Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or the franchise's characters, places, etc. I am not making a profit from this work other than the joy I take in writing it.

Previously: After Spike is badly beaten outside of Willy's bar Clem, as a favor to Willy, took Spike in to help the vampire heal. However after a week of healing and dozens of demons out for Spike's blood Clem, with no other choice, goes to Buffy for help.

WHITE HAT: PART II

Boxley Street was in a residential area set apart from other Sunnydale neighborhoods. Home to many of the town's more curious residents, its houses and apartments were held for individuals of a certain nature. If there was a demon who could pass close enough for human and meant no harm, then a meeting would be arranged with the block's mysterious proprietor. Resembling a man in his mid-forties, his credentials to the authorities identified him as a person named Jeffery Adams, born and raised in the wonderful state of California. Those who called Boxley Street home knew him by a different name, Cutting Ball.

Not the most aesthetically pleasing of streets, Boxley nonetheless was far from dilapidated. Maintained by the same demons who took refuge in the area, the amount of effort and care put into the neighboring homes was evident to any passerby, or unexpectedly chipped vampires who ended up in the cold with nowhere else to go.

Initially, Spike had considered a move to Boxley back when he first ran into troubles with the Initiative. It was off the beaten path and not known by many outside the demon community, so he was fairly certain that not even the Slayer knew about it, which was the point of course. Cutting Ball advertised it as a neighborhood for people suffering from physical deformities. It was a byline that not only held up against Sunnydale's finest ,but the scrutiny of the Initiative as well. It was exactly what he had been looking for, a safe haven in which to hang his hat until he figured out whatever was happening in his head.

Cutting Ball hadn't seen it that way. Spike's reputation preceded him wherever he went and while he might have been muzzled for the moment, there was no telling when the chip in his head would burn itself out. Even if his chipped-fate was sealed, the vampire was still being hunted all over the hellmouth and he had an unfortunate habit of drawing attention to himself. The last thing Boxley Street needed was a loose cannon like Spike tipping that precarious balance.

So it was no surprise that when Cutting Ball learned of Clem's very own "English Patient", the demon proprietor was less than pleased, especially considering that every demon in Sunnydale knew that Spike was living on borrowed time. But Clem had been both a caring and responsible tenant ever since he'd moved into the small single storey house and made it his home. The faith Cutting Ball placed in Clem was the only reason Spike had lived past sunrise – and the vampire knew it. Despite this lucky roll of the dice, Cutting Ball had made it clear that as soon as Spike was able, the vampire had to move on. If he did not, then Cutting Ball would hand Spike over to the hunters himself.

That had been three nights before and since then, Spike had done his best to drink the blood that Willy, another surprising benefactor, supplied him with. It wasn't the good stuff from his bar but rather purchased through a discount deal Willy had set up with the town's butcher shop. Nothing could replace the healing properties of 98 degree human hemoglobin but pigs blood was better than nothing; it only required more time for the healing process to make any real effect.

Time that I'm running out of.

His body broken, Spike had been hidden away in the cramped closet of Clem's bedroom for nearly a week. The first few days hadn't been so bad, unconsciousness excels at pain management. However once his eyes had opened, pain became his entire world. Thankfully he wasn't alone. Clem never disclosed the full details of his deal with Willy but as far as nurses were concerned, Spike could have done far worse.

Neither had any formal medical training but to Spike's credit, with over a hundreds years of unlife on the edge, he knew a considerable amount of battlefield medicine. He didn't dwell much on what was specifically wrong but he did diagnose the basics. Aside the numerous fractures to his entire skeletal system and surface lacerations, contusions, and immense swelling, he had suffered extensive internal injuries as well – specifically his right lung.

Gormtosk's stake had broken through Spike's ribcage and punctured the lung completely. Vampire respiratory system, or lack thereof, made it a non issue except for the many times he opened his mouth to talk. He didn't think on what else had was torn and bleeding, there was no point. For Spike there were only two organs that really mattered. The undead heart that prolonged his lifespan and the other supernatural organ that made it pleasurable.

Emphasis on the "super."

Besides his attention to setting Spike's bones and preparing the blood, the gentle demon did his best to keep the vampire from going stir crazy. Somewhere between card games, sharing cooking recipes, and Dawson's Creek marathons, he had found an unlikely friend in the demon who gave a new definition to the term "flop sweat."

Come to think of it where is that walkin' acne-ad?

Clem had informed him hours before that he had to see Cutting Ball and give the proprietor another update on Spike's condition. He didn't blame the landlord as he was more than just a guy to whom his tenants paid rent. In a place as volatile as the hellmouth, it was nothing short of a miracle that a guy like Cutting Ball was around to lend a hand to demons in situations like Clem's. In a world ruled by extremes of black and white, Boxley Street was a refreshing shade of gray. Only natural that Cutting Ball would want to protect it, seeing as how the Slayer wasn't about to lift a finger to help.

Bitch doesn't even know about it. Though all things considered, that's probably a good thing.

Had she known then, it was likely her little tin soldier would've found out too. It wasn't so much that Spike cared in particular for this neighborhood, beyond the shelter it offered him now. The idea of the Initiative doing what it did to him to anyone churned something awful inside. Clem had been a standup bloke to him these past couple days. Reminded him a lot like the Slayer's mum. The idea of those soldiers kidnapping a demon – a person – like him?

"Bloody 'ell," Spike groaned and shook his head when he realized the direction those thoughts were leading. They came anyway.

"There's no belonging or deserving anymore. You can take what you want, have what you want... but nothing is yours. Not even her."

"Soddin' Paddy," Spike muttered and pushed the memory back into the trunk labeled 'All Thing's Forehead.' The rumbling growls of his empty stomach reminded him of the immediate situation. With no sign of any outsiders snooping around just yet, Spike was fairly certain that Cutting Ball would be okay with letting him lie up for a few more days. He didn't need too much more time. Already he could manage to walk, provided he moved carefully enough.

Course I won't be moving anywhere without me blood! Where the 'ell is Clem?

He felt her first, he always did. Shy of tracking her, if Buffy was the one who came upon him he would feel her before any other sense. So attuned he was to her signature, it didn't matter if there was a chosen one or a chosen hundred. He would know her anywhere. Then he would hear her. He would hear everything from the flutter of her heart, particularly when he delivered a particularly devious innuendo, to the intake of her lungs moments before she rebuked him for it. Smell came next followed shortly by his eyes shifting in the direction he knew she would be coming from.

Well he felt her all right and as his ears perked forward, it wasn't long before he picked up snippets of her conversation with Clem. The most immediate question of how she'd found him was answered the moment he determined the cordial tone in her voice.

Cheeky bastard brought her here!

"I have to say, Clem," Spike overheard. They were just outside the front door and once more she had underestimated his greater senses.

She's gone soft is what it is. Too many fledges and not enough Big Bad.

"I have to say you aren't like other demons I've met," she stated warmly.

"Oh? I hope that's in a good way! I'm not a violence kind of guy."

"Yeah, that's what I mean," Buffy iterated. "And it's great you found a place like this that accepts others like you."

"You don't know the half of it either! It took me a long time to find a community like this. We look out for each other." Spike heard Clem pause and even out of his line of vision the vampire could see the gears turning inside the other demon's head. "There was a 'but' in there though?"

"But," Buffy said carefully. "To me it seems like the last place you would want a guy like Spike around is here. You're taking a really big risk with a guy who would love nothing more than to kill you, you know, under different circumstances."

Speak for yourself you bloody bitch!

"Yeah," Clem said and Spike heard the familiar jiggle of the house keys. "I know his rep and everything. Every demon does. But the past couple days with him have been pretty cool!"

"Cool?" Buffy asked, likely not knowing whether to smile or interrogate the vampire for clues of evil deception.

"We did all sorts of things! For a vampire who drinks blood, he knows a surprising number of cooking recipes!"

"Recipes?" Buffy repeated and even with walls between them Spike could easily imagine her smile of elation. "That is hard to imagine," she continued. "What else have you to boys been up to?"

"Well there's the card games of course. You should know that Spike knows his way around a poker table. You know? Playing poker is more about reading the other players and less about the cards. Picking up tells and hiding your own bluffs. He's really good at it!"

"Reading people?" Buffy said, clearly disappointed that the "secret" wasn't more juicy. "Yeah that's Spike all over."

Soddin' right it is.

"Oh! We also spent a lot of time watching TV!"

"Really?" Buffy perked up at that. "Let me guess, Passions?"

Oh God no...

"I wish!" Clem exclaimed, front door still closed they were still under the false assumption he couldn't hear them. Something Spike had hoped he would be able to keep a secret. The last thing he wanted was to let the Slayer in on the extent of his senses. "No I can't get that channel. But we still made out all right!"

"Oh?" Buffy said innocently. "What did you two end up watching?"

Over my ash tray!

"I can hear you two, you know!" Spike yelled loudly. Two heartbeats accelerated and despite his hopes to remain undetected, there was no way that Clem would tell the bloody slayer about his penchant for American teenage dramas. "Anymore pillow talk and I'll use you as my new dish towel, Clem!"

He could hear a few more mumbles but Spike was confident that Clem wouldn't betray such a delicate secret. He was already in trouble for bringing the Slayer here, or would be soon enough. Besides, there was no point. Buffy had made herself perfectly clear that night outside the furniture shop. He knew exactly what her help entailed and he wasn't interested.

Which comes back to the question of why she was here. Clem had said he had to talk to Cutting Ball and then he was going out to score me some more blood. So unless Nancy Drew was willing to donate?

"Okay, Spike," he heard her call out as she and Clem entered the small house. "I'm here like you wanted. What did you get yourself into now?"

"You told her I wanted her here!" Spike shouted. Seeing the near overreaction Clem futilely tried to blend into the the room's wallpaper to escape the vampire's angry indignation.

"What? You don't want my help?" Buffy asked, surprised by his response. Turning sharply her eyes fell on Clem who now doubled in his attempts to shrink just into the bedroom's corner, where Buffy had come to stand moments ago. "You told me he needed me. You said he was hurt?"

"He is!" Clem defended and gave up on hiding to reach out and flip on the bedroom's light, revealing to her just how badly off the vampire was. Spike knew he had come a long way, thanks in no small part to Clem; however when he saw the wince on his enemy's face he realized that he still had a long way to go.

"Well?" Spike eventually irked when a very awkward moment of silence had past. "Have yourself a good look then? Don't need your help, Slayer. I'll manage on my own."

The words snapped her out of her stare of disbelief. Instead a very familiar frown and tapping of a foot on bedroom carpet took its place, "Obviously," Buffy said wryly. "So what happened?" Seeing his doubtful look she sighed and rolled her eyes. "If there is something out there that can take out a century old vampire infamous for taking out slayers, then I need to know about it." A sensible reason but Spike was surprised that Clem hadn't filled her in on it already.

What the hell had the two been chatting about all night?

"Very well," Spike said, deciding that once her curiosity was satisfied, he'd be able to annoy her into leaving. Adjusting himself to get more comfortable, he broke into the story that he himself wasn't sure he believed. "After our lover's spat outside the furniture shop, I headed to Willy's for a pint – or twelve – and ended up in just the sort of brawl that the doc' prescribed."

"Therapy by bloodshed, how very you," Buffy remarked and displayed her second eye roll of the night.

Like you're any different; fuckin' hypocrite.

"This one big demon, Gormtosk, was some nine feet and weighed in at about twenty stone – that's three hundred pounds for your piss poor excuse for an education. Gormtosk snuck up behind me and propped me up for the two wankers I was scrappin' with. Credit to the Snitch, he stood up for me but was in no position to throw down with a trio of roided up demons."

"Demons on steroids?" Buffy asked, perturbed at the thought. Spike shrugged.

"Might as well have been, those uppercuts hurt somethin' fierce. After much broken bones and internal bleeding, Gormtosk carried me out back and threw me to the pavement face first. Told me to leave town, never come back, and then turned to go back to drinking. But between our lover's spat from earlier and that row in the bar I wasn't in much mind to appeal for my better sense – or at least I think."

"You think?" Buffy pressed, eyes narrowing. Spike shrugged helplessly.

"My skull had just been used as a punchin' bag, Slayer. 'Sides, if yours truly is going out, then I'm going down fighting," Spike explained and watched as Buffy considered his words. Seeing she was of a like mind he rubbed the back of his neck and tried to think of the best way to put this next part. "Things get a little hazy after that. I know Gormtosk went to stake me but somehow he missed."

"He missed?" Buffy repeated, the wheels in her head turning as she digested his words. "How?"

Spike let out a huff and gestured helplessly. "It was point blank, luv. Could've dusted me with both eyes closed. Bloody missed though. Missed just right of the ticker. Can't remember much else after that. Hell, the only reason I know I didn't imagine his 'failure to stake' was because of the large hole in my chest."

"That's it?" Buffy said. "You don't remember anything else?"

What the hell does the bitch expect?

"I wasn't in the right mood to be playin' court reporter, Slayer. All I know is what Clem told me afterward. Willy came out just past dawn and saved me from death-by-sunshine and made a deal with Clem 'ere to put me up in his house."

"Interesting story," Buffy said after a couple moments of thought. "But ya gotta admit, Spike, that isn't it a little odd to think that a snitch like Willy would turn noble and risk his business to help a guy like you?" She was fishing, poking holes in his story that was flimsy at best, but it was all he could offer her.

"Willy was the one who found me. He was the one who discovered Gormtosk's remains. Supposedly a grisly sight. You ask about a demon strong enough to take me down? Think the better question is, what the hell is out there that can rend a powerhouse like Gormtosk limb from limb?"

"Willy said that he was helping because Spike did him a few favors," Clem added. "Tossed out some bad demons."

"You're a bouncer now?" Buffy said, surprised by this revelation.

"What?" Spike scoffed. "You think I only go to you white hats for dosh? I've done some odds jobs here and there. How else did you think I came up with the cash for your mum's window?"

"Odd jobs?" Buffy echoed. "This coming from the dead guy who claims to despise everything about an honest living? You were robbing a store six nights ago, Spike."

"A one time thing," Spike replied. "Sunnydale PD might turn a blind eye to the occult but even they aren't entirely incompetent, especially given the togs I wear. I know I happen to stand out."

"You should have come to me," Buffy said, her conviction leaving no room for argument. He argued anyway.

"What? And give those other demons more ammo to use against me? Besides you would've just ushered me along out of town, and I'm not running. Not from a mob of B-lister demons who couldn't hold a candle to a real Big Bad."

"So what? Instead you risk the lives of the people here in this neighborhood? I know I have a habit for categorizing things into the black and white, it's how I'm able to do my job. But even I can see the difference with this neighborhood. People like Clem don't deserve to be caught in the crossfire between you and a small army of demons planning the wake of William the Bloody."

"Just need a few more days is all," Spike solicited. "Then I start fightin' back."

"And leave my town in a crater? Not a chance," the Slayer ruled. "Clem," she said and turned away from Spike to address his caretaker. "Does your car out there run?"

"My car? Well sure but I don't really like the idea of driving through Sunnydale right now, especially if Spike is with me."

"You won't be alone," Buffy assured him and started to explain her plan to them. It was short and simple. She would ride shotgun with Clem as he took Spike to a motel a couple hours north and a safe distance away from the demons that were after Spike. When he was fired as her watcher, Giles had given her a credit card to use in case of emergencies. He would likely have reservations about it being used for Spike's health but the possibility of the demons of Boxley Street getting mixed up in this 'war' was too great a risk.

The vampire-shaped pain in her ass objected, of course. While Sunnydale may be the site of his greatest failures, he still made his home here. From that single perspective Buffy could sympathize but it didn't change anything. This was about doing what was necessary, and right now she was making it clear that Sunnydale was the last place he should be. With Spike in no condition to argue, the decision was made and the plan put in motion.

An hour later, the three unlikely companions, now packed tightly into Clem's small car, made their way out of Boxley. None noticed the vampire down the street who had trailed Buffy and Clem from Restfield. The vampire opened a cell phone to make a call to the others.

Their suspicions had panned out. The Slayer had led them directly to Spike.

To Be Continued...

Reviews:

I think they realize how much danger he is in, they just can't bring themselves to care. I'm not disparaging the characters, it's just how it is right now. If Spike's plan with Adam had succeeded Buffy likely would have been killed. Following along chronologically, this chapter is in July. The battle with Adam's army happened at the end of May. So while Buffy and Spike are having fun, it is a very fine line they are walking.

Thank you to all who reviewed!

Appreciation:

A big special thank you goes out to the story's beta, All4Spike. A talented writer in her own right please a big welcome for her and much appreciation for her assistance.

-S