Whatever this Code Seven was that had evil guys running scared of other evil guys, it was clearly of the bad. Unfortunately, without the MIA liaison to the Senior Partners there to fill them in on how bad it really was, they were all pretty much clueless. As per usual, instead of guessing or waiting for this bad to come find them, Angel jumped into action. After he’d barked out some commands, everyone split up to find this now-elusive Eve.

While Buffy and Spike wandered aimlessly through the corridors playing a twisted form of hide-and-seek, Buffy offered up her idea of finding Eve, “I’m thinking, well, if I, well human me not slayer me, was trying to “discreetly” sneak out of the building pass a master vampire who was also my boss but at the same time was trying to look completely not guilty and all la-de-da casual, I’d definitely go the way with the most exposure.”

And it was this suggestion that led them to Wolfram and Hart’s sun-drenched main lobby, where the deep shadows of the spiraling staircase offered sufficient cover as they waited. And waited. Buffy was dubbed look-out by default, due to Spike’s pesky sun allergy and the lobby’s non-vamp-friendly glass. Yet she was totally shirking her duties, since her focus was mainly on Spike. In her defense, she just couldn’t help herself. Seeing Spike even in indirect sunlight was an opportunity she wasn’t going to squander. She’d only had this chance once before, during the whole Gem of Amara fiasco. At the time, she’d been too busy trying to avoid becoming the third notch on his slayer belt to appreciate the utter hotness that was Spike: the model-perfect planes of his face, the fullness of his lips, the near flawlessness of his pale skin, and how strikingly blue his eyes were—the same ones trained on her right now.

“Assure you ‘m flattered, luv, but since you’re no Skilosh Demon, need to keep an eye out for Eve, not on yours truly.” Spike gave her a wink, and she melted.

“Can’t help myself, you’re just so pretty.” Buffy felt a quick rush of embarrassment, accompanied by a full body flush from her outright appreciation. But this only lasted a moment since she had nothing to be ashamed of. He was beautiful and hers and damn it, why not say it out loud?

“Is that so?” He gave her his signature panty-dropping tongue curl and predatory head-tilt as he sauntered closer. He was so close now and she was instinctually drawn even closer. Like Mothra to a big ol’ bonfire flame. Stakeout and Code Seven be damned.

“Yes, that’s so.” Buffy wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him into a deep kiss. Even with all the craziness and unexpectedness of the day, she found comfort in the thought that, despite it all, Spike was her rock. No matter what came their way, they would face it together.

Spike broke their kiss and rested his forehead against hers. “Bloody hell. Gotta get back to work.” Spike pulled away and nodded toward a well-dressed, petite dirty blonde quickly making her way toward the main doors. “Showtime, luv.” Buffy and Spike stepped out from the shadows, and he gave an exaggerated throat clear. “Leaving so soon, Eve?”

Buffy watched Eve startle and spin on her heels to face them, her eyes wide in surprise. Her expression didn’t last long before stunned morphed into the mask of indifference and boredom with ease. “I am. Not that this is any concern of yours, Spike.”

“Well, actually there’s where you’re wrong. Seems a code went out in the building that cleared the place out like hungry vamps at an all-you-can-eat free virgin blood party. And I reckon from the way you’re scampering off, you know something of it.”

Eve took a step forward, which not only brought her closer to the doors, but placed her directly in the center of a wide band of sunlight. And like the snake she was, she basked in its warming heat with a pleased smile teasing her lips. “Maybe. Maybe not. But I will let you both on a little secret,”—Eve leaned forward—“seven is my lucky number.”

Now Buffy, being the eight-year reigning Quip Queen herself and having made banter an art form, normally would’ve been impressed by Eve’s sass. But time wasn’t really on their side today, and there was something about this chick that was really grating on her last nerve anyway. In an “I’d-like-to-use-my-stake-to-scratch-your-back-by-going-through-your-front” kinda way.

Needing to end this pathetic standoff once and for all, Buffy loudly counted out seven steps which brought her into patch of sunshine with Eve. Now standing face-to-face, Buffy smiled brightly as Eve’s eyes widened again. “Are you so sure about that?” Eve tried to bolt and Buffy grabbed her upper arm. “Ah, ah, ah, no slithering off before we have ourselves a nice little chat. Let’s go, Kaa.”

“You…you’re not a vamp? I thought that…look, I can’t stay here. I really have to go.” Eve tried to appear contrite, undoubtedly hoping the fluttering lashes and newly adopted meekness would give Buffy pause and make her let go. Yeah, right Eve must’ve quickly realized Buffy wasn’t going to budge, so she tried again, adding pleading and a little foot-dragging to the sob routine. “Where are we going?”

“Off to see King Knuckle-Dragger himself.” As unaffected by Eve’s little performance as Buffy was, Spike flanked Eve and wrapped his hand around her upper arm. “Looks like you’re not so lucky after all, eh?” In sync, Buffy and Spike walked their newly captive liaison toward Angel’s office.

 

“We've got a problem, Eve.” Angel towered over Eve as she sat in the center of his office.

It hadn’t taken long after Spike and Buffy showed up with their find for the others to return. Each reported the building pretty much was a ghost town, and Lorne added that he would’ve been surprised if the resident spooks hadn’t packed it in as well.

“Damn right, you do. When I tell the partners that you had them assault and kidnap me—” Eve nearly hissed her threat at Angel. Clearly somewhere along the way from the lobby to Angel’s office she’d grown a backbone. Buffy had to give Eve her props. So far she was totally holding her own and wasn’t backing down. Either she was really brave or really stupid. The jury was still out on which.

Angel grabbed the arms of Eve’s chair and leaned forward into her personal space. Buffy could’ve sworn he’d flashed a little fang as well. “What's a Code Seven, Eve?”

“I don't know. Seriously.” That seemed to do the trick. Eve’s resolve was quickly cracking, but it wasn’t enough for her to tell them what they wanted to know and time was running out.

With a loud huff, Cordelia threw her hands into the air and approached Angel, who let go of Eve’s chair and stood to full height. “Okay, this is getting us nowhere. Angel, torture her.”

“What?” “What?” Both Angel and Eve asked the same question, but for different reasons. Angel looked confused. Eve shocked, all the color drained out of her face until it looked that only the death-clutch she had on the arms of her chair kept her upright.

“You heard me. We don't have a lot of time. Have at it.” Cordelia waved her hand, appearing to play this off as not a big deal. Eve turned a whiter shade of pale; clearly Cordy’s blasé attitude towards Angel’s blood-soaked past seemed to have the desired effect.

“I can't just... torture her.” Angel wrung his hands together, taking on the look of a shy schoolboy not an infamous master vampire with a flair and lust for pain.

Fredstepped forward trying to support Angel’s plight. “He's right, Cordy. If we sink to her level—”

Fred hadn’t a chance to suggest an alternative when in a blur of bleached blonde, Harmony tackled Eve and knocked her out of the chair onto the floor. There was a brief tussle, but Harmony easily got the upper hand.

“Harmony!” Angel shouted, but more from surprise than in an effort to dominate the younger vampire, or even to discipline an employee. Harmony clearly didn’t see it as a command to stop manhandling Eve.

Harmony stood in one fluid motion, her eyes shining with a wicked gleam as she grabbed Eve by the neck and held her in place. “Is this okay, boss?” she asked, slightly tightening her grip on Eve. “I mean, I am evil, technically. I don't mind torturing her for the team.”

“Yeah. Okay.” Angel nodded. Eve tried pleading her case but it was cut short by Harmony landing a solid punch to her face.

“Come on, you hussy!” Harmony yanked Eve forward, snapping her head back upright and then added a backhand to the damage done to Eve’s face. “Spill it!”

“Okay. Okay. Stop! It's a fail-safe.” Eve’s words were a bit slurred from the swelling of her split upper lip, courtesy of Harmony’s fist. "They built a fail-safe—”

Hyped up by the violence or the scent of human blood, maybe both, Harmony punched Eve in the face again. This time much harder, causing Eve to sag in Harmony’s grasp.

“Harmony, she's talking.” Angel placed his hands on his hips, his tone one of curbed disapproval sounding like a father correcting his child.

“She is? Already? Well, that sucks.” Harmony unceremoniously dropped Eve back into the chair and stepped back, her disappointment evident.

Eve adjusted herself in the chair, her eyes flickering warily between Angel and Harmony. “Look, the senior partners were never certain they could keep you under their thumb, so they created a fail-safe. Housed it in the sub-levels of the building.”

“Great, what’s up with you evils and fail-safes? What is it this time?” Buffy stood and stepped closer to Eve.

“I don't know what it is, exactly, but it's huge and pissed off…and was specifically chosen to destroy Angel.” Eve visibly shuddered. Maybe it was from her injuries. Maybe it was from the thought of what lurked in the bowels of Wolfram and Hart. Most likely it was both.

“How can I stop it?” Angel moved closer to Eve, his gaze intense.

“The only way to control it is in the chamber itself.” Eve winced while using a tissue to dab at her bloodied lip.

“Well, if that's true, then who activated it in the first place?” Fred looked to Eve for an answer, yet in spite of being vamp-handled, she wasn’t very forthcoming.

“If someone has to run the show, they have to be down there now.” Gunn crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing on Eve. His long-forgotten street vigilante persona shone through despite his thousand dollar suit and head full of the law.

“Yes and this someone had to have the ability to slip past all of Wolfram & Hart’s security systems undetected.” Wesley left the question hang of who this possibly was.

“Like Spike’s magically tattooed friend,” Lorne suggested, raising one hairless brow.

“Spike, I don't wanna go in blind. Anything else you know about this guy?” Angel turned toward Spike, who was still casually leaning against Angel’s desk and watching the whole scene unfold.

Spike shrugged. “Not much. Average size. Dressed like an urban cowboy. Got his hand chopped off once.”

“His hand?” Cordelia looked quickly at Spike then her gaze made its way over to Wesley then Angel, recognition dawning across her features.

“He's back.” Wesley nodded, confirming Cordelia’s silent theory.

“Lindsey.” Angel shook his head, his hardened gaze returning to Eve, whose face remained impassive, not confirming nor denying Angel’s certainty.

“Who?” Spike stepped forward, trying to involve himself in the trio’s mutual understanding.

Angel walked past Spike and headed toward the door, then turned back. “Lock the building down, make sure he can't get out. Don't trust security systems. He won't show up because of those tattoos of his.”

“There could be a way to fix that. I'll need some help.” Wesley looked around the room for takers.

“My dance card's free.” Lorne moved toward Wesley as he offered his help.

“Again, who’s Lindsey?” This time, Buffy decided to ask since Spike wasn’t getting anywhere in learning who this guy was from Angel.

Cordelia turned toward Buffy. “A lawyer. Wolfram and Hart's former golden boy, till he ran off to go find himself.”

“Yeah, he should've stayed lost. Harmony, guard Eve. She moves, eat her.” Angel smirked.

“Really? Thanks.” Harmony smiled broadly, and eyed Eve like she was a tray of exquisite desserts. Eve looked panicked.

“Wait, that bastard bloody played me.” Spike was talking, but nobody but Buffy was really listening. At least he was in good company.

“Angel, you're not going down there alone.” Fred stepped toward Angel, her concern weighing heavily on her features.

“The fail-safe's meant for me. I'm not gonna risk anybody I care about.” Angel gave Fred a quick reassuring squeeze of her shoulder.

“I'll go. Gotta bone to pick with the boy.” Spike stepped forward and flashed some fang at Eve.

“Okay.” Angel looked from Fred to Cordelia. “Be ready to evacuate. If this thing gets past me, get the hell out of the building.” Angel started heading toward the door with Spike in tow.

“Past us.” Cordelia stepped up.

“No, no. Cordy—” Angel shook his head as Cordelia grabbed the samurai sword off the wall behind Angel’s desk.

“Yeah, save it, Angel. You can order me around all you want, but I know my rights.” Cordelia unsheathed the sword with flourish. “And I wanna see a lawyer.”

Cordelia and Angel left the room with Buffy and Spike following. The four briefly stopped off at the training room for Buffy to arm herself with the double-bladed kamas Spike was admiring earlier, and then they all made their way to the lower levels of Wolfram and Hart.

 

*****

 

 

As the four of them stood at the mouth of the room, Spike gestured to the green laser beams crisscrossing several inches off the floor. “What the bloody hell is this?”

“Let's find out.” Angel stepped forward into the web of beams and an alarm sounded. Several doors lining either side of the room slid open and out walked black-clad figures prepared for a fight.

“Zombies. Oh, swell.” Angel rolled his eyes at the newest obstacle.

Like a well-oiled machine, Angel, Cordelia, Spike, and Buffy began fighting off the zombies. Though these walking dead were easily defeated, when one fell another quickly took its place, like an undead Pez dispenser.

“We don't have time for this.” Angel tore the head off the closest zombie, and threw it at another that was attacking Cordelia.

“Go on. We’ll hold them back.” Spike yelled over to Angel and Cordelia, who ran past the remaining zombies. On pure instinct, Buffy and Spike positioned themselves back-to-back, each wearing a huge grin. “Come on, lads. No need to be gentle. We're all dead men here.”

“Hey!” Buffy sounded indignant, but the playful nudge she gave him that followed made Spike’s grin grow to Cheshire cat proportions, before they each threw themselves into the fight.

Time lost all meaning as they fell into a seamless ebb and flow. A flawless dance, a natural give and take as one by one their opponents fell. And it was bloody glorious. Then something changed.

Spike felt the ground shudder, then the air around him shifting. He felt an extremely old presence surrounded him that called to his demon. He faltered, thrown off kilter just enough to let one dead-eyed bastard get in a solid punch that knocked him into the wall. Trying to regain balance, Spike heard the distinctive sound of metal hitting the floor before he saw Buffy, now weaponless, turning and heading toward the door Cordelia and Angel had disappeared behind.

“Argh!” Spike roared as he scrambled to his feet. Blinded by an overpowering murderous rage, in a flurry of torn limbs and decapitations he quickly dispensed the remaining zombies in his path. All the while, Buffy remained motionless with both of her palms flush against the metal door.

Once he reached her, the high from the adrenaline rush started to fade. Spike felt his knees begin to buckle as he reached out and gently turned Buffy to face him. Through golden demon eyes, he studied her. Taking in her glassy-eyed stare, he recognized this far-away look instantly. He’d seen it a thousand times before in those trapped in the web of Dru’s thrall.

But before Spike could get himself and Buffy far away from whatever this was, he felt himself being sucked down further the rabbit hole. He was quickly losing himself to his demon’s demands—demands that were suddenly much less about destruction and much more about lustful desire and dominance.

Buckling under this need, Spike tightened his grip on Buffy’s upper arms as he leaned in to drink in her intoxicating scent. Buffy, despite still-distant eyes, had no intention of succumbing to Spike’s amorous advances. She snarled and twisted in his grasp, trying to escape. Clearly she wasn’t giving in to him without a fight. Spike growled, low and deeply, asserting his dominance. She thrashed and fought back fiercely, but his demon gave no heed as he roughly jerked her against his chest, banding his arms around her to hold her arms down by her sides. Though his demon relished the fight, thrived on it, it still demanded more, demanded total submission. There was still one way he’d get this, even if she wouldn’t give it freely. With a roar, he struck, sinking his fangs possessively into the pale column of her throat. He held her in his jaws, not drinking but forcing her to submit. She scrambled for purchase, but soon, little by little she gave in, sagging in his arms. Surrendering. Feeling her giving herself over to him, Spike released her throat then nuzzled and lapped at the twin marks he’d left behind. His demon purred, satisfied by its conquest.

Then, just as suddenly as the rampant, mindless need had come upon him, it was gone, leaving him back in control and completely stunned. He never lost control like this. Never before had his demon dictated his actions in such a way. Adding to his confusion of what just happened, Spike felt the tide of his soul rolling in, bringing with it the white-hot waves of guilt and shame. It took all his power to stand there with Buffy in his arms and her blood on his tongue. He was left utterly torn between his soul wanting to beg for her forgiveness and his demon, the ever-present ringleader in this crazy-arse show, forbidding any sign of weakness.

Spike heard the door opening and glanced over to see Cordelia supporting a still game-faced Angel, who was battered and bruised, and looking worse for wear.

“What the bloody fuck is down there?” Spike growled, his words raspy through fangs that he just couldn’t shake.

“I don’t know, but whatever it is, it’s bad.” Cordelia tightened her grip around Angel’s waist.

Spike was only given a moment to look down at the woman in his arms before she broke his hold and pulled away. She still held his gaze, and what he saw reflected back nearly broke him. It was a something he’d seen far too many times in the past—distrust. Spike fought back the tears, fearing this was the final nail in his coffin. He’d crossed the line he vowed he never would again—hurting the girl.

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Skilosh Demon: Are the Demons from Angel who had a third eye growing out of the back of their head.

Mothra: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mothra Giant moth, part of Godzilla franchise.

Some of the dialog was taken from “You’re Welcome”. Of the dialog taken, some was taken directly and used verbatim, while others were modified to fit in with my story. As for the rest, well, it came from my own little twisted mind.

Kaa: Is the snake from the Jungle Book. Spike reference to “king knuckle-dragger” was him saying Angel was like King Louie, the orangutan from this same story.

“A Whiter Shade of Pale” is the name of a 1967 song from Procol Harum https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/A_Whiter_Shade_of_Pale HUGE

THANK YOU TO MY AMAZING BETA, ETRAYTIN. Just like the last chapter, with her guidance and suggestions, and overall awesomeness, she helped whip this chapter into shape. Thank you so, so much lady!!!

Yeah, yeah, I know overall things have been pretty peachy keen between Buffy and Spike, but in an homage to Joss, I can't just let that be. *insert evil laugh here* Please take a brief moment to let me know your thoughts! Thanks ever so!