Disclaimer: All the vampires are Joss Whedon’s.
 
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When Spike woke it was just past sunset. His hand still hurt like hell, but the fingers could at least move somewhat. He looked over and saw Buffy open her eyes to meet his. “Evening, Slayer.”
 
Buffy sat up and looked around. “How can you tell? It’s always dark down here.”
 
Spike smirked. “Vampire, pet. Get to be able to sense when it’s safe to move about the cabin.” He got up and rummaged around for his boots.
 
“What’s the plan tonight?” Buffy asked.
 
“I need to go find some blood,” Spike replied, grabbing his coat. “Then I’m going to go do some more research. I’m afraid it’s going to involve some minor breaking and entering.”
 
“Just don’t hurt anyone, or frighten anyone unnecessarily, ok?”
 
“Yes, ma’am.” Spike said, saluting. Buffy rolled her eyes, and Spike smirked again. “What are you going to do?”
 
“I think I’m going to go and see what I can find out back at my house. Maybe they’ve had some news about where Dawn is.” Truthfully, Buffy was still so angry at Willow and Tara that she would rather stay with Spike, but concern for her sister’s whereabouts won the day.
 
“Meet you back here when we’re both finished then,” said Spike. Then they ascended the stairs and parted at the door of the crypt.
 
Spike crossed the cemetery to the place where he stashed his motorcycle. Kicking it to life, he drove to the butcher, had a good long feed of the best pig’s blood available, which wasn’t saying much, then headed out along the road out of town. There was an old monastery out beyond the city limits that his research seemed to indicate was likely to have a useful library. They were a conservative order of monks, tending toward solitary study and meditation more than active mingling with the community. If anyone was going to have ancient Christian rituals around, it would be these guys.
 
He came to a stop at the end of the long access road that led to the monastery. Stashing his bike in some bushes, he took off through the darkness toward the cluster of old buildings. The style told him that this place dated from the Spanish mission days. He quietly crept around until he found the kitchen door, which was unlocked. I suppose men of God dedicated to poverty don’t have a whole lot to steal. He stole in silently, moving like a shadow through the quiet building. After poking his head into a couple of rooms and finding a chapel and a dining area, he came to the library.
 
The walls were lined with old texts. Spike fished a flashlight out of his pocket and ran it over the titles. After fifteen minutes or so, he found a copy of the writings of St. Theophilious, who apparently had been around in the third century or so. He read of how some great saints had so much zeal to do the work of God that their souls refused to leave their bodies. They would be aged, sick, on death’s door, but wouldn’t let go and rise to heaven, still convinced they had work to do. A ritual had been performed involving prayers, blessing the saint with holy water, incense, candles – the whole nine yards. The idea was to give the soul a bit of a push, as he understood it, to get it to break its bonds with earth and go to its reward. He got out his notebook, and holding the flashlight in his teeth, made a copy of the Latin ritual. It was an extremely ancient form of the Latin, but he felt he could probably get it close enough, given his Victorian era schooling. He read the entire thing again, trying to make sure he understood all the details.
 
Suddenly, Spike heard a noise behind him. He whirled just as the light went on. A monk stood there, astonished. “You dare to come here? A creature of evil, in the house of God?”
 
Spike pocketed his notebook and flashlight and raised his hands. Apparently true men of God could tell a vampire as readily as a slayer could. “Not here to hurt anyone,” he said slowly. “Just needed some information, that’s all.”
 
The monk did not seem to be listening. He snatched a crucifix off a nearby wall and lunged at Spike with it. Spike backed away hastily, hands still held high. “I’m going, ok! Just, let me leave. Won’t trouble you further.”
 
“Spawn of Satan!” the monk declared, still coming forward with the crucifix. Spike knocked up against a table and the crucifix made contact with his outstretched palm.
 
“OW! Bloody hell!” yelled Spike. Enough of this. He shoved past the monk, howling in pain as his chip fired, but he managed to stumble out the door and down the hall. Wrenching open the exit, he fled out into the night, nursing his burned hand and his aching head.
 
He made his way back to his motorcycle. His hands were now both sore, the crucifix having hit his unbroken hand. Just wonderful. This bloody ritual better do something after all the pain it caused me. His bike rumbled to life and he screeched off into the night, back toward Sunnydale.
 
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Buffy had made her way back home, to find that Xander and Anya were over. She saw the four Scoobies through the window, munching on pizza. How can they be eating at a time like this?
 
She passed through the kitchen door and into the dining room. Xander was saying, “So they said Dawn can come home soon?”
 
“Well, soon is a relative term,” Willow replied. “First Buffy needs to take parenting classes, and then she needs to prove that she has the ability to support them both.”
 
“And how is Buffy supposed to do all this? She’s still… gone,” replied Xander. Buffy rolled her eyes. I’m dead, for heaven’s sake, not on vacation.
 
“Could you do the glamour spell again?” asked Anya.
 
“I’m not sure how long I could keep it up,” said Willow. “I mean, for a little while it’s not too bad, but it takes a lot of effort, and it can start to have some side effects if you do it too long.”
 
“What sort of side effects?” asked Tara, concerned.
 
“Like, going all crazy because you don’t know who you are any more sort of stuff,” Willow replied.
 
“So then how do we get her back?” asked Anya.
 
“I’m going to have to see if there is some way to strengthen the spell or something,” Willow replied. “It will take some time and research.”
 
“Speaking of research, what has Spike been up to lately?” Xander asked, reaching for more pizza. “Twice in the past week he’s been in the Magic Box reading everything he can find about spirits and ghosts and lord knows what else. I don’t trust him.” Buffy rolled her eyes. Well there’s a news flash. Next thing he’ll tell us is that the sky is blue.
 
“We were curious about that too,” Tara said. “He was here the other night, wanting to use the computer, saying he was seeing Buffy.”
 
“He somehow knew Dawn was skipping school, which was weird,” Willow added. “But Tara and I didn’t see or sense anything supernatural at all.”
 
“Maybe he’s finally pickled his brain with all the whiskey,” said Xander.
 
“We were wondering,” Willow began thoughtfully. “We were wondering if it could be the First Evil again.”
 
“You mean that thing that almost drove Angel nuts that one time?” Xander asked. “The last time it was trying to get Angel to kill Buffy. Could it be trying to get Spike to hurt Dawn?”
 
Tara protested, “He’s never done anything to hurt Dawn. He’s totally protective of her.”
 
“But if he’s being influenced by the First Evil, who knows what he might do,” Anya chimed in. “The First Evil is bad news. Even demons fear it.”
 
“We don’t know for sure if that’s what he’s seeing,” Willow conceded. “But just to be on the safe side, maybe we should disinvite him from our houses for a while, just until we know for sure.” What? Did you guys have stupid pills for breakfast? Buffy thought.
 
The others agreed. Willow did the ritual while the others cleared up after dinner. Then they all piled into Xander’s car to go do the same over at Xander and Anya’s apartment. Buffy let them go without trying to follow them. Great. Too busy worrying about the big, bad, evil Spike to discuss where Dawn is. I wish I could touch things so I could throw something at their fat heads. Dejected, she left, heading back to Spike’s crypt.
 
TBC