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Dead Leaves and the Dirty Ground	By : cousinjean Category: AtS/BtVS Crossovers > Het - Male/Female > Buffy/Spike(William) > Buffy/Spike(William) Views: 2581 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS) or Angel, the Series (AtS); nor any of the characters from them. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 12
- 13
- 14
Dead Leaves & the Dirty Ground

by cousinjean

Chapter Twelve -- All That's Left of Yesterday

RATING: R
PREVIOUSLY: Angel was still AWOL. Lilah 'fessed up the truth about Connor to Wesley and presumably got banished back to Hell for her helpfulness. Willow and Dawn did some locator mojo and discovered a whole gaggle of vampires camped out near the city limits, and Willow furnished Dawn with more "anti-vamp bling" before Dawn headed off to her new job. Meanwhile, Spike and Buffy ~~went down~~ got down and dirty, leading up to a painful decision by Spike about where his loyalties lie.

A/N: This chapter's title comes courtesy of Evanescence and hold_that_thought.

~*~

Only her third night, and already they had her closing alone. That wasn't supposed to happen for at least a week. But Terrence, her manager, had gotten off an hour after her shift had started, and the girl who was supposed to be train her left two hours ago. "It's a big huge family emergency! I have to go. Terrence would totally understand." Yeah, right. That left her to close up shop. By herself. On her third night.

It wasn't such a big deal, really. She already had the hang of the giant espresso machine, and she could still remember most of what Anya had taught her about closing out a cash register, even though that seemed like forever ago. Dawn stopped sweeping the floor and sighed. If Anya were here, she'd probably congratulate Dawn for finally becoming a productive member of society. That made her smile. She'd have to remember to do the Dance of Capitalistic Supremacy in Anya's honor when she counted the money.

She had to get rid of the customers first, though. Looking around the caf�, she amended that to customer, singular. He'd been sitting at the corner table for the last two hours, sipping at the same cup of coffee and pretending to read while glancing up every so often to exchange flirty glances with her. Like he was doing now. Grinning, she ducked her head and tucked her hair behind her ear, then went back to sweeping. She didn't want to ask him to leave; she was too grateful for his presence. Not because he was hot and she thought he might be hanging around to get her number--well, maybe that was partly why. But she wasn't quite ready to be left all alone in the caf�. It would be creepy. Especially knowing what was out there.

Dawn's hand drifted up to the pendant Willow had given her. Reluctantly, she glanced at the clock. Officially closing time. Time to bite the bullet. Straightening her shoulders and smoothing her hair, she set the broom aside and went over to his table.

He looked up at her approach and smiled. "Hey."

"Hey." She returned his smile, nervously lacing her fingers together. "Um, I really hate to kick you out, but�"

"Oh." He turned to look at the clock. "Wow, you guys are closed. I had no clue it was that late."

"Must be a good book."

He shrugged. "It's okay. But you know how it is. You get done with a semester and suddenly there's all this time to read for fun."

Dawn furrowed her brow like she was trying to recall something. "Reading for fun� yeah, no, I don't think I remember what that's like."

He laughed. "So, you go around here?"

"No. UCLA. I'm staying up here with a friend for the summer."

"Damn. Stanford could use more pretty girls like you."

She hoped her blushing wasn't obvious. "So, um� I've gotta close up, and we're not supposed to have customers around when we count the register�"

"Got it." He shut his book and stood up, but shuffled his feet instead of heading for the door. "Uh, this might be a little presumptuous�"

"Yeah?" She pushed her hair behind her ear again.

"Do you mind if I hang out and walk you to your bus stop, or wherever? It's so late, and this place can get a little rough�"

"Oh." She fingered her pendant again. "Thanks, but I'm good. I drove myself and I'm not parked far from here."

"Oh, right. Yeah." He nodded. "Okay, this is where I confess that I'm too scared to walk to my stop by myself."

She giggled, then nodded, making her face sober. "Sure. Far be it from me to send a customer out onto the dangerous streets all by his lonesome."

"Yeah, thanks. I know I'll feel a lot better with a big, strong girl looking out for me."

Grinning, she went to open the door for him. "Just give me ten minutes to count the cash, then I'll be out."

"I'll be waiting," he promised as he exited, flashing her a smile that did good, melty things to her knees.

She locked the door behind him and crossed over to the counter. She watched him while she closed out the register. He stood under a street light and read his book. Every now and then he'd glance inside and catch her looking, making her blush. He wasn't exactly her type. He was tall� that she liked. A little more on the lanky side than she usually went for, and she wasn't normally a fan of the long, floppy hair, but it worked for him.

When she finished up and went to meet him outside, he closed his book and came over to stand by her as she locked up. "Ready to go, Super Dawn?"

She spun to face him and took a step back. "How do you know my name?"

Bemused, he reached out and tapped her name tag.

"Oh." Dawn hoped she looked sufficiently chagrined as she took it off and shoved it in her pocket. "Sorry. Guess I'm a little too paranoid to be the big, brave protector girl."

"Hey, a little paranoia is a healthy thing to have. My name's Connor, by the way. Does that help?"

She smiled and nodded. "Um. My car's this way." She pointed, and started walking. "Connor. That's a nice name."

"So's Dawn."

"Summers."

"Huh?"

"Dawn Summers. That's my name. You know, in case you wanted to call� oh, except I'm not listed here." She glanced up at him. "Did that sound as desperate as I think? Never mind." She held up a hand. "Don't answer that. Sorry. Apparently after midnight I turn into a spaz."

Connor chuckled. "Cutest spaz I've ever seen."

"Thanks. I think. Come on, we have to go through here."

"Whoa." He put a hand on her arm and peered down the alley that led to employee parking. "That's� dark."

"Yeah. It has a light, but I guess it's broken."

"You go this way every night?"

"I usually go out the back," she admitted. "Don't worry. I know self-defense and I'm covered with va--um, various protection thingies."

"What, like mace?"

"Sort of."

"You really are Wonder Dawn." He held out his hand. "Promise you'll protect me?"

She put all of her effort into not giggling like a thirteen-year-old as she took his hand. "Promise."

They were ten steps into the alley when they heard a voice in the darkness. "Boy's right, you know. Taught you better than to try your luck in dark alleys. Never know what might be lurking in here." Dawn's heart leapt at the same time a chill went down her spine. She heard the soft shhk! of metal scraping flint. Further down the alley, a light flared, and there he was, his face bathed in a soft orange glow. Dawn watched, transfixed. Then a metallic snap! and it was dark again save for the bright red cherry of his cigarette. Spike stepped out of the shadows. "'Lo, Nibblet."

That cut through her shock and brought her to her senses. "Connor, run."

"What are you doing here?" Connor asked.

"Huh?"

"Was gonna ask you the same," said Spike, and Dawn's heart sank. Scared as she was, it was nothing next to the anger and embarrassment she felt at her own stupidity.

"Buffy put me on recon."

"Yeh. Don't think 'recon' includes whatever you were about to do to the girl. Anyway, been a change in plans. Dawn, walk to me."

"I don't think so." She looked around to figure her escape options and realized she was still holding Connor's hand. When she tried to let go he wrenched her arm behind her and closed his other hand around her throat.

"Come on, Spike," he said. "Buffy doesn't want her until tomorrow night. That gives us all night long to have some fun with her. How about we share?"

"How about you take your hands off her before I rip them off and shove them down your throat?"

Connor laughed. "Buffy said you always had a soft spot for the Key."

"Only tell you once more. Let. Her. Go."

While the vampires argued, Dawn's free hand stole up to Willow's pendant. She grabbed hold of it and yanked, hard enough to break the chain. Then with as much force as she could muster she stomped on Connor's instep.

He yelped, but he didn't release her. "You little bitch."

When she threw the holy water in his face, he screamed. Then he backhanded her and sent her flying. She landed hard, skidding into a pile of trash bags. She couldn't see. But she heard a roar, then fists colliding with flesh. Dawn lay still, trying to suck air back into her lungs. Apart from having the wind knocked out of her and a cut on her cheek, she didn't think she was too hurt. Gritting her teeth, she forced herself up. Her Jeep waited at the other end of the alley. They were too busy fighting to notice her. She could make a run for it.

If she hadn't lost her keys when she landed.

"Shit!" She took her small cross from around her neck and held it ready. It wouldn't keep Spike away but at least it might work on Connor. Then she got on her knees and started feeling around for her keys. The street light overhead chose that moment to flicker on. Thank God for small favors, she thought, glancing back at the fight. Spike had Connor pinned to the wall. He was winning. They'd be done soon. Dawn looked around and still saw no sign of her keys. She clawed through the garbage bags where she'd landed.

Behind her she heard a hard punch, and a yell, and then a black and blond blur fell before her onto the trash. Dawn screamed and pulled back, blinking at Spike as he stirred and moaned. Searching frantically for a weapon, she grabbed a small, broken board poking out of one of the bags and stood up.

Connor started toward her, but she brandished the sharp board and he stopped. He glanced at Spike, then looked back at Dawn and smiled. The same smile that gave her butterflies only moments ago now made her sick. "See you tomorrow, Dawnie." He turned and disappeared down the alley.

"Bloody�"

She looked back at Spike. He grunted as he sat up, and then they both saw the rest of the board protruding through his thigh, covered in blood. He gripped it underneath and hollered as he pulled it out. Then he held it up and inspected it. "Good thing I didn't land the other way 'round." He looked up at Dawn, then at the other piece she still held ready. "Or maybe it won't make much difference. You plannin' to use that on me, Bit?"

"Come closer and find out."

His face screwed up as he got to his feet and tested his weight on his injured leg. Then he fixed his gaze on her. "What about on your sis?"

"That thing is not my sister."

"No." He looked at the wood in his hands, then with a sigh, chucked it aside and stared at the spot where it clattered on the ground. "No, she's not."

He looked like he was in pain, and not from his leg.

"What do you want?" she asked.

Spike raised his head and quirked an eyebrow. "Do I have to point out that I just saved you?" He took a step toward her, but she flinched back and raised her stake higher. He sighed. "Nibblet--"

"Don't. You don't get to call me that. You're not�"

He waited, both brows raised, but she couldn't finish. "Not who?" he asked. "Same old Spike here, Bi-- Dawn. Nothing's changed between us."

"Bullshit. You're a vampire."

"Yeh." He nodded, but looked perplexed. "We've known each other how long? All that time, how much of it did we spend in the sun? Know the vamp better than you know the human."

Dawn sniffed and wiped her nose. "You don't have a soul."

"Not to sound like a broken record, but--"

"You had a chip before."

"I did, for a bit. And before that?" He waited. When she couldn't think of anything to say, he shook his head. "When have I ever tried to do you harm?"

Obstinately, she wracked her memory for an example. "The first time you came to our house, mom caught me eavesdropping on the stairs and told me to go to bed. When I argued you vamped out and said you'd eat me if I didn't mind her. I had nightmares for a week."

"Yeh? Well, good! S'what you get for not minding your mum."

Dawn's reflex was to smile. But then her throat constricted, and her eyes burned. She blinked to keep the tears from spilling.

Spike held up his hands and took a careful step toward her. "Since when do you need a chip or a soul to keep you safe from me?"

Her stake hand wavered, but she steadied it. "You've been killing."

He sniffed and looked away. Then he shrugged. "What's that got to do with you?"

"It� I�"

With an impatient sigh he took another step toward her. "Said it yourself, Pet." He counted off on his fingers. "Soulless. Chipless. Vampire. It's kind of what we do."

"Then why should--"

"But there's something this vampire doesn't do, and that is hurt Summers women. You know that."

Dawn shook her head. "I--"

He took another step. "You know that."

She squeezed her eyes shut. "H--he said Buffy wants me. He called me the Key."

He was quiet for a minute. Dawn opened her eyes.

"Yeh," he said at last, softly, shoving his hands in his pockets. "She wants to use you to open the portal back up and let all her pals out of hell. But I'm not gonna let that happen."

"Why not?"

"Told your sister once--your real sister--that I'd never let anything happen to you. I aim to keep that promise."

Dawn processed this. She wiped her nose. "Is that your only reason?"

He closed the gap and reached out, letting his hand hover over her hair without touching her. "What do you think?"

Her hand fell, dropping the stake. She covered her face with her other hand and sobbed into it. She didn't resist when he pulled her into his arms. "Shhh. Gonna be all right, Bit. That's a promise."

A weird sense of relief and gladness mixed with her grief and frustration, and all she could do was hug him close and cry it all out. He smoothed her hair back from her face and kissed her forehead. "Let's get you safe."

She nodded, then remembered. "My keys�"

"Oh. Bugger." Spike scanned the ground, toeing bags and boxes out of the way as he retraced her path. He pushed a pair of trash cans apart and smiled. "Voila!" He bent over to get them, but paused, his hand hesitating over the keys.

Dawn remembered the rosary on her keychain. "I'll get them," she said, but before she could move he hooked his finger through one of the rings and flung them to her. She caught them.

"You drive," he said, sauntering past.

She stared a moment. Then, smiling, she followed him.

***

He'd found the parents--the other parents--at a hotel near Stanford. Told them he was a private investigator and convinced them to put him on the case. They'd already called in the police, and for once Angel didn't mind. The more help the better. Not that he had much confidence in the police.

He wanted nothing more than to put his own people on this, but how could he explain pulling most of his forces in the midst of a crisis to search for a boy he wasn't even supposed to know? Wesley wouldn't have let that go. He would've kept digging, asking questions Angel didn't particularly want to hear and most definitely didn't want to answer. Better to do this on his own.

They had let him into Connor's dorm room. He was supposed to search it for clues, but for a long time he just sat on his son's bed, holding his soccer ball and wondering what kind of person he had turned out to be. A Notre Dame poster hung over his bed; that made Angel smile for a moment, but then it filled him with regret. He dropped the ball and held his head in his hands.

At least Connor got to be a typical kid. One whose trophy collection consisted of little engraved statues of soccer players and academic awards instead of ears, teeth and demon pelts. A boy who collected CDs and comics instead of knives. For that much, Angel still managed to be grateful.

He didn't know what he expected to find. He had a gut feeling that whatever it was would be too late to make a difference. That it was already too late. After a couple of days' searching had turned up nothing, he knew it was time to admit that his worst-case scenario was probably true, that his search for Spike and Buffy might turn up his son as well.

When he finally checked his messages, he wasn't surprised to find several from Wesley. The ones from Willow were a little more startling. Apparently while he'd been distracted the vampires had started gathering outside the city. Willow was worried about Dawn, and rightly so. Since he was already nearby he had headed over to check things out. Now he stood outside the locked coffee shop, berating himself for once again being too late to do any good.

"Sir?"

Angel turned to see some kid in a jacket, jeans and a plain tee-shirt approaching. Before he could question him, the kid whipped out a cell phone.

"This is Covey. I've located Mr. Angel outside the caf�. � It appears I missed the girl� Yes, Sir. Of course, Sir." He turned off his phone and tucked it away. "Mr. Pryce has ordered me to stay with you until he arrives, Sir."

"What are you doing here?"

"I was sent to guard Dawn Summers. Sir."

"You're late."

The kid had the good grace to look guilty. "I'm sorry, Sir. I, um� I got lost."

"You got lost?"

Covey swallowed. "I'm not familiar with this city, Sir, and this area has its fair share of caf�s�"

Angel turned away, shaking his head. Hands on his hips, he paced a few feet away from the kid. "Will somebody please tell me exactly when it was that Wolfram & Hart started hiring all these incompetents?!" He shouted the last word, turning back to see Covey flinch. But he saw something else as well, over Covey's shoulder. Down the street, in a phone booth, another boy was using the phone. Tallish, lanky build, shaggy dark blond hair. Angel's heart sped up, and he shoved Covey aside and walked closer. He became vaguely aware that Covey was still stammering excuses, and held up a finger to shut him up. "Find Dawn, or the only thing you'll be guarding from here on out is the mail."

Without waiting for a "Yes, Sir," Angel started toward the phone booth. The kid inside still had his back to him. He was halfway there when the boy hung up the phone and exited the booth. He paused outside to scan his surroundings, and turned his face toward Angel.

Angel froze. He couldn't move, couldn't shout. He could only stare. And hope.

Connor saw him. He looked him up and down, studying him. Sizing him up. Then he smiled.

That snapped Angel out of it. "Connor?" He took a step, but the boy turned and ran. "Connor, wait!" But he didn't, and Angel ran after him. He chased him for three blocks, then into a parking garage. In the middle of the lot, Angel stopped and looked around. Nothing. "Connor! I only want to talk!" Panting, he bent over and clutched his knees. This was one of those times he really missed being superhuman.

"You know my name."

Angel straightened and turned to see Connor emerge from behind a support pillar. He swallowed. "Of course I do. I'm your�" He closed his eyes and sighed. "I've been looking for you. Your parents are worried sick."

"Huh. I'll have to stop by and put an end to their worry." Smiling, he walked slowly toward Angel. "I know who you are."

Angel's heart caught in his throat--

"Angelus." Connor smiled.

--then plummeted to the pit of his stomach. "Angel," he corrected. "I haven't been Angelus for a very long time."

"The way my sire tells it, Angelus is easy enough to bring back."

Something inside Angel broke. Everything in him constricted--his chest, his throat, his jaw. His stomach roiled. He had to remind himself to breathe as he fought to keep from collapsing. "You're a vampire."

"Like you used to be." Connor began to circle him. "Like you could be again."

"Your sire." The word nearly choked him. "Spike."

The boy laughed. "Spike? Right. If it was up to him I'd be rotting on the floor of that stupid bar."

No. No, not--
"She told me all about you. They both did. How you used to be, the things you used to do. How Angelus is always there, just beneath the surface."

"Not anymore."

"No." Connor came back to stand in front of him. "Not since you became human. You're the hero, now. The big, scary vampire hunter. Is that why you're here, hero? To hunt me?"

"It wasn't supposed to be like this," Angel told him. His voice wavered, and he struggled for control. "You were supposed to have a good life. You were supposed to be safe."

Connor shrugged. "Doesn't get much safer than this."

Hating himself, hating Buffy, and hating Spike for bringing her here, Angel reached inside his pocket and closed his fist around a stake. "I'm so sorry, Son."

"I'm not your son." His face transformed. "But you could be mine."

"It's not gonna work that way."

"Why not?" Connor hopped onto the hood of a nearby car. He stood up there and looked around at nothing in particular, considering something. "You know what? To hell with Buffy and Spike. They can have each other. You and me� or should I say, me and Angelus� now that would be a hell of a team. Think of all the things he could teach me."

Angel didn't know which was worse: the prospect of all the people who would suffer if he allowed that to happen, or the fact that he was tempted in spite of that. He could be with his son again. A son who didn't hate him, who wanted to be with him. Forever, or near enough it made no difference.

Except his son was already dead. The question was how badly did he want to go on living, knowing that to be true?

Numbly, he shook his head. "I can't let that happen."

Connor laughed. "And how do you plan to stop it? I don't see your army here to back you up."

Angel pulled his stake from his pocket. "I've never needed an army."

"We'll see."

Then he jumped. The next thing Angel knew he was bent backwards over the trunk of another car with Connor on top of him, breathing down his neck. White hot pain shot out from his wrist, through his fingers and up his arm, and his stake clattered on the cement. "Don't struggle," Connor told him, and he realized he didn't have the will to. He closed his eyes and waited for the inevitable, almost welcoming the prick of fangs at his throat.

They slid in, and then they were gone. Angel heard the soft, familiar pft! of exploding dust, and the weight on top of him disappeared. Reluctantly, he opened his eyes to see Wesley peering at him over a crossbow.

Angel felt the dust covering his chest, and everything in him that had been holding him up folded. He slid off the car and landed hard on his knees, grabbing desperately at the scattered dust, trying to hold it and watching helplessly as it slipped through his fingers. He felt Wesley's hand on top of his head. "He was my son."

"I know."

Angel collapsed, burying his face in his dust-coated hands.

***

"Can't we just stay here? They can't get in the apartment."

Spike looked over at the building, then back to Dawn. "No, but that won't stop 'em from setting fire to the place, smoking you out. There's a whole plan for getting you out of there."

She looked worried. "Then where will we go?"

"I expect you'll be safe enough at Wolfram & Hart. Could be I've still got some clearance there, though it's a long shot. But Angel's name ought to get you in." He jerked his chin toward the building. "Go on, now. Pack yourself a bag, and tell Willow� tell her whatever you want."

"Shouldn't she come, too?"

Spike pursed his lips and thought it over. "Think she'll be safe enough once you're gone. Buffy's scared of her, she won't risk going against her if she doesn't have to."

"Still, I'd feel better if she came with us."

He shrugged. "Why not? If you can convince her I'm on the level."

Dawn slumped a little. "Maybe if you come up with me and explain it to her�"

"Right. So she can skin me alive in the hallway quicker'n you can say 'Come in, Spike'? Thanks, but I'll wait here."

With a little sigh, she opened her car door. Before getting out she looked back at him. "Promise?"

He smiled. "I'll be here, Sweet Bit." He watched her cross the parking lot, glad that she hadn't asked what would happen after he hid her away. He had no fuckin' clue. Couldn't hide her forever. Well, he could, but that'd be no life for her. He sighed. If it was any other big bad, he'd count on the others to keep Dawn safe. But this was Buffy. Maybe not his Buffy, but that didn't make her any less cunning. He always put his money on Buffy to win.

The best he could hope for was to keep Dawn out of harm's way until Buffy grew bored with this scheme and moved on to something else. But he didn't love the odds. Chances were this version would hunt kid sis with the same dogged determination that the old one would've put into saving her.

And if it came to a fight? If the only way to save Dawn was to slay Buffy? Spike closed his eyes. His Slayer would want it that way, he knew. But he didn't think he had it in him. He hoped like hell he'd never have to find out. Spike shook his head and took out his cigarettes. No reason to cross that bridge just yet. He reached over and flipped the keys in the ignition, then found something nice and violently loud on the radio. He glanced up to see Dawn making it safely inside the front doors. Then he did a double take as someone stepped out of the shadows and watched her go in.

In an eyeblink Spike was out of the Jeep and halfway across the lot, but he stopped in his tracks when the bloke whipped out a cell phone. Spike realized he wasn't one of Buffy's pets, and what's more, the kid had Wolfram & Hart written all over him. Slowly, so as not to draw attention to himself, he turned back toward the Jeep�

�and found himself face to face with Buffy.

The Wolfram & Hart kid screamed. Spike glanced back in time to see him collapse to the ground, his neck at a wrong angle. Buffy's minions--and his too, he supposed, seeing as how he'd sired a fair share of them. Not that he thought that'd make a difference--emerged from the darkness and surrounded them.

She stood before him, arms folded in that way that told him she was not amused, her face a mask of innocent curiosity. "Whatcha doin'?"

"Um." He jerked a thumb at the building behind him. "Found the Key."

"So Connor told me."

"He did." Spike nodded, then shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. "S'pose that means the jig is up."

Buffy's face remained unreadable. Then she barked a laugh and shook her head. "Y'know, I want to be surprised, but mostly I'm just amazed at how pathetic you are in your predictability."

He heard a shrill cry of "No!" and spun toward the sound. A big vamp had Dawn, dragging her outside kicking and screaming. "Spike!" she hollered.

"Dawn!" He started to run to her, but Buffy grabbed his shoulder and flung him backwards.

"See?" she said when he skidded to a stop. "Predictable. Load her in the truck," she shouted to her minions without turning around, "and don't hurt her! We need her alive, and chock full of Key blood."

"No!" Dawn screamed. "Buffy, please� Willow! Willow, help, I'm out here!"

"Gag her!"

One of the vamps surrounding Dawn yelped, then cursed. "The little bitch bit me!"

"If she's biting you she can't scream," Buffy replied. She rolled her eyes and shook her head as she came to stand over Spike. "Why are you protecting her?"

"Promised I would, didn't I?" He climbed slowly to his feet.

Buffy stared at him a moment, then said, "That's actually sweet. But you know what? I release you from your promise."

"Sorry, Love," he said, squaring his shoulders. "You're not the one who can do that."

She took that like a slap in the face. Her lip trembled, ever so slightly, just enough to make him feel like an utter shit. Then she lifted her chin. "If that's how you want to play it, fine. Grab him."

Two more vamps latched onto his arms from behind, holding him prisoner. "You planning to drag me into the truck, too?"

"No, I just thought I'd beat some sense into you."

Spike scoffed. "Never used to need help fighting me."

"What can I say? That was the old, stupid, apparently dead and gone Buffy." She punched him, snapping his head back. "You're not going to screw this up for me."

"You want to kill Dawn, you're gonna have to kill me first."

She looked at him for a long time, then nodded. "If it comes to that. 'Course, I'd be more impressed with your bullshit bravado if you weren't all helpless--"

With a holler, Spike lunged forward, charging Buffy with as much speed as he could muster what with the two oafs attached to his arms. He stopped and swung them both forward. One of them let go and spilled into her, knocking her down and freeing him to punch the other in the face. The first one jumped him from behind, but Spike ducked and flipped Tweedle Dumb over his head into Tweedle Dumber.

"Leave him!" Buffy shouted, getting back to her feet. "Get in the truck. Make sure Dawn's tied up."

"That's some impressive help you've got there, Pet."

"It wasn't their help I was counting on." She jumped and kicked him in the chest. He stumbled and she swung, but he caught her fist and spun her, twisting her arm behind her back.

As he held her there, he couldn't help the rueful smile that came to his lips. "Kinda like old times, innit, Baby?"

"It didn't have to be." She slammed the back of her head into his face.

"Gah!" he cried, reeling back and grabbing his nose. Before he could recover she hit him again. He could feel blood pouring from his nose, taste it in his mouth. His eyes watered, blurring everything, but he could see her foot flying through the air at him, too late for to duck. It connected with his temple and dropped him to his knees. "Buffy�"

"You idiot." She sounded equal parts sad and pissed off. "Why couldn't you leave it alone?" She kicked him again, and then he felt pavement beneath his cheek. His vision was going all dark around the edges, but he struggled to hang on.

"Load up!" she hollered. "We have to get as far away as we can before sunrise."

"What about him?" somebody asked.

Spike found the ground beneath his palms and pushed against it as hard as he could, but nothing happened.

"Leave him. Maybe he'll wake up and come to his senses."

"What if he doesn't?"

Through the big haze that covered his vision he could make out her boot. He tried to reach for it. "Nibblet," he mumbled.

"If he doesn't� in a few hours the sun will solve that problem for us." The last thing he heard as he lost consciousness was spiked heels clicking on pavement as she walked away.

~*~
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Dead Leaves and the Dirty Ground

Dead Leaves & the Dirty Ground