Spike watched his mate shiver under his duster. The small show of discomfort bothered him. She was his. It didn't matter that there was no love between them. There was something that mattered. Exactly what, well, he had no bloody clue. The drive to protect her was strong, and this bit of farce was setting off alarms. He looked up at the watcher's door and felt the urge to shiver himself. This was not going to be easy.
"I won't let them stake you or anything." She grabbed his hand. "I just thought you should know."
"Don't go in without me, Slayer." He squeezed her hand. "I don't trust this lot. They may be yours, but I've watched them enough to know they have their own agendas."
"They're not going to hurt me." She tossed her hair back and huffed. "They're my friends, my family."
"Is it such a big deal to just do this one thing for me?" He pulled his hand from hers.
"I trust them. They won't hurt us." She moved to touch him, and he stepped back.
"Think they'll greet us with open arms when they find out we're tied to each other for all eternity?" He snorted. "I know watchers, Pet. He'll call the Council's damn death squad."
"There are death squads?" She paled and he felt a surge of something uncomfortable in his gut. Guilt had no place in his world. He looked at her stricken features and felt a surge of anger.
"Do you think those bastards sit around painting rainbows? Of course there are death squads or wet teams or some such. Saw a slayer go that way in 1952. Shame." He shrugged. It wouldn't do to talk about his own plan to kill the bird.
"That's the Council. He's not a member of the Council anymore. He was fired." Her hands rested, fisted on her hips. "He would never hurt me again."
"Again?" He tilted his head and watched her eyes. Realization dawned quickly. The fool would pay. "The bastard put you through their bloody sadistic torture session, did he?"
Buffy nodded and bit her lip. She was so very young, so vulnerable really. He sighed and pulled her in for another hug. The instant relief of it was a terror of its own. Just holding her was a pleasure, but comforting her was better, fuller, richer.
"I did this. Not you. You didn't have a say." Her voice was muffled against his chest. "You are the victim here. I'll make them see that. If he calls the Council, if he does that, I won't let them kill you for this."
"My demon made the decision, Pet." Spike eased her back enough to look down into her eyes. "Expressed the desire before and accepted you after. We usually rub along together, undivided like you and whatever your slayer is, but this was different."
Those perfect, blunt teeth of hers dug into her lower lip again.
"So, I guess our demons made the choice for us both." She sighed. "Yeah, Giles is not going to like that."
"Demons? Pet, you aren't a demon." He locked his eyes with her troubled gaze.
"Then what do you call the slayer part of me? Seemed like a demon to me." She flinched a bit. "I mean not all demons are bad. I know there are some that just go about their business and never get involved with the evil. Maybe some are good."
"Doesn't much matter. Does it?" He pulled her back against his chest. "What we are doesn't matter in the end."
"We have to try." His mate, this slip of a girl, curled her fingers into his shirt. The scent of her fear was acrid and foul. "I have to knock on the door."
He nodded. The wanker had a bag of her things if nothing else. She needed clothes, and she wouldn't let him pinch her some.
Living with her lily white self was going to present some true difficulties. It wasn't just the assorted idiots in her life. He could kill them if he wanted, but she would make his unlife a misery for it. How was he going to feed? It would drive her barmier than Dru if he killed a human. His demon snarled within him. Hurting her wasn't going to fly with his demonic side. He rolled his eyes. If he wasn't careful, she'd turn him into a fluffy puppy.
"Here goes nothing." She pulled away from him and knocked on the door. They could both make out the startled conversation.
"That's fast, even for Deadboy." That was the whelp. The one he'd kidnapped while trying to force Red to do the mojo for him. The boy had a uniquely annoying voice.
"Unless he has developed the ability to bend the laws of physics, Angel is not the one knocking." Had to be the watcher with that stentorian tone. He saw Buffy pale and growled low in his throat.
"We need to go. Angel's gonna make everything so much worse. Why would they call him?" She grabbed his hand. "I'm sorry."
"I can handle my family, Pet." Spike tilted his head and the one corner of his mouth pulled up in a wry smile. "I won't hide from the poof."
"I'm not asking you to hide, but I'm so not up for the conflict. I just... I need..." She looked up at him with wide worried eyes. "I want to feel safe and strong when we see him. I don't want him trying to save me or fix my life. Do you understand?"
"I do, Love. Indeed, I do." He pulled her close and kissed her as the door opened.
"Oh, dear Lord. Buffy. No." Giles slumped against the door.
Buffy blushed and took a step back from his arms. Her eyes were locked on her watcher. The bloody bastard raised his crossbow and fired it. The world tilted around him as she dropped to her knees, clutching at the bolt imbedded in her chest. Spike was at her side as she sobbed, a visceral aching sound.
"It's okay. It's okay." Buffy gasped into his neck. "Don't hurt him, Spike. Please."
"Get me your first aid kit, you ponce." Spike carefully laid Buffy down on the cobbled courtyard. "Before she bleeds out."
The bolt had missed the leather, but her blood was everywhere. He pushed the coat back from the wound, ripped the black tee, and watched her blood well up from the wound. She shuddered and gasped, drawing in air in great gasps.
"Got you, Pet." He rubbed his thumb over her mating mark, trying to comfort her.
"It hurts, Spike." She hissed through clenched teeth. "Just pull it out. I'll heal."
"Pet, I don't know." He stroked her hair back with one blood drenched hand and grimaced as the blood darkened her hair. "You're human."
"She's still alive?" Giles gasped and stumbled out next to them on the path. "She's been gone three days."
"So, shoot first, mop up the blood later, that's bloody brilliant." Spike sneered. His hands were slick with his mate's blood. "I'd drop you right now, but she'd never forgive me. Get the bloody med kit and the bag of her things. We won't be staying here."
"Let Giles come back to the house." The whelp tossed her bag out to him from the safety of the apartment. Spike caught the bag and dropped it next to him.
"Why?" The watcher looked at his mate. "Why would you leave her alive?"
Spike didn't bother to respond. The watcher slid back toward the door. He cups hear the idiot brigade talking, but he didn't bother to listen to their hissing whispers. Nothing either of them had to say would make a difference in his world.
"Pet, gonna fix this the vamp way. These fools are useless." He looked at her pale face and she nodded. It was all the assent he needed. He ripped out the bolt and quickly lowered his mouth to the wound.
The rush of her blood hit him, sweet and powerful. He sealed the wound with a lick, the flat of his tongue dragging between her breasts. She clutched his head to her and arched up to his mouth. He kissed her gently over her thudding heart before pulling back enough to look up into her green eyes.
"We need to go, Sweet." He pulled his duster tight around her. "Find a safe place."
"No, you can't take her." The watcher emerged from his flat and grabbed Spike's arm. "She was bleeding. She's still alive."
Spike stared at the hand on his arm. The remnants of Angelus' torture were plain to see. He shrugged the man off and knelt next to Buffy.
"Yeah." Spike stood and with her cradled in his arms, her bag slung across his back. He let his demonic face surface. The watcher backed up instinctively. "And I'll be keeping it that way."