Chapter Seven: Unannounced Visitors

That night, the three of them sleep in Buffy and Spike’s bedroom. Samuel had caught onto his and Buffy’s tension, and hadn’t wanted to sleep alone. None of them slept very well, every loud crash and yell causing anyone of them to jerk awake. The sounds usually propelled Spike from their bed to make sure that the house was left undisturbed. Only once during the night did someone else try to break into the house – a lone vampire that was easily taken care of.

Now, as dawn slowly creeps over the hellmouth, Spike stairs up at the ceiling. Worry keeps him awake even when the town has grown quiet, and both his mate and child are sleeping peacefully next to him. As he lies there, thinking about the events of the past few days, he’s sure that whatever is happening now has to do with the stone tower and Buffy and Samuel’s nightmare. But what?

Ok, he thinks to himself, go over the details. First, the nightmare, the oddness with no demons out causing their normal amount of trouble, as if they were waiting for something, or someone, and then this sudden outburst of violence and chaos as if they’ve been given the run of the town. Frowning, he shakes his head, thinking that he’s never been one to use his head – look at whom he fell in love with, the slayer when he was a vampire.

He turns no his side, deciding he rather worry about taking care of his family than how any of this came about. He looks over Buffy and then lets his eyes fall to Samuel who sleeps between them. Brushing his hand over his son’s cheek, Spike smiles fondly down at him. Who knew that such a little squirt could wriggle so easily into his heart?

Sighing, Spike rolls over and out of bed, his stomach and a call to nature being the biggest factors of forcing him out of there.

With nature taken care of, Spike heads down to the kitchen and opens the refrigerator to peer inside, wondering what the other two would like for breakfast –even if their town is being overrun by demons, they still need food. Spotting the bread on the counter and the eggs in the fridge, he decides to go with French toast. As he gets the bread ready, he looks out the window over the sink and feels his eyes widen. All that is left of the next-door neighbor’s house is nothing more than the cement supports in and on the ground. Feeling lucky that it was only the front door, the window in the living room, and the glass in the back door that showed any damage from last night’s chaos, Spike turns to the stove and puts two pieces of egg soaked bread into the hot pan.

Just as he’s putting the last slices of toast on a warm plate, he hears the small pattering of little feet coming down the stairs. He smiles as the little feet’s padding sound closer as Samuel comes right to him. Its right to the food, more like. Reaching up, he opens a cupboard door and pulls out a plate, and sets two slices on it just as he hears, “Morning Daddy.”

Spike turns to find Samuel standing in the kitchen doorway while rubbing both of his eyes with the back of his fists. “That is. Mum up yet?” He asks as he hands the plate and a fork to him.

Shaking his head, he takes his plate and fork; he looks at the plate and then up at Spike. He returns his son’s regard with a raised eyebrow. “You didn’t cut or syrup them?”

Rolling his eyes in amusement, Spike takes the plate from him and says, “Grab a seat kid, I’ll be in there after I get me a plate.” Without a word, Samuel turns around and heads into the dinning room. Shaking his head at the oddity that is his son, he sets to work on fixing his plate after he finishes the fixings on Samuel’s.

When he gets out to the dinning room, Samuel is sitting in his seat with his legs swinging and his hands folded neatly in his lap, looking up expectantly. Walking over to him, he sets his plate in front of him, and says, “Here. Did I forget anything?”

However, Spike’s sarcasm is lost on his son, for Samuel looks at his father’s hands and then meets his eyes and says, “Did you bring a glass of milk?”

Setting his plate down, Spike sighs and begrudgingly admits it’s his own fault for asking. Turning he heads back into the kitchen and gets not only Samuel a glass of milk, but himself one as well.

Once again in the dinning room, Spike sits the smaller glass down in front of Samuel, and sits down. When he looks up to meet Samuel’s eyes, he gives him a look he hopes will mean if-he-wants-anything-more, he can get up and get it his own self. Instead, Samuel smiles hugely at him, then says, “Thanks,” once again making the k and s sound like an x.

“Welcome, and don’t talk with food in your gob.” Spike says just before he starts to eat.

“Why did those demons attack everyone?” Samuel asks suddenly, and with the absence of food in his mouth, and yet, still manages to make demons sound like daymens.

“Its demons. And I’ve not a clue, son.” Spike says as he picks up his glass of milk and nearly drains the thing. He puts the glass down as if it burnt him, “Damn milk.” He looks over to meet Samuel’s wide eyes. “Its cold.” He says, in way of an explanation. Samuel shakes his head, causing Spike to frown, “No? Then what?”

Samuel swallows his bite, and then says, “You said bad word.”

“Oh,” Spike says and looks down at his plate as he thinks of something to say, remembering Buffy’s words of, “He’s at an impressionable age, so please, try not to curse as much around him.” Looking back to Samuel, he says, “Sorry. Just natural. Been doing it for a century now.”

Samuel’s worried face breaks into a wide smile as he says, “Don’t worry. I won’t tell Mommy.”

“Tell Mommy what?” Buffy’s voice sounds behind Samuel.

Samuel and him turn to see her standing in the doorway, causally leaning her shoulder against the doorframe. “That he cursed,” Samuel says in all seriousness.

Spike’s chin drops to his chest, and before he realizes it, him and Buffy are laughing. Samuel looks between the two of them looking confused, and when he says, “What did I say?” Buffy and Spike laugh some more. As she passes to go into the kitchen, she bends and kisses Samuel on the head. “Don’t worry about it, sweetie.”

Knowing what she’s after, Spike starts to stand as he says “I’ll get that for you, love.”

“Just sit down and eat your breakfast.” Buffy says as she disappears into the kitchen. “I can serve myself,” she says, her voice carrying from the kitchen.

Spike sits down and smiles at Samuel who readily returns the expression.

The rest of his morning, pleasantly spent with them, goes smoothly until noon hits when there is a knock at the front door.

After breakfast, the three of them had sat down in front of the telly and watched morning cartoons with Samuel – at the bottom of the screen, the station ran ticker tape that said Samuel’s school was closed. That didn’t surprise him or Buffy much, not that they had any intention of sending him to school today. When the cartoons were over, Spike had retired to the kitchen to clean up the dishes, gently telling Buffy off when she tried telling him that she was going to do it.

Spike had just sat down at the coffee table with the monthly bills and their check box when the knock comes.

Looking up, Spike frowns as a question to Buffy as she crosses from the great room on the other side of the living room to the door. She shrugs before she disappears into the foyer. Looking down at his paperwork without really seeing it, Spike listens to the muffled voices from the other room, and is surprised when he hears Buffy say, “He isn’t going to like this.”

Anger washes through him when he hears Willow’s voice all of the sudden, “I told you this wasn’t a good idea.”

Then the whelps voice grows stronger as he moves through the foyer, “I don’t care, my arm hurts and my forehead is bleeding.”

Spike stands up when he sees movement out of the corner of his eye. He knows his expression is cold when Xander’s eyes meet his. He only breaks eye contact when he feels a small presence at his side. Looking down, he puts his hand on Samuel’s shoulder and pulls him close. Willow and Xander are strangers to him, and Buffy and Spike have told him to be extra careful around strangers – some are demons and very dangerous. Smiling with what he hopes is a reassuring one, Spike gently squeezes him before his looks once again in Xander’s direction, which, by that time, his expression is cold and indifferent once more.

Taking Samuel’s hand, Spike starts to move around the coffee table to get the first aid kit out from under the kitchen sink. He stops suddenly when Xander jerks back a step. Rolling his eyes, Spike realizes he’s going to say something he might regret later and there’s nothing he can see to stop it. Five years, and these two have caused Buffy nothing but grief because of him. “Come off it, whelp! I don’t even drink blood anymore!”

And, at about this time, with the tension running high between the adults, Samuel starts to sniffle. Spike isn’t surprised, with barely any sleep, and the screams and loud crashes that kept them awake half the night. Shaking his head, annoyed beyond belief with Willow and Xander, he bends and picks Samuel up and heads into the kitchen.

With Samuel clutching him, he easily bends down in front of the sink and finds the first aid kit. When he stands and turns to go back to the living room, he stops short when he finds Buffy on the other side of the island. “Oh,” he says, feeling a little weird about being relieved of not having to go back out there. “Here.” He hands it over to her, not sure of what else there is to say.

The three encounters with her old friends has him feeling like he did when they were around all the time: Uncertain, and feeling as if Buffy is going to turn on him at any minute.

Buffy gives him a small, but sincere smile. “Don’t worry so much. If I’ve stayed with you for eight years dealing with this, I can do just as well with them staying here.” She walks around the island and hugs both him and Samuel. “I can’t leave them alone when demons are taking over the town.”

Feeling like a bastard and a major idiot, Spike wraps his arms around both of them. That is, until Samuel gives a grunt as he begins to squirm, and then says, “Squishing me,” and pushes on Spike’s shoulder.

Some of the tension relieved from his chest, Spike laughs.

“Mommy?” Samuel asks, turning to look at her while he lays his head against Spike’s shoulder. “I’m tired. Do I have to see guests?”

Another, more amused smile brightens Buffy’s face as she shakes her head, “No. Why don’t you and Daddy go take a nap?” She finishes as she looks up at Spike.

Nodding his head, he walks around Buffy and heads for the foyer, but not before kissing her cheek. As he walks around the banister, and then up the stairs, he hears Samuel’s quiet voice ask, “Can I stay with you Daddy?”

Raising his free hand, Spike rubs it up and down his son’s back. “Of course.”

Hours later, after setting down some ground rules for Willow and Xander to follow, finds Buffy sitting in the living room with a heavy tome sitting in front of her on the coffee table. Her rules had been simple: 1) No more remarks about Spike and 2) No questioning her, Spike, and especially not Samuel, about her and Spike’s relationship. Even though Xander had looked very much put out by the rules, but he soon had to reluctantly agree to them. That is, Willow had hit him on the shoulder when he just sat there.

Spike sits next to her with a tome of equal size to hers on his lap, and a hand on her lower back. As he reads, he occasionally caresses his thumb on the bare skin he found in the gap between her shirt and jeans. She finds it a soothing, and welcome touch. After taking Samuel upstairs, Spike hadn’t come back down for a half an hour. “Fell asleep,” he said, looking, if Buffy wasn’t mistaken, a little sheepish about the whole thing. During which, Buffy had stood back and watched Willow patch up Xander with panicky feeling in her stomach; she wasn’t sure she knew these people anymore.

Sometime after that, Willow had suggested they research the odd occurrences that have been happening around town, Xander had asked, and none too nicely, “How? Demons on Rampage?”

Buffy had ignored his snide remark, and told them shortly about her dream, carefully leaving Samuel out of it, even though she used most of the details he had given her and Spike. With that settled, Willow had rushed out of the room, surprising everyone present, thinking she had been hurt somehow by Buffy’s shortness with her explanation. However, her odd actions are explained minutes later when she comes back in with an armload of tomes and smaller books.

Looking down at the words in the tome without seeing them, Buffy gives a slight smile as she remembers the astonished look on Willow’s face when Spike had taken the books from her and laid them out on the table in the great room. Then, ignoring her eyes as they followed him around room, Spike had returned to Buffy’s side with the two tomes they have now.

For the past few hours, as the sun set, and they looked through the large tomes, looking for anything that might tell them what’s been happening, silence has permeated the room since Buffy had set down her rules. Her face falls out of her smile and into a frown. Is that the only thing they can think of to talk about? Her frown deepens when that thought settles farther in her mind.

Just as she’s settling into her depressing thoughts, the thud of a book sounds through the living room, making her jerk up. With wide eyes, she looks over at Xander and Willow to find that Willow is staring at Xander. “Why did you slam that shut? It’s old.”

“Sorry.” He says, not sounding so in the least.

Shaking her head, Buffy looks back at the tome in front of her. She feels Spike move beside her, and then feels his arm go around her shoulders as he leans forward. “Hey, love.” He says quietly. “How’s it going?”

“Nowhere,” she says, then looks at him. As they look at each other, they smile, enjoying her honesty. “What about you?”

“Same.” Spike says, rolling his eyes, probably just as irritated with the tome as Buffy is with hers. “The bloody thing goes on and on about blokes being put into stones, but not a word bout how they get out. Or any mention of any who’ve been put in.”

As she had suspected, she smiles at him, and can’t resist the urge to kiss him, giving him a slow, but chaste kiss. Looking him in his deep blue eyes, she says, “You know I love you, right?”

He gives her a nice, happy smile, making her chest bloom with warmth, “I know, love.” He leans forward and kisses her on the cheek, and then, on the mouth. After, he says, “For good measure. And I love you.”

Smiling, she shakes her head at him, and then leans her head on his shoulder. She feels him lean against her in return, but just as soon, she feels him stiffen. She pulls her head away, and looks up at him. His staring across the room causes her to frown and then follow his line of sight. As she meets Willow’s eyes, Willow hastily turns back to her book.

Buffy stands with Spike following her, but before Buffy has a chance to ask Willow why she had been staring at them, in what she considers a very private moment, there is a loud banging at the door. Buffy and Spike turn to the foyer, and as they walk toward out of the living room, Buffy sees Willow and Xander stand.

Spike having been in front of her, he reaches the door first and pulls it open as she stands to his back-right. She feels her face light up with who greets her sight on their porch. “Hey, what are you doing here?” Buffy asks as she and Spike pull their new guests in as they shake hands.

“We saw the town on the news.” Black says as he closes the door behind him and Lei.

“Sunnydale was on the news?” Spike says, with a smile playing at the corners of his lips. “The last time that happened, the commandos were digging under the city.”

Lei smiles, and says, “Well, this time it’s about a helicopter that crashes into something solid that’s invisible.”

“That’s new,” Spike says.

“Yes, but there is something else that you should know about,” Black stops talking as he looks over Buffy’s shoulder when the sound of a throat clearing echoes through the foyer.

Both Buffy and Spike turn to see Xander and Willow standing in the entrance to the living room. In her joy at seeing old friends, she had forgotten Xander and Willow were here. Vaguely, she wonders what that means for her friendship with them. In the meantime, she turns back to Lei and Black, “Willow and Xander. Old friends. Kind of.” She says, feeling herself flounder. She glances at he Willow and Xander, “Everett and Lei Black.”

She feels Spike’s arm come around her waist, and for some reason notices that Black has done the same thing with Lei in the few seconds of them entering the house. She smiles up at Black, letting her happiness at seeing them again come back. It’s the only thing do. “What were you about to say?”

Black, however, continues to look over her shoulder at Willow and Xander for a few seconds longer, as he starts again, “Yes,” he brings his eyes back to her and Spike, “I’ve been having tabs kept on Cornelius Teyssier. He was spotted near here, but then disappeared the night of Samuel’s birthday.”

Buffy frowns. “He’s back. Why?”

Black shakes his head, “My sources only track people. I don’t want them getting into dangerous situations; therefore, I can’t risk the possibility that the person being tracked finds the tracker.”

Nodding her head, Buffy asks, “Why did you have Cornelius followed? He helped us in the end.”

“That’s why. I want to know more about him. I usually do with anyone that crosses my path, and leaves a mark.” He looks down at Lei when he says this with love showing on his usually stoic face, and Buffy thinks she has an idea of why Black had started tracking the illusive Cornelius Teyssier.

“Instead of standing round, lets into the living room.”

Lei snorts. Buffy looks to her and they share a knowing smile.

“Oi!” Spike says, pulling Buffy closer, “What you been telling her?”

Laughing, Buffy ducks away from him, and walks into the living room. Willow and Xander have returned to their tomes. Willow glances up curiously, but Xander openly stares at the new arrivals. That is, until he suddenly jerks and turns to glare at Willow while reaching under the table to rub at his leg.

The four of them sit in the living room, and Buffy and Spike fill Black and Lei in on the happenings around Sunnydale, her and Samuel’s nightmare – on the night of his birthday - and, trying to lighten the mood, Buffy tells them about her watching that elderly lady chasing a vampire down the street with her wooden umbrella. It helps. Over the next hour, they talk about times past and catch up since the last time they met, six months ago.

The happy squeal of a little boy brings their conversation to a halt, and soon, Black is reaching out and catching Samuel easily in his hands. “Hey Little Attitude! How are things going?”

“Hey Uncle Black, Aunt Lei,” he says as he leans over and gives her a kiss on the cheek. However, as he pulls back and is about to answer to the rest of Black’s greeting, he’s interrupted.

“You let your son call a stranger uncle?” Xander’s loud voice echoes through the suddenly quiet room. “No,” he says as he glances back at Willow, who had been trying to get him to sit down and be quiet. “She pushes us away and then lets her son call a stranger uncle…”

Whatever else Xander had to say is lost when Black turns and looks at him. Xander looks away, and after bouncing his fist on his thigh, turns and sits down.

“He’s the stranger,” Samuel says into the quiet of the room. As awkwardly as his words settle over the room, no one corrects or reprimands him.

Chapter Eight: False Alarm?

His back, having lain on the floor for more days than he would like to know, feels as if it’s starting to sink into the mason beneath him. His eyes have become so used to the darkness that he doesn’t know when his eyes are opened or closed. At first, this was a very disconcerting feeling, but after some time, many hours, maybe even twenty-four, he doesn’t even bother to open his eyes anymore – or he’s almost sure that he doesn’t. The little light that was allowed into the room had disappeared some days ago when a loud banging came from outside the room, and ever since, his one comfort of light for a few hours out of the day was gone.

Once, some years ago, he had started reading this scientific magazine and one article keeps coming to him as he lies on his back, feeling the slow process of healing with only the blood of vermin to help. The article, which, he had come to learn later, was very accurate with their facts about the effects of a deprivation tank. At the time he had thrown the article away with disgust, never imagining someone coming up with such a thing.

Now, with very little stimulus, except for the pain of his healing body and the sounds of the vermin scurrying around him, he has the feeling he would have gone mad by now, and done something rash. Even if he has been driven to eat the diseased vermin.

He stills of a sudden, even breathing so swallow that he can’t even hear himself, as the sound of footsteps reach his ears. His heart rate accelerates at the thought of someone coming for him; even if it was to fetch him for yet another beating. Anything at this point would be preferable to the company of rats and insects. He listens intently to the noises outside his cell, his ears overly sensitive to the sounds being so eager to hear anything. They are voices and close by but are still indistinct to hear words.

Anticipation washes through him, causing his fading headache to come back with a vengeance. He ignores his discomfort with the tantalizing idea of someone coming for him. The voices come and go outside his cell door, growing louder as they pass and then fade the farther they move off, causing such a drop in his excitement that he’s sure that if he had any moisture left in his body he would have started crying.

Over the years, the only companions he had taken on had been lovers, and only then it was but for a few days, maybe a week at the most. Now, lying on his back with vermin for company, he suddenly realizes that he wishes he had someone to focus on in the black hole he finds himself in.

Spike and Buffy and their guests might have thought the happenings three days ago were just some fluke if it weren’t for two major differences after said event: The first is the most obvious; the purple, lightning streaked, transparent dome trapping everyone in Sunnydale – many families have tried to leave the town only to crash into the dome, instead of going through it. The second, and less apparent is the patrols being done, not by Buffy and Spike or Black and Lei, but by the demons themselves. Day and night, terrorizing any peoples crazy enough to come out of their homes.

Things weren’t too much better inside the Summers’s house, from what Spike can sense and see of the happenings lately. As tense as things are between Buffy and her friends – his presence actually being beside the point at this point – things seem to be deteriorating between Willow and Xander.

Some years ago, Buffy and Spike had redecorated the basement, turning it into a rec slash spare room. There’s now a futon chair and a sofa bed, both, down there. Spike had gone done there a day after their arrival to get something only to stop halfway down the stairs when he heard raised voices. He hadn’t stayed long, but as he left, his sensitive hearing picked up his name. He wasn’t sure if they knew he had been down there, but he wasn’t going to tell them.

Spike smiles when he feels Buffy’s warm hand slide across his chest.

Last night, they were finally able to get Samuel to sleep in his room – only because Black and Lei had tired him out. Buffy had watched them and then turned to him, asking, “How come he won’t get tired when I’m chasing him around?” Spike had thrown his head back and laughed when Black said, “You are his mother.” That is, until Buffy had elbowed him in the gut.

Raising his hand, he covers Buffy’s and brings her fingers to his mouth, where he kisses the tips. “Morning, love.” He says as he rolls onto his side and drapes his arm over her waist.

“Mmm,” she purrs as she snuggles into him, tucking her head under his chin. He feels the warm press of her lips against his chest, and smiles anew. “You smell good,” she murmurs, pressing closer. Then she suddenly licks him.

“Feeling a little itch, love?” Spike asks, wrapping both of his arms around her as she continues her ministrations on his neck. He moves his head to one side to give her better access to him.

“Why do you call it an itch?” She asks, pausing in her exploration of his neck. She kisses and then gently bites into his skin before she adds, “It’s lust, or desire. Why an itch?”

Spike shrugs a shoulder, trying to remember when he started calling desire or horniness, as he refers to it, as an itch but he can’t. “Not sure, really. Been doing it too long.”

“Mmm,” she hums absently, licking her way down to the inside of his collar bone, only pausing to dip her tongue into the hallow at the base of his throat. Slowly, and thoroughly, she makes her way down his pectoral muscle to his nipple where she bites suddenly after a quick lick. Spike groans; his hands come up and grip her shoulders, as he’s unable to decide whether to push her away for torturing him or pull her closer.

The sound of footsteps in the hall decides for him, even though they sound nothing like Samuel’s. He pushes her away and forces her to meet his eyes. “Samuel could come in any moment, love. I don’t want to be caught with my bits in yours by our son.”

Buffy tilts her head to one side with an unreadable expression on her face. Of a sudden, he feels very suspicious of her. “Does that mean you would like to be caught by someone else, then?”

Tilting his head as an eyebrow raises, the question makes him stop and think about that. Until, that is, Buffy purses her lips and whacks him on the shoulder. “Ok! No! I don’t want to get caught. Jeez, give a fella a chance to think,” he says, trying to roll away from her, but her grip suddenly tightens. He rolls his head to look questioningly at her.

“He won’t come in.” She says. And if to prove her point, Samuel is heard out in the hall, and for a moment triumph flares in his chest, but Lei has to dash that when she answers Samuel, something about breakfast.

Smiling triumphantly, Buffy pulls him back to her, and rolls on top of him. “I win,” she whispers before she lowers her lips to his. He won as well, but he’ll keep that to himself – Buffy becomes very aggressive when she’s won at something.

She bites his lower lip and then moves to his chin, sucking it into her mouth. He lies there, enjoying her ministrations, with his hands staying motionless on her back. However, she seems to become impatient with this and grabs his wrists. She pulls them between their bodies, and places her breasts in his palms. “Touch me,” she says, her mouth now on his shoulder.

An idea suddenly comes to him; he moves his hands around to her back, and then rolls them over, quickly pinning her to the bed. Smiling down at her, he presses forward, grinding himself into her wriggling form. She pouts, saying, “I wanted to be on top.”

“Some other time,” he says. As he answers, he’s moving up onto his knees, pulling hers with him, and then hocks her heels on his shoulders. Reaching down, he pulls her thong off and throws it across the room.

Letting her legs fall back to the bed, Spike comes down on top of her. “Why do you wear things to bed? It just slows us down.”

As he comes down, she raises her hands and lets them slide over his shoulders and around his neck. She eagerly returns his kiss. “Yes, but it can also be fun to take them off. Teases us, makes the coming together so much better.”

“Point,” Spike says, and then decides talking would be better for another time, and moves down her body to find her breasts with his mouth. His hands never idle, they move down her body to find her soft, warm rear, and cups her in his hands, pressing her closer. Like having warm water pouring over him, he moans with the comforting feel of her soft body curving to his.

They’ve been together many years, and have learned to anticipate the others needs. Many people, Spike thinks, fear getting into ruts where the relationship is steady and easy going – he finds it to be the best part. Not that they’re in a rut, the thought bursts though his mind when he suddenly feels Buffy’s foot sliding up the inside of his thigh at the same time he feels her hand between his legs – from behind. He comes onto his hands when one of her fingers penetrates him.

Gasping, he looks down at Buffy, ecstatically pleased, surprised.

Swooping down on her, he finds he suddenly can’t wait, and is plunging into her as he takes her mouth with his. Her gasps and moans fill his head along with his own cries of pleasure. Gritting his teeth, he pushes himself to the hilt and feels the bite of her nails in his back.

Their first orgasm comes in their bed when Spike bites Buffy on his mark, causing them to arch into each other; his hands on her breasts, and her legs wrapped around his hips. After they stumble out of bed together, heading to the shower, they laugh and caress the other. Their second, less explosive, but just as satisfying orgasms come when they wash the other.

When they finally make it downstairs, after much distraction when they were dressing, it was to Samuel saying, “Did you enjoy your message Mommy?”

Strangely enough, at his comments, Black and Spike left the room with barely concealed smiles, while Buffy turned red, and muttered something. Lei looked knowingly at Buffy, smiling openly. Samuel looks at each adult in turn, looking not a little confused at their behavior.

As the morning turns into the afternoon, the levity of the morning has gone to be replaced by the crying of Samuel. “I don’t want you to go.” His words are broken by his crying and muffled as he buries his face in Buffy’s shoulder.

The plan had been formulated quite fast: Her, Spike, and Black were going to go out and scout for the patrols. They needed information, and the tomes Willow had brought weren’t leading them anywhere but to the history of the power of stones. As soon as Samuel had heard that his parents were leaving him alone, he had started making a fuss, first throwing a tantrum, which quickly turned to genuine upset when that didn’t work with his parents.

Buffy pats him on the back as she looks to Spike, who stands nearby, watching, and knowing that one of them, is going to be staying at the house with Samuel. Any other time, Spike and Buffy would have sent him to his room as soon as he started throwing his tantrum. However, with the tension and scares over the past few days, he has a hard time being tough on the little guy. Deciding that he’ll stay this time, he starts forward, reaching for Samuel, when Buffy steps back, shaking her head. “No, you go with Black. I’ll stay with Samuel.”

With his head still buried in Buffy’s shoulder, Samuel shakes his head and moans, “No.” He lifts his head to look at Spike with a tear stained face, again, shaking his head. “No.”

Spike looks to Buffy, at a loss for what to say. He opens his mouth, trying to convey this but she’s already taking care of it. She continues to rub their son’s back and coos soothing words to him. When Samuel continues to sniffle, looking at everything in the room but them, Buffy takes him by the chin and turns his face so that he has to look at her.

“You know we have to do this. You need to let Daddy leave so that we can take care of the badness. Do you understand?” Buffy says gently, but firmly.

Samuel looks at her, and then turns to look at Spike. He doesn’t say anything but again buries his face in Buffy’s shoulder, where he’s quiet except for the occasional sniffle. Buffy looks up to him and gives him an expression that tells him that they aren’t going to get much better from him.

Spike looks up when Lei comes into the dinning room. She looks a little concerned when she says, her Southern accent coming through with her worry “Is the fire out?”

Nodding his head, Spike motions her to come forward. She does so, and comes up beside Buffy, adding her hand to Samuel’s back. Lei looks over at him, “Everett says he’s ready to go when you are,” and with her accent still apparent, the word ‘are’ drawls.

On his way out, he first kisses Buffy and then Samuel on the head. “Later.”

Still, after all these years, the sun still manages to hurt his eyes.

The streets are unusually still for this time of day. The demons have tended to run the streets all day long, especially late to early evening. Spike isn't sure what they're looking for but the demons search every house, breaking into people's houses and destroying their belongings. Whatever it is they’re searching for, they haven't tried looking in his house yet. The only reason he can think of why they haven't is because of him and Buffy, and in some ways that might help in the end. However, he would like to know what they're looking for.

As he walks down the sidewalk with Black at his side, he looks over the damage the demons have done over the past three days. In some areas, the houses are left alone and the sidewalks are littered with garbage, and in other areas, the damage is so great, that no one can hide. Where cars had once sat parked on side of the road, they are now destroyed, either burning, or stripped of everything that once made it a car, or turned on its side and smashed. Along with the broken cars, telephone poles and fences have been torn down and lay scattered across the streets.

One might think that with all of the demons running around, especially with vampires, that a lot of bodies might be laying around. However, whether dead or alive, injured or scared, do neither Spike nor Black find anyone, and with no one in sight, it gives Sunnydale a ghost town feeling. The houses left intact, are closed up, doors are locked, and window shades are pulled tightly closed.

Before Spike and Black had left, Xander stalls them, causing the lowered tension in the house to rise once more. He started whining about the fact that he wasn't allowed out and now Spike and Black are leaving. No sooner had Xander started, did Spike feel his ire raise. Both Spike and Black had started to tell Xander off when Willow stepped in. Spike found himself in such a stunned state that he stood there and watched with his mouth hanging open. In the end, Xander had looked at Willow with sad eyes and then turned and left through the kitchen, slamming the door to the basement as he went down. It had taken Spike a few minutes to get over his shock before he remembered that he was going out to patrol.

He doesn't remember much of what Willow had said, but he has a feeling that when he returns, things are going to be a little different between Buffy and Willow. Since the scene in the basement, he had been expecting something like this to happen but not so openly or so in defense of him, especially from Willow. Although, it shouldn’t really surprise him, because of what he had heard when leaving the basement.

Over the next few blocks, Spike and Black find much of the same thing: broken cars, torn down houses, fences, and telephone poles. But people have learned to stay in the houses, and he finds himself surprised to realize that the people of Sunnydale have also learned to comply with the demands that the demons make of them, such as letting them enter their homes and search them, even if it means losing some of their possessions. A block back, he and Black had to quickly duck back behind a house when they heard a demon banging on a door. They had watched in surprise as the demons were invited in, and then, some time later, the demons had left, leaving the humans inside to slam the door behind them.

Oddly enough, some of the female demons had come out with clothes and jewelry, some times they even came out with makeup.

Every once in awhile, as he walks along, he catches a glimpse of movement out of the corner of his eye. However, as he turns to look, whoever was looking is gone and the slight swaying of the curtains with which they hide behind being the only indication of their presence. He understands the need of not wanting to attract attention.

As he and Black move along, they look over their shoulders, and keep a lookout for any demon patrols. They patrol for about an hour, searching in the business areas of town, but soon return to the residential areas, and finding nothing, they are about to pack it in, when the sounds of fighting reach their ears. Both of them stop, ducking as if something came at them -- and in a way, it had. But, as they look around, they find that the noise is coming from within a house. They still as they listen, waiting for the next sound to tell them which house, the demons are in. However, as they wait, they are startled when the front door of a house opens and a group of demons start to exit. Spike and Black scramble to find a hiding place before they are spotted.

They needn't have worried, because the demons are still squabbling over whatever matter that demons might find worth arguing about. In any case, Spike and Black have dashed behind a van that has a hole in one side of it, letting the blankets and litter in the van spill out. As the demons move away, Spike peeks around the back of the van, checking to see if it's all clear. He watches as the demons move down to the end of the block and stop. The two arguing demons throw a few punches at each other until the largest of the group turns around and orders them to be quiet.

Spike ducks back behind the van when he hears the demon say, “I think I heard someone.” Turning, Spike looks at Black, and he can see that they are wondering the same thing: what if they come back?

When Black motions with his chin, Spike cautiously peeks around the van and is glad to see that the demons have gone on. Turning back to Black, Spike motions him forward as he says, “ Come on," and then takes off down the street. At the end of the block, one house away, he cuts through the yard and, jumping a fence, he cuts through this yard as well and comes to the front of the house and stops with his back pressed against the wall. It doesn't surprise him to feel Black come up next to him a few seconds later. Peeking around house, he finds the group of demons heading to the south of town.

As stealthy as possible, Spike and Black follow the group of demons as they slowly make their way to the outskirts of Sunnydale. Spike has a feeling that he knows where they're headed, and he really hopes that he’s wrong.

When they reach the outskirts of town, the demons slip away from them, momentarily slowing their progress. After some time, Black stops Spike by touching his arm, and then asks, “Do you know where they went?”

During Black's question, Spike had turned to look at him but as he answers, he turns back to the direction they're headed and replies, “Yes, I do,” wishing this were the one time he could be wrong.

The mansion is just as Spike remembers it, however, demons running ramped around the outside and in. Where they're had been no bodies littering the streets, Spike is disgusted to find many lying around the area of the mansion. Many of the dead bodies have bite marks on their next and shoulders and some even have their throats torn out. And yet, as Black and him move through the trees, coming closer to the west wall of the mansion, he even finds bodies with their stomachs slashed open. He looks away after that.

Once they reach the outside wall, they press their backs against it and slide along, looking for a window. In their search, they almost pass a dark window. With Spike on the left and Black on the right side of the window, they press up against the wall, waiting to see if an alarm goes up. When nothing happens, Spike releases an audible breath of relief and looks over to Black. As he looks at him, Spike thinks he sees Black mouth the words: that was a close one. Spike can't help but feel agreement.

Almost as one, the two companions turn and cautiously look in the window. What they see, or in this case, what they don't see, comes as a big shock. For, the window that they stumbled upon is boarded up. Spike turns to find Black with an expression mixed of annoyance and amusement. Relieved more than anything, Spike openly smiles at him. As he turns away, Spike is pretty sure that he sees Black roll his eyes.

In their search for another window or opening through which to hear any noises from within, the two companions end up stumbling upon the courtyard at the back of the mansion. With so many demons milling around the courtyard, Spike and Black can only lean against the wall that blocks them from view and listen. What they hear isn't much; the demons seem to have continued the argument that they started out on their patrol. Just his luck, Spike thinks as he rolls his eyes.

Reaching over, Spike tugs on Black's shirt and when he has his attention, Spike motions both with the tilt of his head and a wave of his hand. When Black nods, Spike turns and starts back the way they came. As he moves along, he thinks that the outing is a complete bust but for one thing -- he got to get out of the house and stretch his legs. And, with an evil smile, Spike thinks, and the whelp didn’t.

At the corner of the mansion, Spike turns and runs into something solid that he doesn't remember being there the first time around. Taking a step back, he looks up with widening eyes into the face of a feral demon. Being in such a stunned state, Spike stands staring up at the feral demon even as it throws its head back and roars. As the roar tapers off, Spike turns and runs into the woods. Not knowing where Black is, Spike continues to run on, hoping that Black is all right.

However, as he reaches the road, and takes a step off onto the street, a blinding white light flashes through his mind and then everything turns black.

Crouched on the other side of the road behind a bush, Black watches as a group of demons bend and pick up the unconscious body of Spike.

Back at the mansion, when Spike and him had turned the corner and come face-to-face with the feral demon, Black had turned and ran, thinking that Spike was right behind him. When he had reached the street, he had stopped, having heard their pursuers, thinking that they should split up. The words had been on the tip of his tone but when he turned in a full circle looking for Spike and then realized he wasn't there, panic had almost gotten the better of him.

That was, until he heard the approaching foot steps, which had him diving to hide behind the bushes across the street.

Now, standing, he watches as the demons drag Spike's unconscious body back into the woods. If it weren't for the unknown, the possibility that his actions might get Spike killed, Black would have gone in after him. But with the slight possibility of Spike's death, he can't chance that. Samuel would have nothing if that happened.

Black slowly makes his way back to the Summers house, both dreading the moment he would have to Buffy that Spike had been taken, and being cautious of being picked up himself. One of them has to be able go back.

Chapter Nine: Better Prospects

The next morning, Buffy paces the living room, trying her best to ignore Samuel's wide eyes. She'd spent most of the night trying to sooth both her and him; even then, it was a restless night. If Samuel wasn't awake occupying her time, Buffy spent her time staring up at the ceiling or having nightmare filled sleep. In some of her nightmares, she dreamed that both Spike and Samuel had been taken from her and that the only way she could get them back was by choosing one or the other. In most of the nightmares, they ended with her walking away by herself after they had been killed in front of her. She knows there's more to the dream but every time she tries to think about it, the details elude her.

Stopping, she turns in a full circle as she looks at the people around her, wondering how she is to get her mate back. All of them are in different positions, showing their state of emotion. Black stands behind Lei where she sits in a large chair that helps separate the great room from the living room. He has his hands stuffed in his pockets and look as if he got just as much sleep as she did – or lack there in. Willow sits with her back to Xander, while balancing a book on her lap. Xander spends his time glaring at either his plate of food or Willow.

As she turns back to Samuel, she looks into his tear stained face. He fiddles with the small teddy bear Spike gave him on the day of his birth. She realizes that she needs to do something, and quickly, however, she doesn't leave right away, she starts pacing again, thinking of what she needs to do to get Spike back. Every once in awhile, as she paces in front of Samuel, she glances at him; she knows that if anything happens to any one of them, the ones left behind are going to have a tough time.

Suddenly, she stops and turns to Black, and pierces him with her glare. She asks, “Where did you say the demons are?”

Black, she notices looks as bad as she feels and doesn't seem to take her glare personally, replies “The mansion at the edge of town.”

Nodding her head, Buffy turns back to Samuel and bends over and kisses him on the head. She says as she rises, “I'm going to get Daddy back." Turning away from him, she strides into the foyer and grabs her coat and keys. But before she can leave, Xander and Willow's voice stop her as she reaches for the doorknob. She turns her glare on them; she hears them but doesn't listen to what they have to say. She knows if it were anybody else, they would be right behind her, ready and willing to help in whatever way they could.

After listening to them for a few minutes, more time than she really wanted to waist, she cuts them off, holding her hand up with an angry glare. “No!” Shaking her head, she quiets them with one question, “If it were either one of you, would you leave the other there?”

Within seconds, she has slammed out of the house, and only realizes as she's walking down the street that she doesn't have any weapons with her. At the bottom of the walk, she pauses, wondering if she should go back in. As she stands there, her hearing picks up Samuel's heart wrenching cries. As she listens, she feels the sting of tears behind her eyes, and the tightening of her throat. However, as hard as it is for her, she put him out of her mind and continues on, and makes her way to the south end of town.

As much as the trip tries to remind her of unpleasant memories, she ignores them to the best of her ability. It won’t do her any good to be thinking about loss at a time like this. She’s there quicker than she would like, and yet, is relieved to be getting this done with.

Looking up at the mammoth house, she takes a deep breath, and walks up the front path to the mansion door and knocks. Seconds pass, and then the door opens to reveal a demon on the other side glaring down at her.

Willow watches from the entrance of the living room.

Only seconds after Buffy’s departure, Xander had dove for the door, intending to go after Buffy. While she thought that it wasn’t a good idea for Buffy to go after Spike alone, she doesn’t see the logic in Xander going after Buffy. Just as he had reached the door, the stranger Everett Black had stepped forward and pulled Xander back by the collar of his shirt. Then, the tall, dark man stood in front of the door, like a guardian.

In most cases, Willow is always able to get a sense of a persons’ nature. However, where this man is concerned, she senses death but it feels wrong, as if it were put there. Whatever else he might be, she can tell that he is a very dangerous being.

Over the past half week, things have started to become very clear to her: Buffy and Spike’s relationship, and the dynamic the two have, not only with each other, but also with their son. They work together, creating a team, a joined front. She knows now that Spike isn’t what he used to be. He’s become Buffy’s companion, friend and lover. And, stranger still, he isn’t a vampire anymore; something has changed him and she knows that it isn’t that ring – Angel destroyed it.

She feels a twinge of guilt, realizing that was her biggest mistake, coming to Buffy accusing, instead of gently asking questions. She hopes, as she watches Xander try to argue his way around the large, dark skinned man that she hasn’t lost her chance to repair things with Buffy, and start a bridge – she grimaces at the lousy choice of word but can’t think of a better descriptor – between her and Spike.

She realizes her second hope might be a little more far fetched then her former, but she’s willing to try.

Her attention is drawn back to the debate between the two men when Xander steps forward, trying to move Mr. Black out of the way. Mr. Black doesn’t even seem to notice the push of Xander. Willow straightens when Mr. Black’s features darken. When he speaks, his voice is just an octave above a whisper, “I used to be a hit man.”

Willow feels her eyes widen. A hit man? Buffy allows a hit man to be around her child?

Suddenly angry with herself, she turns away from the scene in the foyer. If she can make a start in accepting Spike into Buffy’s life, she should be able to do so for Mr. Black.

“Why don’t you trust him?”

Jerking around, Willow finds herself staring up at the long, and slender Lei Black. She’s very pretty with her Southern bell looks. She has long wheat golden hair, and just as straight. She wears nothing but jeans, and form fitting, plaid cotton shirts with three quarter sleeves. When she first arrived, she wore a cowboy hat, and boots. The look suits her very well, Willow thinks. “Don’t trust who?” She asks, wondering if she could tell what she had been thinking about her husband.

“Spike. You don’t trust him. Why?” asks Lei.

At first, Willow thinks that she’s being confronted, but as she looks up into the older woman’s hazel eyes, she realizes that Lei is just genuinely curious. “When I first meet Spike, he tried killing us many times.”

Lei nods with understanding shining in her eyes, “When I first met Black, he was sent to kill me – the reasons are unimportant, but the fact is, he didn’t.” says Lei as she smiles a little. She looks up when Black comes up to her. “Did he leave?”

Willow watches as Black looks down at Lei, and notices his features relax, and the coldness leaves his eyes. “No. After I told him I used to be a hit man, he stared at me for a little bit, and then turned and went down to the basement.”

He looks up, and Willow feels her cheeks redden at being caught staring at them, in what looked like an intimate moment. She smiles, feeling like she was in high school again. She’s not sure, but as she looks at him, she thinks she sees a ghost of a smile touch his lips. Then, with Lei under his arm, he turns them away and they disappear into the foyer, quiet as always.

Willow looks around the living room, and feeling suddenly alone. The sting of tears at the back of her eyes burns at the thought of Tara. Taking a deep breath, she walks over to the table and sits down. Brushing a stray tear away, she starts pouring through her books once more.

As she reads through the paragraphs, her mind goes over what Black had said when he came back. When he and Spike were leaving, a feral demon stopped them. Now, why would a being powerful enough to block anyone from leaving Sunnydale need to have feral demons for protection?

She spends hours pouring over the books, not looking for clues to their baddie, but for the changes that have occurred in Spike. Maybe, at this point, instead of focusing on what she used to know about him, maybe she should focus on what he is now and maybe that will help her. It’s like protesting about something for so long and then when one starts to feel opposite of what said makes one feel like a hypocrite.

The inside of the mansion is startling clean, where the outside hadn’t been. As much as she could, she avoided looking at the dead bodies as she went up the walk, but it was like trying not to look at a car accident as one passes – its extremely difficult.

Now, inside the living area of the mansion, she looks into the empty fireplace as she feels herself being surrounded by dozens of demons. At the prickling at the back of her neck, she has to quill the urge to attack. She has no weapons and that isn’t what she’s here for. If anything, this is a smash and grab job – but really, she’s playing it by ear. She has no idea how this is going to play out once she meets the ringleader.

The demons, meanwhile, start to herd her forward, the demons to her back start to slowly advance as the ones in front of her start to back up. She follows, not sure what they’re doing, but somehow she thinks they’re leading her somewhere. As they move through the halls, the group of demons that had been surrounding her in the living room area has thinned to only four large feral demons. Their loud stomping footsteps echo through the corridor, leading her off a hall she’s never seen in her times in this place. At the end of the hall, there is a set of large doors that almost reach the ceiling. Both doors are pushed wide open, and as they draw closer, Buffy sees a be robed man sitting on what could be a throne, and finds herself wondering why evil creatures always thought this was cool. If anything, its cliché the way they sit there, acting as if they were the king or queen of the world. They need to come up with something new.

The entrance to the throne room is guarded by two more feral demons, and she wonders where all these guys came from. The throne room was threadbare, and empty of anything except for the man sitting in the chair at the end of the hall. She has to do a double take when she sees him, because he is a man, an elderly man. He has long white hair, both on his head and on his face and chin, and so long, that it lies on his lap. He wears a witch’s hat, but it looks so authentic that Buffy doesn’t find it funny. The last few inches of the tip have bent over and point out to his left.

Across one eye, there is a vicious scar that has left his eye blind, and a lighter purple than his living eye, which seems to burn with a… glow. She can’t use the word brightness, because that would imply that the eye reflected the light around him when what it really does is, is it draws the light in and uses it. His long, thin nose is the only other feature she can make out from the shadows the brim of his hat provides. His volume of robes spill off the dais his throne sits on; the robe has strange symbols on them across the chest, wrists and legs of it, like he’s bound in some way.

There is a satchel at his side, and the red material of the bag sets off nicely the purple of his robes. But what surprises her most about his presence is that of the dragon looking reptile that is perched on his left shoulder. That, and the staff he hold in his left hand with a glowing green orb that floats above the head of the walking stick.

The dragon looking reptile has aqua colored scales, and glares at her with pale red eyes, like the fire within the creature is waiting, ready at a moments notice to be released.

“Who do we have here?”

Buffy jerks her attention back to the robed man and its then that she notices something very odd about his chest. In the middle of the band of symbols across his chest seems to have a slash through one of them. In the back of her mind, that catches her attention more than she understands. Looking up, she meets his glowing purple gaze, and says, “I came here for the man you captured yesterday.”

Even though she can’t see it, she knows his brow raises at her audacity. “Which captive?”

Buffy thinks about her answer, then says, “Talks a lot and has white blonde hair.”

“Ah! And who are you to demand I give him over?” She sees his thin lips give a smile so devoid of emotion she wonders what keep this creature alive.

“I’m Buffy Summers.” She says.

He tilts his head to one side, “And this is supposed to mean something to me?” He shakes his head. “No,” he says simply as he studies her. “I do not simply trade something for nothing.”

Stepping forward, Buffy says, “I want you to release him in trade for me.”

His laugh is even worse than his voice, which seems to move with some sort of power. His laugh, his laugh is like listening to a child laugh with no humor. “And what are you to me? You are nothing, where he is not human. He is of more use.”

She can’t help herself; she snickers, finding it impossible for this creature not to know who she is. In all her years of being a Slayer, any evil guy that she’s run into knows who she is, if not on sight but with her actions.

“What is so amusing?” The mansion trembles with the man’s sudden change of attitude.

“This,” she says. “You not knowing who I am. I think I’ve become a little conceded in that area, thinking that every one knows who I am.” She shakes her head. “I guess it’s kind of a relief, really.”

Her amusement at herself disappears as the man, or whatever he is becomes suddenly still as he studies her anew. “What are you?”

Her smile, she knows, would remind anyone that knows her of Spike – evilly amused. “If I tell you who and what I am, will you release the man you captured yesterday?”

“And why should I release him? Why not just keep the both of you? You seem so willing to be taken anyways.” He nods to the feral demons.

Buffy looks at the two approaching her, wishing she could play her cards but knows its too soon. She thinks quickly as she takes a step back from the approaching demons. “If you try, I’ll tear this place apart, taking him with me when I leave.” She looks to the robed man again, “I’m sure you don’t want to lose most of your guard.”

He holds up a hand, and even with their backs’ turned to him, the demons stop, but stay where they are. “You?” He asks incredulously. “And what are you that makes you so sure that you can do such a thing?”

Not letting herself relax, she makes sure to glance at the demons as she talks, “You must believe me on some level or you wouldn’t have called off the goons. Or I’m just amusing you, but either way, it works for me.” She meets his purple gaze head on. “I’ll stay here, if you release the man. Then I’ll tell you who I am if we make a deal on it?”

He’s silent; and during that time, Buffy feels something slither across her skin, like bands made of snakeskin, searching her, looking for what she’s hiding. He’s silent for so long, that Buffy wonders if he’ll go for it. Or, that he’s deciding it would just be easier to kill her. “All right,” he finally concedes, “We have a deal. Now, tell me, what are you?”

“I’m the Slayer,” she says.

His eyes darken, “The Slayer?”

“Yes,” she nods her head.

He’s silent again, but, like building thunder, he starts to laugh. “I’ve been made a fool.” He waves his free hand. “Release him,” he orders the demons, which immediately move off. She ignores them, keeping all her attention on the robed man. “Although,” he says after the demons are working at the locks on a door Buffy hadn’t noticed on her arrival. “I have to wonder why this creature is so important that you, a slayer, would be so willing to trade places with him.”

Buffy shakes her head, not intending to give him anymore power over the situation than he has already been given.

Forcing herself not to turn, she hears commotion behind her, and knows instinctively that the feral demons are having a time dealing with Spike. She keeps her eyes on the robed man in front of her, knowing that he’s reading her, looking for, waiting for a reaction from her. She won’t give him the satisfaction of one. The power of his glowing eyes dim as they narrow on her when Spike cries out in pain. She returns the glare, hating him in that moment without ever having to like him. She also learns to hate whatever power had aloud to let this creature back into the world.

Buffy doesn’t allow herself to turn until she hears, “Buffy?” She turns to look into Spike’s vivid blue eyes, and knows, even as he begins to shake his head in denial, that she’s done the right thing. Logically, does it really make any difference which one of them is here in this evil man’s clutches?

No. It doesn’t, not in the least, but she knows that she’ll be better able to operate knowing that he’s out there.

“No,” he says, frowning first at her, and then at the man in the robes behind her. “No! You can’t do this. Send her away. Don’t trade with her. Keep me!”

Buffy turns so that she can keep an eye both on the robed man and Spike in the clutches of the two feral demons that escort him. The robed man waves his hand dismissively at Spike. “It will only hurt my cause to let a Slayer wonder around the streets. Besides, this was her idea, not mine.” Again, he waves his hands, signaling the demons to show Spike out.

Spike’s yell causes Buffy’s chest to clench tightly, “NO!” He struggles against the feral demons, and, with his strength being greater since his changes; he makes one of the feral demons bleed when he gets it in the jaw. The feral demon, moody at the best of times, roars in anger and backhands Spike across the neck. “She lied.” He says, his chin against his chest where it landed after the blow to his neck. “She’s lying. She isn’t the Slayer.”

“Doubtful,” the robed man says, “Now, if you persist in this, I’ll just deal away with the both of you.”

Buffy turns, glaring furiously at him, “That’s against our deal. You said you would let him go. Who cares if he protests, let the feral demons drag him off.” When she feels the weight of Spike’s eyes on her, she stiffens, making herself stand as tall as she can.

“I made no such deal. I only agreed to let him go.” The robed man says shaking his head as if there is nothing he can do about it. “It’s as I said, either he goes quietly or both of you will be dealt with. It’s his choice.”

Turning, Buffy locks eyes with him, pleading him, telling him that one of them needs to go back to Samuel. She even mouths their son’s name. During the time it takes him to make his decision, Buffy feels her heart break. This is something that neither of them should have to choose between: The need to stay with their mate or protect their child. It’s like asking someone to choose between the ability to talk or see; how do you choose between two essential parts of who you are?

He nods his head ever so slightly. Then, she watches as his face-hardens, just before he rips himself out of the feral demon’s grip. He glares at both, and then turning his eyes back to her, he stares at her. Turning, he leaves with the two feral demons flanking him but at a distance.

Chapter Ten
Part A: Uneasy Positions

The walk to his house is interminable: He feels pulled in two different directions. In one, his mate is being held by a very powerful being, and in the other, Samuel waits for them. As he walks home, he thinks of a million different ways he could have done things differently. The only thing he is thankful for is the fact that one of them, him or Black, were able to go back to his house. In retrospect, things could have ended a lot worse than they have. They haven’t lost anyone to death yet, and that’s what counts in the long run.

Buffy may be held captive, but she’s alive, and knows that he’ll stop at nothing to get her back.

After everything went black, he woke to find himself in a dark room, and so small that he has a feeling that it was a closet that they had keep him in. Not that he’s complaining, because really, he feels that its better that he captors just leave him alone. It gives him time to think and plan. He can only hope that Buffy will be left alone just as much as he had been.

Unbidden, he feels anger rise. Buffy had no right to come in there and trade herself the way she did. Doesn’t she know that he can take care of himself? Doesn’t she realize that he would rather it be him being held captive? Then, just as sudden as the anger had rose, its washed away in a wave of guilt, leaving him to feel like a bastard. She only did what he would have in her position, and he can’t fault her for that. Protectiveness is a strong characteristic in both of them.

Shaking his head, he finds himself limping up the walk to his house. The only signs of life coming from the house are that of the lights shinning through the cracks in the boards over the place where the living room window had been. The rest of the house is dark, leaving him hoping that Samuel is in bed, and fast asleep. He feels wary and torn in half and in no mood to deal with his needs. Which adds another layer to his feeling like a right bastard. And, he has the gut feeling that Samuel will indeed be up.

Sighing, he shakes his head once again, realizing that he’s hungry, tired – having no sleep over the past twenty-four hours, and worry eating at him, even now.

Reaching for the doorknob, he’s surprised to find the door locked. It usually isn’t. He wonders who locked it when he’s digging into his pockets, looking for his keys, but doesn’t find them. The sudden image of his dresser with his keys lying on top of it flashes through his mind, reminding him that he had opted not to take them when he came down for breakfast with Buffy yesterday. Not that they had been at the forefront of his mind at the time.

Raising his hand, he feels odd having to knock at his own house. Seconds pass before the door finally swings open to show the whelp on the other side. Without a word, Spike pushes past and into the house.

As he’s passing in front of the entrance to the living room, he’s stopped by, “Daddy!” The loud cry hurts Spike’s already throbbing head. He turns just in time to see his son running at him at full speed. Bracing himself, Spike reaches down and catches his son in a sure grip and swings him up into his arms. Samuel immediately wraps himself around him with a huge smile. As Spike walks farther into the house, heading for the kitchen, he feels Samuel look over his shoulder at the door, where Xander holds it open, looking out into the day. “Where’s Mommy?”

Spike sighs, feeling what little energy he had left being drained with that two-worded question. “She took my place.” Spike feels like his heart is ripped out of his chest when Samuel buries his head in Spike’s neck, and quietly starts to cry. It’s worse than out and out sobbing. His eyes burn all the sudden, and where he had been hungry walking home, he finds he isn’t any longer.

Turning in an about face, Spike heads back into the foyer, and stops to glare at Xander when he steps directly into his path. “Move Harris. I’m in no mood to deal with you.”

Xander glares back. “You left her there?” It’s more accusation than question, but before Spike can say anything, Xander continues, “I knew you were a selfish bastard, but leaving her there to save your own hide is even low for you, Spike.”

“I think I should warn you that I don’t have the chip anymore. SO, if I were you, I would curb that tongue of yours. Now, if you’ll excuse me…” Not waiting for an answer, Spike again brushes past Xander.

With one arm holding Samuel’s clinging form to his chest, reaches out with his free and grabs the banister, ready to go up. However, he is stopped when by the tight grip Xander excretes on his arm, and his words, “I bet Buffy doesn’t know, does she?”

Spike turns to glare at him. Sighing, he can’t help himself but ask, “Doesn’t know what?” He knows it would just be better to break free of his grip and disappear upstairs.

“The chip,” Xander says simply.

As he stares at the younger man, Spike realizes that Xander only needs this to keep himself from breaking down, and that he blames Spike for Buffy pushing him away. But that still doesn’t give him the right to harass him, not after today’s events. “That’s the kind of talk that got you on the outs in the first place, mate.” Shaking his head, Spike looks pityingly at him. “You never learn, Harris. I’m not a vampire anymore. I’m something between human and immortal. I tried, Ok? I tried. But the bastard said he’d kill her if I didn’t. So back the hell off.”

Leaving Xander with his mouth hanging open, Spike dashes up the stairs, holding Samuel tightly to him.

Slamming his bedroom door behind him, he walks to his bed and falls onto his back with Samuel cradled into him. Already, just the few minutes he’s been holding him, Samuel has started to fall asleep. Feeling wetness on his face, Spike reaches up, and finds his cheeks wet. He looks down at Samuel; his head rests comfortably on his chest with his little fist tucked underneath his chin.

Despite the fact that his mate is held captive miles away, and he hasn’t eaten in hours, Spike feels his body start to relax, and his breath become slower. Turning on his side, with Samuel held close, Spike falls asleep and dreams of Buffy.

Downstairs finds Xander standing in the kitchen staring down at the island.

He’s sure that what he saw was a trick of the light, because evil incarnate doesn’t cry.

Ok, from his point of view, he had gone away to think about what had happened nine years ago: all the things that happened between him and Anya, saving Willow and the world. Then, he comes back, thinking that his world has been put back in the order he expects. But after he came back, he realized that had been his mistake: if he had been here, Buffy wouldn’t have gotten, whatever, by Spike and Buffy would be the way she always was, dependable and always there, and not off somewhere with a vampire boyfriend, again.

Then, just as he started getting comfortable with the idea of Spike being in Buffy’s life, and he was starting to think that this could work if Buffy kept her relationship with Spike away from him and Willow. However, as he started to settle into that routine, Buffy started bringing him around, acting like there was nothing wrong with it.

From his view, Spike suddenly changed, gaining his ability to go out in the sun, and Buffy was protecting him. When he was finally able to get Willow to ask if Spike had in fact gotten the ring from Angel and that he was using it, he had thought that Buffy’s pushing them away was an admission of guilt. Then there was the announcement that Buffy was pregnant. His initial reaction had been: what kind of relationship is Spike putting her through? Because it’s a well-known fact that vampires can’t have babies.

Then, after a few years passed, where hardly any contact between them was made, Xander had been at one of his jobs, and he had seen them together. And the child looked like a great combination of his parents. He try his best to ignore the way Buffy and Spike interacted with each other; Buffy had needed to stop because of something in her sandal. While on one foot, Spike had held her elbow while she fixed the problem. Then, once she was done, she had leaned over and kissed Spike on the cheek, whispering something that made him smile hugely at her. Xander had ignored because it meant that he had been wrong, that Spike wasn’t just using Buffy, and there was more to it than he was letting himself see.

From the outside looking in things aren’t what they appear– and he reluctantly realizes he was the one on the outside. As he stares down at the counter top of the island, he realizes he’s the bastard, not Spike. Without trying to understand, he had accused and looked down on Buffy’s choices.

Still feeling reluctant to the idea of Spike being a permanent part of Buffy’s life, Xander decides that all of his resentment and selfishness can wait until the new bad guy is taken care of and Buffy is back with… is back home where she belongs.

Just minutes after Spike had stomped out of the main hall and disappeared from her sight, Buffy is taken by the arms by the feral demons. Another, much smaller and different demon comes forward and pats her down. When everyone in the room is satisfied that she doesn’t have any weapons, they start to drag her across the floor.

“You know, you could have asked if I had weapons,” she mutters under her breath to the demons at her sides.

Even though she doesn’t resist, the demons roughly take her down a hall at the back of the throne room. Here, they lead her down the corridor to a door midway down. This door has a padlocked bar across its front, along with two deadbolts and the lock on the handle. Added to this, the door is made of metal. Now, as she looks at the security on the door, she knows that it’s all new additions to the mansion.

Buffy looks from one feral demon to the other, wondering if she could take them both. However, she rethinks that idea when motion at the edge of her vision catches her attention. Turning, she finds a crowd of demons of all sorts standing there, watching her with recognition in their eyes. She’s fairly certain that she could take the two feral demons but a group of twenty demons with three more feral demons among them, is a little too much, even for her.

After much fuss made over the unlocking of the door, Buffy finds herself being thrown forward, into a dark chasm. Stumbling forward, she trips and falls to her knees on the uneven mason blocks. Before she can get to her feet and turn, the door is slammed closed behind her, and leaving flashing afterimages to burn the backs of her eyes. Knowing there is no use in banging on the door, she falls forward onto her hands and knees, and hangs her head.

With her chin on her chest, she grimaces when the feeling of something small, furry and unmoving under her hand reaches her brain. Shaking her head, she lets herself fall back and sits with a grunt, forced from her mouth when her butt impacts with the hard mason. “Life just keeps getting better. First, I trade myself for Spike, then I put my hand on a dead… whatever.” She doesn’t even want to know.

Jerking her head up, she grimaces again because she moved her head to quickly and gets a kink. Raising her hand, she rubs absently at her kink as she strains to see anything in the darkness. But the room is so dark, that there’s no use in her keeping her eyes open. Closing them, she just listens, letting the noises wash over her as they come, waiting. Then, she hears the rustling of material again, this time much more pronounced, as if whoever is in the cell with her is trying to get comfortable, or closer to her without trying to attract her attention.

Then a very familiar, French accented voice reaches her in the relative quiet of the cell, “My apologies. It’s a rat, Madame.”

A frown creases her brow because that voice sounds so familiar, and yet she can’t place where she’s heard it before. It’s like catching a fragment of a sound, and she can’t place where, but there is no doubt in her mind that she’s heard it. “Do I know you?” She asks.

She feels the hair raise at the back of her neck and along her arms when the being in the cell with her gives a bitter, humorless laugh, leaving her somewhat relieved that it doesn’t sound like a child. “In a manner of speaking, we, you do.”

She thinks back, the events that have happened over the pass couple of days, and the news that had brought Black and Lei to Sunnydale. “What’s your name?” She asks.

Silence fills the room, leaving a chill to run up and down Buffy’s spine. “I have the feeling you know, Madame.”

Part B: Hesitant Alliances

Spike wakes aroused. The only thing he’s thankful for in the first few minutes of awareness is the fact that he was facing away from his son. Even during his erotic dreams with Buffy, he had been aware of the fact that she was not with him in their bed. With that added knowledge, the eroticism of the dreams were somehow intensified, and made a little desperate.

Rolling over onto his back, he looks up at the ceiling and wonders how he’s going to get Buffy back. His thoughts are interrupted when he feels the heel of his son’s foot connect with his hip, frighteningly close to his erection. Now he knows what woke him. Lifting his head, he looks first at his son’s face and then down at his little foot. With pursed lips, he takes a hand from behind his head, and, with index finger and thumb, he removes his son’s foot and lets it fall to the bed.

Before he can do much of anything else, a small hand comes out of nowhere and smacks him right on the eye. He lies there for a full minute with Samuel’s small fist firmly planted on his eye before he sits up with a jerk, and puts his feet on the floor. Shaking his head, he feels annoyed to realize that he finds the situation amusing. With a raised brow, he looks over his shoulder to his son, who is sprawled out over the center of the bed.

Knowing he won’t get anymore sleep in the same bed as Samuel, Spike stands, then removes the kinks newly found in his neck and back. While rolling his shoulders, he moves to the window, and pulls back the curtains. Leaning his arm on the wood seal, he looks out over the dark backyard. The swing set sits at the back of the yard, close to the alley entrance, and then a sand box sits in the center of the yard with its lid half on with other end resting on the ground. Samuel’s toys lay scattered over the yard, looking innocent and making it like any other backyard.

As his eyes continue to scan over the yard, his eyes pick up out of place items: A sword stands in the ground, like someone had tossed it over the fence; a body part lies some feet from the sandbox, and in that moment he’s glad that Samuel hasn’t wanted to go outside in the past week. Trash, and other out of place things lay scattered over the yard but he doesn’t care to identify them.

He’s stalling really, not wanting to think about plans of rescue, a rescue that has the great possibility of not working, of back firing and he could lose…. Taking a deep breath, he doesn’t let himself complete that thought, because he knows there is a good possibility that he will not be able to continue on. There’s always the possibility of lost life, and he has to accept that. But his mind won’t let him take it any farther than that.

Relief washes through him when there is a knock at the door… a distraction. “Yes,” he says, glad that Samuel, once asleep, hardly anything wakes him, much like his mother – that is, unless something lands right on top of them.

“I was wondering if I could talk to you,” and with the voice behind those words, his sense of relief is gone. “Maybe out in the hall.”

“Can’t this wait?” Spike asks, his voice a little subdued – even if his son can sleep through an earthquake, doesn’t mean he wants to wake him when he’s finally gotten to sleep.

“Not really.” Willow says, and he can just imagine her looking over at Samuel before she continues with her next words. “Can we talk out in the hall?”

Shaking his head, he knows he’s being unreasonable, but at this point, he doesn’t really care. “If you want to talk, do it. Sam sleeps through anything.”

“I wanted to apologize for the way we… I mean, the way I’ve been treating you.”

Spike frowns at his reflection in the window, still finding it startling to be able to see himself after all these years. He doesn’t answer. He’s not the one she should be apologizing to. She hurt Buffy, not him.

After the silence stretches between them, Willow finally starts again, “You might be thinking that I should be apologizing to Buffy, and not you, but I would be wrong, again, if I didn’t, to you – apologize that is. Because, I thought I was being protective, and I didn’t want to be wrong, and I was comparing. And comparing never turns out right.” She pauses, and he hears her say, most likely to herself, “You’re babbling. Stop it!”

Despite himself, he smiles.

There is another silence where he hears her draw in a breath before she continues, “See, I compared you to An….” And he has the gut feeling she was about to use Peaches name. “A previous boyfriend,” and here Spike thinks, nice recovery, Red, “And I didn’t want Buffy to get hurt again. Then, when things didn’t go wrong, and you stayed with Buffy, no matter what we said or did, or what happened, I began to realize I had been wrong, but by then, it was too late. Or so, I kept telling myself.

“Then it became a big inner debate, which I won’t bore you with,” she adds hastily at the end. “But then, being here with Buffy, Samuel and you, watching the three of you together, I realized I was way wrong. I’m sorry for all the accusations I laid on you and that I wouldn’t listen when you and Buffy tried to tell me. I, I hope we can… start over, well, we really can’t start over because we never started…. Ok, babbling.” She takes a deep breath, “I hope we can at least be civil with each other.”

And he lets the room fall into silence once again. Not because he isn’t… indifferent, but more because he isn’t sure what to say to something like that. Accepting her apology would be the right thing to do, but he still feels the apology is lacking – and he knows it’s the none presence of his mate.

He rolls his eyes: None presence? He’s been listening to his mate too much over the years. Even then, he smiles a little, the idea making it easier for him to start thinking of a rescue, that it could be very possible.

When Willow speaks next, her voice gives away nothing of what she’s feeling or thinking about his silence: “Well, Black has come up with a plan, but he wants to know what you think first. So… yeah, whenever you’re ready… we’ll, ah, be downstairs.”

After the click of the door closing behind her, the room falls silent once more.

Turning, he heads for the bathroom, and leaving the door open, he prepares for his shower. Hoping Samuel will be able to get a few more hours of undisturbed sleep, he steps into the steaming shower stall.

Buffy jerks awake, startled that she had been able to sleep at all.

Who knows how long ago, the room had fallen silent, the eerie quiet of the cell disturbed only by the clicking of rat’s claws and her and her companions whisper quiet breathing. Not knowing what else she could say, she had turned, and crawled back to where she thought the door was. After much feeling of the very dirty walls, she had found the edge of the door. Then, feeling as if she had some anchor, she had slide down beside it with her knees pulled to her chest with her arms around them.

The last things she can honestly admit to remembering is leaning her forehead against her knees, feeling wary and tired in that moment. Distant dreams flit around the edges of her mind, sheets, and the nicely tanned torso of Spike stretched out over their bed.

“It is good that I am as weak as I am,” comes Cornelius Teyssier’s voice from somewhere out in front of her in the cell. His accent is nice, but she realizes that she’s become very biased to the English accent.

“And why is that?” She asks, after having to clear her throat.

“Sleeping is the best way to find prey.”

Buffy is suddenly very glad that she woke when she had.

Black had warned her that Cornelius was spotted around here, but why? After eight years of nothing, after disappearing after everything was finished with the Master? Why now? She asks as much, “Why did you come back?”

His bitter laugh echoes through the room once more, but this time, it seems to be directed outwardly, “It wasn’t by choice, cherie. Believe me.”

She lets the room fall silent. The only reply to that response is both obvious in one way, and vague in other areas, and his voice leaves her knowing that he doesn’t want to talk about it. In any case, she has the gut sinking feeling that he had something to do with this… being’s return or rise - whatever.

They had once been foes, he being a servant to the Master, and then he disappeared after helping Buffy and Spike, along with Black, defeat him. Now, years later, they’re thrown together once again. Both hers and his enemy sit yards from them, planning destruction and mayhem, and here they are, sitting in the dark with nothing but time on their hands. What else is she going to do? Sit here and wait for that old coot to decide its better that he kills her? No, she doesn’t think so.

She raises her hand, intending to get his attention that way, and then realizes that the room is way too dark, even for him. Rolling forward, she comes down onto her knees, and comes forward a step or two on her hands and knees. “What do you consider the enemy of your enemy?”

“Friend, I suppose. Why, cherie, do you ask?” Cornelius asks from somewhere in front of her. In her current position, she can tell that he’s lying on his back.

“Do you just want to lay there, or would you like to make a deal?” Buffy asks.

“And what might that be,” he asks, sounding all too interested for a being laying flat out on his back, and without the ability to move.

Frowning, she ignores the innuendo in his question, “I was thinking escape.”

“How, exactly?”

“Well, you’ve been here longer than I have. Tell me about their habits, what’s been happening? You know, stuff like that.” She says, settling herself with her rear on her heels.

There is a silence where she’s sure he’s thinking about his time in here. Then, his soft, French accented voice easily reaches her, “I won’t be much help in their habits. I’ve been going between wakefulness and sleep much of the time. However, if this helps, when I first got here, there was light coming from the west wall.”

Buffy feels her spirits lift. “Windows. There must be a window around here then.”

“We,” he says, throwing her, before he continues, “The light disappeared some time ago, after much nose from the other side of the wall.”

Nodding her head, even though she knows he can’t see her. “They boarded it up.” She thinks, if she can just find the window and bust through, they would be out and no one would be the wiser – that is, if their patrols weren’t coming by just as they happen to come out, not that they would be much of a problem for her. Although, she will have a wounded vampire with her, a wounded living vampire. She still has a hard getting her mind wrapped around that one – undead and living vampires. Very odd. She wonders if the council knows about living vampires?

“Of course, Madame, there is one problem with whatever plan you may have.” Cornelius says, making her wonder where he learned his English.

Frowning, Buffy asks, “What’s that?”

When he speaks, Buffy’s sure that he’s smiling when he answers, “Blood, cherie, I need blood. I’ve been bleeding for… I do not know how long.”

She opens her mouth to respond but finds she lacks a response. How does the Slayer respond when a living vampire tells her that he needs blood? She can’t very well give it to him – Spike would bust a gut if she let him do that – even if she was willing, and she’s not.

Buffy sits back, thinking. What are they supposed to do about this? How is she going to get him blood?