AUTHOR'S NOTE: Please take note: This story's classification has changed! Proceed at your own risk! ;-)
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25 JULY, 2002-KENYA, AFRICA-9:00 P.M.-

There was no time to think. He could see the lioness behind her, and he heard the men behind him preparing to shoot. There was no time to think. She couldn’t see the danger. Time stopped, and she just stood there. There was no time to think.

He had to act.

The air reverberated with the growl of death. The growl of a predator about to strike. It was half war cry, half apology. There was nothing else to do. Spike ran, bodily forcing Buffy to the ground as he leaped into the air. In that instant he felt the darts hit him, the sting of the chemicals burning their way into him, but he could not afford to slow down.

He locked eyes with the lioness in mid air, and growled as he attached his fangs to her massive throat. Tiny chemical fires burst into his skin, but he barley noticed them.

His momentum, and the bridle of his fangs in the lioness’s throat forced the cat’s head back, allowing Spike’s fangs deeper access. With his fangs firmly embedded, he was able to reverse the animal’s foreword progress.

The lioness trashed and swatted, trying to force him off. Her claws did connect with the back of his neck, shooting a blinding pain through his body, but the terror he felt for Buffy did not let him loosen his jaws as they held the cat’s throat.

Spike shook his head from side to side, trying to keep the darkness from engulfing him, the chemicals and blood loss warring for control of his body. He could feel flesh tearing in his jaws, and he could taste the blood as it ran over his teeth and lips.

Spike could feel the animal’s pulse slowing as he forced it to the ground. When it finally stopped, Spike found it almost impossible to extract his fangs from the beast’s torn throat because the chemicals the darts delivered were impinging upon him, making it difficult to focus.

He fought to lift his head. To look at Buffy, who was still lying on the ground, thirty feet from him. Seeing her immobile flushed the influence of the chemicals from his system.

He had seen her this still once before. His eyes widened in shock as he ran to her. He tried to focus. The blood loss from the big cat’s death throes left his ears ringing, made it hard to hear her. It couldn’t be the other. It just couldn’t be.

His bloodstained fingers drifted over the pulse point at her neck, and felt…nothing. He leaned his ear to her nose and mouth. And, the tiny hairs on his face and ears felt…nothing. No breath. No sound. Nothing.

The air once again vibrated with a cry. He forced air into his lungs, and placing his mouth over hers, he pinched her nose closed and gave the air to her. His voice reached out to her, trying to pull her back, “Breathe for me, Slayer. Please.”

He moved quickly, interlocking his trembling fingers and pressing down on her sternum, “Come on, Slayer,” he whispered, “Don’t.” press down, “ Die,” let up, “On,” press down, “Me!” press down. Force air in and give it to her. Stop and hope to feel her breath against his skin, “Please! Slayer, please!”

Air brushed against his skin, and his heart swelled within him, “That’s it, Slayer,” his voice trembled with relief. His knees nearly buckled as he tried to stand. Spike squared his shoulders. And, turning to the seemingly harmless brush that surrounded him, he spoke, resignation clear in his tone, “If you will get the lady some help, now. I’ll offer no resistance. You have my word.”
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26 JULY 2002-LONDON, ENGLAND- 6:00 P.M.-

As Quentin took in the sight of the bloodied, drugged vampire on the floor before him, he was amazed to see the glint of defiance that flashed under the haze before the narcotic once again assumed control, forcing his muscles to liquefy, pulling his gaze down and away. The vampire was scarcely cognizant, and yet he was still dangerous. He jerked the vampire’s head up by a fistful of hair, and stared into his anesthetized eyes as they struggled to focus, “ No, look at me,” Quentin demanded, “The amount of drugs in your body now would have killed twenty men. Do you know that?” despite his better judgment, Quentin was awed by the creature, “I am very surprised that you are still able to move.”

The fog was too thick. Am I moving? What do you want? I…don’t…what do you want?

The Watcher’s cold tone cut through the fog, “…Answer me!” the words were closely followed by a brutal backhanded blow, the force of it caused Spike’s teeth to rattle.

What? Was there something? Can’t…think. He felt the impact again. No..please…don’t. I remember. I’m…trying. What…was…yes… “Buffy,” Spike slurred.

“Yes,” Quentin hissed, “Let’s talk about the girl, shall we? Why did you do it?”
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KENYA, AFRICA- TENWEK HOSPITAL- 4:00 A.M.

Panya, Rupert Giles and Nuru rushed into the missionary hospital. It was dirty and ill equipped, but none of that mattered now. Giles anxiously approached the doctor that greeted them, “Doctor, there was a lion attack on the game reserve just outside of Tsavo. The victim was brought here. Where is she?”

The doctor patiently informed him, in a thick Kenyan dialect, “Ah, yes. The girl was brought here in cardiac arrest. We were able to revive her.”

“Cardiac arrest?” Giles gasped, “Is she…?”

“She is resting comfortably now,” the doctor’s eyes lowered in respect for the elder man’s feelings, “The young man…”he stuttered as he stared into the man’s wide eyes, “I’m sorry, but there was too much trauma. We were unable to help him…”

Giles’s eyes narrowed, questioning, “Young man?”

The doctor nodded slowly. The man’s confusion was understandable, “Yes, the young man,” the doctor continued, “I am sorry. The young man…He died.”
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HOLLYWOOD, FLORIDA-

Darlene Christopher sipped her cocoa as she and her niece sat and talked on the steps of her back porch, “Oh, Dawnie May, I know what a first crush feels like. I was your age once, you know.”

Dawn raised a brow of doubt, “Really?”

Darlene chuckled, “Yes. And, It was the best and the most awful feeling in the world, watching that love change,” she mused.

“Gee thanks,” Dawn pouted, “That helps a whole bunch.”

Darlene nodded, “It should, Honey. You see, the love changes. It grows. But, it never goes away,” she looked knowingly at her niece, “unless you are the one that forces it out of your heart,” she put her hand on Dawn’s knee, “It never really leaves. In fact, it’s the first crush that teaches us to recognize the real thing, when it comes along.”

“Do you think I’ll have it?” Dawn asked, as she looked at the sunset and thought of him, “The real thing?”

“Maybe some day, Sweetheart,” Darlene sighed, “Maybe some day.”
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