A/N: Thanks to all my reviewers! You guys rock!

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Buffy exited the back entrance of the club with Fred and Cordelia following close behind. Cordelia had managed to coerce Angel into a dance, and was chatting his ear off as they walked to the limo. Fred was exhausted from her own dance floor successes, her eyes having taken on a droopy expression as the night faded into pre-dawn hours.

As they approached the limo, a tingling sensation gathered at the base of Buffy’s spine, traveling upwards and into her neck with alarming speed. She had her twin Baby Glocks out and the safeties off in a matter of seconds. The two boys followed suit, drawing their guns out of their holsters and taking positions on either side of her.

“Gustuuks,” she said quietly, and they tightened their grips on their weapons.

“Buffy…” she heard Angel call out over Fred and Cordy’s panicked whispering.

“Protect the girls,” was all she said, and then they were hit.

The first one came to her right, and her shot hit him in the eye and took out the side of his skull in a mass of bones and bits. She saw one of her vamps go down with two on top of him, teeth ripping holes into flesh. The second one that came at her knocked her left gun to the ground, and she used the butt of her other Glock to bash in his temple.

The last two Gustuuks were in a firefight with her last boy. Buffy ducked as a volley of bullets came towards her, hitting the brick wall behind and sending bits of brick spraying out. She used her gun to take out one of the shooters, as her vamp exchanged fire with his target.

One of the two that had been on the ground must have been successful, as he was on top of her. Her gun was empty, and she didn’t have time to get her other as he crashed into her. Behind her Fred screamed, a high-pitched wail that stopped her heart.

“Fred!” Buffy yelled, slamming her knee into the last Gustuuk’s throat to crush his windpipe. She was at her side in an instant, watching the blood bubble up from a bullet hole.

“Shhh… It’s okay, Fred.” She looked up to find Cordeila and Angel standing over her, saw that both her vamps were dust. Cordeila’s eyes were glittering with tears.

“Buffy… I hurt real bad like,” Fred said, drawing her attention back down.

“I know, I know. I’m gonna fix it, okay? Hold real still, girl.” She pressed her hand over the wound and focused her energy into healing.

The bullet came out slowly, separating flesh before being expelled with a sickening pop. Buffy brushed the bullet aside and finished reknitting Fred’s skin.

Fred smiled bravely. “I feel all better now.”

“I know, girl. But you’re tired, alright? Just go to sleep, and when you wake up everything will be better.” Buffy wove the forgetting spell into her words, and watched as Fred’s eyes fluttered shut.

Buffy lifted the unconscious Fred in her arms and passed her to Angel. Cordy’s eyes were wide as she looked at the clean skin on Fred’s shoulder.

Angel’s eyes appeared black in the dim light, but Buffy could read his question just the same as she placed Fred into his arms.

“She’ll sleep until you can get her back, and she won’t remember.” Angel nodded, and they headed towards the limo.

Cordy stopped next to Buffy before getting in.

“Dad was wrong,” was all she said, then slide into the leathered interior.

“Why didn’t they just shoot us?” Angel asked after he’d put the sleeping Fred in beside Cordy.

“It’s a statement,” Buffy said. “Death packs come in six, and they attacked with teeth first to let us know it’s started.”

“What’s started?”

“War.” His face went dark at the word.

“Look,” Buffy said. “You take the girls home, ok? Take care of them. I got a cab waiting out front, and something I have to do.”

“Okay, I can do that.”

“And, if it’s possible, can you keep your ears open on this Gustuuk thing? I know you’re not directly involved, but-“

“They just got me involved by trying to touch Cordeila.”

Buffy gave him a small smile. “You might just be a thing.”

“I’ll look into it,” he said as he got into the limo and shut the door.

Buffy watched them drive away, rush she always got from violence dashed with the panic she’d felt when Fred had almost died. Innocents weren’t supposed to get hurt- it was her code of sorts.

She was tired, of tests and wars and common held secrets that no one really talked about. Her body was flush with violence and anger at fate.

And Buffy knew there was only one person who was gonna make it any better.


*


Spike didn’t get back to his apartment until almost dawn. The sun was a creeping, faint line of color on the horizon, and he turned his back on it wearily as he headed down the steps to his basement dwelling.

He’d followed after the boys, taken Des’ unconscious form from them before they had a chance to play with it, claiming his right to her as head of the gang. Then he’d left wearing his vamp face as a tease to the others.

The face dropped as soon as he got to his car.
After a quick stop, he’d taken her back to her apartment and gotten her a bag together. Just as she was stirring, he’d tossed a thick wad of cash at her. The bills scattered as bits of green around her strewn out form.

“You’re gonna need it,” he’d said, not making eye contact as he splashed gasoline around the room.

“Who’s dat?” she’d asked finally, staring at the slumping form in the corner where he was tossing out long streams of gas.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it. You’re bag’s there, and a cabbie’s waitin’ downstairs to get you to the airport. Best make it quick.” At those words she’d come alive, grabbing the bag and heading out.

But she’d paused, looked back at him.

“Thanks, man.”

He hadn’t said anything at first, as he tossed the empty can on top of the decoy body. When he finally spoke, the words were as empty as he could make them.

“If I were you, pet, I would make sure I got myself to the other side of the planet real quick like.”

She’d swallowed hard, and then was gone.

Spike had taken his Zippo out his pocket and flicked it open with a snap. He’d lit a cigarette, took a quick drag, then let it fly. The flames had shot up instantly, red and orange licking madly at carpet and walls. Satisfied, he’d turned and left.

On the way back to his apartment, Spike had searched his mind for why he’d done what he’d done. Mercy wasn’t in his nature, not even close, but he’d shown it tonight. It left a bitter taste in his mouth.

“Bollocks,” he’d said, gripping his steering wheel tighter in irritation. He knew he was kidding himself about why he’d done it; it was all for Buffy. She was angry, she was hurting, but she’d regret having the girl killed later, and he knew it. He was just keeping her hands clean for her, ‘til she got her life straightened out.

Images of her furiously lost face came to mind as he unlocked his apartment. There was no question that she was in his blood, and other places he’d prefer not to question just yet.

Shutting the door behind him, he caught the faint scent of vanilla. He sighed into the darkness, then reached a hand out and flipped on a light.

“Hello, pet.” He eyed her where she sat on his couch, sprawled out across the black leather.

“Spike.” He tossed his keys onto an end table as he walked further into the room.

“Quite a feat getting in here. Must be cozying up to your new magick bits nice and easy like.”

He lit a smoke, leaned against the wall so he could watch her on his couch.

“Came here to extract a bit of revenge, did you luv? Stake me nice and proper?”

“No,” she said quietly, unfolding herself and rising to her feet.

“I came here to apologize.”

Spike choked a bit on his inhalation of smoke, but managed to tame it down to a manly wheeze.

“Right, sorry, what was that again?”

“I came to apologize for how I was acting earlier, at the mansion. Didn’t mean to be all hatey like.”

“You’re not exactly a soft creature pet. Weren’t even before the Slayer gig.”

She wanted to tell him he was wrong, that he didn’t understand any of it, how hard she’d tried for a man who saw her only as a pawn. She lowered her eyes instead and came closer.

A familiar fragrance scented the air, and Spike inhaled sharply.

“You’re wearing crimson, pet.”

“Yeah. Gustuuks hit me and the girls while we were leaving The Room. Two of the boys are dust, Jace and Deggo. Seems we may have started a bit of a war.”

But Spike wasn’t hearing her. His eyes were focused on the line of red that was trickling down her forearm. “You’re hurt.”

She shrugged. “Just a scratch.”

He leaned in close, hand snaking out to grab her wrist and raise her arm up.


“Spike…” she whispered as his cool breath hit her skin, sending goose bumps racing across her flesh.

“We’re creatures of darkness, you and I.” He slid his tongue the length of the wound, exposing the pink new skin beneath.

Buffy felt herself go wet, dark craving rising as his soft lips teased her skin.

“These are the things we do.”

She lowered her eyes, and he watched fascinated as thick lashes swept down over flushed cheeks. The sound of her pounding heart filled his ears, a wail that shot to his straining cock.

Buffy’s next words sent his inner demon into a frenzy.

“Show me.”

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