CHAPTER ONE

Spike ducked a blow that would have collided with his cheek as he spun-kicked one of the vamps attacking them. Rushing forward as the vampire flew back, he plunged his stake into its chest. Grinning, tongue between his teeth; he spun to face the Slayer, “One down.”

“Three to go,” Buffy finished with a roll of her eyes and a stake to the heart of the vampire she was fighting. “Hardly a challenge, don’t cha think?” She moved forward through the girl’s falling ashes and threw a right hook at the vampire rushing her, shattering his jaw.

Spike smiled at her cavalier attitude as he replied, raising his voice over the wails of the vampire clutching his mouth. “Yeah, pet.” Spike took a punch to the mouth, and grinned evilly. Throwing the attacking vamp over his shoulder, he heard the satisfying crack of skull on tombstone. Turning and staking the vampire, he threw her a glance before facing the last one. “Hardly worth the night out.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that, Spike.” Buffy staked her second vampire and stepped around Spike to assist with his fight. Throwing in a casual uppercut, she smiled at the vampire as she raised her stake. “I had a lot of Glory-related steam to let off.”

“’Other ways to let off steam, pet.” Spike dodged a desperate swing from the vampire before sending out his fist to connect with its cheek, opening it up for the kill. He kept his eyes pointedly on the fight, but there was no mistaking the suggestion in his voice.

Buffy plunged her stake into the attacking vampire’s chest and dusted off her hands before turning to Spike.

“Ew, Spike,” she enunciated slowly, glaring at him when he shrugged it off. She held the stare for a few moments before turning away, his steady gaze unnerving her. He was sans duster tonight, just in a black t-shirt, unusual for him, and she kept catching herself noticing his arms.

Spike sighed and shook his head as she turned her back on him, cursing himself as a glutton for punishment as he fell into step beside her.  “I’m guessing it’s not just Glory-steam you’re letting off. No word from the tin soldier, then?”

“No, I guess they really are strict about the whole no-contact-with-civilians thing he mentioned. I haven’t spoken to him since—“ Buffy stopped abruptly, halting both her words and steps. “And why am I telling you? And why do you even care?”

“I was just...” Spike flustered, not meeting her eyes. “I— I just thought maybe I should know, being with-chip and all.” He finished lamely, gesturing at his head. “And you know, thought I’d ask how you’re doing is all.” He admitted, his eyes on the ground and hands tucked in his pockets.

Buffy cocked an eyebrow at him, folding her arms across her chest. “You wanted to know how I’m doing? Why the hell would you care? You’re a—“

“Demon.”

“Yeah, a demon. And you’re... you know,you... and with the whole—“

“No, Slayer. Demon.” Spike pointed at something over Buffy’s shoulder and she turned to see the misshapen form of a demon trying to leave a nearby crypt unseen by the two warriors. A foot taller than her less-than-towering height, the demon was rounded, with reptilian, mottled green skin and a strange face. Somewhere halfway between human and feline, it had unnervingly wide yellow eyes.

The demon hissed when they spotted it, sending out a stream of sizzling yellow goo in front of it, landing steaming on the grass in front of the two blondes. Taking a hasty step back, Buffy bumped into Spike, and grabbed his arm to stop herself from stumbling.

Spike’s eyes shut briefly as he felt Buffy grasp his arm and her body brush against his, her grip lasting a few moments longer than he thought necessary. Letting out a soft, wistful sigh, he felt her loosen her grip and played his part of disgusted vampire by shaking his arm out of her hand. She shot him a glare before turning and sprinting towards the demon.

Spike followed suit, and both blondes sidestepped the demon at the same time, Buffy to the right and Spike to the left, and they came up behind the demon to land identical kicks in its back.

Spike smiled at their symmetry. Poetry in bloody, arse-kicking motion.

The demon stumbled forward before spinning and sending out a hand to defend itself. The arm barely held any swing, but the brush sent both Slayer and vampire flying back ten feet, landing crumpled together on the grass

“Bloody hell,” Spike muttered as he untangled himself from the girl on his lap, his tongue curling indulgently as she wriggled against him. “That thing packs a punch.”

“You’re telling me,” Buffy groaned, falling into a defensive position. “You better get your head in the game.”

“Way ahead of you, Slayer.” Spike replied, his game-face already falling into place. Shaking his head as his fangs elongated, he rushed forward with a snarl, punching the demon twice in the shoulder and then side before kicking it brutally in the gut. The demon pushed him back with both hands, and Buffy stepped around him as he fell to take up the battle.

The demon seemed to effortlessly block her blows, and each desperate punch it landed felt like an anvil was slamming into her. As an almost last stitch effort, Buffy sent her knee up into its groin. When the demon doubled over in pain, Buffy grinned victoriously. “Guess you’re a guy then, huh?”

Fury flashed in the creature’s eyes, and it hissed deep in its throat.

“Buffy!” Spike cried, and he was suddenly grabbing her by the shoulder and waist. He pushed her roughly to the side as the demon sent out a stream of the burning goo, hitting him full in the face. With a scream of agony, Spike fell to his knees, and the demon kicked him in the chest, sending him flying backwards to crash into the wall of a nearby mausoleum. Falling to the ground amongst the resulting dust and debris, Spike slumped and didn’t stir.

“Spike!” Buffy’s voice rang with horror as she saw his body fall, unmoving, to the grass. Turning to face the demon, she all but snarled, “Hey, buddy! That’s my punching bag!” She sidestepped as it turned and came rushing at her, dealing a spinning kick to its back. “Find your own.”

She rabbit punched it several times before scissor-kicking it in the shoulder. Why, oh why, didn’t she bring anything bigger than Mr Pointy? Restfield Cemetery was over four blocks away, meaning that regrouping and stocking up on weapons at Spike’s crypt was out of the question. Kicking herself for not being more prepared, Buffy slashed at the demon’s chest with her stake.

Using the two seconds she’d gained, she kicked its legs out from underneath it and flipped over it, landing on her feet and running toward where Spike lay, bleeding and barely conscious. Grabbing a shard of granite from the rubble surrounding him, she spared him a glance before turning back to her attacker. The demon was running towards her, all snarls and growls, and Buffy stood loosely until it was less than a foot away, before ramming the granite into its belly with both hands.

The beast let out a strangled yelp of surprise and pain before falling backwards; thick orange blood pooling beneath it. The granite shard had gone right through its back. Dropping back from its body just as it turned to smoke, Buffy wiped her hands on her jeans, the blood splattered on her fingers leaving a slight burning sensation behind. She stared at its corpse for a few moments before dusting her hands off dramatically.

“Well, that was easy.” She quipped sarcastically. “No problem.”

“Actually, Slayer, we might have a slight problem.” Spike’s voice sounded behind her, low and quiet. Buffy turned to face him and he was sitting up in the debris, his hands shaking a few inches from his face. Buffy gasped as her eyes focused on his face. The goo had burned like acid, the skin it had hit burnt into angry welts and raw, pink and charred black skin. Blood ran heavily over the exposed flesh.
He looked up at the sound, staring in her direction. But he didn’t focus on her. His voice came again, and this time it wavered.

“I think I’m blind, love.”