Summary: Spike returns to Sunnydale after a long absence, very uncertain about what he will find there, or the reception he will get - especially since he himself has changed on a fundamental level.

Disclaimer & Notes: See Chapter One.
 
 

Chapter Nineteen

Spike knew the hundreds of tunnels that criss-crossed beneath the town of Sunnydale, in haphazard fashion, like the back of his hand. Before, when he'd been dead, with the added bonus of an unhealthy reaction to sunlight, he'd used them to get to just about anywhere during the day, always showing up above ground completely unexpected.

Some of the underground routes were disused sewer pipes or the passages of the long-abandoned initiative caves, but others were ancient byways carved out by demons of long ago. It was these areas that Spike knew the least about since they burrowed deep underground - nowhere he wanted to be. But there was also the fact the old tunnels were supposed to be under some sort of curse - not that that would stop him from investigating them, mind, but he'd heard some gruesome tales, even for his ears, about unseen monsters that brought death - slow and painful.

Red had led them to a part where the sodden walls and musty air seemed to give off a feeling of age unlike anything Spike had ever felt in his adopted country of America. For someone who was older than most of Sunnydale himself, that was saying something. Spike had given up the pretence of knowing where they were a while back - Buffy was relying on him not to cock up this time - and now they had to follow Willow's shaky intuition. He wasn't sure if he should mention the rumours to Buffy and the rest, but then, he knew it wouldn't deter her, so it was pointless. What they didn't know couldn't hurt them, right? But he couldn't shake the feeling that something nasty was lurking just around the corner.

Willow stopped at an intersection in the passageway and looked back at them. The flashlight she held made her appear pale, almost vamp-like. Spike couldn't suppers the chill that slithered across his back at the thought. He wondered at this strange reaction - and shuddered again when he remembered his past visions of turning the witch. Nobody deserved that kind of death - and how much more did he know that now that he was truly alive. The feel of sunlight on his face, the Slayer's warm fingers curled up in his warm hand, pounding blood letting him know that his feelings weren't an illusion - he wouldn't give that up for anything.

"Which way?" Buffy asked Willow. Spike had been watching the Slayer secretively as she took long, determined steps alongside him. He could see the white line of tension around her mouth and knew she was worried about her Watcher.

Biting her lip, Willow looked back at the two separate passages. "That one," she said, pointing to the left. "I'm sure of it... Only... " She let her hand fall and shook her head.

"What is it, Wil?" Xander, all caring big man now after his hostile encounters with Spike and Dawn, pushed forward from the rear of the group that had pressed into the confined space.

'God, it's like a fuckin' tour group,' Spike thought suddenly with clenched teeth. He could feel Jake crowding him to take a look over his shoulder. 'Buy a ticket to the underground caves and you get the Hellmouth thrown in for free.'

"There's something else," Willow continued as she turned her big, solemn eyes on the rest of them. "I don't like it."

Buffy nodded. "I know. I've been feeling it for a while now. It's vampires," she stated without emotion.
Dawn's eyes flashed with something that Spike wasn't sure he wanted to know about. The girl had a taste for blood, he could tell. His Nibblet had grown up in just a short span of months, but he wasn't sure he liked the direction her adult personality was leaning towards. Realising that made him hesitate. Not too long ago, he would have been proud instead of worried. He turned to Buffy. "Can you tell how many there are, love?"

She didn't blink at his use of the endearment. Some deity must really be smiling down on him despite his damnation, because Buffy had not questioned his sudden reappearance nor his right to be at her side. She turned and looked at him steadily, then said, "I don't know..." She looked away, her face filled with confusion.

Spike reflexively reached out to her, but let his hand drop at the last moment. Something was muddling up her slayer senses - and he would put kittens on the fact that that something was him. 'Still a demon,' he thought to himself.

"It doesn't matter," Buffy said to the rest of them as she walked up to where Willow was waiting. "If there's vampires, we'll just have to go through them."

Willow nodded, although her face registered some uncertainty. "Buffy - are you sure you're..."

For one heart-rending moment, the chill air in the tunnel became even colder. Buffy's voice dropped to a low whisper that only Willow - and Spike's vamp senses - could pick up. "I'm fine. Not that you should waste your time worrying about me."

Willow flinched as if physically struck and Spike wondered if it was the shadows that cast an eerie black light in her eyes. He saw, briefly, a vision of what the witch must have looked like when she'd been out of control. It wasn't pretty. Buffy saw it as well, because under her stern countenance, Spike could tell she was trembling.

He moved forward quickly before the tension could escalate into something worse. "So we're off that way, right?" He pointed to one of the passages and moved towards it, putting himself between Slayer and witch.

His actions managed to distract them and end the dark moment. Suddenly, Willow was just a small and broken girl again and Spike could feel the relief that flowed out from her.

"Yeah," Willow responded, taking a deep breath. "We should hurry - I'm sensing that Giles needs us."

***

The former-watcher was in bad shape. His periods of lucidity were more frequently interspersed with confusion and moments of panic that made his heart race. He was weak and tired and knew he would have difficulty lifting the unconscious vengeance demon, but all that didn't matter now because his hope had been defeated.

After the light had gone, he'd continued forward in the dark as best as he could, and when a rush of fresh air from somewhere had touched his face, he'd known a moment of elation. It was a sign that they were indeed on the right path and perhaps this nightmarish escapade would soon be over.

Giles had increased his pace with a concerted effort to get them out of there as soon as he could when he was halted by another light. This one was different from the one he'd seen before in that, after a moments inspection, he knew immediately what the source was. He was seeing the dim reflections cast by flickering firelight. He came to the conclusion that the tunnels up ahead were occupied and the thought filled him with foreboding. The only other beings he'd seen in this godforsaken place were the vamps that had brought them in to feed their desiccated master. He was in no way able to face off with a vampire.

He'd carefully left Anya in what he hoped was a hidden spot and moved cautiously to investigate. As he came closer to where the light was coming from, the iron smell of cold blood reached his nostrils and his stomach heaved. With an effort, Giles tried to reel in the dizziness, so that he could see for himself what he knew to be true. As he crept around a corner, his worst fears were horribly confirmed.

There were perhaps six or seven vampires that he could make out in the dim light with his weak eyes. They were strewn out over the floor of the cave, their faces smeared with blood from the recent kills that were left in misshapen heaps around them and they were sleeping the sleep of the sated, not to mention, the dead. Giles took in, with a quick glance, that the only way forward was through the nest and came to the dismal conclusion that they'd never make it out after all. He brought his hand up to massage his aching temples and made a decision - he would go back to Anya, protect her if he could, if the vampires sensed their presence, but he was physically unable to do anything else. He realised with a cold knowledge that, in all probability, they would die here. At least he was still compos mentis enough to know when he he'd met his match.

With his head bowed and his heart aching like lead in his chest, Giles made his way back to Anya. He stumbled down next to her, defeated, and put his head down on her chest to gather her fading warmth.

"I'm sorry," he whispered to her, even as he knew she would not hear him. In that moment, he wished that things could have been different. For him, for her. For Buffy. He'd done so many things which he thought were right at the time, but only turned out to make matters worse. Was he wrong in wanting them to leave Sunnydale and remain in one piece - emotionally and physically? Vengeance demons wouldn't fit in with the life he envisioned for Buffy, Dawn and himself, even if they were friends - even if he cared about them. It didn't matter now, he supposed. He just hoped that Buffy would find the strength he knew she possessed and find her own place in the world - whatever that was.

Maybe the encounter with Spike would shake her up...

Giles began to let himself succumb to the urge to sleep and closed his eyes. If he slept now, he didn't think there was anything in the world that would rouse him this time. If he slept now, he wouldn't be waking up, ever.

He was wrong.

Just as he reached the threshold between waking and sleeping, something cold and sharp sliced through his mind. It carried fear and pain, a deep emotional stress. It also carried with it forbidden power, a dark well of vengeance and cruelty. Giles knew that signature intimately and he gasped as his eyes shot open. It filled him with a turbulent mixture of fear and hope.

"Willow!"

TBC...