Part 9:

He was a bad boy and needed to be punished.

Wicked child. Left her in chains, with only a few crippled victims for company. Broken their backs, so that they would last, but not escape, while he went off on his silly quest.

He'd been choking on his jealousy for weeks before he'd gone away. She could almost hear the gurgle. Had chained her while she slept, when she couldn't appreciate it.

Crooning, she drank deeply as the last girl gave up her life. There had been a dark man who had loved this one. In the girl's thoughts, the dark one looked something like her Angel. She understood, and did her best to accommodate the girl's dreams as she drained her dry.

Fear made the blood nasty and rancid. Once, she'd fed off that, the acrid taste of fear, but not for a long time. The smell of the frightened made her wrinkle her nose. It was so much better this way, the blood going down sweet and pure. All pink dreams and fluffy clouds.

Sitting back, she regarded the now broken figure. A large and rather nasty fly had perched on the girl's neck and was making its sticky way around the wound. Fascinated only briefly, she watched until she became distracted. The room had begun to reek of death. She suspected her clothes had begun to smell of it, too.

The fresh aroma of blood was like ambrosia. The stench that followed was interesting and momentarily amusing. But after days upon days in this place, she had ceased to be amused. No longer content to study the patterns of red death that decorated her victims and hating in particular the deep dried brown of them, she began to think of leaving.

It had been weeks since she'd seen the stars. Stood beneath them, whirling and dancing to the songs they sung. They missed her, calling out each night as they rose, twinkling, outside.

Patience exhausted with the final breath of her last victim, she frowned as she stared at the heavy chain. Brute force was not something she enjoyed, but she could certainly use it if the need was great enough.

Rising from the dirty floor, she brushed at her skirt, muttering resentfully at the dust streaks that striped it. Filthy hole she'd been left in. It made her want to scrub the stained wood floors clean. Yet another wicked thing from her wicked boy. Cut him to ribbons before she bathed the wounds with salt and bound them with her soiled garments.

Stepping lightly to the spot where the chain had been fixed to a beam that ran from the floor to the ceiling, she tilted her head, turning over in her mind exactly the best way to free herself.

Needn't have chained her at all. She could play the lady of the manor, waiting patiently at home weaving a tapestry of visions until her knight returned. Chains hadn't been necessary, although they did have some interesting uses. Uses that she'd been unable to enjoy.

He hadn't trusted her to stay, but with his extended absence, she wondered just what kind of fun she was missing. She didn't like to miss the fun. Her lip went out in a pout as she considered what entertainment would keep him from her side for so long.

Shrugging, she reached down and grabbed at the chain nearest the post and pulled until the room came down around her and the roof caved in. Dust and debris whirled around her like the stars as she pirouetted in the darkness.

As she dug her way daintily out, clucking with disgust as she realized that the dust from the stucco had done further damage to her dress, Drusilla swore to find her boy and give him the hiding he deserved.

Chapter 10 - *Full* Version

"Not your brother," Daniel growled as he advanced on Gabriel. He'd dropped the crossbow, determined to take the other vampire apart with his bare hands before dusting him.

This was the monster that had bled those girls - bled Maddie. And he was determined that it ended now.

"What? No warm embrace? No smoochies?" said Gabriel sarcastically as he spread his arms in greeting.

Daniel smiled. Xander was shocked at how frightening it looked. "Only if I can rip those off first," he said, nodding at the vampire's outstretched arms.

Xander squeaked at the air speed at which the crazed vampire covered the remaining distance to Daniel. Gabriel's heavily booted foot slammed into the fledgling's chest, pushing him up into the air and against the wall. Spinning in the air, coat flying around him, Spike's evil clone came down perfectly poised with most of his weight on his back foot. Gabriel dove after Daniel silently, pushing him against the wall once more as he inflicted wounds with fangs and long, ragged nails.

It was a close-quarters battle. A street fight. Daniel had been taken by surprise and had forgotten most of his lessons from Shepherd immediately, falling back on those he learned in his military training. Finally, by brute strength and superior weight, he threw the dervish off with a roar, getting his neck ripped nastily in the process, then spun away to gather himself for an offensive of his own.

Almost instantly, bony fingers like metal hooks caught at one shoulder and dug in, stabbing into muscle and burrowing toward bone. A hunk of skin came with Gabriel's retracted fist as he jerked his hand back. Daniel snarled in pain. Managing to get an elbow up, the fledgling slammed it into his foe. Finally able to turn, he brought up a hammer-like fist. Gabriel's open hand closed around it, slowing Daniel slightly as the blow was directed downward. Savagely, he brought his other hand down in a chopping motion onto the fledgling's wrist. Daniel's hand went numb. Gabriel slammed him back against the wall with all his strength.

Xander looked around the floor. Daniel was a head and a half taller and twice the other vamp's breadth. Yet Daniel was the one looking like a lightweight. The man grabbed the foreshortened axe and flung himself to his feet, swinging the weapon blindly in Gabriel's general direction.

In a flash of motion, Gabriel came in under the blade and once again took hold of the handle with both hands, slinging Xander off his feet. The man held on for dear life as his feet reconnected with the linoleum.

But the subsequent jerk from the vampire insured that Xander saw stars as the flat side of the axe sharply connected with his forehead. He dropped like a stone, nervelessly letting go of the weapon as he fell.

He hit the floor, vision dulling as he saw Daniel begin to throw a flurry of hard punches at the other vampire's face and gut as Gabriel tried to move the axe into attack position.

Unbelievably, the last thing Xander heard was Gabriel's crazy laugh as the world went black.

*

"I do not believe this!"

Jonathan sat on the cot at the other end of the holding cell, as far from Dawn's cubicle as he could possibly get. "You?" His eyes flashed. "I'm back in jail. How do you think I feel? I'm not going to have your sister breaking me out this time."

Dawn looked at Jonathan resentfully. "How was I to know Anya put in an alarm system? And it's just a misunderstanding, anyway. As soon as she finds out it's us, we're out of here." She wished she really believed that. She and Anya had a history.

"For you, maybe" he said wistfully. "But I've got a record. Remember the heist?"

"No," she said flatly. Dawn frowned in remembrance. "Well, maybe."

"How soon they forget... but I guarantee you, there's a little computer in the other room that'll connect the dots. I bet my name is up on it right now. Flashing lights even. So if I do get out, on some technicality, I'm still a marked man," he said, full of doom, gloom and monuments to self-pity.

Dawn snorted at his histrionics. "Wait. I get a phone call, right? They always do on TV."

"Sure. But who are you going to call? Cause I'd rather rot in here than have your sister come and kick my ass. She'll blame me. She always does."

Dawn looked off through the bars, arms wrapped around the steel. Her eyes traveled to her fingertips, blackened with ink. "Does this stuff come off?"

"Booked. Again." Jonathan sighed as he rubbed his own fingers against his dark polo shirt. "Sunnydale is not a good place for me. I can't imagine why I ever came back."

"Cause you're a mama's boy?"

"Am not."

"Are so."

The door opened, and a young policeman walked in. "You can each make a phone call. Who's first?"

Wearily, Jonathan indicated Dawn with a half-hearted wave. It wasn't like he had anyone to call anyway. He hoped to never see his roommate Xander again. Or the Slayer. Or anyone he'd let down today. A long incarceration was his best bet. That and a 'special friendship' with some big guy named Bubba who'd keep him alive so he could suffer appropriately for his myriad sins.

Well, maybe 'alive and suffering' wasn't the best idea.

*

"Bloody buggerin' Hell, Daniel!" Spike's bellow brought Xander around. His head felt like it had been split open, and his brains were leaking out. Which was probably the only thing that was keeping Spike from killing him at the moment. He experimentally opened one eye and closed it immediately as light exploded into his brain, making his head implode. Maybe playing possum was the way to go.

He listened with an inward groan as Spike enumerated his and Daniel's offenses.
"Concealin' information. Goin' off half-cocked. Almost gettin' cut in *half*, for Christ's sake."

Xander's eyes did open then, steeled for the light as he stole a look at Daniel. The fledgling stood at attention, hands clasped respectfully behind his back. Xander suspected the stance also hid the clenching and unclenching of his fists.

"Asinine, irresponsible..."

There was a large bandage that was colored with blood wrapped around Daniel's middle. His face wore the evidence of his fight with Gabriel in purple bruises and broken skin. Xander was shocked again at the memory of the Tasmanian devil that was 'mini-Spike'.

Xander chuckled painfully. 'Mini-Spike.' Catchy.

"And you!" Spike roared as he rounded on Xander. "I'd like to know what the bloody hell you were thinkin', whelp!"

The jig was so up. Get jiggy, Xanman, the man thought as he rolled over and started to rise.

Xander promptly doubled over and threw up, kneeling on the kitchen floor.

"Stupid git!" Spike was disgusted as he waved a medic over. The man helped Xander onto his back again. He felt the room continue to spin as lunch and bile rose into his throat once more. He moaned.

"Concussion. And it serves you right," Spike said in dark satisfaction. "First sign of trouble, you should have said somethin'. Now Buffy's out lookin' for the Bit, which is where I should be instead of pickin' up your beaten and battered bodies."

"No Dawn?" Xander croaked, winded by his continuing bout with nausea.

Spike's look of anger was supplanted by worry. "No word yet. But Buffy'll..." He shook it off. "You, by all rights, should be dead, Harris." He spun to face Daniel. "And *you* should be decoratin' the floor. Any idea why he left you alive? Cause right now, I'm admirin' the self-restraint," he said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Xander and Daniel traded looks. Spike noticed. "What? Do I have to separate the two of you 'til after you spill?"

Spike's cell phone rang. With another venomous look at the two offenders, he glanced at the caller i.d.

"Bloody hell," he whispered. He stared at the phone. Decisively, he clicked it on 'receive'. "This is Shepherd," he said, holding his voice firm.

His forehead cleared briefly. "Nibblet? Are you all right?"

Xander sighed in relief. Dawn was found. He looked at Daniel, who had gone into parade rest.

"Are you hurt?" Spike continued into the phone. "Did...?" Furrows in his brow etched themselves in deeper than before. His eyes began to burn in anger. Xander grimaced in sympathy.

"You did *what*?" The vampire took in several deep breaths and pushed them out to calm himself. "Your big sis is gonna kill you. If I don't bloody well do it first!"

He smiled dangerously into the phone. "Oh, no worries, Bit," he said crushingly. "I'll get you out. And your little friend, too. But make no mistake, only because we need him right now. And m'thinkin' you'll be droppin' the high and mighty act you've been pullin' lately in return."

Xander winced again as Spike clutched the phone tightly enough to crush it. He was sorry he was witnessing this. And Dawnie? Where was Dawnie?

"Bollocks! You've been in a right jealous snit for days now. Don't know what possessed you to call me, except you bein' sure I'd come waggin' my tail at the chance to get back into your good graces."

Xander closed his eyes. Spike yelling at Dawn. This had to be bad.

"No, you *cannot* talk to Buffy! She doesn't have the paper to get you out. I do. S'not like she has a bloody membership card that says 'slayer' on it!

With a smothered curse, Spike disengaged the signal. He looked at Xander.

"Dawn's in jail," he said tightly. "She and the boy. Broke into the Magic Box to get supplies."

"But..."

"So she's safe, no thanks to you." Spike ran his hands through his hair. "You," he said, turning to Daniel, "call the slayer and let her know I've gone to get Dawn. And she's to get back to base with the team she's got with her. Now."

He shot a menacingly look at Xander as he walked out of the kitchen. "You better hope this ends well, Harris."

Xander looked at Daniel, who had already gotten on his cell to contact the base. He laid his head back on the floor and stared at the ceiling.

He'd really screwed up on this one. Buffy was gonna kill him.

*

The slayer heaved a sigh of relief, followed by a flash of anger. Dawn was so going to get it!

She turned back to the patrol. "They found her. Shepherd says to get back to base."

Matthews and Jeffries, who were bringing up the rear, turned back sharply in the way they'd come. Buffy's spidey senses kicked in. And then everything was happening too fast to make sense.

First, there was the pungent smell of gasoline, followed by the sound of a splash as liquid hit Kevlar battle armor. Jeffries pushed Matthews to the right as flame licked out and engulfed him.

Matthews looked up in horror even as Buffy grabbed DeLuca and felt her hands slide down his wet armor. She slung him behind her and moved forward to Jeffries just as he fell away into dust.

There was the sound of a gutteral roar of grief, but the slayer didn't have time to deal with it, any of it. The black clad figure had already moved into the trees, ducking into the shadows at preternatural speed. Following with a leap over a parked car, she headed into the woods after their assailant.

*

"So. You didn't win?" Xander whispered as they carried him to a big black van on a gurney.

Daniel looked at him sourly, then to his middle. "Do I look like I won?"

"What? He just... left?"

The fledgling looked at Xander warningly, then glanced cautiously at the medic.

The man lay back on the gurney. What's the what? As his head began pounding anew, he realized it was about to blow off his shoulders, and the ice pack they'd placed on his forehead burned like cold fire. Cold. Fire. God, he was making no sense!

Daniel got in the van behind Xander and slid the door shut as the vehicle moved into the night.

*

Spike's hands clutched the steering wheel convulsively.

It had been all he could do not to take both Daniel and Harris apart when he'd realized that the Nibblet had been missing for hours. They'd seen firsthand, fresh blood and all, what that bloody sadist could do and still they hadn't come to him.

The perfect soldier-vamp wasn't playing by Shepherd rules, and Spike wouldn't tolerate it. Hard to believe that Harris could end up being what a parent would describe as a 'bad influence.'

He shook his head. Unfair, even if it was the sodding whelp. Daniel had been a loose cannon ever since he'd found out about his girl. Spike had just been stupid enough to believe that Daniel had the discipline to hold off - although the vampire knew that had he been in Daniel's place, he would have already burned down Sunnydale to find the bastard.

His cell phone went off again. Spike absently reached down and picked it up. As he pieced together what dispatch was telling him, he slammed on the brakes, firing off orders as quickly as his mouth would move.

Dawn was in jail. Dawn was safe. It was all about Buffy now. Buffy and the team that was decimated on patrol, one dead and others with major burns. The gasoline had splashed and run underneath Kevlar vests that had trapped the traveling flames against undead bodies. The lack of oxygen was the only thing that had saved them. Jeffries hadn't been so lucky.

And of course, being the stupid slayer that she was, Buffy had run off after him alone, like she was bloody immortal. DeLuca had tried to follow, but she'd had too great a head start. Spike mentally called her every name he could think of. Now it was up to him to track her down and watch her back, just as he'd done for years.

He turned the truck around and headed in the direction of Sunnyrest, still barking orders into the phone as he drove, too fast, to the last place Buffy had been seen.

*

She flew over the headstones without thinking. Knew this cemetery backwards and forwards. In the light and in the dark. Mostly, in the dark, she thought absently, as she searched the shadows with slayer vision for a glimpse of Gabriel.

Because it had to be Gabriel, right? And gasoline? He might be crazy, but he was smart, just as DeLuca had said. Smart and cunning and all those things that made the real evil stand out from the fledglings who awoke in their graves all hungry and stupid.

Her sense of self-preservation began to kick in as she reached for her headset. She needed to let them know where she was, cause hey. They didn't. Spike was probably cursing her six ways to Sunday by now. The fallout from one of those was never a chuckle-fest.

She slowed slightly, unfamiliar with the how and the why of the talking when she was moving at a dead run. She reached up tentatively, fingers looking for the switch.

Something that felt like a small bulldozer hit her square in the back and brought her down. She rolled and came to her feet, only to catch a flash of startling eyes in a whirl of black leather, before it closed on her.

*

"I guess we're gonna rot here, huh?"

Dawn flipped her hair and looked at Jonathan narrowly. "Spike said he was coming. He will. Even if I wish he wasn't."

Jonathan sighed. "And he said he'd get us both out."

Looking down, Dawn flushed at the remembered anger and disgust in Spike's voice. "Um, 'fraid so." She looked up candidly. "I won't kid you. It's not going to be pretty."

Jonathan let out a defeated breath. "Well, yeah, I'm still skating on thin ice with Buffy anyway. This means I just fell through a crack. And I'm freezing into a Popsicle."

Dawn laughed derisively. "You're worried about *Buffy*?" She continued to chuckle as Jonathan slumped further and further into himself. "Buffy's the least of our troubles. We pissed off Spike. And I've *never* pissed him off. Not really. So yeah, it's not gonna be pretty."

Turning her face to the security door of the lock up, she sighed, wondering just how miserable Spike could make her life before he forgave her.

*

The smell of Buffy's blood - slayer blood - hit Spike before he was into the cemetery twenty paces. He sorted the direction and started running, falling into gameface without being aware of it. The smell sharpened, metallic and hot. Like ambrosia.

If that bastard didn't kill her, Spike thought, *he* would. 'First, I'll save her, then I'll kill her' ran through his head and out. This was bloody, bloody stupid!

The smell got stronger as he got closer. He sped up and leapt into the midst of the battle, tearing the smell of dirt and blood away from the blonde that was fending the vampire off with defensive moves instead of the usual offensive ones.

There was a fresh onslaught of the odor of blood that stopped Spike dead in his tracks. A rush of it, as Buffy sunk against a head stone. In the split second that Spike hesitated, Gabriel took off. The instinct to go after the killer warred with his need to get Buffy somewhere safe. Buffy won.

"Christ, Slayer," he muttered, working to keep panic out of his voice. "Ripped your arm clean open. M'gonna tear his bloody head off!" Spike shook his head, glancing after the other vampire, who had smirked once as he retreated at vampire speed. "Can't believe he had you on the ropes like that, love," he said, as he went to her, trying to keep his voice steady. Couldn't let her see that, now could he? How frightened he was. How close the bastard had come. He reached for her injured arm to try to assess the damage.

She shrugged him off resentfully and pushed herself up and away from the headstone, miffed. "Didn't you see him?"

Spike stepped closer and squinted at her arm. He needed to see how bad it was. "Yeah, saw the little piss ant," he said distractedly. "All done up in Drac-black. Typical. Nice boots, though... Let's see to your arm, love."

"I'm fine!"

"Oh, bloody right as rain, you are!"

"He *does* look like you! Like they said," she insisted, trying to divert him as she moved her arm out of line of sight.

The vampire drew himself up to full height. "Does not!"

"Well, not exactly. More like a cheap Spike rip-off," she said dryly as she began to walk away from him.

"Oh, right! And when did I ever go tearin' gapin' holes in you anyway? Always had more finesse than that!" What? Was he gonna have to wait until she bloody passed out from loss of blood before he could see to her? Stupid bint!

His anger and fear welled up and burst through. "And what the hell was that, anyway? You goin' off after him by yourself, knowin' what he was, what I walked into at the house." He moved in front of her, blocking her way. "I've had it with seeing you die!"

Buffy stopped walking, face pale. The arm of her sweater was soaked with blood and it was beginning to drip away from her fingertips. "You know what, I don't feel so good."

"Oh, hell!" Spike caught her as she staggered, the smell of so much flowing rich slayer blood finally making real impact on his brain. Bastard had hit the main artery.

He growled, grabbed at her headset and hit transmit. "It's Shepherd. Need a medic now," he said evenly, not letting the fear into his voice. Hell, she was the slayer. She'd taken more damage than this. "Sunnyrest. Main gate. M'bringin' the slayer out."

With that, he put a hand under Buffy's knees and picked her up, striding quickly toward the cemetery entrance as her blood left a trail like perfume behind them.

*

Xander enjoyed the little gurney ride in through the back door of the Initiative. They'd come straight into the large unfinished area that served as a direct way into its bowels. For once, with the medic hovering at his shoulder, the whole thing felt AllAboutXander.

And it was about time. This was the first time one of his concussions had made any real impression on anyone. He felt important. And he especially liked the feel of the cool air passing over his incredibly sore head.

Oh, sure, it felt like there were a thousand elephants line-dancing across his brain, but it wasn't the first time and at least the beat had rhythm.

All in all, it was a nice ride. Too bad he couldn't have drugs. Not yet, anyway. Cause he was concussed. Ergo, no good stuff, just Tylenol. Which sucked.

But he could look forward to cool, clean sheets, a nice quiet room, and getting the low-down from Daniel about just what had happened at the house while he was all comatose.

After all, Dawn was found, Buffy was on her way back, and...

Close by, one of the support people handed Daniel a set of headphones. He thrust them on his head and began running for the steel double doors.

"Hey," Xander said weakly. "What about me?"

The gurney picked up its pace, following Daniel through the doors and into the massive space that was the Pit. Xander heard a tight, low murmur and the sound of booted feet hurrying across. Wincing, he turned his head to one side, but realized he'd have to raise it to see anything. Which he did with a deep groan. Daniel had already made it to the communication station.

Everyone was wearing white plastic suits, just like in the movie, ET. In fact, exactly like ET, he thought, bemused. It looked just like a movie set.

Something was wrong. Very, very wrong. Was he sure they hadn't given him any drugs?

There wasn't much in the way of personnel at the old base yet, but it looked like each person he saw was functioning as two as they moved through seemingly urgent tasks. Xander's medic deserted him as a tech dressed in a white plastic suit grabbed for his gurney. He could smell the sharp odor of the plastic.

"Back off!" Xander warned. The tech moved away a little, as if uncertain where he was needed most. He looked at Daniel.

There was no way they were shuttling Xander off to a private room with the neon light emergency going on. "Go! I'm fine. Do... well, whatever it is you were doing. Or wait! Push me over there first!"

The tech looked toward Daniel. With a curt nod, Daniel motioned him forward. The gurney glided across the floor to the comm space, where Xander slid off and put his weight on shaky legs. He took a deep breath and worked toward upright. He might be listing a little to the left, but he was good. As long as the chair stayed twelve inches away. It was hard to tell if it would. His depth perception kept coming and going.

Daniel had traded his field headphones for something a little more streamlined. He was issuing instructions. Lots of them. Xander collapsed into the empty chair at the fledgling's right. As his ass hit the seat, his head began to pound in earnest. He wanted drugs. Good drugs.

Daniel glanced at him briefly, concerned. There was a tight look around his eyes that Xander took at face value. There was trouble. Big trouble.

*

Daniel's lips compressed to a thin line. He should have been with them. Especially since Shepherd wasn't. He grabbed Hollis as she went by.

"Triage?"

The woman nodded. "We're good to go. I went over the injuries with the medic-in-charge. It's not good. Shock. Burns. But only the one casualty."

"Jeffries," Daniel said quietly.

"Yes, sir. DeLuca took over the team when he realized he couldn't catch up with the slayer and that Matthews wasn't... well, able."

"How bad is it?"

"Three seriously injured, two moderately. Everyone is splashed with gasoline, some more than others, so they're all kinds of combustible right now. Even a spark in the wrong place could send another one up, maybe the whole team. We'll need to clean them up as soon as possible." She looked at him candidly. "And it should have been much worse."

Daniel waited for the rest.

"Jeffries was flanking Matthews," she continued, "Pushed him out of the way and took the brunt of the flame. It broke the patrol pattern enough that injuries were mostly minor." She waited a beat, trying to decide how to phrase her next statement. She went with clinical. "They retained his remains."

So they'd saved Jeffries for this. And Jeffries had saved his comrades. Daniel couldn't believe how quickly it had all gone pear-shaped. Daniel hated the fact that they didn't have a full team. There was only one psych and he was already earmarked for Matthews. They'd jumped the gun by opening up the base with only a skeleton crew. He'd give anything for a full staff right now. If they were still in Vail, there’d be several psychs and their assistants, plenty of EMT-types and the administrative/support staff to keep it moving, not just poor Hollis. He felt crippled.

"ETA, two minutes," Rimbold, the communications tech called out.

He looked at Hollis. "Go."

She moved off to the left where an area was being set up for quarantine and clean up. The members of Second Team who had been left behind dropped thick sheets of plastic from the ceiling to cordon the area off.

Xander was so dizzy it took him a moment to take in what had been said. "Gasoline?"

"Gabriel. Ambushed the rescue team. The slayer went after him," Daniel said tightly. "Alone."

"Oh, God. Buffy." The man buried his aching head in his hands, ignoring the sharp pain. "All my fault. If I'd just come clean..."

"Shepherd's gone after the Slayer."

Xander glanced up. And even that hurt. He swallowed his nausea to reassure Daniel. "He'll find her, too. He was always showing up where he wasn't wanted," Xander said gamely. "You'll see. He'll find her."

"A whole team. He took out a whole team. Most of First Team and part of Second, injured," Daniel muttered. "Rat bastard son of a bitch." Daniel glanced at the board as he pushed his hair back, grateful that he didn't perspire anymore. He'd be swimming in sweat right now, waiting for the casualties to come in. If they'd only stopped Gabriel at the house, *none* of this would be happening right now. It would all be over.

A light began blinking.

"They're here," Daniel said loudly. He pointed to two of the techs. "You're on assist. Get them in and over there," he said, pointing to the newly finished enclosure. "Make it quick, quiet, to the point."

The double doors opened. As the first of the vampires came in, the odor of gasoline and charred dead flesh carried through the Pit with the help of the enormous air blowers. The techs pointed out the triage area and went out after the ones that weren't ambulatory.

Xander caught his breath. It was the most sickening thing he'd ever smelled.

*

"So, is he coming or not?"

Dawn cast a jaundiced eye at Jonathan. "Oh, he's coming, all right. Get ready for it," she finished glumly.

She'd been thinking about it since she'd gotten off the phone. Maybe she had been all jealous-y and snarky lately, but it was like Spike just came and went as he pleased. Would go do the whole mid-life thing for a while, and then come back like he'd never left. The blood in the refrigerator had really pissed her off. And she'd wanted him to know it. He'd been there, what? All of two seconds and he already had a *shelf*?

"Well, it's not like we didn't need the stuff..."

Oh, great. Now Jonathan was going to try to justify what they did. Rolling her eyes, the girl snorted. "Oh, yeah. That'll go over well. He's all big on the excuses right now." She raised an eyebrow. "And you are so dead, cause I'm a kid and you're like... well, *almost* a grown up."

"Hey!"

This is so bad, Dawn thought. If she could just keep her mouth shut when he started yelling, just back off into the corner of the car, creep really, really close to the door, maybe he'd get unmad faster.

And Buffy. Buffy was going to be all disappointed. And if they figured out that there weren't any signs of breaking and entering... B&E, she reminded herself... then they were going to just *know* that she'd been practicing, which she was *so* not supposed to do. So Buffy would go from 'disappointed' to downright mad. Too. Which meant both of them. At once. Mad.

Dawn's mind wouldn't quit moving. She was getting a really, really bad headache. The kind that made your hair hurt. The kind that made your neck go all stiff and achy.

She put her head in her hands and moaned.

"So he's gonna be mad?" Jonathan's voice was getting weaker and weaker.

"He's gonna be mad," Dawn assured him in a small voice.

Jonathan was quiet for a moment. "You think there'll be some kind of house arrest involved? Or will he just kill me outright? Put me out of his misery?"

Dawn looked up, rallying. "Spike doesn't kill people anymore," she said in a condescending tone. Jonathan began to relax a little. And that wasn't happening if she could help it. "You'll just wish he had."

"Well, where is he, then?"

"He'll be here." But Dawn was beginning to wonder. Either he was really, really mad...

Or something was really, really wrong.

*

Daniel was at the quarantine area when Spike's voice came over the speaker. Everyone was inside and being treated, worst cases first. Dr. Jackson had whisked Matthews away as soon as he'd stripped down and been cleaned up. Hollis made certain that everything, armor and clothing alike, went directly into a waste container for toxic materials.

"It's Shepherd."

Unknowingly, Xander smiled when he heard Spike's voice. There were a lot of really bad things you could say about Spike, but right now, his unparalleled talent for stalking Buffy was making Xander see him in a very favorable light.

"Need a medic now," the disembodied voice continued.

He sounded so calm that Xander was momentarily comforted by the tone of his voice. So it took him a little longer than usual to get the gist. The man's head spun around to stare at Rimbold. The man was tinkering with dials and switches. Subsequently, Spike's next words were much clearer. And loud enough for Daniel's vampire hearing to pick up on.

"Sunnyrest. Main gate. M'bringin' the slayer out."

Xander's hands went together of their own accord as his lips went white and his shocked eyes found Daniel, who was already across the thirty-five feet and back at the comm station. "Rimbold, we got a truck out?"

The man pushed a button and spoke into his headset.

"Oh, sweet Jesus," Xander breathed out. "She's hurt. I mean, *really* hurt."

Daniel looked at him impatiently as he reclaimed his headset. "You don't know that."

"You think Buffy'd be letting him call for a doctor if she wasn't? She'd have to be unconscious," Xander said, bitterness tainting his words.

Rimbold interrupted them. "Transport will be there in four minutes. At the Sunnyrest Cemetery. Main gate on the east side."

"Set me up," Daniel said briskly. Rimbold connected Daniel's headset directly into the comm board.

"Shepherd? North here. Four minutes on that transport."

"This can't wait then," Spike said cryptically. “And it better not be a bleedin' second more. Slayer's made a fine mess of herself. Can't do much without dressin's and such. No vamps on that truck, right?"

Daniel looked at Rimbold. He shook his head. “Just support. No field operatives.”

“Just support personnel, Shepherd.”

He heard Spike push out a breath. “Right, then.”

Xander shoved himself to his feet. His head felt like it was splitting open. "Spike! Is she...?"

He stopped, unable to continue. Because Xander really didn't want to know. Not like this. They waited, staring at the speaker, as Rimbold stayed in quiet one-sided conversation with the team in the recon and rescue vehicle. Seconds seemed to tick by slowly, just like watching the hands of a clock, except instead of that old-fashioned comfort, Xander was staring at a red LED that told its tale in military time, to the tenth of a second. He held his breath.

"M'at the main gate. *Been* here," Spike said finally, impatience leaking into his tone. "Where the fuck is that bleedin' truck?" he growled. Suddenly the vampire didn't sound nearly as calm.

Rimbold, still monitoring the driver's frequency, asked a quiet question. "One minute, forty-eight seconds," he said to Daniel.

"Under two minutes," Daniel relayed.

"Well, bloody hell," Spike said in disgust. "Get a White Room ready for the slayer. Now."

"Yes, sir," Daniel said quickly. He motioned to Hollis, who was still overseeing the clean up. "Set up one of the isolation rooms for the Slayer," he said briskly.

"And don't bring us in through the Pit," Spike continued. "Not if there's any vamps there. Bring us another way. But a quick way. No dawdling."

Hollis glanced at Daniel. "We can do that."

"Go," he said quietly. He pulled his mic to his mouth and spoke. "Done, Shepherd." Daniel frowned. Isolation? And why did he need to clear the Pit. Or bring the slayer in another way? He turned off his mic and looked at Xander, who was clutching at the desk, but still standing. "What the hell is he talking about?" Daniel said in puzzlement.

"Well, she's hurt," Xander said, trying to sort it out. His eyes cleared. "Oh, shit. She's bleeding. Probably a lot." Xander looked worried. "I guess bleeding bad enough that Spike doesn't trust..."

"We've found bodies before," Daniel retorted. "I mean, the team has. It was a problem, but not..."

A calm measured voice interrupted him. "I suspect that his concern is that Buffy's blood is slayer blood. There is an integral difference where a vampire is concerned. Which might also account for Spike's ill mood. Although certainly, any injury Buffy might have taken, grave or no, is also a determining factor."

Xander spun around, seriously impairing his already damaged balance mechanism. His hand fell on the newcomer's arm, clutching it tightly as his jaw dropped. The man eased Xander into a chair and turned back to the fledgling.

"Who the hell are you?" Daniel asked curtly. "And how the hell did you get in?"

The man looked at him appraisingly, as he handed the vampire an envelope and his identification. "I'm your interim Watcher," he said crisply. "Ralston has been, uh..." He hesitated briefly. "Reassigned. You're Daniel, of course."

Startled, Daniel looked up from the i.d. card as the man pulled off his glasses and wiped them on his handkerchief. "Now," he said smoothly as he returned his spectacles to their rightful place, "could you be so kind as to put Spike on the line? Tell him it's Rupert. And... do you have something that looks a little more like a telephone?"

"Shepherd? North here. Four minutes on that transport."

Spike thought about it. And it wouldn't do. Buffy was continuing to bleed, the flow slowing a bit, but not stopping. She was still losing enough blood that *he* was light-headed from it. He couldn't imagine how light-headed she must be.

"This can't wait then." Nothing for it. He had to stop the blood now, not wait for the medics. The thing was, Buffy wasn't going to like the method. "And it better not be a bleedin' second more," he warned Daniel. Feeling like he was exerting some control helped him center. "Slayer's made a fine mess of herself. Can't do much without dressin's and such," he rambled. The main gate was in sight. Jostling her more than he intended, he hurried on. Needed to get started, and to do that, he needed to get to the rendezvous point.

Spike had a sudden thought. "No vamps on that truck, right?"

After a moment, Daniel replied crisply. "Just support personnel, Shepherd."

Not that it was normal that there would be, but this night was far from normal. "Right, then." Looking around, he noticed a particularly large live oak near the gate, but still somewhat concealed by shadows from the street. It would have to do.

Xander was saying something, but Spike didn't have time to ask what and the man didn't ask again. He switched off the mic on his headset.

"Buffy, gonna have to do something about the bleeding. Need to set you up against this nice, big tree."

"Great," she mumbled weakly. "Love sitting on the damp ground..."

His spirits soared as he carefully set her down. Yes, she was with him, bitch that she was. Never had he been happier to hear her all out of sorts.

"Now this is gonna hurt, Slayer," he said warningly.

She let out a pained breath as she settled against the trunk. "Sitting against the tree," she said gamely, but reduced to a whisper, "or your next brilliant move?"

"The move," he answered as he grabbed the hem of his tee-shirt and ripped it away. Of course, there was no seam on the side, so he made one, easily ripping the gray cotton knit until he had a long narrow tube. He began wrapping it around Buffy's arm above the still sweater-adorned wound. Her eyes followed his hands, watching as he worked. "Sweater's seen better days, pet," he commented to distract her.

"Occupational hazard," she said gruffly. Her voice grew a little stronger. "Are you really doing what I think you're doing?"

"Yep," he answered as he tied the ends of the shirt together. "If you hadn't been so bloody stupid, I wouldn't have to," he said tightly. Reaching down, he grabbed a stake-sized stick, jammed it between the cotton loops and began twisting it to tighten the cloth.

Buffy gritted her teeth and gasped. "I hate you," she managed finally. "Really a lot."

"Yeah, well," he muttered as he secured the stick. "Right now, I hate me, too. Reckon we'll both get over it."

First aid handled, Spike gathered Buffy back up and set her on one leg, while the other was knee down on the sod. Holding her close with one arm, he used the other to reach for the switch on the headset. He'd waited long enough.

"M'at the main gate. *Been* here," he said into the mic.

Sure the slayer was trussed up, but it wasn't the same as being tended to by a real medic. Besides, the irony of a vampire *stopping* the bleeding wasn't lost on him. She needed a sodding doctor, someone trained to *save* lives, not take them.

"Where the fuck is that bleedin' truck?" he ground out. Gabriel could always come back. Could be out there in the trees right now. Waiting. Spike couldn't sense anything except Buffy's blood, and his brain and body were throbbing with it.

"Under two minutes," Daniel answered.

"Well, bloody hell," Spike said in disgust. What was the good in having a crack team if the team couldn't get cracking? And dammit, the blood was distracting as hell. Even if she stopped bleeding, he could still get lost in the smell of it. If *he* could, after years of being accustomed to Buffy's scent, what about the vampires at the base? "Get a White Room ready for the slayer," he said tightly. "Now."

"Yes, sir." Daniel's answer was almost automatic. Spike heard him direct someone to prepare a room. Which meant that at least one of them was functioning.

His mind was moving like molasses and there was more to say. Unconsciously, he pulled Buffy closer. "And don't bring us in through the Pit," he directed Daniel. "Not if there's any vamps there. Bring us another way." He should make it clearer, but nothing was particularly clear at the moment. "But a quick way. No dawdling."

Spike waited impatiently for Daniel's acknowledgment.

"Done, Shepherd."

He pushed out a breath. Nothing left to do now but wait for the truck. And he needed to remember to send someone after his later. If they could pry it off the tree he'd hit on his way there.

*

Spike's ears sharpened at the sound of a throat clearing in his headset. "Um, Spike?" There was the sound of a finger tapping on the microphone, then more words, stronger. "What is the nature of Buffy's injury?"

Closing his eyes in relief, the vampire thanked whoever was in charge, whether it be God, or simply the Council of Wankers, that at least one of his prayers had been answered.

"Watcher?" His voice felt thin, thready. He hoped he wasn't dreaming, or that this wasn't some strange hallucination having to do with being engulfed in the heady scent of slayer blood. Which now seemed to be drying into the threads of Buffy's sweater. Amazed, he realized he had actually stopped the bleeding.

"Yes, of course," Giles said in reproof. "Now to Buffy?"

Spike felt Buffy raise her eyes to his. He looked down. They were slightly glazed, but surprised. Her lips were pale, but she was with him. He smiled, and pushed her hair away from her forehead. Yes, it was for her, too, this thing he'd somehow managed to make happen. Shepherd needed Giles for the Project, but the slayer needed him as well.

"Needed a new watcher, love," he said quietly. "Rupert's it."

She squeezed his arm and relaxed against him. With a sigh, he returned his attention to Giles and the base. Words began to pour from his lips as he described how he'd found Buffy, the injury she'd taken, his treatment of it. He spoke quickly and concisely with no embellishment. Still, if he'd needed breath to live as well as talk, he'd be dead. Finally, he halted, surprised that telling so much had taken so little time.

"You've done all you can, then," Giles said reassuringly. "And I'll make certain that everything is prepared properly for your arrival. Just keep Buffy safe."

Spike saw the fog lights before he could make out the outline of the black vehicle. Getting to his feet, the slayer in his arms, he headed to the van.

*

Rimbold turned back to the second-in-command. "They've got 'em."

Despite his massive case of Buffy worry, Xander couldn't help but stare at Giles, decked out in an Initiative-headset. Maybe all that old-fashioned, tweedy Gilesness was just a ruse. Because he looked like he'd been wearing it for years.

And man, sure would have been better that summer than having Willow firing off orders in his head!

Which still hurt like a mother.

"How long?" Daniel asked.

"ETA six minutes. Belay that. Five. Five minutes."

Daniel turned to the man slowly. "How did it go from six to five?" Seemed like everything was falling apart. His people couldn't even fix on a simple estimated time of arrival.

"Shepherd, sir. He..."

Nodding, Giles' chin was firm as he reached for the switch. Somehow, he found it quickly. "Spike?"

Spike's voice came over the headset. "Yeah?"

"Your team is accessing Buffy's medical records. There's not a great deal of information, but we do have her stay in the hospital when she was in high school and the aftermath of the Warren Meers incident."

Spike was silent for a few seconds. When he spoke again, he sounded as if he needed to clear his throat. "Right. Might want to get me a change of clothes, Watcher. M'covered in her."

Turning to one of the low-level techs, Daniel quietly directed him to get fresh clothes.

Giles considered the ramifications of that statement. Taking a steadying breath, Giles spoke again. "Is Buffy conscious?" He kept his voice level and calm.

The question hung in the air. Xander realized he was holding his breath. After a moment, they heard Spike's voice drop to a murmur.

"How you holdin' up, pet?" he said softly.

After a beat, Spike's voice came back to them. "She's awake," he said grimly. "Wouldn't exactly call her alert, but... Ow!"

Giles smothered a smile. Xander didn't. With a huge grin, he threw up his hands, regardless of the pain in his head. "All right!"

"Well," said Spike resentfully. "Her pinchin' mechanism is workin' fine." The relief in his voice was clear even over the headsets.

*

"This is... well, the tissue here is already healing. Healed, I mean. At the edges."

The doctor was using her for a slayer anatomy lesson. All ooohing and ahhing over her accelerated healing powers. Buffy didn't think she was nearly accelerated enough. In fact, she wished she could slam her foot on the gas. If there'd actually been some kind of gas pedal thingie for healing, she'd be one happy little slayer. Her head hurt when it wasn't all in the clouds somewhere. The one thing that she was sure of right now was that a) she hated hospitals, b) she hated the smell of antiseptic, and c,d, and e) she really, really hated the white wardrobe choices that the medic and techs were turned out in. Didn't they know it was December? And those white shoes? Now that was definitely a fashion rule. No white shoes after Labor Day. Everybody knew that.

Not that she was going to be in much better shape, she suspected.

They'd cut Buffy's sweater off, but she'd managed to hang on to her bra for the moment. Even with the spots of brown on the pale peach lace, it was better than what she was about to be subjected to. Soon, she thought, they'd be bringing in the lame hospital gown of the fashion victim. And she'd be expected to wear it.

Why hadn't she packed something at the house yesterday?

The doctor said that Gabriel had torn the brachial artery, that she'd lost about a liter of blood, and that she needed an IV to plump her blood back up to a better volume.

And that's what Spike and the medic were arguing about now. Though, why, exactly, she had no idea.

She was tired and her arm ached. At least, partway. From somewhere around the wound and down, she was numb. And she couldn't wiggle her fingers. They said the nerve was bruised. This called up images of a little black and blue string running from her shoulder to her pinkie finger. Maybe a bandaid would help?

All she knew was that it had better get unbruised fast. It was her right arm, which was her all-purpose sword and good staking-arm. What was a slayer if she couldn't hold a stake? Or a sword?

How 'bout 'dead slayer'?

Both Spike and the medic were getting on her last nerve.

And where did that expression come from anyway? How did you know when you were down to your last nerve? When you started screaming?

"Okay, enough. What's the problem?"

Spike rounded on her. She struggled up onto one elbow. She knew she was pale, but she got as much 'stormy' into her eyes as she could. He'd get the message. He'd better.

"This pillock wants to jam a needle in your arm," he explained.

She sighed. "Not exactly my idea of a good time, but fine. Anything to get me up and out of here. I want to see Giles."

"Buffy, how in the hell is he supposed to get the needle in? Hell, I can't even black your eye with a good right cross. And God knows, I've tried."

The doctor and techs stared at Spike.

Ignoring the doctor’s raised eyebrow, Spike continued on. "And as far as sewing up her arm, well, you might as well get out the big adhesive bandages and tape her up. Cause there's no stitchin' her," he continued.

Oooh, big authority on slayer healing. Buffy wanted to pop him in the nose. Or at least pinch him, but she was too busy thinking about the IV. "So getting the needle in my super-duper, tough-stuff skin is the problem?"

"Well, yeah," Spike said in frustration. "That and gettin' it in the vein all proper like. Which would be bloody difficult for the doc, seein' as he's human and all." Spike looked down his nose at the doctor. "And a bit on the puny side at that."

She stared at the ceiling for a moment and looked back at the vampire. "I think I had an IV once."

The pronouncement fell flat in the middle of the isolation room. Spike stared at her. In fact, all of them did. Spike, the two techs, and the doctor.

"What?" she asked impatiently. "Did everybody just go deaf? And is there a problem with that?"

"Yes, that's what the records say." The doctor spoke first, just after he cleared his throat. "At the wrist. But this particular IV needs to go into the vein at the elbow. Which might be a little more of a problem than the thinner vein at the wrist."

"Well, try it. If you can't, Spike can. It's no big." This was beginning to get boring and annoying and all the things Buffy hated most.

"There's a certain amount of training involved here, Miss Summers," he said reproachfully.

Spike's drawl rolled through the room. "You think I can't find the vein?" he asked in a derisive voice, staring at the doctor. "Cause I assure you, I can find the fuckin' vein." His voice began to rise.

Buffy winced. She had a headache and he wasn't helping it. "Down, boy," she said, forestalling the inevitable description of what veins and arteries Spike could find from twenty paces. "Look," she said to the doctor, "just try it. And Spike, you relax. If the doctor can't do it, you can get the little needle in and he can do the rest. And I can get out of here." Her voice carried more than a little annoyance.

"Miss Summers," the doctor began, "you've lost blood. Your arm needs time to heal." He held up a hand to stop her from speaking. "And you need rest, even if you *are* already beginning to mend."

"Hey, I've had worse than this..." She stopped. Had she *had* worse than this? Well, other than the whole 'dead' thing? Her head was spinning and she felt nauseous.

This was not going the way she expected. Buffy looked at Spike entreatingly. "Will you fix this so I can see Giles? I really, really want to see Giles." She looked at him appraisingly. "You look like you've been in a car wreck. A bad one." She looked closer. "Is all that my blood? Cause, well..."

Spike threw up his hands. He looked at the doctor. "Get the bloody needle and try it."

As the tech began to pull what they'd need and began explaining it to Spike as he set it up, Buffy closed her eyes, sinking down into their now near whispers. God, she hated doctors! And Spike was really being a pain in the ass.

*

The vampire walked out of the isolation room and right into Giles and Xander.

"They drugged her, but she's not out yet." Spike looked at Giles. "She wants you."

Without a word, Giles moved past him and into the room. The vampire looked at Xander. He took in a deep breath and started to speak. "Not blamin' you for this, so you shouldn't either. She's stubborn sometimes. Never should have gone after Gabriel alone. And she knows it, even if she won't admit to it."

Xander nodded, accepting Spike's words. "Things are bad out there," he said bluntly. "Daniel's handling it, but still..." He pushed out a pile of folded clothes to Spike. "You might want to get out there and make sure everything's going okay."

Spike let out the breath. "Things went belly up tonight, no mistake." He took the clothes, turning as he heard footsteps coming down the corridor. "Daniel..."

The fledgling began to change as he approached, suddenly in full game face. Xander pressed himself back against the wall in shock. Spike took one look down at his clothes and threw the clean clothes into the air and his body at Daniel, pinning him against the wall of the narrow hallway.

"Daniel," Spike hissed. "Get a grip." In answer, the fledgling bucked against him, trying to get at him. His eyes flicked toward the door to the isolation room.

"Stupid ass," Spike muttered in annoyance as he drew back and slammed his fist into Daniel's chin. As the back of the fledgling's head hit the wall, Spike crowded close, face inches from Daniel's golden eyes.

"Fledge! It's slayer blood! I told you no vamps, and that means you too, you stupid git!" As Daniel pushed against him, he hit him again. And again. Slowly, the fledgling passed back into human face. Spike backed off slightly, very wary.

"Shepherd..." Daniel was shaking his head, struggling not to morph back to demon face.

Xander darted in, scooped up the clean clothes, and jammed them into Spike's arms. "Go!"

Spike took the clothes and stared at Daniel a moment. Seemingly satisfied that the fledgling was back in control, he quickly disappeared down the corridor. Daniel took deep, steadying breaths. Which, Xander had to admit, was real weird, since vampires didn't need to breathe. Still, he'd seen Spike do it a hundred times. Didn't seem any less weird, but at least it fit.

"You okay?" the man asked in a concerned voice. He didn't touch Daniel. Wanted to keep both his arms.

Daniel brought his eyes around to Xander. "Yeah. I think." He closed his eyes and collapsed against the wall. "That was..."

Reaching out, Xander put a comforting hand on the fledgling's shoulder. "Yeah."

Daniel shook his head. "How did... How can he stand it? Why didn't he just...? Cause I think I would have..."

"Look. You need to get back. He'll need you. I'll stay here, wait to see Buffy."

Nodding, Daniel turned, still shaking slightly. "I would have killed her," he muttered. "I would have..."

Xander shook his head. "Nah. You would have been fine."

“No.” Daniel swung back and fixed Xander with hard emerald eyes. "I would have killed her," he repeated flatly. He quickly turned and disappeared through the heavy door.

*

Things had been better, but they could have been worse. Just barely though.

The psych was still with Matthews. Doctors and med techs went from one injured vampire to another. Daniel was in his office. 'Recovering', Spike suspected. Xander was with Buffy. Rupert was with Spike. And Dawn?

The vampire shook his head. He couldn't leave her in the slammer forever, could he?

Well, could he? He thought about it briefly, until Giles interrupted his train of thought.

"I must say I like the name Shepherd much better than Spike."

"You would," Spike said in an irritated voice, although he was secretly glad to have the whole line of thought momentarily interrupted.

"Has a certain gravity about it," Giles continued. "Commands respect."

Spike made a rude noise. If Giles saw his military credentials that officially proclaimed the vampire to be one 'Randall S. Giles', he would never hear the end of it. Spike saw a new future as 'Randy,' if he wasn't damned careful.

"Will you leave off?" he grumbled. Glancing up at Giles suspiciously, he realized he hadn't asked. Slipping. Spike was definitely slipping. "And how did you get here, anyway?" he asked in a dour voice. "Got a white horse parked outside?"

"I was in Vail for ten hours, trying to sort through the loose ends, thank you very much. Ralston made quite a muddle of things. I came here tonight in a helicopter to talk with you about some of it. All of this drama is an unwelcome bonus."

Spike was still having incredibly uncharitable thoughts about the project's former watcher. "Ralston. That rigid prick," he growled.

"Careful," Giles said sarcastically. "Some would perceive that as a compliment."

Spike looked up in surprise, and belatedly roared with laughter.

Giles noticed that the laughter lasted a little too long and had more of an edge than it should. "You need to rest," he observed.

The vampire sobered immediately, and shook his head. "You saw. They don't know what to do with her. What if she..."

"I assure you, I'm more than capable of watching over Buffy while you rest. And she's healing quite nicely."

Spike sighed. "Even if she is, there's no rest for the weary, Watcher. Bit's landed herself in jail. Need to go spring her."

Giles mouth dropped open. He closed it long enough to choke out two words. "Good Lord!"

"Well, it wasn't anything near as bad as it could have been, but she didn't have any business doing it, no matter her reasons. Of course, seein's how I was supposed to be there six hours ago, I figure she's probably either good and humble by now, or stewin' away in a godawful snit like her big sis would be."

"Indeed." Giles looked at his watch. "Go ahead then. I'll see to Buffy. Bring Dawn back and then get some rest. But I would like to see any information you might have gathered on this vampire. This... Gabriel." His mouth twisted in distaste.

Spike picked up the phone and pushed a button. "Daniel. Watcher wants to see what we've got on Gabriel. M'headed to pick up the Bit."

Standing, he fixed Giles with a look. "You know how she gets. Keep her in bed 'til she heals some. Don't fancy pulling the boys off her if she starts bleeding again."

Giles pursed his lips. "I'll keep her in bed if I have to resort to a ballpeen hammer blow to her right temple," he said darkly.

Spike laughed, suddenly more relaxed than he'd been since he'd come back to Sunnydale four days before. Just knowing that there was someone else watching Buffy's back made it a little easier to.. well, not precisely breathe, but... "C'mon, Rupert," he said wickedly. "You'll have to do better than that. She'd think that was a love-tap."

Leaving Giles to polish his glasses as he waited for Daniel, Spike went to fetch Dawn.

*

He would have to stop somewhere soon. Sunrise wasn't far away and he'd known he couldn't get there in the small amount of night that had been left to him.

Gabriel jammed his foot down and almost purred in satisfaction as the big Cadillac picked up speed and hugged the curves of the interstate. Hated leaving his eunuch brother and the pitiful human behind. Hated leaving the sounds of screaming and the smell of charred dead flesh.

Most of all, he'd hated leaving the girl like that, her blood rich on his hands.

After, Gabriel had licked his fingers and felt his own blood burn in response. It had taken every ounce of self-control he had not to go back for her and finish it then. Drink long, deep. Lose himself in her.

Reaching over, he stroked the worn leather coat he'd laid carefully across the passenger seat. He'd retrieved the grail. That was enough for tonight. He'd put it across his back and stroll in, inviting her caresses in a sweep of leather and slayer blood. Push himself deep in her, wearing his trophy. Wipe her tears of joy on the lapel.

He could be there tomorrow night. Get her and take her back with him. He had chains in the trunk, in case his princess got bitchy, along with the body of the man who had once owned the sleek dark vehicle he was driving. He could finish it. Finish *them*, with her at his side, all done up like a dark angel from hell. Receive her accolades like black roses drifting around him until he was buried in the ripe scent. It had to be like that, otherwise, where was the satisfaction? He certainly wasn’t getting any from the ones he was hunting.

It was easy. All too easy. He was on schedule. He only hoped she’d managed to ration out her food. He shrugged. It wasn’t like she’d starve.

Gabriel reached for the CD player and ejected the disk. He picked up another and slid it inside. He grimaced slightly. A talking book. Next time, he'd have to be a little more discerning about the owner of the vehicle he stole. Or at least bring his own music.

*

It might have taken him six hours to get there, but it only took about six minutes to get them out. All Dawn knew for sure was that the policeman who released them into Spike's custody was all but bowing and scraping on the floor. And was still begging him to call if he needed anything else. The girl really, really wanted to know what Spike's 'papers', as he'd called them, said.

Not that she was gonna ask, cause, no way.

Jonathan was at the same level of bowing and scraping as the police officer. At Spike's flat glare outside, he'd gulped and gotten in the back of the big, black SUV and pressed his back against the seat.

He was probably trying to stay out of arm's length, Dawn thought nastily. Unconsciously, she hugged the vehicle's door, wrapping long fingers around the grip.

Silently, Spike drove to the Magic Box and stopped. They all sat there a moment. Finally, Jonathan cleared his throat. "I'll just... uh, get Xander's car. And follow you, cause..."

Spike nodded curtly and the man fled, door slamming in his haste to get as far away as he could for the time he had left until they returned to the Initiative base.

Jonathan's voice had sounded suspiciously squeaky, Dawn thought acidly.

Then, Spike pulled out from the curb and slowly turned the truck around in the street. Dawn didn't point out that u-turns were illegal. Because, well, Magic Box.

"Your sister got hurt tonight," Spike said in a low voice, without preamble.

Dawn turned, eyes wide, her plans to stay quiet forgotten. "Hurt?" she said weakly. She *so* didn't want to hear the next part. But it was like a train wreck. Couldn't look away.

With a curt nod, Spike continued. "Out huntin' you."

That was when she remembered that talking wasn't in her survival plan.

"It's dangerous out there right now for anything that even slightly stinks of me. And whether you like it or not, Dawn, that's where you fit in this. Harris and Daniel got banged up, too. Lookin' for you. Tryin' to track you down, because you weren't where you were supposed to be."

Dawn quickly glued her eyes to the scenery passing along in the side window. It was shadowy where the street lights met the trees and buildings.

"How did you get in?"

A direct question, she thought. No hope now.

"I 'did' it." The queer emphasis on the word 'did' ought to tell him all he needed to know.

Spike nodded again, but slowly this time, as if her answer was no surprise. "You may think you're all adult now, but you're not. That's why you have people lookin' out for you. To keep you safe, show you right from wrong. Up to you to pay attention."

The words rushed out before she could slap her hand over her mouth. "Spike, I know you're pissed, but..."

Spike slammed a hand down on the steering wheel. "Pissed?" The word dripped with anger and sarcasm. "Had your sis' blood all over me tonight. Found Harris unconscious. Daniel damn near cut in half. Jeffries is dust, and a half a dozen vampires smell like half-cooked barbeque. 'Pissed' doesn't come close!"

He glanced at Dawn. "But you now. You're 'pissed'. At me. Want to know why, no dancin’ around it."

Despite her better judgment, Dawn told him. "You know, I used to count on you. Buffy did, too. Now you just come and go like our lives are some kind of revolving door. I think I liked you better without the soul. At least you stayed put!"

Her angry words seemed to echo in the car. She winced away from them a little, then stuck her chin out. Hadn't said anything that wasn't true. *Too* true, she thought.

Spike drove on. The street lights moved unceasingly across his face, highlighting a cheekbone, shadowing his eyes until they were like hooded sparks staring into the light.

"That's fair," he said finally. "The only fair thing so far tonight. Here it is then, and you hear it now, 'cause this is the end of it. Buffy and you both deserve better than me. I know it. Still, no one loves you as much. Hell, I'd die for you, Bit. Both of you. So I do the best I can. Until somethin' happens that makes me remember that I'm not good enough. It hurts, Nibblet. And I go. To try to fix it. Try to be better for you both."

He took a deep breath. "Can't be a man for Buffy, a father for you, but I can be your friend."

"You already are," she said grudgingly. She hated it when he talked bad about himself.

"That’s your say on it?"

Dawn sat a moment, reflecting. "Maybe. I think. Yes."

"Fine, then. Here's mine. M'here to keep you safe. So you gotta help. Got enough other going against me. I'll talk to Buffy about the Key thing. It's part of you, not something we can forget and hope it goes away. But you've gotta show you're responsible. This hare-brained crap has got to stop. People are getting hurt."

Dawn nodded.

"Now I don't know anythin' that'll help, but maybe someone else does. Rupert's come back."

Her head swung around, a smile playing around her mouth. It faded as abruptly as it appeared.

"For how long?" Her words were cold.

Spike sighed. "For as long as he can and will, I guess. No need to get all pissy about it. Life's all about going away and coming back, or going someplace else entirely. Arrival, departures. Life, death. Goin' and comin'. Sooner you get it, the happier you'll be.” He stopped, let his words sink in. “Give us all a break, will you?"

Dawn thought about it. And suddenly decided it was time to cut everybody some slack, if only because, one day, she'd be in the departure lane.

"Okay, I'll try," she said firmly.

"All I'm askin' for."

She watched him drive for a while. Maybe the soul hadn't been such a bad thing after all.