Authors Notes: I'd like to thank Brutal2003, Dreamlight, Morrolan, holyknight, Puppet in the Corner, Nova, Plotmaster and Honor for reviewing:-)
Brutal2003, Xander isn't going to help the First willingly, if he has anything to say about it - indeed, he will fight with all his ability to stop whatever the First has planned. Unfortunately, the First in this fic isn't the useless waste in the show, and is rather good at twisting things to its own ends. :) More would, unfortunately, spoil the fic. :)
For those of you who are anxious for it to get to Spira, that will be in chapter 5. Hope that's soon enough. :)
I apologise in advance for the B/S in this part. Rest assured that it is necessary for the plot, and that Spike will get what he deserves. :)
-
The next morning, Buffy rolled over in bed, and ran her hands across the chest she had been cuddled next to. "Spike?"
Spike yawned widely, and opened his eyes, "Yeah, ducks?"
"Do you think we're gonna win? Against the First I mean?" Buffy's anxiety was bleeding freely into the air now, Spike could almost taste it. It was close enough to fear to be arousing to the demon in him.
"Sure!" Spike hugged her closer, and Buffy relaxed into his embrace. "No sweat. We'll beat it, and then we'll take a nice long holiday somewhere, yeah?"
"Like where?" Buffy asked with a quirky smile.
"Oh, I don't know... somewhere nice..." Spike rolled her under him, and kissed her with a violent passion.
"How about Florida?" Buffy asked, and giggled when she got the response she expected.
Spike froze in place. "Florida! Are you insane! I'd be a crisp critter in seconds in Florida!"
Buffy pulled him down, sucking on his mouth and biting his lip, not quite to the point of drawing blood. "I was kidding."
Spike breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank God."
There was no more speaking for quite a while.
-
Spike lay with Buffy snuggled up to the crook of his arm. He looked up when there was suddenly a third body in the room, ethereal though it was.
"Yeah?"
"I wanted to see how you were getting on. That isn't against your little rules, is it?" The First asked snidely, "Remember your part of the bargain."
Spike vamped out, and grinned. "Oh, how could I forget? Be still, my beating heart... whoops... I forgot: it doesn't beat, does it? Can't have everything."
The First regarded him coolly. "Do not try to be funny, William the Bloody. It does not suit you. Angelus could be amusingly sarcastic: you do not have the knack."
Spike would have bolted off the bed if not for the sleeping form of Buffy. As it was, his tone was deadly, "Do not mention that poof around me. I'm nothing like him. Nothing!"
The First nodded. "You're absolutely right, Spike." The First Evil paused, allowing Spike to grin at the compliment, before adding, "Angelus had class." Spike's face became enraged at the insult.
"Do you want my bloody 'elp or not?" Spike demanded.
"Easy, cowboy," the First smirked, "I want your help."
"And when all this is over, you'll keep your side of the bargain?"
The First nodded, mentally crossing its fingers. "Of course: you will have Buffy for eternity. And any other women you want. Cecily, Buffy... Drusilla..." the First morphed into a likeness of Drusilla, completely naked. Spike drooled. "...any woman you want."
"And all you wanted was me to put some cracks in the relationship between ducks and the rest of her little helpers?"
"Indeed. It is particularly important that she condemns the one she most cares for." The First ran an ethereal hand down Buffy's naked leg, and watched Buffy shiver with the sensation of cold it left. "You are sure she won't wake up to hear any of this?"
Spike shook his head. "She won't wake up. I fed off her during..." Spike trailed off.
"Why, Spikey? Are you bashful? After all we've done together?" Drusilla's voice was teasing. The Firsts normal voice then asked, "How much did you take?"
Spike shrugged. "Couple of pints? I don't know. Never was too good at estimating that sort of thing. She won't be waking up before morning. She'll probably be sluggish when she gets moving, but Slayer healing will soon take care of any residual anaemia."
"Why, Spikey," Dru giggled again, "I didn't know you could use such big words!"
"Will anyone be able to tell that you fed off her? The carpenter, for example?"
Spike grinned. "Not unless she lets more than me know her in the Biblical sense..."
The First nodded once, and vanished.
-
The First's plan was more devious that Spike could ever comprehend. It knew what Spike wanted, and was playing him like a fiddle to reach its own ends. Quite simply, it wanted Xander.
And it set about to make sure it could have Xander.
Every night for a week, the three Slaying teams that patrolled encountered different situations. Buffy's team was ambushed so frequently it left her head spinning and her forces demoralised – going out on patrol with Buffy, the previous nights seemed to say, and it was almost certain you would be injured or killed.
Buffy putting them down every chance she got when they survived failed to help matters, as well. She would run to aid Spike if he was injured, which was quite frequent, and leave the Slayers in Training to lose their own battles with creatures stronger and faster than they were.
No one fights well with a general that gets them killed and then blames it on their own stupidity and lack of trying. And no one deliberately tries to get themselves or others killed by having themselves ripped apart by Neanderthal vampires.
Faith's team was ambushed with that same frequency, but Faith had the sense not to berate her troops with things they had no control over.
Willow's group, when it ventured out, never encountered a single vampire. Willow seemed to think that the vampires were frightened of her magical abilities, and that was what was keeping them away – however, Xander had another theory. The First knew that he went with Willow when she patrolled, despite her objections, and that the First didn't seem to want him hurt.
It did more than merely concern or frighten him – it terrified him.
Whatever the First Evil was up to, it was going to mean a lot of pain.
Then an anonymous tip came, alerting Buffy to the location of Caleb's lair.
And it all went wrong.
-
They crept through the entrance to the vineyard. Well, when the word 'crept' is used, it's for dramatic effect. It was more like a forced march back in the days of the Roman Legions, but without the discipline.
Or the armour.
Or the weapons.
So it really didn't have much to do with 'creeping', or with the Roman legions, but after all, it's the thought that counts, right? Buffy was in the lead, with Spike. Setting a pace that only a Slayer could maintain without keeling over from lack of oxygen. Spike didn't have any trouble keeping up, but then, he didn't need to breathe, did he? Faith followed, shooting daggers in Spikes' back, with Xander walking quickly – almost a trot – to keep up. He still wore the frown which had been on his face for several days since the First's first visit to him. He'd had the pleasure of several others in the mean-time, and something told him tonight was going to go wrong.
The fact that all the Slayers in Training were panting and out of breath before they even started fighting was a good reason to have forebodings, but his were for a different reason.
This 'plan' sucked.
The First was right. Xander didn't particularly want to admit it, but it was right. A dead hedgehog could have come up with a better plan. That snivelling weasel Willy could have come up with a better plan. Most likely something along the lines of, "Run away!"
And despite their – or rather everyone but Buffy and Spike's – forebodings, they went anyway.
Buffy reached what had been mutually agreed upon as the 'front door' and stopped. "OK, I want a perimeter set up. Xander, guard the door. I don't want anything getting in behind us. My team'll go in first: check the place out, see where everything is lying. You're our safety net. If this is a trap, one of us gives the signal and you come in like the US Marshals."
Xander couldn't resist asking, "How's that, Buff?"
Buffy shot him a glare. "All guns a-blazin'!"
Xander nodded. "And what's the signal?"
Buffy looked momentarily nonplussed. "Signal. Yeah, right, signal... I was thinking lots of shouting, maybe a couple of screams for good measure."
"Got it. Shouting and screaming; check." Xander nodded again.
Buffy turned to Spike. "Shall we?"
Spike nodded, and his eyes shone with glee as he thought about a fight. "We shall."
Buffy nodded once. "SiT's? Let's go." Kennedy, Molly, Rona and Chao-Ahn followed her in terrified silence. Faith looked at their backs as they descended the stairs and muttered to herself, "She's gonna get them killed..."
-
"What is this place?" Molly looked around, her voice only just above a whisper.
Buffy, however, wasn't going to go for stealth. Nossir. Stealth was for those who were too chicken to fight properly: to stand up and declare in a loud voice, 'here I am, come get me'... in other words, those who were sensible. Her voice was flat. And loud. "It's a vineyard."
Kennedy, the current object of Willow's rebound affection, spoke. "An evil vineyard?"
Spike began to move into the centre of the room. "Yeah... you know, like Falcon Crest."
Buffy caught up with Spike, leaving the unsure Slayers in Training stranded alone. "Stay alert. I know Bringers are here somewhere... just have to find out where exactly."
Spike eyed the shapes that suddenly loomed out of the shadows at the edges of the large and badly lit room. "I wouldn't say that would be too hard, luv. There're here!" As the disfigured features of the Bringers became visible, Spike charged them.
A strong voice echoed out from the darkness, and the Bringers retreated. "Hold!"
He stepped forward. "Well, now, you girls are just burning with righteousness, aren't you? The big problem is, you see, that you think you're blazing like suns, when really you're burning like matchsticks in the face of the darkness. It's all around you, in front, behind, above, below... to the sides, too. You can't escape it. It's inside you all too. No matter how far you run, you won't escape. Now, I hope my boys haven't worn you out too much - I need you fit for when I purify your unclean bodies. Minds. Your souls. "
"Save the sermon, street-preacher," Buffy snarled, "I heard you have something of mine. I want it."
Caleb smirked. "'You want it,' do you? Truly the words of a shameless whore. The question is; what are you prepared to do to retrieve it?" He walked forward slowly, his eyes fixed on Buffy's as he moved. "Did you like my message to you? Took me so long to decide exactly how I should wrap it for you. Ruined a perfectly good knife, too... oh, the humanity! I may have to get a new truck." Suddenly seeming to remember that Buffy had spoken at all, he continued, "I do indeed have something of yours, my pretty little whore of a Slayer. Yes, that's right; I know you are the Slayer. Funny, I thought you'd be taller, or something. And haven't you heard? Brunette's the new blonde. You're the fastest. You're the strongest. The one with the most indoctrination into believing that mankind can do no wrong. That if you have a soul, you're all innocent and pure. The Slayer must be powerful indeed."
Caleb was so close to Buffy she could feel his breath on her face. Then he punched her.
It was like having a demolition ball hit you in the chest. Buffy flew across the room and smashed into a stack of barrels, shattering them. The wine inside them spilled on the floor, bringing the overpowering smell of grapes and alcohol into the enclosed room. "Such a misguided little whore..." Caleb mused, "What else have you got?"
Spike growled, and vamped out. "Me!"
He joined Buffy in swimming in broken barrels and wine as Caleb smashed him full in the face.
Then the Slayers in Training charged, yelling at the tops of their voices.
-
Continued in Part 4