Title: Future Written in Blood, Part 1 (Chapter 1-6)

Author: MadRog

Email: madrog@ev1.net

Rating: NC-17

Category: Spike/Buffy

Disclaimers: I don't own any of the characters, it's all owned by Joss Wheldon and Mutant Enemy. Yada, Yada :)

Status: Work in Progress. R & R please!

Summary: Tainted blood sets off a chain reaction of events. Ready for a snarky Spike and spunky Slayer? This story includes season 5 with a few of my own alterations and continues from there. (But, no, it is not the typical post-Gift fic.)

I cannot thank my beta, Isis, enough. She has been wonderful and has such fabulous insight. Thanks, honey! It has been such fun. And you guys read her story - Yellow Skies by Isis :)

*****Background Note: The story includes season five with a few of my own alterations. Here’s my twist in short form: Spike’s chip is still in. He is friends with Dawn but not infatuated with Buffy (so no stalking or Buffybot). Fool for Love still happened but not the attempted kiss. Accordingly, Crush never happened, but Harmony has left. Spike helped the Scoobies save Dawn from Glory, and Buffy never died. So in other words, this story is an alternate version of how Spuffy could (or should) come about.

Chapter 1, Pennies from Heaven:

“Help…No…Please NO! Don’t touch me.” Carol, a tall brunette, was struggling in a dark alley with two attackers. “I’ll give you my money. Take the whole purse - Just don’t hurt me. Somebody HELP!”

As she kicked at her assailants, she also mentally kicked herself. This was Sunnydale, known for mysterious disappearances and murders, so she had known it was dangerous walking to work along its deserted streets at 5AM. However, her car had broken down three blocks back. Desperate for money and thus needing to keep her job at the bakery, she had set out for work on foot. Carol had almost made it to the street where the bakery was located when strong, large hands wrapped around her arms and jerked her into an darkened alley. Two young punks had been hiding like cowards in the darkness, but when she got a look at their faces, she realized that they weren’t men at all. All she could see was yellow eyes, wrinkled faces and fangs. ‘What in God’s name were these creatures?’ she thought, not knowing that God wouldn’t have anything to do with these two.

*****

‘What a bloody marvelous night!’ Spike congratulated himself on a good nights work. His idea of work, at least. Earlier that evening, the vampire had helped the Scoobies wipe out a gang of Shreila demons. The blokes usually just stuck to stealing but this group of mental giants had moved on to murder. At the nauseatingly self-righteous Scoobie meeting the night before, the Slayer had announced that she was having none of their antics, which was perfectly fine with this vampire. When the Slayer had first mentioned taking on some Shreilas, Spike saw a opportunity for a tidy profit, and before the attack plan was completely formulated by the Scoobies, Spike was already seeing dollar signs. He lined up a fence before they had ever started the actual raid.

The silly Shreila buggers had gone down easily, but Spike had enjoyed taking out the three he had trounced. However, when the Scoobies headed for the Bronze, Spike circled back to the lair, nabbing some of the gang’s spoils. After stashing a new TV and VCR at his crypt, he took the rest and hocked it before another hour was up. Then he went on a little shopping spree of his own. Spike first stocked up on cigarettes, Weetabix, and other miscellaneous essential and luxuries including a new CD for the Nibblet, and now he had just come out of the butcher’s shop with a two week supply of blood with money to spare. Sporting a smug bounce in his step and a cigarette dangling from his lips, Spike headed back to his crypt since the sun would be rising in an hour or so. As he passed an alley, he could hear a scuffle and a woman pleading for her safety, if not her life. Glancing down, Spike groaned when he made out two fledglings harassing a woman that looked to be in her mid-thirties.

“No style, no panache. Youngsters these days…” Spike snickered continuing on his way. “None of your concern, Spike ole boy, if two pillocks want to have a bit of fun.”

Nonetheless, her pitiful voice floated back to him, “My daughter needs me, no, no…”

As clear as if she were standing in front of him, Spike could suddenly see Joyce’s face. ‘Oh, mum, why the visit now?’ She looked like one of the last times Spike had seen Joyce with her younger daughter, Dawn. The Nibblet had just come home from a friend’s house complaining of some minor tiff, and he had watched as Joyce had handled it with her usual grace. God, he missed that woman. “Bloody Hell. What a ponce I am. Save me from mums and their daughters.” Sharply turning around, Spike headed back to the alley and came up behind the two fledglings as they tussled the woman back and forth between them. “Didn’t your sire ever tell you it’s not polite to play with your food?”

Spike drove a stake through the back of the closest vampire and watched with a satisfied grin as the dust cloud began to settle. The second vampire just froze as Spike turned his own yellow eyes towards the fool. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. The deer-in-the-headlight look just isn’t a good look for you, mate.” Spike lunged to finish the bloke off quick. This fledgling wasn’t very big but much faster than he looked. He unexpectedly jumped to the right, avoiding the serious end of Spike’s stake. Then he punched Spike in the jaw. As Spike recovered his balance, he slowly set his bag on the concrete and absently wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth. Glancing down at his own blood on his fingers, Spike spoke in a low voice, “Oh, got a little spunk in your after all, boy? Good, let’s have a proper go then.”

What the fledgling lacked in strength, the little wanker made up in speed and survival instincts. He dodged quite well, in fact, evading Spike’s punches. As Spike maneuvered the wily bugger into a corner, Spike faked a right and swung left but only caught air. The fledgling was lying on the ground unconscious.

A moment passed before the changed situation surrounding him could properly register on Spike’s brain. Now the woman was standing at his side, holding a pipe, staring down at the vamp she had just knocked out cold. ‘God, you’ve got a love a woman that can handle a piece of iron like that,’ Spike thought as he held a stake out to the woman. “Here, mum, you can do the honors. Mind that you hit the heart.”

The woman looked up at Spike with luminous eyes, “What?”

Wiggling the stake in front of her face, Spike tried to prod her, “Go ahead. Drive the stake through this git’s heart so he’ll go all puff and we can be on our separate ways.”

Carol took a step back, shocked. Her eyes drawn back to the felled vampire, but she was shaking her head at Spike’s suggestion. “I can’t do that…I just can’t do that.”

When she was holding that pipe, this lady in front of him again reminded Spike a great deal of the Slayer’s mother who had once clobbered him with an axe. This lady had spunk just like Joyce had. Turning to face her but keeping the downed vamp in his peripheral vision, Spike asked, “You said you had a daughter you need to live for, didn’t you?”

She turned her eyes up to meet Spike’s, nodding now.

Satisfied that he had gained her full attention, Spike tilted his head to the side before continuing, “Understand this, that bloke wanted to separate you from your daughter - forever.” He leaned down briefly to point out the best point of entry when the women still hesitated, but Spike could tell she really wanted to stake the puke. He stood back up beside her and whispered close to her ear, “Maybe he will go after your daughter next time, instead of you. Wouldn’t want him snacking on your little sweat meat, would you?”

‘That’s the ticket,’ Spike thought. The woman grabbed the stake out of Spike’s hand and shoved it through the vamp’s heart, stepping back, trying to wave away the resulting dust cloud.

With a satisfied smirk, Spike took out a cigarette and lit up, leaning casually on a wall and watching the woman gather her wits back together.

“Thank you. Can I…? How can I…?”

Spike blew out a slow, long string of smoke. “No need, pet.”

Carol took a step towards Spike, arms out stretched, “But I want to…”

‘Bloody hell, what was the woman going to do? Hug him?’ That had Spike ducking, and they both heard the clink of his lighter hitting the pavement. “Ah…look mum, the sun will be up soon which means I got to get home. How about you wish me luck in my poker game tomorrow night? Damn, where’d I drop my lighter?”

While Spike searched though the refuse scattered about the alley, the woman picked up Spike’s bag from the butcher, saying a few quiet words in Latin and smiling when the contents momentarily glowed from within.

Having located his favorite lighter, Spike turned back to the woman, “Here it is. Would have been really pissed to have lost that. Er…Excuse the language, mum, but I’ve had it for some thirty odd years or so. Now where’s my package?”

“Here you go, sir.”

“Sir? Ha.” Spike shook his head while trying to repress a smile. “Where’re you headed, mum?”

“I work at the bread shop around the corner.”

“Well, let’s get you there safe and sound this time, why don’t we?” Escorting Carol out onto the street, Spike glanced up towards the heavens and certainly hoped Joyce appreciated this. A Big Bad walking a perfectly good meal to her place of business. Spike couldn’t figure out if this was one of life’s little jokes or pranks.

*****

At times, the poker game felt surreal to Spike. In fact, he felt like he had never woken up from the dream he had earlier that day. He could see that Clem had a pair of tens. Z’hrak, a Clossek Demon, was bluffing with a hand of utter rubbish. ‘The cheeky bastard,’ Spike thought. ‘Bloke isn’t even holding a pair.’ Ned, a harmless Nouf Demon, was holding two aces and two nines. Not bad by half, but the only problem was that Clem was just beginning to deal the hand, and with an intense feeling of déjà vu, Spike had known the outcome of the current hand before the last card was tossed onto the table.

Wait, was that the Twilight Zone music playing in the back ground? Bugger it all, had he really dreamed this game the night before? Spike himself was holding three fours. Normally, not the best of hands, but Spike shoved what little caution he had to fly off in the wind with as much ease as he tossed all his chips into the pot. The hand played out as he knew it would with his three of a kind taking the win.

Much to Spike’s disappointment, the next hand dealt by Z’hrak played out normally. No premonition, no hocus pocus, just bleedin’ zip. Try as he might, he couldn’t tell what anyone was holding except for Ned who was squirming enough to make Spike suspect that the silly git was barely holding his bladder.

Later when Ned dealt the sixth hand, Spike’s vision blurred around the edges, and he saw his own left hand throwing a full house on top of a rather large stack of chips. When his vision cleared, he was looking down at his cards which he was currently holding: an ace, a three, a queen, and two sevens. What the hell? That full house he had seen was three sevens and two queens. Holding onto the queen and sevens, Spike drew another seven and queen. Full house, a frickin’ jack pot! Damn, it was good to be him tonight, Spike laughed to himself. He tripled his stakes when he easily won.

Spike’s premonitions sporadically occurred four more times during the remainder of the game. Two hours down the demon gambling line brought his obvious “lucky” streak to a head with the other players. Z’hrak called him a cheat while Sammy looked around for a stake to dust him. Obligingly, Spike took off his duster and shirt to prove he didn’t have any cards up his sleeve. Normally, he would have been ready to kill any blighter that sullied his name even if he had been cheating but this night had gone so well. Nothing could ruin his spirits.

Arrogantly, Spike played one more hand with no premonitions and no shirt. Oh, the beautiful Lady Luck was still hanging on his arm, though. Clem was the only one not impressed. He was just a little distracted and majorly grossed out due to Spike’s lack of wrinkles. When the game ended, Spike gathered up his winnings and was certainly glad now that they had played for money instead of kittens that night. Blunt was a sight easier to spend than squirming felines.

As he walked through the bar, he stopped off for a beer to celebrate. While casually sampling his Guinness, Spike watched a spot of ESPN showing on the telly above the bar while thoroughly enjoying the slightly uncomfortable bulge of the wad of money in his jean’s front pocket. Capturing his attention, the two announcers, who were desperately trying for a few funnies, speculated on the heavy weight prize fight that was to take place the next evening featuring the heavily favored belt holder. The current heavy weight champ was McKain, and some Esteban bloke was the puffed up contender who had been on the advantageous end of a mandatory defense clause in the champ’s contract. Judging from what the talking heads were blabbing on about, the underdog didn’t have a vamp’s chance in the Sahara.

As Spike watched the playbacks of each fighter’s previous matches, he recognized the signs of a coming premonition. His ears started to tingle and vision blur before he found himself staring at a completely different scene that he should have been. He found himself looking at the two fighters that the announcers had been discussing. But instead of promo pictures and photo opportunities, both were covered in sweat, circling each other in a boxing ring. McKain’s right eye was nearly swollen shut while blood dripped from Esteban’s nose. Then as clear as if he were standing at ring side, Spike watched Esteban sneak in a right upper cut between McKain’s guard, viciously snapping the champ’s head back. The crowd boomed with a roar that McKain never heard since his proverbial bell had been rung before his body even hit the mat. Then Spike’s vision blurred again, leaving the vampire gazing again at the telly above the bar.

As if his stool were ablaze, Spike sprung up from his seat as inspiration struck. He had money to spare and knew who was going to win tomorrow night’s prize fight. He didn’t need some gypsy to read his palm to know that he had a trip in his future. Throwing a few bills on the bar to pay his tab, Spike sauntered out the door, humming.

The bartender watched the blonde vamp go, suspecting Spike had been humming Viva Las Vegas. Funny, he had always thought Spike to be a Billy Idol fan instead of Elvis.

After checking to make sure the DeSoto was in top form and the black paint on the windows was still in tact, Spike packed a few essentials. Of course he grabbed a couple packs of smokes, but he also packed a four day supply of blood. He didn’t expect to stay longer than a couple of days, but he wanted to spend his time winning some unsuspecting casino’s money instead of hunting down a butcher that would sell blood by the pint. Then Spike was off, and this time, anyone listening could not mistake the tune the vampire sung while cruising down the highway, “Viva, Viva, Vivaaa Las Vegaaassssss!”

Thanks to everyone that have reviewed and emailed me so far. The feedback has been very helpful and much appreciated. Big thanks again to Isis for beta-ing the story!

Chapter Two: Droplets from Hell

By early afternoon, Spike could see the Mecca of the Nevada Desert calling all wayward gamblers, or really, any foolish bloke with a dime. Oh, how he would have loved to run down that famous “Welcome to Las Vegas” sign. Nonetheless, Spike doubted his Desoto would win that little battle of steel as easily as when he had plowed down the one in Sunnydale. Plowed down twice but who’s counting? Well, him, of course. So with his trademark grin, Spike made a mental note to make it three times on his way back home.

Home? When the bloody hell had Sunnyhell become home? But then he pictured a pair of brown eyes looking at him with such trust. Silly bint had wheedled her way into his cold and assumed to be dead heart. Bugger it, a human, no less, but Dawn was the only one, human or demon, that looked at him as if she wanted him around. Over the summer, Big Sis had relaxed her restrictions concerning Dawn’s visitations to Spike’s crypt, and Buffy had even allowed Spike in the house occasionally to watch the tapes of Passions. The Nibblet was just as hooked as Spike now, providing lively discussions concerning the characters and plot twists.

Thinking over the past summer, Spike didn’t understand his own actions, let alone the slayer’s and preferred not to dwell on it. After he had helped the Scoobies fight and then destroy that Bimbo-Bitch Glory, Spike patrolled for Buffy in a veiled effort to give the sisters more time to spend together. The past spring had been a very rough time for them what with losing Joyce and then almost losing each other fighting Glory. Later when they found out how little money Joyce had been able to leave after paying the doctor bills, the Slayer had been forced to get a job. When Spike wasn’t patrolling for the Slayer, he was at Revello Drive watching out for Dawn and helping with homework from summer school. The homework part was without a doubt done on the sly.

As patterns began to develop, the gang grudgingly accepted Spike as an ally, not a friend or a Scoobie, but a business associate. As the weeks of summer passed, the animosity that had previously existed between the slayer and the master vampire began to fade, evolving into a respect that neither would want to admit.

Surprisingly, the night the mortal enemies buried the proverbial hatchet was anything but monumental. Rather ordinary, in fact. Dusk was slowing falling, and Spike was fit to be tied. That was how Buffy found him, pacing and ranting around the upper level of his crypt. “What’s wrong, fang face? Double dose of caffeine or nicotine?”

“Just a little nervous energy plus the bleedin’ telly was on the fritz today. Completely missed Passions.”

“Truly a tragedy, MacBeth.” Buffy had just stopped by to ask for some information, but it was always such fun to banter with the smart-mouthed vampire. Actually, after sizing him up, she concluded that he could use some exercise instead. “You look like you’re about to come unglued. Well, Mr. Hyper Vamp, why don’t you give me some help tonight?” And so it began, at first they only patrolled together once or twice a week, but that number slowly crept up to four or five times a week. Any old excuse would do. Both were fully aware of how well they worked together as a team, and both were secretly enjoying the arrangement. Regardless, neither would have ever admitted how much fun fighting side by side had become.

So if Spike had to blame something or someone for his soddin’ attachment to Sunnyhell, it would have to be the Platelet with her unabashed acceptance of him which later lead to a new thrill. A scary high for any vampire, the adrenaline rush that came from fighting beside the Slayer. How bloody ironic, the Slayer of Slayers was getting off on helping the current Slayer patrol the Hellmouth. Spike supposed that it could get weirder but wasn’t sure how. Hell, it wasn’t boring.

*****

After driving around for a bit taking in the changes to Vegas, Spike found a small off-the-strip casino with a covered parking garage to start his current mission. He had several hours in which to build up his poker game blunt before he placed a bet on the fight. Strolling through the lobby, the vampire walked past all the happy meals on legs, who had dollar signs clouding their greedy eyes, and was astounded by how many bite sized youngsters were running amuck. Las Vegas, the City of Sin, had certainly changed since he and Drusilla had visited last. Hell, he had never taken that Harmony bint. Couldn’t trust that one in a place like this. Besides, that bubble-headed bird would probably have gotten too confused to find her own way out of a casino like Ceasar’s Palace. Spike rolled his eyes, in an gesture that would have made the Nibblet proud, just thinking about Harmony.

When the vampire sauntered into the casino proper, Spike stood for a moment taking in the sights and trying to see if any table appealed any more than the others. Then a spinning roulette wheel over his right shoulder caught his eye. Not his usual game, but he had done quite well trusting his instincts so far. He watched the dealer in charge of that particular table and instantly liked her because she was joking and patiently explaining the rules to a pair of young newlyweds trying to place bets. Then Spike saw the little white ball drop into the black eight. The only problem was the ball had not been spun for that round yet. So he took out a twenty and casually laid it on the eight.

The dealer acknowledged the new player politely, “Color or single chips, sir.”

“Neither. Let it all ride on the eight.”

An old blue hair walked up next to Spike, jabbing him with her pointy elbow, forcing her way up to the table and making Spike happy that her sharp appendage wasn’t made of wood. While he watched the wheel spin, Spike took a step back and lit a cigarette, making sure to blow smoke the old bat’s way. The little, white ball went round and round, bounce, bounce, bounce and then it was sitting on the eight. Twenty dollars was now seven hundred. Spike collected his winnings and prepared to bet again, ‘Yeah, bloody good choice of tables, mate. Think I’ll stay awhile.’ Even better when the blue haired bat toddled off, heading towards a different table.

*****

Back in Sunnydale, Buffy swung by Spike’s crypt to get him for that night’s patrol. She had arrived a little earlier than usual. Buffy had just finished a hard day and was looking forward to starting the usual bicker-fest with Spike early. That usually cheered her up, especially if she could out snark him a couple of times before they even made it out of the crypt.

And she knew just the trick to get things rolling. With a smile on her face, she sharply flung open the door to Spike’s crypt letting in sunlight. But when Buffy didn’t hear any cursing as light flooded the crypt, she stepped in and looked around. There was no edgy vamp to be found; in fact, he place appeared deserted. No pacing evil blood sucker. No snide remarks thrown her way. Just…nothing.

Thoroughly annoyed, Buffy flung herself down into the vampires favorite piece of furniture which was optimistically referred to as a chair. She could smell him as if he were sitting beside her, his unique masculine scent of smoke and leather surrounded her. More disappointed than she cared to admit, Buffy sat and pouted, not that she would have admitted that either. Where was that wayward vamp? Maybe he would be back shortly. Maybe something had happened to him. Laying her head back on the back of the chair, Buffy decided to wait. Just a few, though. Not like she couldn’t deal without him or anything, but he had known that they were going to patrol together that night. Knowing him, he was probably doing this just to tick her off.

*****

At the same time that Buffy was fuming over Spike, the vampire was thinking about the younger Summers, Dawn, as he drove over to the MGM Grand. “The Nibblet would have loved this. All the people to watch, sites to see.” Spike had been steadily winning all afternoon. He did not have premonitions on every spin, and on the spins he didn’t, he played conservatively. Black/red or even/odd. But when a Polaroid moment let him know what was coming, he took full advantage, eventually running his winnings up to $600,000 at a high stakes crap table. Just to be on the safe side, he would lose some to make sure none of the pit bosses thought he was using a system or cheating. Wouldn’t do to get thrown out on his arse before he could collect his winnings, now would it? But keeping a low profile just wasn’t one of Spikes strong points so he moved from casino to casino from time to time, avoiding mirrors or overly suspicious pit bosses. After placing a $500,000 bet on the fight’s underdog at the MGM, Spike took the remaining blunt over to New York, New York, to try his luck at the black jack tables.

*****

By 7:30 PM, an hour and a half before the fight, Spike had run his $100,000 stake at the New York, New York, up again and placed another $500,000 bet on the fight before heading over to check out the Hard Rock Casino. Damn good sounding casino, that. He was back up to $400,000 playing craps before he placed his last bet before the fight began. Now he was sitting in a sports bar dividing his attention between a TV showing the broadcast of the fight over at Ceasar’s Palace and another TV showing several beauties in their bikinis lying out at the casino’s pool. That it was night didn’t seem to matter. No doubt because the birds knew they were being filmed and broadcast through out the casino. So Spike sat back, nursing a crown and coke, enjoying the women practically naked who appreciated a voyeur and waited for his money to multiply at 1 to 21 odds. During the eighth round, the others in the bar watched in stunned silence as Esteban felled the champ, but to Spike it was old news. He had a hotel manager at his elbow offering to comp a suite before the vampire could even collect his winnings. Vegas loved a winner and especially loved keeping that winner and his money in their hotel.

*****

Back in Sunnydale, the Slayer stomped her boots up the front steps of her house. The night’s patrol had been slow. Watching your finger nail polish dry kinda slow and undoubtedly the bleach blond vampire’s fault. Evil blood sucker, even if it was only bagged blood lately. Had he found some demon to kick ass without her? Probably took any bad guys out before they made it her way. Just to annoy her, of course.

Buffy came in, banging the front door, and found Dawn, Willow and Tara watching TV in the living room. Willow and Tara had been rooming with them for the last week and helping with the bills.

“Hey, Buffy. How was patrol?”

“Boring with a capital ‘B.’” She flopped down limp into an empty chair. “Mrs. Bernhart type boring.”

Willow grimaced, “You mean World History, Mrs. Bernhart? Mrs. I-lecture-till-blue-in-the-face-and-keep-going Mrs. Bernhart? Now that’s way boring and beyond.”

“Did you see Spike?” Dawn asked her sister. “He said he would try to get by later.”

“Nope. No sign of said vamp, which is so not a good sign. Neither hide nor fang of him in any of the cemeteries. Maybe I should have checked Willie’s.”

Oh, a worrying Buffy was very interesting, especially when it was over a certain vampire who also happened to be a total hottie. Dawn decided to fan the small, smoldering fire she suspected in her big sister. “Maybe Harmony’s back, and they’re out partying.”

“Eew! Could have done without that visual.” Buffy scrunched up her nose in displeasure but looked a bit worried.

The mention of any of Spike’s ex’s never brought out Buffy’s nicer side. Thinking that she might see a little smoke coming out of Buffy’s ears, Dawn fanned some more, “Yeah, he could do better. Major hottie like he is.”

“Dawnie, two words. Evil vampire. Remember them whenever you think of Spike.” With that, Buffy stomped off in the direction of the kitchen and try not to picture Spike as a major hottie, but way hard not to.

Dawn rolled her eyes to disguise her tactics from Willow and Tara but happily noted Buffy’s lack of venom directed at the said evil vampire.

*****

After collecting on his bet, Spike stepped out into the MGM Grand’s parking garage a much richer vamp. He had already collected at New York, New York, and was now headed back to the Hard Rock and his free suite. Already a little drunk from the numerous comp drinks, Spike tried not to sway while looking around the parking level. ‘Where the hell was the damn DeSoto?’ He would have had the valets park it if he hadn’t thought the overly helpful ass-kissers would clean off the paint covering his windows. Not to mention, he had consumed way too many drinks to properly explain the pints of blood still stored in the back seat. ‘Where the friggin’ hell is that car?’ Lighting a cigarette, Spike made it around a corner and was brought to a stand still by a blade in the face.

“You’d better freeze, blondie, or we’re gonna be your worst nightmare.” A shaky voice came from the low life holding the equally shaky knife.

‘Only if I have nightmares of pathetic heroine junkies. Gesh, people look down on vampires for their addiction to blood.’ The vampire calmly took in the situation he suddenly found himself embroiled. Giving a long suffering sigh, Spike grimaced, ‘I need my wheels, not this shit.’ A bloke that looked to be around eighteen was holding an academic-type at knife point while his chum held a similar blade in Spike’s face. Spike could feel sobriety coming on and had no patience for that. Totally pissed, Spike casually flicked his fag onto the guy’s chest, making the punk take a step back from him. “No, *I* will be your worst nightmare for the rest of your life.” Spike brought his demon forward, baring his fangs, “That, of course, being the couple of seconds left of it.”

The first guy in front of Spike dropped his knife, but the other exchanged his weapon for a gun, fear making him bolder. “What the fuck are you, dude?”

Praying the soddin’ chip in his head wouldn’t fire, Spike growled and took a step forward, hoping intimidation would be enough for these fried pillocks. However, the puke got nervous, pulled the trigger and winged Spike.

“Bloody friggin’ hell!” Spike looked at the new slice in his upper arm, “I’m not a werewolf, you silly git. No silver bullet is going to work here, mate.”

Fear having finally soaked into their smack soaked brains, the-would-be thieves fled like they had seen…well, a vampire.

As Spike shook off his game face, the victim that had been left behind spoke up. “Uh,…Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. Really - DON’T mention it. In fact, don’t mention it to anyone, especially me. Now be a good little professor and bugger off.” This said, Spike ignored him and inspected his gash. What was it? A full moon? Friday the 13th? Nowhere on William the Bloody’s resume did it say, “good Samaritan.” That woman, Carol, had been ok, but he really didn’t want to make a habit of this.

However, the man didn’t take the not-so-subtle hint but instead took a step towards Spike. “I bet your not going to an emergency room to have that looked at.”

“Got it in one, Einstein.”

“I’m…Well, I’m a surgeon. A vet actually, but I specialize in surgery. Would you let me stitch that up for you?”

Spike slowly looked the man up and down, judging, evaluating. Finally coming to a decision, Spike spoke up, “No, but you could cut something *out* for me.”

*****

When he awoke, the vampire didn’t bother to crack open an eye lid. He could already feel the morning sun trying to creep around the drawn shades of his room. No need to look. Hell, his eyes were even fuzzier feeling than his memory was when he thought back over the last twelve hours. Frightening thought, indeed. Spike could vaguely remember meeting the doctor in the lobby of the Hard Rock forty-five minutes after saving him from the two muggers at the MGM. And lucky for the vampire, the doctor had a strong sense of gratitude since the doctor had not been happy about the far from sterile location. Needless to say, the vet finally caved in the face of Spike’s stubbornness. As they set up the temporary operating room, Spike was pleased to discover that the advantage of using an animal doc instead of a human MD was that vets have portable x-ray machines. Thus making it possible in a hotel room to locate the irksome piece of hardware lodged in his brain.

The night before, his alcohol saturated brain had flitted briefly over the consequences of this impromptu surgery. So what if the vet was going to dig around in his head, and he certainly wasn’t worried about a possible infection. There had to be some advantages to being dead. One just happened to be that bacteria had no desire to take up residence in his undead corpse.

However, the consequences that would follow when he got back to Sunnyhell gave him pause. Spike didn’t doubt that the Nibblet would be happy for him. She had no fear of him, a soft heart, and hated it when he took a jolt in the noggin. On the other hand, he wasn’t sure about the two witches’ reactions. But no big in that department. On the other hand, Spike had no doubt that the whelp would go ballistic, which put Harris’ reaction firmly in the plus category.

But, bugger it all to soddin’ Hell, the Slayer would stake him. No doubt about it. Or she could try, Spike thought with a smirk. In fact, that also maybe in the plus column since he would be able to fight back. Not to mention that the Slayer was always calling him an animal. If the silly bint were right, who better to fix his little problem than a vet? Shrugging off his concerns, Spike laid down on the dining, pseudo-operating table, and let his eyes drift closed as he felt the doc set to work.

Spike’s last coherent thought as he went under was that the saw bones better not have left a big incision and that hopefully it would heal up fast. After all, he didn’t have to tell the Scoobies that the chip was out, but visible evidence would certainly not help his case.

Awake now, Spike rolled over onto his side, trying to find a more comfortable spot on the sofa and absently turned on the TV. Maybe the drone of the telly would help distract him from his throbbing headache which had followed close on the heels of the surgery and was intensified by the effects of his spectacular hangover. Success, the sight of the beautiful blonde on the telly lying out by the pool with the miniscule patches of her bikini covering strategic locations captured his attention, but he still couldn’t keep his eyes open. If he could have thought straight, his last thought would have disturbed the vampire greatly. The little dish looked familiar…The Slayer. That beautiful bird looked like Buffy. Not in a drink-her-blood or snap-her-neck type of way, but in a lick-all-over-her body type of way. However, not even that disturbing thought kept him awake and he fell into a troubled sleep.

*****

A furious battle was already underway. Buffy, Xander, and Willow had been patrolling in one of the most active cemeteries in Sunnydale and were currently fighting off four werewolves. Yes, it was a full moon, but they had certainly not been expecting this kind of fight that night. There had been no mention on the streets of any werewolves currently residing in Sunnydale. In fact, demon gossip had been rather subdued the last few nights. As a result, the ambush had come as a complete surprise and quickly escalated in its intensity.

The slayer methodically, but with considerable effort, took out two of the shaggy beasts and was currently fighting a third, while Xander and Willow held the other one off, waiting for the Slayer to finish and help them. The events played out as if part of a bad “B” movie. Presently fighting where she could also keep an eye on her friends, Buffy was horrified to watch her friends’ opponent dodge one of Xander’s blows and slip in under Willow’s defenses. In one horrific swipe, the werewolf quickly clawed out her throat. Frozen, Xander looked down at Willow’s blank, staring eyes before a fifth werewolf appeared out of nowhere, jumped on his back, visciously sinking in his elongated canines into Xander’s neck. Still fighting her own opponent, Buffy helplessly watched as Xander’s flesh was ripped away with deceptive ease in a split second.

All the images blurred together as Spike’s vision clouded, and he saw no more. He was never happy to dream of the virtuous Scoobies, but this time had been different. Spike knew that this dream was a glimpse into the future just as surely as he had known that the white ball was going to fall into the black eight at the roulette table the previous day. This had been second sight, not an annoying little broadcast of his active imagination as his dreams usually were. Red’s dead, staring eyes stayed with Spike long after he woke up from his dream.

Stunned, Spike laid on his back thinking. Well, it wouldn’t be such a bad thing, would it, to lose the whelp? No, but the witch didn’t deserve such a nasty end. However, the portion that bothered him most was that he hadn’t been able to see if the Slayer had won out in the end. Despite his throbbing headache, thoughts of the Slayer’s possible death had Spike up and pacing. It was currently daytime, and the dream had been set at night. On the other hand, judging from his recent gambling experiences, the vision would become an actuality sooner rather than latter. He had some time, but too little considering he was currently in a different state.

Regardless, his mind just wouldn’t leave it alone. Was the Slayer alive or dead? Or more accurately, *would* she end up alive or dead? Sod it, so much for a little R & R in Vegas. Spike quickly threw on a shirt and hunted for his keys. “Time was wasting. Gotta make tracks back to Sunnyhell.”

Chapter 3 A Less Than Enthusiastic Hero

As the DeSoto roared down the highway, not for the first time Spike wished that the old legends of vampires being able to morph into bats and fly wherever the hell they wanted were true. ‘Would have been a damn sight faster than driving down these bleedin’ highways.’ Passing the “Welcome to Sunnydale” sign, Spike didn’t even spare a glance. Damn, damn, damn. His latest vision would make a vampire sweat, or at least, this vampire with his warped protective instincts towards a certain sassy slayer and her annoying friends.

Squinting through the small opening in the paint covering the windshield, it had been really hard to not break the speed limits from Las Vegas to Sunnydale, but Spike just didn’t fancy getting pulled over by a highway patrolman. Usually cops were fun to screw around with, but this trip was taking place during daylight hours. Made it a bit tricky to roll down the window to have a nice chat with the bobby. As a result, Spike restrained his foot from smashing the gas petal to the floor board, while again replaying the vision of the Slayer, Red and Harris over and over in his head. Each time he tried desperately to figure out the ending he never saw. He was sick about the loss of the witch. Mental images of Red lying in the grass with a werewolf gnawing on her neck and shoulder. Even the loss of Harris gave him a small twinge, but only a small one. It was thoughts of the Slayer, the silly chit, that made him more and more edgy during the long drive. She would be left to battle through jacked up werewolves. Normally not a particularly big deal for the highly capable slayer, but this was not going to be a normal circumstance. Try as he might, Spike had no idea how the Slayer would fare fighting over the corpses of her dearest mates.

From time to time throughout the long drive, Spike tried to focus his obsessive thoughts on a different topic, but only ended up cursing the slowly passing miles. Bugger it all, he had even run out of smokes 60 miles back. Silly pillocks, probably wouldn’t even appreciate his sacrifice just to save their puny, ungrateful arses.

Finally arriving at the proper cemetery, Spike drove his car as close as he could then covered the rest of the distance in a full out sprint. When he finally raced into the clearing, Buffy had just killed her second werewolf, and Willow and Xander were still fighting off another. Spike launched himself as the werewolf’s sharp claws swung at Willow. A flying tackle easily brought the surprised, but dangerous, little doggie down. Straddling the werewolf, Spike rained punches down as fast as possible while yelling over to Xander, “Harris, drop and cover!”

“Huh? What?”

“Incoming, you soddin nit-wit!”

Instinct developed from his very brief stint in the military (one Halloween night) kicked in and Xander dropped face first onto the grass just in time to duck a newcomer to their little werewolf party

The rest of the fight went quick with Buffy killing her opponent and going to help Willow and Xander with the one that had tried to attack Xander. Spike enthusiastically killed the one that would have killed the witch, and after noting that the slayer had the situation well in hand, he headed back to his car. Somewhere a pack of cigarettes had to be calling his name, and who was he to argue?

The Scoobies could hear the vampire cussing and grumbling while he headed away. Xander stood in the clearing, looking bewildered, “Color me confused. What was that?”

Willow punched Xander lightly in the shoulder, “Duh much, Xander? Werewolves.”

Rubbing his shoulder absently, Xander frowned at Willow, “No, I meant Dead Boy, Jr. He didn’t even stay for his usual gloat time or try to extract some payment.”

Buffy shook her head and laughed, never fully understanding the vampire herself. “He doesn’t really get money from us anymore. Just likes the fights, I think. But then when isn’t our resident master vampire strange? He’ll probably drive us crazy tomorrow night with a brag-a-thon.”

*****

As the Scoobies discussed him, Spike stomped the rest of the way back to retrieve his car, still with a splitting headache and thoroughly ticked that he had had to leave that posh suite at the Hard Rock Casino for this rotten cemetery. He sucked down a quick pint of blood while he drove back to his crypt and unceremoniously dove into his bed to sleep all the recent shenanigans off. He added a pillow over his head for good measure.

*******

The next afternoon, the sleeping vampire was woken up by someone knocking on the crypt’s door. Well, it certainly wasn’t the Slayer or Nibblet. Those two never stopped to knock. As he came up the ladder, Spike spotted Willow poking her head in the door she had now tentatively cracked open. He started to head back down, mentally cringing, ‘Please save me from another wanker coming to thank me.’ This was starting to give even this seasoned vampire the creeps. But on second thought, maybe it would be good to have one of the Scoobies beholden to him. Hell, now that he looked back on the past night’s timely rescue, they should all be thanking him.

He climbed the rest of the way up and nodded her way, “Red. What brings you calling?” As if he didn’t know. He smiled to himself as he fished around in his frig for breakfast.

Not too sure how to approach this, Willow plastered a bright smile on her face and took a hesitant step forward. “Spike, last night you were gone so fast. We didn’t get a chance to say thanks for the save.”

Spike gave a short bark of laughter. “We?”

Caught fibbing, exaggerating actually, Willow’s cheeks turned a light shade of red. Gathering her dwindling courage back together, Willow continued in her best perky voice, “Well, me actually. So…Thanks!”

Seemingly unphased, Spike continued to poke around the contents of his ice box. He finally pulled out a styrofoam container but froze, arm still upraised, after his first drink.

“Spike?” Willow walked a little closer, trying to get a better look at his face. She had never known him to stand so perfectly still. “Ground control calling Spike.” She waved a hand in front of his face with no response. He didn’t even blink. Do vampires blink? “Spike?”

Suddenly his face contorted to what looked to be predominantly anger with a touch of fear. When she reached out and touched his arm, Spike jerked back and finally focused his eyes on her. “Red. I think I’m gonna puke.”

Willow took a hasty step backwards. “Big eeewww on vampire vomit. Icky, it would be blood, wouldn’t it?”

Spike looked dazed for a moment. “Uh?...yeah, most likely.”

“Why don’t you try sitting down instead. Let’s skip the whole spewing part.” Willow waved a hand towards Spike’s chair.

Spike made it to his chair. Willow knelt down next to him watching with concern as the vampire held his head between his hands, shaking it from side to side.

“Oh, God, Dawn is in danger or is going to be. Whichever. I’m not too fond of these visions anymore.”

“Spike? What about Dawnie? Tell me about the vision.”

Not meeting her eyes, Spike groaned. “You’ll never believe me. Hell, I barely believe me.”

“Already think you’re pretty strange. See, no problem there. So, why don’t you tell me what you saw anyway.”

“Well, it seems, Red, that I have been having a spot of second sight lately. But first let me rewind and replay just a bit.”

Amazed, Willow listened to the tale of Spike’s last couple of days. Saving Carol there in Sunnydale, the poker game, the trip to Las Vegas and the winnings, then the vision that told him that Willow and Xander would not survive the werewolf attack, and his subsequent return to Sunnyhell. Spike made it through to the saving Willow and Xander part before stopping to look at Willow. “Well?”

Willow was unsure what to think, “Uh…Wow?”

“That’s all you can say? I think the fact that I can see into the bloody future should rank up the scale a tad more than a pansy little ‘wow,’ don’t you?”

“Oh….Super!?”

“Arrrggg. At least tell me this. Do you believe me?”

“Well…”making her “sorry” face.

“Bloody hell. Ok, tell me this. Why would I leave a posh suite, free mind you, in Vegas, and travel through daylight hours to get back to Sunnyhell of all places? It certainly wasn’t for the warm fuzzies and support I get here from you blokes.” Frustrated, Spike was up, pacing across the room and then back, “How did I even know that you, the whelp, and the Slayer would be fighting werewolves? How did I know to save you first. For that matter, how would I even know which cemetery to go to? I’m a vampire, not a card carrying member of the psychic network.”

“You had your palm read? Tarrot cards maybe?”

Spike ran over to his duffle bag, opening it wide, showing her all the money inside. “How would I have gotten all of this? Nearly two mil in there, pet.”

“I don’t know. Uh, maybe I don’t want to know.”” Willow thought about it for a moment and started to frown. “Ok, say I do believe you. Were you having a vision in front of the refrig? I think I saw that in the original Ghostbusters movie. You know where Sigourney Weaver opened the frig and sees a weird temple looking thingy with animals that look all grrrrh.”

“Yes, it was a vision but no bloody Ghostbusters.” Now exasperated, Spike paced back to stand in front of her. “I saw the Nibblet, and she was in danger.”

“Dawnie, right?”

“Yeah. Didn’t we already do this part?” Spike ran his hand through his now curly hair while he paced again. “So just pretend with me for a sec. Just pretend that you do believe me and help me work through this.”

“I thought you just saw it all visiony like.”

“I did but I need to figure out the when, where, how and most importantly, who I need to kill to stop this.” Spike looked Willow square in the eyes. “Red, it looked like she was being kidnapped.”

“Ok, I am great at the helping part. Tell me what you saw.”

“Actually, I saw three, separate flashes this time. Disconcerting, it was. In the first, the platelet was definitely at the Bronze dancing with some pimple-faced git.”

“When!” Willow interrupted. “Got it. Buffy promised Dawn that if she passed her English test, that we would celebrate Friday night at the Bronze. What else did you see?”

“The platelet was in the alley behind the Bronze with the same git. He was trying to kiss her. Remind me to have a little chat with the fellow when this is all over.”

“Will do, big bro to Little Bit.”

“Anyway, I saw some thug-type knock the little pillock out and take Bite Size.”

“Did you recognize anyone besides Dawn?”

“Must have been from out of town - didn’t recognize a one.”

“Check. What was the last part you saw?”

“Two blokes, that will also be minus their heads when I find them, were holding the Nibblet between them. Bit was putting up quite a fight. Her lip was split open, and she had a bruise on her cheek. There was a third bloke giving her the once over, obviously in charge.”

“So where were they? Maybe since it’s only Monday, and we’ve got until Friday, we can go over there and take care of them before they ever even try to grab Dawnie.”

“Good idea, Red. One teeny problem, though.”

“What?”

“I don’t have the foggiest where the hell they were!”

“Ok, ok. Sit down again, close your eyes and get a mental of the place they are…err…will be holding Dawn. What details do you see?”

After much work and helpful questioning by Willow, Spike was able to guess at three possible locations, which he wrote down for her. Spike made Willow promise to wait until Thursday morning to tell Buffy if he had not taken care of the situation already.

“One last thing, Red. You are good at computers and numbers, right? Can you also cook some books for me?”

“Depends.”

Zipping the duffle bag back up, Spike handed it to Willow. “Take half this money and beef up the Summers’ bank account. Use hacker liberties and make up some cover story for the girls. Distant relative kicked his heels up and left them some money. Anything. I don’t care what but no sign that it is from me. A slayer and a key should have some security in life. Hide the rest for an emergency.”

“Like now?”

“Good point. Use it all if you need to.”

“You mean if you don’t come back.”

Chapter 4: Different Day, Different Dilemma

Willow waited and worried, worried and waited. None of which she did well while keeping such a significant secret from Buffy, Xander and Tara. On Wednesday, she just couldn’t hold up against that kind of pressure. Finally popping her release valve, Willow broke down and told Tara, confident that her lover would keep her confidence.

When Willow came down for breakfast on Thursday morning to find Buffy was up, attempting to cook, was about all she could handle of the heavy secret. Willow looked at the bowl Buffy currently held in a head lock, and Willow thought it was scrambled eggs, or more like whipped eggs, considering how hard the Slayer was beating the yellow, slimy contents. Being bold, Willow stepped a little farther into the kitchen. “Ah…Morning, Buff.” She figured that the grunt from Buffy directed in her general direction was a little too iffy to be taken as a greeting. ‘Let’s try this again.’

“Hey, Buffy. How was patrol last night?”

All she received for the second try was a glare. Less vague but still yucky. One more try, a little voice in Willow’s head prodded her. ‘You’ve still have one more strike until you’re out.’ But subtlety on Morning Buffy was also out. The direct approach can be good, Willow assured herself. “You didn’t happen to see Spike…”

However, Willow never got to finish her question. Egg flew across the room, leaving a yellow stream across the cabinets as Buffy whipped the spoon out of the bowl, pointing it at Willow like a weapon. Willow was glad that she was not a vampire, since it was a wooden spoon, after all. With saucer-shaped eyes and eyebrows shooting up high, Willow took a step back from the furious vampire slayer.

“*Don’t* mention that name in this house…or…or even outside for that matter.”

“Who? Spike?” Now Willow was very confused.

“I said don’t.”

“But…”

“Not another syllable.” Buffy shook the spoon again, causing Willow to duck several splatters.

“But it was only one syllable. ‘Sides, I’ve already said it.”

Buffy went back to whipping, not scrambling, the poor, innocent eggs. “That worthless vamp has disappeared again. He knows that every Wednesday night we clean out the docks, and he knows I hate it when…”

“So that’s a no?”

“Yes. Errr… I mean it is a no. Whatever! I just bet that evil undead did it on purpose…” Buffy ceased her rant when Willow walked past her and picked up the phone. “Will, who are you calling?”

“Giles first. Hello? Giles? Can you meet us at the Magic Box in an hour?...Yeah, it’s important.”

*****

The Scoobies presented themselves at the Magic Box in under the one hour limit, all except Dawn who was at school. Xander was the last to arrive and came in the door talking, “Ok, Willow, spill the java beans.”

Comforted by Tara who held her hand, Willow took a deep, steadying breath and dove into the deep end. “Well, this past Tuesday, the day after the werewolf ambush, I went by Spike’s crypt.”

Buffy was up on her feet, “I knew this would somehow involve that evil blood sucker. But actually…uh…I could gripe more if I knew what he needed to be blamed for.”

Ignoring Buffy’s outburst, Willow told Spike’s story as best as she could, starting with the poker game, looping through Las Vegas, and ending back at the crypt after the vampire saved them from the werewolves. “So, Tuesday morning I stopped by to thank him, but then while searching around in his refrigerator, Spike zoned out. That’s when he had a vision thingy about Dawn being in danger. Clever me, I helped him figure out some details.”

Later, after finally finishing the tale, Willow braced herself for the onslaught of questions she wasn’t sure she could even answer.

However, Giles spoke up, heading off the deluge. “Wait, everyone. I know that we all seriously doubt Spike’s commitment to our cause and for numerous, strong, and legitimate reasons.”

Xander snorted, “Being that he is a blood sucking vampire that is only being held on a leash by a little chip and all.”

Giles nodded his head and continued. “Yes, quite. However, I don’t believe that any of us have reason to doubt Spike’s devotion to Dawn. As much as he likes to be a thorn in our collective sides, I don’t think he would ever do anything detrimental at Dawn’s expense, even as a joke. Not to mention, Dawn’s welfare is of the utmost importance to us all. Are we agreed?”

All nodded their agreement, even Xander, “Dawn alive, whole, and healthy - Priority One.”

Sitting back down at the table, Buffy was determined and ready for a plan. “So how do we go about altering the future?”

Usually quiet and reserved, Tara surprised everyone when she spoke up, “If I can make a suggestion, I…uh…I think it’s vacation time for Dawnie. Ya know, take her to San Francisco or LA or Alaska for the weekend. Anywhere out of Sunnydale and specifically away from the Bronze this Friday night.”

Giles took off his glasses to wipe them clean, saying, “As much as I like that plan, I fear there is a problem. Your scheme would work admirably if this were to be a random kidnapping. However, I suspect that is not the case. If Dawn is the specific target, then getting her out of town for the weekend doesn’t really solve our dilemma. You see, I fear that the kidnappers would just wait and choose another time and place to abduct her.”

Buffy was up on her feet again. “No, we need to chop off the head of this particular serpent the first time. No repeat performances.”

Putting his glasses back on the bridge of his nose, Giles peered around the group. “Quite so. Buffy will go after the source while Tara, Willow and I will get Dawn out of town and into hiding. Anya and Xander can man Scoobie central, as Dawn likes to call it.”

*****

Armed with Spike’s list of possible locations, and with Dawn was safely out of town, Buffy was finally able to focus her complete attention on finding her sister’s would-be kidnappers. Staring down at Spike’s handwriting, Buffy looked back up at the building that had been second on the vampire’s list. The first had been an old building that, judging by the layers of undisturbed dust, had not seen any activity in the past year. She only found one set of footprints and suspected that they were Spike’s from a couple days before. Now the Slayer was in front of the second building, which looked to be a small warehouse that had been converted to a residence of sorts. Deciding against knocking, Buffy kicked in the door and stepped in. Action first, possible apologizing for the breaking and entering later - if necessary.

However, next Buffy found herself admiring the pretty stars floating around her head instead of searching the building. Not to mention she found herself wondering why she was now laying on the floor. And ouchy. The back of her head was throbbing. Feeling herself bodily lifted off the ground Buffy vaguely wondered if these guys carrying her could do it with a little less bouncing.

*****

Spike was startled out of his light doze when a body dropped down into the pit that served as his current home for the last couple of days. Rotten place but a bloody brilliantly built holding cell in his opinion. The walls sloped inwards as they progressed up to the small, covered opening some twelve odd feet above his head. The design successfully made any attempt to scale out impossible. Regardless, Spike had not been expecting a bunk mate, but it now seemed to be raining slayers. Actually, one very pissed off slayer, by the looks of it. A very vocal, pissed off slayer. Spike had not previously realized the depth of Buffy’s cussing ability until now.

“Ow! You fucking bastards. Let me out of …” Buffy spun around in a defensive position when she detected the vampire’s presence and glared into the darkened extremities of the pit. “Who’s there?”

“So you found the place, did you, pet? And from the looks of it, this building’s welcoming committee snagged you, too.”

Spinning on her heel, Buffy found a new direction to vent her frustrations and launched herself in the direction of his voice. “Spike, this is *all* your fault.”

“How do you figure that, genius?” Spike barely had time to get up from his position sitting on the floor so that he could avoid her tiny fist slamming into his jaw.

Spike ducked the next swing, also, and then dodged a kick. “What the fuck, you crazy bint?” Anticipating, Spike kicked her support leg out from under her before she could get both feet planted on the floor again. Throwing himself at her full force, Spike slammed Buffy to the floor, straddling her waist while pinning her arms above her head. “We’re in the same boat now, pet. Leave off already.”

Buffy was all but snapping her teeth at the vampire above her. “You should have come to me and told *me* instead of sending messages through Willow.”

“Listen…Shut up and listen. Ok, answer me truthfully. If I had gone to you instead of telling Willow, would you have believed me?”

Buffy gazed up into his blue eyes, their intense gazes locked, “No.”

Spike blew out a tired breath and closed his eyes. “Thank you for that.”

Anger subsiding, she finally took a good, hard look at Spike, “How can a vampire possibly look more dead than usual?”

“Ha, bloody, ha, Slayer. Lack of blood, that’s how.” He leaned down and rested his forehead on hers, taking a deep breath to steady himself. Almost as if he were drawing from her own strength, Spike rested for a moment while Buffy held her breath. When he finally rolled off her to lie limp on the floor, he flung an arm over his eyes and appeared very drained.

After a moment, Buffy rolled over in his direction to lie on her side and study the vampire more closely. His chiseled cheekbones were now painfully pronounced, and his eyes had unusually dark circles below them with a sunken appearance. Ordinarily, Spike looked pale but vibrant. This, however, was a weary Spike that she didn’t recognize. Unbidden, concern crept into Buffy’s voice, “When was the last time you had any blood?”

“How long ago was it since I saw Red at my crypt?”

“That was Tuesday, and it is now Thursday night. Spike, you haven’t eaten for two and a half days?”

“Make it three. I was in such a rush to hunt down Bite Size’s abductors that I hit the sewers before finishing my breakfast. I’d suck a rat dry given half a chance right now.”

“Don’t even think about pointing a fang in this direction.”

“Don’t worry. I’m not *that* desperate yet, luv. I’ll see if I can scrounge up a slug or two first.”

Buffy phhfffted at him, causing Spike to give a weak chuckle. The silence stretched between them as they both got caught up in the own private speculations for their very near future.

“Spike?”

“Yes, pet?”

“At least there are two of us.”

“Yeah, pet, two heads are definitely better than one.” Spike opened his eyes and studied the Slayer for a long moment. Needing a distraction for them both, Spike prompted Buffy. “Tell me how a girl becomes a Slayer.”

“You don’t know? You’re the one who studied slayers.”

“True, I did do my research, pet, but only after they became the slayer, not before.”

For over an hour, Buffy told her story and found herself enjoying the telling more than she would have thought. Before she had always looked at her calling as a burden, but telling the tale to Spike provided her with a unique audience, who could really appreciate her achievements. She enjoyed his occasional questions and comments that displayed his interest and insights.

When she finished, he was quiet for a moment. “You know, luv, I’d always assumed that you had known from birth that you were to be a slayer or at least that you had a special destiny. But you didn’t have a clue, did you?”

Suddenly a little bashful, Buffy just shook her head while she toyed with her jogging shoes.

“Must have been quite a shock, pet.” Spike just watched her, studying her dainty hands idly playing with her laces. “So here you are, stuck in a pit, not sure what is going to happen next. Not scared at all, are you?”

Buffy looked up and cocked her head to the side, “No way. They are going to have to do better than ignore me to death.”

Spike arched one eyebrow in her direction. “Alright, what *do* you dread, Slayer?”

Buffy thought for a moment. She thought back to the Master, Glory, and even Angelus but none of them were scary enough. “Dawn dating. Just the very thought of that gives me the wiggins.”

“Ok, that gives me the hibby-jibbies, too. If the nancy-boy so much as touches a hair on her head, I’ll rip out his finger nails.”

“Oh, will you?” She decided to not mention the fact he couldn’t follow through on that particular threat with the Intiative’s chip in his head. Instead, she joined in. “If he just touches any of her bare skin, I will cut off his hands with a butter knife.

Spike was starting to enjoy himself, always up for a good threat or two. “If he kisses her, I will happily pull off his soddin’ lips - with tweezers.”

“Maybe we could put a bell around her neck. Oh, and his neck, too.” Buffy added happily.

“How about I just wring his neck like a chicken.”

“Nah, too hard to explain afterwards. How about a proximity detector? One that goes off if he touches her. Or just gets too close, say a foot.”

Having set off a car alarm or two in his time, Spike did his best imitation, “Danger. You are too close. Step back or the Slayer Defense System will be activated.”

“Now that has possibilities.”

The banter continued until Spike caught Buffy trying to hide a yawn. “Time to rest, Slayer. Conserve energy for when they do come for us.”

Buffy nodded and tried to find a comfortable spot in their inhospitable, cramped quarters. Spike shut his eyes and tried not to laugh as he listened to the Slayer try out position after uncomfortable position.

“This is worse than a cheap motel. I don’t even have a wall to lean against unless I want my nose down to my knees, and I don’t think I can sleep with my head on that cold floor.”

“Come here, pet.”

She had suspected he might just offer, as a last resort, of course. A vamp for a pillow was better than none after the hours she had already spent in this pit. Laying perpendicular to him, she tentatively laid her head on his stomach while watching him lay his arm out to the side, not touching her, but close. Surprisingly, she found the new position comfortable and comforting at the same time.

“Spike?”

“Yeah?”

“Tell me a bed time story.”

“Shut your gob.”

“Spike?”

Buffy just received a snarl for an answer this time that made her smile.

“What’s a gob?” Not really expecting an answer, Buffy felt Spike chuckle beneath her. Soon Spike’s even, unneeded breathing began to lull her towards slumber. No story needed after all. ‘Only Spike would defy the vampires’ codes of conduct and continue to breathe like a human. Truly a strange vampire, but kinda comfy.’

Chapter 5: Deal Making 101

Buffy wasn’t exactly sure what woke her up. What she did know was that instead of a nice, fluffy bed, she was laying on a cold, hard floor. Her pillow wasn’t particularly soft, either. Feeling a weight across her stomach, she looked down her body at the hand lying across her stomach, and that pale hand certainly did not belong to her. Judging from the chipped, black nail polish, she knew exactly who the hand belonged to and thus what her head was lying on. The memories of the last few days came back in a flash, including falling asleep on Spike last night. Thinking the events through, Buffy now realized what had woken her up. He was completely still, not doing his usual imitation of breathing. Very Spike-like.

She rolled her head over to look at Spike, and was slightly startled to find him in his game face, all wrinkly and fangy. She guessed that he was still asleep since he was so perfectly still. Gently placing his hand on the floor, she sat up cross legged, facing him to look her fill, taking advantage that there were no blue, searching eyes to stare back at her. Even in vamped out, his looks were still fascinating and her fingers itched to touch, to explore. Holding her breath, Buffy reached out a hand and lightly ran her finger tips across the ridges on his forehead. His eyes flew open, yellow burning into her hazel ones.

As Spike took in the situation, the slayer’s hand poised above his face, his scarred eyebrow slowly rose in question and in a silent dare. Buffy gave him an impish half-smile and ran her fingertip across the raised eyebrow, following the path of the scar. Then her eyes were drawn to his tongue, which absently licked out across his teeth. Her fingers followed the path her attention had been drawn, tentatively running her index finger down his elongated canine. She had seen Angel in vamp face but never explored much. Unlike this bold vampire, Angel had tried to keep that side of himself hidden as much as possible. Looking back into Spike’s eyes, she answered his unspoken question, “Know thy enemy.” She knew he would appreciate that.

“To be sure, Slayer.” He agreed, but how his tongue longed to dart out and lick her finger tips. The contact would be so natural to do. Instead, not wanting to break the moment, he shared her half-smile and tried to relax, hoping she would continue. He didn’t have the foggiest where this was going, but he sure as hell wanted to find out, and the curve of his lips told her he did.

Buffy wanted to continue her exploration; however, her hand wanted to go on and trace his sharp cheekbones. Hold it, Buffy, that has nothing to do with him being a vampire. Those cheek bones were all Spike. Where did that urge come from?

But before she had to make a choice, Buffy heard movements from up above, breaking the moment. She nodded her head towards the noise coming from above. “How about a little captor or two with your breakfast, fang face?”

Spike gave a toothy grin as Buffy stood up and watched the grate in the ceiling move to the side. She heard Spike get up and stand behind her, his voice close to her ear. “Here we go, pet.”

*****

Climbing the rope ladder provided, Spike finally made it up and out of the pit that had been his cage for the last few days. Still in game face, Spike straightened up next to Buffy and surveyed their captors through golden eyes. Four to be exact with big muscles and undoubtedly small brains. All meaty thug-types that appeared to be human but were heavily armed. Spike downgraded his evaluation of them from captors to just guards. On the other hand, since two were carrying cross bows and two machine guns, they appeared quite capable to withstand an escape attempt by a slayer and a vampire. No doubt about it, whoever these buggers were, they weren’t taking any chances.

One finally spoke up, motioning down a side hallway with his weapon, “He would like to see you now. Move.”

Spike wondered if that was the sum total of language the Neanderthal ponce could string together. “Well, that clears everything up nicely, doesn’t it? After you, pet.” Spike made a sweeping motion with his arm and followed Buffy out the door with the guards quickly falling in behind.

As they reached the far end of the hall, a fifth guard opened a door, allowing Buffy and Spike to enter what surprisingly was a richly decorated dining room compared to the stripped down hallway. The table wasn’t very big but was finely crafted out of beautiful mahogany with a matching buffet to the side. The slayer and vampire took the seats pulled out for them by two servants as the four guards took up positions in the four corners of the room. One servant set a silver goblet in front of Spike as the other place a cheese and fruit tray, also wrought from silver, in front of Buffy.

Spike picked up the glass and tentatively smelled its contents. Much to his embarrassment, a low growl escaped him as the scrumptious smell of blood wafted up.

As Spike sipped the blood, testing for any foreign substances, a deep voice with smooth, cultured tones spoke from behind. “Good morning to you both. First, allow me to apologize for my employees’ behavior. They are loyal to a fault and a bit over zealous in some cases.”

Buffy figured he was four or five inches tall than herself, but old enough to be her grandfather. He had salt and pepper hair, and olive skin tone with refined aristocratic features. He moved with grace that was still masculine, moving as if he were on stage. But it was his clothing that Buffy admired. The French cuffed shirt, fine wool slacks, and a gorgeous deep red robe that almost reached the ground. The man exuded wealth and class.

“So we are free to go?” Buffy turned in her seat to face the man who had walked into the room.

“No, but I am sorry to have kept you waiting.” The newcomer gave a well-practiced smile.

“Twelve hours plus is *way* past waiting. More like shanghaiing.”

Spike thought the man resembled a Santa Claus, a very sophisticated St. Nick, including a red coat in lieu of a red suite.

“Again, my apologies. I arrived back late last night, and since I was not expecting you, I needed a little time to brush up on the facts. Or more specifically, your biographies.” Waving a well-manicured hand in Buffy’s direction, he began. “You, I am told, are the Vampire Slayer. The Chosen One. Highly successful by all accounts and long lived for your calling. I was much impressed after reading my assistant’s research, and my congratulations to you.”

“Whatever,” Buffy replied, but her nonchalance was belied by the sound of her stomach growling. Rolling her eyes, she looked over at an apple on the tray in front of her.

Unperturbed by her coolness, the man placidly turned his gaze to Spike, who had finished his first goblet of blood and watched his server pour a second to the brim. “And you, sir, are Wil…”

“It’s Spike.”

“William the Bloody is how I found most of my information. An impressive history, needless to say. You blazed a path of death and destruction in Europe that will be hard to top.”

Before answering, Spike finished off his second serving and shifted back into his human face while he watched Buffy continue to longingly eye the fruit sitting in front of her, hunger evident in her eyes. Continuing to ignore their host with deliberate care, Spike reached over and picked up the apple off the platter. Using his vampiric senses, he intently smelled and then visually inspected the fruit before passing the apple to Buffy. “It’s smells and looks ok, luv. Not even a worm. Eat up.”

‘Let the bugger wait.’ Spike smiled as he watched Buffy inspect the fruit as if it were the apple from the Garden of Eden before shifting his attention back to their host. Lifting an insolent eyebrow, he shifted into his best Big Bad persona. “I know my history, and even though I love blowing my own horn, or even better, hearing others do so, get to the bloody point already.”

With fascination, their host mentally made note of the pair’s chummy interaction as he continued, unabated. He pulled a gold coin out of his pocket and twirled it through his fingers. “I did note that your nick name came from your perchance to use rail road spikes on your victims. Truly an impressive history by demon standards.”

“By any standards.”

Again, the man nodded his head regally in agreement. “I was also informed that your other nom de plume is the Slayer of Slayers. And to think my majordomo put you the two of you in the same holding area. I suppose I am lucky to have both of you still alive, or is it undead?”

“No big. Spike can’t hurt humans.” Shrugging, Buffy replied absently while still turned the apple over in her hand.

“Like he could kill me anyway.”

The movement of the coin stopped as the stranger raised delicately sculpted eyebrow while looking over at the vampire. His lips curved up at the corners, “She doesn’t know yet?”

Spike fought the urge to roll his eyes knowing that it really wouldn’t go with the current snark mode he was trying to project. “Bullocks! So, how the hell do you know?”

“Know what?” Appetite forgotten, Buffy was now looking between the two, totally at a loss. Waving the apple to gain their attention, “Hello, can I buy a vowel?”

Despite her efforts, their host kept his attention focused on Spike. “Does it really matter how I found out? Do you want to tell her, or shall I?”

Giving into the overwhelming urge to sigh, Spike battened down the hatches for the coming slayer storm. “Slayer, my little trip to Vegas also included another trip to the vet. This time to take the soddin’ chip out. I get to play with the other puppies again.”

“Out? As in gone?” As Spike was trying to predict from which direction the Slayer’s first blow would come, Buffy’s mind shot in a different direction to memories of the previous night. Not only had she just spent the night with Spike, fallen asleep around Spike, but she had also slept *on* Spike. Head on his chest, neck exposed. On a chipless Spike. A non-zap to his head in full, game face Spike. Now Buffy knew how Xander felt, one single thought stuck in her head, playing over and over.

“Let’s go through the details later, luv.” Satisfied that he was safe from the slayer for the time being, Spike turned his attention back to the gentleman sitting at the head of the table.

“That’s all well and good, mate. But let’s have a little less ‘show’ on our part and a good deal more ‘tell’ on your part now. Who the bloody hell are you?”

Finally flustered, the host looked somewhat embarrassed. “Please excuse my manners. I am Sebastian the Procurer.”

That got Buffy’s attention again. “You’re a pimp?”

Sebastian let out a deep, sophisticated laugh. “Coarsely put, but I admit, I do serve that function if called upon, and if the price is right. Mostly I procure oddities, delicacies and spectaculars for high paying clients. Very high paying.”

“So you are here to procure my sister.”

“In that, you are correct. I am here to pick up The Key and deliver her to one of my better clients.”

Placing a hand on her arm, Spike restrained Buffy as she bit out her next words through her anger. “Dawn. She has a name, Dawn, and she is my sister. Not some item needing a UPS delivery.”

Spike tried to take back the lead. “You say you have a client?”

“Yes, one I have filled orders for before. One whose business I want to keep.”

Spike tried to push a little further in the details department. “And what did he specifically ask for?”

“The request was to find the Key, if it still existed, and to deliver the item ASAP.”

For Spike, the proverbial light bulb finally blinked on, “So you are a business man.”

“Yes, above all.” Sebastian looked relieved to have finally reached an understanding or sorts.

“So you would be willing to make a deal if we could match your price tag?”

“If you beat the going rate, which in American money that would be approximately 12 million dollars.”

“Spike…!” was all Buffy could utter before her mouth dropped completely open.

“Give me a sec, luv.” Spike’s brain was frantically trying to come up with some options. Think, think, think. Red had his winnings. However, not only was it considerably short, but she could have already paid some of Buffy’s bills. There had to be another way. What did he or Buffy have to trade. Or a better question seemed to be, what could they *do* in trade? “How about we work out a deal?”

Thinking, Sebastian tapped the coin on the table. “I am always open to a better counter offer.”

“You’ve done you research. You know I can fight. Not just talking a squabble in the school yard, but full, no holds barred brawl.” Spike thought back to Vegas as he drank from his third cup. “You said you do spectaculars. What I propose is a prize fight with you as the promoter, and I will take on any opponent of your choosing. What is more spectacular than a Master Vampire taking on any bloke daring to step up to the mark?”

Sebastian was beginning to look intrigued, “And the point of this little proposal is?”

“Money, what else? You set up a fight and a crowd, charge a cover, people bet, I fight, you take the winnings. Do it up where Don King would be green with envy and make a bundle.”

“And your take?”

“Whether I win or lose, you tell your client or anyone else that asks that the Key is gone. No longer exists.”

Holding the coin, Sebastian steepled his hands in front of him, narrowing his eyes in thought. Spike suspected that if he looked hard enough, he would see calculations flashing across The Procurer’s pupils. “I might be tempted if you both fight. Twice the draw.”

Clasping the coin securely in his hand, Sebastian abruptly stood up. “As I said before, I like to do my research. Let me leave you to your repast while a consult with my accountant and run a few numbers. Please excuse me. I will be back momentarily.”

“Sure, mate. Take your guard dogs with you since you and I both know that it is not to our advantage to leave just yet. We’ll be here when you get back.”

After watching Sebastian and his trained gits exit the room, Spike reached over and plucked the apple out of Buffy’s hand. Using his fingernails, he pulled off a chunk, and with a cocky wink, he ate it. Speaking around the mouthful, Spike teased, “See, I told you. No poison, no drugs, pet.”

“Dead much? Like the poison would even hurt you.” Buffy snatched the apple back.

“Didn’t say it would kill me, but along with this enhanced sniffer comes enhanced taste buds. Nothing but sweet Washington apple juice in that treat.” So saying, Spike reached over her and snatched up a bunch of red grapes off the tray. Leaning back in his chair, he popped one in his mouth.

After giving the vamp an evil squinty-eyed look, Buffy took a bite and chewed. “I don’t like this. Not the apple…this Sebastian guy. Let’s just kill him and get out. I give two thumbs up for the simple, easy plan.”

“Fine, luv, but it doesn’t solve the problem.”

“Solves my problem.” Having quickly finishing the apple, Buffy held out a pear towards Spike, “Oh, food tester...”

Spike took it out of her hand, smelled it and nodded his approval. But when she went to grab it back, Spike held it out of her reach. With a smirk, the vampire deliberately took a bite before offering the pear back giving her a cocky I-dare-you grin.

Buffy rolled her eyes and snatched the pear back. Staring down at it for a second, studying Spike’s teeth marks, and looked back at him as she took a bite herself.

Spike hid a smile behind a mouth full of grapes, loving it when she took him up on a dare. “Actually, luv, there are two problems. First, he’s human, and remember you’re the one with the pesky no-killing-humans rule. Second, the Nibblet would still be in danger since there would be a paying customer out there that still wanted your little sis as his new toy.”

“Damn.”

“So you see, we need to make it beneficial for Sebastian to go back and tell his client there is no longer a Key.”

Both ate in silence for several long moments.

Conceding his point, Buffy spoke, “You don’t have to do this. I can do the fighting. Just go back and watch Dawn for me.”

“No, pet, I don’t have to. I want to. Besides, again two heads are better than one, or in this case, two sets of fists.

“Thanks.” God, why was that so hard to say? Because it’s Spike, Buffy answered herself. It was hard for her to thank the arrogant bastard even when he deserved it.

Sebastian came back in the room before Spike could answer. Hell, good thing since he didn’t know what to say. First Red thanking him and now the Slayer. Bugger it, what was the world coming to?

The guards followed Sebastian back into the room along with a tall redhead carrying file folders.

“Allow me to introduce my executive assistant, Clara. She is invaluable, not only in her service to me, but I also value her opinions. And she tells me this could be quite profitable. Now we need to iron out details.”

“And a bargaining we shall go.” Spike said in a sing-song voice, making himself comfortable at the table.

Over the course of the next hour, Buffy felt like she was watching a strategy and negotiation session with Vince McMahan of World Wrestling Entertainment instead of Don King. The vampire and the procurer didn’t just discuss the rules of the combat but also included pre- and post-fight details, and using the fact that they would both fight, Spike was able to bargain Sebastian from ten fights down to five.

After the details had been resolved, Spike and Sebastian chatted amicably as Clara wrote on the contract. When she was done, Sebastian took a knife from the guards and slit his palm. Letting the blood pool for a moment, he took a quill that Clara provided and signed his name using the blood as ink. After a servant cleaned the knife, Buffy followed suit.

Spike, however, had other plans and refused his turn with the blade. Giving Buffy a wink, “Remember, luv, I carry my weapons with me.” Shifting into game face, Spike ran his hand along one of his sharp fangs drawing blood.

As the vampire signed, Sebastian smiled his appreciation of Spike’s showmanship. Sebastian knew when he was looking at a gold mine, but he didn’t just suppose that the upcoming fights would be the most entertaining part. Watching the interplay between these two, sparks flying, Sebastian was sure that when the vampire and slayer finally connected, there would be quite an explosion. He only wished he could sell tickets to that.

Buffy stared down at the parchment. As she looked at her name signed next to that of William the Bloody, she wondered if that was how Spike had felt when he had seen the future. She couldn’t shake the feeling that they had just signed their future in blood.

Chapter 6: Mind the Spines, Luv

As the grandfather of all surprises, Sebastian transported Buffy, Spike, and the Procurer’s entire entourage out of Sunnydale and into a different dimension. At least Buffy guessed then they were now in a new place from the shimmery portal thingy they walked through, plus adding in the fact that they were greeted by scaly, lizard people instead of humans. Big, blaring clue there, which might as well had flashing, neon lights.

Walking down the hall of their new lodgings, Buffy didn’t think anything about this desert could get worse but, wrong-O. Her temper roared from zero to sixty as she looked through the door Spike just entered. “Oh, no, no, no! We are SO not sharing a room!” Buffy stood out in the hall as the bleached vampire disappeared around a corner in their new accommodations. Therefore she turned her blast to Clara, Sebastian’s assistant, but was even more royally steamed to see the red head beating a hasty retreat at the far end of the hall. Buffy’s head snapped back around toward the sound of the vampire’s British accent.

“Get your head out of the gutter, Slayer. Geez, not the same room. We are sharing the same suite with separate bedrooms.” Coming back into view, Spike cocked his head to the side and leisurely looked her up and down. “Unless you *want* to share the same bedroom, that is?” After accessing the slayer’s resulting glare for himself, Spike gave a deep, throaty chuckle. “Thought not.”

“As if!” Buffy stomped past Spike to make sure there were two separate bedrooms. Satisfied, she stamped back in the middle of the main area, placing her hands on her hips. “AND explain to me what we are doing sharing a suite?”

“As if? Think, luv. Wouldn’t it be much easier to take one of us down if we are separated? How about when we are separated *and* asleep?”

Buffy rolled her eyes with annoyance. “If you make sense one more time today, I’m staking you.”

Spike gave a snort of laughter and went to inspect his own room as she did the same.

Poking her head back out of her new bedroom, Buffy yelled across the sitting area. “Not that I am complaining, but what’s with the fancy-shmancy digs and clothes in the closets? This is way better than our last cell.”

“That’s easy, luv. It is to his best advantage to keep us hale and hearty.” Having thoroughly looked his side over, Spike plopped down on what appeared to be a sofa. “Damn, no telly. At least a vamp could hope, couldn’t he?” Spike idly watched Buffy wander through the kitchen area, peaking in the cabinets and then wandering around the living area. She was lost in thought, trailing a hand along the unfamiliar lines of the strange furniture. But, Spike supposed, the bizarre furniture was to be expected considering their hosts all had long, thick tails to accommodate.

When Buffy remained silent and began her third circuit of the room, Spike couldn’t stand her strange behavior any longer. “Slayer!”

Buffy paused, but didn’t look up. “Huh?”

“Let’s hear it.”

“What?” Keeping her eyes down, she drifted back into the kitchen area.

“Whatever you have rolling around up in your noggin? Must hurt knocking up against all those rocks in there. Go on, let it out, luv.”

“Real funny, vamp man.” She paused as Spike just continued to scrutinize her. “Actually, I did have something else I wanted to talk to you about.”

Buffy glanced up briefly before she began, “So, when we were in that pit, while I was asleep, you could have …uh…you know…?”

Well, well, well. That was the sticking point, was it? He had wondered if she had thought all the ramifications of last night through her pretty head yet. “What? Could have had a taste of slayer? So?”

“Soooo, you could hurt me here, while I sleep?”

“Yes, pet, I could have.” She still avoided his eyes, allowing him the rare opportunity to study her face. “So, what? The slayer’s nervous to sleep around the big bad vampire?” Spike paused, slightly curling one corner of his mouth and lifted his scarred eyebrow in question. “Do you *think* I would kill you?”

That had Buffy’s eyes flashing. “You mean you would try.”

“Ok, *try* to kill you. But do you think I would, Slayer?” His gaze remained a steady, clear blue into her hazel.

Nervously dropping his gaze, Buffy wandered around the room one more time before answering. Her voice was love and barely carried across the room. “No, I don’t think you would.”

“Good answer, luv. I won’t.” As unexpectedly pleased as Spike was with her confession, he sincerely hoped she left off at that, and not ask the dreaded “why not” question because he didn’t know himself.

“Why not?”

Bloody hell, she’d asked. They were only two simple words, but the implications were enormous. He thought for a minute, but was not comfortable the direction his thoughts started into the uncomfortable realm of self-examination. Instead, he settled for the easy out. Easy for both of them. “The Little Bit. She doesn’t deserve to lose another member of her family so soon after losing her mum.”

“Oh.” Somehow, his answer did ring true, but just not complete. She suspected that there was more that the vamp wasn’t telling. Now it was Buffy’s turn to study Spike since he would no longer look at her. “Even if it is an overbearing, older sister you spare the life of?”

Spike continued to look everywhere but at her. “Sure, so you trust me. Glad to hear it, luv.”

“Let’s not go *that* far. Let’s just say I don’t think you will try to kill me *until* we satisfy this bargain with Sebastian.” With that last jab, Buffy headed to her bedroom and firmly closed the door.

*****

That night, thirty minutes before their first fight was scheduled to begin, two of Sebastian’s guards knocked on the suite’s door. Opening the door, Spike gave them the once over. He curled up one corner of his mouth in a sneer. Maybe he could think of them now as escorts since the ponces no had longer weapons.

The slayer and the vampire were led to a large, octagonal building, which had the locals entering the various sides in a steady stream. Sauntering in and admiring the set-up, Spike thought that Sebastian should be giddy with the amount of currency changing hands. As Buffy and Spike walked in, they quickly noted all the betting booths that seemed to be doing a brisk business. A bloke could bet on just about anything: who would enter the arena first, who would land the first blow, who would go down first, and various other options. Next, Buffy and Spike were ushered down a tunnel where they could see the arena at the far end. Before they made it to the end of the tunnel, a door to the left was opened up, letting them into a holding area. “I guess, pet, this is where the visiting team awaits the action.”

Their holding area shared a common mesh wall with arena but no entrance, and no direct entry into the actual fighting area. Thus the fighter had to go out into the hall and down the rest of the tunnel to enter the main fighting area.

From across the arena, Buffy and Spike watched Sebastian follow the leader out onto a raised dais. After the leader made a couple of guttural and hissing speeches, which Buffy and Spike gratefully could not understand, the head lizard gave the signal for the festivities to begin. Sebastian held up a ornate bowl from which the leader drew the name of the first fighter to be called into the ring with a grand flourish. Sebastian called out Buffy’s name, and a few seconds later, the door to the tunnel opened to let her leave. Spike followed her to the door, “Looks like it’s your lucky day, Slayer. But don’t worry, I’ll clean up what you can’t finish when I get in there.”

Buffy shot him a cocky look over her shoulder, “Don’t even bother warming up. If you can warm up, vampire.”

“Oh, believe me, luv, I can warm up. Be happy to show ya sometime.” Spike wiggled his eyebrows at her.

“I’m *so* not going there.” Unable to hide her chuckle, Buffy walked out, and the door closed and locked behind her.

Feeling the audience’s attention directed now solely on himself, Spike swaggered back to the mesh to watch the Slayer make her entrance into the arena. When the slayer would finally put a foot into the arena, the numerous clocks set up all around start ticking down, five minutes until the next name chosen was to be admitted. Glancing up at The Procurer, Spike admired Sebastian’s planning and showmanship. The bloke really knew how to milk an event. It had been decided that the fighters would enter the match at staggered times. The Procurer had said that is was only to draw out the dramatic tension, but Spike suspected it was to just give the spectators more time to place additional bets. ‘Gotta love that greedy bugger!’

When the Slayer entered the fighting arena, at first the crowd was stunned but then laughed at Buffy’s petite size. Spike could see several of the spectators motion to her diminutive form. ‘Ha, the Slayer already has the advantage. These ignorant ponces knew not what they were looking at.’

After a few minutes of dramatic pause, and also to settle any bets placed on the first name chosen, Sebastian again held up the bowl, allowing the leader to draw the next name. When the clocks read zero, the second name was called and time was reset to seven minutes to count down again. Since he did not recognize it, Spike assumed the series of hisses were the name of one of their competitors. A few moments later, a lizard guy, an extremely large lizard with a thick, long tail, stepped through the door into the fighting arena.

The newcomer was cocky, prancing, and doing his best to rev up the crowd, talking trash to the crowd the best he could with a forked tongue. Finally turning his dark, inky, black eyes towards the Slayer, who was now standing with her hands on her hips and looking very bored. Buffy let the poof make the first move. After exchanging a few preliminary blows, Spike was shocked to see the lizard guy unexpectedly spin around, and with a slash of his tail, knock Buffy off of her feet and right onto her ass. However, instead of capitalizing on his obvious advantage, the scaly git went toward the far side of the arena to gloat with the crowd, leaving Buffy to recover.

Spike shouted over, “What’s wrong, Slayer? A wittle tail sweep wipe you out?”

“Shut up, Spike-y, watch, and learn.”

Thus said, the Slayer went on the attack, and the fight was on. Quickly figuring out that his fists were not enough against the wily slayer, Spike noticed that reptile boy changed his combat preference to the use of his strong, alligator-type tail. Nonetheless, the Slayer still made quick work of this first opponent. After jumping over the first pass of his tail, she caught the next and swung the guy around into her right fist. He spun back around, much like a top, allowing Buffy to catch his tail again, then spun him into another punch. The third and final blow spun the silly git into the mesh barrier. Down and out with three minutes left on the clocks.

Brushing herself off and resettling her clothes, Buffy turned to look at the vampire, who was now out and out laughing. “Hey, blood breath, were you taking notes?”

Catching his breath, Spike choked out a response. “No need, here, luv. I’ve been fighting for more decades than all the years you have been a slayer. But that was most amusing.”

“That explains why you are so slow. You being so long in the fang and all.”

Behind her, the lizard leader, as Buffy now thought of him, drew and called the name of the next opponent. She had no idea what exactly the name was, but Lizard Guy 2.0 was good enough for her.

When the clocks finally counted down to zero again, the new opponent entered. Seven minutes appeared back on the clock, counting down again.

However, this other bloke took a whole new tact. He must have been the one taking note, Spike thought, because he skipped the fist-a-cuffs altogether and used his tale straight out. Spike was stunned when the first cut appeared on Buffy, suspicious with the second, but furious by the third cut as Buffy stumbled towards Spike’s direction. He could see the blood freely flowing down from the numerous cuts on the Slayer’s body. “You sorry son of a bitch. Slayer, get away. The blighter must have a blade implanted in his tail.”

Spike rushed over, furiously beating on the door. Getting no response, he ran back to the mesh. Spike directed his blazing, yellow eyes at Sebastian. “Tell them to open the bloody door. Remember, we agreed on no killings, you git? He broke the deal and now that fucker is going to die. Let me in!!!”

Spike was frantic. The clock was only down to five minutes. The slayer could be killed before he could even make it into that bloody ring.

Using his frustration and anger to his best advantage, Spike threw himself at the door to the tunnel. That door flew from its hinges, but the enraged vampire was stopped by the stronger door into the arena. Looking through a small opening, Spike could see that Buffy was bleeding from more wounds, now trying desperately to retreat.

Buffy didn’t think she had ever been happier to see his bleached head barreling in her general direction as when Spike was finally let into the fighting area. God, she was glad he wasn’t aiming for her this time.

If the crowd had thought that Buffy had made quick work of the first opponent, it was nothing compared to Spike when he finally hit the ring. He took a running jump at the fighter, feet first, careful that the lizard landed face first on the arena floor. Spike was on him in a second, going for the base of his tail. A loud snap could be heard by those sitting closest. Spike broke the bugger’s tail, causing the tail to go limp. Spike quickly wrapped the tail around and sliced the cheater’s throat. Bouncing to his feet, he growled down at the corpse, fists sporadically clenching and unclenching.

Yellow eyes scanned the stunned crowd, daring anyone to question the cheater’s death. Again giving into his rage, Spike leaned down to grab hold of the bugger’s head.

“Spike…” The Slayer’s weak voice made its way through the fury induced roar still pounding in his ears. What Spike really wanted to do was cut of the bugger’s head clean off and toss it to the crowd, but his concern for the slayer overrode the urge.

Heading her way, he tried to push away his demon, but there was too much blood pooling beside her. “God, Slayer. Is it as bad as it looks?”

“Thanks for the encouragement, vampy…Spike, can we leave now?”

Spike’s demon visage finally melted away at the Slayer’s question. “Sure, luv.”

However, when Spike bent down to pick her up, Buffy refused to let his arms slide under her. “No, I can walk out. Just help me up.”

Respecting her bravery and strength, as well as her pride, Spike helped the slayer rise, trying to inconspicuously steady her on her feet.

As she limped to the exit, slightly leaning on the vampire, the crowd went wild, cheering. Without looking up, Spike gave the crowd a two-finger salute.

Buffy caught the gesture out of the corner of her eye, “Is that the same as flipping them off?”

“Yeah, luv.”

“Good.”

*****

Continue to Part 2

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