3
The three men crowded back into the room. There were more Slayers there now, ones he didn't recognize and didn't care to. Spike felt blank, empty. He looked to Angel, whose carefully impassive expression was a mite better than the sympathetic look Harris had shot at him after Spike had followed him without so much of a word. Him and Harris had never been buddies either. Been roommates, but that'd just cultivated an already present mutual loathing. No bonding there. Especially when Spike'd been forced to raid Harris' closet and found the worst possible garbs to fit him. Nothing black, but covered in palm trees or some sort. Sodding embarrassing.
"Where's the rest of your crew at?" Spike asked him. Nothing snide about it for once, not even a nickname. Angel's dark eyes looked back at him tentatively.
"Patrolling," came the short reply. "Keeping a look on the perimeter."
So he hadn't even waited for the result. Just bloody sent his minions on the go ahead, because he'd already decided on the truth. Wanker. Disgust rose up in his stomach, and the rational explanation that it had just been a precaution didn't ring in his head. He didn't want to be reasonable. He wanted to rip the table off the floor and throw it around the room, but buggering thing was probably weighted down. And it was a bit heavy, even for him. Didn't mean he didn't want to try.
Didn't mean he wanted to accept the truth like a right sod. Wanted to fight it, but he still felt empty. Anger mulled down somewhere at the bottom, with revulsion and guilt floating to the surface. And a desperation that outweighed it all. Had to find her. Quickly. Before she had a chance to do more things that would haunt her later. Had to get her sooner, rather than later. This would kill her, once she got her soul back. They had to retrieve it as soon as possible.
"…The demon is proving difficult for the coven to track," Rupert was saying, pointing at the map. "Whether purposively or not, the Mok'Tagar's ability for both teleportation and inter-dimensional travel means that she's very hard to track."
"And Jade?" Buffy's voice was hard, dismissive. Moving onto the bigger fish on hand.
"Her position is also somewhat difficult for them to monitor. She's fast, erratic. And the coven is spread a bit thin, trying to keep a mark on where the demon is."
"Well then tell them to concentrate their efforts on Jade, then. We need to know where she's at. At all times. And where she's going."
"What we need," Spike cut in. "Is to know where that sodding bitch of a demon is, so we can get Jade's soul back," he stepped to the table. The chatter around them hushed, stiffening at the electric tension in the room. Alright. He wouldn't bloody deny it any longer, but he wasn't standing by to do no idly either. "That one should be our priority here."
Buffy straightened. She had an uncanny ability to appear like she was looking down at Spike, even from a lesser vantage point, and she pressed that advantage now. "The Slaypire without a soul is the one we need to worry about tracking. Not the one who can pop away. It's a waste of time."
"Then how would we get her soul back?" Spike demanded. "We need to get that first."
"No," Buffy argued. "We can't ignore a dangerous threat while we're chasing around. We need to—"
"She's not dangerous!" Spike couldn't help but snarl. A dangerous threat. He half expected the next out of her words to be HST, or Hostile bloody thousand, talking like she was some military commander. Like she wanted to stuff Jade into some cell and stick a chip in her head, and the thought infuriated him.
"Not dangerous?" Buffy's brow arched, looking at him like he was the crazy one, her voice colder still. "Have you forgotten Mandy? She is a Slaypire, Spike. Without a soul."
"That doesn't matter!" he snapped. "I mean… bloody hell. She's not like that Legally Blonde basket case."
"What makes her different?"
What made her different. The bloody audacity of it. "Everything!" He roared. "What—what kind of bloody question is that. Everything. She's on our bloody. Side. She's one of us."
"So was—"
"You don't compare them!" Spike snapped, thrusting a finger towards Buffy to get the point across.
"We need to do something about her." Buffy said, closing her eyes to control her anger and opening them again. "We can't. Waste. Time."
"She'll not fight yet," Spike protested, and damn that desperation cutting into his tone. "She's smart. She'll wait."
"Why—"
"Spike does have a point," Giles cut in, getting a both irritated and surprised glance from Buffy. "Her arms were broken, you say?" The watcher said, with a look at Spike.
"Shattered," The bleach blonde vampire answered curtly.
"Her injury should stand to buy us some time," Giles continued. "So there is no need to act rash. Call all the Slayers back to safehouses."
"I'm going after the Mok'Tagar Demon." Spike said. "While you all sit 'round and wait. Best do it now, while she's weak."
"And how exactly, are you going to find her?" Buffy's tone was a mix of exasperation and ire. "I mean it. The witches will focus their attention on keeping an eye on Jade, and where's she's going to go."
"Her primary goal will be to accelerate the healing process as quickly as possible," Rupert was speaking like Jade was one of the creatures from his dusty old tomes and he could just read off her documented patterns. A flare of anger rose at the watcher's presumption, but with a solid, depressing truth that outweighed his irritation, he knew that the old man was right. It was the course that made most sense. She wouldn't act until she was in tip top bloody shape. "Feeding off humans. It is also likely that she'll seek out Slayers to increase her recuperation further."
"Fantastic," Xander muttered, running his hand through his thick brown hair.
"She had an invitation to Vi's house," Spike blurted, barely recognizing the words were dribbling from his lips. Felt like he was betraying her, somehow. She might have gone back there. Back to Los Angeles, maybe to raze the Vampire's nest to the ground. Finish the job she didn't get to.
"They moved to a different location," Buffy said, but her tone was hardly reassuring. "We told her when Lorne gave us the news. Not that they had much time to get to headquarters or anywhere safe." Her tone was nearly on the edge of accusatory, angry. Like she was blaming Spike for her girls being in danger. He could handle that. What he couldn't handle was if she blamed Jade.
"Good," Spike answered, but with little eloquence and no vehemence. He felt battered, drained. But he wasn't going to play build the fort with the rest of the scared little Slayers. He had to do something. "Then I'm heading back to Haven. See what I can find out."
"You can't be out." Buffy argued. Not an argument, more like a command. He bristled. Used to be he loved the power in her voice, the unapologetic authoritarian vibe she'd picked up and stuck to. Used to admire that in her. Now it just irked him in every way. You're bloody wrong, he wanted to growl. He needed to be on the hunt.
"Like bloody. Hell." Spike snapped back.
"Blood won't be her only desire," Angel pointed out, from where the big lummox stood, lurking behind Spike. Spike wheeled his head towards him, still not sure if the Poofter was friend or foe. Or somewhere in between. Probably in between. Like bloody normal. Angel's dark eyes met his. "She'll be looking for Spike."
For the second time, he wanted to correct someone's assumption around Jade. He knew her best. He knew all this. He didn't need them to say it. But he couldn't voice it in words, so they were saying it to him like he needed the bloody explanation. He knew that, He knew that any—and he hated to use the word, since it cheapened her feelings for him—obsession she had with him would twist perversely without her soul, but the obsession would remain. Whether she wanted to kill him or drag him off, he knew that she'd be drawn to him.
"Fine, then. I go out with a troupe of your girls," Spike said to Buffy, with a shrug. "If I'm found in the sodding wild, we'll try to capture her then."
"I'm not letting my Slayers go out while Jade is running loose," Buffy contradicted, her voice flint. Spike felt that resentment flare up that was quickly becoming familiar. "And trying to capture her will just get my people killed, and I'm not going to risk that."
"What?" Spike snarled.
The chatter in the room quieted, to a dull murmur now.
"What do you bloody mean you're not willing to attempt it? 'Course we need to capture her. Unless you fancy trying to fit that soul back on in the middle of a battle. We need her on our terms."
"One. We don't even have the soul, Spike."
"So? We'll get it. Keep her close an' contained in the bloody mean time."
"No."
"No?" Spike took a step towards her, towering over her. Buffy didn't flinch, didn't even blink, although Xander the useless sod stiffened his shoulders as if he could do a bloody thing if he wanted to. "What's your plan then? Do. Bloody. Share."
Buffy gazed back at him placidly. "I'm a vampire Slayer, Spike. What do you think? Jade is a Slayer-Vampire and she is not—"
"Not your sodding enemy, that's what!"
"She is now. She doesn't have her soul. And she's already proved that she's not going to sit by and sit in a crypt." Buffy had the barest grace to blush, after her jab towards Spike. Reminding him how he hadn't been a real 'dangerous threat' in a long time. "She's left a trail—a trail behind her. Bloody. Children, Spike. I'm not throwing my Slayers' lives away."
"They all owe her their lives anyway!" Spike snapped back. Buffy's expression was unforgiving, her jaw like steel. "She bloody died to save them from—"
"From who? From Mandy. Because Mandy was a dangerous threat and she had to be taken down. And just because she helped save my Slayers—"
"Saved. Mostly by her. Bloody. Self."
"Doesn't mean that she owns their lives!"
"Well, why not?" Spike roared. "Why doesn't she get. A single. Bloody thing from you? Put her bloody life and her unlife on the line for you, and that doesn't mean a sodding thing to you?"
"It means she gets a quick death," Buffy answered back coldly.
"She would prefer this course," Rupert broke in, before Spike could try to rip the bloody arms off the Slayer. And he wanted to. His fingers curled back and forth. "From what I've seen of her, she would prefer whatever minimized the danger. The quickest, safest solution."
"Sod. Your. Solution." Spike spat out between his teeth. "Jus' cause she isn't one of yours?" He demanded, desperately, of Buffy. He felt a tightness in his chest, a panic that rose up in him. "'Cause you don't like her? How is that bloody fair?"
"Mandy was one of mine," Buffy reminded him. "It means I can mourn her death, not try to keep her alive—damnit, Spike. She's a vampire without a soul. More powerful than any other fledgling. And she'll kill and kill and kill until she's stopped."
"Stopped by putting her soul where it rightly belongs." Spike said, but the words seemed weak even to him. A desperate attempt from a desperate man.
"Which we don't have and probably can't get, can't you see that, Spike?" Buffy snapped, exasperated.
"Red can find a way. That's her bloody specialty, isn't it, putting souls back."
"She isn't here," Buffy reminded him, fiercely. "If she was, then maybe, maybe we could restrain Jade with magic, but I can't risk my Slayers or the coven to manage that kind of thing without Willow here."
"Well then get her back!"
"I have no control over that," Buffy seethed.
With a grunt of exasperation, anger, Spike ran his fingers through his scalp, digging into the skin there. "Order your Slayers to keep her alive." He said then, but it wasn't quite a demand, not with the way his voice dropped to a near whisper. A plead. "To not go for the kill. I can get her soul. I can get it. But I need y'to keep her alive until I get back."
"I can't risk that for one person. Not even her."
"Because I love her?" Spike snapped, all inhibitions gone. "Is that bloody why?"
The room had been quiet before, and now it was silent. All eyes swiveled to stare at the two blondes who stood, only scant inches between them, caught up in what could easily have been interpreted as any of the bloody lover quarrels they'd had before. But it was different this time. Different, because Spike had blurted it out. Not the bloody way he would have. Would have told her quietly, alone. Wouldn't have said anything about loving Jade. But it was true, wasn't it? He wasn't the one to hold back when he got burned, and he had gotten burned so many times.
And now he was in danger of losing the one who'd been actually bloody good to him. Gentle and kind, a mixture that was way too bloody rare. Who'd died for him, and now lost the only thing that kept her still human. That was his fault. And he'd fix it. Buffy had to let him. Had to help him. Or he'd never forgive him.
Though now, he didn't think she'd forgive him either.
Her mouth had closed into a thin line. Green eyes blazed up at him, fierce, unbroken. Even now his words hadn't—no, that was wrong. That was the steely eyed look she presented to the rest of her companions, but he could see how her bottom lip trembled, the hurt flashing behind her green eyes that was covered by anger. But not covered enough. He could see it then, a bit of the teenager she'd been those years ago, who loved too much and could barely keep it together while her sod of a boyfriend broke her heart. And he shouldn't have said it like this, but then again, she wasn't the trembling girl she'd been once, near in tears at the prospect of fighting Angelus. She was wounded, but she'd lick her wounds alone.
And she'd cover herself by releasing on him a scathing diatribe.
"Congratulations," Buffy said, every word dripping with acrimony. "And no, Spike, not everything revolves around you. I don't do my job specifically to torture you. If and probably when Jade gets here, we'll have to do everything we can to put her down, because the lives of my girls are more important than just one of your 'loves'."
Spike snarled, unable to construct words. His hands were shaking with the urge to beat some sense into the blonde, but he knew it wouldn't work. He wouldn't even get to her with the sod at his back, and it wouldn't help. "Fine. Do it your own bloody way. But 'M off. 'M going to get her soul back, and stop her without bloody killing her. Help me if you give a bloody damn. Stay out of my way if you don't." His words were directed at Buffy first, then the rest of the room, who were still staring at him with similarly shocked and awed expressions. Most of them would be right amused at any spat between him and Buffy, used to it, really, but not now. Spike knew there was no coming back from that. He'd hurt her in front of them all. And that should destroy him, but he accepted it quietly .The only thing he was accepting quietly.
He swirled then, past Peaches, his shoulder hitting the giant lug, though the vampire made no immediate move to stop him. When Spike approached the door, two Slayers stepped immediately into his way, looking behind him for permission. He growled deep in his throat. He'd get through if he had to fight his bloody way out. No doubt about it. He was just itching for a fight now. His blood sang for one, even if his head knew he didn't have time. Couldn't waste a sodding minute.
He was preparing to throw them out of the way when he heard Buffy from behind him.
"Let him go."
An exchanged look between the two Slayers that Spike didn't even see, shouldering past them and out into the hall. No-one followed him. He was both relieved and disappointed. He was on his own, then. Bloody better that way, really. Though really, he wanted all the help he could get not for his sake, but for Jade's. She was strong, but she was only one vampire, and if they got even a lick of magic against her…
Spike felt sick, shaking his head as he tore down the halls. He made it to his room, not even bothering to turn the light on as he made his way inside. He stood there for a moment, just standing in the middle of the room.
And like a ponce, he began to cry. It was just one sob, one that wracked his chest and shook his shoulders, but it was there. He cupped his forehead in his palm, feeling wetness trickle down one of his cheeks. Crying.
He had things to do, but he was crying. Couldn't help it. Soul or no soul, he'd always been emotional. No used walking around with a stone face, no, for bloody or worse he felt. All the time. Sometimes too sodding much. An' the worst moments, the times he'd cried the most, well it'd always been about a girl, hadn't it? Cecily rejecting him had turned in him a bawling fool in the alleyway, and that was where he'd met Dru. Sniffling like a right soppish pansy, she'd brushed them away and given him death's kiss. And then she had left him, over a century later, for a bloody chaos demon, and he'd been near crying in Red's lap too, a bottle of alcohol in one hand, and the trembling witch under the other. And then there was Buffy. Reduced him to tears plenty of times.
'You're beneath me,' she'd said. Just the words to really twist it in. Threw money at him like he was worthless, a pathetic parasite, and walked away. He'd wanted to kill her then, but faltered.
But this seemed worse. Just hours—just bloody hours ago, he'd thought himself so high and mighty. Bloody worried about which of the two women he wanted. Ol' Willie with a choice at last. Between the girl who wanted him and the one he'd wanted for so long, and he was going to choose right this time. Choose the one that'd careen him forward, not keep him marred in the past he could never shake free of. He'd had two women, hadn't he.
Now he'd lost both. Lost Jade because of his idiocy. He shouldn't have. Never should have left her alone. He'd done it to protect her from Buffy's wrath. And she'd bloody agreed, because she wanted to make him happy. Make it easier on him. He was such a sodding git. Deserving of bloody nothin' and no-one. And just now, he'd lost Buffy too. And yeah. It was probably the best course. He'd needed to move on. No more guilt for what he'd done to Buffy, resentment for how he'd treated her, and an obligation to continue to love her no matter what. No, he'd had to do this.
But it was so sodding hard. Harder than he would have wished. He'd spurned Buffy and lost Jade, and bloody pushed everyone else away, and now he was on his own. So bloody alone.
His sniffle sounded loud in the emptiness of the room. With a frustrated groan, he wiped away the tears from his eyes. His blonde hair ran in loose, free curls. Hadn't gelled it since before Elijah and Kern had locked them away, and it was soft, too soft. But he didn't have time for it now. No, he came here for one thing that'd help him keep his spine and head in the game. He opened up the closet and pulled out one of his Italian-made duster jackets, throwing his somewhat ragged and inferior replacement to the ground. He threw the duster 'round his shoulders, the heavy leather refreshing. More than refreshing, comforting. He was no big bad, but he was scary, and anyone who tried to get in his way better get the bloody hell out of it.
He exited his room, fully clothed in black. There were Slayers in the hallway still, patrolling, and though they gave him curious and wary glances, no-one stopped him. He approached the lobby then, and Kennedy was there. She gave him a glance that was no more antagonistic than normal, just the same dislike that was always there. Of the looks he'd gotten after his confession to Buffy, Kennedy's had looked almost vaguely impressed. Probably that he'd stood up to the blonde Slayer for once. Kennedy had often muttered 'whipped' under her voice, and plead innocence even though his vampire hearing could clearly pick it up. But she eyed him, leery as he approached.
"Buffy said to let you go, so we are. But you're on your own," Kennedy informed him. The knowledge stung, but he had expected it, an' he said as much.
"Yeh, well. No-one to get in my bloody way then."
"Right," Kennedy answered in a clipped tone.
"Where's the little Maclay, then?" Spike asked then. He shouldn't be standing 'round talking, but he knew Jade would ask. She'd be interested, and that was enough to compel him to ask.
Kennedy looked surprised, then her expression darkened. "Staying with the Coven while Willow's away."
"Didn't feel like watchin' her all by your lonesome, did you?"
Kennedy's lips pursed, disgruntled. Spike could see. See that the adoption of Glinda's cousin's child had been a one-Willow decision, and Kennedy'd gone along with it. Knew she wasn't as strong as the witch in some things, and hadn't been able to sway her. So she'd jumped on the bandwagon, but she wasn't willing. Or naturally adept. Probably stayed far away from the child when Willow was gone.
"You should probably go. Before Buffy changes her mind and chains you up in the basement. Though you'd probably like that," Kennedy returned in a scathing reply. Spike's lips twitched in amusement rather than anger. He'd riled up the Slayer, and that kept his own ire at bay.
"Yeh," He agreed. "Had somethin' to ask you first. 'Bout Willow."
Kennedy's near-black eyes seared into him. "I told you, I have no idea to know when she'll be back—"
"I know." Spike rose his hand to placate the Slayer before she could continue on her tirade. "This is a if she comes back in the nick 'f time sort of deal."
Kennedy arched her eyebrow. "Something you couldn't ask in front of the troops?"
"Yeah, well you heard how sodding open minded they were," it came out in a growl, Spike's brow furrowing. "'F this doesn't work out. If I can't get Jade's soul back from that bloody broad, I want you to ask Willow to try something else."
"What?" Kennedy asked, equal parts impatient and curious.
"Transfer my soul into Jade instead."
He swept out into the parking lot. Kennedy hadn't exactly given him an overwhelming vote of confidence, but she'd at least promised to tell Red—stressing the if—if she came back in time, being a bit more willing to hear him out when he wasn't blaming the witch for being absent. Though a lot of it was sodding Red's fault, in his opinion. She hadn't been available when she said she'd be, and now… Willow was their best bet for incapacitating Jade without killing her. Maybe the only bloody bet. And she was off in la la land, with a bunch of scared Slayers sharpening their bloody stakes.
And all he had was this tiny, barest of hopes that he could track that Lyth down. Rip the soul from her hands if he bloody had to, and tear off her head as a welcome bonus. Yeah, he'd been the bloody sod to leave Jade with a Mok'Tagar demon, but he'd trusted Jade's capability to defend herself. No, hadn't trusted, bloody forced it on her. Said he'd be leaving, and he did just that, and she'd accepted it. All came back to him. A vicious bloody circle.
But he'd fix it, one way or another. He'd get her soul back. Find Jade and get it on her somehow. Never mind the ifs and whats, he'd bloody find a way. Didn't matter if it killed him. He wouldn't let anything happen to her. He had to fix this.
And he'd give her his bloody soul if he had to. She needed it right now, more than him. Hell, he'd been without it before. He'd manage. And even if he didn't, he was easier to lock up than she was. He hoped it was the last, possible option, but he'd do it in a second if it meant Jade could stay unliving, with a soul. He'd do it.
He approached the car, the white little Oldsmobile that still had the scent of Jade, even through the cigarettes he'd chain-smoked. Keys jingled in his hand, but before he had a chance to open it, he felt a light swish of air behind him, movement.
He didn't turn around.
"She change 'er mind then?" Spike asked bitterly. "Sent in the cavalry to drag me back? An' I bet you were just one bloody willin' volunteer, weren't you? Hopin' it'll send you back into her arms now that I'm out of the picture?"
"Hey, you're the one who asked for help," The quiet voice responded.
Arching his eyebrow, he whirled around with amazement. "You're the last one I expected," He snapped. "If this is a sodding joke, then I—"
"You want my help or not?"
"No," Spike said petulantly, earning a disgruntled expression.
"Fine, suit yourself," and he turned to leave.
"No. Angel." Spike stumbled, before Peaches could make good on his threat. And he would. But the sight of the hulking vampire, aligning himself in Spike's court, that'd taken Spike for a turn. "Why? Why are you of all of them, here?"
His friends, real friends, well, those were few and far bloody between. Most of them were dead an' gone by now. Willow, though they hadn't exactly been best buds with Buffy around, she'd been sympathetic to him a time or two. Even tried to reassure him after it was found out that he couldn't bite what with that chip in his head, but she was off in never-never land. Glinda, though, the gentle witch, she'd been friendly enough to Spike. Not so quick to write him off. But she was dead. He'd gotten along right quick with Fred, too. Brilliant as she was, she worked bloody night and day to turn him back to flesh and blood, even if it hadn't been her really that done it. But she was dead now too, Illyria so much of a different being, it wasn't the same. Anya the vengeance demon, well, if his reasoning was logical enough, she might have been on board with him, though she was big on the self-preservation bit. Not that it helped her in the end, though. Dead. And Joyce. Joyce woulda liked Jade. Spike was sure of it. If Slayer still had her mum 'round, she'd talk some sense into her. Dawn, too. Little Bit had seemed to take a liking to Jade too, but she was off in bloody Canada, taking university classes like a good little Nibblet and slowly leaving her sister's Slaying world behind. It was good on her. Wasn't the right place for a nibblet like her sometimes. Too much pain. Charlie Boy, now, he might help Spike, though Spike hadn't seen him back from the patrol Angel had sent him on, so little sodding luck there. Illyria, well, Spike didn't trust her not to try to kill Jade if felt it was necessary. Rupert, certainly bloody not. Andrew, maybe. Sod had followed Spike around like a puppy, though he'd grown a spine the last time Spike seen him. Maybe, maybe not. Buffy, well. He'd burnt that bloody bridge.
Yeah. He'd had followers when he was the big bad. Couldn't call Buffy's friends his own, and now, he didn't have much to call his own either.
Except there had been Jade. She had been his. He hadn't had had to share her with anybody, or fear she'd turn on him in favor of someone else. She was loyal, and she was trustworthy. And she was alone, and so was he.
Cept Angel was still standing in front of him, his expression contemplative.
"Because that's what we champions do?" Angel offered, earning a snort from Spike.
"We champions. Bet that's still hard for you to say," The white-haired vampire said scathingly. Angel frowned slightly, but didn't pick up on the bait.
"Thing is, the Slayers weren't the only ones Jade saved when she turned to fight Mandy. My son was there too." Angel held his gaze. "I haven't forgotten that. And. I know what it's like. To be where Jade is right now. And the after. And she wasn't like us, Spike. Me. She's a good person, I can see that. We've gotten our second chances, and Buffy may not understand that, but we do. Jade deserves hers. You need the help you can get. I can provide that."
Spike twitched his lip. Wanted to tell Peaches where to put it. Didn't need his speeches or the redemption talk, but the thing was, Spike couldn't afford to be selfish. If somethin' happened, he needed another power piece on his side. Just happened to be the Great Brooder.
"She doesn't need your redemption arc," Spike couldn't help but say. "She'll be fine."
Angel shrugged his bulky shoulders.
"What about Charlie boy, then? Or your Dark Slayer? They didn't want to come?"
"They're best here," Angel said. "Working with the Slayers in case something happens." When it became clear that Spike didn't have anything else to say, no outright rejection, Angel spoke again. "Where are we going, then? Do you actually have a plan, or are you just going to—"
"I got a plan," Spike interjected. "And it's a bloody good one. Get in, Peaches. Long drive to Haven."
"Don't call me Peaches," Angel muttered as he moved to the passenger side door. For the second time, Spike reached for the driver side door and was interrupted, this time by heavy, stomping feet from a far from athletic runner, least not the Slayer kind. No, this was Xander, of all the bloody people, running towards them awkwardly, his breath coming out in clouds as he hugged his haphazardly buttoned jacket to his chest. He was looking around erratically, like he was expecting a dangerous night creature to jump out of the dark any second and drag him away.
It chilled Spike to know that the night creature Xander was probably picturing would be Jade.
"Wait," Xander panted as he stumbled over to them. "I'm coming too."
The two vampires exchanged a look.
"What the bloody hell?" Spike said.
AN: Thank you for all your comments and encouragement and ever-present readers, thank you so much for your continued support, helps so much! Posting today, and then tomorrow, and then off for a couple days for Christmas, I hope everyone enjoys their happpy holidays and again, thank you as always!
