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The Butterfly Effect	By : cousinjean Category: > Buffy/Spike(William) > Buffy/Spike(William) Views: 27635 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
- 8
The Butterfly Effect

by cousinjean

*

Chapter Seven

***

The steps creaked beneath her boots, softly but loudly enough to announce her descent. He was ready for her when she reached the bottom. Watching for her, waiting patiently for her to make a move, or crack a joke, or give an order. She knew that whichever it was, whatever she asked of him, he would do it gladly, without hesitation. And at that moment, she loved him for it.

Their eyes met. For a long time they each stood still, as though afraid of breaking the thread that seemed to stretch across the basement to connect them. Gradually, it pulled them closer. She had no name for it. It felt almost a sacrilege to try and put words to this thing between them.

To what she felt for him.

She knew what he wanted to hear, but those words seemed too inadequate, too simple-and yet still too scary. He had always put so much stock in words, and she'd never been very good with them. Action was her favorite language. His actions had finally shown her just how much she meant to him. Now it was her turn to show him.

Even so, it was she who spoke first. She wasn't good with words, but she was even worse with silence. "What are you thinking?"

He raised his hand, and for the first time she noticed the amulet dangling from it. "Mostly I was wondering if I could get one of these in my birthstone." She smiled. So did he. His head tilted as he regarded her. "You?"

"Right now I'm trying desperately not to think about tomorrow."

"Want me to help with that?"

There was nothing suggestive in his tone, but as he held her in his gaze, waiting for her to answer, a stab of uncertainty went through her. Oh, God. Does he think�? "No!" She blurted that out a little too forcefully. "I just mean� I'm not here to�"

"'Cause I still got loads of stories you haven't heard if you need a diversion." He tossed the amulet on the table and sat on the edge of his cot, leaning his elbows on his knees as he looked up at her. "Figure it beats D&D with the little boy."

Put at ease-and funny how well he did that for her these days-she smiled and went to the table to pick up the amulet. "Stories are good," she said, testing the weight of the pendant in her hand. "If you want. Or we can just hang. The main thing is that I-" She swallowed and forced herself to look at him. "Is that I'm with you."

The look of wonder on his face made her heart both swell and ache. He leaned back against the wall, managing to look long and lanky despite his average height. "This where I say how touched I am that you want to spend your last night before the apocalypse with me?"

She shrugged. "Not really. I mean, I know we're gonna win, so it's not that, exactly."

"What then, Love?"

Threading the chain through her fingers, she sat next to him on the cot. "It's just a feeling I have� that everything's gonna change. I mean, it will change for me, after Willow does her spell, but� I don't know. This feels like� like the end of an era."

"The end of the world as we know it?"

"Something like that."

He nodded. "Gotta admit, been gettin' the same feeling."

"Scary." She turned to face him, sitting cross-legged. "But, it's kind of exciting, too, y'know? Like we'll all get a chance to start over. To forget the past and create whole new lives for ourselves. I'm actually thinking about where I might be ten years from now, and for once it feels like I'll actually get there."

"You'd better." He cast her a sidelong glance.

She held his gaze. "What about you? Where do you see yourself in ten years?"

He turned his head to look at her full on. "Think you already know where I'd like to be." Her gaze didn't waver, but he dropped his eyes, and sighed. "I'm all for leaving my past behind, but vampires generally aren't big on looking too far ahead. We're more 'live in the moment' types."

"Yeah, but you're-"

"Taking it one step at a time." He reached out and stroked the amulet where it rested in her palm. "My next step is getting through tomorrow."

She watched him trace a circle around the stone. His hands fascinated her, all the different things they could do. How once upon a time he'd used them to create, pouring out all of the words built up inside him. The way they could comfort as easily as kill. The things they could make her feel, how they could ignite her heart and inflame her desire with the simplest touch.

She closed her fingers around his and stroked the back of his hand. Despite what she'd said, she wanted nothing more than to lose herself in him. But this wasn't about what she wanted. For the last two nights he had been there to give her exactly what she needed. It was time to return the favor. This night should be about him.

"Spike� you don't have to go through with this. Wearing this, I mean."

He raised an eyebrow. "You change your mind?"

"No! No, I just� we don't know what this thing will do. It could be dangerous. I don't want you to feel like you have to put yourself in that position just because I asked you to."

"Trusted me to, Love. That's the thing."

"And I still do. But I want you to know that I won't think any less of you if you change your mind. You'll still be there, fighting beside me, watching my back. That's the thing."

He shook his head. "I'd think less of me. It's funny� somebody puts so much trust and faith in you, the last thing you want is to let them down."

She swallowed. "I know you won't let me down."

"I won't." The earnestness on his face faded as his eyes dropped, and he smiled a little ruefully. "Well, not on purpose, at any rate."

"Spike�"

"But enough about the bauble." He pulled it out of her hand and tossed it on a pile of his things. Then he looked back at her and reached over to tuck her hair behind her ear. "There's some stuff I want you to know."

It wasn't very long ago that the look on his face and the seriousness in his voice would have made her run away. Maybe literally; maybe by shutting him up with a kiss and a promise of other things to occupy his mouth. Or maybe with a punch in the nose. But now she sat still, and waited, ready to listen. Now his words were welcome.

He picked out another lock of hair and held it as he spoke, rubbing the ends between his thumb and finger. "Have I ever thanked you?"

"For what?"

"Oh, you know. Believing in me. Taking chance after chance on me. Saving me from the First, or from that sodding basement� making me get my rocks back� never staking me when you had the chance�"

"Well, there was that one time, when you had that ring."

His eyes narrowed in confusion, then widened. "Oh yeh. Forgot about that." He shrugged. "I had that one coming."

She smiled in spite of the less than pleasant memory, and nodded. "You really did."

"Well then, for all the other times I had it coming."

"You're welcome."

"I'm serious, Buffy."

"I know." She raised her hand and clasped his. "So am I."

Releasing her hair, he turned his hand in hers, pushing her fingers open with his until their palms pressed together. He stared at them, and she wondered if he was as fascinated by how small her hand looked in his as she was. She twined her fingers through his, and for a long time they just sat there, clasping hands.

"It was worth it," he blurted. She didn't need to ask what he meant, but knew that if she was quiet he'd tell her anyway. "The last couple nights� right now� it was worth all of it. The chip, the desert, that basement� all of it. Got no regrets." He bit is lip, then laughed, a sort of wheezing sound, and shook his head. "Well, we both know that's a lie. I got about a million regrets. And a lot of 'em involve you� the way I handled things with you." He raised his eyes to hers. "But I'll never regret you." He pulled his hand from hers and held her face in both hands. "You're worth it, Buffy. Every bit of it." His voice trembled. She said nothing because she knew her voice would break. She felt a tear roll down her cheek. He wiped it away with his thumb. "Whatever happens tomorrow, Love� wherever we find ourselves when it's all said and done, I want you to remember that. For me, it was all worth it."

She wished she had his way with words. But it felt like a good time for some of that action she was so big on. Grasping his face, she pulled him to her and kissed him. It was a soft kiss. Nothing that would bring the house down, but not exactly chaste, either. His fingers slid back and tangled in her hair even as he pushed her away.

"Buffy�"

"Spike, tell me what you want."

"What I�" His eyes narrowed, filled with a mix of wariness and hope. She could feel his fear, but she wasn't sure what he was afraid of-himself, or worse, of her.

"It's okay. You can tell me."

He closed his eyes and let out a soft sigh. "I want you to feel safe with me, Pet."

"I do. That's not even a question anymore."

When he opened his eyes again, the hope was starting to win out.

"Spike�" She faltered. God, she had to make him understand. "Tonight I want to be with you. Completely. But� if you don't want-"

He barked out a laugh. "Are you kidding?" The look on his face reminded her of the night she'd re-invited him into her home. Then he kissed her, and all of the fear melted in the heat of the passion that still burned between them. He caught her around the waist and pulled her into his lap, where he buried his face against her breast and for a long time just clung to her. She held him in turn, cradling his head and stroking his hair, until at last he lifted his face to hers for another slow, smoldering kiss.

His hands-those amazing hands-began to make themselves at home on her body. She turned in his lap and straddled him, giving him better access to anything he wanted. Her own hands were growing eager. She grabbed hold of his shirt and pulled it up over his head. Then she took a moment to admire him. Not just his body, but all of him. God, he was beautiful.

He went to work unbuttoning her shirt, and his mouth-

Slam!

Buffy's body jerked with a start as her eyes flew open. Then she closed them again and rolled over, intent on getting back to her dream. She was right at the best part. But the realization that she was in her old bed in her old room hit at about the same time as the sound of footsteps on the stairs, and something screamed at her through her sleep fog that the combination of these things was very, very bad.

She bolted upright and squinted at the clock. It was almost six. Didn't she set the alarm?

She heard voices down the hall. Her mom's. And her own. Oh, shit. She looked around the room. There were no places to hide in here, not even under the bed. Good for preventing demon ambushes, but so not good for Future Buff. She went to the window and yanked open the blinds. The voices stopped. The doorknob was turning. Buffy shoved the window open and rolled through it as the bedroom door swung open.

She perched on the eave under the window, out of view. She was about to jump down when she heard the other Buffy punching numbers on her phone. Her gut told her to stick around and listen.

"Giles. Mom said you left a message...? Uh-huh. That green demon. � I told you. He was short, kinda spry. �An auction? What, he's with the Evil Antique Road Show? �How come Angel told you instead of me? � Oh, right. Okay, so, where did Willy say this would be? �Huh. That's weird. Oh, nothing, I just noticed my window's open. I could've sworn it was shut this morning."

Shit! Buffy scrambled onto the roof above the window just as her counterpart stuck her head out and scanned the yard.

"No, I think it's okay. I must've just had a blonde moment or something. Anyway, tell Angel I'll meet him there. � Right. You want I should bring you the doohickeys they're selling, or� Cool. I'm on my way." The phone went back in its cradle, and the bedroom door opened. "Mom, I'm going over to Willow's to study!" Buffy heard herself shout.

She lay on the roof and waited until she saw the other Buffy leave, all the while trying to figure out a new game plan. She'd planned on finding Spike as soon as the sun went down. He might still be willing to help. If not, then she needed to give him the potion and get it over with. But now there was no time for that. If Mudge was auctioning off that cross tonight, she had to beat Angel and Teen Buffy there. Except that she had no idea where 'there' was. And even if she did, she had no idea how she was going to take care of Mudge and get back the cross and the book without somebody to handle the book for her until she got safely outside the city limits. And she couldn't leave until she took care of Spike. Maybe she should go get him first.

"One thing at a time," she muttered as she climbed back in through the window, grateful that it had been left open. The better for sneaking in later, she remembered with a smile. She padded over to the door and shut it softly, then went to the phone and hit redial.

"Sunnydale High School Library, Rupert Giles speaking."

Whoa. Talk about nostalgia. "Giles, hi. It's me."

"I thought you said you were leaving." She could practically hear him taking off his glasses.

"I am. I just� heh, I guess I'm having another blonde moment. Where did you say the auction is?"

"Oh, for Heaven's sake, Buffy. Write it down this time."

"Got a pen right here."

"It's in the back stockroom of the shoe store on Durant."

Buffy thought about this. "The PayLess?"

"I'm sure you would know better than I."

Frowning, she looked down at her ankle boots. "Does this mean PayLess is evil?"

"Probably not the entire chain."

"Okay. Good."

"Of course," said Giles, "this intel did come from Willy, so you would do well to treat it as suspect."

"Right. Gotcha." She was ready to hang up when an alarm sounded in her head. "Wait, Giles?"

"Yes?"

"You said Willy told this to Angel?"

"That's correct."

"Last night. He told Angel this last night."

Giles sighed into the phone. "Is this yet another blonde moment?"

"N-no. I'm on it. Thanks." She hung up the phone and stood there a moment, hand resting on the receiver.

Willy had nothing. Now Willy has a broken face.

Buffy swallowed her disappointment, trying not to choke on it as she climbed back out the window. Looked like she'd be able to kill both birds after all.

***

Lying to the Slayer had been easy. Of course, that was before he'd kissed her. Afterwards� well, his freak-out hadn't exactly allowed him time to come clean, had it? Good thing, too. Despite the odd fleeting thought of tracking her down and telling her about the auction, spending the day with Dru had put things back in perspective. He'd get that cross tonight for his Princess, then they would move to new digs where Buf-where the Slayer couldn't find them. Then once Drusilla was cured, they'd blow this do-gooder trap of a town and leave it behind forever, just like he said.

Shouldn't be too hard. The players were few. Mudge had obviously done his homework when picking his potential buyers, including Spike. He'd been taken aback when he'd walked into Willy's and been greeted with news of his invitation, and a bit disappointed at having no good reason to harm the barkeep, never mind what he'd told the Slayer. Anyway, it served her right. She should have known better than to trust him.

Most of the others Spike recognized right off. The Zo'orax was one of the demon world's best known fences. He trafficked black market goods all over the world. If he won the cross, he'd be willing to turn around and sell it to Spike-for about five times what he paid for it tonight. That wouldn't do. Armoto was there-he was something of a demon mobster, head of a gang that had an understanding with the Aurelius clan-an understanding that would probably get blown all to hell by the time Spike was done here tonight. Armoto himself would be easy pickings, but his Polgara bodyguard was another story. There was also a human in the mix. Spike didn't know him. Older gent, English. Reeked of magic and overconfidence. Spike would enjoy knocking the smug smirk off that bloke's smarmy face. Mudge himself was probably the biggest contender, after the Polgara. He didn't look like much, but Spike had seen the way he'd handled himself against the Slayer. Bugger could put up a fight.

Timing was going to be everything.

Spike scanned his surroundings, taking note of all possible ways out. This little gathering was taking place in the office area of the stockroom that was partitioned off from a larger warehouse, with a set of swinging double doors connecting them. The door behind him opened into the store. The partition walls ended without a ceiling a few feet above their heads, and a catwalk ran all the way around the warehouse, lined all around with large windows and offering a fire exit on one wall. Spike counted no fewer than seven potential escape routes.

Should be cake.

At long last Mudge appeared, carrying the satchel Spike had seen him with in the cemetery the night before. Up close he looked like a bigger version of one of those things from those Gremlins movies. "Gentlemen," he greeted them in cordial tones. Blighter sounded like Bugs Bunny. Everything about his manner screamed "con artist." He set his bag on the desk and looked at them each in turn. "Thanks for coming."

"We didn't come here for pleasantries, Mudge," said Armoto. "Show us the goods."

"Yeah. Sure thing. Got 'em right here." Mudge opened the satchel.

"Didn't anybody ever tell you people that patience is a virtue?"

Every head in the room snapped up toward the catwalk, except Spike's. He merely closed his eyes and sighed. A soft thud announced her presence beside him, and he opened his eyes to see her go from crouching to standing with the grace of a lioness.

"Nice entrance," he said, but she didn't so much as acknowledge him. Okay, that might've hurt a little.

"Who invited the Slayer?" asked the Zo'orax. Spike took a quick study of the others. The Polgara moved to stand in front of his boss, both of them tensed to fight. The human had inched back behind the others and was doing a bad job of hiding his face. Mudge stood dumbfounded, his mouth hanging open as he stared at her.

She tossed her hair over her shoulder and leveled her eyes at him. "Willow sent me."

"Uh� heh. Hey!" Mudge grinned a toothy grin. "How is Willow?"

"She wants her book back." She moved to the desk and leaned forward. "And I want the cross."

"Look, Slayer," Mudge held up his hands passively, "we don't want no trouble here. I'm a businessman-"

"You're a skeevy little thief."

"Flattery'll get you nowhere, toots. As I wa-"

"Did you just call me 'toots'? What're you, from 1943?"

"As I was saying, there are other interested parties. But you're welcome to put in a bid on the items."

"A bid." The Slayer nodded. "Sure. Here's my opening bid. Give me what I want, and Spike and I won't kill everyone in this room."

Did she just�? "Uh�" Spike raised a hand. "We're not actually together."

"Fine." She shrugged. "I'll do it myself."

"All right, all right." Mudge dumped his bag on the desk. A very old, very thick book and a large, ornate gold cross fell out. "Like I said, I don't want any trouble. You want 'em, Slayer? Take 'em."

"You won't walk out of here with those," Armoto told her. The look she gave him made him shrink back behind his Polgara. Spike had to suppress a smirk. The Slayer turned back and reached for the cross. As soon as her fingers grazed it, sparks shot out of it and up her arm, making her cry out in pain.

Spike was at her side, pulling her back, before he even knew he'd moved. When he realized what he was doing he jerked his hands away and stood back. Oh, this was just bloody terrific. Now he's saving the girl? Leaping to her rescue without a second thought, or for that matter, a first one?

"Oh, now that's interesting," said the human. Cradling her hand, the Slayer spun to look at him, eyes narrowed. "You've enchanted them."

The others spoke all at once. "What is this?" asked Armoto. "I smell a double cross," said the Zo'orax. The Polgara merely grunted.

"I'm insulted," said Mudge. "It's not like that at all."

"Then how is it?" Spike asked.

"What, you really think I'd bring my merchandise to a gathering of the worst Sunnydale has to offer at this point in time, and not have a little insurance? This is how it works. The highest bidder gets to walk out with the bag. Once I'm at a safe distance with cash firmly in hand, I'll remove the spell. It's that easy. And in case you're wondering, no, killing me won't undo the spell." He said this last with a look at the Slayer.

But she was still eyeing the human. She crossed the room to him, grabbed the front of his shirt, and dragged him, stumbling, over to the desk. "Can you undo it?" she asked.

"Er�" He gingerly reached out toward the book, then jerked his hand back as sparks flew out. "No. Love to help, really, but without knowing the specifics of the spell there's nothing I can do. Sorry."

She still held him by the shirt, and seemed to be trying to suss out whether he was lying. By the look on her face, she'd be all too happy to throttle the poor bastard. Spike wondered just who the hell he was. Finally, the Slayer pulled him down to whisper in his ear, "Now would be a good time for you to run." She let him go with a shove.

He stumbled back, looking around and smoothing his shirt as he regained his footing and continued to back up toward the door. "Right then," he said, looking around at them all. "Cheers!" With that, he left.

The Slayer turned back to Mudge. "So killing you won't reverse it. How about prolonged torture?"

"How 'bout you shut up and let us bid?" asked the Zo'orax.

"How 'bout you stay out of this?"

"'Scuse us a moment," said Spike, ushering the Slayer out into the warehouse. He hated himself for stepping in; if he was in his right mind, he'd stand back and watch her get creamed. But he hadn't been in his right mind about the bint since he'd met her - this version of her, at any rate. Once they were through the doors, she jerked her arm out of his grasp.

"What the hell are you doing?" she asked.

"Me? I'm not the one pissing off a roomful of big 'n' nasties. Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

"What, you don't think I can take them?" She raised up on her toes to peek in the windows at the top of the swinging doors, a move that he had to admit was adorable. But he did not let it make him smile.

"By yourself?" he asked, shaking his head. "I take it back. You're not overconfident. You're insane."

She dropped back onto her heels and looked at him, her face full of disappointment, and a little hurt. "You really aren't gonna help me?"

His immediate impulse was to apologize and reassure her that he would. He even got as far as opening his mouth to say so when his brain kicked into gear and told him how wrong that was. So instead what came out was a frustrated, angry roar. He turned from her and paced away before rounding on her. "Would you wake up?!" he shouted in her face. "I'm not him! You said it. And I don't bloody want to be him! Ever!" He paced off in another direction, holding his head in his hands. "I'm a killer. I'm evil. And I like it!" He was moving toward her again. "And in case you haven't heard, I have a girlfriend. Drusilla, remember? I'm here for her. I am not here to fight your sodding battles!" He poked her in the chest.

She didn't react. She just stood there, arms folded, eyes downcast. Then her lip gave the tiniest quiver, and he felt like Sovereign Lord of the Assholes.

God damn it!

He backed out of her personal space and shoved his hands in his pockets, and waited. He expected her to knock him across the warehouse, and he was of a mind to let her. Finally, she looked up at him, her face all business. When she spoke, her voice was steady, but soft.

"If you help me get what I need from Mudge, I'll forget that you lied to me and didn't tell me about the auction."

He shrugged. "Sure. Whatever. Not like I wasn't planning to steal the cross anyway."

She nodded. "All right, so, we need to get rid of the others and make Mudge remove the protection spell."

"Be easier to just let the auction play out and then take 'em from the new owner, wouldn't it?"

The Slayer frowned. "Well, sure, if you want to be all smart and level-headed about it."

That time, he did smile. Couldn't help himself. Her face softened, and she smiled, too, and he thought that it was a bit of all right, her looking at him that way. He covered his mouth and coughed for no good reason, then jerked his head toward the doors. "Auction's probably underway. Best get back in-"

The door crashed open, and the Polgara flew between them. It landed on its backside and skidded several feet into some shelves, dumping several stacks of shoeboxes on its head. Spike and the Slayer both turned to look through the windows at the commotion in the stockroom. Angel was in there, getting knocked around by the Zo'orax, and the other Slayer was taking on Mudge.

"Bollocks," said Spike.

"You can say that again." She turned to him. "You have to go make sure they don't kill Mudge."

"What? Why me?"

"I can't go in there! They'll see me!"

"So? They'll probably just think you're a shape-shifting demon or some such."

"Spike!"

The look on her face was an amusing mix of irritation and frustration and "Get your ass in there." But there was something else underneath it all. Confidence. In him. Not only that he could do it, but that he would. After heaving a loud and much-put-upon sigh, Spike let loose his battle cry and went in.

Angel had gained the upper hand on the Zo'orax. He knocked him across the stockroom and into a set of shelves, and was too intent on finishing him off to notice Spike's entrance. The Slayer didn't notice either, too busy pummeling Mudge. She had him up against the desk, under which huddled Armoto. The Slayer raised her fist for a killing blow. Spike grabbed her arm.

"Sorry, Pet," he said as Mudge slid to the floor and crawled away. "Can't let you do that."

"Spike?"

This one's face held nothing but fury as she planted a foot against his chest, sending him flying into the doorframe. As he pulled himself up he glared out the window, where his Slayer (and he wasn't even gonna think about why she was suddenly his Slayer, but it was easier to keep 'em straight that way) looked on, cringing. She mouthed "Sorry!" and pointed, getting his attention back on the other just in time to duck a fist.

"I should've known you were behind this," she said.

"Oh, yeh, right." He slugged her. "'Cause I'm the source of all evil in this town."

"Maybe not," she said, rubbing her jaw. Then she dropped and swung a leg, sweeping his feet out from under him. She jumped on top of him. "But you're the source of most of the pain in my ass these days."

"Got news for you, Pet." He flipped her over his head, rolling with her and landing on top. "It's mutual." As she struggled beneath him he realized that he had her. No weapons, arms held useless above her head, throat exposed, completely vulnerable. He could kill her now, and the other would probably blink out of existence. Angel would be too grief-stricken to put up much of a fight. And then he really would rule the Hellmouth. Nothing would make Drusilla happier.

He glanced up at the window and saw the other one watching him. Trusting him.

Believing in him.

His grip on her wrists loosened, only a fraction, but it was enough. She wrenched an arm free and punched him, then shoved him off her and into the front of the desk. Armoto whimpered on the other side of the wooden panel. Spike started to laugh as the Slayer got to her feet. "Of all the pickings in this room, Slayer, why're you so hot on fighting me?" He waggled his tongue at her and smirked. "That eager to get your hands on me, are you?"

Her lip curled up in a disgusted sneer. "Shut up, Spike." She grabbed his coat and hauled him to his feet, pinning him against the desk as she reached for something. When her fist reared back, it gripped a pencil. He caught her wrist before the lead could puncture him. Holding her off, he groped around on the desk behind him, not sure what he was looking for. When sparks jumped out at his hand, he knew he'd found it. Please let it be the book. As his hand closed around the enchanted object, the searing of his flesh told him that it was indeed not the book. He screamed in agony, but held on, letting the current course through him and into her. Her hand twitched open and dropped the pencil as her body spasmed and his hand continued to burn.

"Buffy!" Angel stood over the dead Zo'orax, watching what was happening with alarm. Finally, Spike let go of the cross, and the Slayer fell to the ground, unconscious. Angel ran to her. "Spike, what did you do?"

"She's alive." Spike leaned on the desk, panting, as he cradled his still-smoking hand. "I'd get her out of here if you want her to stay that way. Think you've played hero and bollixed things up enough for one night."

Angel scooped her into his arms. "If she doesn't make it�"

Spike raised his good hand in a two-fingered salute. Angel took a moment to glower at him a bit more before making his retreat out through the store.

As that door swung shut, the other one opened. His Slayer stood in the doorway, looking at his hand with concern. "You okay?"

He shrugged. "It'll heal."

"So you are working with the Slayer," said Armoto, crawling out from under the desk. "You've got some explaining to do, Spike."

Spike sighed. "If you weren't too busy cowering in your cubbyhole, you might've noticed me fighting the Slayer."

Armoto looked the Slayer up and down. "Then who's she?"

"None of your concern."

"I'm the evil twin," she said, looking too amused for her own good. Mudge tried to take advantage of the distraction to sneak past her, but she reached behind and grabbed his ear.

"Ow!" he said as she twisted it and dragged him back to stand in front of her. "Ow ow owowowowow! Lay off!"

She let go of him and folded her arms. "Undo the spell."

"What're you gonna do if I don't?"

"I recall mentioning something about torture."

"You wouldn't."

She tossed her hair over her shoulder with a laugh. "Remember the little girl who was beating the crap out of you not five minutes ago? I'm stronger, better trained, less patient and becoming way more pissed off. Do you really want to test me on what I wouldn't do?"

Spike found himself smiling at the exchange. He had to admit, the woman could be pretty damn cool. He got up and moved to stand behind Mudge. "And whatever she won't do, I'm sure I won't have a problem with."

"Well, if you're gonna be like that ab-" Mudge went silent as his face was splattered with blood. The Slayer let out a gasp and looked down. Spike followed her gaze to a sharp bone protruding from her stomach. Before he could wrap his brain around that, she was flung out into the warehouse, where she bounced off a set of shelves and hit the cement floor like a rag doll. The shelves wobbled, spilling an avalanche of freight on top of her before toppling onto the pile.

Spike watched all of this in stunned silence before registering that the Polgara stood before him, blood-stained skewer fully extended from its arm. He was only barely aware of his forehead changing shape as he roared and threw himself at the demon. Leaping onto its back, he got its neck in a choke-hold and sunk his fangs into its shoulder. The Polgara clawed at him until finally it managed to pry him off and throw him over its head. Spike hit the ground rolling, and came up swinging.

The Polgara took a stab at him. Spike jumped back and caught the skewer, pulling it with him into the stockroom. Still holding onto the bone, Spike slammed the doors on it, again and again, until it snapped off and the bugger howled in pain. Spike kicked the doors open again, stepped through them and, swinging the bone like a club, batted the son of a bitch across the warehouse. It landed at the foot of the pile beneath which lay Buffy. Spike was already on top of it, stabbing it repeatedly with its own skewer. The thing twitched beneath him, then went limp and breathed its last.

As soon as it was dead, Spike leapt off of it and into the pile. "Slayer!" he called, wading through the mess of shoes. "Buffy!"

Nothing.

He tried to dig for her, but the fallen shelves were in the way. He put his shoulder under them and heaved. They started to rise, but suddenly they flew upward, out of his grip, and fell over the other direction, knocking down the other rows of shelves in a domino effect. He turned to see her standing there, arm still raised from throwing off the shelf, chest rising and falling rapidly from her exertion and anger. The look in her eyes was pure murder as they fell on the Polgara. Spike stood back as she moved toward it, kicking shoe boxes out of her way.

Mudge and Armoto came out of the stock room, Mudge clutching his satchel to his chest. Armoto gaped at the fallen Polgara and pointed at Spike. "You owe me a new bodyguard, vampire!"

In a single lightning move, Buffy pulled the spike out of the Polgara's chest and flung it toward the two demons. It impaled Armoto between the eyes, pinning him to the wall behind.

Mudge's mouth fell open as he looked from Armoto, hanging limply on the wall, to Buffy. He clutched his satchel tighter and let out a nervous laugh. Spike realized he had a huge grin on his face that he couldn't seem to wipe off. Did he say she was pretty damn cool? Make that unbelievably fucking amazing. He hooked his thumbs in his waistband and sauntered toward the little demon.

"So, Mudge. Looks like you're all out of buyers. What's it gonna be then, mate?"

The wanker pointed his pointy chin behind Spike. "Looks like you're down a girlfriend. What's it gonna be for you? Mate?"

Confused, Spike glanced behind him, then did a double take at Buffy lying face down on the floor. "Slayer?" He hesitated only a fraction of a second, pausing to look back at Mudge. But in that instant he already knew his decision. As he knelt beside his Slayer, he heard the key to his destiny skittering away beyond his reach.

"Buffy?" He rolled her over, and gasped. He hadn't noticed all that blood before. It had pooled beneath her, and her shirt and jeans were soaked with it. "Shit," he muttered, pulling off his coat. "Buffy, come on," he coaxed as he removed his button-down. "Don't do this. Not now." He balled up the shirt and pressed it to her wound, but realized it was coming out her back, too. God, there was so much of it. The last time he'd had this much Slayer blood on his hands, he'd gorged himself on it, shared it with Dru and licked it off her body as he made love to her beside the Slayer's corpse. Now he only wanted to make it stop. He tore his tee-shirt off over his head and tucked it underneath her. The pain in his burned hand was only an afterthought as he pressed the makeshift bandages against both sides of her wound, trying to stanch the flow. He shook his head. "Gotta get you to hospital."

"No." Her eyes fluttered open. "No hospital."

"Don't see that there's a choice, Love. We don't have to tell 'em your real name."

"No." She grabbed his wrist, but there was no real strength in her grip. "Too risky. Patch me up. I'll be fine."

He shook his head. "You don't understand, Pet. You-" His voice cracked under the truth of what he was about to say. He could hear her heart slowing; feel the heat ebbing from her body. "You're dying."

Her lips quirked up in a tired smile. "Wouldn't be the first time." Her eyes locked on his, pleading with him. "Trust me."

His jaw tightened as he held her gaze, wanting to argue, wanting to shut up and stop wasting time and get her the help she needed. He hadn't felt this helpless since Prague, and he hated it. He felt himself nodding. "Right, then. No hospital." He unwadded his red shirt and found an arm. "But you'd better be right about this, Slayer." He tore off the sleeve, then gently lifted her to run it under her waist. "Because you don't get to breeze into my life and shake up my whole bloody world view and then just leave like this." He shook his head as he tied the sleeve tightly around her. "You don't get to die like this."

But she'd lost consciousness again.

Tourniquet in place, he sat back and looked down at her pale, nearly-still body. How many times had he dreamed of this sight? He wiped his cheek with his good hand, and it came away wet. God help him, he was crying over a Slayer. He really was a lost cause. Carefully, he wrapped her in his coat and lifted her in his arms. "Stay with me, Buffy," he whispered in her ear, cradling her against him as he went to find his car.

*

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The Butterfly Effect

The Butterfly Effect