"Buffy?" Giles imbued the slayer's name not only with curiosity as to whether she was going to go after the errant potential but also just a touch of reproof.

The blonde cast imploring glances first toward Spike and then at her older watcher before she sighed her reluctant acquiescence. "I know. She's one of mine... but I so suck at the talky thing." Reluctantly, she drew apart from her fiancé and broke into a half-hearted jog that soon became an all out run. "I can't believe I asked to have that one in my group," she muttered under her breath as she departed.

Spike delayed just a few more moments, walking backwards as he spoke, until he could bear it no longer and took off after his girl. "Lil, Clem, Catwoman..." He gave Ha Nath a cheeky grin. "Sorry, guys. I guess we should've prepared a bit better for that. Niblet an' her mate there'll get you settled in, bring you a cuppa or a beer, an' the dark slayer can fill you in on where the bad guys are hidin' out. I'll just go lend a hand in case the daft bint runs straight toward them and the missus loses her trail. Human sense of smell's not worth crap."

 

* * * * *

 

He caught up with her in the kitchen as she vacillated between the stairs leading upward and the back door. Grabbing her hand, he pulled her after him as he followed the scent of expensive perfume into the stairwell. At the first landing he hesitated briefly but continued upward. At every possible junction he repeated the process, a puzzled frown settling on his face when he realised that the only possible place she could be was in the attic, the attic occupied by Buffy and the rest of the Scoobies.

"Maybe she thought it was the last place we'd look?" the slayer suggested.

Spike gave a noncommittal grunt and slowed his pace. After all, unless the potential wanted to test her climbing skills, there was no way she could escape without going past them both. Instinctively, he switched to stalking mode, placing each foot carefully, avoiding runners he remembered as being squeaky, and when his reply came, it was little more than whispered breath. "We were between her an' the room where all her gear is. I'd put my money on either blind panic or the fact she doesn't know that everyone as might be up here is actually gettin' set up for the meetin' an' she's hopin' to find someone as she can hide behind."

As they silently made their way along the corridor that separated the two sides of the loft space, the vampire nodded toward the door of Bee and Tara's room where it sat slightly ajar. With a fingertip, the vamp eased the door open a few more inches until, in the darkness, he could see the potential hunched miserably on the witch's bed, her arms clasped around the Wiccan's pillow.

He pushed harder, and the door opened wide with a creak, giving the girl a chance to throw the pillow back to the head of the bed before he clicked the light switch, illuminating the small room.

"She's not here..." The vampire's voice was surprisingly gentle as he sauntered into the room, allowing Buffy to move into the doorway. "An' even if she was, she'd tell you no different from the rest of us."

"I wasn't-."

"Pet, I could smell your perfume on her earlier today, an' as her friend, I'm tellin' you now, she isn't yer way in... An' bugger me if I'm not startin' to sound like the bloody watcher, 'cept not quite so self-righteous."

"I don't know-."

"You know right well. What you might not realise is that I grew up 'round people like you. Pretty little dolls... Yeah, you're popular, an' you've got everythin' money can buy. You're used to bein' the centre of attention, bein' the one who gets to decide who's in, who's out, whose life you'll turn into a livin' hell just because you think they're beneath you."

"I'm not-."

"Just listen, princess... It's a pretty lonely life up there in your little ivory tower, an' all that power you have over all your little sycophants, it's all hollow. Even if you'd never set foot in Sunnydale, sooner or later it would have palled, an' you'd have had to find something else to fill the vacuum. Maybe you won't end up as a vengeance demon like some as I've known, but then you've got more than money goin' for you, right? The problem here is no one cares about your money. They look at you an' they see a spoiled little bitch... an' a potential slayer might be a rare beast, but when there's a couple of hundred of them runnin' round an' almost all of 'em are younger an' a damn sight more likely to be next in line to the title, it's gotta be pretty hard to take.

How long's it been, huh? How long since the council first showed up on your doorstep tellin' you that you had this great destiny? This duty to smite all things demon? Three years? Four? Five?"

"Five. Not that it's any of your business," the potential answered with a glower in his direction.

Spike sighed, refusing to be baited. "A quarter of your life... A quarter of your life, an' in a day we're askin' you to forget everythin' that you've been told. For the first time in your life you're bein' treated like you're nothin' special. Point of fact, you're bein' treated like you're some sort of criminal... an' for doin' exactly what you've been told for the last five years is what you were born to do.

Hell, I sure wouldn't want to go down there cap in hand an' apologise. I wouldn't want to admit that the only thing that made me anythin' more than a spoiled little brat with a silver spoon in my mouth was a lie... even when I look at Rosa an' see the way she loves her Uncle Clem an' her grandma. I wouldn't admit that just the very fact she exists, the fact her mum lived with her dad for years up until he was murdered an' that they loved each other enough to have a gorgeous little kid like that... I wouldn't want to admit that maybe it proves that demons aren't all bad. I'd kick an' scream an' tell m'self that her dad must have used some mind trick on Marie, same way I must have the slayer here in thrall."

Somewhere in the midst of the vampire's words Kennedy began to find that she had a problem meeting his gaze, her defiance mingling with just a hint of uncertainty, but he wasn't finished yet.

"I'd try an' get back the life I had. I'd try an' get myself in where the power is. Yeah, I'd look around at them as are where I wanted to be an' work out who'd be most like to fall for my charms, what little I have seein' as how up to now I've never had to be anythin' other than rich to get what I want. I'd work out who I wouldn't need to compete with all them other S.I.T.s to impress, an' who has the power... And you did, didn't you, princess?"

Spike crouched in front of the girl and brought his fist up under her chin until she looked him in the eye. "The little Wicca might not realise that she's got more power than any slayer, but you did. An' you realised that, if there's one person whose opinion we all trust, it's hers, an' you worked out how to get your foot in the door. What you didn't work out is that it's goin' to be a long time before our wise little owl is ready to play on that merry-go-round again, an' if you hurt her, if you so much as pester her, then I will do what any big brother would do an' so will Harris for what help he'd be... an' Giles will do what any father would do an' we'll make sure one way or another that she gets the time she needs to grieve without you interferin'. Are you clear on that?"

"That's not how it was. I really like her."

"Princess, you don't know her well enough to like her. Now, are we clear?" Fear and defiance warred in the trainee's eyes before, in the face of Spike's unfaltering scepticism, she nodded her head.

"Not sayin' that if Tinkerbell were to come onto you... which she won't... not unless you hang around for a coupla years an' have a personality transplant, but I'm not sayin' you couldn't take her up on it if she offered, just that she needs space until she's ready. Understand?"

"Yes," Kennedy snapped petulantly. "But it wasn't like that..."

"Pet, you're showin' yourself up. If you knew the witch well enough to like her for her, then you'd know it'll take more than a sensation seeker with a pierced tongue to impress her. You'd know the lass has a talent for reading auras, an' I just don't think yours would match up to the story you'd try an' sell her. But, unless we hear that you've been makin' a nuisance of yourself we'll consider that little matter closed, ok?

Now, as for the other thing, you do understand that the slayer isn't under any thrall an' neither was Marie? 'Less 'n' y'count fallin' head over heels for a guy as makes you the centre his whole life revolves around."

"Modest, aren't you?" the potential muttered even though she nodded her comprehension.

"He just knows the score..." Buffy shifted from the doorway to kneel beside Spike on the floor. "Two years into this gig I remember begging Giles to lie to me," she told the woman. "I was just beginning to realise that it wasn't all black and white, and it made everything hard. I wanted so much to believe what I'd been taught. Demons bad. Humans good. No exceptions, no questions, no middle ground... no recriminations, no wondering if maybe somewhere I'd killed someone that didn't deserve it. So he lied to me, and it made it all seem better for a second or two... but neither of us believed it any more.

You have something I didn't have... a chance to start out knowing the facts, a chance to clear your conscience. Clem's down there and aside from a bit of bruising, physically, he's fine.

He needs you to apologise. He needs to know he doesn't need to be afraid any more, that he doesn't need an escort to the grocery store, that he can take his girl to the movies."

"You made a mistake, pet. Weren't even your fault, really, considerin' what them watchers try to teach yer but, if you ever do want to be more than just some spoiled brat, then you've gotta suck it up, admit you were wrong an' make amends."

"Fine!" The potential pushed herself up off the bed and began to stomp her way downstairs. On the surface, she looked like nothing more than an older version of Dawn at her least appealing. Spike, however, caught the pensive look in her eye and was fairly certain that his words had found their mark, with some considerable help from Rosa and her family. She just needed some space to think it all through and come to terms with it before the next hurdle.

He shouted after her. "You can grab yourself a cuppa or summat if you want a few minutes to get that pet lip under control before you make your apologies, but the longer you take the more you miss about what's goin' on, an' you an' Amanda are meant to be there so that the Amazon army get some sort of say."

Buffy stood and reached out a hand to help the vampire up, correctly surmising that, after crouching so long on his heels, his legs would have stiffened up slightly. "Thanks. Really so not good with the talky bits... not that you don't still kinda need to work on those mixed metaphors... Owls on merry-go-rounds? ...but, I kinda chipped in at the end. I just wouldn't have patience with her like you had."

"Like I have patience with her? I can't stand the bitch. Just used a bit of charm to get what I wanted."

"But you-. It was like you understood her, like you knew exactly what she was thinking."

"Like I said, I grew up around folks like that. I know how their brains work. It was torture then, an' it's not a bundle of laughs now. If there was just me an' her to think about I'd have bawled her out good an' proper, but I owe it to Lil an' Clem an' the rest of them to see that they get treated right... even if that means talkin' slow an' loud, or soft an' gentle, until some stuck-up bitch sees what's been in front of her face all along."

Buffy reached up, her fingers tangling in the short curls at the side of his head and then pushing their way through the gelled strands until she cradled the back of his skull, drawing his lips down to hers. The open-mouthed caress lasted for a minute or so, neither wanting to deepen it, nor feeling the need to let passion overcome the simple adoration that flowed from the slayer's skin only to be returned to her in equal measure in the vampire's touch. She drew back and placed one last peck on his lips, and when she spoke it took Spike a second to realise she was responding to his last comment. "Well, it's not like you haven't had practice..."

 

* * * * *

 

Oz stepped up to the drawing room doorway as Dawn and Amanda made to usher their visitors through it before the teens left to fetch the drinks Spike had offered. Ducking to one side, as Lily led the way into the room, the werewolf caught Wes's eyes with an obvious deliberation before looking into a corner of the room that was out of line of sight from the guests' angle of approach.

"He showed up five minutes ago."

The watcher raised his eyes heavenward as he joined Oz where he could see into the room, not really surprised that his father had chosen to attend the meeting despite being unwanted and uninvited. He held tight to Marie's hand, effectively preventing her from entering without him until he had assessed the situation. Tara had taken the nearest of several armchairs arrayed along the wall to the right of the retired watcher's settee and seemed to be trying to make polite conversation, even if the elder Wyndam Pryce was apparently undecided whether to reciprocate with equal courtesy or chilly contempt.

As Wes wondered whether he would do better to take the other half of the sofa, where he could keep an eye on his father, or whether he should see to it that the old man was kept as far from Marie and Rosa as possible, Lily settled herself right in, even asking the watcher to move along so that she could more easily talk to the Wiccan. The look of shock on his father's face was comical, and Wes had to smother a smile as Lily managed to manoeuvre him into shaking hands and being introduced to Clem and Ha Nath, who then proceeded to perch on the sofa's arms, Clem next to his mother and his girlfriend ably positioned to intervene should Wes's father attempt to cause any trouble.

Wes gave a wry smile and relaxed his grip. "I don't think we need to worry, Oz. The situation seems to be nicely under control. In fact..." The watcher's smile widened as Ha Nath leaned over to hear something Lily was saying, making his father shift uncomfortably in his seat, trying to ignore her PVC-encased bosom. "I just wish I had a camera."

 

* * * * *

 

"Wh-What sort of numbers are we talking about?" Wes asked as Faith wrapped up her report on the bringers and their location.

"Generation X reckoned that he saw at least half a dozen different groups going in and out, anywhere between six and eight in each, but he was only there a couple of hours, and that truck they told us about was parked outside the whole time. Could be he saw nearly everyone coming back from whatever their equivalent of patrol is, or it could be that's a fraction of how many they've got there. No real way to know, but we still haven't seen the guy with the knife."

The watcher turned to Tara. "How are you at astral projection?"

Roger's snort was cut off as Ha Nath 'inadvertently' spilled some of the coffee Dawn and Amanda had served. The liquid flowed harmlessly over her outfit to splash on the watcher's sleeve to slightly more effect. Over the hushed apologies and search for a handkerchief, the witch replied.

"I've d-done it," the honey blonde admitted.

Wes seemed to hesitate before he spoke again but, seeing his father occupied with cleaning up the spillage he seemed to lose some of his nervousness. "We'll check with the council's spellcasters also, but I think unless research shows it to be an unacceptable risk then it's something we should consider before we launch any sort of ground attack. Giles?"

"We haven't come across anything so far to suggest exactly how The First gains the information that it does and while it cannot physically affect the world around it, it might be able to cause actual harm to an astral intruder. It could be risky... but not necessarily more so than trying to maintain a physical watch on the area. I'll let you know if we come across anything relevant in our research."

The door pushed open, and Buffy led Spike into the room and then perched on the arm of the last vacant armchair. Before Spike could even take the seat beside her, Rosa was tugging on his sleeve and once he was seated she climbed into his lap. Dawn and the S.I.T. had joined Brandon and Oz on what was nominally a three-seater settee to the left of where Ha Nath sat, Rogue choosing to sprawl across all of them, her initial dislike of the werewolf apparently long forgotten. Bee sat opposite them, in an armchair near to Tara's, the Siamese curled on her knee and Faith sitting on the chair arm. Another armchair to its right accommodated both Harrises, Anya choosing to sit on Xander's lap. Giles and Lydia shared another two-seater which rested against the same wall as the one Oz and the teenagers occupied, though they maintained a self-conscious six inches between them. The couch that Wes and Marie had until recently shared with Rosa closed off the end of the rectangle.

"I take it you tracked down our absentee?" Giles asked.

"She'll be through in a bit. Miss much?"

"We were discussing the situation at the vineyard," Wes answered. "How would you rate our chances if we chose to attack?"

Spike shrugged and looked first at Lydia and then at Roger Wyndam Pryce. "Sendin' the bints in without more trainin' would be a farce, even if there's only the blind mice we've actually seen. The chits are mostly green as fledges straight out the muck an' not even as strong. No more than half a dozen of them ready for a proper fight from what the slayers reckon. Might get away with it dependin' how many of your nasty boys you've brought on holiday, assuming they're not all as incompetent as the ones that went after Slayer Number Two and Angel Arse."

"The council's operatives are perfectly capable," Roger blustered.

The briefest of looks passed between Spike and the girl on his knee before the vampire retorted, "Like hell they are!"

"In any case, they were left behind to act as guards for those watchers whose duties dictated that they stay in England or who were too ill to travel," Lydia explained.

"For now, let's assume we're working with the forces we have here." Wes cut to the heart of the matter. "Assume we're going to have to deal with this on our own. What's the layout, Spike?"

"Far as I could tell, there's just one door in, an' the walls are solid. Considerin' what it was built as, there's like to be rooms underground. Figure some of your smart arses should be able to find some sort of building plans but the fact is the bad guys could have the place booby trapped to high heaven or they could have a wine cellar full of Turok Han an' you wouldn't know till you walked in.

If jailbird'll pull the home shift for tonight, me an' She'll check out the tunnels 'round that end of town. See if they've got-."

Three firm knocks drew everyone's attention.

"...A back door we can find."

James leaned into the room. "There's just been a call from the hospital. One of the potentials we've been expecting, the one flying in from Chicago... They must have got to them at some point on the drive from LA. The doctors say that she's been attacked and badly wounded and her watcher wasn't picked up with her. She says she needs to see Buffy." His eyes met those of the blonde slayer. "I don't think they're expecting her to hold out much longer."

Buffy was on her feet in an instant. "Spike, take care of things here. I need to go."

"Not gonna happen, sweetness," the vampire responded, lifting Rosa from his knee and depositing her between Marie and Wes in order to face off with his mate. "Never think that the only reason they might have left the bint alive was so as they could lure you into a trap?"

"I need to go."

"Fine, you need to go, but you aren't going without back up, an' we sure as hell aren't goin' to hand them two slayers for the price of one, which means I'm coming with you."

Lydia cleared her throat nervously as she also rose from her seat. "I think someone from the council should be there."

The slayer turned to Wes. "Maybe you and Faith can get things sorted out here? We'll get an update from you when we get back. Giles, it looks like you and your lady friend are coming with us. You, watcher guy?" She nodded to James. "Let someone else mind the phones and you take over from Giles. Tara, if Kennedy isn't here in ten minutes to make her apologies, can you see if maybe you can find her? She might respond better to an appeal from you than anybody else, and this thing needs to be settled tonight." She looked briefly around the room, waiting to see if anyone had any objections. "Right, let's move!"

Lydia made a grab for a notebook that she had had tucked in at the side of the sofa, pressing it into James' hands. "There are some points I wanted to bring up about security and such. My notes are in the back and perhaps you could take down some minutes?"

Spike rolled his eyes. "A match made in a very stuffy heaven..." he muttered as he strode toward the door, taking Buffy by the hand and leaving the watchers to jog to catch up.

 

* * * * *

 

"Perhaps it might be better if we took my car," Giles suggested.

Spike ignored him, unlocking the DeSoto and throwing himself into the driver's seat before leaning over to lift the ancient manual locks on the other doors. Only then did he offer any explanation for his reluctance. "No offence, watcher, but under the circumstances I'd rather trust the ladies to my drivin' than yours."

Giles bridled even as he got into the back seat, brushing aside some of Dawn's abandoned chocolate wrappers with his foot. "As I recall I've only owned one car in my entire life that was written-off, and you happened to be at the wheel at the time."

Spike's calm demeanour flickered just for an instant, drawing out the first word of his response slightly to give himself time to think. "That was deliberate. It was a diversion so I could get away. Knew the soldier boys wouldn't be able to resist a good car wreck."

"I'm sure," Giles replied, sounding anything but.

By this point, everyone was in the car, and Spike only paused long enough to ensure that Buffy had fastened her seatbelt before he gunned the engine into life and swung out of his parking spot and down the drive. "Look at it this way, Rupert. It seems to me that the chances are our bad guys forced the lass and her guard dog off the road. If they have another try I'd as soon be surrounded by solid steel as in your little Tonka toy. It's a 4x4 not a monster truck. Besides, doubt as I could bear to watch a grown man cry if they scratched the paintwork."

Giles gave only a snort in answer and the vampire was soon humming loudly as he steered the car around town at a breakneck pace. The rock tune was one that had never had a lot of airplay in America and it rivalled Buffy in age. Even Lydia gave no sign of recognising it. However, Giles' brain filled in the words that Spike left unsung.

'See the man in the busy street
He's almost incomplete
He takes his pleasure in strange ways
And the lady in the library,
She's just like you and me.
You wouldn't know her at all.
She takes the train up to the great big city.
She knocks the door and steps right in.
He's just a fool that some would like to pity.
They work it out in the house of si-in.

Night games, they pay for their night games.
They're into numbers, they don't use names.
It says in the ru-u-ules.
It's strictly for the ghouls to play their games.
They pay for their night games,
Always play one last fra-ame. Games of the night.' *

The watcher's eyes hardened as he stared into the rear view mirror at the empty driver's seat, and his cheeks drew in slightly before his icy tone interrupted Spike's rendition of the guitar solo.

"Very good, Spike. And now that you've had your childish fun perhaps we can change the tune?"

"Sorry, Rupes," Spike answered, grinning in a way that showed he had not one iota of remorse before he started whistling an entirely different number.

Buffy had never seen the musical 'The Music Man'. She had been clueless as to where Spike's remark about '76 trombones' had come from that night after the all singing all dancing fiasco that Xander had induced and, given the kissage that had followed almost immediately on the heels of that remark, she'd been too distracted to query it. Equally, she had no idea that, had Spike been singing rather than whistling, she would have been hearing his smoky tones imbue the words, "I love you madly, madly, madam librarian, Marion," with sadistic glee. She was aware of the complete incongruity of Spike whistling what seemed to be a show tune and of the fact that her watcher had turned an unbecoming shade of purple. Taking matters into her own hands, she pulled the tape that was protruding slightly from the cassette deck out of the slot, flipped it end over end and pushed it back in until it clicked into place.

She glared a warning at her fiancé as if to tell him that the joke was over. The vampire did his best to look apologetic, but couldn't help but grin wider as he recognised the opening bars of The Dead Kennedys' classic, 'Too Drunk to Fuck'. Giles, however, did seem to calm down slightly, at least until the group reached the chorus. Thankfully, it wasn't long after that before they cruised to a halt in the hospital parking lot.

The vampire paused to light up a cigarette as he stepped from the vehicle, and Buffy grabbed her opportunity for a word in private, letting the watchers walk on ahead. She snatched the offending item from his lips, tossing it into the gutter. "Hospital," she reminded him pointedly. "It's not just the usual they say you can't so you will because you're the Big Bad. And what is it with you and Giles? Do you have to bait him like that? I mean, between the two of you, you must make seven times my age... and change but it feels more like I'm babysitting Dawn."

Spike's eyes narrowed as he tapped another cigarette free of his pack and lit up once more, this time watching for the telltales that would let him know that she was about to make another grab. "I didn't say a bloody word, despite the fact I reckon I have the right to say any damn thing I want seein' as up until last night the last tit the old guy was suckin' on was mine, and I was going to put it out before I went in the building. I guess, now, you'll just have to cool your heels out here until I'm done."

"You obviously didn't need to say a 'bloody' word. We haven't got time for games, Spike." Buffy crossed her arms over her chest and then spun on her heel striding off as she continued, "For all we know this girl might only have minutes to live, and I'm not going to spend them arguing with you in the parking lot."

Buffy heard the muttered "Balls!" from behind her and had to concentrate to school her face back into its stern mask. She tracked his progress by his footfalls, knowing that he'd probably squeezed one last drag from the cigarette before he threw it away and jogged to catch up. She kept her shoulders stiff as he draped a leather clad arm over them.

It took about three strides for Spike's patience to give, and he spun into her path so that her momentum carried her into his chest. "'M sorry, right?" His arms slid around her waist holding her tight against him so that she couldn't step back. "It just comes out... An' it's not like it's normally a one way street. The watcher has a right wicked tongue on 'im... in more ways than one. C'mon, pet, don't tell me you'd pass up on the chance to get some mileage out of him?"

"Well... No, but I wouldn't do it in front of her... Or in the middle of a situation." Against her better wishes she could feel the tension leaving her traitorous body, warmth spiralling out from her abdomen just from being held against him.

Spike's breath brushed her ear as he let out a sigh of relief at her softening attitude. "In case you hadn't noticed, pet, we're always in the middle of a situation." He raised his head just enough to scan her face, those blue, blue eyes dangerously molten, and Buffy found herself rising up on tiptoe almost as if she were a puppet and he her vampire puppet master. His eyes drifted closed as her lips drew nearer, and the next thing he knew was the impact of her forearm in his stomach pushing him away.

"Rain check, Mr Evil Sexy Vampire Man," she promised as her hand slid beneath his coat to circle his waist and pull him along with her to where Giles and Lydia were just about to enter one of a bank of elevators. "Situation, now..."

 

* * * * *

 

"And you're planning to take the assessment of William the Bloody as gospel?" Roger asked, his tone indicative of his scepticism.

"Since Blondie Bear's the one who got up off his ass, unlike the members of a certain council, to go and check the place out, then, yeah, I say we take his word for it. We haven't exactly got any other eye witnesses to ask," Faith countered. "Nice to know you watchers have so many helpers that you want to write off the contribution of someone who's got a track record for looking after your slayers' backs. I can't say that I know the guy all that well but I trust him a helluva lot more than I trust any of you suits. You've never even met him properly and you want to diss everything he's brought to the game. Forget it."

"We have met as it happens, young lady. In 1963 my colleagues and I came across him as he was slaughtering an orphanage in Vienna. He killed two of my men before he escaped, but I'm sure Wesley could have told you this already. He simply chooses to ignore the danger amongst us."

"I-I do no such thing. It is my considered opinion that Spike has had a change of heart." Wes struggled to justify his position.

His father gave a disbelieving snort. "And this change of heart will last precisely how long after that disgrace to the title slayer returns to her grave?"

"A-At last count, it was n-nearly five months," Tara informed him. "And I th-think he would d-do it anyway. S-Spike's place on the team is n-not in question. Y-Yours is."

"William, he have the darkness inside him, but is darkness tamed by love. You know never the touch of such love. You hide your darkness behind organisations and codes and words of honour and christen to be virtue. William, he fight to be goodest he can be. He is bad man who try to be good. I think you bad man who like to think he good."

The watcher rose to his feet, glaring at Lily as if she were the devil himself. He didn't even notice Ha Nath rise to her feet beside him. "This is preposterous. You do not know me, madam, and if you were any younger I would be inclined to show you the extent of my disdain for your opinion. Wesley, I will not stand here and be insulted by your demon compatriots."

The younger watcher took a deep breath, steeling himself before he replied. "Then, father, I suggest you leave. Lily is a talented empath and, so far, I have no reason to dispute her judgement in any matter. I do know you well and I have to concur with her opinion, and while she may not respond to your threats of violence in kind, I suspect that Ha Nath might feel compelled to intervene on her behalf."

"This? This slip of a girl?"

Ha Nath stepped closer until she stood almost nose to nose with the retired watcher.

"That slip of a girl regularly ejects Chirago demons from the club where she works," Wes responded with a wry smile and was rewarded with a distinct bob of his father's Adam's apple. "Now, since the rest of us, I hope, are here to achieve something constructive with this meeting, I think it would be helpful if you either go back and report your outrage to your good friend Mr Travers or sit down and be quiet, in which case we might allow you to stay for the remainder of our time, which of course would give you more tales to tell when you do go scuttling back to him. The choice is yours."

Roger's mouth opened and closed a couple of times as if he couldn't believe what he had just heard, but then he sat.

"So, we're agreed that for the moment we don't carry out routine patrols in the area of the vineyard. If Spike and Buffy get a chance to check out the tunnels tonight after they've been to the hospital, then we can make our plans based on any information that may produce."

"We could check out maps of the area to see if there's anywhere we could use for long range surveillance," Brandon suggested. "Anywhere that might overlook it. Dad might be able to help. He used to do that sort of thing all the time."

Wes nodded to the three teenagers. "Okay, I'll leave that in your hands, but I don't want any of you going out to the site. If you find anything on the maps that looks promising then I want you to bring it to one of the slayers, myself, Giles or Spike. Is that clear?

Now, research... Bee, why don't you explain about the books we're concentrating on?"

From the doorway behind Wes there came the sound of someone clearing their throat. "Maybe I could say a few words first?" Kennedy's eyes darted around the room, noting the absence of all those who had charged her with the task of apologising. For a fraction of a second she wondered if she could avoid the chore. Then, she looked at Tara. The blonde gave her an encouraging smile that gifted her with the strength to look Clem, Ha Nath and Lily in the eyes as she found the words, mostly paraphrased from Spike's earlier talk, with which to express her regret.

 

* * * * *

 

"No, we're not relatives." Just because Buffy wanted to claim the potential as a sister didn't mean that she had confidence she could back it up when the hospital staff started asking awkward questions. "You phoned us. She was asking for us."

The doctor looked over to the nearby nurses' station, and the man on duty there nodded. "She's been asking to see a... Buffy Summers?"

"And that's me!" the slayer answered in a tone too full of enthusiasm to ring true. "You call. We come."

"Miss Summers, I'm not sure if you understand quite how serious Shannon's condition is. If I allow you to see her, it will be on your own and for no more than five minutes. If at any time during that period she seems to be in any distress, you will need to leave immediately."

Buffy nodded. "I understand."

 

* * * * *

 

Buffy tried to be compassionate as the potential told her story, pointing out that even a potential had better than average recuperative powers and that if the girl was determined enough she might confound the doctors who were looking after her. She didn't think she did too badly all things considered. It was only as she stood to leave that she momentarily let her rage overcome her. "He'll pay. We'll make him pay." Strangely, or perhaps not, her vow that she would see the girl's tormentor dead did as much to set the troubled teen's mind at rest as all her kind words.

 

* * * * *

 

"It looks like our friend from the high school basement's made a reappearance, only this time he wasn't quite so shy about being seen."

Spike didn't offer Buffy the comfort of his arms that he knew she craved. Instead, he offered up his heart in his eyes and in a brush of their hands as she strode past, so glancing as to seem accidental, unnoticed even, but full of emotion nevertheless. Solace would come later, for now his slayer needed to slay, and Spike fell into step at her right shoulder with the watchers following on behind.

"Apparently, he uses the name Caleb and is, was or pretends to be some sort of preacher. He branded her with some sort of signet ring with a cross... He branded her, nearly gutted her and pushed her out of a moving vehicle all to get my attention. Well, he's got it.

We'll go check out those tunnels. You take the car back and get Willow to do..."

Buffy's step faltered and Spike drew level, taking her hand in his as the awkward silence stretched on, interrupted only by the beeps and buzzes of the I.C.U.'s equipment.

"We'll make sure someone checks it out," Lydia assured her. "Perhaps, it might be better, though, if we were all to go back to the school? I think the others need to know what's happening and it may be a few days before we can call everyone together again."

"Did she say anything else... about her watcher maybe?" Giles asked.

"They had a blow out. The car hit a tree, and he was knocked out, bleeding badly. Then, the bringers swarmed in and she ran. She ran straight to him. Thought he was going to help her... until she noticed her watcher's body in the bed of the truck... Thrown in like he was some sort of road kill, she said. All so he can gloat. He says he has something of mine. I say we get it back."

She turned to her mate. "Spike?"

The vampire looked anything but happy. He knew they were heavily outnumbered and that with an invite like they'd been given, the welcoming party was sure to be a doozy. Spike liked a challenge. That didn't mean he was suicidal or that he wanted to take risks with Buffy's life, but he also knew where he stood in this fight. The same place he always did. "Whatever you want, slayer. I've got your back."

"I really think that perhaps-."

"Giles, relax. I promised her that I'd make him pay. To do that I need to stay alive, but to quote Sean Connery, 'He sends one of ours to the hospital. We send one of his to the morgue.' Or more, since we're playing catch up, only we're going to get some information out of them first. Better go find yourself the makings for a truth spell. We're not coming home alone."

* Night Games by Graham Bonnet

Spike patted down his jeans pockets, a job that under other circumstances Buffy would have gladly undertaken for him. He pulled out his keys, used them to unlock the trunk and then tossed them to the elder watcher. Rummaging to one side, he removed several foot-long thick plastic strips from a brown paper sack. Splitting the bundle roughly in two, he passed half to Buffy, and the slayer split her share in turn to go half in each of the outer pockets of a long black leather coat that she had obviously stowed away in the trunk for emergency use. It wasn't the duster she habitually wore for patrol these days, but a thinner, more tailored version that Giles doubted would give the same protection, and the pockets weren't quite deep enough to stop the end of the sticks from peeking out, enough showing for Giles to realise that the rods were glow sticks of the type used by climbers or pot-holers.

The vampire passed over what Giles recognised from that dark summer as his favourite hand axe, in favour of one with a wider head, its handle longer than average for its weight in order to compensate for the way the end had been sharpened to a rough but serviceable point. Spike slid the haft between his swiftly loosened belt and his jeans so the head rested by his waist. Buffy lifted a shortsword and pulled it loose of its sheath, testing the edge of the blade and earning a raised eyebrow and a semi-glare from her fiancé that clearly said she should have known the weapon would have been oiled, sharpened and cared for. His long fingers wrapped around her wrist, and the impatience in his eyes turned to sensuality, the watchers all but forgotten. Buffy watched mesmerised while he raised the cut on the ball of her thumb to his lips, sucking it until her blood flushed any trace of oil from the wound and then licking over it as the flow slowed. With a final reverent brush of his lips he released her.

"No need to make that slayer healing work overtime, pet," Spike teased as he turned back to the trunk space, his voice only marginally huskier than normal.

Giles tried not to notice Buffy's equally obvious shiver before she hooked the sword's scabbard over her belt, making sure that the flared skirts of her coat would hide it from general view but that it would still be easily accessible. Spike tossed a couple of sharpened lengths of broom handle that had rolled into a corner in Buffy's general direction and she caught them easily in mid air, sliding them into the back pockets of her jeans with a couple of practised twirls, neither seeming to notice nor mind that the ends of the staves practically brushed against her shoulder blades. It took no more than a flick of the vamp's eyes to have the slayer rooting through a small vanity case, pulling out a two inch high diamanté cross on a long ribbon, which she wrapped around her neck. Spike took a pint-sized Newcastle Brown bottle from a crate which housed three more, but the glass bottle no longer bore a factory sealed cap, just a cork, and the movement of the liquid inside somehow suggested it wasn't holy water. He tilted the bottle in Buffy's direction as if in invitation but the slayer flashed the inside of her coat, showing that she had run out of storage capacity. The bottle slid instead into an inner pocket of the vampire's duster, but he still tested a couple of lighters from a box of about a dozen before passing them to Buffy and claiming two more for himself. Giles had seen similar models in his youth. The windproof Zippo-like flame suited the sort of situation where they might wish to light the liquid in that bottle from a distance while the more intense flame normally used for burning cannabis resin, if used up close, would hopefully allow it to be effective more quickly than Spike's Zippo had been when Giles had been being strangled by a 500lb vamp, even if it required the trigger to be held down.

There was no posturing, none of the testosterone induced rivalry of earlier in the evening, just simple efficiency and instinctive teamwork. Giles had never been more aware that his duty of care to his slayer had been usurped. If, most of the time, he might have wished she could have found a human lover, then as he watched them arm for war he couldn't help but be glad for the supernatural strength her partner loaned her... and if he felt satisfaction that Spike's love would lead him to defend her with unparalleled ferocity then he wasn't going to admit it, not to Buffy and certainly not to the insolent, trouble-making vamp.

 

* * * * *

 

"Okay, that brings us up to date on the research," Wes announced. "Lily, if you and Clem are going to be helping out with the translations, then I think it's time you all moved in. Oz, maybe in the morning you could help out with that?"

The werewolf nodded.

"As for direct action, I think it best we wait until we have more information, either from Spike and Buffy or from our research. Does anyone have any other issues they want to bring up?"

James looked around the room, waiting to see if anyone else had any further contributions or, in the case of the other Wyndam Pryce, any objections but, when no one else spoke, he took his chance. "Lydia has some notes here about placing wards around the school. She seems to have allocated several of the junior watchers to research a particular ritual but it appears we might need the help of the Wiccans from the college again."

"A lot of them have gone home for the summer vacation... I-ehm-a-after W-Willow I d-don't know how many would be willing to help," Tara seemed pained to admit, her gaze focused on her lap, and her hair shrouding her face. "Can't we do it with the council's magic users?"

James looked equally embarrassed. "It seems that a large proportion of the council mages would be ineligible to assist with the ritual. I'm afraid that many of our members have, at one point or another, chosen to fight fire with fire. The ritual relies on the purity of the casters to repel those of evil intent, not that the barriers would hold against a serious attack, but it might give us a warning. There are other possible spells but most of them would make life difficult for those amongst us who are other than human or they rely on barrier spells which could be draining to maintain and would almost mean placing everyone under house arrest."

Tara raised luminous eyes to meet those of the young watcher, not bothering to hide the grief that was once more at the surface even though her lips curved into a conspiratorial smile for her fellow magic user. "C-Can I have a look at her notes?" she enquired. "Maybe with Bee's help... And Rupert's," she added as the Siamese leapt from the adjacent armchair to land at her side, walk onto her lap, circle twice and curl up in a purring ball.

 

* * * * *

 

"So why aren't you complaining about missing your soccer?"

"Footie... Honestly?" Spike asked.

"Like I'm going to ask you to lie to me? Of course, honestly." Buffy stooped to lend a hand as Spike pried loose a manhole cover in a dark alley a couple of blocks from the hospital.

The vampire shrugged. "It's not like I've got any real attachment to either Sweden or Senegal, so it's not like I care, as such, what the result is, an' to be honest my money's on Brazil to beat Belgium tomorrow or whatever day that is..."

"And?" Buffy seemed puzzled.

Spike ran the words of his reply together, his voice directed at his feet. "And that'd mean we play them next an' it might be temptin' fate to be checkin' out the form for anyone as we'd be playin' after that." His head twisted to look at Buffy. "But don't dare tell the watcher I said that. As for the Ireland match, I'd normally cheer on anyone that was up against the bloody Paddies but Bit's lad might take that the wrong way, so if we don't make it back in time, it's no big deal."

"Do I even need to ask why you have such a dislike for the Irish? ...Apart from Brandon."

A shadow flitted across the blond's features. "Best just chalk it up to friendly rivalry... or unreasonable prejudice," he suggested, drawing his axe before he dropped into the gloom of the storm drain with a soft splash.

"Yours or Angel's?" Buffy asked as she followed him through the opening.

"How about both?" the vampire asked as he lifted Buffy enough for her to reach and drag the cover back into place.

Buffy let him get slightly ahead of her as they made their way down the tunnel, just a foot or so, but enough that he wouldn't see the shake of her head. No matter how much things changed some things remained the same.

 

* * * * *

 

The sounds of hammering echoed along the tunnels. They were close, too close for the sound to be caused by anyone other than The First's minions, and the pair chafed as they cautiously made their way onward despite the adrenaline in their system that had set off the martial element of their bond minutes before. The vampire suddenly pushed ahead of his fiancée and pulled a glow stick from his coat pocket, bending it to snap the crystals inside and holding it up to better illuminate the area where they were.

'I thought we were saving those for when we get into a fight?'

"I would, but I'm kinda attached to my-." Spike stopped and turned to face his companion. 'You didn't say that out loud, did you?'

'Ehm, no... And neither did you. Guess the claim's getting a little bit stronger.' Buffy's inner voice displayed a mixture of emotions at that idea, not all positive. 'But for now maybe you want to tell me why you're turning us into sitting ducks?'

Satisfied the immediate area was clear, Spike dropped the stick on the floor of the tunnel and activated another. 'Bringers can't see, anyway, leastways not in any way that we understand. Turok Han will smell us a mile off an' they're going to have the drop on you in the dark so we're not really losing any advantage unless that preacher guy's around... but the big decidin' factor is the eau de plastique. It's either a little close by or if it's up where the noise is comin' from then they've got enough to bring the whole place down on our heads. Either way, I like my limbs and other parts where they are, not to mention yours. 'Sides, if we have to beat a hasty retreat it'll be no bad thing to have the nearest manhole signposted.' His gaze travelled to the ladder at one side leading upward.

They turned a corner to find themselves at a large junction area. One of the tunnels had been blocked off with old pipes and furniture, some of which Buffy felt sure had been salvaged from the basement of the old high school. The hammering came from the other side of the barrier.

'Guess this is it, pet. Last chance to head on out an' grab one of the robey types up top?' he offered, already knowing the answer before Buffy started to climb her way over the debris.

'Get a move on, Randy,' the slayer teased, pausing to catch the vampire's eye as she swung one leg over the top of the barricade. 'It's not like mine is the only "gorgeous arse" around here, but you're not going to get to do anything about it until we get back to the school... And, yes, I am sure about that. We're too far in now for fun and games and we're going to be dragging a prisoner on the way back.' Answers came to thoughts Spike had barely been aware of having.

He threw the second glow stick over the blockade and almost quicker than Buffy could see was up and had followed it over and was waiting for her on the other side. 'We better get our guy an' get back quick or the zip on these jeans is goin' to rub me bloody raw then.'

'I didn't tell you to suck my thumb, you fangy lust bunny,' Buffy protested, as Spike bent yet another glow stick, once more taking the lead as he checked for tripwires or the like.

'Didn't seem like you were complaining, neither.'

'...And, if the chafing was bothering you as opposed to making you even hornier you'd tuck your shirt in.'

The tunnel rounded another corner and, though the hammering still came from further away, it was obvious they had found something significant. Spike quickly located the large box containing the explosives that had been taunting his nasal passages for the past several minutes. He threw down a glow stick on top of it as Buffy prepared a couple of her own and dropped them where she could use their light to inspect the array of swords, halberds and other weapons that lined the walls of the underground room they had entered. The crystals flared into greenish life, lighting the features of the bringers with a sickly glow as they stepped out from amongst the bundles of weapons. Buffy shifted her grip on her shortsword as she stepped back. Spike's footsteps matched hers and the two stood back to back before the first of the harbingers could even swing at them.

The bringers seemed to lack even the simple initiative to use the longer weapons that were readily available to them, almost all of them relying solely on the small curved daggers that they carried, and the fact that they didn't seem to want Buffy dead only hampered them further. It took less than a minute before seven lay on the ground, spilling their lifeblood on the concrete floor, and Spike was using their intended prisoner's belt to fasten his arms behind his back before he regained consciousness. Buffy started to look at the weapons, examining them for quality, but Spike gave a quick shake of his head, resorting to an urgent whisper when he realised that, with the bringers subdued, their bond had reverted to normal. "Get a rough count an' do it quick, an' then we're out of here."

"What's the rush? We still haven't checked out what the noise is. I mean, I clocked him pretty good. He should be out for at least half an hour. We could-."

"Pet, believe me, if Father Ted has any more of those Turok Han around, then they're already on their way. We've got seven bodies bleedin' out somethin' close enough to human blood to get their attention, an' if they get near enough to smell your little nick..."

Spike's view of the tunnel through which they had arrived superimposed itself over Buffy's attempt at a weapon count, the two approaching Turok Han distracting her slightly.

'Then we'd be screwed?' Buffy finished as she stepped up to face a third ubervamp that growled a greeting from the passage they had yet to explore.

'I was thinking more along the lines of right royally fucked.'

Spike rapidly dismissed the idea of using the bottle in his inside pocket. Their attackers were already too close and the tunnels too unstable to risk the fire spreading. His hand reached into his jeans, clasping what he thought of as their 'lucky charm', slipping it between his fingers before he tightened his grip on his axe handle. He dashed to intercept the two Turok Han who were approaching from the rear before they could break free of the tunnel mouth. He couldn't allow them the room to come at him from more than one side or access to the weapons in the armoury.

 

* * * * *

 

Buffy took a millisecond to debate whether she should stay at his back or block the third ubervamp from the room. Reluctantly, she admitted that the best way to help her vampire was to take out her opponent before he could get to Spike. That meant taking the fight to him. Inside the tunnel, she kept her sword moving in defensive arcs, trying to keep the vamp at a distance. With her off hand, she crushed all the remaining glow sticks in the pocket on that side, throwing them at her attacker's face before they bounced to the tunnel's floor. The deformed beast snarled at the sudden relative brightness, and raised an arm to cover its eyes. Though Buffy had been more concerned with ensuring that she could adequately see her attacker than trying to dazzle it, she used the chance to slash open its forearm.

 

* * * * *

 

So far as Spike was concerned he had three advantages in this fight. He had the weaponry, he had the brains and he had the moves. They had numbers, they had strength and they probably had better pain resistance. He just hoped he had enough.

He used the momentum of his run up to throw himself into a forward roll, swinging out with his axe at the nearer of the two targets as he rose to his feet again. His intended victim neatly jumped clear of the swipe and its companion at arms almost managed a raking blow against Spike's back. Its claws were only millimetres short of slashing open the brand new leather.

"Mind the bloody coat, you half-decomposed bastard!" the blond snarled in annoyance.

'Don't try to play the hero, Spike. You just need to stay in one piece and keep them busy until I can get rid of this one and we can get them two on two.' She tried not to broadcast the thought that the last time they had met one of these they'd been struggling even when they were able to double team it.

Her words coincided with the crunch of metal shattering bone, the head of Spike's axe slicing through the arm that had threatened his apparel, and the blade embedding itself deeply into the tunnel's earthen wall.

'Oh bugger!' was the blond's only response as, after a quick and ineffective tug, he gave the weapon up as lost, dropping into a defensive stance and edging back away from his adversaries. He was especially careful of the one that should in any reasonable universe be falling back and licking its wounds. This, Spike thought as the beast charged, was obviously no reasonable universe.

 

* * * * *

 

Buffy continued on the defensive, her encounter with the Turok Han at the high school construction site making her wary of over-extending herself. Just as she was getting the measure of her opponent's style and looking to capitalise, she 'saw' the one-handed ubervamp lunge toward Spike. In one seamless move she pirouetted into a spin kick. Her left hand reached behind her, pulling out one of the pieces of broom handle. Her off-handed throw sent it tumbling end over end toward the fight on the far side of the room. Before it could meet its mark, she had spun full circle. Strong fingers gripped her ankle, preventing her foot from impacting with her adversary's head. The ubervamp used his hold to push her roughly into the tunnel wall, bruising both her shoulder and the back of her head. She landed in an ungainly heap, but quickly managed to roll away from the Turok Han's questing talons and back to her feet, keeping her grip on her shortsword the whole time.

 

* * * * *

 

Spike tried to avoid the injured ubervamp's berserker attack, dodging sideways even as he continued to edge back toward the end of the tunnel, but the creature's lunge drove its shoulder into his right side. Its momentum knocked him off balance. That and the fact he was trying to reach behind him using Buffy's view of the stake's trajectory rather than his own meant that, instead of snatching the wooden rod cleanly from the air, his fingertips merely tipped it to one side. Giving up on the weapon for the moment, he clutched at the leather the Neanderthal vamp wore and curled his legs up as he rolled backwards. As his back met the earthen floor, he pushed out with his booted feet, keeping hold of the other vampire's clothing for just a fraction of a second longer, so that it tumbled as it flew through the air. Hoping that he had gained a temporary reprieve, his gaze sought out the second of his adversaries. When he realised that it was currently trying to pull his own axe from the tunnel wall, he used the precious seconds he had gained to grasp for the fallen stake and regain his feet with a scything leg motion. By the time he did, 'Ol' One Hand', as Spike christened him, was also back on his feet and in the armoury.

 

* * * * *

 

'To me, pet!' Spike's 'voice' cut through the rhythm of thrust and parry that the slayer had entered into with her opponent. Transferring her concentration momentarily from her own fight to see what was happening with his, she realised that Spike had been forced into the armoury and was trying to manoeuvre his way into a position where he blocked the one-handed Turok Han from attacking her from behind. The second of Spike's opponents was also making its axe-wielding way into the armoury.

Keeping up her defence until the last instant, she fell back until she could meet Spike in the centre of the room. He faced one way, she the other, as all three ubervamps moved to circle the pair. Spike  transferred his stake to his right hand and, as one, the couple reached out, his fingertips curling over hers, as if they were preparing to dance a gavotte. Within seconds the injured Turok Han made a dive for Spike, the blondes sidestepping, one to either side, raising their hands as they pulled them apart. The creature exploded in a cloud of dust, its head severed from its body by the garrotte that Wes had given them after their encounter at the high school. Buffy released her grip and the wire retracted back into the T-shaped handle between Spike's fingers. 'One down,' thought the slayer, but she knew that in a sense it was a hollow victory. That little trick was pretty much a one shot deal, at least so far as this fight went, and they weren't going to be able to get out of there until all three had been despatched. The dance was far from over.

Buffy was quick to realise that the overall fight was going to be a lot less dangerous if she took on the Turok Han with the axe and left the one who, so far, had yet to arm himself or was that itself? Maybe it was even herself. Who knew with these things? Anyway, left that one for Spike. A chunk of broom handle wasn't something she'd like to use to parry any weapon that Spike had sharpened. She watched the ebb and flow of both fights carefully, waiting their moment. 'Spike, when I give the word we're doing the switch from the church.'

Even hearing Spike's answer in her head, she could picture the smirk that went with it, and he let her know that he had remembered the move she meant. 'Guess my little dominatrix wants to be on top?'

'Now!'

Spike bent at the waist and Buffy threw herself into a roll that momentarily pressed her bruised back against his and in an instant she faced off against the axe-wielding ubervamp.

 

* * * * *

 

Even as Spike straightened up and shifted his stance to face off against the unarmed vamp, he realised that the Turok Han wasn't adjusting particularly quickly to its change of opponent. Keeping his left hand curled around the stake, he launched into a series of kicks and punches in hopes of wearing the creature down but, despite their force and accuracy, they seemed to do little to daunt his adversary. The Turok Han simply seemed to take whatever punishment was necessary to allow it to get close enough to rake at Spike with its claws or get in a mule-like kick. Within a couple of minutes, the new leather of his duster bore several scrapes that hadn't been there at the beginning of the night and three parallel gashes showed red on Spike's cheek.

"Not a good move, mate," Spike commented, brushing at the scratches with the back of his hand and then licking the blood from it, even as he dodged a couple of flailing swings from the stronger but marginally slower vamp. "See, my lady there likes me all pretty, an' I like to keep the lady happy." Spike loosed a left-handed jab to the nose, a right hook that caught the Neanderthal's jaw and followed them up with a particularly vicious knee to its groin. He waited for the vamp to collapse, but instead its straight fingered punch found his solar plexus, driving finger-deep through the muscles of his stomach.

Spike let out a choking gasp of pain, gripping his adversary's shoulder to stop himself crashing to his knees and using what strength he could muster to plunge the broom handle into the ubervamp's chest, centre mass. The wood penetrated and stuck but the ubervamp failed to turn to dust. At least now it was more interested in removing the impediment than trying to attack Spike. The blond pushed the other vamp backward, trying to gain space, and was lucky enough that, with both its hands occupied, it caught its foot on the uneven floor and landed on its back. Before it could pry the stake loose a Doc Marten heel stomped down on the exposed wood, driving it through the monster's ribcage with an audible crack, and the beast metamorphosed into a swirl of dust that buffeted Spike's ankles.

Spike staggered to the nearest tunnel entrance and propped himself against the wall, trying to regain enough strength to aid his girl. He pulled a bastardsword from a nearby rack, planting it point down into the ground and leaning his elbows on the crosspiece as if it were a crutch. He spared the barest of glances for the still unconscious and trussed bringer and then his eyes turned to Buffy.

 

* * * * *

 

Buffy tried to keep at least enough of her concentration on Spike's view of things to know if his opponent were to get through beneath his guard and become a threat, but for the most part she was too busy blocking and parrying the swings and blows of her opponent to do more than simply trust Spike to protect her back.

Every extra minute seemed to find the ubervamp more comfortable with the weapon it carried, more familiar with its balance and heft and more adept in its use. Buffy had figured that since this one had been wise enough to grab a weapon, that of the three it was probably the most intelligent of their opponents. It looked like she was right. It seemed that her opponent was gauging her responses every bit as much as she gauged it.

The Turok Han would attack with a series of swings. Buffy would put up a defence, the moves almost a matter of instinct. The next time the ubervamp launched what seemed like a familiar series of moves, just as she was anticipating its next strike, it would change pattern and come up with an attack that caught her unawares. She'd find herself trailing its lead just enough that she couldn't quite block the total effects of its blows. It had yet to score a clear hit with the axe head, but Buffy was sure she would have bruises on her forearms where she had blocked the handle's path. Every time metal struck metal the force of the blow would jar her arms, and once the adrenaline of the fight wore off she knew they would burn.

Buffy shook her head slightly to clear it of thoughts she couldn't afford. Time enough to worry about aching muscles when the fight was over. Now that there were four combatants in the space, the armoury allowed little opportunity for her to utilise her trademark flips and rolls. Even though she could tell that going toe-to-toe with the vampire would simply wear her down little by little, she found herself doing just that as her eyes swept the room for something, for anything, that she could turn to her advantage.

Borrowed pain ripped through her abdomen, making her stumble as she backed away from her opponent. The sensation lasted barely long enough to warn her that Spike had been badly hurt and then it was gone as if it had never been. She didn't have time to wonder whether the cut-off was down to Spike blocking the claim's effects or whether having relayed its message there was no need for the pain to continue. Instinct forced her into an all out attack as soon as she regained a firm footing, determined to see an end to the ubervamp she faced before Spike could succumb to his wounds, leaving her to face both ubervamps. Drawing a bead on the Turok Han's neck with her sword, she pivoted into a three hundred and sixty degree spin. The turn was three quarters complete when a kick sent her sprawling into the weapon racks at the side of the room. She scrambled backward, gaining several minor cuts on her left palm from the exposed blades of the spilled weapons, when the ubervamp brought the axe downward as if her legs were so much wood to be chopped into kindling. A fraction of a second later she had regained her feet.

She and her opponent traded blow for blow once more, the sequence ending with Buffy backed up against one of the weapon racks, her muscles straining as she used the flat of her sword blade to push back against the axe her opponent wielded. Suddenly the vampire twisted his grip, the axe head angling back as he drove the sharpened wooden point of the handle forward into the left side of Buffy's abdomen.

 

* * * * *

 

Time seemed to slow almost to a stop as Spike watched the point he had personally sharpened pierce the flesh of Buffy's side and watched her sink to her knees on the dirt floor. Despair enveloped the vampire and tears blurred his vision. Hours later when he regained consciousness, his last memory of the fight would be of Buffy sliding to the floor.

Wesley tightened his arms around the small girl as she pressed her face into his neck and then loosened his grip as she pushed back to see his face.

"I'll see you in the morning, sweetheart," he half-whispered at the sadness in her eyes.

"Know," Rosa admitted, but still her lower lip trembled. "But mommy misses you when you're not with us."

"I'm sorry. It's just that there are things I have to do here. Mr Giles might need help getting ready for when Buffy and your Uncle Will get back."

"I miss you, too."

The watcher found himself staring into limpid pools of apparent misery. He felt like his heart was twisting in his chest, just as he was sure the girl intended, but duty kept him where he was. "You know you're going to have men wound 'round your little finger when you get older." There was a wry amusement in his tone, but tiny creases formed between the girl's brows.

"Dawnie said I already had Unker Will and Unker Clem wound round my little fingers, but I don't think they'd really fit..." Her eyes dropped to where Wes held her against his body. "...An' Unker Will's real nice but he's kinda Dawnie's an' Auntie Buffy's... so I think maybe, if there's not enough space... 'cause I only have two little fingers, I'd rather have you, 'cause you're really ours... mine an' mommy's."

Wes's eyes flicked briefly to Marie's face, seeing that she had heard her daughter's words, before he dropped a gentle kiss on the end of the child's nose and replied in a voice that conveyed that perhaps he was admitting it to himself as much as to Rosa. "Yes, I am, aren't I?"

A contented smile finally graced the girl's features and he gave her one last hug before he let her slip down his body, sending her off toward her uncle and grandmother with a gentle pat on her behind. "Go and let your grandmother put on your seatbelt while I say goodbye to your mommy and I'll see you in the morning."

Marie slipped into the arms that her daughter had only recently vacated, her cheek brushing against Wes's.

"You're raising a heartbreaker, you know that?" he whispered against a small tanned ear.

Marie's head tilted back, the silken waves of her hair brushing against his collarbone at the open neck of his shirt. "Yes, querido, but for every piece of your heart that she steals she'll give back part of her own."

"Just like her mother?" Wes queried, drawing back just enough to watch Marie's eyes.

The warmth in her smile and the tenderness in her gaze convinced the watcher that not only would he willingly give his heart, but if either Alvarez woman were to ask, he'd throw in his soul as well. "Just like her mother," Marie confirmed.

Their kiss was almost chaste. Given the crowd that surrounded them, Tara, James, Amanda, the recently returned Giles and Lydia and even Kennedy having assembled on the school's front steps to see off their guests, it almost had to be... but that didn't mean that either of them wanted it to end. The nudge against Wes's back that felt more like a push was, therefore, far from welcome. As soon as he had steadied both himself and Marie to his satisfaction, the watcher looked around to see who had so rudely pushed past them. The sight of his father striding off down the school drive, his suit covered by a lightweight trench coat, brought a sigh to his lips. "It seems my father considers himself immune to Sunnydale's nightlife. I suppose I better go after him."

Marie pressed one last kiss to his lips and pulled away, walking backward toward her car. "See you in the morning," she promised. The watcher waited until she climbed into the driving seat before he pulled out his car keys and switched off the alarm on his own car, using the flashing lights to guide him to its place in the parking lot.

 

* * * * *

 

"There is a reason why the girls aren't allowed outside the grounds on their own, you know? And it does apply equally well to the watchers." Wes spoke to his father through the rolled down driver's window of his car, having caught up with him just before he reached the end of the gravel driveway.

"You've already made it abundantly clear that you place no value whatsoever on my decades of experience in the field, Wesley. I, however, am confident of my ability to look after myself in this colonial backwater even if it does happen to house a hellmouth." The elder man kept walking forcing Wes to kerb crawl in order to continue the conversation.

"I never said that your experience didn't have any value. I have no problem with your experience. It's your prejudices that are causing the problem." Wes's father gave a snort and looked as if he was about to launch into a rebuttal but Wes cut him off. "Under normal circumstances, I would be quite happy for you to go wherever you wanted, whenever it happened to suit you, but don't you think that with The First's agents specifically targeting potentials and watchers alike that it might be just a little foolhardy wandering around on your own at night? Please, just get in the car and I'll take you wherever you want to go. Why take unnecessary risks?"

Yet again his father looked set to argue, but really there was no argument that could be made. He stalked around the outside of the car, pulling the passenger door open and getting in without a word.

"Some directions would be useful," Wes pointed out.

"I need a cash point and then perhaps what these Americans would term a convenience store. I only brought travel size toiletries with me. I wasn't expecting my business here to take more than a day or so. Somewhere that sells decent brandy might not be unwelcome." Seeing Wes's look of surprise at the apparent show of weakness, he continued. "It would be ungracious of me not to give Quentin something in way of thanks for putting me up while I'm here."

Wes declined to comment, even though it was obviously a dig at the fact that he had not offered to put his father up, despite the fact that by the time he knew about his father's visit he had been at the point of moving into the school himself. Apart from the muffled thrum of the engine and the hiss of rubber on tarmac, the car was silent until Wes drew up beside the ATM.

His father got out and Wes waited, fingertips tapping impatiently on the steering wheel as he checked up and down the street for any unusual activity. The First had already claimed one potential and her watcher tonight. Wes didn't intend to make it easy for them to take another victim. He waited and he watched... and he waited. He watched as his father rifled through his wallet, switching from one card to another and pushing it into the slot with rather more force than was necessary. Marie's earlier words came back to him. 'If he chooses finances as a weapon to use against us, then I will use it as a way to retaliate.' He watched as his father's lips moved, letting loose a stream of what passed for invective, if you happened to be upper-class and English, as he switched to a third card. Wes didn't know whether to laugh or be worried. 'Oh, my beautiful darling, what have you done?'