Made by Spikes Slayer2


“What the *hell* do you think you’re doing?” Buffy demanded furiously, when her lightning fast dodges and spins brought her around to face Spike, standing tensed and ready in the alcove, but waiting to join the fight until it was absolutely necessary.

He knew he would only get one shot to help her before his chip incapacitated him, and he wanted to be sure he used it when it counted.

“What does it look like I’m doing, Slayer?” he shot back, not sure if she could even hear him over the sounds of the battle she was waging. “Being a bleedin’ idiot and staying behind – like you!”

“They won’t kill *me*, Spike!” she snapped impatiently as she delivered a knock-out punch to the nearest soldier, followed by a kick to the stomach of another one who was coming up behind her. “Which is more than I can say for you! Now get out of here!”

“Not a chance, love,” he replied without hesitation in a voice of certainty and strength. “I’m not going to lose you. And if that means going down with you, then that’s what I’ll bloody well do!” He paused, frowning, before he added, “But it won’t.”

“Spike,” Buffy objected in a warning tone, “Get out of here *now*! Go!” She put as much of a command as she had ever used with him in her tone, though she felt guilty for trying to bully him into doing what she wanted. She had done her best lately *not* to give him orders and make him feel controlled – but now, she was trying to save his life.

He was completely unaffected by her tone and words. “No,” he repeated calmly, firmly. “You’re not the boss of me anymore – remember?” he smirked at her.

Her mind flashed back to a few years before, and a newly chipped Spike whose every word had seemed to be focused on making her lose her mind. She had found him annoying and argumentative at the time, wondering why no one else seemed to be able to make her as angry as he could. Now, she found that his calm tone and his amused but sharp smirk had the same effect on her as it had then.

A sudden onslaught of fresh soldiers coming from down the hall cut off her argument, and she found that she had to focus her attention on the fight, or risk being defeated. But the whole time, Spike and her fears for his safety were foremost in her mind – which fortunately translated to anger, and a violent fury that made her fighting all the more effective.

“You are impossible, do you know that?” she snapped as she slammed her elbow backward into the face of a new attacker coming up behind her. “You’re just gonna get yourself killed! Of all times, you have to choose *now* to decide you’re suddenly gonna think for yourself and make your own choices?”

Another soldier went down, and then another, under the power of her attack, fueled to greater strength by her anger at her stubborn vampire.

He shrugged and shot back teasingly, “Gotta start somewhere, pet. This is as good a place as any, don’t you think?”

A frustrated sound that was almost a growl came from her throat as she declared, “If you *do* make it out of here alive, it’s not gonna do you much good because as soon as I get you home safe, *I’m* gonna kill you!”

Another punch – another enemy down.

“”Stubborn, annoying vampire!” she muttered loud enough for him to hear her. “Taking a stupid chance like this! I can’t believe you! You can be so dumb sometimes!”

A vicious side kick, a stunning right hook – two more soldiers down. Amazingly, there were only three left now – not that Buffy was not sure that there would be more on the way any minute. With a final burst of strength she lit into the remaining few, her fury giving her added power as she continued her angry assessment of Spike’s infuriating shortcomings.

“Crazy…”

Two left…

“Reckless…”

One. The soldier rushed her desperately, and Buffy knocked him off his feet with a powerful double-fisted blow to the side of his head, rendering him unconscious.

“Stupid vampire!” her rant concluded at the same moment as her physical battle, and she turned slowly to face the vampire she had been so thoroughly berating, her eyes smoldering with anger and the heat of the battle, breathing hard as she slowly approached him.

His expression was halfway between a smug smirk at his own new-found assertiveness, and awed pride at the impressive show his girl had just made – and against her own will, it served to melt away the greater part of her anger. She was still furious with him for putting himself at risk when he knew that he could not defend himself.

But a part of her – okay, *all* of her – was desperately grateful that he had not left her alone.

Still, she kept her expression serious and reproving as she moved toward him. “*That* was absolutely insane. You should have gone with Aaron and Anya. You realize that, right?”

He only nodded slowly, his smile never faltering.

“It was stubborn and reckless and dangerous – and I am so angry at you right now, Spike,” she told him sharply, her best Slayer glare in her eyes. “that I could kick your scrawny white British bum myself for putting me through that!”

She supposed that perhaps she was a bit *too* convincing, when Spike glanced down, his smile fading a bit, and she could see that he *did* regret worrying her so much. Even though he had done it out of love for her, a desire to protect her – even though he knew beyond all doubt that any action taken on his part to attempt to protect her would result in, at the very least, excruciating pain – possibly even his own death, rendering him too incapacitated to even attempt to escape if he needed to.

And still he had stayed – for her.

Her eyes softened as she moved in closer to him, and added in a gentler voice, full of affection and gratitude, “It was also loyal…and brave…and absolutely the most amazing thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

He looked back up at her, eyes wide with surprise, and shining with delight at her praise, but did not say a word as she moved in even closer, her hands reaching out to rest on his arms, sliding up and down slowly as she met his eyes and added with a sly little smirk, “And I’m not gonna tell you what *that* makes me wanna do. I’ll have to show you. Once we get out of here.”

His eyes widened further at the bold, suggestive promise in her words, and he swallowed hard as he stared at her, realizing suddenly, that he was leaning in toward her without meaning to, and his eyes had somehow focused on her parted lips, full and red and trembling slightly from the exertion of the battle…or from…

“Right!” he suddenly said, trying unsuccessfully to pull himself out of the thrance he was falling into. “We’d best be going then, eh, love?” His eyes never left her lips, and still he moved in closer.

Buffy’s green eyes were wide and startled as she looked at his full, needy mouth, edging nearer to hers. It seemed that her passing flirtation was having quite the effect on them both. “Yeah,” she agreed breathlessly. “Let’s go.”

They started toward the ladder – but stopped suddenly when they heard the sound of loud, harsh voices in the crypt upstairs – followed by approaching footsteps coming downward.

Buffy thought fast, her mind racing for a solution to this new problem. She was weary from fighting so many already – and she had the dark suspicion that after seeing what she had done to the men in the crypt, these new soldiers might not have the same inhibitions as the rest about killing her. They knew Spike was chipped, and would certainly attribute the deaths of both soldiers to her rather than to her slave – which was as she wanted it.

But if they thought that she might take their lives – they would have much less problem taking hers.

She wondered briefly with concern if Aaron and Anya had had any trouble getting out, but thought that they had probably made it out okay. By the surprised outrage in the voices of the approaching soldiers, it sounded as if they had only just happened on the scene, most likely on their way back into the complex. Aaron and Anya would have been long gone by he time this latest group had shown up.

But now, their only known exit was blocked, and Buffy was sure that if she tried to fight these soldiers, incensed as they were over the deaths of their comrades, and as exhausted as she felt – she and Spike would both end up captured or killed.

They would have to find another way out.

“Come on,” she said, grabbing Spike’s hand and turning to run down the hallway, intending to get out of the line of sight before the soldiers reached the ground, aware that the soldiers coming down the ladder were not the only threat – this whole place was on high alert for them. The hallway they had just entered could be flooded with soldiers at any moment.

But at the moment, it was empty – except for one man, dressed in a labcoat, who looked to be a doctor or a scientist. He was standing in front of an electronically locked door, about to slide his key card through the panel to open the door.

He looked up in startled fear at the very recognizable face of his boss’s fugitive wife, and her vampire companion, fumbling with trembling fingers as he reached for what was certainly a weapon under his coat. He managed to get it out – but that was as far as he got.

Before he could even take aim, the Slayer was upon him, slamming him back against the wall beside the door, pinning his wrist to the wall with an iron hand. A quick, sharp little twist of her hand caused the gun to drop tto the floor and the doctor to moan in pain.

“Not a good idea, doc,” Spike commented in a humorless tone. “She’s had a bit much of having weapons pointed at her.” As he spoke, he picked up the gun and held it out to Buffy.

“He’s right,” she agreed softly, a cold smile on her face.

The man was small-framed, middle-aged, and looked nothing like a soldier – not the least bit intimidating – but she was not dissuaded by his unassuming appearance. She was well aware of the sorts of activities that went on in a place like this, and knew that to the victims of Riley’s organization, such as Spike, a doctor like this could be every bit as devastating as the soldiers who appeared so much more threatening.

“I’m damn sick of it,” she affirmed Spike’s words, pressing the gun hard into the man’s ribcage, and meeting his eyes with a menacing smile.

“Please!” the doctor gasped. “Don’t – don’t hurt me! I – I won’t tell them which way you’ve gone! You can just let me go, I won’t try to stop you, I swear!” he babbled his nearly incoherent plea.

“Yeah,” Buffy shot back dryly, her smile fading. “And I’m buying that because of the massive dose of stupid pills I took this morning.” She raised the gun from the man’s side, holding it within his line of vision, and his eyes widened with fear, staring at the weapon.

“Please,” he whimpered, shaking his head. “Don’t kill me!”

Buffy had no intention of killing the man; she had planned to knock him out so that he could not tell the soldiers – who would surely reach this hall any minute – where they had gone. But her attention was suddenly distracted from the doctor by the sign on the door behind him, marking the room he had been about to enter.

Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully, and a slow smile spread across her face as an idea began to form in her head.

“I’m not gonna kill you,” she assured the trembling man with an innocent smile. “I’m just really, really curious. I never got to see much of Riley’s work, and I’m *very* interested in knowing just how he does it all – how he keeps it under *control*…”

She released the man’s wrist and reached around to take the key card from his free hand, holding it up in his face with an expectant smile.

“How’d you like to be my tour guide?” she asked softly, sliding the key across the panel.

The door fell open with an audible click, and Buffy pulled it open further, stepping back to allow the man the space to walk ahead of her and Spike into the room. The reluctant, almost panicked look in his eyes told the Slayer that she was onto something, as she pushed their unwilling guide into the room and followed him, closing the door behind the three of them.

There was something beyond the door marked “Main Control Room” that she was not supposed to see, or not supposed to get access to.

And she was determined to do both.


A mixture of strong emotions coursed through the usually reserved, controlled Watcher as he helplessly watched Julian’s razor sharp fangs descend toward his throat.

Anger – but not at the boy who was intent on taking his life – the boy he suspected was as much or more a victim in all this as he was. His silent fury was directed at the cruel humans under Riley Finn’s direction, who had somehow managed to terrorize the poor creature, even from a distance, when Giles himself had thought that he was completely safe. It was a sort of indignant outrage that they had invaded the sanctuary he had worked to provide for the shattered boy, and viciously torn open the wounds he had worked so hard to heal.

And there was definitely fear. He did not have a death wish, and the realization that he was about to die at Julian’s hand was a terrifying one. But beyond his fear for his own life, he was also afraid for his would-be killer – and the other two vampires in his care, as well. If Riley was somehow controlling Julian even now, there was little doubt that if Giles was dead, he could easily seize the three vamps and submit them to whatever fate he chose, for their part in assisting Giles’ work – and simply because they knew too much.

But even greater than the fear of dying, and the fear for his little family’s safety, was a profound, overwhelming sorrow. He had spent the past couple years getting to know the gentle, soft-spoken young vampire now poised to take his life, and he knew him well. He knew that Julian had never even taken a life, before now. He had been captured as a new fledgling, just barely out of the grave, and the instinct to kill had been driven from him with every last shred of his dignity and self-respect.

Thus the vampire that Giles had come to know was very much like the human boy he had been in life – quiet, but bright, with a good sense of humor that only showed itself if you really knew him well – a talented musician, who could play the piano more beautifully than anyone Giles had ever heard, and held a deep love for art and music – a perceptive, caring young man who had put the needs of others above his own every time he was given the choice.

And he had a choice now – no matter what the influences that pushed him to commit this act – even if he did not think that he did. He was not a killer. Not yet. And he was about to take the life of the one person who meant more to him than anyone in the world. Riley’s cruel plans were about to destroy Julian utterly – though he probably did not realize it yet.

But he would.

It hurt to imagine the pain of sorrow and guilt that would come over the boy once it was over – once he had time to realize what he had done.

He would likely lose his mind.

The scent of the Watcher’s tears reached the vampire’s keen senses, and he drew back as suddenly as if he had been struck, staring into his eyes in a shocked agony of guilt and pain.

“Please,” he whispered, shaking his head slowly. “D-don’t cry. I – I’ll try not – not to h-hurt you…” The words came out as a desperate, pleading sob, and Giles felt his pinning hands loosen their grip for just a moment with Julian’s uncertainty, his guilt and confusion and the terrible pain of what he was doing.

Suddenly, they tightened again, and the young vampire spoke in an angry snarl, born of his desperate frustration and terror. “I have to – I have to do this! I have to!”

“No, you don’t,” Giles replied softly, his voice calm, but very, very sad. “But I understand that they’ve made you feel that you do. Remember that, Julian. Remember when it’s all done that they forced you to make a terrible choice – it’s not really your fault, son…”

Julian flinched at the tender word, the sound of the man’s gentle voice – faced with his own death, and still choosing to use his final words to comfort *Julian* -- to help him deal with the emotional agony that would follow in the aftermath of his actions. That voice that had lovingly guided him through so much hurt, led him to a new confidence and peace and security that he had never thought possible.

A security that had been stolen away a few months before.

Giles went on softly, “Remember, Julian, I…”

“*Stop*!” he snarled in a trembling, desperate voice. “Shut up!” And he lowered his fangs to his throat again.

Giles was not intimidated, kept speaking in the same soft, firm tone, even as the boy’s lips hovered over his throat, prepared for the killing bite – but hesitating. “I forgive you, Julian. I love you like my own son and always will – and I forgive you.”

The vampire froze completely – not releasing his captive, his mentor, his protector – but neither did he pierce his throat with his fangs and silence his words forever. Through Julian’s tight grip on his arms, Giles could feel the shaking that slowly came over him, a slight tremor at first, that became a violent shudder of agony and torment.

“I have to…I have to…oh, God!” Julian sobbed in anguish, finally releasing Giles and turning away, his head bowed and his hand covering his face in his shame. “Oh, God, I can’t! I can’t do this! I can’t!”

Slowly, cautiously, Giles moved away from the wall, watching the boy closely, unsure yet of whether or not it was really safe to go to him.

And then, Julian’s legs seemed to give out under him completely, and he collapsed to the floor, gasping for breath that only came in desperate, ragged sobs, as the reality of what he had been about to do finally hit him.

Giles had thought that he had gotten through to Julian once before during this little incident, and had been dangerously wrong. But the boy was clearly broken, traumatized by the horror of what he had almost done – and the father in Giles could not simply stand there and watch his pain.

He dropped to his knees before Julian, who stared up at him with wide, stricken eyes, scrambling backward away from him until his back hit the wall – and then just sat there, burying his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking with sobs of despair as the older man moved forward slowly to put his arms around him.

“Don’t,” he gasped, shuddering at the gentle touch. “Don’t – I don’t – don’t deserve…” His voice broke off, his words swallowed up in sobs – but Giles had heard enough.

“You stopped,” he said simply, his voice soft and even, as he pulled Julian into his arms on the floor. “Obviously – they have some sort of powerful hold over you – some terrible threat they’ve been using against you…” His voice became the stern voice of a true father as he added, “…which I will expect you to tell me about once you’ve regained your composure.”

Through his tears, Julian nodded his obedience automatically, his shoulders still heaving with his sobs.

“But you came through it. And you withstood them. You didn’t do what they told you to do,” Giles went on. He paused, running a hand affectionately through the vampire’s thick, dark hair, tipping his chin up to look him in the eye as he added quietly, “And I’m *very* proud of you.”

The deep brown eyes of the young vampire welled with fresh tears of disbelieving gratitude as he stared into the calm, tender blue eyes of the Watcher. He shook his head slightly before lowering his gaze in shame, swallowing hard.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered in a desperate, pleading voice. “I’m so sorry – so sorry…” he sobbed.

There were no more words to be said for the moment, as Giles just cradled the lost, broken creature in his arms, and Julian leaned his head forward, resting it against Giles’ chest, clinging to him, releasing the agony of the past months of fear and guilt and indecision in his shuddering sobs.

“It’s all right,” Giles reassured him in a gentle murmur, a protective hand at the back of his head stroking comfortingly through his hair. “It’s all right, my boy. It’s going to be all right.”

They stayed there like that on the floor for a very long time, the Watcher of the vampire Slayer, and his adopted vampire son. And Giles thought with apprehension of what Julian would have to tell him once he had calmed down – and hoped with everything in him that he was telling the boy the truth.