"So when do we do this take back the marbles thing?" Xander asked almost casually as he affixed the drywall that Buffy and Spike held in place.

"We don't," Buffy announced. "The point of giving you those things in the first place was to try to prevent you getting hurt. We're not going to let you go into that sort of danger."

"What's the danger? It's not like we're stealing the things. We're taking them back," Xander protested.

Spike raised an imperfect eyebrow and tilted his head on one side to look at the man. "An' what if these demons have got some superstition about anyone other than the proper guardians touchin' their holiest of holies? Think your brand new missus is gonna approve?"

Anya answered the question herself, from her seat on the stairs. "No, she isn't. I want you here with me, Xander, not dead in some cave miles underground."

"But, Ahn-."

"Demon bint's right. We don't want any more people involved in this than need be an' you don't need to be. Given a choice, I'd go with me, the junior watcher an' Bee. Thing is I don't know if the watcher can keep up that trance thing the way the good witch could."

"Aren't you forgetting someone?" Buffy's coy look had Xander backing away from his position between the two.

"I don't think so. This little detour is a luxury. Anyone as goes has to be expendable, an' you, sugar lips, are anything but."

"That is such a crock of macho bullshit!" Buffy sputtered, almost dropping her grip on the board she held, to close on the vampire. It wasn't anger that filled her eyes, though, but concern.

"Doesn't make it less true," the vampire countered, his voice firm but soft.

"Please, will you two stop even pretending to fight," Anya interrupted. "You're both so damn glowy, it's just ridiculous. Do you really think that there's anyone in the room who doesn't know that you've spent all afternoon since we left giving each other orgasms until you've overdosed on happy hormones?"

"There was actually someone in the room trying very hard not to acknowledge the fact," Xander told her.

Spike sighed and lowered his head so he looked at his future wife through a veil of dark lashes. "Bitlet needs you, love. If anything happens down there, then you've at least got a chance of sortin' out the whole thing with Quentin an' his buddies. The good guys can't afford to lose a slayer. That gives you leverage. Without you, they'd stake me soon as look at me.

I can see better in the dark than you can. If there's a rockfall, it's not like I'm gonna suffocate. If any of the caves are flooded, which is more than possible at that depth, then I don't need to worry about breathin' or hypothermia and we can't both go, 'cause that way, if there is trouble, then no one up here will know."

Buffy shook her head. "The fight thing only works when we're close together. I haven't picked up on a single fight you've been in this past couple of weeks."

"You haven't picked up on any of the fights I've been in because I've been concentratin' on makin' sure you didn't, pet. Didn't want you worryin' about me when your head was already chock full of other things."

"You've been thinking about this way too much." Buffy didn't so much concede the argument as put it on hold until she had a chance to think her way around the problem.

Somehow, without either of them being aware of having moved, she was wrapped in his arms, cool hands reassuringly stroking her hair and arm as she rested her cheek against his chest.

"I don't want you to go without me," she whispered so quietly against his neck that human ears would have been oblivious, even if Xander wasn't preoccupied with trying to affix the drywall more firmly before it fell under its own weight from the support framework he had built.

Spike's sotto voce reply was likewise ignored. "I know, love, but we can't always have everything we want."

 

* * * * *

 

"Thank you." Buffy slid her hand into his as they stepped off the porch.

"Wasn't aware I'd done anything, pet."

"You played nice with Xander... and you talked him out of tagging along on your pot-holing expedition."

"But into patrolling with you if we don't make it back by nightfall."

"That's not a 'but'. That's an 'and'."

"If you say so, sunshine." Without even a break in his stride, Spike pressed his lips against her temple, dropping her hand so that he could wrap his arm around her shoulders. Buffy's hand wriggled its way under Spike's battered leather until her thumb found a belt loop at the far side of his waist and the vampire shortened his stride to perfectly match Buffy's more petite legs. All the minute adjustments simply fell seamlessly into place, not like when she used to date Riley or even to a lesser extent Angel with their awkward half steps designed to let her catch up and the tension in their muscles from taking steps they found unnaturally short. To Buffy it was simply one more sign that she was where she belonged.

 

* * * * *
Thursday, June 13th, 2002

 

Sarah knew she shouldn't have been out on her own. They were supposed to have a buddy system. No one went out anywhere without their "buddy", at least not since last week, not after what had happened to Kennedy. Sarah had simply reached breaking point. She'd been unable to cope with the hideous pretend accent of her so called "buddy" any longer. She might not be a "Southern pansy" born and bred. She had only been found by her watcher, Robson, and brought from Cumbria to London three months earlier, but she was willing to bet that, even in London's East End, no one really spoke like that unless they were auditioning for Mary Poppins or My Fair Lady. She had listened to her chatter on until she thought her head would burst and finally she had sneaked out for some peace and quiet and to smoke a cigarette in blissful solitude without any of the watchers giving her disapproving looks. It hadn't even been dark, then.

Kennedy had been in training with her watcher and all her personal coaches for years. Sarah had overheard some of the French and Belgian potentials talking about her when they thought the others in the room were unable to keep up with their rapid French. They said that she had been training for too long, that she had missed her chance and that was why she hated the current slayers, because she thought they should have died so that she could be "The Chosen One". They said it was practically unheard of for a slayer to be in her twenties when she was called. Sarah didn't know if they were right. At eighteen, she almost hoped they were. Kennedy seemed to regard slayerdom as her birthright, a chance to prove she was more than just an arrogant, spoiled brat even though her assumption that she was the most worthy candidate suggested her to be simply that. Sarah thought, for all but a very elite few, it was most likely a short, hard, lonely one-way ticket to a six-sided wooden box. She did know that when Kennedy had been ambushed by a whole gang of demons, even on her own, she had managed to kill four of them and get away. Sarah had been captured by one man, one man in a battered pick up truck, asking for directions.

 

* * * * *

 

Patrol was quiet, too quiet, in fact, reminding Buffy of the period when the demons had been deliberately allowing themselves to be captured by The Initiative, while avoiding her grasp. They swung by to visit Lily and Clem, knowing that Marie and Rosa would already be at Wes's for the night and Rosa long tucked up in bed in the spare room.

Lily beamed with joy at seeing the two of them back in each other's company and Spike's good humour restored, but Clem seemed ill at ease as he waited for Ha Nath to visit him when she finished work. The normally cheerful demon seemed depressed about his virtual house arrest and isolation and worried that something would happen to his girl. Lily's mood soon fell to match his once more.

"They won't hunt her down, will they? Not when the girl attacked first?"

Buffy shook her head. "I don't know. They might try but I don't see..."

"They'll just watch Wes... and then they'll follow Marie... and she'll lead them to me... and then they'll find Ha Nath. I kinda wish she hadn't helped. I mean, we were in public. How much could she have hurt me in public? If Ha Nath hadn't got involved-."

"Clem, I blew up a demon with a rocket launcher in the middle of Sunnydale mall once and no one said a peep. That girl could have beaten you to death if your girlfriend hadn't stepped in and I, for one, am glad she was there, but I understand why you're worried about her. If she doesn't show, any time you're meant to be meeting up, I want you to call us. Giles is trying to convince some of the council members to back off but it's going to take time. And if you want to go out somewhere with your girlfriend, I know it's not the same as going out on your own but Spike and I could double with you. I think that would be pretty safe..."

"You would?" Clem's face brightened considerably. "I wanted to take her somewhere nice next Tuesday. I couldn't decide between a meal and bowling. Then I thought maybe we could get a meal at the bowling alley. It's our one month anniversary."

Spike shook his head, not knowing whether to tease his friend for remembering dates like a girl or make some more constructive suggestions as to a rather more romantic evening, but then foursomes weren't exactly romantic to begin with and maybe Clem knew better than he did what his bird would like, so...

 

* * * * *

 

They avoided the first couple of groups, easily spotting them before the girls and their watchers saw them and skirting around them.

"Isn't it past their curfew by now?" Buffy muttered as they made a second detour. "How am I supposed to stay in shape if they're everywhere doing the slaying for me?"

"I thought we managed a pretty good work out this afternoon..."

Buffy flushed under his gaze. "I suspect we burned off some calories but I don't think I'll be using those moves in a fight any time soon..."

"I'm always up for a sparring session with you, pet."

"Will you stop it?" Buffy asked, changing course once more. "They're everywhere and apart from the whole modesty thing they'd probably decide you were attacking me. Do you really want to die with your pants 'round your ankles?"

The vampire's grin only widened as he contemplated the question.

Before he could speak Buffy cut him off. "And the correct answer to that is 'no', not 'it'd be a hell of a way to go'." As she noticed not only a fourth but also a fifth group of girls plus watchers Buffy decided she had had enough. There was no way they were going to get their order of Chinese food back to the mansion for Faith tonight without any of the council's lackeys spotting them. Dropping the bag, and forsaking the cover of the cemetery's foliage she half-jumped, half-stepped onto a nearby bench, demanding in a voice loud enough to attract the attention of all the groups, "What the bloody hell is going on here?"

Spike's gentle laughter and his whispered, "You can't get away with 'bloody' in that accent, pet," did rather ruin the dramatic effect she had been working for, however, and she was forced to nudge him in the back with the toe of her boot before he stopped smirking. She had managed to get the attention of those around her and the oldest member of one group had moved to intercept her, followed closely by a potential who seemed to think it was her right to hear anything that might be said, a potential whose ponytail bounced as she held her head high and whose right hand was encased in plaster.

"Miss Summers, I presume." Her English was flawless, but the slightest hint of an accent indicated that perhaps Italian was her first language. Spike stepped around behind the woman, who other than giving him a brief, wary glimpse seemed to decide that she was best to let his presence go and concentrate on Buffy. His cold glare stopped Kennedy dead in her tracks at a range where she was still unable to hear what was being said between the slayer and the watcher. As she froze, Spike moved in to circle her like the predator he was, playing the game of intimidation at which he was a master. Buffy would have felt sorry for anyone else.

"You presume right. Now, why don't you tell me what you're all playing at? Any demon worthy of the name would hear your little army way before he walked into the middle of you and isn't it past their bedtimes?"

"One of the girls is missing. We're not patrolling. They're search parties."

"These parties are concentrated where... other than the graveyards?"

"Well, I believe some people went to that club in town just in case there's a more innocent explanation, but mostly we're checking out the demon hotspots."

"What about the actual Hellmouth?"

"We drove past earlier but the construction crews are working overtime. I don't see-."

Buffy was already gone, her vampire on her heels. If she had had the breath to spare she would have laughed at Spike's shouted, "This had better not make us miss the kick off."

They were still a block from the construction site when Buffy felt her bond with Spike kick in. The vampire had, by sheer force of will, managed to close the gap between them despite her slayer speed.

"What is it?" she gasped, slowing to look for enemies, her breath uneven from the prolonged run.

Spike grabbed her hand and pulled her on toward the chain link fence that surrounded the site until she resumed her former pace. "Not here. Up ahead. Blood. Lots of it." His gaze fixed on the figures moving around the perimeter of the half finished building. "That and the fact that for all those people moving around up there there's not a builder's bum cleavage in sight."

Buffy trusted to the vampire's guiding hand, knowing that if she stumbled he wouldn't let her fall and focused on his clearer view of the distant figures. The area around the site's generators was brightly lit and other lights showed throughout most of the building where a veritable crew of workmen moved around in brightly coloured hard hats. >From a distance everything appeared much as it would if the crews had been working overtime, only, Spike was right. The black robes didn't go particularly well with their disguise.

"Bringers."

 

* * * * *

 

They barely slowed as they launched themselves at the fence, Spike clearing it in one bound, Buffy throwing herself high onto it and then using her momentum to carry her into a forward roll over the top. Black-robed figures began to spill from the building as the pair closed over the rough ground, Spike swerving slightly to grab a couple of lengths of scaffolding pole from a pile on the ground and tossing one to Buffy.

"There's too many," Buffy whispered. "It's going to take too long to fight our way through."

"Then, don't go through them." For just a fraction of a second Spike's gaze dropped to the six foot pole she carried. "I'll keep as many of them busy as I can. You, go, find the girl."

Buffy shifted her grip on the metal in her hands, letting Spike get slightly ahead. For just a second she watched with pride as Spike and the harbingers came together, the metal rod twirling in his hands with a speed and dexterity that kept his attackers at bay. The sight triggered memories of their second meeting, way back on Parent Teacher Night, and caused a heat that made her hope the situation could be resolved quickly. Then, she grabbed her moment. Planting one end of her pole in the ground between two bringers, she launched herself into the air feet first and sailed over their heads while they were still expecting an attack. Even as she loosened her grip on the pole and sprinted for the basement, Spike's makeshift staff cracked into the nearest bringer's shinbone, sending him falling on top of his neighbour.

Through Spike's eyes she saw two of The First's other minions back away from the vampire and chase after her and she could almost feel his frustration, even though he was managing to keep a further seven occupied. It didn't matter, two she could deal with easily.

She ran as if she had no more thought than to put as much distance between herself and her unseeing pursuers as possible, but as soon as she rounded the first corner, where she was hopefully obscured from their sonar or whatever "Daredevil" power they used to find their way, she pulled up as quickly as she could and reversed direction to wait for them, pressing her back against the wall. Fortune smiled on her and the harbingers took the corner two abreast, the nearest one even carrying his wickedly curved dagger unsheathed in his hand. All she had to do was reach out across his body, grab his wrist and twist. His own momentum drove him onto the blade. As his wrist snapped he was unable to hold the dagger any more and Buffy grabbed the hilt with her free hand. She kept a firm grip on the leather-bound handle as her foot rose in a front kick that connected with the blind man's hip, pushing him sideways and away to block his companion's approach and incidentally ripping the carefully sharpened blade out of the bringer by a very messy route.

She didn't have the advantage of surprise with the second one, but she was the slayer, she was armed and even if she had to keep watching for new arrivals from the basement, she had all the advantages she needed. A flurry of punches, a couple of kicks and then, as the evil monk blocked low, the blade in her hand slashed high, slicing through the arteries on his neck and leaving blood spatter in an arc across both the wall and her as he fell.

For an instant she concentrated on Spike's fight. Holding off so many opponents, the vampire seemed to be making little progress. As she watched one black-robed figure fall to his knees from the force of the blow Spike landed on his shoulder, another regained his feet and joined the circle around the blond. Nevertheless, his opponents seemed wary of getting too close and the arcs described by the deftly handled staff kept them too far at bay to use their daggers. It was pretty much a stalemate... so long as Spike didn't make a mistake, which meant it was her job to do what she had to do before he got tired enough to make one.

 

* * * * *

 

Somehow, Buffy wasn't surprised to see the pneumatic drill and the concrete rubble that was all that remained of Xander's attempt to ensure that the seal couldn't be used. The giant wooden wheel suspended over it, she had to admit, was new, and the lifeless corpse tied to it, her blood slowly draining, drop by drop onto the shiny metal, made her stomach heave.

"You're kinda late, girlie girl. Ah had been hopin' that your little friend there would still be alive to pass on my message so me and mah boys wouldn't need to hang around." The sneering Southern drawl came from the shadows and Buffy wished she had Spike's night sight to allow her to penetrate the gloom. The voice seemed to come from higher and higher as he continued, the scuff of leather on metal hinting as to why. "But then, a whore of Babylon such as yourself who lies down with creatures of the night probably isn't the kinda person you can rely on for good time keepin'."

"Are you anywhere near finished, yet?" Buffy's sarcasm meter hit full tilt. A long rasp of metal on stone told her that her tormentor had most likely removed his means of escape, but it wasn't like she needed a ladder to get out of a one storey hole. She ran toward the darkened corner as the voice floated down to her.

"Ah do believe Ah am... for now."

A vicious slap to her face lifted her off her feet and sent her flying back across the room, landing badly as her back impacted the sharp edge where she assumed the bringers had dug down through nine inches of concrete to clear the seal, and the back of her head colliding hard with the floor.

"Ah think you'll find mah co-worker here can provide ya with sufficient amusement for the time bein' an' maybe if ya open that gapin' maw between your legs ya might even distract him from beatin' ya to a bloody pulp. Course, he hasn't eaten in a while so that's not exactly likely... Be seein' ya."

 

* * * * *

 

Spike gave up his attempts to hold the harbingers at bay, ramming the hollow pole like a spear-cum-cookie cutter straight through the chest of the figure blocking his most direct route to Buffy and then sprinting through the resulting gap. He expected the monk-types to follow him, but right now his priority was to get himself between Buffy and the nightmare creature who was tossing her round like a rag doll. The bringers seemed to melt off into the darkness, not that the vampire was turning back to check. Buffy landed an occasional well-placed blow, but that first impact had her unsteady on her feet, her vision blurring in and out before the fight had even properly started.

Spike understood all too well what was going on. The feral vampire, a creature Spike had thought to be only a myth, a misshapen beast that could no more pass for human than walk in sunlight, was playing with her, brutalising her body until her blood was tinged with pain and fear. Buffy was no quitter and she wasn't going to roll over and play dead, especially when she knew he was on his way, but it was obvious that her injuries were slowing her down and every blow the creature struck sent her flying into concrete or brickwork. Still, she managed to circle around so that it had its back to Spike as he entered the basement. A deft twitch of his wrist and the blond held a stake in his hand. He flung himself across the room and thrust the stake dead-centre between the Turok Han's shoulder blades.

A pale taloned hand reached up and pulled it out as the monster turned to face him. Spike wasn't staying around for the rest of the show. Launching himself toward the corner of the room, he kicked off one wall and then its neighbour to land just behind Buffy. Despite her weak protests he scooped her into his arms and leapt for freedom, using the same escape route that the Southerner had.

Buffy stumbled as he returned her to her feet, fumbling in a pocket to press something rectangular and metallic into her hand. "It won't stop. I'll try to stall it. Try an' give me enough warning to get out the way." His eyes moved to look at the chain link enclosure where the generator was situated and with a gentle push he sent her off.

By the time Buffy looked down at the Zippo in her hand and realised that Spike had pointed her in the direction of the fuel barrels for the generator, the vampire had already thrown himself back into the basement. Colliding with the Turok Han as it tried to leap free to continue its pursuit, the vampire had fallen back onto the concrete in a tangle of limbs. The blond managed to smack his opponent's head into the solid floor a couple of times before it retaliated, razor-sharp talons ripping into the flesh of his back through leather and cotton, leaving cuts a quarter of an inch deep from his shoulder blades to his waist.

The feral vamp sank its teeth into Spike's shoulder as it rolled them both until it was on top. Spike tried to resist but the Turok Han's strength so far outmatched his own that there was little he could do. His fist slammed into the side of the other vamp's head repeatedly and hard, trying to make it lose its grip before it could tear the flesh away from his bones, all the while thanking God or whoever might be listening that it had chosen to bite at the opposite side of his neck from Buffy's claim mark.

There was no finesse to the fight and as the pair struggled on the floor Spike drove a knee up hard between the creature's thighs but it didn't even pause as it sat up, tearing away leather along with muscle. Spike's arm felt like a lead weight as he reached up with both hands to grip either side of its head to snap its neck in one quick jerk. Instead, the beast pulled back, eluding his grasp to rise first to its knees and then its feet. Spike swung his legs in a capoeira style sweep, hoping to bring his opponent back to the ground. He needed to keep the fight in close. Anything else gave the primitive the opportunity to break off and go after Buffy.

The Turok Han jumped the scything legs as easily as a ten-year-old skipping rope and turned his back on Spike to leap clear of the basement even as Spike flipped back to his feet. He knew all too well that Buffy's blood perfumed the air, its scent all but irresistible to any blood-drinker.

Buffy was no more than a third of the way to her goal, but she turned as the monster moved out of Spike's line of sight, ready to face off against it. Spike was already in pursuit but Buffy couldn't risk having her back to their opponent when it reached her. Nevertheless, she continued to walk slowly backward as it approached, feeling her way with her feet, edging ever closer to the drums which were stacked up against the wire, praying that when she got there she wouldn't discover that they were the empties.

Spike was gaining but it was touch and go whether he was gaining quickly enough. With one last bound the Turok Han landed facing her, knees slightly bent and claws outstretched, almost as if it were posing, giving her a fraction of a second to appreciate fully its intimidating appearance before it attacked. Instead of freezing like a rabbit caught in the headlights, Buffy simply raised an unimpressed eyebrow as Spike threw himself headlong at the beast, using all his power to drive his undamaged shoulder into the back of the beast's knee. When Spike's attack failed to completely drop their opponent, only driving it to one knee, Buffy pivoted on her right foot, bringing her left around in an axe kick that drove the nosferatu down to the ground, and as Spike clambered up its back, raining punches on its kidneys and ribcage as he moved, Buffy stomped a couple of times at its head. Nothing either of them did even left a mark.

"Get movin', love. I've got him for now," Spike spat out between blows as almost unbelievably the other vampire began to rise to its knees, even with Spike's weight on its back.

Buffy wanted to argue, to say that it was taking both of them to hold their own, that Spike would be able to get there more quickly than she could in her battered condition, that Ugly obviously wanted to fight her rather than him, anyway, but she knew that those were all reasons it would be so much more difficult for her to get away from their opponent when the time came. So, she turned and after a few limping strides she willed her body to ignore the pain until she was jogging and then running toward the generator enclosure.

Her mate couldn't afford the time to watch her go with his own eyes. Instead, desperate to avoid being thrown off, he let the change come over him. His teeth bit into the ubervamp's neck and he wrapped his legs around its hips as he drove one hand into its stomach in a straight fingered punch that would have gutted a human. It barely penetrated the thick hides the creature wore. Spike was soon slammed onto his back and lying on the packed dirt, but still he wouldn't let go of the nightmare creature that lay on top of him. He gnawed at the long dead flesh in his mouth, working his jaw until his teeth almost met before pulling back sharply with his head. The flesh was disgusting, tasting of bitter decay, but its blood was rich and tangy as it seeped into his mouth. The other vampire responded by alternately elbowing him in the ribs and raking at his legs with its clawed hands, at least until Spike's own claws reached for its eyes and it instinctively used both hands to try to shield the sensitive area.

 

* * * * *

 

Buffy made it to the fence that surrounded her goal. She was about to scramble up the mesh when she realised that it went not only around but over the top of the generator and its fuel dump. Instead, she worked her way around until she found the door into the cell. The padlock had already been forced open, pieces of the mechanism shattering off inside. She looked at the barrels, stacked two high, two deep and three wide and wondered whether it was best to move them or whether to simply burst them open. She swiftly decided that she would lose too much time rolling them one by one out of the compound and instead she pulled out her stake, hoping the wood would be strong enough to pierce the metal drums.

She only remembered just in time that it might not be the best idea in the world to leave the generator running while she made her diesel swimming pool and it took her several seconds to find where to turn it off, seconds her frustrated brain told her she didn't have with Spike fighting that thing. The first four barrels provided almost no resistance when she tried to tilt them and she tossed them to the far side of the pen. She was beginning to wonder how they could possibly deal with the monster if it turned out that all the barrels were empty. Beheading was always good, but as it happened she was right out of swords and garrottes.

The fifth barrel stayed firmly in position when she leaned against it. Buffy stabbed at the drum with her stake, but even slayer strength wasn't about to drive softwood through metal. The tip just skittered off smooth sides, leaving an occasional scratch on the paint but that was all. Buffy dug her toe into the chain link next to the barrel and hauled herself up until she could get a grip on the barrel's top rim. She pulled as hard as she could until both it and the one beneath it tipped over onto their sides, barely missing her as they fell. She climbed sideways and then squirmed her way into the tiny gap between the fence and the barrels and then pushed with her back against the drums until the remaining six barrels toppled over like dominoes.

Now she could reach the caps. One by one she twisted them open, rotating the barrels so that the openings lay close to the ground allowing as much as possible of the accelerant to escape. When the trickles were unable to seep into the bone-dry earth, they joined together to almost make a wide shallow stream following the slight slope of the land. Buffy was thankful that whoever had chosen the site for the generator had put it on the highest ground, presumably to prevent the fuel from pooling around the generator if any of the barrels were to leak. She wiped her hands on her jeans as she left the cage. Pulling Spike's lighter from her pocket, she lit the flame and waited.

Spike rolled the ubervamp until both of them lay in the direct path the diesel had chosen. He waited until the fuel permeated both their clothing and loosened his grip on the other vamp when the fuel burned into the open wound on his shoulder. With one last kick the misshapen creature started to make its way toward Buffy. Behind him, Spike rolled clear of the wet area. He shrugged off his coat which had kept the rest of his clothing fairly dry, tossing it off to one side. Buffy waited until the Turok Han was within ten feet before she stepped off to one side and dropped the lighter.

Smokey orange flames raced downhill, engulfing the hydrocarbon-dowsed ubervamp. Spike continued to back away as the blazing trail zipped past him and then branched off, following the trail of drips he had left behind him. A massive detonation drove both the blondes to the ground as the Turok Han exploded, leaving Spike flat on his back and unable to move as the flames snaked toward him.

Spike scuttled backward, crablike, as Buffy flipped to her feet. As she made her way around the flames trying to reach Spike's side, she called out to him. "Pants, Spike!"

The vampire looked down, noticing for the first time the tide-line on the dark denim. His duster had kept the diesel flow off of his clothing for the most part, barring some seepage on his back and shoulder where it had been ripped in the fight. However, that part of his legs that had been exposed beneath the coat's hem had soaked up the fuel like a wick.

With a whump, the blond saw his most treasured possession engulfed in the flames, the leather crackling and shifting as it burned. Unable to help himself, he watched transfixed, one arm raised to shield his eyes from what he knew must come.

"Spike! Move your butt! It's just a damn coat!"

Buffy's voice called to him from the other side of a shifting wall of flame and Spike knew he had no choice. Raising his arms to shield his face and as much of his hair as possible, he leapt through the fire. Seconds later, shards of plastic and circuitry detonated outward from where the vampire's coat lay.

Buffy gave a startled yelp, even as she forced Spike to the ground, trying to smother the flames with her denim jacket. As she patted at his legs, Spike kicked off his boots and fumbled with his belt buckle. By the time he had his zip undone, Buffy took over. One swift and much practised yank ripped the already torn jeans from his body and Buffy threw them as far to one side as she could, which just so happened to be into the nearby flames. It took another few seconds for them to put out a couple of minor leg hair conflagrations before they took off, hand in scorched hand.

They skirted the fire, leaving the compound by the side that placed them furthest from habitation.

"What the hell were you carrying round in that coat? C4?" Buffy demanded, as they reached the perimeter fence, Spike taking particular care to avoid the barbed wire on top as they clambered over rather less elegantly than they had arrived.

"Cell phone," the vampire supplied. Buffy looked blank. "The battery. Guessin' you never read all the stuff about please dispose of them safely. Car keys, keys for your place, hip flask, ciggies..."

As Spike dropped to the ground the slayer didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the figure he presented. His shirt was tattered and caked with soot, long deep scratches clearly visible on his back and legs. It provided tantalising glimpses of his bare butt as he moved, and managed no more than a token effort at hiding his genitalia.

She settled for a token pummelling, fists not even hitting his chest hard enough to leave a bruise. "Don't you dare scare me like that again!" she berated him before pulling him into her arms.

"That was too damn close," she whispered against his chest.

"Well, I guess decapitation capability just became mandatory when we're out and about."

"Guess so..." The sound of distant sirens reached them on the breeze and Buffy extricated herself from his embrace. "We better get moving." Buffy considered for a while. "We've got a reasonable chance of making it to your crypt from here, but I don't think we can risk the more populated areas with you dressed like that. I'll call Wes and get him to meet us there with some clothes. Get him to pass on the bad news to the council."

"The crypt sounds like a fine idea. Reckon the phone call can wait a bit, though." Buffy looked down and realised that, even with both of them burned and battered and Spike in a ludicrous state of undress, Little Spike was undeterred. "You wouldn't want the watcher to find me like this."

"Spi-i-ike!" Buffy's moan came out as half reproach and half blatant need. This was undoubtedly neither the time nor the place, with police and fire engines already on their way, but as always the fight had lit a fire in her blood that her fear of losing Spike had only exacerbated. She needed him, needed that pulsing cock pounding into her once more, needed his fangs in her flesh, her teeth in his, their claim renewed before she could believe that he was still here, still hers. All of it showed in her eyes.

"Second thoughts... bugger the crypt." The area where they had found themselves would at some point be the school playing fields once more, assuming the fire didn't spread to consume the whole building. For now it was scrubland, distinguished only by the line of trees planted around the property line that had been there since before the old school building had been destroyed. Picking her up and slinging her over his shoulder in a fireman's lift, Spike moved them just far enough to avoid the illumination that the raging fire provided. She had barely regained her feet when his hands on her hips pinned her against the nearest tree trunk.

His lips brushed softly against her navel as he kneeled to pull off each of her boots in turn. Experienced fingers deftly unfastened her jeans, peeling the denim downward. Embarrassment made her cheeks flare pink as he carefully slid her white lacy thong from her body. Any minute now the area would be filled with policemen, firemen or even just rubberneckers. "We have to phone Wes," she barely managed to gasp out as Spike's tongue traced slithering trails on her inner thigh. "They need to know about the girl."

"No one stopping you." Spike shuffled closer and hooked first her right leg and then her left over his shoulders.

"Oh fuck!" Buffy was unable to stop her muttered comment as she found herself supported only by Spike's shoulders and the tree trunk at her back.

"I plan to." The vampire braced his arms against the trunk and Buffy instinctively opened wider, one hand tangling in his hair, the other trying to find purchase on the wood behind her as his tongue probed her nether lips, taking teasing swipes along either side before he finally spread her open. He licked away the juices that seeped from her quim, savouring the salty taste before lapping his way up to her inner lips where her clit stood proud as he pushed the ruby flesh apart.

Buffy's jacket already lay on the ground at the foot of the tree. She hadn't put it back on after using it to smother the flames and all she wore was a tissue-thin halter neck top, but still it was too much from Spike's point of view. Needing his arms to support her, and with his mouth otherwise occupied, it fell to Buffy herself.

"Undo your top, baby," he practically hummed against her clit, making her even wetter. While he waited for her to obey his instruction he nipped and sucked at the sensitive bud until Buffy wanted to scream. The sirens were closer now and she wondered if they would drown out the sound of her voice if she did. Her fingers fumbled with the button at the back of her neck, almost all her concentration on the sensations Spike's tongue was producing. Finally the lightweight fabric parted, falling around her waist in two whisper-soft wings.

"That's it, baby. My beautiful girl." Spike uttered sotto voce encouragement as Buffy cradled the full creamy orbs in her hands, massaging them gently at first and then rolling the already hardened nipples between thumb and forefinger. As she squeezed them tight, Spike drove his tongue deep inside her. Her orgasm was instantaneous, but the vampire probed inside her until he found that sweetest of spots, teasing and stroking it to draw out her pleasure for as long as possible.

After long minutes, the quivering and spasming of her muscles finally slowed, leaving her limp and boneless. Spike lifted her, supporting her weight with his palms under her thighs as he brought himself upright. His hard body pinned her against the solid wood of the ancient tree as his mouth closed over hers, teasing at first but rapidly deepening the contact when she willingly reciprocated, licking her own salty cum from where it had spilled over the vampire's chin. Buffy ripped at the remnants of the shirt he wore, buttons popping off in all directions as she pulled it open so that the trail of kisses and bite marks she planted along his jaw line could continue lower, allowing her to finally suckle on the scar that marked him as hers.

His dick surged up into her, resting in place when it reached her innermost depths, its cool smooth touch soothing the conflagration inside her and for the sweetest moment she lifted her head to savour the look she knew would fill his eyes before she mouthed the words she knew would have him pounding her already bruised back against the wood. Her tongue snaked out to lick her lips before she mouthed the two little words. "Fuck me..."

Spike didn't hold back as Buffy wrapped her legs around him. Each massive thrust drove the breath from Buffy's lungs leaving her gasping for air as she spoke the words she knew would drive him to the edge, interspersing them with his own.

"...So fuckin' hot..."

"...Only for you, my Big Bad... "

"...Oh, baby, squeeze it tight..."

"...God, deeper, Spike...Just there... Oh god, just there..."

"...Can't hold it, Buffy. Gonna cum, gonna fill you so full..."

"...Change, baby. Want it all..."

"...Oh fuck..."

Buffy sank her teeth deep into his flesh, finding her scar with prefect precision as if it called to her. With a muffled roar and the grinding of bones that accompanied the change Spike followed suit as his seed spilled deep inside her with one long cooling spurt.

Still clinging tight to each other, they sank first to their knees and then slid over onto their sides as the vision washed over them.

The girl hung spreadeagle over the goat-headed seal. Her eyes bulged with terror as she watched someone or something move about the basement. Bringers scurried back and forth like ants, each preoccupied with their own little tasks, but the girl ignored them.

A dark-clothed figure stepped forward, but the girl paid no attention to anything but the knife in its apparently human hand. She had good reason. Though she writhed against her bonds, she couldn't evade its cool burn as the decoratively-etched blade plunged deep into her flesh over and over until eventually darkness claimed her.

 

* * * * *

 

"You took your time," Spike grumbled as Wes pushed the crypt door open, but his smile took any malice from the remark. The vampire leant back against the conveniently placed sarcophagus, only Buffy's strategically draped jacket giving him any pretence at decency as Buffy teleported away from his side with a guilty look, at the sound of the outer door opening.

"It takes time to arrange a cover up for a murder... especially when the witnesses wait until the entire police department is standing watching a fire fifty yards from the dead body before they tell anyone."

"We did have other problems to deal with," Buffy pointed out, taking Wes's bag from him and pulling out blue jeans and a black turtleneck. These she tossed onto the sarcophagus beside Spike along with a pair of holly-patterned boxer shorts that were still wrapped in cellophane, some sports socks and an old pair of running shoes.

Spike started to open his mouth to protest at the mere sight of the festive underwear. A sharp glare from Buffy as she unpacked swords from beneath the clothes was enough to make him change his mind. If that hadn't been sufficient incentive, the gleeful look when she found an item, which she discovered on pulling the two toggles apart was a thin, wire garrotte that rolled itself back up inside one of the handles when you let go of the ends, would definitely have made him err on the side of caution.

"Nifty. Don't suppose you have a couple of spares?"

"I'm afraid not, but I suggest that you keep a hold of that one for the time being. Now, perhaps you would care to enlighten me as to what you actually need all these things to kill."

Spike walked around the sarcophagus so that it stood just below waist high between the watcher and himself and started getting dressed.

"Well, I think you've already killed my chances of gettin' a shag after the match," Spike responded waving the boxers he had been about to put on.

"How tragic!"

"Look," Buffy took over as her mate did that rapid dressing thing that she still found fairly amazing. "It was some sort of gnarly lookin', ugly-ass vampire, but Spike staked it dead centre and it didn't go poof."

"Like with Kakistos?"

"Ka-what?"

"The one eyed vampire that you and Faith killed together..."

"You mean he just needed a bigger stake?" Buffy asked.

"Hey!!!" Spike was obviously offended by any implication that his equipment wasn't up to scratch. "That vamp was not like Khaki-sots, or before either of you say it, The Master. They were just old bastards. That was a whole different species."

"What are you saying, Spike?" the watcher asked.

Spike fastened his belt buckle a couple of notches tighter than the hole where it obviously normally sat on Wes. "I'm saying that what we faced tonight was a Turok Han."

"And believe me, I don't want to meet Two Rock Luke or Two Rock Chewie."

Two male heads swivelled to look askance at the slayer.

"What? That was funny... Xander would have laughed."

 

* * * * *

 

"You really believe it was a Turok Han?" Wes asked as he passed out cans of beer that he had recently liberated from his fridge.

"Trust me." Spike's head tilted forward as he looked at the watcher, that scarred eyebrow raised.

Marie beat Buffy to the punch. "What's a Turok Han?"

Spike let Wes field the question. "From what I can remember, as humans are to neanderthals, so vampires as we know them are to the Turok Han. Up until now, I've never heard of them as anything more than a myth, the vampire equivalent of a campfire story."

"Me neither," Spike admitted, "but that thing fitted every damn story I've heard about the buggers."

"Do we know if there are more?" Wes asked.

Buffy shrugged. "I'd just as soon not take any chances... And let's not forget our mysterious Southern friend."

"Who?" asked everyone... including Spike.

"We really need to get that whole package upgraded for sound, you know. I can't believe I was the only one to catch the whole Whore of Babylon bit."

"You sure it wasn't just The First playin' with you?" Spike asked.

"No... maybe... No, someone had to hold that knife and I don't think it was one of the bringers... less light absorbent black wool and more slightly reflective black cotton."

Spike cast his mind back to their most recent shared vision. "The lady's right."

"Ladies are always right," Marie pointed out. "Now, shhh. The game's started."

 

* * * * *

 

Marie perched on the sofa next to Wes with her knees drawn up in front of her, as if she could hardly bear to watch as the the ball slipped past the Mexican keeper and into the net. Her bitter "No!" was followed by a stream of rapid Spanish that Buffy suspected was mostly curse words as Wes tried only partially successfully to calm her. This was a side of the fiery Latina she had never seen before.

"S' alright, pet. S'offside. See, the flag's up." Spike's voice echoed up from the floor where he was sprawled, lying propped up on one elbow with his other arm around Buffy's waist, his fingers tracing intricate and unfathomable patterns on the flesh of her abdomen. The vampire lowered his voice, whispering into his slayer's ear. "See, told you it wasn't just a guy thing."

"Okay, okay... And I know I'm going to regret this, but what's offside? The ball went in the net, didn't it?" Buffy's sense of failure over the girl's death was swamped for a time by the waves of contentment that rolled off the vamp as he quietly clarified the intricacies of the offside rule and how it could be exploited by disciplined defenders.

The way Spike had explained the situation with the potential, it seemed logical that the fault really lay with the council for not contacting either of Buffy's watchers sooner. As ever, though, Buffy's emotions bore little relation to what was logical. Wes or Giles could have got in touch with the couple via cell phone. From what Wes had gleaned during his dealings with the other watchers, the girl had even been missing before they had started their evening patrol. With some warning... Even Xander could have told them that there had been no overtime scheduled for that evening. Spike, however, wasn't big on wallowing in regrets for what might have been. In the morning proper, they would discuss what needed to be done, what steps needed to be taken to safeguard the remaining potentials from a repeat performance. Tonight, the vampire had his woman in his arms, a beer by his elbow and an international football match on the telly. Everything else could wait until the far side of sleep. It took a little while before his enthusiasm caught up Buffy in its wake, but it did, preventing her from dwelling on a non-existent failure on her part.

"Mommy?" Rosa appeared in the room doorway, Tigger in tow as usual.

Marie patted the cushion next to her. "Come here, honey. What's wrong?"

The girl climbed onto the seat and then into her mother's lap before she answered. "The dreams woke me up and then I could feel you were upset."

Marie could tell that, despite the toll the dreams had taken on the little girl, her mother being upset caused her more concern. "Shh, honey. It's nothing to worry about... Oh, look, sweetie..." She turned her daughter on her knee and pointed as the ball hit the net again, this time at the opposite end of the pitch.

Wes had no idea how it happened but suddenly he was being showered with little girl kisses, and the mother of the aforementioned little girl was straddling his lap in a most provocative manner. He wasn't about to complain one little bit.

 

* * * * *

 

The match was finally over, ending in a draw that allowed both teams to move forward into the second round. Wes's guests quietly deposited as many empty beer cans as they could spot into the bin before Spike bent over to press a kiss to the beauty curled up at one end of the sofa where her mother and Wes had been sitting.

"Night, night, ladybug."

Buffy would have followed suit but she was too afraid of waking the little girl.

The adults made their way through to the front door, their voices hushed.

"I'll check with the council in the morning. Their texts are starting to arrive, now. They may have something pertaining to the Turok Han legends."

"And, then, Scooby meeting at our place around eleven?" Buffy suggested. "Well, mini-Scooby meeting. Giles can tell Anya the latest and Xander can catch up after he gets sorted out at the site."

"Or we could hold it at The Magic Box before your drivin' lesson an' before Harris sees what we've done to his pride and joy, an' that way demon bint doesn't get left thinking she doesn't get a say..."

"I just thought it'd be easier. Sunlight, you know?"

"I know, pet, but it won't exactly be the first time I've taken the blanket express. Come on. We best get you to bed. You've had a long day." Spike held Buffy's jacket over his head to shield his head and hands from the early morning sun as they crossed the street.

"Yeah, and I'll get a whole hour's sleep at most before we head for the meeting."

Spike's laugh was deep and seductive. "Who said anything about sleep, little girl?"

 

* * * * *

 

"I thought they were very fetching," Buffy taunted as she reclined against Spike's chest, the vampire's earlier innuendo having proven to be a bluff. It wasn't that he wouldn't easily and willingly rise to the occasion should that have been Buffy's desire, but by the time they had reached the privacy of their room and Spike had witnessed the bruises that bloomed all over Buffy's skin, he had prescribed a relaxing hot bath to ease some of the stiffness that was inevitably going to pay her a visit.

"I looked a right prat... wearing kegs that even a watcher wouldn't be seen in."

"I've seen you look worse."

"Yeah? When?"

Buffy's head tilted to one side and she surreptitiously watched his face out of the corner of one eye. "Oh. say... Randy... and your Hawaiian period."

Water splashed in the direction of her face and she collapsed into giggles at the vampire's mock petulance.

"I'm sorry about your duster, though," Buffy offered by way of an olive branch.

"Not the only one, pet, but, like you said, it's just a damn coat. So long as you're okay, nothing else matters."

Buffy twisted her head back until she could claim his lips in a tender kiss. She knew he had loved that coat and for him to bear its loss with such magnanimity made her feel cherished and proud.

As they slowly drew apart, Buffy changed the subject. "Rosa looked like a little angel tonight."

"Christ, love, I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy, never mind a gorgeous kid that I actually like. 'Sides if she was such a little cherub she wouldn't be pretendin' to be asleep when she wasn't."

"Very funny. Angel with a little 'A' and how d'you mean?"

"Her breathin' was right but her heartbeat gave it away a mile off."

"But why?"

"'Cause Little Miss Matchmaker is as bad as her grandmother an' if her mum had known she was awake then her an' Boy Watcher wouldn't be doin' the horizontal mambo as we speak."

"You don't know that?" Buffy half protested and half asked.

"Well, if I really concentrated I could probably hear, but I'd give 'em 70:30 on the body language alone."

"That is gross... and freaky and if you ever start applying that intuition of yours to anyone Giles' age or older, I don't want to know. Okay?"

Buffy didn't even realise the corollary of what she had just said.

 

 

* * * * *

 

Wes carried Rosa in his arms, following Marie as she made her way upstairs. The child failed to stir as the couple tucked her back into the bed in the spare room. However, when Wes followed Marie into his own room and made to remove the blankets he would need to make himself comfortable on the sofa downstairs, her hand came to rest on top of his, preventing him from pulling them out.

The watcher's gaze drifted from the french-polished nails, over the lithe yet petite arm that rested over his, lingering on the tantalising golden curves of her shoulders and neck before searching her face. Brown eyes sparkled back at him, alight with happiness and excitement, but behind those surface emotions there lay a certitude that he had been waiting to see.

Almost of its own volition, his hand reached out to cradle the base of her skull as his lips lowered to meet hers. He tried, at first, to take things slowly, only his lips and one hand touching her. He wanted to allow her every opportunity to change her mind. Her decision finally made, Marie had other ideas. Her arms twined about Wes's neck and with a jump she wrapped her legs around him. Wes deepened the kiss as impatient hands tugged the hem of his shirt from his pants and set to work on the buttons. Once the cotton was pushed from his shoulders, Wes was entranced to find her hungry mouth pressing kisses all over his torso, wherever she could reach. Every scar, every mark of the battles that had ultimately made him the man he was today, received special attention as Marie nibbled, sucked and licked with teasing efficiency.

Wes deftly stripped her T-shirt over her head, awed anew by the sight of her breasts, golden skin contrasting sharply with the pristine white lace that encased them. They weren't large. On so petite a frame, large breasts would have been out of place. They were full and well-rounded, though, and he ached to cradle them in his hands. Walking over to the bed, he rested one knee on the mattress and leaned gradually over until he could lower Marie to lie among the pillows.

Buffy was surprised but pleased when Oz followed Giles into The Magic Box. Her eyes brightened and her lips formed a spontaneous smile. "Does this mean you're staying?"

The redhead shrugged. "Till term starts again. I had to drop out of the project I was working on to come back and Giles makes it sound like you could use every body you can get." Oz's gaze raked over the bruises on Buffy's face and his nose twitched at the pungent smell of liniment that came from both her and Spike. "Seems he was right."

This time it was Buffy's turn to shrug. "It took me off guard but we got the job done."

"And if you had been alone?" Giles asked, his tone dry.

"Either I would have found a way to deal with it or I would have run-."

"Hey, Oz, man. You forget how to use a telephone?" Xander pushed the door open and immediately greeted the werewolf with a hearty handshake.

"I kinda needed to be a place that was else."

The brunette gave a conciliatory smile as he stepped back to wrap an arm around Anya's shoulders. "Well, it's good to see you, anyway." He looked around the room, taking in the two watchers, the two sisters, Spike, Tara and Rogue. "How about we get this show on the road? Apparently there was some sort of trouble at the site last night so the boss wants me in early to help assess the damage."

Buffy looked embarrassed. "We didn't blow it up this time," she argued as if she were offering a major point in her favour.

Xander rolled his eyes but before he could ask about what had happened Spike cut in to reply to the younger man's question. "We're still short a couple of bodies."

"Would those be any bodies in particular or did you just order breakfast in?" For once Xander's humour was devoid of his habitual bitterness and seemed to be just that.

Spike nodded in the direction of the parking lot at the front of the shop as someone pulled up with an unnecessary screech of rubber on asphalt. "Watcher's apprentice was pickin' up the dark slayer on her way in."

 

* * * * *

 

"Everybody clear on what they're doing?" Buffy asked.

"Isn't this kinda putting all our eggs in one basket?" Xander asked, though he was by no means the only one to look uncomfortable.

"If you can come up with a better alternative then I'll be glad to hear it."

"Well, no, but..."

"Then it's settled."

 

* * * * *

 

"You cannot seriously have believed that the council would consider such a plan."

Giles removed his spectacles and polished them with a deliberateness that matched his words when he finally replaced them and spoke once more. "I believe, Quentin, that the council has absolutely no choice in the matter whatsoever. The forces which are arrayed against you are such that you must accept what help is offered under whatever conditions we should choose to make."

"And whose assessment are we relying on as to what we face? A vampire and his consort? You know that the blood found at the scene was far less than should have been present? It would not be an unreasonable assumption that the vampire and his pet killed the girl themselves, else where did all that blood go?"

"Rant and rail against it all you want, but, unless you want those girls and your watchers picked off one by one, you will meet our perfectly reasonable requests. Good day, Quentin... Miss Chalmers."

Lydia waited until the heavy, polished wood door had closed behind Giles before she spoke.

"Should I begin the preparations, sir?"

"Do it." The watcher gave a sigh and when he looked up it was as if he had aged several years. "Rupert and I have had our differences over the years but he's no fool and he's an honourable man. He's right. If we let the girls be picked off one at a time, should any of them ever become the slayer, we will never regain their trust.

Get our man in The White House on the phone and then pass him over to me. I'll leave the other arrangements to you, my dear."

 

* * * * *

 

Buffy grabbed her jacket as the compact car pulled up outside. "You'll be here when I get back?"

"Guess that depends on the watcher..." Spike stood up from his seat next to Bee and let his gaze travel to the dining room where Wes sat cross-legged inside a circle of red sand. "Most likely, though."

"Take care." Buffy's hand reached up to stroke the vampire's cheek.

Spike gave a wicked grin. "You, too. Try not to give the drivin' instructor a heart attack."

"That is so not funny. He says I'm getting lots better."

"I know you are." Spike's smile betrayed his pride. "I told you once you got over your nerves you'd be a natural. Now, bugger off. I'm payin' that guy by the hour whether you're drivin' the thing or not."

"Not even a kiss for luck?"

Spike's feet shifted closer and unconsciously Buffy held her breath, his lips inches from hers. "Since when did you need luck, kitten?" the vampire purred. "Not that I won't kiss you anyway, just because you're downright irresistible."

Bee looked up from her sketchbook to give the vamp a discouraging glance even as the door finally closed behind his fiancée. "You can't even tone it down for a couple of minutes to spare the poor woman whose every romantic involvement mutates into an asshole by the third date?"

Spike's grin showed a distinct lack of repentance. "I guess last night didn't go so well, then? We could always set you up with Rupert."

"Please! Do I look ready to raid the old folks' home? Not to mention the whole watcher/half-demon thing."

"Methinks the-."

"Shut up, blood-breath, and tell me if this is it." She passed her sketchbook over to Spike, who looked intently at the pencil drawings on the open page.

"That's the one."

"Okay, just point me in the direction of a scanner and a printer..."

 

* * * * *

 

Faith packed her few belongings with some remorse. It wasn't as if her memories of the mansion were particularly fond, but when she was there she could feel a connection to Angel. It was almost as if he were there helping her to do the right thing. Buffy probably wasn't ever going to forgive her. She was always going to be the bad slayer, always going to be judged wanting, looked down upon. Angel knew where she had been and he wanted her to make it. Maybe with someone to believe in her she just might and if she couldn't have the man himself then being somewhere that still had his touch was the next best thing.

For now, though, they were preparing to move into some very hostile territory.

 

* * * * *

 

Wes's eyes flicked open and he rose from his position on the floor. He strode into the living room, looking over the two remaining blondes and picking up a backpack that he had prepared earlier. "Are we ready to get this show on the road?"

"Bloody hell, watcher. It took way longer last time. I thought Buffy would be back before we headed out."

"Sorry to disappoint but as we don't know how long I'll be able to maintain this for I suggest we get a move on."

Spike picked up the pouch with the orbs and pushed them into his pocket, hating the fact that though the globes could do so much to keep Buffy safe, they couldn't risk keeping them with the council around. He picked up a couple of blankets and slipped three swords from Buffy's weapons chest in between their folds.

"Whose car are we taking?" Wes asked.

Spike gave a lopsided half smile as he passed the bundle he was carrying to the watcher. "You two can take whatever car you want. I'm going for one last daytime bike ride."

"In that case we better get a description of where the entrance to the cave system is before we head out." There followed what in effect was a game of twenty questions, since Wes couldn't actually hear the demon's replies, only make guesses from its lip movements, so that mostly Bee tried to frame questions requiring only yes or no answers. This went on for five minutes before Spike got bored and pulled a large scale map of the area out of one of the cabinets in the dining room. After that, it was a simple case of 'Left, left, left, stop. Up, stop.'

There was a clatter on the stairs as Spike picked up his sunglasses and Dawn and Tara stood in the hallway. "You weren't planning on going without saying goodbye were you?" the witch asked.

"An' have Buffy sayin' you two got a proper tarrah and she didn't?"

"Well, if sticking your tongue down her throat for ten minutes doesn't class as a proper goodbye, I hate to think what you're going to do with these two," Bee drawled sarcastically before turning on a smile for the girls. "When you finish packing, the sketch is... Well, it's in my sketchbook, which is around here somewhere, and I made copies but I..."

"Put them down somewhere?" Tara asked, familiar by now with Bee's absent mindedness. "We'll find them and if we get a chance we'll make a start on the research. And as to what we're going to do with him... I'm not settling for less than a hug."

As she stepped forward Spike's arms wrapped around her and held her close. "An' I can remember when she was a shy young thing," he teased.

"Yeah, well I was never shy around you," Dawn announced as she and the Wicca switched places.

"For cryin' out loud, ya daft bints, I'm comin' back, y' know."

 

* * * * *

 

Spike tried to memorise the feel of the sun's warmth on his cool flesh, the way its light reflected off the water, every last detail of the all too brief trip. Almost before it had begun he pulled in next to Bee's Sunbeam. With an occasional direction from their spirit guide they soon found the entrance to the cave. Spike stowed the blankets in an alcove off to one side, in case it was still light when they returned. Then, he passed out the swords, saving the one with the heaviest, most brutal blade for himself.

Wes pulled a medium sized Maglite from the inside pocket of his jacket, but Bee shook her head. "Save it in case we need it later." She turned to face away from the two men, her head bowed and her arms drawn in around her. Only when the change was complete did she face the men again.

Spike's jaw hung open as her radiance illuminated the area for several feet around her. "Knew you weren't entirely human, pet, but it never occurred for a second that you was one of them."

"Get over it, curly. And I'm only half one of them. Now, pass the orbs over to Wes. Tara seemed to reckon that she got some sort of feel for what it was thinking when she carried them while the spell was in effect. Chances are he should get some sort of feel for what's the right way, or at least get an uncomfortable feeling if we go the wrong way or something."

Spike handed over the orbs and as Wes seemed to get his bearings and set off with Bee by his side illuminating the way, the vampire followed on behind. "Hi-bloody-ho!" he muttered loudly as they set off downward into the dark.

"Spike?" Buffy dashed up the path and into the house, anxious to pass on the news that her instructor had pronounced her ready to take on her driving test. At the expression on Tara's face when the Wiccan emerged from the kitchen, she froze on the spot.

"He's already gone, hasn't he?"

Tara gave a solemn nod. "I guess because Wes was more familiar with the 'spell' this time 'round it didn't take him so long."

"Dawn?"

"Oz took her over in his van with the bigger bits and pieces. I said I would wait here until you got back and we'd take the rest of the stuff in the car."

Buffy's attention was suddenly fixed on a flattened patch on the carpet which was a few shades brighter than the surrounding pile. "She packed the TV?"

Tara gave a half-smile, "She said, if she didn't, Spike would do it when he got back... And to be honest, I figured there was more chance of keeping her where we can keep an eye on her with the TV there."

Buffy sighed deeply. "Guess so. Better go claim some territory before we end up sharing a broom closet with fifteen teenaged girls."

 

* * * * *

 

"Turok Han are nothing but a myth."

Giles resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose, refusing to show any sign of weakness in front of the insolent, young pup who confronted him. "In that case, I'm sure you won't mind being nominated as first in line to take one on, should one make an appearance. In the meantime, however, you and your little group of helpers will go through the volumes as the others unpack them and look for references to these mythical creatures so that, equipped with the requisite knowledge, the slayers can avenge your untimely death at the hands of something which doesn't exist."

"I- I-." The young man spluttered his righteous indignation, but Giles had already turned his attention to the next group of watchers.

The smile on the face of the young man who confronted him was filled with wry amusement. "I guess living in California hasn't improved your patience any... Uncle Giles?"

The appellation made Giles take a second look at the Puck-like countenance before him, suddenly equating the self-assured young man with a coltish teenager he hadn't seen in over a decade. "James?"

"One and only."

"R-right, well, no doubt we'll have a chance to catch up later-."

"But for now you've got a job for us..."

"Quite." Giles passed over the copies that Bee had made of the sketches she had done this morning and James kept one and passed the others around the group he seemed to head up. "We believe that this was the weapon used in last night's murder and the fact that it featured prominently in a slayer dream suggests that its use was more than simple happenstance."

James seemed to weigh Giles' words carefully, before commenting. "So this drawing is based on a dream? ...Drawn by someone other than the original dreamer?"

Giles nodded his confirmation.

The younger man turned to those around him. "Okay, you heard the man. Let's hit the books but bear in mind that there may be some level of inaccuracy in either how the dream has been remembered or in how the artist has interpreted the description. Any possible identifications, bring them to me or Mr Giles." As the man steered those under his command toward the growing piles of books, he further subdivided the research, setting some to try to identify what they could from the style of the weapon, trying to tie down its time and place of origin. Others, he set to investigate whether the pattern on the blade was simply that, or if some meaning could be interpreted from it and still others he instructed to find all they could about ritual bloodlettings.

When that group had dispersed, Giles was surprised to find himself face to face with Lydia Chalmers. "And what would you like me to look into?" she asked the older watcher.

"I rather expected that you would be tied up arranging other matters," Giles commented, somewhat flustered.

"I'm good at delegating and I made sure that those to whom I delegated were aware I'd be here if they had any questions."

"In that case, perhaps you can help me find the relevant crates for any information you have on The First."

The blonde shook her head regretfully. "I'm afraid the books on that subject were split over as many different crates as possible, in case of misadventure, but I can have the relevant volumes brought to you as they are found."

Giles sighed. "That would be most helpful."

The woman smiled in return. "Things will settle down once everyone works out where they fit in. In the meantime I'll see if I can round up someone to make some tea and find enough biscuits for a library full of watchers."

 

* * * * *

 

Buffy couldn't say she was exactly impressed with the accommodations that she and Spike had been allocated. However, at least the council hadn't decided to simply add the Scoobies in with either the potentials, who were to share rows of bunk beds in the barracks that had once been a ballroom, or to the marginally more private classrooms that had once been bedrooms that the watchers were now sharing six or eight to a room. Instead, the Sunnydale residents had been allocated rooms under the eaves of the converted mansion in what she was sure would once have been referred to as the servants' quarters.

She and Spike had the room nearest the "back" stairs at one side, with Faith and Dawn sharing the opposite room on the other side of the narrow corridor that ran down the centre of the roof space. Dawn had allocated the room beside Spike and Buffy's to Xander and Anya and the one beside that to Wes. It was yet to be decided whether Marie and her extended family would be joining the others in their tactical consolidation. Bee and Tara were sandwiched between the slayer and the one-time Key on one side and Giles and Oz on the other. There was an empty room on either side and then the remainder of the roof space was one larger room where the TV had already been installed.

Dawn watched her sister's face as Buffy surveyed the tiny space, taking in the doubled over sheet that Dawn had attached to the ceiling joists with thumb tacks so that it diffused the light from the tiny window set flush with the roof tiles and the fact that Dawn had pushed the two low narrow cots side by side instead of one against each side wall. Even though the bottoms of the beds were against the joists that supported the roof, the door still hit the headboard of the one nearest the centre of the room before it was fully open so that they had needed to slide into the room sideways and close the door before they could walk around the beds, and then only barely and beyond the first few feet into the room it was impossible for even Buffy to stand upright.

"I checked out the basement but there's this old coal boiler down there and I guess people would be coming in and out all the time and they're putting bunk beds in all the bigger rooms, even for the watchers, though I think Travers has a room to himself because he's sort of just put a cot in his office if you see what I mean, and I thought that you and Faith should be nearest the stairs in case of trouble and if Xander and Anya kept you awake with the loud, obnoxious sex then at least you could retaliate and vice versa and I put Bee and Tara together because they seem to get on and neither of them know Faith, not that I really want to share with Faith but if it gets too much I can always go visit you or Tara and I put Wes on his own in case Marie visited and the other rooms are kinda full of crap anyway but if Clem and everyone decide to fort up then we can shift it into the bit where the TV is and it's not like there's much in the way of sunlight so it's pretty okay for Spike-."

"Breathe, Dawnie. It'll do fine." Buffy slid the holdalls that she carried under the edge of the bunks.

"That's good because I think some of the watchers would have peed in their pants if they ended up bunking in with Spike."

Buffy couldn't help the smirk that briefly graced her lips, even though she was sure her mother would have disapproved of her sister's remark. "Come on. Let's go see how Faith is getting on with her 'Slayer Masterclass'... and then, I might just need to borrow your boyfriend for an hour or two."

 

* * * * *

 

"I don't suppose our friend here can tell us how much further it is in any sort of measurement that we might understand?" Spike asked as Wes chalked another arrow that pointed back the way they had come onto the tunnel wall.

Wes's voice had a slightly nervous tone as he answered the vampire. "I'm, em, fairly certain that it isn't much farther, actually."

"An' what makes you think that?" Spike asked irritably. "You didn't even wait for the great nightlight, here, to translate." Spike wasn't about to admit it, but the glow from Bee's body set off a headache similar to that which some people get from sitting around for too long in areas with fluorescent lighting. After four hours of spiralling downward, the vampire was almost remembering the chip fondly.

It seemed the tunnel must widen out slightly as the watcher moved to the right and Bee moved to the left, allowing the vampire to see more than Bee's rear view for the first time in the last ten minutes.

"They do." The watcher nodded toward the demon that pointed a trident at his, thankfully, invulnerable chest even as its companion recovered from its surprise at seeing Bee to go down on one knee by her feet, bowing its head before her mercury gaze.