Spoilers: Season 5. This story takes place directly after "Crush"
Rating: PG
Content: Spike/Buffy
Disclaimer: They are Joss's! All Joss's! I'm just *cough* borrowing them for a bit.
Feedback: Your words are literally keeping me writing on this one. I need all the help I can get! Thanks!



Chapter Six

Sir Samson Gulliver forced himself to his knees, a hand still clutching at his torn throat. Wisps of light, straggly hair flew into his incredulous face as he bent over, willing his strength to return. With a deep breath, he pulled himself up unsteadily to his feet, careful not to disturb the coffins which lay so innocuously around the crypt.

Sighing with frustration as he noticed the large tear in his black slacks, he leaned against the stone wall as he looked around. Idly, he brushed at the dust and blood on his clothing as he quickly reviewed the skirmish in his head.

"Hail the bloody Creator," he growled as he slammed his bleeding knuckles into the stone. He closed his eyes for a moment as he berated himself for his stupidity.

And yes, it was stupidity, Samson admitted as he looked at his damaged hand. Shoot first, ask questions second. How hard is it to really follow that cardinal rule? And because he let his ego get the better of him, the Key and her consort were forewarned and undoubtedly searching for sanctuary this very moment.

So much for a simple reconnaissance mission. Samson's cheeks flushed as he realised that it had stopped being a recon mission a while back. Sighing again, he shrugged his broad shoulders as he considered calling his brethren for backup.

He pulled the cellular out of his interior pocket, only to exhale sharply as he noticed the damage.

Hell, it wasn't just damaged. The dodgy thing had been crushed in the scuffle. In a fit of anger, he threw the miniature phone at the wall, closing his eyes in pleasure as he heard the twisted metal rebound off the stone and slam into a coffin.

It was going to be hard enough to make that phone call. To tell them he had failed in his mission of merely following Glorificus. That he had failed to alert them that the child they had thought was the Hellgod was truly the mortal Key instead. That his impromptu and completely unapproved assassination attempt had backfired. That the Key remained safe. And on top of it all, he had to find another bloody phone to do it with. Well, hail the old bugger, he gnawed on his lower lip as his eyes roamed over the remains of the cellular phone. His forehead furrowed as a thought suddenly came to him.

"Hail the Creator," Samson breathed, his thoughts more reverent than they had been just a moment before. The phone. The bloody phone must be a sign from the Creator Himself not to call his brethren. And who was he to second-guess a god?

With a brilliant grin, he saluted the heavens as he slowly made his way out of the crypt. Samson spared a last glance for the destroyed phone before he stepped outside, his hand annointing the brass handle with his own blood as he shut the stone door.

Samson pushed his long blond hair out of his face as he walked towards the gated entrance. With his spirits so thoroughly lifted, the Initiate of the Order of the Knights of Byzantium pursed his lips as he began to whistle a song he had learned in his early childhood. The assassin cracked a small, sweet smile as the haunting strains of "Jesus Loves Me" echoed softly through the endless night.





"Rupert?" she called out, her hands grasping awkwardly at the rusted chains of the swing.

Joyce frowned as she contemplated the darkness, her every instinct on fire as she realised she was no longer alone in the light forsaken playground. And those sharp, primative instincts screamed that her uninvited guest was not human. At least, not anymore.

"Rupert!" she repeated, cursing the way her voice trembled in the night. Just your imagination, she told herself firmly as she looked around her. Rupert and the kids would be here any moment. It must be their footsteps she heard echoing on the cool concrete.

She closed her eyes and fumbled in her large, black purse for the stake Buffy had always insisted she carry with her.

She really needed a smaller purse.

Joyce upended her purse over the ground, nodding silently as the stake fell to the top of the heap. Quickly, she grabbed at the sharpened wood, pricking her fingers as she clutched it closely to her chest.

Better safe than sorry, after all.

"Rupert?" Joyce asked weakly, the footfalls directly behind her.

Cold, callous chuckling answered her, the tone seeming to rise and fall with each of her panicked breaths.

Wishful thinking, Summers, she told herself. Subtly, she slipped off her high-heeled shoes as she prepared for her sprint.

"Rupert!" Joyce mumbled, forcing her voice to sound lighthearted and sweet. "You scared the heavens out of me. Give me a second, sweetheart?"

She closed her eyes as she felt the vampire stand above her, the stench of his long unwashed body mingling with old blood.

Joyce pushed herself out of the swing, tossing the rubber seat and rusty chains right at the face of the vampire. Without a look back for her assailant, she stumbled across the sand towards the ill-lit street just beyond the park.

The vampire roared in anger as he dashed to keep up with the middle-aged woman, his long legs stretching to their limits as he chased her along the abandoned street.





Think.

He's coming. What now? What now? What now?

Think.

"Think, dammit!" Dawn commanded herself aloud as she pulled on the dazed vampire's sleeve. With a fierce frown, she looked at Spike. His face was even more pale than usual, excepting for the smear of the man's blood around his lips.

Don't think about it, she told herself as she quietly checked his wounds. Serious. Definitely serious, she decided as she noticed the dark blood pooling around the open wound in his chest and the torn flesh of his hands. There would be no way the either of them would survive another fight with the psycho guy.

"I could kill you, Nibblet," he mused, his soft baritone full of awe. His black eyebrows knit together in confusion as he seemed to focus on the small, white hand which tugged unceasingly on his arm.

"Does it look like I freaking care? We *have* to get out of here, Spike!"

The vampire shook his head slowly, his pupils wide as he gazed down on the slender girl by his side. "I can kill you."

Dawn frowned, sparing a glance over her shoulder for the cemetery they had only just left behind. A nearby streetlamp sputtered and flickered as its soft, yellow light slowly began to die. She shook her head slowly as she forced herself to think.

"Chances are that he knows where I live. About the Magic Box..."

"You don't understand. I can kill you," he repeated, his tone flat and dead.

"...he may even try to beat us there," Dawn continued as if he had never interrupted. "He will prolly try to go after Buffy. Or Mom."

Spike cocked his head at the girl, his lips pursed menacingly.

"Mom. Oh, god. We got to get to Mom. Home. It's dark. She'll be home," Dawn gasped out, her heart pounding as she realised that her mother would never expect a thing.

The vampire just stood there silently, looking at the girl with a strange fire in his eyes. Quietly, he ran his fingers through the short, white spikes of his hair, oblivious to the trail of blood which tinted his fingers a ghastly red.

"Come on, damn you! We got to get to Mom!" she choked out, tearing her eyes away from the oddly mesmerizing sight. "Spike. We got to go!"

His broken hands moved in a flurry, grasping at her neck and waist as he pulled her into the darkened alley, only to thrust her hard against the wall.

"Feel safe with me now, Nibblet?" Spike smiled evilly as he lowered his head to stare her in the eyes. He pressed against her as he released his hand from her waist, his face distorted grotesquely by his inner demons.

"Get. Your. Hands. Off. Me."

The vampire shook his head slowly, all the while his lips turned up in a hideous parody of a loving smile.

"I can kill you, Nibblet," Spike whispered seductively in her ear as he caressed her cheek with a gentle hand. "No bloody chip. No bloody sis. Nothing to stop me. At all."

Dawn closed her eyes as everything she ever knew flashed before her.

"Mom. Spike, you got to listen to me. We have to go help Mom," her voice seemed to be nothing more than a breath of wind. It took all of her courage to open her eyes and to face the creature.

Growling, he twisted her neck slightly, exposing the rapidly pulsating jugular to the cool, night air. Spike traced a finger over the artery, his eyes closed in bliss as he felt its beat.

"So beautiful," he whispered as he nuzzled her ear. "I could steal all that beautiful blood from you before you even realised what happened, Nibblet."

Speechless, she just nodded as the bricks of the wall bit into her spine.

He sighed softly as he moved his hand up to caress her face. His eyes hardened suddenly as he dug a jagged nail into the tender flesh of her cheek, his lips tugging into an ironic smile as their blood mingled with the gesture.

Dawn didn't move a muscle, her wide brown eyes mesmerized by his.

"I can kill you, Dawn."

She nodded calmly as she felt a small stream of blood drip down her face. "Then why don't you? You've killed everything else tonight."

He frowned, his elongated fangs gleaming with the dim starlight.

"I didn't kill him."

"No. But you killed my best friend," she whispered, her voice trembling as she looked up at him.

Spike's pale forehead wrinkled as he considered the teenage girl. His eyes flashed and suddenly, Dawn found herself back on her feet.

"You should be dead by now," he said softly, his eyes focused on the red stream dripping down her face. Deliberately, he raised his finger to his lips and tasted her blood, smiling in ecstasy as the taste sang out through his body. "You've got sweet stuff there, Nibblet."

Dawn stood on her toes as she tried to look the vampire in the eyes. She frowned as she noticed his amusement at her attempt.

"Don't be a moron, Spike. We got to get out of here. So stop with the 'Big Bad' BS and let's just go?"

"Big Bad BS? It's not an act, girl. It's what I am. I'm a killer," he growled, grabbing at her neck only to pinch at the skin painfully.

"Why?" she asked quietly, ignoring the discomfort the best she could.

He blinked as he regarded the girl.

"I'm a bloody vampire, you dumb bint!" Spike shoved her hard against the wall, his anger glowing in his eyes.

"You don't think I *know* that?" Dawn growled back. "So why does that mean you have to kill?"

"Because eating daft little girls like you makes my life complete?" He snarled viciously as he openly eyed her neck.

She wasn't sure when it happened, but for some reason, he didn't seem to be such a vampire anymore. He was just Spike. Spike wouldn't hurt her, she thought as she wiped the blood from her cheek.

"Look, as much as I like feel bad for you for this stupid mental breakdown, *Mom* is in trouble. Okay, you're a dumb vampire. Okay, maybe you vampires normally go around killing anything that breathes. But who *says* that's the way it has to be? Are you so dumb you can't think for yourself, Big Bad? You gotta do and be everything that all your lil demon friends tell you to be? That's not being bad. That's being a cute little fuzzy sheep. I mean, hello. Talk about succumbing to peer pressure and all that."

He groaned as he slammed a broken fist into the wall, only to grunt as the pain wracked through his arm. Shaking his hand out furiously, he glared at the girl.

"You're bloody well near impossible!"

"And you're bloody well near stupid!" she shot back, pausing only to stick her tongue out at him.

He shook his head slowly as he regarded the girl. "You should have run."

Dawn frowned, uncertain as to whether he meant before back in the crypt from the assassin or now. From him.

"I couldn't leave my best friend there," she bit out, tilting her chin up defiantly.

"Your best 'friend' can kill you."

With a grunt of impatience, she stamped down hard on his foot. "I hate you!"

He pushed her away but not before she caught the look of repulsion and uncertainty in his eyes. Whether it was directed at her or himself, she had no clue.

"I was wondering how long that would take. Key or not, you just the little chip off the old Summers' block, aren't you?"

"I hate you," she repeated, the words barely coming out from her gritted teeth. "You can come with me or you can stay here, Stupid. Either way, I'm going to go save my Mom."

"And you think you actually stand a chance in hell?" his laugh rang out in the night, callous and brutal.

Dawn frowned as she regarded the monster, silent for once as she carefully sized him up with a toss of her head.

With an obscene gesture in his direction, the girl broke out of his tentative grasp and stalked out of the alley and into the general direction of her house.

He stood there for a moment, watching her. Suddenly, he tugged self-consciously at his shirt as he ran to catch up.

The girl ignored him as they continued walking side by side.

"I could kill you, you know," Spike said, his tone conversational.

"Yeah," Dawn didn't even spare a moment to look at her companion. "I know."