The rain poured down as if it had a personal vendetta against the earth. Normal rain would feel embarrassed by this excessive, juvenile display of needless force – after all, it didn't take much to saturate the ground and inconvenience those poor plodding creatures who skulked about in the mud. This was just a needless indulgence. But the rebellious young storm angrily threw down all it had, determined to make its mark.
Most sane people and demons were at home tucked up warm in bed or sarcophagus. Spike was willing to admit that he possibly wasn't entirely sane, and he thankfully wasn't normal.
He peered thoughtfully through the deluge that continued to pound mercilessly on the earth and her denizens, to watch the slayer as she pounded equally on his fellow vampires.
As always, he couldn't help but marvel. He'd met and eaten slayers who were faster. He'd crossed fists with demons who were certainly stronger. He'd never however met anyone with quite her flair and passion. He found it deeply arousing in a disturbing way, but like an itch he couldn't quite scratch – or a flame for the doomed moth, she intrigued him.
He roused himself from his revere, realizing that the slayer had smoothly staked the last of the vampires she fought. Glancing around herself warily, she set off damply.
In his direction.
Spike swore softly to himself. He drew back, trusting the rain and the dark to conceal his presence as he lurked against the wall of a handy crypt.
Just as she passed his hiding place, Buffy paused, a puzzled frown creasing her brow. Spike felt as if his heart should have missed a beat, and then he felt the warming anger flow through his veins in lieu of blood.
He shouldn't be afraid of her! A few weeks ago he'd have taken her on in an instant, with no regrets regardless of the outcome.
Being totally unable to harm humans however, his perspective had drastically altered. Being caught stalking the slayer was likely to end abruptly with him precipitating gently downwards with the rain.
Maybe he could even get out of a confrontation alive – he'd discovered a distressing sentimentality and squeamishness about her that baffled him, but that wouldn't much help as yet again, he found himself needing the slayers help. He shuddered at the thought. He knew Dru had left him for showing that weakness – for helping that high kicking heifer kill Angel a couple of years ago. He'd been confused – he'd thought the whole point was that vampires didn't have morals! But as it turned out, they had standards, and Spike had dropped below them when he allied himself with their hereditary enemy.
Sod 'em then, Spike thought. He'd never let the rules worry him before. If getting even, and getting this chip out of his head meant consorting with the enemy again, then so be it.
Getting staked for a misunderstanding however was not part of the plan.
He drew in a breath, about to reveal himself and probably to suffer her arbitrary wrath, when something leaped out from the bushes.
Obviously as surprised as he was, Buffy had no time to react before the indistinct shape plowed into her. Both fell in a tangle of limbs and claws. The creature snarled and Buffy cried out as the two of them rolled over in the mud, locked together as the monster snapped and tore at the girl in fury as she desperately tried to hold it back.
To Spike, the indistinct sinewy hulk of matted fur looked a little like a werewolf – in the way that Arnold Schwarzenegger looks a little like a human being.
The two of them rolled to a stop, and to Spikes alarm, Buffy lay unmoving and limp, pinned down beneath the creature. It raised a paw, gleaming in the dim light with lethal jagged claws, to strike the killing blow.
Without thinking, without even knowing why, Spike flung himself from his concealment with an enraged roar, bearing down on the demon. He hit it as it started to rise, hammering into it with his shoulder and carrying it with him, sailing past the motionless form of the slayer. They landed together and rolled, almost in parody of the struggle a few seconds earlier. This time however, the shaggy demon ended forced down against the earth, with a screaming furious vampire pinning it down and pounding its skull into swift oblivion.
Spike gradually became aware as the suffocating red mist dissipated from his mind. The body beneath him lay limp, and he felt a brief familiar thrill of pleasure and satisfaction. He looked down at mud and blood streaked corpse, and felt a brief wash of confusion. Then, he heard a groan.
He turned, and saw Buffy stir pitifully. In an instant, he was by her side. He looked down, and marveled at his reaction to the condition of his former nemesis.
Several cruel claw marks marred her torso, and the blood seeping from her body mingled with the rain and liquid sod. Of more concern were the vicious gashes to the side of her head, starting at the cheek and ending around the base of her neck. The three tears ran parallel and deeply, oozing in a way that Spike knew spelled certain death to a normal human.
However, she was not normal either.
He picked her up. He knew that the sun was rising soon, that he wouldn't have time for this task and to return to his crypt. Somehow however, he didn't care. He set off stoically carrying the injured slayer.
The rain carried on oblivious and quickly wasked away the blood.
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