Chapter 8

The wail of sirens flooded the room the second Blond’s fangs made contact with the repulsive blubber of Weisswurst’s neck.  Harris launched himself in a graceful arc over the tussling pair to take out two of the heavies advancing to protect their boss from his friend.  Yes – his friend .  Dammit, Blond was infuriating but that vamp had had his back on too many occasions for Harris to let him be dusted now.  Damn fool would never let him live it down if that happened… 

And Buffy’s reaction?  Don’t even go there… 

‘Focus, Harris – the mission first, self-flagellation later’ 

He crash-landed on the thugs, slamming their heads together as they staggered and fell, their guns clattering away across the parquet.  Bullets wouldn’t kill Blond but would certainly have slowed him down – and having spotted the advancing bodyguards, a slowed-down Blond down was the last thing they needed. 

“Blond!  Get it done and move!” 

Spike was struggling to swallow the demon’s blood.  It was putrid, like his knobbly flesh; Blond was sure he could feel globules of lard sticking in his throat.  He stifled the urge to gag.  He’d find another way to dispose of the warty monstrosity because there was no way in hell that he could keep this up.  Christ, the cholesterol alone would put him in a coma, not to mention the stomach-churning stench emanating from the monster trying to squirm out of his grasp.   

Twisting Weisswurst around to block a lethal looking blade aimed for his jugular, Blond ripped his fangs from the slimy grey flesh beneath the quivering jowls of his victim.  With a flash of preternatural speed the vampire snagged a sleek Glock 37 from the nearest goon’s shoulder holster.  He hefted its weight in his hand. 

“Thanks, Lurch.  Nice gun,” he said admiringly as he drew it back and pressed the muzzle against the demon’s temple, squeezing the trigger the instant it made contact.   

Guests scattered, screaming, as the shot rang out.  Harris ended up behind a table laden with party fare, spinning round to check on his compatriot before helping himself to one of the larger canapés.  He smirked as Blond dropped Mr Kiss Kiss to the floor and turned to wipe his hands clean of the demon’s blood on the white tablecloth, now spattered with brains and other bodily fluids.  Time seemed to stop; nobody made a move towards them but the spies took a defensive stance, back-to-back and facing outwards with weapons at the ready.   

Harris eyed his spermositor nervously; still unsure as to what would happen if he squeezed the trigger.   He’d cocked it earlier when things were starting to look bad, readied the deathly ray, but the actual squeezing?  Not really happening… 

“You know that G said this thing would melt flesh…what if it backfires?  Cos my flesh is kinda nice just the way it is.” 

“Too late for the j-j-j-jitters, Harris.  You’re such a big girl!”  Blond’s eyes glittered, his lips curled in a grin of anticipation as the freeze-frame ended and more heavies zeroed in on them.  He threw the Glock down and reached for his own phallic weapon.  “G’s never given us a dud yet.  I’m up for it but if you’re too scared…” 

“As if!  Bring it on, dead boy.  They don’t call me Quick Draw McGraw for nothing!  Let’s kick ass!” 

Both spies were now eagerly awaiting the inevitable showdown.  Their delight in the down and dirty part of the job was why they made such a lethal team, and merited them being classified with the coveted ‘00’ codenames.  They were the best in the Service and they knew it. 

In tandem, the duo unleashed burst after burst of energy ray from their unfeasibly shaped guns. It wasn’t pretty; G hadn’t been exaggerating.  When the beam of cold green light came into contact with a body, it started to bubble and was soon reduced to a puddle of gloop and the wail of a dying scream.  Diabolical? Yes.  But these were demons, and evil ones at that.  The end seemed to justify the means. 

The angry bellow and the crash of the table collapsing behind Blond drew Harris’ eyes despite him being busily engaged in making demon soup.  What the fuck? 

“Blond!  Behind you!” 

The vampire spun round, trying to dodge blood-encrusted fingers as they groped for his throat. 

“Bloody hell!  What does a bloke have to do to kill a fetid poofter like you, Weisswurst?” 

“Ha!  Something more, apparently, zan you are capable of imagining, Meester Blond.  How remiss of you not to know zat my body regenerates.  You see, I am invincible!  And you, puny vampire…are about to vish you had never interfered in my plans.” 

Weisswurst nodded over Blond’s shoulder, Blond turning to follow the direction of the demon lord’s signal.  He stifled a frantic roar when he saw W’s terrified eyes and the knife pressed to her throat by yet another of the bridegroom’s muscle-bound henchmen. 

“Submit to my vill, gentlemen -- your veapons?” 

There was no choice but to comply with the order.  A thin trickle of blood was already making its way down W’s pale neck and Spike Blond could smell her fear.  He obeyed his training rather than his instinct when he flipped the gun and handed it over.   

“Blond!  Are you crazy?”  Harris hissed at his partner as the flabby grey sausage-like fingers closed greedily over the MI13 weapon.  “Fight, man!  Come on!” 

The rip-and-rend demon battled with the coolly detached spy.  For once, the spy won.  “Just do as he says, Harris.  We’ve no choice.  W.” 

The one-eyed man spun round to look at his boss.  Her green eyes were huge with fear and she was visibly shaking.  The meaty hand gripping her arm tightened further and she let out a squeal of pain.   

“Bastard!  Let her go!”  Harris lunged forwards, only to be restrained immediately by the cool grip of Spike Blond. 

“Harris.  Not now,” he ground out.   

With a snarl of impotent rage Xander Harris did as the more experienced spy asked and handed over the weapon. 

Things didn’t look good.  The two agents were frogmarched out of the room past the terrified W and off into the bowels of the castle.  The clang of the iron door shutting them in the pitch-black chamber seemed to seal their fate. 

“Thanks for nothing!  I’d have taken the bastard if you’d let me!  Now we’re stuck down here and -W’s all alone.  Since when did you become Captain Sensible then?” 

Harris heard the creak of shifting bones as Spike changed his features to easier see the confines of their cell.  Dank, dark, no handy little trapdoors; pretty much as he’d expected. 

“Couldn’t risk W.  Anyway, have I ever let you down before?  Trust me.” 

Xander wandered over to the far wall and hunkered down against the clammy walls.  “Trust you.  Is that what I’ve come to now – trusting a demon who couldn’t even eat his dinner?  Please let this all be a dream.” 

Blond settled on the floor next to him and patted himself down until he found the G gadget he’d pinched when the old man wasn’t looking. With his enhanced vampiric eyesight he made short work of piecing together the tiny tubes and connectors that made up the lantern that suddenly illuminated the dungeon. 

“Whoa!  Warn a fella would ya?  I think my good eye’s imploded!”  Harris had his arm firmly across his eyes, one hand rubbing frantically at his weeping lid.  “And much as I appreciate the Portasun, couldn’t you have come up with something actually useful like – oh, I don’t know – a key or something?  Maybe a nifty bulldozer?” 

“Will you shut the hell up!  I’m feeling a mite peckish here, Dead-eye Dick, and I don’t see room service arriving anytime soon.  May just have to nibble on what’s handy to get rid of the taste of Mr Rank in my mouth.  I told you to trust me .  Now go cower in the corner like a good puppy and let the Big Bad get to work.” 

The dark-haired spy smirked, the banter between the two of them although full of barbs was the way they communicated and it solidified their bond of friendship.   Thing was he did trust Blond; he trusted him with his life.  And more to the point, he trusted him with W’s.  He moved away to the far corner and leant against it, arms crossed in defiance. 

“Okay, Blond.  Do whatever you have to – I’ll have forty while you play with your toys.” 

“Done playing.” 00666 shook his hands out like a magician and there appeared in his palm a metallic globe about the size of a tennis ball.  He twisted it and it began to hum and glow.  Then he quickly laid it at the foot of the iron door and backed off to stand beside Harris.   

“I do not want to know where you had that one stashed, Blond.” 

The vampire’s reply was lost in the heavy boom that heralded the disintegration of the barrier that kept them from W’s side.  Seconds later, the cell door had been reduced to rubble. 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“So what do you think of the ancestral pile, old chap?  Not quite Bath is it?  But still, he does try.”   

G walked with Ethan Rayne through the shadowed grounds of Weisswurst’s castle “It wouldn’t be out of place at Disneyworld,” he grunted.  It was grossly over-turreted and a plethora of deformed statues lurked hideously behind bushes to take the unsuspecting visitor by surprise.   

“Ah, I see you’ve noted the stone ancestors?  That little beauty is Weisswurst’s mother.”   

“Good god…” G couldn’t suppress a shudder.  “No need to ask where he gets his looks from.” 

“Oh, don’t worry – she won’t be at the wedding.  None of them will, actually.  It seems that the only way to make it to the top in the Weisswurst clan is by killing off your bloodline in the most obscenely terrible way imaginable.  My master himself had offspring who turned on him but he made short work of them as you can see.”   

Rayne indicated a row of headless statues ranged round a cauldron containing what G guessed would be their missing heads.  “That’s part of the reason he just simply had to have W, to make more children.  I know you think it’s all about revenge but he is entirely taken with the fiery chit.  She’ll want for nothing.  Oh, she’ll last until the birth of the first litter – but a human birthing the Master’s spawn?  A bit tricky, old chum…and they’re so hungry when they’re born.  Don’t fret, though, she’ll have a super life until then.” 

Rayne wasn’t prepared for the fist that smashed into his face and catapulted him backwards into the bushes.  But G was.  He took to his heels immediately and headed towards the bright lights and the music. 

It was at the exact same moment that Blond had Weisswurst in his grip and his fangs in his flesh that G slipped into the ballroom.  Keeping to the edge of the throng he watched helplessly as the two spies surrendered their weapons and were bundled off.  Thinking on his feet, he quickly sidled out and holed up in the corridor until he spied an exit.  He knew he didn’t have long before Rayne came to and sounded the alarm, but it was entirely likely that the effete pillock wouldn’t want the world to know he couldn’t handle an old duffer like G, and would try to pretend that nothing was amiss. 

Spying an unguarded door, whilst everyone was gawking at the removal of Blond and Harris, G shot outside into the darkness and headed out to find Buffy and the others.  Things had changed.  They no longer had the luxury of surveillance; W’s fate depended upon the operatives’ ability to pull the proverbial rabbit out of the hat. 

As he ran through the dark, the memory of W’s haunted features and the tears on her face hardened his resolve.  He wouldn’t let her down. 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ 

Buffy Blond knew the moment things started to go wrong.  She could feel Spike’s rage through the mating link and it nearly had her screaming and clawing at her neck.  She vowed that she’d have him show her how to tone it down a little so that she could work through   the turmoil of emotions the overload caused.  It was hard for her to fight down the anger and killing urge she felt and she swallowed, hard, as she realised if she was feeling it at that level, William must be almost incandescent in his fury. 

She packed away her communikit and jumped to her feet, startling the snoozing Osborne and Whedon who were nestling against each other in the undergrowth.  “Guys!  Move it – we’re needed on ops.  Playtime’s over: we’re joining the big leagues.  NOW !” 

The two novice agents stumbled to their feet.  Once again their eyes met in an unvoiced vow to hide at the very rear of HQ when they returned and never, ever come to the notice of the people at the dirty end of the job.  Maps and research into demon languages would suit them fine.  Until then, Buffy Blond - despite her petite stature and girly hair – was a veritable Valkyrie who demanded their immediate compliance with her every order. 

She took off, hissing over her shoulder for them to keep up and simultaneously signalling for backup from the flight team, and hopefully the wet-team they should have retrieved by now.  Osborne and Whedon could barely keep her in sight as they crashed through every bush and thicket in their path.  Soon Weisswurst Castle loomed before them and Buffy halted, gasping for breath.  She was panicked, wanting to reach her husband’s side but knowing instinctively that if she barged in she may simply give Mr Kiss Kiss the added advantage of a second hostage.  No, she’d have to plan her assault – not and easy task as she had no idea of layout, numbers, whereabouts… 

Think, Buffy!  What would William do?  Or W?  Or G? 

She almost cried with relief as G himself called her name, backlit by illumination from the castle. 

“Buffy!  Are you alone?  Where’s the team?  Quickly now, we have to move!” 

“G!  Thank god.  Am I glad to see you!  William…?”  She tried to keep the edge of panic from her voice, made a valiant effort at it too. 

“He’s fine; Harris and Blond were overpowered and taken off to the dungeons but I don’t imagine they’ll stay there long.  I know for a fact that Blond made very free with my belongings the last time he visited my lab.  I wager they’ll be back in the fray any minute now.  So…the team?” 

“On their way.  The jet’s just touched down so they’ll be about ten, fifteen minutes getting here.  But we have the boys…any minute now.”  Buffy pointed back the way she’d come as the shaking and sweat-soaked desk jockeys finally caught her up. 

“Well, it’ll have to do.  We can’t wait.  They’ve got W captive in the ballroom and I’d lay odds they’ve drugged her or else she’d have tried to fight them.  We have to help her.  Rayne outlined what’ll happen if that damned ceremony goes ahead….” 

Buffy didn’t want to know.  Her brief meeting with Weisswurst was more than enough to have her gagging at the memory.  She didn’t need any more fuel added to that fire, thank you very much.   

Turning round to check that her slightly wilted companions had recovered, she marched forwards.  “Fine then, let’s get to it.” 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ 

The seven demons previously guarding the cell were now part of the corridor décor, adding interesting abstract designs in shades of purple, green and red to the stone walls.  The lack of weapons meant Blond had to rely on fist and fangs to rip at flesh and Xander Harris was all too happy to take the hand-offs and finish the slam-dunk.  It hadn’t taken long; they’d had the element of surprise and the impetus of saving W from a rape worse than death to spur them on. 

Silently they crept through the lower levels and back up to the main floor of the house.  By the sound of the music coming through the walls, Weisswurst’s party was back in full swing and W’s time was running out.  Spike stopped, Harris clumsily running into him and cursing under his breath. 

“Can it, Harris.  I’m trying to think…” 

“Yeah, I got that -- figured it’d be way too complicated for you to think and walk at the same time.  So what’s the plan?” 

Thing was, right at that moment, Blond didn’t have one.  But it wasn’t the first time he’d relied purely on his instinct and his urge for survival.  Made it all the more exciting once you got past the crippling fear…not that he’d ever admit to anyone that he ever had a moment’s doubt. 

As he mulled over his options, Spike felt Buffy’s frantic emotions through the link.  It was a mix of hopefulness, anxiety, blind animal panic – and she was coming nearer.  He smiled; he loved it when a plan came together.  All they had to do was wait.  Buffy wouldn’t turn up empty-handed; she was far too well trained for that.  It was all in the timing. 

“Right, Harris – we need weapons.”  Blond glanced around the baronial hallway.  “Looks like our charming host has put his best ones on show for the nuptials.  No end of sharp objects, so go grab us a couple.  We’ll just have to keep slashing away at Weisswurst until there’re too many bits for him to get back together -- at least until we can get hold of G and pick his mighty brain for the way to destroy Mr Kiss Kiss bloody Gang Bang.” 

Soon they had a couple of knives each and Spike was also wielding a nifty looking mace on the end of a gleaming chain.  They edged forwards and took up station in a cloakroom opposite the grand ballroom, their door slightly ajar so they could see the comings and goings.  A cacophony of noise drew their notice as the bloodied Ethan Rayne burst through the main entrance with psycho henchmen in tow and screeching hysterically for Weisswurst.  They caught the gist of it, Spike more so because of his super-sensitive hearing.  G.  G had punched him out and scarpered.  Good man!  Now all they needed to know was where he was. 

Spike chuckled into the darkness of the cupboard.  Seemed that the gadgetmeister was such a slippery little customer not one of the minions could find him.  The vampire thought back to when G had first entered the service, way back when Spike was building his reputation as the coolest spy in the business.  G had shown promise as a field agent but had rapidly graduated to the man to know if you wanted a specially adapted weapon or a watch that doubled as a laser cutter.  Still, once trained by Her Majesty’s best, you never lose it… 

“And this is funny…. how?  We’re holed up in a cupboard, Blond, and knives against machine guns?  I don’t think so.  So I ask again…do you have a plan?” 

Spike felt Buffy’s nearness through the link; she was almost at the door.   

The vampire turned his golden eyes on his friend.  “Yeah, Harris.  We go see what the missus wants to do.” 

With perfect dramatic timing, the petite blonde in question threw open the double doors and black-clad wetwork operatives swarmed in, weapons poised for action. Buffy, Osborne and Whedon stood aside as the professional assassins took up post on either side of the ballroom door.  Spike and Harris burst from the cloak cupboard, Spike quick to pick up his wife and hug her to him with his free hand while keeping the mace free and ready to strike.  “Buffy,” he nuzzled her hair.   

“Honey, I’m ho-ome!” Buffy Blond sing-songed before clamping her legs around the lithe torso of her spy husband and crushing his lips with a kiss that promised heated oil and silken scarves once they were back on home soil.  “And I brought some friends, William.  Hope you don’t mind…” 

“Well, it’ll be a stretch, but there’s mayhem enough for everyone.  Any sign of G on your travels?” 

“Why, Blond – did you miss me?”  G brought up the rear, twiddling with yet another gadget of unknown purpose and looking scarily serene.  Whedon and Osborne on the other hand looked like they’d been dragged through a hedge. 

Spike put Buffy down and patted her bottom affectionately as she sashayed away.  “Well, G – I didn’t really want to tell the wife this way but now you mention it…” He grinned and walked towards his longstanding colleague and friend.  “Hug?” 

G raised a very Spike-like eyebrow and rolled his eyes.  “I think not, Blond.   Besides, we’ve work to do.” 

“Foiled again!  Work.  Fine.  Lead on, Macduff.  Just tell me…how precisely do you kill Weisswurst?  I only ask because shot to the head?  Not as effective as you’d expect.” 

“Oh.  Yes.  Quite.  Well – I wasn’t exactly sure that rumour was true.   So he regenerated, did he?” 

Spike and Harris nodded in tandem. 

“Ah.  Well it seems that the only organ susceptible to death is the second kidney.  Only thing is nobody is sure where exactly in the body it resides.” 

“Not the head because KAPOW! – and nada.”  0013 mimed a pistol to his temple. 

“No, obviously not in the head.”  G stopped his fiddling and gave the pair his full attention.  “Wait a minute…you shot him in the head with my – what did you christen it, Blond? – The erm... spermopositer, and he didn’t... well – decompose?” 

Blond and Harris looked shifty.  G didn’t like his gadgets getting into the hands of the enemy. 

“Well, no… actually, I didn’t use the bloody penis gun, G.  Thought a traditional bullet to the noggin would nail the nasty bugger so I grabbed what was near to hand.  Nice job of giving us the down and dirty old bud.” 

“Well, there’s your answer then!  At the right setting, the spermopositor – and I’m trademarking that, Blond – will melt his entire body, second kidney included, and it’s cheerio demon.  So, holster the guns and let’s get cracking!” 

The assassin team were ready and waiting to go, only lacking the proper signal to have all guns blazing.  G eyed the two agents shifting from foot to foot with a sinking feeling in his gut.  “You do still have the weapons…?” 

No reply, no eye contact. 

G sighed and rolled his eyes.  “Where are they?” 

“Weisswurst has them.  Don’t fuss, we’ll get ‘em back.” 

The bloodcurdling screams from the ballroom stopped everybody in their tracks.  The reek of burning flesh seeped beneath the doors, making those nearest to the ballroom gag.  It could only be the spermositers. 

“Right!  Let’s get to it!  There’s no time – it could be W in the firing line.” 

Blond took control of the situation - being the senior agent in both age and experience - and charged forwards through the double doors and skidded to a halt on the bloody floor.  His vampire senses were on overload, feasting on the scent of fear - a banquet of gory delights.  He didn’t usually like to suit up so early in a fight as it lost him the advantage of surprise; but the blood, the sight of the cringing guests as Weisswurst swaggered about with his new toy, and the very real danger that W was in, flicked his switch and he roared into vamp face.  The sound echoed through the room making the entrance of the vampire and his colleagues the focal point of all. 

“Meester Blond!  Again you interrupt me – and so rude.  Vhy do you never do vhat I ask of you?  You zink to save your W from a fate vorse than death.  But see her!  She is happy to see me – aren’t you, mein adorable Weichselstrudel?  She cannot vait for our union.  See how she trembles with desire!” 

W was shivering; her jingling chains providing demented background music to the inevitable showdown.  She looked far from happy, however, her heavy makeup streaked down her face where her tears had tracked, and her knuckles white where she still gripped an ostrich feather fan and a champagne flute.   

It was too much.  Your average vampires weren’t known for their restraint in a crisis and Spike Blond was far from your average vampire.  He leapt – quite literally – into the fray.   

The MI13 agents were hot on his heels, Xander Harris leading them forwards.  The less experienced Osborne and Whedon peeped round the door, limply cradling weapons they were too scared to use, drawing a huff of impatience from Buffy when she sprinted past them.  “Time to grow a pair, you two.  We need all the manpower we can get – if you’re up to it!” 

Whilst the nervous duo would have preferred to make a discreet withdrawal, there was enough backbone there to have them cocking their pistols and preparing to engage.  G pulled out an impressive weapon of mammoth proportions and nodding to the pair of wet-behind-the-ears agents he preceded them into the ballroom. 

Spike Blond was everywhere, making full use of his supernatural speed to disarm lumbering thugs before they could use their assorted weaponry.  He was homing in on Weisswurst who was still gesticulating wildly with both spermositers, the beams of bone-melting energy sizzling any flesh in the their path and reducing the unlucky random victims to primordial sludge.  G couldn’t stop a smug grin from creasing his face as he noted the extreme success of his invention.  Weisswurst changed direction. 

Blond needed a diversion to enable him to seize the demon and turn the guns against him.  Harris was already on it, making for W and the ring of guards around her with a posse of assassins in tow.  They were making headway noisily in an effort to create the maximum impact.   

There…right there the moment arrived.  G bellowed W’s name to add to the mayhem and was gratified to see Weisswurst lower the spermopositors and start to walk towards his bride-to-be.  Blond took the offered opening and karate-chopped Weisswurst’s wrist, deftly catching the dropped weapon and aiming it back at the warty demon’s torso in one graceful manoeuvre.   

“Weisswurst!  Heads up, you stinking heap of putrescence!  I want you to see my joy as you dissolve in agony.  Nobody messes with my people.” 

“Ha!  Empty vords, DumKopf. You forget zat I am invincible; you haf tried to destroy me once and yet I still live.  Do your vurst, zen perhaps I can complete mein nuptials and get to ze rumpy-pumpy!” 

00666 smirked.  “Your wish is my command, Weisswurst.”   

Putrid gobs of spittle hung from Weisswurst’s green teeth as Spike Blond pulled the trigger snarling, “Auf Weidersehen, Pet.” The beam hit his chest and began to singe the folds of flesh, slicing into his body like a hot knife through butter.  Weisswurst fell backwards, the other spermositer dropping from his hand as he realised that invincibility was overrated and today – although not a good day to die – would nonetheless have to do. 

The guards around W were under attack from Harris and his mob and G, Buffy, Whedon and Osborne were hitting out where they could.  The guests were running scared to every corner of the room, high decibel screaming following in their wake.  The highest pitch of all came from the decomposing former master of the ancient mansion in which they stood. 

“AAAAAAARGH!  NEIN!!!  I AM MELTING, I’M MELTING!  STOP ZIS!” 

Blond and the others stifled the urge to follow the yellow brick road whilst humming a jaunty tune.  But the hysterical screams of Weisswurst, aka Mr Kiss Kiss Gang Bang, focused everybody’s attention on the main event.  Blond stood over the rapidly dwindling remains of W’s captor spinning the reclaimed guns in expert hands.  He roared victory; a feral sound that chilled all that heard it.  Demon against demon had battled and the best had won. 

After that, the fighting fizzled out.  Weisswurst’s henchmen were only too happy to surrender now the threat of retribution for their failure was gone, and whilst there were a dozen or so followers of the ‘Great Weisswurst’ weeping and wailing and tearing at their clothes and hair, the majority of the guests were starting to wander away chatting excitedly about the pre-wedding feast and the best fight they’d been to in years. 

G made his way towards W and was about to hand his gun to Harris so that he could help her up, but he spotted Ethan Rayne crawling out from under a table.  G’s eyes narrowed as he focused on his target, steadying himself legs slightly apart and cricking his neck to take aim.  His ridiculously long pistol was steady as a rock as he took sight down its muzzle. BAM BAM BAM shell after shell thudded into Rayne’s jerking body.   

Rayne slid down the wall, clutching his chest and groaning.  “Ripper…oh… bug…ger...” 

With a smile of satisfaction, G blew imaginary smoke from the end of the barrel, twirled the gun and holstered it in his belt.  W wobbled to her feet and took a couple of steps forwards until the golden chain tethering her ankle to the daybed jerked her.  Harris bent to tug at it but was unable to free his boss.   

“Allow me.”  Spike had lost the vamp face as he came over to his colleagues, his voice soft and husky with emotion.  He gripped the chain in both fists and pulled, the links separating easily with his enhanced strength.  W sagged against him, still shivering and she huddled gratefully into the warmth of his tuxedo jacket as it was wrapped around her shoulders.   

Buffy watched as her husband gently lifted the exhausted woman in his arms and spoke softly to her, tenderly cradling her against his chest as he turned to face them.   

“I knew you’d come for me,” W mumbled into his neck, tears streaming down her face. 

“Yeah, well – couldn’t have my baby sister staking me in my sleep, now could I?  And you know that’s just what would happen if I came back without you.  Shhh, shhhhh – it’s all right now.  Everything’s alright.”

 

Spike raised his head, suspiciously wet blue eyes seeking out their hazel twins.  He stilled as Buffy smiled at him, projecting all her love and relief through their bond. 

Yes.  Everything was all right.  Time to go home.   

++++ 

TBC – just the epilogue to come now.  

++++ 

CUT TO:  An overloaded jet crammed full of tired and filthy agents, the only sounds snoring and general sleepy mumblings except for the heated discussion going on in a corner. 

“I said no!  Somebody could see us!” 

“Pffft.  Never stopped you before.  What?  You’re a trembling virgin all of a sudden?” 

“No, it’s just………STOP THAT!” 

A different voice echoes from the huddle of sleepy forms. 

“Yes, Buffy – do please stop that!”