7
If he thought it had been a rushed drive before, it was nothing compared to the way they sped back to San Francisco. Nothing else could help them back any quicker; no magic, and Angel said his bloody jet had taken a bad turn after they'd flown part of it into another dimension—the sod. They drove as fast as they bloody could, but the seconds ticked away so fast, slipping through Spike's fingers. Every minute they were away meant something calamitous could happen. He never should have gone after Lyth for so long. He thought he had more time. Thought he could be the sodding hero. Now he had no soul to bring back, and he might not even get back in time.
They'd had police on their tail at one point. Spike had told Angel to floor it, leave the gits in their dust, but Angel had stopped, citing that it was better not to have the police on their tail. Spike had growled in frustration. Let them follow. But Angel had pulled over, and Spike fidgeted so badly, unable to keep still, hating each second of the delay. And they couldn't even go the old route. Flashing his vamp face should have left the officer trembling in his skivvies, but with every single ordinary bloke who watched the news, it wasn't so frightening any more. Even more of a blow to his demonic ego, the officer had stared back, unimpressed. Angel'd pulled out his charm—not that Spike thought he had any, but the hulk had tried—and they'd driven away with a ticket and no more delays. After that, they had to slow their speed a bit, and Spike could have shouted out in frustration. He did, more than once. Xander was equally on edge, although the git was silent about it. Least he didn't have to worry 'bout little Bit being anywhere near the crossfire. It was the big sis and the others that got his-self grumbling and worrying. Angel had his own folks to worry 'bout, but he was the calmest of the bunch. Right, 'cause he had a crew that watched his back. That had loyalty to Peaches and Peaches alone. Angel had his groupies, Buffy had hers.
The only one that Spike could have called his own, who was loyal to him and him first, well… he didn't even know if she'd still be there by the time he got there. Bloody hell. He'd thought he'd had more time.
Some champion, coming back empty handed and empty bloody hearted.
"Buffy's not answering her cell anymore," Xander informed them when they were still hours out. Glum silence descended, if it hadn't already. Being stuck in the bloody tiniest metal box on wheels didn't help matters either. The radio had been long forgotten, so there was nothing but quiet, nothing but Harris' buggering loud breathing and his erratic heartbeat, and the thumping of the wheels.
When they reached the city, there was an eerie calm. Too bloody quiet, too normal. Cars were going 'bout their way, and Xander had to slow to a near crawl, Spike growling with frustration he didn't bother to suppress. Yeah, not a single hair was out of place.
"Maybe nothin' happened," Spike dared to say aloud. "There's no little scurry of the frightened people-folk soiling their trousers."
"Faith'd be answering me back if that was the case," Angel replied from the front seat, clutching his own little phone box in his hand as they approached the Slayers' base.
"Yeh, like the missus is overly reliable," Spike couldn't help but mutter. Angel's lips flattened into a disapproving scowl, Spike was spared from hearing the hulking vampire's response when the whole car suddenly jerked, spinning off from something solid, a large crunch as they veered off-course and came to a heavy stop. Spike had neglected his belt, as he often did, his head rushing forward into Xander's seat and smashing his nose.
"Bloody, buggering hell!" Spike shouted. "Harris, watch where you're going, you wanker!" He felt the blood trickle down his lip as he clutched at his noggin.
"I don't know what I hit," Xander said, sounding panicked. "I didn't see anything."
"There's reason for that," Angel said, alarm seeping into his low tone. "Look."
Spike glanced up, following the vampire's line of sight. Where everything had been normal—not quite birds singing and butterflies prancing, but close enough, there was now devastation, from the roads to the buildings in the surrounding area.
"Magical barrier," Angel explained. "Must be what's keeping everyone from seeing it."
"Holy. Cow." Xander breathed. "What the actual…"
Spike pounded his hand against the door, opening it up and crawling out while Angel and Xander stared at it all. He felt numb as he stared out at it, his mind trying to make sense of what he saw.
"The hotel… it's like it's shorter," Xander stammered, turning off the engine.
"It's sunk into the ground," Angel was the pillar of bloody information, wasn't he? But Spike could see that himself.
Was like an Earthquake had ripped through here, one so bloody specific and focused on one spot, he knew what it was. No Earthquake. No magical attack from someone else they had to worry about. Cars were overturned, the ground was cracked, uneven beneath his feet. But the only thing that bothered him more than knowing, just knowing that this was Jade, was that he couldn't see her.
"Where is everyone?" Xander asked, his voice wavering with trepidation. Angel'd gotten out of the vehicle too, and Xander followed last, shaky.
"There." Angel said suddenly. "On the far side."
Spike narrowed his eyes—sod was right, there was some movement over there. "Come on," He said, sliding over the trunk to land beside Angel. His feet had barely graced the ground and he was running again, a full, bowling sprint. He didn't pay any heed to Xander's shouting as the vampires left him behind. Spike realised belatedly that he shouldn't leave the defenseless human by himself while he couldn't see where Jade was, but he wasn't stopping now.
He was barely aware of Angel stopping to double back and escort Xander, but he couldn't stop. Couldn't, and wouldn't. He stumbled 'round the rubble, only a modicum of his normal grace, gone in the favor of haste. A fallen lamppost helped to light the darkness. Sun had only gone down a couple hours ago, 'round the same time Buffy had stopped picking up.
He ran around the corner, and there they were. Only a handful of Slayers—where were the others?
"Spike!" A familiar voice called. Gunn ran up to him, his hands wrapped around a crossbow. There was a cut on his cheek, but otherwise he was unarmed. The others were spread out, like a grid or a net, looking carefully into the rubble where the hotel had sunk down.
"Where is she? What happened here?" Spike spat the questions out, trying to look through the crowd. There was Buffy. Unharmed, besides a smear of blood across her forehead. Faith and Illyria stood near each other, and Gwen followed close behind Gunn, her lipstick smeared and her normal, confident look shattered, replaced by a skittish fear. He recognized a few of the Slayers. Kennedy was missing, but was that purple haired one one that had talked Jade's ear off after the faux spar, and was that the boy-Slayer standing there too. And miss Barbie-Bailey, whatever, at his side. They all had determined, but war-torn expressions. And there weren't many Slayers here now, not even twenty. There should have been hundreds here. His stomach clenched.
"Don't know where," Gunn panted. "She keeps disappearing when she…" He made a face, a mix between chagrin and dread.
"Give me the sodding run-down," Spike meant to order it, but it sounded more like a plea instead. "Where is everyone?"
"Evacuated," Gunn supplied. "When the coven saw she was heading here, Buffy ordered most of the Slayers to leave. She asked volunteers to stay."
"The ones who wanted to give killing a Slaypire a go?" Spike asked, disgusted, looking at who remained more closely. There were a couple of people Spike didn't recognize, weren't Slayers, crowded 'round Buffy and Giles.
Gunn gave him a look. "No. The opposite. Buffy only wanted those who were willing to capture Jade instead of kill her to stay here."
His heart clenched painfully. "Willing to capture her?" He echoed.
"Yeah." Gunn answered. "Said it was more dangerous, and most of them should get out. But some stayed."
Despite all her words, her bluster, Buffy'd made an attempt anyway, even when Spike had given her every reason not to. Thank bloody God. His knees shook with relief.
"So Jade's alright?"
"Alright?" Gwen snapped from behind Gunn. "She's been toying with us. She took that Slayer with the glasses an hour ago. Aella says she's still nearby, but they don't have enough witches left to track her well enough, she's so fast."
"Aella?" Spike gave her a blank look, deciding to ignore the chit's bitchy tone. Supposed she had a good excuse for it. They were out in the open here. The hotel was crumbling from its lowered height. Was a battlefield. Flames flickered in a few spots. Battlegrounds, it was.
"The one that Giles is holding," Gwen said dismissively. "She, that guy and two other witches teleported over to try to help. It's just her and that guy, Billy left. Jade went for them first." There was spite in her tone. Spike remembered Gwen getting along with Jade well enough when they had previously met, but fear had obviously tempered Gwen into dislike. He clenched his teeth, trying not to snap at the broad.
Instead, he glanced over to where she had mentioned the two remaining witches. He saw it now, how Giles had his arm around the female. Spike hadn't seen her before. She had defined cheekbones, and dark skin, a deep bronze. She had a bouncy, large afro that was golden and blonde colored, some of those curls squished to where she leaned against Rupert's chest, only a couple inches shorter than the Watcher, but she hunched into him, fatigued. When her eyes flickered open, Spike could see they were a green so pale they were nearly a silver. She had large glasses propped on a wide nose, and her mouth was full. She was young—sod, everyone was young compared to Spike, but not as much as most of the Slayers, or even Buffy. He doubted she had been in her thirties for very long. She looked both young and old at the same time, deep circles under her eyes from exhaustion. Rupert had his arm wrapped tightly around her to keep her upright, far too cozy to be more than just normal concern. Spike figured this was his answer as to why Rupert had been so defensive of the coven when Spike had questioned their capabilities. Had himself a little love bird now, din't he, even if she was a bit young.
Her companion didn't seem that much better. Younger, early twenties, and mussed dark brown, nearly black hair that was parted in the middle and fell equally on the side of his head. He was taller than Buffy, but by no means gigantic, instead he was skinny and lithe, and had rectangle shaped glasses on his face. He looked altogether normal, in his very early twenties. His skin was a light bronze and his lower chin was covered in a light amount of stubble. He seemed worried, but not panicked, a practiced ease about him, though Spike hadn't seen him before, he spoke to Buffy as if they knew each other. His expression was drawn as well, pale, afflicted by the same tiredness as his fellow witch.
So Spike couldn't count on much from them, then. They were obviously near their limit. Aella was holding her arm protectively to her chest, like it had been hurt.
He tore his gaze away, and back to Gwen and Gunn. They looked up in synchronization behind Spike's shoulder, and he didn't have to turn 'round to know that Angel and Xander had caught up to them. Angel halted next to Spike, while Xander kept going, over towards to Buffy and Rupert. Harris exclaimed somewhat when he neared Billy, reaching for him and patting him on the shoulder like he was an old friend. Curious, but otherwise distracted, Spike looked to his left.
"Boss," Gunn said respectfully.
"You're alright," Angel said, the relief palpable in his tone as he looked at them both, then past them, eyes lingering on Faith. The Dark Slayer had noticed him too, but didn't budge from where she stood, tearing her gaze away and keeping it trained back on the darkness, alert.
"Some of us are," Gwen said, an irate edge to her tone. "She collapsed the building, Angel. We were keeping an eye on the outside and then there was a rumbling from below." She blinked hard. "We had defenses set up and everything. Crosses, everywhere. But then the floor felt like it was collapsing, so we had to go out here."
"She was waiting," Gunn supplied, his face stone, serious. "The witches were putting up the glamour veil so no-one'd bother us, and she took two of them out. Then she took one of the Slayers. Drained her, I'd guess. We haven't found any of their bodies."
"No," Spike said. "She wouldn't." He didn't mean to say anything, but it tumbled out, fierce. Gwen's eyes met him, equally blazing.
"It happened, Spike. We've been here the whole time."
"Gwen," Gunn admonished her gently, then turned his dark brown eyes on Spike. "Buffy doesn't want to retreat, not until Jade's taken out one way or another, and Jade hasn't left either." He skewed up his mouth. "She's been looking for you."
"She's hurt now," Gwen was saying to Angel. "They managed to hit her with a few holy-water drenched crossbow bolts."
Spike let out a growl. Gwen had sounded relieved, not quite triumphant, but near enough that it didn't settle well with him. 'Course it wouldn't. He was still thinking of Jade, his Jade. He still couldn't connect it, believe that she'd done this. She'd never.
But she had.
"How many has she killed?" Spike asked. He couldn't help it. Shouldn't ask. Was anyway, even as the thought chilled his veins.
"I don't know, man," Gunn hesitated, in an effort to spare his feelings.
"Three when the building collapsed," Gwen said. "The two witches. And five of the Slayers so far." She wasn't so considerate of his feelings, but it was a relief. He couldn't deal with sympathy. Didn't bloody know how to, and he damn well didn't deserve it, not now.
"I don't think she wants us to leave," Gunn supplied, looking to Angel. "That's when she attacks the most, if we retreat too far away from the hotel. We're cut off."
"It'll change now," Angel assured him. "We'll get everyone out, Gunn."
Gunn's lips twitched into a light smile, dipping his head. "Of course, Boss," Gunn said, as if he had little doubt.
"Yeh. Not a worry, Charlie boy." Spike added, looking to the sky. "Things've changed now."
He was trying to find her. The over turned cars and disturbed piles of rubble didn't help. The words spoken between Gunn and Angel now held no interest for him. Then there was Buffy, standing further down, and her eyes met his. He should talk to her. He knew that.
"Kennedy took Willow and the rest of the Slayers to make sure they'd get out safe. I figured you'd want us to stay with Buffy's group. We're thinking Gwen might be able to incapacitate her, but I haven't let her get that close." Gunn shot an apologetic look at the hulking vampire.
"I understand," Angel replied. "It's too dangerous, anyway. We don't know how much electricity she'd be able to withstand." He glanced at the curly haired woman. "I know I was able to fight through it, for a time."
"Well, then I'd just amp it up," Gwen said, tipping her nose up as if affronted. "But not that I want to be any closer to that." Gwen added as a mutter.
He'd nearly tuned out the inane chatter. Buffy was still looking at him. Deserved an apology. She'd made an effort, at least. But he knew that Xander was likely telling her now that they'd be unsuccessful. No soul, and he didn't want to get in that argument with her again, trying to convince her that Jade could be spared. She'd be less willing to hear him now, but even so, his foot moved.
But he didn't get very far. There was a creaking of metal, a slight whoosh as something heavy flew through the air. Angel shouted out a warning, and the Slayers scattered as a truck flew through the air and landed on the ground, its nose wrinkling up like paper. It stayed upright, nose in the ground and back in the air. Then there was another shadow, this one lighter, quicker. It followed the path of the car, landing gently on the back fender.
Jade. There she was, graceful and limber, an elk with an easy bound. She stood above them all, perched on the truck as the Slayers hastily stepped back, shoulder to shoulder, crossbows aimed. But she wasn't looking at any of 'em, she was looking at Spike. And he couldn't look away.
Blood and dirt painted the left side of her face. He could see some smeared on her already normally red, full lips. She was wearing different clothes than the last time he'd seen her. Black tights that cut off half-way to her calf, and a red dress. Never seen her wear a dress before, not ever. Its style was something not her, and he'd wondered if she'd raided it from the Mok'Tagar demon. Seemed more her fashion, tight to the waist, and short, couple inches above the knee. Long sleeves, although they were torn. At her right shoulder, the fabric was ripped, a hole there. That was likely where she'd been shot by the arrow. Blood trickled down her front from the wound, and a ghastly burn mark surrounded the flesh. He felt his heart contract painfully. That must have stung. More for her than him. Despite all her strengths, she was just as weak to crosses and holy water as any fledgling would be. That was her weakness. The holy water would be burning her from the inside, as far as the shaft of the arrow had spread. With her healing—and likely the Slayer blood she now had in her veins—he knew she'd be okay. She'd recuperate.
If they bloody made it out of this.
Her forehead was ridged, showing the vamp-marks that she hated so badly, and her golden eyes gleamed in the midnight. Her hair was loose and messy, a few locks dried in dark reddish clumps that were likely from blood. The wide cut of her dress showed off her prominent clavicles, and the empty space between them where her soul would hang. Her arms were lightly perched at her hips. Her golden eyes had begun to survey her uneasy opponents, the array of crossbows which had been cocked and aimed at the ready, but no-one had fired yet.
Then she looked at him, and she didn't glance away. He felt time slow, felt like the ground had suddenly expanded beneath his feet, and everyone who had been close was now miles away. There was just him, looking up, and her, staring back down at him, the chilled wind lifting her locks up aimlessly, dancing around her face, but her eyes he could see clearly, never blinking. He waited. Waited to see what would cross her face. Loathing, adoration or indifference.
"Spike," Jade said.
There was relief first. A smile split her face, twisting her lips upwards. Her smile was always so gentle, so warm, but now it was marred by her fangs jutting into view, making her look menacing rather than cordial. She teetered slightly on the truck, as if to lean towards him, but the ruffling of the crossbows reminded her, as they did Spike, that they weren't alone. But he wasn't so frozen, taking a step towards her.
"Jade," He answered her back, but he couldn't bring himself to smile. Couldn't even force it. He heard the beating of more than a dozen hearts, how loud and quickly they hammered, frightened, determined Slayers with their fingers on the trigger. But she'd been toying with them, Gwen had said. Spike knew she could handle herself, unless she was distracted by someone she cared about. Spike wondered if he was that weakness again, as he had been when she had her soul. He found the idea bothered him more than he could bear, the thought that he was the trap laid for her.
"I looked for you," Jade continued. The smile was still on her face, her eyes focused back on him. Then it faltered, a tad. "You didn't come back." Her tone was accusatory and uncertain. Her eyes narrowed a bit as she tilted her head, surveying him.
God, he hadn't even thought to return back to the Mok'Tagar's apartment where he had left Jade. Thought hadn't even crossed his mind that she would be there, waiting. As soon as he'd learned her soul was gone, all he'd wanted to do was get it back. He hadn't even looked for her. Just abandoned her. He knew she was thinking the same thing as the smile disappeared completely, lips tightening.
"'M Sorry. I didn't think you'd be—" The words tumbled from his lips. Would she forgive him? He didn't even know what to think of her right now. She seemed almost normal, but she wasn't. Her eyes were flat, not shining with all the color of the sky. They just looked down at him, contemplative, calculating, but not at all reserved. Her face was all the emotions at once, anger, warmth, disappointment. Then she settled on forgiving.
"I didn't really expect you to," Jade admitted. She moved then, and it seemed most of the Slayers held their breath, but she merely sat, her legs swinging off the edge of the upright truck, swaying in tandem with the unsteady vehicle.
"Jade," it was Buffy now, breaking them from his reverie. They weren't alone, not even close. Jade's expression darkened with the intrusion. Buffy held the crossbow up, her arm steady and firm, pointed straight at Jade's heart. Spike wondered if Buffy'd been the one to shoot Jade in the shoulder. He tried not to feel anger at the thought. Had to remember that the blood on Jade's lips were fresh. She'd been killing, killing the Slayers who'd volunteered to stay behind. "Spike's here, now. You don't have to keep—"
"Killing?" Jade asked lightly. "We were playing a fun game, here." She said it to Spike, now, her eyes lingering on the lines of his face. "They thought I was keeping them here, I decided they were trying to keep me here. Either way, it was a standstill. We were just waiting for you."
"'M here, now." Maybe Lyth was right. Not that he wanted to justify a single word out of that bitch's mouth, accept anything she said as the truth, but maybe there was something he could do. She had no soul, but she was still Jade. Maybe that would be enough. Maybe he could talk her down. Please, bloody please, let that be an option. He knew that was what Buffy was hoping for with a single shared look at the blonde. Otherwise, Buffy would order her Slayers to attack, for real this time, if Spike couldn't hold up his end. "Come here." He held up one hand, palm up. He'd said this to her before, and she always had. Now, he could see those golden eyes, half-lidded. Thinking. Then she moved. She slid down to the ground with ease, the red of her dress flapping half-way up to her thighs before they fell back down again as she landed. Her arms hadn't moved, no longer on her hips, they were straight and graceful.
Too straight, he realised. There was a delicacy to the way she moved her arms or didn't. It had been a couple days since he'd last seen her, and even human—and now Slayer blood—could only do so much. Her arms weren't fully healed yet. Not even she could heal that fast. They moved and bent, but they weren't at full strength yet. That was her weakness, likely the reason she'd been hit by one arrow already—and he could see her hands now. Burnt flesh spread over her palms, likely from touching something that burned her. She still had her legs, even stronger than they would be normally, with the Slayer blood in her system, but she wasn't at a hundred percent. She'd come too soon, likely because of him. She'd been looking for him. Come here to draw him out, hadn't she?
Jade took another step towards him, and he took one in kind. At least he would have, had not strong arms clamped down on his arm, halting his movement. He looked back to see one of the Slayers had reached out to stop him, and then felt the same pressure on the other side of him as another Slayer had stepped up to anchor his other side. She was young, her expression determined and rosy lips set in a firm line. He didn't know her name, but she looked to Buffy for confirmation. Buffy was running the show, then.
Jade had stilled too. She glanced about at the crossbows leveled at her heart, but her frustration was palpable as she looked at Spike, fury coloring her face with them holding him captive.
"Let him go," Jade's voice was biting, demanding as she turned a hateful gaze on Buffy.
"No," The Blonde Slayer refused, as costumacious as ever, glaring obstinately back at the Slaypire without a soul. "We're not giving him up to you. Not after what you've done."
Jade's lips curved into a mirthless smile. "Of course you won't. Even if I hadn't done anything." She was bitter. But not surprised.
"You can come quietly," Buffy was saying in her General-Buffy tone. Unrelenting, unblinking. "We'll let you live. And then you can talk to Spike."
Jade laughed, a sound that was usually heartening chilled him to the core. "Are you sure you're willing to give up your pet, even to talk? And how exactly do you want me to come quietly? Bind me in chains? Let me kill those witches, and I'll think about it."
Rupert tightened his grip around the woman pressed into his arms, looking back coldly at Jade, as deadly as Spike had seen him. The man, Billy, stepped closer to Buffy, consciously or not, a certain trust in his gaze as he looked at Buffy. Whoever he was, he trusted Buffy to defend him. But there was no jealousy floundering in Spike, just curiousity. And a fear that chilled him with the determined, dogged looks that the Slayers shot at Jade, running lower and lower on mercy.
Jade laughed again. "It was a joke. I know you wouldn't go for that. But what else? Send them way? You'd just bring them back. Or you'd cover me with holy-water soaked chains, throw me in a cell with crosses, I mean… just about anything!" Her voice raised in volume, exclaiming. "And maybe you'd decide it'd just be easier to stake me. Or not let me see Spike at all." She looked at him, gaze lingering. There was longing there, and then just steel as she came to her decision. "Why would I go for that? Would you?"
This was all going wrong. "Jade," He licked his lips. He had to say something. Had to convince her. "Don't do this, luv. Don't need you hurt, yeah?"
Her lips turned up into a small smile, as if touched. Then her brow furrowed further, and the empathy turned to determination. "Then I won't be."
Like a blur, she moved. The Slayers were fast. Bolts shot out into the air, but she was faster. She pushed herself up into the air, and flipped, a graceful dive as she slipped behind the truck she had sunk into the ground. She was only out of view for a half-second when Spike heard the screeching of metal.
"Ger'off," He ripped his arms from the Slayers holding him, "An' move!" His warning came almost too late as the truck was shot towards them. One of the Slayers was too slow, standing too far in front of Spike, and the truck piled into her, a mess of blood and hair and flesh as she was crushed between the truck and the ground, instantly dead. The truck teetered again, back end up in the air as it flipped, falling on its top, but the rest of them had scattered. Spike could see Angel out of the corner of his eye. He had grabbed Gwen and pulled her to safety, and Gunn had escaped it too, fitting another bolt into the crossbow as he fired again at the revealed Jade. Spike felt his heart constrict, but Jade flitted away, unharmed, sinking back out of sight again.
It was hardly a reprieve. More rubble came flying through the air, once more sending everyone in a tizzy to avoid it. A piece of pavement struck one of the Slayers, leaving her screaming as she fell to the ground, the debris sinking into a newly made divot in the Slayer's shoulder and torso.
"Make a circle, people," Faith was shouting, pulling and pushing the Slayers as their formation threatened to crumble. "Eyes out and listen. Wounded in the middle. Come on, people, move it or lose it." The Dark Slayer was a blur. Her perfunctory, blunt response wasn't the normal direction the Slayers were used to, but they answered her with obedience, shuffling carefully into shape. Spike found himself next to Angel who still hovered protectively beside Gunn. The witches were in the middle, the recently and already wounded already being shuffled in.
"Spike," Angel looked at him, his somber, near ebony colored eyes boring into him. "We need some way to end this quickly."
Spike growled at him in response.
"With no-one else getting hurt." Angel added, in what he likely thought was reason.
"What d'ya want me do, run out there with my arms open?" Not that he hadn't thought about it. In fact, of the ways to end this quickly and as bloodlessly as possible, it might be one of the only options. Separate himself from the Slayers. Jade wouldn't hurt him. Least he was pretty sure about that. He still wasn't sure for her motivations, if it was anger or desire that made her want to get to him, but he was willing enough to take that risk. Still. He didn't know what would happen to the others if he left. Jade's firing of projectiles seemed random, but he knew better than that. She had been careful to avoid him. If he was gone, she might not exercise that same caution. And there was no holding back, none of Jade's honor remaining. If she was attacked, then she'd attack right back, no holds barred. There was no mercy there.
"I know plans aren't your strengths," the hulking vampire shot back. "But do you have one anyway? Something that could help?"
Spike hesitated.
"Come on, Spike. I put my own people at risk here. For you and Jade. So give us something." Angel's gaze was unfaltering, resolute. And the sod had a point, to Spike's bloody chagrin.
"Her arms," He hissed between clenched teeth. Hating himself for giving up one of her weaknesses. "They're not healed yet. Her legs are stronger than a bloody horse's but her arms aren't so quick, aren't as strong. Might be able to overwhelm her in a close fight." He was a traitor. Knew that. But he knew more, of the two sides warring against each other, which winner would be more likely to provide mercy. If there was even a hope of a civilized ending, it wasn't with his Slaypire being triumphant. He knew that.
But he still felt like he'd sodding betrayed her anyway.
"Close combat," Angel was saying to Gunn, and the man nodded, shifting his crossbow to his back in favor of a stake, passing the information down the circle. Then they waited, waited for Jade to show herself again. Another crunch. Bloody hell, the bird had found another vehicle to throw at them. As Spike suspected, her aim was far off from where he was standing, but the Slayers had enough time to move. And they saw her then, stepping back up onto the precipice of a pile of rubble. More dust stained her red dress, and she stood there like some sort of dark angel, although the full-display of her vampire features tempered that vision a little. But she was standing there. And Angel moved first, flying through the air. Spike had to stay close, otherwise Jade would ignore Angel and center on the wounded and weak. The circle came with them, then tightened as Slayers followed to join the fight. Faith was there, and Buffy. Jade watched them come with amusement, and Spike's heart clenched when she threw herself willingly into the fray.
No, he wanted to tell her. Keep yourself back, an' safe. Don't endanger yourself while you're weak. Throwing shrapnel to divide and injure them was her best bet. But Spike had rushed with them, so she went to meet him. Angel was the forefront, and she slowed as the hulking vampire met her. He dodged her first kick, but she spun around again, this time making contact, and he flew backwards, caught by Illyria. Not on purpose, Spike thought, but that's where the blue woman had been standing, and she was pinioned to the ground before Angel could shuffle back up to his feet.
Faith and Buffy were next. As different as the women were, they fought in perfect synchronization. Faith used a knife, and Buffy a stake, but their kicks and spins were artistic. And then they were desperate, as Jade launched a kick at Buffy that would have broken something, had Faith not sidestepped and pushed the blonde instead. The glancing blow hit Faith instead, catching her on the shoulder. It wasn't a direct blow, otherwise something would have been shattered, but there was an audible crack as Faith hit the ground, and she clutched her arm in agony.
"Faith!" Buffy called out in worry. Jade's eyes zoned in on the blonde, a look of undisguised hatred. Whatever feelings Jade had had for Buffy while her soul was intact had evolved beyond bitterness or dislike. Spike was sure that Jade'd try to kill the blonde if she had a chance. Or maim her. Or bloody both. He felt guilty for the relief he felt as the rest of the Slayers caught up, tearing Jade's concentration away from Buffy as the blonde knelt next to the fallen Slayer. Jade had to back up. As Spike had suspected, her arms were slow. She didn't rely on them as heavily to defend herself as she did her kicks. But her kicks were no bloody thing to underestimate. Spike'd taken the force of them before. Like a whole tree falling on him, and that was when she'd held back. She didn't have that same reserve now. Instead, she was enjoying it. She laughed when one landed a punch on her, and she was delighted with each kick that met their target. One Slayer fell back, hitting the ground with a heavy thud, a sickening sound as her head rolled back, neck at an odd angle. Dead. Another one. The list of casualties wasn't getting any bloody shorter. And he couldn't afford for those remaining to be added to it. Jade. Buffy. Hell, even the dusting of Angel'd rock him a little. As much as he often despised the git, he had his own purpose in it all. Each one of their deaths would be a heavy loss.
"I'm okay," Faith was saying to Buffy. "Five by five, okay? She just broke my arm. Don't worry about me, just finish the job, okay B?" She accepted the blonde's hand as she rose to her feet, heading back to the others. The wounded group was getting larger, while those that could fight were getting picked off. Bloody hell, he couldn't stand around. Had to sodding stop this.
"Jade!" He called out. Saw her head whip toward him. Realised his mistake as one of the Slayers, the boy Slayer took his chance and sunk his stake into her. If his heart still beat, it would have stopped, but Jade had jerked back in the last second. She roared as the stake ripped into her flesh, sizzling from where the holy-water dipped stake touched her skin, but it hit her lower back, not her heart. She tried to strike out at the boy, but another Slayer took the hit instead, her knee snapping backwards under the powerful kick. It was enough for Jade, she gathered her strength and flipped out of the crowd. Fury and pain clouded her gaze as she ungracefully pulled the stake out of her back. Still in mid-air, she had to twist to avoid a crossbow bolt that was close to her, too close. She growled at the direction it had come from. Smoke rose up from her hand where she held the bloodied, tainted stake. She dropped it, then, hissing at the pain in her palm. Not just dropped it, she flung it. It missed the Slayers by a wide margin, not a precise aim by any means, she'd been trying to get rid of it.
Or so he'd thought. But no, he hadn't seen where the crossbow bolt had come from, hadn't realised that that was her mark, a simple eye for an attempted eye exchange. Jade landed on her feet, up on another pile of rubble, as the Slayers rushed her. And Angel was there, or he would have been, if he hadn't been stilled by a heartrending scream. Spike was frozen too, as he recognized that scream.
"CHARLES!" Gwen screamed. Spike turned to look. God, no. There was Gunn, standing for only a second longer before he collapsed to his knees. He couldn't make a sound, gurgling over the blood that shot from his lips, the stake embedded in his throat. He'd been standing with the others, been reloading his crossbow when the stake had been flung back at him. By Jade. No, bloody no, not Charlie Boy. One of the few that Spike could call a friend, that he didn't have some sort of rivalry with. Gwen reached his side, but Gunn's eyes were rolling back in his head. Spike didn't need to be that close to know that his heart was slowing. Angel was there, a flurry of black as he knelt next to his friend.
"How could you!" Gwen shrieked, holding her lover in her arms. "Come on, Gunn." With trembling fingers, she tried to pull off her gloves. Spike saw Angel reach out, try to stop her, try to reason with her, but the broad'd just lost her lover, tears running down her cheeks, and Spike felt hollow.
"That's why you shouldn't bring humans to fight a Slaypire," Jade said calmly. She kicked up a boulder to deter the Slayers from reaching her, and they tightened into formation again, trying to rush at her, but Jade flew easily out of reach. "We didn't bring any to fight Mandy, remember?" So damn matter-of-fact, so casual about it all.
"'Nuf of this!" Spike growled, and she heard him, turning her eyes from Gwen hugging Gunn's still body to look at him. "S time to end this." Had to keep her attention on him, at least. Had to stop this. He couldn't afford to lose anything else. He'd broken off from the crowd now, which Buffy noticed at the same time as Jade did. Jade's golden eyes centered on him like a hunter focused on her prey.
"Spike!" Buffy warned.
"Yeah. I want what I came for. No more playing." Jade jumped again. It wasn't a high, boundless leap, but a shorter dash, that brought her right in front of him. Spike could hear Buffy calling his name again, but he was locked in the mesmerizing, unrelenting golden gaze of his Slaypire. Couldn't have ran if he wanted to. "Mine now," Jade said. She reached out for him. Grabbed him by the arm. He didn't resist. Let her pull him to his chest, arm like a metal bar caging him. Didn't care to notice anything else, not the Slayers, not Angel or Illyria, not Gunn's lifeless corpse or the sobbing Gwen over him. Just Jade, as she bent her knees and took off, the air whooshing around them. He didn't struggle, or fight, or beg. Or even look, as they flew. Whether she meant to kill him, torture him or some combination of the two, he didn't know.
He was in her hands, now. And he had no idea what to expect.