Title: Reminders 12/?
Author: Kimi
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Let's see. To make a long story short, the Initiative is
making vampire soldiers and using Spike's ex to do it. Spike is back
in Sunnydale, armed with a soul, but still with chip. Xander thinks
he knows a way around it, but isn't being very cooperative. Spike
has also taken in a stray, a vampire named Daniel, and is trying to
deal with Daniel, his new soul, as well as his feelings for the
slayer. Buffy is just trying to deal, period, with 'new and
improved' Spike. And the hits just keep on coming...
Spoilers: Serious Season 7 AU, takes place after my fic, Voices in
the Dark
Distribution: Just talk to me, I'm easy. Previous chapters are at
Fanfiction.net

 

and, thankfully, at Chris' site "Amare, Dare, Pardonare"

http://www.geocities.com/cxyzjacobs/btvsfic/chrisindex.html

Disclaimers: All Joss, all ME, all the time...
Feedback: You beta, you beta, you bet! Would love to hear from you!
kimi615@hotmail.com

Thank you to Chris and Colleen. And to Kelly and Christy and Chen
who let me spin them a fanwank at the con...

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Reminders 12


Buffy eased through the door of the crypt and heard a soft snore.
She looked at the chair Clem referred to as the comfy one and saw
Jonathan with his head on his chest, mouth wide. He looked like a
little boy. A *very* little boy.

She felt rather than saw Spike coming up the stairs. He looked at
her a bit shocked. She'd left Jonathan there only a few hours before.

"Don't you ever bloody sleep?" he growled.

She grimaced as she finished closing the door on the bright mid-
morning outside. "Not lately. Besides I got a couple of hours after
Dawn left for school." And back to business with a subtle shift of
her face and body, Spike marveled. "Where did you find Daniel
anyway?"

Oh, hell. He'd wondered when she'd finally link his finding Daniel
with the Initiative. And Spike was loath to tell her any more than
she already knew. "A place I used to go sometimes when I was in the
mood for a spot," he hedged vaguely.

"A spot." She looked at him, almost tapping her foot, waiting for
his explanation.

He sighed. "A spot of violence, love."

"Oh. Right. Where?"

Spike didn't want to take Buffy within two miles of the cave, or if
his suspicions were correct, Drusilla. He'd had plenty to think
about since she'd left a little after the sun had come up.
Unfortunately, his mind had bounced around and he really didn't have
a lot to show for it. There was Drusilla, of course. Then, Jonathan
and his revelation about the computer chip - and Spike's decision.

And now, Buffy was asking questions about the caves with the tell-
tale outlines of at least three stakes on her person - in broad
daylight, too.

Bloody buggerin' hell.

Realizing that the slayer was staring at him with her patented look
of frustration, exasperation and impatience, he almost lost his
temper. "In the bloody caves!" At the look on her face, he decided
his tone could have been a bit of an overreaction to her innocent
query for information.

"Sorry, love," he demurred. "Tryin' to talk over the voices in my
head."

She gave him a suspicious look. "Whatever. The initiative caves?
Well, isn't that just dandy?"

"Probably not such a good idea to go snoopin' around in there, right,
pet?" he said hopefully. Right. Well, it was worth a shot anyway.

She ignored his question and asked one of her own. "Can we get there
through the tunnels? From here?"

The vampire stared at her, suddenly seeing where this was all going.
He scratched his head. "Well. Yeah. It's the long way 'round,
but... yeah. Yeah, we can. This is a 'we' thing, right?"

"Well, I could always take GI Vamp downstairs..."

"Oh, yeah. Right. Except he still forgets he's a vampire. Strength
of five men and he goes into heart failure when he manages to open a
bloody jar. Or would - if he wasn't already dead."

"Okay, you're elected. *If* you can manage to call up some of that
old time killer instinct when we need it."

Well, that hurt! Of course, his slayer really didn't have a clue
about all the conflict that raged within him every time he thought
about going on patrol these days. Oversensitive much, he thought,
hearing Buffy's flippant voice. God, this was line of thought was
veering off into William-the-Broodydom. He smiled. "See if I can
drag 'classic' Spike up when needed, Slayer. Least I can do."

"Good."

Good? A year ago, two years ago, it was 'bad.' Well, that wasn't
precisely true, was it? She'd welcomed his help with Glory - even
asked for it.

"Okay," she said with a nod. "So 'we' go. Just wish we knew a
little more about what's going on."

No, pet, you don't, he thought. I know 'more' and I'm damned sorry I
do.

"Then, when we get back, we'll see if Jonathan's any closer to having
a handle on the spell."

Spike fixed Buffy with bright blue eyes. "There's a bit of a problem
with that, Slayer."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Hey," Jonathan looked over his shoulder as he looked out through the
crack in the door. "How'd you know I was here?"

Xander snorted. "I'm your babysitter. And his," he said, nodding
toward the downstairs. "What do you think of the pet vampire's pet?"

"Oh, he's nice, I guess," Jonathan said grudgingly. "Quiet though.
Here I finally have the opportunity to stop speaking high school
Spanish and no one cares!"

"Yep, it's pretty much all about Spike right now," Xander said with
an eye roll. "Of course, this time last year, it was the Year of
Buffy, so..." He let the sentence hang there.

"Well, you know. He seems okay. For a vampire."

"Daniel?"

"Spike."

Xander laughed ruefully. "Don't let him fool you. He's all full of
soul now, but... So. When do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"What do you mean what? Hocus pocus the chip."

"Oh, that. I'm not. Spike said 'no.'"

Xander was incredulous. "What?"

Nodding, Jonathan walked across the room and sat down in the
comfortable chair, leaving Xander standing by the door. "That's
right. Buffy told me to get to work on the spell, but Spike told me
to forget it. 'Bugger it,' he said. Does that mean what I think it
means, because..."

"Spike said 'no' to the chipectomy? I think I'm having an acid
flashback. Do you actually have to *do* acid to have one? He wanted
it out, and now he doesn't?"

Jonathan's eyes found his feet. The toe of his left sneaker looked
pretty screwed up. "Yeah, well..."

"Why not?"

"I think it has something to do with the way he feels about Buffy.
And he's thinkin' maybe he wouldn't feel that way after."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Wait. Wait a minute. Wait just a damned minute."

Spike stopped and looked at her quizzically. They were well inside
the cave, quickly approaching the spot where he'd found Daniel.

"You're really not going to let Jonathan take the chip out?"

Spike's mouth tightened. "Said I'm not." He pushed out a frustrated
breath. "Are we havin' this conversation, or am I dreamin' it?
Slayer, there's a cave full of God knows what, and you want to chat
it out?"

"I think we can spare a little time here. No ooglie wooglies. Just
us. And it's not like we have any privacy at your place anymore."

"Bloody hell. Can't we do this over coffee? Or never?"

"No. We. Can. Not."

"Fine." He looked around, disgusted, then ducked into a side
passage. After a moment, he reappeared. "C'mon, Slayer," he said,
taking her hand and practically dragging her behind him. They ended
up in a small side tunnel.

"Now. They can only come from one place - the way we came. Have
your say and be quick about it."

"Fine. But it's not going to be much of a conversation if I'm the
only one talking."

He stayed tense and silent, but she didn't back down. Finally, he
sighed. "Let's have it then."

"Have what?" she asked confused.

"Have it *out*, I reckon. Sure are hot to get this thing out o' my
head all of a sudden, aren't you? Thinkin' it might make things
simpler?"

"What?" She looked at his set jaw and tried to figure out why he was
so angry. "Make what simpler?"

"You. Me. Us. I wanted it to stop. And now that little weasel can
make it happen."

She shook her head. "You're not making any sense, Spike."

"What if it's the chip? The way I've been, the way I feel. What if
the soul has sod all to do with anythin', once the chip's out?"

Buffy belatedly realized what Spike was saying. She could have
kicked herself for not paying more attention back at the
crypt. "Wait. You think if he takes out the chip, you
won't...what? Be good anymore? No, that's not it, is it?"

"Well, you've said it yourself, Buffy. A Slayer and a vampire? What
is that?"

She sighed. "Obviously what we do. What comes un-naturally."

He snorted at the obvious.

She took a breath, hoping he might get it this time. "I don't have a
chip in my head, and I know how I feel. If I took my time admitting
it to myself, well, it's that slayer-vampire thing. I loved Spike
without a soul. I love you with one."

It was more than he could take in. He fought to let his head, and
not his heart, control this moment. His turn to be the rational one,
for once. "Buffy, it's not that simple. The chip..."

She looked at him in exasperation, putting her hands on her
hips. "Gee, Spike, nothing ever is, is it? Simple, I mean. Not
really? You don't think you can take the chance without the chip. I
don't think you can afford not to. And I think you're overreacting
to what Jonathan said. You came to the Slayer for help when Angel
wanted to destroy the world. What was that? I think it's just you:
a sorry excuse for the evil undead, and getting sorrier all the time."

He stared at her in astonishment. "Anything else?" he said hoarsely.

"Vampire at 6 o'clock. But it's cool. I've got your back."

She launched herself through the air, stake appearing in her hand, as
she sailed past him. She hit the ground, rolling in a pile of dust:
the remains of a college reject she'd managed to stake while still in
the air.

"Ow. You're welcome." she said, brushing off her shirt.

Still in shock at her speech, Spike walked over and gave her a hand
up.

Her eyes sparkled in amusement. "I finally figured out that this was
the move you tried to make the night you ended up chest-deep in dust."

He shook his head in wonder. "Oh, Slayer..."

"C'mon. This is gonna be fun!" she said brightly. "Let's go hunt
some bad guys!"

He grinned at last, pushing away the emotional burden that was
Drusilla, determined to deal with that in his own way when the time
came. He hadn't seen Buffy like this since high school. She said it
would be fun, and by God, he almost believed her.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Silence moved up the stairs like a shadow and came to roost at top of
the trapdoor. Xander jumped slightly, then chuckled uneasily.

"Daniel. Well, you look a lot more 'sane' than the last time I saw
you."

"And you look a lot less scared..." Daniel smiled. Xander was just
one of the guys. He remembered 'one of the guys.' He missed it.

"Man, Spike has great snacks," Jonathan proclaimed from the area
designated as the kitchen.

Xander looked over at him. "Uh, I think 'snacks' are a Clem thing,
not a Spike thing."

Jonathan nodded around a mouthful of Bugles. "Who's Clem?"

Looking down at his watch, Xander gave a low whistle. "More like,
where's Clem? Except I did say tonight, and it sure ain't tonight.
Even though some vampires seem to act like it is."

Smacking and swallowing the mouthful of chips and cheese, Jonathan
grinned. "Yeah, Spike's never been one to play by the rules. I
mean, how many vampires get it on with..."

Xander's face turned red.

Jonathan choked slightly. Then, started coughing in earnest. Daniel
walked over and slapped him on the back. Jonathan flew across the
room and into the back of the big chair in front of the TV. He
regained his balance clumsily and used his arms to crawl to a half-
standing position.

"Hey," he coughed. "Just bite me, why doncha?"

Daniel looked down, embarrassed. "I'm sorry. I just..."

"Just what? Don't know your own strength?" Xander finished, trying
to look relaxed. "Vampire, Daniel. Not human, okay? Daniel
strong. Elf weak."

"Hey!" Jonathan retorted, recovering quickly from his near death
experience. He looked at Daniel with interest. "You don't have a
chip, do you? Cause I've got a great de-chipping spell going to
waste right here."

Daniel smiled sadly. "Nope. No chip. I was a ... surprise."

Xander huffed out an amused breath. "Like a 'oops, it's a boy?'"

"More like an 'oops, it's a vampire.'" Daniel said in
explanation. "I was having these headaches. Dropped my taser, got
bit. Vamp tried to give me some blood, too. To make me one. But
he'd barely taken any, so no problem. After they pulled him off me,
they took me to the infirmary."

"And you died anyway," Xander finished.

"Oh, not right away. I wasn't gonna die at all. But they did find
out why I was having headaches. Had this tumor in my head. The next
day, the tumor's smaller."

Jonathan stared at him, full mouth and chewing forgotten. "Well,
they just got back a bad test, right?"

"I wish. No, they found out that the little bit of blood that I'd
picked up from the vamp was doing things to make it go away. So they
gave me more blood. Vampire blood." His eyes focused inward. "And
then, two days later, the 'oops.' I don't even remember feeling like
I was dying. Just remember feeling different."

Daniel shuddered. "That was right before they tried to stake me in my
hospital bed," he confessed, looking up at Xander
unflinchingly. "Right before I killed all of them and three of my
buddies who were standing guard outside. Kip Garner, Jess Plum and
Ben Jeffries."

++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Oh, great. Vampires in... what? Kevlar turtlenecks?"

"Riley gits all in a row," Spike said, not really hearing her. "Time
to knock em down, Slayer."

Buffy turned to him in surprise. "I appreciate the enthusiasm, tough
guy. And I'd like to take 'em on, but... with what? Harsh words?
Bad attitudes? You're not wearing your punk-ass coat, so that won't
fly - just not the same. They're wearing Kevlar. I can't cut their
heads off, sure can't stake em. Oh, and I left my Wile E. Coyote
Acme flamethrower in my other coat."

Spike took a second look and nodded as the adrenaline ebbed a
little. "I'm feelin' bloody naked just lookin' at 'em," he finally
admitted.

Mouth turning up at the corner, Buffy spared Spike a glance that
became a once-over. "I've seen you naked," she commented
dryly. "This is so not it."

Spike's mouth dropped open. Then, his eyes narrowed. "You're
awfully unconcerned about this, pet. Got a plan, do you?"

"Nope," she said cheerily. "Just me and the whole 'letting it lie
there' thing. I couldn't resist."

"You never could," he smirked as he considered the number of armored
vamps and the possibilities of draining gasoline from the motorcycle
and firing up the lot of 'em. "Resist, I mean."

"Oh, yeah. Pant, pant." Peering around a rock outcropping, she was
startled by a new sight. "Is that a gun?" she said, nodding at an
oddly shaped burden that had just appeared in the hands of one of the
Kevlar-challenged.

"More like a cannon, love." Spike tried to see past the six
vampires, but there was too much going on. He suspected there wasn't
a lot to see anyway, except more rocks. And an occasional trickle of
water.

"We are so in trouble." She looked back down the passage, thinking
about their chances of getting out the way they came in.

Spike sighed. "I told you..."

"Yeah, yeah. 'I told you so...' Keep it up, Spike."

"Slayer, keeping it up was never a problem," he said, raising an
eyebrow. Okay, obviously it was contagious. This time *he* couldn't
resist.

She threw up her hands, turning to look at him. "Okay, you win this
round of double entendre quip wars. Now what? I'm getting all
sweaty here, and I think my hair is losing its curl."

"Suggestions are welcome, pet. Even bloody encouraged."

"Do I have to think of everything?" she complained.

"Think? You?" He laughed. "Please!"

It might have been the timbre of his snorted 'please.' It might have
been a function of the caverns. But one of the vampires turned in
the direction of the bark of sound. Buffy glanced around the rock
and looked back at Spike, eyes widening. "Uh oh."

"I think massive head trauma might be in order here, pet. Or perhaps
you brought a pipe organ along? For me, not them. Rather not know
what's going to happen next."

"Stop being such a baby," she snarled. "And as for 'next?' We run."

Title: Reminders 14/?
Author: Kimi
Rating: PG-13 (really!)
Summary: Quick summary is that Clem has been taken by the
Initiative. Buffy and Spike aren't aware that he's gone, but are
prowling around in the caves where Spike found Daniel. Because Buffy
wants to. And then there's Drusilla...

Spoilers: Season 7 AU, takes place after my fic, Voices in the Dark
Distribution: Just talk to me, I'm easy. Previous chapters are at
Fanfiction.net

<http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=807597>

and, thankfully, at Chris' site "Amare, Dare, Pardonare"

<http://www.geocities.com/cxyzjacobs/btvsfic/chrisindex.html>

Disclaimers: All Joss, all ME, all the time...
Feedback: You beta, you beta, you bet! Would love to hear from you!
kimi615@hotmail.com

Major thanks to all the folks at Shore Leave who got spoiled at the
dance. And hopefully, Kelly, Christy, Chennie, Laura, Plummy, Cindy,
et al, I did my live and in person fic spinning justice here. I
couldn't have pulled this off without your encouragement.

Of course, without Colleen and Chris, there'd be no fic at all.
Thanks for the majorly quick beta, guys. And listening to me gripe
about being James'd. That little imp takes some getting rid of!

++++++++++++++++++++++

Reminders 14



Spike was glad his Docs had survived the trials in Africa and his
subsequent ensoulment, because he was running through the caverns and
tunnels at breakneck speed, feet lightly passing over uneven ground
and rock with nary a spill.

He spared a glance to his rear, knowing exactly what he would see
there: the Slayer gamely keeping up in her sturdy but slightly high-
heeled leather boots. He secretly marveled at the fact she could run
at all.

Sliding on loose rock, he threw out a hand to catch Buffy and pull
her close, as he listened for the sound of other running feet. He
could hear the thud of several. And they were still far enough back
to take a breather.

"Sounds like a herd of buffalo," he complained. His mouth quirked up
at the corner as he raised his eyebrow. "And believe me, I would
know."

Buffy was looking at her watch. "I really don't think we need to try
to get back to your place through the tunnels." She looked
around. "I don't know what we could possibly use for a weapon
against Kevlar breastplates."

"Bunch of fashion victims," he retorted. "Sad to have to call them
vampires. No sport in it at all."

"We need to get outside, before they figure out where we are."

Spike nodded thoughtfully. "Still daylight. I'll get you to the
entrance, and you can..."

"Uh uh. You're coming with."

"In case the soul has clouded your judgment, I'm still a vampire. As
you say, Spike and sunlight...not mixy things."

"When has that ever stopped you?" she asked angrily.

Spike pointedly looked around at the stark cave. "Well, love, no
blanket, no coat. Dusty ending for old..." He looked around again,
suddenly getting his bearings and the beginnings of an idea. His
mind began to churn as he considered the options.

"They're getting closer, Spike," she stated coldly. "And I am so not
leaving you here."

"Right then, pet." He grabbed her hand. "Detour." And he set off
again, practically dragging a protesting Buffy in his wake.

After a few twists and turns that almost had Buffy screaming in
frustration as they went deeper into the caves, they emerged into an
open, but seemingly deserted, area that was set up like a commons
room at a dorm. A very filthy dorm. As Buffy gazed at the odd
plethora of furnishings, the vampire tore into the garbage that was
pushed into corners and against the wall. In a few minutes, he stood
up with a triumphant look on his face, holding up a battered and
suspiciously stained sleeping bag.

"Now, we go," he said in satisfaction. "Only the one way out close
by," he explained. "Might have to make a break for it."

"Like the 'better part of valor thing?'"

"More like 'fight our way through,'" he admitted, heading out the way
they'd come and ducking off to the left.

"You up for it?" she asked pointedly, from somewhere very close
behind.

"Yeah. You?" he answered just as archly.

"Oh, yeah."

Spike could almost see her smile, even though she was behind him.
Which had to be a bit of a problem for Buffy, who didn't deal well
with not being in charge. Probably feeling guilty that this little
exercise had gone so wrong.

"All right, Slayer, we're about forty feet from the exit. If they've
got us sussed out, they'll be..."

"Hey, what happened to the forty feet," she complained as they
skidded to a stop, right in the path of six vampires, one armed with
a large gun, the others brandishing tasers.

Buffy shook her head as she caught sight of the tasers. "God, I hate
those things." She glanced at Spike accusingly as she inched
forward, looking for an opening.

"Well. Yeah." His voice was a little sheepish. "Me, too." He
glanced at her. "What say we go straight through?"

She raised herself on her toes, lightly bouncing. "'Through' sounds
like a plan. I'm all up for the 'through' part."

With that, Spike tossed the sleeping bag up and over the bunched line
of vampires. They were blocking the thin light from the entrance -
an entrance that was now only fifteen impossible-looking feet away.
The thrown blanket slightly distracted one of the vampires, which
gave Spike the misplaced incentive to charge toward them, intending
to cut a swath to the exit. He threw himself into the air, twisting,
feet first, to connect with the vampire closest to him at chest
level. The vamp gave a 'whoosh' as he sailed back about seven feet.
Spike rolled and snapped to a crouch, grinning menacingly as he went
into gameface, joyfully pounding the vampires with fists and feet.
They began fighting back and things got a little more interesting.

Spike realized Buffy was delivering a blow-by-blow monologue, as she
picked tasers out of strong hands and slung the pseudo-soldiers
against each other. The only other sounds he heard were grunts, from
the vamps the slayer was facing. He body slammed one of his to the
rocky ground. She'd been right; it was fun. Except they kept
getting back up. The lack of stakage was a handicap.

Just then, Spike realized that the gun-toting vamp had taken a bead
on the slayer. He dived to grab her around the legs and pulled her
down, just as a deafening boom echoed through the chamber,
accompanied by the sound of cascading rocks.

"Bloody hell, you pillock!" Spike bellowed as he rolled to his feet,
bringing the Slayer with him. He pushed her toward the light and
immediately launched himself at the vampire who was taking new aim.

"Buffy, out! Now!" Spike wrenched at the gun as he fired off a
punch at the other vampire. Borrowed blood burst from his nose, but
the gun stayed where it was. In the soldier's hand.

"Sorry. You were talking to me?" Buffy's pert voice came from
somewhere near his shoulder.

Cold hard hands grabbed at Spike from behind. He spun around to
break their grip, grimly reviewing what he needed to do to get Buffy
the hell out of there. As he moved, he managed a glancing kick to
the armed vamp's wrist. There was a howl of pain.

And then Buffy had the gun, grabbing at what she suspected was the
trigger with a slayer's sense for weaponry. She blew the vampire
against the cave wall. In the stunning aftermath, there was a rumble
as rock moved again, more insistently this time. Hands fell away
from Spike, as if shocked at the disarming and subsequent death of
one of them. She threw the gun at the wall with Slayer strength. It
smashed into plastic pieces.

"Hate guns," she muttered.

Spike pulled her forward and looked wildly about for the fouled
sleeping bag as the vampires regrouped. There! He scooped it up,
throwing it around him and over his head as he sprinted toward the
exit to the cave. Four vampires moved to block his way.

Suddenly, blonde hair whipped in front of him. He hesitated.

"Run!" Buffy headed toward the light, head butting the vamps and
slamming through like a professional line backer. Spike followed,
dodging and moving like a quarterback, as hands tugged at the
flapping bag.

He pulled himself up and away in a ten-foot leap. Tripping on the
insulated bag, he went down hard, hitting something that had given
with a soft 'whoosh' - Buffy. To add insult to injury, he felt a
searing pain burn into one hand and his left ear. He rolled over on
his stomach, hitching the bag up over his head as high as he dared,
and lay there.

The silence of the outside after the fight within the echoing
confines of the cave seemed surreal. He thought his ears might be
ringing, too.

"What the hell?" Spike heard Buffy's exclamation and her wry laugh.
She sounded fine, he thought in relief. And the vampires were safely
on the other side of the barrier of light.

"Dammit! Look at my jeans! *And* my knees! Elbow, hand...." Buffy
was bitched off in a big way, grumbling to Spike and to whoever else
would listen. He heard her walk over and kick something hard into
the side of the cave. Then, she laughed again, an ironic lilt to
it. He gingerly began to sit up, carefully holding his noxious
shelter closely around him.

He peered out and saw five pieces of body armor haphazardly lying on
the ground, covered with a faint dusting of... dust.

Buffy tuned to him with an amazed grin. "They *followed* us! Into
the sunlight. Kamikaze vampires!" She looked at his strained face,
a little concerned. "You okay?"

"Just a bit of a sunburn," he said, reaching up inside the bag to
touch his blistered ear. "Nothin' much. You all right?"

"Well, I have clothing issues," she said simply. "And I'm a little
bunged up."

And she was. Her left knee was bloody where it peeped through her
jeans. Her cheek was scraped. And there was a raw looking abrasion
that started at her wrist and ended at her elbow.

"Of course, 160 pounds of undead weight landing on me kinda drove me
into the ground a little. And there was that basebally thing we had
happening. What do they call it? A slide?" She grinned
recklessly. "Oh, and you're welcome," she quipped. "Again." Spike
wondered if he looked better or worse, then decided she'd taken the
brunt of it.

He realized she was still speaking. "...so got to get clothes. You
can get us to my house from here, right?"

Spike sighed and looked around, cautiously keeping his face shielded
from the mid-afternoon sun. It seemed like all he'd done today was
try to figure out where he was.

"Yeah," he said uncertainly. "Wait. Yeah." His voice became more
confident. "Yeah."

"Both of us? Undusty?"

He nodded decisively. "May not be a straight route, but..."

"Let's go. I'm stiffening up just standing here. So need to get
with the walking thing."

Spike ducked into the nearby woods. Buffy took a moment to look once
again at the empty Kevlar around her.

"Wow." She followed Spike into the trees, where he was waiting
patiently for her. As she caught up, he struck off, heading toward a
clearing.

"At 10 am, the clearin's not a problem, but at this time 'a day, best
to avoid it," he said in explanation.

"Avoidance is good," she agreed, limping a little.

"There's a culvert through there," he nodded. "If we..."

"Got it." She followed him inside as he let the sleeping bag drop
from around his shoulders and trail off behind him to his left.

"That thing's nasty," Buffy said, pointing at the bag.

"Yeah. I think they wrapped their kills in it. Or killed what was
in it... *while* it was still in it."

"Ewww."

"Yeah, ewww." He mocked her voice.

"Hey. You makin' fun of me?"

"Love, this piece of tattered gore is all that stood between me and
minglin' my dust with the other lads."

"Well, don't get attached to it. It's going in the trash as soon as
we get home. I've got plenty of clean blankets."

Spike chuckled at her generosity. "Right. Trash it is."

Buffy's bent knees started bothering her. She shuffled along in the
culvert, beginning to get a little pissed. "If God had meant man to
walk like this, we'd have four foot ceilings."

Spike stopped and turned. "There's an exit up ahead. You can head
on the old fashioned way and I'll catch up in a bit."

Buffy chewed her lip. "No thanks," she said, a little abashed at his
thoughtfulness. "I think I'll just see how the other half lives."

Turning back and starting forward again, Spike smiled to
himself. "Suit yourself," he said noncommittally.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Clem was hungry.

Oh, it wasn't that they hadn't fed him. They had. Soldiers, he
supposed, had brought him food twice now. Different ones every time
(although they all had a tendency to look alike) arriving in pairs
and bringing the same concoction each time: some kind of gruel that
looked suspiciously like something his mother used to make.

Which was 'yuck.' He was going through junk food withdrawal. He
thought longingly of all the goodies he had stashed at home and at
Spike's place.

Clem wanted to ask them for an anything-on-rye. Or a bag of Bugles,
even Cheetos would be okay... but he was afraid to let them know he
could communicate with them. He could just be an uninteresting
demon, the most uninteresting demon ever, in their zoo.

No one had bothered him as far as he could remember. And his head
didn't feel funny, like anyone had been cutting on him or anything.
In fact, they didn't seem interested at all. And this was good,
because he'd been captured by the Initiative, and they were the worst
kind of demons, according to his friend Spike. Clem had heard
stories that kept him up at night.

When he'd been feeling brave (and that had happened periodically in
the last few hours), he'd watched them. When the little uniformed
troop of vampires had left for parts unknown, he'd followed them with
his eyes to see where they'd gone. Cause maybe if he paid attention,
he'd get a chance to go, too.

There didn't seem to be any other demons besides him, and the
vampires. One big man seemed to be in charge, accepting salutes with
a brief nod of his head, stopping to speak with different 'white
coats' and soldiers. This man would disappear every so often, then
return in a little while. Once he had caught Clem watching him and
he'd smiled.

Clem had almost smiled back, then looked down quickly, confused by
what he saw. It wasn't a very nice smile. No, not nice at all.

The demon sat down in a corner and tried to make himself very small.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Spike escaped into the house through the back door, relieved at
having once again successfully negotiated a daylight run. He dropped
the foul sleeping bag and kicked it toward the wall, turning to Buffy
in the same movement.

He was opening his mouth to bitch about the circuitous trip to
Buffy's when he saw her collapse against the kitchen island, almost
doubled over.

In laughter. Silent guffaws shook her body and with a gasp, the
mirth began to roll out. She was laughing. At him, he realized
belatedly.

He scowled. "What?"

She opened her mouth to explain, but only more laughter came out.
One hand clutched at her stomach, the other clutched the counter in a
death grip. It reminded him of the night he'd found Daniel.

In spite of himself, a small half-chuckle questioningly came from
him. "What?" he said again.

"You..." She sighed as the giggles subsided a bit. Then she
dissolved into another gale of laughter. "You are so... oh, God,
Spike," she gasped.

"You're laughing at me, aren't you?" he said in realization.

Great big nods sent Buffy's hair bouncing. Tears began to shine in
her eyes.

"You think *that* was funny," he continued in a reasoning tone,
tilting his head toward the great outdoors. "I risk life, well,
unlife, and limb to get here and you think it's amusing? Almost been
toasted three times today! Just because you are a spoiled brat who
couldn't wait til nightfall."

She was totally unashamed at herself and was continuing to
giggle. "It was the trip across the back yard..." She shook her
head, as another thought struck her. "You were right, too - about
the daytime wedding thing. 'The wind tosses the leaves aside,
and ...'" She let the sentence trail off, inclining her head
suggestively, as she surrendered to more giggles.

At her prompting, Spike recalled that phrase. He'd said it to her,
or something like it, when she'd suggested an outdoor, daytime
wedding ceremony three years ago, right after he'd been chipped. The
time when Willow had witched them into planning a wedding. Spike
smiled absently, remembering how happy he'd been when Buffy had
agreed to be his wife. As spells went, it had been a damn good one.

Seeing his face soften in remembrance, Buffy walked over to Spike,
and put a hand on each side of his face. His eyes widened as she
pulled his head down and went up on tiptoes, delivering a
resounding 'smack' of a kiss.

He wasn't prepared for it. Her lips clumsily connected with the
corner of his mouth. He pulled back, blinking owlishly, as if he
thought she'd gone off her nut.

A half-embarrassed grin, accompanied by a self-deprecating shrug,
flitted uncertainly across his face. The look was so boyish, so shy,
that she couldn't resist kissing him again.

And again.

As she moved his head to plant a hard kiss on his cheek, he caught
her wrists and took control, putting his lips directly on hers.

And she was lost. Completely irrevocably lost. Again.

When he finally ended the kiss, after a seemingly impossible time,
she was gasping for air, eyes wide. His chest was rising and
falling, almost in a panic. "Buffy..."

She laughed again, this time ruefully, at the fear in his
eyes. "'Buffy,' what? 'Buffy, we can't'?" She momentarily broke
eye contact to look at the clock. "Upstairs. Now." Her face was
flushed. "I've had about enough of this," she growled.

Her mouth was on his again - lips rough as she tried to burrow her
way into his hard body. They moved across the kitchen somehow,
slammed into the doorjamb and stumbled backward toward the stairs.
She laughed wickedly, as one of her greedy little hands found his
belt and tugged at it, pushing her fingers down as if she could
loosen it by sheer force.

Which of course, she could. Snap it in half, most likely, he thought
with some clarity. And that was when he pulled away from her.

Spike needed to tell her that he suspected Drusilla was back in
Sunnydale. He shook his head to clear it. "You don't..." She
pulled at his belt with a determined set to her jaw. "Wait," he said
wildly. "Buffy, wait."

His words caught in his throat as he was caught by the look of her -
at her flashing eyes and her stubborn chin. "I've *been* waiting!"
she said, playfulness forgotten. "For months now. I haven't pushed
you, which was probably a mistake." She shook her head. "I *know*
we have a shitty history. Right up there on the Guinness list of
best 'worst...'"

"Buffy, that's not..." he pleaded. She wasn't listening to him, and
he had things to say that she needed to hear.

"But I've been patient," she continued, her voice hardening with
frustration. "And if your feelings have changed..."

"Of course, my feelings have changed! I've changed!"

"Well, so have I! And it's time you trusted that, and about damn
time you trusted yourself! I know you still love me. And you used
to be man enough to admit it!"

He opened his mouth, but words wouldn't come. Her face was too raw,
too angry, too hurt, to voice his fears. She'd turned his own words
back on him. But he still needed to tell her...

He was a coward after all. Spike reached for her and she stepped
back, eyes snapping, furious at being forced into her outburst. He
let out an exasperated breath.

"Oh, bloody hell!" He caught her stiff angry body and threw it over
his shoulder. "Fine," he said, striding up the stairs. She
struggled a little, but more in surprise than anything else. "But
just so you know," he said to the air loudly. "It looks like
Drusilla is back, and your old Initiative buddies have her. Meaning
your ex has my ex."

Buffy's body stiffened in shock. "Drusilla?" Her voice was muffled
against his back.

"Yeah," he said, reaching the landing and heading toward her
bedroom. He put her down outside the door, hard. "Further, I think
this is a sodding bad time for romance, but I'm done waiting. Too."

"Drusilla," Buffy repeated, looking up into his eyes. She took a
deep breath and considered his words.

He softened, anger seeping out of his face, and sighed. "I always
could destroy a mood."

She shook her head. "Not this one."

He kissed her again, slowly and languorously, working her into the
room. He reached behind him to slam the door shut and immediately
returned his attention to her hot little body. He felt her laugh
underneath his mouth and opened his eyes to lock with hers. She'd
hooked her fingers into his belt again.

"Impatient?" he murmured.

She nodded, trying to find her way to the bed without benefit of
sight. And it should be easy, right? But she was totally distracted
by the mouth and hand business, ending up fouled in a pair of
discarded jeans. For the second time that day, she went down and he
landed on top of her, her hand still tangled in his belt.

"Get off," she laughed, embarrassed by her mess of a bedroom. She
pushed him away, while keeping a death grip on the wide strip of
leather.

"Let go, then," he muttered, burying his head in her neck.

"Nope," she giggled. "And we are so not doing this on the floor."

He laughed then. A playful chuckle. Leaning up and away from her as
far as he could, he settled back on his haunches, her hand still
connected to his belt like a small girl holding onto her dog's
collar. He looked pointedly at her outstretched arm and then her
face. "You think this is cute?"

She nodded, eyes dancing.

Looking around at the room, he remembered other times he'd been
there, usually covertly. "God, you *do* need a decorator," he said
in mock-disgust. She growled and flipped him over on his back, using
the leather for leverage.

Without taking his eyes from hers, he deliberately reached down and
unfastened the belt. Her hand slipped to one side. He pushed her
away so he could get to a sitting position and then up, reaching back
down to grab her and pull her to her feet.

"You see that bed?" he asked calmly, nodding his head at the girlish
linens. "I've never been in that bed in all this time. Had
fantasies about that bed."

She nodded and swallowed hard, not trusting her voice. They were in
her room. That was her bed. She'd had her fantasies, too. And
dreams. Lots and lots of dreams.

Obviously, there were still a few first times left. Even for them.

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