As ever thank you so much to my darling Beta Megan!!!

Italics = Thoughts

Buffy and Angel

The gym was cast in darkness. Buffy could hear Spike hovering at the top of the stairs. She had to roll her eyes at insecuro-guy – as if she’d run off with Angel! Not after everything they had been through in the last few weeks…

Angel leaned against the edge of the boxing ring, his left hand still clutching the ice pack to his crotch. Buffy suppressed a smirk that, if she had allowed it to escape, Angel would have been struck by the similarity of it with his pain in the ass GrandChilde’s. ‘He sooo deserved that kick and more!’

Angel watched Buffy as she sat down on a bench. She moved slowly; her injuries were still healing and the burns to her face and hand were now a faint pink, the skin slightly puckered.

“I’m sorry…” Angel’s voice broke the uncomfortable silence.

“For what? Attacking Spike or trying to stake me?” Buffy answered levelly. He had already apologised and she knew exactly what he was apologizing for – her being a vamp. ‘As if it were his fault!' She mentally rolled her eyes at him.

Angel shifted uncomfortably, unused to her frankness. “Well no… I mean yes…I am sorry for what I did – what I’m sorry about is that you’ve been turned into what you hate… You’re a vampire…” Angel trailed off and stared at the small woman who was his entire world. Who now was beyond his grasp for all eternity. She was lost to him more completely than before, when he had walked away from her.

Buffy could see Angel was in turmoil, but the imp in her couldn’t resist flashing a fang at him. Her eyes changed colour and her dainty fangs dropped. “I kinda noticed, Angel. And why are you saying sorry? It’s not like you had anything to do with it.”

Angel forced his demon down; it had woken at the sight of Buffy’s fangs. He could feel the beast within him railing against the soul. It was appealing to his baser instincts to claim the perfect vampiress that stood before him. But Angel managed to suppress his demon once again. It was a constant battle and lately the strength to resist was waning- he wanted to give in and let the darkness enfold him in its comforting embrace…

“But it’s wrong…” he whispered miserably.

“Yeah, it is wrong, Angel, but it has happened. I can’t change it and neither can you. We need to move on and try to adapt,” Buffy sighed.

“Are you adapting?” Angel quizzed her, his brown eyes filled with questions.

Buffy nodded. “Yeah, I’m not gonna say it’s a bed of roses, but I’m getting there.” She looked over her shoulder, sensing her agitated Sire’s presence. Spike had tried to stay upstairs but his feet had carried him halfway down the steps where he lurked anxiously, ready to leap in and defend his lady’s honour. If Peaches even made one hurtful remark, Spike was going to puree the sod!

Angel glanced in the same direction, his nostrils flared at the scent of Spike. “So you are, in fact you’re doing better than I would’ve expected. After that time when you were a vamp in that kid’s dream and how you reacted, I never would have expected you to be so calm.”

“Angel, don’t!” Buffy made a cutting motion with her hand. “I know you think you’re trying to help, but don’t…”

There was a faint growl that drifted down the stairwell. Spike vamped out and his entire body tensed.

“Don’t what?” Angel pressed.

Buffy growled at Angel, the tone of it was dominating and angry. Angel’s head jerked up at the sound, surprise filling him that one of his line would directly challenge him.

Particularly a fledge – even if it was Buffy…

He then froze at the tears that filled Buffy’s lavender eyes and spilled over onto her cheeks. “Buffy?”

She dashed them away with her unbound hand and shook her head. “Angel, you have no idea what happened to me and how hard it was! Spike saved me from all that, he helped me and held me when I cried and let me be when I needed to be alone. He has been so amazing, please don’t dismiss it all by saying I’m doing better than you expected. It’s hard, but I’m getting there. All of it’s too hard and now there’s this Hell Bitch after me and everyone I love!”

Spike leapt down the stairs with a snarl and pulled Buffy to his side. She turned her head and wept against his shoulder.

“Happy now, Peaches? You made her cry!” Spike rumbled. Anger tensed his entire frame; all his muscles were locked, ready to burst into action.

“I didn’t mean to…I’m sorry…” Angel apologized again, embarrassment colouring his entire demeanour.

“You never mean to and yeah, you’re always sorry…”Spike pressed his lips to the crown of Buffy’s head. “Mate, you have no idea how bad it was, what that bastard did to her…If I hadn’t…oh god, if I hadn’t…she would still be there….”

Angel peered at both of his kin and his heart broke at the sight of them wrapped around each other. Before he could stop and think, his long legs ate up the distance between them and he had them both in his arms- comforting them and himself in the same move.

Spike and Angel

Spike watched as Buffy walked slowly up the stairs, her entire frame radiating exhaustion.

He turned back to Angel with a smirk.

“Now that you’ve got all the cuddles outta your system, you and me need to have a chin wag.” Spike pulled out a battered pack of cigarettes and shook one out. “Come on.” Spike pulled Angel along by the elbow into the office at the back of the gym. Away from teenage ears.

“Want a drink?” Spike pulled open a drawer in the desk and a bottle of tequila appeared on the desk, along with two shot glasses. “And no, I am not letting you do body shots on me, Peaches!” Spike arched his scarred brow at the look of complete shock on Angel’s usually immobile face. He grinned and sloshed some amber liquid into the glasses and shoved one over to his Grandsire.

Angel reached across the desk and took the glass and sipped at it. He usually didn’t drink, he tried not to as it reminded him of his mortal self- Liam the drunkard- who, because of his asinine ways, had let himself be turned. But he needed a drink after all the revelations of the evening- he needed it! And Angel suspected that Spike was about to unload another shock to his already frazzled nerves. “Thanks…”

Spike downed his shot with relish, a relish that even to this day Angel resented. He refilled his glass and then waved the bottle at the brunette vampire. Angel shook his head and put the half drunk glass back down. Taking a deep and unneeded breath, he said the words he never thought he would ever say to Spike.

“Thank you for saving her.” Angel braced himself for Spike to crow over the muttered words and was surprised, yet again.

“No need for thanks, mate. I’d have died for her if it would’ve helped her – still would.” Spike downed the second shot and re-filled his glass, not even offering it to Angel this time. Instead, he placed the bottle within both their reaches and sat back in his chair.

“I realise that now…” Angel truly did. Spike always had a romantic streak in him from the moment he had been turned.

Spike nodded briefly. “Yeah. But now, Peaches, I need a blood oath from you.”

Angel sat up straight, “WHAT?”

“You heard me, and it’s got nothing to do with Buffy and her new nocturnal accessories.”

Angel leaned forward, ignoring the sliver of pain that shot through him. “What for?”

“Joyce and Dawn.” Spike sighed and rubbed his face tiredly, unwillingly to tell Angel it all, but he had to know what he was getting into.

“Joyce and Dawn?” Angel questioned. He could see Spike was worried and that his nerves were stretched thin, he decided for once not to goad him.

“Yeah, they don’t know…”

“Know what?” Angel pressed.

“That bint we fought is after Dawn; she’s the Key.” Spike felt his shoulders loosen at his admission. He knew that the noble nit in front of him would help now that he knew everything.

“Dawn is the reason this woman is here in Sunnydale?” Angel frowned. He was confused; why would anyone want Buffy’s kid sister? All the years he had known Buffy, Dawn had been there in the background, just a bratty kid sister nothing more. And now someone wanted Dawn. What for?

“Yeah, that’s why we need her out of here and somewhere safe.” Spike gritted out the last few words, the concept of having to ask Angelus for help grating on his last tender nerve.

“But what does she want Dawn for? To force Buffy to do something for her?” Angel was completely lost.

As Angelus, he had considered turning the child and then setting her on the Slayer, but Spike had talked him out of it. Reminding him of Anne Rice’s Claudia and how well that had gone.

“No, not to use for blackmail- Dawn is the Key,” Spike explained. Sometimes Angel could be a bit slow, he briefly wondered if he should draw some flash cards to explain it all to the git.

“The Key to what?” Angel queried.

“Dunno. All the monk said was that she was a power source for the bint to get home…”

“Dawn’s a battery?” Angel mentally slapped himself for saying this, but it was out of his lips before he could stop himself.

“Oi! So she’s not really Buffy’s lil sis, doesn’t mean you can say that!” Spike growled.

“Okay, what are you on? Did you eat the worm already? Dawn is Buffy’s sister, are you nuts?” Angel interjected angrily.

“For Christ’s sake. Listen, you ninny. Dawn isn’t real. She was put here for Buffy to protect by some arses in brown robes, who decided that, rather than praying to god, they would play god with our lives. Your memories of Dawn aren’t real; everything in your noggin has been played around with to fit her into your life. We need you to protect Dawn and Joyce so we can fight and kill the bint after her,” Spike hissed in exasperation.

“Huh, umm, Spike? Are you sure I didn’t hit you on the head?” Angel stared at the furious vamp seated behind the desk.

“Look, I’ll track down Whistler and send him to you for a show and tell moment, okay? Until then, neither of them knows the truth so don’t say anything to Joyce or the Nibblet. And swear that you’ll protect them till you’re dust.” Spike slammed his hand down on the desk and vamped out. His golden eyes flared a challenge at his Elder.

“Whistler? Oh…” Angel knew that if Whistler had been around then something big was cooking in the cauldron of big evil. Even though he thought Spike was nuts, he decided to go with the flow.

Raising his hand up, Angel vamped out and raked his fangs across his palm. Spike mimicked his actions and then reached over the table.

Their blood soaked palms met with a slap.

“I swear by the Line of Aurelius to protect the two women with my unlife,” Angel rumbled around his fangs, his eyes never leaving Spike’s.

“I bear witness to this oath and will hold you accountable if you fail,” Spike rasped back.

Angel released Spike’s hand and licked their mingled blood off; he tried not to groan at the taste of Buffy’s blood that was present in Spike’s. Spike licked his hand clean, savouring the taste of his Grandsire’s blood, the first taste in a century of the elixir that he missed so much.

Angel blinked. There was something in Spike’s blood; as it washed over him, he understood.

“Dawn’s not real!” He exclaimed.

Spike dropped his head to the desk with a groan. “That’s wot I’ve been trying to tell you.”

“Oh…”

Joyce and Angel

“Are you sure you don’t mind babysitting us?” Joyce asked worriedly as she pushed open the front door and ushered Dawn in before her.

Angel stepped into the familiar house followed by the others. “Not at all,” he said as he smiled briefly at the woman he barely knew. He secretly resented the ease of interaction between Spike and Joyce, something he had never shared with Buffy’s mother. He ignored Cordy’s humph and gestured for his friends to sit down.

Checking outside, he could see Buffy and Spike leaning against the tree in the front yard, two sentinels on watch for attack. Giles, Tara and Anya had already said their goodbyes and headed home, leaving the eight of them to travel on to Revello Drive.

Joyce pulled Angel into the dining room for privacy. “Thank you for doing this. I know we’ve never really seen eye to eye before, but to take us into your protection…thank you…” Joyce avoided eye contact with her daughter’s first lover.

Angel folded his arms across his chest and stared at the woman whose words had been the final nail in the coffin of his relationship with Buffy. He could recall the entire conversation in the mansion as if it were only yesterday. Part of him still resented her for what she did, but only a small petty part of him. “It’s okay, Mrs Summers. I would do anything to help Buffy, you know that.” With that final barb Angel made his peace with the woman.

“Oh…” Joyce chewed her lower lip, acutely aware what Angel meant. She straightened her shoulders to show that she wasn’t intimidated. It didn’t matter what he said, because she knew she was right about him. He was not right for Buffy- Spike was meant for Buffy, that much was apparent now.

Angel stared at Buffy’s mother. Her face was coloured with the strain of the past few days. But there was something else there, something in her eyes. He inhaled deeply, scenting her, and frowned. His eyes flickered to the two blonds outside, wondering why they hadn’t noticed. But then again, Buffy was still a young vamp and she wouldn’t know what her senses were trying to tell her and Spike…Well, Spike had been focused on saving Buffy and then helping her through her changes. If there hadn’t been those distractions, Angel was sure that the peroxide blond vampire would’ve picked up on it…

Dawn and Angel

‘She isn’t real! I cant believe it – I can remember so much…’ Angel leaned against the door jam and watched the petulant teen as she stuffed clothes into her suitcase. Every movement screamed teen angst and Angel briefly wondered if Buffy had ever behaved like this.

“I hate you!” Dawn spat as she pushed her diary into her case. “Always have!”

“I know…” Angel replied patiently.

“I want to stay here…”

“With Spike, I know,” Angel interrupted. He had noted the attraction the youngest Summers had for Spike.

“What? NO! I want to stay at home…it’s nothing to do with Spike.” Dawn blushed bright red, her blue eyes flaring with anger. She cringed at the realisation that Angel had picked up on her crushing on Spike. She knew Spike was interested in Buffy and saw no one else but her annoying older sister, which bugged the crap out of her. Cos She was so much nicer than Buffy!

“Yeah…Yeah…nothing to do with Spike,” Angel teased and then straightened. He walked into the room and snapped the case shut, hefting it to one side as he held out his free hand to Dawn. “Come on, Rodeo Drive awaits you...”

Dawn ignored Angel’s proffered hand and stomped past him as she clattered down the stairs.

Angel shook his head and then looked up at the ceiling. “What do they see in him?”

******

Angel stood in the hallway and stared at Joyce, wondering what to do. His eyes flickered out the front door. Spike straightened at the sensation of his Grandsire’s eyes resting on him and returned his gaze with a reflected question. Spike rested his hands on Buffy’s shoulders and murmured something to her¾ she nodded and carried on watching Dawn loading Angel’s car with her bags whilst talking quietly to Wes and Gunn.

Spike sauntered over to the brunette vampire with a questioning gaze.

“Need to talk to you around the back.” Angel grabbed Spike’s elbow and the two of the vamps disappeared around the corner of the house.

Buffy glanced over and wondered what they were up to – she hoped Angel would leave Spike’s dangly bits alone this time. The bruising she had discovered on Spike still made her feel kinda icky.

********

Spike yanked his arm free with a growl, “Stop manhandling the goods mate.” He spun away and started pacing back and forth – the entire evening’s events and those of the day before had pushed him to the limit and one more thing would send him into a frothing frenzy. Spike suspected that whatever Angel was about to say would be the final straw. Running his hands through his slicked back hair, he sighed and stopped in his tracks, then turned to face Angel.

The older vamp hadn’t moved an inch; he stood there with his hands thrust into his coat’s pockets and stared intently at his errant Grandchild as he paced. ‘Never could stand being still for even a moment…’

Spike glared at Angel and finally threw his hands in the air in exasperation, “Spit it out, oh broody one!”

Angel’s head snapped up¾ detente aside, he would not tolerate younger members of his family being so impertinent. “William,” he growled.

Spike’s nostrils flared and his whipcord lean body tensed.

“Don’t push me,” Angel warned.

Spike snorted and rummaged in his duster pockets for a pack of fags. Shaking one out, he lit it and exhaled a stream of smoke from his nostrils, his sapphire blue eyes glittering with impatience. “But pushing is wot I do best, Grandad…” he rocked back on his heels, the lit cigarette dangling from his lips and a familiar smirk shaping them.

“Enough. There is something more important to discuss.” Angel checked around the moonlit backyard for observers and then moved to whisper in Spike’s ear. As the elder vampire talked, Spike’s face was contorted with a myriad of expressions, running from shame, anger, fear and finally worry.

“You sure?” Spike hissed.

Angel nodded and stepped back.

“Fuck!” Spike turned and began to leave, only to be stopped by a touch of Angel’s hand on his forearm.

“No William, don’t,” Angel muttered in hushed tones.

“But…”

Angel shook his head, “we need to be sure, before we say or do anything.”

“Why did I miss this?” Spike demanded.

“You had a lot on your mind - both of you have...” Angel responded, trying to soothe his agitated Childe.

“But…” sorrow filled Spike’s face.

Angel gingerly wrapped an arm around Spike’s shoulder and to his surprise Spike’s smaller form slumped against him. Never in their entire history had William or Spike turned to him for comfort – not that Angel had ever expected him too. Angelus would have seen it as a sign of weakness and destroyed the younger vamp without pause. But Angel suspected that recent events had significantly alter Spike’s personality, and surprisingly for the good.

“Will, me boy, I swear I’ll do everything in m’power to right this.” Angel’s voice slipped into his natural brogue as he calmed his shivering Childe. “Me word, my oath is m’bond Childe.”

Spike realised the rather compromising position he was in and straightened quickly with a decisive nod. “Come on…”

“Hey, are you guys back there? We’re ready to go.” Cordelia’s bored voice echoed around the side of the house.

Buffy pulled away from her Mom’s embrace and looked for Spike.

Dawn was already sitting shotgun in the convertible and, to keep the peace, the others had said nothing.

“Right here.” Spike sauntered around the side of the house, his loose-limbed gait belying the tenseness of his entire body.

He tossed a firm stare at the brunette seer who was tapping her foot impatiently, “looking smashing as usual, Pet.” He was used to high maintenance women, so knew just what to say to calm the fuming female. He wondered why Angel always surrounded himself with birds like Darla and Cordelia…

Cordelia preened slightly and then her eyes narrowed. Spike was making nice, why? Guess it was cos Joyce and Dawn and their prospective LA road trip. She was unhappy with the two guests they had acquired, on top of the whole Buffy angst-a-thon from Angel. Cordelia wanted to go home to LA and forget about all this, but now there were two reminders of the whole ‘lets see how hard to hit Angel in the head and balls situ’ coming back with them.

She had tried to talk Angel out of it, but he had given her the ‘don’t even bother trying’ look and muttered something about Vamp blood oaths and him owing Buffy, and Cordy had given up. She had retreated to the couch in Buffy’s house with a grumble and flicked through some magazines while everyone was getting ready to leave.

Spike swept Joyce up in a hug and inhaled deeply. He slipped into game face and rumbled deep in his chest. “Gonna miss you, Mum…”

Joyce patted Spike’s back with her hands and rubbed her head against Spike’s, “Me too, look after Buffy for me?”

Spike nodded against her neck, he had buried his face in the soft curve of her throat, trying to absorb as much of her scent in his dead lungs to sustain him. With a shiver, he reluctantly released Joyce and his game face slipped away as he took Joyce’s shoulders in his hands. “I swear I will, love. Keep the Nib outta trouble and don’t let Peaches push either of you around.” Spike smirked at the good natured ‘hey’ that emanated from Angel’s direction.

Before anyone else could say anything, Dawn’s petulant tones erupted from the car.

“If you’re making me go, well then, lets!” she glared at her Mom and Spike for making with the hugs, and then sent a laser glare across the front yard at everyone else.

“This is not gonna be fun,” Gunn muttered to Wes and Cordy, both of whom nodded in agreement.

*********

“Oh luv, stop blubbering, you can talk to ‘em on the blower all the time…” Spike wrapped his arms around Buffy’s tiny weeping form. He watched as the taillights on Angel’s black convertible disappeared around the corner. His mind teaming with thought.

“I miss them already, even Dawn,” Buffy sniffled. She surreptitiously wiped her nose on Spike’s T-shirt and then her lower lip wobbled again.

“Come on, let’s get you home so you can have a good cry and a sleep…” Spike coaxed her into the Desoto and they roared off into the night.

Okay mini warning here - there is a reference to some not so nice things happening to a character and the death of a main character (no fretting it's Buffy and we already know she's a vamp - hence the death of a main character)I do hope that it isn't too grim.

This will be the final chapter of Dark Gift posted this year - I will be back in the New Year with more of this fic and also the Second Book of Dark Gift - which I have been pondering for a while - I do hope you guys want another book of Dark Gift?

One mini poll - do you want to read a chapter or two covering what Joyce, Dawn and the Fang Gang are upto in LA - I do have some sneaky ideas.

Italics = thoughts

It had only been a week since Angel had bundled off Joyce and Dawn. Spike had been unusually sombre the evening they had gone. If she hadn't known better, Buffy would've thought he was brooding. There had been several hushed phone calls which Spike had ended as soon as he realised he wasn't alone. She had no idea what it was all about and whenever she had tried to say something to him, Spike had changed the subject or distracted her with a kiss - and who was she kidding? His kisses were totally distracting.

So here they were - staking out The Bronze. It was about 10pm and the club was heaving with bodies. Buffy had stopped breathing - the scents of arousal, excitement and sweat pouring off the clubbers was intoxicating. Her demon was scratching around the edges of her soul - asking for an out. She was terrified of giving in. Buffy could still taste the hot blood from her first and only victim pouring down her throat; could hear his pitiful screams tapering off into a gurgle as she drained him. His clawing hands as he tried to get away from her fangs; his tight grasp that had been so strong at first until he batted at her weakly, before falling still as the last drops of his blood had been sucked from his thick neck.

Her body craved those tantalising sensations again, but her soul stopped her thankfully from falling to that delicious red haze. She was stronger than her demon. Buffy pushed aside the gnawing hunger - focusing her human and Slayer sides on her insistent demon, and with their combined strength, manage to force the blood lust into the far reaches of her mind and soul.

Unbeknownst her, Spike had watched her struggle from across the catwalk spanning the ceiling of the Bronze, his body taut, ready to leap to her rescue if she succumbed to her blood lust. He had picked out the spot to watch over his Childe, Tara and Anya. His whipcord lean black clad form stood opposite where Buffy was leaning on the rail, looking down over the dance floor. Spike had watched in concern and then with pride as his diminutive Childe had vamped out and her eyes had flickered from lavender to hazel over and over as she had battled her metaphysical inner demon - and won. 'That's my girl,' he thought proudly.

This was Buffy's first time out in a public area filled with heaving bodies. Up until now she had only been exposed to her friends and family - not a room filled with mortals and the intoxicating sounds of their heartbeats thrumming in her ears. Let alone the scents she had consciously just battled.

Anya and Tara sat at one of the tall tables - intent in their conversation, or so it appeared. But to a seasoned predator such as Spike, the two women’s alertness was easy to spot, their eyes constantly flickering around the crowded room. Searching for something or someone, never alighting on an individual for more than a second. Their frames were taut with tension, and not reflecting the ease of other people around them - who were lost in the daze of partying and letting lose. Instead they sat upright and sipped on their drinks while scanning the room.

Spike shook his head and reminded himself to teach the two birds the ins and outs of a stakeout.

He had hesitated on lecturing the two of them before hand as both Tara and Anya had come undone as the result of a single letter.

Spike growled deep in his chest at the two girl’s reactions to the scribbled missive that had been posted to The Magic Box. Giles had sat between Anya and Tara and tried in his fumbling way to soothe them. It had been from Willow, her first communiqué to Tara. Liberally dotted with tear stains, Willow's neat handwriting was unusually for her a scrawl signalling her state of mind clearly to the readers, it was a mish mash of apology and remorse. It was filled with such self-recriminations and apologies for falling so far and so hard that it had broken Tara's heart again, and Anya's had shattered alongside the quiet Wicca, as she had no news of her missing lover, Xander.

When he and Buffy had arrived, his Childe had whisked the two women off into the training room, leaving Spike and Giles to sit at the table. Buffy had taken one look at Tara and Anya's red-rimmed glassy eyes and trembling lips, and she had realised something was amiss. Much to Giles's flustered relief. He had no idea how to cope with one woman's tears, let alone two.

The British men's male discomfort over feminine tears surprisingly added another strong bond to the tenuous friendship that was evolving gradually over time and circumstance. In the end they had resorted to a bottle of whiskey and sat at the table surrounded by musty volumes, and sipped from their glasses as they plotted Drac's downfall. Spike and Giles were of the same mind that it was to be a painful and prolonged death, with an added dash of castration just to spice up the fun.

Their plotting lead to the two men establishing that they had to locate the Transylvanian, and the only way was to establish his and his minions feeding patterns.

Which lead to them sitting in the Bronze - waiting for something happen.

Spike and Buffy had patrolled nightly, searching for a clue, a scrap of information to lead them to Dracula or the skank who had attacked them in the factory - the day they had nearly dusted and also discovered Dawn's true nature. But there had been nothing on either front. Both of the villains had seemed to have gone to ground. The only clue they had that Drac and his hell bitches might still be around was the plethora of bodies with so-called neck trauma. So the decision had been made to stake out the Bronze in the hope of finding one of the vampires hunting. It had been their only option-- to patrol a prime vampire feeding ground, and so far nothing.

*******

"Hey there, handsome. Wanna dance?"

Spike twitched in surprise. He had been lost in thought and focussed on the dance floor searching for a vamp - any vamp. He hadn't heard the young woman approaching until she had spoken to him.

"No thanks, luv," he responded without even turning to face his admirer.

"Oh come on! A honey like you shouldn't be on his lonesome!" The persistent woman reached over and tugged on Spike's elbow, trying to get him to look at her.

"He isn't!" Buffy's voice was hard and cold with anger. She slid past the annoying woman and slipped into Spike's welcoming arms. Buffy eyed the flirty woman. She was tall and slim and dressed in skin tight hipster jeans and a form fitting top which was see through, revealing a black bra filled with an ample bosom. Buffy crossed her arms over her smaller breasts and suppressed a growl, one that vanished with the touch of Spike's hands over hers.

"Beat it, honey." Buffy smirked at the now flushing woman as Spike pressed an absent kiss to her throat. Buffy had spotted the slutty bitca within seconds of her going up to the oblivious Spike, and something predatory was unleashed inside her. Something so possessive that her blood lust paled in comparison. Spike was hers and no one else was getting their grubby paws anywhere near him. She suppressed another angry growl and eyed the woman who was now clued into how taken Spike was.

"Oh right…okay...my bad." The woman turned and walked off.

Buffy pinched Spike's side. "Good boy with the whole ignoring!"

Spike nuzzled his face into her throat with a purr, his eyes never leaving the dance floor. "You're the only one for me, pet," he purred and gave her earlobe a good nibble while he was at it.

Buffy, unable to resist, slipped her hand under his duster and gave his firm ass a good squeeze, "as if you'd look at another woman - you're mine."

"Behave missy!" Spike eyed his impish girl with a serious look in his eye.

"No time for romancing me, luv - besides you know I'm a sure thing!" A warm glow of happiness filled his entire being over Buffy's declaration. And also for her actions in protecting him from the feminine wiles of the poor bint who had only wanted a dance. Before he could tease his overprotective Childe, he was interrupted.

*Spike, something's happening* Tara's soft tones echoed through the blond vampire's mind. Spike's head jerked slightly in surprise. He had not expected Glinda to have that sort of whammy. Peering down at the two seated women in surprise, he noticed that the blonde Wiccan had a small crystal cupped in her hands, which was glowing. Something she had used to give her a boost, he guessed. Tara gave him a tired smile and jerked her head to the exit. Spike nodded and then gave Buffy a gentle nudge.

"Come on. Glinda's spotted something iffy." He took Buffy's hand and they began to make their way down the stairs and headed over to Tara and Anya.

Buffy gritted her teeth as they wove between all the tempting bodies in the club, her fangs itched for something to bite - but she manage again to suppress the urge to run riot and drain everyone dry. With a tiny growl she gripped Spike's cool large hand and raced after him, hiding behind his slightly taller body, using him as a buffer. Which also was kinda painful when you ran into it.

Buffy rubbed her nose ruefully, her eyes watered from the impact with Spike's muscled duster-covered back.

"You okay?" Spike turned around to face her, concern and mirth filling his eyes. "Not one of your best moments, eh?"

"Yeah, and less with the ‘ha ha, Buffy's a clutz’, " she grumbled as she went and sat next to Anya.

"What's up?" Buffy asked.

"We overheard some guys talking about a freaky chick in the alleyway, who had cold hands," Anya hissed excitedly. "Said that she tried to get them to come with her for a threesome - but was kinda pissed when they said no thanks, they weren't into girls!"

Spike's eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared, "really? Can't smell anything? Can you pet around the swelling?" he asked with a grin.

"Laugh it up, peroxide boy." Buffy rolled her eyes. Turning to Anya and Tara, "stay in here and keep with the staking out stuff - we'll go check out the frosty handed gal."

"Sods law the bint finds the only light-footed blokes in the area - bet she's not a happy li'vampy." Spike's voice trailed off as he headed out after Buffy's determined little figure.


********

Buffy took a deep breath as soon as she and Spike exited the Bronze - filling her dead lungs with the yummy scents of Alleyway - which was infinitely better than sweating humans with loud pulses. She ignored the twinge of pain from her bumped nose and happily inhaled the stinky odours of garbage, which quickly dispelled the mouth-watering blood lust inducing scents of mortals.

"Better, luv?" Spike looked down at her strained face, worry tingeing his voice.

Buffy nodded and vamped out, using her enhanced vision to scan the alleyway for any vampiress who were either desperate or dumb enough not to notice the scents of the two guys she had approached.

"I was watching you in there and you did me proud." Spike ran a soothing hand down her back, calming her instantly with his touch.

"Really? I nearly lost it in there - all the sounds and smells, it was almost too much. Even when I followed Anya's advice and stopped with the breathing."

"Yeah, but you didn't run amok and eat the teen population of Sunnyhell," Spike replied proudly.

"Pity she didn't. That would've been fun to watch!" A disembodied voice floated down from above them.

Buffy froze.

If her heart still worked she was sure it would have been pounding out of her chest.

Buffy recognised that silky voice - it still haunted her dreams.

Spike grabbed hold of his shivering girl as fear was pouring off her in waves.

"What is it, Buffy?" His voice shook with worry.

But she didn't reply. Instead Buffy bared her fangs and a feral look filled her countenance. The turned Slayer was operating on animal instinct - and that was to kill, destroy and avenge.

Tearing away from his firm grasp, she turned and sprang for the fire escape. Moving so fast she was a blur of blonde hair.

Spike swore under his breath and launched himself after her, his duster flapping behind him as he climbed up the rickety metal ladder and stairs after his irate Childe.

Within seconds, both of them had scaled the metal ladder and leapt onto the roof of the Bronze. They stood side by side, a stunning combination of black leather, denim and blond hair.

Buffy growled loudly, her lavender eyes flashed with an unearthly glow of pure ire as she scented the air. Trying to locate the source of THAT voice.

The still night was broken with a mocking laugh.

Spike's head turned in the direction he thought it had come from, and with a snarl allowed his face to shift. His brow thickened and his sharp fangs dropped. All he could think of was to protect his Childe - he had some suspicions about what was going on and he was ready to follow Buffy's lead-- this was her fight.

"Ohhh, what a handsome face - can I play with you?" The mystery voice mocked from a different direction.

Spike shifted back to his human face and turned towards their adversary's new location. He tried to tune out the conflicting emotions that were filling him - all of them pouring through the Sire/Childe bond. Buffy was a mess of emotions and now was not the time to let them in, usually he savoured their bond - but for now he needed a clear head.

"He is mine, bitch," Buffy howled and launched herself at the shadows. Only to stumble against the chimneybreast with a resounding thump.

Spike again was filled with pride and happiness that Buffy claimed him as hers and that she blatantly acknowledged it - he had never been so openly loved before. Dru had loved him, but her heart had belonged to her missing daddy. Never before had he felt so completely loved and had not realised how much he wanted this kind of declaration, not until now and from his Childe, Lover and precious Slayer-- he was hers and she was his.

Buffy pushed herself away from the coarse brickwork; wiping her grazed hands on the seat of her jeans, she whirled to face Spike.

"Where is she?" Buffy hissed.

"Right here."

And then the niggling clues that Spike had clicked into place, his suspicions were confirmed as to why Buffy was so incensed with anger and filled with such fear.

It was one of Drac's floozies.

His last thoughts before Buffy flew at the taller vampire was - oh shit.

*******

"They've been a while. Do you think we should go and see if everything is okay?" Tara glanced over at the door Buffy and Spike had exited through.

"And do what? Either watch them fight, get knocked out by the baddie or worse, eaten in a not so good way by a vampire?" Anya slurped at her cocktail and cocked her head in question.

"Well, when you put it that way." Tara fidgeted on her stool and sighed.

"Yes, indeed - I put it in a succinct way and you didn't roll your eyes or try to stifle me - thank you." Anya reached over and patted Tara on the shoulder.

Tara looked over at Anya and raised a fine eyebrow at her and gave her a lopsided grin. It was weird, now that Xander wasn't around to 'Ahn' the ex-demoness all the time; she was starting to adjust to Anya's way with words more easily. "So what do we do?"

"We wait, until one of them comes back to get us I guess, or we could call Giles?" Anya suggested. She coughed as a cloud of dust floated down from the rafter and waved her hand over her glass. "And maybe some fresh drinks - I think that this place is due for a building inspection."

Both women looked up and the ceiling and frowned when there was a noticeable shudder of the woodwork.

******

"I hate you!" Buffy launched herself again at the taller vampire and unleashed a flurry of blows on the Bride's face and body.

Spike pulled himself up from the ground and began to climb back up the fire escape; he tried to ignore the interesting grating noises his ribs were make with each movement. He was rather pissed off that the Bride had managed to wrong-foot him and toss him off the roof like a whiffle ball.

Very embarrassing. He was glad there was no one around to see him do his Flying Spikeini impersonation.

Buffy ducked as the older female vamp kicked out, and then followed through with a sucker punch that sent the turned Slayer flying. She hit the roof with a resounding thump and rolled over onto her side and coughed. Blood poured unchecked from her mouth; Buffy grimaced and spat out the crimson fluid. Kneeling shakily, Buffy took a hard kick to her unprotected side, which sent her spinning through the air in a flurry of limbs.

Buffy hit the side of the chimneybreast again with a sickening thud and then slumped to the ground. Despite her anger fuelled energy, facing off against one of her tormentors had caught her off guard as soon as they had begun to fight. Terror and recalled sensual tortures, filled Buffy's mind to the point where she was not fighting at her top potential. Something the other vampiress was taking advantage of.

Dracula's bride took long strides across the roof towards the slumped form of the blonde vampiress she knew intimately. She wanted to taste that delectable blood again - the scent of which was flooding the air and filling her mind with flashes of luscious memories.

The smaller woman pinned to a satin covered bed - her wrists and ankles secured with heavy and unbreakable enchanted chains, while she feasted on the Slayer's warm succulent breasts. Blood pouring from the scratches left by her Master's nails. The taste of this Slayer's blood had been incomparable.

Her particular favourite memory was the anguished look in the imprisoned Slayer's eyes as she had brought her to orgasm using her mouth and fingers, while her two sisters had suckled at the Slayer's small breasts, blood streaming from her abused nipples. The pleas for the three of them to stop only heightening the Brides enjoyment and egging them on to more depravities.

Depravities that stripped all the innocence from the warrioress of light during the days and nights that they held her captive.

But the one image that surpassed all others was the sight of her Master sinking his hard cock into the Slayer's depths as she and her two sisters had held their imprisoned Slayer's legs open for him. The weak struggles and the screams had been the best thing she had experienced since the Boer war and the last Slayer they had played with.

Even after her little sister had joined them, screaming her unwanted orgasm out as Dracula had turned her, all of them had still wanted her - despite her blood being as dead as theirs. There was still some power in it, and also the delight in adding to the humiliation of the Slayer with their sexual games was just neat.

"Think I'll have a taste, little one. I've missed your blood and body," she purred and leaned down to lap at the blood seeping from Buffy's hairline.

"Ohhhh. Aurelian blood as well now, how exquisite!" She leant over and lapped at the exotic combination of blood. Her nipples stiffened in excitement and the moisture between her long legs began to flow.

Spike sprang over the edge of the roof and landed flatfooted with a menacing growl.

"Get your filthy tongue off her."

Spike threw himself across the roof, fury filling his battered frame. Reaching out he wrenched the Bride away from Buffy and threw her over his shoulder, with barely any effort on his behalf. Whirling, he stood over Buffy's still form, his fists clenched and he roared possessively at the smirking woman who stood up and straightened her hair.

"Really, that's not friendly of you. I only wanted a taste. My little sister is just sooo tasty, ripe and swollen with your blood as well, now." She smacked her lips and leered over at Spike. "Pity it wasn't from the source, though. Maybe if I ask nicely you'll let me have a nibble?"

"Bite this." Buffy had woken while the Bride was taunting Spike and had moved without either of the combatants noticing.

A small fist sailed out of the shadows and caught the leering bride in the nose. It broke with a resounding crack and blood and splinters of bone poured down the Bride's startled face.

Spike roared with laughter and tucked his thumbs in the waistband of his jeans, "not looking too fresh now, are you, luvvie? Wonder if Drac'll give you a 'go' now?" he sneered.

The injured bride stumbled back, her hands clutching at her ruined face, shock and for the first time in centuries, fear colouring her eyes. "How?"

Buffy appeared from the darkness and shrugged, "like this." With that she landed another hard blow on the stunned and bleeding vampire. Dracula’s bride doubled over and vomited up what seemed to be pints of borrowed blood.

Buffy stepped back, a moue of disgust on her face. "Ewww, and on my suede boots."

Spike shrugged and sauntered over to her, "I told you that those were no good for patrolling or fighting - it's a bugger to get entrails outta suede, best toss em when we get home."

Buffy didn't take her eyes off the gasping Bride, "why?"

"Not having that bint's scent all over the place, bound to put me off my nosh!" Spike said, his face deadpan.

The Bride fell to her knees and clutched her stomach. Looking up, her pale face was crisscrossed with trails of deep red blood. Loathing filled her eyes and, unable to resist it, she began to taunt Buffy with details of their nights spent together. She wanted the upper hand in this battle and if it meant dishing the dirt to wrong foot her opponents, that who was she to care?

Spike's jaw tightened as the fallen vampiress maliciously listed all the horrors that she and her brethren had inflicted on his Buffy; he had heard most of it from his girl's lips, but to hear this foul woman boasting and taunting Buffy was too much. His entire being tightened with a fury he had never before felt in his entire existence. Spike's frame shook with anger, his fists tightened, the knuckles on both hands cracked loudly.

"Oh, didn't she tell you all the fun we had?" The Bride staggered to her feet and ran her hands over her breast and down her sides, her mouth twisted into an exaggerated leer.

Buffy had frozen as soon as Dracula's concubine had started talking. It was one thing to know and recount the horrors of her repeated rapes and turning. But for someone else to talk about it as if it had been all fun and games was unbearable. Buffy's slim shoulders hunched slightly as she waited for Spike to say something about the humiliation this being was visiting on her.

"Awww, has the littlest vampire got nothing to say? Maybe she can't because she's afraid that she might let slip how much she enjoyed our touch?" the Bride mocked cruelly. "Oh." A pale hand fluttered to her chest in a mockery of coquettish behaviour, "maybe she doesn't want to hurt your feelings, Spike? Do you satisfy her as much as we did?"

Spike glanced over at Buffy and their eyes locked; a small grin appeared at the edges of Spike's lips. Buffy was mad, 'this was going to be fun...hope she makes sure the slut’s in agony before she puts the Bride outta our misery.'

Buffy rolled her eyes, all the taunting and sneers had weakened her momentarily, but when she had looked into Spike's golden eyes she had found her inner strength again. He was hers and she was his, no matter what was said and done. Spike trusted and loved her no matter what, and was ready for her to make her move.

So she did.

Revenge was sweet.

Especially when it was so bloody and painful for her rapist.

Buffy moved fast - one moment she was by Spike's side, the next she had the vampiress pinned to the ground and was methodically breaking every finger on the taller woman's hands. Her lavender eyes flashing with anger and hatred, Buffy's fangs bit into her lower lips as she concentrated on destroying the same fingers that had once been inside her body. She wanted them destroyed.

Not a single word spilled from Buffy's mouth. Her face was set with a grim determination. As a rule she never played with her opponents, but this one was deserving of everything she meted out on her.

But her eyes never wavered from the screaming Bride's face.

Buffy then pulled the injured vampiress up and threw her against the chimney.

Backing away she waited for a move from her opponent. She was done with the torturing - it had sickened her slightly, but her demon had howled inside her for vengeance and for the first time she allowed it reign. Buffy fervently hoped Spike wouldn't be disappointed by her actions. Buffy, panting unnecessarily, focused hard on pushing her demon down and waited. Sated with its call for vengeance, the demon subsided in her and allowed for the cooler head of the Slayer to take control.

Spike reached over and ran his fingers softly over Buffy's trembling back. He had been surprised at her bloodthirsty actions, but understood.

"How dare you!" The Bride screamed in fury and agony. The dried blood on her face cracked and flaked off in places. She held her ruined hands up in front of her, the long fingers were twisted in different directions and in some places the bones were pushing through the skin. Blood seeped down her hands.

Spike arched a scarred brow at the bitch. "Gotta bit of Lady Macbeth going there, have you?"

The Bride turned and faced Spike, anger and fear mingled in her countenance.

"What, cat got your tongue? No more ‘lets taunt Buffy with all the horrors I inflicted on her?’" Buffy growled and took a threatening step forward.

The cornered vampiress flicked a glance over at her tormentor and shook her head. She began to search for a way to escape-- she needed her Sire.

"Think the bint's looking for an exit, luv," Spike drawled.

The Bride growled and launched herself at Spike, her mutilated hands clawing at his face.

"I'll destroy you just like I did her last boy toy!"

"Huh?" Spike batted the vampire away easily; her strength was depleted from her injuries.

Buffy frowned at her words, but then there was a surge of protective instincts overwhelming her, pushing aside any concerns over the Bride's comment.

Something was wrong, she could sense it.

The Bride had fallen and as she had hit the ground, she reached into her boot and pulled a stake out, wrapping her broken fingers awkwardly around the wooden death sentence. Pushing herself up with a roar of triumph, she launched herself at Spike's unprotected chest. One final torment to visit on her little sister before she made her escape-- destroy her new Sire. And leave her alone in the darkness.

"No!" The Bride stopped mid strike, her nerveless and broken fingers dropped the stake and her hands rested over her chest. Covering the gaping wound over heart. She looked up at her killer with startled eyes, her fingers clutching at her wound. She looked down again. "No," she whispered faintly.

Buffy opened her blood stained hand, revealing the Bride's heart that she had pulled out in one swift movement.

"But…I can't die...not now, he made a deal, we're safe...Glory promised." The Bride gasped out as she felt her insides turning to dust. The stolen blood in her veins dried up and the vessels collapsed in on themselves. Slowly her pale skin cracked and began to crumble, her fine reddish brown hair began to frizz and break off. A gurgling sob escaped her ruined mouth, a final death rattle.

"One down…two to go." Buffy blew a mocking kiss at her torturer.

Spike stepped to her side, he head cocked in interest as the Bride dissolved slowly into dust. "Taking her time, ain't she?"

********

Across town Dracula fell to his knees with an anguished howl.

His two remaining Brides clustered around him, tears of sorrow pouring down their faces.

********

"That was really satisfying." Buffy dusted her hand on the seat of her jeans and turned to face Spike. She checked him over worriedly and then with a sigh, wrapped her arms around his waist.

Spike stood silent, his mind whirling with thoughts.

"Spike?"

"What did she mean by your last boy toy?" Spike hated himself for voicing it.

Buffy frowned, "I dunno...you sure she said that?"

"Yeah," Spike ran his fingers through her hair, reassuring himself through constant contact that she was safe and here in his arms. When she had faltered in her fight with the Bride he was worried that he had lost her, just when he had found her. But eventually Buffy had rallied, and fought back with a ferocity that had surprised him. Spike knew that Buffy would fret endlessly about how she had tortured Dracula's Bride before dusting her.

Buffy pressed her face against his chest and sighed softly, enjoying his ministrations. His touch calmed her and soothed her. Buffy had known that there would have been a confrontation eventually, but to have finally faced off with one of her tormentors had been terrifying. Succumbing to her demon's demands had also terrified her - but on the other hand had also satisfied her.

"You heard from Captain Cardboard since the dry humping incident?" Spike hated himself for asking, but someone had to say it. If what he suspected was true, they needed to find out Finn's fate.

Buffy peered up at him, her now hazel eyes solemn. She shook her head sadly, worry filling her. "I'll call his apartment when we get home."

She didn't want to voice her worries to Spike over her ex. Buffy knew that he was still a bit touchy over Riley, so she kept quiet.

"Come on. The birds'll be wondering what the hell happened to us." Spike lifted Buffy in his arms. Ignoring the pain shooting from his ribs, he sauntered to the roof’s edge and, unable to resist showing off, he jumped from the roof and landed in the alley.

Buffy clutched at Spike's shoulders and wondered when her stomach would catch up with her. "Spike," she exclaimed.

"Wot?" Spike put her down and chivalrously offered his arm to Buffy.

As they headed into the Bronze his voice floated back into the now deserted alley,

"Hang about. Who the bloody hell's Glory?"

And there we have it!! Soooo what did you guys think??

Dawn slipped out of her room and hesitated at the door to her mom's, which was next door to hers. Dawn had heard the noises again and this time instead of hiding under her bed covers, she was going to be tough and find out what it was.

They had been in LA for a few days; Dawn had sulked the whole drive down. She wanted to stay home near Spike and her friends. She didn't feel safe in LA; Angel was behaving weirdly since he picked them up. He had been all over Mom-- making sure she was comfortable in the car and settling her into the rooms that Cordy had cleared out for them. He also was behaving really strangely around her. Dawn kept catching the brunette vampire staring at her and then rubbing his wrist before wandering off.

Cordy had been the only fun thing to happen in LA - she had taken Dawn to all the coolest shops and the best hangout for under-aged teens in the city. Cordelia had changed since High School. She was still a fashion plate but there was a nicer vibe to her.

Dawn could still remember Willow and Buffy talking about how nasty she had been to them and Xander. But this Cordelia was mellower. She still had the sharp tongue that she used with relish, but something on a basic level had changed. She was much nicer than Dawn remembered her, and was really patient with Angel's mood swings-- and that took some major work. Angel was sooo premenstrual and totally high maintenance. She had no idea how Buffy had put up with him.

Gunn was cool. Dawn really liked him. He had a laid back attitude and was really cute. He hung out in the hotel most days and helped out with cases. Dawn briefly wondered how come Angel-- the 'Champion'-- got away with charging for helping the helpless, it was his calling and he took all major credit cards for it? Buffy didn't, and neither did the other Scoobies. Dawn grinned at the goofy image that popped into her head of Angel dusting a vamp and then whipping out a credit card machine and charging the chomped on victim.

Not of the good.

Dawn shoved the image of Peaches out of her head.

Instead, she thought about the hours Gunn spent asking her about Buffy and what a Slayer was. Dawn hadn't minded talking about her big sister much because Gunn was a good listener and had been amazed by all the Slayer stuff. He had asked about Angel and Buffy's relationship, and Cordy had interrupted with some stories but had changed the subject when Angel had appeared on the landing.

As far as Dawn could make out, Angel still considered Buffy his soul mate and greatest love and the other’s here in the agency thought the same. 'As if!' Dawn rolled her eyes. 'Spike is sooo the one for Buffy.' Dawn froze as she finally realised that Spike and Buffy were a couple and she had been crushing on Spike to the point where she had become a major brat. Her face flushed red and Dawn hunched her shoulders. She felt like an idiot-- sure Spike was gorgeous, sexy and really, really hot, but he had never looked at her as anything but a kid sister. He had been into Buffy from the moment he had clapped eyes on her, even if he had been with freaky Dru. As Mom said, he was in a phase and had to go through some stuff before he realised where he was meant to be.

With Buffy.

Dawn sighed and with that she pushed aside all her icky feelings towards Buffy and in turn felt better for it.

Dawn froze when she heard a whispered voice. She knew that voice! The teen had heard it on only one occasion, but the timber and tone was ingrained on her psyche.

Tiptoeing up to Angel's suite, Dawn pressed her ear against the door and tried to make out what was being said. All she could hear were sheets rustling and a few sighs and ewwww! A groan. Angel was spanking his monkey! Dawn leapt back from the door as if it were burning hot. 'Guess he can do that!' Dawn pulled a face and then, before she could run back to her room, she heard a feminine voice giggling.

A sickly sweet sound that hung cloyingly in the air-- and was really familiar to Dawn.

She scurried away and slipped into an empty room, almost shutting the door.

She left a teeny gap to peer through.

A firm hand clapped down on Dawn's shoulder. "Just what are you doing, young lady?"

A scream clawed its way past her heart, which had leapt into her throat.

"Ahhhhh!!!"

"Dawn, what are you doing? I hope this isn't one of your escape attempts?" Joyce asked tiredly.

Dawn clapped her hand to her mouth and managed to stop the scream from continuing. She threw her arms around her sleepy Mom and squeezed her tight.

Joyce rocked her youngest and ran a soothing hand through her hair. "Shhh, sorry baby."

***********

Angel woke at the sound of a scream. Reaching under the bed he grabbed a sword that he kept there for emergencies. Throwing back the sheets, he swung his legs over the side and stood up fluidly. His pyjama pants fell to his ankles unnoticed and the agitated vampire took a step forward and fell flat on his face. Clamouring to his feet, Angel pulled up his silk pants and secured them loosely on his hips.

Angel cocked his head and sniffed the air. The room was filled with the musky scent of sex, and he frowned in confusion. If he didn't know better, the dark-haired vampire would have been positive he’d had sex.

Pushing the silly imaginings out of his mind, Angel threw himself out of his suite in the direction of the scream and was greeted with a duo of feminine yelps.

Angel lowered his sword at the sight of Joyce and Dawn staring at him with huge frightened eyes.

"Uh, sorry." The flustered vampire ran his hand through his dishevelled hair. "Um, are you okay?"

Joyce took in his undressed state and nodded. "My fault. I startled Dawn, and then she panicked."

Angel took in the dark rings around Joyce's eyes and the sound of Dawn's racing heart and shook his head. "Sorry to add to the general panic. It's just when someone screams in the hotel, it's usually because something with horns or slime is attacking."

Dawn peered over at Angel, safely ensconced in her mother's arms. "Who was in your room with you?" she asked accusingly. The youngest Summers was all to aware of the fallout which ensued from Angel getting a big happy and there was no way she was going to let him slide on this. Her blue eyes narrowed and she waited impatiently for a reply.

Angel blinked in surprise at the teenagers question. "No one." He shifted uncomfortably on his bare feet as Dawn pinned him with a laser-like glare.

"But I heard some woman's voice in there!" she exclaimed angrily. Dawn hated it when adults lied to her.

Angel shook his head. "I was fast asleep until you screamed." He glanced around the corridor, his hackles rising. Someone or something had been here recently; the scent was faint but there. Concern for Dawn and Joyce rose in him and he hustled them off to their bedrooms-- ignoring Dawn's protests and Joyce's soft voice.

"You need your rest for the meeting with my friend Lorne tomorrow, Mrs Summers."

He sank down into a crouch, his pale skin gleaming in the artificial light. An undead sentinel dressed only in black silk PJ bottoms with a shining blade of tempered steel held loosely in one of his hands. Angel's calm pose belying the confusion in his mind, he was worried. Unaware of the faint shimmer of purple powder on his shoulders, the souled vampire stayed on watch for the rest of the night.

He had made a blood oath and was determined to stand by it.

******

"Pet?" Spike hesitated at the entrance of their bedroom. He could sense her distress through the sire bond.

She had been on edge ever since the other night. Once the adrenalin had worn off-- after they had gone back into The Bronze to find Anya and Tara-- his childe had slumped against his side and begged to be taken home.

The two women had helped them to the Desoto before climbing into the back. On the trip back, Spike filled them in on the confrontation on the roof of the Bronze. Anya and Tara both exclaimed with relief that one of the Brides was dust, and cosseted Buffy as best they could. One less, biggish bad to worry about in the coming days.

Tara had frowned for a moment when Spike had mentioned the name that the fallen Bride had taunted Buffy with, but had not said anything, choosing to hold her counsel for now until she had a chance to talk to Giles. Instead she had busied herself with tending to Buffy's bleeding knuckles.

Buffy rolled over in the four-poster bed and stared solemnly over at Spike. She looked scared and elated in the same moment. She had allowed her demon free reign briefly and it had felt too good, and it terrified her. Her euphoria was for the heart ripping outage of skank number one.

There were two more on her list.

Buffy knew she was wrong to want vengeance on her tormentors; the Slayer in her was disapproving, wagging a metaphorical finger at her for her actions. A clean kill in battle was good, but to decimate an opponent as she had done the previous night? It was wrong and her inner Slayer was not impressed with Buffy.

Spike cocked his head and waited for her to say something - anything. Intuitively knowing that now was not the time for his usual flow of banter, instead concern darkened his azure eyes and there was a solemnity to his face that was uncommon. He waited and watched as Buffy pleated the sheet covering her naked form from his disappointed eyes-- even when he was being a good puppy he was still in want of his girl.

"I'm bad, aren't I?" Buffy queried softly as she found a loose thread and whirled it between her thumb and forefinger.

Spike's stomach clenched with anguish and sympathy for the wretched and softly spoken question. His legs carried him to the side of their bed and his hands reached down and pulled Buffy's soft and acquiescent form against his.

Buffy curled her hands around Spike's neck and nudged her head under his chin, seeking comfort and reassurance. Spike sank down onto the bed and curled around his purring childe. "Not a bad bone in your delectable little bod, sweetness," he rumbled at her.

Buffy's mind recoiled from the memories of the Bride’s screaming face as she shattered another finger bone, trying to gain some comfort from Spike's gruff words.

Their peace was shattered with the shrill tone of the telephone ringing. Spike and Buffy exchanged a glance - the only ones who had their new number were Giles and the girls.

********

Buffy paced back and forth across the linoleum floor of the Magic Box, acutely aware of the four sets of eyes tracking her every step.

She paused and whirled to face them all, her mouth opening but no words passing her full lips.

"I know it's all very frustrating, but Tara has a theory." Giles nodded at the serene wiccan who sat next to him.

"All we have is this name the Bride threw out at you, right?" Tara questioned Buffy softly.

"Yeah," Spike interjected.

"Well, we spent some time searching through the more reliable sources and nothing." Anya waved her arms in the air. Her bright eyes were underscored with dark shadows, exhaustion lingered at the edges of all their consciousnesses, but the dire situation forced them all to ignore it.

Tara leant forward and carefully closed the tome that lay open in front of her. "It was only a passing comment I made, but Giles felt it may have some basis." She shrugged, slightly flustered that she may have hit upon the source of their barren researches.

"What is it, Tara?" Buffy asked with only the teeniest hint of exasperation marring her voice.

"All I said was that maybe this Glory person is older than the written word? Or even the oral tradition? Maybe this is why there is nothing written down or recorded anywhere." Tara revealed a trace of triumph in her voice.

Spike's eyes filled with admiration and he nodded sagely at Tara. "Right smart bint, aren't you, Glinda?" He glanced over at Buffy to check she was not having another meltdown. Right now it was time for planning-- later this evening he would hold her and tend to her. For now, his childe needed to be strong.

Buffy glared at Spike, all too aware of what he was feeling, and then ignored him. Instead, she turned to Giles. "What do we do now? If she's that old then are we gonna have to start looking at cave paintings for information?"

Anya failed to suppress a snort of laughter at Buffy's last comment; her peals of unexpected laughter infused all of them with shared mirth. It had been a long time since any of them had laughed and it felt good.

"We're at a loss as how to continue - all we have is a name." Giles wiped the laughter tears from his cheeks. “Whistler did say if he discovered anything then he would come to us with the information. His absence suggests that the Powers have no idea.”

Giles pulled his glasses off and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Have you attempted to contact him?”

Buffy flopped down at the table and prodded the discarded leather bound books with a cautious finger, unwilling to go too near them in case Giles forced one on her.

Spike leaned back in his chair, letting the front legs leave the floor as he swung back and forth, his face a study of concentration. “Nope, been a bit busy recently. The short arse kind of slipped my mind-- it might be worth a shot?” Anya shrugged and rose and began to put the shop to rights, ready for the next day's trade.

Tara and Giles began to stack the defunct tomes of information. Giles glanced over at Buffy and then the telephone. She noticed the direction his eyes had travelled and the slender woman’s shoulders slumped as she divined the path his mind had travelled.

"We're gonna have to call Travers, aren't we?" Buffy's whispered comment broke the contemplative silence.

Giles nodded tiredly. "We have to - I have exhausted all the avenues of research I have."

Spike's head shot up and he eyed Buffy cautiously, unwilling to voice what they all were worrying about.

"Can you make the call?" Buffy asked tiredly. She had no wish to talk to the head of the Council and was eager to pass the buck.

Tara eyed Giles. She could see that his aura had darkened slightly and tried to calm him with a smile-- but it was to no avail. Willow had told her all about the way the Council had fired Giles and then sent Buffy 'Wesley the Weedy Watcher' – though, to be honest, the Wesley she had met hadn't been weedy at all. The quiet Wiccan knew that Giles making contact with his former boss was not an easy proposition for the older man.

"Why don't we ask Hoffie?" Anya stalled Giles just as his hand reached for the phone.

"Your ex boss?" Spike cocked his head. He felt marginally safer talking to the old Vengeance demon rather than the stick up the arse, Travers. The former was less likely to try and stake his girl on first sight. Though, there was the whole, 'ohhh a turned Slayer! What a novelty. I'll add her to my creepy collection of trophies…' problem with D'Hoffreyn. Spike figured that he would probably have enough time to rip the old demon's horns off and shove ‘em where the sun didn't shine if he eyed up his Slayer the wrong way.

Giles’s lips gave an enormous twitch at the thought of his shop manager summoning her former mentor, but managed to keep silent - at this moment, he would accept information from the devil if it would help. There was something unsettling about the entire situation. If he had been younger and more aware of pop culture references, he would have said his 'Spider senses were tingling', and not in a good way.

Before anyone else could toss in their two pennies worth, a phone rang.

Everyone looked around, wondering who had programmed such an irritating ring tone. One that sounded suspiciously familiar to Giles. The watcher's eyes landed on Spike who rocked in dissolute splendour on his chair, his Doc Martin clad feet now propped up on the research table.

"Wot?" Spike rumbled.

Giles arched an eyebrow at the lounging vampire who had now hooked his thumbs on the waistband of his sprayed on jeans, his fingers neatly framing something Giles would rather not not have his attention drawn to.

"Spike, I doubt any of the girls has a penchant for The Clash - answer your phone!"

Spike’s feet thudded heavily to the ground and what resembled a sheepish look flickered across his face. He fumbled in his pockets muttering under his breath.

"Got it," Spike muttered as he pulled out the small mobile from an inner pocket and then stared at the display. His pale blue eyes shot over to Buffy for a split second before he rose and stalked from the shop floor, and into the training room.

"He got it a few days ago...guess he's not used to it," Buffy trailed off. She strained to hear the hushed conversation in the other room, but failed miserably. She was getting sick of the calls Spike was getting daily and the mumbled cryptic conversations. After the calls, he would say nothing and curl up around her and snuffle at her hair.

"But the Clash?" Giles queried with a hint of exasperation in his voice.

"Better than I Wanna be Sedated," Buffy shrugged.

Spike swung the door open with a bang and stalked into the shop, muttering under his breath.

"Spike?" Anya called out as the agitated vampire began to pace back and forth an angry grimace on his face.

"Yeah, pidge?" Spike halted when he realised yet again he was the centre of attention.

"The call?" Buffy prompted patiently.

"Right...yeah. S'Peaches. Had some info and… well… we need the proverbial paddle," Spike muttered. He reached over and pulled Buffy up, sitting in her chair before prompting her to take a seat back in his lap.

"Paddle? Is that the weapon we need to defeat this Glory person?" Anya asked quizzically.

"No luv, it's a saying. Means we're in deep trouble," Spike explained gently.

Understanding blossomed across the ex-demon's face. Anya smiled brightly and gave a sharp nod. "Thank you for explaining." Her face glowed with pleasure that-- for once-- someone had taken the time to explain what they meant and not hushed her up impatiently.

"The call. What did Angel say?" Buffy growled, her eyes flashed lavender briefly, "And since when are you two phone buddies?" she snarked.

Spike deftly avoided the latter question; there was no way he was prodding that Hornet's nest. If his girl found out her ma was sickly and that Angel and he knew about it, then both their gooses were cooked. He'd gotten the short version of what had happened, and to be honest, if the Poof had’ve been in front of him, Spike would've staked him on the spot. 'Taking Mum and the Nibs into a Demon bar, what the bloody hell was the ponce thinking?' Spike rested his forehead against Buffy's throat and growled at the thought of Joyce and Dawn surrounded by slimy, oozing scum. 'If he wanted the girls read, why the ruddy hell didn't the brooding arse get the owner of the club to come to him?'

"Spike when you've finished pouting, could you possibly tell us what you have learned?" Giles interrupted Spike angry thoughts.

The blond vampire's head snapped up, "I don't brood, I was thinking deeply!" he added lamely. He was still ruminating over what Angel’s friend had revealed, about Joyce and the hair-brained plan the Poof was about to embark on.

The bloke, Lorne, had read Joyce to find out what was wrong with her, and he had found out the source of her illness. Which was not good, but Peaches had promised that Lorne had pointed him in the direction of a cure. But what the LA Fang Gang hadn't counted on, was Dawn humming along -- or the club owner's reaction. 'Pansy passed out! Nibblet's voice can't be that bad?'

Buffy pinched him hard on the hip as she pasted on a saccharine sweet smile. "What is it, Spike? Or do I have to get the Abba records out?"

"No! I'll talk. No Abba, luv." Spike thought quickly. There was no way he was going to tell the Slayer that her little sis had been in a demon bar, singing and being read by the proprietor. He knew if he did then he could kiss goodbye any snuggles or whatnot for the next hundred years or so.

"Seems that Watcher Jr and Peaches found out something. Turns out something nasty is about to rise in Sunnyhell. And-- not too surprisingly-- goes by the name Glorificus." Spike thanked his lucky stars for his quick thinking. Sometimes he could lie and not be caught out. He eyed his girl whose face had a worried look on it. 'She bought it,' he thought with relief.

"Glory...Glorificus. Well, there is no doubt, then." Giles sighed worriedly.

Spike looked up from Buffy's face. "Gets worse. Appears this bint's a Hell God."

"A god?"

"Yeah, that's the info Peaches and the Mini-Watcher dug up." Spike held his metaphorical breath. If they found out the information had been gleaned from Dawn's humming, he was buggered right good.

"A god? Buffy echoed Giles’s query.

"Tha's right, luv." Spike pulled her closer, trying to reassure his girl with his touch while at the same time, trying to calm himself.

"We're screwed," Anya sighed.

In which Buffy and Tara visit Riley in hospital.

A visit to the mental ward

Annnd Anya does something amazing!!


Exerpts taken from ATS The Trial and changed slightly by me to fit in with the plot. *Waits for bolt of lightening to strike me down.*

Megan – thank you so much for the betaing you are a star!!

Italics = thoughts

Buffy and Tara slipped into the side entrance of the Sunnydale Memorial Hospital. Giles had managed to find Riley through a contact. He had been found in a park covered in 'wild animal' bites and appeared to have lost his sanity.

Buffy had only half-heartedly smacked Spike upside the head when he had asked if Whitebread had ever been sane?

Giles had pulled Buffy aside after the meeting in the Magic Box and had--with extreme reluctance-- imparted the location and condition of her ex. After the revelations about Glory from Angel and Wes, the meeting had become fraught with tension and stress.

It was a god they were fighting and a god who had Dracula to help her out. Buffy had no idea what to do; instead she focused on each small task and accomplished them. Step by step: she called her Mom and spoke to her, cooked dinner—well, called for take out-- fed everyone, walked Giles and the girls back to his car, came back to the flat and cleared up.

With each small task accomplished, Buffy had regained a piece of herself. A Zen like calm descending on her with each small job done, but the best was soft gentle lovemaking that Spike and she indulged themselves in for the rest of the night. With each whisper soft touch and nibbled kiss, they came into their own, the soft caresses and gentle purrs all contributing to a relaxed pair of vampires.

Ready to take on whatever the Hellmouth spat up at them.

A god.

A Master vampire and his remaining Brides.

They would overcome these odds and more.

They could only hope and cling to each other in the darker moments of their lives.

***********

The others had dropped them off and then headed off to start searching yet again for Drac and Glory. Anya was curled up in the backseat chanting a spell continuously, one that Tara and Giles had created to hopefully dissipate whatever clouding protection Dracula had cast over his new home. Spike rode shotgun in the car that he had jokingly called the midlife crisis-mobile.

Giles had favoured him with a glare and a few choice words that none of the women wanted to know if Spike could do to himself. Spike had watched Buffy with guarded azure eyes as she and Tara had slipped into the side entrance; he wasn't too happy about the visit to the veggie that was his girl's ex, but knew that it was something that he couldn't or didn't want to prevent. Buffy was a good girl with a strong will and if she wanted to visit Cardboard, then she would.

Luckily, Glinda was there to help. He knew that if he went in Riley might get bitten - and not in the 'good' way that the ex-soldier used to troll for. Spike shuddered at the thought of watered down Finn blood in his gullet. The blond vampire licked the back of his hand to take away the imagined taste and then turned to tease Rupes a bit more about the penis-mobile.

*****

Buffy pressed up against Tara's side, the scents and sounds of the hospital gave her the shivers; it was an all too familiar reminder of her cousin Cecily. She hated hospitals - last time she had been in one, Angelus had tried to get to her. Only poor Xander had stood between her and Angelus's fangs.

Why had Xander changed so much? Was it her fault for involving him in her Slayer life? She shuddered again. Sadness filled her at the thought of her missing friend and what had happened to him. She hoped he was being helped, wherever Kendra and Whistler had taken him.

Tara tilted her head in question at Buffy. She had picked up on the distress that was emanating from her friend's small frame.

"What's wrong? Can you sense something?" Tara whispered, she kept her eyes on the busy corridor of E.R.

"Is it my fault Xander went wrong?" Misery etched fine lines around Buffy's mouth and eyes as she stared at Tara, hoping the serene woman would be able to answer the question she hadn't dared voice to Spike again. It nibbled at her consciousness, a hot prick of guilt that rushed through her every time she looked at Anya or thought about Willow.

Tara took a deep breath. She had wondered when Buffy would ask this question. She and Spike had thought it would have been sooner. But instead it had taken several days. She had pondered what to say to Buffy over and over, even talking to Spike and asking his opinion. She had known asking Anya would have lead to tears and recriminations. Giles had sidestepped the issue the one time she had tried to start a discussion. So instead Tara had turned to Spike, with a great deal of trepidation in her heart.

She had been genuinely surprised by the blond vampire's level-headed responses. He urged Tara to let Buffy come to her and to listen to all her worries. He had instinctively known that Buffy would approach Tara. She was her closest link to Willow - her best friend-- and also was a nurturer by nature. A motherly figure, in tune with her feelings and the earth and because of that, much more equipped to assist Buffy. Spike added that he had done his best in reassuring his slayer - but sometimes girly chats were good for the soul.

Spike had ducked his head and muttered something about needing to find some male friends before it was too late and swaggered off to have a smoke. So here was the dreaded question that Tara had been expecting. She took a deep breath and reached out to cup Buffy's shoulders. Buff managed to control the surprise in her face and the touch of Tara's hands - even though they were all adapting to her being a vampire.

Other than Spike and her Mom, neither Giles, Anya nor Tara had initiated physical contact with her. She missed it, but at the same time her fangs itched against her gums, wanting a taste. She forced the urge down, firmly reminding herself that Tara was not for nibbling on; Spike was.

Tara watched the lavender flicker in and out of Buffy's hazel eyes and could feel the tension coursing through her friend's slight frame. Instead of withdrawing she tightened her hold, aware that Buffy had to get used to her and human contact. Otherwise there would always be this battle with her two sides and Tara didn't want Buffy having to struggle - in her own inimitable words, she's have to deal with it!

"Buffy, listen to me. Xander made his own choices. It was nothing you did. He wanted to help; he could've left at any time, but he didn't. Buffy, whatever mind thrall Dracula put on Xander, it only brought to the fore whatever Xander was suppressing in his psyche. It's not your fault, okay?" Tara gave Buffy a gentle squeeze to emphasis her last comments, secretly amazed that she had managed such a long speech without a single stutter.

Buffy peeked up through her thick lashes at the determined Wiccan who was still cradling her slim shoulders in her hands. Seeing only concern in Tara's eyes, Buffy nodded and opened her mouth to reply, but was interrupted before she could.

"Buffy? Buffy Summers?" A clipped familiar voice interrupted the two girls. Tara and Buffy whirled to face the taller man who walked towards them with an easy grin on his face. His ice blue eyes lit up with pleasure at the sight of Buffy.

Buffy frowned, 'guess I wasn't on his contact list...so much for being the girlfriend and reason he stayed in Sunnydale, wasn't even on his ‘in case of an emergency call’ her list! But nooo, instead have the army come and get me...same guys who pumped me full of meds and made me nuts.'

"You look really well!" Graham exclaimed as he reached to take Buffy's hand. Tara rested a hand on Buffy's shoulder and whispered under her breath. A jolt of warmth ran through Buffy's body, heating her from the inside out. Buffy glanced over at Tara in surprise as Graham took her now warm hand and shook it. She widened her eyes slightly, smiled softly at the Wiccan’s quick thinking. Heating her body so as to protect her from Graham and the army.

"Umm, you too!" Buffy gushed and gingerly pulled her hand away before it could cool back down.

Graham's chiselled face quickly slid into a worried set and he glanced over his shoulder. "You're here to see Riley?"

"We only just heard," Tara cut in before Buffy could speak. Buffy nodded mutely, her teeth worrying at her full lower lip.

Graham frowned. "But I thought that you guys were dating?"

Buffy shook her head. "Not since I found out he was visiting, umm, well, he was…" flustered she broke off and stared at Tara for help.

"Since he was getting a bit?" Graham offered.

Buffy's neck cracked loudly, as she did a double take at the unusually non-communicative ex- Initiative soldier. "You...know?"

Graham nodded and gestured for them to follow him. As they walked, he carried on talking in a low voice. "Kinda hard not to notice he is covered in bites and, from the docs notes, some of them are… well… in inappropriate places."

Graham paused and his ears flushed red in embarrassment. "Sorry. Not the gentlemanly thing to do, right? Make with the indiscrete comments to the recent ex?"

"It's okay. Nothing I didn't know already." Buffy nodded her head firmly to emphasise how okay she was with the lack of Riley in her life. Tara was a silent-- but supportive-- presence next to her as they approached the Mental Health wing of the Sunnydale Memorial.

"Yeah, but kinda weird to go looking to get bit on purpose." Graham frowned at the dangers Riley had deliberately placed himself in. Being a well-trained soldier with knowledge of the demon world, he should've known better.

"I know, it's a whole thing. Giles, my Watcher, said that people have been paying to be bitten for centuries. There's a whole rush to it. Personally, I don't get it." Buffy thanked her lucky stars she couldn't blush; she knew exactly why Riley went shopping for a bite.

When Spike sank his fangs into her willing throat-- or any other part of her body-- it was amazing. Buffy rubbed her backside cautiously, wondering if Spike’s recent nibble would leave a scar. But with Spike it was done with love and visa versa, with Riley-- it was just sordid and kinda tacky. Also, the whole dry humping episode in the cemetery after discovering Buffy's newly undead status still grossed her out.

Graham looked down at the top of Buffy's head, a slight smile of surprise quirked his lips-- he'd forgotten how cute she could be. Goofy, but cute.

"Right, so Riley was visiting vamp whores for a bite and you dumped his ass?"

Buffy nodded. So the timing was kinda fudged but what Graham was saying was true. "Uh huh." She shrugged and stared over at the silent Tara who was looking anywhere but at the tall Soldier.

"Good for you; he was a liability. If he had been turned you would've had no idea - your family and friends would have been dead! The moment you said ‘come on in, honey…’" Graham shook his head in disbelief at Riley.

"Man, I knew Walsh had messed with his head, but not this bad. You okay?" He directed his question at the stupefied Buffy.

"Surprised, but okay. I never thought…"

"What? That a soldier would have a brain and could see different sides of the equation, realise Riley was in the wrong?" Graham shook his head at the two stunned women, a wry smile causing his face to wrinkle and his eyes to twinkle. "We're not all jarheads, Buffy. Some of us can have an opinion of our own."

"Sorry, but you know after the whole Initiative thing, you get kinda wary of anyone in commando gear." Buffy put on her best 'I'm a cute girl, forgive me’ face and was rewarded with another grin and a reassuring nod from Graham.

"I get it. Here we are.” Graham rested his hand on the door to the private room that Riley had been moved into. “Look, I should warn you, he's not really that great."

Buffy's sharp hearing could hear Riley mumbling something under his breath.

"What have the doctors found?" Tara asked with a faint quiver of nervousness to her voice.

"Well, multiple animal bites." Graham rolled his eyes at this. "As if they've not seen enough of those yet," he added sarcastically. Amazed at how the 'civililians' in Sunnydale rationalised anything supernatural into a wild animal or unfortunate barbeque fork in the neck attack. "And then the, you know."

"Making with the crazy?" Buffy supplied helpfully.

"Yeah, that. First they thought it was cos of all the bites and exposure, but now they have no clue." Graham leant over.

"The army docs have scanned him and they have a theory. Come on in so we can talk without being overheard and you can see Riley." The tall soldier pushed open the door and walked in.

Buffy and Tara hesitated at the threshold and then followed the man into the ward.

"Pretty, pretty...coming for the party." Riley's baritone voice broke the shocked silence.

"All very naughty. I told the damsels no! Enough, no more...tis not as sweet as it was before...but they took and took until the well was almost dry."

Riley rocked back and forth in his bed, his hands scratching at the multiple bite wounds that marred his chest. Blood seeped through the thick hospital gown as he re-opened the Bride's bite wounds.

He held his blood-soaked fingers up to his face. "No...no...not…good. The Warrior Queen will take away my privileges; must clean...must cover up. Hide away, hide...hide." Riley pulled his bedclothes over his head and began to hum a mindless tune.

Buffy exchanged a shocked glance with Tara at the sight of her ex babbling like a baby.

"What's with the double speak?" Buffy queried.

Graham glanced over at Riley's large form huddled under the covers, his expression a mixture of worry and anger.

"The doc's I brought have examined him, and apart from the obvious bite marks and near exsanguination, there is something wrong with his brain."

Tara stepped closer to the bed and her hand drifted over the blankets. Slowly she caught hold of the edge and pulled it away, revealing Riley's face. It was covered in tears and a Munch-like expression. She raised her hand and gently stroked his forehead, trying to ease the distress that vibrated off his entire form. She gazed intently at him, as if trying to see through the large soldier's head.

"What's she doing?" Graham whispered as he sidled up next to Buffy.

"His aura is shattered," Tara whispered. "Bits of it are missing. I can feel almost a faint electrical presence lingering here… and here." She placed her hands over the spots on either side of his head where Glory's fingers had penetrated.

"It feels wrong." She drew back and shook her hands, trying to loosen the tension that had seeped into them. "It's like his essence has been drawn out of him."

"Rather interesting that you can sense that through touch; it took my entire team and a MRI to ascertain the patient's condition. And you are?" A tall bespectacled man held out a hand to Tara his, white coat and educated demeanour all signalling he was a doctor.

Buffy stepped up next to Tara protectively.

Tara smiled briefly at Buffy and then shook the newcomer’s hand. "I'm a friend of Riley's." She released his hand and turned back to Buffy.

The Slayer was now staring down at Riley's shivering form, a mixture of guilt and sorrow filling her expressive eyes. Tara reached down and squeezed Buffy's hand, the silent Slayer clinging onto her friend's hand and anchoring herself.

***********

"I say!" Giles slammed on the brakes and pointed excitedly out the driver's window. "I think we found it!"

Spike peered around the excited man, narrowly avoiding being belted in the eye by a tweed-clad elbow. "Not one for a suburban semi, is he?" All three of them eyed the Gothic pile that Vlad the Impaler called his home.

Anya rolled her eyes and kept the unveiling spell going, her voice hoarse from the repetitive chant. Spike flicked a concerned glance over at the tiring girl and then nudged Giles. The ex-Watcher peered over his glasses at the annoying vampire next to him

"What?"

"Demon girl's getting a bit knackered, anything you can do to help? I know you've gotta bit of mojo in you. And before you get all huffy and try to polish a hole in your glasses, can smell it a mile off," Spike tapped the side of his nose.

Giles sighed and counted to ten. Again. He then looked over at the smirking git that his Slayer had taken up with and then silently asked the gods when he would be finished paying for his Egyon days. He was positive that Buffy had been placed on this earth to age him rapidly and help with his ever-decreasing hairline.

With a humph, Giles reached over and scrabbled through the glove box and pulled out a neatly folded map of Sunnydale. Giles fumbled in his pocket as Spike and Anya watched with great interest to see what sort of magical device he would produce to ensure that they would remember Drac's location.

With a twinkle in his eyes, Giles pulled out his battered and much used fountain pen. With a dramatic flourish he placed an X on the map and recapped his pen. "There we go; you can stop chanting now, Anya."

Spike stared at the map and then at Giles. "That's it?"

"Yes." Giles smiled smugly. He wasn't about to spoil his fun by revealing that he had incanted a spell of permanency on the mark, to Spike, as the look on his face was simply too entertaining.

Spike reached under the seat and handed over a bottle of Evian to Anya. She accepted it with a smile and a brief nod before gulping it down. It soothed her aching throat and refreshed her parched mouth.

"Ruddy disappointing, that." Spike refolded the map so that the marked section was facing up and squinted out the window. "Something’s happening over there." Spike nodded to the right side of the house.

Three scabby brown-robed minions scurried around the side and headed towards the street.

"Duck!" Giles hissed and yanked Spike down as Anya slid off her seat and crouched in the footwell.

"You arse!" Spike yelped as his forehead made contact with the dashboard with a sickening crunch.

"Shussh," Giles slapped his hand over Spike's mouth. Inwardly quailing at the image of a Watcher pressing his hand against a Vampire's mouth, he wondered if something such as this had ever happened.

"The mistress needs her shoes." A disembodied voice cut through Spike and Giles's antics. The three of them froze in the car.

"Yes, I know the most radiant Glorificus needs her dainty feet to be shod in only the finest, but where are we going to find Jimmy Choo's in Sunnydale?" another ratty voice replied.

Spike eye's flashed amber and his fangs started to drop; Giles felt the bones shifting in the vampire's face and hastily pulled his hand away. He watched as Spike's face flashed between its two incarnations.

"Well, we have to get them for the fragrantly scented one!" voice one replied filled with sycophantic agitation. There was a rustling of robes as the two of them scurried off.

"That was interesting." Anya straightened and started to pat her hair back into place she peered out the window and checked that the coast was clear.

"Drac's in bed with the Glory bint?" Spike snarled and vamped out. Giles sat up and watched as Spike ground his fangs together.

"I am sure he is. Dracula is drawn to powerful women. I remember a time during the Suez crisis when he…" Anya paused.

"Yeah? Wot happened?" Spike prodded.

"Um, well, you sure you want to hear this? Usually…" Anya was flustered at the lack of interruptions.

"Go on, Suez and Dracula?" Giles was fascinated. Sometimes he forgot how much Anya and Spike had witnessed; they had both seen and heard so much.

"Well, he found out what I was through a mutual friend and he pursued me from one end of the Mediterranean to the other. I did succumb in the end." Anya stopped here, aware that Spike may not want to hear of Dracula's prowess in bed.

Spike ground his fangs together even more; Giles muttered something under his breath and turned to stare out at the Mansion. He pondered the safety of taking a closer look, but before he could suggest it, he heard the passenger door click shut.

"He really has no impulse control at all!" Giles grumbled and followed after him.

"I'll stay here and act as a lookout," Anya called out quietly. She scrambled over the seat and took Giles's recently vacated position.

*********

"I apologize for any discomfort this may be causing. I really - can't imagine the pain."

Angel grimaced and clenched his fists, not pulling against the chains that held him positioned in front of the wall of stakes. "I die, she lives right?"

"Yes. I'm unaware of any deities the vampire worships, but if you'd like to pray," the man who was in charge of the trials pulled a lever and the stakes pulled back, spring-loaded into place. "Now would be the time."

"What are you waiting for?" Angel stared at the stakes.

"For you sir, I can't proceed without your permission. You've earned a choice. Accept your death so she may live or..."

"Or what?" Angel growled.

"Leave. Refuse the challenge and walk away. No one will stop you. Our doors are all open to you. You've done that yourself." The suited man replied honestly as he held his breath, hoping that the Champion for the Powers would indeed walk away in order to fight another day.

"What about…?" Angel panted.

"Oh, she dies," the major domo type replied dispassionately.

"No deal." Angel braced himself.

"No deal," the immobilised vampire growled out a second time.

"I expected as much. A pity. I'm beginning to like you." His captor sighed and Angel rolled his eyes

"Spare me."

"I'd very much like to." He stepped closer to Angel, curiosity lighting his eyes. "Do you mind if I ask you a question? Isn't the world a better place with you in it? You can save so many people. Why sacrifice yourself for this one? She doesn't even like you."

"You know better than anyone the world can be a very merciless place. If you sacrifice yourself for her, take yourself out, ensuring her life and what differences can she make? She is mortal – human and not a Champion - unlike you who fights for the Powers," he added as he watched Angel pull slightly against his chains

"I made a Blood oath," Angel answered simply. "It's my duty to help her no matter what the cost. I have no wish not to help her - she is family. I have no choice but to do all I can to help her," he sighed.

"No - you don't. Are you still ready to give her life at the cost of your own?" the Jeeves type asked.

"Yes," Angel replied firmly. He had made a promise…an oath.

"As you wish."

"Do it," Angel ordered.

The man nodded and released the stakes and watched sadly as they hurtled towards the vampire.

*********

The Brits ran low and fast across the neatly manicured lawn. They both came to a halt under a window and waited a beat before peering in.

The sight that was presented to them was a disconcerting one to say the least. Dracula and his two brides were indulging in a sexual game that made Spike wince and cover his delicates with a protective hand. "Makes your eyes water, don't it, mate?"

Giles stared, appalled at the sight of Dracula and the two vampiresses. "Why on earth are they bending it that way? That can't be good for it?"

Spike pulled the mesmerised man away and yanked him along to the next set of windows.

"Really Spike, why on earth would he let them pierce it there?" Giles glanced over his shoulder.

"Cos it hurts so good. What am I? The vamp equivalent of Dr Ruth?” Spike replied absently as he yanked Giles down into a crouch. "What are you acting like a scandalised virgin for? Not like all you trainee Watchers don't have a giggle and a fiddle over engravings in The Vampyre?" Spike snorted and peeked over the windowsill. “I know I did.”

“Really? You’ve read it?” Giles stared in surprise at Spike.

“Yeah, and the Slayer’s handbook – not a knuckle dragging illiterate here. Why?” Spike scented the air, trying to locate Glory and also refrained form listing William’s academic achievements.

He paused and then looked back into the window.

"That's the bint." Spike glared at Glory who was mid rant at yet another of her rat faced followers.

"Terrible hair!" Giles leaned forward to get a better look at the Hell god that had beaten Buffy so easily and stumbled, falling against the window with a resounding clatter.

"You're the arse, not me!" Spike growled as he pulled Giles away, just as the window shattered and Glory leapt out.

"Move it, Grandad!" Spike pulled Giles along with him as he scarpered, unwilling to get his balls handed to him on a Glory shaped platter again. .

"Ahh!" Giles was pulled backwards and away from Spike, his head narrowly missing a tree trunk.

Spike span and reached for Giles who was being embraced by one of the Brides, her fangs dangerously close to the struggling Watcher's jugular. “Oh, good show, Giles. Uhh... at least you didn't get knocked out for a change. You must be one of the remaining Brides? Fascinating, under less fang filled circumstances I would say it was delightful… Um…where's your Master?"

"Ohh, he's around here somewhere," the Bride snarled around her fangs. She tightened her grip on Giles and leant in for a bit, her back to the action – she was confident of Glory’s success.

Spike's head snapped around as Glory's fist made impact; he flipped backwards to avoid her next blow.

There was a roar of a car engine and then the screech of brakes. Glory bellowed in pain as Giles's car pinned her against the Castle wall.

Spike stared in awe as Anya leant out of the car window and fired a crossbow at Giles's captor and yelled for the two of them to get in.

The bolt unerringly found it's mark and with a whimper the Bride crumpled to dust before Spike's very satisfied eyes. Giles fell forward and hit the grass heavily. Spike reached over and grabbed him by the back of his jacket, opened the car door and threw Giles onto the back seat. The blond vampire then flung himself on top of Giles.

"Drive!" he bellowed.

"In a moment!" Anya screamed back as she flicked through the spell book Giles had given her to use earlier. "Where is it - where is it! Ah ha - Got it!" Anya screamed out some words, at the same time throwing the book over her shoulder, hitting Giles on the temple and knocking him out. He collapsed without even a whimper under Spike's body.

A flash of blue light enveloped the pinned figure of Glory and washed back into the mansion to blast Dracula and her remaining Bride. Slamming the car in reverse, the ex-demon hit the accelerator and shot off.

"Watch out for the mailbox!" Spike screamed as Anya steered erratically down the road. He clambered over and collapsed into the passenger seat. "Save our bloody lives from the hellgod and the vampire, only to do us in in a bleeding road traffic accident. That is not the way William the Bloody is going out."

"I did save you, didn't I?" Anya asked perkily, her eyes glued to the road.

"That you did. Right good job of it you did as well, pet." Spike glanced back at Giles, who was still sleeping the sleep of the unconscious.

"Thank you. I was worried I would be injured or die." She glanced over at Spike. "You're not injured, are you? Buffy will not be happy if I return you in less than perfect condition."

"M'fine, pet. Good move using the motor. Wot was that ditty you cast?" Spike reached into his pockets and pulled out a cigarette, figuring Giles was out for the count; he lit it and puffed away happily.

"Something to make them forget us," Anya squeaked as she narrowly missed a parked car. Spike reached over and steadied the wheel.

"Nice idea, pet, but Drac's going to notice one of his birds are missing." Spike inhaled a deep drag of nicotine and puffed out a series of smoke rings.

"No, it's a mutable spell. As far as they are concerned, they were attacked. That, I couldn't change, but what I could do was cloud their minds as to who it was. As far as they are concerned, it was a rival of Dracula's and nothing more-- a Clan skirmish."

"Not bad, Anya, not bad at all." Giles pulled himself up and rubbed the side of his temple gingerly. "Thank you for saving me. I must say, you're very adept with the crossbow."

"Well, she would be you nit, what with coming from the medieval times!" Spike chuntered.

Giles reached over and plucked the cigarette from Spike's fingers, took a puff and then flicked it expertly out the open window. "Don't smoke in my car, Spike."

"Yes, dad."

"Oh, do stop it!" Giles exclaimed.

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