He was still lying in the same place. That was good. Probably meant Dawn hadn't been brainwashed by some kind of vampire-kidnapping cult, or anything horrific and improbable like that. But when his jaw healed, he was gonna give her a talking-to that she'd.... wait. He rolled his chin, tentatively.
Oh, this was new.
The lack of pain was definitely one of the high points of his day. He lifted his head a little, and his arms, and looked at them. Pale, and skinny, and devoid of those lovely black-and-blue roses. He flexed his knuckles, rolled to his feet, and sprang up in a fluid motion that defied gravity. All systems go.
"Dawn !" he called out, in a better voice than the 'broken jaw shuffle'. "Dawn !" he bellowed again, and her rosy face appeared from the other side of the door.
"Hey !" she said cheerily, but didn't walk any closer. He grinned at her.
"I'm not mad at you... I just want to know... what the hell was in that blood ?"
"You know... pig... a little wheetabix, I know you like it... and, uh... a little Key."
"Bloody hell- Dawn ! What were you thinking ?!"
"It worked, didn't it ?" There, that was it. The flash behind her eyes. What reminded him of Buffy. When she was being a stubborn pain in the ass. How he loved her. "I tried it, and it worked."
"You... how ?"
"Just a papercut. No biggie."
"Dawnie... it's a huge biggie. You shouldn't have... I... Buffy will... Niblet. I'm not worth it. You understand ?"
"No I don't." she jutted her chin out, defensively. "I need you to be well, so you can go get Buffy back." He looked at her for a moment. She was shaking inside. His heightened sense of smell told him that much. But she was handling it well. Perhaps that, too, was hereditary. If hereditary had anything to do with this strange, wonderful girl in front of him.
Mental note : have Giles continue the 'Key' research. Whatever she was made of, it packed quite a punch.
"Now that..." he said, reaching for his coat, "...I understand."
He'd seen the moon before. Seen it white, seen it half-covered by clouds, seen it redder than heart's blood. Seen a lot of moons. Thousands of 'em. It was the vampire's sun, the ever-present light in the sky of the vampire's day. It had watched Spike turn, watched him hunt and fight, and more recently, watched him spend sleepless nights crouched in the hollow of the slayer's front yard tree. The moon was tough. It had never flinched from looking at him before - it knew him, accepted him, after a fashion. He'd drunk from pale necks, and the moon never once so much as blinked. But she was hiding her face now, in the clouds, and quivering a little at the expression on his face.
There was no need for game face tonight. What he was thinking needed no wrinklies to convey the emotion. Two things on his mind : blood and Buffy. Not necessarily in that order. A third thought flashed across his mind - when was the ritual ? And a fourth - how long ago did they leave ?
He broke into a run.
"Giles... that's it. That's the one."
"Alright, everyone. On your game, now.... on three."
"One."
"Two."
"Hello, all."
"Spike ! What the hell ?"
"Sorry to disturb..." he flexed his fingers, displaying the fresh skin, "...but this is really my party, too." They regarded him with a mixture of grateful surprise and blatant shock. Xander regained his composure first.
"What's with the vamp-repair ?"
"Actually, I'm not sure myself..." but he shot Giles a 'let's talk' glance. The older man nodded. The six of them continued, warily along the fence-line separating them from the warehouse. Vaguely, noise seemed to be coming from the lower floors. Most likely where they've... got her, Spike thought, forbidding that fear to rise up in his throat. No use getting all misty-eyed just now. Got work to do. "Eh, watcher..." he indicated hulking shapes at a break in the fence, "... I'd wager that's our welcoming committee."
"Spike ?"
"I'd love to do the honors." Got to test out my new Key super-elixir, he grinned internally. How about it, you juicy buggers ? "Uh... you got anything fun in there ?" he pointed to Willow's duffel bag. She unzipped it, and drew out a wicked-looking blade.
"It's Buffy's." she explained. He whistled admiringly.
"She's got taste." he tested its weight in his hand, fingers settling into the grooves like well broken-in gloves. Perfect. Spike grinned, ear to ear. "It'll do. Get down, and stay down 'till I call you."
Snap !
One.
Slice !
Two.
Snap !
"Ow ! You poncey git-"
Thud ! Slice !
Three.
"Just don't make sentries like they used to..." Spike surveyed the leaking K'bbeth bodies, satisfaction glinting in his yellow eyes. They went down a lot easier when you were aiming from behind. Probably a good thing to remember. The whelp and the others came out from behind the bushes, a little prematurely. "All clear." he sighed. They just don't listen, do they ?
"That was quick." Anya said admiringly. "You really are fixed." He bristled a little at the wording, but kept it reined in.
"In a manner of speaking. You lot have a plan ?" No one met his gaze. "Or is it just a full-on charge ?"
"We were thinking, grab Buffy and run." Willow piped up. "But now that you're here..."
"Oh, don't worry, Red. I'd like to have a little fun, if that's all right with you."
"More than alright." Giles muttered. Spike raised an approving eyebrow.
"That's more like it, Ripper. On three, then."
Buffy wanted to keep her eyes open. Really she did. It was just that... everytime she tried... they'd get all heavy, and her head would get floaty...
"Skies, accept our offering... let your golden eye be shut... let a new peace come... let the moon reign..."
There was something she was supposed to do... Dawn...
"Let the clouds cool the earth, let the night be free..."
But her eyes... she just couldn't stay awake... maybe... that voice... maybe she should just... go to sleep...
"Outtamywayyousonsabitches ! Spike's here !" and the distinct sound of an axe burying itself in something slimy, snapped the slayer in her to immediate attention.
"Here !" she cried out ! "I'm over here !" Where's here ? her mind asked. Buffy raised her head, realizing she couldn't move much else, and gasped.
Apparently Lumhe's gang was good at something- and that was interior decorating, albeit in a 'wicked vampire overlord meets Martha Stewart' way. Dried flowers and all. She was on a low platform, stone from the feel, draped with velvet, and with a strange gold groove along one side. The whole room was draped in rich fabrics, ornate antique mirrors scattered here and there (hello, irony ! she smirked), and the whole room had a lush, Victorian feel. She noted, absently, that the huge windows at the top of the room were covered by drapes the size of Buicks. It might have been neat to look at, if she hadn't been chained in the middle of everything.
Fighting seemed to be going on, somewhere to her left, and when she swiveled her head she could make out a few of her friends, whacking at great slimy green things with whatever was handy. Willow and Tara had their eyes shut, chanting, and whenever a vampire seemed to get too close, he went 'poof'. Neat trick. And, oh, a black blur with a sword cutting his way through everything, making a straight line towards her. She allowed herself the momentary luxury of watching, and remembered what had happened the last time she'd seen him. She'd run off, looking for help, and left him. And hadn't gotten very far. There was a bump on her head that fit in very nicely with her fuzzy memory of blacking out. I hate it when they get sneaky. But watching him now, it was like that night hadn't ended, after all.
"Be a minute, pet !" he yelled, over the top of a now-headless vampire, which dusted before him. Two more jumped onto him, and Xander managed to shove a stake through one of their backs. Spike chopped, twice, and shot a friendly glance Xander's way. "Good work." he had time to say, before another couple of vamps launched themselves at the pair.
On the far side of the room, Lumhe's voice could be heard, still trying to finish the chanting.
"Oh, clouds of thunder and wind... just kill them, ok ? Stop distracting me ! Clouds of... no ! Just go over there and surround 'em ! I'm busy !" Even his game face seemed particularly twisted-up with rage. Setting the book down, he surveyed the room. It was about a hundred to six, but even with those odds, his minions didn't seem to be doing very well... what the hell was that ? He watched Spike slice off three heads in a smooth gesture. Huh. Coulda fooled me, he thought. Last time I saw him he had some serious bone-knitting to attend to. Oh, well. A K'bbeth tackled the peroxide vampire, and Lumhe smirked- until he watched the sword come up in the middle of it's back and split it open like a melon.
So much for that idea. On to Plan B.
