Chapter 3


She wouldn’t use him like that again. She wouldn’t. Whatever it cost her. She wouldn’t be the cause of his death. Not again.

Loving her was what killed him. He’d still be alive if he hadn’t loved her. He’d be with Dru who would get him the blood he needed and he’d be safe and he’d be happy.

Couldn’t let him fall in love with her again. Didn’t matter that she loved him now. Didn’t matter that she desperately wanted him. Loving her was a death sentence for him. She couldn’t let that happen.

“Are you cutting your classes today?” Willow asked in surprise when Buffy made no move to get properly dressed the next morning, only yanked on an oversized tee and comfortable track pants.

“Got a project I’ve got to work on.”

She didn’t know whether she was here for good in this borrowed body. Maybe she was only supposed to stay for a while, or maybe the Scoobies would find out and have Willow forcibly eject her from it. So much would go wrong if that happened. She had to leave a message for the other Buffy, just in case that Buffy came back, blockhead stubborn and totally ignorant of what was going on.

‘Check your diary!’ she left on the computer, priority flagged where that Buffy would see it the moment she brought the computer up. She herself, the older Buffy, would look immediately. Just plain curiosity would guarantee a look from the younger Buffy.

The diary lived in the bottom drawer of her dresser and had a lock on it, so Willow wouldn’t dream of reading it. Buffy spent the whole morning writing in it, carefully detailing all the things that had to be prevented, step by step, and what she thought would be the solutions. She spent a great deal of time explaining Spike, knowing that her younger self would violently resist any suggestion that she would in any way have feelings for Spike. ‘You just have to make sure he doesn’t care,’ she wrote. ‘You’d do that anyway, wouldn’t you?’

All this might not be needed, but she wasn’t going to take anything for granted. Besides, writing it all out clarified things in her own mind. She sat chewing on the end of her pen, thinking every step of her plans over carefully, making sure there were no missteps anywhere. The benefit of hindsight was marvelous, made everything beautifully clear.

She made her afternoon classes, then picked up some blood and headed for Revello Drive just as the sun was going down.

Spike was sprawled on the sofa, watching TV without much interest. He looked bored and antsy. He also looked absolutely delicious, since he was wearing only his jeans. She tore her gaze away from those clean bones and solid, supple muscle and totally lickable sixpack.

“Get dressed,” she muttered and his mouth opened to make some crack.

Then their gazes met and the heat was there, instantly, devastatingly.

“Yeah,” he said abruptly and jerked to his feet, as nervous about it as she was. They were both in the same position, wanting it and terrified of it.

She was putting the blood away in the fridge when he came back down, his Docs on, pulling his T-shirt over his head.

“Got a favor to ask,” she said as he came and leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb of the kitchen.

“Yeah, what?” he asked suspiciously.

“I want to take out the Initiative.”

His eyes lit up. “Do you now? Won’t mind helping with that. How?”

“They’re on a skeleton staff right now. Thanksgiving Day weekend. Just a couple of techs and a few guards watching the demons they’ve trapped, that’s all. They won’t be full strength again until Monday.”

“And you know this how?”

“Got it out of Riley, though he doesn’t know that he’s told me. He isn’t aware that I know he’s a commando and I’m very good at reading between the lines. I want to go in, break the prisoners out, destroy their experiments and wipe out all the info on their computers.”

His brows rose. “Tall order. Think you could pick up one of their scientists while you’re at it? Someone who can get this chip out of my head?”

“I think they’ve all gone for the weekend. But I can try.”

“Would you?” His eyes were slitted and suspicious. “Even though that would let me kill again?”

“Make a deal with you. You get that chip out, you leave Sunnydale. Go back to Dru, go anywhere you like. Just don’t come back here.”

He was silent for a moment. “You know you should dust me instead, Slayer.”

“I know.” She bit her lip. “Would you try to kill me if that chip were out?”

“Yes!” he said harshly. But his eyes were confused. “No.”

They looked at each other helplessly.

“Th-that favor I wanted,” she said hurriedly, desperately trying to get her mind back on track.

“Oh, yeah.” He sounded as relieved as she was at the change of subject.

“You have access to the demon community. Can you get me in to see the leaders?”

His brows shot up. “What, so you can kill them? Think I want every demon in Sunnydale gunning for me and me not able to fight back?”

“I won’t kill them. I just want to talk to the peaceful ones, the ones whose people don’t belong in the Initiative’s cells.”

He was looking at her intently, quick brain immediately making the connection. “You want them to help you. You want to make a truce.”

“Yes.”

“Slayer dealing with demons. World must definitely be coming to an end. What will your Watcher and his Council say?”

“I can talk Giles around. And he doesn’t belong to the Council anymore. So we just won’t tell them.”

“Got a couple of contacts at Willy’s,” he said slowly. “Could get you that meeting, I suppose. But...”

She looked at him questioningly and his lips tightened.

“I can’t go in there. Not and come out alive. And it’s no good you going there alone. You’re the Slayer. There’s no demon, peaceable or not, would talk to the Slayer about his own.”

“Yes, but...”

“Think I like saying this? I don’t. Most of the demons in Willy’s aren’t the peaceable kind. Gotta be pretty hardnosed walking in there. Can’t talk soft. I’d get torn apart. Talk tough with nothing to back it up with? Get torn apart worse. Can’t fight back, Slayer. Remember?”

“You can fight back, Spike. That chip only works on humans. It doesn’t work on demons.”

“What?” He jerked away from the doorjamb, straightening to his full height.

“You can do whatever you like to demons.”

“You shitting me, Slayer?”

“No. Swear.”

“Well, how about that?” He started to laugh, softly and dangerously. His eyes had lit up.

She smiled, watching him. He looked as if he’d gotten a new lease on life, hands on his hips, teeth bared and set on edge in a nasty smile.

“All the violence you like, Spike. As long as it’s against demons.”

“Well now. Think it’s time to party,” he purred.

Willy’s was jumping when they got to it.

“Lemme take lead,” Spike muttered as they paused in the doorway. “If things go sour, Willy has an axe under the counter where the cash register is.”

“Right.”

A ripple of silence was spreading as demons noticed who was standing in the doorway.

“What’s she doing here?” someone snarled.

Spike ushered Buffy in with ostentatious courtesy. “My guest.”

“Then you take her right out of here again,” a Rathorn growled, looming up at Spike’s left. “She’s not welcome here. And neither are you, vampire, so long as you’re with her.”

Spike’s hand slashed out. The knife in his hand sliced neatly across the Rathorn’s gullet. The Rathorn fell down, spasming wildly as it died. Bystanders leaped back hurriedly to avoid its flailing limbs.

Spike looked around, grinning widely, in full gameface, the light flashing on his fangs. “Anyone else got a problem with who I bring in here?”

There was a dead silence. Towards the back of the room, the more nervous of Willy’s clientele were already sliding discreetly away out of the bar.

“Come for a friendly drink, is all,” Spike told the room. “Not looking for trouble. Doesn’t mean I won’t enjoy it if it comes.”

His smile made that vividly clear. A pathway opened up leading to the counter where Willy was jittering back and forth.

“Spike...” Willy blurted.

“O-neg for me and a wine cooler for the lady.” Spike looked around, brows lifting challengingly at the rest of the bar. There was a general turning away and pretending they didn’t exist amongst the crowd.

“F’Chrissakes, Spike...” Willy spluttered.

“Could always start with you, wanker. You know what I consider a fun evening.”

Willy held up his hands and reached for bottles.

“Kibble here?”

“Uh...”

Spike reached out without looking and grabbed the collar of a Riharejk demon trying to sneak away into the crowd.

“Going somewhere, Kibble?”

The Riharejk shook its head wildly, trying not to give away the fact that it was slowly strangling as Spike twisted its collar.

“Got a job for you. Slayer wants to talk to Louth and Frihas and Tasik. Set it up for us.”

The Riharejk gasped something desperately in a language all clicks and pops.

“‘Course you can do it. Smooth talker like you. You tell ‘em it’ll be worth their while. No fracas, just talk. Isn’t that right, Slayer?”

“Swear,” said Buffy, smiling.

The Riharejk gabbled something pleadingly. Spike slammed its head onto the bartop. Buffy glanced around. Willy was at the far end of the counter, his back turned, wiping glasses frantically with a dirty rag. Every other bystander was several feet away, their backs also turned, talking loudly and pretending that nothing was happening.

“Nothing like diplomacy,” she muttered under her breath.

Spike grinned. “Know why we call him Kibble? It’s because Riharejks are so tasty to almost every other demon around. Isn’t that right, tosser?”

Face mushed into the bartop, the Riharejk squeaked pitiably.

“Um, you’d better let him breathe, Spike,” Buffy suggested.

Spike eased up a little. “Two Cs or dinner with you as the entrée, Kibble. Your choice.”

The Riharejk thumped the bartop with his hand abjectly and Spike let him up.

“You’ll find us here. Half an hour. Better hurry.”

The Riharejk ran.

“I don’t have two Cs, Spike,” Buffy protested under her breath. “All I’ve got with me is a five.”

“Good enough. He won’t be back for at least an hour. Plenty of time. Game in back, Willy?”

Willy nodded and held open a hidden door. A mixed lot of demons looked up at them warily from the green-felt-covered table as they entered. Buffy saw with relief that they were playing for cash, not kittens.

“Uh, that’s the Slayer...” someone said nervously.

“She’s just watching,” explained Spike. “Here to ensure fair play, right? Grab a seat over there, pet, take the load off, drink your cooler. This won’t take long.”

It didn’t. Forty-five minutes later, Spike stood up with four hundred in his hands.

“Thanks, boys,” he said cheerfully. “C’mon, pet.”

Everyone scowled resentfully as they left.

“You cheated,” Buffy muttered under her breath when they got back to the bar. Willy put out another cooler and shot of blood without asking. The body of the Rathorn had been removed and the floor where it had bled was clean.

“Everyone was,” shrugged Spike. “I just cheated best.”

Buffy sighed. Spike collected their drinks and headed for a free table. She joined him as he sat down and stretched out comfortably, his feet on an empty chair and his ankles crossed.

“Kibble should be back soon,” he said as she picked up her cooler and drank straight from the bottle, remembering Willy’s dirty rag on the glasses. “Got your spiel worked out, Slayer?”

“Mm. Would you buy it, Spike?”

He leaned his head on the back of his chair and stared thoughtfully at the ceiling.

“Vamps wouldn’t. A Master might, but you don’t have a Master in Sunnydale, just a bunch of lone wolves all looking out for number one. Don’t care as long as it isn’t them under the knife. The peaceable ones though—Brachen, Krasevics, Firoud, that lot—they’re team players. They’ve got communities here, family. They care about their people. Don’t like having Aunt Wilhelmina cut up alive. They’ll listen.”

“You were down there. Who do the Initiative have in their tanks?”

He gave her a sardonic smile. “‘Who’ not ‘what’, Slayer?”

“Who,” she said firmly. His scarred eyebrow rose and he studied her with interest.

“They’re indiscriminate, these soldier boys. Got all kinds down there. Don’t understand the difference. All you have to be is a demon to qualify and that means have some kind of ‘unnatural’ ability that says you’re not human. I’m surprised they haven’t come after you, Slayer.”

“They don’t know about me yet. Those abilities are what they’re after. They want to make the perfect soldier.”

“Bio-engineering,” he nodded. “Been thinking about what I saw down there. This chip in my head. Sounds so good and noble, doesn’t it? Like they’re saving the world by making vamps unable to feed. But this is just the first step. What they really want is to...”

“Control vamps,” she said. “Turn them into attack dogs and use them against enemies.”

“Yeah. Then make those enemies into vamps and control them in their turn. A self-perpetuating resource.”

“Plus soldiers enhanced with drugs, with abilities like the Polgara stakes, and chips to ensure obedience. What else are they doing?” she muttered.

“You don’t want to know, Slayer. Some of their experiments...” His lips compressed grimly. “Vamp healing, for instance. Dig out an eye. See how long it takes to grow back. Dig it out again. How often can one do it before the organ fails to regenerate? No anesthetics of course. Might interfere with the experiment. But then demons don’t feel, right?”

She felt sick.

“That kind of scientific research is just another word for torture, pet. Humans across the world have done it, to animals and to other humans. Been just as good at torture as demons are. And when humans do what demons do, well then, tell me, what’s the difference? Humans become just another kind of demon, don’t they?”

Kibble was back, bending to whisper in Spike’s ear. Spike nodded, pulled out his winnings, peeled off two hundred dollars and slapped it into Kibble’s hand, then handed Buffy a hundred and put the last hundred back into his pocket.

“Your stake, my expertise. Fifty-fifty sounds fair.” He grinned at her and got to his feet. “Come on, Slayer. They’ve got a meet-point set up. Neutral ground. Nice little abandoned factory, just like a drug deal on the telly.”

The factory was located amidst a scatter of other abandoned buildings on the outskirts of town. Buffy’s Slayer sense picked up presences moving all around it.

“Lot of them out there,” she said quietly to Spike.

“They wouldn’t come without their bodyguards,” he said as quietly. “But the very fact that they’re here means that they’re willing to listen.”

There were three distinct groups within the factory, each standing warily a little distance from each other. A long, rectangular table had been placed in the center of the open space, with three chairs at one end and two at the other. A Coleman lantern at the center of the table provided light. That was for her benefit, Buffy realized, as demon eyes had no trouble seeing in the dark.

A deep, rumbling voice from a formidable demon in the group on her left asked a question and was answered by a similar deep voice from outside.

“Huh,” said that individual and snapped his fingers. His entourage faded away, leaving only one behind.

“That’s Louth,” said Spike softly in her ear. “A Hadraden.”

Louth looked human in his well-cut suit, except for being very tall with an enormously deep chest and having eyes with pupils that flashed green like a cat’s in the dark when he turned his head. The other two groups were also breaking up now, leaving only their principal and one guard.

“The Brachen is Tasic,” Spike murmured. That was a big, red-eyed, green-skinned demon in a short kilt, with blue spikes all over him. “The Krasevic is Frihas.” He was small, but the most demonic looking of the three, reptilian, with a pebbled, brown hide and a long, thick tail, a gold torc around his neck his only nod towards clothing. “You boys all know the Slayer?”

There were grunts of acknowledgment.

“What do you want of us, Slayer?” Louth asked. He had apparently established himself as the spokesman for the three.

Buffy moved towards the table. The three leaders took their places at the far end of the table, their respective guards remaining where they were at the periphery of the circle of light. Spike dropped casually into one of the two chairs at their end.

“Do you know about the Initiative?” she asked, laying a hand lightly on a chair, but not sitting down.

“Human soldiers taking our people. We know.”

“I want to shut them down.”

“Why?” demanded Tasic, the Brachen, harshly. “You are human. You are the Slayer. You kill our kind.”

“Have I hurt any of yours, Tasic?”

“No,” he admitted reluctantly.

“You don’t hurt anyone, I don’t hurt you. I’m the Slayer. I fight those who harm. Do no harm and you get a free pass from me.”

“Interesting,” rumbled Louth. “When did this go into effect? When you found you needed our help?”

“Have I bothered any of the peaceable kind of demons ever?”

All three of them thought that over. Buffy had always known of the demon community existing in Sunnydale, but had left the peaceable ones alone. There were enough of the other kind around to keep her busy without buying trouble in the shape of the quiet ones. And after getting to know Clem and Lorne and others, she had never wanted to start a wholesale driving out of all demons from Sunnydale.

“What about him?” asked Tasic, jerking his chin at Spike. “He’s a vampire.”

“The Initiative’s put a chip in his head that keeps him from harming humans.”

“Doesn’t keep me from harming demons,” growled Spike warningly.

“He’s a case in point,” said Buffy. “He can’t bite, so I leave him alone. The other vamps though? They’ll get staked.”

“I see where you’re going with this,” muttered Louth.

“It’s simple. I’m the Slayer. A Slayer fights evil. Even though they’re human, the Initiative is evil.”

All three demons drew a long breath, then exchanged glances.

“We want our people out,” said the Brachen flatly.

Buffy nodded. “So do I. But I want more. I don’t want the Initiative collecting any more of you. I want them out of Sunnydale. I want that lab closed and never reopened.”

“And how do you plan to do that?” asked Louth.

“I want you to help me storm that place, get everyone out of the cells, and then blow up certain areas of the facility. I’ve got a friend who’s a hacker. She can find a way for us to get in, can get those cells open, and then send a virus through their computers that will turn everything into alphabet soup. Once the place is shut down, I want you to help me make sure it’s never fixed again.”

The Brachen smiled nastily, revealing a row of sharp teeth. “When?”

“Sunday night. That’ll give us time to set things up. And they’ll be even more short-staffed then. I’ll need explosives. Can you get those for me?”

“Can,” said the Krasevic, suddenly breaking its silence. It had its tail between its hands and was pulling excitedly on it. Krasevics were merchants and excellent scroungers. “Not state of the art though, Slayer. Just plastique and detonators.”

She smiled at it. “Good enough, Frihas.”

“Collateral damage,” rumbled Louth. “There will be some, Slayer.”

“I want to keep that at the absolute minimum. I don’t want anyone killed if I can help it. The Initiative’s bad, but most of its soldiers are just following orders. Not only that, deaths will draw investigatory committees and whatnot like flies. I want this to be set up as an accident, a short or something, that sets off fires in some unfortunate areas and triggers a massive computer failure. The first thing I’m going to have Willow do is fry the cameras right across the installation. Then there won’t be any images of us sneaking in. If you run across any guards, you knock ‘em cold and then we’ll take them topside when we liberate the prisoners.”

“All the prisoners?”

“I know there are a lot of species down there, not just Hadraden, Krasevics and Brachen. I want them all out.”

“I was thinking of the dangerous ones,” said Louth grimly.

Buffy bit her thumbnail. “Mm. Right. Can’t have them running loose.”

“Leave that to us, Slayer,” Spike said, a little tight smile on his lips. He and Louth shared a dry glance. “Think we can handle that.”

“Okay.” She didn’t want to know. “The prisoners are your responsibility. You guys deal with that. There’s a lot of toys the Initiative has that might be helpful if we could only find a way to get at them. Those heat and motion detectors, for instance, so we could know the movements of their personnel. Or radios for communication.”

“The Firoud can get them for us,” said the Krasevic. “Can get in anywhere unseen, the Firoud.”

Things were shaping up nicely.

“Maps,” said Louth.

“I’ll get you some proper ones once Willow hacks into their computers. But I can draw you a rough idea right now if there’s pencil and paper.”

Frihas flipped his tail to one side and hissed at his bodyguard who disappeared and returned a few minutes later with several sheets of paper and some markers. Buffy used the time to go over what she remembered of the Initiative’s lab. Now she whipped off a reasonable sketch of the layout and the accesses, everybody leaning over her shoulder as she drew and asking questions.

She had a sudden picture of what this must look like—her surrounded by four demons, conspiring to take down a human facility. The Watcher’s Council would have a stroke. She glanced up and saw Spike looking back at her, his eyes vividly blue and full of laughter. He knew what she was thinking, and of course it appealed to his sense of humor.

“I’ll leave you guys to set things up,” she said. “I’m going to make a quick pass through the cemeteries and then go back to talk to Willow and my Watcher. I’ll have a better idea of our tactics tomorrow. Is there any way of keeping in touch with you?”

“Runners,” the Krasevic nodded. “They’ll keep in contact.”

“Okay.”

She was thinking how this was breaking down: the Krasevics for supply and stealth, the Brachen for muscle, Louth and his Hadraden for brains. If she could only get Willow and Giles on board, they had a very good chance of pulling this off.

To her surprise, Spike came with her. She had expected him to stay at the council of war that was taking place in the factory.

“Just going on patrol, Spike. Don’t need a bodyguard.”

“Might be a chance of a fight.” He raised his brows at her. “Think I’d pass up a chance for a good fight? Haven’t had a decent spot of violence for quite a while.”

“Oh! And what do you call that business with the Rathorn back at Willy’s?”

“An appetizer.”

She laughed. “Okay then.”

To Spike’s satisfaction, they ran across a gang of five vamps at Tranquility cemetery. Buffy took her time with the one she picked, giving Spike the opportunity to blow off some steam. He was a ferocious fighter, graceful and deadly, had made an art form out of combat over the decades. The only thing better than watching him in action was fighting him herself. Vamps dusted one by one.

She staked her own vamp while Spike took on the last one remaining. Spike sent it staggering towards her by a spin kick to its breastbone and, since it was right there in front of her, Buffy staked it. Spike’s fist that had been heading for its chin went right through dust and hit Buffy instead.

She staggered back. “Oops. Guess I shouldn’t have done that.”

Spike was standing with a hand halfway to his head in anticipation of the pain that hadn’t come and his jaw hanging. “That didn’t hurt! Slayer, I hit you and it didn’t hurt!”

“Um...” That was a puzzler. When Willow had pulled her out of Heaven, the fractional changes that had occurred on a molecular level in her body, that ‘deep tropical cellular suntan’, had confused the sensors in Spike’s chip and he had been able to hit her without pain. But those changes had happened a year from now. This body would not have gone through it. Was it not just her soul that had come back, but also in some fashion her body? That needed thinking about.

But in the meantime...

“Guess Slayers aren’t completely human,” she said lightly, “what with the supernatural abilities and all. You gonna try to kill me again, Spike?”

Something flickered behind his eyes.

“Might,” he said harshly. “Have to think about it.”

“You do that. I’m gonna go back to the dorm now and talk to Willow.”

She felt his burning gaze on her back as she walked away. She didn’t know what she would do if he really did try to kill her. Couldn’t kill him. Couldn’t even bring herself to hurt him. She had been responsible for his death there in the Hellmouth. Maybe there would be a kind of justice to it if he killed her this time.

Willow was just shutting down her laptop preparatory to going to bed when Buffy got back to the dorm.

“You’re awful late, Buffy.” Willow looked worried. “Good thing tomorrow’s Saturday and we don’t have any classes. Is there a problem?”

“Need your help on something, Will.” Buffy sat down cross-legged tailor-fashion on her bed and explained.

“We’re working with demons now?” Willow exclaimed, flabbergasted, and Buffy winced. If Willow was this taken aback at the idea, how would Giles react?

“Well, they’re non-harmful, Will. And they’re willing to help. The Initiative’s too big for us to take all by ourselves without someone getting hurt...”

“I can see that.” Willow was looking thoughtful. “Makes sense. It’s your call, Buff. You’re the Slayer and if you say it’s all right, it’s okay by me.”

Buffy let out a little sigh of relief. “Can you do it? Get into their computers undetected, play games with their defenses?”

Willow’s eyes were shining with excitement. “Abso-posi-lutely!”

“Government facility,” Buffy warned. “Best anti-whatevers around.”

“Pretty good hacker here, Buffy.” Willow flipped open her laptop again, raring to go.

“Start tomorrow morning, when you’re fresh. We can’t afford even one mistake here. How about the virus? We need to totally destroy every byte of info they’ve got and make sure they can’t ever recover it. Can you cook something like that up that fast?”

Willow blushed. “Well, actually...I already wrote a virus like that. Just to see if I could, you know? Wouldn’t ever have used it. Honest! But it’s awesome and it would great to have a chance to see if it would really work!”

Hackers. That’s how viruses started. Ego. Someone writing a program and then implementing it, unable to resist showing off, showing the world how brilliant one was, getting a huge charge out of watching the entire global net affected by something one had created. Willow had done that with magics, but the seeds of those actions of hers had already been there, in her genius with computers.

Couldn’t complain in this case though. Willow’s little bomb was exactly what they needed.

Willow went off to brush her teeth before bed. Buffy rose and studied herself in the mirror on the dresser.

This wasn’t the body that she would have in the future. She was thinner in the future: she had honed herself like a knife-edge in preparation for the battle with the First, and then become even thinner and almost gaunt in the year following, mourning over Spike. This body was the one she had really had in this present, this year that Spike had become chipped—figure more curvaceous, face less hollow-cheeked and strained.

She had left her future body lying on the ground at Stonehenge. But past and future minds had merged when her soul was sent back. Perhaps, in some way, past and future bodies had merged also. That would explain why Spike could hit her without pain. She wasn’t sure what the purpose was or what all the ramifications might be, but it looked like she was going to find out.

When Buffy woke up the next morning, Willow was already up and humming away happily as she worked on her laptop.

“Oh, this is a walk in the park,” she said. “Not exactly NORAD here. They should be ashamed of themselves. A two-year-old could get in. I mean, it’s just sad. Guess they don’t think anyone in Sunnydale could give them trouble. Want their cameras down? Shoot, I can take them down in sections as our teams pass through, bring them up again without anybody noticing they’ve got intruders, crash the whole system when everyone’s ready to make a break for the outside.”

“Perfect!” said Buffy. “What about maps of the layout?”

Willow nodded towards a pile of printouts on the table. “Knew you’d want them. Maps of the whole enchilada. The accesses, the cells, how to get to that Room 314 of yours, everything. And copies for our allies.”

“Sweet!” Buffy shot off the bed and ran to brush her teeth and wash her face.

Twenty minutes later, she was hurrying out of the dorm, the neatly collated and clipped together maps in her hand. Somewhere, a runner would be waiting for her.

“Slayer!” a voice hissed once she got outside and she saw the small, gray, nondescript form of a Firoud waving at her from behind a bush. It bowed deeply as she ran up to it.

“Got a job for you,” she said, stepping behind a tree so that they would both be concealed from people coming out of or going into the dorm. She handed it the pile of paper. “Will you distribute these to everyone concerned? Don’t worry about Spike. I’ll give him his tonight.”

“Will.” It handed her a foot-deep carton. “Frihas say give you.”

The box held uniforms, lab coats, ID tags, heat and motion detectors, and four state-of-the-art communication devices, the kind that was nothing but an ear piece connected to a narrow, finger-long voice transmitter that would lie along the cheek, and a clip to hook the whole thing over the ear.

“Awesome! Very well done!”

The Firoud beamed, bowed several times, then took off. Buffy carried the box upstairs to Willow.

“The Firoud can scrounge anything!” she said as Willow pounced immediately on the heat and motion detectors. “Everything here is Initiative issue. I wonder how they got them.”

“Snuck in and stole them probably.” Willow was already working on one of the motion detectors. “I’m gonna get these to feed into my laptop as well. That way we’ll know where everybody is at all times.”

“I’m going to see Giles and tell him what’s going on.”

“Wait.” Willow was checking the clothing. “Here. I think this lab coat is meant for him. It’s his size. There’s two more for us. And I think that uniform is meant for Spike. I’ll have the ID tags fitted with our pictures by tonight.”

“Giles the scientist. Perfect. He sure can talk the talk if we run into anyone.” They grinned at each other. “You’re coming with, aren’t you, Will?”

“Try to keep me away. Besides, you need me, in case anything goes wrong. And there’s stuff I have to be on the inside to access. But leave Xander and Anya out of it. Xander’s still too shaky from those Chumash diseases.”

“No argument there.”

Giles came on board the minute everything was explained to him. That the Initiative had to be stopped was a given and, cut loose from the Council, he was more flexible and open to the idea that all demons weren’t evil. But from the wry twist of his lips, he was having trouble with the concept that demons were going to help them take out the Initiative.

“You don’t have to come with us, Giles,” Buffy said. “I just wanted you to know what was going on.”

“I’m coming. I need to see...” He broke off, flushing a little.

“Yeah. Seeing is believing.”

For the benefit of the sunlight challenged among the demons, like Spike and apparently also the Hadraden, they had decided to make the attack after the sun went down on Sunday, which it did at four forty-five p.m. By five, everyone was in position at the Initiative’s back door and Willow was tapping into the defense grids to make sure their intrusion would go unnoticed. Buffy noticed with amusement that Giles was very much on edge, keeping a nervous eye on the demons surrounding them and flinching whenever one brushed against him.

The group would split up into two teams. There was no way to hide the fact that the Brachen were demons. They would wait until Willow opened the cells and then go in and grab the prisoners. The Hadraden, in Initiative uniforms, looked human and would go with Buffy to Room 314 in search of Adam and any other experiments. Spike would stay with the Brachen, acting as liaison and hopefully keeping their killing instincts in check.

“Remember,” said Buffy sharply to Tasic. “No killing of Initiative personnel. Knock them out and then take them topside with the prisoners.”

“Understood,” growled the Brachen grudgingly.

“And you,” she said to Spike. “Let the Brachen take point. Stay behind them. Remember, you can’t hurt humans.”

“Stop worrying about my ass and start worrying about your own, Slayer,” snapped Spike. He gave her a mocking smirk. “Might think you have other intentions towards my ass.”

Buffy gave him a scathing look. Louth gave them both a thoughtful one.

“We’re in,” announced Willow with satisfaction.

They slipped silently through the tunnel and paused where the main corridors began.

“There’s a small concentration of guards at the cells,” said Willow, checking the readings off the heat and motion detectors. “That open space is clear, but there are several people scattered around. Techs or guards at security points, I suppose. There’s someone in the Commander’s office.”

“Guess he didn’t take the weekend off,” muttered Giles.

Louth told off four of the Hadraden to go that way, handing one of them a motion detector.

“Just watch,” Buffy whispered to them. “Take him down only if he sees you.”

“Yes, Slayer.”

The teams split up, Spike and the Brachen heading towards the cells, Buffy and the Hadraden heading for Room 314.

The vast open space that normally would have been teeming with people was deserted. Both the heat and motion detectors showed no presence. They ran across the area swiftly in a flying wedge, Louth at point and Buffy, Willow and Giles in their lab coats protected within the vee formed by the uniformed Hadraden shielding them. The door to Room 314, with its sophisticated carded and coded lock, stopped them.

“Got it, got it,” muttered Willow, hooking her laptop to it. “Give me a minute here.”

“Hey, you!” someone shouted. “Who are you? What are you doing here?”

“Authorized,” rumbled Louth. “Transfers from HQ. Walsh’s orders.”

He held up a small leather folder. The folder had nothing in it, but the guard coming towards them didn’t know that.

“I’ll have to check w...” The guard folded up as the Hadraden who had slid behind him cut him down with one neat chop below the ear.

“Sorry,” muttered Giles who had forgotten to watch the motion detector he was in charge of in his interest in what Willow was doing.

“My fault too,” said Louth, who had another.

“We’re in,” said Willow triumphantly and the door to Room 314 opened.

“We’ll do this,” said Buffy. “Willow, the computers.”

“Right.” Willow headed that way.

Louth jerked his head and Hadraden went with her. She was essential to their plans and everyone knew she had to be kept safe.

“This is an abomination,” said Giles, looking down at the grotesque figure lying on the steel table in Room 314, that terrible, revolting blend of human and demon and machine.

“Yes,” growled Louth, also disgusted. “What’s the power source?”

“Uranium core here,” said Buffy shortly, reaching out to tap the immobile body, then grinned as Louth smashed through Adam’s chest and ripped it out. “Yeah, that works.”

“More here,” said another Hadraden, checking neighboring rooms. “Various stages.”

“Set the charges,” Buffy ordered. “I don’t want anything left of any of them.”

They got to work.

“Virus is in,” said Willow, running up to Buffy a few minutes later. “It will activate when I give the command.”

“Perfect. Louth!”

“Almost done, Slayer.” He nodded as his people started coming back from wherever they had dispersed to. “Done.”

Willow reached out and punched a button. Sirens started whooping and the lights began flashing in red pulses.

“Evacuate!” a thunderous computer voice was bellowing over and over again. “Evacuate! Facility will be sealed in five minutes!”

“Oh, cool, Willow!” Buffy tapped the communication device hooked over her ear. “Spike! The cells are open.”

“Right,” said Spike curtly, then broke the connection.

Their group started running back the way they had come.

“They’re in confusion,” Giles said, keeping an eye on the detectors. “But they all seem to be heading for the exits as ordered.”

“Good.”

The cell blocks were a lot closer to the back exit than Room 314 was. By the time Buffy’s group managed to get there, Spike and the Brachen had got all the prisoners out. Most of the demons were already racing off in all directions. A couple of vamps still hanging undecidedly around took one look at the Slayer and decamped at high speed.

Spike tilted a brow at her from where he was lounging against the metal door. “What took you so long?”

Buffy ignored that pointedly. “Casualties?”

“Coupla demons who didn’t have the brains to just get out and not start trouble. Dead now. We brought the bodies up.”

“Initiative personnel?”

Spike jerked his chin at a few unconscious forms on the ground. “Alive.”

Willow was scanning her laptop. “Everyone’s out, Buffy. No one’s left down there. I’m putting the place on lockdown now and activating the virus.”

Spike swung the doors of the back exit shut. Then they could feel the reverberations as heavy metal barriers slammed into place all over the facility.

“Tasic,” said Louth. “You and your people go. We’ll take it from here.”

The Brachen faded away. The rest of them ran towards Riley’s frat house, some of the Hadraden carrying the unconscious Initiative staffers. The area around the frat house looked like an ants’ nest that had been stirred with a stick. Initiative people were running all around. Buffy could see their commander, Colonel What’s-his-name, yelling and waving his arms.

“Isn’t this just neat?” grinned Spike.

“Amusing,” agreed Louth. His people were merging with the crowd, dropping unconscious bodies in artistic positions here and there. “A lot more exits than I supposed.”

“Whoa!” gasped Willow as the ground beneath their feet shook.

And kept shaking as the charges the Hadraden had set began to go off.

“How many did you set?” Buffy gasped as the explosions continued. “I didn’t want this many!”

“I did,” rumbled Louth. “There won’t be anything left of that place by the time this is finished.”

“Louth...”

“We’re ready for them now. They try to rebuild, none of their machines will work. They send troops in, their weapons and tasers and toys will fail. We can arrange that.” He looked at her grimly. “You said no deaths, Slayer. You’ve got that. We didn’t promise anything else.”

Buffy saw Spike grinning at her. She sighed.

“Well, I guess that works.”

“Slayer, look out!”

Buffy looked up to see a lamp post, jarred loose by the shocks, falling towards her. Then something struck her from the side and flung her away.

She hit the ground on one shoulder and rolled, coming up on hands and knees to see Spike crumpled under the heavy weight of the lamp post.

“Spike!”

Hadraden were already hoisting the lamp post away and lifting Spike to his feet. He winced.

“Bloody hell! I think I’ve bust my collarbone.”

“You moron!” Buffy staggered up and flew at him. “You could have busted your head!”

“Well, I didn’t, did I?”

“What the hell were you thinking?” she yelled at him.

“That it wouldn’t kill me. It’s metal not wood. But it would have killed you, Slayer.”

“What the hell kind of vamp are you? You’re not supposed to be saving the Slayer!”

“So next time I won’t!”

They were standing nose to nose, screaming at each other. She wanted to hit him, grab him, shake him to pieces, but his injury prevented that. What was it with Spike? He didn’t even care for her and here he was sacrificing himself for her again!

“Don’t you ever do that again! Not ever!”

“Geez, Slayer! Grateful much?”

“I don’t need your help!”

“So you won’t get it!” He spun and stamped away.

“Interesting,” remarked Louth, watching the two of them. “They seem uncommonly concerned about each other.”

“Well, he does owe her something,” mumbled Giles, desperately grasping at denial.

Louth gave him an amused look, then exchanged a glance with Willow who was standing with her mouth open.

“He is an unusual kind of vampire.” Louth studied Spike thoughtfully as he stalked away, duster flying. “Might have a place for him in my organization.”

“Anything that gets him out of our hair,” muttered Giles.



TBC