Return to Me (continued)

Chapter 10

AN - Sorry about the delay, guys. But you know, had to get into the holiday thing, and then the shopping, and Christmas decorating. Woo and hoo. Lol. Anyway, hope to have the updates more regular now, especially with the hiatus. I'll have more time. *g* So, on with the story. Lisa.


A day later, Willow was driving with steadfast determination towards the Hyperion. Buffy hadn't been able to stand the worry anymore. Images of her friends, hurt, or worse, kept rolling around her head, threatening to make her insane. After they had driven for hours, they stopped at a sleazy roadside motel. The man behind the counter had looked at Willow, the gleam in his eyes making her skin crawl. She'd been just about to give him a little zap, when Mark walked in behind her, his large, menacing presence making the greasy little man stumble through the registration process.

Willow gave him a sweet smile when he handed her the key, and suppressed the shudder that threatened when his dirty, sweaty fingers brushed hers. The hunter glared at him, ensuring the rest of their evening would be uninterrupted.

When they limped into the room, they purposefully didn't notice the creaky old bed, the threadbare carpet, or the evidence of bug infestation, and set about wrapping broken bones and cleaning up. While Willow and Mark were in the bathroom, Buffy sat out on the bed, taking shallow breaths because of the cracked rib, and went over all that had happened. In a million years she never would have believed Riley would go back on the happy juice. Willingly that is. And this time, instead of just man-made drugs, they were milking the power out of vamps and using it. Her stomach rolled at the portrait her mind happily created of just HOW they'd gotten that stuff out of Spike.

The thought of the horror Spike had endured, had tears spilling down her cheeks. Her heart squeezed as her overactive mind went into high gear. Her worry intensified, but she resisted the urge to pick up the phone and call the Hyperion. They'd all agreed to go silent until they met up in LA, just in case. She promised herself, despite Riley's vampire enhanced strength, that she would exact revenge on the bastard even if it killed her. Again.

She had then laid down and drifted into sleep, exhaustion and the adrenalin crash finally wearing her out. She woke up several times, however, plagued by nightmares and memories. Visions of the years following her return from heaven had twisted and turned, until they were one long movie of torture, all of which ended with her unable to find Spike. Her stomach turned queasily at the idea. He had come to mean so much to her, that the thought of him not there hurt. She'd had an eight month taste of it, and she vowed never to let it happen again.

That's why, when Mark and Willow had finally roused from sleep, she had insisted they leave. She needed to see if they were okay. If Spike was okay.

And so, they left. They'd driven for nearly five hours, and finally, the exit for LA had come into sight. Buffy's heart slammed painfully in her chest. She was terrified of what she would find when they got there.

As soon as Willow pulled to a stop in front of the hotel, Buffy was out of the car, ignoring the twinge of pain from her nearly healed rib. She left the witch and the hunter to follow, and trudged up the front steps. She burst through the front doors and looked around the lobby, barely acknowledging Cordy and the rest of the AI team, searching for her friends.

"You're early," Cordy observed, recognizing the glazed panic look in the Slayer's eyes. She nodded to Willow and Mark when they walked in, then looked back at Buffy.

"Are they here?" Buffy demanded, stalking over to the former prom queen.

"Yeah. Angel and Spike are upstairs. The others are in the kitchen, eating." She'd barely finished speaking when the tiny blonde shot past Connor and took off up the stairs. "Room 217," Cordy called after her, rolling her eyes. "Come on in. You look a little worse for wear."

"Does Wesley have any magic supplies? I need to fix Mark's wrist, and I didn't have time to bring anything with me," the redhead asked, smiling at Connor, who was eyeing Mark suspiciously.

"I'm sure he does. He's in the office if you want to go ask."

"Thanks." The two turned and walked towards Wes's office, without another look back.

"Nothing like a life threatening situation to bring out the rudeness in people, huh Connor?" The boy just shrugged a shoulder and looked nervously at the stairs. He wasn't sure how he felt about his father being upstairs with one of the creatures he'd made when he was soulless. And he sure didn't understand the group of humans from Sunnydale going through so much trouble to save him.

Cordy watched the child she considered her son, despite his only being a few years younger than her, and smiled. He still saw things in black and white, and had a hard time with the shades of grey. And it didn't help that Angel had burst in the morning before, in a smoking blaze of glory, carrying an unconscious, and surprisingly invisible, Spike in his arms. He'd given Cordy a brief description of what had happened, and his conclusion that things had gone bad when Buffy had called.

He also warned her of the impending Scooby invasion, before spiriting his childe upstairs. He'd been up there since then, only coming down once for blood.

"Why don't you go meet Gunn and Fred at the vamp nest down by the docks? It'll do you good to get out of here for a while," she suggested.

"Okay," Connor said, grateful for the distraction. He quickly trotted out the door, not even saying goodbye.

"See, just what I said. Brings out the inner rudeness like the plague," she mumbled to herself, staring at the door for a long minute, before going back to her paperwork.

~*~*~

Buffy skidded to a stop outside of room 217, and clutched the doorknob. She started in surprise when the door swung open and she was faced with Angel in full game face.

"It's just me," she snapped, testily, and tried to move past him. He growled and blocked her, glaring down at her with gold eyes. "Let me in." Her voice was low and dangerous. Her fingers itched to give him a good punch, especially after the royal ass kicking they had received from Riley.

"He's asleep," Angel told her, angling his body so she couldn't get around him. With a sigh, Buffy pulled out the one thing that always used to work on Spike. With a quick snap, she plowed her tiny fist into Angel's nose with a satisfying crunch. The brunette snarled and stumbled back a step. It was just enough for her to slip past him and into the room. "Buffy, goddammit," he cursed, reaching for her. She evaded him easily and practically ran to the bed. She had to see him, had to make sure he was alright.

"Spike?" she whispered, and gingerly crawled onto the bed. She got as close as she could, and stared down into the handsome face that had haunted her dreams for too long. He turned towards her, but didn't open his eyes. She glanced over at the severely pissed off looking Angel. "What happened?"

"I don't know, exactly," he replied, shifting back into human face when he realized she wasn't leaving. "We were talking, waiting for you to call, when he just hit the floor, screaming." Buffy remembered when Riley had pulled out the remote control looking thing, and figured it must have worked. He must have expected Spike to still be in the house, and when he hadn't heard the scream, thought it was broken. Too bad it hadn't been. Buffy nodded, turned back to the younger vamp, and settled herself down next to him.

"What happened with you?" Angel settled on the other side and stretched out.

"Riley. He's on some kind of drug. A drug he got out of Spike. Or some other vamp. He wasn't real specific."

"What?!" She looked up at his incredulous outburst, and gave him a bitter smile.

"Yeah, he was real forthcoming while he was kicking our asses. He pulled out some tube full of clear liquid. Called it essence of vampire. My guess? They're shooting it up, and it's somehow giving them the strength of a really strong vamp." Buffy traced a finger over the scarred brow of the sleeping vamp. "Is he alright?"

"I think he will be. Just needs to heal. He's taking blood, and he has woken up since yesterday. But whatever happened, took a lot out of him."

"The chip. Riley had some device. He pressed the button. Looked really pissed when nothing happened. I think they modified the chip. Maybe as some sort of self destruct."

"Then, we have to get it out," Angel said decisively. Buffy smiled again, this one a bit more genuine.

"Yeah," she agreed, then leaned down to rest her cheek on Spike's chest. Angel watched the two as he listened to Buffy's breathing slow and deepen. Her hand fisted in her sleep on the stomach she had it laying on, bunching the t-shirt in her fingers. Spike's head turned towards her, and he tucked his chin on the top of her head.

A sad smile tugged at Angel's mouth. He'd known, for a long time, how his childe felt about the Slayer. After the team had returned from Pylea and Willow had been here to meet them, to tell him about her death, Angel had taken a trip to Sunnydale. He wanted to pay his respects to the girl that had taught him how to love, before he went on his sabbatical to grieve. He found Spike keeping a midnight vigil on her grave. Their first instinct when they saw each other was to fight. After that had played out, and they were both lying panting on the ground from exertion, they began to talk. Really talk. Something they had never done before. He'd been shocked to find out all that had happened to his childe, and to the tiny group of humans he had left behind. Spike hadn't said the words, but Angel could tell the depth of emotion he felt, just by the way he said the Slayer's name.

They had parted, just as the sun was threatening to rise, not friends, but with a better understanding of each other. Bridges had been repaired, enough so that when Buffy had called for his help, there hadn't really been any question if he would, outside of his normal reservations.

What he hadn't been sure of, was Buffy's feelings for the blonde vamp. The past few days had shouted them loud and clear, and Angel found himself finally able to let the girl she had been go.

With a tired sigh, Angel scooted further down on the bed, and closed his eyes. It didn't take long for him to follow the blonde pair into sleep.

~*~*~

"So, that's what we know," Buffy said, crossing her arms over her chest, and drawing her eyes around the room. "And unfortunately, most of it's just speculation." The Sunnydale group was assembled in the lobby, along with Angel. The AI team was keeping a conspicuous distance behind the desk.

"It's better than nothing," Xander said.

"So, what do we do?" Dawn asked, trying not to glance over at the attractive young man across the room.

"I don't know. We need to get the chip out. I don't want to take him to a doctor, though. Not since we don't know just how far Riley's reach extends." Buffy gnawed gently at her bottom lip, her mind turning over their options. Unfortunately they didn't have too many.

"Will, could you. . poof it out?" Anya asked. The redhead thought on it for a minute, and looked a little doubtful

"Maybe. I don't think I could do it alone. We'd need a place I could work, uninterrupted, and that has magic barriers in place. This place is just too big. And home is too dangerous." She lapsed into silence, staring down at hers and Mark's linked fingers. She seemed to be puzzling something over, and Mark had a sinking feeling he knew what it was.

"Will?" Buffy prodded, feeling the weight of time limits pressing on her back. The witch looked up, glancing at Buffy before turning her green gaze to her lover. A thousand things were said between them, none of them in words. Mark's fingers tightened around Willow's before he nodded, and offered her a smile.

"Go ahead," he urged. She stared at him for another second, before turning back to them.

"I know where we can go. It'll take a few hours to get there. But it should be safe."

"Good. Will that signal blocker work that long?" Buffy shifted her attention to the demon hunter.

"It should. It obviously doesn't work on the other remote Finn had," Mark reminded her.

"Yeah, let's hope he doesn't have another one with him. I broke the one he had on him."

"Alright, let's mount up," Dawn said enthusiastically. Buffy arched a brow at her sister's excitement.

"I don't think so."

"But.. ."

"No. I want you, Xander and Anya to stay here. He tossed us around like we were rag dolls, and Willow's magic couldn't touch him. I don't want you three anywhere near him. I mean it, Dawn," she reiterated, when the teen seemed ready to argue. She wasn't any happier about leaving them behind than they were about being left. Especially with the looks Dawn and Connor had been throwing at each other for the last hour. But, it couldn't be helped. Deal with crazy, psycho ex now. Overly hormonal teenagers later.

"If Willow's magic can't touch him, how will magical barriers help?" Anya asked, her eyes curious.

"They'll give us an alarm, and at least let us know they're coming," Willow answered.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Angel's voice cut through the conversation, drawing all eyes to him.

"What do you mean?" Buffy's voice held a dangerous edge.

"I mean, he is soulless. What if, once the chip's out, he goes back to killing?" A stunned silence settled over the room. None of them had actually considered the possibility. And from the look on Buffy's face, she wasn't going to. He didn't flinch under her scrutiny, just stared steadily at her, waiting. His face showed no expression, almost like he was trying to make sure of what her intentions were before he allowed his childe to go.

"You tell me, Angel," she spat, tossing her hair. "You've been doing the whole blood sharing thing with him over the last couple of days. Do you think he'll go back to killing?"

Angel waited a beat before answering.

"No." The tension swirling between the two was thick enough to cut with a knife, and the observers wondered just what it would take to break it. And just what would be left standing when it was over.

"I don't either. Then again, I never doubted him." Accusation coated each word, but Angel did nothing to defend himself. He had to fight the smile that threatened, at being proven right. "Get whatever you need ready. We're leaving at sunset." With the declaration, she turned on her heel and stalked up the stairs to return to Spike. The others watched her, all of them wrapped up in their own fears and worries, wondering if this would be the last time they saw each other.


Chapter 11

"Come."

"Sir, there's no sign of them."

"Have you checked the Hyperion?"

"Yes sir. The only people there are Gunn, Chase, Wyndham-Pryce, and a girl we have no information on."

"Has someone been inside yet?"

"No sir. They also seem to have a green demon working for them."

"I don't care if they have a 300 pound Fyarl demon working there. Get inside and look. We're returning to base tomorrow. I want something to take back with us." Cold blue eyes regarded the soldier, making the young man nervous. Their commander hadn't seemed quite right since the night he returned form the Slayer's house, angry as they had ever seen him. Finn had barked out a few orders, then disappeared into his room, where it sounded like he was systematically tearing it apart. He'd emerged the next morning with orders for them to go to LA and survey the hotel the vampire called Angel owned. They had found nothing. The young soldier, whose name was Simmons, felt they should have returned to base immediately to get another tracking device, as well as a few more troops. Who knew how far the vampire and his friends could have gotten by now. He didn't dare suggest it, though. No one could be sure of how Finn would react to recommendations.

"Yes sir." With a smart snap of his heels, Simmons turned and left the room, leaving Riley Finn to roll the events of the other night over and over through his mind. A crazed rage tore through him every time he did this, and he vowed that the Slayer, and her friends, would share the same fate as the vampire.

Termination.

~*~*~

It was well after eleven by the time Mark turned Xander's SUV onto the small, dirt road.

The trip had been silent, each passenger lost in their own thoughts. Buffy and Angel were in the back seat, flanking Spike. He had woken up before they left, making it to the car on his own, but fell asleep soon after they got on their way. His head rested against Buffy's shoulder and she absently stroked his hand while she looked out the specially treated windows as the city trailed away to the country.

Angel dozed on and off, the strain of the last couple of days finally catching up with him. He was leaning up against the door, his head tilted back against the seat.

Willow sat in the passenger seat, next to Mark, trying to ignore the apprehension that was lacing through her. Her slim fingers twisted in her lap, and her stomach churned dangerously. Memories assailed her, pooling tears in her eyes, and threatening to crack her heart.

Mark sat silently next to her, his handsome face a stoic mask. To look at him, he seemed calm and dangerous. His inky black eyes never left the road, his long fingered hands never strayed from the wheel. He seemed ready for anything. The only thing was, that wasn't completely the truth. He could kill a demon without blinking. He could jump headfirst into the path of a charging Tunick demon -- large, elephant shaped beasts, that smelled like three week old garbage -- without a tremor of fear. But this, this he couldn't face as easily. As the house rose into sight, his heart slammed against his chest, and bile rose in the back of his throat.

It was a quaint, pretty little house, with whitewashed sides and dark shutters. Their headlights hit the two patches of brightly colored flowers that lined either side of the porch steps. It was two level, with a wide front porch that had a swing on it. It seemed to just beg you to come spend a lazy day swinging idly, watching the grass grow. A cat stared back at them from one of the railings, its wide green eyes reflecting in the light. It was big and fat, black with white patches on its face.

When they pulled to a stop, the cat merely blinked, seemingly unaffected by late night visitors. Willow and Mark stared at the house, each dreading going in for different reasons.

"Spike." Buffy's quiet voice broke them out of their thoughts, and they shared a brief glance before starting to get out. Buffy ran the backs of her knuckles along Spike's cheek and offered him a soft smile when his lids fluttered open. "We're here." He stared at her for a brief second, before his eyes cleared. He nodded and pushed himself up, then allowed Angel to help him slide from the car. Buffy came out right behind him and wrapped her arm around his waist. To her surprise, Angel stepped aside and let her support Spike. A curious look crossed her face before she turned and started towards Mark and Willow. Spike arched a brow at how they were just standing, staring.

"It's just a house. Last time I checked, they don't bite," he quipped, giving them a ghost of his trademark smirk.

"Ever seen the Shining?" Mark shot back, offering his own, tight smile. Spike snorted and took a deep, purposeful breath. He couldn't remember the last time he was in a place like this. The air was rich with the perfume of flowers and trees, and the slight, musky scent of horses. His advanced hearing picked up on said animals, moving restlessly in their stalls, somewhere behind the house.

"Well, we can't just stand here all night," Angel prodded.

"Of course not. We're going in. Now," Willow said, her voice overly cheerful and pasting a bright smile on her face, and starting towards the steps. Her hands continured to twist in front of her, but she seemed determined. The others followed her, Mark a little slower than the rest. By the time they made it up the steps, Willow had pulled open the screen door and raised, then dropped, her hand three times before finally rapping her knuckles against the simple wood door.

No sound came from inside, and Willow cast a nervous glance at the rest of the small group. She then knocked again, this time louder. Her eyes widened to comical proportions when the sound of a voice -- a distinctly MALE voice -- drifted out to them.

"Coming!" it said, sounding disgruntled. Five mouths dropped open in shock when the door swung wide, revealing a tall, leanly built man, with the oddest colored hair they'd ever seen. Well, since Spike first showed up in Sunnydale, anyway. It was long and purple, and stuck up a bit, suggesting further that he had been asleep. He was barefoot and dressed in only a pair of boxers. Eyes the coolest shade of grey regarded them tiredly, seeming to clear up and sharpen when they landed on Willow. Recognition flared in them, followed quickly by wariness. He tensed visibly, and pulled the door a bit closer to his body.

"I-I'm sorry. I must have the wrong house," Willow stuttered breathlessly. She was blushing to the roots of her hair at seeing the stranger in his underwear, and emabarassed for waking him up. Spike was about to tell her that no she didn't, but the guy at the door beat him to it.

"No, you don't." Willow's eyes bugged when she realized he recognized her.

"D-do I know you?" she gasped, barely noticing the way Mark had taken a step towards her, ready to protect.

"No. You don't," he said again, heaving a deep sigh. "But I know you. She's not here. Had to run into town. One of the ladies she reads for was having a crisis of some sort or the other," he told her, seeming to resign himself to something. "Come in." He pushed the door open again and turned away from it, walking into the small living room to his right.

The group shared a look before Willow took a hesitant step inside, followed by Mark, who was looking dangerous, Buffy and Spike, then finally Angel. The brunette vampire closed the door and took a brief glance around, taking in the soft, pastel walls and gleaming hardwood floors with woven rugs, before moving into the living room with the others.

The purple haired man strode across the room and snatched a faded old t-shirt from the back of an ancient rocking chair. The only light in the room came from the small tv in the corner sitting on a bookcase filled with books. A fireplace rested next to this, with the rocker on the other side. A slight click was heard, then light flooded the room, allowing them to see the rest. A large area rug in soft pastels covered the floors, a couch with wooden feet, and tiny roses on its cream fabric rested against the right wall. A pillow and throw blanket indicated where the stranger had been sleeping. A simple coffee table stood in front of that, with a few magazines and books strewn across. A large window with lace curtains stood at the man's back.

As soon as they had entered the room, Willow knew she was in the right place. The energy in the air was warm and familiar. Unfortunately, it set her even more on edge than when she first knocked on the door. She turned towards the eyes that were watching her with a hawk-like intensity, and blinked nervously.

"I-I'm sorry. You know who I am?"

"Yes. Willow Rosenberg. And unless I miss my guess, that's Buffy Summers and Spike, although the hair's off. I'd say one of you was Xander Harris, but other than the dark hair and eyes, I don't see the resemblence." He pointed to the brunettes, and gave a half shrug. Spike snorted at the look Angel got on his face at that.

"Well," Mark growled, narrowing his eyes and taking a step forward. "It seems you have us at a disadvantage. Care to tell us who the hell you are?" His dark gaze glinted dangerously, to which the other man merely arched a brow.

"Mark," Willow rested a hand on his arm and gave her head a slight shake, her green eyes begging him to back down. With a sigh and a small smile, he did, but shot a glare at the man for good measure.

"Me, I'm. . ." The slamming of the front door cut him off, and six pairs of eyes turned to the living room door.

"Tara," Willow breathed, feeling her heart thud in her chest. She could feel Mark's intense gaze on her as she drank in the sight of her former lover. She could feel his apprehension, but she couldn't do anything about it. Not when all the memories and feelings were pressing down on her, threatening to crush her. What she didn't realize, was that the man behind them was staring at the two women with the same fierceness.

"I knew you were coming. I'm sorry, I was hoping to be back before you got here," Tara said, without a hint of her former stutter. She looked at all the faces in the room, smiling at each of them. When her eyes landed on the still unnamed man, she rolled her eyes.

"Johnny, why don't you put some pants on?" she said with an amused smile. "And start some coffee too, please."

"Anything you want, babe." Nobody missed the way he stressed the endearment, almost as if he was staking his claim. After he left the room, Tara walked over to Spike, smiling at Buffy before she laid a soft, warm hand against his cheek.

"Hi, Spike."

"Hey there, Glinda. You're looking good," he told her, running his blue eyes over her face. And she did. Her straight, honeyed hair was pulled into a loose knot on the top of her head. Her eyes were clear and happy, her skin practically glowing. She was wearing a soft, flowing dress that swirled around her knees and hugged her bodice, showing off her slimmer form. An air of confidence circulated around her.

"Wish I could say the same for you," she teased lightly, worry creasing her brown.

"I've been worse."

"I don't think so. But don't worry. We'll get you fixed up," she assured. Then she did something that totally shocked him, she pushed up on her toes, and brushed a gentle kiss on his mouth. "It's good to see you," she told him, smiling at his shocked expression.

"You too," he told her honestly. She turned to Buffy then.

"Why don't you take him to the room at the end of the hall. There's heavy curtains in there, he can get some rest. And so can you. Angel, why don't you help her." She turned that gaze to the brunette vamp, surprising him. He'd only met Tara once, a few years back.

"Sure." He moved to slide his other arm around Spike, surprised when he felt his childe's body vibrating with the effort it was taking to keep himself on his feet.

"Thank you, Tara," Buffy said, as they started from the room. There was so much more to say, and her impatience was threatening to explode, but the tension coming from the couple behind her urged her to keep quiet for once. Resigned to the fact that nothing was going to be done tonight, she walked with the two vamps to the room at the end of the hall.

That left Tara, Mark and Willow in the living room, staring at each other. Willow opened her mouth to try to say something, but her tongue seemed to be twisted into knots. Mark's face hardened as he watched his love, and he felt his heart crack. There was such a look of longing on her features, it hurt his eyes to look at her.

"I'm going to get the bags," he muttered, pushing past Willow and barely acknowledging Tara as he went by. The blonde girl turned to watch him go, and didn't flinch when the front door slammed. Johnny chose that moment to walk back in, wearing a pair of jeans that were almost as faded as his t-shirt, and looking a little apprehensive himself.

"Coffee's on," he told her, his eyes searching her face. He relaxed a bit when she smiled at him, but tensed again with her next words.

"Johnny, why don't you go help with the bags? Then, you can go on up to bed. You have to get up early," she reminded him, hating the flare of doubt in his eyes.

"You'll be up, later?"

"Of course. Now, go," she prodded gently, her own blue eyed gaze begging him to understand.

"All right," he agreed reluctantly, looking between them for a moment, before turning to the door.

"Do you want some coffee?" No, Willow thought, I don't want some coffee. A thousand questions were springing around in her head, not the least of which was 'Who is Johnny, and what is he to you?', but she nodded and followed the blonde down the hall and into the cheery kitchen. Tara ushered her to the table that sat against the wall in front of a window that looked out into the dense trees beside the house.

"I like your house," she said, feeling stupid. She hadn't been this nervous in a long time.

"Thanks," Tara said with a smile while she poured two steaming mugs of coffee. "I can't tell you how thrilled I was to find out my grandmother had left it to me. Meant I didn't have to go back home to my father." She gave a slight shudder at the thought, then carried the mugs to the table and set them down. She then went in search of the sugar and cream.

"J-Johnny said you were doing a reading?" Willow prompted when Tara returned to the table.

"Not really. Not tonight anyway. Mrs. Carlysle called, she's the hairdresser in town, begging me to come down and tell her what the particular pattern of hair on her floor meant." The blonde rolled her eyes again and began to put sugar in her coffee. "She seems to think everything has a meaning, and she was sure the hair had fallen in the precise pattern of a goat's head." A giggle followed this. "She was sure it meant the devil had come and set up shop in her salon and was prepared to take over the citizens via her hair dryers." The two girls shared a laugh at that, and for a moment it was like they had never been apart. Then, the front door opened and closed, and the illusion was shattered.

Willow dropped her eyes as they listened to the sound of heavy footsteps climb the stairs, accompanied by muffled voices. Then, a few minutes later, a lone set came back down and went outside once more. She figured it was Mark going for a cigarette.

"So, who's Johnny?" she blurted out, feeling her face flame. Tara smiled at her, and thoughtfully stirred her spoon in her coffee.

"I'd have to say, he's probably to me what that tall, dark and handsome man is to you." She looked up and their eyes met. She gave a short laugh at the shock in Willow's face.

"Does that surprise you?"

"W-well, yeah. I mean, I thought you were. . ." Willow trailed off, not sure how to finish.

"Gay?" Tara supplied helpfully. She rested her arms on the table and pinned Willow with her calm, blue gaze. "You were the first woman I had ever been with. Like you, I had never even considered it. But, you can't tell your heart who to love, can you? And I don't think our relationship defines who I am. I'm not a title. I love who I love, and that's all that should matter. Whether they be male or female." The redhead smiled at this, and nodded.

"Yeah. I guess that's what I think, too. His name is Mark, by the way," Willow said, taking a sip of her cooling coffee.

"He seems like a good man. His aura is strong. But he's troubled. His past weighs on him heavily, and coming here has shaken his belief in your love." As Tara spoke, her voice took on an edge of power Willow had never heard in it before. Leaving the Hellmouth had been the right thing for the blonde witch to do. Guilt lanced through her when the last part of Tara's speech sank in. She hadn't meant to make Mark feel like there was anything to worry about. But she had been so anxious herself, she hadn't been able to do anything for him.

"Johnny seems a little not happy about me being here, as well."

"Well, Johnny knows you were the first great love of my life. He's not sure if he can compete with that."

"Can he?" Willow cursed herself as soon as it was out of her mouth. She had no right to ask these questoins, not when she had Mark outside, wondering if he was going to lose her. "I'm sorry. Don't answer that," she said quickly, before picking up her mug and draining its contents. Tara smiled softly, and delicately sipped at hers.

"I don't think I will. It's not fair to compare," she said simply. "Now, tell me what happened.

And how I can help." She fluidly changed the subject.

"Wait, when you came in, you said you knew we were coming? How?"

"I did a reading for myself this morning," she explained.

"Oh. Well, it all started eight months ago, when Spike disappeared." Tara's face went through a range of emotions as the redhead spoke. Anguish at how the blonde was when he found his way home. Horror at the description of Spike's injuries. Shock at Mark's story of a sadistic Riley. And finally, terror at the tale of their harrowing escape. She sat, silent for several minutes after Willow finished, her slim frame trembling with emotion.

"It was good you came here. There's barriers in place no one can get through without my permission. I knew you were coming, that's how you got up to the house. In the morning, we'll put up stronger ones to make sure they can't activate the chip or the homing device before we can get them out. I'll send Johnny into town tomorrow, to make sure we have plenty of blood for him to heal. Don't worry, everything will be fine," she said, resting a reassuring hand on one of Willow's. That's how Mark saw them when he walked back inside and entered the kitchen. His eyes riveted to their joined fingers, then up to Willow's face, and saw the guilt there.

"Sorry," he mumbled, and turned on his heel.

"Mark," she called to his retreating back, her desperate eyes flicking to Tara.

"Go. He needs you," she told her with a smile. Like a shot, Willow was out of the chair and leaving the kitchen. Tara sighed, and rose to start cleaning up the cups. She didn't start when she felt strong hands slide over her shoulders and begin to gently massage. "I thought I told you to go to bed," she admonished lightly, turning into his arms.

"I couldn't sleep," he told her, resting a cheek atop her silky hair. He took a deep breath, and inhaled her sweet scent, while trying to ignore the trepidation fluttering in his stomach.

"Well, let's go up and see if we can do something about that." She raised her head to meet his eyes, and he let out a shaky sigh at the desire he saw there.

"Yeah. Sounds good." Tara left the cups in the sink, and left the light on for the couple outside, as she let her lover lead her upstairs.


Chapter 12

The moonlight played gently across the empty field behind the house, illuminating the barn that was a short distance away. Trees surrounded the field, shielding them from any harm.

Or shielding harm from us, Buffy thought, as she stared out the window into the night. Around her, sounds filtered through the air. Footsteps on the stairs, creaks from the floorboards over her head. The soft music of voices drifting from the kitchen, followed by the slam of the screen door. She didn't notice any of it though. Her mind was full of too many things, wondering what was out there, just beyond the trees.

She knew they were safe, of course. For now. Willow would never have brought them here, otherwise. Not when it was such an emotional risk for her. Or a possible danger to Tara. But, it didn't stop the worry that Riley was out there, watching, waiting. He was nothing like the man she had once known. This man was cold, calculating, full of hate. He'd told her that she'd happened to him, but she couldn't believe that. What happened between them couldn't have turned him into the sadistic monster he was now. It just wasn't possible.

She wondered if she'd done the right thing, leaving her sister and the others in L.A. What if Riley did something to them? What if he'd really gone that far off the deep end?

With a heavy sigh, Buffy pulled the thick, dark curtains closed, to shield the two sleeping vampires from the morning sun. As soon as they got Spike settled onto the bed, he fell asleep. Whatever Riley's gadget had done to his chip had wiped him out. She was glad for it, almost. He needed to heal, and sleep, with plenty of blood, was the only way that was going to happen. Already, after only the last few days, he looked healthier. His eyes still held that haunted, slightly empty look, but his humor was returning when he was awake and he didn't seem as jittery.

But, she still couldn't help wishing for the Spike of old. The one that would help her kick ass and not break a sweat. Of course, vamps didn't sweat, but that didn't matter. The point was, he was her partner and she missed him.

Buffy carefully skirted the hulking mass of bed and came to a stop next to the blonde. The dim light of the candle she'd lit cast eerie shadows across his face, making the planes seem sharper and his cheeks more hollow. He's so beautiful, she thought, risking waking him up to touch a golden curl that fell across his forehead. Like silk, she decided, smiling softly.

As gently as she could, she settled down into the space he'd left for her. Her eyes drifted briefly over to Angel, before going back to Spike. Since he'd shown up at her door, she'd been afraid to close her eyes, afraid that he'd been a dream. She pushed herself to stay awake, until exhaustion finally forced her to sleep. She'd wake up again, convinced she was going to find him gone, only to heave a sigh of relief that he was really there.

"How long?" Angel's voice jarred her out of her thoughts, making her start. She looked over at him and found herself pinned by curious, brown eyes.

"What?" she asked, her brow wrinkled in confusion. The brunette smiled softly at her, before answering.

"How long have you been in love with him?" he practically whispered. He was fascinated by the expressions that floated across her face in a matter of seconds. Shock followed by disbelief, followed by denial, then something that looked almost like guilt. After about a minute, she seemed to settle whatever war was going on inside of her. She took a deep breath, then looked down at Spike, before raising her gaze back up to Angel.

"I'm not sure," she answered finally, feeling as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. So long, she'd carried this secret, not willing to admit it to herself, much less anyone else. But here, now, with Angel staring at her with such understanding, she didn't feel the need to lie to herself anymore. She had a good idea that the others suspected, but none of them had ever asked her. She supposed the last time she had fallen for a vampire was still too fresh in their minds. Of course, the funny thing was, here was THAT vampire in particular asking her WHEN she had fallen in love with his childe. Yep, her life had definitely taken a wrong turn into weird a long time ago.

"He's loved you for a long time, Buffy," Angel said, looking down at the peaceful face of the blonde. He was pleased to see peace, where before it had been fear, even in rest. He was resigned to the fact that the nightmares would start again, though.

"I know," Buffy replied, her words a bit clipped, the tone bringing his gaze back up to hers. She wanted to ask him what the hell he knew about it. Angel hadn't been around for years and she sure didn't think Spike was going to confide in him. She stared steadily into the eyes of her first love, wondering just when it stopped hurting to look at him.

"No you don't. You think this is new, only a few years old. I can tell you Buffy, from experience, that he's been in love with you since the first time he saw you at the Bronze." Her eyes widened a fraction, then narrowed in confusion.

"How do you know?" she challenged, barely remembering to keep her voice low.

"I may have been a bastard when I was soulless, but I was also very observant. Especially when it came to my children. Spike, despite his extreme viciousness, always wore his emotions on his sleeve. And even later, when he learned to control them, he couldn't seem to control his eyes. Everything he feels still filters through them. You just have to know what to look for." Buffy had to smile at the truth of that, recalling the times she had read Spike's reactions right, just by looking in his eyes, no matter how calm his face might have been. "Are you going to tell him?"

"Oh, I don't think so. Me and love are unmixy things. I mean, I've had two boyfriends go all murdering psycho nut on me. I think that pretty much screams 'stay single'."

"Yeah, but he's already a murdering psycho nut," Angel said with a smile. His face turned serious quick enough, though. "He's changed who he is for you. For a demon, that's no small feat. In fact, I'd have said it was impossible. But, Spike was always different." A stab of remembered pain lanced through her heart at the fact that Spike could love her soulless and Angel couldn't. She shook it off and laid down beside the blonde.

"I'm not going to turn what has become one of the most important things in my life into some overplayed soap opera love story that will end badly. It's better we just stay friends," she said with finality.

"Buffy, don't sell yourselves short. . ." Angel began.

"Angel. I'm tired. Goodnight." With that, Buffy turned on her side away from him and Spike. Angel stared at her for a few seconds, willing her to turn back over, before giving up and laying back down himself. Neither saw the pair of bright blue eyes that opened to gaze at the back of Buffy's blonde head, or see the flash of hurt that coursed through them.

~*~*~

"Mark!" Willow called, pushing through the screen door with a squeak. Her eyes searched the yard, finally locating him on the other side of the cars. He was facing away from the house, his stance rigid and unapproachable. But approach him she did. Her heart was hammering against her chest at the stiff line of his back. She tried to concentrate on the way the moon made his hair shine almost blue and not the way his shoulders were set, or the fact that he hadn't answered her when she'd called.

"Mark?" she tried again when she was right behind him. Her hand came up to touch, only to drop to her side once more. "What you saw in there, it wasn't what it looked like," she said quickly, her voice a near whisper. No reason to beat around the bush, she thought.

"Really? It looked like two people who care a great deal for each other sharing a moment to me." Mark's deep, rough voice broke halfway though the sentence, but he pushed it out. "Isn't that what it was?" Put in those words, Willow couldn't deny it.

"I'm not going to apologize for having loved her," Willow told him, feeling a hint of anger.

"I don't want you to," he said quietly. "Loving her helped shape you into the woman that I love." The snap hiss of his lighter punctuated his statement, the flame highlighting his dark face. She saw the pain etched there, without having to see his eyes. With a sigh, she took a step forward and chanced a hand on his arm. He didn't react to her touch, but he didn't pull away either.

"Mark, I love you. I'm sorry I forgot to remind you of that when we decided to come here. There was just so much left unsaid between me and Tara, I kinda got wrapped up in that. I didn't mean to hurt you. Or make you worry. We came here because this is the best chance to help Spike."

"I know that," he snapped. He saw the hurt in her clear green eyes, even in the dark and sighed. He rubbed his thumb along her cheek, careful of the cigarette in his hand. "I'm sorry. I just. . .you're the first woman I've ever loved." This was said so softly, only the power of the light breeze carried it to her. She felt her heart break a little for the boy he had been. She didn't know much about his past, it was always a 'don't ask, don't tell' subject. But she did know he was an orphan and had killed his first vampire at the age of twelve. His life had been even more full of violence than Buffy's and that had to have been hard.

"Will you tell me?" she heard herself say, crossing the invisible line that had been drawn in the sand when they met. She knew all about his life as a demon hunter, the people he'd met along the way and the way he lived his life. It was the time before that, the time when he was young and scared that she knew nothing about. His smile was small and sad as he brought his cigarette up to his lips.

"Someday. Not tonight. There's enough to worry about right now, I think." Willow nodded, feeling a little disappointed. She thought she should be angry that he wouldn't tell her, that it proved he didn't trust her. However, she knew it wasn't that. She could tell-especially late at night, when dreams haunted him-that it just caused him too much pain to even think about.

"Alright," she said, stepping closer. She sighed when his arm wrapped tightly around her shoulders, pulling her to him and holding on tight. They stood like that, for a long time, the soft night smells and sounds drifting around them. Even after Mark had stomped out the remnants of his smoke and had wrapped his other arm around her, they stayed standing together, leaning on the SUV until the first golden pink rays of the sun peeked over the horizon.

~*~*~

Dawn came awake with a start when a strong hand clamped over her mouth and a distinctively male body pressed her into the bed. She still tried to force a scream out past her tightly closed lips and the vice like fingers biting into her cheek, to no avail. Her heart hammered so hard, she imagined it bursting from her chest and coating her and her attacker with blood. Somewhere in the back of her panicked mind, she realized this was a bit morbid, but she didn't care at the moment.

"Sh," came the hissed command. She tried to struggle, only to find that the body on hers, while thin, was really, really strong. "It's me, Connor." Oh, nice to know Angel's son is a psycho rapist. Have to remember to tell him that, Dawn thought, continuing to fidget. "I'm NOT going to hurt you," he insisted, his voice a bare whisper. She tried shaking her head, to dislodge his hand to tell him that sneaking into her room in the middle of the night and pinning her to the bed was probably NOT the best way to let her know that. "I'm going to move my hand now. DON'T scream. There's someone in the hotel." It was that last bit that kept her from releasing the deep breath she had taken, once his hand moved, into a high-pitched screech. It rushed out from between her lips as her eyes widened in fear.

"What?" He pressed his fingers to his lips and slid off of her. She sat up as soon as he left the bed and watched him glide across the floor to the door. He pressed himself against it and seemed to be listening for something. "Connor?" she whispered urgently. Didn't he know you didn't scare someone within an inch of their young life, tell them there was someone in the hotel, then sneak away to listen WITHOUT elaborating?

He ignored her, concentrating fully on whatever was supposedly prowling the hotel. Dawn grew tired of being the cliched girl hiding in the bed with the sheets clutched to her bosom while the man inspected for danger and got up. She padded soundlessly across the floor, to stand next to him. When he turned to talk to her again and found her right behind him, he jumped. She smiled at the impressed look he got at how easily she had snuck up on him. Having a sister who was the Slayer and growing up on the Hellmouth made stealth an almost inherent skill.

"Now care to explain what the hell is going on?" she hissed, tossing her hair angrily, thoroughly convinced this was a ruse for Connor to get in here and see her in her underwear. Too bad she always slept in a pair of ratty sweats and a tank top. Wait, bad thoughts. You're mad at him, no thinking about letting him see you in your underwear, Dawn scolded herself.

Connor stared at her dumbstruck for a second, seemingly finally noticing how the tank top clung to her breasts. He flinched when her fingers snapped under his nose and her angry voice muttered "My eyes are up here. NOT in the front of my shirt."

"Sorry," he mumbled, dropping his eyes to the floor briefly, before seeming to remember what he was there for. "I was downstairs, polishing the weapons. . ."

"Wow. You sure know how to have a good time, don't you? You must be great fun at parties," she sneered, crossing her arms over her chest with a huff. Connor managed to hold his temper and continued between clenched teeth.

"It helps me think," he offered in way of explanation. "And I heard someone moving around in the back. At first, I thought it was Cordy or Gunn, but when I went to look, I didn't see anyone. I started back to the lobby and heard it again. I hid behind one of the columns. It was some guy. Never seen him before. And since he didn't come through the front door, I figured he WASN'T a client." Dawn, who didn't know Connor well enough to know that a joke was a rare thing from him, gasped. Visions of soldiers bursting through the doors and taking them all by force then exterminating them with extreme prejudice danced through her head.

"Did you get the others?" she asked, pressing her own ear on the door. She didn't hear anything but her own blood rushing in her head.

"No, not yet. Your's was the first room I got to. Hey!" He grabbed her wrist to keep her from turning the knob. She leveled her azure eyes on him and arched a brow. "We don't know where he is."

"And we're not going to know if we stay here," she threw back. "We have to warn the others," she insisted when his grip tightened on her wrist. Connor seemed to war internally with himself for a minute, before nodding once.

"I go first," he ordered, when she started to go out before him. She rolled her eyes heavily, but moved out of the way so he could slide out into the hall first. She was right behind him, so close in fact, that when he stopped as they turned down the next corridor, she slammed into his back. It didn't help that her eyes had been scanning the shadows and not on him. Connor managed to keep his feet, but did turn to glare at her in the dark.

"Sorry," she grumbled before they started down the hall again to the stairs leading to the veranda.

That's when it started. It seemed like every light in the hotel came on at once. Connor pulled Dawn behind one of the columns and peered around it. It seemed while he and Dawn had been talking in her room, the others had been rounded up and herded into the cavernous room below. Shouts came from the soldiers surrounding them, giving orders and directing the small group of humans to their knees in the middle of the room. The only noticeable exception was Lorne.

Dawn stifled her cry with a hand when one of the soldiers cracked the butt of his gun against a struggling Xander's chin. The brunette went down like a stone, his crumpling body making Anya cry out and rush to him.

"Why'd you hit him?" she demanded, pulling him onto his back. "LEAVE ME ALONE!" she screamed when one of the six soldiers pulled her up to her feet and yanked her away from him. Xander was then grabbed and dragged unceremoniously across the floor to the rest of them. Gunn was on his knees with the nozzle of a rifle aimed at the back of his head. His face was a mask of seething hatred, his eyes trained on Fred. He seemed prepared to risk the bullet to his brain if one hair on her head got hurt.

Cordy hovered behind them, avoiding the gripping hands of the commandoes. Her gaze darted up to the veranda as if looking for something. Connor wished there was something he could do to let her know they were alright, but he didn't want to risk being seen.

"Where's the other two?" they heard one of them ask. Dawn's eyes widened when she recognized the voice as Riley's.

"We haven't found them yet."

"They can't have gone far. Find them. The son of a vampire would make an excellent specimen."

"He's not a lab rat," Cordy snapped, taking a step forward. The sounds of guns cocking echoed through the lobby. Connor started forward at the threat to his surrogate mother, only to be stilled by Dawn's hand on his arm. She desperately shook her head, telling him to stay put.

"It would do for you to cooperate," Riley told her, fixing her with cold eyes.

"Why? You're going to kill us anyway," Cordy shot back, not showing any of the fear coursing through her. It was times like this that she wished she knew how to make that glowy thing happen. But since she didn't even understand HOW it happened in the first place, it was kind of hard to make happen at will. The smile Riley gave her made her blood run cold in her veins.

"Take them all. Then search this hotel from top to bottom. Where's the demon?"

"Already in the truck, sir," the soldier named Simmons answered. He looked a little hesitant about rounding up a batch of humans, but Riley had told them one was a vengeance demon and another was an uncatologued demon with seeing ability. There were also the two teens, who had yet to be found. One which used to be a glowing ball of green energy known as the Key and the child of two vampires. He had no problems taking them in, it was the humans that were bothering him. Even though they were helping the atrocities against God and shielding the vampire they were after, it wasn't what he signed up for. But, he was a soldier first and he would follow orders.

"Yes sir," he said, before turning to the others. "Move em out!" Gunn was yanked to his feet, gun still trained to his head and forced out the door. The women were pushed out behind him, followed by a soldier carrying the still unconscious form of Xander. Simmons followed them out to make sure they were loaded into the truck with no problems. Dawn and Connor stayed still and silent, waiting for Riley to leave, before trying to get out of the hotel themselves. They had no idea what they were going to do then, but that wasn't a pressing matter right now.

Riley stayed in the lobby, looking around like he could somehow sense they were there. He had decided to take the hotel before heading back to base and at least have SOMETHING for his troubles. And besides, he was sure the two teens would lead him straight to Buffy and Spike.

The two risked a look around the column they were hiding behind at the sound of retreating footsteps. Riley had barely cleared the front doors when Connor seized Dawn's arm and dragged her down the opposite way from the lobby. She followed silently as he dragged her through the hotel to a set of servant stairs in the back and down through the kitchen to a sewer access. It wasn't until her feet hit the cold, wet concrete of the sewer floor that she remembered she didn't have any shoes.

She didn't give it much thought, though, as she took off down the tunnel behind Connor. She didn't know how long they ran, but when he finally stopped, she felt like her lungs were about to explode and her feet were numb from running in the water. She followed him up the ladder, not letting her mind dwell on what was probably happening to the others. He led her silently through an alley to an old dilapidated building that looked like it should have been torn down during the Depression and up a set of rickety stairs.

Smells assaulted her, most of which she knew she'd rather not identify. He opened a door and let her into a room that held a bed with some blankets thrown across it, a ratty old chair and an ancient television. It had the feel of Spike's old crypt and she felt oddly comforted.

They still didn't speak, the shock of what had happened to their friends still too great. Instead, they walked over to the bed and collapsed onto the musty smelling blankets. Neither knew how long they lay awake staring at the crumbling ceiling, before sleep finally overtook them. When it finally did, their dreams were filled with nightmare images of X-files like lab rooms and their family dissected like biology experiments.

Next