CHAPTER FIFTEEN


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


He didn’t know how he had managed it but he had stayed away from Buffy for a week. A long, long week of using all the self-control he possessed to keep from running to her side. He needed the time away from her, a break from the torture of always worrying about her, a break from constantly arguing with her. She would not stop putting herself in harm’s way because she felt it was her duty and there was nothing he could do to change that. He wouldn’t want that part of her to change, but he couldn’t sit by and watch her get hurt again and again.

And then there were her feelings about his chip. It hurt that she thought he would kill again, even if she seemed to feel secure in her own safety. And that was all she really needed to worry about: he had done a little investigating in the last week and several nasty headaches had quickly shown him that it wasn’t the chip that was the problem. Buffy had changed and now, for some unknown reason, she did not register on his chip. He didn’t dwell on that for long: he was the least of the dangers facing her now.



He settled in for a night in front of the television with a bottle of his favourite whiskey, persuading himself that things hadn’t been better when Buffy was spending most evenings with him. He opened the bottle and downed a large mouthful, letting the alcohol warm his tongue.

It had barely started its path down his throat when, with a bang, his door flew open and he swallowed in surprise, coughing as he jumped to his feet.

“Spike!”

The youngest Summers ran to him, distress in every feature.

“What is it?” he asked, panicked.

“Buffy,” she gasped, out of breath – apparently from a run across town.

“What happened, Dawn? Is she-“

“Willow too.”

“Huh?”

“Demons… and that – that -”

“Catch your breath first, Bit.”

He guided her into his chair, desperately trying to make sense of her garbled sentences. Dawn took several long breaths and finally spoke up.

“There were demons and that guy, the one who cut me on the tower.”

“What?” he growled.

“They attacked the shop and they took Buffy and Willow. He said something about opening up a portal.”

“They took Buffy,” he repeated numbly.

“They knocked her out straight away,” Dawn said worriedly, “And he used a spell so Willow couldn’t do anything.”

He got to his feet, trying to calm down so he could think clearly.

“Come on,” he said after only a moment, “Where are the others?”

“Still at the shop. Giles was hurt. I ran straight here.”

“Okay,” he soothed, running a hand over her shoulder, “It’ll be alright. Let’s get to the shop and see what’s going on.”



He had to make a conscious effort to slow his pace with Dawn at his side, when all he wanted to do was run. The Doc was going to hurt another Summers girl and it would be all his fault. He should never have walked away from her.

“Spike?”

“Yeah, Bit?” he answered distractedly.

“Buffy’s not… she’s not the same, is she?”

He drew to a stop, looking down at the teenager and wondering if she had guessed what he thought she had.

“What do you mean?”

“That creepy guy knocked her out in seconds. Seconds.”

“Come on, pet, he’s stronger than he looks,” he reasoned, “Threw me off a tower.”

“Spike, she hardly put up a fight. I know something’s not right. And I know you know.”

He drew his gaze from hers, staring out at the path in front of him, almost wanting to smile. Clever girl, his Nibblet. More perceptive than anyone guessed.

“S’not my place to tell.”

He saw her frown out of the corner of his eye, but she let it go and they hurried onwards.



The shop looked like it had been hit by a small tornado. There was smashed wood, glass, and random shop artefacts scattered all over the room. Giles sat at the table, a cloth held to a large cut on his head whilst Xander, Anya and Tara sat opposite him, worried looks on their faces. They looked up as Spike and Dawn entered the shop and he didn’t miss Xander’s scowl.

“I don’t know why we need him,” Xander murmured, just under his breath.

“Don’t see you being of much use, Whelp,” Spike said angrily, his worked-up state making him harsher than usual, “Or any of you.”

“Well, first we need to find them,” Giles spoke up, his voice calm as he tried to ease the tension in the room.

“I-I can do a locator spell. I’ve g-got Willow’s bag here,” Tara volunteered.

“Do it,” Spike said and the witch nodded, rising to her feet quickly.

“I’ll help you,” Anya volunteered, rising with her.

The two disappeared into the stock room in search of supplies and Spike took a seat at the table.

“What exactly happened here?”

“Those guys just barged in,” Xander explained, “Smashed things about. Threw us all out of the way.”

“It seemed Buffy was their aim,” Giles added.
“And Red?”

“I don’t think so. They certainly knew about her to subdue her… I think taking her was a precaution.”

Spike sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He couldn’t bear sitting, waiting, whilst knowing that Buffy was in such danger. And it was his fault.



Tara and Anya reappeared, carrying the supplies they needed for the spell.

“I-I’ve got everything, I think,” Tara said, “We’ll go in the back room and do the spell now. I-it shouldn’t be long.”

She threw a glance at Spike, as if sensing his anxiety, and went through into the back room, Anya following close behind her. Spike rose to his feet and helplessly began to pace, his mind going over and over his last meeting with Buffy. If only he hadn’t got so worked up, hadn’t walked away. He stopped mid-pace as a very familiar smell hit his nostrils: blood. Buffy’s blood.

“Don’t think we’re going to need that spell,” he spoke up, his gaze moving to the door just as Willow stumbled through, struggling to support Buffy. He moved quickly to her side and took the load from her, moving into the shop and laying her on the floor. Tara and Anya quickly rushed into the room upon hearing the commotion and Tara and Willow embraced in relief.

“Are you okay?” he heard Tara whisper, but did not catch Willow’s answer: his attention was focussed on Buffy. She was unconscious, a large cut marring her forehead, her lip torn.

“Is she okay?”

Dawn appeared at his side, looking over her sister in concern, and they were soon joined by the others.

“She hasn’t come round from when they took us,” Willow explained, frowning.

As he looked up, he noticed the black ring around the witch’s eyes and quickly surmised that she had used magic to free them.

“How did you escape?” Giles asked.

“I knew he would have to weaken the spell on me to open the portal so I quickly reversed the spell when I got the chance,” Willow explained, something like smugness tingeing her voice. Spike frowned and turned his attention to Buffy, dying to reach out and touch her, but wary in front of her friends.

“That’s… that’s not normal, is it?” Xander asked hesitantly, “I mean, for a Slayer. That she’s still out.”

“Looks like she took a pretty nasty bang to the head,” Spike murmured.

“It is rather odd,” Giles added, apparently not heeding Spike’s words.

Spike glanced up and caught Dawn watching him intently. She gave him a meaningful look but said nothing, turning her attention to the group.



Just then, Buffy gave a moan and all attention turned to her as she slowly came round. Her eyes fluttered open and landed first on Spike, then Dawn, then scanned the group.

“Ow,” she moaned, sitting up slowly, her hand on her head.

“Are you okay?” Dawn asked, moving to a crouch beside her sister.

“Yeah, I’m fine, Dawnie,” she answered with a reassuring smile.

Annoyed and struggling to hide it, Spike got to his feet and retreated to the table, not missing Buffy’s eyes following.

“God, how long was I out?” Buffy joked.

“An hour at least,” Willow answered, the frown not lifting from her features.

“Wow. That must have been a pretty hard hit,” Buffy murmured, touching her forehead.

“It didn’t really look that hard,” Xander said, he too frowning now.

He saw the moment her friends’ seriousness hit Buffy and she took a shaky breath before getting to her feet.

“Buffy, are you quite alright?” Giles asked seriously, “It seems rather strange that you would be injured so badly by a rather tame blow.”

Buffy flicked a glance in his direction, seemingly faltering as she tried to think of something to say.

“I-I… I don’t know how to tell you this,” she got out finally, her voice strained, her shoulders dropping in defeat.

“Tell us what, Buffy?” Willow asked worriedly, “What’s wrong?”

Buffy took a deep breath and levelled her gaze at her friends.

“I’m not the Slayer anymore.”