Chapter 1.14

"Em, guyyys?" Fred called from her vantage point by the door. "This Spike guy's meant to be some sort of hostage, right?"

"Right," confirmed Buffy from her position behind the desk.

"Then how come he's actin' like he's in charge?" Fred asked as she scuttled away from the doors.

"Huh?" Buffy asked, but the questioning went no further as Spike made his grand entrance.

Willow was experiencing some severe flashbacks. She was mentally thanking the hotel's architect for the fact he hadn't seen fit to have any windows big enough for Spike to come crashing through. This was most definitely not Buffy's Spike, the tamed wolf that they had all become so used to over the years. This was the wild, majestic predator that he had been when he first invaded Sunnydale.

Command seemed as natural to him as breathing. He held the attention of every person in the room, male or female, a phenomenal presence that, regardless of orientation, it was impossible to ignore. He cut down Clem with a casual disregard, as if he was of less import to him than the marble beneath his feet. The Wicca had rapidly learned that Lily commanded respect from all who knew her, yet Spike paid no such due.

'Because he doesn't know her.' The redhead was certain that Spike was under some sort of memory affecting spell. 'Now when I was doing that sort of thing, I wouldn't let the components out of my sight, just in case. So who would be the one holding Spike's leash? Who has most to gain from his selective amnesia?

She watched as Dru pulled a stake from her coat pocket and launched herself toward Spike's back, unseen by either of the blonde pair.

A sideways glance showed Angel and Connor arrayed against Lindsey and ringed three-deep by the invading forces, though at present the combatants were still circling trying to find an advantage, or so it seemed. As yet, there had been no actual contact just an exchange of words. Ridiculously, Angel took time out from his own predicament to take exception at Spike's cavalier attitude to hospitality.

"Hey, Boy, where do you think you're going?"

Willow watched as Dru closed the distance between herself and Spike. It had to be Dru. At the very least there had to be a crystal, possibly even some more powerful focus for the spell, and Dru had to be the one who had it. Willow watched as the brunette moved closer. She let out a yell of warning, even though she knew it would be too late, and given the lip-lock the pair were indulging in, it would also probably go unnoticed. The couple remained oblivious to Drusilla's presence, and all the redhead could do now was hope that Clem's foray this afternoon would pay off.

Gunn, on the other hand, had a loaded crossbow. Even as the sanctuary spell caused Drusilla's blow to rebound mere inches from Spike's leather clad back; the former street-kid launched a bolt into her torso. The vampiress fell to the ground, reaching out as if to claw at Spike's legs. "She shan't have him. No-o-o. Spike's my boy. He loves me."

Those of the others who were armed with crossbows raised their weapons, firing on the vampires around Angel, Connor and Lindsey. Willow watched the distraught vampiress as she alternated between trying to pull out the arrow that was lodged in her back and pulling herself across the floor after Spike's retreating form. She noticed, for the first time, the dark pendant that rested between Dru's pale breasts.

'Surely it couldn't be that simple.'

Before she could wonder any further, Gunn's second shot hit home, this one passing cleanly through Drusilla's heart. For a second Willow saw only pain in her features, but just before her flesh turned to dust, it seemed as if there was a moment of tranquillity, as if she welcomed the end to her perpetual torment. Before she could be sure, Dru's calm face was dust and finally her bones crumbled to the floor.

Willow tried to scan the dust for traces of the crystal pendant, but this had been no high-enchantment, and she suspected that the crystal had turned to dust with its owner.

A keening wail echoed through the walls of the hotel, and Lindsey and his supporters scattered to the winds.

* * * * *

Xander watched as his worst nightmare came to life before his eyes. At least Deadboy Senior had had the decency to be ashamed of what he was. Spike not only revelled in it, he didn't give anyone the option of convincing themselves that his and Buffy's relationship was purely platonic. Not that Xander didn't know exactly what those scars on Buffy's neck meant. And with the naked push-ups... and he so didn't want to think about what Spike had been pushing up where.

Xander knew about claiming rituals. Witchcraft books weren't the only ones that came with engravings, and there had been some pretty graphic engravings in those Vampyr texts of Giles'. But what really made this his worst nightmare was that Spike and Buffy had been split up, and here he was doing his bit in what was essentially a battle to get them back together again. He watched as Spike carried Buffy off, just managing one better than dragging her upstairs like some Neanderthal. He couldn't believe that they were oblivious to the carnage that was breaking loose at their backs, literally.

Then, the first bolt flew, and Xander took it as his cue to start thinning the crowd of vampires around Angel, Connor and Lindsey. He grabbed the broadsword he'd swiped from the pile of weapons Buffy had been cleaning. He'd got there just in time, too. Angel had been about two paces behind him and had given him a dark glower as he eyed the weapon in Xander's hand before picking up a longsword. After all, Xander was the only one out of the two of them that was actually going to be fighting, what with the sanctuary spell and all.

Xander waded in wielding the sword with a strength that let him make rapid swings and thrusts, where normally the blade's own momentum would have limited his actions. Even if it hadn't been for the sanctuary spell, he wouldn't have needed to parry. He gave a huge, horizontal sweep of the blade cleaving the heads from two of the vampires that had ringed Angel's group before they even knew he was there. Boy, did this invulnerability thing have... three... its uses, just so long as the people... four... you were fighting didn't know how you came to have it.

Okay, when... five... he finally got Anya home she was definitely going... six... to do the Brigitte Nielson thing to his Conan. Maybe... seven... he should suggest to Buffy that they keep... "Hey, come back you cowards..." a couple of weapons at their place. Just so he could practice of course.

Okay, where the hell was that howling coming from? Jeez, it had to be Spike. That was kinda quick. So much for vampire stamina ...and no wonder they wanted the basement soundproofed if he made that din every time.

* * * * *

Spike's wailing lament was Angel's first intimation of Drusilla's passing. Up until then, he'd been too busy taunting Lindsey, trying to get him to fall foul of the sanctuary spell, whilst also trying to make sure that Xander didn't cut him or Connor with those wild swings he was making with that sword. He froze dead at the sound. It could only mean one thing, something he'd wanted and dreaded at the same time for over a century.

He headed for the stairs at a run. Whatever else he and Spike were, regardless of the differences between them, they were family. For now, that was all that was important.

They hadn't even made it to a room. They knelt facing each other in the third floor corridor. Buffy's hand brushed softly through the curls at the back of his head as she held him close. Angel couldn't help but think that the Buffy he'd known would have been petulant. She wouldn't have understood that a man could love two women at once. She certainly hadn't expected him to grieve when he staked Darla for her. Nevertheless, here she was offering Spike solace as he howled like a banshee over Drusilla.

Angel fell to his knees behind Spike, so that the younger vampire was held between him and Buffy, except Angel didn't know that a third of Spike's back was one massive burn.

The pain was enough to make Spike pull away, and Angel in turn took offence at Spike's apparent rejection until Spike's hand reached back to take his, and he finally ceased his unearthly wail.

Spike twisted his upper body so that his "good side" stayed glued to Buffy as he looked half-over his shoulder at Angel.

"Sorry, mate. Got a few tender patches that don't like bein' pressed on."

Buffy blew out an exasperated breath. "And I used to think he exaggerated everything. Here, it turns out he's a master of understatement."

Spike gave a sigh and loosed Angel's hand. "Don't matter what I am. We haven't got time for this. Not now."

"What's up?" Buffy asked, knowing that something had forced him to lay his grief to one side, if only temporarily.

"Well, when Dru died, the spell they had this guy do disappeared. You know how that goes. 'Bye-bye, Randy. Hello, Spike.' For a start, I've just remembered that those guys have got half a dozen kids not much older than Dawn stuck in a cabin in the middle of nowhere, and your green friend's up there with them. I'm guessing since I kind of burnt my bridges there that they won't exactly feel compelled to keep their word about not harming them."

Spike pulled a stake from his coat pocket and passed it to Buffy. "And the other thing you should know is that they took the chip out."

"I know, " Buffy replied, handing the piece of wood back to him blunt end first. "At least, I guessed from the headache you gave me for nearly a day. We can do the big heart to heart later. For now, just don't eat anybody and don't hurt Xander too bad, and I won't stake you.

I guess we better see if we can reach this cabin before they do. Do you think you could find your way back there?"

"In a helicopter? Sure. In a car? Not a hope in hell. In a four by four with a winch and the help of some detailed maps? Probably. But there's no way we can beat them back there. All we can really do is head out there and see what they left behind."

Buffy looked over to Angel. "You want to set your people to work sorting out vehicles and maps and stuff. It seems to me that we aren't going to be able to leave tonight. If Spike can pinpoint it on a map, we might be able to leave tomorrow morning. Unless you know someone with a helicopter or two that would lend you them and their pilots on no notice whatsoever."

Angel looked over at her. "Funny you should ask... 'cause."

"You're joking, right?" Buffy asked.

"More like guessing. I'd say chances are David Nabbit owns at least one helicopter."

Buffy sighed. "Lifestyles of the rich and famous. See what you can scare up. We'll be in..." She stood up and pushed open the door to the nearest room. "...Here, when you're ready for us. And if you can send someone up with a first aid kit, that'd be good, too."

* * * * *

Buffy closed the door behind them and drew Spike over to the bed. She gently eased the weight of his duster from his shoulders and then undid his shirt, button by button, kissing her way down the centre of his chest as it was revealed. Both their actions were subdued, Spike's emotional pain a constant backdrop to their interaction.

She hissed as she realised that the shirt was stuck to his flesh at several points. "Spike, it's going to be better if we soak this off. Same with the jeans. I'm willing to bet you've got a wonderful layer of black lint stuck to your leg."

"Isn't that going to make them a bit awkward for puttin' back on, pet? Assumin', of course, that the Poof isn't all talk about his la-de-da mates." Spike reached up to brush a stray hair from Buffy's brow, his hand running through the pale strands as she tilted her head back and stood on tiptoe to give him another kiss.

She settled back on her heels before she answered. "Xander brought spare clothes for everybody."

"If you think I'm going to wear Xander's clown pants and Hawaiian shirt again, you've got another thing comin'." His lips came to rest against Buffy's neck, kissing a butterfly trail down to his claim mark where he lingered for seconds as Buffy's breath began to come in sharp gasps. Still their actions weren't rooted in their mutual passion, but in their need to give physical expression to their emotional ties.

"Spi-ike. They could come back any time, and you still have to get out of those clothes so we can see to those burns."

"Don't think you heard me complaining about the first bit." The sad smile that followed his words made Buffy reach to cup the side of his face, before she drew him toward the room's bathroom.

"We'll get you some of Angel's things if we have to, but I'm fairly certain since it was Dawn who did the packing that you'll have some of your own stuff."

"Should've said. Can trust the Niblet." Spike waited while Buffy fiddled with the bathroom fittings, to no effect.

A fact that was explained by Angel, when after knocking softly on the room's outer door, he entered a few seconds later carrying a large first aid kit, a bag with their clothes and some sheets.

"The water's been drained from most of the system. We could have a leak in one of these rooms for a month before we'd know the difference otherwise. We'd need to take off the bath panel to open it up.

Why don't you use my room? It's just down the hall."

Angel looked at the stains that marked Spike's shirt where it stuck to his body. "There's some salve for burns in the kit, but there's more in the bathroom cabinet in my room. You might want to grab it while you're there.

Fred got a hold of David Nabbit and he's got a crew getting a helicopter fuelled and ready, but the pilot's off duty and so far he's not answering his pages, and then we have to hope he hasn't been drinking when they do track him down. I'll make sure someone rings through to your room when we're ready to leave. In the meantime, Willow and her friend are trying out that location spell to see if they can pick up Lorne, so at least we'll know if they move him.

And, Buffy, try to make sure he doesn't wander round the hotel nude. The last thing we want is Gunn after what's left of his hide for flashing his girlfriend."

He urged the couple toward the door. "Go on. I'll make up the bed while you're doing that, and if you ring down to the desk when you get to the patching him up stage, I'll bring some blood up."

It went against years of ingrained habit, but Spike knew that Angel was doing everything he could to make them feel welcome, and Spike felt some acknowledgement was needed. Buffy was drawn to a stop, refusing to relinquish the grip she had on his hand as he paused in the doorway. Even now, Spike still couldn't bring himself to use Angel's chosen name so he stuck with the slightly yobbish greeting. "Hoi."

Angel looked up from where he had already started making the bed. Spike gave him a weak smile. "Thanks, mate."

Angel smiled in return. Cordy had been right about Spike. He had changed. Maybe it had taken a tragedy for the pair of them to cut through all the... How had she put it? The "macho vampire crap". That didn't mean they couldn't work from here.

Buffy and Spike lingered over the task of soaking off his clothes, both of them ending up soaked before they were done. They exchanged unhurried kisses and gentle caresses under the shower's tepid spray. Finally, when they were both washed up to her satisfaction, Buffy scooped up their wet clothes and the ointment Angel had mentioned from the bathroom cabinet, and they both made their way back to their own room.

Buffy rang down to the main desk to let Angel know they were finished in the bathroom, and minutes later he appeared with a mug of blood.

He noticed Buffy had been careful to make sure that Spike lay on his side with his back to the door and a towel draped over the central part of his anatomy. This in spite of the fact that the scarring above and below indicated that the burns probably ran from his shoulder as far down as mid thigh.

Angel simply slipped the mug onto a dresser that sat conveniently near the door. "Make sure he drinks that," he told Buffy before shutting the door and leaving them alone.

Buffy paused in what she was doing long enough to pick up the mug and carry it over to Spike, She pulled the towel aside and continued to rub in the salve, occasionally pausing to kiss the unmarred side of his back as she worked with gentle hands.

She looked up as Spike made a sputtering sound, almost choking on the first mouthful from the mug.

"What's up? Cold?" Buffy asked.

Spike waited till his cough had died down a little before he replied. "You could say that. Least room temperature. 'S his. Stupid bugger's gone and tapped a vein."

"Will it help you heal quicker?"

"Yeah, but... He didn't have to," Spike protested.

Buffy snuggled as close to his back as she could without pressing on his wounds, her arm resting against his side. "That's probably why he did." She kissed him high up on the side of his neck before scooting backwards off the bed.

Approaching from the other side she began to apply the salve to the burns on his front.

"If this thing does end up in a fight, we need you as healthy as possible."

Spike looked at her through dark lashes. "I don't think that's why he did it, pet."

"Neither do I. But it's one reason to drink it that you can't quibble about." She leant in to place a kiss on the end of his nose. "Now, drink it all up or you can't have any dessert."

A shadow of Spike's normal grin flickered briefly across his face. "Promises, promises, love," he replied before he dipped his head to take another sip from the mug.