Warning: This chapter and the last one contain some altered spoilers for "Seeing Red." This chapter also contains references to events involving Spike as seen in "Villians" and "Two to Go." Also, this chapter and the next do contain subject of a violent nature. They at both all about fighting.

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Save Yourself

//I know your life is empty//

//And you hate to face this world alone//

//So you're searching for an angel//

//Someone who can make you whole//

//I know you've been damaged//

//Your soul has suffered such abuse//

//But I am not your savior//

//I am just as fucked as you//

//I can not save you//

//I can't even save myself//

//So just save yourself//

Stabbing Westward "Save Yourself"

~*~

Buffy comes upon the amusement park just as Warren does his Incredible Hulk impersonation with the armored truck and, ironically, she is not amused.

Xander's warning that the geek had suddenly developed superstrength played like the sweetest music in her head as she watched the jerk rip the rear door off the truck to get to the money. She wouldn't have to take it easy on the poor vulnerable human this time.

"Hey," one trait she never has to fake, her clever repartee during fights, kicks in. "Is this your bank?" she announces her presence atop the overturned vehicle to the guy below. "'Cause if not, there's gonna be a fee for this and looks like I get to make you pay."

Ready to bust heads she jumps down at him only to be caught and thrown over his head with surprising strength. She easily gets up from where she landed an almost impressive distance away from him and brushes herself off.

"I was wondering when Super Bitch would show up," Warren smirks and stalks toward her.

"You really have got a problem with strong women, don't you?" she watches him closely to anticipate his next move and allow him the offensive until she sees a weakness.

"Nothing I can't handle," he punches at her with his right and she ducks it easily, but then he counters so quickly with his left she hardly sees it coming before it's caught her on the cheek.

Ok, she thinks as she instinctively punches back after the blow, that's going on your tab and you're coming to owe me a lot, buddy.

Amazingly he blocks her punch, grabs her arm and delivers another unexpected blow to her face. She's definitely on the defensive now and not by choice as they exchange a series of punches and she gets in a kick or two, but he's clearly unaffected by it all.

"You seem a little off," he remarks casually as he sends her reeling back with a backhanded blow to the side of her head that kinda makes her ears ring. "This a bad day? 'Cause if it is I can just beat the hell out of you and save the killing until you're able to actually put up an enjoyable fight."

"Now's good for me," she regains her balance and kicks him as hard as she can right in that smug face and watches with a smile as his head snaps back. "And I think my day's getting better," she delivers a roundhouse kick to the side of his face that would have broken the neck of a normal person and she wonders what the hell is allowing him to take these blows. "Thanks," she punches and kicks until he's stumbling away from her, "for your concern though."

She follows his movements, grabs his jacket for leverage to flip over him to stand at his back then drives her foot into the small of his back to send the geek down to the ground. An exasperated sigh sounds through her mind as he gets immediately back to his feet with a condescending expression on his face. Eager to get rid of that look she grabs up the door he'd torn off the truck and slams it into him with all her might, knocking him hard into the stone gate at the park's entrance.

"That all you got," he scoffs at her seconds before the gate collapses from his impact and buries the bastard in stone and debris.

The blonde of the geek squad makes a sound of anguished protest that draws her attention from the rubble covering the fallen nerd to the two still standing.

"Ok, boys," she looks at them both coldly and moves menacingly in their direction. "There's two ways this can end for you. And right now? I'm thinking they're both gonna hurt."

"I think you're right," Tucker's brother says with a smile at something behind her. "It's really going to hurt you."

Buffy turns and, with an inner 'what the …' of disbelief, sees Warren calmly emerging from the pile of stone he'd been under.

"What's the matter baby?" he brushes dust from his jacket and gives her a leer. "You never fight real man before?"

"Still not fighting one now, uber-geek," she returns her attention to the tall brunette and instantly goes on the attack.

He's anticipating her charge, though, and ducks to avoid it then comes back up to land two quick blows to her face and chest. She remembers to duck on the third and tries to deliver a roundhouse kick to his unprotected ribs. Suddenly the vulnerable side is protected by a blocking arm that stops her foot and while she's trying to get it back he punches away with his other hand. Tired of the abuse she breaks away, takes his formerly restraining hand in both of hers, twists it to a painful degree then slams her hard tipped boot into his soft stomach. He grunts at the blow, but easily breaks her hold on him and tries to attack. She ducks and weaves to avoid his punch and from her slightly crouched position kicks upward to again snap his head back with a blow to the face. He falls back against the armored truck, no sign of blood or pain or tiredness about him and she gulps in air to prepare for further battle as he straightens.

"Wow," he rubs his jaw. "That almost hurt, kitten."

No witty comeback springs to mind as she strikes out at his approaching figure. She kicks, he blocks. She punches, he takes the blow and keeps right on coming. He grabs her arm after one punch and slams his other hand down on the bone and she's bites back a cry of pain as she's pretty sure it just broke. He kicks her and all she can do is stumble backward as she feels the impression of his boot in her gut. As Andrew cheers for her death from the sidelines, Warren grabs hold of her coat and pulls her toward him to viciously slap her face like the abusive bastard he is. She tears herself free as fury fills her and he instantly knocks her back with a right hook before catching her behind her unsteady legs to send her toppling to the ground.

She lays there panting for breath for just a second, feeling her whole body ache and searching her brain for something – anything – to end this without her death being the conclusion.

"You know who I am? Huh," he moves to stand cockily over her, "Slayer?"

"You're a murderer," she shakes off all thoughts and gets back up slowly as he watches.

"Well, yeah, that too," he actually looks proud of the title, "but more to the point," she punches at him only to have the blow blocked and receive a punch in return that sends her reeling back away from him a few feet. "I'm the guy that beat you," she charges at him for that statement only to again be knocked back hard. "And it's not the muscles, baby," he kicks her in the gut and she's now pretty sure that this has got to be a Warren-bot she's fighting. "It's the brains," he pauses in his blow to tap smugly at the side of his head as if a great volume of intellect dwells there.

"I'll remember that," she inhales deeply to try centering herself to find some way to beat him, "when I knock 'em clean out of you - "

Suddenly Jonathan, that twerp, leaps onto her back with his arms going tightly around her neck as she stumbles under his squirming weight.

"Whoa!" Warren says encouragingly to the barnacle she's trying to pry off her back. "Sparky, I didn't think you had it in you."

She continues to tug at the arms around her neck until she hears whispered urgently in her ear, "The orbs. Smash his orbs!"

Wondering what the hell 'orbs' meant she throws the guy off and finds Warren ready and waiting to continue his assault on her. She blocks a few of his punches while Jonathan's words replay in her mind, but she misses one blow and it sends her slamming into and through a wooden bench. She rolls tiredly onto her back in the remains of the seat and sees her assailant closing in for the kill.

"Say good night, bitch," the brunette orders and slowly draws his arm back to deliver what would surely have been the final blow.

His upraised arm reveals to her almost resigned gaze a pouch on his belt. She doesn't know exactly what it is, but as it's rather out of place she's thinking that's where the orbs are. While his arm is still drawn back she lunges forward with renewed strength to grab that pouch, rip it off his belt and smash it's contents to pieces on the hard pavement. Blue light flashes from the pouch, suffusing Warren then appearing to pull something out of him and into the destroyed contents of the bag. He looks dazed by all this and Buffy knows a moment of triumph as she leaps to her feet.

"Good night, bitch," she says happily with a hard spin-kick that sends the geek flying back toward his loser friends. "You," she advances toward him as he gets to his feet looking scared like he should, "you really thought you could beat me? You are nothing," she reaches him and grabs onto his shirt to lift him off the ground, "but a sad little boy, Warren. It is time," she twists her hand in the fabric she's holding to tighten the collar of the shirt around his neck, "for you to grow up and pay for what you've done. This isn't a game," she stalks forward to slam him against the wall of a concession stand as she continues her lecture while police sirens draw nearer. "This is life and you've ended Katrina's and screwed mine up for the last time. I," she jerks him forward then slams him back against the wall, "am the Slayer. It is my duty to kill vampires and demons and help this world avoid the apocalypses that spring up just about every year around here like clockwork. You," she slams him furiously against the wall again as she hears the policemen slowly approaching and encouraging her to put the man down, "are not part of my job description," she releases her hold on his shirt and watches with satisfaction as he crumbles weakly to the ground.

Feeling like a great weight had been taken off her shoulders Buffy turns to face the police, answering their questions and watching happily as all three of her self proclaimed 'arch-nemisises' were shoved handcuffed and defeated into the back seats of police cruisers.

Finally something to feel good about since coming back.

~*~*~

After a solid week of globe trotting, Spike knew he'd finally found the place. There was such power in this isolated village in the wilds of South Africa that there was no doubt about his last source having known what he was talking about.

Almost enough to make him sorry to have snapped the demon's neck after getting the info, the vampire thinks with a slow exhalation of smoke from the cigarette he was smoking as he stalked through the villagers.

The apparent chief of this tribe tries to stop him, but Spike pushes onward toward the cave he can feel the power emanating from.

"Not asking for permission, mate," he tosses down his fag and stomps it out outside the entrance as the villager goes on and on about how he cannot enter.

He enters the dark cave with the chieftain continuing to shout warnings after him, but as the man does not follow Spike continues on. His steps slow as even his heightened eyesight can't make anything out in the enveloping darkness of the hole in the ground and he fumbles around inside his duster for his lighter. He flicks the Zippo open and uses it's flickering flame to explore his surroundings as he moves deeper into the cavern. The walls all around him are decorated with images of people. Their faces show various degrees of pain, bodies with blood gushing from gory wounds, images of dead and dying beings in the most gruesome stages of their death.

"Alrighty, then," he says quietly as he refuses to let the images disturb him. "William the bloody Bloody here, not likely to be bothered by finger paintings."

A sudden breeze blows past him and extinguishes the flame that had been illuminating the drawing of a figure in black holding out it's arm toward a red and bleeding man. Sensing that more sudden gusts of air would put out the lighter if he tried using it again, Spike flips it closed and tucks it back away with a resigned sigh. He vamps out to better his sight and resumes making his way through the pitch black.

After progressing an unknown number of feet he stills as he senses the presence he was searching for.

"You seek me, vampire?" the demon's deep, gravelly voice booms through the underground chamber.

"Nice work back there with the finger paintings," Spike quips to cover his sudden nervousness. "You do that?"

"Answer me," the demon orders and shifts in the darkness to reveal the outline of his large figure and the glowing green eyes that shine in his head.

"Yeah, I seek you."

"Something about a woman, I believe," the thing drawls into the silence. "The slayer."

A growl escapes the vampire at the reminder of his mission and he nods.

"Thinks she's better than me. Made me her bloody whipping boy. Ever since I got this bleeding chip in my head, things ain't been right. S'all gone to hell," the blonde vents.

"And you want me to return you to your former self," the demon asks knowingly.

"Yeah," he nods and an evil laugh escapes the beast. "What?"

"Look at what she has reduced you to," the thing scorns.

"It's the bloody chip - "

"You," the demon continues as if Spike hadn't opened his mouth, "were a legendary dark warrior and look at how you've let yourself be castrated. Still," the thing laughs again in the face of Spike's growing anger, "you have the audacity to crawl in here and demand restoration?"

"Yeah, I do," he faces the demon without hesitation. "I'm still a bloody warrior and I have the right to get back what's mine."

"You are a pathetic excuse for a demon."

"Oh yeah? Maybe to humans I am with this bleeding chip, but I can bloody well show you pathetic," Spike shrugs out of his leather coat and readies himself to fight the demon. "Give me your best shot."

"You could never endure the trials required to grant your request," the thing ignores the challenge.

"Do your buggering worst," he replies. "But when I win … I want what I came here for. I want things back the way they should be," he demands as the demon says nothing. "Bitch is gonna see a change in her bloody lapdog."

"Very well, vampire," the demon's eyes glow brighter. "You will compete in the trials for what you desire and should you, by some miracle, succeed your request shall be granted. Your death will be quite creatively slow and torturous when you fail, though."

"Won't bloody fail, you git, now how about you just bring it on already?"

~*~*~

A seeming eternity later Spike sighs and paces the dimly lit cavern in all his naked glory, as he'd been informed that he would be doing this without any weapons or protections sans his own body, while the bloody demon watches and asks if he understands.

"Yeah, I get it," he stops and faces the beasty. "It's not like you haven't been brain numbingly clear about it, oh great mysterious one. This is a bleeding test, much as I expected when I searched your scaly arse out, and I don't get what I want unless I pass said test. That about the size and shape of it?"

"That is an oversimplification of the process, but yes," the demon hisses.

"And since this pad is decked out gladiator-style and no number two pencils have been provided even I can suss out that we're not starting with the written exam so enough dawdling and lets get this bloody show sta …" Spike's voice trails off as his senses detect a presence behind him and he turns to see a very large, no-neck muscle bound type of guy lumbering toward him. "Here we go then," he takes a deep unnecessary breath to brace himself. "Just me and the walking action figure," he looks from said figure to the demon in charge. "I'm venturing this is a kill-or-be-killed type of situation, then?"

"To the dusty death," the demon confirms then melts into the shadows.

"Right," the vampire drawls then faces his opponent again. "Here we are now. Entertain us," he tells the man who gives him a blank stare in return as he holds up his wrists, smacks his forearms together and both his hands suddenly burst into flame. "Oh, son of a bitch," Spike groans as the flaming fists instantly fly in his direction.

He manages to avoid actual contact with the fist heading toward his jaw, but the flames still burn across his flesh causing a angry hiss of pain to escape his lips. He drives one of his own tightly clenched fists into the big lug's chest and feels the impact jar from his knuckles all the way up to his shoulder as it feels like he slammed the hand into solid rock. The fiery handed bastard knocks him back and slugs him in the right shoulder with a flaming fist that sears the skin and cracks the bone beneath.

"Bloody hell," he groans while stumbling back to recover from the blow.

Game face sliding into place, he straightens and lunges at the muscle bound jerk, fists and feet flying, but making little progress. He, on the other hand, was getting more of a beating that he'd like to admit. The bloody bastard marks his stomach and chest and face with his fiery punches then slams a meaty fist into his head and knocks Spike to the ground with his features reverting back to their normal, human status. The bugger has no compunction about hitting a bloke while he's down and drives a fist into the right side of the vampire's flesh. As the man rears his hand back to strike again the blonde scrambles back away like a crab from the next blow. It does little good and the burning hands latch onto his shoulders to pick him up off the ground and throw his battered body hard against the sharp rock wall of the cave.

"Had enough?" he asks with his trademark snark as he picks himself up from the pile he'd slumped to on the ground and wipes at the blood trickling from his mouth.

The taste of his own blood is always bitter when he gets a taste of it from being on the losing end of a blow in battle. The taste restores his anger and fighting spirit and all Spike does is stumble backward a bit from the bastard's next series of punches. He stumbles back into a column of rocks and swings around it to come out behind his opponent and take a strong swing at the other man's head. The bugger ducks the blow, whirls around and punches the blonde back against a wall of rough rock. His sore body bounces against the unforgiving surface and the flaming fists pummel at him as he's pinned there until he can take no more and collapses once more to the ground.

Giving up - just laying there – has never been an option for Spike. No matter the beating he springs up and keeps dishing out or taking it and that's the way he'll be until he's dust. His body was beaten, bruised, burnt, bloodied and damned near broken, but it was still intact and with a feral growl he vowed to himself it would bloody stay that way.

Sucking up the pain and burying it deep down inside himself he sees the next punch coming and doesn't dodge it. He shoots out his hand and meets the blow. Ignoring the flames scorching his fingers and flesh clear to the bone, he takes the other man's hand in his own clenching until he felt bones crush and snap – his or his opponent's he didn't know – then violently throws the hand aside and shoves the meathead back with a strong push. He takes a moment to look at his damaged hand and curse the thoughtless action that had caused the injury then refocuses. Flame-boy throws another punch and Spike weaves to the side to avoid the blow then grabs onto the meaty forearm that brushes past his shoulder and uses the hold combined with the bastard's momentum to send his attacker flipping through the air to slam onto his back on the ground. With his enemy fallen the blonde quickly moves in for the kill, kicking the muscleman viciously in the gut and side to flip him over onto his stomach. He then drops down to straddle his opponent's huge shoulders before grabbing hold of the other man's head to violently wrench it around and easily snap the lug's neck.

"Looks like," Spike pushes to his feet, nursing his burnt hand and panting down at the now dead 'walking action figure,' "local boy loses."

"So it would appear," the demon in charge reveals his presence in the shadows with little more than the glow of his green eyes.

"Good on me, then," the blonde continues to pant for breath as he stares at those shining little orbs. "I get what I came for. Passed your bloody test, right?"

"Indeed," he senses an evil note in the demon's voice. "Remarkably you have passed the first stage of the test."

"Right, I get …," his gasps for unneeded breath slow to a stop as the words sink in. "Wait. First stage?" his only answer is those eyes glowing with a hint of blue mixed in with the green. "Bollocks," he groans as he knows there is much more to come.

He weighs what he's here for against the wounds he's already received from this first of God only knew how many steps to get what he desired and closes his eyes to regroup as he knows he'll go all the way. There's no turning back and even if there were he wouldn't. It wasn't in him to back down at this point. Never had the smarts to know when to run. And he'd chosen this path knowing it would not be easy. He was willing to take it however it came.

This was the only way to get his self back from Buffy's bloody hold and nothing would stop him until he accomplished that mission or died trying. Not exactly wanting to live forever, but knowing damned well that he wasn't gonna go out like this Spike allows the calm of his inner demon with all it's thirst for death, blood, violence and victory to spread throughout his mind and body.

"Bring it on," his blue eyes gleam with flecks of demonic gold as they look straight into the glowing green circles staring out at him from the darkness.