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banner created by AJ Hofacre © March 10, 2008

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... part XI ...
.:bad buffy:.
part two of two

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As night fell, she took to the streets, not to continue her nightly patrols, or to search for the demon goddess. Instead, she wandered around in a graveyard that was about five streets away from Spike’s, trying to get up the nerve to go and tell him that their short-lived romance had to come to an end. Abruptly, Buffy made an about-face and began heading down those five streets to confront the latest addition to her list of Relationships That Start Out Badly.

As she arrived at the crypt, Spike swung the door open, bare-chested and smug, startling her. He grinned and nodded toward the inside of his crypt. Obviously, he’d been expecting her. Stupid presumptuous vampire.

“Have a good day, luv?” he questioned, tilting his head and fumbling around the sarcophagus for something... the sarcophagus that was covered in silk sheets that she was positive Spike had stolen, no matter how pretty and comfy they looked. She shrugged.

“It was... uneventful, I guess,” she answered. Spike stood up straight and raised an eyebrow, shooting her a smoldering look. Buffy felt her cheeks flush as she realized what that look was inquiring. “Um... except for that."

The 1000-watt grin reappeared and he resumed his search. “Good to know.” He straightened again, holding a bottle of bourbon around the neck in his fist. Hah! I knew it. My boyfriend's an alcoholic. She eyed the drink as he unscrewed the top and took a gulp. Then he set it back down and motioned to her, holding out his hand. “C’mere,” he said softly.

Instantly, she knew what he was thinking. Her mouth opened, preparing to decline his hand, but no words came out. Looking in his eyes, and seeing the hope and desire for her, she relented.

Okay... one more time wouldn’t hurt. One more time, and then she’d tell him it was over. He'd at least be left with a good memory that way.

Right?

Buffy took a hold of his hand and allowed him to pull her into his arms. Both of his hands spanned her waist, and he lifted her onto the silken sheets gracing the stone casket. His hands quickly began to unbutton her blouse, and as he slid it off her shoulders, he looked up at her, his face serious. Buffy stared back at him silently, then wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him fervently, closing her eyes to his so that he wouldn't see the wetness pooling there.

She didn't want to let this go. But she had to. For the sake of her innocent little sister and the world, she had to.

Spike held her tightly and kissed her back, then trailed his lips down her neck, sucking on the skin lightly. Her fingernails ran up and down his back, stroking gently as he pushed her back and climbed on top of her. Reaching under her, Spike grasped for her bra, then growled softly when the hooks refused to release. “I swear to God, the bastard that made these infernal contraptions should’ve been hung by his toes and had his neck snapped, and if he didn’t, I should’ve done it!” he growled, getting very close to biting right through the damn straps.

Buffy's mood lightened momentarily, and she gave a soft peal of laughter, arching her back and unclasping the “infernal contraption” easily. As Spike’s focus drifted to the top of one of her breasts, she stroked his hair, and tilted her head back as he began raining kisses over the soft mounds. Unconsciously he helped Buffy pull the cursed thing off of her shoulders, revealing the rest of her breasts to him, and she gave a soft cry as his lips moved down to suck on a nipple. Unheedingly, she threw the bra across the room, not caring where the hell it landed. For the second time that day, Buffy reached down and unfastened his pants, helping him slide them down his legs and leaving him strong, visibly aroused, and completely nude as the day he’d been born.

Spike’s hand shot for her own pants, yanking the things down her legs and leaving her in a tiny black lace thong that, unfortunately (for Buffy), did not last long when Spike’s arousal got the best of him, causing him to rip them right off and chuck them over his shoulder. His mouth once again met with Buffy’s skin and he kissed an insane, winding path over her neck, chest, breasts, stomach and down to her pelvis, nuzzling the insides of her thighs. He breathed in deeply, savoring the scent of her arousal, indulging in the fact that it was all for him, that Buffy savored this as much as he did. He lips pressed against the mouth of her pussy and he slid out his tongue, tracing the lips.

But he didn’t linger. He stopped long enough to get a small taste and a soft moan from Buffy, then began to kiss his way back up her body. “God, I love you,” he mumbled, half-realizing what he’d just said, partly horrified that he’d let it slip, and partly relieved because he’d finally said it, and he relished the salty tinge of her skin from the beginnings of her perspiration.

Buffy heard him quite clearly. And that alerted her, reminding her of her mission. She swallowed hard, and looked around frantically. Spike wasn’t gonna stop without just cause and she needed one hell of a cause to get him off and away from her. Damn it, what would Giles tell her to do? What would Mom say, or Angel...

Wait.

Angel.

That was it.

“Buffy,” she heard her name tumble softly from Spike’s lips. Closing her eyes tightly, in part to play the role, and in part to avoid the look of horror she knew she would see, Buffy breathed deeply, leaned back and moaned.

Someone else’s name.

“Angel."

The pang of regret was so instantaneous that it felt like she'd been slashed through the heart with a blunt knife.

But it worked.

Tentatively opening her eyes, she was met with the exact expression she'd been so desperate not to see. Spike had stilled and then straightened almost immediately, and was now staring down at her with wide, shocked eyes. Betrayed eyes. The hurt she saw dug deep inside of her, making her heart twist, making her wince internally, making nausea well up and giving her the intense urge to vomit at what she’d just pulled. At the stupid, stupid thing she’d just said.

Spike was still staring at her, disbelief clouding his eyes. And he was backing away from her fast. “Angel?” he whispered. “You were thinking of... Angel?” he asked, stunned, the disgust clear in his voice.

And suddenly, Buffy was not herself anymore. The cruel, heartless part of her -- the Slayer part of her -- the one that kept insisting that this entire thing she’d started with Spike had been nothing but a mistake from the very start, took over and forced her to nod. The part of her that had formed a loving attachment to Spike was abruptly shoved to the back, shackled and chained in the cerebellum, unable to do anything but watch in horror at what was happening.

Spike swallowed hard. “And... that first time...? You thought of Angelus when I was inside of you.” He wouldn’t look at her. He was staring sullenly at the wall, his expression slowly becoming blank and void of any emotion whatsoever.

“Of course,” she replied cruelly, her inner mind unable to believe the hostility in her words. She saw Spike flinch and Buffy-the-Slayer continued. “You don’t think I actually gave a damn about you, do you? You were just something to tide me over until I found a replacement for Riley. Have to say though -- you gave great bone. At least you were good for something."

No... No! Stop it! Stop right this minute! What are you doing? Buffy-the-Girl shrieked from her confines. How can you say that to him?

There was nothing but silence for a few minutes. Buffy kept her eyes on Spike, waiting to see his reaction. Slowly, he began to move, picking up her clothes. He handed them to her, then waited for her to dress again. He, however, remained nude.

When she was fully dressed, she looked to him again. Buffy-the-Slayer spoke once again. “Look, I’m sorry if you got the wrong idea. You do realize that you’re a vampire, right? And I’m the Slayer. It could never work. Not that I wanted it to, you know, but come on, Spike. You can’t actually think that I was falling --"

“Get out."

Buffy looked at him quickly, noticing the muscles in his jaw beginning to twitch. “Seriously, if you really think --"

And suddenly she was slammed against the wall, a naked, angry vampire snarling at her, eyes glowing a fiery gold. His hand was wound tightly around her throat. “Get out,” he growled, his upper lip curling in hate and disgust. Not disgust with her. Disgust for himself. For allowing himself to fall so deeply, only to get burned much worse than he’d ever been burned before.

And suddenly, Buffy-the-Slayer dropped back in fear, finally slapped silly for the stunt she’d pulled, and Buffy-the-Girl was free, scrabbling desperately at the last scraps of hope to pick up the pieces of what her Slayer self had done. Buffy snapped to, gasping and gazing at him.

“Spike? Spike, please, oh, god, I’m so sorry! I am so, so sorry, I don’t know what came over me. Please forgive me, please, Spike, I’m sorry, I didn't mean it!"

Spike’s jaw clenched once again, and he flung her down, turning away from her. “Just get out. Don’t come back."

She moved toward him, grasping his arm. “Spike, no, please --"

Spike snarled viciously and swung his arm back, throwing her into the wall. “GET OUT!” he roared, his eyes blazing a hellish orange. Buffy stared at him, eyes wide with fear, and she began scrambling backwards toward the doors of the crypt. Standing up, her chest began to heave, and she gave a soft sob. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, giving a sob.

As she turned and left, Spike sank to the floor against the sarcophagus, putting his head in his hands. Suddenly his fist shot out and slammed into the wall, and he screamed in pain when the vessels and the skin of his hand split at the knuckles, beginning to bleed.

“Dammit,” he sighed softly, shutting his eyes.

---

Outside, Buffy cursed her Slayer self several times over, crying quietly. Yeah, she hadn’t wanted to endanger the people of the world because of her feelings for Spike. The problem was... Spike was one of those people.

It had slammed into her the second those cruel, cruel words had slipped out of her mouth. The minute she’d seen the hurt in his eyes, she had practically died.

Though he could not hear her with the crypt door shut, and though she knew he would probably ignore anything she had to say from now on, she pressed her hand to the door, still crying. "Oh, god, Spike, I'm sorry... I love you so much.... and I'm sorry."

As she suspected, the door didn't budge.

He wasn't going to come back to her.

She had said that she didn’t want to hurt the people she loved. So why had she?

Her eyes shut and she gave a soft sob before walking off, her face in her hands.

---

What an interesting turn of the tide.

All was clear. A small demon was making sure of that. He motioned back into the bushes about ten feet to the west of Spike’s crypt as the Slayer walked off, her arms wrapped around herself. This was it, this had to be it. They’d been keeping a close eye on the Slayer the entire day, and the only person they had seen come in contact with her had been her vampire lover.

The vampire was the one they wanted.

Jinx walked out of the bushes confidently, his crumbly little chin high up in the air. Five more demons followed him.

Time to get the Key.

---

Spike shifted slightly as his jeans slid over his narrow hips. His face had become a mask of despondency, and after slamming his hand into the wall a few more times, nearly shattering his fist right along with the wall, he refused to make any sound at all. What was the point?

He was a fool. He’d been a simpering, puppy-faced fool for even thinking that this bloody thing with the Slayer could ever mean anything to her. All she’d wanted was to get off. And since Spike had shown interest... the victim had been easily established.

He should have known better. He could sense it in her when she was dating the Farmboy prat. Riley had just been rebound after she’d lost Angel. And Angel had been the love of her life. Her first love. She would never care about another the way she’d cared about his stupid, fucking, soul-filled Sire.

How lovely. That morning, he’d been worried about corrupting the Slayer’s body with his own.

This, apparently, was his punishment.

He rubbed at his eyes as he fastened his pants. He had barely pulled his shirt over his head when he sensed a demon entering. Turning quickly, he faced the door, then frowned.

“Who the hell are you?"

Jinx appeared out of the shadows by the doors, followed by several other demons who looked almost exactly like him. “Forgive me for our intrusion, my friend, but I would like a word with you."

Spike stared blankly at the little twit. “Nope. Sorry. Not really in a mood to get all talkative."

Jinx smiled. “But I insist."

Spike tilted his head, noticing that the demons were beginning to circle him. “Well, since you put it that way, lemme think... Uh, still no. Get the fuck out!” He managed to duck in time as he sensed one of the bastards take a swing at his head, then dropped to the floor and swung his leg out, tripping the demon up and sending him flat onto his back.

Growling now, Spike looked up, eyes glowing, at Jinx, then ran him down, knocking him to the floor and kicking him. He managed two more kicks before two of the demons grabbed him by the arms. He snarled and sank his fangs into the arm of one, then head-butted the other. Though his rage at Buffy’s betrayal fueled his fight, the demons managed to gain control of him, reducing his efforts to violent struggles.

Jinx struggled to stand up, glaring in disgust at the vampire. “Tie his hands! Glory will want him restrained!"

Instantly, the demons followed orders and Spike hissed as his arms were drawn sharply behind him, being tied together. With one last-ditch effort to escape, he spun once and kicked the first demon that had attacked him swiftly in the head, his foot landing right in the creature’s upper spinal cord, shattering his neck. He landed in a heap on the ground, dead. Horrified, one of the demons holding the vampire’s arms grasped a brick off the ground and smacked it into Spike’s head. The blonde bloodsucker let out a cry of pain, arching backwards as he attempted to close his eyes to the thrums of agony.

“Let me go!” he howled, his attempts at struggle not stopping, but becoming less effective.

Jinx stomped over and violently smacked the demon that had hit Spike. “Careful with him! Did it not occur to you that she would want the Key intact?!"

Spike’s breathing had become harsh, labored gasps, and his head shot up at the mention of the Key, his eyes wide. “Key? Who’s a Key? I’m not the --"

Jinx angrily stuffed something into Spike’s mouth, to Spike’s desperate but now-muffled protests. His struggles did not cease, and he kept shouting through the dirty-feeling cotton that had been used as a silencer as he was dragged away.

They think I’m the Key? Oh, bloody hell... Spike, ol’ boy, you’ve gotten yourself into it now.

The remaining demons took no notice of their dead comrade, lying on the ground with his neck in such an awkward position. They lugged Spike out of the crypt.

The door of his crypt slammed shut.

---

“Dentist appointment go okay?” Tara asked as she walked Dawn out of the orthodontist’s office.

Dawn nodded arrogantly, baring her teeth in a wide grin. “Proud to say no cavities, no need for any fillings, no teeth falling out, and no tell-tale signs of the vampire pointies. Statler was glad. He gave me a Blow-Pop. Does that make any sense? A dentist giving you sugar to rot your teeth? Well, I guess it makes sense, you know, so that you can go back and get screwed out of lots more money for it. Hey, doctors are pretty smart!"

Tara just giggled at the over-exuberant teenager. “Are you sure Dr. Statler didn’t put you on the happy gas before you left?"

Dawn stuck her tongue out. “Very funny.” Then she turned to Tara excitedly. “Ooh, can we go visit Spike before we head to the Magic Box? It’s okay if I go see him, Buffy just says that I need someone with me just in case some of Glory’s goons are around. Please can we go?"

Tara smiled, nodding. “Sure, Dawnie. But we can’t stay long, because after we hit the Magic Box, I hafta get you home. We don’t want your mom to worry."

Dawn squealed, jumping up excitedly. “Definitely! Thank you!” She grabbed the witch’s hand and began racing to the crypt. “Come on!"

When they arrived at the crypt, the first thing Dawn noticed was that everything was in disarray. Which was odd, because whenever she’d been to Spike’s before, everything had been in perfect place. Spike was a closet neat freak, just like how Buffy was a closet pig. Tara followed her in, a slight frown on her face.

“Where is he?” she asked, confused.

Dawn frowned. She was starting to get an uneasy feeling. The feeling only intensified when she saw Spike’s adored leather duster lying on the ground. “I don’t know, but his duster’s here... Tara, something’s wrong, Spike would never go anywhere without his duster. This thing is like his child, he never lets it out of his sight!"

Tara eyed the coat. “Well, maybe he was in a hurry. An emergency came up, or --"

“Tara, Buffy, Mom and I are his emergencies. And there’s nothing wrong with any of us. Something happened, and I’m gonna find out -- is that blood?” Dawn had caught sight of the dents and blood spills covering the walls next to the sarcophagus. Okay, now she was scared. “Oh... oh, Tara, it’s blood. What if it’s Spike’s blood? What if something awful happened to him? And -- oh, god, there’s more right there, look!” The teen pointed to a spot on the floor where the brick had fallen. It clearly had to have been aimed at Spike if it had opened a wound in his skull big enough to dribble such a large amount of blood.

Dawn began trembling violently. Oh, god. Spike had been attacked.

Tara didn’t want to admit it, but it did look as if something had happened to Spike. She moved over to Dawn and wrapped her arms around the frantic girl, hugging her close. “It’s okay, it’ll be okay, Dawnie, I promise. We’ll find out what happened, I promise you."

Dawn gasped and sniffled quietly into Tara’s sheer green floral-print shirt, until she noticed something out of the corner of her eye. She lifted her head, still sniffling, and wiped at her eyes. In a slow, quiet voice, she asked, “What’s that?"

The Wicca looked behind her and noticed a big brown boot on the floor next to the sarcophagus. She let go of Dawn for a moment and walked over cautiously. Bending down, Tara none-to-eagerly poked at the thing, then rolled it over, revealing the dead demon. The witch quickly pulled away, putting her hand over her mouth and grimacing. “Oh... oh, god... His neck was snapped. I think the only other person that could do something like that besides Buffy is Spike, so he must have had a fight in here.” She stood up and sighed. “Dawn, come on, we should -- Dawn?” Tara looked at Dawn, who’s face had crumbled and was now a mask of horror as she stared at the dead heap.

“That’s... Isn’t that one of Glory’s minions?” the girl asked in a shaking voice.

Tara gazed at Dawn with trepidation, then quickly looked back down at the demon. “Oh my god.” She looked to Dawn again, who was beginning to visibly shake in fear.

“She’s got Spike,” the teen whispered, her voice taking on a high-pitched, deranged note. “She’s taken Spike. Oh my god, Tara, Glory has him! We have to get him back, we have to get to him! Tara, please, let’s go find Buffy, please, we’ve got to get him back!"

Dawn’s pleas had become frantic shrieks, and tears were flowing down her pale cheeks. Tara quickly wrapped her arms around the sobbing girl and walked out of the crypt, heading directly for the Magic Box. And suddenly, Dawn regained her senses, breaking into a run.

“Dawn!” Tara called desperately, then chased after her.

---

Her eyes were still rimmed red from a crying session the likes of which she hadn't had the strength for since her parents had divorced so long ago. Staring blankly at the training room wall, Buffy felt numb -- nothing except Spike could seem to affect her now. And he wasn't going to forgive her. She loved him. She had fallen so deeply, head over heels in love with him that she could lose herself in that love.

And he wasn't going to come back to her.

She could sense Willow approaching her even before the door to the training room opened. Not turning to face her friend, she stated flatly, “I’m a horrible person."

Willow froze, confusion etched on her face. “What?” She didn’t understand. All she could comprehend was that Buffy had scrambled through the door of the Magic Box, tears streaming rapidly down her cheeks, refusing to talk to anyone. And now she was curled up against the wall in the training room, her legs pulled up to her chest and her arms wrapped around them. Her chin rested on her knees, and her breathing was erratic, but for all Willow could tell -- Buffy might as well have not been alive.

“I’m a horrible person, Willow,” she repeated. The wall she'd constructed seemed to break down again, her face scrunching up as she gave another sob.

Willow sat down next to her, her eyes wide. What on earth could make Buffy -- one of the most caring, passionate, loving people that Willow knew -- think something like that? What could make such beautiful person that had befriended a shy, almost friendless girl think she was horrible? Willow shook her head in denial. “No! No, Buffy, you’re not--"

Buffy finally looked up and growled, “Oh, cut the bullshit, Willow! I’m a bitch, plain and simple! I’m awful to people, I’m mean, and hurtful, to people that don’t deserve it, even to people I care about!"

Willow jumped back, her eyes widening further. “Buffy, did you have a fight with your mom, or Dawn?” The Slayer shook her head quickly, burying her face again. Willow frowned. “What happened?” She remained quiet, refusing to answer. The red-head grumbled under her breath, then shouted, “Buffy, TELL me! I thought we weren’t gonna keep secrets from each other anymore, not after what happened last year!"

At that, Buffy seemed to return and looked up again, wiping her eyes. She was silent for about a half a minute more, then drew a deep breath before speaking. “There’s no easy way to say this, so I’m just going to tell you.” Willow nodded in anticipation. Buffy glanced at her, a bit fearfully. “For the last few months, or however long it's been... I’ve been seeing Spike.” Willow didn’t even have a chance to react before Buffy was off and running again. “The whole thing started the night he got the chip out and bit me, and I tried to push him away, but the more I was around him, the more I wanted to be with him, and Wills, you should’ve seen us the other day, we were teasing each other, joking around, tickling each other and I felt like I was in a real relationship again, and I know this is wrong, but I’ve never felt more happy until we...” Buffy hazarded a look at her best friend, then swallowed hard. “Willow, he’s in love with me."

Imagine the Slayer’s surprise when Willow smiled, instead of putting up an enormous, frantic curse on Spike’s head for manipulating her. “I know,” she said softly, touching Buffy’s hand. “I could tell."

Buffy looked at her hard, then looked away again. “And I ruined it. He has to hate me now... oh, god, Wills, the things I said to him... no humane person would ever say the things I said to the person that loved them!"

Willow’s eyebrows rose and she looked at Buffy in confusion. “What did you do?” she asked.

Buffy swallowed hard, covering her face in her hands. “Willow... we... had sex. For the first time this morning. And... when I went to see him again tonight, it was to tell him that we needed to cool it for a while... at least until the Glory thing was blown over... but we kinda got a little... occupied... and he told me he loved me." The Slayer suddenly looked away in shame, tears filling her eyes again. "And I-I called him Angel. Purposely. Right to his face."

Willow gaped at her in astonishment. “Buffy! How could you do that?"

Buffy shifted and turned toward the Wicca. “I don’t know, it was like something possessed me and forced me to tell him those things, and when I got back in control, I tried so hard to apologize, but he just wouldn’t hear it... And now he’ll never forgive me, I know it. I did the worst thing imaginable that anybody could ever do to him. Willow, I feel so awful, the second I realized what I’d said to him, I’d felt like throwing up, and right now I just wanna die and --"

Willow held up her hand. With Buffy rambling so much, it was damn hard trying to wrap her mind around everything. Now she knew Buffy felt awful, because Buffy never rambled. “Wait, wait a sec, Buffy. How do you feel about him?"

Silence.

Buffy looked away, then buried her face against her legs again. Willow got the feeling that the Slayer was never going to stop crying if she didn’t help, and so she placed a hand on Buffy’s back. “It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t know."

“But that’s just it,” Buffy’s choking voice replied. “I do know. Willow, I’m in love with him. And I didn’t even realize it until he kicked me out of his crypt."

Willow pulled Buffy into a hug, resting her head on top of the blonde’s. “I kinda got the feeling that you did."

Buffy’s face scrunched up, and she started to weep again. “Willow, what am I going to do? I have to get him back, I need him, I love him so much!"

Willow looked down at her. “Then tell him. Tell him you love him. It’s the only thing you can really do, and if he doesn’t believe you, then the only thing you can do is just give him time to get it --"

“Where’s Buffy? Buffy? BUFFY!"

The Slayer instantly shot to attention at the sound of her sister shrieking her name. She wiped her eyes quickly and stood up, walking to the door. Dawn shot through and barreled right into her, grasping at her tightly, screaming and crying at the same time.

“She has him! Buffy, she’s got him, Glory took him! We have to get him back, please, we’ve got to save him, Buffy, we’ve got to bring him back!” the teen sobbed hysterically, crying into Buffy’s neck.

Dread overcame the Slayer and she looked down at her sister numbly. “Glory has... who?"

Tara’s voice came through the doorway, overpowering Dawn’s frantic cries. “Spike.” Buffy looked up at the blonde witch, eyes widening. Tara walked into the room, looking tired and saddened. “We went to visit him, and when we got there, one of Glory’s minions was dead on the floor. Everything was a mess and there was blood on the floor and walls... we figured it had to be Glory that took him. Buffy, you’ve got to go after him, for Dawn’s sake -- look at her."

Buffy did just that, staring down at her younger sister. Dawn looked as if she was having a conniption fit, the frenzied, frightened glare shining in her tear-filled eyes doing nothing except confirming it. She hugged Dawn to her tightly, refusing to fall to tears herself.

“We’ll find him, Dawnie, I promise. Tara, take Dawn home, please --"

“No, I want to go with you, I want Spike back!” Dawn protested, her voice reaching a shriek again.

Buffy grabbed Dawn’s face in both hands and looked her in the eyes. “We will find him. But Glory is too dangerous. She’s already got her hands on Spike, I’m not letting her get anywhere near you. I swear to you, the second we get him back, I will call, I promise you that, okay? Let Tara take you home, stay with Mom, it’s safe there."

The audible shift in the room startled everyone. The Slayer's eyes hardened, looking like green ice. Her back straightened, and her jaw was set. General Buffy was in charge once again. She turned to Willow. “Come on.” The four of them stormed into the store, catching Xander and Giles’ attention immediately. Anya looked up from the cash register and shuddered at the authoritative aura the Slayer emanated. Instantly, she walked over to the group. Something big was going down, and she most definitely was going be a part of it.

“Listen up,” Buffy began, looking around. “Glory’s got Spike. There’s no way in hell that she’s invited him for tea and cookies, so we’re going after him, NOW. He’s vital to the team... and to us,” she looked over at Dawn, then continued. “I have a feeling I know where Glory’s place is, so follow me until we get there. Soon as we hit it, Willow, stick with Anya, make with the magic, Xander, Giles, come with me, get as many goddamn weapons you can get your hands on and use them.” She turned to her sister again, hugging her tightly. “We’ll get him back. He’ll be home in no time, calling you stupid pet names and everything, I promise you."

Dawn hugged Buffy back tightly, squeezing her eyes shut. “Be careful. Please come back safe. And please don't leave without him?” Buffy's eyes softened and she kissed Dawn's forehead, then motioned for Tara to take off.

Tara quickly embraced Willow and gave her a kiss, whispering, “Please be careful, and don’t over-do the magic, okay?"

Willow nodded. “Of course."

Tara gave her a weak smile, then took Dawn’s hand and hurried out the door. Giles lugged out his weapons chest and began pulling out all the weapons, tossing Xander a crossbow and an axe. A sleek silver sword was handed to Buffy and she scrutinized it with a fire of fierce determination in her eyes. Grabbing a crossbow and about thirty bolts, she strapped the bow to her back, and slung the sword through her belt. She didn’t even wait for the others to get their things together before she stormed toward the door.

“I swear to God, if she so much as looks at him, I’ll rip her skull out through her ass and then beat her to death with it."

Hell hath no fury like a pissed off Slayer.







TBC.