***

"She'll be all right in there."

Spike said it firmly, as though convincing himself of the fact, but his eyes strayed tellingly towards the plain door leading down to the basement.

Buffy continued rummaging through the closet, her voice echoing back to him in the kitchen.  "Yeah, it's pretty much the safest place on the planet – you should have seen all the defensive crap Xander built in structurally."  Spike's lips thinned quickly at the man's name, but he bit back any jibe.  "Besides, we installed cable."

"Need a hand?"

"No."  She emerged again, an odd leather holster dangling from her hand.  She'd already changed into clothes she could hunt in: the fabrics stretched easily over her slender frame, sensible choices, chocolate brown, black, cream at her throat.  Very sensible, if you discounted the boots, of course; sturdy but stylish and sporting a wicked heel, they disappeared under the hem of her pants and didn't look like they ended until her knee.  She'd always had a weakness for footwear.

It wouldn't do to keep staring at her legs, though. 

"Haven't seen that before," he said, gesturing towards the holster.

Buffy produced a matching leather sheath and slid it expertly into the leather loops, twisting the thongs in intricate patterns that bound the sheath and holster together.  She spoke as she worked, still crouched low.  "No, you wouldn't have – it's Marcus's."

The name sounded familiar, but it took a moment to register.  "Oh, Anya's bloke."

Buffy nodded, already busy belting the sheath to her thigh.  "He sails, and he had one of these lying around."  She straightened again and glanced up, smiling distractedly.  "It looked fun, so I tried it out.  Nifty, hunh?"

Spike watched her as she flipped a wicked-looking blade around her nimble fingers, the metal flashing in the moonlight.  She kept her eyes on the spinning knife, obviously delighted with her new toy, whipping it into the sheath with perfect precision.  Then her gaze flicked up to him belatedly, her smile faded, and everything was awkward again.

"Nifty," he agreed, and she flushed a little, her mouth working as she tried to decide whether or not he was making fun.  But he didn't follow up, just ducked his head and checked on the set of stakes she'd handed to him.  She relaxed, and the odd tingle their brief standoff had sparked died away again.

She straightened her jacket and picked up the crossbow leaning against the doorjamb.  In one easy motion she slung it over her shoulder where it settled neatly into a worn groove in her jacket.  "If you're ready, we should get moving."   

He didn't protest; but as he walked by the basement door, he brushed his palm against the reinforced wood.  Not too obvious, not too showy – just a slight pressure of skin on surface, almost like he needed the contact for balance as he walked out of the Summers home.  But Spike was never that clumsy, and would never lose his footing while walking across the kitchen floor.  He didn't need that kind of balance.

Behind him, Buffy saw the gesture and wondered at it.  But it made her heart a little lighter, and as she passed, she allowed her own fingers to trail across the place his hand had rested.

"But what if he doesn't come?"

Kane lounged against the alley wall, one leg pulled up beneath him.  He was going for James Dean, Rick guessed, but missing by a mile.  Kane simply couldn't contain his excitement: his eyes glittered, his head snapped towards every noise, practically bubbling with glee.  Rick was scared out of his mind; Kane was just plain off his head.

"He'll come, he'll come..."  Kane pushed away from the wall and surveyed the scene he'd set so carefully.  It hadn't taken long to set up; Kane's mind worked in unfamiliar ways, something he believed was an asset.  He'd spent long days fantasizing about standoffs like this: a subtle trap, carefully sprung, that would see his opponent writhing in the dirt in moments.  But not dusting in the dirt, he chuckled to himself.  No – Spike really was a master, and there would be days, weeks, perhaps even months to learn from him.

And to torture him, of course.  But that was just the icing on the cake.

"Check on the guys," he muttered, and watched as Rick jumped at the chance to get away.

He wasn't an idiot.  Kane knew that his crew didn't like him.  But more importantly?  They feared him, and with good reason.  And a certain traitorous little bastard would soon reinforce that important lesson.

Watching Rick's swift retreat he mused on the different ways he could make an example of the boy – a variation on Chinese water torture was a definite possibility.  He remembered hearing a lot about that one as a kid.  Using consecrated water, obviously, and with any luck he'd manage to burn a way through to the kid's brain before he lost consciousness.  Medical books were always talking about how prodding at various parts of the brain provoked odd reactions in the patient.  He'd been dying to try that one out; removing sections of a conscious patient's brain would prove just as interesting.  And a vampire at that!  He smiled, musing.  Do vampire brains grow back?  Well, it would have to be a thorough study.

He'd never seen a real brain before.  And obviously, if the water didn't do the trick, there were always drills.

But first, he'd deal with Spike.  He chafed his hands against each other, adrenaline running high.  It was getting kind of chilly out.  That leather jacket would do quite nicely.

Dawn sat back and stared at the wall.  Buffy might try to kill her, and there might be some spackling involved, but she'd managed to write down all of the information Giles was giving her.  It wasn't exactly her fault that she was locked in a room with no paper, and it certainly wasn't her fault that the only writing utensil she'd been able to find was one of Buffy's eyeliner pencils.  She set the ruined pencil down on the floor with a pang of guilt.  But "Cleopatra Kohl" wasn't 'in' right now anyhow.  Right? Whatever.  She squinted at the notes scrawled on the white paint.

"So, the two people who might come... I let them in?"  Dawn reiterated.  She'd taken the notes, sure, but they weren't exactly making a whole lot of sense right now.  She shut her eyes and leaned back against the futon, taking a page from Buffy's book.  Listen to Giles, and he'll make it all okay.

"Yes, Dawn.  Of course, if you're uncomfortable with that, or if you'd prefer to..."  His voice trailed off a little.  There weren't any other options for him to offer.

"No, I'm good.  But run me through this one more time." She stared into the distance, arranging her thoughts.  "Okay.  So, tell me if I screwed any of this up, but: two people will be here sometime early in the morning." 

"Correct."

"And they might have weird stuff with them, but as long as they say they're Swiss..." 

"Swede," Giles interrupted her hastily.  "It's a root vegetable, not completely unlike a turnip."

Dawn let a brief silence linger as she processed that.  "Right, that one – as long as they speak of the random vegetable, then carte blanche?"

"In a word, yes.  But Dawn, if you're at all unable to do this, I can certainly tell them to come a little later.  Perhaps it would be better if we waited until Buffy got home.... And where is she, if I may ask?"

"Out.  With Spike.  I think they're killing something."  Dawn delicately bit the head off of a green gummi bear and replaced it with a red one.  Much better.

"Excellent.  Excellent..." Giles' voice trailed off slightly, and Dawn paused.

"Giles?"  Her voice sounded very young, even in her own ears.  She swallowed.  "Isn't everything going to be okay?"

"I hope so, Dawn.  Oh, I do hope so."

"I would have done this alone, you know."

They'd been walking side by side in total silence as they approached the main street, but he had to say it.  Her reaction at the house hadn't been unexpected, but he felt uncomfortable not mentioning it.  He didn't want to take her company for granted.

Buffy shrugged.  "I know – but this Kane guy messed you up pretty badly last time you saw him."  She hesitated, realizing how critical that might sound. 

"Not that I think you can't deal with it – I'm sure you're good with that kind of stuff, you've probably been practicing..."

He sighed.  "Buffy..."

"But we might need you soon.  Dawn's got this thing, and what if the Kane guy is actually after her? And besides, strength in numbers."  She shifted awkwardly.

"Oh," he said quietly.  "I'm glad you came."

"Good."

 They walked on, the buildings beginning to get closer together as they neared the center of Sunnydale.  It had been built up a little in the past two years – some of the facades had been updated, a level or two added on some of more imposing buildings.  Spike thought that he knew the town by night, but tonight?  New shadows cast their lengths across the tarmac, reached into familiar corners and darkened them eerily. 

It made him edgy.

"Buffy, I don't really think we'll find him here."

"Why not?"

He fidgeted.  "Maybe... maybe I mean we shouldn't find him here."

"And now you're making no sense."  She had stopped in the middle of the road and now watched him, her weight shifted easily onto one foot.  "I'm not the one who started heading in this direction, you did – I'm just along for the ride."

She was right.  He'd unintentionally headed straight for the alley where he'd first encountered that bleached bastard.  "Right," he muttered, reluctance still pulling at him. It wasn't that he thought Buffy couldn't handle it, but – well, Kane wasn't the kind of guy he wanted to even LOOK at Buffy or Dawn.  Bringing Buffy to him?  That thought just made him ill.

But she was determined, and better yet, she was right.  Better to get rid of him now, rather than wait for him to find them.  "Right..."

Buffy sighed.  "Why don't we just wander?  We can hit the sewers later, maybe if you think of something else we'll head there too.  That okay?"

The impatience was audible in her voice, though she was trying to dampen it; she waited only until Spike nodded his assent, and then began an irritable charge down the nearest alley. 

And Spike followed.  Partially because he didn't have a choice; partially because the only choice that mattered was to be with her.

The town had been a wash, as had the house with the rotted corpse.  On Buffy's suggestion they had also prowled through the school and the larger graveyards, a frenzied pace that ate up the great distances quickly.  Clambering through the warehouses by the docks, though, had proven more time-consuming, and three hours of intensive searching had begun to wear. 

Until they reached the alley in back of the fisheries, where they both froze in perfect unison.

It wasn't one particular thing that made them stop; a combination of overwhelming silence, the sensation that something was near, perhaps an unusual scent.  But as they both stopped short, they knew two things for certain: the alleyway was dangerous, and the dock they paused on was only marginally less so.

Spike whispered low, barely enunciating.  "We should stay here for a bit."

"Yes," she replied, eyes darting.  "Yes we should."  Neither moved a muscle.

They didn't have long to wait.  Apparently, Kane had a penchant for dramatic entrances.  He stepped out of a shadow, lingering beneath a streetlight at the alley's other end.  Buffy squinted briefly, then suddenly realized who the young vampire was mimicking. 

"You've got a fan," she muttered, and Spike barked a short laugh.

"Oh – lucky, lucky me."

 A chain rattled somewhere in the gloom.  "You weren't supposed to go anywhere, Master-man."  Kane's voice managed to echo against the warehouse siding ominously in a way he probably thought effective. 

Buffy smiled brilliantly at the gambit.  So there would be banter?  Well, banter was her forte.

"Yeah, he doesn't really follow orders.  Pain in the ass, I know.  So, want to make something of it?" she perked.

Kane ignored her, speaking to Spike again.  "Too bad you brought the bitch.  Kind of screws up the whole plan, but hey – I can be flexible."  He finally focused on Buffy.  "Or I could go hang out with her dead mom for a while.  Maybe I could do a little digging, a little breaking and entering.  Don't humans mummify after a couple of years?  Do you think there'll still be maggots in there?"

Spike felt her stiffen at the mention of Joyce, and stepped forward.  "Weary of the games, boy.  Why not come on out here, try giving something that's not your mouth a workout."

He laughed.  "Oh, but it's so much nicer in here.  The aroma, for one."  Kane took an exaggerated breath of fishy brine, letting it out in a gust.  "I'm sure the maggot mummy's girl would like it.  I chose it special and all."  His gaze lingered on Buffy, slimy, proprietary, and Spike began to bristle.

But Buffy had recovered fast; now she had anger fueling her tongue.  "And you know what?  The only reason I'm not waltzing on in and ripping your stupid little ambush to shreds is because I happen to like this outfit and this alley?  Dirty."  She paused, looking around.  "I mean, dirty even for an alley.  Why don't you evil types ever want to fight in, oh, I don't know... a doctor's office?  Maybe a shower room?  You know, somewhere that's seen cleaning supplies in the last century..."

Kane sighed.  "You're getting a little boring, Slayer."

She snorted.  "Yeah, I think so, too.  But we're at a bit of a stalemate, 'cause I'm not going to come in there and get you, and you're too busy hiding behind, oh..." She cocked her head to the side, listening intently.  "Six unbelievably noisy henchmen who are really, really bad at hiding."  She smirked a little and waved towards one of the windows on the upper stories.  She could feel Spike shifting behind her, assessing the situation and settling into position, but she rambled on, waiting for the right moment.  "Hi there!"  A huddled shadow on the fire escape shifted self-consciously, and Buffy chuckled.

"God – some of them are so new, they're still breathing.  You don't need to do that anymore, you know," she directed towards the uncertain henchman.  "Try it!  Just let it go, it's real easy...."

Spike suddenly tensed behind her, and she knew that time was up.  "Then again," she finished, "It's going to be a kinda moot point in a couple of seconds, so on second thought?  Breathe away."

His hearing had picked up the sound before she had, obviously.  A metallic click that registered just a moment after Spike made a lightening-fast throw into a dark corner, a sound that made her heart leap into her throat.  Metal on metal, a sound she could never forget.

She couldn't take her eyes off Kane, though.  His smile was fevered, taunting, over-eager, and she wouldn't give him an opening to make her weak.  So she stood, taut to the point of shaking, as Spike hauled the shrieking minion out of the darkness to lay at her feet.

"Got it."  Spike lifted a revolver to her eye level, held flat out on his palm; she noticed that the hammer was cocked.

Wordlessly, Buffy took the gun, her eyes never leaving Kane.  She didn't know how to unload a gun, but she didn't have to.  With deliberate precision, she pinched her fingers against the end of the barrel.  The length crimped, buckled under the force of her grip, the perfect cylinder flattening to ruin.  She let it clatter to the ground, just a useless hunk of gunpowder and metal, and turned back to their quivering captive.

He was a pitiful sight.  The vamp was young and stupid, too focused on the pain of the stake in his gut to process the tableau before him.  He keened, the wail of someone who's never had a serious injury, of someone who hasn't learned stoicism.  He reached towards his leader plaintively, and Buffy saw a glimmer of something cross Kane's face.  His expression slackened, his eyes grew bright, and he came as close to flushing as she'd ever seen a vampire.  It struck her as a curious response.

And Buffy nearly retched as she realized what he was feeling. 

He was waiting for the kill.  There was an air of something disturbing about him, an aura of anticipation that verged on sexual.  Her hands instantly felt oily, slick from touching something that was 'his', tainted.  It was the same way she felt when reading about pedophiles or rapists... Spike touched her side briefly and she almost shied away, but controlled her reaction.  She didn't want to be that way anymore.

This would have to be quick; any thought of drawing it out, using the vamp to get Kane... it was completely repellant now.  She caught Spike's eye and he nodded, holding the henchman fast.  The babbled shrieks increased in intensity as the vamp seemed to register his predicament, and Buffy ducked down to meet his eye.

"We don't do guns here," she breathed into his ear, and quickly, precisely, yanked the stake from his stomach and guided it to his heart.

The dust had barely settled before Kane sauntered forward again, forcing nonchalance.  "How... After-School Special," he drawled, an ugly sound that marred his effort to act casual.  He twitched irritably; Buffy got the distinct impression that he didn't resent the dusting as much as he did the speed of it.

"I do what I can," she replied.  Her hand slid down to the knife on her thigh, "But now I'm going to do better."

And in an instant, all hell broke loose.

TBC