Fic' A New Englishman in Fork Part I of II (part II mid Nov.)

[GenieVeeBee]

A NEW ENGLISHMAN IN FORK.
By GenieVeeBee..
...an old fic'-er.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are
the property of their respective owners. The original characters and
plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated
with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No
copyright infringement is intended. Joss Whedon owns 'em. We love
'em.
Rating: PG (some words, some humor, lots of anguish!)
Buffy/Spike centric.
Summary: Vampire on the prowl for something more than un-death.
*WARNING! Serious angst! Absent character death.
Author's note to readers: I picked the town of American Fork 'cause the
name! Too perfect! I used liberties in the writing regarding the
towns/cities, etc. I'm not American but am America friendly.

*********************
Spikes' "rise" to vampirism from human life, to his redemption as a
reformed soul-baring vampire, to his self induced fall into death
(his freedom from the deeds committed - and perhaps finally forgiven
for?), much reminded me of these words of Shakespeare's Prospero
character in The Tempest, one who teeters between good and evil, but
finally redeems himself. The verses below are Prospero's final speech
as he prepares to depart.

Loreena McKennit's musical adaption of this fabulous verse spawned the
idea for A New Englishman in Fork, I & II.
I highly recommend listening to these refrains on her CD The Mask & the
Mirror.
*

Prospero's Speech:

And now my charms are all o'erthrown
And what strength I have's my own.
Which is most faint: now t' is true
I must here be confined by you.

But release me from my bands
With the help of your good hands
gentle breath of yours my sails
Must fill, or else my project fails.

Which was to please. Now I want
Spirits to enforce, art to enchant
And my ending is despair,
Unless I be relieved by prayer.

Which pierces so that it assaults
Mercy itself and frees all faults.
As you from crimes would pardon'd be
Let your indulgence set me free.

William Shakespeare - The Tempest.

*
*
*
*
*

A New Englishman in Fork
SPIKE
---------------------------

Buffy gulped down her coffee, the last mouthful having gone from
pleasingly hot to disappointing tepid.

Dawn, busy messing eggs around in a pan, didn't look up, "That was only
your third cup. Needing a fix much?"

Buffy placed her mug in the sink, running the fingers of one hand
through her just combed hair. "O-o-h, believe me, I need it. I had
a mid-nighter down at the center. A kid's family had a major
melt-down. He figured his life would be easier if he lived on the
street."

"We all thought that at one time or another." Xander Harris entered the
sunny kitchen, knotting his tie. "Me, I preferred the smelly but
otherwise disgusting locale of my friend Rickie's closet whenever my
parents pressed each others scream buttons." Xander poured himself a
coffee, adding liberal amounts of cream and sugar. "Fortunately it only
happened two or three times a week."

Buffy gathered her briefcase. "Well. Today's suppose to be my day off
but I really need to talk to his parents, see what the deal is."

"I'm sure you'll find they're insane or simply maladjusted just like
most American parents. But take a pointy stick just in case."

"Xander!" Buffy scolded but he could tell she wasn't serious. All
things vampire had been quiet since the sinking of Sunnydale. That was
nearly two years ago. They were all living in an old, rented house,
they all had jobs, and a new town to call home: American Fork, Utah.

"Sorry, Buffy. I guess it's a bit too early for tasteful jokes." A
knock at the front door sent him out of the kitchen. "I'll get it."

Buffy sorted through her papers. "I can't wait till this is a paying
job."

Willow had joined them in the kitchen. She was neatly dressed in
slacks, shirt and jacket for her job at the local paper, typing up
obituaries and, when required, doing research for The Fork Herald. "I
thought it was a paying job? You bring a paycheck home every month. Are
you doing slaying on the side, charging for it and not telling us?"

Buffy. "I mean a better paying job. I've gone from Sunnydale poor to
Fork "Buddy can ya spare a dime?" broke."

"It'll get better, Buffy. They need you there." Dawn said. She believed
in her big sister. And it was true. Dawn also knew that Buffy needed
the job even more because Buffy the Vampire Slayer wasn't slaying just
then. And a slayer with nothing to do is a depressed, brooding pain in
the ass.

Xander had entered the kitchen again. When Dawn turned and saw his
face, she knew the news had to be bad. Real bad. His face was white,
but he had two red spots on either cheek like he'd been standing in the
front hall for a while stressing on how to break the news.

He turned to Buffy. In his hand was a folded telegram. Xander
swallowed. "It's about Angel."

Everything in the kitchen, the bustling of a busy day's beginnings, the
sipping of coffee and conversations about what they would all do that
day, had stopped. It was eerie how they all suddenly knew what shit had
just come down the pipe. Even the inviting smell of breakfast cooking
had taken on a sour stench; now not fresh, happy eggs frying in bacon
fat but a nauseating burnt sulfur stink.

Buffy took the note from Xander, taking the impact of the
what-had-to-be terrible news onto herself, sparing him the agony.

As she read the note, her face confirmed what they had already
supposed. No one sends good news in a telegram. Buffy didn't even read
it aloud. Her stricken eyes said the words as though she'd spoken them.
They all knew.

"Angel is dead."

*

Xander dragged his feet through the dirt as they walked away from the
small plaque they had all chipped in to erect in Fork Memorial
Cemetery. The inscription had read simply "Angel - Friend, Champion.
Beloved & Forever cherished. July 31, 2006."

Small dust devils waltzed around his legs. It had been an unusually dry
summer.

Buffy, mute during the service, had cried herself out the previous few
days. Everyone felt drained.
There would be no gathering at the house, all of Angels friends were
already present save for Cordelia and Wesley who had stayed in L.A. to
keep the business open. When hero's die, criminals rejoice.

The phone rang insistently as they entered the house, most drifting to
the livingroom and plopping down on stuffed chairs or the sofa. Xander
took the call. "I have to go to the site." He said as he hung up. No
one said anything but Willow acknowledged with a nod. "Something about
a cranky contractor." He explained. "I didn't think anyone was working
this evening."

"See you later." Dawn said. He nodded and left quickly.

Xander was thankful that, through all the hell of the hell mouth, he
had kept his business going. It brought in almost enough to keep and
feed them all. Willow and Buffy supplemented the money pool with their
part-time jobs. Dawn was enrolled at the local community college. She
had insisted on not going away to attend a better school. "I want to be
with you and our friends!" She yelled back to Buffy
during one past argument. "How many times do I have to almost lose
everyone in my life before you understand that?"

Their small, plain bungalow was almost but not quite enough room to
house them comfortably. Xander, ever the gentleman, had opted for the
smallest and dimmest bedroom, the one in the basement. It had the
appearance of having been hastily built on in the last few years. The
drywall was bare and only a worn area rug in the style of East Indian
cheap covered most of the plywood floor. But at least they were
together.

Yes, they were all living together.

With his good eye, Xander watched the road as he drove to the other
edge of town. (The local highway authority seemed content to turn a
blind eye to Xander's blind eye. His small construction firm was
bringing building contracts to their little fork in the road and it
made fiscal sense to leave him behind the wheel of his Seville. A
discount super-mart had decided to set up shop in Fork and Xander was
the one the town fathers had to thank for it).

Yes, the scooby gang was all together. But to what end? Xander had been
keeping a few things to himself since their collective move to Fork,
Utah. Like he had met a local woman and it was starting to get serious.
He had told no one about it but the "problems at the mart" excuse was
working overtime. Somebody was bound to see through it soon.

He didn't want to live single forever. And Fork, Utah wasn't exactly
his first choice of a town to set up permanent shop. Fork's twenty
streets and twenty thousand residents didn't qualify for an economic
power center.

It was dusk when Xander pulled his silver Seville onto the work-site.

No one was there. Everything was ship-shape though. Xander did a once
through the area anyway to check things out. A kid's crank call was his
guess. But a weird crank call. Mind you, this was Utah. People baptized
their dead relatives here. A rather hell mouthy-ish thing to do he
often thought, though their goal was sending them to heaven, not some
demon dimension where the main course was often human brains or
intestine salad.

A movement caught his eye. Something swayed in the dark, by the
concrete pylons erected last week. "Hello?" Kids smoking doobies maybe.
"Look, I know you just want get high away from your parents, but you
can't be in h-"

The form moved from the shadow into the small light of the moon sliver.
White skin and black coat.
And no mistaking that hair bleach. "Spike?"

The vampire in question walked toward him, but not too close Xander
noted. After all, neither had ever really trusted the other. Or much
liked for that matter.

"Besides the obvious entertainment of lurking around a construction
site in Utah, what are you doing here?"

Spike didn't answer directly. Already that bothered Xander the way
Spike always bothered him. Someone who half answers's a question
usually tells only half truths too.

"How was the funeral?"

That pissed him off. Xander could feel his blood pressure rising like
it always did whenever Spike showed his sallow, sardonic face. "How do
you think? Buffy sobbed till I thought she was going to collapse in on
herself. Other than that cheeriness, we're dealing. And what do you
care anyway vampire-who-is-suppose-to-be-dead?" Xander then remembered
what Spike had done to save all their cans in Sunnydale and choked back
his next snide retort. "Why didn't you come and see Buffy? She could
have used a friend, I mean of the non-living kind."

Spike didn't twitch at Xander's attempts to hurt him. He just lit a
cigarette. "I hear you had to say goodbye to Anya, though not
personally, like."

Xander held up a finger. "Wait just a second-" He did not want to
discuss Anya with Spike.

"Would you have wanted Cordelia there when you said goodbye?" Spike
pulled a long drag of smoke into his blackened lungs.

Xander took the point. No, he wouldn't have. And Spike had not wanted
to put Buffy in that position. Having to weep over one lover while the
jilted one stood by. "I give you that."

Finally Spike closed the distance between them and Xander got a full
view of the man-but-vampire. He looked terrible. His face nearly
the color of his bleached hair. His jaw worked hard and the tiny knot
of tendons and muscles at the mandible joint pulled the skin taut over
his finely molded features, making the bones of his face even more
angular than usual.

Xander could not place the look on the human looking creatures face. No
one word described it. He finally decided it was the expression of a
man who had no choice but to look his enemy in the eye and beg.

"I need your help." Spike said quickly, the words coming clipped,
darting this way and that. Oh how those words had not wanted to be
said!

"That couldn't have been easy." Xander put his hands in his suit pants
pockets to put himself at ease as much as the nervous vampire. "What
kind of help?"

"Do you have a place? I mean one away from Buffy and the others?"

Xander looked at his own feet, his black leather shoes covered in fine
concrete dust. "Yeah. I do." A place he had not told the gang about.
Somewhere to take his new found lady friend and occasionally just a
place where he could go to get away from so much estrogen and menstrual
cramps all fighting for dominance. Where he could put up his smelly
feet and watch sport after sport with a beer in one hand and popcorn on
the carpet. "We've pretty much hated one another since the day you
showed up in Sunnydale. But I'm willing to put that aside for now and
for what I think will be the only time during my lifetime, say the
words: How can I help you, Spike?"

"It's right up your alley, sport." Spike said. "I need you to help me
die." He flicked the smoldering butt away into the dark.

*

Xander drove them to his small bachelor suite in the better of the two
apartment buildings in the whole town. It was only an eight minute
drive but it was time enough for-

"Are you nuts? That I used to fantasize about you dying is, I suppose,
beside the point. I just have to ask why you want me to kill you?"

Beside him in the passenger seat Spike looked out the window at the
dark town. "No night life here." He commented. "All the little folks
asleep in their beddie-byes, night lights burning. What a right
boring little town Fork must be."

"Are you going to answer my question?"

"When we get to your place."

"What does that have to do with it?"

"I need a shower."

Xander loathed the idea of Spike taking up residence in his private pad
even for a few hours but said "Fine. You can use my shower on one
condition. You can't tell anyone about the apartment? Okay? Not Buffy
or anyone. It's my own place."

"Somewhere to slap the salami in private?"

Xander stopped the car with a respectable squeal of the tires. "Get
out. The deal's off."

Spike was already talking. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. All right? I mean I
get it. I miss having' my own crypt too." He missed those times.

"TWO conditions." Xander held up his finger to emphasize them as he
started the car moving again. "Keep my apartment a secret and keep your
mouth shut until we get there."

Spike nodded once.

Xander was amazed that the vampire actually complied. He didn't make a
sound the rest of the trip.

In fact, he didn't say a word until after he'd showered, dried and sat
down with a cup of coffee. Even thanking Xander for it.

Xander was not prepared for what the words he next heard from the
vampire's grim lips. "It was a slayer who murdered Angel."

The stun of hearing it was a slayer rose, fluttered around his heart,
then disappeared. The curiouser word - murdered - hung round a bit
longer. Point of view he supposed.

"How do you know? Were you there?"

"No to the second. To the first, I know because they want to dust me
too."

Xander looked at his own hands. They had been clasped togther. He
relaxed them on his knees and leaned back in his easy chair. "You said
"they"."

"Yeah. They, as in more than she. As in a gang of slayers. This is a
new trend among potentials. Well, they're all slayers now aren't they?"
Spike slumped a bit in his chair. In the lamp light of the small room,
his eyes appeared sunken and dark.

"This doesn't make sense. Angel had a soul. Every slayer we've ever
known knew that. Why would they want to kill him?"

Spike lit another cigarette. The room was becoming a hazy blue. The
vampire leaned back and took a long drag on the unfiltered stick.
"Well, ya see, souls have become a new trend as well. Among vampires
that is. I personally know of a few who went out and traded for them."

"Traded what?"

Spike ran a bloodless hand over his forehead and through his hair. "Oh,
whatever there is. The heart of Isis, the wings of Kulborot, the golden
tooth of the Hell Angel Galtus. The balls of Malduk are probably on
E-Bay by now. Anything worth trading for a human soul is being
bargained for as we speak. Dead humans, souls a-plenty if the price
is right. Get it? It's not like they'll be needing them now, will they?
Cheating bastards. The vampires I mean."

Xander shook his head. "Just a second. Let me sum this up: these soul
slayers, who hunt vampires who have souls, are after you. And you want
to give them the slip by having me kill you, 'cause you'd rather be
dead by dying than be dead by being killed? I'm completely for sure in
the know. It's as clear as the inky night."

Spike flicked the ash on the carpet. When he spoke, Xander could see
the words as though carved in the air between them. He'd heard Spike
talk many times with cocky assurance, spitting dismissal, complete
indifference and gleeful fury. But never with the profound soberness he
heard now. "I hear they cornered Angel in a warehouse. Beat him
unconscious. Strung him up in chains. Performed some kind of ritual
that released his spark from his body, which turned him into Angelus of
course. The spark they stuck in a crystal and then smashed it to bits.
The pieces they burned. Melted like sugar. Didn't want to release the
spark back into the Ether I guess. Then they staked him and dumped his
ashes
in the sewer."

"Holy shit." Xander walked to the window and looked out at the feeble
lights of the little town. "You can't ever tell Buffy the...details.
She can't ever know."

"You think I'm still that cruel? I would never hurt Buffy. I only told
you because that's what's waiting for me if these Soul Slayers ever nab
me."

"So these vampires who are getting souls, doesn't sound so bad. All the
more on the winning side."

"Hitler had a soul, mate."

"They're staying evil despite their souls you mean."

"Yes. Because they're getting them by illegal means - in the
underworld sense anyway - and they're sporting them like Kate Moss
would the latest frock. It's become a status symbol among the un-dead.
Bling for the Bad." Spike suddenly jumped from his chair like a man who
just had to leap from his skin. He followed Xander's same path to the
window to look out into the darkness. A creature of night drawn to its
natural domain and the natural domain clutching back from the shadows.
"Angel was a pain in my ass, but I come to respect him before he was
murdered-"

There was that word again.

"-he got his soul legitimately, by a curse, yes, but he could use it
to be the man he might have been before the fangs did him in."

Xander sat again. "And you?"

"Got it all by myself."

Xander leaned forward. "So what do you have to do? I mean, you want to
die-"

"You can't tell Buffy I'm here or about any of this. Got it?"

Xander nodded and held up the three fingers of his right hand. "Scouts
honor."

Spike sat back down opposite Xander. He was all business now. "I want
to live. But I have to die and if I have to I want it done by someone
other than a bloody slayer gone all self-righteous. Besides,..."
Spike looked at the blank wall next to his chair. "I'm so bloody
tired."

*

It was nearly dawn when Xander arrived home - to his other home he
shared with three women. It was sunday morning, early, yet there was
already a light on in the kitchen. It was Willow, nursing a cup of
coffee and reading one of Gile's old volumes on Demon curses. Xander
thought how apropos that was.

"Hi."

"Hi." she said, surprised and glad to see him. "All nighter huh?"

"Yeah. You could say that." Xander was beat and not just in his body.
He had to keep his promise to Spike, but he knew he couldn't do it
without help. He grabbed a mug of coffee for himself, removed his suit
jacket and laid it over a chair-back. He fairly fell into the seat
opposite Willow.

She noted his eye bags. "You look terrible. It's like you've seen a
ghost..." Then at his grave expression, "..Or something worse."

Xander gave a tiny, ironic guffaw. "We got a big problem, Willow. I
need to tell you something, and get your help with something."

"Sure." Willow sat up straighter. Friends since childhood, she knew
instantly when Xander was deadly serious.

"And Buffy can't know anything about it."

"Figures. I always hate that last part."
*

Xander set Spike up in a place that was secure, private and, above all,
inescapable, an underground weapons cache that only he, Willow and
Buffy knew about. As quiet as things had been nether-worldly wise,
Buffy believed in being prepared.

A fifteen minute drive into the country, where Xander then turned off
the Seventy-Three onto a secondary gravel road brought them closer to
their goal.

"Just a few more miles." Xander said needlessly to the silent vampire
sitting in the back seat and
the pensive face of Willow in front. "This place is totally secure.
Trust me on that."

Spike said nothing. He pulled something from his pocket and looked at
it for a minute under the light of the dashboard.

"What's that?"

"Just a keepsake." He said.

Xander had just got another half answer.

A long, narrow tunnel ending in a door of iron with bars as thick as
two inches, (where the
most lethal weapons were usually stored), fit their needs or, rather,
the need of one single-
minded vampire. Once Xander and Willow had transferred all weapons into
trunk of the car, Spike entered the damp, dark cell and Xander shut the
door behind him. He secured it with a locking crossbar with a thick
padlock. And then added another through two rings connecting the door
with the concrete walls into which the iron bar frame had been sunk all
around to a depth of two feet.

"Just for a bit extra." He said.

Spike sat down at the back of the cage, just six feet from the front.
It was large enough to move around in and to perhaps lay down but that
was all. There were no comforts; Spike had specified he be given none.
"To hurry it along." He said to them.

Xander stood before the cage and looked for a few seconds at the
vampire he had hated for a long, long time. "Are you sure about this?"

"Yup. Are you sure you can keep your mouth shut?"

"Yes."

Spike nodded. He was satisfied.

Xander exchanged glances with Willow who looked like she wanted to
upchuck just a bit. Xander took
her arm and led her to the iron ladder leaning against the entrance
hole eight feet over head. They climbed the ladder and shut the opening
behind them, leaving Spike alone in the blackness as he'd requested.
Willow helped Xander spread the brush and dirt back over the entrance
to the cache to again conceal it from accidental eyes.

There was nothing else to do.

They drove home.

*

A week went by.

Then two.

"We can't let him do this."

Willow dragged Xander by the arm into the main floor bathroom one day.
He'd stepped in the front door from work and found himself propelled by
the unstoppable force that was little Willow. Ex-witch maybe. Present
fireball without argument.

Xander had this discussion with her twice already. "Are you gonna to
make him?" He lowered his voice. "Willow, it's been two weeks already.
The deed is probably already done."

She shook her head vigorously. "No. I did some research, and in some
cases - well in the one known case that was recorded four hundred
years ago in Patagonia - it can take up to four months with
speculations to longer periods depending on the weight of the vampire.
And other individual factors-"

Xander grabbed her shoulder, more forcefully than he intended, causing
her to sit down heavily on the toilet seat. She seemed content to stay
put. "Sorry. We've gone through this. Spike said this in the only way."

Willow shook her head. Then looked up to him with those eyes of
desperate appeal. "Then you've got to tell me how I can keep my
conscience from killing me, because this is something Buffy has a right
to know. God, I know and it's hurting. How do you think Buffy will feel
when she finds out we knew and didn't tell her?"

"It isn't about Buffy's rights. This is what Spike wanted and he has a
right to choose his own way out."

Willow looked away from her friend to the wall, then the toilet paper
sitting in neat piles on the back of the tank. "But it isn't...the way
it should be, Xander."

"It is his choice."

"No one...nobody... should die alone. Not even Spike."



"So, working late again, huh?" Carrying a basket of laundry from the
kitchen, where the washer and dryer used one third of the cramped
kitchen, to Dawn's bedroom at the end of the narrow hall. Buffy still
did her best to play mom to her younger sister, though Dawn was nearly
twenty.

Xander loosened his tie as quickly as possible and took it off as he
closed the door. He hated wearing the thing a moment longer than
necessary. Sometimes he took it off during the drive home, the novelty
of dressing as a respected businessman having faded a long time ago.
"Yeah, I-"

"-Liar." Buffy said, setting the laundry down in the hallway and
crossing her arms.

"What?" Buffy was a master at the deadpan. It was impossible to tell
whether she was serious or not.

"Liar. I know what you're up to. What you've been doing all these late
nights!"

Xander's heart sunk. With Buffy, it was also impossible to know just
how angry she was until you got an earful. "Look, Buffy. I wanted to
tell you, but I made a promise. I just didn't know how."

"Well, I'm not stupid. Who is she?"

Xander saw her tiny smile. "Don't do that to me. And you don't know
her. I'm not ready to introduce her to...the gang." To our in no way
run of the mill gang: "Hi, I'm Xander. This is Buffy the vampire
slayer who just saved the world. This is Willow, the once-evil witch
who almost destroyed it. This is Dawn, our resident former key to the
demonic dimension deadbolt. Oh and, just FYI, we're keeping our pal
Spike, a former blood thirsty one hundred and twenty year old vampire
and champion warrior locked in our deadly weapons cache just outside of
town. So how do you like me so far?"

Xander let the humor of it play around inside his head for a minute.
There was little chance he would be introducing Monica to Buffy or
anyone else. He and his lady friend had cooled during the last few
weeks. Not that it had ever reached hot, but with the job and now with
looking in on Spike to see how far he had...progressed and being unable
to explain to her the reasons for their canceled dates, Monica had
chalked it up to him losing interest and had started making her own
excuses about why she couldn't meet him.

It was just as well, Xander told himself. He was glad Buffy didn't
press him any further, but she was waiting for a response.

"Sorry, Buffy. I'll make sure to introduce anyone who I'm serious
about."
"Guess it can't be easy. Living with three women. I'm not sure I could
explain it if it were me."

"It's not that, it's just.. I'm not ready for any big changes right
now. There's been so many in the last couple years."

Nodding, "Yeah, well, no argument there. And you've stuck with us all
this time, through everything. Do you have any idea how great you are
for doing that? And how much I love you for being my rock. You are. I
don't think I could have done any of this without you."

"Well, yeah, you have but I never get tired of hearing it."

Buffy smiled. "I'm going to finish putting these away."

It was nice to hear the gratitude, but Xander was glad for a few
minutes alone in his tiny basement room. He threw off his suit and
donned a worn pair of jeans and a black tee shirt. It fit his mood.

Monica had been his first pleasant encounter of the female type in
almost two years. Looked like it was going to be his last for a while.
There was always tomorrow. At least that's what he used to tell
himself; that he was young; in no hurry; didn't really want to settle
down.

But time burns quickly. He was twenty six. Not old by any means, not
even middle aged, but how quickly would the next four years go? How
soon before some sort of demon or vampire horde re-organized (or
reborn), and marched once again on all that was surface world? And
then, how many years after that before they could take a life breather
and do a normal thing like have a date? Any of them?

The more time went by, the more Xander had come to understand that it
was not the same for him as for Buffy, Willow or even Dawn. Buffy was
and always would be The Slayer, destiny written and thrust upon her.
She would always find one man (or one vamp') or another to fall in love
with. In fact, although she complained about her lack of male cuddling,
she'd actually seen more action in the bedroom and crypt than anyone in
the group. Willow had a brief, burning love in Ox, a deeper but just as
quick affair with Tara and, since Kennedy split, nothing.

He'd had his one tumultuous relationship with Anya and nothing since.

All of them had loved and lost. But Buffy was BUFFY, Willow was the
Witch, Dawn of the Mist was sister to the Slayer and he...

He was just Xander, the repairman. He had nothing special about him.
And someday he wanted to at least be the special someone to someone.
Maybe, too, a family? He felt he served less and less real purpose to
this house other than it's bill payer.

He heard the upstairs door shut and feet coming down the stairs. It had
to be Willow. She didn't knock but just thrust his bedroom door open
and walk in. It made him the more glad he had rented an alternative
place. He spent considerable time thinking he might just move there
permanent and Willow's rude entry made the idea all the more appealing.
Only one thing stopped him. If he did, then his only real purpose for
being in any of their lives would disappear and he'd be totally alone
then. The thought of that was less appealing and so he did not scold
Willow for her social faux pax. "What's up?"

"Did you look in on...?"

"Yeah." Of course.

"How does he look?"

Xander wondered what she actually wanted to hear. That he looked
better? That he wasn't still locked in a cage letting himself die? That
he had decided after all, to wait around and let the soul hunters do
the business for him? Xander felt irritated at the pointlessness of the
question. "What do you want to know, Willow?"

Willow picked up on his mood and probably some of his thoughts. She
could not read minds, but occasionally words from her or Buffy (there
was that slayer and witch specialness again) popped into his head loud
and clear. "I've been thinking that these soul hunters could be on
their way. We have no idea whether Spike was followed here or not, do
we?"

Xander sat up. He hadn't really considered that. Spike had assured them
he had not been followed, that no one knew he was here, not even
Wesley. But Spike might have been tracked. Slayers have special
abilities when it came to sniffing out vamp's.

"Shit." He said. Not very helpful.

Willow indicated with a jerk of her head. "Come on. I've been doing
some reading."

In the living room where their one shared computer sat on an old
fashioned desk in one corner, Willow booted up. "Where's Buffy?" She
whispered.

Xander looked outside the back window into the small yard. Buffy was
drinking something from a cup and sitting on the back two seated rocker
with Dawn. It was something they did often, sharing memories of their
mother or stories about the "old days" when slayer-dom was in full
swing.

"They're outside for now. What have you found out?"

"Well, there's not much about them 'cause they're sort of new. But I
found an online chat room where there's a lot of talk about The
Exurgent Ones. Now that's Latin, and it means to start out or rise
above the rest. And they are spoken of in fear. The members keep
talking about the Fallen One who was the first to be divided. Now, this
could be talking about a lot of things only this chat room has an
exclusive membership - vampires only. I've managed to access the
outer level. The "Lobby". But there's the "Game Room" and the
"Cellar" and finally "The Crypt". Which one do you suppose the
really pertinent vamp gossip lurks?" She asked sarcastically.
"Anyway, if my guess is right, they're talking about a group of Elite
Slayers who've set themselves up above any who have come before and
their first kill, the first one they "divided", the first soul they
separated from it's host was Angel's."

"And who's the Fallen One?"

"Again, that's Angel. From a vampire's point of view at least, Angel
fell when he stopped being Angelus, was given a soul and became good."

"Do we know where they are, these Soul Hunters?"

"Only rumors. The vampires talk about the one seeking flesh, but that
could mean Spike when he was bad or it could mean a Soul Hunter seeking
a kill."

"Or a horny vampire."

"Please tell me you're not looking at vampire porn."

Xander started at Buffy's voice from the kitchen door. She was taking
off her coat. The air was getting chilly and they were no longer in
southern California. In Utah, late September is jacket weather.

Willow quickly exited the web site and stumbled over an excuse. "Naaa.
Just remembering the bad old days."

"Well, let's eat. And we can trade stories on the new, possibly more
boring but safer days."



At 2 AM Dawn wandered to the kitchen. Cramming for an exam always made
her hungry. Cutting herself a big piece of chocolate cake, she poured a
glass of milk and sat at the coffee table. Nearby the computer hummed.
Willow had forgotten to turn it off. Dawn moved to the desk, hit the
space bar and the monitor awoke. She found Recent History and skimmed
through the pages. "Vamp'sRUs"?" She read aloud. "How pathetic." There
were hundreds of such sites and Willow must have checked at least
several dozen. Most were vampire wanna-be clubs usually administered
by high-school girls looking for something beyond homework and their
boyfriends uncomfortable rear car seat. Some were run by people who
fancied themselves vampire hunters although from the information
provided, none had ever encountered a real vampire.

The illegitimacy of a site always became clear when no mention of
Slayer was made. Or what a Slayer really was.

Dawn tried to gain a login account but an eerie voice said: "You didn't
say the magic word."

Dawn had become quite adept at hacking but none of her efforts to
circumvent the security was successful. Bored, she exited out of the
page, put her plate and glass in the sink and went back to her books.


*

Dawn ate her lunch gratefully. The two hour, dreaded exam was over and
she was sure she had done well. Her plans were veterinary school. But
to pursue that to its conclusion would mean a move to a larger center,
something they just couldn't afford right then. So she took computer
courses and Business Ed' to keep her occupied and give her an
alternative in case the vet' thing didn't pan out.

"Man, this site's so amazing. I'm going to meet one tonight, to join."

A brunette freshman talked at the next table.

"You're crazy Ashlen." Her friend answered. "You have no idea who they
are or what it's all about. It could be dangerous."

"I'm not twelve you know! We're meeting at Dusty's. In a public place."

"How'd you get into it anyway? We tried every magic word in the book
and couldn't make it."

"That's because I figured it out last night."

"I still say you're crazy. Listen I gotta go, are you coming to the
party tonight?"

"No way. New guy."

The friend left and new guy girl gathered her lunch tray, preparing to
leave. Dawn stood at the same time. "Excuse me."

At the girl's vaguely irritated look, "Sorry." Dawn said, trying to
look apologetic. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but if I'm guessing
right, you're talking about Vamp's R Us, right? The web site?" Dawn
tried to feign ignorance of all things computer. "I've been trying for
weeks to get into that place and no go. Would you mind letting me in on
how you did it. I am so dying to join."

"Well, there's a magic word you have to know."

"Oh, I get that part, but I can't figure it out. I've typed in
hundreds-"

"Oh, the word changes every day, so it takes a bit of mental work to
guess what it's going to be."

"Oh. Well, what did you type in last time?" She figured maybe it would
give her an idea where to begin.

"Oh, that's the really cool part. You don't type it in. You say it."

Dawn smiled, "Great. Thanks." And walked away. "Say it?" She said
aloud but to herself. "This could be bad."


"You say it?" Buffy leaned over the desk and watched as Dawn typed in
word after word.

"Yeah. But I've been trying dozens of different words. It's a shot in
the dark and my aim is obviously way off."

Buffy was home just a few minutes when Dawn dragged her to the computer
and brought her up to speed on her conversation with her fellow
student. Dawn had one of Willow's magic word books open to the fourth
page of one-word incantations. "Now I'm trying words that mean
"open", "enter" or "let me in".

"Nothing so far?"

Dawn shook her head.

Buffy flipped through the book. There were hundreds of pages and
thousands of words. "Maybe what we need is a word that not only means
open or enter but one that means something to vampires. You know?
Something only they would really understand in their own twisted kind
of way."

"Okay, but what?"

Buffy was still wearing her work clothes, a grey pantsuit number with
her hair in a long braid. She squirmed. "I have to change." From the
bedroom, she called, "Is that all the girl told you?"

"Yeah. At first she was talking to a friend of hers and I listened in.
She said she was going to meet someone tonight at Dusty's."

"Who?"

Dawn thought for a second, recalling the specific phrasing. She
swallowed heavily. What if-?

"Buffy. I think this girl might be going to meet a vampire!"

Buffy, changed into tan jeans and a maple pullover, came back to the
living room. "Why do you think that?"

Dawn stood up. "Because she said she was going to meet "one of them".
What if this site is protected by a spoken magic word because there are
real dark forces protecting it? What if these are real vampires,
Buffy?"

"Then that girl is going to a dinner date where she's the main course."

Buffy walked to the door. "Come on!" On the way to her tiny Isuzu,
Xander drove in and parked.

"Where're you two going?"

"We may have a dental problem."

At Xander's puzzled look, "A vampire." She added.

Xander's heart skipped a beat and he jerked his reflexively toward the
west, where their cache of weapons used to be and the dying vampire
was. "My car, ladies. And, uh, what makes you say so?" He asked while
they all piled in to the larger, faster and more comfortable Seville.

Buffy quickly filled him in. "She's supposed to meet him at Dusty's."

Xander said under his breath. "When we first moved here, did anyone
else think the name of that place had a kind of vampires eat here
obviousness?"

"If there are any vamp's, it'll only be dusty once I'm through with
it." Buffy said.



The pub appeared usual. Countryfied bar with a half dozen cars parked
on an angle out front. Cheap neon sign that said simply Dusty's Bar.
Inside, Steve Urban strummed his guitar from the juke box and fifteen
to twenty people sat at tables nursing frothy beers. At a table in the
corner three men played cards. Two women sat at the bar's two
electronic nickel machines, and a busty waitress wandered around in
uncomfortable looking cowboy boots, take orders and deflecting
come-on's.

The three, all dressed in clothing more suited to schools and
Laundromats's, paused at the entry near the bar. "Seems normal enough."
Xander observed.

"Hmm." Buffy took a seat at the nearest table but one which allowed her
to view the front and rear doors, plus the short hallway that lead to
the restrooms. Dawn sat beside her.

"I'll check the bathrooms." Xander tried to look like he belonged in a
country bar and wandered to the back.
"Will you recognize this girl when she shows?"

Dawn nodded. "No problem. We talked for a few minutes. She's got long
brown hair and she's a bit taller than me."

Buffy handed Dawn her cell phone. "Oh, you should call Willow so she
knows what's going on."

Dawn dialed. As Dawn talked to Willow, the waitress came to the table.
"What'll you have?"

"Oh, we're waiting for someone." Buffy said.

The waitress, "Nancy" as her name tag read, pointed to a laminated
table card on which was displayed pictures of various cocktails. "Two
drink minimum, honey. It's happy hour 'till nine."

"Oh. Okay, I'll have a Virgin Madonna."

"No such creature." Nancy said succinctly. "Just what you see,
darlin'."

Buffy looked over the cocktails. "A Bloody Mary." It contained the
smallest amount of alcohol. She did not want to feel tipsy when the
vampire showed up.

Dawn ordered a diet Pepsi. When the drinks came, Buffy stared at hers
for a moment. It was brownish and murky. She only sniffed it. Dawn had
caught up with Willow on the cellular. "You have to come to Dusty's.
That bar at the end of the strip mall on Second Street."

At Buffy's glower, Dawn lowered her voice, though the old familiar
thrill was rising. Like an old friend. Life had become so like average
life, she welcomed the excitement. "We think there's a vampire in
town. No, we heard about it the usual way - rumor. No, we're not sure
but it's kind of cool, don't you think. A vampire in dull old, Fork,
Utah. We'll explain when you get here." Dawn closed the phone.
"Willow's on her way. She sounded all gulpy."

"Huh?"

Dawn pulled at her shirt collar and swallowed. "You know, "Uh oh - a
vampire!"."

Xander had checked the bathrooms out a few times just to give himself
time to think. He was sure the vampire rumor was in fact about Spike
but somewhere between the girl at school, Dawn's overhearing her, the
conversation and Dawn's relating that information to Buffy, the data
had gotten mixed up.

Xander left the back hall and re-entered the main bar area. Buffy saw
him and came over, Dawn in tow. "So?" He asked.

"I think we've got a case of bogus rumor." Buffy appeared half way
between relieved and disappointed. Xander himself felt he had narrowly
averted a "Buffy just found out we've been lying and she's really
pissed off" disaster.

Dawn looked around the bar. "But I was sure she said she was meeting
him here."

"Maybe she was just meeting a vampire web site groupie here, but they
changed plans." Xander offered. He walked casually to the door, playing
up his best "See? No vampires in Fork" face.

The Seville was parked next the alley entrance. Buffy tossed her purse
on the front seat but didn't climb in. She and Dawn seemed to want to
linger a bit and it made Xander toes curl inside his black leather
business shoes. After a few minutes, all that could be heard was the
dim twang of bad country music and a barking dog.

The barking was coming from overheard. All three looked up to see a
poodle with his head hanging out an apartment window, barking furiously
at something in the alley. "Probably a cat." Xander said. But the dog
didn't stop.

Buffy walked into the alley to see with the other two taking up the
rear.

"Come on, Buffy. It's a cat or a really good looking bone."

They heard a small cry and then a snarl.

"Xander!" Buffy ran hard and Xander and Dawn followed.

"Maybe it's a big cat!" Xander said not so much from genuine belief as
hope. Maybe Spike had escaped? Had Willow checked on him tonight? It
was her turn but she might have had to work late. A dozen possibilities
entered his mind and they came upon the reason for the disturbance.

"I knew there were no vampires in Fork!" Xander said, "Except that
one."

Buffy had already pulled the vampire off the girl and was wailing on
him. To the girl, "Run!" To Xander, "I need a stake!"

Xander raced to the car and grabbed one from Buffy's purse. He ran back
into the alley with it and tossed it to Buffy during a few seconds when
the vampire wasn't on her nor she on him. Buffy feigned to the left and
the vampire lunged. But she twisted hard to the right and drove the
stake deep into its chest. In a thick cloud the color of charcoal, the
creature fell to dust.

As the vampire saw his last, Willow arrived breathless. She had not
seen the vampire slaying, just Buffy wiping her hands on her pants.
"Buffy!"

Xander's felt a cold chill in his chest. Willow had just come upon the
scene and Willow did not know that the vampire they had been scouting
for was not Spike. "Willow..." He tried to warn her to keep her mouth
shut without sounding like he was.

But Willow was already deep into explanations. "Buffy. Dawn filled me
in, so I guess now you know. But before you say anything or fly off the
deep end, we're sorry, okay? We're really sorry we didn't tell you
about Spike. But it was his decision and he made us swear not to say
anything. I swear, he made us swear!"

Buffy's face, her eyebrows drawn together, told the tale that she was
completely in the dark and not because she was standing in a dark
alley. "Spike? What do you mean? What about him?"

Willow was caught up short. "What do you mean what do you mean?"

Buffy looked from her to Xander and back. "Willow, Spike's dead. What
do you mean he made you swear? When? Spike's been gone for two years."

Willow covered her face with her hands, then dropped them, looking to
Xander for help. He sighed heavily, preparing for the worst Buffy could
dish out. "We didn't mean for you to find out this way."

Buffy had gone from puzzled to pale. Her eyes were searching but
quickly turning deadly. "What do you mean, Xander?"

He spread his hands. "Actually we didn't mean for you to find out at
all."

Buffy held up a palm. "Stop. I want the truth right now." It was a
quiet request but served with severity.

Xander opened his mouth to explain. But he didn't know how. How could
he tell her that, just after Angel's death, Spike had blown into town
as large as the un-dead could be but instead of visiting Buffy in her
hour of need, was at that moment dying. Or probably already dead.

It couldn't be explained. It was too much. He had no idea how to say
the words. "It's easier if we just show you."

*

Buffy carefully lowered herself down the ladder into the hole. Their
weapons cache. She'd tried to wring the answers from Xander during the
drive but he just shook his head as though he couldn't quite believe it
either.

At the end of the empty cache, Buffy knew was a heavily fortified cage.
And, without being told, she knew Spike was behind its bars.

The why had yet to be revealed.
"Who's there?" It was Spike's voice and Buffy bit her lip so not one
tear would fall. The last time she'd seen him he was dying in a
brilliant show of light. And then falling to nothingness in a terrible
haze of dead ash. She had said three words before that moment. Her last
to him.

The ones he hadn't believed.

"Xander? Is that you? I think I need some blankets. It's too bloody
cold down here." It was Spike's voice but smaller, and as dry as dust.

Xander switched on his small emergency flashlight and shone it into the
dark. "Spike? Buffy's here."

There was silence for a few seconds. Then faintly, "You bastard."

Buffy walked forward, but Xander had not shone the flashlight any
further than the dirt floor in front of the bars. "Spike?"

He didn't answer. "Why is he here?" Buffy asked Xander without turning
around.

"He'll have to answer tha-"

"I want you to!" She demanded.

When Xander offered nothing more, Buffy took the flashlight. "I want to
see you Spike."

"No. Go away." The feeble voice answered.

Buffy did not shine the flashlight on the bars but waited for him to
comply. When he didn't. "Spike? Spike!" She didn't know what they were
all hiding but she was furious. And all her unreasoning fears were
bubbling at the surface. Barking out orders seemed the only way to calm
herself and deal. "Spike! Dammit! I'm not leaving until I see you."

"You want to see?" His voice, low and crazy with outrage, slithered
from the dark cell. Without warning, he threw himself at the bars full
height and pressed his dying face mask to the light. "Then look!"

Buffy screamed and dropped the flashlight. The dark reached out and
snapped them up.



Outside again, under the half moon night sky, Buffy wiped a few tears
from her face. "What the hell is going on? What have you done to him?"

Xander resented her assumption that this was his doing. "This was all
Spike. He came to me."
"And then you should have come to me." Buffy told him.

"And tell you what? That Spike didn't want to see you? That he wants to
die and wants me to help him do it?"

Buffy shook her head, rubbing hands over a weary face. "I don't
understand any of this."

Xander handed her the flashlight again. "If you want more than that,
you'll have to get it from him."

Buffy took it and stepped on the top ladder rung. Willow followed. "Let
me come too, Buffy, I know a little more about it. Xander, do we have
that battery powered lantern?"

Xander nodded and retrieved it from the car's trunk. "Maybe you should
stay with Dawn." Willow cautioned. "She's a bit stunned too." Xander
returned to the Seville.

Willow turned the lantern on and descended after Buffy.

The lantern cast a gentle but effective glow over the mud walls of the
underground cache.

Spike, head resting on his knees, sat with his back against the far
wall, the thick bars obscuring parts of him. A bit of Spike, a bar, a
bit of Spike, a bar...

Buffy, careful not to look at him directly, sat on the floor and
crossed her legs. Willow stood farther away, knowing her knowledge
might be useful but not wanting to be an intruder.

Buffy looked at the bars and at the vampire wasting away behind them.
Now that she was free to speak, she could find no first question that
seemed...dignified.

So, simply, "Why Spike?"

He just sighed heavily. "I was nearly half way."

"Half way to what? Your grave?"

"I'm tired, Buffy." Meaning he had not the strength for long
explanations never mind short ones.

Behind her, "Buffy? I can explain."

"Okay. Go ahead."

Willow sat down too. "Spike told Xander that Angel was... murdered.
Killed by a slayer."

Buffy turned and looked at her. "Who did it?"
Willow shook her, "We don't know. But it's a group that calls
themselves the Soul Hunters. And they're after Spike now too."

"Why would they want to kill vampire's with souls? You and Angel helped
people."

Willow said, "We're not completely sure-"

"-I am." Spike whispered from his agony.

"Why?" Buffy spoke softly, afraid that volume might somehow add to his
pain.

"Are all people, all human souls, good?" He asked.

Buffy did not have to think about it. "Of course not. There's lots of
terrible people."

"Just because a vamp' trades on the blackest market for a soul doesn't
mean he gets the good-boy feelin'."

"Angel was good." Willow added. "And Spike was, I mean, is. But most
others aren't. Especially when they've acquired their souls illegally,
according to demon law. Spike says vampires are, for lack of a better
word, wearing their ill-gotten souls like trinkets. It's underworld
fashion. And there's rumors that some vampire's are killing people just
to trade the soul - if it happens to be one they admire. They're even
trading for the souls of long dead kings and tyrants."

"I thought vampires, when they got a soul, became almost like a human
again, in their behavior. Maybe not good, but not as bad." Buffy said.

Spike took a couple of deep breaths. The exchange was clearly wearing
him down. "Angel got his unwillingly, but it was for good cause, so he
became good. I got mine because I wanted...to be a better person. And
mine I own outright."

Willow scooted closer. "But these Soul Hunters don't seem to care about
the distinction."

"And if they're killing people to get the souls, they're making more
vampires, not just trading for dead spark." It was a long sentence and
Spike seemed to fade in strength from the effort of it. He slowly fell
over and lay on his side.

By doing so, his face came into view and was fully exposed to Buffy.
She could not tear her gaze away from the hollowing eyes, the almost
translucent skin stretched thin over sinewy cheekbones. She could see
his skull through white, thinning hair. His lips were a narrow, dead
line.

"Never mind how you're alive in the first place. I don't get why you
would want to lock yourself away to die instead of seeking protection?
People were always trying to kill you, Spike. Including me." The tragic
humor of it escaped Buffy's mouth in the form of a little bark of sad
irony, but her eyes were not in a laughing mood. "Why give in without
a fight?"

Spike made one last effort to lift his head, but he looked at Willow.

"I think I know the answer to that, Buffy." Willow got a tiny nod of
approval from Spike. She went on. "There's a legend that if a vampire
dies a vampire's death, meaning he has to forgo blood until he expires,
he might live again. He might be able to come back...as a human being."

Buffy stared at Spike. It was impossible to envision him as anything,
or anyone, other than the one hundred and twenty year old vampire he
was. "That's insane. That's just a legend. Suppose it isn't true?
Suppose by dying as a vampire, you're just dead and that's it?"

Spike did not answer. He had his eyes closed against the light and,
Buffy suspected, her words.

Buffy stood up. "No. This is crazy. I won't let you do it."

Spike sighed deeply. Willow knew this is what he must have feared if
Buffy found out. Not her grief or anger, but her interference.

At his silence, Buffy stood and approached the bars, fists clenched in
little pressure balls of anger. "Do you hear me? I won't let you do
this! Not while I can protect you."

Spike did not respond nor move. But she could see him breathing.
Stupid, useless movement of a vampire chest that did not use oxygen to
sustain its un-dead flesh. "Do you hear?!" She yelled in the confined
space, making Willow's ears hurt. Spike's vampire ears must have been
ringing.

When Buffy still received no reply from him, she unscrewed the
flashlight head from the battery holding base. Sliding the curved edge
of the flashlight case across her wrist, Buffy produced a thin line of
blood.

Willow stepped forward. "Buffy...what are you-?"

Buffy ignored Willow, and squeezed her own arm above the wrist. Blood
drops pooled and ran down her fingers. She stuck her arm through the
bars. Spike would already have smelled the blood. And it was not animal
blood. Not ordinary, cold-stored, thickened beast blood. Not even
ordinary human blood that was often tainted by the taste of tar,
alcohol or a host of other gross substances some humans willingly
ingested.

No, it was slayer blood. And not just any slayer blood, but the
strongest and longest living slayer ever to walk the earth. The slayer
who had conquered the underworld. The slayer he had made love to. The
one who had saved his life and said the words.

The slayer whom he loved so deeply it physically hurt.
So would a cruel hunter offer a bloody rare deer steak to a starving
wolf just before shooting it in the head.

Spike rose to his feet, wobbling, and wrapped his arms around his
concave chest. A tiny groan of blood lust escaped his razor thin lips;
a freakish, high-pitched whine that snaked around the room. A burst
of hunger raged through every cell in his body. He stared at Buffy
murderously. Unbelievingly. Hatefully.

But his body was too weak to make the change. His brow remained smooth
and human-like. However his self control, already splitting into a
thousand shards, finally flew apart in a burst of starving vampire
instinct. Awareness failed. Insanity arrived. The world slipped away
from his vision, like the blood drops into the dirt at Buffy's feet.

He appealed to Willow with one terrified and pleading glance. Then his
eyes shut and he succumbed, finally screaming, "Get her out of here!"

Willow tugged at Buffy's arm as hard as she could. "Buffy. We should
go!"

Buffy pulled away as though from a child's grip. "No. I won't let him
do this to himself."

Spike screamed again and threw himself at the bars, trying to get his
teeth around her fingers. Buffy, drawing quickly away, felt the
smallest triumph before she realized he was doing it again. And again
and again until the skin on his face began to split under the repeated
impacts. He then slammed himself against the hard dirt wall at the back
of the cage, over and over. Each collision sounded like the flailing of
a trapped and mad beast that did not know the walls were unyielding.
"Get her away from me!" He screamed to Willow. "Get her away.Get her
away.getheraway!"

Only then did Buffy come to her better judgment and let Willow pull her
away form the bars and up the ladder. Spike thrashed around until the
trap door had been replaced. The noises from below faded and died.

Willow was on her hands and knees in the dirt. Buffy sat on the ground
nearby, numbed by what had just occurred. "That was the cruelest thing
I've ever seen in my life." She hissed.

Willow stood and walked to the car, with one hand on her queasy
stomach. Xander and Dawn had gotten out of the car. Even they must have
heard the vampire screaming from the pit.

Buffy, standing up and looking down at the wooden planks covering a
hole to a cage that surrounded what was left of Spike, awakened to the
awful thing she had just done. "What?...why...o-my-god"

*

Back home, Willow made tea and served it up to the exhausted group.
Dawn's eyes were red from crying. Buffy, white as a sheet, sat on the
couch, her face in her hands from shame. "I don't know what I was
thinking. I was just so angry."

Xander accepted that. "We should have told you."

Buffy accepted the tea from Willow with a contrite smile. Willow smiled
back, assuring her she was forgiven and it was move-on time. "I mean
I was suddenly furious with Spike. I wanted to hurt him, I was so
angry. How could I do that when he was...like that?"

No one really had an answer. Buffy did not expect one. "I may not be
sure of my feelings...regarding Spike but I'm sure of one thing. I can
protect him. We have to convince him of that and bring him here."

"What if the soul hunters know where he is? What if they followed him
here?" Dawn asked.

Willow offered, "Well, he's been in the pit for two weeks now and no
one's showed. Maybe they don't know."

Xander disagreed, "My bet is they know where you live, Buffy. And if
they know that, they can guess pretty easily that sooner or later Spike
would show up here."

Buffy took one sip of her tea and set the cup down in the middle of the
coffee table. She was in no mood to be comforted. She wanted, needed,
to act. And this time with more positive results. "Xander's right. We
need a place to hide Spike for a while, until he recovers."

Xander knew the answer, but he asked it anyway,. "So you're going to
ignore Spike's wishes?"

Buffy looked at them all individually. "Look. Maybe it's selfish, but I
- we, - just lost Angel. And knowing Spike is alive....I just
can't...I'm not ready to lose him again, too. Whether he likes it or
not. I'm not going to let him die." Directly to Xander, "Will you help
me?"

He nodded and straightened his shoulders. "To be honest, even though I
still pretty much hate the guy, if these soul hunters are for real and
it looks that way, we're going to need our strongest warrior, other
than you, to close them down." Xander was at heart glad that they were
going to do something besides wait for Spike to die or the soul hunters
to show up and maybe kill them all trying to get to him.

"Then what?" Dawn asked Buffy. "I mean. We feed Spike and then...what?
We hide Spike somewhere and then the soul hunters show up and...are we
talking big battle?"

Buffy turned to her. "I'm not sure. But hopefully we'll have time to
figure that out before whatever's coming down comes down."

Xander shifted his position on the arm of the sofa. "I know a place."


Spike fought but in his weakened condition was no match for Buffy and
Xander. All they had to do was toss a blanket over his head and steer
him to the back seat of the Seville.

At his no longer private apartment, Xander unfolded the hide-a-bed
and Buffy arranged a pillow under Spike's head. Willow had been sent to
scout out a farm where she might acquire a few quarts of pig's blood.
The town's lone butcher didn't trade in it.

Buffy felt like she needed to watch him closely. Spike kept his head
turned away from her. She guessed he was still pretty pissed off.

After an hour, Willow came through the door with bags filled with what
looked like quart jars. She placed them on the counter. "If you don't
mind, I'm not going to stay. The guy said this is two days fresh.
Diluted. He still charged me for it." Willow was making small talk and
Buffy let her. It was a shortcut passed having to deal with the things
that were said. Things that didn't matter anymore. Feathers on the
wind. Buffy nodded. "Thanks."

After Willow left, Buffy took a large mug from Xander's cupboard and
filled it with the thick, red stuff. Warming it to room temperature,
she carried it to the hide-a-bed and placed it in sight of Spike.
He looked at her with defeated eyes then sat up slowly. The effort
nearly left him faint. He took the mug from her and looked into it's
ruby depths for a few seconds. Its warm, metallic scent must have
filled his
nasal cavity but he made no move to taste.

Buffy heard him take one, shuddering sigh. It was a terrible sound.

"You bloody bitch."

She had expected anger from him over her decision, but not put so
bluntly. No matter. It had been the right decision. "I couldn't let you
do it, Spike. I don't want you to die. I need you here."

He took a long gulp. Licked cracked lips. "Well, maybe, just once, it
wasn't about what you wanted."


*

In just a few days, Spike was on his feet, paler than usual, and thin
but growing stronger. He was quiet when Buffy visited. Answered her
questions, told her what she wanted to know in as few words as
possible. If he spoke sharply, she ignored it and came anyway. Each day
she came.

One day she asked, "So, what can you tell me about these soul hunters?"

Spike knew quite a bit but wondered what he ought to filter out of the
conversation. There were some things about his little dying project
that were none of her business. "I know a bit."
"Like who they are?"

"I didn't mention it before but I heard a name: Kennedy."

Buffy let out a tense breath she must have been holding. This was good,
something to focus both of their energies on besides a stew of emotions
all directed at each other. "Does Willow know?"

"No. I didn't tell her anyhow."

"She's going to be upset."

Spike laughed. A short, ill-humored yip. "Sure. Kennedy turned
vampire-with-a-soul slayer. Let's all worry about how Red's gonna
feel. I'll bet Angel felt a thing or two." Spike bit his lip. He hadn't
meant to bring up his dead ex-boss.

Buffy blinked a few times and looked at her shoes but didn't tear up.
Instead, in a tiny voice, "Do you know how many there are?"

"No. Rumor has it, there are a half dozen slayer gangs maybe just in
our neck of the world. Each has one leader. Faith might even be one of
'em for all we know."

Buffy walked to the window, pushing aside a curtain to watch the
quickly setting sun. Careful not to let any direct sunlight touch
Spike, she stared as it turned orange, then red and sank behind the
hills to the west. "I thought..."

Spike poured a cup of blood, warming it in the micro-wave. "You
thought what?"

"I don't know. I mean, after Sunnydale, I figured, that's it. Done. No
more evil to battle. No more vampire's to dust-" She stopped. But of
course, Angel and Spike had been left and surely others still un-dead
across the globe. Nests of vampire's biding their time.

Spike had known. "We were nothing more than stop-gap measure, Buffy.
I hear there may even be another Hell mouth in Cleveland, like that
place needs any help being lousy. Evil just moved above ground, Love.
No one's going to end evil unless it's...you know."

"Hm?"

"I'm a vampire, I don't like to say the G word and The Name even less.
But, you know, the Big Guy."

Buffy smiled. "I guess."

"You're still the H.S.I.C. So how do we prepare for this one?" Spike
asked.

"H.S.I.C?"

"Yeah. The Head Slayer In Charge. You're the most experienced and the
one that's kept herself alive the longest. That makes you Chief."

"It's funny. I'm almost twenty-six years old, though I feel a
hundred. I hold a responsible job, I've raised my sister. Still am
raising her in fact. And, with help, I've saved the world one or twice.
And all I can think to do right now is call Giles and beg him to come
home and help me."

"Nothing wrong with that. Maybe he's sick of kippers and afternoon
teas."

"Are you ready to come home?"

"You mean to the house?" Spike hadn't considered that Buffy would want
him there. It would be the first stop on the soul-hunter's tour. "But
what about...?"

"-Bring 'em on. If there's a fight coming, let's get rocking. Things
are slow this week down at the clinic anyway."

*

"I don't get this. Why would any vampire ever want to possess a soul?
Especially when they don't use them anyway?" Willow was the first to
throw down questions. "What started all this?"

"Yeah. Angel's soul - some of the vampires we knew, back then, knew
he had one, but they hated him for it. I mean, he killed other
vampires." Xander said.

"I know why." Andrew offered. He was wearing a tee-shirt with "I
Survived the Sunnydale Vampire Holocaust and all I got was this Lousy
Tee-shirt" stenciled across the front.

Spike, looking physically much revived, stared dully at him. "Oh?"

"I frequent vampire chat rooms. It's because of Spike."

"Because of me?"

"Yes." Thrilled to be under the in-the-know spotlight, he
straightened his shoulders. "Spike's nearly a legend in the vampire
community. He's managed to stay alive, or un-dead, for over a
century. And he's bagged two slayers." He looked quickly at Buffy. "And
no offense...." He forged ahead, "...had a sordid love affair with a
third."

Buffy glared stakes.

Andrew continued despite her disapproving frown. "Plus, then he went
out and endured the worst torture to get his very own soul back. He's
the only vampire who has legal ownership of his own soul." Andrew
sighed. "To them he's kind of an icon. An Ubervamp."

Spike shrugged. "I didn't want to brag." He shifted uncomfortably under
Andrew's admiring stare. "Start humming the theme to Superman and I'll
snap your leotard."

"You gained access to a vampire website?" Willow asked Andrew. "Which
one?"

"Um, VampsRUs."

"Why didn't you say so? It took us hours to find the right word."

Andrew withered under Willow's scrutiny. "I didn't want anyone to find
out my online persona."

Xander said, "Oh I got it! - Count Stupida?"

Andrew looked at Dawn. Sometimes she came to his support when the
teasing went overtime. "No. Lestat44." He said.

"Oh please!" Was Spike's only comment.

"You're nothing like Lestat, or the forty-four nerdy imitation
Lestats." Xander said. "You're more like the Sesame Street vampire."

"Enough!" Buffy went to the phone. "I'm going to try Giles again. Let's
have more talk on these Slayer Soul Hunters and less about what Andrew
does during his private geek-time."

Andrew crossed his arms. "No one ever appreciates the dynamic I bring
to the group."

"We are thankful, Andrew, for the information. But we need something
concrete so we can know what we're dealing with here. They want to kill
Spike, so we have to figure out what they're likely to try before they
try it." Buffy divided her attention between Andrew and dialing the
phone. "What else did you find out in the chat room?"

Andrew took out a notepad with a picture of Captain Kirk on it. "I made
some notes. Some of it I didn't understand, but I'm sure Dawn and
Willow can figure it out."

Buffy noticed Andrew blush when he mentioned Dawn's name. Dawn didn't
notice though she did perk up at his compliment.

The phone at the other end rung and went on ringing. Buffy, wanting to
keep Andrew's mind on work and not on her sister, "And...?"
"I think the nests are worried. They keep mentioning a dust storm, code
that slayers are on the way. There's talk of an exodus to the cities."

Xander said "The nearest big city is Salt Lake. My bet is they'll find
a place to hold up, try and ride out the Slayerfest."

"Yeah, its easier to get lost in the crowd and the pickings are
better." Willow added.

"Anything on the local vamp's?" Buffy asked.

Andrew checked his notes. "The rumors of the Soul Slayers are really
confused. It's like an elite group or something has emerged to clean up
the leftover evil on earth. The vampires think the slayers have long
term plans to slaughter until the earth is cleansed and the slaying's
already started. There's probably a few locals planning on making
tracts to the city A.S.A.P."

"Looks like I'm a dying breed." Spike said.

Buffy looked sharply at him. "They sound really scared. Maybe there's
already one of these soul slayers in town?"

Willow said, "We don't know. But if you're gonna broom the earth, you
don't want to miss the corners."

A knock at the door made them all jump. It was late, passed eleven
thirty. "Hide Spike." Buffy said. Spike and Andrew made a quick retreat
to the back hall with one foot out the door just in case. Buffy walked
to the front door. "Who is it?"

"Buffy? It's Giles. I got your message and took the first flight out I
could-"

Buffy threw open the door and hugged him hard before he had a chance to
finish.

"-I rented a car and drove the rest of the way." He finished,
gesturing to the generic looking vehicle parked on the street.

"You are in desperate need of a cell phone." Buffy said into his
jacket. "I'm so glad you're here." She finally released him and called
over her shoulder while ushering him inside. "It's okay. It's Giles."

Dawn and Willow greeted him with less confining embraces.

Xander, offering his hand, "How about a nice, manly shake?"

In unison Andrew and Spike said simply "Hey."

Buffy ushered Giles to a comfortable chair in the living room.
Over beverages suited to taste, Giles was brought up to speed on the
current situation. "You say their intent is to slay all vampires, soul
or soulless, violent or peaceful?"

Willow gestured to the computer behind her. "We've researched it as
best we can and from what we've been able to gather, they believe that
if there's even one vamp' left in the world, that's a door left
unlocked for evil to gain a foothold outside of their usual domain.
Even run-of-the-mill vampire evil. But, again, we only have
rumors and..." Willow stopped.

"And Angel." Buffy finished for her. "You probably haven't heard-"

"Yes." Giles answered. "A fallen...Angel doesn't escape the demonic or
slayer grapevine. I'm am truly sorry, Buffy. Even if you hadn't called,
I was still coming. Just not quite this soon."

Buffy took her grief and rage over Angel and funneled it into something
more useful. "Have you heard anything in England?" She asked.

"Disturbing reports of vigilante slayers, working outside the
boundaries of the law - even Watcher procedure. But with the old
Council gone, there are no checks and balances in place. Guess work
mostly. There's a question I must ask, if you'll forgive me, Buffy. How
exactly did they kill Angel?"

No-one wanted to cut that one open.

Buffy awoke as if from a nap. "No one actually told me about the
details - Spike?"

Spike looked at Xander. "Xander?"

Xander looked uncomfortable.

"Tell me, Xander. Please."

He did and the silence that followed made it hard to breath.

Buffy announced, "I want them to pay for that."

"A personal vendetta against a planet's worth of slayers?" Giles asked.


"No. Just those few." Then at Giles worried expression, "When the time
is right. But now isn't that time."

"What should we do?" Xander asked. "Stay here? Go to Salt Lake? Where
do we make the stand? And what kind of stand?"

"Lots of questions." Giles stated. "I think we should get a good
night's sleep. Before you go to bed, pack what you think you'll need,
including your cash, whatever you have. Buffy and I'll take care of any
research materials and weapons. Now as to transportation..."

Willow said, "Well, we have three cars."

Xander reminded them of something. "But what if one or more of the
slayers are already in Fork, already know Spike is here and are just
waiting for the best time to pick him off? Plus he can't travel in a
car in the daylight - any normal car...." He looked around the room.

On the sofa, Andrew leaned over and whispered something to Dawn.

"We can blacken out the windows on my car. Spike can ride with me."
Buffy said.

"And if your car gets attacked, we'll lose both of you." Xander pointed
out.

"Xander's quite correct. A slayer would recognize the reason for
blacked out windows." Giles added.

Dawn piped up. "Andrew has a good idea."

More than one set of raised eyebrows waited expectantly.

Dawn nudged him in the ribs. "Ow!" He cleared his throat. "Well, I was
watching Clear and Present Danger and Harrison Ford plays this CIA man
who-"

Giles prompted, "The short version, Andrew, please."

"To confuse the bad guys, the good guys used decoy vehicles. Only one
carried the crucial witness."

"That's a good idea." Buffy took it up, looking at Dawn and Andrew,
"Dawn, there's some paint cans in the basement. Dark colors I hope. Can
you two take care of that?"

They nodded. "On it." Dawn said. "Come on." They disappeared down the
stairs.

Giles stood and went to the phone. "I have a contact in Salt Lake who
may be able to arrange a place to lay low for a while. Plus he has some
ancients texts that may be useful."

"In the meantime, pack up and be ready to leave in the morning. We'll
call our prospective schools and work from the road."

Xander checked his cell phone. "I don't have any vacation time coming.
But I'm the boss and I make my own hours. Important meeting with the
money-rollers excuse coming up." He dialed his foreman.

"I'll call Dawn's collage and the clinic. What about you Willow?"
She gave and "all set" smile. "The best thing about writing for a
newspaper is," She tapped a finger on her laptop. "you can e-mail the
finished product."


*

Spike road with Andrew and Xander in the Seville. Buffy and Dawn were
in her Toyota in the lead and Giles and Willow in the rental took the
rear of the small convoy.

Twenty miles out, on a lonely road west of Fork, a heavy duty crew-cab
pick-up truck traveling the opposite way swerved with intent into
Buffy's vehicle, swiping it along it's side and making it skid. The
Toyota flipped and came to a grinding halt on it's roof just near the
embankment.

The pick-up then took out the front left corner of Xander's Seville,
forcing him into a spin. He managed to keep it under control and
brought it to a stop a few hundred feet from Buffy. Giles rental took a
direct head-on hit. By that time Giles had slowed to almost a crawl and
the truck evidently hit him just to be certain he stopped completely.

In minutes six people jumped from the truck, two approaching each of
the damaged cars, carrying what looked like large gage sidearms and
crossbows. Both types of weapons were raised and at the ready should
resistance be encountered.

"Exit the vehicles. Now!" A woman's hard voice ordered. All had
their faces covered by black bandana's. All wore black baseball caps
and coveralls.

Buffy and Dawn crawled from her heavily damaged car. Dawn limped and
Buffy helped her walk. Giles had to exit Willow's passenger door as
his was buckled and would not open.

Andrew and Xander got out last, Andrew holding a bloody nose.

One of the women barked another order. "Check the trucks and back
seats for him. Check under the back seats."

Willow thought she recognized the voice. "Kennedy?"

The woman removed her bandana. "Hello Willow."

Willow had not seen Kennedy for over a year. The young woman had become
a slayer during the Sunnydale holocaust and had proved an especially
adept one.


"Got tired of teaching?" Willow asked.
Kennedy. "This has nothing to do with you, Willow -"

"You just about ran us off the road, looks like I'm in it whether I
want to be or not."

"That's your choice. We just want the vamp'."

"His name's Spike."

"Well, soon it's going to be Dusty."

Buffy and Dawn were brought over by the other weapon wielding slayers.

"Toyota's clean." One of them said.

"Got him!" A slayer shouted from the Seville. Her partner dragged
Spike out of Xander's Seville, allowing him to keep out of the sun
beneath the protection of his blanket. They clearly wanted to kill him
in their own way and time.

"Why are you doing this, Kennedy?" Buffy demanded. "You know
Spike doesn't hurt anyone anymore."

"It's no use explaining it to you, Buffy. You've always had a
soft spot for the en-souled un-dead. But
sooner or later, something will happen and he'll turn bad again and
you'll maybe stop him. But not before he slaughters a few dozen
innocent people. We're doing preventative maintenance here."

"Like you did with Angel?" Her heart felt wrung out like a
dishcloth on the thought of Angel really being gone. She would never
see him again. It was almost too much to bear.

"That wasn't personal. And like I said, you've got a soft spot.
For us it's duty." Kennedy answered. "Take him." She ordered
and two of the masked slayers forced Spike toward the truck.

"Wait!" Buffy said. She had no idea how to stop it. They had all
underestimated the determination and preparedness of the Soul Hunters
and she was no match for six armed slayers hell bent on the hunt.

Buffy looked at her friends. "You want to kill him. Fine. But
Kennedy, let me talk to you about this in private for a moment. Okay?
What's another couple of minutes going to change?"

"That's my question, but out of respect for you, Buffy, you've
got your two minutes."

Buffy and Kennedy, under the watchful eyes of the other slayers, stood
away from the group and spoke. Buffy did most of the talking. Finally
Kennedy nodded once.

"Ladies." She announced to her party. "We're taking a little
road trip. The vamp' rides with us."
Spike was loaded into a steel cage mounted on the back of the truck The
box was sheltered from the sun, had a few air holes but was otherwise a
cold, hard cage and not meant for lengthy occupancy. It had been bolted
to the bed of the vehicle. Nothing would move it.

The convoy resumed it's trip, less the Toyota, which had been
rendered un-usable. Two slayers, each armed with handguns, (weapons
suited to the hurting or killing of non-vampires), road in each
vehicle.

Giles, under the watchful eye of Kennedy made his contact when they
arrived in Salt Lake City. "The warehouse isn't too far." He
said.

It was an antiquated building. Neglected, littered with refuse. It's
only serviceable room was a small office at one end. A single overhead
bulb afforded the only light but at least it worked. A greasy old desk
was shoved into a corner. A thread-bare old swivel office chair slumped
sideways next to it.

Xander took a deep breath. "Ahh, Just like hell."

There was a basement. "Old meat lockers." Giles announced as he
shone his torch inside. The thing wasn't even aluminum, it was double
layered thick wooden planks. "Must have been built in the
'forties."

"It'll do the job. If this is the way that crazy vamp' wants to
go, fine. As long as he goes."

Later, while Kennedy and her slayers talked amongst themselves, though
there was never a moment at least one of them was watching the scooby
gang with weapon ready, Giles took a moment to speak to Buffy. "What
all did you tell Kennedy?"

"Just enough to get us here in one piece. Especially Spike." She
whispered. "I told her he wanted to atone and this was the way he
choose."

"And she bought it?"

"I don't think she cares." Willow said, a bit sadly. "Kennedy
never went for the magic stuff or the folklore. To her, vampires are
just mutations or human/animal beasts gone wrong."

"But she's a slayer...how could she not believe the mystical side?
She a daughter of the mystical." Dawn asked.

Buffy shrugged. "I dunno. I don't care. At least this way, maybe
Spike has a chance."

"Willow!" Kennedy said loudly. "Got your computer?"

Willow nodded.

"We need you to do some research on the local vamp' scene. Where
the nests are. Think you can do that?"

Willow, glad to get the opportunity to get use of her notepad, nodded
and stood. She's had no idea when or if Kennedy would have allowed
her access to it. They would need it to research Spike's project. She
placed it on the desk, plugging it into the wall."I better save the
battery in case it's low."

"Thanks." Kennedy said

Willow smiled, a bit ironically. "Well, you're welcome. I guess.
Like I'm in a position to say no."

Kennedy said softly, "You are." Then tried to explain. "We're
not trying to kidnap you and the others. We're trying to see that all
vampires are eliminated. Once Spike's dead, we're gone. We only
want him. That's all. Your cooperation is appreciated."

"It's wrong Kennedy. I'll help you. But what you're doing is
wrong." Willow felt some of the old feelings for Kennedy start to
itch but she shut them out. Kennedy was an expert at manipulation.

Willow had soon learned not too long into their relationship that
whatever Kennedy wanted, Kennedy got. And she used her wiles, her wit
and her will to achieve that end, while somehow in the process, when
things didn't go as planned, making it all seem like Willow's
fault. Kennedy was good at shifting blame. So good, Willow had
discovered, she herself had stepped willingly into the role of the
blamed.

Willow woke up from the role one day, however, and asked Kennedy to
change. Kennedy had seen no need. The relationship ended quickly.

"What do you need me to look for?"

"Vampire nests. Any on-line contacts who might know the local joints
where they hang out. Any slayers on the hunt and where it's going
down...things like that."

"Okay." Willow tried to make her voice sound cooperative yet
reluctant. She'd had time to perfect an act or two as well. While
she was running a search, she ran and underlying program to search for
information on their own agenda: Spike's dying project. Buffy had
asked her do such en-route to Salt Lake and she thought she'd made
progress until their trip had been so thoroughly interrupted.

While Willow did her computing, Kennedy announced, "All right.
Let's get on with it." She looked at Buffy. Three of the slayers
entered, two roughly hauling Spike between them, the third with a
crossbow aimed directly at the center of his chest.

Buffy stood quickly. "Just like that?" She'd hoped for a few
hours to plan an escape or to convince Kennedy to give up her hunt for
this particular vampire.

Kennedy nodded. "Just like that." She came close (but not too
close) to Buffy with her firearm raised. "I know what kind of slayer
you are, Buffy. I know you're smart and resourceful and could kick my
ass from here to the state line if you had even half a chance. And I
know you're sitting here with the scooby gang trying to hatch out a
plan. I can't afford to give you the time. Spike dies. We either
start his little dying project here and now or we take his soul and
stake him where he stands." She paused, looking around at all their
stunned faces. "No debate. Your choice, boss." She finished.

Buffy clenched her fists. At Sunnydale, they'd stood together and
beaten overwhelming odds. Saved the day. Here, she was defeated without
having had the opportunity to lift a finger in her own defense or
anyone's. She choked back her fury and pride. And fiercely resisted
the lust to wrap her fingers around Kennedy's self righteous throat.

"Fine." Buffy looked over at Spike, willing her resolve give him
strength. "Where?"

Kennedy looked at Giles. "Giles?"

He would know of course. "There's the basement. " His voice
sounded pinched. "One of the old meat lockers...will probably do."

Kennedy nodded. "Fine. Two slayers will be on hand for the show.
Sorry, Buffy. That's off the table."

Buffy reddened with hate. "I swear to God, I'll make you pay for
this. If it's the last thing I do in this life."

Kennedy accepted the statement, and Buffy's hatred, as bare fact.
"I know you'll try. You seem to have forgotten on which side you
should be."

"I'm on the side of the innocent."

Kennedy shook her head in disbelief. "No vampire is innocent."


In the locker, still holding tightly the stink of old cow flesh, Spike
slid down the back wall and got comfortable. "Well, pet, looks like
this is it." He said.

"Don't be glib." Buffy answered. "Not now."

Spike pursed his lips. "Sorry. Hard to know what to say in such
situations, being that it's a brand new type of situation."

Buffy stared at him. She was still as a stone wall, afraid to make a
movement. Afraid to appear weak to them or vulnerable to him. "If I
can find a way out of this, to stop them, I will."

"I know."

"I'll do everything I can-"

"Always."

She stopped, knowing promises were not required. Buffy looked at the
floor in front of his feet, not at him. Not at him where his eyes might
meet her heart to crumble her defenses. "Is there anything I can do
for you?"

Spike had wanted a thing or two. But, "Just one."

"Anything." She said it. He heard from the inflection that she'd
die to keep that single, all encompassing word.

"Be with me at the end." He offered no explanation or reason. Just
fumbled at his pocket. Dropping a small stone on the floor, he crushed
it under the soul of his boot.

Buffy did not ask about it, so Spike offered. "A keepsake from L.A.
Won't be needing it now I guess."

Unable to speak, she nodded. Then, "Can I sit with you for a
while?"

He looked pointedly behind her to the slayer standing there, weapon
raised and ears listening to everything. The stranger/hated-slayer
nodded.

Buffy settled down on the cold concrete beside Spike. He put his arm
around her and she gathered it to herself. One strong anchor just for a
little while before the dark ship sailed for good.

"Oh. Just one more thing before we get this show on the road."
Spike remembered. "Can I have my cigarettes?"



"Okay, Buffy, that's enough goodbyes for now. We're locking him
in."

Kennedy ordered her out of the meat locker. Buffy tossed Spike his
smokes and a lighter then reluctantly left, taking one back glance at
him. He was tapping a cigarette out of the new pack and flicking his
lighter. "See you soon, Love."

Kennedy ushered Buffy back to the dingy office where the others were
being held. "Is it on the way, Grace?" Kennedy asked one of her
fellow Hunters. Out of earshot the slayer and Kennedy had a
conversation.

Willow scooted closer to Buffy. "I think they're talking about a
Crystal of Saiwala; a soul catcher. They need the crystal to get
Spike's soul, to take his spark. He becomes truly un-dead again once
they have that central part of life or what would be life if he were
human."

Giles leaned in, "I suspect one reason they're so intent on
separating the soul prior to destroying the vampire is that they can
then do the task with a free conscience. Killing the en-souled might
leave a bad taste."

"We have to find a way to stop this. Think. We can't just stand
here and let them murder Spike, we have to find a way to help him-"

Kennedy and the other slayers suddenly had their collective attention
on something. Smoke was billowing from the basement stairwell.

Giles said, "Looks like Spike may have found a way himself."

Kennedy shouted: "Watch them!" and she and all but two of her
slayers stormed down the stairs.

Buffy nodded to Giles who fell over clutching his chest and moaning.

"Oh my God!" Buffy kneeled beside him, shaking him. "Giles!?"
Buffy, very convincing tears on her cheeks, yelled at the slayers.
"Call for an ambulance! He might be having a heart attack."

The slayers exchanged doubtful glances.

Buffy let loose all her rage and pent up emotion over Spike into one
genuine wail. "Help him! Please!"

One slayer opened her cellular and dialed. The other uncertainly called
down the stair well. "Kennedy, what's going on? We have a situation
up here."

The first slayer had not said a single word into the phone before
Buffy, moving as swiftly as Giles had ever seen, dispatched the woman
with a incredibly fast, hard kick to the head. Buffy had apparently not
held back a thing as the woman dropped like a stone and lay still.

While Buffy took out the first slayer, Willow had tossed her laptop as
hard as she could at the second, knocking her off balance. Before she
had a second to recover, Buffy was on top and smashing her face in. She
was in no mood to be gentle or worry about giving anyone a bloody nose
or a concussion for that matter. As strong as any ordinary slayer was,
including the woman beneath her, none could match Buffy for strength,
speed and most importantly, experience.

The scoobies raced down the stairs. They found Kennedy and the others
watching flames lick one side of the wooden meat locker while the other
sides quickly became engulfed.

Kennedy, unaware of Buffy and the gang behind her, unbolted the door.
Throwing it open she shouted inside to her prisoner. "What are you
doing?!"

Spike stood against the back wall where the flames had not yet reached.
"Taking my fate out of your hands, bitch."

Buffy smiled, delighted with Spike's innovative thinking. "Come
on!" She sprang to action like the dead coming back to life and began
wailing on the nearest and strongest slayer - Kennedy. "Xander, get
Spike out of there. Get out of here, all of you!"

Giles stayed behind and helped Buffy fight the slayers back They
didn't need to defeat them there. Not just yet. All they needed was a
hole. With Kennedy down, a break in the slayer ranks appeared and they
bolted through it and up the stairs. Outside Buffy and Giles lead the
way as they raced down the garbage strewn alley. Luckily it was night
and Spike could run blanket-free.

The slayers were on their tail but far behind. Buffy was of the mind
they might just get away when they came to a dead end. "No!" She
shouted, looking this way and that for an escape. A fire-escape ladder
hung sadly on the side of one building. But once on it, they could be
easily picked off. Would it even hold the weight of one of them? A
large blue garbage bin on wheels slouched beneath it.

"Help me with this garbage can." Buffy began shoving it hard,
steering it toward the narrow alley. Xander, Giles and the rest joined
in. "Faster!" Buffy heaved. It gained speed, soon it was rolling at
a good clip down the alley toward the pursuing slayers. It might
scramble a few of them for a minute.

"Up the ladder. Hurry!"

Miraculously, they all made it to the roof. But after that, there was
no where to go. At least they'd made a good effort, Giles thought.
"We can make our stand here." Xander said.

Spike began shaking and pounding on the joints holding the ladder to
the building, trying to rip if from it's bolts.

"That's a better idea." Xander said and joined him. With a rusty
whine the thing gave and they sent it crashing down.

"In here." Dawn shouted. An inlaid door to the interior of the
building, flat and unused for years was at her feet. It was secured
with a lock and chain. Buffy twisted the lock until it snapped.

"They'll be coming in from the main floor." Giles reminded her.

"But it's big, dark and they don't know the building." Buffy
explained.

"Neither do we." Willow said.
"Therefore the odds will be even." Giles answered.

One by one they descended into the dark cavity. "At least we'll
have a fighting chance." Buffy said.


The top floor, filled with empty offices, had windows. The offices were
empty. The next floor down gave away the buildings former occupants.
Empty clothing racks loitered about. Some still held a few thin
garments, like ghosts of more prosperous times. Empty cardboard boxes
lay about.

"Not much here to build a defense line." Xander observed.

"I think we should just try to get out of here." Willow said.

"Kennedy and the others have surely found their way into the building
by now. All the stairwells would be covered." Giles said.

Buffy saw what she had been looking for. "Except we're not taking
the stairs."

She hurried to the elevator.

"Those are not likely to be working." Giles warned as she pried
them apart.

"We're climbing down the shaft." Buffy ordered. "Everyone
follow me."

At Giles concern, Xander said, "Don't worry Giles, we won't be
shimming down the cables, there's a ladder in these things."

At Giles' 'how could you possibly know' expression, Xander
shrugged. "It's in all the Mission Impossible's."

Spike followed Buffy. Xander and Giles took up the rear behind Dawn,
Andrew and Willow.

As they passed each floor, Spike listened for the soul hunters. His
acute vampire ears and nose could spot one miles away. "They're on
the second floor - wait! - two are on the second floor, the rest on
main."

Buffy paused. "We go to the main floor. I go through first and clear
a path for Spike and the rest. Just run for the front doors and keep on
running."

"Where to?" Xander asked.

"A book store." Giles said. "There's a book store on West
Market Street. It's a front for more underworldy things. Come tomorrow
evening, just after sundown."

"Buffy, you're the strongest person here to defend Spike. You and
he should take up the rear." Willow quickly advised.

Dawn added, "The slayers won't hurt us probably. It's Spike they
want. We create a wall, we rush them. You and Spike run for it."

"It's a good idea Pet." Spike said.

Buffy considered. "Okay. But then go as fast as you can. Don't hang
around to hear their side."


They each squeezed through the elevator doors on main. The place was in
darkness save for street light shining through the spider-ed front
glass windows a hundred feet away. Many strips of tape had been applied
to the glass in an effort to keep them together. "Grab anything you
can as a weapon."

There wasn't much. Xander and Giles found some short sections of
two-by-four. Dawn a coat-hanger that she twisted into a poking device.
Andrew, a running shoe.

Willow did not feel optimistic. "Oh, yeah, this is gonna work."

The line of courageous regular humans advanced through the store's
near darkness. The place was heavy with dusty check-out counters, empty
display cases, a hundred thousand square feet of shadows and places for
non-regular humans - slayers - to hide.

The brave humans didn't get far. When Xander heard the first foot
fall of the enemy, he shouted "NOW!" and their bold front, rushing
forward in one heart-linked chain, was broken up into it's many much
weaker parts. The slayers speed and inhuman power made bowling pins of
all of them.

Buffy and Spike's dash for the doors got a few dozen feet further and
was then stopped by nearly a dozen figures in black. Buffy was thrown
thirty feet onto her back. Four of them were on Spike like a pack of
dogs, beating him back and down. He was out of his depth and against
the wall in about four seconds.

By the time Buffy had recovered her feet, Kennedy had a large
flashlight trained on him and her obedient murdering slayer pals were
all training their crossbows on the vampire. "Ah," Kennedy said.
"The reenforcements I called for."

Spike's pale skin glowed eerily in the artificial light.

Without a word, one of the slayers walked toward the vampire and
plunged a four inch thick wooden stake into Spike's chest. He cried
out.

Buffy too.
But he didn't fall to dust.

"Just wanted to make a point, no pun intended." Kennedy said to
Buffy. She ignored everyone else and kept her words for Buffy alone.
"I had Grace do that on purpose. She didn't have to miss his
heart."

"And?" Buffy kept looking over at Spike. He stayed whole but was in
great pain.

Kennedy walked to the vampire, the kill was near. "It came close to
the sweet spot, didn't it vampire? Can you feel it, pushing your lung
aside and pressing against your un-dead, un-beating heart?"

Spike stared straight ahead in agony and did not move. Any movement the
wrong way might graze his heart and finish him.

"I know what you're thinking, vampire." Kennedy touched the dull
end of the stake lightly, ever so lightly, with her finger. "If I
wiggle it, will that be enough?" She stroked his milk colored cheek.
"Will that puncture it and start the devil dust?"

Spike looked at Buffy, one quick side glance. Buffy stared back. Inside
her somewhere, her own body heard his flesh in its struggle and
groaned. She saw his eyes plea and wondered, not the first time, what
was it like to die like that? What had Angel felt when the stake had
found his true center? Was it a... blankness that opened up in his
being? The draining of blood and soul; the life feeling was not
possible where no true life was present. So what? How did it feel to
know that in seconds you were to be non-existent and no coming back in
any form? Do demons feel regret?

What do vampires feel? What does a vampire with a soul feel? Really?
"Leave him alone." Buffy said to Kennedy, not a demand. Her tone
said everything: I'll do what you ask but don't end him this way.

Kennedy backed off. Then to Buffy, "Now. We finish this," Kennedy
spread her arms, "and believe me, we are going to finish it, in one
of two ways." She stood directly before Buffy. "We move that stake
an inch to the right and you say goodbye to your fanged friend. Or we
take all of you to our place of choosing and we finish this the way we
had, in good faith I might add, first agreed to."

Buffy felt like a trapped animal. Power, desire, will all still there
and screaming for release. But the chains of another kept it
motionless. For the first time in her life, she wondered what it was
like, really, to kill another human being.

"Okay." Buffy whispered. "Okay."



In an armored vehicle under heavy slayer guard, they were driven north,
the east to what Kennedy had described as Sanctuary. It was heavily
fortified brick and mortar Monastery in the northeastern Wasatch
mountains not far from Salt Lake. "We have such a sanctuary in every
large center. These monks are generous and understand the necessity of
fighting evil. Plus they really know how to plan ahead, don't
they?"

Spike was taken and locked up in a room made of thick concrete and
steel. He was given no cigarettes, no matches and no clothes or
covering save for one blanket.

Here is where he would be left to his death.

In the comfort of a much posher living area, (really, the Monastery
waiting room), Kennedy explained to Buffy. "This is the only way we
both get what we want, Buffy."

Buffy, sick with rage and hating the woman. Hating! "This is not what
I want."

"What the vamp' wants then."

Buffy indicated with a small sweep of her hand. "And, my friends? Are
you going to keep them all prisoners here the whole time?"

"Not prisoners. Guests. Guests under compulsion, I suppose. Anyway,
they'll have to stay until this is over. We wouldn't want anything
as mundane as the police showing up now would we?"


The slayers kept their words.

Their first word was: Spike was to die.

And the second: Buffy could watch occasionally if she wanted to.

For posterity, the slayer who Kennedy called Grace ungracefully kept a
journal of sorts. She marked on a wall with little black marks each day
of Spike's dying that transpired. One to four then a diagonal through
those to mark five. Quickly it was ten. Then twenty, thirty, forty
marks she had written up and yet Spike was not dead. Among the
murderer/slayers it became a joke and a thing over which to wager.
Black slashes and grins all around.

At fifty marks, Grace said "Wow. These vamp's take a while to
ripen, don't they?"


*

Near the end, they left Buffy alone with Spike in the cold room. Up
until the last day, two slayers had always been on hand and in her
face. No room was allowed for argument or persuasive tears. No place
for mercy; their stand was uncompromising: Spike was a vampire among
humans and had to die. Buffy realized they were making certain (hence
the windowless, escape-proof concrete box) that she did not try to
save him again somehow in the last moments.

Buffy had smiled at them sadly for their lack of compassion and frank
ignorance of things vampire. It was already too late to bring him back
from the edge. He would fall.

But Buffy had made one demand of her own and had made them comprehend
her seriousness by offering herself. "You'll have to kill me to keep me
out of that room." His final hours would not come without her there.

Out of respect for her as a fellow slayer and for what she and Spike
had done to save them all at Sunnydale, the had acquiesced.

Spike, his flesh, was a shadow of itself, the skin draped over the
bones like a wet sheet. Sinew, wasted muscle, flat, empty blood vessels
testified that the end of his un-dead vampire life was imminent. No
amount of feeding now, could he even swallow, would reverse the
cellular collapse that was occurring.

He would turn to dust as so many as Buffy had turned, though they
artificially so - via stake. This death would be perhaps the first
recorded, witnessed natural vampire death in all history. History,
however, would most likely pay no attention.

At the click of the opening door, Buffy turned to reprimand which ever
slayer was breaking her word, to see that it was Xander. "Should I go?"
He asked.

"No." She shook her head. "Stay. Please."

Xander crouched down at a respectful distance, resting his arms on his
knees. The sight of the grossly emaciated body turned his stomach over.
He didn't know how Buffy kept looking, and without wavering. She'd been
at it for hours, never leaving his side but for a single washroom trip.
Xander recalled the frustration on her face that her human body would
have betrayed her so in Spike's hour of need by demanding she obey it's
natural laws.

Buffy held the skeleton-like hand gently. Steadily. Her face held no
disgust what-so-ever. On the contrary, she appeared calm, content
to sit by his side and look at him, as though he were just asleep and
would soon awaken and speak one of his pet names. She leaned over him
slightly, bringing her own human warmth closer, so he would be assured
that she was nearby and was going nowhere. Would, in fact, accompany
him where he was going if she could.

Suddenly she looked over at Xander. "You're not telling me anything."

Xander understood what she was asking. "Sorry."

"So this is really it? This isn't going to work out the way we hoped is
it? Willow..."

"-Found nothing."

"Nothing." She repeated it. To make it real? he wondered.

"No evidence? Not a shred of proof that he might...come back?"

Xander shook his head. "No."

Xander watched her watching Spike and came to understand just then that
she really did love him. Maybe not with the hopeless passion that she
had felt for Angel. But Spike had directly been in her life longer than
had Angel. Does aged love run deeper, Xander wondered? Buffy had grown
used to Spike. He had become like an old loved quilt -with rips.
Maybe not the best, maybe not the favorite even, but...comfortable.

She and Angel hadn't had enough time to develop beyond that first,
burning desire, everything new and exciting.

With Spike, after the desire had passed, he was still there.
Familiarity. Comfortableness. Endurance. Mutual support and
consolation. Who was to say which sort of love was better? Or more real
than the other?

Buffy leaned over and whispered something in Spike's withered ear.
Inaudible to Xander.

Spike's eyes, incredibly, opened for a few seconds. Opaque, though.
Unseeing; at least the physical.

Xander watched curiously and sadly as Buffy spoke to him, things under
her breath that Xander could not hear.

Spike, other than his eyes being opened, did not answer of course.
Emaciated, helpless, blind, dying vampire. It was tragic and pathetic.
The warrior had finally fallen, Xander thought. Surprisingly, he
actually felt bad for him.

Buffy placed her free hand on Spike's chest, over what would surely now
be his prune-sized heart. Whether the nerves were still viable enough
to transmit the touch to his brain...?

Probably not, Xander thought.

Buffy started when Spike's chest convulsively rose once, then fell. It
did not rise again. She tried to squeeze his hand as he went down into
death so he could take the comfort of her presence with him, but his
fingers turned to dust beneath her grasp. Then the rest of his body
followed, disintegrating into a fine grit that danced across the floor
under the movement of her breath. It was over in seconds.

Buffy let the dust fall from her hand. She did not move otherwise,
waiting. Xander realized she was waiting for the legend. A human being
ought to appear. Spike ought to be reanimating before her eyes.

Though denying its validity, she had in fact hung on to that unlikely
eventuality right to the last. A hope from the ancient mist. Like thin
shadow, it was gone with the event of day. Now, under the witness of
their own living, seeing eyes, they both knew the legend was a lie.

Buffy fell forward, sobbing.



***

END PART I
Look for A New Englishman in Fork, Part II - coming Nov, 2006.

[GenieVeeBee]

Buffy had smiled at them sadly for their lack of compassion and frank
ignorance of things vampire. It was already too late to bring him back
from the edge. He would fall.

But Buffy had made one demand of her own and had made them comprehend
her seriousness by offering herself. "You'll have to kill me to keep me
out of that room." His final hours would not come without her there.

Out of respect for her as a fellow slayer and for what she and Spike
had done to save them all at Sunnydale, the had acquiesced.

Spike, his flesh, was a shadow of itself, the skin draped over the
bones like a wet sheet. Sinew, wasted muscle, flat, empty blood vessels
testified that the end of his un-dead vampire life was imminent. No
amount of feeding now, could he even swallow, would reverse the
cellular collapse that was occurring.

He would turn to dust as so many as Buffy had turned, though they
artificially so - via stake. This death would be perhaps the first
recorded, witnessed natural vampire death in all history. History,
however, would most likely pay no attention.

At the click of the opening door, Buffy turned to reprimand which ever
slayer was breaking her word, to see that it was Xander. "Should I go?"
He asked.

"No." She shook her head. "Stay. Please."

Xander crouched down at a respectful distance, resting his arms on his
knees. The sight of the grossly emaciated body turned his stomach over.
He didn't know how Buffy kept looking, and without wavering. She'd been
at it for hours, never leaving his side but for a single washroom trip.
Xander recalled the frustration on her face that her human body would
have betrayed her so in Spike's hour of need by demanding she obey it's
natural laws.

Buffy held the skeleton-like hand gently. Steadily. Her face held no
disgust what-so-ever. On the contrary, she appeared calm, content
to sit by his side and look at him, as though he were just asleep and
would soon awaken and speak one of his pet names. She leaned over him
slightly, bringing her own human warmth closer, so he would be assured
that she was nearby and was going nowhere. Would, in fact, accompany
him where he was going if she could.

Suddenly she looked over at Xander. "You're not telling me anything."

Xander understood what she was asking. "Sorry."

"So this is really it? This isn't going to work out the way we hoped is
it? Willow..."

"-Found nothing."

"Nothing." She repeated it. To make it real? he wondered.

"No evidence? Not a shred of proof that he might...come back?"

Xander shook his head. "No."

Xander watched her watching Spike and came to understand just then that
she really did love him. Maybe not with the hopeless passion that she
had felt for Angel. But Spike had directly been in her life longer than
had Angel. Does aged love run deeper, Xander wondered? Buffy had grown
used to Spike. He had become like an old loved quilt -with rips.
Maybe not the best, maybe not the favorite even, but...comfortable.

She and Angel hadn't had enough time to develop beyond that first,
burning desire, everything new and exciting.

With Spike, after the desire had passed, he was still there.
Familiarity. Comfortableness. Endurance. Mutual support and
consolation. Who was to say which sort of love was better? Or more real
than the other?

Buffy leaned over and whispered something in Spike's withered ear.
Inaudible to Xander.

Spike's eyes, incredibly, opened for a few seconds. Opaque, though.
Unseeing; at least the physical.

Xander watched curiously and sadly as Buffy spoke to him, things under
her breath that Xander could not hear.

Spike, other than his eyes being opened, did not answer of course.
Emaciated, helpless, blind, dying vampire. It was tragic and pathetic.
The warrior had finally fallen, Xander thought. Surprisingly, he
actually felt bad for him.

Buffy placed her free hand on Spike's chest, over what would surely now
be his prune-sized heart. Whether the nerves were still viable enough
to transmit the touch to his brain...?

Probably not, Xander thought.

Buffy started when Spike's chest convulsively rose once, then fell. It
did not rise again. She tried to squeeze his hand as he went down into
death so he could take the comfort of her presence with him, but his
fingers turned to dust beneath her grasp. Then the rest of his body
followed, disintegrating into a fine grit that danced across the floor
under the movement of her breath. It was over in seconds.

Buffy let the dust fall from her hand. She did not move otherwise,
waiting. Xander realized she was waiting for the legend. A human being
ought to appear. Spike ought to be reanimating before her eyes.

Though denying its validity, she had in fact hung on to that unlikely
eventuality right to the last. A hope from the ancient mist. Like thin
shadow, it was gone with the event of day. Now, under the witness of
their own living, seeing eyes, they both knew the legend was a lie.

Buffy fell forward, sobbing.



***

END PART I
Look for A New Englishman in Fork, Part II - coming Nov, 2006.