Chapter Eleven - WORLD ENDAGE
Spike could barely contain his laughter. The situation wasn't truly funny, but Angel's blatant discomfort was tickling him something fierce. Dru was normally so perceptive, couldn't she see him shaking in his oh-so-evil leather pants?
"Concentrate," Buffy scolded in his head.
Spike scowled. He was concentrating. Wasn't his fault his Sire was such a bad actor.
He forced himself to focus on the people in the room - to give Buffy a head's up on the situation. Dru's attention was currently centered on the Magnificent Poof, but that didn't mean she was unaware of her surroundings. More than likely she could already sense him on some level.
He shifted his position at the window, wincing as the blade of his sword scraped against the stone wall. Way to be stealthy, Spike.
The whelp and his demon girl didn't appear to be in any immediate danger. That they were tied up out of the way was actually a bonus - one less thing to worry about.
Where the bloody hell was the Watcher?
The entire plan depended on his being present - and he was most notably absent. Had Dru gotten wind of something? Stashed him someplace?
A frustrated breath hissed through his clenched teeth as he cast an absent gaze overhead.
Buffy apparently worked out where his thoughts were headed before he could fully process them.
"No," she broke in suddenly. "No way in hell."
Spike backed away and looked up, measuring the distance to the second floor window. He'd made bigger leaps before...
"What part of 'no' did you not understand?" Buffy demanded, getting irritated at his lack of reaction. "You're not going in there."
Spike gathered himself like an Olympic long-jumper, taking a short run-up and then launching himself upward. He landed on his feet like a cat.
"Piece of bloody cake," he crowed, balancing easily on the ledge. He'd even managed to keep hold of the sword.
"Damn it, Spike!" Buffy yelled. "Stop ignoring me!"
Spike winced. She was getting pretty brassed off, but she hadn't yet resorted to her now-patented chip-nipping technique. Right now, that was more or less a go-ahead.
He inspected the window and, finding no locks, slid it open and crawled in, pushing his way past heavy velvet curtains. Once inside, he surveyed his surroundings.
It was one of the bedrooms. He ran his fingers along a nearby dresser, rubbing the powdery residue between the tips. Either Dru had taken to decorating the place with vamp-dust or it hadn't been used in a while.
He turned and whipped the curtain open. No use in fumbling around in the dark if there was no danger of involuntary solar combustion.
It was when he turned back that he noticed the poor unfortunate sap tied to the bed.
He blinked, rapidly taking in the teenager's tattered, bloodstained shirt, the burn-blistered skin and multiple puncture wounds - and, most tellingly, the antique porcelain doll perched on the pillow as though keeping watch. Looked like Dru had been keeping herself royally entertained while she waited for Daddy.
"Who is it?" Buffy had obviously given up trying to order him around. Now she was along for the ride.
"Pizza delivery, looks like." He made no move toward the bed, but tipped his head, watching for breathing. Yeah, there it was. "Still kickin'."
"Can you get him out?"
Spike gnawed at his lower lip, the sword tapping agitatedly against his leg. Catch 22, his favorite. If he tried getting the kid out, he might blow the plan open. With Giles AWOL it was already in serious trouble. But if he didn't get the kid out, he may very well die.
"Leave him," Buffy instructed quietly.
"Huh?" Spike couldn't immediately grasp why she was de-prioritizing someone in serious danger of popping his clogs. She was the Slayer, protector of the innocent and all that other pretentious rot. "But he..."
"He's kept going this long," she reasoned. "And we've got to stay focused on Giles." There was only a brief flash of guilt from her.
"You're being incredibly selfish, Slayer," he drawled, deliberately using the title to draw a reaction.
"Point?"
"You know the bloody point."
"I can't believe you're getting all morally indignant with me about this."
"Why not? I've got scruples, a system of ethics, just like you."
"Fine!" she snapped. He could almost see her throwing her hands in the air. "Do what you want."
"Fine," he echoed, fighting a smile. "He'll just have to keep. I got a rogue Watcher to hunt down."
"But, but you just said ... you... Aargh!" Buffy choked, wanting to choke him. "You are seriously driving me nuts."
"Now, now, pet. I never once said that I was goin' for the rescue option," Spike explained patiently. "I was just testin' your waters."
"Do the words 'not a good time' mean anything to you?"
"Nope." He gave the pizza kid one last glance and headed for the door. "Wonder how Peaches is doin'?"
~*[+]*~
Angel wanted to run screaming all the way back to Los Angeles. Back to the relative safety of the Hyperion and Cordelia's smart-ass teasing.
He hadn't remembered that Dru could be so openly affectionate. But then, he'd managed to suppress quite a few of his more unpleasant Angelus-related memories, and Dru was a whole chapter of unpleasant.
He shifted where he sat on the sofa. Drusilla curled against his side with her feet tucked up, her head resting on his shoulder.
"I only told him of the silvery moon," the vampiress divulged. She hadn't yet explained whom the 'him' in question had been. "Of picnics and walks in the park. Of glorious plans." She sat up and regarded him coyly, her slender fingers toying with the buttons of his silk shirt. "But I kept them for you special." She was talking of Xander and Anya now. "Daddy likes to play with the Slayer's friends, I remembered."
"We're sharable," Xander suggested from across the room. "If that's good for prolonging the not-being-dead."
Angel growled at him and was rewarded when Xander blanched. Maybe there was some fun to be had here, after all.
He got to his feet and strolled toward the couple. Dru watched him with a sly smile.
"You want prolonged? I can do that." He took Xander's chin in a vice-like grip and leant in, grinning lecherously. He was still in game-face and his fangs shone, razor sharp. "I can draw it out for as long as you want. Make it last and last..."
"Vampires have wonderful stamina," Anya chimed in, not phased in the least by his posturing.
Angel tried not to laugh at her observation, but a short bark emerged from his throat regardless. "I like her," he said approvingly to Xander, covering the slip. "She's fresh." He licked his lips, trying for crude and hoping he pulled it off. "Tasty."
Xander glared at him with venom.
"Touch her," he stated gravely. "And I will kill you."
Angel was impressed by his sincerity. The boy had grown.
"Can I have her then?" Dru asked, sidling up to her Sire. She wrapped her hands around his arm and bounced on her toes like an excited child. "Can I? I'll only share her with the new boy if he asks nice."
Angel closed his eyes for a moment, relieved that she'd finally given him an opening. "New boy?" he asked, forcing suspicion into his tone. "What new boy?"
"Baby Rupert," she said calmly. "A wee lil' Ripper just like Jack."
She stared blankly at Anya's blouse, seemingly distracted by the glittery fabric, then turned her gaze back to Angel. He was surprised at the sudden coherence in her eyes.
"Something has gone dreadfully wrong," she said, and collapsed at his feet.
~*[+]*~
Outside, by Spike's DeSoto, the Slayer, too, slumped to the ground, an agonized cry tearing from her throat.
"Buffy?" Willow gaped at her friend in shock. "Buffy, what's wrong?"
Tara stumbled also, bumping against Willow's shoulder, then drew herself upright and stared hard at the Mansion.
"Something's up," she said. "Somebody in there just cast some seriously powerful magic."
Willow shot a startled glance at the building and then turned her attention back to Buffy. The Slayer was rocking back and forth, holding herself. Almost like she was in pain.
"I've lost him," she said. Her voice was distant, almost apathetic, but when she stared up at them her eyes were brimming with tears. "Spike's gone. I can't feel him anymore."
"That's not..." Willow shook her head. "Buffy, that can't happen. The PTB said that the link was..."
"Screw the bloody link," Buffy interrupted, emotions flaring. "This is about more than the link, it always has been. I knew this was going to happen. I was all premonitiony back at the house and Spike... I can't feel him, Will. I can't..." She whimpered. "It's like half of me isn't here."
"N-not being all flippy about it, but technically, half of you isn't," Tara said. She held up a hand defensively when Buffy glowered at her. "He is the other half of you, right?"
"Sure, but..."
"I really don't think anything has happened to him," Tara continued. She gestured at the Mansion. "There's a barrier spell, a pretty potent one. It's blocking all psychic unity. Don't ask me how I know that, I just do."
"Giles," Buffy sighed. "Also known as Ripper, the Sorcerer's Apprentice." She stared at the witches with sudden realization. "Something being cut," she said. "This is the me-being-tortured part Angel was talking about..."
"Yeah, but if he's worked out what we were doing," Willow said. "Then..."
Tara nodded. "Then the fan's been hit by some major league crapola."
~*[+]*~
His heartbeat had stopped.
There had been no warning. One minute it had been thumping merrily away and the next ... nothing. Spike felt like a hole had been torn in his chest. He wanted to scream, wanted to howl at the injustice of it.
He couldn't lose Buffy now. He'd only just broken through. They hadn't had any time...
"Interesting that you'd immediately think she was dead."
Spike turned toward the voice.
The Watcher lounged in the doorway of the Master Bedroom, his yellow eyes gleaming behind his glasses. Beyond him, Spike could see a residual haze of smoke and some burning candles. There was a distinct herbal smell.
He sighed, identifying what had happened.
"Bloody spellcasters," he muttered, rolling his eyes at his own gullibility. "Can't trust 'em worth squat." He tipped his head back and glared at the Watcher from under the bill of his cap. "Short out the psychic fuse did you, Rupert?"
"And he's not as thick as he looks," Giles droned. "Though you never did realize that I'm still partially connected to you."
"You are?" Spike frowned. This was news to him. "How?"
"The demon has a bond with its human vessel," Giles informed him. "And despite its telepathic freedom, it cannot physically leave the host."
"Makes sense." Spike was making conversation for the sheer heck of it while he tried to come up with some sort of alternate plan. The original was shot to hell. He shivered, feeling his body temperature dropping. It almost felt like...
"You understand that you're dying, don't you?" the Watcher asked conversationally.
Observant bastard.
"Figured as much," Spike admitted. He flashed a grin, hoping it came off cockier than he was feeling. "Though, hey, I'm pretty damn good being a corpse. Had a whole century to practice."
"Hmm." Giles straightened and moved toward him. "Now, how about you hand over that sword? Then we can reconvene proceedings downstairs."
"Why?" Spike lifted the weapon to an offensive position. "'Fraid I'll take you one to one? Need Dru for back-up do you?"
The shivering had increased to bone-shaking tremors and the blade shook noticeably. He was so bloody cold.
"Actually, I need her for you're re-siring."
"My which?" Spike blinked, he was getting dizzy now. Re-siring? What was he on about?
Then the penny dropped. The Watcher was gonna kill off what remained of his soul - kill William. The demon was preparing to return to an empty vessel.
~*[+]*~
Angel tested the ropes for a fifth time, making sure that they were secure. Dru was tremendously adept at escapism. He should know - he'd taught her.
"So you're not evil?" Anya asked him.
"No." He didn't so much as glance over his shoulder at her while he deposited Dru on the sofa. She hadn't even stirred.
"But you were all ... Angelus-y," Xander protested. "Evilness personified. I mean, demonified." He shook his head. "I mean, I don't believe you."
Angel knew that. He hadn't yet freed them for that exact reason. Xander's first instinct would be to drive a stake through his heart, or open the curtains and turn him into sun-dust. He had to talk them round first.
"I'm not evil. Okay? I was only doing that to distract Dru."
"Distracted me pretty good," Anya commented. "You were large and glowery and you had pointy fangs. I was very intimidated."
Angel fought the somewhat bizarre urge to thank her. He returned to the couple and grabbed hold of their bindings. "Do you promise not to stake me if I let you out?"
Xander glared at him distrustfully while his partner chirped a cheerful "You bet!" He scowled over his shoulder at her and she rolled her eyes. "Like there's a stake handy anyway."
Angel's lips twitched and he yanked at the ropes, tearing them off in one quick movement. He caught Xander's fist as it was on the upward swing. The boy had actually attempted to take him on - he was a little surprised by that.
"No," he ground out, squeezing the hand until Xander winced, some of his knuckles popping. "I told you what happened. And I haven't got time to straighten you out now. Something's not right. Dru shouldn't have collapsed like that."
He loosened his grip and headed back toward the sofa. He thrust his hands in his pockets and watched the vamp as she slept, almost like he was guarding her.
"Ouch." Anya rubbed at her wrists. "I hate being tied up. Now I have pins and needles. And ... and I need to pee," she complained.
"Good to see you've got you priorities straight, Ahn," Xander drawled, wriggling his fingers to get the feeling back in his hand. He moved to join Angel, trying to ignore the embarrassing rubbery-leg thing that developed when he walked. "So, Dead Boy, if this is the big rescue, where's Buffy?"
"She should be outside, waiting for a signal." Angel glanced at the heavy drapery shielding the windows, then moved in that direction. He'd have to do that now - there was no other choice. Spike had obviously bungled his part, or she'd be inside already.
Xander was still peering at him with suspicion.
"And where's Giles?"
"Beats me." Angel only wished he knew the answer to that. They had all assumed that he would be here with Drusilla. "He was supposed to be here. He's gotta be in the house somewhere."
Anya's terrified squeak made them both spin around in surprise.
Giles had the ex-demon by the throat. He smiled at them, fangs and all.
"Quite the party you're having down here," he noted, still sounding like the genteel Watcher that they all knew. "Mind if I crash?"
"As long as you didn't bring any of that hokey English food," Xander wisecracked. "'Cause, come on, blood sausage? What's up with that?"
Angel took advantage of the Watcher's momentary outrage to leap toward the windows and wrench the curtain back. He pinned himself against the wall as sunlight streamed into the room.
Giles dropped Anya and bolted - Xander hot on his heels. Angel watched them go with a grimace. Even the filtered light was stinging his skin. Luckily, the high back of the sofa was protecting Dru from the blinding rays. He hadn't even thought of her safety.
He sighed with relief when the demon girl closed the curtains once more.
"I like the not evil you," she told him frankly. "But the other guy was darn sexy."
~*[+]*~
Buffy saw the curtain fly back and began sprinting toward the Mansion without a second thought, the half-forgotten weapon bag bouncing on her back. Willow and Tara hurried behind, struggling to keep up with her.
She had to help Spike. It was the same deal as choosing between Giles and Dru's captive pizza guy - there was no choice. Spike, and Spike alone, was her priority. Nothing else mattered.
She kept running flat out and, not slowing in the slightest, smashed through the front door with her shoulder. She landed heavily, sprawled on the rug in the front foyer.
Anya peered down at her. "It wasn't locked, you know," she said.
"Thanks for the tip." Buffy dumped the weapon bag and began foraging in it. "Where's..."
"He's upstairs," Angel informed her.
She frowned up at him. His skin was a little reddened and peeling in a few places. Sunburn?
"Xander chased him up there," Anya boasted. "It was very heroic."
"Xander chased Spike?"
"No. Giles." Angel glowered at her. "Spike's inside? How and when did that happen?"
Buffy ignored his questions and armed the crossbow with practiced ease, her movements efficient and precise. She tucked some spare bolts in her jacket pocket and headed for the staircase just as Willow and Tara arrived.
"Buffy, no." Willow called. "You can't..."
The Slayer hesitated for a split second, but then continued up the stairs without looking back.
"She's upset," Willow explained to the others. "Giles has done something funky with the link. Messed up psychic unity. She can't feel Spike."
"That explains Dru's unconsciousness," Angel muttered. "Can you still work the exorcism spell?"
"Only if we can break the one Giles has set up," Tara said. "And we have to work fast." She held up the smelly potion-filled mortar. "This stuff is only active for a few hours."
"Right." Angel sighed. "Anya? Watch Dru. We're going up."
~*[+]*~
Buffy cautiously rounded the top of the stairs and trained her crossbow on the closest target, only to find it pointed at Xander. She frowned, frustrated, and lowered her arm.
"Giles?"
"In there," he whispered, indicating the closed door of the Master Bedroom. "The door sealed behind him. And I mean airtight, like a ... tightly sealed door. You couldn't even do an axe-happy Jack Nicholson on that thing."
"He's got Spike."
"Well, what the hell for?" Xander scowled.
"He's got something planned," Buffy hissed. "Something to do with the link."
"If you ask me, this link deal has been nothing but a hunk of trouble."
"You missed the big revelation-fest, Xand," Buffy told him. "The link was supposed to happen. Apparently the Slayer-Vamp tag-team is ordained by the PTB."
"The who-tee-huh?"
"That's what I said," Buffy giggled. She nudged him with her elbow. "The Powers That Be."
"Great googley-moogley!"
"Exactly," Buffy nodded. "Giles has screwed up the connection, though. Cast a barrier spell."
"Hence the lockout and the herby stinkage," Xander wrinkled his nose.
The rest of the Scoobies barreled up the steps behind them.
"Hey, lay off the stampeding elephants impersonation," Buffy complained.
"It's not like he doesn't know we're here, Buffy," Angel said.
"Okay," she acknowledged. "But you could still make with the stealthies. I don't want him getting all spooked and fang-happy."
"Fang happy?" Willow arched her brows. "Giles can't bite Spike. Can he? Spike's like, part of him. Or he's part of Spike. Or something."
"That's it!" Tara blurted suddenly.
They all peered at her curiously and she blinked back at them, a deer-in-the-headlights expression on her face.
"M-Mr. Giles' plan," she explained. "He probably wanted to, um, the demon probably wanted his body back. His whole body, I mean, without the soul. The way it was supposed to be. Originally."
Willow gasped. "And with the link all defecty..."
"Spike's may already be dying."
~*[+]*~
Spike really wished the dying thing would hurry up and happen already. The whole shivery-shaky routine was starting to get monotonous. He'd never been this cold before. Not even that time he and Dru went skinny-dipping in the Rhine in the middle of winter.
He smiled at the memory - definitely not one of his finest moments.
The bitch of this situation was that he was going to die wearing the stupid Backstreet Boys cap. The bloody thing wouldn't come off. He'd fainted, been dragged into the bedroom and tied to the bed, and the sodding thing had stuck like glue. It was such a humiliating way to go, not worthy of a Master vampire at all.
He sighed. Giles was pacing up and down at the foot of the bed. It was beginning to annoy him.
"Hey Rupert, what's got your knickers twisted?"
"Bloody Slayer," the Watcher muttered.
"What'd she do?" Spike smiled, despite his chattering teeth. "Got an irksome habit of spoilin' carefully laid plans, that one." His smile grew wistful. "I love that about her."
"You don't love her," Giles hissed. "You can't love."
"Bollocks," Spike argued. "You know what it's like. The demon runs the joint, right? But the whole time, the soul's back there, puttin' in his two bobs worth. Makin' you feel things, makin' you care."
"It's terrible," Giles admitted. And for a moment it really was Giles - the human features dropping into place, the soft blue eyes looking pained. "A constant and relentless battle."
Spike stared. He was getting through. Who the hell knew he had the ability to do that?
"What you're doing is wrong," he continued, trying to press his advantage. "You know that, somewhere in there."
The Watcher's eyes flashed yellow once again, his anger flaring.
"I am perfectly right," he arrogantly announced. "And I will send this demon back to where it came from, without the abomination of a soul to corrupt it. We'll see how much your Slayer cares then."
"She's your Slayer, too, Rupert." Spike was tiring again - the room getting fuzzy around the edges. "And what you're doing will kill her."
~*[+]*~
She wasn't ready. She wasn't up to Giles' standard. The barrier spell was too powerful.
Willow crouched in the stairwell with a makeshift altar arranged on the top riser, the other Scoobies gathered in a huddle behind her. She frowned, fighting off the wave of self-doubt, and concentrated.
She could so do this. She had to do this, or everything would be ... bad, really bad - in a world endage sort of way.
"Um, with a honeyed sacrifice I invoke thee," she intoned, lighting a small beeswax candle that she'd centered on a chalk-drawn cross. "At the crossroads, the triple power of Hecate. Dissolve this hindrance and restore broken ties. So mote it be."
There was no reaction for a whole second.
Then a gust of icy wind blew up the stairwell and rushed past them, extinguishing the candle and blasting the bedroom door off its hinges. Willow slumped against the wall, exhausted.
As soon as the barrier was out of the way, Buffy was inside, her crossbow once again aimed and ready.
She wasn't prepared for the psychic explosion that occurred as the Serpiente re-established itself. There was a familiar blinding-white flash and an agonizing emotional jolt - her heart doing an amazing skippy-trippy thing that hurt like hell. She gasped and stumbled back to lean against the doorframe, Angel reaching out to support her.
Spike's body lurched of the bed, pulling against his bonds, his back arching painfully as he took a huge rasping breath. The veins in his neck bulged as his borrowed heartbeat began pumping blood through his system for the second time.
"Jesus, Slayer," he groaned when it subsided, his eyes watering. "You've gotta stop doing that."
Giles was staring at them from across the room, knowing that his efforts had been thwarted, but not willing to give up just yet.
"Yes, you really must," he agreed. Surprisingly, his voice was devoid of sarcasm. "This affinity you have with vampires is most unseemly for a Slayer. It's vulgar. It debases you and your position."
Buffy, Angel and Spike all glared at him.
"Give it up, Rupert," Angel scoffed. "You're out-numbered. And really out-powered." He glanced upward, a flicker of amusement playing at the corner of his mouth. "With a capital P."
A tormented shriek echoed its way up the stairs, quickly followed by Anya's redundant shout. "Help! She's awake!"
Spike blinked. "Who's awake?"
Angel grinned then - an Angelus sort of grin that closely resembled one of his Childe's more annoying smirks.
"We can do this with force or without," he said to Giles. "Either way, that demon's going back where he's supposed to be. Soul included."
"Not that he's wanted," Spike muttered as Buffy released his restraints.
"He's wanted," she assured him, stroking his cheek. "The demon is part of who you are. Part of what I love."
"That's way too sentimental, pet," he scolded, sitting up and pulling the much-hated cap from his head. He stared at it for a moment, then, "You mind if I puke in this?"
~*[+]*~
Willow put a hand to her head to combat her dizziness. Doing two strong, mega-important spells one after the other like this wasn't really a good idea, but at least her nose wasn't bleeding. Not yet anyway.
Tara was frowning at her concerned. "Are you okay?"
"Oh sure," Willow assured her brightly. "I can handle."
"You better," Spike grumbled. "Don't wanna be turned into a tweedy Watcher or what all."
He was sitting on the edge of the bed in the Master Bedroom, dressed in his jeans and red T-shirt. Buffy had somehow managed to acquire his duster and was draped in its folds, the garment rather large on her small frame.
"Oh, come on," she goaded from across the room. "I can just see you in a pair of those little wire-framed glasses, some natty patches on your elbows." She frowned suddenly. "What are those anyway? Not like you'd need padding in a booky environment 'cause, hey, books? Not exactly on the sharp side."
Spike growled at her. She knew damn well that he used to wear glasses like the ones she was describing. She was pushing the privacy envelope now, on the verge of exposing his secret past as the pathetically inadequate William the Bloody Awful Poet.
Buffy gave him a huge, mock-innocent smile.
Tara scowled at them, uncharacteristically stern.
"Hush now," she chided. "We need to concentrate."
Giles sat on the opposite side of the bed, Angel standing guard in case the demon decided to come to the fore and make a break for it.
"So what's involved here?" the older vampire asked. "It's just your average exorcism spell right?"
"It's a bit more complicated than that, but yeah, sort of." Willow took the stone mortar from Tara and dipped her fingers into its sticky contents.
Spike pulled back as she reached toward him. "Here, you're not puttin' that on me!"
Willow just rolled her eyes and smeared a pungent-smelling dollop on his forehead. "One," she said. She walked around to the other side and did the same to Giles. "To one."
"From one to one," Tara echoed. "Joined."
"Joined in anger, separated by same." Willow's eyes had turned an odd shade, a deep purple color similar that of the potion itself. "What has come apart shall be whole again."
Her head was thrown back and the purplish light from her eyes blasted to the ceiling like a bolt of lightning. It ricocheted around the room for a moment before slamming into the marks she had made on Spike and Giles' foreheads.
"To one from one," Tara chanted. "Separated."
Spike and Giles were both flung backward at the same time. They lay on the bed unmoving.
Willow's eyes flashed once and then returned to normal. "One from one, may each remain. It is as willed, the Powers ordain."
The spell complete, she sagged to her knees. This time her nose had begun to bleed. Tara moved to her side, feeling a bit wobbly herself even though hers had only been a supporting part.
"Did it work?" Buffy asked. She was afraid to move. The figures on the bed also remained motionless. She'd know if they were dead, right?
Spike suddenly rolled into a sitting position, groaning, and Buffy rushed to him. "Are you okay?"
He peered at her groggily, feeling like a bus had hit him - something that he could attest to firsthand, having actually had it happen to him once.
"I want my bloody coat back," he told her, receiving a punch on the shoulder for his trouble. "Oi, watch it. I'm delicate, you know." He pouted and she captured his lips in a relieved kiss.
"Giles?" Angel prodded the Watcher tentatively.
"He might be out for a bit longer," Tara said. "Spike's got that whole accelerated healing thing going on."
"So that means it worked?" Buffy sat on the bed next to Spike, resting her head against the shoulder she had just hit. She took his hand and he entwined their fingers, giving them a comforting squeeze. "I mean, if Giles was still demony he'd be healed as well."
"Guessin' that's about right," Willow said, her voice strained. She got to her feet with Tara bracing her. They swayed a little.
"It's over then?" Spike inquired. "I'm fully vamped up?"
"Try it," Buffy urged, understanding what he was thinking. "It's the only way to know for sure."
"Try what?" Tara asked, only to jump as Spike slipped into game face.
He grinned at them, with his fangs gleaming and a twinkle in his yellowed eyes. "The Big Bad is back, ladies."
Angel cleared his throat, reminding his Childe of his presence.
"What?" Spike asked innocently, his face once again human. "Like that doesn't include you, Nancy boy."