"No. Absolutely not!" Joyce commanded sternly, her arms folded across her chest in a manner eerily like both of her daughters, Spike thought.
A part of him was utterly amused at the argument going on, every word of it about him. Three beautiful women arguing about his welfare, he thought as he leaned back happily in Joyce's executive chair. Well, two, he corrected himself slightly unwilling as his eyes fell upon the blonde beauty who seemed not to care a whit about his survival.
Spike frowned and looked down at the floor as he tried not to show the Slayer how much her indifference hurt him.
Once again, I'm beneath her, he thought as he examined his ruined nails. Bloody hell! he groaned to himself as his impatience leapt to the front of his mind. What the hell is wrong with her? What the bloody hell is wrong with *me*?
"Mom, listen. We *have* to leave. This... this psycho will eventually come to the gallery, if he hasn't already. Look, I haven't had time to research him. I don't know what he's about, what he wants, or just how tough he is. I *need* to know what's going on and in all honesty, Mom, I can't do it from here. You got to let me do my job."
"I'm not stopping you from doing your job. But we are *not* going to let Spike sit here and suffer, especially after he nearly died to save your sister's life," Joyce shook her head, her light brown curls flirling with the movement.
"He's already dead, Mom."
"Don't be smart with me, young lady. Spike? You can technically um... exist forever, right?"
"That would be right, Joyce," Spike answered solemnly, hiding his slight smile as he enjoyed the woman's defense.
"And he still almost gave it all up for Dawn. We owe him, Buffy. And we are certainly not going to leave him to die when all his injuries are because of us, do you understand?"
Spike glanced suddenly at Dawn, who sat in the corner of the room on the floor, wincing and cringing each time her family brought her involvement in his injuries up. Poor Nibblet, he thought as he waved her over. Guilt's a nasty old bugger.
"Mom..." Buffy interupted, oblivious to the sister who sat quietly in the corner.
"No other words about it, Buffy. This is just the way it goes."
"Mom! You don't under..."
Joyce shook her head as she glared at her eldest.
"No. More. Words."
Buffy groaned as she threw Spike an evil look. "At least stay in this room and away from the door, okay? Make it a little easier on me to protect you? And let me call Giles and see if he knows what the hell is going on..."
"Buffy..." Joyce raised a warning eyebrow.
"Heck. What the heck is going on. Is that okay?"
Joyce smiled slightly as she inclined her head towards the small black phone on her desk.
The Slayer stomped over to the desk and yanked the handset off the cradle, sparing a look of disgust for the proclaimed Hero of the Night. Dialing a number quickly with a forefinger, she glared at the vampire. He winced as he watched the blonde hair float over her shoulder, framing her angelic face in a halo of golden light. Her beauty was so unlike anything he had ever known before and just watching her; watching the way her eyes danced as she saw both her sister and mother safe, the way the gentle smile of relief had usurped the usual frown that marred her lips lately, the way her very soul seemed to shine through the luminscient skin made his heart tighten with emotion.
And suddenly, his heart seemed to jump to his throat. In the matter of a couple years, the girl had become everything to him. Her family, her fears, her very light seemed to encompass his entire life and suddenly, his whole world was thrown upside down. How could he ever fault the Poof for loving her when he had committed the same bloody sin? What would be next? Brooding? Would even he, the vampire who had slayed two... count em, folks... two bloody slayers, be slayed by this one?
Spike laughed out loud, earning strange looks from his companions as he realised that the bint had slayed him. He'd never be a vampire again, chip or no bloody chip. How could he kill now, knowing that the next person he'd touch could be someone else's Nibblet or Joyce? Or a Willow or even a bloody Xander? The dumb bitch had taken what he was and crushed him, like the insignificant git he was. She was right. He was beneath her. Bloody hell, even the Poof put up more of a fight than this.
"Spike? You feeling okay?" Dawn asked cautiously as she stepped closer to him.
He barely restrained himself from snapping out at the girl and instead, just nodded. At least the Nibblet cared what happened to him. She may try to act like her sister, but the girl has a heart. Unlike the bloody Slayer.
"How you feeling? You want anything?"
"Spot of blood wouldn't be too bad, Bitty Bad," Spike sighed, trying to rein in the emotion. The Nibblet, her sharp eyes narrowed as she appraised him, just nodded.
"Hey, Buff. Spike needs blood..."
Buffy just snorted as she looked at the fallen vampire. "He can wait... Hey, Mom," she said suddenly, turning her attention towards her mother. "The line is busy. I'll carry him... Let me just get you guys to the Magic Box. I can keep you safe there. I can't here."
"Spike? Is that okay with you?" Joyce asked quietly as she kneeled next to the chair.
He felt the eyes of all the females on him, and suddenly felt incredibly grateful to any god who was listening that vampires typically don't blush. He didn't know how, but Joyce managed to make him feel even more helpless than he did when he was in that bloody wheelchair.
"I can walk, Joyce," he nearly growled, only to wince at the look on Joyce's face.
"I didn't mean you couldn't... oh, dear. You know what I meant," she said, looking slightly abashed.
Spike nodded slowly as he pushed himself up out of the chair, all of his energy gone as he tried to force his gaze away from the woman he loved.
"Spike?" Buffy asked suddenly, her eyes finally taking in the damage wrought to his long-dead body. She shook her head suddenly as she dialed a number on the phone, but still her eyes seemed unable to move from the large wound above his heart.
"Nothing, Slayer. Don't get your knickers in a twist," Spike mumbled as he tried to through a spot of panache back into his normal strut. "Looks a mite worse than it is."
The Slayer shrugged as she looked away, but not before Spike caught some unknown, uncertain emotion in the woman's eyes. Regret? Fear? Concern? No, Spike told himself firmly. Don't look for something that will never be there. "Undoubtedly. Takes a lot to kill something like you. I should know. Should have killed you a long time ago."
"That's so not cool, Buffy," Dawn piped up, her face pale as she lifted her chin from the shelter of her folded arms. "That really isn't."
"I'm inclined to agree with Dawnie, Buffy. We..."
"...owe the vampire a debt. Fine. Got the point. Lets go... Oh! Giles! You finally answered!" Buffy sighed with relief as she fully turned away from Spike, only to miss the small frown which fleeted over his chiseled features.
"Yes, yes. No. Mom's not missing. She's right here. No, no. Dawn's here too. No. Actually, according to Spike, there's some sort of psychotic moron after us right now. No. Not a demon. Human. Yeah, I know. No. There is enough Faiths in the world right now. I won't kill him. Not sure what the hell... um.. helk I'm going to do, but I'll come up with something. Meet you at the Magic Box. Look, can you bring a couple pints of blood for Spike? He's been injured and we may need his help later. Oh? Um. No, that's okay. We'll deal. Really. It's cool. Okay. See you in a few."
Buffy shook her head suddenly as she hung up the phone.
"Okay, we are meeting them at the shop, see if we can find out who the hell...helk this Samson guy is and how we go about defeating him. Spike?" she called to the vampire, who was currently standing rather unsteadily against the wall.
"Yeah, Slayer?"
"Can you walk? Honest to god, because we have to be fast and if you can't, you got to let me know now."
"Don't you worry, Slayer. I can keep up with you," Spike rolled his eyes as he grabbed onto Dawn's shoulder. The girl nodded and subtly allowed him to lean upon her thin shoulder.
"Good. Let's go," the blonde said as she went to herd her family out of the small room.
"Sounds like a good plan. But what are you going to do about us?" a new voice asked arrogantly.
Buffy raised an eyebrow at the three vampires which blocked the doorway.
"Oh, just great. Tweedle Dee and Dum. Er. And Dumber."
"Guess you'll get that opportunity to play 'Torquemada' after all, Nibblet," Spike sighed as he watched the vampires eye the humans hungrily. Wearily, he raised his bloodied fists as he waited for the fight to begin.
***
The bruised man stood on top of the scratched bar of the demon hangout and continued his arrogant spiel. The barkeep, a squirmy little rat of a man named Willy, had long fled to the safety of his backroom as he waited for the inevitable bloodshed to spill across his recently cleaned floors and counters. What a waste of good blood, Willy thought as he peered out of the peephole that was drilled into the wall. He was certain that he could have gotten some decent money for it.
"I call upon you, my demon brothers and sisters... and.. um.. its, to march with me! End this evil that has beleagured this world. March with me. Yes, you may die. In fact, for your sins, you will for the great Creator will not have your scummy souls poisoning the good of this world, but make your deaths mean something!" the man gasped out, his face alight with a terrible pride.
"Man, will you just shut your trap?" a horned demon in the back grumbled as he took a sip of his shirley temple.
"I will but only when you all decide to stand with me!"
Willy winced as he watched the two vampires in the front exchange devious looks.
"Stand? Oh, we'll stand with you. After we drink your blood, that is," the shorter vampire grinned evilly as he slowly approached the counter.
The man seemed completely unfazed by the threat. In fact, he brushed his hands across the front of his duster as he bowed elegantly towards the two vamps.
"If it is what will make you see the light, then please."
The taller vampire, his vacuous eyes widened by the easy meal, nudged his friend in the ribs.
"Me first!"
The shorter one nodded, only to trip his buddy as he tried to approach the bruised man.
"You can be first, Clive... after me," the shorter one shrugged as he grabbed the man and pulled him to the floor. Suddenly, the vampire's hand felt tenderly at his neck as he glared uncertainly at the man who had stabbed him in the throat without seeming to move a muscle.
"Hey!" the taller one protested as he watched his friend's eyes glaze over. "What did you do?"
The man shrugged and pointed.
"I'm not sure. Why don't you take a look?" he asked, his face shining with nearly an unholy delight at the vampire's confusion.
"I don't think so..."
"I do," the man laughed as he jumped to his feet, only to slam a small, feathered needle into Clive's neck.
"You two are now my followers and you will worship me as a King, for that is what I am," the man said softly, his tones carrying throughout the room. "You follow me and do as I say. That's the way it's supposed to be and that's the way it will be. Any infraction upon this natural law and I shall have your lives, or what is left of them. Understood?"
The vampires looked uncertainly at each other, their eyes unable to focus as they slowly nodded.
"King Samson the Great. That is what you shall call me, understand?"
"Yeah, man," the shorter vampire nodded quickly, his eyes finally regaining some semblance of intelligence. "King Samson the Great."
"You shall address me at all times in a formal tongue, as befitting your liege and sire. Understood?" Samson turned to the second vampire as the mists slowly disappated from the vacuous eyes.
"Ye, I understandest thou, o great lord!" Clive answered quietly, his voice full of honour and awe.
"Your names, my most impudent and smelly serfs?"
"Uh, Erwin, your most highest ... um... thou," the shorter one replied, completely oblivious to the transfixed gazes of the demons around him.
"Clive, sire."
Samson nodded regally as he gestured around the room, smiling slightly at the looks of discomfiture he saw upon the demon faces. Oh, their discomfort was only beginning, he thought. "Grab the demons, boys. And be gentle. We've got an army to round up."