Archive of Our Own ^beta

It was quiet. Too quiet. Too still. Too peaceful. The night was dark, with a cool breeze whistling past the headstones of untouched graves. Buffy held the stake in her hand, ready to use it, but her arm was growing stiff from keeping it in the same position.

She turned her head to look back at her friends dutifully trudging along behind her, ready to jump into action at a second’s notice. Except no one had needed any notice for nights now.

It was unusual. It was weird. It was unnerving.

“Nothing here,” she said, stopping at a freshly dug grave, but once again, there was no movement in the dirt, no sounds of scratching, nothing to indicate that something was trying to break through. She sighed and turned to face Willow, Xander, and Anya.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Xander said.

“It is a bad thing,” she said. “I’m a vampire slayer, and there are no vampires to slay.”

“Do you think they’ll fire you?” Anya said. “Can they even do that?”

“They can’t fire me,” Buffy said, then she frowned. “I don’t think? I mean, they don’t even pay me.”

“That’s extremely rude,” Anya said.

“I’m still not understanding why demons not running loose around Sunnydale is a bad thing,” Xander interrupted them.

“Because it’s weird,” Buffy said. “Even on slow nights, there’s always at least one or two. But there has been nothing for nights now.”

“It’s like something else is going on that we don’t know about,” Willow said.

“Yes!” Buffy said. “Exactly! I mean …” She frowned again. “There’s just been some weird things this year, and I’m beginning to think they are all connected.”

“Maybe it’s another Slayer,” Xander suggested, but Buffy shook her head.

“This is something different,” she said. “And Faith is still alive.” At his questioning look, she added, “I keep tabs on her, okay? Still in her coma as of a few hours ago. Not giving up her Slayer reign to someone else.”

“Okay, so not a Slayer,” Xander said. “Then what? Some new demon?”

“A new demon that only goes after other demons?” Willow said.

“It could happen,” Xander said.

“Not really,” Anya said, then at their look, she shrugged. “It’s not in their nature.”

“She’s right,” Buffy said. “I don’t think this is a demon. I just don’t know what it is. But it’s weird.”

“You know what else is weird?” Willow said. “Spike.”

“I don’t know that I’d consider him weird,” Xander said, “Maybe scary,” but Buffy met Willow’s eyes and immediately she realized she was right.

When was the last time they had seen Spike? When was the last time he had tried to come after her? It had been at least a week, maybe two.

“You think Spike is hatching this plan?” Willow said. She looked around like maybe he would jump out at them with a group of minions at his beck and call.

“It doesn’t feel like him,” Buffy answered.

“Again,” Xander said. “I ask, why is this a bad thing? We hate Spike. He hates us. Now we don’t have to see him. Or stake demons. Or risk our lives on a nightly basis. This all just seems like something good.”

Willow’s mouth twisted. “I guess when you put it that way.”

“Xander’s right,” Anya said. “If there are no vampires, we should take a night off too. Maybe do something fun for once.”

“This isn’t fun?” Buffy said.

“Come on,” Willow said. “I can’t believe I am saying this, but Anya’s right. Let’s go get some food or something. Maybe the vampires will be back tomorrow.”

“Maybe,” Buffy said doubtfully.

“One can only hope,” Xander said, in such a way that everyone knew he was definitely hoping for the opposite. Buffy sighed and put her stake back in her jacket. She wouldn’t be needing this tonight after all.

--

The days went on. So did the nights. Long endless nights without a single demon in sight. Willow hacked into the police reports for the last month, but even those were quiet. Same with hospital records. And Spike had not made an appearance either.

Buffy had stopped asking her friends to come patrolling with her, and they had stopped offering. What even was the point when there was nothing for any of them to find?

Tonight it was just her, aimlessly strolling through a cemetery with nothing to look forward to. Which really was a bummer. She could use a good fight about now. Otherwise, she might punch one of the other students in her classes. Or worse, one of her professors who kept asking her questions she still wasn’t sure how she should be answering.

She walked on. A sound came from behind her. A crunch of leaves under shoes. She almost didn’t turn around, but why shouldn’t she?

Harmony Kendall stood behind her, fangs bared. But she had no minions, and she didn’t make a move to come closer. In fact, as soon as Buffy had fully faced her, her face changed back to normal.

“Oh, thank goodness I found you!” she said, which was probably the strangest thing a vampire had ever said to her, especially since she didn’t follow it up with, “Because I am going to try and kill you right now!”

“Harmony,” Buffy said. “What do I owe this unpleasure?”

“Something weird is going on,” Harmony said, and suddenly Buffy was interested. She didn’t move closer, but she cast her eyes over Harmony before saying, “What do you know?”

“What do you know?” Harmony echoed.

“I asked you first.”

“I brought it up first!”

“You said you were trying to find me,” Buffy glared at her. “You go first.”

“Oh, fine!” Harmony huffed, but then she seemed to consider something. “You won’t kill me after I tell you what I have to say, will you?”

“Depends on what you say.”

“Well, that is not really nice!”

“You know I’m a Vampire Slayer, right?” Buffy said. “And you’re a vampire?” Harmony was still looking at her with mournful eyes. “Fine,” Buffy said. “Mini truce. I won’t slay you. Now talk.”

“Okay. So.” Harmony looked around, shifting her head and her eyes like she too expected something to pop out at them. Apparently satisfied, she turned back to Buffy. “It started a few weeks ago. Vampires have just been disappearing.”

“That happens when they die,” Buffy said.

“But they’re not dying,” Harmony said. “We all thought so. But there’s no ash or anything. And a couple times, two would go out and they’d turn around and the other was just gone. Like if they were dead, wouldn’t that have been obvious?”

“Okay,” Buffy admitted. “That does sound weird. And it has been very quiet around here.”

Harmony shrugged, “People are scared,” she said. “And hiding.”

“Like you and Spike?”

Harmony’s face changed. Tears filled her eyes, and she choked back a sob, a rather melodramatic one, Buffy thought.

“They got my Spiky-poo,” she said and let out another sob.

“They got Spike?” Buffy said, and there was a weird feeling inside her that she did not have time to think about. “But who is they? Does anyone even know? A demon? A god? A human?”

“No one knows!” Harmony said. “That’s the thing! Only one person has seen anything and survived, and he says they were shadowy figures.”

“Shadowy figures?” Buffy repeated.

“That’s what they said.”

“And that’s all anyone knows?”

Harmony sighed, a long, melodramatic sigh. Buffy placed her hands on her hips and waited till she was done.

“We thought you might know,” Harmony said. “You are the Slayer.”

“This isn’t me. And I don’t know.”

“It’s not your friends?” Harmony sounded hopeful.

Buffy narrowed her eyes. “No,” she said. “They would kill you, not take you.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Harmony looked like she was thinking. She scrunched her nose and put a finger to her lips. Finally she looked back at Buffy. “It’s not the other Slayer?” Still hopeful sounding.

“Still in a coma,” Buffy said, then added, “I’ve checked.”

“You’ve gotta help us,” Harmony said. “It’s way scary to be a vampire out here.”

Buffy stared at her, but Harmony was looking at her with pleading eyes. Buffy sighed and pointed to herself.

“Vampire Slayer,” she said. “That’s me. That’s my job. I slay vampires. Kill them. Poof. I don’t save them. Or protect them.”

“But they have Spike,” Harmony said. “And they’re taking vampires. They’re like … taking your job. How can you kill anyone if they aren’t here to kill?”

Buffy sighed. Harmony had a point. Not really the one she was trying to make, but still. A point. Something weird was going on, and Buffy needed to know what it was. And finding Spike was probably the best way to figure that out. After all, every time they tried to kill each other, he did always give her a lot of information. And they had helped each other in the past. Sort of. But Spike was always helpful when it came to something that would benefit him. And she supposed her not killing him right now was a benefit he could get behind.

“Fine,” she said to Harmony. “I’ll look into it.”

Harmony let out a sigh of relief. Again, a quite melodramatic one, but Buffy refrained from rolling her eyes.

“Thank you!” she said. “I would do anything to get my Spike-poo back!”

Buffy grimaced. “I’ll see what I can find,” she said. “But I make no promises.”

Harmony beamed. “Thank you!” she said. “I look forward to the day when this is behind us, and I can kill you for real.”

“Sounds fun,” Buffy said.

“Right?” Harmony grinned even more, if that were possible, then she flipped her long blonde hair over her shoulder, did something that looked like maybe it should have been a salute and turned around and disappeared through the trees behind them.

Buffy sighed. At that whole conversation, about what she had learned, about what she didn’t know. Shadowy figures. Missing demons. Scared vampires. Why could people not just let her do her job in peace without bringing weird stuff into it? Or, okay, weirder stuff than normal into it?

She turned around. She’d do another patrol just on the off chance she saw something and then she’d head home, inform the gang in the morning and they could look into shadowy figures who kidnapped demons. Maybe Willow could even get in touch with Cordelia in L.A., see if Cordy and Angel and everyone had run across something like this. Los Angeles had weird stuff happen all the time, right?

She heard a crunch behind her, like someone stepping on a branch.

“Harmony!” she said in exasperation as she whirled around. “What now?”

But it wasn’t Harmony. Two figures, dressed all in black, including masks that covered their heads.

“Who are …?” she started, but she wasn’t able to finish. A red light shot out toward her, hitting her in the center of her chest.

Every muscle in her body seized up, pain blistering through every cell. She tried to scream, tried to breathe, tried to move.

The pain increased.

And then it was gone.

It was all gone.

--

Buffy awoke. Her eyes blinked open. Glaring light hit her and she closed her eyes again. Her entire body felt like it had been dipped in flames. And then been forced to fight a truckload of uber vamps. Everything hurt. Her skin, her head, her insides.

She tried to think, tried to remember. Where she was. What had happened. What she had been doing.

She tried to open her eyes again, this time slower. The blinding light was still there. Searing into her. Painful. She tried to squint, to let her eyes adjust, but all she could see behind the light was white. White ceiling. White floors. White walls. A room? It looked a little like a room, but the light was searing into her. She closed her eyes again and went back to trying to remember.

She had been patrolling. She had been patrolling, right? She remembered the cemetery. She remembered it being empty. And then …

Harmony. She had seen Harmony. They had talked. Harmony had told her about all the vampires disappearing. About Spike disappearing.

Had Harmony done this to her?

No. Harmony had left. And then there had been footsteps. She had turned.

Shadowy figures. Just like Harmony had described. And they had shot her. And she had blacked out. And now she was here. Wherever here was. But she had a feeling she had just found the lair of the shadowy figures.

She forced her eyes open again, forced herself to look around, past the blinding light.

It was a white room. All white. Not a single pretty piece of décor anywhere. A lab, she suspected. And she was lying on a table. Like in an operating room. Hard and cold beneath her. She moved her fingers, just a little, flexed her hand, her feet. She was tied down, her wrists and ankles in cuffs. Heavy, impenetrable ones. She lifted her head just slightly to look down at her body. She was just dressed in what looked like a hospital gown. Gone were the cute slayer clothes she had been wearing.

She sighed, loudly and about as overly dramatic as Harmony had been doing earlier.

“Okay,” she called out, and her voice croaked a little. She coughed, tried to clear her throat, tried again. “Okay! You can come out now. I’m awake and ready.”

“Well, that is a good thing indeed.” A voice came from behind her. A familiar voice.

Buffy blinked as the stately woman moved into her eyesight.

“Professor Walsh?”

“Hello, Miss Summers,” she said. She was holding a clipboard in her hand, dressed all in white to match the room, including a long overcoat over her pants and shirt. “Or should I called you ‘The Vampire Slayer’?”

“I guess whichever one you prefer,” Buffy said. “Should I call you Professor Walsh or my kidnapper?”

“Oh, it’s not kidnapping,” Professor Walsh said cheerfully.

“So I can go?”

“Of course not.”

“Then how is this not kidnapping?”

“It’s called observing,” Professor Walsh said. “You are not a normal young lady.” She said this like maybe Buffy wasn’t aware. Buffy decided not to answer, she just stared back at her.

“Incredible strength and agility and perfectly honed instincts.” Professor Walsh looked down at her chart. “All given to one teenage girl when it would do so much more good in other people.”

“Hey,” Buffy said. “I will have you know I have saved the world. A lot.”

“That’s nice, dear,” Professor Walsh said. “But do you know what my soldiers could do with your powers?”

“Your soldiers?”

“This world isn’t meant to be filled with demons and supernaturally gifted young girls. But since it is, we must be smarter and better and able to protect the planet on our own terms.”

“Okay,” Buffy said, drawing out the word. “Then why don’t you let me go, and I can help you with that?”

“Oh no.” Professor Walsh shook her head. “You see, we knew about this so-called Slayer months ago, but we never could find her. We thought we had, but she was comatose. And then, we found you. Talking to your friend the vampire.”

“Harmony is not my friend.”

“And now that you’re here, we can finally complete the first stage of our plan.”

“Which is what exactly?”

Professor Walsh just smiled. “Why don’t you just relax?” she said. “We’re going to give you a little something, and then you’ll be taken to your room.”

“My room? Like a hotel?”

“Not exactly,” Professor Walsh said. “More like a cell.”

“Oh no,” Buffy said. “See, as fun as that sounds, I have plans. Classes. A wild rager happening this weekend. My mom is expecting my call. So apologies, but I really can’t stay.”

She yanked hard on the chains keeping her attached to the bed. If she pulled hard enough …

Professor Walsh smiled as nothing happened. Buffy tried again. The metal didn’t even give a little. She stared up at her professor who looked nothing like the woman who tried to teach her psychology three times a week.

“Why are you doing this? People are going to figure it out.”

“As they should,” Professor Walsh replied. “We’re going to change the world, my soldiers and I.”

Buffy shivered. It never ended well when someone said something like that. She thought about saying so, or mentioning that her friends would find her — they would, right? They wouldn’t believe she was dead, no matter what Professor Walsh tried to tell them? — but she kept her mouth closed. The only way she was going to get out of this was to figure out what the hell was happening and find another way to give Professor Walsh what she apparently thought she wanted.

Professor Walsh took another step toward her. “I hope you enjoy your stay here,” she said. “Graham will be right in with your medicine.”

She smiled and then Buffy watched as she walked purposely across the room, threw open a door and disappeared through it. A moment later in walked another face she recognized.

Riley’s friend Graham.

He walked over to a little machine that was behind her head. She twisted her head so she could see him.

“You don’t have to do this,” she said.

He ignored her.

“Like I get taking demons and doing … whatever … on them. But they’re demons. I’m human. You know that right? Does this even seem ethical to you?”

Graham still didn’t say anything, but she watched as he filled a syringe with something bright orange and bubbly.

“This will only hurt a little,” he said, before he stabbed her in the arm with it and a fire raced through her veins as she screamed and let the world disappear again into blackness.

--

“Well. Well. Well. Who do we have here?”

Buffy’s eyes flew open.

A familiar face loomed above her, smiling wickedly. For a minute, she wasn’t sure if she was relieved or horrified.

She tried to sit up and realized she could. She also lifted her arms. Spike took a step back.

“Spike,” she said.

“Slayer,” he returned.

“Where the hell are we?”

It was probably a stupid thing to say, but she didn’t feel like Spike was ready to kill her right this minute, although he definitely could have. But then again, he could have killed her before she even had woken up.

“In a bloody cell, that’s where,” Spike said.

Buffy looked around. Professor Walsh had called it a cell, and she hadn’t been lying. It was an all-white room — they really did like their white in this place — with one bright light shining down on them. Over what appeared to be a door — it was hard to be sure because it blended in so well — there was a little window about the size of her hand that she could maybe see through if Spike put her on his shoulders.

Other than that, there was a cot she was sitting on, a pile of blankets on the floor and not much else. A tiny room was over in the corner.

“Our bathroom,” Spike said, catching where she was looking.

She wrinkled her nose. “I’ve seen better accommodations at the roach-infested hotel downtown.”

“I’ve seen better accommodations in an empty coffin,” Spike said, and Buffy honestly couldn’t tell if he were joking.

He looked at her. “At least they finally are feeding me,” he drawled.

“At least they’re giving me something to kill,” she said back.

“Hey now.” He held his hands up, palms out. “Let’s not get violent.”

“You just said you were going to feed on me.”

“But did I say I was going to kill you to do so?”

Buffy glared at him. He pointed behind her.

“Besides,” he said. “I meant that.”

Buffy turned. Sure enough, sitting on the ground beside her cot was a glass full of blood and then another glass of what looked like water and a couple pieces of toast.

“Fine dining at its best,” she said. She turned back to him. “You really don’t know where we are?”

“Do you?”

She shook her head. “They knocked me out. I woke up in some room set up like a doctor’s office, and now I’m here.”

“Sounds about the same,” Spike said. “These people are crazy.”

Buffy stood up and immediately regretted it. Her head spun and her body felt weak. She sank back down on the cot.

“You okay, Slayer?”

“Obviously not,” she said. To herself, she whispered, “What did these people do to me?”

Something flickered over Spike’s face. Almost like concern. She ignored it and pointed to the one little window they had.

“Want to try looking through that?”

“Tried,” he said. “Couldn’t see much. Just more white. A hallway. Sometimes a person in white.”

“I take it you can’t hear anything out there either?”

Spike turned around, moved toward a white wall and knocked on it. “Soundproofed these suckers real good,” he said. “Sometimes I can hear voices but can’t make out any words.”

“Harmony came to see me,” Buffy said.

“Harm?” Spike looked almost mildly impressed. “Did she try to kill you?”

“She wanted me to save you.”

“And this is you coming to my rescue?” He grinned. “I knew you liked me.”

“Ew. No. And no, that just coincided with our …” She paused. “They heard me,” she said, something suddenly fitting into place. “They heard Harmony call me the Slayer and that’s how they knew. Professor Walsh said they’d been looking for me, but they didn’t know who I was. They only found Faith.”

“Still in a coma?”

Buffy nodded. “I checked.” She frowned. “Harmony’s not working with these people, is she? She didn’t lead them to me on purpose? Maybe they offered to give you back if she did.”

“This is them giving me back?” Spike raised a brow. “Nah,” he said. “Harmony’s not the brightest vampire in the crypt but seems unlikely she’d be working with these people. You know, better the enemy you know and all that.”

“And I’m the enemy she knows,” Buffy said.

Spike shrugged. “She thinks she’s gonna be the vamp to kill you. She wouldn’t give that up for some crazy people.”

“Okay, so say that’s true,” Buffy said.

“It’s true.”

“So say that’s true,” Buffy repeated. “Then, what, these people are just hiding in the cemetery spying on people?”

Spike looked thoughtful.

“Professor Walsh,” Buffy said, parts of their conversation replaying in her head. “She said something about protecting the world because demons and supernaturally gifted girls like me weren’t ever supposed to be part of it.”

“That tracks,” Spike said. “Didn’t have a whole convo with the lady in charge, like it seems you did, but a couple of the other dudes like to mutter things about vampires and unnatural creatures and seeing how we work.”

Buffy looked up. “Seeing how you work?”

Spike shrugged. “One of them said that. Yeah.”

“What does that mean?”

“No idea. But I doubt it’s anything good.”

“Yeah.” She looked around their cell. “We’ve gotta get out of here.”

“Tried that,” Spike said. “Tried everything I can think of.”

“How did they get me in here?” Buffy asked. “With you here? And blood? How do they get that to you?”

Spike pointed upward. Buffy tilted her head. High above them, bars covered the ceiling, and above those she could see what looked like a nozzle.

“Gas,” he said. “Wait till they knock me out, then they do whatever. Came to this time and you were there.”

“And you let me live,” Buffy said. She couldn’t help it, even as she regretted the slight mocking. Sure, she could take Spike on a normal day, but she really wasn’t feeling all that well.

“I decided I wanted company,” Spike said. “Even if that company is you.”

“How thoughtful.”

“I don’t see you trying to kill me.”

Buffy shrugged. “It’s what you said, right? The enemy you know and all that.”

“We could try not be enemies if you’d rather,” he gave her a suggestive grin.

“Ew,” she said. “No. Don’t even think about it.”

“Oh, I’ve already thought about it a lot.”

“Ewwww.”

--

The gas came that night — at least Buffy thought it was night; there really was no way to tell. The bright light above them glowed at all hours and nothing else about the room changed either. Except for a faint clicking that suddenly broke through.

“It’s coming, Slayer,” Spike said to her. She had been lying on her cot looking up at the ceiling anyway. Spike was lying on the blankets. The room was too small for the two of them, but oddly, the silence had almost felt easy.

She tilted her head a little more now to focus on the nozzle Spike had pointed out earlier. Sure enough, she could see a fine red mist starting to pour out of it.

“How’s it work?” she asked as more and more red starting to pour out and moved downward. “You don’t breathe, and normal gas doesn’t sink.”

“Penetrates through the skin, I think?” Spike said.

“So there’s no way to protect from it.”

“Not that I can find. What are you thinking?”

“Nothing yet,” she said.

“Well, get prepared,” Spike said. “I always feel like a piece of shit when I wake up from it.”

--

Spike hadn’t been joking. She had watched the red fumes come toward them for what felt like forever, dropping down from the ceiling, but once it dropped down to their level, it seemed to move fast, circling them. She could feel sleep pulling at her the second a drop hit her skin, and she was out before it had even fully encircled her body.

She woke up slowly, like coming out of a super heavy fog. She felt groggy, weak, a little bit nauseous. She tried opening her eyes and even that was hard, the urge to sink back down into sleep so intense. She’d been dreaming. About her mom, her friends. About Giles. About Spike. About running away with him, hands clasped together, leaving behind something dark and horrible.

She tried to force her eyes open. Dark and horrible. That wasn’t a dream. The truth was there, scratching at her consciousness but the sleep was fighting against it.

She remembered the red gas, remembered the cell, remembered Spike.

She summoned her resolve, forced her eyes open. They hurt. Like there was sand in them. The urge to go back to sleep was still so strong.

She concentrated on breathing, on blinking, on pushing the sleep away until finally she could push herself up, a little at a time but enough. She turned her head. Spike was on the floor, on his blankets, beside her cot. His eyes were also open, but he looked dazed. She concentrated, reached out a hand, touched him gently. He blinked.

“What did they do to you?” she managed.

“No idea. You?”

“No idea. But I do feel like shit.”

“Told ya.”

“Does this happen often?”

“Feels like it. But I don’t know. Not sure how long I’ve even been in here.”

She tried to think back to what Harmony said, about what she had noticed. Her brain hurt at the effort, but the words and the thoughts were right there. She closed her eyes, concentrated, tried to breathe.

She opened her eyes. “Four weeks maybe?”

“Four bloody weeks in this hell hole?” She couldn’t tell if Spike was horrified or surprised.

“Harmony didn’t give me an exact date. But I know things have gotten quieter, slaying wise, the last few weeks.”

“When they started grabbing us,” Spike said. “You thinking I was one of the first?”

“Don’t know. But you are always out and about so a good chance.”

“One cannot stay locked in a crypt all night.”

“Didn’t say they could.”

“You think they’re going to kill us or just torture us to death?”

“We need to find a way out before they do either of those things.”

“Any ideas?”

Buffy sighed. “Not yet.”

--

There were two ways they could get out, they finally concluded. Up or down. The door and the walls were too heavily constructed and too protected. But the ceiling, above the bars where the nozzle was, might not be as bad. Or the floor. Especially in the bathroom where the plumbing was.

It was a cliché. Digging their way out through a hole in the floor of a prison, but if they could manage to get to underneath their cell, maybe there was a chance.

Except she still didn’t feel well, and neither did Spike. She felt weak, sick. She wasn’t even sure if she could kill a vampire at this rate, let alone dig up tiles in a bathroom floor. But she was going to try.

She made an excuse to go into the bathroom and went to work, scraping her fingers into the stone. It should have been so easy, but every time she managed to grab the stone, she didn’t have any energy to pull it up. She looked around and decided to use some of the screws from the toilet bowl to help.

It was when she was struggling to get even that unloose that she realized it.

“They’re draining my powers.”

“What?”

She looked up. Spike stood in the door. Apparently, his vampire hearing was unaffected.

“They’re draining my powers,” she repeated, because why not? He already heard her the first time. “Whatever they’re giving me when they gas us, it’s draining them.”

“Fuck,” Spike muttered, and then he seemed to realize something. He looked at her, sitting there in the middle of their small bathroom, unable to defend herself against a small child, and him towering over her, all vampire.

Enemies from the beginning.

She saw him weighing it. Saw the desire that spread across his face. He could kill her so easily. Could take her right there and there was nothing she could do. Maybe it was even what these people wanted.

And then he blinked and it was gone. Replaced by something that looked like fear and concern.

“We’ve got to get you out of here,” he said, his voice low. “Before they do something even worse.”

She stared at him. What could she do? She wasn’t even strong enough to untwist a screw. Except she should have been. Even before she’d had Slayer powers, she was strong enough. Strong enough to twist a screw at least. If they had taken her powers and just left her as she was before, she shouldn’t be this weak.

And then she had a thought.

“You need to bite me,” she said to Spike.

“What now?” He blinked at her.

“I don’t think they’ve gotten what they want,” she said quickly, and quietly. “If they had, they wouldn’t still be dousing us, but they are. They need something else. Or they need to keep doing it. But they need us. Or me. So bite me. Act like you’re going to kill me.”

“And what? Hope that they come in to stop me?”

“Something like that.”

“We can’t fight them.”

“We don’t have to,” she said. “We just have to get out and close the door.”

“This seems like a horrible plan,” Spike said. “First off, I could kill you. They could kill you. They could kill me. And that would be horrible.”

“It’s our only plan.”

“I could kill you,” Spike said. “I said that right? I’m a vampire, and you want me to bite you, taste your blood. Didn’t your boy toy Angel almost kill you when you let him feed on you? And he’s a good guy?”

He said the words in a mocking tone. And Buffy knew it was a bad idea. Everything screamed that it was a bad idea. Spike had wanted her dead for three years, and now she was offering herself up on a platter.

Except.

Except for some weird feeling inside her that told a different story.

“I trust you,” she said.

“Why?” Spike said. “I don’t even trust me.”

“I don’t know,” she said. “But I do.”

“And if you’re wrong? And I kill you?”

Buffy looked around, shrugged. “At least I don’t have to stay in here anymore.”

--

They waited another hour. Or what felt approximate to another hour. Buffy couldn’t tell if she felt better or worse with each passing minute. The sickness always seemed to subside between the gas sessions but now that she knew what they were doing she just felt weak. Except she couldn’t be. Because if she was, she was going to die locked in this cell and the only person who would even know would be a vampire who she was supposed to detest her and if he happened to make it out after that, he would probably bleed her friends dry before telling them the truth.

Or maybe he wouldn’t. But Buffy didn’t want to think about that right now. Instead, she concentrated on what would happen.

On what would happen if this worked. How they would need to get to the door, lock it from the outside and hope to whatever entity was out there that they could find a way to escape before they were captured again.

There were so many things that could go wrong, and death almost seemed like the best option of them all.

And so she waited. Laid on the cot and waited.

And then finally.

“Hey, Buffy.”

She looked over and met his eyes. They were soft, almost gentle. She felt herself shiver.

“I think it’s time for me to kill you now.” Even the words were gentle.

And then his face turned. And he leaped from the floor and on top of her. She closed her eyes. Waited.

She felt his body on hers, pressing against her. She felt his hand on her breast, placed there on accident. She felt his groin, pressing into her. And she felt him shift, lean down, felt the heat of his face beside hers.

His teeth grazed her skin, dug in just so.

An ear-piercing roar filled the cell.

She sprang upright as Spike stumbled backward, away from her, clutching his head, crying out in agony.

“What did they do to me?” he roared, and this time the rage was real.

He sprang toward her again, this time his body full of fury and horror. He crashed into her and they both went flying backward, hitting the wall. This time his teeth came down hard. She screamed, from the unexpectedness. He screamed too.

And he was off her again, clutching his head, his whole body writhing in agony.

And suddenly she knew that she wasn’t the only one who’d had something happen to her. She tried to figure out what to do, but she didn’t have time to think. Spike turned to her again and she could see the hatred and the rage in his eyes. Directed at her because she was the only one in this cell.

He came for her again. She screamed, and screamed again, as he sank his teeth into her neck, him screaming as he did so. She tried to shove him off, to hit him, to kick him, but her blows — stronger than they had been when she was just a normal girl but no where near Slayer strength — just bounced off. She tried to throw herself off the cot, to get away from him, but his hands were on her and he came with her, his teeth leaving her neck as he cried out in rage and pain and horror and then settled back on.

She was beginning to panic. She could feel it welling up inside of her, and she screamed again. But then something kicked in, that sense of being in control that she’d had since the day her powers had arrived.

She shoved him again and screamed, made an attempt to scramble out from under him. She didn’t even register at first the other feet, the other hands, the other bodies, until someone grabbed her, yanked her away. And then she realized.

She looked across the room, met Spike’s rage fueled eyes, and even as she did, she could see he saw it too.

Almost as if this had been their plan — and really, hadn’t it been their plan? — they each turned. There were four men. They each had to just get by two.

She aimed a well-placed elbow at one, hitting his chest. She aimed a kick at another, right at this groin. She glanced back to see Spike grab one of the men and throw him hard into the other. Spike screamed in agony, and Buffy bolted. Leaping over one man, flying toward the door. A hand went out to grab her. Spike stomped on it.

And then they were outside the room, tugging the door closed, twisting the lock on the outside. In the distance, they heard footsteps. Shouts. A quick glance told her cameras were above them.

“Run!” she screamed and grabbed Spike’s hand in hers. And then they were running down the hallway as fast as they could, flying through doors, practically tripping down stairs.

“I’m not sure this is the way,” he said as they ran.

“Me neither,” she said, as they pushed open a door that looked like it belonged to storage. Every bit of floor space filled with boxes and shelving and cabinets.

“Back there!” Spike pointed at something and then he was pulling her. A cargo elevator that looked like it hadn’t been used in decades.

They both paused as they approached, Buffy breathing hard, listening. They didn’t hear anything, but it didn’t mean no one was coming.

“What do we have to lose?” she finally said, and they climbed in.

The elevator was old, requiring a pulley to lower and raise it. Spike looked at her and then looked back at it.

“Up or down?” he said.

“We’ve got to be underground,” she said. “It smells like it.”

“Agreed.” He gestured to the rope. “Not sure I can do this alone.”

She moved to stand beside him. It was small in the elevator, smaller still beside the pulley. Their bodies were pressed together. It probably wasn’t smart, not with the blood still coming from her neck. Nor with the rage emanating from him. But it wasn’t her he was angry with.

They both reached up, their hands touching, something in the air seeming to tingle. Buffy didn’t look at Spike, just kept her focus on the rope as they began to pull at it.

But the rope wasn’t moving, the elevator wasn’t going anywhere, and somewhere in the distance Buffy could hear it — the sound of footsteps and voices. Shouts. They were coming. And this time she wasn’t sure there was anywhere to go.

She looked at Spike. He looked at her. And he didn’t look like a vampire in that moment. He looked like someone who had tried to help her, who had tried to save her.

He leaned toward her, and for a horrible moment she thought he was going to bite her, to finish the job. But then his lips met hers and she was in his arms, and their lips were together.

“If we’re going to die,” Spike whispered against her. “I at least want to know I did this.”

And then something unexpected happened. The rope they had been trying to pull suddenly began to move, wriggling out of their hands, and the elevator was moving — no, it was flying — hurtling upward through the shaft. And she was still in Spike’s arms and he was still holding her, and they were both looking upward, as the cargo elevator sped toward the ceiling far above them.

And then it stopped, about a hundred feet from the ceiling, crashing to a halt and sending them both to the ground. And then the doors flew open and there stood the best thing Buffy could ever ask for — the faces of her three best friends — and one other face she didn’t exactly recognize.

--

Willow pressed a new bandage against her neck, glaring over Buffy’s shoulder as she did so. “Are you protecting him for some reason? Did he threaten you?”

Buffy smiled at her friend’s protectiveness, but she shook her head. “No,” she said kindly. “I promise. Spike didn’t try to kill me. He was actually very noble that way.”

He did kiss me, she didn’t say, and he did a nice job with that too.

“You have bite marks, though.” Willow lifted the bandage to peer down at them.

“It was my idea to have him bite me,” she said. “We were trying to get them to open the door. And it worked.”

“We would have found you in there,” Willow said.

“Of course you would have,” Buffy said. “But we had to try.”

“By letting him bite you?”

“They drained my powers,” she said. “Or took them. I’m not sure which.”

She looked up at Giles who was holding a vial of her blood. “I’m going to get this over to the council’s recommended doctor right away,” he said. “They should be able to tell us if it’s reversible.”

“It better be reversible,” Buffy said. “I want to pummel in their faces.”

“You and me both,” Spike said from across the room.

“Probably not you,” Buffy replied.

“Yeah.” Tara — the new face and Willow’s new girlfriend, who Buffy had rudely missed the introduction of, having been occupied and help captive and all that — sat back from Spike. She was a witch too, and she had been able to use magic to see what had caused Spike all the pain. “It looks like some sort of chip. Like a computer processing chip. But it’s activated by …”

“Violence against humans,” Spike said.

“Yes.”

“And causes me all sorts of horrible pain.”

“Yes,” Tara agreed.

“Rubbish,” Spike grumbled. Tara didn’t look like she agreed, but she nodded.

“Sure,” she said.

“Can you get it out?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Are you just saying that?”

She shook her head more. “No!”

“Are you just saying that?”

“Spike,” Buffy cut in. “Leave her alone.”

“They put a chip in my brain,” he said.

“They took away my powers,” she said.

“I’m going to kill them. Or watch you kill them.”

“We’re going to stop them,” she said. “If we can figure out who them is.”

“Oh!” Willow said. “I think we know. We did some researching and stuff when you were gone. Missing, I mean. You weren’t just on vacation or something. We didn’t think that.”

“You thought I went on vacation?” Buffy raised a brow.

“No!” Willow said. “Of course not! But it’s not like you haven’t ever, you know, disappeared before or something?”

Buffy thought she should be offended. Instead she just motioned. “Okay,” she said. “Show us what you found.”

--

Buffy stared at the photos Willow had pinned to the whiteboard in Giles’ living room. Professor Walsh and Graham. Another student she had seen named Forrest.

And Riley.

Riley her teacher’s assistant. Riley who flirted with her. Riley who she thought at one point she might actually have a crush on.

“He seemed so nice,” she said.

“They all do,” Willow said. “And then they disappear into a secret military ops site underground in Sunnydale and hunt demons and perform experiments on them and kidnap Vampire Slayers to steal her powers for themselves.”

“You think that’s what they’re doing?” Buffy asked.

Willow nodded. “It makes sense,” she said, “And goes with what you said Professor Walsh told you. That her soldiers should be protecting the world. If she could give all of them the power of a Slayer …”

“They’d be unstoppable,” Buffy said. “And also very dangerous.”

“Tell me about it,” Spike said. “Doesn’t anyone believe in rights anymore?”

“Vampire rights?” Willow said, eyebrows raised.

“It’s a thing!” Spike protested.

“Is it though?” Xander asked.

“So what do we do?” Buffy said. “We do need to stop them.”

“I don’t know that we can stop them until you have your powers fully back,” Willow said carefully. “But when you do, I have a plan.”

“Do you?”

“It’s a little risky.”

Buffy smiled. “Isn’t it always?”

“And in the meantime,” Giles said. “We gather information. When we go in fighting these people, we need to know exactly what we are fighting.”

--

It turned out they were fighting more than a squadron of military men being injected with a serum to hopefully give them Slayer powers. They were also fighting their very own Frankenstein, named Adam. Something stronger and more powerful than anything else that walked the earth.

“They don’t know what they are doing,” Buffy said, looking over the photos Willow had snagged of the carnage this monster had left behind. “They think they are protected the world, but they are just unleashing something worse on to the world.”

“They are blinded by purpose,” Willow said.

“We have to stop them,” Buffy said.

Willow patted her on the shoulder. “We will,” she said. “Don’t worry.”

--

The team went out for the first time a couple nights after their rescue. Well, most of the team. Buffy and Spike were both ordered to stay put, safe in Xander’s basement habitat where no one would think to look. Giles’ apartment seemed too obvious as did Buffy’s house, and Willow’s house didn’t have a place where they wouldn’t be seen. But no one went into Xander’s basement except for him, and sometimes Anya.

“I hate this,” Buffy said. “I hate staying back.”

She had argued that point unsuccessfully. She hadn’t gotten her powers back yet; they were still being worked on, and even though she said she didn’t feel as weak anymore, it was a hard sell when she was clumsier than before and especially when she had sunk to the ground when Xander had jumped on her back.

“I just wasn’t ready,” she’d protested but no one believed her. As they shouldn’t.

And of course there was the other reason, the one she didn’t like to think about. That the Initiative, as Willow had discovered they were called, probably weren’t too happy about her escape or that of Spike’s and they wanted them back. To see if Spike’s chip worked. To test it, maybe refine it. And to keep siphoning her powers, to harness them for the others. Willow estimated that they maybe could have given them about a quarter of her strength and agility, but they couldn’t be happy with that. And if she were out there in the night with them, she was an easy target.

The team couldn’t risk that. Buffy couldn’t risk it. Spike couldn’t risk it.

And so she and Spike were here. Together. Just the two of them.

They hadn’t talked about it, that kiss in the cargo elevator, hadn’t even mentioned it. She’d thought about it. Sure. Who wouldn’t? But they hadn’t talked about it. It was possible he didn’t even remember it.

“It wasn’t just because we thought we were going to die.” He said it suddenly, out of no where. She looked up from the book she wasn’t reading but was pretending she was. She kept pretending, trying to look confused.

“What?”

“You know what,” he said. “And I just want you to know. It wasn’t because we thought we were going to die.”

“Maybe it was for me?”

“Was it?

“Maybe,” she said, rather unconvincingly.

“I think it wasn’t,” he said.

“Are you really that sure about it?”

“Want me to prove it?” He leaned closer. She could feel his skin on hers even though he wasn’t touching her. She could see his eyes boring into her soul. This demon who risked his life for her. Who saved her. Who could have killed her but chose to take care of her instead.

“Prove it to me,” she said, and she didn’t even know why she was saying such things — this was Spike. Spike! — but yet there she was, leaning toward him even as he leaned toward her, and their lips were meeting and then she was pressed against him as he kissed her, hard and deep and intense.

She didn’t even remember taking her clothes off, or Spike taking his clothes off, but he was laying her back against Xander’s beat up couch and sliding down her body and spreading her legs, and then his head was between them and his tongue was on her, sliding up and down, and then her clit was in his mouth and she was crying out, and his hands were on her hips, holding her in place and he was eating her like she was the best thing he had ever tasted, and she was moaning and bucking up against him and then he was sliding inside her and he was hot and full and they were thrusting against each other, moaning and groaning as hands slipped over chests and nails dug into flesh, and her legs were around his waist and his cock was big and pressed way back against her, and it felt so wrong and so right all at the same time, and she couldn’t have stopped even if she wanted to, and she definitely didn’t want to, and they clung together and moved together and moaned together and then finally the pleasure overtook her and she screamed out his name as her body shook beneath him and a few moments later she felt him come inside her and they sank down together on the couch, still wrapped around each other and lost in a haze of something.

Bliss maybe. Agony. Something.

She closed her eyes as she lay there, Spike’s hand still on her hip, his cock still against her leg. She should probably regret it, she knew she should. No one would ever understand. Except …

She turned to look at him, at Spike, at the way he was looking at her.

“You could have killed me,” she said. “So many times when we were locked together. I was so weak. I could barely sit up. Or the times when I was unconscious and you weren’t.”

Spike lifted his hands, spread them wide.

“Funny thing,” he said. “Turns out I really couldn’t have.”

“Maybe not,” Buffy said. “But you didn’t know that. And you didn’t try.”

“How do you know I didn’t try? How do you know I didn’t try to suck up your blood that first time when you appeared in my cage?”

“You know I would feel a bite mark on my neck if you left one there?”

“I still could have tried,” he said. “And I just didn’t get anywhere. Maybe I — I don’t know — accidentally punched you first or something.”

“You didn’t.”

“But how do you know?”

“Why are you trying so hard to get me to doubt you?” Buffy shook her head. “I thought you wanted this.” She gestured to their naked bodies.

“Of course I wanted this. I’m evil.”

“Mmmmm,” Buffy said. “So it’s tarnishing your evil reputation if anyone finds out you helped a Slayer instead of killed her.”

“Something like that.”

“I won’t tell,” Buffy said.

“Because you don’t want your friends to know,” Spike said, and Buffy didn’t think he was asking a question.

She looked away, suddenly feeling extremely bare, even though her clothes had long ago been discarded.

“Something like that,” she said.

“We don’t have to tell anyone about this,” Spike said. “About us.”

“I don’t know that there is an about us,” Buffy said, but even as she said it, she felt a small pang.

“It would be weird,” Spike said. “A Slayer in love with a vampire. What kind of weird relationship is that even?”

Buffy couldn’t help it. She laughed. Then she looked at the clock.

“They won’t be back for a while still,” she said. “Want to fuck me again before they get back?”

Spike shrugged. “If that’s what you want,” he said, but he was already shifting on top of her.

--

Her powers came back. Slower than she would have liked, but thanks to treatments from the Watchers Council — disgusting liquids she hoped never to put in her mouth again — and a little magic from Willow and Tara, she felt as good as new. Powerful. Strong. And ready to take down these people once and for all.

Spike stood watching them get ready.

“I can help with the fighting,” he said again, for about the fiftieth time in the past hour.

“You can’t fight humans,” Buffy said.

“Adam isn’t human,” he replied.

“And we’re fighting him with magic.”

That was the plan. Get in, subdue the Initiative, destroy Adam using a spell from Willow that would combine all their essences — including Spike’s. And then destroy the compound, using some explosives that Xander had secured for them. Make sure they couldn’t go after anyone else. Not humans, no vampires.

“They might come after you once you do this,” Giles had warned them all, but Buffy had answered for them.

“Let them try.”

--

Spike caught her hand before they all headed out.

“Be there in a second,” she called to the others.

“We’ll wait for you!” Xander shouted back. “Not like you’re important to the plan!”

She turned back to Spike, reached up and touched his head, above his ear. They weren’t exactly sure where the chip was placed, but she knew the pain was always there.

“If you could get the chip out,” she said quietly. “Would you want to?”

It was something she had been thinking about. She knew it made the others more comfortable. Giles had even agreed to let Spike stay with him for a while. And the others had at least stopped glaring at him and plotting his death every minute.

But she had seen him, the man beneath the monster, when they were in that cell. She saw the way he had looked at her before he knew about the chip. She saw the way he had tried to protect her, and not just because he thought she could help save him. There were moments in that cell she couldn’t have saved anyone from anything, and he knew that. But he hadn’t tried to kill her or use her in exchange for his own freedom. If anything, he had sacrificed for her.

She had no illusions that he wasn’t still a monster, that there wasn’t still a demon inside him that didn’t care about anything or anyone else. And yet, something had changed, and not just because they were having sex.

She waited now, for his answer.

“If it means losing you,” he finally answered. “Then no thanks. I’ll keep it.”

“What if keeping it doesn’t mean you have me?” she said. “You said it yourself. This is complicated.”

His eyes met hers. Serious, steady, unwavering. “I’ll take that chance,” he said, and Buffy had to restrain the instinct to throw herself at him. Her friends were standing just outside. Instead, she pushed herself up on her toes, leaned in and pressed her lips to his.

“Don’t die tonight,” she said to him.

“You either Slayer,” he said. “That would be a real bummer.”

--

They walked toward the hidden entrance to the compound, quickly and quietly, everyone focused on the task at hand, the murmurs between them mostly sporadic. As they drew closer to the campus, Willow put her hand on Buffy’s arm and held her back.

“Hey,” Buffy said, looking at her friend. “You’ve got this.”

“I know I do,” Willow said. “I wanted to check with you.”

“Oh, I’ve got this too,” Buffy said, trying to sound very serious. “Slayer strength? Check. Slayer moves? More check.”

Willow laughed. “I meant I wanted to check in with you about Spike.”

“About Spike?” Buffy frowned, but at the same time she felt the flush in her cheeks.

“I see you two,” Willow said, with a tiny smile.

“You see us?”

“You don’t have to pretend with me.”

Buffy shook her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Look,” Willow said. “Is he an evil, blood sucking demon who would rather kill you than befriend you? Yes, of course. Does some stupid chip stuck in his brain that gives him horrible pain if he does try to kill you rather than befriend you change anything? No, not really. See the evil blood sucking demon part. But does he, for some reason, care about you? And not like Slayer Buffy but Buffy Buffy?” Willow nodded. “Yeah, I think he does,” she said. “And so if you want to, like, care about him back and be his friend or whatever … then, you know, I think you should.”

“Should be his friend?” Buffy said carefully.

“Well, what else would you be?” Willow said, and Buffy saw it, that twinkle in her eye, and she felt her flush go redder, but then she grinned.

“Nothing that I can think of.”

“Nothing that I can think of either,” Willow said. “Now let’s go bring down an Initiative.”

--

Buffy awoke.

Her body ached, every muscle sore, every join stiff. The mattress below her was so much harder than she was used to. The sheet covering her might as well have been transparent.

She rolled to her side to see Spike awake, leaning on an elbow, and watching her.

“Morning Slayer,” he said. “Thought you were going to sleep forever.”

“Mmmm,” Buffy said, shifting a little and letting the sheet drop just so. “Don’t I deserve a little sleep after last night? We won, you know.”

“You always win. When do you not win?”

She almost said, “When I get captured by shadowy Initiative figures” but she didn’t say that.

“I do always win, don’t I?”

“Except against a certain vampire?”

“Angel?” she asked innocently, widening her eyes.

“Don’t make me bite you.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” Buffy grinned. “And I mean that literally. It would hurt.”

It would hurt. And it would hurt for a long time. There had been a moment the night before, in between fighting Adam and taking down the compound, where Willow had said something.

“I could probably get the chip out,” she said. “I think a surgeon put it in, but I could probably get it out with magic. Or at least stop it from working.”

“Isn’t it your job to stop vampires?” Spike had said to her.

“I wouldn’t feel right staking you if you have a chip in your head,” Willow had answered. “It’s not polite.”

“Yeah, I think I’ll just leave it then,” Spike had said.

“If you wish.”

He had glanced then in Buffy’s direction. “Yeah,” he’d said. “I do wish.”

She hadn’t mentioned it again, or told anyone else what she had asked him. And after everything was over, Buffy had offered to walk Spike home, to make sure his crypt was all in one piece — “I owe him at least that,” she had told the others — but they were too high on their own celebrations to really question it.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen next,” she said to him now.

He smiled at her. “I do.”

“You do?”

“Sex,” he said. “Sex is going to happen next. Maybe a lot before you need to get home so your Mum doesn’t worry.”

“I meant after the sex,” Buffy said. “After the celebration is done. After everything goes back to normal.”

“Maybe it’s not important,” Spike said.

“How is it not important?”

“Because it’s okay to not know how things are going to go,” Spike said. “Besides, I’m sure some other demon will show up to end the world and we will have to save it. That’s probably what’s going to happen next.”

Buffy couldn’t help but laugh. “That does sound about right.”

“And as long as I can help it, I’ll be right here by your side.”

“It won’t be easy.”

“It was never going to be easy”

“And you’re okay with that?”

Spike laughed. “Of course I’m okay with that. I wouldn’t be here with you if I weren’t.” He reached out and grabbed her, pulled her into him.

“I don’t like easy anyway,” he said, and Buffy let him place his lips on hers.

“Yeah,” she said. “Me either.”