For Taste Like Special & RAGAnne.

Apologies in advance.

Chapter 25

Faith handed Spike her cigarette, and he took a drag on it. Harris and Clem both leaned against beams in The Bronze, waitin' for their chance to shoot some pool. The Dark Slayer, meanwhile, lined up the cue and took her shot. The witches, Anya, and Rupert thought they'd figured something out about the troll hammer, so they were back at The Magic Box handlin' that. His Slayer was at home with the mum and kid sis for some girl time. The best Rupes had sussed out from Drusilla's visit was that she might have been warnin' him about Joyce, which no one was happy to hear suggested, and that Tara's mind might be saved if they played their cards right.

Faith stood after her second shot. "Alright, X-man. All yours."

"I like being on your team," Clem said, grinning at Faith.

"People usually do," she said, returning the smile.

"Hey, Mr. Broody Vamp," Harris mocked.

Spike's head shot up. Xander took his shot and, of course, missed by a mile. "What's that, blood bag?" Spike grumbled. Clem approached the table.

"You're big with the being dark and mysterious over there." He held his pool cue vertical, resting his chin on the tip of it. "Didn't realize Angel was back in town."

Spike took the cigarette from his mouth, pointing it at Harris. "You watch your sodding mouth." He held the cig out to the Slayer, who took it back from his fingers, taking a puff herself.

Clem took his shot and did as well as Harris had. "D'ya want more of the onion blossom?" Clem asked, eyes bright as he leaned against the pole again. "I can go order one. Or four."

Spike smiled but shook his head as he lined up his cue and knocked one of his and Harris' stripes into the corner pocket. "I'm fine, mate, thanks."

"Still thinkin' 'bout what the old flame said there, Blondie?" Faith asked.

Spike got in one more ball before whiffing the third. "Yeah. Used to have a better read on her barmy talk. Couldn't really make heads nor tails this time. Aside from really bad stuff a'comin'."

Harris approached Spike and clapped him on the shoulder. "No worries there, Big Bad. I'll personally run the ol' hell god over with a forklift before I let her hurt Buffy or Dawn or anyone else." He smirked, sticking one hand in the pocket of his jeans. "Well, 'cept maybe you."

"Harris, you sweetheart you."

"You fellas need a room?" Faith called from the pool table.

"Shut it, Lehane," Spike griped.

"I'm just sayin'. 'sides..." She stepped away from the table, letting Xander have another go at it. "We've got enough firepower to take down a small army. Can't storm Gettysburg or nothin', but one hell bitch we can handle."

"That's true." Clem nodded emphatically. "The Powers That Be don't just send people back in time for any reason. There'd be no point if you couldn't make things better."

"I heard about Tara giving you the what-for," Harris said. "Don't make us sic her on ya."

Spike opened his mouth to retort, but his eyes wandered. Sitting, at the bar across The Bronze, drinkin' away without a care in the world, was Ben. The others immediately noticed Spike's distracted attention and followed his gaze.

"What's the matter?" Clem asked.

Xander looked between Ben and Spike and back again. "That's him? Ben?"

"Sonuva bitch," Faith muttered. She took a step forward, clutchin' her pool cue like a weapon (which, in her hands, it most certainly was), but Spike grabbed her by the tattooed arm. "Get your hands off me," the Slayer said, her voice dark as her glare.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Let's not do anything suicidally stupid here," Xander hissed, closing the distance between them. "Giles said that Ben is impermeable—"

"Impervious," Spike corrected.

"They mean the same thing," Xander said, waving him off. "But if you go in there right now, all you're going to do is get your Boston-born bum kicked."

"I don't care." Faith faced Spike. Her eyes were wide and desperate now. Her dreams. Death is your gift. Girl had figured out what Spike had: She might have to jump from the tower. She didn't want to. She deserved a shot at this. Wasn't just Dawn and Buffy at risk here. "You have to let me try," she whispered.

Spike squeezed her arm once and hoped it was reassuring, then he let her go. She sprinted off immediately toward the bar. Harris threw his hands up in the air.

"Spike, what the hell was that?"

"Prolly a bad idea," Spike said, not letting his eyes leave Faith. "Do us all a bloody favor? Call Buffy, and The Magic Box. Tell my girl to bring her Scythe while you're at it. And Clem?"

"Yeah?"

"Might want to spend the rest of your night at Willie's, or that crypt you inherited from me."

"Good plan."

Harris turned, watching Faith obviously flirt with Ben for a moment. "Yeah. Might see if Giles has the grenade launcher handy." He skeedadled toward the nearest phone.

XXXXX

When Giles' car pulled up to The Bronze, packed full with Buffy, Tara, Willow, and Anya, people were running screaming from the only real club in Sunnydale. Okay. So it was one of those kinds of nights. Buffy, Scythe in one hand and newly acquired troll hammer in the other, leapt from the car and sprinted against the stream of running Sunnydale residents, fighting her way into the door. The only people not making for the outside stood by the bar: Xander was wielding a pool cue that had snapped in half. Spike grabbed Glory by the back of her shirt and tossed her into some stools. When Glory stood, Faith decked her. Glory backhanded Faith, sending her flying toward Buffy. Buffy dropped the Scythe, reaching a hand out. Faith's face lit up when she saw her. Faith took Buffy's offered hand, pulling herself up just as Giles and the others came in.

Buffy held out the troll hammer and Faith took it. "I brought you a prezzie," Buffy said. "Courtesy of some mega witchy goodness."

"Just my size," Faith replied.

Buffy retrieved the Scythe from the floor.

"Can you direct her this way?"" Anya asked.

"Why's that?" Faith said.

"Anya showed us a teleportation spell," Tara said. "We can get it set up if you can, um..."

"Not a problem." Faith started toward Glory as Buffy followed. "So whaddya think, Buff? Hit her a couple of times, piss her off, let her chase us?"

Glory dug her hands into Spike's chest. Spike cried out, a sound that ripped apart Buffy's insides with sympathy pains. Buffy and Faith picked up the speed but Xander was closer. He charged with the broken pool cue like a javalin, poking into the center of Glory's chest. The cue splintered, though it tore Glory's shirt, and it fell from Xander's grasp. She released Spike, who crumpled to the floor, coughing. Glory picked up the biggest chunk of the pool cue left, stabbing Xander in the side so it poked through his back. Buffy felt the wind knocked out of her. She couldn't breathe as Glory pulled back the cue, drenched in blood, and Xander collapsed to the floor next to Spike.

It had to be a dream. A Slayer dream.

A nightmare.

Something.

Buffy wasn't controlling her movements anymore. She was simply doing, pure Slayer acting. She stabbed Glory with the stake end of her Scythe, and it made the hell bitch stumble back. Then Faith was swinging the hammer, knocked the right side of the god's face, then the left. Each hit clanged, but didn't do much to bloody her up.

"You know," Glory said, rubbing her lip with her thumb. "I wasn't expecting a threesome so soon."

"Some girls got all the luck," Faith shot back.

"Hey, Lady Perms-a-Lot," Buffy said, taking two steps back. Had to taunt her, get her away from Spike and Xander. Whatever it took. "Wanna know where your key is?" Faith followed suit, backing off.

"Sugar, I'm gonna make you sing its location to me. After I'm done taking a tour 'round your teensy blond slayer brain." She tilted her head at Faith, following them step for step toward their back-up group. Buffy could heard Tara and Willow chanting. God, this was one dumb god. "How 'bout you, sweetie?" Glory asked Faith. "You mind being second on my list?"

"I'm not really one for second string," Faith said. "Giles?" she shouted over her shoulder.

"Now!"

At Giles' word, Faith jumped to her right and Buffy jumped to her left, the both of them skidding to the floor. Buffy watched as Wills and Tara blew some red glitter from the palms of their hands onto Glory.

Glory shrieked, mouth hanging open as she checked out her sparkly self. "Alright. Time to start with the dyin'." Her eyes met Tara's. "You look good enough to eat."

Tara reached for Willow's hand. The witches glared at Glory as she took a step toward them. "Discede!" they shouted.

And, in the blink of an eye, Glory vanished. Willow and Tara stumbled, and Giles helped them stay on their feet. Anya went running to the other side of The Bronze, screaming Xander's name. Everything went slow for a minute. Buffy heard her name, but she couldn't move, couldn't react. Spike was still laying on the ground. All she could see was his duster. Something was pulling at her arm, tugging at her, and it got her to her feet. Buffy turned, saw Faith saying something that she couldn't hear. Buffy dropped her Scythe, running toward where Anya kneeled at Xander's side. She kept moving, couldn't feel anything, collapsed at Spike's side. She grabbed one of his shoulders, laying him flat on his back. Spike's eyelids were fluttering, and Buffy couldn't tell if he was conscious or not.

"William," Buffy whispered. She shifted his head to rest in her lap, a hand on his cheek. "Spike. Please. Don't leave me."

He wasn't dust. He wasn't dust. Still alive. Buffy's eyes wandered down to his chest. Most of his black t-shirt was torn away, and he had two gaping holes where Glory had dug her claws in—one spot over his right lung, the other his heart. If Xander hadn't intervened, Faith and Buffy wouldn't have gotten there in time. Spike would be dead. Buffy stroked Spike's hair as he murmured. Buffy lifted her head, saw Anya checking Xander's wound. There was too much blood.

"Faith?" Buffy cried. The other Slayer was there in a flash.

"I got him, Buffy. You take care of your vamp." Faith handed Buffy her Scythe, then dropped the troll hammer. She moved for Xander, getting her one arm under his knees and her other his back. She lifted him and carried him toward the door of The Bronze. Anya followed, silent, her face red.

"Giles, can you get him to the hospital?" Buffy called without taking her gaze from Spike's face, reassuring herself over and over that he was still alive.

"Of course, Buffy," Giles called back. "Do you need..."

Buffy looked over her shoulder. She didn't need anyone judging her. She needed to do what she needed to do. And she didn't want the arguments, because there was one way to fix this, really. "I just need the room."

Giles nodded. Willow and Tara leaned on each other, limping out of The Bronze. Once it was only Spike and Buffy left, Buffy returned her attention to Spike. His eyes were closed, but he was grinning. Spike reached up, his fingers catching in Buffy's hair. He chuckled. "Goldilocks..."

"Spike, I need you to listen to me, okay? You gotta heal up. Also, probably a good idea to stop letting Glory kick your ass." Buffy kissed Spike. He hummed against her lips. Buffy laid on the floor, against his side. Her fingertips grazed the outer edges of the wounds on his chest. They were only a month or so out from the big Glory showdown, if Giles was right about that timing. Buffy took Spike by the upper arms, rolling him so they laid chest to chest. He was so weak that Buffy wasn't sure he could even get into game face right now. She guided his lips to the side of her neck. "Spike," she whispered in his ear. "I love you." She wrapped a hand around the back of his head, pressing his lips to her skin.

"Buffy," he groaned. She heard the shifting, felt the pinch. Stroking Spike's hair, she hoped this would work quickly.

XXXXX

An hour later, once Spike and Buffy both had time to recover (and maybe stolen a couple of sodas from The Bronze), Buffy dropped her keys at the end table by the door. The lights on the first floor were still on despite the fact that it was almost midnight. Dawn and Joyce had probably fallen asleep while watching Steel Magnolias or something. Buffy closed the door behind them. Spike tapped her shoulder.

"I'll go put these somewhere safe," he said, voice low, as he dragged the troll hammer and carried the Slayer Scythe.

Buffy nodded as he headed toward the basement with them. She started for the stairs but paused when she noticed something out of the corner of her eye. Buffy turned and found Dawn sitting on the floor. Her legs were curled up to her chest, her lips pressed to her knees.

"Dawnie? What're you still doing up?"

"I called them. They had me try. It didn't work. I just went to grab popcorn." Dawn raised her eyes. She'd been crying. Buffy's stomach clenched. Dawn's eyes moved toward the couch. "They're coming," she whispered. "They said to wait. They should be here soon. They can help."

That was when Buffy saw her. Her mother, on the couch in her bathrobe, staring at the ceiling, pale white. Buffy shrieked, then covered her mouth. Spike came charging in, then came to a full stop at Buffy's side.

"No," he said, his voice low. "No, no, no."

The sirens whirred out front. Buffy buried her face in Spike's chest, still bloody from Glory.