a/n: Much thanks to Slaymesoftly and Seapealsh for doing the beta work on this story for us.

Chapter Eight:

The foul mood that Spike was in only intensified as he skulked down the putrid-smelling alley, doing his best not to be seen by Buffy, her watcher or the two other vampires following the pair intently. He’d sensed his family members before he caught their scents mingling with the garbage.

Even though his grandsire was cleaned up a bit, he still looked lost -- yet determined. Angel hung back and although they were within speaking distance and Spike could tell that Angel now knew he was there, they ignored each other. If the older vampire had seen, sensed or smelled Drusilla, he wasn’t letting on.

Spike, however, could not ignore his sire. She came in and out of his line of sight as she weaved around the dimly lit buildings. Allowing himself the luxury of watching Buffy again, he got a look at her just in time to see her take off at a full run. Merrick trudged after her and Spike took the opportunity to leave his spot behind a large dumpster. Buffy was getting farther away from the portly man, who wheezed and huffed along.

Spike couldn’t believe that he was wishing that Giles was there instead. The old watcher was a pain in the arse, but he was fit and always ready to take up arms with his slayer. It was no wonder that Merrick hadn’t survived to accompany Buffy to Sunnydale.

As Buffy disappeared behind a building, Spike ran back in the direction he’d last seen Drusilla. He cursed his bleeding heart when it came to her, even as he tightly gripped the stake in his left hand. He didn’t want to end her existence, but if she got too close to Buffy, Spike knew he would have no choice.

The past few days had been torture for him. He’d waited on tenterhooks for Drusilla to show up again. He hadn’t been this stressed in a long time. Losing his eyesight had been a nightmare and there had been some stress while he’d been recovering, but he was counting on things in this universe to go as they had in his past one. He’d been very sure that Buffy would be safe.

Even after he’d gotten his sight back, he had only followed Buffy around from time to time for the pure enjoyment of seeing her. And when she’d been activated as the slayer, he still had been relaxed, knowing that she’d lived many years beyond her first months as a new slayer. Now, with Angel sticking his nose in and Drusilla gunning for Buffy’s blood, his nerves were frayed to the breaking point. Volkov had even started to avoid him in the evenings and Spike couldn’t blame him. Hell, even Spike didn’t want to be around himself these days.

“Where are you going?” asked Angel, who jogged behind him. “Buffy went that way.”

Spike whirled around and growled. “Look, I don’t have time for you.” It grated on Spike’s nerves, but he managed to growl out his next words. “Go after Buffy and make sure she stays safe.”

Angel glared at Spike, turned slightly to glance back and then went in that direction to go after the Slayer. Spike didn’t like having Angel near Buffy, but he couldn’t have the git coming with him and having a conversation with Drusilla. As much as he wanted Drusilla out of his own life, he didn’t want her mooning over her “daddy” either. It was a case of not wanting her himself, but not wanting anyone else, especially her sire, to have her either.

Spike took off, but when he rounded the corner of a building and saw Drusilla across the street, swaying and moaning, he stopped short. He was gathering his wits and getting ready to cross the street when she turned, baring her sharp fangs at him.

“Why?” She continued to sway. “What is she that you and now Angelus are obsessed with her?”

“Come here,” ordered Spike.

“No!”

He was ready to pull his hair out. He didn’t know if he should lunge across the street and snatch her up — (what the hell would he do with her when he got her?) — or warn her to leave town again.

“I want you to leave this town and never come back.”

Drusilla’s shrill laughter rang out into the night; she let her features return to human and then glared at him.

“She’s tainted you both. My dark knight, my sire. Ruined!” Drusilla looked past Spike with murder gleaming in her eyes. “I will not rest until that slayer’s blood is spilled and running down my throat.”

“You come near her and I’ll have to dust you,” said Spike with determination.

A pang of regret hit him at the hurt look now on Drusilla’s face. “You would dare to stake me, like that vampire in the woods?” She backed up and put a hand to her forehead. “Do I mean that little to you?”

After letting out a weary sigh, Spike said, “Just leave, Dru.”

“She dies!”

Drusilla turned and ran in the opposite direction from where Buffy was. Spike stepped off the curb to go after her, but then he heard swords clanking and Buffy’s shout. He ran in her direction. The clanking of the swords continued and, by the sounds of it, it was a well-matched and furious fight.

He knew these alleys like the back of his hand and quickly rounded one corner and then another, the sounds of the battle getting louder all the while. As he rounded another corner, he came face to face with a group of gang members. He quickly counted six men in red bandanas and six strong heartbeats. Spike walked past them, thinking only of getting to Buffy. He stopped and faced the group when one of them spoke.

“Hey!” the leader of the group shouted at him. “I’ve seen you around before.”

“I’m sure you have,” Spike said unpleasantly.

“Come on man, I want to see what that noise is,” another member of the gang said.

“No, you don’t,” Spike warned. Buffy didn’t need the complication of these blokes along with fighting a demon. “You want to go home to Mommy.”

As a group, they advanced on Spike. He casually leaned against a building and waited until they were just a few feet away. Then he stood up straight, vamped out and snarled, holding his hands out like a black and white horror film monster.

“Oh, shit!”

They stumbled over each other to get away.

Spike chuckled as the last one went out of sight. “See, told ya. Off to Mommy you go.”

He got to the scene just in time to see a demon melt into a puddle of goo and to hear Buffy say, “Now that’s just disgusting.”

Spike had to endure Angel trailing behind him as they both watched Merrick drive Buffy home. They sat in their separate cars and watched Buffy climb into her bedroom window.

*~ * ~ * ~*

Dust floated all around Spike, but he still had one more vampire to get rid of. He ran a hand over his bleached hair and groaned in frustration. Problem was, it had run off and had probably engaged Buffy in battle already. He knew she could handle one vampire, but he was so angry, he wanted to get them all.

He’d come upon the four vampires, crouching behind a mausoleum, just as Drusilla had walked away from them. Every night this week, she’d run off as soon as he would spot her. Taking advantage of all his heightened senses, Spike scanned the area for any sign of his sire. Nothing.

He took off towards the last place he’d seen Buffy and hid behind a tree to watch her fight the vampire that he’d let get away. As soon as he spotted Drusilla hiding behind a tree, he ran after her, but as always, she was faster than he was and Spike knew from experience over the last couple of days that he would not be able to track her.

The smell of freshly spilt blood got stronger with every step he took back to where he’d last seen the Slayer. Dashing behind a tree as they passed by, he watched them slowly walk away; he tried to stay as still as possible, hoping that Buffy wouldn’t sense him there.

“It may need stitches,” Merrick told Buffy.

She shrugged, but kept her hand over her cheek. “I’ll be okay. I’ll get a bandage at home. It’ll heal quickly.”

As soon as they were safely set in Merrick’s car, Spike jogged down the street to where he’d parked his DeSoto. Gripping the wheel, he cursed and got the engine started but stayed where he was. So far, he had managed to keep Dru away from Buffy, but now she was soliciting help. He was going to have to do something drastic. And soon. He glanced around and then watched a man approach the establishment across the street. The man hesitated, took a deep breath and then entered the dreary building.

Spike’s eyes widened. He tilted his head, deep in thought, and then shook it. No. It wouldn’t work. There was no way he could get Drusilla admitted. She’d kill them before they had a chance to put her in a straight jacket, if they even still did that to people.

He drove up to Buffy’s house just as Merrick was taking off down the street. He parked, quietly shut his car door and then hid behind a bush to try to get a glimpse of Buffy and see just how bad the wound was. She’d left her window to her first floor bedroom partially open after slipping into the house and had gone directly to the bathroom and cleaned the wound. From her reflection in the mirror, Spike could tell that it was deep, but she didn’t even stop long to look at it.

Just as she opened the large bandage, her parents came rushing into the room.

“Buffy! Is that you?” Hank asked.

She dropped the bandage and came out of the bathroom.

“Oh, my God!” Joyce said, rushing up to her and sitting her down on the bed. “What have done to yourself?”

“And where you have been, young lady? We’ve been worried sick,” her father asked.

“I…I went to Becky’s house for a minute. On the way back, I tripped and cut my cheek.”

Hank glared at her, while Joyce ran to the bathroom and got the bandage.

He said, “You‘re lying to us and I want to know why you are sneaking out at such late hours. Is it so you can sneak off with that boy?”

“No!” Buffy said. She shot to her feet and pressed the bandage against her cheek.

Joyce folded her arms over her chest, trying to look angry, but Spike could see the grave concern in her eyes. “We called Becky and her mother says that they haven’t seen you tonight.”

“I’m through playing games with you,” said Hank, pointing at her. “Tell us the truth right now.”

Don’t do it, Spike thought. Buffy had that caught in the headlights look and he could tell that she was thinking about telling them the truth.

“I think you should both sit down,” she told her parents.

“Oh, God. You aren’t pregnant, are you?” Hank said as he took a seat next to Joyce on the bed.

“What? No.” Buffy paced, going out of Spike’s line of vision and back twice before she stopped in front of her parents. “You know how when I was little and you guys used to tell me that monsters weren’t real?” Her parents just stared at her so she said, “Well, you were wrong. Monsters are real.”

“You’d better stop trying to be funny and get to the truth because I’m quickly losing my patience,” her father said through gritted teeth.

Spike groaned and turned his back on them. He couldn’t bear to see this train wreck. As he suspected, her parents didn’t believe a word she said about vampires, demons and slayers. By the time they left her room, she was grounded for a month and she was sobbing dramatically into her pillow.

He envisioned himself slipping in through the window, wrapping his arms around her and telling her that everything would be all right. But even if he’d had an invitation to break the barrier, he couldn’t do it. Reluctantly, he went to leave, but paused and flattened himself against the side of the house as the front door opened.

“Where are you going?” Joyce asked.

“I don’t know. I just need to get away for a few hours.”

“Buffy needs us right now. I honestly think she believes what she was saying.”

“That’s what disturbs me the most. I think our daughter is going insane and I don’t know what we should do about it.”

Hank slammed the door to his car and then backed it up. Spike stayed where he was and waited for Joyce to go inside. The beginning of a plan took shape in his mind. An awful plan, but one that just might work.

He rushed home and found Volkov and Noreen sitting in the living room watching TV. They both glanced up at him, but before they could greet him, he sat on the coffee table in front them, blocking their view of the game show.

“Does your sister still live under that television studio?” he asked Noreen.

The demon just stared at him, dumbfounded. He was loath to ask them about Noreen’s sister after the fiasco a couple of months ago when they’d gotten the brilliant idea to try to set Spike and Dora up. Dora was very attractive, even for a Lister, but he had no interest in being set up and from poor Dora’s reaction that night at dinner, it had been uncomfortable for her as well. Noreen had insisted that her sister like Spike that she was just incredibly shy.

“She still lives there. Why?”

“I need her to get a few things for me in the costume department.”

*~ * ~ * ~*

Two days later, Dora came by the house with the things Spike had requested. She shyly handed him the duffle bag and then made excuses for why she had to leave. He rushed to his bedroom, pulled the items out one by one and groaned louder and louder as each new item was revealed. He had changed into the clothes and was just trying to fit the moustache to his upper lip when the front door opened. Spike stepped into the living room and glared at the couple, daring them to laugh.

“I thought you said Dora liked me,” he grumbled.

Volkov brought a fist to his mouth and coughed into it, but Noreen didn’t even try to mask her amusement.

“She does.” She shrugged as she stood before him. “You did say you needed a costume that would totally transform you.”

“But, I don’t want to be ginger!” Spike said.

“That’s quite a shade of red, isn’t it?” Volkov said. “But it doesn’t match your hair color at all.

Spike pointed towards his bedroom. “There’s a matching wig.”

He sat still and let Noreen settle the wig on his head until Volkov said it looked real. Then he stood and turned in a slow circle.

“What do you think? Do I look like a high school counselor or what?”

“Um, well, you certainly don’t look like Spike the vampire,” Noreen said.

Volkov took his time looking him over critically and he nodded. “If you’d come up to me on the street, I’m not sure that I’d recognize you right away.”

“Good,” Spike said as he held out his hand. “I’ll need the keys, then.”

While Noreen dug through her purse for the keys to her Nissan Sentra, Spike tilted his head and watched Volkov, who continued to stare at Spike.

“What?”

“It’s just that you really do look like the bookish sort in that get up. If it weren’t for your eyes and your cheekbones, I wouldn’t know you.”

Ignoring his friend’s comment, Spike thanked Noreen for the keys and headed for the car. He frowned as he drove to his destination, hating the way he was dressed and hating what he was about to do. Unfortunately, he couldn’t think of any other way to keep her safe.