[A/N: I’m pretty sure this is the last chapter to this saga. After – roughly six hundred thousand words – countless hours and days, weeks, months. . . This verse is pretty much at an end. It has been a wonderful ride. Through this verse, I’ve made some wonderful friends, learned things about myself and discovered an entire world of Spike-obsessed people. It has been a fantastic journey. I wish I could thank all of you that have reviewed which would be in and of itself a long, lengthy novel. Hopefully my poor attempts at fiction have brought you some happiness. Writing them has certainly done so for me. My eternal thanks to Tam, who graciously offered to beta this mess for me while we were at WriterCon 2006, without her, it would have been a messier (and much more delayed) offering. Thanks too, to Addie Logan, who bravely nominated me for the first awards and has always listened when I wanted to thrash out some plot points. And thanks to my sisters, who pushed and pushed and drove me to write and post this on the websites. Without them, I’d just be flapping my jaws and doing nothing. Lastly, thanks to my boy, who is now, nearly a man and no longer the little boy he was when I started all this, way back in 2004. I think this one has been betaed, but I'm not positive, so if you see any glaring errors, let me know. (Oh, and just so you know? This isn't the last chapter. There's a bit more. And perhaps a one-shot view into the far future. . . But that remains to be seen. Depends on a couple of things. Title and quotes are as attributed, and the disclaimers mean I own nothing. ]


Previously: The chip has been removed; everyone’s still in one piece; Lawson is guarding Riley and Graham; and Nicholson has just dropped his little bombshell on Spike’s origins. This picks up immediately after the last installment.


Book Three

Chapter 36 The fear of comparison

As man sows, so shall he reap.
In works of fiction, such men are sometimes converted.
More often, in real life, they do not change their natures until they are converted into dust.
Charles W. Chesnutt


Hunger, revenge, to sleep are petty foes,
But only death the jealous eyes can close.
William Wycherley


Love has its place, as does hate.
Peace has its place, as does war.
Mercy has its place, as do cruelty and revenge.
Meir Kahane


Revenge is an act of passion; vengeance of justice.
Injuries are revenged; crimes are avenged.
Samuel Johnson


Jealousy is the fear of comparison.
Max Frisch


It's amazing the clarity that comes with psychotic jealousy.
Rupert Everett

Jealousy - that jumble of secret worship and ostensible aversion.
Emile M. Cioran



He was exactly where she’d expected him to be, under the shade of the big tree in the backyard. The screen door banged twice after she pushed through it, though he didn’t react. His eyes were unfocused, fixed on an internal vision and Buffy made no move to interrupt his thoughts.

Content, for once, to wait him out, she sat next to him. Whatever it was eating at him, he was more likely to let it slip sooner, rather than hold his tongue and let it fester.

No more than ten minutes passed and his quiet voice broke the silence. Haltingly at first, then gaining speed as he went on, Spike retold his human family’s existence.

“Wasn’t old money, least until someone married into it. The titles were just as new. Family earned them, kept at it. My father was the third Marquess of Camden, m’mother was his second wife. The first had three sons and I was the fourth. Never was expected to have the title. My older brothers died young though. John was barely thirty-five, an’ George wasn’t even thirty. Gordie – Joseph Gordon died when I was ten. Janet died soon after. She was only eight.”

He paused, still not looking at her. “Was just John’s widow, his infant son, Mother, an’ me.”

“John died when I was nineteen. His son was barely three months old. Mother and Alice were both confidants of the Queen – constantly at Court, until Mother fell ill.”

Her hand slipped through his and her head rested against his shoulder. At first, Spike resisted her silent attempt at comforting him, but his body knew hers and he slowly relaxed into her.

“Was a top scholar, bookish. Worse than Rupert ever was. Worse than Oxford. Since my brothers were all older –“ Once more he paused, embarrassed by his own past, his face flushed and voice tight. Buffy squeezed his arm, ducking her head away so he wouldn’t see the smile she couldn’t fight.

He’s too funny. I wonder if he realized how much of an airhead I was before I got Chosen. I was way worse than Cordelia ever was – but, wait! He was someone with a title? A title? What the heck does that mean? Spike was speaking again and Buffy refocused her attention on him.

“Was a bit of a useless tit, before Drusilla found me. I managed the estates, which didn’t mean much more than approving what the managers an’ lawyers decided. Truth was, pet,” and he finally turned to look at her, “I was spoiled rotten by my mother. She’d lost everyone but Alice and young John, ‘cept me. I was hopeless, useless. Tied up in apron strings an’ a definite mother’s pet.”

Once more he fell silent, letting his words fade into the air. Spike didn’t want to reveal anymore, didn’t want to share anything else. Sharing what he had was difficult enough – how badly did she want to know the whole of it?

She’d said it once, just days ago, that she understood why he’d turned his mother, but Spike had no clue if she really, truly understood. What had emerged from his mother after had horrified even him. Spike never felt the urge to turn his entire family. Truth was, he’d loved his family, cared for the quite a few of the servants as well. The only ones he’d wanted to kill – the ones he’d hated even as a human – weren’t even close acquaintances. As much as he’d craved their respect and companionship, there’d been a part of him that had held nothing but contempt for them.

His tormentors hadn’t been nice people, even if they had been members of society. They’d been worse than Xander. Which, he admitted, was telling.

Buffy stared back at him, no condemnation in her eyes, only acceptance.

“So what you’re saying is that you were a lot like Wesley was when I met him. All stiff upper lippy and pompous?”

A reluctant laugh burst from him. “No. Was too shy to be pompous, love. Was more like Red. Brainy and . . . “

“And not so confident.” Leave it to Buffy to put a better spin on it. She paused to play with the ring on her left hand. “I kinda figured that all out already.”

“Did you?” A skeptical look crossed his features and his scarred eyebrow arced in question.

“Gee, Spike – ‘I’ve always been bad’ was a dead give-away you were hiding something.” The sarcasm and air quotes weren’t lost on him. “I’m not that much of a ditz.” Buffy paused, realizing she caught herself. “Am I?”

This time his laughter was genuine, untinged by anything other than his amusement. “No, kitten, I had that sussed out in early days.”

“Really?” She bit her lip, flapping her eyelashes innocently.

“Really. Any chit who fought the way you did had to be having one on the competition.”

In response, Buffy stuck out her tongue, teasing him. “So why the shame?”

“Dunno, really. Getting turned allowed me to shed that shy boy an’ leave him behind. Did things as a vamp I’d only dreamed of. Traveled, shag. . . traveled.” Spike cursed his slip, knowing Buffy wouldn’t let that tidbit go.

“What? You never? Drusilla was? Really?” Her voice rose with every spluttered question, until his ears rang with her disbelief.

He pulled back from her, trying to bluster his way through, at least until he realized Buffy wasn’t buying his piss poor cover-up.

“Times were different. I was different. Wanted a wife, family. Just couldn’t make it work.” She almost missed his next words. “Couldn’t make anyone love me enough.”

The pang inside her heart constricted her breathing and unbidden tears welled up in her eyes. Buffy reached out her hand, bridging the gap to touch him, to bring him back to her. “Oh, Spike.”

There wasn’t anything else she knew to say, nothing she could think of. Buffy wanted to give him words, but, like always, they failed her. It was easier for her to show how she felt.

A wry smile crossed his lips, twisting with self-deprecation. He started to speak, but her thumb brushing over his lips made him pause. “Did you ever think it was because of them and not you?”

“Wha?” He looked genuinely confused, until she continued.

“Spike, you love – I don’t know how to – it’s just,” Her smile matched his now, but from out of the ether, Buffy finally hit upon the right thing to say. “No one’s ever loved me the way you do. You love with all of you and you love all of me. And maybe that’s why I love you just as much right back.”

Buffy didn’t wait this time for him to respond. She just wrapped her arms around him, her lips landing unerringly on his.



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Unlike his erstwhile comrade, Graham Miller was harboring no illusions about his fate. There was nothing but a faint, distant hope nestled in his heart that his mention of Giles would delay his execution.

Graham knew the moment he’d surrendered that it was over. At the very least, his military career path with the Initiative was. If he somehow managed to survive the next twenty-four hours, his entire career might be salvageable.

As the hours wore on though, and no words were exchanged with his captors, Graham’s faint hope faded further and further away. He was going to die because he hadn’t done enough to block Riley. Had he called Washington a day earlier, this entire mess might have been averted. The only consolation he held was that he had tried, though it was precious little, and now looking back he realized it hadn’t been nearly enough.

He wasn’t gagged, and he’d been given water and latrine breaks, but he refused to beg. Finn hadn’t been given either of those things, nor had his gag been removed. Graham understood those concessions were dependent upon his continued good behavior.

So he kept his head down, eyes lowered and mouth shut, all the while praying for the smallest of reprieves. But he wasn’t banking on anything.

The vampire in charge appeared in the doorway to the training room, his features obscured by shadows. Without looking at either him or Finn, he addressed the others. “Get them up. Sun’s down.”

Graham knew he wouldn’t see another day.



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Thoroughly flustered when Buffy all but dumped her son in his arms, Wesley struggled to maintain his calm. She was after Spike like a shot, gone too fast for the others to follow. It was Dawn who broke the sudden silence, demanding imperiously, her gaze pinning Nicholson like a bug, “Explain.”

When it looked like a few of the others were going to interrupt, Dawn barked out, “Alone. No one else. Spike is who?”

“Viscount Bayham, the oldest male heir to the Marquess of Camden. Or he was.” Nicholson took a step back warily watching Dawn.

“Go on.”

“His mother was the dowager Marchioness of Camden, one of Queen Victoria’s most trusted confidants. Her daughter-in-law was one of the Queen’s ladies in waiting.” Elaborating further, the Scot continued, “Camden town in London was once part of their estates. It’s named for the Pratt family.”



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“Lawson’s on his way.”

They were still out on the back porch, Buffy’s head resting against Spike’s shoulder.

“Hmmm.” Buffy was basking in the stress-free moment, her mind blissfully blank. She didn’t really snap to until the back gate opened and Lawson stepped into the yard. “Oh.”

It wasn’t actually his presence, it was those with him. Trailing behind Lawson were Riley Finn and Graham Miller, followed by Rogan and two of the off-duty Brachens.

Before she could say anything, Spike said, “Know we haven’t talked about this, pet.” He waited briefly, watching Lawson come to a stop in the middle of the backyard. His voice was low, almost whisper soft. “It’s your decision, love. ‘ll do whatever you think best.”

Buffy picked her head up, finally looking at the two Initiative officers. Her eyes settled on Riley, her mind whirling with disjointed thoughts. There was a time in her life when she’d thought he might have been it or at least she had tried to convince herself of that. She shook her head, minutely, trying to shake the cobwebs of fatigue and think clearly.

Did I ever really love him?

At some vague time in their relationship, she might have, but there had been too many issues between them. He’d lied to her, almost from the beginning. And he’d cheated.

Neither of those compared to his recent actions, though.

The lying could have been forgivable. Even the cheating might have been. But not both.

And this? This was not. He’d threatened her family. He put Dawn and Spike in danger. Riley put the two most innocent – Buffy couldn’t even think about it. Her throat dried up and her muscles tensed, while her heart rate rocketed and tears hazed her eyes.

Sitting up straight, Buffy pulled a little bit away from Spike.

I died to protect Dawn.

We killed Angel to protect her. I wanted Willow dead because of what she’d done. I loved Angel. And I loved Willow. . .

Those two babies inside were miracles.

It was her responsibility to protect the world from evil. It was doubly her responsibility to protect those babies from evil. Wherever it came from. Even if it came from someone she’d once cared about.

Still clutching Spike’s hand, Buffy slowly got to her feet. Spike’s gaze followed her and for a long minute, she refused to look at him. Her fingers tightened on his and following her lead, Spike rose to his feet. When he stood next to her, Buffy turned into his embrace. Breaking away from him, she said, loud enough for all of them to hear, “Do what you think you should.”

With one last quick hug, she left him alone on the porch.



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“So Spike was somebody important?” Connor sent a confused glance around the room, not completely understanding everything Nicholson had said.

It was Giles who answered. “He was. His family was very influential and still is somewhat.” The glasses came off and Giles pinched the bridge of his nose. “I should have known.”

“How?” Dawn hugged – baby Joyce. Uh, no, that’s just weird. Kirsten – she’s definitely a Kirsten. “It’s not like Spike shared his life before being vamped. There’s no way you could have guessed this.”

“Well no, not this specifically, but I should have at least suspected part of this. Spike’s education alone should have alerted me to the fact.”

“But this doesn’t mean anything beyond knowing what Spike’s family was.” Wesley shifted the baby in his arms, getting to his feet. “He can’t claim any precedence over the current Earl, since, according to your information, his nephew survived.”

“True.” Nicholson scratched at his goatee, looking thoughtful. “I didn’t mean to cause a problem. I was –“ He shook his head, belatedly realizing what he’d done bordered on rude. “I was trying to prove a theory. I never expected this.”

“Perhaps you should have thought this out a bit better.” The tone of Travers’ voice was a bit sharp, and Nicholson understood the reprimand for what it was.



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Spike stood still, watching as Lawson pushed Finn closer. Did she just? She did. So now. . . what should I do?

Fool deserves to suffer.

There was no need to talk himself into rage, even twenty-four hours later, it still boiled just below the surface. Anger and the need for revenge swirled together in a maelstrom of emotions, sending his thoughts careening toward violence. He wasn’t one for torture, but even he could admit there were times the lessons learned from Angelus might come in handy.

Images flickered through his mind, snapshots of moments. Buffy, her eyes wide with confusion, sparkling with laughter, darkened with lust and that look, just this morning – a look he’d never seen on her face before. That look had been filled with awe and wonder and so much love he’d been humbled by it. She’d just finished nursing one of the twins and was reaching for the other and her face. . . Spike felt his heart clench just remembering that look.

But it wasn’t just Buffy he thought of, no, for Dawn’s image was there also. His thoughts took the same turn Buffy’s had just moments earlier. He had, and would kill to protect her again. The twins . . . he’d tear apart the world to keep them safe.

And they weren’t the only ones he would kill for. Glinda, Anya, hell, he’d even kill for Rupert or the whelp, if push came to shove.

To his credit, Finn didn’t falter once while Spike stood contemplating him. Didn’t flinch or move. The only indication that Finn might be worried came as Buffy closed the door behind her. His eyes had widened and his expression changed slightly, but that was all.

The other one Spike recognized easily. Miller had been part of the group that had captured him and though he’d been Walsh’s dog, he hadn’t treated him the way Finn or some of the others had. Miller had never made it personal. It was a job.

Spike also knew Miller had been the one to try and warn them of what Finn had been planning.

It might be enough to save him.

“Set them loose.”

Sliding a knife through the zip cords binding the soldiers, Lawson raised his eyes to Spike, waiting stoically for his next order. Spike let his eyes drift over Finn, contempt and disdain riding his features. A feral light shined in his eyes and Spike smiled sardonically. “Give him a weapon.”

Lawson’s answering grin was equally dark having caught the look on Spike’s face and reached into his boot to hand Finn a wickedly sharp blade. With a silent nod to Spike, Lawson and the others faded back into the trees.

Stepping down onto the grass, Spike’s nasty smile never wavered. “Here’s your chance, soldier boy.”

He crooked his hand, waving Finn closer, inviting him to attack.


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



Buffy only went as far as the back door, unwilling to return to the muted conversation in the dining room and equally unwilling to miss the confrontation brewing in the back yard. If the impossible happened and Riley somehow managed to gain the upper hand at any point, Buffy wanted to be there. Whether she would step in would only depend on the moment.

Riley might still be human, but he’d lost whatever humanity he may have once possessed. There was nothing left of the innocent, naive farm boy from Iowa. If there had been, he wouldn’t have concocted the plan to separate her from the babies, from Dawn or from Spike. That boy was long gone.

And Buffy felt nothing for the lack.

She watched dispassionately as Spike stepped off the deck and onto the grass.



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




Kennedy had trailed behind them, a frisson of awareness skittering along her spine every time she ventured too close. The demons had the upper hand, for now, but she stealthily weighed her options with each step. It took her long minutes to realize where they were headed, but when the landmarks got familiar and she recognized the houses, it was clear they were aiming straight for the Slayer’s house. A sneer of contempt twisted her lips at the thought. Buffy Summers is no real Slayer.

She allowed the demons to live. She lived with one. Slept with a vampire. And not just any vampire, she slept with the only vampire to have killed two Slayers. It disgusted her every time she thought about it.

Waiting while the vampires and their captives entered the yard, Kennedy searched for a way inside without alerting everyone to her presence. She circled around the house, listening intently at the windows, trying to identify the voices. The preponderance of English accents, in varying intensities, gave her momentary pause, since she easily identified Quentin Travers and thought she recognized one of the others, but Kennedy shook off the fleeting worry. If they’ve allied themselves with the . . . with Buffy and her demon, too bad for them. Eventually it will come back to bite them.

Not even registering her own pun, Kennedy backed away from the windows and looked upward. The roof overhang wasn’t that far out of her reach and she lightly sprung up, catching the edge easily. Pulling herself up and surveying the roof, she paused once again, plans running through her head. She needed to get up and over the peak, to the back of the house. Kennedy had a good idea what was going to happen to the soldiers and she needed to be in a position to stop it. Treading lightly over the rooftop, she quickly made her way to the back, in time to see one of the vampires release the taller soldier and hand him a sharp blade.

Need to get closer. Can’t really see what’s going on from here. Kennedy stood, her eyes scanning the tree directly in front of her, looking for an ideal spot to wait. Finding the spot proved easy and she silently moved forward, barely disturbing the branches as she crouched in wait.



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



The conversation died off following the admonishment Travers delivered to his aide. Just as Giles was about to speak, Connor held up his hand and jerked his head up toward the ceiling. “There’s someone on the roof.”

Both Wesley and Giles reacted immediately, their eyes following the teen’s upraised arm. “Are you certain?”

“Yeah. Heard them.” Connor listened intently, his eyes closed in concentration. “Only one.”

“Right.” Wesley handed off the baby to Anya, much like Buffy had done a few minutes earlier and moved into the living room, heading for the weapons chest. “Can you sense anyone else?”

“Nope.” Connor was already moving up the stairs, followed by a sleepy-eyed Oz. “Gonna scope it out anyway.”

Giles watched the two reach the landing and split in two directions, Connor heading to the back of the house and Oz stepping into Dawn’s room. His voice floated up to them. “Be careful.”

Neither of them acknowledged his statement. Wesley handed him a crossbow and eased into the kitchen. Buffy turned at his entrance, noting the crossbow both former Watchers cradled in their arms. “What’s up?”

“Connor heard someone on the roof. He and Oz have gone up to take a look.” Giles moved to stand beside her. “Where’s Spike?”

Buffy gestured with her chin. “Right there.”

Both Englishmen followed her motion, focusing in time to see Riley rush at Spike. The vampire easily sidestepped the charge, whirling about to throw a solid left at the side of Riley’s head. Spike’s unmistakable chuckle filled the air and Buffy shook her head at his obvious fun. Her muttered, “Stop playing with him and just do it”, didn’t go unnoticed by either of her companions, though neither remarked on her statement.

When Riley recovered and swung around to slice the knife across Spike’s torso, Buffy growled low. “Damn it, Spike, just –“

Spike leaned away, avoiding most of the sliding cut, then brought up his right foot in time to catch Riley square on his chin. Riley’s head snapped back, the attack rocking him back. Blood flowed from his mouth, trickling down his chin. He shook his head twice to clear the ringing, hatred and anger flooding his being. “That all you got, Seventeen?”

With his arms crossed over his chest, Spike stared down at the crouching soldier. “Hardly, Agent Finn. ‘ve barely started. You had enough yet?”

“Never.” Riley exploded upward in a rush, aiming straight for Spike’s gut. He miscalculated wildly, because Spike, anticipating the move, had sprung up and over the bigger man’s charging figure. Unable to stop his momentum, Riley bounced off the back fence, only to whirl around right into Spike’s fist. The first blow knocked the soldier into the fence and Spike took advantage, raining a series of punches onto his opponent before Riley could recover and retaliate.

He finally ducked a punch, letting Spike’s hand connect with the fence and while he was still wincing, Riley brought up the knife and sliced a long cut underneath Spike’s upraised arm. Spike reeled away, panting heavily.

Lawson and Buffy moved at the same time, the other vampire covering the distance in two strides. Buffy nearly barreled through the screen door, stopping only when Spike shouted, “No!”

“‘m all right.” When Lawson moved closer to Finn, Spike shook his head. “Don’t. This is between me an’ him. No one intervenes, yeah?”

He swung his gaze around the yard, encompassing all the bystanders. Noting Buffy on the steps, poised to move, he gestured to Wesley and Giles, who had come out of the kitchen. “Keep an eye on her. Don’t let her . . . “ Spike didn’t finish his thought, letting his fellow Englishmen draw their own conclusions.

Giles rested a hand on Buffy’s shoulder, pulling her back onto the deck. “Let them be, Buffy.”



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



Connor made his way over the rooftop, his gaze sweeping relentlessly over the perimeter, looking for the one that he’d sensed earlier. He couldn’t see anyone and he was beginning to doubt his senses when Oz tapped his shoulder. “That way.”

He pointed toward the back of the house, then loped quietly to the peak. “Connor.”

The teen joined him, both their eyes scanning through the trees. Unable to spot the interloper, though knowing whoever it was, was still present, Oz cautiously slithered over the peak. “Still here.”

“Okay.” Connor joined him on the other side, then nudged Oz. “Spike’s kicking his ass.”

The two focused on the action below them, momentarily forgetting their quarry.



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



Despite the two slashes bleeding sluggishly on his torso, Spike wasn’t feeling at all weak. With the constant infusion of Slayer blood – even though it had been a while since he’d bitten Buffy – his wounds weren’t anything more than just a momentary distraction. They also served to refocus his attention. Let the boy think he’s got more of a chance than he has. ‘m still gonna break a few bones.

Backing away from Riley, Spike gave them both a breather. He pulled the tattered shirt off, wadding it up and wiping away the worst of the blood. When he’d satisfied himself that he’d cleaned off as much as he could, Spike tossed the shirt away, letting it land on the steps. Stepping closer to Finn, Spike asked, “Had enough yet?”

Glaring at the vampire with hatred, Finn growled out, “Not by a long shot.”

Returning the glare with a laugh, Spike quipped, “Didn’t think so”, as he spun into a kick that caught Riley at the top of his thigh and his closed fist. The knife flew out of his hand, landing with a thunk against the fence.

Wheeling away, struggling to stay upright despite the blinding pain, Riley swung his left a bit wildly, the punch glancing against Spike’s side. It was Spike’s turn to falter slightly, though he recovered faster than Riley had. Pivoting on his right foot, Spike snapped two rapid-fire punches, a left followed by a right, that had Riley’s head spinning. Blood splattered from his already wounded jaw, and Riley reeled back, swiping at the cuts.

He spit out a mixture of blood and saliva, letting it land on Spike’s boot, and he charged again at the vampire, this time catching him directly across the chest. Their combined momentum carried them into the tree, grinding Spike’s bare back into the rough bark. Riley held Spike by sheer weight, and managed to get his right hand free to pummel Spike’s chest. Spike brought his legs up, using his knees to block Riley’s punches, then pushed up and away, throwing Riley ten feet across the yard.

This time, Spike didn’t give him the benefit of a breather, instead chasing him across the grass. Lifting the taller man up by the ripped collar of his shirt, Spike hit him with a heavy left, once again snapping his head back. Still holding him, Spike dragged Finn to his feet, then let go. With both fists, Spike pounded Riley’s face and torso, beating him mercilessly.



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



She held her breath, her eyes tracking every movement, every thrown punch, every hit, waiting for the moment. The taller captive was bleeding profusely now, most of his injuries centered around his head and upper chest. Kennedy knew she had to time this perfectly, otherwise she’d screw the whole thing. C’mon you blood-sucking sonovabitch. Gimme a shot, c’mon.

It looked like the bigger man’s face was one big massive ache, with one cheek completely caved in, and blood was splattered over both of the combatants. Spike shook him, said something she couldn’t hear and dropped him onto the grass. He stared down at the prone form for another moment, his chest heaving with exertion.

As he turned to leave the soldier alone, Kennedy realized her moment had come. When his back was to the beaten, she dropped down from the tree, an outraged yell emerging from her. “You’re an animal! A demon and you need to die!”

She aimed for his heart, the stake she’d carried with her for hours heading right for its target.



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



Spike was done with him. Finn was down and very definitely out. The sound of bone and soft tissue squelching under his knuckles heralded the end for Riley Finn. His face was a mass of broken, battered bones, and Spike could sense the instant the soldier lost consciousness. He dropped his fist, loosening his hold on Finn, then, coming out of his rage, shook his head.

“You’re not worth it. Not worth the shite killing you will stir up, an’ ‘m not gonna let you come between us.” Spike dropped Finn’s body, a satisfied, grim smile gracing his features. “You’re gonna have to live with what you tried doin’. “

He stepped back, turning away from the prone figure of Finn, his eyes searching for Buffy. There was a rustle of leaves behind him, and then a voice he didn’t recognize yelled something he didn’t quite catch. Buffy shrieked out his name and Spike twisted aside at the last instant, whirling around to face the new threat.

The stake caught him in the right shoulder, just underneath his shoulder blade and his roar of pain echoed up into the night sky. Buffy was beside him in an instant, her hand reaching for the stake and he brushed her aside, prowling toward the baby Slayer. . . what the fuck is her name?

No matter. ‘m gonna kill the bitch.

Rage once again hazed his reason and Spike growled low in his throat, snarling and slipping into game face. “Fatal mistake, little girl.”

Kennedy cursed her luck. Her eyes scanned the ground, looking for the weapon Finn had dropped earlier, and she darted toward the fence while Spike stalked after her. She feinted left, then raced to her right, trying to stay out of his reach until she had a secure grip on the weapon.

“Isn’t gonna help you.” He didn’t fall for the feint and he was on her in a heartbeat. Kennedy brought the knife up, sliding it into his arm, fending off his left with her crossed arm in the same motion.

Spike roared again, the muscles in his jaw standing out, his fangs snapping at her. He grabbed the knife, ripping it from his arm, and flung it over her head into the tree trunk. His movements were fluid, exhibiting no effects of the wounds she and Finn had managed to inflict, and he easily caught her fist, pushing her back. His gold eyes bore into hers, and he reached out with his other hand, wrapping his strong fingers around her neck. With a smooth rolling motion, Spike grasped her and snapped her neck, nearly wrenching her head in a complete circle.

Kennedy’s lifeless body dropped to the ground and Spike stood over her, his gaze slowly coming up to rest on Buffy’s face.











Okay, so I know it's not very holiday-ish or festive, but given the way my holiday spirit has been hiding, this is the best I could do. Besides, how many of you have been waiting for this? So there's my holiday present to my readers. Did it make you smile? Then my work is done. Happy Holidays.