His Slayer
Disclaimer: Joss owns Btvs.
A/N: Hi all. Not sure if there's anyone still interested in this story. I've been on some kind of rediscovery trip with fan fiction lately. For the past couple of months I haven't been able to read any Buffy fanfiction much less write it. The only fic I've been reading religiously is Herself's Where They Have to Take You In. It's on her LJ and is spectacularly awesome! So anyway what I'm trying to say is I just got burned out on Buffy and Spike and could not write a single word for them, much less finish my stories. As it is I've recently come back into my love for the fandom and the couple. So I've got it in mind to finish this story and then try and get 40-Love done and then hopefully Savage the Hunt. Now knowing me those are huge ifs so you're forewarned it may take me awhile. I am truly sorry for this huge delay but it could not be helped. I wanted to get this out before I forgot about it. Sorry if there are many mistakes, I checked it but... Anyway read on and enjoy.
Chapter Twenty- Three:
Body tense and eyes narrowed to slits he stalked the streets. His footsteps falling silent on the cobbled sidewalks as he glided forward. His breathing barely rustled his chest, falling almost silently from his parted lips. His hair wet from the brief spurt of rain a little earlier leaving it plastered to his skull, rivulets of water dripping into his eyes, down the curve of his jaw and into his shirt.
It wasn't in his nature to let things wait, to let things stay while he was action less in doing a thing to help the situation. So he'd taken it upon himself to go out tonight, stalking the streets. Finding he had sources he hadn't expected on.
Thinking certainly wasn't something he indulged in when he went off half cocked, but to his credit he liked to think he had actually used his head tonight.
"What've you got for me then, huh?"
He didn't even pause in his strides.
"What do you need?" he responded.
"Never have liked this cloak and dagger stuff myself. So what say you we dismiss that and start over again?"
Spike paused this time and glanced into the shadows.
"Whatever, let's just do this. I certainly don't have all day," Spike grumbled, irritated.
"Night. You don't have all night," the demon corrected him quickly as it stepped into the dim light and onto the street.
Spike felt his brows rise as he got his first look at the demon he'd been told to meet. His jaw clenched briefly as he took in the demon's very demonic look. Red faced and black eyed the demon had horns coming from its face where cheekbones should have been. Long tusks and littler ones coming out of his cheeks and chin. His head was adorned with a big and bright green mohawk.
"Like the do? It was kinda spur of the moment. So, uh is it okay to talk business out in the open like this or what? I'm in mind to get a large glass of the berry myself," the demon remarked.
Unsure Spike stuffed his hands into his jeans pockets. He rocked back on his heels and felt the strong urge for a smoke. Only he'd left his cigarettes back at the house Rowan had gotten.
"Berry?" he finally asked going with the safest question at the moment. He wasn't sure what to think about this demon. He had assumed he was going to be meeting with one of the demon's who was in the in. 'Cept this demon didn't seem to be threatening, nor at all intimidating, except for its nightmarish appearance.
The demon grinned exposing his canine like teeth.
"Cranberry. There's a pub not too far from here. We can talk in private there."
Inclining his head Spike gestured for the demon to precede him.
"So what's your name then?" Spike asked.
"Milo."
Nothing more was said as they made their way through the streets a few blocks away to the pub Milo had suggested.
Upon entering Spike was assaulted not by the usual smell of cigarette smoke and alcohol, but by the varying smells of demons and their drinks which had nothing alcoholic in their nature.
He hurried his steps to follow after Milo who had sidled up to the crowded bar and was ordering his cranberry juice. He turned back to look at Spike as he joined him.
"What's your poison?"
Spike declined with a pointed stare. He jerked his head to the back of the room where there were a few empty tables.
Milo grabbed his juice and while Spike ignored everyone Milo made a point of speaking to anyone who spoke to him.
At last Mio took a seat and gave a huge sigh.
"Finally! I thought I would never make it back here. What's on your mind, Spike? How can I be of service?"
Spike sat back in his chair.
"I was here earlier. Got the word out about a woman on the loose. Goes by the name of Maggie Walsh. Likes to experiment on demons. Fact is this is personal. Got my sire pregnant and Drusilla died when she gave birth to our baby."
He paused seeing if Milo was following him.
Milo was wide eyed.
"To make a long story short she's taken off with my son and I want him back. Anything that happens after that is none of my concern."
Milo took a quick gulp of his juice.
"So what will we be getting out of all of this?"
"I've got reason to believe she's got a number of demons locked up in the Council Headquarters. Not to mention you all get the pleasure of my presence and I won't rip right through the lot of you. This is a courtesy. Haven't been home here in quite a bit. You help me and I'll owe you a favor. And I'm more than good for it."
"While it's not really up to me, I can almost guarantee that you'll get the help you want. On account that this Maggie chica sounds really whack. I'll confer with my posse and get back to you."
"Within the next hour," Spike muttered shortly as he rose.
Milo looked skeptical.
"Don't start steppin' on people's toes now. We'll get back to you when we get back to you. I'm gonna finish my juice and I'll talk to you later."
Spike cautioned himself not to reach over and rip Milo's horned face right off. This had merely been a courtesy, he reminded himself. He didn't want to walk around with a target on his back as he went about his business.
On his feet Spike gave a sigh and nodded.
"And don't think just because I let you know what I'm doing here that I'll bow down to you all. I won't. You don't wanna piss me off. This is my flesh and blood we're talkin' about here. I will do whatever it takes to get my son back."
He reached out and grabbed Milo's glass draining it all in one gulp.
Wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and replaced the glass.
"Fancy berry blend myself," he mused as he grinned and walked away.
He left the pub and quickly hurried in the opposite direction of where he'd come. He had a few more stops to make.
He had to find a certain ex- Head Watcher.
And what a nice service it was.
Just look at all the people who turned out to say goodbye.
Or to gawk because no one had ever expected Joyce to be murdered. But then no one should be surprised as the murder rate in good 'ol Sunnydale was astronomical. But it was very unusual for someone in this town to die from a gunshot rather than a neck wound.
So the curious were out in full force.
Not only because of Joyce but also for her daughter.
Who it was whispered had murdered a girl last year, but the charges were mysteriously dropped. And to make it even juicier Buffy Summers had just woken from a coma recently, having collapsed on the street while with her weird British boyfriend.
Would it have been made the least bit better if Buffy herself had felt the strong and loving support of her friends?
She would never know as she felt the most alone she had ever felt in her whole life. Silently she watched as her mother's coffin was lowered into the ground. As the Reverend said words she didn't hear, she let her eyes focus on something other than her mother's body.
"Well I can say with certainty that I never thought I'd live to see the day I was buried."
Buffy pursed her lips and ignored her mother.
Soon enough this would be over with, Buffy thought. And she could begin the arduous task of rebuilding her life.
If things had been different, she thought, if she had made things happen in a different way. If she had used her head instead of going with her emotions. It wasn't often she took the time to evaluate her life. If ever. She was more than a little self-involved but that didn't include ever self analyzing herself.
But now in the silence on this hot summer day she took a step. Another road on her ever changing path in life. She acknowledged that what had happened was her fault. It didn't matter that she wanted to place certain blame on other people in her life. It certainly wasn't fair. She had started this. She had caused this. She would take the consequences and deal with them.
Like right now.
Standing here in this God-awful heat, blinking away the sweat that was slowing dripping into her eyes. Fingering the buttons on her awkward too large Salvation Army dress, the dark fabric clinging to her body in certain places, all consuming.
At her mother's funeral.
People were silently making their way to her, offering words of solace. Platitudes that didn't even begin to reach her. Not that she paid them any heed. It wasn't about grief now, no it went beyond that. It went beyond the searing pain that was even now gripping her heart.
High noon.
It seemed appropriate.
Here she was ready to face what was to come. A show down between her past and the future she was facing, one she didn't want to contemplate, but one she was going to have to.
"Could you leave me alone?" she whispered aloud when they were finally alone.
"Buffy..." Joyce began quietly.
Buffy turned her back on her.
"What can you say to me?" Buffy demanded, guiltily. "Nothing you say will make me feel any better. Nothing you can say will bring you back. You are dead. Now please would you leave me alone?!"
She didn't mean to scream.
Couldn't seem to stop herself as she stalked away.
One: She was going to have to find a place to live.
Two: She was going to have to make amends to everyone.
Three: Start thinking with her head.
Four: She was never going to follow this list she was making in her head.
She found herself leaning suddenly against a tree. Her head throbbing and her breath wheezing from her parted lips. She felt sick to her stomach. Shivering as chills assaulted her.
Her eyes fluttered and swaying she let out a small cry as blackness engulfed her and she fell into unconsciousness.
The punch sent the man reeling sideways and he fell into the wall. He leaned against it a minute. Breathing hard and glaring all the while.
"Who the hell are you?" Maggie demanded as she flexed her aching hand. The baby at her feet in its baby carrier, sound asleep.
She had been too arrogant, she thought angrily.
"Who are you?" he spat out in disgust. "You always knock men you don't know around?"
He pushed off the wall and with one last glare he strode off.
Maggie released the huge breath she had been holding. She felt her shoulders sag and her hands began to tremble as her adrenaline left her.
"Oh," she sighed the word. With shaky legs she bent down to pick up the carrier.
Only to gasp and almost drop it as a pale hand wrapped around her own.
"We'll take that."
Stiffly she released the carrier and straightened up. She contemplated running or attacking. But as she glanced around she found it would be a fatal mistake. Four men, all of them vampires, surrounded her.
The one who'd taken Tate from her was bent over looking at the baby with fascination.
"If you would come with us," the tallest of the four said reaching for her elbow.
"Who are you?"
"If you would come with us," he repeated and this time his hand clenched tightly on her elbow, hard enough to hurt her.
She didn't try to resist as she was led down the nearly deserted street and pushed none too gently into a waiting limo.
"Where are you taking me?" she tried again as the car raced down the street.
"Be quiet."
She watched as all of the vampires stared at the baby, touching and sniffing it continuously.
Despite herself she was intrigued by their blatant fascination with Tate.
"He's human."
If she could get them talking about this then perhaps she might glean where they were taking her, and to whom.
Two of them looked over at her.
"We can smell that. But we can also smell the vampire in it."
Surprised because she had only been able to guess at what traits the baby would have, she kept her face a blank mask. That was exactly as she had hoped. If they could smell the baby's demon then it would definitely mean it would have all the vampire traits.
"He's a miracle," she proclaimed proudly.
"He's an abomination," one of them growled almost hissing.
Slightly stunned Maggie could only blink.
"The stench is disgusting." Another added.
Maggie didn't understand it. She had thought--no she had assumed--that because of Spike wanting the baby that others would be pleased as well. Only now she seemed it wasn't quite so.
"Er... Now why do you say that? He's something you can only imagine. He is the future gentlemen. He will soon, along with others, rule this world and you had better get in lin-"
Quick as lightning the tall one reached over and wrapped his hands around her neck.
"You presume too much, you crazy woman."
Maggie tried to gasp, but could only manage a moan and as she felt her heart begin to pound frantically against her chest, she prayed silently. Her breath grew ragged and fear roared through her veins as his hands tightened around her neck.
"Mikhail. Stop it. She is to be unharmed. The mistress deemed it so," said the stocky red headed vampire who had so far had been the quietest. But now his voice was sharp and held a level of authority she hadn't guessed he possessed.
Mikhail released her and it was such a relief she felt tears fill her eyes as she tried to regain her breath. She decided then that there was no point in antagonizing these evil beings any more than she had to. She would just have to rely on the fact that she was supposed to be unharmed and kept alive until they reached their destination.
It certainly wasn't any kind of a relief.
"Might as well walk together now Oz, as no one's following me. 'Cept you."
With that said Oz bounded over to him not quite meeting his eyes as he paused before him.
"Yeah it's a good thing too because I probably would have eaten them," he remarked with unconcealed self-loathing.
Spike rubbed the back of his neck feeling all kinds of uncomfortable. While he'd figured something was wrong with Oz, whom he was taking great pains in not referring to him as Dog Boy, he hadn't expected his tale.
So he hadn't really said much as Oz had finished and they had retreated to their respective beds.
Spike decided now would be as good a time as any.
"'Bout before." He paused and looked anywhere but at the boy. This was awful. "When you told me you ate-"
"I know what you're talking about. I remember everything," Oz interrupted quickly, flinching away.
"Look I'm not gonna coddle you. But what I will do is tell it to you straight. You may not have the ability to rationalize this. Anyway bout the man you ate, s'not like you killed him. So don't worry about that. Can't say I understand about you being all wigged out about this."
They began to walk again this time a little more slowly.
Oz slid him a sideways glance.
"That's all?" he demanded, thinking at the very least there would be a little more.
Spike sent him an irritated scowl.
"I'm getting around to it," Spike grumbled. "S'not like I have experience in this. Hang on all right?"
What was he supposed to say to him? Be glad you didn't kill the boy and you just ate his remains. That wouldn't appease Oz at all. Wasn't sure if he should clue the kid in on the fact that he'd been the one to murder the soldier, and Oz had stumbled upon his killing ground.
"I don't wanna talk about this," Oz muttered starting to move off.
"Not so fast. You and I need to suss this out. Now I killed that man. And I'm not about to start feeling remorseful. It was just your luck you stumbled upon the body. Now onto your lust for the taste of human flesh... It won't get easier. That's the cold hard truth."
He looked at Oz who was looking miserable and he found it rather startling, as Oz usually had no expression on his young face.
"Never?" Oz asked his voice tinged with anxiety and slight desperation.
"Can't say that I'm in tune with the traits of werewolves. I'm not. But if it's like anything I feel when I'm about it must be awful. But whereas I can pick and choose my victims and refrain from killing them if I want it's not the same with you. You are essentially an animal. An animal in the guise of a human, a young man, so it's about the kill for you. We are both killers. I kill to live and I imagine back when I wasn't who I am now, I killed for fun. You won't have much control over your urges if you let it take a hold of you now. Listen to me good now, Oz. You can never change who you are. You're a werewolf and you have urges you can't deny. But you can control them. It will take all you've got in you to keep the forces at bay."
Finished and feeling proud of himself Spike gave a curt nod and picked up his pace.
Oz trailed after him.
"That really wasn't helpful. That doesn't help me at all. What was the point of that? Just to tell me this was it?! I'm gonna stay in this state of self-disgust and ever present hunger? It's never going to change?"
He was yelling at Spike now and he frowned. He had thought he'd been great, telling Oz like it was and getting things settled nice and proper.
"Well dammit what do you want me to say? It's not gonna get easier. You aren't gonna magically wake up one day and not want to rip someone's throat out. You aren't made that way. If you don't accept it now and try to ward off the worst of it you'll fail, and turn into the beast you are so scared of being."
They walked in silence until they neared the place they were staying at.
"This could come in handy for us Oz. You've got the killer instinct so we'll use it. Don't look so down. I'll try and help you any way I can. Not saying I have all the answers, but I think we're in the same boat. Tryin' to navigate this sea of do's and don'ts and everything that goes against our remade natures. Don't get depressed. Look at the wanker; he's managed to live a life while not killing anyone." The words tasted foul even as he said them.
Oz cracked a smile at that.
"We talkin' about Angel? If so that's not entirely true. He went all evil last year and went on a killing spree. Killed a lot of people. So if you're thinking he's any kind of a role model think again."
Spike glanced at Oz and they shared grins.
"Knew there was another reason I didn't like him," Spike said with a wicked laugh. Buffy came awake slowly her eyelids fluttering and her breath coming in quick gasps. Her head was aching and as her eyes began to focus she blinked as light began to form and she found herself wide awake.
"Thought you'd be out for a little longer," she heard Wesley's voice next to her and turned to stare up at him through hazy eyes.
She focused on the sound of his voice as his face wavered in and out of her vision.
"Wh-what happened?" she asked through dry lips.
Wesley placed the tip of a straw at her lips and urged her to drink before he answered.
"We found you passed out in the cemetery. We certainly didn't think it was wise to let you go the hospital once more. So we brought you here. Drink slowly," he told her before he removed the straw from her reach and assisted her in sitting up.
She was grateful as her vision cleared and she was able to see that she was on the couch in Giles's livingroom. She moved her head slowly and felt her brain literally sway with the movement. She sucked in a deep gasp and closed her eyes tightly.
"You're awake. We thought for a while that we'd made a mistake in keeping you here. But Wesley insisted," Giles said as he came in from the kitchen his face set in a grim mask. His lips tight and his eyes holding the animosity he felt for Wes and was starting to feel for her.
She chose to ignore it.
"What happened to you?" Giles asked then as he seated himself on the arm of his sofa. He was trying to be a little gentler towards her, having caught the instant and quickly shoved aside hurt flash through her eyes. He couldn't help the anger he was feeling, but he could take better control of how he expressed it, especially to her.
"I was...I was thinking and suddenly I could barely stand and I started to get the chills and then I passed out." She gave a shrug and once more looked around the room, looking for her mother, or perhaps her friends. She didn't care to be alone with an angry Giles and a wary Wesley. She lifted and hand and shoved back a few strands of hair that were falling into her eyes and mouth. She wanted, no she needed to get up, to assuage her restlessness. She swung her legs over the edge of the couch and barely stifled a groan.
Wesley reached for her arm after sending Giles a worried look.
"That's to be expected," he tried to assure them both as he helped her rise unsteadily to her feet. She took a few steps and once she felt steady enough told Wes to let her walk on her own. She began a slow pace back and forth across the livingroom.
"That's all you remember?" Giles asked. "There had to be some advanced warning. It doesn't seem like you could have just taken ill and collapsed without some kind of warning. You should have let someone stay with you at the cemetery."
Buffy turned to face him and met his eyes. Her expression was rather blank as he took her in, noted the pale cast of her face, the thin line of her lips, her small stature, looking more fragile and broken than he'd ever seen her. For some reason it made him all the more angry.
"In fact it would be wise if you would discuss any more crazy schemes to go running off to rescue a vile creature like Spike with me beforehand! I don't appreciate how you left us all here to fend for ourselves. Alone and-- For God's sake Buffy how could you have been so stupid?! So unthinking as to run off and ruin your life?! I knew you to be a reckless fool at times but never to be as stu--"
"Yeah," Buffy interrupted him her voice dark, "that's right. That's me stupid Buffy. Stupid reckless Buffy who doesn't have a clue as to what she's done! You think I don't know anything, Giles?! Do you think everything that's happened has flown right over my head? Guess again! My mother is dead. Xander is in the hospital, Oz has left Willow, Faith's blaming herself for my mom's death and then there's you! I see Giles! I see!"
Giles shoved off the sofa and stood tall, arms crossed over his chest. He glared at her, the look in his eyes one she'd never seen directed at her before. She wanted to shudder but would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her do so. So she stood as straight as she was able and met his gaze head on.
Giles let his lips creep up into a sneer.
"Am I supposed to pity you? Is that it Buffy? Pity the poor child that lost her mother in such a horrible manner? Well there's no pity in me for you. You have behaved in such a manner that it is all I can do to look at you," he marched on despite her flinch at his harsh words, "There is no excuse for the things you've allowed to happen. I wish you could truly grasp that what you began has turned into a horrible display of naiveté and your lack of judgment is astounding. And what you've chosen to do with Spike is if not the worst mistake then a close second--"
His words were like small blows to her body. Each one marking a different part of her soul. Tearing into her mind and lodging themselves there until it was a roaring buzz in her mind.
"That's enough Giles!" Wesley finally interrupted as he stood between the two.
"No," Buffy said fiercely contemptuous, "Let him finish. Go ahead. Finish this Giles! Tell me how much you hate me now. I can take it. It's what I deserve isn't it? For leaving you all to fend for yourselves while I was off gallivanting around England! No matter that they had you and Faith. No I get it."
Giles felt his heart beating heavily in his chest, felt the air he inhaled and exhaled leave his body, felt the anger turn into rage. Felt his mind close down, his rage an almost living breathing thing. He took a step forward, his hands fisted at his sides, for what he wasn't sure except to get at her. Hurting her was foremost on his mind.
She saw him take a step toward her, watched as his eyes drained of his anger and turned flat and cold right before her eyes. She felt a sliver of fear sneak its way around her heart. He wanted to physically hurt her, she realized with a sudden dullness.
And she wanted to hurt him right back.
That had her stumbling back, away from him before she lost her control and lashed out, before she could hurt him or God forbid kill him. She glanced wildly around, her gaze latching onto Wes's and she swallowed painfully.
"Get out," Giles spat out. Voice cold and harsh.
And it was that voice that hurt more than all his words had. The unfeeling tone slashed her open and left her bleeding.
She nodded. Took a step toward the door. Wes was at her side immediately.
"You've ruined whatever chance you had at mending your relationship with Buffy, Rupert. I hope you've realized that. I hope you realize what you've lost," Wes snapped out as he opened the door and ushered Buffy out.
"And what you've gained you arrogant ass. Get out of my house! Get the hell out! Get out!" His yell echoed eerily off the cold stone walls and when it faded the only sound was his shallow breathing. He was shivering which was escalating into hard wracking shudders sweeping through his body.
They'd taken turns with him and he'd lost count on how many had come and toyed with him. Hurt him and hurt him over and over again. His mind had floated off into a safe place while his body was tortured.
He watched as his body shook and moans escaped his mouth, his body covered in his own dried blood and other...things. Watched as the latest demon continued its path of torture as it speared its knife into his calf muscle and gave it a quick hard jerk. Bending down quickly it settled its oversized mouth over the spurting wound. His sharp but small teeth tore into the wound, pulling and tugging the skin aside to get to the muscle beneath.
He watched as his screams turned into incoherent babble. Spit trickling down the sides of his mouth, his hands curled into fists, useless and just about the only thing they hadn't touched. He was certain they had something quite horrific planned for his hands. He was grateful that his mind was gone from his body, because it would surely hurt like hell if he could feel it. As the demon was literally eating him at the moment.
He heard a commotion from the door beyond and wondered vaguely if the demons were getting restless with him already. He had lasted for quite awhile actually. Stating he had nothing to say. Would give them no secrets The Council carried. Nothing, he would give them nothing. Only that had been awhile ago and he wasn't sure what he'd told them. Could be it could have been the truth or maybe lies.
He wished he had not been so prideful. He had let pride rule his life. He had been so proud to be the Head Watcher. To have all that power and have people respect him, but he'd forgotten pride was a sin and it had ruined his tenure as Head of the Council. It was too late, he mused. He had treated the Slayer badly, mocked her, set her up to be destroyed by Maggie Walsh. He'd known the woman was crazy and had still gone into a partnership with her. He'd failed to realize that while he was the Head Watcher and thereby in charge, he was not very well liked and thus inspired no loyalty. He'd been a harsh often times overbearing man in his life and when Maggie began to take control, oh so silently and stealthily he'd been blindsided. His people had turned on him and it was only now he realized they'd never been his people because he'd never allowed himself to open up to them. To embrace their help instead of berating it.
And so it had all led to this.
The large heavy wooden door flew off its hinges and smacked into the opposite wall where it splintered apart.
Interesting.
He watched as the demon at his leg reared up and roared as bits of flesh and bone went flying. It ducked its massive head and lunged at...Spike. Well this was certainly unexpected as he had left Spike with Buffy before they'd teleported back to America. Now here he was.
It was surprisingly easy for Spike to dispatch the demon and he couldn't help but watch with a sense of awe. Because whether he liked the vampire he certainly could fight. And fight surprisingly well.
Spike tossed the head of the demon to the side and took a step towards Quentin his eyes narrowing slightly as he caught sight of him.
"Bloody hell," he muttered as he knelt next to Quentin. "Can you hear me Quentin?"
He could hear him but as his mind was gone from his body he could not answer. So he allowed his mind to be sucked back into his body and reassert it's self into his body. And then he was screaming again, his mouth wide and his eyes bulging, the sounds coming from him were like those a wounded animal would make.
"Calm down. M'not gonna hurt you. I'm gonna get you outta here."
The screaming cut off abruptly.
He had to speak. Had to get this out and make what he said count.
"Mrgh," was all he could manage. He focused hard past the pain and made himself try again. "S...Slay—"
"Slayer?" Spike latched onto that. "What about Buffy?" he demanded.
"Office. Files...need...Slay...kill...Maggie...Crazy...kill...Slay—"His breath hitched and his eyes rolled back into his head and he was dead. And as his soul slipped away he watched as Spike kneeled over him, his face full of confusion and frustration, he felt the tiniest bit of pity for the creature. For surely he would not survive what Maggie had in store for them. "I think we should go back to Sunnydale," Spike said immediately as soon as he entered their flat.
Oz looked up from his position on the floor.
Rowan never took her eyes off her knitting.
"What? Why?" Oz asked his voice sounding dazed and slightly sleepy.
"I found Quentin. He's dead. He was mumbling something about Buffy and her dying. I have to go back—"
"No what you have to do is find your son. That's what Buffy wanted."
Spike shook his head. He was not going to be persuaded from not returning. He needed to see with his own eyes Buffy was okay, that she wasn't going to die. He wouldn't allow for that to happen. His son...he would find his son with Buffy at his side. That was the only way this was going to work.
"And you'd take the word of a liar over our advice?" Oz asked quietly as he rubbed his eyes, sitting up straighter.
"She'll help me find him. That's the way of it. I'm goin' back," Spike stated his voice ringing with finality.
There was silence as his statement hug between them all.
"Well that's great. You go ahead. I'm going to stay here."
Spike frowned at Oz.
"What for?" he demanded.
"I'll stay as well, so that when you return with the Slayer we'll have some leads to go on. It makes little sense to go off while there are things left to be done here. What else did Quentin say?"
Spike ran his hands over his head. He'd expected a bit more of an argument. He was glad there hadn't been. He just had a feeling if he didn't get back to Sunnydale while he had the chance something bad was going to happen.
"He mentioned his office I think. Somethin' 'bout files too. Maggie and kill and Slayer. He didn't say much. Just mumbled and then he died. You going to send me back now or what? I'm ready."
"I hope you know what you're doing," Rowan said as she rose placing her knitting on the table beside her chair.
Spike squared his shoulders.
"I know what I'm doing. The Slayer needs me and I need her. And that's that."
Rowan lifted her hands murmuring words in Latin. Power arced between her hands and light flashed before a hole began to form. With the teleportation hole open Spike paused to look over at Oz.
"Ro you watch out for this boy now, hear? He's got a lot goin' on and needs a steadying hand. I'll see you in a bit."
"Be safe. Call us when you want to return," Rowan said.
Spike nodded as he stepped into the hole giving them a smile just as the hole closed up and he was gone.