“The funeral is tomorrow,” Giles told him sadly.
Spike nodded, huddling in upon himself and taking a sip of the tea Glinda had left for him. Vampire Prozac in valerian, kava and chamomile. He was sitting on Giles’ couch, drained, exhausted and lost.
“It’s a daytime ceremony, unfortunately. For all of Sunnydale’s Hellmouth-induced ignorance, they are reluctant to hold evening burials,” the man continued.
“S’ok. Don’t deserve to go to her funeral anyway,” he replied.
“Spike, I…”
“Here, before I forget…” he interrupted, pulling a large manila envelope from the ubiquitous folds of his duster, and offering it to Giles.
Giles took it and peered inside, seeing the papers and cash.
“What is this?”
“We gotta take care of our girls, Rupert. Most of Joyce’s life insurance’ll be eaten up by medical bills. I hocked everythin’ I could. Those are the slips for the accounts I set up for Buffy and Dawn after I killed the Sobek cobra demon. Put the cash in them, split 70-30 with Buffy gettin’ the lion’s share. She’s gonna be Dawn’s guardian and she’ll need help.”
Giles looked in the envelope again, humbled. “Thank you, Spike. I’ll be sure to add my own contribution when I make the deposits.”
He nodded and took another sip of the tea. It tasted weird, but at least it didn’t remind him of hot chocolate. He couldn’t stand the thought of cocoa right now.
“What are we gonna do, Rupert?”
“The same as we have been: use your knowledge to affect the outcome.”
“Didn’t work for Joyce. Plan’s not workin’. We need a new plan,” he insisted.
“I don’t think we can take Joyce’s death as a sign that our current plan isn’t working. I truly believe that there was nothing we could have done to save her,” Giles insisted.
“Would’ve if I’d gotten it right. I dunno how I got it so wrong. I know Bit told me Joyce died of a blood clot.”
Giles sat down next to him, offering unwanted comfort.
“Spike, Dawn is only fourteen. It’s entirely possible that she misunderstood what killed her mother and interpreted it as a blood clot.”
He shrugged and shook his head. “Doesn’t matter now, does it.”
“Spike, it’s painfully obvious to me that you are determined to blame yourself for Joyce’s death, even though I do not think you are in any way responsible for what happened. Joyce Summers had a brain tumor. Even if she hadn’t died the same way she had before, there is no telling that the tumor wouldn’t have returned and killed her at a later date. The only comfort we can take with us is the knowledge that she didn’t suffer and that it was very quick,” Giles said gently.
“How do we know she didn’t suffer? She died alone, didn’t she? Wasn’t anyone there to know if she suffered any.”
Giles ducked his head and squeezed his eyes shut. “I… I did see the body…before she was taken away. Her face had no pain on it, no fear. I don’t think she knew what was happening. She fell on the couch and…”
“No more. Please. I…”
Giles stopped.
“I just… I couldn’t save her. Everythin’ I did, everythin’ I tried was for nothin.’ She still died. What if… what if no matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, I can’t save Buffy either?” he asked, pleading for Giles to offer him some hope.
“You can’t give up, Spike. We need you. We need your strength.”
“Fat lot of good I’ve done so far,” he muttered, then grabbed Giles’ wrist. “You know this changes everythin’, Watcher. We have to kill Ben now. Glory’s gonna start gaining power. We gotta take ‘im out.”
Giles shook his head. “Not yet. Some new books have just come in from the Council. I am hoping there will be some information and spells in them that can help us.”
“They’re not gonna do us any good! She’s a bleedin’ *god* Rupert! If she takes over from Benny, stoppin’ ‘er’ll be a bitch!”
“Not until I’ve exhausted all other options.”
“Damn you, Watcher!” he yelled, throwing the mug of tea and smashing it, liquid flying all over the carpet. “You still don’t trust me, do you? I’m tellin’ you. You don’t have a choice. Ben has to die or Buffy will!”
He stood up, storming over to get his coat.
“Where are you going?” Giles demanded. “Spike, you mustn’t do anything hasty!”
He pulled the coat on angrily. “Off to take care of somethin’ I can kill. Nibblet’s gonna try to mojo ‘er mum from the great beyond night after they bury ‘er. Last time, I took ‘er to Doc and he learned she was the Key. This time, not only am I *not* gonna take her to see that bastard, I’m gonna kill him before he gets anywhere near Dawn.”
With that he stalked out, slamming the door behind him, and headed for Buffy’s house. Upon confirming that both Buffy and Dawn were upstairs in their rooms, he snuck in and raided Buffy’s weapons chest for the Gruth’lak battleaxe. The battleaxe was a much more powerful weapon than Buffy realized, and he hoped it would be enough to kill whatever demon Doc happened to be. He remembered from the previous timeline that Xander had killed Doc with a sword through the heart. This time he planned to lop the bastard’s head clean off his shoulders.
He paused, listening, hearing the sounds of numb grief and silence, and his heart broke.
‘I’m sorry, Buffy. I’m sorry, Dawn. I’m so so sorry. I dunno how I’ll make it right, but I’ll try.’
He snuck back out, half of him wanting to stay and comfort the girls, but he had things that needed to be done. He found Doc’s place without any trouble. It was exactly where it had been before in the other timeline. He entered without knocking, the battleaxe tucked into his belt loop and concealed behind the duster.
“Hey. Anybody home?” he called to the dim, cluttered apartment.
A moment later Doc shuffled out of the bedroom, dressed in a robe and pajama trousers, and he had to steel himself against the wave of hate and rage he felt.
“I know you,” the demon said, surprised.
“Do you now?” Spike answered, smirking, remembering from before how Doc had said he had recognized him.
“You’re that guy. That guy who always hangs around down at the corner mart. Big into dominos, aren’t you?
“Can’t say that I am.”
“That’s crazy, isn’t it? I’d swear you were him. I mean, your hair’s a different color and you’re a vampire, but other than that…”
Doc trailed off, pensive. Spike bided his time, hand twitching with the itch to grab the axe and kill the man, but he had to wait for just the right moment. He knew from experience how fast and strong Doc really was, and knew he would only have one chance to kill him.
Finally, Doc moved closer. “How can I help you?”
“Resurrection spells. Friend of mine’s mum kicked it. Wanna know what’s to be done about it.”
“Oh, no… That’s… You don’t want to mess with that. I know a couple of tonics, make the grieving fly by…” he offered.
“She doesn’t want any tonics.”
Doc sighed, distracted and Spike moved closer. “Jeez. I don’t know…”
‘Just a little further…’
He was almost within striking range as the demon rifled through some papers and books piled on one of the tables. Then Doc paused and sniffed the air.
“What is that…?” He rounded on Spike, eyes wide. “You have a soul!”
“That’s right, mate.”
“But there’s only one vampire with a soul and he’s in Los Angeles.”
“Newsflash, mate. There’s two of us now, only I’m better lookin’ and not a bleedin’ poofter,” he replied, closing the distance between them quickly, reaching behind him for the axe.
“Who are you?” Doc asked, still off guard and obviously confused. It gave Spike the brief seconds he needed.
“Your executioner,” he answered, whipping out the axe.
He swung before Doc had a chance to react and sheared the demon’s head from his body. The body fell with a heavy whomp, writhed for a moment, then lay still as the head rolled a few paces away. He looked down at the head, saw the eyes go black, then blank and the mouth drop open.
“Not gettin’ anywhere near my Bit,” he said to the lifeless head.
Assured that the demon was dead, he started a fire in the fireplace and threw the head in. He waited until he saw it start to burn, then picked up the battleaxe and headed out. He left the door wide open.
*******
Someone called the poofter. He wasn’t sure who and he was fairly certain it wasn’t Buffy or Dawn. If he had to guess, he would pick Willow as the likely candidate. Didn’t matter, really, who called him, only that he was there comforting Buffy on the night of her mother’s funeral.
It looked like they were keeping Vigil by the fresh grave, although with the way they were sitting, he doubted Buffy even knew that was what they were doing. Trust Peaches to figure he was ‘protecting’ Buffy by not telling her about Vigil, and the necessity of keeping watch over a loved one’s grave the first few nights after burial. The first night was the most dangerous, of course. That was when the body was freshest and most useful. The longer the body stayed in the ground, the less likely it was that someone would try to raise it or take it.
Almost no one was dumb enough to raise a body that had been rotting for more than a couple of weeks… Willow being an exception, of course, having waited 147 days to perform her resurrection spell. She had been extremely lucky that the spell had worked out as well as it did. More often than not, what came back was a caricature of what had been, and a seriously flawed one at that. It wasn’t the first time he had suspected that Red had gotten some help from sources Higher Up.
So there he was, ready to stand Guard for Joyce’s Vigil and he found himself usurped by Angel the Magnificent, swooping in like a brooding poofter to play the sympathetic hero and get all snuggly with Buffy. It made him want to heave. Trust Angel to show up when Buffy was weakest and neediest, just to rub it in her face that they couldn’t be together and that she needed a “normal” life. Angel never could take Buffy when she was strong. Her strength unnerved him, unlike Spike who was drawn to and thrilled by Buffy at her strongest. It might have had something to do with Angelus’ egoist streak. Even as an unsouled demon, Angelus could never stand to lose to anyone or anything.
The axe itched in his hand and he fingered the blade, feeling the sharp edge cut into the pad of his finger. The pain made him wince but refocused him. He knew he had to stay away from them. Angel was sure to sense his soul and it was no good if Buffy found out. Joyce’s grave was safe for the night. He would come back the following night in time to catch Dawn trying to cast her resurrection spell. In the meantime, he wasn’t sure if Angel had sensed him, or if Buffy had mentioned him, so he was reluctant to go home. He walked around aimlessly for a while then ended up at Giles’ doorstep. Knocking faintly on the door, he half hoped that the man would be too drunk to answer, but he had no such luck.
A bedraggled and weary Giles opened the door and blinked at him. “Spike?”
“Hello Watcher. May I come in?”
Giles stepped back, allowing Spike to move past him.
“How are you doing? I haven’t seen you since…” Giles began.
Spike placed the battle axe gently down on the table and responded. “Been alright. Killed me a demon. Doc, the bloke I told you about, the one who cut Dawn on the tower.”
“That… that’s good. I just hope you haven’t acted too rashly.”
Spike shrugged. “There’s nothin’ we could have learned from him that I don’t already know.”
He sat down on the couch and hung his head. “Went to stand Vigil. Found Buffy there with Angel. Somebody must’ve called him.”
“Angel is here? Are you sure?”
Spike nodded. “Yeah. Can’t miss ‘im. Mr. All Broody and Hair Gel. Snugglin’ with Buffy. Comfortin’ her…”
Giles retrieved his glasses and cleaned them. “Yes, well, perhaps that is what she needs right now. Lord knows, she wasn’t accepting any comfort from any of us.”
“Poof likes ‘er weak. Never could stand it when she was strong. Wanted ‘er dependant. That way he could control ‘er. Angelus doesn’t like his women strong. Queen Bitch Darla was enough for him,” he muttered.
“Having met Darla, I would concur that she was ah… very spirited.”
Spike laughed without mirth. “Wouldn’t call ‘er that, but okay.”
Giles sat next to him. “You look… worn. You haven’t been eating have you.”
Spike shook his head. “Haven’t been able to. Can’t stomach anythin’ right now. ‘S’all messed up. Killin’ Doc helped tho.”
“Are you sure he’s dead? You said that you and Xander had killed him before.”
Spike nodded. “Cut of ‘is head and threw it in the fireplace. Unless his headless body can stand up and pull ‘is head out of a bleedin’ fire, my guess is that he’s dead.”
“That would seem logical, yes.”
“Felt good. Used the battle axe I gave Buffy for her birthday. Went an’ got it. I’ll put it back when I get a chance.”
“I’m sure Buffy would appreciate that.”
Spike shrugged. “Doubt she’ll even know I used it. Blade was clean. She probably’s never even taken it out for a spin.”
“How did you get that axe, really?”
Spike snorted. “I killed the owner, of course. ‘S the only way to get a Gruth’lak battle axe.”
“And you did this how long ago?”
“About sixty years ago.”
Giles sat back, thinking. “I must say that I am impressed. From everything I have heard, Gruth’lak demons are very strong and extremely difficult to kill.”
Spike looked away, pain flashing across his features. “They are, but I had incentive. Blighter was after Dru.”
Uncomfortable silence fell between the two men until Giles stood and fetched drinks for them both.
“I’m no stranger to grief, y’know,” Spike commented, accepting the bourbon gratefully. “My Da and little sis both died before I was turned. I knew loss and mourning clothes well. I thought I was done with grievin’ but now…”
Giles sat next to him again. “Well, I’m sure the soul is feeling the pain quite keenly.”
Spike shook his head. “No Watcher, you don’t get it. I grieved for Joyce *before* I got the bloody soul. First time ‘round it hit me like an axe in the chest. Feels the same now.”
He drank the bourbon, glad for the burn of the alcohol even though it hit his empty stomach. “Can I sleep here, Watcher? Dunno if Peaches saw me, but I don’t fancy wakin’ up on fire. ‘Sides, Poof is bound to see the bloody soul and tell Buffy.”
“Spike, do you think it’s wise to keep your soul a secret from Buffy?”
“Tellin’ her would leave more questions than answers, Rupert. Best not to say anything until after the Hell Bitch is dead.”
“I will respect your wishes for now, but you do know that you can’t keep it from her forever, don’t you?”
“Watcher, if I can keep ‘er from takin’ that swan dive off the tower, I will tell ‘er anything she ever wanted to know. I’d even sing it, I’d be so damn happy,” he replied wearily.
“Yes, well, I doubt the singing will be necessary.”
Spike took another sip from his bourbon, ignoring the roiling of his stomach. “Why not? Might surprise you. I got a decent voice. We could make a nice duet, you an me. Kinda like Sid Vicious meets Barry Manillow.”
Giles’ head shot up, his face indignant. “I kindly ask you not to insult me by comparing me to Barry Manillow. I fancy myself more of a Bob Geldof type of performer.”
Spike snickered. “Boomtown Rats…”
“They were a very nice band in the seventies,” Giles sniffed.
“Velvet Underground was better.”
“This from a man who thinks punk rock is a classic musical artform.”
“Ramones all the way, baby,” he said with a wry grin, smiling for the first time in what seemed like ages.
“I Want to Be Sedated. Yes, of course.”
“Now now, Watcher, you forget I’ve lived with you. I know your dirty secrets. You’ve got Ted Nugent records hidden in your closet.”
“How did you…? You’ve been snooping in my bedroom.”
Spike did his best to look innocent and drank down the rest of his drink. “What can I say, Watcher. Evil.”
“Of that, I have no doubt,” Giles answered wryly.
“Evil who is out of alcohol. Refill, Rupes?” he asked, holding up his empty glass.
Giles rolled his eyes but poured him two more fingers of bourbon.
“Shall I put on Cream while we drink ourselves into oblivion,” the man offered, pouring himself another drink.
Spike waved his hand at the stereo. “Knock yourself out, Watcher.”
Giles rifled through his collection and pulled out the album he and Joyce had listened to during the ill-fated evil candy episode. As the guitar rift from the first song came out of the stereo, he closed his eyes and remembered.
Spike leaned back against the couch cushions and listened to the music. The glass of bourbon rested, untouched, between his legs, and he ignored the tears that slid down his cheeks.
********
He carried the axe with him on his back when he left Rupert’s to head for the cemetery on the following night. He knew he wouldn’t need it, but he had to make Nibblet think that he had come to protect Joyce’s grave. Dawn was smart enough to notice if he didn’t have a weapon, and would be sure to ask questions later.
Sure enough, just as he had done before, he found Dawn kneeling by the fresh grave. The teen looked small and broken, and she was fighting back tears as she read from the book she had stolen from the Magic Box. He saw her collect some dirt from the grave, swallowed the lump in his throat and stepped up.
“I hope it’s just dirt you’re after,” he said grimly, making Dawn gasp and reel to face him.
“If the spell calls for anything more than that, you’re into Zombie territory.”
“Spike! I wasn’t…” she tried, desperate.
“I know good and well what you’re up to. That book you’re holding is infamous.”
The look on her face almost broke him- almost. But he knew too well how badly resurrection spells could go, Buffy’s resurrection not withstanding, and he choked every time he thought of Joyce coming back as a mindless zombie.
“Please. Don’t tell Buffy. I can’t… I… I just have to get her back. I have to,” Dawn pleaded.
“Dawn,” he said softly, lowering himself to kneel next to her. “I miss your mum. She was good and decent and I liked her a lot. And because I liked her and looked to her as I would my own mum, I can’t let you go through with this spell.”
“But I need her. Buffy… she’s always so busy, and I’m nothing but a burden to her… and with Glory looking for the Key…”
The tears started rolling down Dawn’s cheeks and he reached over to brush them away with his thumb.
“Dawn, Buffy loves you very much. It’s just that Slayers have a hard time with the softer emotions coz their lives are so hard.”
“But, I need my mom,” the teen sobbed. “I have to get her back. Willow said… she showed me…”
“Did Wills give you this book?” he asked, trying to hide the anger in his voice.
Dawn recoiled a little bit. “N…no, but she showed me another book, one that she and Tara have, that talked about this one.”
“So you nicked it from the Magic Box,” he prodded.
She looked ashamed and nodded. “Yes. And the spell ingredients.” She looked at him, begging. “It says I can bring Mom back. The spell says it raises the dead.”
“Yeah, and the dead don’t take too kindly to it. Trust me, Bit, your mum deserves to rest in peace. There’s no tellin’ what you’ll get if you do that spell. Joyce could come back half rotten and without a mind,” he cautioned seriously.
“But the spell…”
“Black Mojo like that is wonky, Bit, an’ it never turns out the way you think it will,” he said. “Believe me, Dawn, if I thought we could bring Joyce back and be guaranteed that she’d have all her pieces and parts in all the right places and ‘er mind intact, I’d dig ‘er up for you.” He reached for her, seeking to hold her. “But there are no guarantees. What if you brought back somethin’ that looked like your mum that either me or Buffy would have to kill?”
“I would never do that!” Dawn insisted, horrified.
Spike shook his head. “No guarantees, Sweet Bit. One wrong word, one mispronunciation, one spell component misplaced and you could have a monster on your hands. You want that?”
“No. But…” she tried.
He glanced at the book. “You read Latin?”
Dawn followed his line of sight. “No, but I have a translation…”
“Uh huh and Latin never has words that sound like each other and the spell couldn’t possibly be mistranslated,” he said, giving her an incredulous eye.
She grew angry and struck him in the chest with her small fist. He barely felt the blow.
“What do you care! You’re a soulless vampire! You can’t feel emotions and grief!”
“Singin’ Big Sis’s song, are we now?” he growled angrily.
“I need my mother back!”
“And I’m sayin’ what comes back won’t be your mum!”
“I don’t care!”
“Yes, you do,” he countered, stung and hurt by her words. “You think I don’t feel pain? You think I don’t miss your mum? Who was it that brought ‘er chocolates and looked in on ‘er? Who was it that watched telly and talked about Passions? I loved your mum. She was kind and good and took care of me even though I’m a demon. She never treated me like a freak. I…”
He stopped, wiping away the tears that came unbidden to his eyes. “I loved Joyce like my own mum. I loved her, I did. And I’d have saved ‘er if I could’ve.” He hardened and turned to Dawn, grim-faced. “But Joyce is dead, and nothin’ we do is gonna change that, and she’d want me to honor her memory by makin’ sure the daughters she loved stay alive. And that includes stoppin’ you from makin’ a huge mistake.”
Gritting his teeth, he reached over and grabbed her wrist, holding it firm but not tightly enough to hurt her. Then he stood, hauling her to her feet with him as she struggled.
“No!” she yelled, punching at him with her free hand.
He shook his head. “No axe for you tonight, Sweet Bit, and I won’t let you kick me in the jewels again. I’m takin’ you home to Buffy.”
“No! You can’t! I won’t go!” she cried, digging in her heels as he tried to pull her away from the fresh grave.
“Don’t have much say in it, Bit. Vampire strength here.”
“I’ll scream. I swear I will,” she threatened.
“And bring every vamp and nasty within hearing distance down on us. Buffy’s home, Bit. I took patrol for her tonight,” he told her, walking forward.
She stumbled and almost fell. He caught her around the waist, holding her up, but ready to defend himself if it proved to be a ruse. She leaned limply against him, crying.
“You don’t understand. I need her, Spike! I need... She… Who… who’ll take care of me…”
Her broken sobs cut him to the quick and he wrapped his arms around her.
“I will, Bit. You’ve got me. You’ve still got me. You’ll always have me.”
“But she understood… she…”
He stroked her hair and hugged her close. “I know, Bit. I know.”
She broke down completely then and collapsed in his arms, weeping uncontrollably. He held her, letting his own tears roll down his cheeks and fall into her hair.
“Spike?” a new voice said hesitantly, and he turned his head to see Willow and Tara standing there. He fixed the redhead with an angry glare, but said nothing.
“Is everything all right?” Willow asked worriedly, and not a little guiltily.
Behind her, Tara saw the book and spell components and gasped, hurrying forward.
“No worries, Glinda. She didn’t get too far with it.”
Tara quickly gathered up the book and stolen items while Willow looked helplessly on.
“Bit tells me you put the bug in her ear,” he said evenly, letting some of his ire creep into his voice.
“Me? N… no. Not really. I wasn’t… I didn’t mean to…” the witch stammered, flushing.
“Willow thought the book she showed Dawn was just a history book. She didn’t know that it referred to specific spells and grimores,” Tara explained.
Spike raised an eyebrow at Tara and he knew that she saw that he was unconvinced, but neither was willing to further the discussion.
“Dawn,” Tara said, addressing the teen who was huddled in Spike’s arms.
“Save it, Glinda. I already read her the riot act. Now I just want to get ‘er home to Big Sis.”
“Oh, we can do that…” Willow offered, but stopped when Dawn recoiled further into Spike’s embrace.
“I think Nibblet wants Big Bad to take her home. I can better protect her when Buffy throws her fit when she finds out what Little Sis was up to.”
“You’re sure she didn’t get far with the spell?” Tara questioned.
Spike shook his head. “I’m sure. She was just gettin’ the grave dirt when I arrived.”
Tara’s mouth thinned into a grim line, but she gave a wordless nod. “You get her home, Spike. We’ll do… clean up here.”
Spike nodded back and lifted Dawn into his arms. She didn’t protest and tucked her face into the lapel of his duster.
“Thank you, Spike,” Tara said seriously as he moved to carry Dawn home. “I’ll… I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He gave a small nod to acknowledge that he had heard her then slowly walked off. They didn’t speak as he carried her from the cemetery to her home on Revello. There was nothing really that could be said. Each carried their grief like a heavy shroud that wrapped around them and suffocated words in their throats. Dawn kept one small hand curled into the leather of his coat, her head resting lightly against his shoulder as he walked, taking her ever closer to her fate.
He knocked lightly on the front door of the Summers’ home, dark and silent as a tomb, and immediately heard running footsteps hurrying to answer. The door flew open to reveal a disheveled Buffy, still in her rumpled clothes.
“Dawn!” she cried, seeing her sister in the vampire’s arms. “Oh my god! Where have you been? What did you do?”
“Now, now, Slayer, lay off a bit. Nibblet’s fine. Found ‘er by your mum’s grave, but she’s all right now. All safe and sound,” he said, stepping inside.
“You went to the cemetery? At night? Dawn, are you crazy?”
Dawn gave Spike a frightened look, then realized that he wasn’t going to tell Buffy about the spell.
“I… I went there to… to try to bring Mom back,” she admitted, knowing that if Spike didn’t tell Buffy, Tara and Willow surely would.
“You what?” Buffy demanded.
Spike sighed, both surprised and proud that Dawn had come clean with her sister. Dawn struggled in his embrace to he set her down gently on her feet.
“I found her gatherin’ grave dirt for a spell. Stopped ‘er before it got too far.”
Buffy stared, shocked and horrified. “Dawn. How could you? How…?”
“To get her back, okay? I wanted her back,” Dawn replied, her earlier anger returning full force.
“Dawn!
“You have no idea what you were messing with! Who knows what you could have actually raised - what might have come through that door!” Buffy scolded. “Tara told me those spells go bad all the time. People come back *wrong.*”
“But I need her. I don’t care if she’s… I’m not like you, Buffy, I don’t have anybody!” Dawn yelled back, tears spilling over.
“What? Of course you do. You have me,” Buffy gasped, shocked.
“I don’t! You won’t even look at me! It’s so obvious you don’t want me around!” Dawn insisted.
“That’s - that’s not true,” Buffy stammered, casting Spike a glance.
He shook his head grimly. He wasn’t going to get involved here. Buffy and Dawn needed to have this out. Buffy needed to see how much her sister needed her.
“It is! And the way you’ve been acting! Mom *died* and it’s like you don’t even care!”
Buffy’s eyed widened with horror and pain.
“God - of course I care. Of course I do. How can you think that?”
“How can I not? You haven’t even cried! You’ve just been running around like it’s all been some big chore - cleaning up after mom’s mess…” Dawn seethed.
Buffy, still appalled by Dawn’s accusation, lost her temper and slapped Dawn across the face. Even as Spike took a step forward, his face concerned, Buffy’s hand flew to her mouth and she stared at her sister.
Both girls were shaking and Buffy began to unravel, her careful control beginning to fray at the edges as her anguish began to emerge, and she started to cry.
“I’ve been working - I’ve been busy, because I have to… be…” Buffy choked, tears running down her face.
“You don’t. You’re avoiding me.”
“I’m *not.* I have to do these things, ‘cause… ‘cause when I stop, then she’s really…gone. And I’m trying, really trying to take care of things… But I don’t even know what I’m doing… Mom, she always knew…”
“Nobody’s asking you to be Mom,” Dawn insisted.
“Well, who’s going to be if I’m not? Huh, Dawn? Have you thought about that? Who’s going to make things better? Who’s going to take care of us?”
Buffy wept openly, desperately as Dawn and Spike watched, helpless, as Buffy fell apart. Seeing her there, small and looking more childlike than he’d ever seen her, Spike fought to keep his own tears at bay. Dawn wasn’t so lucky.
“Buffy…” she sobbed, reaching for her sister.
“I didn’t mean to push you away… I didn’t… I just didn’t want you to see me… I mean… Oh, God… What are we going to do, Dawny? I’m just so scared…”
The sisters embraced, crying, the weight of their bodies dragging them to the floor in a tangled heap as they clung to each other. Unable to bear the sight of his two girls in such pain, and still feeling the terrible guilt of his failure, Spike staggered out, leaving the front door open. He could still hear their heart wrenching sobs long after he had stumbled away from the house and he collapsed against a tree, his own sobs ripping their way out of his throat like razorblades.
‘I promise. I promise you, Joyce. I’ll save your daughters. I’ll keep them safe, even if I have to die doing it. I lost you, Joyce. I won’t lose Buffy too. I failed you. I won’t fail again. Never again.’
For once, the demon and the soul were in complete accord.
He was nervous. Why was he nervous? He had very valid reasons for doing what he did and even Rupert agreed with him. So why was it that, now that the moment had come, he felt like a deviant caught playing games with sheep?
He cleared his throat but couldn’t look at his audience. “See, it’s like this,” he began, faltering. “Remember that Warren geek? The one who made the robot girlfriend?”
He glanced up. Xander, Willow, Tara and Anya were still looking at him with expectant eyes. He looked down again.
“Well, I thought… I thought that maybe… It might be a good idea…”
“Spike, what did you do?” Tara asked bluntly but gently.
He sighed and rolled his eyes, his hands dropping to his sides. “Oh, bloody hell.”
Shrugging his shoulders back, he reached over to open the training room door and gestured them in. They went, casting him suspicious glances as they passed. He closed his eyes and managed to count to six before he heard Xander yell.
“You sick bastard!” the young man accused.
He gritted his teeth and entered the training room, ready to face his fate and defend his position. He found them all gathered in wide-eyed horror around the deactivated Buffy-bot.
“It’s not what you think!” he insisted.
“Oh, so I am not seeing a robot that looks just like Buffy. One that was made by that wacko who made his own personal sexbot?” Xander seethed.
If he could have blushed, he would have. “Well. Yeah. But she’s not a sexbot! I mean, yeah, she looks like Buffy…”
“Exactly like Buffy. This guy’s really good,” Willow commented, examining the robot.
“I know, and that’s what gave me the idea. Now we have a *decoy.* The ‘bot’s almost as strong as Buffy and we can program it to *fight,*” he explained.
“The robot Warren made was very strong,” Anya agreed. “And another Buffy might prove useful.”
“That is *not* Buffy,” Xander argued.
“Of course it isn’t Buffy,” Spike snapped back. “But I doubt the Hell Bitch is smart enough to figure it out.”
“You want to use this against Glory,” Willow said, her eyes widening at the possibilities.
He touched a finger to his nose then pointed it at the redhead. “Bingo. And that’s why I mentioned it to Rupert.”
“Wait a minute. *Giles* knew about this?” Xander interupped.
He blinked at them. “Well, yeah. How else was I gonna get Buffy’s clothes and pictures? Steal them from her basement?” ‘Like I did last time…’
“I don’t understand why Giles never said anything to us about it,” Willow wondered.
“We weren’t sure how it would turn out so we were keepin’ mum. It’s just a coincidence that Warren finished it just after Rupert took Buffy on her little Vision Quest. But it works out because now we can take her out on patrol while Buffy is gone and see how she… it does,” he explained.
Willow walked around the robot, scrutinizing it. “Can it fight?”
He rubbed his neck. “Well… not exactly.”
“Explain not exactly,” Xander demanded.
“Well, I couldn’t very well tell that Warren geek that I needed a robot of the Slayer to fight a Hell God, now could I?”
“That would seem rather peculiar,” Anya replied.
“Yeah, it would. So I made him think that this was a robot of a girl I wanted but couldn’t have.” ‘Sometimes the best lies have grains of truth…’
“So it is a sexbot,” Xander said.
“No! Well, not really. It is programmed to kinda like me…”
“As in likes to have its tongue down your throat?” Xander snapped.
“No! Well, maybe, I dunno. You’re missin’ the point!”
“And the point is?” Xander prodded.
“I did have him program it to fight in certain situations. Role playing scenarios and the like…”
“Oh! Dominance games!” Anya piped up gleefully.
“Yeah, kinda,” he admitted. He cast a glance at Tara who was desperately trying not to laugh.
“Oh, so now we not only have a sexbot that looks like Buffy, we have a sexbot that looks like Buffy who is programmed to be a Dominatrix,” Xander growled.
“Well, I wouldn’t put it quite that way. She… it is going to need some reprogramming, but I know you can do it, Red.”
A giggle escaped Tara’s lips.
“How do we turn it on?” Willow asked.
“Um, there’s a button, on her back. A little spot on the spine down towards the middle of the back,” he replied.
He saw Willow feel around for the button and heard the click-whir of the robot turning on, but he wasn’t ready for what happened next.
The ‘bot’s eyes opened and it smiled when it saw him, just as it had it the previous timeline. He was so shocked by the twisted deja-vu that hit him and the feelings of guilt and shame that struck, that he was completely unprepared for the assault.
“Spike! Oh Spike!”
The ‘bot flew at him, grabbing his face and kissing him passionately. Then it twisted him around, threw him down to the training room floor and straddled him.
“You’re mine, Spike!”
“Red! Red! Off switch! OFF SWITCH!” he yelled, trying to fend off the quickly roving fingers.
A moment later, the ‘bot fell limp and he was able to pull himself out from under it with most of his pride intact. Xander looked sickened, but Willow and Tara were laughing silently.
“Well, that was truly perverted and disgusting,” Xander said.
“I dunno. I thought it was kinda cute how she just flattened him like that,” Willow commented.
“She was very direct,” Anya noted with a nod.
“Maybe he likes them that way. All blunt and down to business,” Willow furthered.
“Some do. There’s a certain attraction to bluntness. Besides, vampires are known to like violent sex. Blood play is usually involved.”
“Ewww. Ahn, I did not need to know that,” Xander complained.
“It can be very erotic and sexually satisfying,” the ex-vengeance demon said reasonably.
“Ahn, stop! Stop!”
Spike groaned. “If you’re quite finished making fun of me and making assumptions about my *preferences,* I’ll leave you to your work of reprogramming it to not jump me.”
He moved to leave while he still had some pride left, but Willow put a hand on his arm and stopped him.
“Oh no you don’t, Mister. You’re gonna stay here and help me reprogram her. I can’t very well program her not to jump you if you’re not around to be jumped.”
“And it could prove amusing to see you tossed to the floor a few more times. I think Xander would find it very satisfying,” Anya added.
‘I’m doomed,’ he thought, but sighed, giving over and following Willow back to the deactivated robot.
It took most of the afternoon for Willow to work through Warren’s complex programming, but she did manage to get the robot to stop sexually assaulting him. She was not, however, able to completely remove all of the robot’s attraction and affection towards him. It made for interesting troubles in reprogramming her fighting skills. Every time she threw him across the room and seemed to actually hurt him, she’d take to apologizing profusely and seek to ‘make it better.’ The women were continually amused by the sight of him getting pummeled then doted on, but Xander left after the third or fourth time it happened.
Finally, the robot was deemed ready, and that was fine with him because his bruises were starting to sprout bruises. Given the evil glint in Willow’s eyes, he wasn’t entirely certain that she hadn’t orchestrated some of the more creative beatings that the robot had doled out. Maybe she wasn’t as accepting of his reasons for having Warren make the Buffy-bot as she said she was, and she found it therapeutic to have the robot crush him to the cement a few more times than was actually necessary. Whatever her reasoning, he was glad for the reprieve and the robot was deactivated to await its first patrol.
Night came more quickly than he thought it would and he really wasn’t ready to step out of the cool refuge of the training room. There was naught to be done for it, however. The bot had to prove her mettle and there were vamps to kill. He remembered well the first time he had lived through this night. He’d woken to find his robot gone and felt a sudden terror that she had gone out without him. His fear turned out to be well founded because she’d unerringly run right into Xander and Anya in the graveyard. They hadn’t known then that the facsimile hadn’t been Buffy, and they’d gotten an eyeful when he and his new toy had played out another one of his fantasies right there on the grass. But all in all, he had to smile, knowing that Xander thought the real Buffy had been straddling him that night, riding him like a champion and crying her pleasure to whomever could hear. It was amazing the boy hadn’t popped a blood vessel and bled to death right there.
There would be no hanky-panky on this night, and he and his robot were flanked by Willow as well as the whelp and his demon-girl. Willow was lax to allow her new project to go out on her first patrol without the full support of the Scoobie Gang. They entered Shady Rest and traveled east from there, looking for any sign of evil afoot. They found none.
Spike kept an extra eye out for Glory’s minions. He knew that previously Glory had discovered that the Key was in human form and had sent her minions to spy on the gang in order to determine the Key’s identity. The Buffy-bot’s fierce protectiveness of him had made the minions think that he was the Key, and it had resulted in his subsequent kidnapping and torture. He was hoping he had managed to avoid that this time around. Since he had been sent back, he had been working very hard to ensure that Glory stayed in the dark about the Key’s true form, and part of that had been making sure Buffy stayed away from Ben. He’d been mostly successful in that endeavor, although Buffy had told him that she’d run into ‘that intern from the hospital’ a few times. There were no offers for coffee or flirtatious encounters this time around, though, and no real opportunity for Ben to discover that Dawn was the Key… well, except for the night in the mental ward. Ben had been there. He might have heard that crazy Knight call Dawn the Key It was possible that Glory now knew the Key was human, but so far he hadn’t seen any evidence of the Hell Bitch’s minions snooping around.
Things didn’t pick up in the patrol department until they reached their third cemetery. Then it seemed that all of the vamps they’d missed in the other two sought them out all at once. The fighting got pretty heated for a little while, but the ‘bot held her own against them and dusted quite a few of them without any assistance. It left him free to watch the others and keep them all safe. A couple of times he got into it with one of the more powerful vamps and got knocked around a bit, but other than making the ‘bot get all defensive and worried about his welfare, he was fine.
They finished their patrol and headed back to the Magic Box to turn off the ‘bot for the night.
“There. All safe and sound,” Willow announced, setting the ‘bot up in a corner of the training room. “And she didn’t do too badly either.”
“No, she… it fought pretty good out there tonight. Dusted what? Eight vamps?” Xander commented.
“Somethin’ like that,” Spike agreed.
“Well, I have to get back home. Tara is with Dawn and I’m sure she’s worried,” Willow said.
Spike nodded. “Be seein’ you then. Buffy and the Watcher should be back soon and we’ll break the news of our newest weapon to ‘em. I’ll toddle off to my crypt and pop by tomorrow night. Tell the Bit I said hi.”
“I will. Thanks, Spike,” Willow said brightly, setting off to leave.
Spike watched them go then let himself out the back door and headed down the alley. He was already three blocks away when he heard footsteps running to catch up.
“Hey, Spike. Wait up!” Xander’s voice called.
Surprised, he stopped and turned around, waiting for the young man to come jogging up to him.
“Harris? Somethin’ wrong?” he asked, confused.
Xander stopped to catch his breath and Spike waited as patiently as he could for him to be able to speak.
“I… I just wanted to talk to you,” Xander admitted between gasps.
“Oh?”
“Yeah.” The man paused, calming and looking thoughtful. “Look. I know I gave you a hard time about the robot. But I wanted to tell you that I think it was a good idea. That thing fought really well tonight and I think you could be right about being able to use it against Glory. I mean, even if it was originally supposed to be some sick sex toy, you brought it to us to use and anything we can get to help us right about now is a good thing. Besides, I know you’ve been trying to help us a lot lately and I haven’t been very accepting of that.”
The words came out in a rush and Spike smirked.
“Wills put you up to this, didn’t she?” he commented.
Xander couldn’t hide the guilty look, but Spike had to give him points for trying.
“No!” he lied. “No, she didn’t…” Spike leveled him with a look and he caved. “Okay, okay. She did. I admit it. She pointed out that I haven’t been very forthcoming with the thanks lately.”
Spike pulled out a cigarette and lit it. He’d all but stopped smoking, but he was getting nervous and uncomfortable, and a nicotine hit would calm him down.
“You don’t owe me anything, Harris.”
The words brought Xander up short and his mouth thinned into a grim line. “No. I don’t. But neither do you. You could have left Sunnydale any time, but you haven’t. You’ve stayed and protected Dawn and tried to help us. I don’t understand why, and I do question your motives, but the truth is, you’ve been helping and that deserves a thank you.”
Spike looked away, drawing on his cigarette. “Got nowhere else to go. Can’t hunt. Can’t feed. Initiative boys buggered me up, right and good. Demon needs violence and the only way I can get it, is huntin’ other demons. Doesn’t make me too popular with the home team, y’know. Best help the Slayer, ally myself wi’ ‘er and get protection and a decent spot of violence at the same time. Other nasties know I’m in good with the Slayer, they think twice about comin’ after me. Works out for both of us. Can’t have some skanky Hell Bitch messin’ that up, can we?”
“I guess not,” Xander admitted, unconvinced.
“And there you have it. The great mystery of William the Bloody solved. I help because I don’t want anything buggerin’ up my cushy setup here in Sunnyhell,” he shrugged, trying to deflect Xander’s scrutinizing gaze.
“Right, and that includes babysitting Dawn and guarding Joyce’s grave.”
“I…”
Xander cut him off. “Look. I dunno what’s going on, but Willow told me about you stopping Dawn from casting that resurrection spell, and Tara’s been pushing all of us to be nicer to you. Now, I have no idea what your ulterior motives are, and I probably don’t want to know, but I did want to acknowledge that we’ve noticed your help and I wanted to say thanks. That’s all.”
Spike looked at him and swallowed the lump that formed in his throat, managing a tight nod. “You’re welcome.”
“Gentlemen…” came a sibilant voice from behind them.
Spike and Xander turned around to see one of Glory’s minions standing behind them.
“I'm so sorry to intrude, but I wondered if I could beg a minute of your time?” the minion asked.
Spike turned to Xander. “Get out of here, Harris. Now.”
“What the Hell is going on?” Xander blurted, fists clenching as two more minions appeared.
“Run you idiot!” Spike ordered.
Xander looked from Spike to the minions then back to Spike. Knowledge of the very real and present danger they were in dawned in his eyes and they opened wide. Spike did his best to place himself between Glory’s cronies and the boy in hopes that he could defend them both, but it was not to be. To his credit, Xander did try to run, but his reaction time was a hair too slow and one of the minions slammed him into the side of a building, knocking him out. As the boy slumped to the pavement, Spike fought. He landed a few good blows, but in the end there were simply too many of them for him to overcome, and, just as they had done before, they bound his hands and dragged him off to Glory.
*******
“Hey! Hey, son. You okay?”
The voice seemed far away, but it was accompanied by a vigorous shaking of his shoulder. He groaned and tried to open his eyes. Pain lanced through his head and he groaned, one arm reaching up to finger the nasty lump that had formed on the back of his skull.
“Son? You okay?”
Responding to the insistent voice, Xander opened his eyes and his blurry vision focused on an elderly man peering down at him.
“Wh… what happened?” he asked, finding his voice.
“I don’t know, son. I got off work and found you here lying on the pavement. Looks like someone knocked you into a wall.”
Still confused and slightly disoriented, he tried to sit up and remember what happened. Looking around, he saw that it was just after dawn.
‘I must have been out for hours. It’s amazing I didn’t become a vamp snack,’ he thought.
Vamp. Snack. Spike.
It all came back in a rush. Spike, their conversation, his awkward thanks, then the scabby guys in monk’s robes jumping them. They looked like how Buffy had described Glory’s crusty minions. Whoever they were, they’d slammed him into the wall and dragged Spike away.
“Oh. Oh god. Spike. They got him.”
“Spike? Who’s Spike? Did somebody take your dog?” the man asked.
Xander struggled to his feet, shaking off the last of the disorientation. “No. He’s…” What was Spike to them anyway? Certainly not a friend, but no longer an enemy either. He didn’t have time to think about it.
“Look, I gotta go.”
“Are you sure you’re okay? Don’t you want to go to the hospital or something?”
He shook his head. “No. I gotta be somewhere. Thanks.”
He didn’t look back as he hurried towards his apartment. Judging by his watch, he’d been out for hours. That meant Spike had been in Glory’s clutches for hours and there was no telling what the god was doing to him.
‘And he knows Dawn is the Key. Can he be trusted not to tell?’
The uncertainty made him move faster and he pounded on the door when he got home. Willow opened the door, her eyes wide and frightened.
“Xander! Where’ve you been?” she asked as he pushed his way inside. “Anya came looking for you at our place. We came back here to wait for you, but you didn’t show. We were about to go looking…”
“Xander!” Anya called, rushing over. “What happened? Did you and Spike run into trouble?”
“The guys that work for Glory? Buffy said they were kinda like Hobbits with leprosy? Well, this was a whole flock of Hobbits and they grabbed Spike. I think they're taking him to Glory.”
“Oh my God,” Willow gasped. “And he knows about Dawn!”
By now Tara was awake, sitting up from the blankets piled on the floor. “What is it? What’s happened?”
“Glory’s minions took Spike,” Xander replied.
“Oh my God,” Tara blurted, repeating her lover’s exact words.
“Well, what are we going to do?” Anya questioned.
“We have to get him back,” Tara said in a voice that brooked no argument.
Her tone surprised them and they gave her odd looks.
“O… okay, but don’t we need Buffy…” Willow stammered.
“No, we have to get him back now. Before Glory hurts him. We have to find him,” Tara insisted.
“Okay…”
“How do we find him?” Xander asked.
“Oh! Maybe the bot! The bot might have some kind of homing device in it. I mean, Warren’s girlfriend-bot was able to track him here to Sunnydale,” Willow offered.
Tara was already getting out of bed. “And there’s a spell we can use. A locator spell. We can get the ingredients at the Magic Box.”
“What’s going on?” Dawn’s voice asked, tired but worried.
“Dawny!” Willow said, going to the teen and trying to downplay what was happening.
“I heard something about Spike. What’s happened to him?”
The others looked at each other. Xander had a story on his lips and he was about to speak when Tara cut him off.
“Dawn, Xander and Spike were attacked. We think Glory’s minions may have taken Spike,” she explained gently.
Dawn face filled with horror. “No. Oh no. What are we going to do? We have to find him!”
Tara tried to calm her before she became too distressed. “We’re going to go look for him. Buffy and Giles aren’t back yet. Willow is hoping that the robot Buffy has a homing device in it that is programmed to find Spike. If not, there’s a locator spell we can cast. We’re going to go to the Magic Box to get the robot and the ingredients for the spell.”
“I wanna help,” Dawn insisted.
“Dawn… it’s too dangerous…” Willow tried.
“If you try to leave me here, I’ll just follow. You’d have to chain me up or something to keep me here.”
“We could lock her in the closet,” Anya offered.
“I know how to pick locks,” Dawn countered, then added when they looked at her with shocked faces. “Spike taught me how. He said it could come in handy if any nasties ever caught me and locked me up somewhere.” She lifted her chin defiantly. “So locking me in a closet won’t do any good, I’ll just pick my way out.”
Shaking their heads and deciding that a conversation with Spike on what was and wasn’t appropriate to teach a fourteen year old girl could come after they had rescued the vampire, they headed out.
They went to the Magic Box first to collect the robot and the ingredients they needed for the locator spell. The ‘bot activated with a quiet click and the eyes popped open.
“Hello. Your name is Willow. You’re my friend,” the robot said cheerfully.
“Uh, yeah. That’s right, Buffy-bot.”
The robot looked around at all the others staring at her. Dawn made no attempt to hide her shock.
“Oh my god. I mean, you guys told me it looked just like Buffy, but…”
“Dawn!” the robot greeted happily, coming forward to give the teen a hug. Dawn wasn’t able to back away fast enough. “You’re my sister!”
“Yeah. Right,” Dawn replied, hurt.
“Uh, Buffy-bot. We kinda need your help,” Willow said, getting the robot’s attention.
The robot paused to look at all the people in the room. “Why is everyone staring at me?”
Willow cleared her throat, making the robot look at her.
“Where is Spike?” the robot asked with complete innocence.
“That’s why we need your help. Spike is missing and we need to find him. Do you know where we can find him?”
The Buffy-bot blinked several times and looked at each of the individuals in the room in turn, then looked back at Willow, blinked, and said, “No.”
“Well we were thinking that maybe Warren had put some kind of homing device in you that would help you find Spike…” Willow tried.
“No. And I don’t think I’m a robot,” she replied in the same cheerful voice.
“Um, yeah. Right.”
“I’ll get that locator spell and look up the ingredients,” Tara said, eyeing the robot and stepping out of the room.
“I’ll help you,” Dawn offered, looking for any reason to get out of the training room.
Together Tara and Dawn amassed the supplies needed in order to cast the spell.
“Now all we need is something that belonged to Spike, so we can specify him as the person we want to find,” Tara said when they were finished gathering the ingredients.
“Oh! Spike has some clothes at our house. In the basement from when he… you know,” Dawn said.
“That will do. And we should get weapons from Buffy’s house anyway,” Willow agreed.
“Let’s go,” Tara ordered, shocking them again by her forthright words and atypical assertiveness.
They followed her out of the Magic Box, robot in tow.
Once at Buffy’s house, Dawn went into the basement to get an article of clothing that Spike had left behind from his convalescence while Tara set up the spell in the living room.
“Whoa, group play time,” Buffy said, coming into the living room.
“Buffy!” Willow greeted. “You’re back early!”
“Yeah,” Buffy sighed. “Death is my gift. Pffah.”
“Huh?” Willow asked.
Buffy shook off her memory and looked around at the others in the room.
“What’s going on?”
“Hey! You look just like me!” the Buffybot chirped.
Buffy stared at the robot, her eyes wide. “Oh. My. God.”
“No no, it’s not what you think,” Xander hastened.
“Buffy, I’m going to head off to the… oh good lord,” Giles said, coming into the house, but he stopped short when he saw the robot.
“You’re Mr. Giles. You’re from England,” the ‘bot beamed.
“Oh dear, I see that Warren finished it in our absence.”
Buffy rounded on her Watcher. “You knew about this?!”
Giles looked away nervously. “Well, yes, Spike and I discussed it…”
“SPIKE?”
“Whoa, whoa, wait Buffy, calm down,” Xander tried.
“Calm down? Calm down? There’s a sex bot with my face on it standing in my living room and you want me to calm down?”
“She’s not a sex bot!” Willow interrupted. “Well… not anymore. We’ve changed her programming.”
Buffy scowled. “Oh that makes me feel sooo much better. Where is he?”
“Buffy, please. Let us explain,” Willow begged.
Buffy frowned but nodded.
“After you and Giles left for your trip, Spike came to the Magic Box with the robot. He said he and Giles decided to have Warren make a robot that looked like you for us to use as a decoy against Glory. But Spike couldn’t tell Warren what we really needed the robot for, so he had him make another girlfriend-bot. Then when it was done, Spike brought it to us so we could reprogram it. Buffy, it’s really strong and it fights really well. We took it on patrol last night and it killed eight vampires all by itself,” Willow explained.
“Eight?” Buffy repeated.
“Okay, I found these,” Dawn said, coming into the room. She was carrying a black t-shirt and pair of black socks.
“Dawn, why are you carrying Spike’s clothes?” Buffy demanded.
The teen blinked at her sister. “Buffy, you’re back!” She rushed over and hugged Buffy. “Oh, I’m so glad you’re back! We need your help!”
Buffy hugged her sister then pulled back. “Okay. Okay. I go away on a vision quest where I meet up with cave-slayer, complete with dreadlocks and facial mud, and when I come back, I find all my friends in my house, a robot that looks like me standing in my living room, and my sister taking a vampire’s clothes out of the basement. What gives?”
“We need the clothes for a locator spell,” Tara said, taking the clothing from Dawn and bringing it to where she had set up the spell.
“Locator spell?” Buffy repeated, taking in the set up.
“Buffy… last night, Glory’s minions jumped me and Spike. They knocked me out and took Spike,” Xander admitted.
“Glory has Spike?” Buffy gasped.
Xander swallowed hard and nodded.
“Oh dear, this… this is awful news,” Giles stammered, cleaning his glasses and casting a glance at Tara.
“Don’t worry. We’re going to find him and bring him back,” Tara said confidently.
Giles went over to where she was preparing to cast the spell.
“A locator spell?” he asked.
Tara nodded, spreading some cornmeal into a sacred circle.
“I can help,” Giles offered.
She gave him another nod and handed him the map of Sunnydale to place in the center of the Circle.
“How long has she had him?” Buffy demanded.
“A few hours. They jumped us as we were leaving the Magic Box last night,” Xander answered. “He’s probably told her about Dawn by now.”
“NO!” Dawn cried. “Spike would never tell Glory about me. Not ever.”
“Dawn, Spike’s a vampire...”
“A vampire who loves Buffy. And he loves me too. He’d die for us. You know he would.”
“Whoa, Spike loves you?” Xander blurted, rounding on Buffy with an accusing glare.
Buffy tried to downplay the revelation. “I found out a few weeks back.”
“And you didn’t tell any of us?”
“I didn’t think it was important.”
“Not important? Another vamp falls for you, one that *already* doesn’t have a soul, and you didn’t think it was important? When were you going to tell us, Buff? After he started killing us or before?” Xander accused.
“Hey! That’s not fair! You know Spike can’t hurt any of us because of the chip. Besides, he loves me and Buffy, and he loved Mom too,” Dawn argued.
“Dawn, Spike can’t love. He’s a soulless monster who killed people for centuries,” Xander countered.
“That’s quite enough,” Giles interrupted, an edge to his voice. “We need quiet in order to cast this spell. I suggest that you gather weapons we will need to rescue Spike from Glory and be ready to leave once we know where he is.”
He and Tara shared a look, then joined hands. Willow, Dawn and Anya looked on while Buffy and Xander did as they were told and gathered weapons. Buffy pulled the Gruth’lak battleaxe out of the weapons chest and studied it, a sad frown on her face.
“So, is this, like, ‘I love you forever and I want to make you into my immortal sex slave’ love? Or is it ‘I’m scarily obsessed with you and will stalk you from the shadows’ love?” Xander asked snarkily, out of earshot of Giles and Tara.
“It’s a ‘I’ll be whatever you want, whatever you need, and I’ll never leave’ kind of love,” Buffy replied softly, lowering the axe. “It’s messy and complicated and terrifying, but it’s real, Xander. At least, it’s real to him. Giles told me Spike first told him under the truth spell, so it can’t have been one of his lies.”
“Okay, but you know… it can’t be real.”
“I don’t know anything,” she said.
“Buffy, Spike doesn’t have a soul.”
She turned to him. “I know, but…” She stopped, thinking, then shook her head. “Look, I can’t do this now. I just know that Spike would never hurt me or Dawn, and that right now he’s in trouble and we have to do what we can to save him.”
“And I know that the guy has been doing a lot for us lately, but you know he’s going to tell Glory that Dawn is the Key and you and Dawn should be heading out of town instead of us trying to rescue the soulless killer from a Hell God,” Xander countered.
“So it’s okay for us to use him and beat him and pump him for information when we need it, but he isn’t worth our efforts if he needs our help?” Buffy snapped back.
Xander shook his head and put up his hands. “I’m just saying... Spike’s a demon, Buffy. He’s not human. He doesn’t have a soul and he’ll never be Angel.”
“You think this is about Angel?” Buffy seethed.
“Isn’t it? I mean, come on, you had a thing for a vampire once. It’s logical that you could fall for another one.”
“I am not in love with Spike!” she insisted. “But he isn’t my enemy anymore and he’s helped me a lot. He deserves the benefit of the doubt here.”
Xander sighed and gathered his thoughts. “But Buffy… in order to save him we’re gonna have to find Glory.”
Buffy’s lips tightened and she nodded. “I know.”
Just then Dawn came running to find them. “We found him. Tara and Giles have the spot on the map.”
Buffy leveled an expectant look at Xander and held it until Xander looked away.
“Okay. Dawn, you and Tara stay here and be safe. The rest of us will go,” she decided, walking towards where Tara and Giles were set up. She glanced over her shoulder. “Xander, are you with us?”
The young man made an unhappy face but finally nodded. “Yeah, Buff. I’m with you.”
She gave him a soft smile.
“Let’s go.”
*******