The Man, The Elf, The Spike and The Slayer

After their initial mishap with the locals, Legolas and Aragorn were determined to stay out of sight, yet reluctant to leave their area of arrival. They soon found out that they need not worry about being discovered, as their temporary home in the meager wooded park was actually a burial place for the dead. While Aragorn was quite accustomed to mortals' needs for a cemetery, Legolas found the idea a little disconcerting. Body upon body, all marked with a stone tablet that none stopped to read or honour. That, and there were shades of the dead everywhere.

Aragorn could not see the dead like his Elven friend could, but he knew they were all around him. He could feel their cold stares, their icy breath, he knew that most of them died in an untimely, violent death. He did not disclose it to Legolas, but he felt unbelievably uncomfortable in this land.

Legolas, too, felt restless. There was never any quiet in this place, yet rarely did he encounter animal life. It teemed with mortals and their odd fascinating possessions, as exciting as they were to him, they also gave him not a moment's rest. On the contrary; his head was constantly darting side to side at every new sight and smell and he consistently gave startled jumps at every alien noise. His nerves were becoming rattled, something he wasn't used to.

Legolas had perched himself in a tree overlooking the tombstones, while Aragorn sat on a stone table, smoking his pipe with a thoughtful look on his face. Just how the Ranger had managed to keep a grip on his pipe and all its weed mystified the Elf. Even more mystifying was the attraction. Inhaling smoke fumes just never seemed that smart of an idea to the Elves.

Aragorn's stomach growled, loud enough that Legolas could hear it from where he sat. Aragorn glanced up at Legolas, who was grinning down at him. With a sigh, Aragorn went back to his silent habit. The Elf could go days without food, but Aragorn needed subsistence and he needed it soon.

Legolas' head shot up, blue orbs fixating on some point far in the distance. He landed on the ground without a sound, already reaching for an arrow out of his quiver. Aragorn leapt for the bushes behind the table, crouching beside his friend. Focusing his senses, Aragorn could barely discern voices, two of them, approaching their area. Aragorn slowly raised his head, high enough that he could peer over the bushes where he could make out two figures. As they neared, the Ranger realized that one was a female, very petite and blond-haired. Her companion was a tall male, slim with impossibly bright blond hair and a long black coat.

He turned to see Legolas' reaction and found himself somewhat amused by the Elf's expression; his brows were furrowed and a sharp frown graced his fair features. He was about to prod Legolas to see what the problem was, but he was stopped short by the Elf answering the question before he could ask it.

"She has my arrow." He whispered.

"An' what did ol' Watcher have to say?"

Buffy shrugged, fingering the brown feathers of her arrow. "Oh, you know. Vampires, blah blah blah. Neat looking stone stolen, blah blah blah. Possible end of the world,"

"Blah blah blah." Spike finished for her.

She smiled, acknowledging the sheer ridiculous tone of her voice. Perhaps all her years of fighting, slaying and even dying was starting to desensitize her. "Anyway, his point was that he's coming back."

Spike snorted. "Short trip." He looked down at the diminutive woman at his side, who was still playing with the arrow. "A little attached to that thing, aren't you?"

Buffy looked surprised at his statement. "I don't know," she stammered. "It has…history."

"It has dried demon guts on it luv." He reached for the door on the side of the gothic building that Spike called home. The dimly lit crypt was sparsely populated with his few possessions – a ratty armchair, 1970's JVC, tomb – disgusting little bits to the naked eye, but to Spike they spelt love and comfort. Maybe not so much the love bit. "So what's ugly guts got to do wit' some stone in England."

"Giles didn't elaborate. He only said to keep ugly out of sight. Not that that's a problem."

As Spike stepped onto the landing and looked around his pad, his eyes widened. "That might not be true."

Buffy came up beside him and studied his face. She peered around Spike's form and saw nothing out of the ordinary; garbage here, some bones there, wine bottle laying at her feet. "What's wrong?" She asked.

"Ugly guts is gone."

Aragorn watched the two enter the stone building with some suspicion. There was something very unsettling about them. He was about to mull over his thoughts some more when Legolas disrupted him.

The Elf was rising to his feet and Aragorn knew instantly that he meant to go after the humans. Aragorn grasped his forearm, urging the Elf silently with his best imposing stare to sit back down. Legolas didn't even look in Aragorn's direction, but continued to make for the gap in the bushes. Aragorn gave a vicious tug with both hands, hauling his friend down.

"Legolas, we cannot go out there!" He whispered through gritted teeth.

"She has my arrow. They know about us." Legolas reasoned.

Aragorn shook his head. "They know about your arrow, that is all they know about. I, for one, should like to keep it that way."

Legolas sighed and plopped himself on the ground beside his friend. His hands clasped each other loosely around his knees, but the spark of action had not left his face, not yet. "We have not discovered how to return to Mirkwood, Aragorn. We need help. The longer we stay hidden, the longer we stay here."

Aragorn rubbed a hand over his weary eyes. How long had it been since he had a proper night's sleep? The Elf had a point. Smugly, Aragorn dropped his hands to his side in defeat. He looked back at Legolas and shook his head. Legolas had a mischievous smile on his face.

"You would have gone anyway, wouldn't you have?" Aragorn asked.

Legolas tried, very unsuccessfully, to wipe the grin off his face. He stood, offering a hand to his comrade. Aragorn accepted it graciously, grabbing Legolas' elbow as he rose to his feet. With his other hand, he placed it on the back of Legolas' neck and drew him in close.

"If you get me killed, Prince, my spirit will pester you for the rest of your immortal years."

Bits of paper and boxes and wine bottles were flying within the crypt. Buffy stood by the stairs with her hands on her hips and a very stern look on her face. "Spike, how the hell do you lose a demon? A dead demon at that."

Spike poked his head up from the pile of debris he just created. "I didn't lose it pet. Someone must have stolen it."

Buffy gave her head a slight shake, as if jumbling his words around in her head. "Stolen it? Why would someone steal a dead demon?"

Spike threw his hands in the air. "Who the hell steals a stupid stone? I DON'T KNOW."

Buffy rolled her eyes, sensing very correctly that their current argument was leading them nowhere. "Wait. Just stop. Lets think about this."

Spike threw down a box and stumbled through his new mess to get to where the Slayer had sat down. Standing in front of her, he stared at her slim fingers that she counted off as she went through their timeline. "So, big storm in the middle of the cemetery, ugly falls out of nowhere with a fancy arrow in him, Giles takes off to London where a Seeing Stone's been stolen and taken back here." She stared down at her hands in confusion. "What are we missing?"

Spike shrugged. "How long ago was the stone stolen?"

Buffy shook her head. "I don't know. Giles didn't say."

Spike slumped down beside her, running his hands through his hair. "Maybe the stone brought the demon here."

Just as Buffy was beginning to absorb Spike's suggestion, she became aware of a sound that she immediately identified as the door opening. Diving and then somersaulting herself across the floor, she grabbed a crossbow laying on the floor and came up armed, facing her attackers.

The two men standing in front of her were also armed. A man with dark wavy hair had his very long sword pointed at Spike, who was still sitting on the floor, completely taken by surprise. But just as Buffy was pointing an arrow at her assailant, the blond-haired man standing in front of her had her directly in his sight line of a longbow, notched with an arrow. A very impressive looking arrow.

Buffy cocked her head to the side. "Robin Hood?"