Buffy found herself wrapped gently in a blanket and placed in his wheel chair. He pulled on his leather duster and ran his hands along the lapels and looked at her oddly for a moment before dropping his hands from the leather. He grabbed a small bag from a room upstairs and slung it over his shoulder as he trotted down to her.

"You stupid vampire, you're supposed to kill me. He's going to catch us. He'll turn me and torture us both for eternity. Just make it quick and be done with it. You're in good enough shape you could out run him, out last him, out smart him. Hell, I've fought you both. You could take him. It would be close, but you're better." She glared at him as he shook his head.

"I'm not a fool. As soon as I saw him being all soul having and ponce like, I made plans. I've learned a thing or two since he left us. Had to step up and do the protecting, so I learned fast. I'm a master in my own right. He thinks of me as a bumbling fledge, but he's wrong. He's not going to be able to find us, not using magic, common sense, or vampire senses. I've had these for fifty years." He slid a small bracelet on her wrist and closed the clasp and slid a ring on his finger. "They aren't much to look at, but they've kept me and Drusilla safe more than once."

Buffy looked at the bracelet through her swollen eyes and leaned back in the chair. "Promise you'll snap my neck quickly if he finds us before I'm ready to fight him, not that I should believe the word of a vampire."

"Then take the word of an Englishman. I will not let him kill you. I will, if I must, end us both to keep us from his power. You will never be at his mercy again." Spike looked at her, his blue eyes blazing.

"The word of an Englishman? That has meaning to you still?" Buffy looked in his direction, and watched him look sheepishly at the floor.

"It means something." His voice was quiet. "I'll stand by it."

"Let's go then. If I'm not going to die here, I want to leave. The accommodations leave a great deal to be desired."

"As my lady wishes." Spike stepped behind her chair and pushed her out the door, whistling.

Buffy closed her eyes to fight down the panic chasing through her system. The darkness that was her usual world felt threatening. She pressed her body into the chair and shuddered at the pain that accompanied any movement. Spike placed a cool hand on her shoulder. His hand was gentle and comforting. His fingers traced lightly along her exposed collarbone, and she was able to relax a bit.

"There's a love. It isn't much farther and all you have to do is get better. I'll keep you safe, pet." Spike watched her relax at the sound of his voice, so he sang for her as he pushed the hated chair toward their destination.

When Buffy passed out two blocks shy of his safe house he lapsed into silence. He started thinking about immediate necessities. After he cleaned her up and checked her more serious injuries, she was going to need food, clothing and time to heal. Her watcher would need contacting. The watcher could handle the cover story for her absence. It would take some convincing to win acceptance from her passel of friends. He wasn't sure if he needed it, but considered that she might.

His focus needed to be on making her a better slayer not on the slings and arrows of her compatriots. He grimaced at the thought of making nice with them. The witch wasn't so bad, the watcher was dangerous, and the werewolf was a welcome bit of brain. No, the real problems were the bitchy brunette occasionally flitting about, the horribly annoying boy, and her mother. Her mum could be an asset with a bit of work. She had a strong protective streak, but she was clueless. She needed bringing up to speed. There would be some awkward moments in the near future, but every clutch needed adjustments when new members joined it.

Spike was jolted from his thoughts when he felt the tingling presence of other vampires behind him. There was only one problem with using his magical frippery, chance. Concerted efforts, even half assed ones would turn up no trace of them, but the chance encounter was not regulated by the magic.

He locked the wheels on the chair and turned to see three of Angelus' latest minions. They weren't bright creatures, having been created for their use as muscle. Still, they could lay waste to his plans and that was unacceptable. He turned with a cocky grin and cracked his neck. He spared a moment to ponder the fact that he was about to kill his own kind in service to the slayer. He hesitated as he thought with contempt of her beloved Angel, balancing the loathing of his grandsire against the memory of her sweetly offered throat. There was no contest.

He turned his focus back to the battle ahead. He smiled and took a deep unneeded breath. It had been far too long since he had enjoyed a good fight. He looked over his opponents, assessing their physical might. If they had brains it might have been a bit of a tussle, but oxen were oxen.

"I didn't know you could get out of the chair." One of the witless wankers observed.

"Oh yeah, he is always sitting, isn't he?" The slightly smaller one asked. "So, why's he walking around now?"

"Thought I'd take a bit of a stroll, boys." He palmed two stakes and walked into the middle of their triangle. "Too pretty a night to keep the home fires burning."

They all looked down at him, and he grinned. He leapt into action staking two of the slabs of beef easily, driving the stakes up into their hearts. He swirled in the resulting ash cloud and landed a kick to the third's hip before landing on his feet.

The brainless wonder looked at him in confusion. "Why? What did we do wrong?"

"Nothing, mate. You were just in the wrong place at the worst possible time." Spike advanced toward him. "Don't take it all personal like."

He ducked under the idiot's swinging fist and grabbed the back of his leg, ripping the muscle and the Achilles tendon off the poor bugger. He felt the gore turn to ash as he continued his attack toppling the lug to the sidewalk. He stood over the minion and grabbed both sides of his head.

"Sorry mate, all outta stakes." Spike smiled and shrugged one shoulder before twisting the minion's head off of his body. He stepped back and shook off the dust before turning to check on Buffy.

He grinned as he listened to her regular heartbeat. She hadn't even roused from her sleep. He stroked one finger along the curve of her cheek and imagined her making fun of him for taking so long to dispatch Larry, Mo, and Curly.

"Time to get us home." He took a deep breath and resumed pushing her through the lovely residential neighbor hood.

He looked up to the small bungalow and smiled, with a living being residing within it would be even safer. He trailed his fingers through Buffy's hair and grimaced as his fingers encountered the matted sections. She needed care now.

He plucked the entire wheel chair up from the ground and carted his precious burden up the five steps onto the porch. He the whole contraption down for a moment and unlocked the door of the home he had legitimately purchased months ago. He chuckled softly as he plucked her chair and all up once more and carried her over the threshold.