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Chapter Thirty-Two-The Sound of Marching Feet
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Chapter Thirty-Two: The Sound of Marching Feet

As the looming threat of Damon and his vampires drew nearer, Spike took a definitive step forward, proclaiming his place at the head of the human army. The final countdown was in full effect and in a few seconds he was about to betray his own kind to wreak vengeance on a vampire who had once betrayed him.

Xander gulped at the sight of the encroaching army. His gaze flew to his right, landing on Oz. The guy appeared as calm and collected as he did when asked if he wanted paper or plastic. His friend’s ability to be so stoic in the face of impending danger only augmented Xander’s sense of panic.

“How can you be so cool?” he anxiously called out in a hushed voice, trying to keep his eyes forward.

Oz shrugged. “It’s kinda late in the game for a freak out,” he reasoned. “Plus, it’s not really my style.”

Xander just shook his head and sighed. He should have known not to expect any sympathy or understanding from Oz where expression of fear was concerned. The guy lived and breathed coolness. “Maybe I’ll be declared a national hero,” he stated in a bittersweet tone.

“I was hoping for a state funeral myself,” Oz wryly remarked. “And a school named after me.”

Xander chuckled at the other man’s humor, feeling a bit more at ease. Then again, leave it up to Oz to use a passive attitude to sooth everyone else’s nerves.

“If you ladies are about done pissin’ yourselves, we’ve got a war to fight,” Spike snidely barked back at the two men.

A stern expression spread across Xander’s face, the fear he had been struggling with beginning to harden into stone cold determination. It wasn’t like he had a choice. Indulging in his fear would only get him killed. He needed to win this. He still had to get with the lovely Cordelia.

“Just don’t get caught in the cross fire, Dead Boy,” Xander warned Spike, his voice firm.

Spike didn’t reply though. He simply locked his gaze on Damon as the dark vampire arrogantly led his army toward the human force that was to oppose them. He stopped just a few feet away from Spike, ensuring that the humans got a good view of the snarling vampires behind him, so that they would know what they were about to face.

“So this is what’s become of you?” Damon asked with a hint of disgust laced into his voice. “Siding with humans just to get back at me? Must say I’m a little disappointed in you, Spike.”

At the mention of his name, Spike turned back to glance at the few people behind him who’d been close enough to hear the announcement of his true identity. For some reason, his gaze landed on Jonathan and Scott, whose eyes were as wide as saucers. They remained speechless though.

Spike cursed under his breath. Great. All he needed was for word to spread that William the Rogue Demon Hunter was actually William the Bloody. If those two gits opened their mouths, then the battle was over before it had even begun.

Spike watched as Xander turned, his own gaze following Spike’s. Realizing that the vampire’s cover could be potentially blown, the brunette took a step back to stand beside the guys he’d known since junior high. “If you wanna live through tonight, you’d better keep what you just heard to yourself,” he sternly warned.

Scott’s head snapped to stare incredulously at Xander. “Are you crazy?! You can’t expect us to…”

“Shut up, Scott,” Jonathan harshly interrupted.

Scott stared at the shorter man in disbelief. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he asked harshly. “This isn’t some noble demon hunter. He’s a monster. I knew it was too fucking convenient!”

Jonathan glanced around, noticing the few gazes directed their way, their dispute drawing some unwanted attention. “Keep it down,” he insisted. “Look, if everyone finds out that William is actually Spike, shits gonna hit the fan. And I don’t think all those vampires over there are gonna just accept a rain check because we suddenly have a change of heart about our leader. Our odds of surviving are better if we just suck it up and follow Redempto Vampire over there.”

Scott shook his head, trying to ignore the logic behind Jonathan’s insanity. He was infuriated at Giles, Xander and the rest of them for not only allowing Spike into their midst but to have the gall to actually place him at the head of their army. Breathing heavily, he turned his gaze from Jonathan, to a stern looking Xander and then to the mob of vampires that were standing only a few feet away. Scott’s fury suddenly dwindled down to a mild annoyance when he noticed the feral hunger that resided in their amber gazes. All of which were directed in his direction at the moment. Gulping down a sudden surge of fear, Scott nodded, deciding not to draw any more attention to himself.

Spike released a sigh of relief as he watched the two men return to their positions. He’d consider it crisis averted but he still had Damon, the fucking prat, smirking at him like he actually thought he was going to win this.

“Experiencing some dissension in the ranks, are we Spike?” the dark vampire asked, his grey eye bright with malicious glee. “Guess it was bound to happen. You’re just not leadership material.”

“Huh. But I s’pose you are?” Spike said, unconvinced.

“Of course,” Damon quickly replied. “After tonight I’ll finally accomplish what you could never do in the five years you were Master of the clan. I’m gonna take Sunnydale once and for all.”

“Must say, for a wannabe you’re quite cocksure of yourself, aren’t you mate? What’s to say it’ll be any easier with you leadin’ the pack?” Spike asked with open skepticism.

Damon crossed his arms, his stance relaxed in overconfidence. “Because I’m not William the Bloody.”

“That’s for fucking sure,” Spike instantly muttered.

The other vampire grinned as he began to walk the battle line, an arm tucked at his lower back as the other fluttered in the air theatrically to his words. “You see, Spike, if one is to head a clan of evil vampires, one must also lead by example. Here where lie your shortcomings.”

“Just keep up your yammerin’ and you’ll see how evil I can be,” Spike threatened as he clenched and unclenched his fists.

Damon paused mid-step and chuckled in amusement. “Oh, did I strike a nerve?” he asked, in a sickly sweet tone of voice. “You know it’s true or else you wouldn’t get so miffed by my criticism. I personally didn’t notice it until you started playing with your food. Where is that whore of yours by the way?”

For a brief second Spike almost forgot himself and was about ready to wail on the bastard. Instead of beating Damon to a pulp, he simply acted as though the treacherous vampire had not just sullied the name of the woman he loved. “Buffy’s whereabouts are no concern of yours,” he calmly answered.

“So you have her stashed away, huh?” Damon quickly retorted. “Funny. I figured she’d be at your side, holding on tightly to your leash.”

Spike’s patience was wearing thin. He was already getting sick of Damon’s non-stop talk routine but what was really grating his nerves was how he kept slandering Buffy. He still wanted to rip the other vampire apart for his attempt at violating her. Yet that would have to wait, even for only a few minutes.

Thinking about Buffy made Spike feel somewhat uneasy. Sure, she may have smiled at him, giving him the subtle I’m-still-mad-at-you-but-please-don’t-die gesture, but for all intents and purposes, their relationship was still on thin ice. Though he only wanted to focus on the battle he was about to fight and find a way to survive through it, Spike’s mind would drift to thoughts of the thereafter, where Buffy realized she no longer wanted to live in his world and fled back home, far, faraway from him.

Spike growled in frustration. “Are you about finished? Or are we gonna spend the night listenin’ to your bloated, pompous ass?”

Damon smirked devilishly at his former leader, loving how easy it was to get under Spike’s skin. “There’s no sunlight separating the two of us now, is there, Spike?” he said as he took a threatening step forward, with his whole vampire army following in step behind him. “What is it exactly that you’re waiting for?”

As the last word left the dark vampire’s cold lips, an explosion erupted yards behind him, shaking the ground as the sound of snarls and screams filled the air. Spinning around, Damon saw the crater in the asphalt where part of his army used to be. Seeing another ball of light explode a few yards behind the last, the stunned vamp spun back around to stare bewilderedly at a smug Spike.

“That’s what I was waiting for.”


Buffy smiled broadly as Giles and Spike waited for her suggestion, never expecting to hear the words she was about to say. “Actually, I think I know how we’re going to win this.”

The vampire and ex-Watcher were caught off guard by her announcement. They both stared at her in skeptic curiosity. “Well then,” Spike finally said after a dramatic pause of silence. “Spit it out. What’s got those wheels in your head a turnin’?”

Buffy pointed to their headquarters on the map. “I know it’s important that we keep up our defenses but it’s almost like our fortifications are like a honing beacon for the vamps. They’ll know to direct their attack here because once they take out the heart of our operations…”

“They’ve won,” Spike interrupted, finishing Buffy’s quite logical and systematic explanation.

Buffy nodded. “By trying to protect ourselves, we’re making it easier for them to win,” she stated.

Giles could only agree with the girl’s reasoning. “So what do you propose we do?”

Buffy’s finger, which was resting on the location of the central house slid slowly over the paper, stopping at the house right across the street. “We divide and conquer.”

Spike stifled his urge to smile when he noticed the steely determination in Buffy’s eyes. “How we gonna go about doin’ that, pet?” he asked with a hint of delight in his voice. He loved it when she took charge. Spike enjoyed it so much that memories of last night began to trickle into his thoughts, causing him to shift uncomfortably as he concealed his burgeoning erection with his duster.

“We should split the defenses between here and the houses across from us,” she started to explain, oblivious to Spike’s heated thoughts.

“What brought you to this idea?” Giles asked, becoming ever the more intrigued with Buffy’s plan.

“As I was looking at the map, I remembered something I learned from my freshman year. I took this course about ancient Greek history and there was this battle. I can’t remember the name or who was fighting in it but when I saw this house,” she paused momentarily to indicate it by tapping the map with her finger. “That battle just popped into my head.”

“What was it in particular that made you recall this battle?” Giles wondered, hoping he would perhaps know which Greek battle she was speaking of.

“You see how we have the fighters stationed on the street, just a few yards in front of the house?” Buffy pointed out.

Both Spike and Giles nodded.

“Well, if we fortified the house across the way, we could not only fight them head on but get at their flanks too,” she explained logically. “Also, if we moved our guys back a bit, we could draw the vamps in even further.”

“Thermopylae,” Spike stated out of the blue.

“Thermopowhatta?” Buffy replied in blatant confusion.

“The Battle of Thermopylae,” the vampire repeated. “That must be the battle that inspired you, luv. The Persians were suckered into this narrow passage and as they were passin’ through, the Greeks picked them off from all sides. Was like shootin’ fish in a barrel.”

Giles stared at Spike with bewildered amusement. “I never knew you were educated in the classical histories.”

“What you don’t know, Rupes, could fill a bleedin’canyon,” Spike replied venomously, hating that the Watcher knew something about him that he hadn’t planned on sharing.

Giles ignored the snide remark. “If I remember it correctly, the battle was nearly loss because of a traitor who had shown the Persians a side trail to circumvent the passage. If it weren’t for a brave contingent of Spartan soldiers, the Greeks would’ve never been able to retreat and live to fight another day. What’s to say that Damon and his vampires won’t do the same and simply go around our little reenactment?” he asked with skepticism.

Buffy considered his question carefully as she analyzed the map once more. “If we manage to draw them in far enough between the two houses and launch our initial attack at the back end of Damon’s army, the vamps will push forward and force them into our trap.”

Giles noticed the sudden shift in Buffy’s demeanor. She went from an uncertain girl who had managed to place a claim on a Master vampire to being a resourceful, clever and resolute woman. She went from being a victim of misfortune to being someone with all the necessary characteristics of a leader, and that of a slayer. “And what if they retreat in the opposite direction, away from the trap and then make their way around?” he asked, testing her capacity for strategic thinking.

“Assuming that we draw them far enough in to our end of the street, we can make sure they don’t pile out if we station forces from here to here,” she said, dragging two of her fingers on each side of the street, lining both flanks of where she expected Damon’s army would gather. “I was thinking flame throwers and those sun bomb things. Oh, and they should hide in the houses until after we launch our attack. That way any vamp not being herded into our trap will get flambéed before they even set foot off of the street.”

Buffy waited somewhat anxiously for feedback, internally debating whether or not her plan was a little too farfetched. “Well?”

“Sheer brilliance!” Giles enthusiastically exclaimed.

“Now why in the hell didn’t I think of that?” Spike asked, kicking himself for being so blind. It was a wonder that he had ever landed the whole Master of a clan gig when he couldn’t even put together the most obvious battle plan. “Good on you, luv.”

“Thanks,” Buffy replied humbly.


Spike launched himself at the dumbstruck Damon, landing a solid, bone crunching punch to his face. The dark vampire staggered back a bit as the vamps behind him flew toward the armed and awaiting humans.

“Is that all you got?” Damon huffed as he shook off Spike’s blow.

“Didn’t even put all my muscle into that one,” Spike retorted. “Guess being full of so much hot air has made you soft.”

Damon growled menacingly at the insult. With his game face emerging and clenched fists raised, he threw himself at his former Master. The impact caused the two to stumble back into the mass of raiding vampires. Only Spike’s hair kept them discernible from the rest of the crowd.


From the vantage point of the main house’s second story window, the vampires below resembled that of a colony of ants after a spring rainfall. Those in the front lines advanced forward, following their leader into battle. The vamps who were unlucky enough to be placed behind the initial attack began to flee, their loyalty waning as they desperately tried to escape. Being incinerated by little balls of sunlight had not been part of the deal. If Damon wanted a war he could fight it himself.

Before any vampire could flee the scene, the brave Sunnydale citizens who had been stationed along the street had emerged from the abandoned, seemingly empty houses, carrying with them fully fueled flamethrowers. As the vamps, now running scared from the unexpected assault, caught sight of the artillery the humans were packing, they skidded to a stop, a few comically falling over themselves as they tried to avoid crashing into the tight line of angry looking humans sporting the blazing firearms.

“Oh shit.”

It was all that was uttered by a single vampire before the street’s perimeter was illuminated by the chemically generated inferno. Inhuman squeals added to the deafening noise of battle as vampires went up in flames, transforming momentarily into life sized torches until their ashes fell upon the asphalt road.

As the vampires retreated from the advancing flames, the people positioned behind the flamethrowers began to systematically launch more sun bombs at them. The weapons, which had been modified since their initial model, now released UV radiation in a contained three meter radius. The reason was partly to ensure Spike wasn’t accidentally dusted by friendly fire but it also allowed for the maneuvering of the undead horde. It’s easier to push vamps in the right direction with grenades than A-bombs.

As Buffy had expected, the unwavering dispatch of fire and sunlight forced the withdrawing vamps to turn back toward the main house.


Xander and Oz did their best to fight off the onslaught of vampires. Screaming out commands to their cohorts as dust and blood coated their skin and clothes. Screams and growls filled their ears as both humans and vampires were taken down. Mayhem spiraled around them as fangs pierced necks and stakes plunged into chests yet they remained stalwart and focused. Refusing to allow fear to affect their concentration, the two men pushed their line forward, slicing through the mass of vampires before them.

A sword swung through the air, humming just before it slashed through the neck of a vampire. Xander swung again as he stepped through the dust of his last victim, his eyes scanning for a platinum head of hair. “Where the hell is Spike?” he shouted to Oz, who had just stabbed a vamp in the heart.

“I don’t know,” the other man yelled back.

Xander shook his head in angered frustration. “What’s the point of having him on our side when he just goes MIA?” he vented as he thrust the blade of his sword into the gut of a vamp.

Oz was about to reply when the vampire he was fighting found a way past his defenses and clocked him in the chin.


As the once withdrawing vamps made an about turn, a signal in the form of a flare was shot from the main house, commencing the next stage of the assault.

In the central headquarters, the house across the street and both their adjacent neighbors, the windows were swung open to reveal people armed with crossbows. At the same moment, men and women with bows slung over their shoulders began to climb through holes in the ceilings and aligned themselves into rows on the roofs. In an orderly fashion an already prepared tin pail filled with oil was lit, allowing the archers in the front row to dip the kerosene soaked rag on the tip of their arrow into the flame. Upon lighting their ammunition, the archers waited for the following signal.

“Ready!” Giles yelled out into a megaphone with arm raised from his spot at the window’s edge. The archers on all four roofs, in every row, who had been listening carefully for their leader’s voice pulled back on their bows, waiting for the next command to be given.

“Fire!” the Watcher hollered, dropping his arm.

At the signal, the arrows were released into the air, soaring into the starry night sky before falling upon the open crowd of vampires. Cries of pain intensified as the vamps were transformed into smoldering, life-sized pincushions.


From another open window, behind a line of firing crossbows, Buffy watched as the archers on the roofs rotated like a well oiled machine. Once the front row fired its flaming arrows, they moved to the back, allowing the next row to light up and the rest to pull the next unlit shot from their quivers. Again, another shower of arrows landed on the vampires below and again the archers alternated their positions. It was almost hypnotic the way they moved in such a well synchronized manner.

Flashes of concentrated light briefly illuminated small patches of sky as scattered sun bombs sporadically went off throughout the multitude of vampires. More arrows fell upon the crowd below, contributing further to the chaos. And all the while, as the carnage and bloodshed intensified with every passing moment, as the quintessential battle of good versus evil played out before her, all Buffy could think of was Spike.

Her eyes couldn’t stop scanning the crowd for the peroxide blond head of hair that just could no longer be spotted. She listened closely in the event that she heard his voice scream in pain, but all Buffy could catch was the hum of war ringing in her ears. Her thoughts were plagued by the images of his death and her conscience was laden with regret.

Buffy wished she could go back in time, change the last few hours, where she hadn’t spent possibly her last minutes with Spike in anger and hurt. If only she’d just forgotten about the whole mating thing. There might have been a reason behind Spike’s hesitation. Maybe he was reluctant because of Drusilla. Or maybe he didn’t want to be connected to a human who would only die, leaving him empty and alone. Or maybe he really was scared shitless of that level of commitment. Regardless, Buffy might never know because there was a good chance that she would never see Spike again.

In retrospect, pride seems such a stupid reason to be mad at someone. It made you do idiotic things. Like not saying goodbye to the man you love before an epic battle, which could quite possibly be his last, because he bruised your ego. Whoever said hindsight was twenty-twenty had never fallen in love with a Master vampire.

Giles’s stern commands broke through Buffy’s zone out. Her eyes shifted to focus on the man across the street, as he screamed for the next round to be let loose on the pandemonium beneath them.

The people surrounding her were all assisting in either reloading the crossbows or preparing for the next phase of their plan. Though Buffy wished she could take credit for coming up with this level of detailed planning, these intricacies had all been worked out before her sudden epiphany. The only difference was that they had spread it out from the main house to four other houses.

Returning her focus to the street below, Buffy gasped lightly at the sight before her. The vampires in the rear end, those that had been getting the brunt of the assault in attempt to push them further into the trap, began to turn toward the houses, deciding that they’ve had enough of being picked off like flies. Many were now racing to the sidelines. Those who hadn’t fallen into the trenches and who hadn’t been skewered by the giant stakes planted there began to climb up the brick walls and trellises of the houses.

Buffy froze for a split second as the vamps raced up the house toward her. She shook off the fear as survival instinct kicked in, the adrenaline pumping through her veins.

“Baptism assault team, go!” she shouted, initiating the next phase. The people with crossbows dropped the unloaded weapons and grabbed a balloon filled with holy water from the bin beneath the windowsill. Behind them, others were prepared with refills, waiting to replace the empty bins with those brimming with the blessed ammunition.

“Fire at will!” Buffy ordered, hurling the rubber fluid filled sac at the unsuspecting vampire.

All of a sudden a barrage of water balloons were heaved at the vampires scaling the houses’ walls, bursting open on impact, dousing them in holy water. They hissed and screamed as their skin boiled and bubbled, a few dislodging themselves from the wall. Some would take the hit and continue on their way up only to be pelted even more vigorously until they finally fell to the ground. Yet, no matter how many licks they took, the vamps refused to stay down. They would fall only to jump back and resume their ascension.

Buffy noticed they were quickly running out of balloons. “Buckets forward!” she yelled.

Tubs and jugs filled with holy water were brought to the open window, the lip of the containers resting on the ledge. “Ready,” Buffy said as she watched the unrelenting swarm of vampires scaling the house. “Okay, now!”

On her command, the buckets were tipped, allowing the holy water to flood down onto the vampires on the walls and ground. The howls of agony intensified as the living dead were bathed in what felt like to them heated sulfuric acid. Just before the buckets emptied, a new container was passed along the assembly line.

As the buckets were dumped out the window, Buffy’s glanced at the house across the way, where she saw Willow, with arms raised and eyes black, magically launching wooden stakes with her mind out of the upstairs window down at vampires swarming the street. Like bullets flying out of a machine gun, the stakes ripped through the air, piercing undead flesh. As Willow telekinetically dispatched the projectile pieces of wood, the people around her were chucking water balloons much like the ones being released by those on the other side of the battlefield.

Buffy’s gaze then went next door, her hazel eyes searching for Cordelia for what must have been the hundredth time since the battle had begun. And like before, relief flooded her senses when she saw that her best friend was still at the upstairs window, giving out orders as she helped those around her douse the vampires below with gallons of holy water. Even though their friendship was strained, Buffy couldn’t help but constantly check up on Cordy. She wouldn’t be of much use if she didn’t have the constant reassurance that Cordy was alright. Too bad she couldn’t have that sort of luxury when it came to the knowledge of Spike’s wellbeing.

As her attention was momentarily centered on the house next door, a shadowy figure came within her peripheral vision. Buffy turned sharply to her left, only to get a face full of snarling vampire, eyes flashing gold and fangs bared. Instinctively, she jumped back, grabbing with her the closest person as she tumbled away from the window. Buckets were dropped, water splashing on the carpeted floor as others fled from the window’s ledge, seeking safety from the vamp. Panic almost took hold of the whole upstairs until the vamp tried to jump through the window, only to be stopped by the invisible barrier that barred every vampire from entering uninvited into any home.

In a flash, Buffy rolled on the floor, grabbing an abandoned crossbow and firing it at the wannabe undead intruder. Having hit the mark, the vamp was reduced to nothing more than a cloud of dust. Everyone in the room released the breath they hadn’t realized they’d been holding.

Buffy instantly jumped back on her feet. “Back to your stations!” she yelled at the shaken people around her. “Keep the buckets moving!”

She pointed to two guys in the assembly line. “You two, pick up a crossbow. You’re on sniper duty.”

The two men nodded, picking up the weapons and stationing themselves at each side of the large window as those beside them continued to dump the sacrosanct liquid on the evil undead that infested the street under them.

Just as the assembly line settled back into its earlier pace, a scream from outside broke through the roar of battle. It sounded as though it were coming from next door. Buffy rushed to the window’s edge, her stomach sinking as the familiar voice filled her ears. When she reached the ledge, what she saw made her heart stop.

Cordelia was holding onto the windowsill for dear life as a vamp pulled her by the wrist, trying to yank her out of the second story window. Her teammates grabbed onto her other arm, attempting to pull her back in. Buffy watched in horror as her friend was tugged back and forth, being pulled in two directions as the vampire tried to drag her past the invitation barrier.

“Cordy!” Buffy shouted in despair as Cordelia screamed in both pain and terror.

Then suddenly, as though Buffy was observing the scene play out before her in slow motion, her best friend tumbled out of the window, rolling down the garage roof until she dropped to the grassy lawn below. The vampire that had dragged her out from the safety of the upstairs bedroom smirked devilishly as he jumped off the wall, landing with a thump only feet away from Cordy.

As Buffy watched the vamp approach Cordelia like a lion on the prowl, she knew what she had to do. With that last thought in mind, Buffy pushed past the crowd that had gathered at the window’s ledge. Climbing up onto the windowsill, Buffy jumped without a moment’s hesitation.


A black leather duster billowed in the warm night breeze as Spike spun in the air, delivering a jaw-breaking right hook to Damon’s battered face. The blonde vampire reveled in the sound and feel of bone crunching beneath his fist. “Not bad for an inadequately evil vampire, eh?” he said smugly as Damon staggered back.

The dark vampire growled ferociously, frustrated at Spike’s inexplicable upper hand. It was as though the platinum vamp was always just one step ahead, either in speed or strength. And though he wasn’t completely sure, he could swear he detected the slightest aroma of magic emanating from his opponent. Damon could only deduce that it was the work of the humans that Spike had aligned himself with. Shaking off the blow, Damon launched himself at the other vampire.

Spike dodged to the right and then side stepped to the left, avoiding both of Damon’s attempted hits. As he stumbled past Spike, the blond vamp delivered a hard kick to the back of his knees. Damon fell to the ground, barking in pain.

“Tired already, mate?” Spike asked mockingly, watching Damon lift himself up into a kneel. “Must say, you got some pretty lousy stamina for a vamp. Best work on that if you wanna be the big bad master of your own clan.”

“Maybe I should just get that witch to zap me with the same hocus pocus she hexed you with,” he bitterly replied, slowly standing back up.

Spike quirked his brow at Damon’s last remark. The villainous vampire must have somehow picked up on the last vestiges of his invincibility. Spike knew a vamp could nasally detect magic, he just never thought he personally reeked of it. Despite Damon’s newfound awareness of his heightened powers, Spike had to enjoy the perks of a spell that stripped you of all your strength one day and then returned it a hundredfold the next. He wouldn’t be wiping the floor with the mutinous scum if it weren’t for the residual ‘hocus pocus’.

“Wasn’t the witch,” Spike retorted with a jab to the other vamp’s chin, watching in amusement as Damon’s head snapped back from the unexpected strike. “The abracadabra was courtesy of the Watcher,” he continued with another jab, stepping forward as Damon stumbled back. “You remember him don’t you? Heard you struck up one hell of a deal with the old wanker.” Spike finished with a roundhouse kick to the vamp’s chest, sending his opponent through the air. Damon landed on the stone cold road with a loud thump.

Spike took a step forward to peer down at the fallen vampire. “You gotta love the irony,” he said complacently. “If it weren’t for you and all your bloody scheming, the Watcher would’ve never cast the boomerang spell that’s lettin’ me whip your sorry arse.” He finished off the thought with his patented smirk.

Damon rolled onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow to furiously stare up at Spike. Yet before he could dish out a snide retort, a lone figure on a rooftop caught his attention. When he realized what it was he was seeing, Damon’s attitude immediately turned on a dime. “And if it weren’t for your whipping of my said ass,” he began in a cheerier tone as he tried to sit up, “you could’ve had a head start at saving that slut of yours before those vamps over there tear her limb from limb,” Damon finished, his gaze stuck on something transpiring behind the looming vampire.

Spike, confused at first, quickly spun on his heel, only to catch the sight of Buffy jumping out from a second story window. Spike watched dumbfounded as blonde hair fluttered in the wind and small hands clenched into tight fists. His gaze followed Buffy until she fell into the proverbial vipers’ pit, his view now block by the mass of vampires crowding the lawns in front of the houses. When she was finally out of sight, the shock wore off and the panic set in.

Having completely forgotten for a split second that he was in the middle of a fight, Spike instinctively turned back to see if Damon was still flat on his ass. His feet nearly lifted off the ground when the fist made contact with the underside of his jaw.
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