Crossing into unchipped country (17/?) by dutchbuffy2305

Rating: R

Timeline: Around AtS 5.09 or 5.10

Author's note: Big hugs to my amazing betas.

Author's website:

Feedback: Yes, please, to dutchbuffy2305@yahoo.co.uk

When the door clicks softly shut behind Buffy Spike blows out a long sigh. This is the proper start of the rest of his life. He should be relieved that it's finally over, no chance of them ever getting back together. He's alive, she's alive, they met, they said goodbye. It could be that simple. Nothing ever is, of course.

He wishes he wasn't a vampire, though, and couldn't feel her sitting right behind his front door crying and being miserable. It makes the shine go right off his neat new beginning. The soft sobbing and snuffling outside is like nails scratching on blackboard, and of course, his whole apartment still smells of her in every nook and cranny. He yanks off the offensively fragrant sheets from his bed and balls them up. He opens his one barred little window. The mug she used can be washed up, and he'll have to buy cleaning supplies to scrub the shower and everything she touched.

It's over. Why can't she just go away? He's been perfectly clear he didn't want her, so why does he have to fight the urge to fling himself outside in the sunshine and take her in his arms to make everything better? Ten minutes ago he was convinced he did the right thing for himself, and already doubt is creeping in. This can't be good. He'd best go away and occupy himself elsewhere, or he'll cave in, he knows he will. He decides to go to the office and talk to Angel, like he told Buffy he would.

Spike enters the sewer by his handy trap door. Every step gives him some measure of relief from the pressure of Buffy's proximity, but after the first few turns he notices it isn't getting any less. He halts and listens. She's coming after him in spite of what he said, so there's gonna be another sodding scene.

He's still confused about how things happened this morning. All he knows is he was about to give in, unable to withstand the lure of warm golden girl flesh in his bed, the plea in her eyes, the scent rising from between her breasts. The delight of lying in her arms when he woke up was visceral, unbelievably powerful. Their hands burst into flame again, just like in the Hellmouth, and that convinced him everything had been real, that she had meant what she said at that moment. But then something stopped him. Not as if he'd planned to make a stand. He doesn't regret it, but he wishes it felt more finished and done with, but it doesn't. Buffy doesn't seem to think so either, slogging close on his heels in the tunnels. As if he can't hear her.

He thinks he's shaken her off at the entrance to Wolfram&Hart and is just putting his mind to talking Angel and Wesley out of doing rash things to him, when a bevy of black clad pseudo commandos pours in. The stunned Slayer is strung between them like a trussed chicken. How the hell did she get the secret code? Shouldn't have set it on her birthday, then, you prat, he tells himself.

"Oh bloody hell," he says.

"Buffy?" Wesley says.

"Buffy?" Angel, understandably surprised and annoyed. To the commando leader, "I'll take it from here, Jenkins. Thanks."

"Spike!" Angel says, turning to him. "Why did you let her in?"

"Hey!" Spike protests. "I didn't. She must have followed me."

Angel muscles in between him and Buffy and bends over her solicitously. He gestures to Wesley who produces the requisite antidote from somewhere and sprays Buffy with it. Spike isn't quite sure where his eagerness comes from, but with a sudden burst of speed he's the one who extends a hand to Buffy. Whatever's been said between them this morning, she's his and not Angel's, and bugger the consequences.

"Buffy," Angel says again, his voice dripping with solicitousness. "Now is not a very good time for a visit. I'm really busy."

"I just want to talk to Spike," Buffy says reasonably. "I won't bother you and Wesley, okay?"

Spike releases the warm little hand he discovers he's still holding and turns to Angel. "I'll take her to the airport."

"I'm sorry, Buffy; we have important business to discuss with Spike. Harmony will arrange a limo to take you anywhere you want," Angel says smoothly.

"Spike, you're not going anywhere until I first hear some corroboration for that fairy tale story of yours," Angel says curtly, king of the heap. "You think you can run out of here with Buffy as an excuse? You've been slaughtering wholesale, and you'll answer for it."

The difference between Angel's tone of voice when he addresses Spike or Buffy is incredible. Does Angel think Buffy and he somehow aren't listening when he's talking to the other?

Spike sighs and turns to Buffy. She'll back him up, thank God, wipe the cobwebs from the old man's brain. Buffy actually goes and stands squarely in front of him, defending him like a tigress her young. No, scratch that. Her mate. It's the first time she's ever given him such physical acknowledgement, in front of Angel of all people, and in spite of everything it's amazingly sweet. He's not going to fall in love all over again is he? That would be so pathetic. He yanks himself back from that precipice and steps beside her. He doesn't need defending, he's his own man. Buffy looks puzzled, on the verge of being hurt, and that's not what he meant. He nods at her.

"What?" Buffy says. "Angel, don't be ridiculous. Of course Spike didn't do that. It was an evil Spike, from another dimension."

Spike inches even closer. None of Angel's business that they've fallen out. He glories in her living scent, here in Angel's musty tomb-like chamber. He knows Buffy doesn't have his full range of senses, that she won't smell him like he smells her, but she does have her vampire radar. Is she able to distinguish between him and other vampires, he wonders. He's always assumed so, because she used to know exactly where he was and what he was doing.

Angel and his tame Watcher turn to her, their eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Really?" Pryce says. "Quite a coincidence that he turned up here, don't you think?"

"Well, I wasn't there, of course," Buffy says, "but the other Spike's goal in this world was to find Drusilla. In his dimension, I killed her and he wanted her back. If she happened to be in LA at the time, it would be only logical that he'd come here. Why he kidnapped Spike I don't know. Maybe it was his way of thanking me."

"For what?" Wesley says.

Yeah, that's what Spike would like to know. For letting him shag her? Bit extravagant.

Buffy shrugs. "We helped each other while we were traveling to Cleveland from Sunnydale. I allowed him to come to this world to search for Dru. If he came across Spike accidentally…"

She bites her lip.

"So, Buffy," Pryce says pensively, in that deceptively mild manner of his, "you allowed a notorious and evil vampire to roam freely in this world?"

Buffy blushes hotly and looks daggers at Wesley. "Just because that's not the way it's done in books…" she retorts angrily.

Spike doesn't quite get what she means. Pryce may have been a Watcher, but he's clearly done his bit in the trenches. A ninny could see that, and there's the obvious respect Angel and the others hold for him.

Wesley shrugs this off. "Five years is a long time, Buffy. People change. I believe my question is a valid one."

"I miscalculated that one," Buffy says reluctantly. "I thought he'd keep his word, like this Spike would. He didn't."

Spike's proud of her, she's never liked admitting mistakes. She walks some distance away from him and the rest of the group and sits her pretty butt on Angel's big desk, just like Spike himself always does. She crosses her arms and faces the two big men, chin lifted defiantly.

"Everyone makes mistakes," Wes says. "The point is, how will you rectify it?"

"No problem," Buffy shrugs. "Willow and I sent him and Dru back to his home world, which is not my responsibility."

She grimaces after saying this, as if hearing the words out loud bring home their not-quite-right-ness. Spike decides to go and stand next to her again, show her she's got his support, in a brother-in-arms sort of way.

Spike's ears pop, like in the airplane, and he must have blinked while he swallowed, because without transition there is a bulging emptiness hovering behind Buffy. She seems oblivious. He opens his mouth to warn her but time has slowed to treacle. He can practically see the air waves shimmer in front of his face and slowly travel to Buffy, but then a platinum haired man in black has already leaned out, grabbed Buffy by the neck and crotch, and yanked her back in with him. He winks at the room in general with a particularly annoying, evil smirk on his face.

"Spike!" Buffy screams and he can see her kicking and twisting to get leverage on the man holding her.

"Buffy!"

Spike sprints forward, elbowing the two big immovable lugs out of the way, and dives after her, but the portal has closed and he slides over the table, mowing down the phone and all the other clutter on Angel's desk. His feet cannon into the trophies Angel has hung there, unicorn horns, swords and whatnot, his upper body and head shatter a display case with another precious bauble. Something small and glittering arcs through the air. It must have originated from the portal. Angel catches it and then Spike's head falls down to the floor and connects there with a thud.

When he rolls over and jumps straight to his feet, the others are still staring stupidly at where Buffy disappeared. Of the portal, or whatever it was, no trace is visible.

Spike vaults over the desk and strides over toward Angel. The glittering object is his lighter, or a copy of it, looking absurdly small and delicate in Angel's big hands. Buffy hasn't lost her ability to think on her feet in a dire situation, an ability which is also notable for not being used in other areas of her life. They can track her with the lighter, do a spell maybe. There isn't a moment to be lost.

"Pryce, you and your department start researching portals and dimension magic or whatnot," Spike says, jabbing a finger at Wesley.

Wesley's eyebrows rise high, but he nods.

"Harmony!" Spike bellows.

Harmony scurries in. "Boss?" she says and looks at Angel.

"Get the jet over to Cleveland again. Arrange for someone to pick up Willow and her interdimensional device and fly her over here."

Harmony sneaks a look at Angel to check if this is okay. Angel nods and says, "It's for Buffy, Harmony. Follow Spike's orders."

The pink rosebud lips pout but she moves off with efficiently clicking heels.

"Right, that's covered. I'll call up Willow and tell her what happened, tell her to stand by. Further suggestions?"

"We'll be ready for her," Wesley says. "We've got significantly more resources than she could muster on her own."

"Brilliant. Get to it. Angel?"

"I'll tell the Magic Contracts Department to go looking for anything we might have on these portals. You seem to know something about them, Spike."

If he wasn't in such a hurry, Spike would have demanded an apology from Angel for suspecting him and Dru of painting the town red. Although, now that he thinks of it, Angel is looking anxious and acting extremely helpful. He'll just forget about it, then. And bugger if the old sod hasn't put his thick finger on a sore point. He knows bally all. He couldn't be arsed to ask Buffy about her adventures, but if he had he would have known whether there was more to it than portals and magic devices, Spikes and Drus.

"Dunno much, yet," he answers curtly. "I'll tell you more about it after I've called Willow."

"Wouldn't it be better if I called Willow?" Wesley asks delicately. "We've worked together before."

"And I haven't?" Spike asks, bridling at the slight. "I fought a dozen apocalypses with Buffy and her Scoobies. I'm calling her."

Exasperating fellow, that Pryce. Always assuming he knows best. He won't call him on it, though, coz he's not been on top of his form lately.

Spike gets Harmony to call up Willow and patch her through to his cell. The phone rings in his ear, going on excruciatingly long.

"Spike, do you realize what time it is in Cleveland?" Wesley says.

"Why don't you go do your thing, Pryce, instead of hanging about and assisting people in simple tasks like phone calls? Every minute may count if we want to rescue Buffy."

Angel returns with someone from the Contracts department and bloody Willow still hasn't picked up the phone.

"We'll need more info, Spike. Contracts needs to know what parties may be involved before they can be of assistance."

"I'm on it," Spike snaps. "Fucking Scoobies won't pick up."

Angel stands close to him, and dammit if the old bastard isn't inhaling deeply, trying to get a whiff of Buffy, he reckons. Angel doesn't say anything, but odds are he knows they haven't been having sex. Spike has, as usual, made the wrong decision at the wrong time. They could still have been having fun in his bed if he hadn't acted up like a diva on speed.

"Yeah?" Willow picks up, noticeably out of breath.

"It's Spike. Buffy's been kidnapped into another dimension by another Spike. The jet's picking you up at the airport in an hour. A car is on its way to you. Take the device. What else can you tell me about the portals?"

"Whoa, whoa, Spike, slow down, buddy. What happened exactly?"

"There was a hole in the air over Angel's desk.  A gateway I guess. A man, a Spike I think, leaned out and grabbed Buffy. I tried to get to her but it closed too fast. She managed to throw his lighter at us. Can you use that to locate her?"

"There was…Buffy's gone? His lighter. Okay. I'll get dressed and pack. Hey, Spike, remember Buffy's the Slayer? She'll be alright. And if that was the same Spike she met before, they're kinda friendly, so she won't be in any danger from him….I mean they're like co-travelers. Allies. "

"Any word on who owns the portals?" Spike says between clenched teeth.

"Gatekeepers, they're called. Big, black and dangerous, according to Buffy. Oily and flammable, too."

"Gatekeepers," Spike says tersely to Angel and his flunky, covering the phone. "Big black oily blokes."

The flunky nods at Angel and leaves at a gallop.

"Willow?" Spike says. "Hurry."

He turns around and the office is empty. Everybody busy doing their thing, he hopes. Angel's gigantic comfy chairs look very appealing all of a sudden and he flings himself down in one of them. He can't get his fucking fag out of the packet and the fucking cheap lighter won't work.

When the drooping cigarette is finally ensconced between his lips and the first calming drag taken he drops his head back and rests it against the fat soft suede. He can't believe he's allowed this to happen. Buffy may be dead for all he knows and all he can think of is his foolish pride, being stupid enough not to take what she'd been offering him, which is like everything he's ever wanted. But no, he was hurt, his pride was wounded, he felt he had to take a stand. Oh, what the hell, these are all excuses, he was plain afraid of turning into the old whipped Spike again. As if she wasn't worth it. Buffy being snatched by his evil counterpart is like a slap on the wrist by fate. And that's the best case scenario, mind you; if she's dead or vamped…he can't think on. He won't think that, he won't. She's the bloody Slayer, she's survived an amazing eight years on the job, she'll survive this as well.

Spike finishes the fag and grinds it out on the arm. He goes over his list of to-dos again. Has he forgotten anyone who might contribute something useful? He'll try Lorne, just for the record.

Lorne is so deeply immersed in office gossip that he knows everything already.

"It's the Barbed One! Spillikins, baby, give us a hug. Anything for the hero and his beloved. Name your names for the welcome home party, I guarantee you they'll show up if I give them a call."

"I was thinking more of some extra help in the rescue attempt," Spike says. "Didn't you come from another world? Do you know how to open portals?"

"Once was enough," Lorne says with a grimace. "But I know someone who helped us before. Hard to get hold of, but I'll give it a try because it's you. Blue haired beauty who can open a gateway with a snap of her fingers. A tad temperamental."

Time is like taffy. Sometimes it wads up and clogs your molars, and at other times it stretches like gossamer. Whatever state it's in now, it's taking too bloody long for anybody to come back and give him some results. He's itching for action, aching for it. Buffy's his and he wants her by his side now. What he said this morning seems ludicrous. He will take any crumb she gives him, what does he care? As long as he has her and not that other pillock. He replays the smirk and wink he saw that poncey white haired bugger give him before the portal closed and he wants rip his throat out, beat him to a bloody pulp before he stakes him. How dare that smirking bastard take his girl? He's got no right.

He's so caught up in his vengeful fantasies, pacing up and down the length of the thick carpet in Angel's office, that Harmony has to call him several times before getting his attention.

"Spike? Spikey? They've arrived at the airport and the chopper is landing on the roof as we speak."

"They? Willow?"

And after the endless waiting and pacing everything happens at once. People pour into the big office from all sides. Willow, Dawn, Andrew and Xander enter; then Lorne and the bride of Frankenstein, only blue; Wesley; Angel with a passel of weedy suits trailing after him. They all start talking at once, and he's lost in a sea of confused excited voices and tall bodies. Finally, he jumps on the table and roars at them in game face to shut up. It works. Everybody does and looks up at him with these scandalized faces.

"One at a time, people!" Spike bellows. "Willow!"

"Aye, aye, cap'n. Able sea woman Rosenberg reporting – sorry Spike. I brought the device and prepared a locator spell for the lighter. Where can I work?"

"Pryce, can you pool your research with Willow's and get her a space to work in?"

Wesley nods.

"Angel?"

"We don't seem to have contracts with the creatures known as Gatekeepers, but we might have some blood oaths, carved in rock, dealing with the Portal Covenants. We're still trying. We could use some more info."

Spike points at the dark and the auburn head bent closely together. "Wesley and Willow, when can you be ready to brief the lawyers?"

Wesley and Willow exchange a few words and promise half an hour.

"Lorne?"

Lorne and the blue haired lady come up. She looks at Spike with frank appreciation. He leers back automatically.

"This is Meerna,  Mistress of Dimensions. She could open up a portal for you right now. She advises against it, because the Gatekeepers are big, nasty and powerful. You need some heavy mojo to take along to the In Between."

"Thanks," Spike says and sits down wearily.

He might have known that the moment he relaxed the other Scoobies might come bouncing up like puppies. He acknowledges them briefly. Good of them to come. They don't seem to be really worried yet.

A knot of furiously conferencing Watchers and witches breaks and they come over to him to report.

"We've got them pinpointed, Spike. They're not quite in the same location, but close together in the home dimension of the Gatekeepers, the In Between. Here's a cloaking amulet to keep you below their radar. Meerna will send you in, and you will carry Willow's dimension device to get you and Buffy out. Contracts are working hard on getting some leverage on the Gatekeepers to get them to clamp down on the other Spike, cite him with littering or jaywalking portals or some such infraction," Wesley says in his inimitable precise way.

"Good work, Wes," Spike says, impressed. "All of you. Will you take over while I'm off?"

"Spike," Angel says. "We're going in together."

"Bloody hell we are not!"

Spike can't think of anything worse than having Angel in the way when he's rescuing his girl. But then again – he might need the extra brawn? He decides he doesn't – Buffy brings her own brawn. What he could use is mojo, so Willow might be an asset.

"Willow?"

"Better not, Spike. Every extra person coming along will incur us extra debt to the Gatekeepers. I'm paying in blood as it is to let you through without flinging some other Spike back here. Although I'm not sure what the rules for the In Between would be," Willow says.

Angel is talking to Wesley, who thinks Angel shouldn't go. Spike holds out his hand to Willow, who gives him the device with a guilty look at Angel. Her little girl conscience is the thing he likes about her least. He nods to Meerna, who mutters impressive words but in the end simply licks her thumb and draws a line in the air, starting above her head and down to the ground. A portal opens. Spike can't see through to where he's going, he'll just have to trust that everyone else knows what they're doing. He will find Buffy, he promises himself. There is no way he will even consider a future without her.

"Close it behind me quickly. Don't let anybody else in, unless the lawyers have a solution," Spike instructs Meerna. He steps through.

TBC