The silence in the Magic Box was broken only by the sounds of industrious cleaning. Tara had moved over to the bookshelves and was slowly and methodically replacing the books in alphabetical order. Anya was taking pictures of the damage for the insurance adjustor, whilst Xander was trying to repair some broken shelves.

"Shit!" Xander threw his screwdriver on the floor and stormed out. Anya and Tara looked at each other and then over at the door that Xander had just stormed out of.

"You go."

"Anya, he's your fiancé."

"But he's angry." Anya whined.

Tara rolled her eyes at her friend. "Anya, he's jealous and angry, but you have to remind him that there is more to his life than Buffy. You love him and he loves you. Please, you have to help him."

"Look, I know he's jealous. It hurts me that he is, but I know that we will be happy; he knows that, but..." Anya trailed off. She was tired, hurt and confused. She knew that Xander loved her, but she couldn't understand why he fixated on Buffy to such a degree.

"I think," Tara paused for a moment, "he needs Buffy. She helped him to become more than that drunk, Harris's son, the boy that was bullied constantly and never achieved much at school. When Buffy came to Sunnydale and her world touched his, he finally counted for something. Now, Spike is posing a threat to him and his place in the world." Tara looked over at the door and frowned. "Well, in his mind."

Anya nodded. A flood of understanding filled her with Tara's insight. "It's like him being friends with Willow. She is bright and intelligent, so, by being her friend, he had an identity; the smart girl's friend." She paused and cocked her head to one side. "He's drawn to strong women, isn't he?"

"Yes, Anya, he is. He's drawn to you. He loves you so much that he doesn't know what to do with himself."

"Are you saying I'm strong?" Anya's voice quavered slightly.

"Anya, look at what you have done! You have a job, a good life, friends and a wonderful man who loves you. You did it all on your own. Of course, you're strong." Before Tara could say any more, Anya grabbed her in a bear hug and started to cry great, big, gulping sobs. "Shhh, it's okay. Anya, don't cry."

*********

Xander sat in the alley behind the shop. He really was furious with Buffy and Spike. He stared at his hands, calloused from his work and also from his night time forays into demon hunting. He looked at his wrist and traced the scar that ran up his arm to his elbow. Only Spike knew what it signified. That made him hate the vamp even more. Spike knew that Xander had been weak, but what was worse was that Spike had saved him.

He sighed, and then looked down at his feet. The summer she was dead, he had felt so alone, even though he had been surrounded by friends, but none of them had realised how empty he felt. Anya had been too absorbed in their engagement to notice that he had been hanging on by a thread.

He had tried to talk to Willow, but she had been too focused on Tara and getting that dammed sex 'bot working. Giles had been no help, either drunk or off singing in that weird hippy bar. Another absentee father! At least he hadn't shown his affection by beating the crap out of his surrogate son, though the smell of alcohol on Giles' breath had brought back too many childhood memories. So, he had stopped talking to Giles unless they were on patrol, and then limited it to the task at hand.

It was Spike who had discovered him. Right here in this alley. He'd come back from work one night to pick up Anya, when he had finally realised; Buffy wasn't coming back! No more training sessions with the puffy suit. No more late night video sessions, pigging out on popcorn and pizza. No more Buffy saving him or the day. He had felt sick and so alone. When he had walked into the store, Anya had been with a customer. So he had headed out to the training room, the room he had helped set up.

A labour of unrequited love! A love that she hadn't noticed. She had been excited. Yes, she had hugged him. But she hadn't seen he had done it for her because he loved her and wanted her. A suitor's gift, one that had not been accepted in the way he had envisioned. Standing in that empty room, he had suddenly felt really small. He shouldn't have expected any more. He shouldn't have hated her for not falling into his arms. He loathed himself at that moment, because he had wasted time hating her when he should have just enjoyed every precious moment Buffy had been in his life. Because it hadn't been enough, she had died and left him.

That's when he had snapped.

He had grabbed a knife off the weapons board that he had made and slipped it in his pocket. He had walked through the shop without looking at Anya who was still absorbed in her sale. He had slid around the side of the shop and into the alley. He had huddled against the wall and pulled out the knife. It had gleamed brightly in the moonlight. Mesmerised, he had twisted and turned the sharp blade, watching it reflect the pale light. He had rolled up his sleeve and pressed the blade against his wrist. If Buffy wasn't here, then there really was no point. No point to anything. So he had slashed it up his arm, as deep as he could. Xander rubbed the scar; he could still feel the blood pouring down his arm as he had held it up. The dark ribbons of blood had trickled up his sleeve, and then his arm had felt heavy, so he had let it fall to the ground. Feeling dizzy and a little sleepy, Xander had closed his eyes and rested his head back against the brickwork... waiting.

"Oi! What the bloody hell are you playing at?"

Xander had opened his eyes and groaned. Spike had run towards him and pulled him to his rather unsteady feet.

"You nit! You selfish git!" Spike had growled, as he wrapped his long pale fingers around Xander's wrist, stemming the flow.

"Hey, fangless. Have a freebie on me." Xander had slurred. Spike had clenched his jaw, his blue eyes furious.

"Not going to happen. You're not flaking out on my watch." The blond vamp had snarled. Xander remembered watching, mesmerised, as Spike's head had bent down, his tongue flickering out to lick the wound shut. The vampire's saliva had sealed the cut efficiently. But what was worse than the failed attempt at suicide, was the shudder of arousal that had trickled down the weakened human's spine. Xander had gasped and felt light-headed, and not from blood loss. He had avoided Spike's knowing eyes and pulled his wrist free.

'Crap! Spike knows I got turned on by him!'

"Get off!" Xander had stumbled away.

"I will if you swear not to try anything stupid like this again." Spike's fingers had snapped out and captured Xander's chin in a firm grip. "She wouldn't want this. Don't sully her memory by killing yourself. Please, they all need you! Okay? Promise or I'll march you into demon girl and tell her right now." Xander had pulled away from Spike's cool grip.

"Okay, okay." His shoulders had slumped. "I won't try anything again, I swear."

"Right." Spike had lit a cigarette and filled his lungs with smoke. "I'll be keeping an eye on you." With that promise, the vampire had turned and walked away.

"Come on, Red's found something that needs killin'. Be a good way to vent all that sexual frustration you got going on there!" Xander had glared at Spike's leather-clad back and followed him into the Magic Box. Whilst everyone was chatting he had disappeared into the toilet and wrapped his arm. None of them had noticed the cut. When Anya had asked later that night, he had passed it off as a work injury.

Spike had never mentioned the incident in the alley. For that Xander was grateful. But his embarrassment at being caught in a moment of weakness had made him even more aggressive towards the vampire. Sometimes it made him feel bad, 'cause if Spike hadn't have found him he would have bled to death or been a meal for a passing vamp.

But then he would remember the sensation of Spike's cool tongue caressing his arm from wrist to elbow and he would feel sick.

'I'm not gay!'

He tried to suppress the memories of Spike's knowing eyes looking up at him as he sealed the wound. He hated the vamp for so many things, mainly because he was a demon. A filthy demon had taken his boyhood friend from him. Jesse. He often wondered if Willow even remembered their dead friend. Blinded by his hatred, Xander often neglected to remember that Buffy was the reason he knew about demons. If he had, then maybe he would have hated her too.

Also, Xander's inner conscience whispered to him late at night that he loathed Spike, mainly because he was stronger, faster and also much better looking than him, but the angry, young man refused to accept his darker thoughts and midnight yearnings.

But most of all, Xander hated Spike for seeing him at his weakest, blood dripping from a self-inflicted wound for a woman who was dead and buried, who, even if she had been alive, would never have seen him as anything more than a friend or surrogate brother.

"Xander?" Anya's soft voice echoed down the alley. Xander ceased his contemplation of his scarred arm. Funny, he had thought he cut in one stroke, but there were shorter scars dotted on either side of the longer one. He'd never noticed them before. He usually ignored the scar, not wanting to recall his weakness or his reaction to Spike's cool tongue. "Xander, are you down there?" Anya's high heels clicked loudly on the asphalt as she came towards him. "There you are! Come back to the shop, please."

"Go ahead, Ahn. I'll be there in a minute."

"No, now. You are worrying me. Come on." She reached over and pulled the reluctant man to his feet and they headed back to the store.
 

*********

 
Wes lay in his hospital bed. Spike had replaced the bandage on his neck and was curled up with Buffy on the single chair left for visitors. All of them were trying to look innocent. A very puzzled intern, who finally assumed that the admission date on his patient's paperwork was wrong, had already seen Wes and signed him out of ICU. They were now waiting for Nurse Blanchett to remove Wes's IV and give them instructions for his meds and post-op care.

"I just don't understand. How could the intern let you out?" she fussed.

"Hey, we're just here to take the lucky bloke home!" Spike interjected.

"Yes, yes. I know. I am glad that you could come down and get him, Mr Giles."

Buffy giggled at the startled look on Spike's face, and then nudged him to keep silent. It was best that the hospital thought Spike was Giles, otherwise, there might be difficulties in getting Wes sprung.

"Yes, we really want to get Wes settled at his apartment. Will you be much longer?" Buffy chirped.

"Well, no. Here are his meds." The flustered nurse passed over several bottles and a sheet of paper with instructions for his meds and times for taking them. "That's really all. I can help him get dressed and then you can take him home." Wes's eyes widened at the thought of being dressed like a child by the large, butch nurse. Spike caught his reaction.

"It's all right, luv. I can help the patient with his socks!"

"Okay. I'll be back in a minute; I have to find a wheelchair. It's hospital policy." With that she turned and left the three of them alone.

"So Watcher, need any help getting your Y-fronts on?" Spike asked teasingly.

Wes pushed the sheets off and stood. He held the back of his gown shut, embarrassed that his former charge may have caught a glimpse of his posterior. "Boxers, you git," he rasped.

"Wow, you are getting better, Wes!" Buffy exclaimed, pleased that the ointment had worked its magic. She hurried over to the closet and pulled out Wes's street clothes which had been cleaned by the nursing staff. She tossed them over her shoulder. "It's okay, I won't peek!" She stared fixedly into the small closet. Spike stepped up behind her and draped his arms over her shoulders. Her hands reached up and caught his, their fingers threading together automatically. She laid her head back onto his chest and they waited. Behind them they could hear Wes rustling around.

"I'm decent."

The couple turned round. Buffy's eyes widened. She hadn't really registered the clothes she had tossed to Wes, but she had not expected him to look so tough.

"Where's the stuffy suit?" She asked, and then clapped her hand over her mouth, embarrassed that she had asked.

"I lost the suit a few years back, but if you want I can dig it out." Wes said teasingly.

"No. Huge improvement. No stuffiness needed here!" she muttered, her face flaming. She picked up the box Fred had left on the floor. "Spike, pass me all the stuff on the table." She quickly packed the meds and paperwork. Reaching for the gift bag they had brought, she laid it on the top of the box.

"Here we go! Mr. Wyndam-Pryce, your getaway wheels!" The large nurse reappeared. "Hop on!" Wes made a face, but he did get into the wheelchair. Buffy, with a large grin, reached over and handed him the helium balloons she had brought.

"Let's blow this pop-stand, Wes! Spike, can you bring the car 'round?"

"I'll meet you out front." Spike disappeared out of the room.

"Spike?" Nurse Blanchett asked.

"Well, it's actually Rupert, but he ended up being called Spike because of his hair." Buffy explained hastily, not wanting the nurse to think they were in a gang and that Wes's injury was gang related.

"Ahh," the confused nurse replied, as they headed for the elevator. The ride down to lobby was silent; they all watched the numbers count down. As the door slid open, Buffy breathed a sigh of relief; she could see the Desoto waiting by the hospital doors. No awkward questions or weird looks from the big scary nurse!

"There's the car. Um, I can help Wes from here." Buffy danced around to the front of the wheelchair and pulled Wes to his feet. She tucked his box under one arm and circled his waist with the other. "Lean on me," she hissed under her breath. Wes slumped into the Slayer's body and then waved to the nurse with his free hand. Nurse Blanchett watched the two of them walk out and approach the waiting car. Once she was sure that they were out of sight, she pulled out a mobile phone.

"Blanchett here. He's checked out. Blonde
couple. I'll pull some images from the security cameras and bring them over. No, one of them visited earlier, a girl, skinny brunette. She was in and out fairly quickly. The two who left with him did exchange words, but they weren't familiar with the girl." She paused and watched the slim girl help Mr Wyndam-Pryce into the car. "Yes, one of them was Mr Giles; the girl, I have no idea. Do you want me to tail them?" She paused and listened to the voice at the other end of the phone. "No? There's someone else already on it? Right. I'll pick the tapes and head over to base. My pleasure, Miss Morgan." She switched the mobile off and headed for security.

"Wes, you ride shotgun. I'll sit back here." Buffy pushed the reluctant man into the darkness of the car. Spike grinned over from the driving seat.

"You know, there are tinted windows that can be fitted to block the UV rays. I'll call a contact and get them done when we get back to the flat." Wes returned his fellow Englishman's grin. "It'll save Buffy from dying of fright and also serve as a thank you for..." He gestured to his throat.

"No thanks needed, mate, though the lemon curd does have something to ask you." Spike jerked his thumb back at Buffy who was searching through her rucksack.

"What did you call me, Spike?"

"My bird?"

"Better. Don't start on the weirdo cockney slang again. I never know if you're insulting me. It's like when you called Xander a jam roll, I still can't get that one," she grumbled. "Yay! Found it." She leaned over and waved a pack of gum. "Wes?"

"It means arsehole," he rasped. "Pretty good description, though." The two Brits shared a look of mutual understanding. Their dislike of the mouthy male Scooby gave them common ground.

"What? The gum?" Buffy asked, confused. Realisation dawned and her eyes widened. "Oh! Jam Roll! Spike!" She clipped the now laughing vamp around the ear.

"Hey! Stop it." He swiped back good-naturedly, barely touching the pouting girl behind him.

"He's my friend." She folded her arms in mock anger.

"Well, excepting myself, I have always maintained you have appalling taste in men!"

"Well, Giles is alright, I suppose," Wes offered. He didn't defend his erstwhile employee, well aware that Angel was a sensitive subject for Buffy and also, he suspected, for Spike.

"Thanks." Buffy smiled primly at the scruffy watcher. She wasn't too surprised at his lack of defence for Angel, especially if he had tried to smother him in his hospital bed!

"Where are we headed, mate?" Spike squinted out of the window checking the traffic.

"Take a left, three blocks over, then right. That's my street. Um, there's no underground parking at my apartment."

"S'alright. I'll do the blanket rush, s'long as one of you hold the door open." Spike spun the car off the main street and headed left. Buffy clutched grimly to the back of the seat and wedged her feet under the seat in front of her.

"Hold on tight, Wes! Spike, what are you doing?"

"Sorry, there's a car tailing us! Hang on kiddies, time to play." With that, Spike let out a roar of exhilaration. Wes scrabbled for a seat belt and came up empty. He raised his legs and braced himself on the dashboard. His foot caught the stereo, filling the car with music, playing at full blast.

White on white translucent black capes

Back on the rack
Bela Lugosi's dead

Buffy peered over her shoulder and spotted the beige sedan.

"Floor it, Spike. They're still behind us!" she gasped.

The bats have left the bell tower

The victims have been bled

"On it!" Spike spun the car in a one eighty turn and the Desoto roared as he flattened his foot. It leapt forward and headed straight towards the sedan. He let out a battle cry as he vamped out.

"Like your taste in music! Very funny." Wes remarked dryly. Spike flashed him a grin, his fangs glimmering in the darkened car.

"Well, I'm a funny guy." He flicked on the headlights, trying blind the sedan driver. Buffy winced, remembering another vamp saying the same words to her years ago.

Red velvet lines the black box
Bela Lugosi's dead
Undead undead undead

"Spike?" Buffy yelled over the music. "What are you doing?"

"Chicken! Let's see if the ponces get out the way or take it like men."

The virginal brides file past his tomb
Strewn with time's dead flowers
Bereft in deathly bloom
Alone in a darkened room

"Spike! Humans in the car here and there! Chip?"

"Bollocks." He spun the car and shot down an alley, a swirl of newspapers blew in the trail of the rapidly vanishing black car. "Watcher, you fit for a bit of rough and tumble?"

"Yes, I think so. What have you in mind?" Wes asked.

"Bait and grab?"

"What? I thought it was bait and switch." Buffy stated, her knuckles white as she steadied herself, her fingers biting into the smooth, worn leather.

"Now, luv, watch and learn." Spike squinted into the rear view. "Right, they're far enough behind; come on, end of the line. I wanna know who they are and why they're following us. Ready, pet? "

The count
Bela Lugosi's dead
Undead undead undead
 

*********
 
Tara sat down heavily at the counter, perched on one of the high stools. The gentle Wiccan was exhausted from all the work and lack of sleep and was coated in a fine layer of dust. Anya had just gone out to find Xander, so she had a moment to gather her thoughts. Spike and Buffy had been gone for a few hours and she was still reeling at her discovery.

'Willow did this. Why?'

She was still frazzled, and Anya's chattering had not given her any time to formulate a plan. If Willow had indeed gone off the deep end, then measures had to be taken. She really didn't want to have to do anything drastic; but Dawn was her responsibility until Buffy got back. Her hands moved in her lap and her lips moved.

'It has to be done.'

She'd done it! Willow was barred from Revello Drive. She covered her face with her hands and cried.

"Tara? What's wrong?" Xander's voice startled her. She jumped off the stool, wiping her face.

"Nothing. Sorry, just tired and worried."

"Worried about Spike and Buffy?"

"What? No!" Tara was surprised at his question. 'He really is insensitive!' "Why would I be worried about them?"

"Oh come on! It's sick and twisted..." He trailed off at the expressions on both the girls' faces. He rubbed his scarred arm and then walked off to the shelves he had been fixing.

"Xander, you need to let this go." Tara walked over and pulled him around to face her. "I am tired of all of us judging each other. The pettiness and anger has to end. I am tired of it!" the normally quiet Wiccan shouted. "Buffy and Spike are a done deal. Get over it!"

"She's right, darling!" Anya's shrill voice interjected.

"What?" Xander's jaw dropped.

"There is nothing you can do or say that will stop Buffy. She's in love, and personally I don't blame her, honey."

"What! You like Spike?" Xander yelled, his face turning a really unhealthy shade of maroon.

"Well, he is attractive." Anya stopped when she saw the expression of disgust on his face. "You said so as well!" she muttered defensively.

"No, that's not what I meant. Well, not really..." He trailed off as he felt a ghostlike tickle of Spike's lips and tongue on his scar, reminding him.

"Xander, if you carry on like this, Buffy will turn away from you," Tara reasoned. "Please, you are her friend. Can't you just try to be less vocal about her relationship?"

"Xander, baby. Please, we know you're not happy. Spike and Buffy do as well, but enough is enough!" Anya looped her arm around his waist and rested her brightly coloured head on his shoulder. "The more you shout and yell, the more she is going to get stubborn about Spike."

Tara nodded in agreement.

"There's nothing I can do to change this joke of a relationship, is there?"

"No, Xander, but it isn't a joke. Their auras match; it's meant to be. Just try, please. She's happy. Please don't force her to make a choice. You may not he happy with the outcome."

"Buffster's happy? With him?" Xander's lip curled in distaste.

"Yes. It's been a long time since I've seen her smile. This morning, Xander, she was laughing and joking. She seemed more alive, more alive than, well, since..."

"Since we brought her back. I get it Tara." Xander's free hand fisted tightly. "So what, we all play happy families now?"

"No. I can't really see that happening. Be honest Xander, you're not going to be able to stop with all the comments, are you?" Tara's voice took on a motherly tone.

"No. I guess not." Xander tried to smile but his anger prevented him. Anya glanced up at him. She could feel the tension in his thickening body.

"Honey, don't be angry."

With her soft words, Xander relaxed. Maybe they had a point. Buffy and Spike were a couple. He may not like it, but nothing he said would change their minds. He would have to wait and be ready to pick up the pieces. 'A vamp and a Slayer, been there done that, screwed the corpses!'

"Okay. They're a done deal. I get that! But I don't have to like it," he said soothingly.

"It's okay, Xander. We are all aware you don't like the idea of them," Tara said wryly. She headed back to the counter, grabbed a broom and began sweeping.
 

*********

 
Two figures cautiously approached the idling, black car. Three of the doors were open and the only noise that could be heard in the abandoned garage was the car engine.

"You see anything?"

"No. Maybe they split."

"Now why would we bugger off and leave two such pretty boys, all wrapped up in skin-tight, black lycra, alone in such a dangerous place?" a pert, feminine voice asked from behind them. The two men spun around, reaching for their weapons.

"Ahaha, hands where I can see them." Wes stepped up from behind, a crossbow pointed at them. "Hands up, please, gentlemen." His voice was slightly rough, but firm.

The men hesitated. Before they could say or do anything, their eyes widened at the sight of Spike leaning on one of the pillars, cigarette dangling from his lips. What frightened them was the mace that he causally tossed from hand to hand. He grinned at them, secretly pleased at the fear he inspired.

'Doesn't happen that often. Usually my posturing is greeted with shrieks of laughter and then a sound thump to the nose.' He smiled fondly at the proboscis molester and Buffy smiled back.

Their momentary distraction was all the two men needed. One spun around and kicked the crossbow from Wes's hands and then launched himself the former Watcher. The other made the mistake of thinking Buffy could be used as a hostage.

Before her opponent launched his first punch, Buffy had ducked under his outstretched arm and spun behind him. She turned on her heel and hit him with a high kick on the shoulder. Spike stood, watching the action unfurl before him. His frustration showed in every line of his form. He hated missing out on a fight.

"Surprise!" Buffy taunted as she punched the guy twice in the face, the final blow hitting the stunned man in the nose.

"Aaand he's out!" Spike yelled, as he sprang forward to stand guard over the slumped figure. Buffy winked as she spun around to help Wes, only to stop and watch in complete surprise as Wes coolly sidestepped a lunge from his opponent. His pale blue eyes glittered with amusement as he dropped and swung his right leg in a semi circle. The black-clad fighter leapt over his leg, but before his feet could reconnect with the concrete floor, Wes was up and swinging. The two men exchanged blows, neither of them giving an inch. Buffy stepped forward to help, but was stopped by a firm hand; she looked up at Spike and he shook his head.

"He needs this, let him play." Spike had noticed that Wes was toying with his hapless opponent, swift jabs followed by a flurry of roundhouse kicks, all of them slightly restrained.

"Why?" she asked, completely thrown.

"Luv, think. He's just got out of hospital after being blindsided, having his throat slit and left for dead. He needs to know he can still hold his own. Give him a sec."

Buffy looked at her lover with wide eyes; he was constantly surprising her with his sharp insight. She bit her lip and then nodded. She sat down firmly on the unconscious man's chest and watched the fight unfold, casually punching the guy out when he regained consciousness.

"Be quiet, I'm watching. Also, stay down!" she grumbled, annoyed at the distraction. Spike laughed at her disgruntled face.

There was a crackle and a familiar smell of burning ozone. Wes's opponent had pulled out a taser. This, however, didn't inspire any fear in Wes; he raised a brow and, with a slight shift of his weight to one leg, he leapt and spun. His foot connected with the black clad man's temple and the fight was over.

"Well, balls! Now we have to wait for one of them to wake up." Spike threw his half-smoked cigarette to the floor in frustration. He leaned over and yanked Wes's erstwhile opponent up and dragged him over to where Buffy still sat. "Bruce Lee, there's some rope in the trunk. Could you do the honours?"

"Aw, honey, are you cross you missed out?" Buffy pouted up at Spike who laid the second man down. "Don't worry. You get first dibs on the next three vamps we come across, okay?" She stood and patted Spike's arm. He rested his forehead against hers.

"I just don't like missing out!" he grumbled and then pouted playfully at her.

"Have you two quite finished?" Wes stepped up and handed over the rope he had found. Spike nodded and then knelt down and tied the two men up quickly. He eyed the fallen taser and grinned. He loped over and grabbed it, switching it off and pocketing it.
 
*********
 
Mike opened his eyes and groaned. He couldn't feel his hands or feet. He tried to raise his head, but the Doc Martin firmly placed on his neck prevented that. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the still form of Joe, who was hogtied. 'Guess that explains the numbness of my feet and hands.'

"Oh lookie, Wes, sleeping ugly's awake and I didn't have to give him a kiss, thank god!" Spike pressed his foot down, wincing slightly at the twinge of pain in his head. 'Bloody chip! Always spoils everything.'

"So, Lilah sent you?" Wes dropped to his knees and held out his hand; Joe's mobile lay in his palm. Its call listing had betrayed them. "Why?"

Mike shut his eyes and shook his head. "Nothing to say."

"Are you sure? Because the blond gentleman standing on your neck is just waiting for an excuse to see what sort of damage a taser can do to your nervous system."

"What do yah mean, asshole?" Mike shouted.

"Can't you feel it?" Wes sneered. Mike froze as he felt something press firmly at the base of his spine. He ignored the feminine giggle, as sweat trickled down his face.

"Are you guys crazy?" Joe yelled.

"Ah! Your associate has finally joined us!" Wes settled back on his haunches and watched the man tied in front of him quiver with fear. "So, before my friend's fingers get tired, let's try this again. Why did Lilah Morgan send you after us?"

"Don't know nothin'." Mike muttered bravely; he winced as the pressure from the taser increased. A pair of slim sandaled feet appeared in his field of vision. His eyes followed the slender lines of her legs, up to a pretty face that was glaring down at him.

"Wes, ever wonder what happens to a bloke's brain if you hammer his spine every half inch with a taser blast?" Spike asked. Buffy shifted her weight and knelt down; she pulled Mike's head up by his hair. Wes shifted out of his eye line.

"Hey. One last chance before I let these guys off their leash. Why are you stalking us? Why is what's her name interested in us and hey, do you think you'll be able to do this kind of work without your fingers?"

Mike closed his eyes; he could hear Joe's harsh breathing and the drip of water hitting the concrete somewhere in the distance. "Nothing to say, you twisted bitch!" he yelled.

"Okay! Really shouldn't have called me names." As the blonde girl said this, Mike heard an angry roar. It sounded like a lion. Then he felt pain as 1000 volts of electricity travelled up his spine. 'Oh shit!' was his last thought. Then, he passed out. Wes handed the taser over to Spike with a wry grin.

"Thanks, mate. The git's not worth the headache." Spike stood up and walked over to Joe, who had passed out in a pool of his own urine. Spike flipped him over with his foot. Grimacing at the acrid smell, he stepped back. "I think this one'll break first, now that he's seen what we'll do. Hang about! Got an idea. Luv, in the cool box, grab me that half finished bottle of pig's blood." Buffy dug through the ice box while Wes and Spike dragged Mike away and stashed him in the trunk of his car.

Spike frowned as he recalled his love's taunting words to their captive. "Oi, Slayer, I am not on a lead! Give us that." He pointed at the half filled jug of blood. She tossed it over with a kiss. He stalked off and began pouring blood over the area where Mike had lain. He then emptied a bit more over his hands and rubbed it up to his elbows. Wes stepped over and held out his hands, palms upwards.

"Sneaky bastard, aren't you?" Wes commented as he dabbed the blood over his arms and a bit on his face and Spike's.

"Yeah! Have to be quick on yer feet around that one." He gestured with his thumb at Buffy, as she watched the unconscious man.

"Wes, how come you haven't called that Lilah woman and asked her what she is up to?" Buffy queried. She glanced at her nails, wondering when she would be able to fit in a manicure.

"I will, but I want to see what these idiots have to say, as well."

"Fair enough." She shrugged and returned to contemplating her nails. "Spike, sweetie? You better get some blood on the weapons as well, oh, and maybe a gag on the guy in the trunk. You don't want him waking up halfway through Masterpiece theatre and ruining your fun."

"Yes, dear." Spike trotted away, mumbling under his breath about smart-arsed Slayers and how easy his life would be without them. But not nearly as much fun!
"You have him well trained," Wes remarked, as he stood next to the tiny woman.

"Hardly! He only agrees when it suits him. But nowadays we are usually on the same page. So bonus! Also, there's less with having to pound him in the head to get him to do what I want." She looked over at her erstwhile watcher and hesitated.

"What is it Buffy?" Wes asked gently. "Spike mentioned that you wished to ask me something, then all this happened and well, you didn't have a chance to say anything." Spike was listening as he gagged the still supine man in the trunk of the car. So he took his time, knowing that the request had to come from Buffy.

"Well..." Buffy looked down at her toes, embarrassed and slightly worried at Wes's reaction to what she was about to broach with him. Wes smiled at her; he suspected what she may be about to ask and, at the moment, was more than happy to consider her offer. He needed a change. With Wes's encouraging smile, she ploughed on.

"Wes, well look, I know we didn't part on the best of terms, but last time I saw, well you know who..." Spike tried to suppress a jealous growl at her reference to the great big, hulking poofter and failed. Buffy grinned at Spike's reaction, which relaxed her slightly.  "He said you had changed; also that you were a good fighter and friend. I guess, I don't know much about what happened here in LA, but if you want to talk we are both here, but I wanted to know if you'd like to come back with us to Sunnydale? Giles is gone and weeeell... I need the help; we all do. I know it's a lot to ask, but I really wanted you to know, we would love it if you came with us. Also, it's not much, but we can squeeze you in the house, there's the sofa. That's if you just wanna come up and have a look round see what you think. Also the offer of the sofa is there if you do move back, until we can re-arrange everyone." Buffy stopped babbling when Wes grinned and nodded.

"I would be interested, but maybe when we get back to the flat I could fill you in on why I am suddenly a pariah at AI. You may change your mind."

"Wes, have you looked at who my lover is? One quarter of the Scourge of Europe. Do you really think anything you could say would freak me out or put me off you coming to Sunnydale? Heck, their loss is our gain.  You need to know we would be real happy to call you friend. Everyone needs good friends, and I have a feeling we may end up that way." She paused for a much needed breath. "Jeez, look how much you've changed since high school! We all have done a bit of growing up. So, okay, I'll wait and talk some more, but I want you to know that I'm in your corner! Also Spike, I think." The vamp nodded as he squatted down, resting his bloodstained hands on his knees, carefully avoiding his jeans.

"Look, mate, we haven't really got to know each other yet, but I'm game if you are."

Wes nodded, overcome by the ease with which these two dynamic individuals offered their friendship. Especially Buffy. She seemed ready to put their earlier, strained, working relationship behind her and extend a hand of friendship. 'She really has grown into an amazing, young woman.'

"What's going on? Where's Mike?" Joe screamed, once he noticed the blood on the man called Giles. His eyes widened when he saw that his partner was missing and that there was only a pool of blood where he once lay. "Oh man, no, whadda you do to him? He's got kids, you bastards!" Wes moved into the terrified man's field of vision, and wiped his blood stained hands together. "Oh god, no, no, no, I don't want to die. Please no, I'll tell everything, please!"

"Well, that's an improvement. Start talking." Buffy grinned in relief. She had been worried that their charade wouldn't work. If it hadn't worked, she had no idea as what to do next to get the schmuck talking.

"The nurse, she works for W & H; Lilah sent her to spy on you. She wanted to know what the situ was. We were only to follow and gather intel; she didn't say anything about torture and blood. Oh god, god, god, Mike, you poor bastard."

"Why does W & H have an interest in me?" Wes snarled.

"They wanna recruit you; you know, cos of all the inside info' you have on the bloodsucker. They figured since you'd been cut loose, you could work for them. Also, what with the souled freak trying to kill you, my bosses figured there'd be no love lost between you and your old boss." Spike grinned at the man's description of the brooding git, the satanical smile on his face prompting the babbling man to continue. "That's all I know, I swear! Please don't kill me..." Before he could beg anymore, Wes knocked him unconscious.

"Well, I'm disappointed they weren't interested in me," Buffy pouted, as she pulled the unconscious man over to his car and dumped him in the back seat. She bent over and untied his hands, figuring that by the time he was conscious again, they would be long gone. Wes stood, frowning, pondering over the babbled confession.

"You okay?" Spike asked.

"Yes, come on. Let's get going." He pocketed the cell phone they had taken from Mike and headed for the car. "Have you anything I can clean my hands on?"
Spike rummaged through the trunk of the car; he tossed over a bottle of water and some cleanish rags. "Just save me some." Once the two men were cleaned up as best they could, they joined Buffy in the Desoto. "You going to ring that bird now?"

"Umm, yes. I am amazed that she and her law firm would think that I would betray all that I have fought for all these years to work for them!" Wes pulled out the phone and scrolled down to 'Morgan Lilah' and pressed the call button. "I mean, really, the arrogance!" His accent became crisper as he spoke. Buffy and Spike smiled at each other but kept quiet, curious to hear what the fuming man had to say.

"Ahh, Miss Morgan. No, I am sorry. This isn't Mike. He and his friend are a little indisposed at the moment. Language, Lilah! Really, do you kiss your mother with that mouth?" Wesley grinned at the expletives that were issuing out of the earpiece. "A moment of your time, please. From what the two gentlemen said, you and your company have been showing an inordinate amount of interest in my well-being. This will not do! Sending a woman in to spy on me as I was recovering. Shame on you." Wesley tutted disapprovingly into the mouthpiece. "However, what I found most interesting was that you seemed to think that I would abandon all my ideals and join Wolfram and Hart. How shallow do you think I am?" Wesley paused and drew breath listening carefully to the vitriol Lilah spouted. He paled at something she said, causing Buffy to reach over and squeeze his arm in support. He smiled gratefully. "Allow me to interrupt you for a moment, Miss Morgan. I am not now, nor will I ever be, interested in working for you or your company. If you send anyone else after me, I shall kill them! Do not try to contact me again. Good day." With that he closed the phone and tossed it out of the open car door.

"Way to go, Wes!" Buffy exclaimed.

"I mean, really, how insulting, that after one set back they would expect me to join them." Wesley huffed and crossed his arms over his chest.

"So, shall we get you back to your flat?" Spike asked as he turned the key in the ignition.

"Yes, let's get out of here. You are both welcome in my home." Wes deliberately phrased his invitation to allow the vampire access to his apartment. Spike raised his eyebrows but said nothing as they drove out of the garage.
 
*********
 
Lilah tossed her cell phone onto her desk with a sigh. She pulled out the Wyndam-Pryce file and flicked through it.

'Useless lackeys, they'd better not turn up here or I will have them flayed alive.'

She rested her head in her hand and flipped through her notes.

"There must be another way to recruit the English bastard..."