Banner by Nemo88

Sequel to the Bodyguard

Title: I Would Die For You (1/17/06)

Author: Slaymesoftly

Rating: NC17

Season: IV, AU- no spoilers

Word count – 19,790

Distribution: If you already have permission, take it. If not, just ask.

Disclaimer: Just playing with characters invented and owned by Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy and other big corporations with more money than I have.

Beta’d by the wonderful Always_jbj

Author’s notes: Follows immediately after the conclusion of The Bodyguard. Buffy has driven off with her watcher to take the partially drained Riley back to the Initiative for medical treatment. Spike has walked Xander to his home, surprisingly cheerful for someone whose help was barely acknowledged by Giles, Xander and Riley. In his pocket is the queen chess piece that Dracula had used to keep his thrall on Buffy. As with The Bodyguard, this takes place in a very non-canon Spuffyverse in which Dracula makes his appearance during Season IV before Adam has emerged. If purists are upset about that, I’m sorry, but that’s where I put him in the first story, so that’s where we begin this one.

Chapter One

Spike waved a cheerful “good-night” to the bewildered boy and headed for his new home in a crypt in Restfield cemetery. When he had entered and lit a few candles, he took the chess piece from his pocket and placed it on a stone shelf next to small red candle.

“There you go, pet. All safe and sound with the Big Bad.”

He opened the small refrigerator he’d found in a pile of household items meant for the Salvation Army and took out a container of pigs’ blood. Making a face, he poured some into a cup and gulped it down quickly, getting no pleasure from the cold, foul-tasting liquid, but knowing he needed it after his battle with Angel. When he felt he’d eaten enough to replace any blood he might have lost earlier, he put the container away and got out a can of beer.

He settled in front of his TV set – courtesy of the same charity donations-- and popped the top on his beer can as he put his feet up on a box. The couch he was sitting on had been in an abandoned home – something Sunnydale seemed to have in abundance. He had no idea how long he might have to wait for Buffy to come to him, but he was confident she would. The expression on her face as her Watcher drove off with her and her erstwhile boyfriend in his small car told him they were not finished with each other.

He shifted himself uncomfortably, thoughts of Buffy having caused the usual reaction in his jeans.

Guess the question is, how much of that heat between us was because she was already in thrall to a master vampire and how much of it was real? Know it was real for me, but until the other night she’s never given me a look since that bloody engagement spell that had us all over each other. When she shows, it’ll probably be to tell me it wasn’t real and I should forget it if I want to stay undusted.

He stroked himself through his pants, trying to decide how long Buffy was likely to stay with her injured boyfriend and if he would have enough time to relieve some of the tension he’d been carrying around since he started spending the night in her room. Concluding that she would probably remain with the big soldier as long as he wanted her there, the vampire growled and unzipped his jeans. Torn between the desire for some quick sexual gratification and anger that she would not have come right to him, he quickly brought himself to a joyless, but relaxing, release.

`~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Buffy paced impatiently while the Initiative doctors worked on Riley, rounding on her Watcher to demand, “What are they doing that’s so secret I couldn’t watch it? They have to give him blood and clean up his cuts. It’s not like this doesn’t happen every night in Sunnydale. I’ve seen it before!”

“I’m sure they have their reasons, Buffy,” he answered with deceptive mildness. “No doubt related to some rule invented by that mad harridan by whom he is employed.”

Buffy shook her head at the less than well-hidden dislike in the older man’s voice.

“Giles, that is really no way to talk about Professor Walsh.”

A disgusted “Harrumph” was the only reply.

Eventually, a young soldier came out of the medical area and approached the anxious Slayer. He shifted uncomfortably under Buffy’s expectant gaze before gathering up his courage to say, “Professor Walsh thinks it would be better if you were to leave Agent Finn here to finish his treatment. He agrees and said to tell you he would call you tomorrow morning.”

“What?” Buffy’s irate clenching of her fist had an unfortunate outcome for the back of the chair on which she’d been resting her hand. The commando blanched when the wood crumbled under her fingers and he missed her mumbled, “Sorry”, as he backed quickly out of the room.

Refusing Giles’ offer of a ride back to her home, Buffy insisted she needed to work off some pent-up anger-- as well as needing to make up for taking the previous night off -- by doing a quick patrol before going home. She waved at the frowning man and headed directly for the Restfield cemetery, where she knew Spike had found a place to live. It had quickly reached the point where he and Xander were squabbling like siblings, and she and the Watcher had finally agreed that it was all right for the neutered vampire to find his own place as long as they knew where it was.

She approached the crypt quietly, not sure if Spike would even be home yet. She felt a pang of guilt as she remembered the expression on his face when she and Giles had driven off with Riley, leaving the vampire who had gone against his own nature to save them to walk back to town with Xander.

(He could have just gone off on his own and left Xander to find his own way home in the dark. I didn’t even think of that. When did I start assuming that Spike would protect my friends as well as me?)

She faced the heavy wooden door, uncertain whether to knock or just push her way in – until she remember that Spike never knocked at her house unless her mother was home alone. He just walked in whatever door or window he chose. She reminded herself that that was actually a good thing at times - like, for instance, when I’m being bitten by a famous vampire.

From his place inside the crypt, Spike had felt her approach. He listened carefully, but could hear no other heartbeat that would indicate she was not alone. He quickly positioned himself on the couch, shutting his eyes and pretending to be asleep. He heard the door open and the sound of small feet coming hesitantly into the poorly-lit crypt; he was glad he’d taken the time to light some new candles before the old ones burned down. He made a mental note to get another lamp to go with the one he’d taken from the Harris’ basement.

(Not that I know she’s going to be spending a lot of time here, or anything; but if she does, she’s going to want light.)

Buffy entered the dim room hesitantly until she saw the vampire was sprawled on the couch, apparently asleep. The light of the flickering candles made the sharp planes of his face stand out and the way he was half-lying, half-sitting displayed his flat stomach and long, muscular legs in a way that made her mouth go dry. Shaking off thoughts of climbing on top of him to awaken him with a kiss, she approached quietly, saying softly, “Spike? Are you awake?”

When he didn’t respond, she came closer and reached over to shake his shoulder, ready to jump back if he awoke in game face. To her surprise, he only opened his eyes slowly and smirked at her.

“Don’t you know better than to startle a sleeping vampire, Slayer? Who’s to say I wouldn’t have bitten you before the chip kicked in?”

Buffy cocked her head at him and studied his laughing eyes for a second.

“You weren’t really asleep, were you, you big faker?” She put her hands on her hips and glared at him.

“Nope,” he agreed cheerfully, sitting up and patting the cushion beside him. “Just wanted to see what you’d do.”

Buffy blushed furiously, hoping he couldn’t read in her face what she had so briefly thought about doing.

“What did you think I was going to do?” she asked haughtily. “Kiss you or something?” She tried to put as much skepticism into her voice as she could.

He looked at her from under his long lashes and said softly, “No, luv. Then I would have known I really was asleep…and dreaming.”

The reminder that he had already shown her how much he would have enjoyed that kind of a wake-up call sent another burst of heat and color flooding her face and she turned away from where he was still patting the couch hopefully to look around the large stone room. In spite of the size and the cold stone walls, the candles gave the crypt a warm glow and she could see that Spike had tried to make a home out of what was essentially a large grave.

Several blankets and a large quilt were lying haphazardly on top of a stone sarcophagus. When she realized that was probably Spike’s bed, she quickly averted her eyes, scolding herself for being so prissy about looking at his bed when he’d spent the past two days sleeping in hers.

As she wandered around the room, following her eyes and trying not to look at Spike, she spotted the small white figure on the shelf near a guttering candle. She whirled to look at the vamplre.

“Is that--?”

He stood up in one smooth motion, walking over to where she was staring at the chess piece with a look of disgust and horror on her face. He watched as she reached a tentative hand toward the figure and said quietly, “It’s safe now, pet. As long as we keep it away from the bleedin’ poofter, it’s harmless.”

“How did it get here?” she demanded, her suspicions clear on her face. She remembered how it had felt when Dracula ran his hands over the piece – how she had felt every touch as though his hands were actually on her body. Dismay and disappointment filled her eyes as she contemplated the possibility that Spike had taken it for his own purposes.

Her tone and the look on her face felt like a knife in Spike’s gut as he realized what she was thinking. Before he could hide it, the pain and anger flared across his face and Buffy fell back before the raw emotion she could see there.

Her stumbling attempt at an apology was cut off by an abrupt hand motion from the vampire. “Here,” he snarled, snatching the queen off the shelf and handing it to her. “I got it for you. Thought you might feel safer if you knew where it was.”

Buffy stood silently, clutching the small plastic figure while Spike walked away from her to stand by the door.

“I ‘spect you’ll be wanting to leave now, Slayer,” he said tightly. “Got evil doers to slay, a boyfriend to coddle, important things like that. No need to waste any more time here.”

She stared at his angry face, wondering what had happened to her plan to come here and thank him for taking care of her so well. ( As usual, I’m suffering from Buffy-foot-in-mouth-disease. What can I do to make up for insulting him like that?)

She walked slowly towards the now open door, trying to get the vampire to meet her eyes, but he stubbornly kept his gaze focused on a crack in the stone wall, refusing to acknowledge her attempts to make eye contact. Buffy dropped her head and started out the door Spike was holding open for her. She had already left the crypt and heard the door shutting behind her when she stopped suddenly and whirled around, kicking it open again.

She marched back into the crypt, pushing the surprised vampire on his chest until he backed up to where there was enough light for her to glare at him properly. Pulling the chess piece from the pocket in which she’d started to put it, she waved it in his face.

“If you wanted me to feel safe, shouldn’t this stay here? With my bodyguard? Or, are you tired of the job already?”

Her eyes challenged him to misunderstand what she was saying, and she was gratified to see the astonishment and anger in his amber stare fade back to a soft blue confused, but happy expression.

“Not tired, pet. Just didn’t think you needed…or wanted one anymore.”

“Well,” she admitted with a small smile, “I probably don’t NEED one anymore…But I got pretty used to having somebody watching my back.” She ducked her head shyly and whispered, “I kinda liked it.”

“Can always use somebody at your back,” he whispered back, stepping closer. “You never know when evil’s gonna try to sneak up on you.”

They stood close together, but not touching, each one searching the other’s eyes for some clue as to what they were trying to say. Buffy held the queen out slowly.

“So, shouldn’t this be here? With you?”

He closed his much larger hand around hers, folding her fingers around the figure.

“Actually, luv, it’s probably safer with you. Anything can get in here at any time. I wouldn’t put it past the oily bastard to send another vamp looking for it. You need to hide it somewhere in your house. Somewhere no one is likely to find it.”

Buffy stared at their two hands, her small, tan one wrapped inside his own larger pale one. When he loosened his grip, she reluctantly pulled hers away and tucked the figurine back into her pocket.

“Okay,” she said softly. “I’ll hide it somewhere.”

“Alright. Good, then.”

Clearing his throat, he stepped away from her, walking back towards the TV set.

“So, what did you come by for, then, pet? Want some help with patrol tonight?”

He knew that Riley often tried to accompany Buffy on her patrols, but assumed the man wouldn’t be up to it that evening. He was mildly surprised that Buffy hadn’t stayed longer with the injured commando, but was reluctant to bring it up lest she feel guilty and go back to him.

“No…well, yes. I mean, that would be nice, but it’s not why I came here.”

He arched an eyebrow and waited for her explanation. When it wasn’t forthcoming right away he walked back to her and asked quietly, “Then why DID you come by?”

Taking a deep breath, she raised her eyes to his and said firmly, “I wanted to thank you for…for taking care of me…and for not…” She blushed, unsure how to say that she was grateful that he hadn’t taken advantage of her weakness. A small voice inside-- a voice that she quickly smothered – told her she’d have been just as happy if he had, and she blushed again as she spoke.

“For not…?” The beginnings of a smirk played around his mouth and eyes.

“You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?” she huffed indignantly, albeit with a small smile.

“Oh yeah,” he said cheerfully. “Can’t wait for you to admit I’m not the pig you think I am.”

“Yes, you are!” she said indignantly. “You know you are.” Her voice softened again. “It’s just… this one time…you were a gentleman. And I…I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome, luv,” he answered, suddenly serious again. Without his volition, his hand reached out to stroke her soft cheek and he almost groaned when she unconsciously leaned into his touch. “Would never take anything from you that you really didn’t mean to give.”

Buffy gave a small nod and stood on her toes, her mouth only inches from his as she murmured, “I really meant to give this.”

Her soft, full lips slid across his, her kiss sweet and sincere, as she thanked him. His own lips moved gently against hers, extending the kiss but making no attempt to deepen it. He cautiously put his arms around her waist, holding her lightly against his body until, with a soft sigh, she slid her hands around his neck. The warm, but relatively chaste kiss continued until she felt his erection pressing against her stomach; she sighed again and gently pushed him away, meeting only an instant’s resistance before he released her and dropped his hands to his sides.

He rested his chin against the top of her head briefly, then raised his head and stepped back.

“I’m sorry, luv,” he said softly. “I can’t help it. It’s what you do to me.”

Buffy nodded and wrapped her arms around herself as though suddenly cold.

“It’s okay, Spike,” she almost whispered. “It’s just I…and then there’s Riley…and you’re…and I’m…” She raised her eyes to his, surprising both of them with the tears she was blinking away. “I don’t know what’s going on here,” she admitted. “And I don’t want to mess up whatever it is we’ve got…Not that I’m saying we have anything,” she added quickly. “But, if we did, I don’t want to….it would be messy, you know?” Her eyes pleaded with him to understand. “I have a boyfriend. If I…if you…we…it would be cheating and I don’t do that.”

“It’s alright, Slayer,” he answered quickly. “Wasn’t expectin’ anything from you. I kept you safe because…” He struggled for a non-poncy reason. “Well, because I just couldn’t watch a good warrior get taken down by gypsy tricks. And, anyway,” he added with his most evil look, “I still plan to get this chip out and make you my third slayer.”

He reacted with indignation when her only response was a sarcastic “Yeah, right,” going into game face and growling fiercely. Ignoring his attempts to intimidate her, she grabbed his hand, pulling him towards the door with a, “Come on, Big Bad. Let’s go kick some demon butt before the night’s over.”

With Buffy’s warm hand in his, Spike found it impossible to keep his demon face to the fore, following her meekly out into the night while muttering under his breath about “disrespectful bints”.

Chapter Two

After they had found and dusted a gang of young vamps they found standing by a new grave in anticipation of the rising of a new member, Spike insisted on walking her back to the house on Revello drive, telling her it was just a short distance from Restfield and no trouble for him.

Whereas to have Riley insist on seeing her safely inside normally made her impatient and annoyed, it somehow seemed right for Spike, who was, she admitted to herself, more of an equal. True to his word, he had only watched her back when they fought the gang of vamps, stepping in only when one would try to sneak up behind her. By the time they were all dusted, the two blonds were working together in perfect synchronicity – Spike’s quiet, “Behind you, Slayer,” all that was necessary most of the time. Although, when he saw her begin to tire, he did pull the biggest of the vamps out of the melee and take out a few of his own frustrations on the other demon. He left the vamp unconscious on the ground while he watched carefully for any sign that he needed to remove any others.

Buffy tossed him an extra stake, not even looking at him to see if he would catch it, and without breaking the rhythm of her fight with the remaining vamps. He quickly dispatched his still-unconscious opponent and stepped up beside the Slayer with a grin.

“You want to keep all this fun for yourself, or can anybody play?” he asked, punching the angry young vampire closest to him.

“Well, I wouldn’t let just anybody play,” she responded, kicking a snarling female away. “But you can. Race you to see who gets done first.”

With a whoop of joy, Spike threw himself into the fray, making quick work of the two vampires left on his side, while Buffy gave up the punches and kicks in favor of simply trying to get the stake into the hearts of her two opponents as quickly as possible. When the last two vamps exploded into dust, they were left facing each other, breathing hard but exhilarated.

“I won!” he crowed, “What’s my prize?”

“You so did not!” she responded indignantly. “If anything, it was a tie, so if there’s a prize, we have to share it.”

“And what would we be sharing, exactly,” he purred, moving into her space and ignoring the stake still held loosely in her hand. “What do you give yourself when you win a fight like that?”

Buffy swallowed hard before answering. “Um, a hot bath or shower and a good night’s sleep?” she squeaked.

“Sounds like fun,” Spike grinned. “Your place or mine?”

She slapped at his chest and moved away saying, “I’m going to my mother’s for mine. I don’t know what you’re doing to do. Unless you’ve got running water in that crypt…”

“Hmph,” he grumbled as he fell into step beside her. “I knew there wasn’t really going to be a prize.”

When they reached Revello Drive, their feet seemed to slow of their own accord, the last one hundred yards to the house taking as long as the first half-mile. But even walking slowly, they eventually arrived at her front porch and she stopped at the bottom step, turning to say “good-night” only to be shocked into silence by the naked desire on his expressive face.

A look he quickly changed to his normal smirk when he realized she’d caught him.

“Home again, all safe and sound,” he said briskly. “Time for all good little slayers to get into bed…”

(Maybe I can get another kiss out of this…)

( There’s nothing wrong with a good-night kiss between friends…)

Buffy was just leaning toward the equally intent vampire when a movement from the street caught her eye and she peered around him with a frown.

“Not quite what I was goin’ for, Slayer,” he growled when instead of her lips, his mouth met the side of her head.

“Shhh! Somebody’s watching us,” she hissed. “I can’t see what kind of car it is, but there is definitely somebody in there looking over here.”

“Have a seat, pet,” he said tightly, resisting the urge to whirl around to stare at the vehicle and gesturing casually to the top step. Following his own instructions, he leaned back on his elbows striving to appear uninterested in his surroundings. Once he was seated, he shifted into his demon visage and used his enhanced night vision to identify the vehicle as one of the Initiative’s SUVs. He covered his scrutiny as best he could by fumbling for his cigarettes and making a big production out of lighting one and leaning back again to blow out the smoke. He could just make out the camouflaged commandos inside the vehicle and the hand-held cameras pointed at the house.

“It’s your boyfriend’s buddies, Slayer. The question is, did they follow us here from the cemetery, or have they been here all along staking out your house?”

She rose to her feet indignantly. “It doesn’t matter! Either way, they’ve got no business following me and I’m going to tell them so!”

Before he could stop her, Buffy was crossing the street and heading for the SUV, righteous indignation flaring in every line of her body. Just as she reached the middle of the road, the engine roared to life and the vehicle backed up quickly, turning around when it was far enough away and speeding off into the night.

Buffy stood on the street, her hands on her hips, glaring after the rapidly disappearing truck. She started slightly when the vampire came up behind her and lightly rested his hands on her shoulders.

“Think you scared them off, pet,” he chuckled. “A brassed off Slayer must look pretty scary through infra-red goggles.”

“I’m not going to look any more pleasant in the daylight when I go in there tomorrow to find out what the hell they were doing here,” she growled. Suddenly she turned to him, concern evident on her face. “Maybe they were following you,” she said, a bolt of fear going through her at the thought. “Maybe they want to recapture you.”

He shrugged. “What else can they do to me? They ran all their bloody experiments before they put the chip in. Hey! You don’t suppose they want to take it out, do you?” He suddenly looked eager to follow the now-invisible truck.

Buffy just looked at him with disbelief until he dropped his head and said sheepishly, “It was just a thought.”

“I don’t think you should go back to your crypt tonight,” she muttered, walking back towards her front door. “They might be after you. You’d better stay here until I find out what’s going on.”

“I can’t do that, pet,” he said quietly, stopping on the bottom step.

“Of course you can!” she said indignantly. “Mom won’t mind. It’s only one more night. Just until I get this straightened out.”

He stepped up on the porch until he was hidden in the pool of darkness there, then pulled her unresistingly into his arms. He nuzzled the side of her neck, ghosting his tongue over the marks left by Dracula and smiling when she shivered against him. He ran his tongue up the side of her throat until he reached her lips, then ran it lightly along them until they parted for him. He made no attempt to hide his burgeoning erection as he plunged his tongue into her mouth. When he had kissed her into a state of dizziness, supporting her whole weight with his arms when her knees weakened too much for her to stand, he finally withdrew, pressing his forehead up against hers as he said hoarsely, “I really, really can’t do that, Slayer. Want you too bad to pretend otherwise, pet. I’ll fight with you, I’ll watch your back, I’ll even help your Scoobie friends help you fight evil; but don’t ask me to watch you sleep unless I’m doin’ it from a spot right beside you in the bed.”

He released her trembling body, stepping back as soon as he saw that she wasn’t going to fall. He ran his hand lightly over her cheek, saying, “I appreciate the thought, pet. But we’re both better off if I stay in my own place for a while. I’ll be fine. Don’t know what those wankers were after, but I’m sure it wasn’t me.”

Brushing his lips lightly across hers one last time, he whispered softly, “Good night, Slayer. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

While Buffy stood dumbly, her hand to her mouth, he disappeared into the night, his hair the only thing visible as he headed back to his home at a pace no human could have matched.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Before Buffy headed for Sunnydale University and her much-neglected classes there, she went past Dracula’s castle, only to find it had reverted to its former identity as an abandoned dog pound. After looking around carefully and finding no sign of the old vampire, she breathed a sigh of relief and continued her journey towards the school.

A whispered conversation with Willow during the first lecture brought the red head up to speed on the evening’s events and they continued their discussion on the way out of the lecture hall. Buffy was surprised to see Riley in his normal place, assisting Professor Walsh with the class. While it would have been perfectly possible for her to recover overnight from that much blood loss, she was surprised to see that he had also seemed to make a full recovery. She made a mental note to ask him exactly what sorts of methods the Initiative used in their medical facility and why they weren’t sharing those secrets with the Sunnydale Memorial Emergency Room staff.

Just as Buffy and Willow were about to leave the building, Riley came running after them, calling to Buffy to wait for him. He caught up to the two curious girls quickly, smiling at Willow and giving Buffy a quick, dry peck on the lips, frowning when she flinched away from him.

“What’s wrong?” he asked casually, hoping she had not actually seen who was in the vehicle she had frightened away from her house the night before.

His hopes were crushed when she shook off his hand and asked tensely, “Would you like to tell me what your buddies were doing staking out my house last night?”

The big man fidgeted from foot to foot, before answering evasively, “It was just an error. They weren’t supposed to actually be watching you – just keeping an eye out for Dracula or any other vamps.” The scowl on his face told her exactly whom he was referring to as “any other vamp” and she glared back at him.

“If you are talking about Spike, they have no business following him either. You’ve made him incapable of feeding or killing, so there’s no reason for the Initiative to pay any attention to him anymore. Leave him alone!”

“I’ll leave him alone when I stop seeing him going in and out of your house at all hours of the day and night!”

In his anger, he blurted out more than he intended and he backed up slightly in the face of Buffy’s change in demeanor. Although he towered over the petite blond, he had seen her in action often enough to know that she could kill him with one blow if she wanted to. And, from the expression on her face, it was possible that she really wanted to.

“Exactly how long have you been spying on us—him?” she asked coldly.

“I’m just trying to protect you, Buffy,” he started to explain. He noticed Willow’s eyes rolling and her head shaking sadly, but had no time to read the signals she was unintentionally sending as he tried to finish his explanation. He also missed the stiffening of his girlfriend’s already angry posture as he continued. “I don’t understand why you think you can allow this animal the freedom to enter your home whenever he wants to. Or why you went to his crypt last night after just getting free from another vampire!”

Buffy gaped at him for so long he was beginning to think she hadn’t heard him.

“Have you forgotten just HOW I got free from that ‘other vampire’?” she asked incredulously. “Spike saved my life last night! AND yours, and Giles’ and probably Xander’s. Stop me when I get to someone who sounds even remotely important to you!”

He had the grace to look briefly ashamed before recovering quickly. “I know he helped us get out of there. I just don’t quite get why. He probably has a history with Dracula and wanted to thwart him, even if it meant rescuing you.” He looked at her earnestly. “Buffy, you need to get over this obsession with these older vamps and begin treating them the way you do any other demon. I’m just trying to help you see that.”

“When I need your help to choose my friends, Riley, I’ll ask for it.”

Buffy’s posture when she turned away and gestured for Willow to leave with her should have been a clear warning that he had crossed a line; a line that the big commando apparently hadn’t noticed as he grabbed her arm to stop her from leaving.

“We’re not through talking about this,” he said firmly. “I want you to come with me to meet with our psycholo—“

Buffy did not even bother to warn him, she simply picked his hand off her bicep and yanked the much larger man to his knees.

“Don’t ever touch me like that again,” the Slayer said in a voice that chilled him as she squeezed the bones in his hand. For the first time, he began to reconsider Maggie’s insistence that the Slayer was as much a demon as the creatures she hunted. He remained on his knees as she strode off so quickly Willow had to run to keep up.

He remained on his knees briefly, massaging his sore hand and staring thoughtfully after the two girls. He did his best to ignore the smothered laughter from passing students who had seen the tiny blond bring him to his knees. When he was sure he had no broken bones to worry about, he got up, still cradling his aching hand, and headed for Lowell House and the entrance to the Initiative.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully, although Buffy remained angry enough to accidentally break two pens and a pencil while trying to write. After class she went back to the dorm room that she hadn’t stayed in while Dracula was around, and gathered up her dirty laundry to take home over the weekend. As soon as the sun went down, she picked up her stakes and headed for the town’s cemeteries, determined to get as many newly risen vampires as she could before the Initiative soldiers could find them.

Just as she entered one of the older cemeteries, she spotted an empty, black SUV and she slowed her steps, looking around cautiously. Murmured conversations ahead of her had her ducking behind shrubs and tombstones as she tried to get close enough to hear what was going on.

“Why do we get stuck with the job of picking up the new vamps and Finn and his crew get the easy job of grabbing the one that can’t fight back?” someone groused aloud.

“Because our girlfriends aren’t hanging out with the easy one, and his is.”

Laughter at Riley’s expense greeted the remark, as Buffy growled softly under her breath at the implication. If I’m going to get blamed for sleeping with Spike, I might as well be doing it, flitted though her mind, as she listened to the bawdy banter between the commandos. It wasn’t until one of them mentioned “teaching that chipped bloodsucker a lesson” that it occurred to her that Spike might be in danger.

Ignoring their startled shouts when she burst out of the shrubbery and began sprinting toward Restfield, she began mentally cursing both Riley and the secret organization for which he worked. Her feet flew as she covered the distance to Spike’s crypt, only slowing when she saw the open door dangling from one hinge.

One quick glance inside, and she gave a low moan of distress. The interior had been thoroughly trashed, the TV was smashed, the refrigerator on its side and open, blood spilled on the floor and candles smashed into small pieces of wax. Buffy found a candle that was still intact and quickly lit it, searching carefully for any sign of a pile of dust or any indication that something as large as a body might have been dragged out of the crypt.

She almost sobbed in frustration when the flickering candle made it impossible to see for sure. There were so many boot prints in the dust on the floor that there was no way to tell if they’d taken anything with them when they left. Buffy slumped against the sarcophagus, telling herself that Spike probably hadn’t even been home when they came in and was now walking around Sunnydale somewhere, looking for her. When she noticed his bedding lying in a messy heap on the floor she automatically bent down to pick it up, bumping her butt against the top of the sarcophagus as she did so. She startled when it shifted behind her and she whirled to watch with wide eyes as a pale, slender hand cautiously pushed it even further open.

Grabbing a stake from her waistband, she waited while the lid was gradually raised and a pair of amber eyes peered out, catching the light from her candle. Buffy held her stake at the ready until a familiar voice grumbled, “Bloody wankers, coming in here and tearing up my new house. I don’t know who they think they are…”

Before he could finish his angry rant, a joyful Buffy had shoved the lid all the way off and pounced on the emerging vampire, knocking him onto his back with a grateful Slayer lying on top of him.

Bewildered, but willing, Spike held the half-laughing, half-crying girl while she kissed his face and neck, telling him how glad she was to find him undusty. So happy was she to find him alive and free that it took Buffy a few minutes to notice where they were. When he shifted under her uncomfortably, complaining about being poked in the back, she took in their surroundings and asked, “Spike, are we lying on top of BONES?”

“Well, as a matter of fa—“ He was cut off as, with a piercing shriek, she rose straight out of the stone coffin and landed on the floor without even touching the sides. The vampire sat up and looked at her with confusion.

“What’s the matter, luv? What did you think I was lying on, down pillows? It’s a bloody sarcophagus, not a feather bed.”

“You didn’t think to get rid of the previous owners before you moved in?” she demanded, hands on hips.

“Was kind of in a hurry just then, Slayer. What with your Neanderthal boyfriend and his low-browed minions,” he growled. “Any way, I don’t see what the problem is. They’re just dead people, pet. They have a right to be here too.”

“I am NOT going to sleep on top of a dead body, or bones, or…”

Spike was out of the sarcophagus and standing in front of her before she had finished speaking.

“If you’re sayin’ what I think you’re sayin’, they’re gone. Won’t take me but a few seconds. You wait right here while I--“ He reached into the grave and began to pull out the bones that had covered the bottom of it, tossing them onto the floor to be swept up later.

Buffy shuddered and moved away from the flying debris, trying not to giggle as the vampire raced to remove any trace of the former residents from his bed. He threw an arm bone at her in retaliation for her giggles and she had just caught it when a bright beam of light fell into the crypt, illuminating the vampire with his hands full of broken bones and the Slayer holding the one she’d just snatched out of the air.

“I believe you are right, Agent Finn,” came the unmistakable voice of Maggie Walsh. “She is obviously just as big a ghoul as the vampire. I wonder if she was planning to gnaw on that bone in her hand?” the older woman mused to herself as she and Riley followed the light into the crypt.

Chapter Three

Without thinking, Buffy and Spike moved closer together, automatically switching positions so as to have room for their weapon hands, even though all they had were Buffy’s stakes and a pile of bones. Blinded by the light in their faces, they couldn’t see who was behind the floodlight, nor how many might be there. Fortunately, Spike could hear and smell. He concentrated on the heartbeats, whispering to her that he could only hear three people and that they already knew who two of them were.

“Riley?” Buffy tried to keep the hurt from her voice. “What did she mean ‘You were right’? Did you call me a ghoul?”

“I said I thought you might be another kind of demon, one that preys upon its own kind. It’s the only explanation for your strength and this…attraction…you have for vampires. And your violent tendencies,” he added, sounding very much like a psych major.

She was struggling to form a reasonable response when Spike blurted out, “Other than being Heaven’s Chosen One, you mean, you stupid git?”

“Heaven’s Chosen One?” Maggie’s voice dripped sarcasm. “Exactly who Chose her?”

In spite of Buffy’s best attempts to shush him, he replied, “WHO chose her? You’re dumber than you look, aren’t you, Doc?”

In an icy tone, the titular head of the Initiative’s demon study unit reminded him, “It may turn out that I am so dumb I will feel it is necessary to repeat some of those experiments you were so kind as to participate in earlier this year.”

Buffy gasped at the obvious threat and Spike’s smothered snarl, wondering what he had not told them about his experiences before he escaped.

“Are you threatening my…vampire?” Buffy growled her own warning, stepping in front of him protectively.

“YOUR vampire? I was not aware that your job description included ownership of any sort. Stabbing them with pointy sticks – isn’t that what you told me you do to them?”

“Spike has been very helpful to us since you put that chip in his head. I consider him one of my friends.”

“Ah yes, your friends. An interesting collection, are they not? Another vampire- this one claiming to have a soul, a young man just out of high school who appears to have quite a knowledge of military tactics and procedures…. Ms Rosenberg, I understand, dabbles in witchcraft? We have some interest in all of them actually. And I truly do not understand the purpose of that unpleasant man who ‘watches’ you for some group in England, but I suspect we could find out if we tried.”

Buffy tried to picture Quentin Travers and Maggie Walsh squaring off against each other and couldn’t help grinning. “I suspect you could,” she agreed with a soft laugh. “What do you think, Spike – the Initiative versus the Council – who would you put your money…er…kittens on?”

“Think I’d have to give the Council of Wankers the nod, pet. They’ve got thousands of years of sneaky, underhanded, demon killing experience to draw on. Prob’ly make mince meat of these wannabes.”

There was a moment of silence as Riley and his boss tried to understand what the two blonds facing them found so amusing, then, walking out from behind the flood light that was apparently being held by the third man, Maggie stepped into the pool of light with the vampire and the Slayer.

“There are two ways to do this, Ms. Summers. You can come with us willingly and be treated as an honored guest while we…explore your abilities and talents—“ She was interrupted by a furious snarl from the vampire who quickly pushed Buffy behind him.

“You’re not taking her anywhere, you bloody, sadistic bitch.”

“There isn’t really much you can do about that, now, is there, Hostile Seventeen? Agent Finn, would you please restrain the hostile while I finish explaining her options to the Slayer?”

Riley also stepped into the lighted area, not meeting Buffy’s accusing eyes as he shoved Spike away from her and into the pile of bones. The vampire came up snarling, fangs bared as he attacked the waiting commando. He had barely touched the impassive soldier when he fell to the floor, clutching his head and howling in pain.

In the meantime, Maggie had approached Buffy in a friendly fashion saying kindly, “If you cooperate, we won’t hurt him. And we certainly have no intention of harming you, we just want to study you in an appropriate setting.”

While Buffy was distracted by the sight of Spike writhing on the floor, the older woman quickly tapped the back of her neck with a stun gun, effectively sending the Slayer to the floor unconscious. She nodded at Riley to pick Buffy’s inert body up and turned to leave only to hear a strangled gurgle from her second in command and a gasp from the man holding the light. She turned around in time to see a barely upright Spike drop Riley’s apparently lifeless body on the floor. Weaving unsteadily, blood pouring from his nose and ears, the vampire stood over the Slayer, daring the woman to test his willingness to risk permanent brain damage to prevent them from taking her.

To her credit, the head of the Initiative did not flinch back from the obviously injured, but still dangerous, vampire. She merely gestured to the man behind her holding the light, saying, “Put that light down, soldier, and remove this creature.”

At Spike’s feet, Buffy began to stir, her Slayer healing throwing off the effects of the taser much more quickly than would a normal human. She raised her head, shaking it to clear the confusion, and looked from Riley’s bleeding body to the vampire and back to the woman who had attacked her. As she went to push herself unsteadily to her feet, Maggie approached her again, holding the taser in front of her like a gun.

“An amazing recovery, Ms. Summers. I think we can begin our experiments right here. Let us see how well your body handles multiple, successive hits from this device.”

“Let us not, unless you wish to see how you might fare also,” came a cold voice from behind her. Rather than the soldier she was expecting to see joining her within the bright circle of light, an angry man stepped forward, holding in his clearly experienced hand a very real pistol. Maggie blanched when she saw the firm purpose on the Watcher’s face and she quickly stepped away from Buffy, her eyes searching frantically for her back-up.

“If you are looking for the young man who was holding this obnoxiously bright torch, it would appear that the sight of Spike ripping out the throat of his superior had a very negative effect on his desire to remain here. I believe he is outside explaining to some rather hostile demons that he is sure it was not he who captured and mutilated their relatives.”

With a frightening smile he added, “I do not believe the conversation is going well for him.”

“Who ARE you people!” the still-more-angry-than-frightened woman hissed.

“If you survive long enough to get yourself and your men out of this cemetery,” Giles nodded to Buffy who kicked a communicator out of the woman’s hands, “you will no doubt find out at some point. As we speak, there are communications going forth from certain highly placed people in the British government and military to their counterparts in this country. I believe you will find that your…experiments…have been terminated. As has your employment.”

“Go, Council,” Buffy said cheerfully.

“Does that mean we won?” Spike asked weakly, clinging to the sarcophagus for support.

Buffy spun around, not having seen anything that happened while she was unconscious, and gasped as she took in his appearance. The vampire’s eyes were sunk into his head, bruising evident all around them and his nose was still pouring blood. She could also see blood oozing from his ears. Before she could answer him, he mumbled, “I bloody well hope so…” as he slid to the floor.

“Giles!” the fear in her voice was unmistakable as she dropped to the floor beside the now-unconscious vampire. To her surprise, it was Xander who appeared out of the darkness, lifting the smaller man onto his shoulder and saying, “Let’s go, Buffy. We can take him back to my place.”

“Just a minute, Xan,” she said quietly. “There’s something I have to do for him.”

The Slayer took a quick look at her former boyfriend, noting that while he had lost a great deal of blood, it did not appear that Spike had actually killed him. “Too bad,” she muttered, kicking his still body as she walked by. She stalked towards the now visibly worried head of the Initiative, not stopping until she was dangerously close to the frightened, but still defiant woman.

“If you’re so anxious to know what a Slayer can do, here’s a little taste,” Buffy said with a smile that did not reach her eyes. She brought one fist forward in an uppercut that the older woman never saw coming, sending her flying through the air to land on top of the pile of broken bones.

“Okay, let’s go now,” she said cheerfully, as she turned back to her friends. With the light no longer pointing directly into her eyes, she could see that Willow was hovering behind the Watcher, her new friend, Tara, wringing her hands behind her. “We’re taking him to my house, Xander,” she said as she walked over to the young man patiently waiting with the vampire hanging over his shoulder.

Giles lowered the no-longer necessary pistol, asking Buffy with little concern, “How hard did you hit her?”

Reading his meaning immediately, Buffy sighed. “She didn’t kill any of us, so I didn’t kill her. If she doesn’t make it out of here…It’s not my problem,” she finished defiantly.

There was no disagreement from her Watcher; he simply dropped the now unneeded gun into his jacket pocket and followed the young people out of the crypt. In the graveyard, the confrontation between the strange-looking demons with wrinkled skin and the frightened young soldier who had been holding the light was still going on.

All heads turned toward the humans when they emerged from the crypt bearing Spike’s body. Buffy stopped and surveyed the scene before her. She quietly greeted the one demon she knew by name, nodding at the others noncommittally.

“Clem.”

“Slayer.”

She cocked her head and said clearly, “I don’t know who this boy is, but his boss and one of the top demon-hunters are inside. We’re leaving now,” she added, in case they missed the permission implicit in her first remark.

Moving to walk beside Xander, she held onto one of Spike’s dangling hands, telling herself he would be fine as long as he wasn’t dust. She was relieved to see that Giles had driven his car to the cemetery, making the trip back to her house much quicker than it would normally have been.

When the little parade of Scoobies-plus-Slayer entered the Summers’ home, Joyce gave a small cry at seeing Xander’s burden. She quickly ordered the still unconscious vampire carried upstairs to the guest room, clucking over the obvious damage inflicted by the chip.

“What happened to him?” she demanded. “Who did this?”

“He did it to himself, Mom,” Buffy said sadly. “I’m not really sure why, but he attacked Riley and hung on long enough for the chip to do some real damage.”

Giles, who had followed them up to the bedroom, spoke up gruffly, “He did it to prevent Riley from carrying you back to the Initiative for his boss. It appears that keeping you safe this time was a bit more dangerous for him than fighting with Angel or Dracula.”

“I know he didn’t want her to take me there. I heard that. She threatened him with doing more of her ‘experiments’. I guess he was afraid that she was planning to do the same kinds of things to me…”

“I believe that to have been her intent,” the Watcher said, touching Joyce’s arm comfortingly when she gasped in fear. “Whatever Riley told her about you – and about the rest of us, for that matter – gave her cause to think we fall into the same category of laboratory animal as demons and vampires.”

“They aren’t laboratory animals either!” Buffy growled, picturing Clem’s relatives being tortured for the sake of learning more about them, and Spike being subjected to similar tests.

With no idea what to do for the unconscious vampire, except to clean the blood off and wait for him to wake up, they all went back downstairs, leaving him resting on the bed looking uncomfortably like the corpse he was. Buffy trailed one hand along his arm softly before following everyone out the door and down the stairs.

“So,” Buffy said, sitting down on the easy chair and curling her legs up under her, “The Council is pulling strings?”

“Yes, apparently they had become aware of this situation, as had the United States military. Investigators from the Army were already on their way here to see what was going on, this has just added some impetus to the need for closer supervision of the operation.”

“Do you suppose she and Riley made it out?” Buffy’s question bore no trace of concern, but merely requested an opinion.

“I imagine that would depend on how quickly she recovered from your…” he glanced quickly at Buffy’s mother…”justifiably angry response. If she got to her communicator before those angry demons found her…”

“There was a squad in the next cemetery,” Buffy finished for him. “They might have gotten there in time. Or not,” she added with a complete lack of interest in the outcome.

“I think it might be in everyone’s best interests to stay here tonight,” Joyce put in quietly. All eyes turned to the Slayer’s mother who rarely interfered with or commented on the doings of her daughter and her fellow demon hunters. Joyce stuck her chin out and repeated firmly, “If you are all together, it seems to me it would be a lot harder to for them to capture anybody.”

“Thank you, Joyce. That would undoubtedly a wise course of action for the time being.”

Buffy suggested Willow and Tara share her bedroom, while Giles and Xander would have to make do with the couch and the easy chair. When her mother raised her eyebrows, Buffy said firmly, “I’m staying with Spike until I know he’s okay. I’ll sleep in the guest room.”

There was, surprisingly, no argument from anyone; due, no doubt, to the vampire’s obvious inability to threaten either her life or her virtue in his current condition. The fact that he had, so far as anyone knew, maintained a chaste watch over her while she slept in her own bed, went a long way towards allaying any fears her mother or her Watcher might have had about the propriety of the arrangements.

When Buffy had retrieved her pajamas from her own room and changed into them after brushing her teeth and washing her face, she slowly opened the door to the guest room hoping to see sparkling blue eyes watching her lasciviously. Instead, she found the vampire in the same position in which she’d left him, sprawled on his back with no signs of life.

With a sigh, Buffy pushed him over far enough for her to climb into the bed also, sliding under the covers and turning on her side so as to face him.

“Good night, Spike,” she whispered, brushing a kiss over his chiseled cheekbone before snuggling into her pillow.

Chapter Four

Hours later, when the filtered light coming in the heavily curtained windows had roused her, she opened her eyes to find herself face to face with his equally open and puzzled blue ones.

“Mornin’, luv,” he said quietly. “Care to tell me what’s going on?”

“Hi,” she answered shyly, suddenly very aware of their close proximity as well as her mother’s presence across the hall. “How do you feel?”

“Like I’ve been run over by a truck,” he admitted, groaning slightly as he moved his head. “What hit me?”

“You don’t remember?”

“Remember that bitch threatening to take you into her chamber of horrors, and the big git pushing me down; that’s about it. It’s pretty much blank after that.”