.
After finding a payphone booth that wasn't completely missing its phonebook and letting her fingers do the walking, Buffy had settled on three different potential targets for finding some blood for Spike. She'd lucked out at the first one and now hurried back to their store before the reality of what she'd just done caught up with her. Stealing anything, even blood that was about to go to waste –
She shook her head, determined not to examine her actions too closely. Blame it on rocks and hard places, and leave it at that.
Her stomach growled, and she wished she'd thought to check for some people food while she was at it. Spike had eaten the last of her cash, leaving her with no money to buy food for herself. If she didn't come up with some way to get food that didn't involve either stealing or dumpster diving in the very near future –
Buffy put that out of her mind too. If she survived the night, she'd worry about it then.
And speaking of surviving the night: as she rounded the corner of their alley, she had a sudden strong hunch that Furry had found their hideout. It could have been the way her barricade had been smashed through, but Buffy figured the growls and crashes emanating from inside the store, along with the overwhelming stench of sulfur, were the real clue. She rushed inside to find that Spike had wedged himself into the crawlspace in the back of a half-demolished storage room not much bigger than a walk-in closet, and was just barely holding his attacker off with a broken length of rebar.
"Hey! Big and ugly!" she yelled.
Furry didn't even look her way.
If Buffy hadn't found the body of Spike's victim, clearly mauled, the demon's complete disinterest in her might've been cause to outright reject Spike's story that she was in danger too.
But she had found the body. And she still couldn't be certain that Spike had been lying.
Buffy sighed. Despite the demon's lack of interest in her, she really ought to kill it now, while she had the chance – not to save Spike's ass, because she really, really didn't care if Furry de-Spiked the world, but her own.
On the side of thank-goodness-for-small-favors, Furry's disregard meant she had time to arm herself. She stashed Spike's blood in a far corner – no point in having all her efforts go to waste – and quickly retrieved the short sword that had been lying forgotten at the bottom of her duffel, under her hastily packed clothing, ever since she'd left Sunnydale. Armed with the sword in one hand, she scooped up a second piece of rebar in the other and dove into the fray.
Within a few minutes, it became apparent that she was going to fare no better than Spike had the previous night. Well, a little better, but nowhere near better enough to finish Furry off. The demon was focused on trying to get to Spike, which allowed her to get hit after hit in, but Furry only swatted her away when she became too much of an inconvenience, sending her tumbling head over heels until she smacked into the far wall. Lying there half upside-down for the fourth time, arms and legs askew and blood running into her eyes from a cut on her cheek, Buffy knew it was time to cut her losses and run.
Right now was the perfect opportunity to ditch Spike and save herself, while Furry was preoccupied with trying to reach the vampire. She could take some time to regroup. Come up with a plan. Buffy righted herself and went for her duffel, but she stopped next to Furry's backside. She wasn't positive she could take on the demon alone, no matter how good a plan she came up with. Like with Angel and Dru, she – Buffy grimaced at the thought – needed Spike.
Again.
And if he was going to survive in order to help her, he needed her now.
Goddammit, she thought, and crouched down so she could see him.
"Spike," she called. "We need to run. When I say, you get yourself out of there and run. Got it?"
He didn't answer – no surprise there – but he gave what Buffy interpreted as a nod of understanding in between stabbing the rebar into Furry's questing paw.
Since Spike was still safe for the moment in his crawlspace, Buffy hurriedly packed all their things into her duffel, including his blood, and set it outside so she could grab it on the way out. Then she built up the barricade, wedging the debris tightly into place in the hopes that it would at least slow Furry down. When there was only a person-sized hole left for them to flee through, she headed back to the storage room.
Spike flashed her an unmistakable look of surprised relief when she returned, and Buffy – almost – felt bad about her thoughts of ditching him. There was no doubt in her mind that he would've done so if their positions had been reversed, but that was why he was the evil vampire and she was… well, definitely not all that was righteous and holy. But at least not evil.
"On the count of three," she said. "I'm going to hit it with everything I've got, and hopefully create a space for you to get by. Ready? One, two…"
On three, she threw herself into Furry's side, knocking the demon off balance for a fraction of a second. At the same time, she stabbed and pummeled its back leg as fast as she could. All she needed was to distract Furry for even a few moments, just long enough for Spike to get past and on his way out the door.
He made it out of the crawlspace and three-quarters of the way under Furry's bulk before the demon whuffed and spun – no mean feat in the tiny space – to find him. Furry pinned Buffy to the wall in the process, its exhale making her eyes water painfully. She shoved back with all her strength, until she was able to slide free.
"Spike, go!" Buffy yelled as Furry's paw came arcing downward towards his back. She redoubled her efforts to distract the demon while Spike crawled, one arm clutching his middle, towards safety.
Furry ignored her. No matter how hard she slashed with her sword or stabbed with the rebar, it didn't seem to faze the creature. Her attacks seemed to bounce off its thick, furry hide, and at this rate, the stab-it-until-it-was-dead plan would take days, maybe weeks.
New plan, Buffy thought as Furry buried its claws in Spike's already shredded right leg and jerked him backwards. She aimed a kick at the demon's embedded paw, freeing Spike, then squirmed past its front shoulder and grabbed a fistful of fur. She'd wanted to avoid Furry's fang-filled maw and acidic spittle, but if she couldn't distract it from the backend, she'd have to try from the front. Eyes were almost always a weak spot for any creature.
Her shoulder protested at the sudden strain of hauling her weight upward. Buffy swung herself up on to Furry's neck – hello, ceiling – and rammed the rebar towards the demon's eye. Furry responding by twisting its head and bucking upwards, slamming Buffy into the exposed ceiling joists and making her regret her new plan. A second stab of the rebar missed Furry's eye again, but this time scratched the demon's nose. Furry howled, spraying spittle everywhere, and leapt straight up. Buffy's back connected with the joist again, forcefully rearranging her spine.
Numb from the neck down, she lost her grasp on the demon's fur and fell to the ground with a thud. Buffy lay there, stunned. Stars circled overhead, bright against the inky backdrop of thick black fur.
Furry twisted and pounced, razor fangs slicing through the canvas of her sneaker and burying into her foot, acidic slobber compounding the sudden intense pain. Buffy screamed. Jaws clamped, the demon snapped its neck and jerked her upwards, the trajectory slamming her into the wall above the crawlspace, and Buffy screamed again as her spine rearranged once more.
She dangled upside down from Furry's mouth, dazed. Through the demon's legs, she could see that Spike had scrambled clear of the storage room and had climbed to his feet, one arm still supporting his middle. He turned back to look at her, hesitating.
Buffy didn't wait to see what he'd do; she couldn't afford to. She swung herself sideways and scrabbled for the hilt of her sword. She managed to hook it just as momentum took her the opposite way, and she used the reverse swing to jackknife her torso upwards and take another stab at Furry's eyes.
This time, she connected. Buffy just barely scratched Furry's right eye, but it was enough. The demon let out an aggrieved yowl, dropping her in the process, and Buffy lost no time getting the hell out of Dodge. The first step on her mangled foot had her howling in concert with Furry, but she sucked it up and pushed her way free of the storage room while the demon bucked and screeched, splintered wood and dusty plaster raining down around them.
Spike was nowhere to be seen, which was zero surprising. Buffy aimed a well-placed kick at one of the exposed studs framing the storage room, cracking it inwards, and did the same to three others, until the wall collapsed and what was left of the ceiling caved down on Furry's head. It wouldn't take the demon long to free itself, but Buffy hoped it would buy her a few extra minutes.
She hobbled through the barricade and into the alley to find her duffel bag had been ransacked. A glance down the alley revealed the culprit staggering his way to freedom, several bags of the blood she'd obtained for him clutched tightly in one fist.
With a sigh, she shouldered her duffel and limped after him as quickly as her mangled foot would allow.
.