Good Lord! Does anyone even remember what this is about? Sorry for the Jossing... Whoops! NO! Blame him!

Kimi

+

Title: Wolf 3/?

Author: Kimi

Rating: PG-13 Action/Adventure/Mystery

Pairing: Hell, yes, B/S!

Summary: Spike prepares the Vale Project vampires for their return to Sunnydale and the old Initiative facility.

Okay, since it has taken so long to post a new part, I think maybe a real summary is in order. If you are confused about which fic this is, you might want to relook the first two parts of Wolf... oh,hell, read all of 'em. At Chris' site or at Laura's.

A very capsulated summary: Buffy went to Colorado, to review the Spike's Vale Project, and the plans for its relocation to Sunnydale, although she used it more as a vacation, much to Spike's chagrin. During her trip, she meets a few of the Fang Gang, and becomes the new object of DeLuca's lurid comic book art...

In the meantime, Dawn has continued her 'harmless' email correspondence with vampire fledgling Daniel. Xander is keeping an eye out for her while Buffy is gone. Jonathan and Dawn are covertly working on her powers as Key, by practicing her control on locks of all kinds. Which could get to be a problem, as Dawn is progressing away from the whole MasterLock genre.

Chapter Three opens with Buffy's return to Sunnydale...

"Reminders" and "Shepherd", as well as "Two Days" are available at "Amare, Dare, Pardonare" http://www.geocities.com/cxyzjacobs/btvsfic/chrisindex.html and at Laura's site http://www.allaboutspike.com

Previous parts of Wolf also at Chris site, as well as http://www.allaboutspike.com/fic/243.html

Spoilers: Season 7 AU, maybe even 8, by now. Post-Shepherd/Two Days.

Disclaimers: All Joss, all ME, all the time... except Daniel and DeLuca. Hah! Take that, Joss!

Feedback: You beta, you beta, you bet! kimi615@hotmail.com

Author's Notes: It's so good to be back in the Kimiverse! Loving Season 7, but gee...

+

Wolf

Chapter Three

Dawn was almost bouncing off the walls in the baggage claim. "How can the plane be late? It takes what? All of three *minutes* to fly from Vale?"

Xander laughed and hugged her. Mostly to keep her still for thirty seconds. "A little longer than that. And planes get late. It's not the airtime; it's the runway time. That's what does it. At least, in my oh-so-limited experience."

"What?" Dawn said, heading to the window. "She's already here? Just sitting out there?"

He shook his head as he approached the window. "Nah. Not this runway. That runway. Maybe. Or the yeti-yuppie got her on the return."

Dawn looked at his reflection in the glass and made a face.

"Why does nobody think that's funny but me?" he said, pretending to be hurt.

Dawn turned back to him. "Well, I'm bored with waiting. And I want to know all about Vale. *And* I want a t-shirt. I so need a t-shirt!"

Spreading his hands in a shrug, Xander commented apologetically, "Well, this was a working trip, kid. No mall. Maybe the airport gift shop, though, so hey! You could be sleeping in 50/50 cotton/poly as early as tonight!"

Ignoring him, Dawn looked around the claim area. "Oh, my God," she said as she looked down the corridor.

The blonde slayer was burdened with two large, very battered, and very full shopping bags - one from Gap, the other from Banana Republic, and a flat black case on a shoulder strap. Dawn screamed and ran to meet her.

"Buffy!"

The slayer set down the bags, which proceeded to fall over and spill their contents all over the shiny tile, as she captured her sister in a tight hug.

"Ribs," Dawn panted. "I have... ribs!"

Buffy laughed, glowing in relaxation. "Sorry, 'Bit'," she said in an atrocious British accent.

Grinning, Dawn hugged her again. "How is he anyway?"

"Cantankerous. Sweet. Borderline bitchy. Same as always," Buffy answered wickedly, as Dawn dived for the contents of the bags.

Xander joined them, looking at the bags in dismay. "Buffy, did you even go *see* the Fang Gang?"

"Fang Gang?" she said with an upraised brow. "Xander, that's so lame..." Her face broke into a wide smile. "And sure. Did it all. Worked with Spike. Had dinner. Went to a demon bar. Got in a brawl. Ruined my skirt. Had a hangover. Worked some more. Had a fight with Spike. Went shopping. Had dinner. Went to bed. Got up. Flew home."

"A well-rounded trip," he said nodding. "Especially the 'fight with Spike' part."

"That's how I got the shopping trip. Finally found out what that soul is good for."

"Spike took you shopping?" Xander was flabbergasted. "What? You pick it out, he steals it?"

Buffy gave Xander a superior look. "He has money. He gets paid."

"Whoa. What? He gets paid? For what, vamp-sitting?" Xander had somehow fallen out of the loop and he didn't like it.

Dawn popped up with a handful of white cotton. "You got me a t-shirt?"

Laughing, Buffy reached down and scooped up the contents of the Gap sack. "And everything in here. See, all the jeans are 'longs.' Which is like, so not me, right?"

"Oh, wow!" Dawn clutched the bulging sack tightly to her chest. "Janice is gonna sh..." She turned beet red. "Uh, be really impressed at what a great sister I have."

"Oh-kay! Enough of the 'floor' show," Xander admonished with an eye roll at the crouching slayer, as she stuffed her own goodies back into her bag. "Let's get your stuff and blow this place before somebody blows it up. You still have a suitcase?"

Nodding, she came up from her position on the floor.

"Well, I'll get that. Wouldn't want to lose a limb trying to get that sack away!" he said sarcastically. Shaking his head, he walked toward the conveyor. "Gets paid," he muttered resentfully. "Justice is blind. And deaf. And..."

+

Daniel was still smarting from the tongue-lashing Spike had given him after the Slayer had left Vale. Daniel hadn't seen anything wrong with DeLuca's depiction of the slayer as superhero - and obviously, neither had Buffy, since she'd taken the color ink 'cover' home with her, carefully protected in a mail roll the fledgling had unearthed in the office supply room. Of course, telling Spike so might not have been the most diplomatic thing he'd ever done.

It seemed Spike was very persistent in his depiction of DeLuca's behavior as 'stalking,' and wouldn't be persuaded otherwise. Daniel thought the older vampire was overreacting, but certainly didn't have much information about the 'stalker' mentality.

Daniel had managed to sit in on Spike's meeting with the artist/fledgling, and had been quite surprised by the older vampire's careful handling of the situation. Still, Spike had been quite firm in his insistence that the 'cartoons,' as he referred to all of DeLuca's drawings, would no longer be posted for public consumption.

First, Spike had asked DeLuca what he thought about their upcoming move, and their mission in Sunnydale. The fledgling had nearly fallen all over himself as he expressed his excitement, and the thrill of being able to help the slayer in such a worthwhile endeavor. Daniel almost bled for the young man, as he saw the jaws of the trap begin to close.

Spike explained tightly that the drawings were undermining the mission, making it seem more like a fantasy than the truly deadly business it was. At the look on DeLuca's face, Daniel had a flash of the next adjustment ratings and the sharp decline he'd see in the young vampire's numbers.

Next, the older vampire made it very clear that the slayer was the pivot point of the upcoming Sunnydale project, and that she was not to be turned into a 'character' in a comic book. That he'd known the slayer for many years, had fought the slayer more than once, and that respect for her and her abilities was integral to DeLuca's participation in the mission.

In other words, can it, suck it up, and don't step out of line, or you're out. When the boom was lowered, Daniel was surprised at how brilliantly it had been done. DeLuca was appropriately apologetic, and left with his balls still in the appropriate place - instead of tied around his neck.

+

"Well, it was pretty much all a surprise. First, no more DeSoto. He's got this Big Bad black SUV with incredibly heavily tinted windows. And he knows which malls have windows and skylights - which is pretty much all of 'em. We went at dusk. Had a big day at work."

"Wait," Dawn said, waving her hands from the front seat. "You went shopping *with* Spike?"

"With? That's a strong word, with. Makes it sound all togethery, which it was *not*!" She sighed. "He sat in a restaurant and had extra spicy buffalo wings and beer for two hours."

Dawn nodded wisely and turned back around to face the street. "Best place for him."

"No duh. He hates the mall."

"Ahem," Xander said as he caught Buffy's eye in the rearview mirror. "The reason for your visit? Did any of that part happen?"

Buffy reddened. She couldn't believe he was saying it in front of Dawn.

"Hello? Information? Data?" he prodded her, not much liking the look of that blush. "Researchy stuff of any kind? Or just a new wardrobe courtesy of the blond cockroach?" Which I would like to take out to the yard and burn, he thought. Wardrobe and cockroach...

"Oh. Oh! Of course I did!" She wrinkled her nose. "We did lots of researchy stuff," she said hastily. She held up the slim case. "I even have a case with a laptop and files and everything. See? Leather." She frowned. "And *reports*. And keeping the case, Dawnie, so don't even think about it!"

Xander's eyes darted back to the rearview mirror to catch Buffy's sarcastic grin, but there wasn't one. She was pulling papers from the bag. "There's lots of stuff here," she finished as she zipped it back up. "Like a care package."

The man was not going to sound surprised. Not now, not ever. New subject. "So. Dawn tells me you kicked Spike's ass."

The teenager froze. Buffy laughed. "Who told you, Dawnie? Did Spike call?"

"Um, email."

She nodded and turned to Xander. "Yes, I did. In a training session. And I can't take full credit on the ass kicking. Spike kinda let me."

The man waited.

"He's got this whacked out thing in his head. That I need to look like the boogey monster for all vamps and evil things." She chewed her lower lip. "As if I couldn't take any of them, and him, in a Sunnydale second, anyway," she grumbled.

Nodding, Xander turned onto the main drag. "I never thought I'd say this, especially about anything *he* did, but that was smart."

"Oh. And no one can know," she interjected.

"Know what?"

"About Spike, and me about... well, you know, about me and Spike," she said, shooting a look at Dawn.

"More points to the blond bloodsucker. Any reason?"

"Well, just didn't want anyone getting the wrong idea about looking for a girlfriend whose heart is beating," she said uncomfortably.

Dawn stiffened in the front seat, unnoticed.

Xander slapped his forehead. "More genius from the Soul Man! I might just have to stake his hand."

Buffy leaned forward, putting her hands on the seat between Xander and Dawn. "Stake?" she asked dangerously.

"What? Did I say 'stake?' I meant 'shake'. You know, 'shake his hand,'" he said innocently, eyes sparkling. "No, really. I did."

Buffy sat back and settled into the seat. A loud yawn followed.

Dawn turned. "Didn't get any sleep?" she asked slyly.

"Are you kidding?" she grumbled absently. Eyes flying open, the slayer looked quickly at her sister and into Xander's eyes in the rearview. "Uh. Got lots of sleep. Slept all night. Sleeping Buffy. Just like the fairy tale. But not, of course, cause that would mean..." She yawned again, and grimaced. "Must be the airplane ride. Making me yawn. Cause I am so rested up from all that sleep."

"Right," Xander said resentfully. "Of course. And how's the whole team player thing workin' out for him? You know? Captain Peroxide? William the Broody?"

She snorted. "Team player? Spike? He runs that place like... I don't know. Annoying, snarking at everybody, never taking 'no' for an answer. He sounds just like..." Buffy cast around for a good comparison.

"Spike?" Dawn spoke up helpfully.

Buffy seized on the comparison. "Exactly."

Laughing sardonically, Xander shook his head. "So. Great. Commander Not-So-Evil-Anymore is makin' the world safe for... Uh, what's he doin' this for again?"

"I am so killing you..."

"Oooh, I'm shaking here," he said in a falsetto voice.

"Xander," she squealed, lightly hitting his shoulder with a laugh.

"Ow." He glanced up in the mirror. "I'll just sleep so much better knowing... well, knowing..." He paused dramatically.

"What?" Dawn said curiously.

"Well, that Spikey's in charge!"

+

Spike breezed in from his 'morning' workout with Third Team. It was a little past six p.m. He had begun making a conscious effort to restructure everyone's internal clocks, vampire and human alike, in preparation for the beginning of the real mission. He'd decided they'd be running a skeleton crew in the daytime, mostly to handle requests for information that came in from the late night patrols.

Third's inclusion into the daily workout regimen meant that they would be going out in the field regularly now. In fact, he and Daniel were taking them out tonight - and to one of the older Vale cemeteries, if anyone could actually call them 'old.' In Europe, it would be like some upstart housing project.

Chuckling, Spike took in Daniel's huge yawn. "Tired, Fledge?"

"Didn't rest today. I think the two a.m. to noon thing was working better for me."

"Maybe for you, here. But it won't work for you on the Hellmouth. Slayer's pretty much wrapped up patrol by one a.m., unless there's some particular nasty she's dealin' with. Wouldn't do to miss the action. Sleepin' sunrise to four makes a bit more sense."

Spike continued to be shocked by the lack of vampiric circadian rhythms that his group of Initiative-made fledglings had. They were mostly 'morning' vamps. Which was bloody ridiculous!

"You rest a lot less than that," Daniel said accusingly.

"Yeah, well. When you're old, you need less. Besides, I've had this alarm clock for years now. Got me used to bein' up at odd hours."

"Alarm clock?"

"When the door slams open and hits the wall. That's my alarm clock," Spike said wickedly. "Never know when it's gonna go off."

"Not very large on the knocking thing, is she?" Daniel was grinning at the older vampire.

"Never was. And her mum was such a lady, too." He smiled at a private memory. "Still. Kind of gotten used to it over the years. She tried knocking when I first got back from Africa, but it didn't last long. Just as well. At least I know when it's her." He shrugged, self-deprecatingly. "Oh, well. What are you working on?"

Daniel looked down at the computer disgustedly. "Room assignments. Odd request here."

"Really?"

"Well, you know how we worked up the quarters' assignments? Two to a room, according to compatibility ratings?"

"Yeah?" Spike walked over and sat down in his chair and leaned back, as he waited for the rest.

"Got a 'rooming' request today."

"Who?" Spike seemed unperturbed, which was enough to drive Daniel crazy.

"Matthews and Jeffries. I mean, I realize we stuck 'em together when Jeffries ratings were so low, but they really aren't very simpatico. Not according to the compatibility ratings..."

Smirking, Spike reached over and picked up the hard copies of the latest fitness ratings.

"What? You're smirking."

"So? Can't a former Big Bad smirk?"

"Not if I think I'm the object of that smirk."

"Look, Daniel, those kind of tests only guide so far. Not a bible or anythin'."

"But look! Right here, it shows..."

"Fledge." The older vampire interrupted Daniel's explanation. "There'll probably be more requests like this. So don't get your knickers in a twist." Without anything further, Spike got up and headed out the door. "Just realized I'm starvin'. Back in a bit. Need to make a little announcement, too, while I'm at it."

+

Dropping Dawn off at school in time for fourth period, Xander headed for Buffy's house.

"Okay, Buff. Now talk."

The slayer looked at the man curiously.

"This... place. Vampire Central. Tell me about it."

She sighed impatiently. "Give me two hours, okay? Time to unwind, bask in post-vacationy goodness." She looked at him resentfully. "You're as bad as he is."

"Yeek!" Xander squealed like a girl. "No comparisons, please. Not to *him*!" Xander stared at the street for a moment, as he pulled up to the stop sign to turn onto Revello Drive. "But..."

"Again with the 'but!'" she grumbled under her breath. "Why is there always a 'but'. Why not just an 'okay, Buffy, whatever you say...'"

"What? What is that?" He waved a finger at her, as he briefly took his eyes off the road. "Grumbling, mumbling, muttering - I *don't* have vampire hearing! I *don't* get what you're saying! Spit it out. Crisply. Enunciation is of the good here!" With a huff, he pulled the car over to the side of the street and slammed the gear shift into 'park.'

She turned in her seat to face him.

"Slayer's don't get weekends off. We get 'hours.' Sometimes not even that, cause like hey! Earthquake in California? Possible apocalypse. Crazy people saying cryptic things? Sure enough apocalypse: dimensional portals, open Hellmouth, yada, yada, yada.

"I took the weekend off. Well, kind of, anyway. I got drunk. I got in a bar brawl. I got sick. I got the cold shoulder from my Significant Undead Other over it, and had to watch him sulk and be bad moody over it. Then, had a fight with him. Just once, I wanted to be Normal!Girl, well, maybe not exactly normal, cause sure, my boyfriend's been dead for about a hundred years and some change, but girl, yeah. Not Dawn's replacement Mom, not a Scoobie, not the Slayer. Just a girl on a mission. A Cyndi Lauper mission. I. Just. Wanted. To. Have. Fun!"

Xander ran his hands through his hair. "Yeah, but..."

"Not a lot to ask, except obviously it is. Dead guy boyfriend is wound so tight, I felt like saluting Mr. 'I-Am-So-Not-Army.' And then you start in. My dirty clothes are still in the suitcase, and you want to know all the business stuff. When I'm trying to pretend I had a real vacation!"

Xander stared at her a moment, and quietly pulled the car back on the street. He flailed briefly for a comment, stung that he'd been so unfeeling.

"So. Tell me about that hangover," he said lamely.

+

Spike walked into his office with a smile on his face. His fledgling assistant looked up in chagrin.

"There's more of them!" Daniel looked at him suspiciously. "What did you do?"

"Speeded things up a bit. Not a lot of time here. Need to get this stuff in order."

"But they're requests for 'roomies!'" Daniel waved a stack of papers.

"Been expectin' more of it," he commented, not perturbed in the least. His voice held some degree of satisfaction. "Hopin' for it, really."

Daniel's eyes narrowed. "Expected it?"

"Well, yeah, you silly git. Let's see what you've got."

Handing the handwritten papers to Spike, he grew more and more astonished as Spike flipped through, nodding at each one.

"What? We're going to honor them? This is the army, not an apartment complex!"

"Bloody hell, yes, we're gonna honor 'em. Saves me the worry."

Daniel's eyebrows went up. "What are you talking about?"

"They're pairin' off. Not enough of it, yet, but it's a start. Fourteen of twenty-six - "

"Seven," Daniel automatically corrected him.

"Twenty-seven then. Seven sets couplin' up. Not bad at all."

"Are you talking about relationships?" Daniel asked incredulously.

Rolling his eyes, the older vampire laughed derisively at his assistant's naiveté. "Little out of the loop, are you? Do I have to quote Shakespeare? Love sonnet? A little Poe might be more fitting? Do you know the story of the Sacred Band of Sparta?"

Daniel closed his mouth with a snap and stared.

Spike looked back down at the pages. "Relief for me, actually." He chuckled slyly. "Hope it is for them, too." He looked at the pages again. "No surprises, really. Knew about Matthews and Jeffries, of course. Jones and Bryant." Spike's eyes narrowed. "Hmmm. Now that's a bit of a hummer."

"What?"

"DeLuca... and Beasley."

"Why? Because DeLuca does soft-porn drawings of the Slayer?" Daniel's voice carried thinly veiled sarcasm. "Which is your description of his work, not mine, by the way."

"Look, Fledge, all of our boys were terminal - even you, though you didn't know it when you were turned by those bleeding butchers the Initiative called doctors. And several of them had AIDS, remember. Now, none of our boys got it from needles. Army wouldn't want dopers."

"But what about 'don't ask, don't tell,'" Daniel quizzed him.

"Bullocks! You've heard of the Sacred Band, right? Fought in pairs. Fierce. Unbeatable. Five hundred strong. Nary a one turned tail and ran when Alexander foxed 'em. Stood strong, pair by pair. Fought with honor, by honoring their love, friendships. When they counted after, not a one was missing. All died together, rather than tarnish the dream. Damn strong argument there."

Spike returned to the subject. "Besides, our boys' sexual orientation was already set when they got sick, right? And DeLuca wasn't one of those."

Daniel looked down. "Oh."

Smiling, Spike handed him back the sheets of paper. "Make it so, Number One," he said with a laugh. "Match up the rest by compatibility, common interests..."

Daniel stared at the pages in his hand.

"Lay it out. I'll approve it. Should have expected the numbers to be high. Still, nice surprise. Won't spend *all* my time patrolling the Bronze."

+

"Wolf"
Chapter 4

Quietly unlocking the front door, the slayer crept into a house lit by the
flicker of the television. Samuel L. Jackson was holding a gun on a kid,
and declaiming:

"The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of
the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he who in the name of
charity and good will shepherds the weak through the valley of darkness. For
he is truly his brother's keeper, and the finder of lost children. And I
will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who
attempt to poison and destroy my brothers..."

Buffy muted the movie. She'd seen it time and again, and that was her
favorite part, but tonight she just wasn't in the mood for massive amounts
of bloodshed. Not unless she was doing the shedding. Now the only sounds
were the ticking of a clock, and the intermittent snores of the sleeper on
the sofa.

She was definitely out of sorts. Even seeing Pulp Fiction again wouldn't
help. Frustrated with a night on patrol with nothing to show for it, but a
couple of fledglings Dawn could have dusted half-asleep, she frowned
slightly at the sight that greeted her.

There lay Jonathan Levinson, wrapped in the new chenille throw she'd gotten
on clearance. She leaned over and flicked on the lamp right beside his
head. Startled, his hands flew to his eyes. They watered slightly in
response to the unwelcome light. "Hey," he said, rubbing them.

"You call this keeping watch?" she asked rhetorically.

He squinted at her guiltily. "Sorry," he mumbled. His voice gathered
strength. "But it's not like the guy goes into people's houses or
anything."

She snorted at the weak argument. "Oh, and you know that... how?"

Sitting up, Jonathan continued rubbing his left eye, like some little boy
who had been wakened early from his nap. "Gee, did you have to turn on that
light? Blind here," he complained.

At the lack of apology, he grimaced in remembrance of what she'd been doing
all night. "Didn't find anything?"

"Would I be this pissed off if I had?" she growled, throwing herself back
into a chair.

He considered his answer carefully. "Maybe."

"Well, I didn't."

"There's some kind of moon rhythm thing that goes with serial killers."
Jonathan informed her earnestly. "I saw it in a movie once."

"Isn't it bad enough that I have to know that *only* sterling silver kills
Fyarls? Or that chaos demons drip mucous from their antlers? Or that
Polgaras have a hidden shish kabob skewer?" she complained, voice rising
slightly. "I slay *vampires*! That's the job title. Except 'Whoops!
Forgot to tell you, Buffy, you kill demons, too!' And now *you* want me to
get all researchy on moon cycles for serial killers?" She threw up her
hands. "This is *nowhere* in the manual! Not that I would know, of course.
Because. Giles. Didn't. Give. Me. One!"

Watching Buffy with the same cautious fascination he would reserve for a pit
viper, Jonathan folded the throw neatly and set it on the sofa, as he slowly
got up to sidle toward the front door.

"Where are you going?"

He almost jumped at her tone. "Um, home. Cause, well, you're here now,
and..."

Letting out a sigh, Buffy waved Jonathan back to the sofa. "It's okay. All
done. Just needed to do the vent thing."

"Oh. I thought you were working yourself up to a dismemberment, or
something," the man said facetiously, as he placed a hand on the doorknob.

"Jonathan, sit! It's late. Just stay here. I'd hate to find you painted
on the west side of the house in the morning," she said dryly.

The man gulped once and was back on the sofa in a shot, knees up, throw back
in place around his legs. "Okay," he squeaked. Chagrined at the tone of
his voice, he cleared his throat. "I guess I can stay."

+

Tired as he was, Daniel couldn't have rested if he'd gone to his quarters
and blown off his new sleep schedule, as he had the night before. He'd
dumped the police information into several compressed files, scrambled, and
emailed them separately to the slayer's new secure inbox.

He'd been waiting ever since. Waiting for an acknowledgment, any
acknowledgement, that they'd been received. Finally, he'd checked to make
sure they were there, by accessing her box remotely. They were. It was
just that no one had opened them. He'd started to call - twice - but he
didn't have orders to do that, and it felt like an excuse to hear Dawn's
voice anyway. Finally, he'd caved and called the Sunnydale project facility
to talk to Spike. Who was already there and gone. Spike, who hadn't seen
fit to communicate with him, let alone tell him he was there, what was going
on...

Angrily, he kicked at his commander's desk. Instead of the sore foot he'd
subconsciously expected, the desk tilted as the screws tore away from one
corner of the particleboard and Formica. Daniel's vampire reflexes engaged,
as he caught the edge before it spilled its monitor and piles of hard copy
to the floor.

And there he stood. Great, he thought. The leg had been part of the desk,
and now the whole thing was cracked, completely unstable. This was like the
day he'd broken his sister's Barbie Dream House in a fit of pique. He
stared unbelievingly. Hadn't kicked it that hard, had he?

Had he?

Sighing, he realized he couldn't hold the desk up and get the monitor off,
because of the wires that were attached to the CPU under the desk. And even
if he did, the papers would slide down to the floor, totally disarranged.
And Spike did have a filing system. Well, sort of.

He balanced the desk with one hand and reached for the intercom button on
the phone. Wondered whom he should call. He felt stupid. There were
'things' going on and he was dealing with a busted desk.

Unbidden, Dawn's face burned across his brain, fear in her eyes, but chin
held high, all defiance. Daniel took a deep breath, trying to steady
himself, and push down the welling anger. What was he doing stuck here
playing babysitter, anyway? Babysitting a bunch of vampires and a broken
desk!

Grabbing it with both hands, he slung the whole workstation into the wall,
as sparks and papers flew. The thump of the monitor was strangely
satisfying.

As was the jagged hole in the sheet rock wall.

+

Buffy finished her shower and put on a sleep shirt and drawstring bottoms.
The night had been frustrating as hell, but she'd survived it. And
tomorrow, she'd know more. Because she was sure that Spike wouldn't let her
down on the police reports.

Once again, she wished for Willow. Xander might think she was coming back
any day, but Buffy had talked to her. Heard the vagueness in the witch's
voice when she was asked about returning. Buffy suspected that Will had
found someone there, maybe the same someone in the coven that was helping
her control and use her powers.

She stared at the ceiling with a frown. And where was everybody, anyway?
Where were the myriad types of demons that inhabited Sunnydale because of
its closed entrance to the Hellmouth? Buffy had seen a couple of cowering
vamps, and that was all. What? She was wiping them all out? She'd killed
enough over the years, except...

"How many of my kind reckon you've done? A thousand? A thousand thousand?
And we just keep comin'."

She could hear Spike's voice, the tone of it, as if it were yesterday. He'd
been right, of course. That was what they did. Just kept coming.

So where the hell were they?

+

A smile played around her mouth as she slept. Dreaming, she watched a
tendril of smoke drift up from the tip of his cigarette in fascination,
hazing the sharp blue of his earnest eyes. He loved her. He said he loved
her, and there was no pain in it.

The smell of burning tobacco penetrated her brain. She pinched herself,
wondering if she was still asleep or awake. Looking over at her slightly
open window, she caught her breath. If it was a dream, it was a dream. Go
with it.

She pushed the window up and slipped out onto a thick tree limb. Hadn't
done this in years, since before her mother knew she was the slayer. Seemed
a lifetime ago.

Which it was, she thought, hitching her leg over the windowsill.

As easily as she had as a sixteen year old, she slipped down the tree, feet
finding the safe spots by rote. The glimmer of a blond head reflected the
light from the street. It took her a moment to remember to be surprised.
After all, tree equaled Spike.

"Something magic in a night like this," he said, eyes still trained on the
house. She watched him raise a lit cigarette to his lips and draw on it,
cheeks hollowing momentarily. "All sharp smells and sounds..." His voice
trailed off.

"You're here. But what are you doing outside?"

"Thinking. Rememberin'. Life used to be so simple." He spared her a look
and caught the shadow of amusement in her raised brow. "Well, 'death' did
anyway."

Spike turned and gazed at the street. He took another drag off the
cigarette in his hand. "Feels like home under this tree."

"The cigarette butts certainly have squatter's rights." she quipped, a
little nervous at his thoughtful demeanor, and reaching down to pick up one.
"Know how many of these I've picked up? Just so mom wouldn't notice that
we had a vampire on watch?"

"Hundreds?" he commented disinterestedly.

"Thousands," she assured him. "A thousand thousand," she echoed. "And they
just keep comin'."

Not rising to the bait, he threw his head back, looking up into the branches
searchingly. "My tree, you know."

"I know," she said quietly.

He sighed. "No place on earth as peaceful as right here. Made love to you
under this sodding tree."

She smiled softly at the memory. "Come inside, Spike."

"Can't stay," he said, shaking his head. "Got to get back."

"I was asleep," she stated. "Dreaming."

"What woke you?"

"That, I think," she said, indicating the lit cigarette.

He dropped it and ground it out with his boot. "Sorry."

"I'm not. And you didn't have to put it out."

"It was just for remembrance, anyway. Didn't really want it." He looked at
her quizzically. "Want to patrol?"

"Is that code? For want to talk? Cause I think you need to talk."

He sighed deeply. "Imagine you think I'm a right bastard. Well, you're not
far off. So much ridin' on this, love. Seems beyond me sometimes. Feel
like I'm smothering in it."

"Then stop trying so hard," she snapped.

His eyes narrowed.

"You're shutting yourself off. Which is a 'me' thing, not a 'you' thing.
So start talking, you dumb vampire. But I'm not standing out here in the
dark in my jammies!" Her face was mischievous, elfish, in the dim light.

"Buffy..."

"Look, I can see what you're trying to do here. But the 'not talky' thing
is so not you. Now come on."

Without another word, she turned and headed back to the tree under her
window and shimmied up, taking the branches like a monkey. As she reached
her window, she looked at him. Shrugging, Spike strode toward the tree and
followed her trail up. When he reached the level of the room, her blonde
hair swung forward as she leaned out the window, waiting. Hesitating, he
looked into her eyes. She stepped back as he took a breath and climbed in.
His eyes lit on her bed and on the bound report lying there. He smiled
wryly and picked it up.

"Tell me about them," she said softly. "The things that aren't in a file
somewhere." He saw her sit on the edge of the bed, inviting him to join
her.

"Well," he said, sitting down. "Rodriguez has a weak left..."

Buffy giggled. "That's a start. What else?"

"And Matthews and Jeffries? They're a couple."

Buffy's eyebrows knit in remembrance. Nodding finally, she said, "I can see
that. So that's in the plus column. What else?"

"It's bloody killing me being away from you."

Smiling, Buffy got up and walked over to the dresser. "So. You want a
drawer or something?"

"What?"

"I can clear this one out," she explained as she redistributed everything in
the upper right drawer of the chest.

The corner of Spike's mouth turned up in a smirk. "Normally, I'd say
'yeah.' I think. Don't remember anyone asking outright before. But we
can't be makin' a habit of this. Need to stick close for awhile."

Unperturbed, she laughed and threw herself onto the bed. "I could come
there," she said wickedly.

"Oh, yeah," he grumbled. "'Slayer's doing all night patrol. In my pants.'"

"Fine. Just go on, then." She crawled under the covers, and stretched out,
turning on her side with a sigh, and looking up at him from beneath her
eyelashes. "I'm going back to my nice soft bed, while you go play soldier
with the boys."

His answering chuckle was almost a growl. "You bloody beautiful bitch," he
whispered, leaning over and placing a kiss on her throat. "Being back here
is gonna play hell with my schedule," he said, as he pulled back the sheet
to climb in after her, still dressed.

"Nope. No street clothes in the bed," she said haughtily, pulling at his
jacket.

Laughing, he undid the tie on her bottoms. "No clothes of *any* kind."

+

He watched as the vampire's cold blue eyes swept the shadows, but he didn't
retreat. Let him come.

Nostrils flared as he caught the scent of the woman - all sunlight and
warmed grass. He hated the swing of her ponytail and her sharp eyes, as she
came down the tree. Hard, sharp eyes at war with the little girl hair.

Soft voices, soft looks. Soft, both of them. Guttable.

The girl would die. Simple enough to kill a girl, even this one.
Especially one stupid enough to make invitations to shadows in her front
yard.

She was interesting, though. The image of splitting her open as he tore out
her throat made him hard. But he could wait. There were other things to do
first. Amusing things. Things that would have made Mother clap her hands
in excitement. The girl would be last of all. He could wait, unless she
interfered.

It wasn't about her, though. He would take it all away from his brother,
piece by piece, thing by thing, until there was nothing left. Poison
Cerberus at the Gate. Then, Rip off his Head.

At least, that was what he'd been told...

They'd finally passed out of earshot. Even his. And not deigning to follow
them up and hear more - more weak whining of his brother to the girl - he
set off again to hunt. Let them have their moments of time. It would make
the ending sweeter. For him, anyway.

Bile rose in his throat as the nausea hit him. His brother chose that over
Mother. Deserved to die, yes, but deep suffering first. He would carve him
out like a pumpkin and fill him with hopelessness. Snatch them all away,
one by one. Gift wrap them and return them, red and dripping. Carry away
the children, his weak brothers, and sacrifice them to Mother's pleasure.
It was all one to him.

But not tonight. Tonight was for small game.

Slipping through the night, he wallowed in the darkness, clad to blend into
the pitch of the night skies and the darkening shadows.

He'd fed tonight, yes, but it had been unsatisfying. The thing better than
drinking it was watching it fly through the air, only to be stopped in
mid-flight by solidity. Stucco or brick were best...

The trees whispered as a light breeze stirred the branches. Moving on, he
approached the edge of the university grounds.

He'd go slow, choosing just the right one, watching over time, before
painting his message on the walls. Have to stifle the impulse to draw her
blood neatly through dainty holes in her neck, her wrist, so that he could
derive the greater satisfaction.

Dream of paint on the canvas, and dark strains of red chords accompanying
the screeching music in his head.

+

She could smell the bacon as she floated down the stairs. Then, she heard
the sounds. A snore stopped her cold in the living room, though. Looked
like Jonathan had stayed over.

She sped up as she heard her sister's voice amid the sizzle of cooking
bacon. She hadn't eaten at all last night. Had never even gotten up again.
Her mouth watered in response. Which was purely Pavlovian, she thought
triumphantly. Too bad she's already taken that test.

"Well, if it's a prophecy, then he's not a serial killer. Right?" Buffy
asked.

Dawn stepped into the kitchen and was greeted by the sight of a barefoot and
shirtless Spike in front of her sister's new lap top, hair still wet from...
the shower?

Even squickier was the sight of her sister, in slippers and a bathrobe, with
surprise! Even wetter hair.

So, already two showers this morning, or... ugh! Just one?

She realized Spike's eyebrows were raised in greeting, as he slid a platter
of pancakes toward her. "Mornin', Bit. Bacon comin' up."

"This is too weird!" Dawn blurted out, sitting down heavily. "Shirtless
Spike and Bathrobe Buffy *and* breakfast?" She tugged at her camisole, as
the strap slipped slightly. "And what are you doing here, anyway? Not that
I'm not glad. Cause I am," she said hastily.

"Checkin' on the base. Makin' sure it's up to spec." The half-lie came off
this tongue easily. "And my shirt's in the wash. Big Sis insisted."

"Hmmph."

"I can put on my jacket if you like..."

Dawn rolled her eyes. "That's okay, fashion victim. I'll just try to
survive the traumatic sight of you and my sister being all cozy in the
kitchen at 7 a.m."

"Thanks ever so," he said dryly, as he returned his attention to the laptop.

"Although my schoolwork might suffer..." she warned.

"This is the only thing I can thank the Doublemeat for," Buffy said as she
turned toward Dawn with a plate of beautifully crisped bacon. "Perfect
bacon every time. Even though what they used wasn't exactly bacon..."

"Oh, ewww! Stepford Buffy! Way too domestic here!"

Buffy's voice was droll. "Well, if you call having coffee and reading over
the autopsy report and looking at the gori-icious crime scene the picture of
domestic - well, yep. That's us. All Grant Wood American Gothic."

Discomfort and fresh bacon forgotten, Dawn jumped up and came up behind
Spike to look over his shoulder. "Oooh. It *is* words!" She squinted.
"It is 'words', right?" She reached over to tap on the screen. "What's
that one?"

"Cerberus," Spike answered. "Legend has it that it's a three-headed dog
that guards the gates of Hell."

"Yeek. That's gross," she said as the smell of breakfast reclaimed her
attention. She wandered back to her chair.

He smirked. "Well, I've never met one, but it seemed to be a kind of a
watcher," he explained. He frowned in thought.

"Like Fluffy in Harry Potter?" Dawn asked, as she put peanut butter on her
pancakes.

Spike's eyes widened and darted to Buffy's.

"Watcher?" she echoed.

Sighing, the vampire shook his head. "Bugger. Can't be that. Too much of
a reach."

Mouth full, Dawn gestured with her fork. "Well, maybe there's more. Were
there words where the other girls were found?"

Her question landed with a thud. Spike looked embarrassed, Buffy vaguely
uncomfortable. "You haven't even checked, have you?" Dawn crowed
accusingly. "Yay me! Oh, yeah, oh, yeah..." she chanted.

"Okay..." Buffy commented as she looked at the vampire. "That was a big old
boo-boo."

"Wasn't thinkin' straight," Spike growled. He brought up his email.
"Daniel might still be at the office." He looked at the Summers sisters.
"I need the names of the other girls. Save time."

"Madeleine Waters and Sondra Lane," Dawn answered excitedly.

"Been on your mind a bit, Nibblet?"

"Well, it seemed so unHellmouthish."

"Right. Need to look over your choice of private reading material, I
reckon."

Dawn stuck out her tongue at him. "As if." She looked down and saw Spike's
hands race across the keyboard, typing with only two fingers. The page
filled with words.

"Wow," she said admiringly. "You type *fast*!"

Eyes glinting in amusement, Spike grinned at her. "Been practicin'."

"But..."

"Hello? Vampire," he reminded her.

"Uh, that's to Daniel?"

Spike nodded, biting his lower lip as he concentrated on the body of the
email. There were a lot of things they needed to know. Personal
information on the girls, autopsy data, crime scene photos...

"Tell him I said 'hi.'"

Spike stopped typing and slowly looked up, face expressionless. Dawn gulped
and dug into the mound of food on her plate.

+

By the time Xander arrived, Buffy's hair was dry, and Spike was dressed in a
freshly washed shirt and boots. Jonathan was stuffing his face with the
pancakes and slivers of bacon that remained.

"See you couldn't stay away, Soul Man."

"One more day away from your shining face was a day too long, Harris."

"And so go the Days of Our Lives... or in your case, Un-Lives."

Jonathan watched the exchange with the same absorption that a tennis fan
would accord Wimbledon. After several more insults were lobbed back and
forth in the air, Spike let out a breath.

"Bottom line. You with me on this?"

Xander's open mouth closed. He glanced down at his feet, then at Buffy.
Finally, he looked back at Spike, whose eyes were matter of fact, and as
clear as blue glass. The man nodded slowly. "Yeah."

"Right, then," Spike said mildly. "Here's what we've got..."

+

The cave was dark and quiet, though the morning outside was bright and
sunny. It reminded him of Mexico.

Nice memories of Mexico. He'd left her there until his return. Until he
had what he needed to be everything she wanted.

He'd seen two girls last night. So hard to choose...

Maybe he wouldn't.

+

Xander inched toward the hallway, where Spike was on something that looked
like a "gee'd-up' cell phone. Eavesdropping unashamedly, he tried to catch
the thread.

"I'm sorry. God, I'm so bloody sorry, Daniel, but I can't have you away."
There was a pained look on the vampire's face.

Xander leaned closer, trying to hear more. Spike listened quietly, face
still.

"No." His response was flat. "Just send in First Team." Spike's voice was
tight. Xander sensed trouble in Vale.

"Sorry, Fledge, need you there," Spike's voice was regretful, but firm.

The vampire's face went stony. He listened, lips tightening even more.
Buffy made an exasperated noise, as she realized Xander was listening in and
pushed past him.

Her slayer picked up a tinny "Bullshit!" from the phone.

"I need 'em trainin'," Spike said in exasperation. He looked at Buffy and
shook his head.

+

"Then, bring in a Navy Seal!" he yelled into the phone. "I'm there, Spike."

"Don't make me give you a bleeding order!" Spike's voice was rising in
frustration.

"Don't bother! Won't obey it anyway!" Daniel eyed the old, little-used
filing cabinet in the corner. Wonder how big a hole that would make in the
wall?
Why didn't Spike get it? He should, if anyone would. There was no way
Daniel could stay in Vale. Not now.

+

"Spike... what's wrong?" said Buffy quietly.

The vampire put his hand over the phone. "That Madeleine bird. She's...
the ex. The... fiancé..." Spike said quietly. "He's head up. Wants to
come back. Now."

Xander's jaw dropped. He'd forgotten Daniel had had a life before
undeadness. And Spike was the voice of reason? He shook his head. It was
all too weird for him.

Buffy nodded in understanding. "Just tell him to come on." Xander nodded,
as if anyone cared.

"He's a loose cannon," Spike said stubbornly.

"Oh, and you're not? Who charged back into town last night over one phone
call? What would you do? If you were in his place, what would you do?"

+

Daniel slammed down the phone without a twinge of remorse. The receiver
split at the seams. The fledgling was shaking with anger and shock. He'd
never felt so helpless, not even when the doctors were filling him with
vampire's blood on the operating table.

He'd been a good little soldier, preparing to fight the good fight. Had
finally reclaimed himself in this sequestered little world of darkness. And
now, all of a sudden, the real world - the world that *used* to be his - had
slammed back into him with all the subtlety of a terrorist's bomb.

Should have stayed in Sunnydale. He'd been keeping an eye on her,
protecting her, watching out for her, as best he could. And now she was
dead.

With sick fascination, he looked again at the pictures of the place where
she died. The blood. He'd read the autopsy already. There was a dark hole
where a sick nausea ought to be. He felt dead.

He laughed grimly. He *was* dead.

Quickly making a list, he fired off orders to ready First Team for its
premiere field exercise. There was no way he was staying here. Didn't care
what Spike said. If he'd been there, she would have been safe. Safe to
finish school, meet someone else, have babies. All the things he wouldn't
do now.

He put his head in his hands briefly, trying to push away the image of her
open smile. Of the damned Irish setter who used to sleep with her.

The bastard had killed Maddie's dog, too. She'd been out walking the stupid
dog, and the son of a bitch had killed them both. He'd read the report.
The son of a bitch had cut them up. Cleaned them out. And written on the
wall of the rickety house she shared with her two roommates in her blood.

No way in hell he was staying in Vale...

+

"What's wrong with you?" Xander was almost yelling. "You know he has to
come back! You'd come back, right?" The man sat down heavily, shaking his
head. "I'd die if something like this happened to Anya. And to be stuck
where I couldn't go after him?"

Spike sat down heavily on a kitchen chair. "We need to move on the
relocation. Can't do it with both of us here."

Taking the chair across from the vampire, Buffy tried to catch his eye.
"Call it a trial run," she suggested. "You're bringing in First Team. They
can help get everything squared away at the old base."

"But..."

"So you're off schedule," she said dismissively. "Since when had *anything*
here been convenient, or worked out like we planned?"

Xander nodded in agreement. "Bring 'em here, get 'em patrolling. They'll
catch the guy. Then, you have troops that know the lay of the land when you
bring in the rest."

"When did you get all supportive?" Spike asked dryly. "And are you
volunteering to play 'scout?'"

Shrugging, Xander smiled self-deprecatingly. "I does what I cans. And
Jonathan's in the know. Right, Jonny?"

"God, don't call me that." Jonathan swallowed quickly and spoke up. "And
yeah, I'm in, too. Whatever you need."

"All right, then," Spike said nodding. "But it would be better if he stayed
there. I'm not backing off that."

"Don't hold your breath," the man mumbled.

"Not in the habit of it, Harris."

+

While the fledgling vampires of First Team and five techs whispered quietly,
Daniel stared at the wall of the cargo hold, as images of maize-colored hair
glinted in the sun.

Her schoolbooks were spread around her, but her laptop was closed. She
dozed on her stomach, arm under her head, lying in the late afternoon sun.

Periodically, Daniel would look up from his manuals to stare at her, as the
light breeze lifted tendrils of her hair and laid them softly on her
sun-flushed face. Her dog was off sniffing at the trees - and any other
dogs that might come along.

She was so beautiful. Not model-pretty - more interesting than that. She
had a crooked smile that made her seem as if she was looking at the world
with a quirky sense of self. Which she did.

Planning to go to law school, her studies were tangled up with every moment
of her day. School time, work time, quiet time, Daniel time. Her mind was
constantly racing, turning everything over and over, and examining flaws and
parallels. Even when she was crying over some 'chick flick' she'd dragged
him to.

She liked Wagner and Natalie Merchant. Nina Simone and Stone Temple Pilots.
She liked action movies and horror flicks, dramas and parodies. She ran
five miles a day, and worked out three days a week.

Sometimes, when school was too much, and the physical and mental exertion
floored her, she'd take two days off, watch "Lifetime," and eat popcorn and
fat-filled ice cream.

She loved her mother, her dog, and Daniel. Hopefully, not in that order.

The wall of the plane came back into focus as Daniel chin set. Shaking the
image away, he tried to calm down by taking a deep breath and letting it
out. The oxygen didn't mean anything, but the gesture seemed to help.

Spike would ship his ass right back to Vale if he saw any reason to at all.
So he wouldn't give him a reason. He'd be calm and do his job. And if he
got a chance to get his hands on the murdering bastard that slaughtered
Maddie...

He'd drain him dry.

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