The townhouse was surprisingly vacant when he tore through the back entrance, a writhing, screaming Slayer in his arms. The sprint was a flash of nothing—he didn’t recall gathering her in his embrace, didn’t remember the sting of the air as he battled his way back to the Wensel House. There were fresh claw marks on his body; the bittersweet scent of his own blood filled the air. He felt nothing, though. There was nothing. She snarled, clawed, screamed, and cried—she tore at him limply and struggled for freedom against strength she should have overpowered.

But this was not Buffy. He was not holding Buffy. It was Buffy’s body, Buffy’s hands and arms, Buffy’s sweet face, but it was not her.

He knew. Because the red streak raked down the side of her face was there because of him. She was hurt because of him; hurt sometime in the struggle between Longwood and home. And the chip had not gone off.

Buffy was not in there anymore.

“Hold on, baby,” Spike gasped, rushing into his bedroom, eyes darting to every corner in desperate search for anything he could use to restrain her. The room was as anyone would expect with a bed and breakfast establishment. A bed, a dresser, a closet, and blankets. Nothing. His heart sank and the tears he had been holding back since making the impossible sprint across town crackled over the surface. “Hold on. ‘m gonna fix you. We’ll get you cured.”

Buffy didn’t hear anything. A terrible roar erupted from her beautiful mouth and she clawed viciously at his throat, tackling him back to the bed. “Te aari kanssa myöhässä, vampyyri. Adsum! Se has alkaa. Ad vitam Paramus!”

Spike’s eyes widened and he toppled back, releasing his hold on her waist so that he might grasp her wrists. “I’ve got you,” he promised raucously, ignoring the sharp jolts that shot through his throat. Ignoring the blood oozing through broken skin. “’m not lettin’ you go.”

“t? ?t???? t?? ??e? t??a! t? ?t???? t?? ??e?!”

“Buffy—”

Her eyes widened dangerously, blazing yellow there that turned his body to ice. “Amat victoria curam! O inferno quê-la grande. Você não pode derrotar um deus!” she shrieked. “Magister mundi sum!”

There was a modest amount of Latin and Greek that the vampire understood. Things buried deep within his memory; schooling that had refused to adhere to the rule of time. And the words rumbling through her now, words Buffy would never have any reason to know much less speak, froze his dead blood and frightened him to a second wake.

“Oh God.” His body quivered with recognition alone. “Oh God.”

Buffy’s eyes blazed gold with shades of red, her hands fighting his for dominance. “Stultum est timere quod vitare non potes. Sînt un Dumnezeu!”

The next few seconds passed in a blur of movement. His mind was screaming, his body weary and ready to let her have him. The thing that had been Buffy snarled and rasped, her head thrown back in a silent depiction of pain. The crack that buzzed through the room nearly snapped him in half—rendering him instead into the dresser with a calamitous smash. The walls pulsed with power.

“Spike!”

So familiar.

A hand was on his shoulder. Donna. It was Donna. When had Donna gotten here?

It took a few minutes for the vampire to realize his arms were no longer filled with a struggling Slayer. A few prolonged seconds before he saw her on the bed. Saw her; saw Willow standing in the doorway, a pained look on her face. Her extended arm trembling with the weight of a god’s influence. Saw Sam and Josh standing behind her, trading uncertain glances between the battered demon and the blonde that thrashed on the mattress.

“Oh my God,” the redhead whispered, her eyes wide with horror.

Something horrible rang through the air. Something that made his insides coil. The slow rumble of a demon’s laugh. A demon too far placed in a body that did not welcome it. Spike finally felt the sting of salt against the blood at his throat. His tears ran too deep to flinch at every cut.

Buffy’s head was thrown back, a look of sadistic pleasure marring her beautiful face. She had changed languages again with ease, a glow of red that refused to dim flashing behind her eyes. “Prepozen, carovnica,” she rasped. “Prepozen, vampir. Ona dan. Ona dan!”

“Ummm…” Josh licked his lips, staring numbly at the bed. “That’s not normal.”

Donna tossed him a glare as she helped the broken vampire to his feet, not minding when he stumbled against the dresser. “Willow…” she said shakily, hand curling around Spike’s when he gave no indication to acknowledging her more than that first flash of recognition. “What happened?”

“Quirinias,” the Witch said evenly, her voice dead. There was no question. No doubt. Just a form of understanding that came so bluntly, so burdened with acceptance that Spike couldn’t help but wonder if she knew this would happen all along.

Josh’s gaze widened. “That wouldn’t be the same Quirinias who’s applying to be a god of the human-shaped variety, would it? The one that wanted Faith?”

The vampire shook his head, wiping at his eyes. “Buffy jumped in the way,” he rasped. “She was tryin’ to get to Faith…she jumped in the way. It hit her instead. Whatever that bastard was cookin’ up hit her instead.” He glanced to Willow, the ocean of his eyes crashing over the tide. “You can fix her, right? Make her Buffy again? There’s a way.”

Willow was shaking far too much to form a coherent thought, much less piece together a collective plan for eradicating a god from the thrashing body of her best friend. “I d-don’t know,” she stuttered. “W-we hadn’t th-thought that far ahead.”

“Well, why the bloody hell not?!”

Buffy snarled and attempted to leap forward. A quick blast of energy sent her back to the bed.

And just like that, the Witch’s uncertainty gave way to anger. A rational snap from fear to outrage. And she had a target to blame. “Because we just figured this out, Spike,” she snapped, eyes widening. “You guys rushed to Longwood and we had just figured this out!”

“Yeh? Don’ seem to recall you volunteerin’!” Spike gestured emphatically to the bed. “’F we hadn’t’ve gone, there would’ve been a psychotic Slayer high on god juice. You seein’ an alternative you fancy?”

“Better Faith than Buffy!”

The vampire sobered a bit at that, the glare behind his gaze fading. “We went ‘cause that’s what heroes do,” he said. “Buffy’s a hero. The world had already started to fall apart, an’ you gits were bleedin’ slow on the uptake. ‘F we’d’ve had this information two days ago, it’d’ve been stopped already.”

Willow’s eyes flashed dangerously. “Two days ago? Two days ago, you and Buffy were doing the prelude to a mating dance that we had to drag you away from. This isn’t our fault!”

The writhing Slayer on the bed offered a guttural growl in agreement, her body arching in pain. There were streaks of red embedded in her skin that hadn’t been there a minute ago. And suddenly, the values of how and why were no longer important. Buffy was raging an internal war with a god, and she could not win facing him alone.

Saving her was what mattered. It could happen. It had been done before.

“What was it?” Spike said, rapidly alternating prerogatives. “The Watchers mentioned it…there was that thing, right?”

“The thing?” Sam and Josh echoed simultaneously.

“Right. That thing that banished this bloke the last time around? Coven of witches an’ all that?” His eyes flashed. “Well, you’re a witch, aren’t you? Get the fuck to it!”

Willow blinked. “To what?”

“That thing! That…the rite…”

“Rite of Thrieve?” The redhead’s eyes widened when he nodded. “I can’t!”

“Why the bleeding fuck not?!”

She stared at him incredulously. “Shall I list off the reasons? How about the fact that I’m the only one here of the magically inclined variety. How about that the spell required a sorcerer and a warlock, and they aren’t the type notorious for keeping listings in the yellow pages. Not to mention my greatest magical accomplishment is getting a pencil to float without it going berserk!…or, you know…random kitchen appliances.” Willow shot a glance to Sam, who smiled sheepishly. She shook her head. “All of that and more…the Rite of Thrieve is designed for a god, Spike. This is still Buffy. I work something that powerful on her while she’s still Buffy, and it might kill her.”

The vampire just stared at her numbly. “She’s still Buffy? No, she can’t—”

“She is. I feel her. It’s strange but…her essence is still in there. She’s struggling. Whatever Quirinias was planning, he’s gonna have to defeat her to get to it, and I don’t mean arena style. He’s gonna kill every ounce of her that was ever Buffy without leaving her at all. A god can’t just go leaping into bodies like that. Not if he wants to survive.” A long, cold breath hissed through her lips. Then her eyes widened with horror and realization of her own words. The cold that struck the room was felt by all. “God, he’s going to kill her. Her body…she’s going to be—”

Spike jerked his arm free from Donna’s hold and stalked forward. “Bugger. That. Figure it out, Red.”

“I—”

“Hold on!” Sam yelped. “This isn’t Willow’s fault!”

“’S her bloody best friend an’ she’s jus’ gonna let her die!”

The vampire found himself propelled back into the dresser at the hand of a mightily pissed off witch. The redhead at the foot of the bed; one hand focused on Spike, the other on keeping Buffy from escaping her perimeter.

Donna again came to his side and gently helped him to his feet. Josh and Sam stood utterly flabbergasted.

Spike’s nose was bleeding. He didn’t care. Nor did he care for the gnashes at his throat or the claw marks around his middle. Didn’t care for anything. He had bled before and would bleed again. He bled so often.

The Slayer’s snarls and outbursts were reduced to throaty growls. She stretched and struggled against her bonds but nothing came of it. And without even bringing herself around to the realization, the Witch was exercising more power in one fluent move than she ever had thought to utilize before.

“I’m not going to let her die,” she said finally. “There has to be something we can do now. Right now before her condition worsens. I just need you to stay with me, okay?”

Spike sent her a cold glare. “Yeh,” he replied shortly. “’m stayin’. Get a bindin’ spell up around her, pet. An’ get me in it, too.”

“What?”

“’m stayin’. Stayin’ with her.” He nodded to the bed. “Anythin’ happens to her, an’ I’m there. Right there. ‘m not leavin’ her like this.”

The Witch’s eyes softened at that, her hand falling numbly to her side. “Spike,” she said gently, “she’ll kill you. And then she won’t…Quirinias is wrestling for control. Struggling…Buffy’s fighting now, but…he’s a god. And if we can’t…she’ll kill you.”

Spike stretched his arms out, waiting for her to take in the full bloody sight of him. It was a strange moment. A sort of full recognition of everything that had occurred in the past hour in gory detail. Even Sam and Josh stared at him numbly; aware that as a vampire, he would survive and had likely endured worse, but unable to look away all the same. That sort of morbid fascination that got people killed every day.

“’m stayin’ with her,” he said again. “Don’ give a bloody fuck what she does to me. All right?”

The Witch held his gaze for a minute longer, then nodded. There was no sense in arguing.

“All right,” she said. “Get on the bed with her. Donna, go get a washcloth and clean him. Sam, Josh…go tell Giles what’s happened.” Her eyes darkened slightly. “Try not to tell Xander. I don’t want him having a wig-fest until we know exactly what there is that we can do. I’m going to need some candles and a book. A-and, maybe…ummm…Giles?”

Spike arched a brow as he took the proffered washcloth. He flashed Donna a surprised look to which she merely shrugged with a smile. “My job,” she said simply, shrugging. “I basically play fetch with Josh all day.”

“Ah. Thanks, pet.”

Josh frowned. “Hey!”

The blonde shrugged unapologetically.

“Giles,” Sam said slowly, drawing their attention back to the redhead. “You need Giles?”

“Trust him more than Red to work mojo without sendin’ the world into some hellish alternate dimension,” the vampire snorted, wincing when the Witch turned to glare at him. “No offense, of course.”

“Of course,” she retorted dryly. “Why would I be offended by that?”

“Is she…ummm…” Donna eyed the seemingly sedate Slayer warily. “She kinda stopped all of a sudden.”

“That’s probably gonna happen again. Quirinias isn’t going to wanna remain dormant for long, and when he wakes up again, he’ll be pissed.” Willow glanced carefully to Spike as he dropped the thoroughly bloodied washcloth to the floor with a dejected sigh. “You’re sure you wanna do this?”

The vampire nodded without hesitation, slipping onto the bed. “Where she goes, I go,” he said. “’m not runnin’ out now when she needs me the most.”

Donna made an ‘aww’ noise that everyone wisely ignored.

Sam stepped forward. “Willow?”

“I have to stay here until the binding spell is forged,” she explained without looking at him. “Go, get Giles. Only Giles. We don’t have a lot of time.”

That was all the Deputy Communications Director needed. He was gone the next second, tugging Josh after him.

And though it could have possibly been the single most redundant thing to ask, for whatever reason, there was some universal law that spoke out against the name of silence. Deathly silence that whispered tidings of dread that none could shake. Silences like this. With a vampire, bloodied and wounded, curled on the bed with his girl next to him. His girl that sounded like a slumbering lion. Their hands linked in the middle—his so tight it would take a crowbar to pry them apart.

It was that need for something where nothing stood. That need.

“Don’t have a lot of time for what?” Donna found herself saying uselessly.

Willow glanced at her with a wry, humorless smile. “To learn how to banish a god,” she replied.

It would have been funny if she weren’t so serious.

*~*~*

Spike smiled kindly at Donna as she handed him a warmed cup of blood and dropped a couple of aspirin into his palm. The look she gave warned off any protest he had at the ready; he had tried persuading her that, being a vampire, antibiotics were rather ineffective to no avail. She wasn’t satisfied until she had doctored his wounds with disinfectant and given him enough medication to take down a small horse. And even then, convincing her that it wasn’t necessary for her to hover was no easy feat.

The kindness of people who had no reason to hate him was always surprising. Donna was no exception. Of everyone he had met since arriving in Natchez, she had easily slid into the number one rank.

“Thanks, pet,” he said, indulging a long drink. It surprised him when she didn’t flinch and turn away in disgust. Instead, she smiled compassionately and watched as though he was enjoying a glass of raspberry Kool-Aid. “You don’ have to stay here, you know.”

She knew. He had reminded her every five minutes.

“I want to stay, Spike,” she replied. “What if you need something? What if she needs something?”

“Could get messy in here, luv. Chances are it will.” The vampire glanced to the dozing blonde curled into his side. Willow had left the room about a half hour before after completing the binding spell, as well as dosing her up with a fairly powerful mystical sleeping narcotic that would hopefully keep her out for the next twelve hours. “She looks peaceful now, doesn’ she?”

Donna smiled. “Yes, she does.”

“You’d never know there’s a god in there. Lookin’ at her…Christ, you’d never know she’s…” His voice grew hoarse and his eyes watered. The look on his face dropped from conversational to despondent within a blink. A heartbreaking rendering of a man who had everything to lose. “He’s in there right now,” he said softly. “That fuckin’ bastard…’e’s in her body…’e’s in her sweet body right now. Muckin’ her up. Changin’ her. Makin’ her ready for…makin’ her ready to be a god.”

The room stretched with heavy silence. Donna waited a minute, then gambled her chances and patted his shoulder with whatever reassurance she had to offer. “You know,” she said thoughtfully. “There was a time not too long ago when, if anything went wrong…anything big, I’d’ve gone to Leo. Not that Leo’s really my next step. I should answer to Josh. I do answer to Josh. Well…” She offered a wane half-smile. “Well, I answer to Josh as much as I have to. He’s good for the conversation, and when there’s something really important and you get it in his head that it’s really important, he’s the best guy to go to. He’s my best friend—no questions asked. But that doesn’t mean he’s my first phone call. For woman things, there’s CJ. And even though I really don’t know Leo all that well…even though everything…I know enough to know that he’s the one to go to for the very big things.” Her eyes settled on the slumbering Slayer. “I guess this would be comparable to a terrorist threat or something. This is something I would take to Leo without going first to Josh or CJ. Saving Buffy would be his territory. If she was foreign policy or a threat against the President or something comparable to…anything, really…Leo would know what to do.”

Spike watched her with a soft, understanding smile. “What would Leo say ‘bout this?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she replied. “That’s why I need Leo.” A sigh settled over her shoulders. “My point is…roundabout as it is, Giles is your Leo, as far as I can tell. He’s doing everything they can for her, Spike. They might not have the answers for you now, but they will. You should’ve seen Giles when he got back to the main house. He’s the Leo of your world. And he’s doing what Leo does…gathering the Staffers and assigning them tasks to get the problem taken care of. The thing is, he has us, too. He has more than Willow, Wes, Xander and Anya right now. He has all of us. And we’re all helping. Even Toby’s buried in research. And considering that Toby barely likes any of us, the fact that he’s helping even a little is kind of remarkable.”

“An’ what’s your job, pet?”

“I’ve decided that you need someone to keep you company.”

“Oh, you have?”

“Yes.”

Spike glanced again to Buffy, pulling her tighter against him. “’F she wakes up an’ it’s the other guy steerin’, you know things’ll get violent in here.”

Donna’s brows arched. “Well, you see…Willow did the binding spell, and since I’m on the outside, I’m not all that worried.”

He snickered.

She frowned. “How is it that I can hand you things while the spell’s intact, anyway?”

“’Cause the spell doesn’ apply to you, I’d wager.”

“You don’t think that my passing through the binding spell did anything to deactivate it, did you?”

“’F I say yes, will you go away an’ get some sleep?”

She glanced away contemplatively. “Nah. What if you get thirsty?”

“You have to be the only voluntary vampire nurse in the world.”

“There are involuntary ones?”

He shrugged. “Statistics would suggest…”

She grinned. “Now you sound like Josh.”

“Oi!” He was smiling, though. “The bloke’s lucky to have you, you know. Sittin’ with a vamp, bringin’ me blood…givin’ me aspirin when there’s no earthly reason for me to use it.” He shook his head. “You don’ even know me, pet.”

“I don’t need to.”

Spike quirked a brow. “No?”

Donna shook her head, gesturing to the girl in his arms. “Here’s what I know about you,” she said. “You’re a vampire. You’re evil. You’re soulless. You love her more than I’ve ever seen anyone love anyone. I knew it from the start, you know. Willow and I were teasing her in a diner because she had a crush on you.” Spike’s eyes sparkled with a hint of poignancy, a trembling sigh escaping his body. “I have a great sense about these things, you know.”

“’Course.”

“You love her very much. You love her in ways that make me think romance novelists know what they’re talking about.” She smiled at the warmth that flashed behind his gaze. “So yes, I am willing to sit here and keep you company. If she wakes up and starts snarling and speaking Latin…well, the President does that at least once a week, so it’s going to take more than that to scare me away.”

Spike chuckled lightly. “Yeh. All right, pet. Twisted my arm an’ all.”

“Yeah. Like you could do anything about it anyway.”

“Oh?”

“Well, aside the fact that I know you have a chip in your head and that you’re behind that binding spell, there’s the issue of you being a big softie, so I don’t think there’s anything you could’ve done about it, anyway.”

He scowled. “Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Wasn’ always.”

“Probably were. Are in denial.” Donna shrugged. “I’m going to read now.”

“Right.”

“Abigail Adams. One of the first feminists in American history.”

“Fascinatin’.”

“At least it’s not the cat.”

Spike’s eyes rolled his eyes skyward. “Donna!”

She grinned, opening the book she had toted into the room and settling it comfortably in her lap. “Fine,” she replied. Then, softer, she added: “Joshua.”

The vampire glared at her ineffectively. She was reading. For now, she was reading.

And he had a god in his arms.

A god that could well rip off his arms when she awoke.

*~*~*

The moment she shifted, the moment before her eyes fluttered open, he knew it was her that he held. Buffy. The Slayer. Panting heavily. Drenched in sweat. Eyes wide and hazed with apology and more emotion than he had ever seen buried within the hazel glow of her warmth.

A wealth of emotion clogged his insides and he had to wan off the tears that stung his vision.

For a few minutes, she was here. She was here, awake, in his arms.

Thank God. Here. They would have seclusion. Donna had just fallen asleep. And he could be with her for whatever time the Powers gave him.

“Spike.” The sound of his name lulled the air lazily. A wrenching strain in her voice that tore at his heart. She tugged him closer, her face crumbling when she met his eyes. “Spike…I’m sorry.”

God.

“Don’t be, baby,” he replied swiftly, not bothering the tedious game of playing dumb. He brushed a kiss across her temple. “’S fine. You’ll be fine. We’ll make it. I bloody well promise.”

She snuggled him closer. And when her next words tickled the air, he thought every last part of him had shattered without appeal.

“I’m scared.”

She knew. God, she knew.

“I know,” he whispered, because there was nothing else to say. “I’m here, baby. I’m not leavin’ your side.”

“Promise?”

Spike shuddered and bit back the incursion of tears that were never far from spilling. He wanted to bask in their fear together. Wanted to cling to her and share tears, relate their similar fears of the future. Of the future that just a few hours before had been so bright, even if it was impossible.

He would do anything to share her fear. But he couldn’t. Right now, he had play the part of their strength. He had to shoulder it alone, and he would for her. He would forget his fear and help her through hers. He had to.

“I promise, sweetheart. With all my heart.”

Even if he had never been more terrified.


TBC

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