Night had fallen again, Spike’s senses were telling him.  Another night.  The third one of his captivity.

One thing was sure, Soldierboy had absolutely no talent nor inclination for torture.  The wanker had bloodied him a little the first day, supposedly to get answers to his stupid questions, but it had soon been clear that he was more relieving a few frustrations than really trying to get answers.  It hadn’t been hard for Spike to hold his tongue.  If a hell goddess hadn’t gotten a word from him, what were the chances of a human?  The difference was that, back then, Spike hadn’t thought any help would come for him, and it had.  While this time, he had been pretty sure his Childe wouldn’t take long to find him, and still, three nights later, she hadn’t come.

Apparently, the wankers had decided that they were in no hurry, and that hunger would make him talk.  They hadn’t fed him, and since he had lost some blood he was getting weak faster than he should have.  Which meant, no way to get out of these bloody chains.  What he hated most, however, was that they left him by himself most of the time, checking only every few hours to see if he had decided to give up yet.  Too much time with nothing to do but think.  He had replayed his abduction countless times in his mind, the mere seconds during which a few humans had invaded his lair and taken him, a Master Vampire, as if he had been a simple fledgling.  He blamed himself for his distraction, he had been so caught up in his own thoughts that he hadn’t reacted as fast as he should have.  And what if he had called his Childe for help?  Even with the water running, she probably would have picked up her name if he had shouted.  She could have helped him, maybe.  Or she would have been taken alongside him.

And again, his thoughts were back to Buffy.

What was she doing?  Why hadn’t she come to his aid yet?  He tried to find an explanation, but all the theories he could come up with were each worse than the last.  Maybe she didn’t care.  Maybe she had only shrugged at his disappearance and decided than she didn’t need him.  Maybe she had even taken it as a blessing, since now she was free to do as she pleased.  Maybe by now she had already killed the Scoobies, maybe she had even gone back to LA to finish her business there.  Or maybe the Watchers had arrived already, and captured her.  Not staked her, he would have known if she was dust.  Or maybe they had given her her soul back, and she was horrified that he had let drink from someone.

Maybe.

Maybe he would never know unless he found a way to escape by himself.  And maybe it was better not to know.

No.  She was alive.  She loved him.  These two things he knew, two truths that were part of him.  She would come for him.  She would.

It was the third time already that Manon had followed Buffy through the mostly deserted streets of Sunnydale.  Followed, and did little else.  A couple of times, she had helped dust a vamp, but Buffy usually did the questioning and the execution with the same alacrity.  Her elder hadn’t said how she hoped to find Spike simply by walking around and asking questions that never got helpful answers, but Manon didn’t have a better idea, so she kept her doubts to herself.  But, as much as she regretted it, she did have doubts.  A lot of them.  She couldn’t help worrying and imagining the worse about what was happening to Spike.  And Buffy’s simple but unexplained reassurance that he was still alive did nothing to help.  So much could happen, in three nights.  She hadn’t been a Slayer for very long, but she had already seen more than once how different things could be at sunrise from what they had been at sunset, and vice-versa.

God, how she hoped he was alright.

Admitting she didn’t stand a chance was one thing.  Not caring about what happened to him, a very, very different one.  That’s why she was there, night after night.  Not to keep an eye on Buffy, for she was sure that Buffy was way too distracted to hunt and feed.  No, she came along to be there when the blonde finally found her Sire, so that she could start breathing normally again, instead of having that painful weight on her chest.

And now, there was something else.  She had seen and heard enough since the Watchers had arrived to realize that the Scoobies’ fears were probably close to becoming true.  That new Slayer, Chloe, had just been Called, but she had mentioned she had been training for years already, and she was better at fighting than Manon was.  If she tried to take Buffy, she might – just might, with a lot of luck – succeed.  Seeing how distracted Buffy was, it might be the best time ever to do it.  And from a few words shared as they sparred, Manon had no doubt that the girl would do whatever the Council told her to.  There was just no way Manon was going to do nothing but stand and watch Buffy get dusted.  No way she would confront Spike, if he ever came back, with the news that she had let Buffy get killed.  If that meant doing her best to protect a Vampire from a Slayer… oh well.  After all, she did owe her life to one of these soulless creatures.

Slowly, the hours flowed away, and as sunrise got increasingly closer, Manon could see the change in Buffy.  At the beginning of the night, she had been calm, obviously filled with a deep determination.  Cracks had started to appear in the vampire’s façade sometime after midnight, anguish slipping slowly over her features as her pace quickened until Manon had trouble keeping up with her.

And again, it was morning, and they were back to Revello Drive, being nowhere closer to having found the man they both loved.  Manon wished the despair she could see in Buffy’s eyes as she stared into her cup of chocolate didn’t seem even deeper than the morning before.  She also wished she knew what to say to comfort the vampire in front of her.  Weird, because she was supposed to stake vampires, not comfort them, not worry about them.  As she left, she just repeated words she had said before, trying to believe them as much as she had the first time.

“You’ll find him, won’t you?”

There was a slight pause, and then a murmur.

“Yes.  We will.”

Andrea was pacing through the Magic Box, and had been doing so for a good half hour already, reconsidering over and over again her decision.  Not that Manon had given her much choice to begin with.

After sparring with Chloe for a little while, her Slayer had calmly announced, a few minutes before sunset, that she needed to go patrol with Buffy.  Unfortunately, the High Council was in the training room then.  So even though Andrea had very much wanted to forbid the child to join the vampire, she had not said a word, and only given a short nod of agreement.  If she had pointed out that Buffy was too unpredictable for Manon to trust her now, it might have raised a few questions as to why she had insisted that a chance be given to the ex-Slayer.  And she couldn’t actually answer that she didn’t want to see her lover’s heart broken by the early staking of his Slayer, could she?  That wouldn’t have sounded serious at all.  And yet, it was exactly what she was doing.  Jeopardizing her own Slayer’s safety because Rupert trusted Buffy could control herself or be controlled.  Of course, Manon had survived two nights alone with the vampire already, there was no reason for anything to go wrong now.  Or so she prayed for.

The Scoobies, or rather the Witches, were still talking with the Council’s magic crew.  From the drawn faces, it didn’t look like the discussion was going anywhere, but then, it had been almost a given that the intervention of the Mage would be necessary.  These two young girls, barely half a century together in age, knew more about their art than the three persons in front of them, who together were probably three times their combined ages.  The Harris couple had bailed out a moment before, Anya having declared she didn’t feel well, but Andrea suspected that had been an excuse to escape the imperturbable gazes of the nine High Council members.

The bell rang softly, and Andrea turned to the door, glad that Rupert had returned unharmed, disappointed that Manon, and Buffy, weren’t with him.  He gave her a small smile as he stopped in front of her.

“Manon is with her,” he whispered.

“I know,” she replied just as quietly.

“You let her go?”

A hint of surprise in his voice, though it didn’t appear on his face as he absently rubbed his glasses clean.  For any of the persons at the back of the room, they probably appeared to be talking of unimportant matters.

“I didn’t have much of a choice,” she said with a forced smile.  “I can’t say we have to trust Buffy one day, and then the opposite the next.”

“Don’t worry.  She’s safe.”

Andrea watched his back as he walked toward the Council, and she couldn’t help but wonder who was safe.  A light shiver ran through her, and she crossed her arms, trying to warm herself, as she followed to hear what he was going to tell them.

“She will meet you tomorrow,” he said calmly, his gaze traveling on the grave faces in front of him.  “She is ready to have her soul restored, but there is a condition.  She needs our help to find Spike.”

Eyebrows had risen with the word ‘condition’, and heads started shaking at Spike’s name.  As usual, it was Maryan McNeely who, as the oldest, expressed the opinion of the Council, though for once she didn’t need to confer with them first.

“Not only do we have to pay, and dearly, for a vampire to regain her soul,” she said, unconvinced, “but you expect us to accept her conditions?  We have no use for her Sire.  He, for one, doesn’t have a soul, nor has he expressed the desire…”

“You don’t understand”, Giles interrupted her, his voice steel.  “We are not talking about two vampires randomly chosen among thousands of others.  We are talking about a young lady who is still a Slayer and as such under the protection of the Council.  We are talking about a man who, even without a soul, has been fighting our fight and redeeming himself for years.”

“We know very well who we are talking about,” Maryan said sharply.  “But you seem to forget too easily they are still vampires, despite everything they have done in the recent past.  And the Council’s role is still to protect the world against them and their kind.”

From where she stood a little behind him, Andrea could not see Giles’ face or his expression.  She could see, however, his fists close and his body tremble.  She could also hear the anger, although tightly controlled, in his voice.

“The world,” he said slowly, very low, “would not be as we know it if not for them.  All of us would either be dead, or in hell and wishing we were dead.  So when the girl who prevented more apocalypses in her short life than all the Slayers in the previous hundred years needs your help, you get off your collective behind, you put down your tea cups and you do everything, everything, to give her what she wants.  And what she wants right now is Spike.”

There were heated protests, both about the tone he had used, the words themselves and the general idea, but he did not move from his spot in front of them.  Unconsciously passing her tongue on her dry lips, Andrea moved forward to stand by his side.

“This is ridiculous,” Maryan said, incredulous, having finally found her voice.  “You’re not even a Watcher, and you pretend to give us orders?!  Do you somehow think you’re the Head of the Council?”

“It wouldn’t take much for him to be,” Andrea said coolly.  “A few phone calls, and before you can even get back to London your chairs will have been voted to other Watchers, and they will have elected a new Head, instead of… waiting for things to happen.”

She had been about to say ‘instead of sitting on their collective behind’, but that would have probably taken away from her mild threat.  As it was, Maryan seemed ready to have an attack of apoplexy, and two Watchers looked as if they had just seen their own deaths.  But the most interesting was that four more looked more worried than angry, while the remaining two had already picked up that the wind was turning and were talking quietly between themselves.

Although she was observing the persons in front of her, Andrea could see, from the corner of her eye, the research table and the five persons there.  They had stopped talking about magic and spells, and were all staring at what was happening between the High Council and the determined couple who had already caused the fall of a Head Watcher.

One of the youngest High Council members finally cleared his throat, getting the attention of everyone else, and requested a formal private meeting.  All nine of them were soon hurrying in a more or less dignified way to the back room, and more than one glanced back at Rupert and her before they disappeared.

“What the hell was that?” he asked, turning to her, as the door had finally closed.

“That was me using my father’s methods,” Andrea replied with a small smile.  “That’s just about what he did to be elected in 1979.  I can’t say I’m very proud of it, but the only thing I hurt was a few people’s pride.  And if it works, you just might find yourself Head Watcher when all of this is over, Mr. Rupert Giles.”

As he stared at her, his eyes widening comically, she let out a little laugh.  She had been thinking about this for a few days, since it had started becoming clear that, left to do what they wished, the members of the High Council would probably decide that they didn’t need a Head Watcher above them.  She had already whispered the idea into a few receptive as well as decisive ears, but she hadn’t planned to do this so soon or without telling Rupert first.  Yet just to see his face right now it had been worth it.
 

It was almost noon, and Anya was getting nervous.  Buffy was supposed to arrive soon to meet these damn Watchers.  As if they couldn’t have gone to her place instead.  No, why would they make the effort of going there when they could appear here, make Anya close the store, and have a soulless and obnoxious vampire come over?

In her millennium as a demon, Anya had met quite a few vamps, and even granted a couple of wishes to feminine members of the species.  Never had she been afraid of one.  Since she’d become human again, she had started being wary, but, again, she had never been afraid of a specific vampire, just cautious about the community as a whole.  But hearing Buffy when she first came back soulless to Sunnydale… seeing the looks she was throwing her…  That had shaken her to her bones.  She hadn’t been able to sleep that night.  All she had been able to think about was Buffy’s comments about pregnant women.  And now Buffy was coming to the store, and Spike wasn’t there to stop her from talking or biting – because, really, how could they be completely certain that his orders still held her?  The others didn’t even seem to question it, though.  All they saw was their friend; all they thought of was helping her.  What Anya was thinking of, herself, was how to stay alive long enough to become a mother.

She was startled when the basement door opened violently and Buffy strode in.  Apparently, the vamp wasn’t in a very good mood on this fine and sunny morning, either.  But then, who would be cheery after a little trip through the sewers, and why in hell was Anya worrying about the sewers when Buffy was there and Xander wasn’t around to protect his wife?  She let out a little sigh when Giles stepped up to meet his Slayer, talking to her in quiet tones as he ushered her to the back room where the big and mighty Watchers were waiting.  As they passed by the counter, Anya unconsciously took a step back, putting a little more distance between Buffy and her.  The vamp looked at her then, and a faint smirk appeared on her lips, but she said nothing and didn’t slow her step.  Soon Watcher and Slayer had walked into the backroom, and Anya didn’t realize she had been staring at the spot where they had disappeared until Willow spoke to her from her seat at the research table.

“It will be over soon, Anya,” she said in a somewhat reassuring tone.  “Our Buffy will be back, and until then we’ll make sure nothing happens to you.”

Anya nodded, but she didn’t feel any better.  At this point, she didn’t care anymore if they restored Buffy’s soul or staked her.  She just wanted this nightmare to be over.

Despite her apparent calm as she followed Giles into the training room, Buffy’s anger was ready to erupt.  It had been too long, way too long, since she last saw her Sire, since she last touched her Mate.  Too long since she had allowed the demon to come forward and sink her fangs in living – or unliving – flesh.  The lack of results of her search was infuriating as much as it was despairing.  And the welcome committee that greeted her in the training room just added to her ire.

Behind the door the Watcher was closing, there were not one, but two Slayers.  She didn’t know the kid at Manon’s side, but the vibes were very clear.  Why hadn’t Manon told her?  Or the Watcher?  She had thought she could, within limits, trust these two, but they hadn’t said another Slayer was in Sunnydale.  Were they setting up a trap?  If that was their plan, they would be in for a surprise.  Two Slayers didn’t scare her any more than one did, but she hated when people thought she was stupid.  Giles seemed to notice her tension and stopped her with a wary touch on her arm.

“Scowling at them isn’t really part of playing nice,” he whispered, his head tilting briefly toward the group of people by the other end of the room.

They were all standing, as if ready to battle, most of them fidgeting a little.  From her vantage point, she could see that the nine older Watchers in the middle were all holding crosses, some already pointed in her direction, others clutched as talismans.  In sharp contrast to that demeanor, they all looked calm, composed, sure of themselves.  But they reeked of fear.  A few steps to their left, three more Watchers stood nervously, holding crossbows which were pointed vaguely in her direction.  On the right, the two Slayers and their designated Watchers, or at least Buffy assumed the man next to Andrea was the new Slayer’s.  All four of them had stakes, but Manon ostentatiously tucked hers behind her belt before crossing her arms as Buffy’s eyes trailed over her.  The vampire understood the message and gave her a light nod.  The kid was there under duress.  Strangely enough, Andrea’s hold on her stake was just as unthreatening.

Buffy eyes returned to Giles, and although she knew they must be filled with gold, he seemed untouched by her glare.

“You asked me to come here to talk,” she hissed, not bothering with lowering her voice.  “But they all look ready to dust me.”

Giles cast an irritated glance at the group, and there was a slight movement, crosses and crossbows now pointing to the floor.

“As long as you do not threaten them,” he said in a level voice, his eyes still on the others and not her, “they will not raise a finger against you.  Of that, you have my word, and theirs.”

There was some foot shuffling, but no one contradicted him.  Still cautious, Buffy advanced toward the group, stopping a few feet in front of them.  She was surprised when Giles came to stand at her side and not with the others.

“Let’s get on with the show,” she said gruffly.  “I have eternity in front of me, but it doesn’t mean I want to spend it with you.”

As she talked, her eyes roamed over the oldest Watchers in front of her – the High Council, Giles had called them.  As he had explained to her that morning, it was a woman who spoke for them, the woman taking a step – a small step – toward Buffy now.  Was it Mary?  No, Maryan.

“Miss Summers, we are glad you agreed to meet us.  Now if you will, we are going to do that little truth spell as I am sure Mr. Giles told you we would.”

Slowly, Buffy nodded, and her lips curled up slightly.

“Do your spell, I have nothing to hide,” she said with a shrug.  “But I want you under the same charm, Maryan.  Just to make sure honesty goes both ways.”

The woman flinched as Buffy said her name, but recovered quickly and gestured for one of the crossbow holders to come forward.  The incantation was done in less than a minute, and immediately repeated on Maryan.

“The first question is easy, Miss Summers,” the woman said calmly, though she was slightly shaking.  “Did you ever kill a human being?”

For a moment there was absolutely quiet expectancy, and then an almost tangible feeling of collective relief when the answer came.

“No.”

Smirking very slightly, she added: ”What about you?”

“God, of course not!”  Maryan replied, outraged.

It took her only a second to regain her calm and ask the next question.

“Do you want to kill human beings?”

A few days ago, the answer would have been different, and probably would have put an end to this questioning.  But now, all she wanted was to find her Sire, nothing more.  There was the same relief when, again, she said no.  But immediately widening eyes as she completed her answer.

“But whoever took Spike is dead, whether they are human or not.”

Maryan ran her tongue over her lips nervously.

“I understand your distress,” she said slowly.  “But we cannot allow you to kill.”

“And how will you stop me?”  Buffy said quietly.  “Will you send these children after me?  If you do, you won’t be able to say you never killed anyone anymore.  Because you will kill them as surely as I will.”

Her eyes never left Maryan, but she saw movement on the side, where the Slayers stood.

“I will not fight Buffy”, Manon’s voice rose suddenly, breaking the deafening silence.

A little surprised, the vampire watched the red-haired Slayer drop her stake to the floor and move over to stand next to Giles, now facing the Council members instead of protecting them.

“She is afraid,” the other Slayer stated, contempt clear in her voice.  “I am not.  I will do my duty.”

Buffy rolled her eyes at the declaration, but before she could comment Andrea had stepped forward, coming to stand to the side, between Buffy and Maryan.  The older woman seemed irritated by both Manon’s words and what Andrea said next.

“Manon is not afraid,” she said with a light frown at her charge.  “If anything, I wish she was.  But that’s not the problem.  Our problem right now is that Buffy might kill a human, if it’s indeed a human who kidnapped Spike.  But we don’t know that.  And judging by the power of their hiding spell, it could easily be that it’s a demon behind all this.”

“But we don’t know that either,” Maryan interjected.  “We can’t help her find them if it means she would kill humans.  We cannot be her accomplices.”

There was a murmur of assent behind the woman.  Andrea ignored it, and turned instead to Buffy.

“What about this,” she suggested.  “We find where Spike is held, we get him back and deal with his captors appropriately, but without your presence.”

Buffy gritted her teeth as she thought over the offer.  Her revenge would be pulled out of her hands, true, but Spike would be back then, so did it matter that much?

“Alright,” she agreed reluctantly.

Andrea let out a little sigh and turned back toward Maryan with a bright smile.  The older woman nodded slowly, her eyes never leaving Buffy as she gauged her.

“The terms are acceptable,” she said blankly.  “We return your Sire to you, if he is alive…”

“He is!”  Buffy snapped.

“… and you cooperate as to the return of your soul,” Maryan finished, her voice wavering a little.

“What if you can’t do it?”  Buffy asked, much as she had asked Giles before.  “Will you try to stake me if my soul is gone for good?”

“If you could stop yourself from killing…”

“Could you stop yourself from breathing?”

Buffy was mildly startled by Giles sudden intervention, but it was nothing compared to Maryan’s and the rest of the Watchers’ shock.

“It is not Buffy’s fault if her soul is gone,” the man said calmly as the vampire arched an eyebrow at him.  “And it is not her fault if her nature is to feed off humans.  What is her doing, however, is the prevention of several apocalypses.  If her soul cannot be returned, we have no right to take her life.  She belongs to the Powers That Be, or however you want to call a supreme being, and only they can decide her fate.”

Smiling very slightly, Buffy faced the group of Watchers again.

“I’m not asking for your permission to feed,” she said coldly.  “I’m not asking either that you promise not to kill me.  The deal is this.  If I cross paths with a Slayer as I feed, she’s free to try to kill me and I am free to defend myself, like any other vamp.  But you don’t deliberately hunt Spike and me down, and we return the favor and don’t come after any of you.  Do we have an agreement?”

Maryan blinked several times, her eyes moving from Buffy to Giles, then to Manon, Chloe, and back to Buffy.  Finally, she turned a rigid back to the vampire and approached her fellow High Council members.  There was a brief, heated, discussion,  in low voices that Buffy would have had no trouble understanding if she had cared to.  Instead, she was too busy trying to figure out whether she was making a mistake by playing this game.  Was losing her vengeance and recovering her soul too high a price to pay for Spike?  Of course not.  And it wasn’t even sure she’d get her soul back.  But that didn’t mean she was happy about it all.  If only she hadn’t needed their help…

After a few minutes, Maryan turned back to her, stepping closer.  She was even paler than before, and sweat beaded her forehead.  She looked as if she was about to sell her soul, Buffy thought, slightly amused.

“We have an agreement”, her dry voice enunciated as the woman held out a shaking hand toward Buffy.

Half an hour later, the same eighteen people were still in the training room, and Buffy was bored senseless.  But at least she was comfortable, while most of the others weren’t.  As soon as the talks were over, the annoying part had started, namely the summoning of some Mage who was supposed to discover why she had lost her soul and how to restore it.  Having a suspicion that it would take some time, Buffy had settled herself on the only piece of furniture in the room, the couch.  After a while, she had been amused when Manon hesitantly asked if she could sit there too, and even more when Giles settled on her other side.  It was as if they were making a statement to the other persons present in the room, claiming vehemently but without a word that they trusted her, as if that hadn’t been made clear so far.

And finally…

The lights flickered in the room, there was a loud sound, like thunder, and a tall figure appeared where there had been nothing before.  Giles immediately got to his feet and went to meet the Mage, beating Maryan as she approached him too.

Buffy didn’t pay much attention to whatever was said then, but she did hear something about a price, and saw a little bundle move from a shaky hand to a blue one and disappear into the folds of the Mage’s robes.  He walked toward her then, serpentine eyes the only part of him not covered by cloth, and Buffy was once again amused by the kid, who leaped away from the couch before anyone could ask her to.  Buffy herself did not move, and simply observed the man – creature?  - who was now in front of her, just as he observed her back.  He leaned toward her, and she tried to move away, only to find that she was paralyzed by his stare.  A cold, dark blue hand was pressed to her forehead for a couple of seconds, and a very unpleasant feeling ran through Buffy, as if she was being examined from the inside.  Before she could protest, the hand lifted from her skin, before being pressed to her again, this time to the top of her chest, fingers grazing her collarbone, and the unpleasant feeling returned, only ten times stronger.  It seemed like the contact lasted hours, but somehow she knew it hadn’t been more than a few seconds before the Mage took a step back, giving her a nod before he returned to Giles and the other Watchers.

As she watched him retreat, Buffy realized two things.  She was panting heavily, and she was in game face.  She hadn’t noticed either until the Mage let go of her.  Frowning at his back, she listened intently, this time, to what he was saying to the humans.

“I cannot return her soul,” he said immediately.  “But I can tell you how it can be done.”

He made a gesture with his hand, and a shimmering appeared in the air in front of him, slowly forming an image of the globe.  Another flourish, and the image changed, as if zooming.  Continents and oceans disappeared, until all that was left was the image of England, with a pulsating glow at the very south.  Again, a flourish, and another zoom, straight on the light.  Slowly, as if viewing the earth from a landing plane, the fields, roads, and buildings grew larger and larger.  Soon, the glow was in the middle of a garden, then over a rooftop, then the image went through the roof to reveal a cozy British interior, and, on a wooden table, among other knickknacks, a seemingly glass ball that glowed softly.

“This is where her soul is,” the Mage said finally.  “A spell was done to take it from her, and so that it wouldn’t be returned to her, the soul was trapped in this orb, and the orb made indestructible.  Have the willing vampire simply touch it, and her soul will return to her.”

“Willing?” a Watcher repeated as he cast a worried glance at Buffy.

“Willing,” the Mage confirmed.  “She has to really want it.  That is the way.  You paid the price, I answered your request.  You don’t need me to complete the restoration.”

“But where is this house?”  Giles asked him, frowning.  “We need an exact location, or we could be searching in vain for years.  At least the name of a town.”

Buffy only saw the Mage’s back, but she could hear his smile when he said:

“The answer is closer to you than you think.”

Again, the lights flickered, but this time there was no sound as the Mage disappeared.

For a few seconds, as the Watchers sent each other consternated glances, there was not a sound in the room.  And then a feeble voice rose.

“Seaford.”

The word was pronounced by a suddenly very pale Andrea.  All eyes turned to her, and she continued, her tone completely inexpressive.

“The address is 29 Park Road, in Seaford.”

“Andrea?”  Giles questioned, very softly.

“I grew up in that house”, she finished, her voice now nothing but a whisper.

It was suddenly too much, and Buffy burst out laughing, startling everybody.

“Wait a minute,” she said between two giggles.  “You mean that a Watcher took my soul and I’ll only get it back if I really want it?”

No one answered her, and for a little while she just kept laughing.  Then the thought came to her that, if he had heard it, Spike would have found this hilarious too.  That sobered her immediately.  The question of her soul had an answer, but she didn’t care about that.  What she cared about was finding Spike.  It was time for the Council to fulfill its promises.
 
 
 

Manon had expected a few chosen words from Andrea after the way she had openly supported Buffy in front of the Council.  But the revelation that it was her father, if Manon had gotten that right, who was responsible for this mess, seemed to have shaken the Watcher.  All the Watchers, actually, except maybe for Giles who didn’t look that much surprised.

As soon as the Mage had left, Buffy had requested that the Council fulfill its part of the bargain and find Spike instead of worrying so much about her soul.  As everyone else seemed too tongue-tied to reply to her demand, Giles had taken charge and directed the three Watchers who were here to do magic to join Willow in the store and see what they could do about finding Spike.  He then suggested, in more subdued words but a tone just as determined, that the High Council return to its hotel and decide on a course of action regarding the recovery of Buffy’s soul.  As he herded the Watchers, including Andrea, out of the training room, he had a few words with Chloe and Manon, and instructed both to resume their training and try to get along.  Finally, before walking out himself, he approached Buffy.  Instead of talking to her about her soul or the agreement she had with the Council, Manon was surprised to hear him comfort her and promise that they would find Spike as quickly as they possibly could.

After hosting so many people, the room felt very empty suddenly as only four remained.  Chloe was talking in quiet tones to her Watcher, and from what Manon could understand she wasn’t really inclined to train with her.  It didn’t matter, however, because Buffy got to her feet, and, stretching a little on the way, came to Manon.

“Spar with me,” she said, and it sounded more like an order than a request.

Manon observed her, a little hesitant.  They hadn’t fought since Buffy lost her soul, and she wasn’t sure it was a good idea to do so now.  The vampire seemed really irritated, and she might push Manon too far and hurt her without even meaning to.

“I’m not sure…’’ she started.

“Do you trust me?”  Buffy interrupted her, her expression unreadable.

It just took a second for Manon to admit that, yes, she did.  And so they started trading blows, under the cold stare of Chloe, and the attentive observation of her Watcher.  Or rather, Buffy started throwing punches and kicks, and Manon started evading.  Just protecting herself took all of her energy, and she had no clue how she was supposed to fight back in these conditions.  Buffy was fighting harder than ever before against her, but at the same time Manon was pretty confident that she wasn’t doing so at her maximum capabilities.  She had seen her train with Spike, and there was no way she would have been able to last a minute if Buffy had been fighting like that now.  The question was, was she holding back on purpose, or was she so upset and distracted that she wasn’t fighting her best?

For long minutes, Buffy’s attacks were unrelenting.  Gradually, Manon could feel her own moves becoming sloppier and slower as fatigue crept through her.  Earlier, the vamp had claimed she would kill any Slayer sent after her by the Council.  There wasn’t a doubt in Manon’s mind that she would have no trouble doing exactly that, and judging by Chloe’s frown, she wasn’t the only one who had come to that conclusion.

The sparring match stopped abruptly when Manon found herself lying flat on her back, with no clue whatsoever about how she had ended on the floor.  Panting, she remained there, her eyes on the ceiling, trying to slow her heartbeat.  Buffy’s face appeared above her, and if Manon hadn’t known any better she could have thought there was a little concern hiding in her gauging eyes.

“You never… never worked me that hard… even when we were getting ready… for the apocalypse”, she managed to say, a slight questioning in her voice.

Buffy shrugged.  “They didn’t want to discourage you.”

As she scrambled to her feet, Manon let out a small, dry chuckle.  Discouraged, indeed.

“I need some water,” she announced to the vampire.  “You want something to drink?”

Just as Buffy gave her the faintest smirk and shook her head, she noticed the scowl Chloe was giving them from afar.

“I think our new friend thinks I’m a traitor to the cause,” she said, loud enough for Chloe to hear.

“Not that long ago you would have thought the same way”, Buffy replied coolly.  “You would have believed anything your Watcher or the Council said.”

Manon nodded.  “But I learned better.  And she will too.”

Stretching her muscles carefully, Manon walked out the room, hearing the beginning of a tense discussion between the vampire and the new Slayer and Watcher.  As she went through the Magic Box, she saw the research table covered with maps and books, and Willow shaking her head at what one of the Watchers was saying.  It didn’t look like the hunt for Spike was getting any more successful than before, and Manon felt a tightening in her chest.  What were they going to do if even with the Watchers’ help they couldn’t find Spike?

While she was in the office pulling water from the fridge, she saw Chloe and her Watcher walk by and leave the store.  Not really unexpected, but faster than what she had anticipated.  Her thirst satisfied, she was about to return to the backroom when Anya stopped her, asking her how things had gone between Buffy and the Council.  It hadn’t seemed like it was a secret, so she told the woman what had happened.  It didn’t appear to soothe her worries, but then Anya had been rather on edge ever since Buffy returned from Los Angeles.

As she was going back to training room, she was surprised to hear Buffy talking to someone.  Curious as to who was in there with her, she peeked through the almost closed door, and her eyes widened as she recognized the face.  She had seen the tall, broad shouldered man before.  In her dreams.  And in her dreams, he stood guard over Spike.

“I told you to get out of my town, Riley.”

OK.  So this wasn’t the welcome he had been expecting.  He had gone to Revello Drive earlier, and, as no one answered when he knocked, had decided to try his luck at the Magic Box.  There was a ‘closed’ sign on the door, but when he had walked around he had found that the back door wasn’t locked.  He had entered, happy to immediately find Buffy in her training room.  She was abusing the punching bag, and by the way it was jerking around, it was a wonder that the thing was still whole.  But when he announced his presence, she turned cold eyes to him that almost made him regret he had come.

“It’s not that easy, Buffy.  I don’t decide where my unit is sent, my boss does.  And after the high school incident, it was judged necessary for the Hellmouth to be studied.”

Buffy snorted, a very unladylike sound coming from such a pretty woman, but didn’t comment any further.

“So…  I was wondering if you’d like to have a coffee with me, talk a little.  When you have some free…”

She rolled her eyes at him, then turned around and started pummeling the bag again, ignoring him.

“I have nothing to talk about with you,” she said coldly.  “You should leave now before something happens that one of us will be sorry for.”

Frowning, he shook his head at her back.  What did she mean by that?  And why was she in such a bad mood?  Was she upset because she had finally realized what had happened while she was under Spike’s thrall?  Or maybe she was ashamed from having told him about her supposed wedding to the vampire and didn’t know how to tell him it had been a mistake.

“Listen,” he said as gently as he could, “it’s been a long time, but we could still be friends.  If there’s anything you need…”

His voice trailed off as Buffy’s fist suddenly pierced the heavy leather of the bag.  Baffled, he watched the sand pour down as she pulled out her hand, and was almost surprised to realize she had turned around again and was standing in front of him.

“All I need,” she hissed, “is Spike.  You’re not him.  Now leave before I make you leave.”

Shocked, he raised his hands in an appeasing gesture and took a few steps back.  The thrall was still in full effect, obviously.  How long until it faded?  Another question for Hostile 17, it seemed.  Unless…  Unless there was no thrall and she had genuine feelings for…  No.  Impossible.  Sleeping with vampires was one thing, falling in love with a souled one a more difficult to understand one, but falling for Spike… No.  He would never believe that.  He couldn’t believe that.  There had to be a thrall.

It wasn’t torture enough that her Sire had been taken from her, that she had to refrain from following her instincts, that she had to cooperate with the damn Council and even agree to get her soul back.  On top of it all, the very last person she wanted to see was now here and hitting on her in that oh so subtle way of his.  The temptation to simply snap his neck and be done with him for good was great, but she ignored it and simply sent him away.  He seemed to understand at the end that he would be much better off not showing up any more.

Just as the annoying moron disappeared, Buffy heard Manon finally come in, abandoning her hiding spot from behind the door.

“Who was that?” the kid asked with a shaky voice.

“The most irritating and stubborn man on the face of the planet,” Buffy replied dryly.  “My ex, but I couldn’t tell you what I ever saw in him.”

Manon’s hand took hold of her arm and Buffy tensed at the sudden contact.  Shaking her arm free, she turned to the kid, and noticed how pale she was.

“I dreamed of him,” she said hesitantly.  “I dreamed of him having Spike as his prisoner.”

“Was it a Slayer dream?”  Buffy growled, fighting the demon that was trying to come forward.  “Why didn’t you tell me sooner, girl?”

Unconsciously, she had taken hold of the Slayer and was shaking her as she spoke.  Manon managed to pull away as she replied, now angry.

“I didn’t know it was a Slayer dream!  And what did you want me to say?  That I dreamed of someone I never saw before today?  That every time I get some sleep I see the man you love in pain?  That would have been helpful, I’m sure!”

Pain.  The word echoed in Buffy’s mind, blocking everything else.  Her Mate was in pain, and now she knew who to blame.  Leaving the kid in the middle of the room, she ran to the back door.  She probably could catch up with Riley, follow him to wherever he was hiding or even better torture him to get the information.  She flung the door open and ran into the shady alley… and managed to stop just in time to avoid stepping into the sunlight.  She could see him, almost out of sight now, walking down the street, head low and hands thrust in his pockets.  Out of her reach.  She was so frustrated she could have screamed in rage, so frustrated she almost didn’t notice the redhead who came out of the training room and started to stride after Riley.  She watched the kid go until she had disappeared down the street, wishing for the first time ever that she wasn’t a vamp and could also go in the sun to find her Mate.
 
 
 

Angel had been brooding all morning and most of the afternoon – he could admit that, to himself at least – when he decided to go back to Sunnydale. Things were quiet in LA again, which left him too much time to think, and to worry.

It had been a few very difficult days for Angel, and even worst nights.  Often, too often, he would reach to his neck and touch the healed scars there.  Payback, he could have called it, if he had been able to find any humor in it.  He had graced Buffy’s skin with a similar mark.  She had returned the favor.  But while he had been too far gone to realize that he was so close to killing her, Buffy had known exactly what she was doing, what she wanted to do.  What some part of him wanted, too, even if he didn’t want to admit it to himself.

Oh, he didn’t want to be Angelus, no doubt there.  He didn’t miss the hunt, the blood, the demon or its strength.  No, he needed none of that.  But that wasn’t all she had offered.  She had offered a family.  One that would last forever, or as close to forever as it came.  She had offered freedom.  Freedom from too many constraints, too many duties, too many responsibilities.  But above all, in exchange for his humanity and his soul, she had offered love.  And not only hers.

It had taken him a long time, too long, to start getting used to her being a vamp.  And he doubted he would ever be able to get used to her soulless state if it endured.  But if he had been himself soulless, he wouldn’t have cared.  Wouldn’t have cared about much at all, actually.  Which was just why he couldn’t even let himself think of giving in.

“Dad?  Driving the car off the road isn’t going to make us arrive in Sunnyhell any sooner, you know?”

And this was another reason he would remain human.

As he slowed down a little, he gave an apologetic glance to his son in the rearview mirror, and received a tight smile in return.  It was still a shock every time he realized he did have a reflection, and he didn’t know whether he would get used to it ever again.

Steven had calmed down from his initial shock and rage, mostly thanks to the promise Dawn had extorted from him that he wouldn’t hurt Buffy – at least, not unless he was in immediate danger and didn’t have any other choice.  What Dawn herself thought of her sister’s state was a mystery to Angel, and he certainly wasn’t going to ask, he knew her enough to know he wouldn’t get an answer.  Both teens had insisted on coming along when he had decided that, whatever Buffy had said, he just had to go to Sunnydale.  Even if he had no way to find Spike, he felt like he had to be there.  Because Spike was his Childe.  Because Buffy, even if she had come too close for comfort to draining him, was his Grandchilde.  He wasn’t a vampire anymore, that didn’t mean he had to abandon his vampire family.  He had made that mistake once, and didn’t plan on making it again.  Not being able to do anything was driving him crazy, just as was Cordelia’s lack of reply to his calls for help, but at least he would be close if his help was needed.

It was the end of the afternoon when at last they passed by the sign at the limit of the town, and Angel continued straight toward the Magic Box.  First, he wanted to talk to the Scoobies, or Giles, and see how things had evolved.  As he entered the shop with the two teens, he found an almost complete Scooby Gang there.  Almost complete, because the two resident vampires were absent.  His throat tightened as he took in the somber looks everyone gave to the newcomers.

“Are they alright?” he heard Dawn ask, her voice as tense as he himself felt.

“Buffy’s fine,” Giles said with a quiet sigh.  “As fine as she can be given the circumstances.  We haven’t found Spike yet.  You know he disappeared, right?”

Angel replied with a short nod, and asked: “Where is Buffy?”

The answer deeply surprised him.  He had expected to hear she was chained up somewhere, courtesy of the Council, but instead he was told that she was home.  By herself.  Without anyone looking over her shoulder to see whether she was draining someone.  Not that her chances to do that during the day were very high, but still.

What Giles said next was just as troubling, about an ex-Watcher, and even worse, the former Head Watcher, being the cause of the disappearance of Buffy’s soul.  And the last bit was depressingly ironic.  Buffy wanting her soul back?  Doubtful.  Very, very doubtful.

There was more information shared, but Angel wasn’t paying much attention anymore, and he only caught tidbits, just enough to know that before 24 hours the globe in which Buffy’s soul was trapped would be taken from its owner, said owner would be neutralized and presented to a Watchers’ trial, and the globe would be brought to Sunnydale, as well as some books that might help them locate Spike with more powerful spells.

The gang broke up just before nightfall, and Angel drove to Revello Drive, along with Giles, Dawn, and Steven.  He had heard that Buffy spent her nights out, with the kid Slayer, looking for Spike, and he had decided to accompany them, whether she liked it or not.

When they arrived at her house, they found the door unlocked.  In the living room, the heavy wood chest was open and weapons were scattered around it as if someone had been looking for something in particular.  Buffy was already gone.

In the shady alley, Buffy waited, pacing nervously, for Manon to return.  Her thoughts kept leaping from subject to subject, but came back, always, to her Sire.

Riley.  She felt so stupid for not having thought of him.  It was just that he was so… insignificant.  Barely worth a second thought.  But now that she knew, it was so logical.  Hiding his location with a spell was the unexpected thing, it wasn’t something the Initiative would have done.  But other than that detail, the method of kidnapping a vampire was all too familiar.  Twice they had taken Spike now.  And how long had the Initiative actually pursued him before it was dismantled?  They just didn’t seem to let go.  She would have to show them it wasn’t worth dying for.

The Council.  She had an agreement with them, and she might even have tried– tried, sure, but she couldn’t force herself to want something, could she?  – to respect it if they had found Spike first.  But now it looked like she wouldn’t need their help.  Before morning, she would have her Mate with her again, she was just sure of it.  And she would get her vengeance too.

Manon.  If only the kid had told her sooner…  All this time lost because she hadn’t mentioned her dreams!  But then, she didn’t know Riley.  Buffy could grudgingly admit that she had no way to know who he was until she saw him.  And she could also admit that she had dreamed of Spike too, and that he was in pain in her dream also, but she hadn’t seen Riley, just demons.  She had chalked up the nightmare to her worry over Spike, and Manon had probably done exactly the same.  The kid hadn’t had enough Slayer dreams yet to see the difference.  And why in hell was Buffy finding excuses for her?  And where was she, anyway?  She was taking an awful lot of time to return.  Surely, Riley’s hiding hole couldn’t be that far, could it?  She had been gone for what felt like hours.  She wasn’t stupid enough to try to get Spike back by herself, was she?  Buffy ground her teeth at the thought, almost vamping out in discontentment.  She wanted to be there when Spike was freed.  She had to be there.  It was her right and duty.  Just as it was to bring punishment to her Sire’s tormentors.  And especially Riley.

None too soon, she felt familiar tingles down her spine – the Slayer induced kind, though, and not the ones that announced her Sire.  She almost stepped into the sunlight again in her haste to reach the kid sooner.  Manon remained in the sun, just out of reach of Buffy, arms crossed in a slightly defensive manner.

“Did you find him?”  Buffy asked immediately.  “Where is he?”

“I don’t know if I found him, I didn’t get in,” Manon replied with a small headshake.  “I followed your ex all the way to a big building by the edge of town.  It looks abandoned, but I’ve observed it for a while and I’ve seen six persons come in or out of it.”

So, that was why she had taken so long to return.  She had been scouting the terrain.  Good girl.

“Let me get some weapons and you can show me the way.”

“Not so quick,” Manon said in a stronger voice than Buffy had ever heard her use so far.  “We have something to discuss first.”

“Discuss?”  Buffy hissed, coming as close to the edge of the shadows as she dared.  “We discuss nothing.  They could be hurting him right this minute!”

“And right this minute, the sun will burn you to ashes before you’re even halfway there,” Manon replied evenly.  “Will you listen to me?”

Clenching her fists repeatedly, Buffy glared at the girl but did not reply.

“As far as I can tell,” Manon continued calmly, “they are all humans.”

“What’s your point?”  Buffy demanded, her annoyance turning slowly to anger.

“You have to promise not to kill anyone.”

Buffy’s eyes widened in surprise, and by the half step Manon took back, she knew they had to be gold by now.  It was all she could do not to vamp out in the middle of the alley, where any passerby could see her.

“That’s a joke, right?” she growled, very low.  “It has to be a bloody joke.”

She saw Manon swallow with difficulty, and suddenly the kid didn’t seem too sure of herself anymore.  And yet, she persisted.

“It’s not a joke.  I can’t let you kill people right in front of me.  I won’t let you do it.”

Buffy laughed, a dry, cruel laugh, that echoed in the alley.

“And you will stop me how?” she asked, mocking.

“I’ll just go without you,” Manon said, her voice getting some of its firmness back.  “I’ll get Giles and Andrea and the Scoobies and Chloe even and we will go now while you can’t follow us.  It will be over before the sun sets, and you won’t have been there to help him.”

Buffy was fuming.  The kid dared blackmail her!  Over the lives of some pathetic humans!

“They are hurting Spike,” she said, reigning in her ire.  “You said it yourself.  They deserve…”

“Whatever they deserve”, Manon interrupted her, “I can’t just watch you kill and do nothing.  I can’t, Buffy.”

“Even for Spike?”

There was some hesitation in the girl’s eyes, just a little light of doubt, and Buffy started to think she had found the way to convince her, until she shook her head, her gaze dropping to the ground, and whispered:

“Even for him.  I can’t.”

Buffy could have screamed in rage and frustration, but she managed to contain herself.  Now was not the time.  She considered the Slayer for a while, the key to finding her Mate.

“Alright,” she said coldly.  “I won’t kill anyone.”

The girl’s eyes were back up, a small smile slowly tugging at her lips.  “Promise?”

Buffy rolled her eyes at her.  “Promised.  Satisfied?  Can we go now?”

“We still need to wait for sunset,” Manon said with a nod.  “I don’t know how to get there through the sewers.”

“Let’s go home and grab some weapons,” Buffy said, more an order than a suggestion.  At Manon’s frown, she added: “Non lethal weapons.  We don’t know how many people will be in there.  We’ll have to neutralize them at least temporarily until we can free Spike.”

A very weird look, almost scared, passed through the Slayer’s face.  “What if he’s not there?” she asked softly, and a small shudder ran through her.

The legitimate question renewed in Buffy a fear she had tried to destroy, the fear that she would never find Spike and would only search fruitlessly, alone, with the knowledge that he was alive but out of her reach.

 “If he’s not there,” she said as strongly as she could, “Riley will know where he is.  He is alive.  And I will find him.”

They separated, Manon going to Revello through the streets, Buffy through the sewers.  She would find him, Buffy kept repeating to herself on the way.  She would, and as soon as she did, Riley and whoever else had hurt her lover was going to pay dearly.  The Slayer had made her promise, but who was naïve enough to believe the word of a soulless vampire?
 
 

As the plane was taking her back toward the mother country, Andrea tried to think of anything else but what she would find in Seaford.  She hadn’t had much trouble convincing the High Council and Rupert that she had to go.  Actually, it had been clear that the High Council was following Rupert’s opinion on the matter.  It wouldn’t be long now before they admitted it officially and actually named him Head Watcher.  Habit, she supposed.  They were used to following a leader, and Rupert Giles had risen to the occasion very nicely.  It had surprised her a little, to tell the truth, she hadn’t thought he would assume the role so easily.  It only proved that he was even more suited for the job than she had thought.

The members of the High Council were returning to London, too.  Having met Buffy and made a bargain with her, they had decided that they would be more needed at the Council’s headquarters than in Sunnydale.  It hadn’t been the initial plan; they had been supposed to stay until Buffy regained her soul.  Andrea suspected that meeting the vampire, being confronted so blatantly by Rupert, and learning that Quentin Travers was responsible for this mess had deeply unsettled them.  They were more used to discussing events after the fact than to actually see things happen in front of them.

Andrea shut her eyes tight as her thoughts brought her back to the subject she tried not to think of.  Her father was responsible was all of this.  The treason felt more personal and painful than it would have if it had been any other Watcher.  She doubted he had done it to get back at her, personally, but it was still a possibility.  His reason was just one of the many questions she had for him.  She would be leading the team that would go to Seaford with two goals.  Retrieve Buffy’s soul, or rather the artifact that held it, and secure Quentin Travers, make sure he couldn’t harm anyone until the Council put him on trial.  There hadn’t been a treason trial for a very, very long time, but the Council still knew how to prevent someone from doing any sort of magic for the rest of their life.  That was probably what would happen to him.  Not that anyone had known before this that the ex Head Watcher practiced any magic at all.  And yet, he had to be experienced if he had managed to successfully cast such a spell.

Opening her eyes again, Andrea looked out at the sea of clouds they were flying through.  He had certainly been clever in his revenge, if it was revenge he wanted.  Turning the best Slayer that had ever existed into a bloodthirsty creature.  Forcing the Council to deal with the situation while it was still trying to reorganize itself.  Making sure Buffy would never get her soul back by simply leaving the choice to her.  Very clever.  Andrea had been right, a few days before, when she worried about what her father might do against the Council.  She only wished that, just this time, she had been wrong.  She wished she hadn’t recognized the house the Mage had shown them so clearly.  She wished she hadn’t asked to go and had stayed with Rupert instead.

She just wished everything would be alright now.

Had he thought it would have been of any use, Giles would have gone out with Angel to search for the two Slayers.  If it wasn’t for the remains of a human meal in the kitchen, along with a bloodied mug, they might not even have known Manon was with Buffy.  Where had they gone?  What had they armed themselves for?  They hadn’t seemed to carry any particular weapon when they had gone out the previous night.  Dawn and Steven had looked through the axes, swords and stakes scattered in the living room, but neither had been able to say what was missing exactly.

For the first time in what felt like too many hours, no one was actually expecting him to make a decision or give his opinion, and it was nice. But waiting without knowing what exactly was going on was becoming stressful. Could it be that they had found Spike and had gone to free him from whoever held him? If they had indeed found him, why hadn’t they asked the Scoobies help instead of going alone? Too many questions, not enough answers. Giles wished Andrea hadn’t left, she was very good at piecing together bits of information until they made sense. Of course, that wasn’t the only reason he missed her presence.

Wandering through the house with an untouched glass of scotch in hand, he finally stopped in the living room, his eyes on the large frame on the wall.  The pencil drawing wasn’t signed, but it wasn’t hard to guess who had captured so artfully the images of the two vampire residents of the house.  Who would have thought they were vampires, seeing this picture?  Just a young couple, obviously in love by the way they held each other, by their smiles and the happy light in their eyes.  A normal young couple.  And they had been that, or almost, for a few days, not that long ago.  They could have been, still, if only…  If only they hadn’t had to prevent an apocalypse, if only Manon hadn’t been hurt, if only Spike hadn’t cared enough to want to save her, if only Buffy hadn’t decided to be a vamp again, if only Giles and Andrea hadn’t gone back to the Council to bring Travers down, if only Travers hadn’t done that spell.

If only.

If only they could find Spike quickly.  If only Buffy wanted her soul back.  If only Giles didn’t have that awful feeling that his resolve to let her live even if she became a killer would soon be tested.

The tingles were faint, because she was still a little distance from the building, from him, but already Buffy could feel the presence of her Sire for the first time in days.  This simple reassurance that he was near was incredibly soothing, and she could almost have smiled.  Almost.

“Are you sure these things won’t hurt them too bad?”

Glaring at the whispering Slayer at her side, she shrugged.  What did she care if the tasers hurt whoever got in her way?  Even if they did, it was only fitting.  Long ago, Riley had given her these two electric weapons, arguing they could be useful, but she had never employed them for patrol.  Now she would use the things, on the very persons who usually made use of them.

“Do you have a better idea?” she replied tartly.  “I didn’t think so.  Let’s go.”

They had observed long enough, or so Buffy had decided.  They had no idea how many soldiers were around, so knowing that six had come out and waiting for more to leave was completely useless.  For all they knew, there were fifty more inside.  Or just two.  And it didn’t make a difference, one way or the other, because Spike was there, and that was all she needed to know.  Without checking whether Manon was following, she strode to the heavy entrance door, its battered look contradicted by the high tech pad on the side.

“How are we going to…”

A simple kick, precisely placed and unleashing too much pent up energy, cut off Manon and sent the door flying from its hinges.  Immediately, an alarm sounded in the building, and two men rushed toward the entrance from a room on the side of the hall.  They looked surprised as they saw Buffy standing there, and there was definitely a look of recognition in their eyes.

“So much for finesse,” she heard Manon comment just as she leapt toward the soldiers.

Before either of them could understand what was happening or use any of their weapons, she had sent one flying into a wall, leaving an indentation in the plaster, and the other into unconsciousness with the taser.  Glancing back toward Manon, who was still by the door, her surprise plain in her widening eyes and gaping mouth, she called over the still sounding alarm:

 “Come in or go back home, but don’t just stand there.”

Without waiting for an answer, she entered the room the two men had come out of.  No one there, just computers and video monitors that showed a few men rushing through corridors.  And Spike.  On one of the screens, she saw him, chained to a wall, pulling on his restraints, though without much success.  Allowing her eyes to leave his image was difficult, but soon she would do more than see.  Very soon.  Just for the heck of it, she sent an electric discharge through the computer console, provoking a major short circuit and ending the so annoying alarm buzz.  When she came out of the room, she found Manon crouching over a third unconscious soldier, her fingers pressed to his neck as she checked for his pulse.  The kid was unaware that three more were coming behind her, two of them holding tasers, the last one pointing a rifle at her.

“So, I can’t kill them but they can try to kill us?” she said sarcastically.

Manon’s head shot up and she took a step back when she saw the new threat.

“Don’t move or I will fire,” the gunman warned.  “Drop your weapons and…”

“How about I give it to you instead of dropping it?”  Buffy asked with a grin as she walked unhurriedly toward him and his companions.  “All I want is to see your boss.  Riley Finn is your boss, right?”

One of the soldiers nodded briefly in answer to her question, earning identical reproachful glares from the other two.  That was all Buffy needed.  Taking advantage of their short distraction, she dived forward, very low, the taser firmly held in her outstretched hand.  Because the corridor wasn’t very wide, the three men were very close to each other, actually touching, and when she delivered a prolonged electric shock to the gun holder, all three collapsed.  She had acted so fast that none had even had the time to aim their weapons down toward her.

Without losing time, she got to her feet and advanced further into the corridor, checking each door she passed, aware that Manon was following.  She neutralized another man at the turn of a corner, and arrived in a somewhat larger hall.  One of the walls was made of a large mirror, and she grinned maliciously when a door on the side opened and Riley came out.

“What do you think you’re doing, Buffy?” he asked harshly as she advanced on him.

“Where is he?” she shot back.

He raised a slightly shaky gun toward her.

“Don’t force me…” he started.

“Oh please!  As if you were capable of firing on me anyway!”

Apparently, she had been wrong, because he did fire, just as the moment her foot came in contact with his hand, deflecting the shot and sending the gun flying out of reach.

“Oh Riley, I am so disappointed,” she said mockingly.  “I thought you had feelings for me, and you actually were ready to kill me.  A shame, really.”

She had come closer as she talked, while he was backing away toward the mirror behind him.  With her last words, she swung her fist at him, not too hard, she wanted to make it last.  She caught him in the jaw, and he stumbled a little, apparently as stunned by the fact that she was attacking him as by the force of her blow.  There was a noise behind Buffy, and she turned back just in time to see Manon neutralize a soldier who had been sneaking toward his boss and his attacker.  While she was distracted, Riley had regained his footing and he tried to lunge at her.  She evaded easily, and managed to grab his arm, twisting it into his back as she pressed him against the glass wall.

“Here’s the deal,” she murmured right against his ear.  “You tell me where Spike is now, and I’ll kill you fast.  You make me lose time and look for him, and I’ll break every single bone in your body before draining you dry.  Your choice.”

In the mirror, she saw his eyes widen in horror as he realized that she did not have a reflection, and she grinned wickedly.  It was lost on him since he couldn’t see her face, so she turned him around roughly, grabbing his neck to hold him.  For a couple of seconds, he stared at her dumbly, and she got tired of the game.

“Fine,” she snarled.  “The hard way it…”

“Spike!”

Her head snapped to the side at Manon’s happy shout.  The kid was standing by a now open door, and past her Buffy could see her Sire.  She cursed herself for having gotten so caught up with the hunt that she hadn’t realized the tingles had become so much stronger.  Pulling Riley with her so that he wouldn’t escape, she pushed her way past Manon into the cell, and paused just a second to drink in the sight of him.  God, he was gorgeous…

Flinging a still stunned Riley against the wall, she finally rushed to Spike, certain that her heart was taking a beat when he smiled at her and said softly:

“’Knew you’d come, luv.  But it took you long enough.”

Pressing herself to his still chained body, she placed feverish kisses all over his face, tasting the dried blood on his skin.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured.  “So very sorry.”

Her lips finally found his and claimed them in an urgent kiss.  She moaned when his tongue battled hers to invade her mouth, just as his scent, his taste and the feel of his skin under her hands invaded her whole being.  It was so much, after these few long days without him, so much and so beautiful and powerful and… not enough.  She needed more.  He needed more.

She pulled away from his lips and slipped into her game mask without the conscious thought of doing so, happy to see him do the same thing before she had even pulled on the duster’s collar to expose her throat.  His mouth latched on to her skin, fangs pressing tantalizingly against it, but he didn’t bite, not yet, waiting instead until she had pulled on the tattered remains of his shirt to expose more flesh.  She gave a quick lap to his neck and slid her arms around him.  At the same instant, they reclaimed each other, exchanging once more the very essence of what they were, as they had, long ago, that very first night, and so many times since.  As his blood, Sire’s blood, Mate’s blood, flooded her mouth and senses, Buffy forgot everything that was not him.  The Slayer and the soldier in the room behind her.  The Council, Giles, the Scoobies and her soul.  The world and its billions of potential meals.  Nothing existed anymore.  Only Spike and her.
 

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