy stayed still. Features twisted into a visceral position, distorting any sign of peace that had once been set upon the vampire’s features. Buffy remained static. Both of his attempts snuffed out by the strange, hardly-demon like creature, Spike then set to work on a deep, rumbling growl. Originating from the fathomless catacombs of his chest, the reverberations eventually made it past his lips, creating a sound so monstrous that no human could ever successfully attempt to replicate it. Buffy still refused to move.

Unthreatening stances didn’t seem to register in Spike’s mind as such though. After allowing his growl to rumble past Buffy’s sensitive hearing for perhaps twenty seconds, the vampire had swallowed his fill of mind games. Mumbled silence was instantly drowned in furious bellows; Spike began writhing violently on the bed, hardly seeming to notice the muscular pain caused by his vigorous twisting. Eyes locked upon the Slayer’s form, he continued thrashing about, screaming as he did so with no apparent intention of ever finishing.

Standing where Buffy had situated herself, that certainly seemed the case. Scream, twist, turn, take a breath; scream, twist turn, inhale; over and over again he completed the cycle, body seeming completely blind to any forms of pain. But she couldn’t let it go on. When Spike’s torture of himself and the bedroom’s once peaceful silence passed the five-minute mark, Buffy instantly decided on a course of action, wondering how she had lasted so long in the first place.

Tenderly stepping forward, the Slayer was hardly surprised when such movements caught Spike’s attention. As if some command switch had been disengaged, his whipping about instantly halted, only his fixed gaze remaining constant. Another step forward, and Buffy could have sworn she witnessed the vampire twitch, though it was miniscule if even existent. What was he feeling? Fear? Apprehension? Recognition even?

Tension was stretched unevenly between the blonde pair, the rubber band relaxed only slightly by Buffy’s sensitive demeanour. Spike was hardly at ease though, his usually blind consciousness now arguing with itself. Tweaked instincts initially told him to react with nothing less than pure rage. Scream, kick, twist, fight… Anything to delay the inevitable torture would be acceptable in such a situation.

Something wasn’t right about this particular setting though; even he could sense such a thing. Jagged chains were usually the preferred restraining devices, slithered so tightly around his wrists that even the slightest of movements would solicit an angry bite of metal. Instead, his arms were bound with something new, something soft to the touch despite its constricted attitude. Shifting his weight ever so slightly, the vampire noticed yet another odd detail. Everyone was aware that Lucifer hardly fancied comfort amongst his damned souls; so why had Spike’s slab of cinderblock on which to lie spontaneously transformed into something… gentle? And where were the weapons?

The Slayer’s position shifted with another footfall, and Spike quivered yet again. Obviously, more than a few cushions and a petite blonde were needed to break down countless centuries of evolved instincts. Buffy could deal with that. However, the idea of needing an equal amount of time to demolish such barriers wasn’t quite so appealing. Luckily, there was always bondage to speed up such a process; at least this way she could get close to him.

“Sp… Spike” even her whisper was muffled as she spoke, curious if he was used to having speech demonstrated with such an inferior tone. The vampire growled, and Buffy tentatively lifted a hand, as if trying to keep his aggressiveness at a distance. “It’s okay, Spike…” she paused, eyes closing as the vampire snarled yet again. “It’s just me… Buffy…” her spoken name didn’t seem to strike a single chord within the blonde creature, such an assumption confirmed by yet another knotted threat expelled by his chest cavity.

Everything was so confusing for Spike’s infantile mind. The bed’s yielding surface, the sheets wrapped snugly around his wrists and ankles, the beautifully shaped demon speaking in a tone that was completely alien yet sufficiently comforting to his ears. Spike didn’t understand; in his span of memory, never before had he been allowed such luxury, a room of his own away from Hell’s raging coal chamber. Not to mention being placed in the company of a demon who, as far as he could tell, looked like him.

When yet another footfall extracted the same furiously terrified response, Buffy gave a deep sigh of resignation. “Right…” she said lightly, the words created more for her own use. “Nearly an eternity spent in Hell and your first assumption is going to be that I’m not here to torture you” emerald eyes rolled as the Slayer turned her back on Spike while speaking, quietly berating herself. “Gee, Buffy… Let’s come up with some more ways to confuse the insane vampire living in your house”

Quivering, snivelling reverberations continued to invade the Slayer’s sense of hearing, signifying the fact that Spike was still panicking amidst his new environment. Briefly, Buffy caught herself wondering what was running through his mind. What creatures did he think were about to appear from nowhere, their soul purpose being to make artwork out of his internal organs? Did any part of him recognize her in the slightest? Was he going to be cold without the eternal flames of Hell rolling about him? Why did she care in the first place?

Opening eyes she hadn’t realised were closed, the emerald jewels instantly fixated upon what was currently her only weakness. Burgundy material was snuggled closely around a cushiony interior, two fabricated walls spread just far enough apart so that Buffy could easily burrow in between them. Nothing said ‘easy surveillance spot’ like a warm, comfortable piece of furniture, the Slayer told herself. It wasn’t the queen-sized accommodation she was used to, but it was enough.

Besides… Buffy added. Leaving an evil, chipless fiend all alone for more than thirty seconds? Not exactly my idea of adventurous fun. Of course, there was also the chance that falling to sleep before Spike’s crazed eyes might help in quelling the surely thundering flames raging through his confused mind.

Such simple thoughts were all the Slayer needed to approve her plan of close-to-the-psycho sleeping. Turning to meet the violent storms otherwise known as Spike’s eyes, Buffy allowed herself to be captivated by such a gaze, holding onto the azure orbs as she sank into the cushioned chair. Initially, Buffy found the vampire’s abrupt level of virtual silence quite odd; but then, when she referred back to Angel’s triumphant return from Hell, the questioning notion in her eyes was quickly extinguished. Although her former lover surely wouldn’t have won an award for ‘most sane returnee of the year’, Angel had definitely displayed his share of calm moments. 

“Please be good,” she whispered, voice almost desperate while speaking. Indeed, the thought of a peaceful sleep- one that didn’t include the panicked sounds of a vampire -was incredibly appealing to her, but the last thing Buffy wanted was to have to inject Spike with yet another tranquilizer dart. Having oneself suddenly torn out of Hell had to be confusing enough on its own; being held hostage in a half-sleeping, half-alert stasis by unknown chemicals was surely no better.

Whether it was against her own will or not, the Slayer felt her eyelids beginning to fall shut. One gram after another was added to the pair of thin shields until they had formed an airtight seal over her emerald jewels. Somewhere between a quivering gasp and a hushed snarl, Buffy then allowed herself to become enclosed by a clouded sleep, completely welcoming the dream-filled state.

The sooner you get to sleep, the sooner you’ll wake up… Buffy heard herself thinking just before she dropped onto Cloud Nine. And the sooner you wake up, the sooner you can start with really helping Spike… She may have been tired, but that thought was enough to snag her attention at least briefly. The odd sentence was quickly countered though. Helping Spike equals no more psycho-vamp at home, and more help with the Scooby work… came her drowsy response; yeah, that’s what she had really meant.