Buffy glanced at her watch in annoyance, and then looked around Restfield Cemetery, expecting to see a white blond head at any moment. However, as always, her forced slaying partner was late. She had been standing there for an half hour past the time Spike was supposed to have met her, when, finally, she caught sight of him coming around the corner of a crypt.

       “About goddamn time!” Buffy groused as Spike came up to her, cigarette dangling between his lips.

       “About goddamn time!” He mimicked her in a shrill voice, shoving his hands in his pockets and glaring at her, “Showed up, dinnit I? So quit your bellyachin'.”

       Buffy gritted her teeth together, already seeing Spike was in one of his moods. She made a sound of disgust, then turned to stalk into the graveyard to start patrol, Spike several paces behind her, feeling no inclination to engage her in conversation.

       It was always like that. He had been hostile since the day he had first been dragged up Giles' front walk by the scruff of the neck by an extremely irritated Angel, and the dark-haired vampire had forced his Childe into helping out the gang, having some sort of power, or more likely, blackmail, that kept the blond in check. No one knew for sure, except maybe for Giles, but he would never spill the dirty little secret that kept Spike working for the Scoobies and not feeding off the populace.

       Most of the time, he was like Angel had been, only showing up when he was needed, and disappearing again to God knew where. No one even knew where he lived, and the only way to reach him when he was needed was by a cell phone he always kept with him. However, even if he was forced to help, he didn't even pretend to like or even associate with the Scoobies outside of a `business' setting.

       Right now, he was supposed to be helping her track a particular dangerous demon that had killed several people in the last few days, and if someone got hurt because he was half an hour late, she would gain a lot of pleasure in kicking his ass.

       They spent a greater part of the night, patrolling Sunnydale, with no words exchanged between the two blonds, and no luck at all in finding the demon and as a last resort, Buffy suggested the campus of Sunnydale University. Spike didn't agree or disagree, only following along behind her, shoulders slumped and a sour look firmly etched on his face.

       “We've been at this for five bloody hours,” Spike finally complained, stopping near the steps of the campus library, removing a silver flask from his pocket, “Face it, Slayer...your little demon has either moved on or met something nastier.”

       Buffy scowled at him, crossing her arms over her chest, “We have to find this thing before it decides to make a snack of someone else,” Buffy pointed out angrily, “So, move your lazy, undead ass and let's find and kill this thing.”

       “Y'know,” Spike glanced at his empty wrist, “I think this constitutes as overtime. I'm going to knock-off, head home, grab a brew and watch my own slow descent into insanity,” He started to walk off, and Buffy glared at his back.

       “Spike! Get your ass back here RIGHT NOW!” She bellowed angrily, but Spike merely flipped her off, then frowned when he heard a snarl, and whirled around in time to see a huge, black blur launch itself off the library steps at him.

       He was slammed backwards into the ground, white, sharp teeth flashing as the beast went for his throat before he could even attempt to defend himself.

       “BEOWULF! HEEL! NOW!”

       Hot, fetid breath fanned his face before the weight moved off his chest. Spike sat up to see a large, black German Shepard trotting away from him and Buffy, heading towardslibrary steps, where a pretty girl with long, ebony hair was standing. She held out her hand to the side, waiting till the dog nuzzled it before reaching down to slid her hand down the back of it's neck.

       Spike climbed back to his feet with a growl, brushing off his black jeans as he stalked towards the girl and her vicious little mutt, “Hey! Why don't you get a fuckin' leash for that thing?! He nearly bloody well ripped my throat out!”

       “Spike...” Buffy tried to warn him, but he shoved past her, glaring at the girl as she looked in his direction.

       “I'm sorry, sir...Beowulf...”

       “Needs to be bloody well to put down like Ole Yeller!” Spike shouted at the girl, and Buffy rolled her eyes.

       “Spike!”

       “Stupid bitch! Letting a vicious mutt like that run around?!”

       “You better mean the dog,” The girl said warningly, still kneeling and petting the dog, who was watching Spike warily, letting out a low growl, “And I suggest you keep your distance. Beowulf doesn't like you.”

       “Hey Andy,” Buffy greeted the freshman with a sigh, “How's things?”

       “You know this chit?!” Spike turned on Buffy, “Why am I not bloody well surprised?! Her fucking dog almost killed me! I ought to snap his fuckin' thick neck. I thought they didn't even let dogs on campus anyway.”

       “Special privilege,” Andy replied, her clear, blue eyes narrowing slightly.

       “What kind of fucking special privilege is that?!” Spike snapped, and Andy raised an eyebrow as she straightened, and Spike finally noticed the harness attached to the dog, the girl holding a specialized handle.

       “Down, Beowulf,” She instructed the animal, and he began leading her slowly down the steps.

       Spike gave Buffy a dirty look, “You were going to tell me I was screamin' my head off at a blind girl at some point, right?”

       “I tried to warn you,” Buffy shrugged, then brushed past him as Andy reached the bottom of the steps, bending down to pet the dog, who immediately began to wag his tail, giving Buffy's hand a calm little lick. “You're not vicious at all, are you? You're a good puppy, aren't you baby?.”

       Andy smiled slightly, listening to Buffy speak to her dog in baby talk, then looked in the direction she had last heard Spike's voice. “I'm sorry about that, though. Beowulf has never attacked anyone like that.”

       “Spike and dogs don't mix,” Buffy said with a smirk in Spike's direction, and the vampire glared at her, removing a cigarette from his pocket and grumbling beneath his breath. “Andy, Spike, Spike, Andy and Beowulf.”

       “Met the mutt,” Spike went to offer the pretty girl his hand, but the dog let out a growl, and he thought better of it, and withdrew his hand, “Would say it's nice to meet you, but your dog nearly took a chunk out of my hide.”

       “I'm sorry again,” Andy said sincerely, “He's really well-trained, he has never gone darting off away from me like that before, and, unfortunately, I wasn't really in the position to go running after him.”

       Buffy gave Spike a dirty look, and he rolled his eyes, “Fine, forget it ever happened,” He muttered, then glared at Buffy again, “I'm going home now.”

       “Are you on your way home, Andy?” Buffy asked, and the girl nodded, “You're still living off campus, right?”

       “Yeah...but I'm fine, Beowulf knows the way home...”

       “I know...but there's some really...weird people out at night in this town,” Buffy said, then glanced at Spike, “Spike, you wouldn't mind walking Andy home, right?”

       “What?” Spike looked at Buffy like she had grown a second head, “She has the mutt, she's fine.”

       “Spike,” Buffy hissed, giving him a deadly look, then said in a low voice, “I'll do clean-up duty next time we kill a demon if you just walk her home, all right?”

       “Next two clean-ups,” Spike bargained and Buffy rolled her eyes.

       “Fine,” She replied, “Start walking,” She indicated the girl who had started off by herself and was already halfway across campus, and Spike shook his head before jogging to catch up with her.

       She was alerted to his presence by the sound of his boots squelching in a bit of damp earth and the low, threatening growl that was issued from Beowulf, and she paused, waiting for him. “Changed your mind then?” She said in amusement as Spike fell into step beside her. “Was there a coin toss about who was going to walk the poor, little, defenseless blind girl home? Hush, Beowulf.”

       The growl was stopped at her command, and Spike glanced down at the large, bulky dog walking at Andy's side, “Nice bit of protection you got there,” Spike said, “Took me by surprise, anyway. Didn't think they trained Seeing Eye dogs to rip out throats.”

       “My family raises them,” Andy replied with a smile, staring straight ahead as she walked, her eyes expressionless, while her face was anything but. Her features were exceptionally open and clear, as well as cheerful and good-natured. “My dad wanted to make sure I had a little protection, especially when coming home at night from campus. German Shepard's are the best known animal for it.”

       “Smart bloke,” Spike said, eyeing Beowulf warily. The dog was watching him, he was sure of it. Animals never liked vampires...dogs and cats especially averse to their species, as if they knew they were something other then human. Unless the mutt was a demon, and was worried the vampire was honing in on his territory. Maybe he should ask the Watcher about that. “You don't make a habit of staying at the library till after dark, do you?”

       “No, not often. They don't usually have the books I need, but the librarian just came in with a whole shipment of Braille books. I got started reading some Jane Austen for my British Literature class, and I lost track of time.”

       Spike snorted, “Bloody awful, she is. All she writes about is a bunch of bleedin' women sitting around and whining about gettin' husbands.”

       Andy smiled, “It's outdated for you, I'm sure, but I like the language of the time. I suppose you like things written by the Sex Pistols and Buzz Cocks better.”

       Spike started in surprise, and glanced at her, “How did you...?”

       “I can smell ammonia from high up, probably because your hair is bleached, your leather squeaks and the Cockney accent...fake. Dead giveaway for a punk,” She replied with a smile as they turned off the campus and onto the streets of Sunnydale.

       “Hey! My accent is not fake!”

       “Your voice cracks on certain words...suggests that you still have problems pronouncing them in the Cockney dialect, but you're definitely English, probably from the more Northern part of the country.” Andy told him, assured of her abilities.

       “Jesus...that's bleedin'...amazin'.”

       “Not really,” Andy shrugged modestly, “My entire world is made up of smells, voices, sounds and sensations. I just learned how to interpret them all, and I've been studying accents since I was fifteen.”

       “That's just...neat,” Spike replied, looking at the blind girl with new admiration.

       Andy bowed her head slightly with a smile, glancing down when Beowulf stopped walking and paused with him, “This is my stop.”

       Spike glanced up at the apartment building, then at a street sign nearby, “You sure?”

       “310 Exeter?” At Spike's affirmative she nodded, “My place. Home sweet home. Not the nicest place on the block, but they allow dogs. Thanks for the walk home, and once again, I'm sorry for Beowulf's behavior.”

       “Well, just keep him from my throat, and we'll get along fine,” Spike said.

       Andy smiled, “Nice to meet you, Spike,” She said, “Up the stairs, Beowulf.”

       Spike cocked his head, watching her butt sway from side to side as the mutt led her up the stairs, then started up after her. Andy paused beside the front door of the building, then turned to face him, “Um...hi.”

       “Hi,” Spike grinned at the girl's sudden discomfiture, “Talk about coincidences, but this is my stop too.”

       “Really?” Andy raised an eyebrow, “You must be the mysterious neighbor Mrs. Dilling is always yapping about. The one that stays in his apartment all day and painted the windows black.”

       “Uh...” Spike hesitated, then fell back on the age-old lie that had served him well in the past, “I'm have an extreme allergy to UV. Can't go out in the sun or rashes, screaming, painful death...not a pretty sight.”

       “Well,” Andy removed her keys from her pocket, and felt along the edges till she found the one she was looking for and opened the door to the building, allowing Beowulf to lead her inside, Spike following at a safe distance to avoid the sharp teeth of her companion. “There's no sunlight in the hallway, and I'm in 66 if you ever get bored and need some company,” She told warmly, “And usually, I can be prevailed upon to provide some beer and conversation.”

       “Lock the mutt in the bathroom and I may take you up on that,” Spike replied, leaning against the wall of the hallway, watching as she opened the door to her apartment. She let go of Beowulf, the dog obediently trotting inside, and she looked back at Spike, her blank eyes almost eerily finding his.

       “Door's always open,” She told him with a smile, before going inside, “Just come on in.”

       “I'll do that,” Spike said with a slow grin, “Thanks for the invite.”

       Andy simply smiled, all warmness and congeniality, “You're very welcome.”

       The next morning, Andy was letting herself out of her apartment, when Mrs. Dilling, the only other occupant of the apartment building, beset her outside the door, offering Beowulf a biscuit.

       From what Andy could tell in her world of darkness, to her, Mrs. Dilling seemed to be a matronly woman, maybe of the age sixty or above, suffering from sore joints. She would bet anything, and she was right, that Mrs. Dilling had gray hair bound up in a bun, and was wearing a soft, knit sweater and an apron from when she had been preparing her breakfast.

       “Morning, Mrs. Dilling,” Andy greeted good-naturedly, smiling in the old lady's direction when she heard the sound of house shoes padding softly on the pitted, wooden floor of the hallway, and she slipped her keys in her pocket, dropping Beowulf's harness, “I didn't wake you up last night when I came in, did I?”

       “Not at all, dear...I don't fall asleep till almost two anymore,” Mrs. Dilling assured the girl, stroking Beowulf's soft fur, “Which, I suppose is a good thing, considering the hours the young gentleman down the hall keeps,” The statement was pointedly directed at Andy, and the dark-haired girl smiled as she slipped her sunglasses onto her face.

       “You saw him then?”

       “I just peeked out of the peephole,” Mrs. Dilling admitted, a bit sheepishly, then raised an eyebrow, though Andy couldn't see it, “Did you meet on your way inside?”

       “If only...no, he was on the campus...and Beowulf sort of went for his throat,” She glanced down at her dog, who perceived he was still in trouble and let out a small whimper.

       “Really?” Mrs. Dilling looked exceedingly surprised, “Strange...he is such a well-behaved creature!”

       “Spike or Beowulf?” Andy teased, picking up the harness.

       “Good Lord! That's his name? Spike?” Mrs. Dilling shook her head, “He doesn't sound pleasant.”

       “He's not suing, so I'm inclined to be grateful,” Andy replied with a smile.

       “Still...do you know he never leaves during the day? It's most alarming...”

       “He told me he was allergic to sunlight,” Andy informed the old woman, “I think he's just a little lonely...and maybe a little grumpy and coarse, but he seems nice.”

       “Allergic to sunlight?” Mrs. Dilling's voice immediately took on a sympathetic tone, “The poor dear! A sweet, handsome boy like him, stuck indoors all day!”

       Andy raised an eyebrow at Mrs. Dilling calling Spike sweet and handsome, when just moments before, he had been an unpleasant, strange creature to her, “I suppose I have to relay on your judgment for the handsome part, but yeah, I guess he's kind of...sweet.”

       “I bet he hasn't had a home-cooked meal in a long while,” Mrs. Dilling said thoughtfully, “Do you suppose he likes cookies?”

       “He's a guy, Mrs. Dilling...believe me, he'll like cookies,” Andy said, partly teasing, and Mrs. Dilling smiled, and then patted Andy on the shoulder.

       “I suppose I've kept you long enough,” The old woman sighed slightly, and then perked up when she thought of being able to acquaint herself with their neighbor, feeling the full force of Andy's recommendation of him. “I'll be sure to make you a batch as well, my dear. Don't think I don't know that you've been eating only macaroni and cheese lately. I've seen your trash...all blue boxes! Quite shameful for a growing girl like you!”

       “This growing girl is also a college student living on scholarship, and therefore, poor,” Andy replied cheerfully, “I wouldn't worry about me. I've survived on worse.”

       “Still,” Mrs. Dilling was persistent, “You should let me cook for you once in a while, and you mustn't mind me fussing over you a bit. All of my children are all grown up and left. An old lady like me needs someone to take care of every once in a while.”

       “I'll be ecstatic,” Andy told her sincerely, and then dropped a kiss on Mrs. Dilling cheek, “Have a nice day, Mrs. Dilling.”

       Mrs. Dilling smiled as she watched Andy go out the door, Beowulf leading her, meek as a lamb, before turning back towards her lonely apartment, heartened only by the thought that there was a young boy still in the building that needed cookies.

       Mrs. Dilling, having been widowed ten years before when cancer took her husband, was a sweet, affectionate woman, and left to mostly herself by her two children, a boy, John and a daughter, Abigail, who had both left her years before.

       Her Social Security check and a monthly allowance from her late husband's company allowed her to live, not in luxurious bliss, but merely in domestic comfort. She had no real need of material comforts, save for a few hot/cold packs for her arthritic hands, and her nice, feather mattress that had been the endeavor of saving her extra cash for three months. For several years, she had been living in 310 Exeter by herself, with barely any company, save a waning circle of friends that would visit her, which was strange, considering the easy walking distance from the college campus.

       She was pleased when she had found that an apartment had been taken, the year before, but the tenant's strange habits and never seeing him leave or return to his apartment put her off, making her vaguely frightened about the newcomer, and she had stayed away from him, which was remarkably easy, since they were never in the hallway at the same time, and they never kept the same hours. Not to mention, he had never made a single attempt to speak with her.

       However, with the coming of the new school year, Andy had taken the apartment, immediately drawing Mrs. Dilling's attention and affectionate sympathy when she learned of Andy's affliction, as well as the girl's easy-going attitude and sweet nature. She had a certain, motherly fondness for the child and was glad of the company, since Andy never begrudged her a conversation and always accepted little tidbits like homemade cookies or brownies with the sincerest of thanks.

       Also, Beowulf was always a nice bit of a company as well, Andy sometimes allowing her to take him out for walks if she wanted a bit of exercise, the canine never being a bit of trouble, and he always made her feel safer as well. After sixty years of living in Sunnydale, she knew there were strange things that couldn't be explained away easily. She would be sorry when Andy would be forced to move on, like everyone always did, but hopefully, now, she would have a bit more of company, for the time being anyway.

       Mrs. Dilling smiled as she removed a cookie tray from the oven, her famous chocolate chip cookies baked to picture perfection, and she let them cool for a few moments before sliding them off the tray and onto one of her favorite plate. Ten minutes later, she was standing outside of Spike's apartment, cookies held forward in supplication, bright smile on her face.

       She knocked on the door lightly, frowning when there wasn't an answer right away, then proceeded to pound on the door till a surly voice was issued from within, “I'm coming! Hold on a bloody, soddin' minute!”

       A few moments later, the door was slowly opened, and Spike peeked out, frowning when he saw the matronly old woman standing on his stoop, “Whatever you're sellin', I'm not interested,” He practically growled, about to slam the door in Mrs. Dilling's face.

       “I have cookies!” Mrs. Dilling called out before he could close the door, and was triumphant as the movement was arrested, and Spike opened the door once more.

       “Who are you?”

       “Mrs. Dilling, from down the hall,” The old lady smiled almost knowingly, “Andy told me you were a very nice boy and I should say hi.”

       “Oh...” Spike said tonelessly, “Lucky me. I got out of bed for this?”

       “My, she was right...you are a grumpy one,” Mrs. Dilling replied, not to be put off so easily, holding up her plate of cookies, “I thought you could do with a little home cooking...and I was right! Look at you! You're so skinny! You're all skin and bones!”

       Spike glanced down at his highly toned body, frowning, and then was surprised as Mrs. Dilling pushed past him to enter his apartment, clucking her tongue as she glanced around at the mess. His clothes were lying all over the floor, his couch bed was unmade, and there were dirty dishes in the sink, and God knew when his shelves had last seen a feather duster. “You really are a confirmed bachelor, aren't you?” Mrs. Dilling said cheerfully as she laid her plate of cookies on the island counter that passed for a kitchen, then immediately started gathering up his clothing.

       “Uh...” Spike inched towards the open closet near the door, and shut it on his weapons chest, which was open and overflowing with sharp, pointy objects that would be sure to arouse suspicion. “Mrs. Dilling? What are you doing?”

       “Just doing a bit of straightening up,” Mrs. Dilling answered, “Where's your hamper?”

       “Um...hamper?”

       “Hmm...it's worse then I thought,” the woman shook her head slightly as she settled for putting his clothes in a pile in the corner of the one room apartment. “How is Andy ever to get around in here if you leave all of your things lying on the ground?”

       “Excuse me?” Spike blinked in confusion, grabbing a cookie off the plate, “Who says she's going to be in here anyway?” Mrs. Dilling looked over her shoulder with a pleased smile as she watched Spike bite into one of her cookies, the vampire's eyes widening slightly. “Holy Christ...you made these?”

       “Yes, I did,” Mrs. Dilling replied, looking glad that Spike was enjoying them as he sat down at the counter and set into them. She finished straightening up his apartment with no further protest and started to do the dishes in the sink.

       “Listen, you don't have to do that...”

       “It's fine,” Mrs. Dilling replied, “Sit down, enjoy the cookies,” She ordered as she washed, “Andy was right. You are a pleasant, handsome young man.”

       Spike choked on his cookie a bit, and Mrs. Dilling chuckled at his reaction, “She said that?”

       “Well...truth be told...she just said you were pleasant...seeing as she can't...uh...see you. But I did assure her that you appeared to be a very fine gentleman. I'm just sorry I didn't get to know you before...but your strange habits were a bit...off-putting.”

       “What do you put in these things?” Spike asked, eyeing the chocolate chip cookie he was munching on, “They're...bloody well amazing.”

       “Old family secret,” Mrs. Dilling told Spike with a wink as she started to dry the dishes, and by trial and error, found the cupboard they were kept in. “Andy told me of your allergy to sunlight...such a pity. You could do with a bit of sun...you're far too pale to be healthy. Now, young man...now that I have you cornered, I very much intend to have my way with you.”

       This statement was accompanied by him choking on another cookie as he stared at Mrs. Dilling with wide eyes. “What?!”

       “Are you attending the college? Andy mentioned meeting you on the campus,” Mrs. Dilling continued, apparently oblivious to his distress, and Spike relaxed somewhat when he realized she just meant `way with him' question wise.

       “Uh...not really,” Spike replied, fishing for a good line, “I'm...a...writer, or trying to be, anyway.”

       “Really?” Mrs. Dilling looked delighted by that bit of intelligence, “That's wonderful! You and Andy will find quite a bit in common! She wants to be a writer as well, and she's such a voracious reader.”

       “Really...” Spike started to feel desperate for a change of subject, wondering why almost every word out of Mrs. Dilling's mouth was about Andy. “Sounds...neat.”

       “It is, isn't it?” Mrs. Dilling wiped off her hands and turned to face Spike with a kindly smile, “What are you parents like, Spike? Are they living in England?”

       “My parents died...a long time ago,” Spike replied, grabbing another cookie.

       “Oh! How sad,” Mrs. Dilling looked about ready to rush forward and hug him, and Spike was a bit frightened by the prospect, and shrugged, putting on an unaffected air.

       “Long time ago, barely remember them, really,” Spike was quick to assure her.

       “Well! It's still a sad thing for a boy to grow up without parents,” Mrs. Dilling said warmly, “Now! I insist you let me mother you to death, to make up for what you missed...”

       “Really...I'm fine...”

       “Piffle...nothing's going to put me off,” Mrs. Dilling smiled at him brightly as she decided she had monopolized the young man's time for long enough, then had a thought. “Oh! Andy's birthday is in a few days, and she doesn't have that many close friends...so I'm going to surprise her with a small, intimate gathering. I would be so pleased if you could come as well...”

       “Uh...I don't know...”

       “Please?” Mrs. Dilling pleaded and then played her trump card, “I'm making peanut butter cookies.”

       “I'll be there,” Spike said right away, almost without thinking, and Mrs. Dilling smiled as she headed towards the door, “Tuesday, eight o'clock. Good for you?”

       “Just...make sure she locks up the mutt.”

       “Of course,” Mrs. Dilling said cheerfully, “See you there, Spike!”

       Spike was then left to himself to recover from Hurricane Dilling, a bit confused as to how he got roped into attending a surprise birthday party for a blind girl, and then he wondered if he was supposed to bring a present, and he sighed heavily. “Oh...bloody hell...”

       “He screamed at Andy?” Willow frowned as she sipped on her iced mocha as she accompanied Buffy on patrol, “That's...kinda mean. Even for Spike. I mean...hello! Blind!”

       Buffy shrugged, “Beowulf tried to rip his throat out, but that really wasn't her fault...”

       “Beowulf? That sweet little doggy?”

       “That sweet little doggy doesn't like vampires near Andy, apparently,” Buffy grinned evilly, “He screamed like a woman.”

       “Nice. Maybe we should get an attack dog,” Willow said chirpily, “Oh! We can call him Scooby Doo!”

       “For the sake of my sanity, please, no...and I did NOT scream like a girl.”

       Willow jumped and Buffy rolled her eyes, looking over her shoulder and giving Spike a dirty look, “Once again with the creepy lurking. What have I told you about that?”

       “Don't know, don't care,” Spike replied impatiently, “Listen...”

       “Are you even supposed to be here? I thought you didn't show up unless we called...and then it's always like...an hour late,” Buffy said, crossing her arms over her chest.

       “I'm not patrolling,” Spike said, looking irritated, “Can I talk for two bleedin' seconds?”

       “Fine, what do you want?”

       “Nothing to do with you,” Spike reached out and grabbed Willow's arm, “Need to borrow the Wicca,” He said, and the redhead yelped as Spike pulled her behind a mausoleum.

       “Ow! Hey! Bruising!”

       “Sorry,” Spike said, still sounding annoyed, “Listen...you know the blind chit, right?”

       “Uh...yeah...” Willow said, “What's a chit?” Spike gave her a look,  “Not important, right?”

       “Right...listen...she lives in my building...”

       “Oh! So you're living in an apartment?”

       “Red!” Spike rolled his eyes, “Know what? Forget it...”

       “I'm sorry...I'm quiet now, really,” Willow pretended to zip her lips, “What about her?”

       “The old bint that lives there caught me unawares and is forcing me to a little birthday shindig...bribery came into play...nasty business, the whole of it. You don't need the sordid details. Anyway...what in the hell should I buy her?”

       Willow rolled her eyes, “Jeez, Spike...she's just like normal people! That's so bigoted of you to think that just because she's blind she's a big ole freak you can't buy gifts for!”

       “I don't know what to buy her because she's mortal,” Spike said, giving Willow a look, “Not because she's blind. The last person I bought a birthday present for was Dru...and somehow, I doubt that Andy would want the heart of a Gor'likiz demon with a nice, red bow.”

       “Oh,” Willow looked properly chastened, “Right. Um...I don't know...jewelry is always nice.”

       “Right...now what kind of jewelry do I buy for blind people?”

       Willow looked about ready to let him have it again when she saw his eyes glinting and the barely contained smirked, “Braille jewelry,” She said, crossing her arms over her chest, and Spike frowned.

       “They actually have that? Really?”

       “Really, really,” Willow said, “I'm sure you can find some at the mall.”

       “Great...thanks, Red,” Spike turned and headed off, and Willow giggled at his expense as Buffy came around the crypt.

       “That was evil, Willow,” Buffy said with a grin, “He's going look like an idiot when he's asking people where they keep the Braille jewelry.”

       “I'm evil? Who's the big eavesdropper?” Willow accused, and then glanced after the vampire, “Now I feel kind of bad.”

       “Don't, he totally deserved it. He screams at blind people. He's evil and should be punished,” Buffy assured Willow, sighing when she heard someone scream nearby, “Damn. When will people learn that cemetery equals not fun make out spot? That's...like the third one this week!”

       “Braille jewelry, my arse,” Spike grumbled beneath his breath as he stalked up the street later that night, vowing to himself to kill Willow later. After four shopkeepers had given him looks that clearly told him they thought he was insane, someone finally saw fit to tell him that there was no such thing as Braille jewelry. He should have known better then to ask any of the Scooby gang for help.

       “Beowulf! NO!”

       Spike looked up in time to be struck square in the chest by the German Shepard and sent crashing to the pavement, where he struck the back of his head against the cement. “BLOODY HELL!”

       “Not again! Beowulf! HEEL!”

       The dog growled in Spike's face, letting him know who was boss, apparently, before jumping off the vampire and trotting back over to his mistress. Spike sat up, rubbing the back of his head with a wince. He glared in Andy's direction, momentarily forgetting she couldn't see him, and then his eyes widened slightly.

       She was wearing a pair of short shorts, showing off her long, slender legs to full effect, and an iridescent blue bikini top, as well as a pair of sparkly blue...roller skates?

       “What in the bloody hell are you doing in skates?” Spike climbed back to his feet with a slight wince, “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

       “Please...I've been doing this since I was like...ten,” Andy replied, “As long as I stay on the sidewalk and not roll into incoming traffic, I'm good.”

       “Look at those things,” Spike grinned slightly, “I haven't seen a pair of skates like that since the seventies...but even then, it was roller disco.”

       “Yes, I'm aware they're gaudy looking...they were my mom's, and I could never get the hang of inline skates...and did you say the seventies?”

       “I meant...you know...movies from the seventies? You see people in skates like those sometimes,” Spike hurriedly lied, realizing he had given himself away a bit, “And my aunt had a pair like that.” Great mate...you have dead parents...and now an aunt. Better start keeping track of your make-believe family. “Any particular reason while you're doing this in the middle of the night?”

       “Less pedestrian traffic,” Andy replied, “I don't want to be responsible for running down an old lady on these babies.”

       “You know...you really shouldn't...”

       “Relax...it's no big deal, really. I was just going to skate down to Main Street, maybe hit Baskin-Robbins or the Espresso Pump, and be back in time to write my explication paper on King Lear. I needed to get out of there. Mrs. Dilling got past me and is now vacuuming my apartment.”

       “She did my dishes today. Bloody bint just invites herself in, don't she?”

       “She's a bit nosy, but she's nice. I guess we can't complain about a woman who bakes us cookies and then does our household chores. Wanna join me for a little roll?”

       “Put the mutt up, and maybe I will.”

       “Beowulf, back inside...” The dog didn't obey right away, instead, he whined plaintively at his mistress, not wanting to leave her alone with the man with the funny smell. “Fetch my cane.”

       Beowulf almost seemed to sigh before running up the steps and nudging the front door open with his snout, and a few moments later, he reappeared, a collapsible cane in his jaws. He brought it down to Andy and she took it, giving him a pat on the head, “Good boy. Now, go inside and bug Mrs. Dilling.”

       Spike watched as the dog went back inside, but he immediately sat down on the inside of the door, watching Spike with his hackles up, growling softly as Andy took the vampire's offered arm. Andy snapped her cane open, allowing him to pull her for a little ways.

       “I still don't understand why Beowulf dislikes you so much.”

       “Me and animals never seem to mix, luv,” Spike shrugged, “Not a big loss on my part.”

       Andy let go of his arm, and gracefully swung her cane in front of her as she rolled on ahead a bit, treating Spike to a view of her butt clad in her tight shorts, the round globes flexing beneath the faded denim as she moved. “I'd hate it if animals didn't like me...but then again, look where I'd be if I didn't have Beowulf.”

       “Hmm...” Spike realized he hadn't been paying attention to what she was saying, his gaze having been fixated on her arse, “Uh...interesting name for the mutt. Why Beowulf?”

       “You're going to think I'm a big dork,” Andy replied with a smile, glancing over her shoulder, her blank blue eyes on his face, “I have a thing for British literature, especially in high school, and we were covering Anglo-Saxon poetry in class when Beowulf came to us for training,” She looked a little embarrassed, “I named his brother Grendal and his sister Welthow. My brother says I'm a total nerd...and he's probably right.”

       “So...” Spike smiled slowly as he started to jog to keep abreast of her, “Have a thing for the British, do you?”

       “Cute, real cute,” Andy replied, rolling her eyes as she did a quick, smooth spin, and Spike moved forward when she almost went into a bush, but she righted herself in time. “How far are from Main Street?”

       “Couple more blocks,” Spike answered, “You're not from Sunnydale, are you?”

       “Is it that obvious?”

       “Yeah, pretty much,” Spike said, thinking to himself that he would have been immensely surprised if she had been born in Sunnydale and had to yet ended up as a midnight snack for some resident nasty.

       “I'm from Kansas...and if I hear one tornado or Dorothy joke, I will hurt you.”

       “Is the little blind girl threatening me?” Spike teased her, then winced, “Sorry...I didn't mean...”

       She spun once more, cane snapping up to strike him squarely in the chest, and he yelped more in surprise then actual pain. “If you say sorry for teasing the poor, helpless blind girl, I will beat you to death with my cane.”

       “Nice little trick, that,” Spike observed thoughtfully, “Right in the chest too.”

       “My dad was a psycho...he made me learn all these self-defense moves,” Andy told him, turning once more, cane dropping back near the ground, and put to its proper use, “God, am I so glad to be out of that house. My father wanted me to become a recluse and never leave the house, ever, just because I was blind.”

       “Harsh,” Spike observed, “Main Street up ahead.”

       “Whoops,” She dropped back and took his arm again, “Don't mind, do you? People tend to get annoyed when I hit them with my cane,” She told him as she folded it up.

       “Not at all,” Spike said, taking her cane from her and slipping it in his duster pocket, “Where too first? Ice cream or coffee?”

       “Definitely ice cream. Residual coffee taste is so gross...plus, we need something to combat the brain freeze.”

       “Wise choice,” He said in amusement, noting the looks she was getting from several of the college guys that were staring at the attractive girl on his arm, smirking when several of them waved at her, unaware that she couldn't see them, and laid an almost possessive hand on the upper part of her arm as he led her towards the ice cream shop. “Steps comin' up,” He warned her. With his help, she carefully sidestepped her way up them, so she wouldn't slip on her skates.

       “Hey, Andy!” The cashier behind the counter greeted as soon as they walked in, and Andy smiled as she let go of Spike to roll up towards the register, the blond girl raising an eyebrow when she saw Spike, “Did you pick up a new pet?”

       “Funny, Cyn,” Andy rolled her eyes, and Cynthia smiled in Spike's direction before leaning towards Andy and whispering. “He's cute. Where'd you find him?”

       “Beowulf found him, actually,” Andy replied, and Cynthia raised an eyebrow.

       “Wow...since when did they start training Seeing Eye dogs to pick up dates?” Cynthia teased, “Want your usual?”

       “Yes, and it's not a date.”

       “Sure, whatever you say,” Cynthia rolled her eyes, then looked towards Spike, who was squinting up at the flavor menu above the counter, having trouble adjusting his eyes to the bright, fluorescent lighting, “So, what are you having, Cutie?”

       “Uh...” Spike glanced down at Cynthia, “I guess...fudge brownie.”

       “Good choice,” Cynthia said, “Sugar cone or waffle?”

       “Waffle,” Spike replied, pulling out his wallet and laying a twenty on the counter, and Cynthia almost squealed before leaning towards Andy.

       “He's paying...it's so a date, you big liar...and fudge brownie? He so wants you.”

       “Just get the damn cones, Cynthia,” Andy groused, pouting a bit, and Spike raised an eyebrow, his sensitive hearing picking up that small bit of conversation.

       “Fudge brownie means I want you?” He muttered in Andy's ear, watching as the girl's face flushed.

       “Don't listen to her, she's completely nuts,” Andy replied, embarrassed, “She has this whole theory about ice cream and people...she thinks that whatever flavor they pick is a reflection of their personality...”

       “It's true,” Cynthia called from behind the freezer, then returned with Spike's fudge brownie and Andy's chocolate chip mint. “See? She always gets chocolate chip mint. That means she's really shy, fears change, has problems committing to anything but what she's used too...and is afraid of losing control.”

       “Or...I just really like mint...”

       “Uh-uh...sure. Fudge brownie, though...extra, extra chocolate, usually a guy's favorite cone, means he's perpetually horny, confident about what he wants, is usually hostile and has problems letting go of grudges. Extra points for the waffle cone...inside, he's really sweet, maybe a closet romantic...intelligent...”

       Spike raised an eyebrow, impressed despite himself, “That's...really good.”

       “See?” Cynthia stuck her tongue out at Andy, “I told you it wasn't insane.”

       Andy rolled her eyes, and then looked towards Spike, raising an eyebrow, “You're not falling for this crap, are you?”

       “I don't know...I think she's on to something there,” Spike replied, “You have problems committing?”

       “Oh, for the love of...Cynthia!”

       “It's so true...you know, her boyfriend back home asked her to marry him and she said no. She totally has problems committing.”

       “Or it could have been the fact that he was a misogynist Neanderthal who didn't know the difference between Walt Whitman and Walt Disney.”

       “Excuses, excuses,” Cynthia replied, “He was a complete hottie.”

       “Yeah, I can see how that should have been a big consideration for me,” Andy replied dryly, “Hello! Blind!”

       “What? Like that's an excuse for dating ugly people?”

       Spike chuckled as Andy let out a sound of exasperation, and he grabbed some napkins out of the dispenser, “Your cone's melting, pet.”

       Cynthia looked about ready to melt herself when she heard Spike call Andy `pet' and watched as he mopped up the bit of ice cream that had dripped onto her hand, “That is just too cute.”

       “What is?” Andy asked obliviously, and Cynthia rolled her eyes at her completely clueless friend.

       “I'm getting off my shift in an hour, And, you want to head to the Bronze with me, or are you and your `date' busy?”

       “He's not a date, and I can't.”

       “Why not?”

       “I don't think a blind girl on roller skates in a huge, crowded club is a very good idea, for one...and I have a paper to write.”

       “Gotcha,” Cynthia winked at Spike, “You wanna come, cutie whose not Andy's date?”

       “No thanks...I'm good.”

       “Oh, you have to come. Andy! Tell him!”

       “Good-bye, Cynthia,” Andy said pointedly, little roses of color appearing on her face as she took Spike's arm once more, “I'll see you later.”

       Cynthia smiled as she watched Spike carefully guide her friend out, “He so wants her,” She observed to herself with a smug look on her face.

       “I don't understand why a young man would have sixteen pairs of the same outfit,” Mrs. Dilling clucked her tongue in disapproval as she folded a basket full of Spike's laundry, unbeknownst to him. He had left as soon as the sun had set to do whatever it was he did, and she had let herself into his apartment to gather his dirty clothing and do a load of his wash.

       “What in the soddin' hell...?” Spike stopped in his door, holding a paper back, filled with scotch, a carton of cigarettes and a few containers of blood. “What are you doing?!”

       “Just a bit of wash,” Mrs. Dilling said cheerfully.

       “You broke into my apartment to do my laundry!?” Spike asked incredulously, “Are you daft?”

       “Not at all,” Mrs. Dilling replied, folding a pair of his boxers and lying them aside.

       “Hey!” Spike rushed forward and grabbed the basket, “I'll thank you not to mess with me knickers.”

       “Oh, pish-posh,” Mrs. Dilling took the basket back from him, “I'm almost finished anyhow, and Lord knows it will never get done unless I do it.”

       “You're...incredible,” Spike said in disbelief, and she took it as a compliment.

       “Oh, no, I'm not,” Mrs. Dilling told him with a bright smile, finishing folding and then crossed towards where he had put down his bag, and started to go through it, “Liquor, cigarettes and...” Mrs. Dilling frowned, pulling out a container of blood, “What is this?”

       “Uh...it's...tomato juice...for Bloody Marys,” Spike grabbed the container out of her hand, “Uh...fresh, from the source, only way to get it,” He went to the fridge and tossed the containers in. “Listen, Mrs. Dilling...I `ppreciate what you're doing...really...but I really wish you wouldn't just...come into my place whenever you please. This is my home.”

       “Don't be ridiculous, we're almost family,” Mrs. Dilling said with a dismissive wave, before starting to make his bed, “Have you spoken to Andy in the last few days? She's been a bit low...”

       “No, haven't had the chance,” Spike said, giving up on Mrs. Dilling, and decided to let her have her way for the time being, at least, until he could change the lock on his apartment door. At any rate, he perched himself beside the closet next to the door, determined to at least keep her away from there, not wanting to explain his abundance of weapons. “Been a bit busy.”

       “It's such a sad affair...one her friends has gone missing, apparently...Cindy, I think she said...”

       “Cynthia,” Spike corrected, his eyes narrowing slightly, “When was that?”

       “A few nights ago...I think it was the night you took her skating,” Mrs. Dilling said, “I told her not to worry...she probably met a boy,” She gave Spike a pointed look, “Kids these days, right?”

       “Uh...right...” Spike shifted a bit uncomfortably as she started to dust his shelves, thinking about the girl who had appeared to be close friends with Andy, becoming a bit worried. Hardly anyone ever simply `went missing' in Sunnydale, and if they did, they had a nasty habit of turning up again...usually without a heartbeat, and an appetite for former acquaintances. “Could you excuse me for a moment? I have to talk to Andy...”

       “Oh, you'll have to wait...she's at the library, tutoring someone, I believe.”

       “Bloody great,” Spike scowled, “That girl is determined to get herself killed.”

       “What? At the library?” Mrs. Dilling looked confused, “What are you talking about?”

       “Listen,” Spike laid his hand on the small of Mrs. Dilling's back and started to steer her towards the door, “Can you do me a favor and call the library and tell them to let Andy know that I'm coming? And for her not to leave till I get there?”

       “I...suppose...” Mrs. Dilling blinked in bewilderment, confused to his behavior, “Whatever is the matter?”

       “Nothing...just call, all right?”

       “Of course,” Mrs. Dilling allowed him to guide her out, glancing over her shoulder as he slammed the door behind him with a curse, “What a strange, strange man.”

       “All right...just remember the significance of the oak that Rochester proposed to Jane under...and how the destruction of it before the wedding portends to what is to come...” Andy said to the student she was helping tutor, gathering up her books and placing them in her bag. “It'll probably become an essay question on the test.”

       “Okay...right...what's portend mean?”

       Andy sighed, “Omen, Jack, it means omen.”

       “I'm so gonna fail,” The boy whined, “This is crap. Who cares about a tree anyway?”

       “I'm going to pretend I didn't hear you say that,” Andy replied with a frown, “Just remember the damned oak.” She sighed when she heard Beowulf growl, “Down, boy.”

       “Right...but how does the oak...pretend or portend or whatever to what is to come?”

       “The burning of Thornfield...the separation of Rochester and Jane...did you even read the book?”

       “Parts of it...”

       “Oh Lord,” She shook her head, cocking her head slightly when she heard hurried, heavy footsteps on the wood flooring of the library, guessing correctly it was Spike, come to collect her. “Read the book, Jack. It may actually help you pass the test.”

       “But...it's so long...”

       Andy pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath as Spike came up behind her, “Read. The. Book,” She bit out in annoyance, “If you don't, you're just wasting my time.”

       “Ready to go?” Spike asked, sensing Andy's irritation, and the girl nodded, tucking a strand of her black hair behind her ear.

       “So ready,” She replied, “Beowulf, heel.” The dog trotted to her side and she reached down, grabbing up his harness, “I'm serious, Jack...read the book or no more tutoring,” She warned him, then nodded at Spike, and allowed Beowulf to start leading her off.

       The boy mumbled `bitch' beneath his breath. “Heard that,” Andy tossed over her shoulder without looking back, “Beowulf, hush!”

       Spike glared back over his shoulder at the boy, catching him in time to see him flip Andy off, and he allowed his face to change, enjoying the look of abject fear on the boy's face.

       “What in the world was that sound?” Andy asked as he morphed back into his human visage, “It sounded...like...were you cracking your knuckles?”

       “Yeah, something like that,” Spike replied, stopping with Andy while she said goodnight to the librarians, obviously well acquainted with them, and then held the door open for her and Beowulf. “I heard about Cynthia...”

       “Mrs. Dilling told me she would probably turn up in a few days, and I guess she's right,” Andy replied, then cocked her head, shooting Spike an inquisitive look, her blue eyes fixing on his, “Now...what I'm curious about, is why you came all the way down here just to walk me home. We only live a couple of blocks away.”

       “You shouldn't be walkin' around alone at night,” Spike replied, “It's dangerous.”

       “Oh, God...you sound like my dad. I hate it when people treat me like I'm made of frigging glass just because I'm blind!” Irritation was edging into her voice once more, “Christ!”

       “It's not because you're blind...it's dangerous for anyone...”

       “I don't see you escorting any other girl home like some kind of twenty-first century white knight, now do I? Nope! Just the blind kid!”

        “Oh...for the love...pet...it's not like that...”

       “Beowulf, down,” She ordered the dog, and started swiftly and surely down the stairs, mentally counting the steps in her mind, knowing exactly when she hit bottom, and Spike was forced to jog to catch up with her quick steps.

       “Andy...it's not soddin' like that!”

       “Right, sure, whatever,” Andy rolled her sightless eyes, “I've spent my entire life having to prove to everyone that I'm not child that has to be coddled! I am entirely not interested in having to prove it to you!”

       “All right...what crawled up your arse and died a painful, horrible death?” Spike asked, trying to keep his temper in check as she ordered Beowulf into a jog, and he easily kept pace with her, “I was just worried `cause the old bag said your friend went missing! So excuse me for caring!”

       “Shut up,” Andy said as she paused, and Spike's eyes widened slightly.

       “Well! That's a fine attitude...bloody hell, woman! I don't know what your problem is...” His words were cut off as she slapped a hand over his mouth.

       “Shut up and listen,” She told him quietly, and Spike frowned as she dropped her hand, cocking his head slightly.

       “I don't hear anything,” He said after several minutes.

       “Exactly,” Andy stepped away from him as Beowulf started to growl again, “The crickets have stopped chirping.”

       Spike realized she was right, and cursed beneath his breath, reaching into his pocket for a stake he always kept handy, only to come up empty. “Bloody hell...” He took Andy's arm, not allowing her to shake him off. “Come on, let's start moving, all right?”

       She nodded slowly, and allowed him to lead her on, then swore when Beowulf let out a snarl and the harness was jerked out of her hand as he took off towards the end of the campus. “Beowulf! HEEL! NOW!” Andy shouted, jerking away from Spike, “BEOWULF!”

       The dog didn't obey her, and she yanked herself out of Spike's grasp, trying to go after her wayward canine, “BEOWULF! COME!”

       “Forget the goddamn mutt and come on!”

       “I can't!” Andy started sprinting blindly in the direction of Beowulf's barks, “Here, boy! Come on, boy!”

       “Son of a...I hate that goddamn dog!” Spike fairly snarled as he started after Andy, surprised at the speed in which she was running, considering she had no way of knowing whether she was about to run into a tree or stick her foot into a sinkhole. If she did that at her rate of momentum, she'd either brain herself or snap her ankle like a dry, brittle twig.

       “Beowulf!” Andy raced towards the quad, and was surprised when her feet left the grass to land on the cement tiles that made it up, and then her shins hit the edge of a low, stone bench and went flying over it. She hissed in pain when she landed hard on her hands and knees, scraping the skin from her palms, and ripping the knees of her jeans open. She could feel warm liquid trickling down her hands, and she winced, not wanting to know what her hands looked like. “BEOWULF!”

       She nearly screamed when something brushed against her side, and then she breathed a sigh of relief as Beowulf whined and began licking her face. “Bad dog! No! You don't run off!” She said, and then gripped the edge of the bench she had tripped over and sat on it, fighting to catch her breath as Beowulf continued to whimper.

       Andy ignored his plaintive pleading as she wiped her hands on her ruined jeans, “Son of a fucking bitch...” She muttered beneath her breath. She heard a low snarl and she glared in that direction, “No! Bad dog!”

       Beowulf whined again, in the opposite direction in which she had heard the snarl, and Andy's eyes widened as she slowly stood. “Spike? Is that you?” She asked when she heard the sound of shuffling footsteps.

       Beowulf went to stand in front of his mistress, lip curling up over his sharp teeth, and Andy was forced to listen in a world of darkness as her dog snarled and then lunged at whoever had come into the quad with them. Before she could call her dog back, there was the sound of flesh striking flesh, and then a loud snap followed by Beowulf's yelp.

       “Beowulf!” Andy moved in the direction of the yelp when she was struck from the side, and she fell to the ground once more, landing hard on her back and the wind was knocked out of her.

       She gasped for breath as someone straddled her and gripped her wrists, pinning them above her head. She started to struggle, but that only earned her a backhand that made her head sing in pain.

       “Like taking candy from a baby,” The person holding her growled out, and she heard the sound of cracking bones and she slammed her eyes shut as her head was roughly twisted to the side.

       Spike finally caught up, and saw Beowulf struggle to his feet before the dog launched himself at the vampire holding Andy down, and the vampire screamed as the dog's teeth fastened onto his arm.

       Spike immediately rushed into help, kicking the vampire in the chest, and knocking him to the ground. Beowulf immediately went for the vampire's throat, and Spike watched in admiration as the animal ripped it open, leaving a jagged, bloody mess where his neck should have been. Spike knelt down, and with a grunt, finished the canine's job for him by twisting and tearing the vampire's head off, his work sufficiently lessened by the neck wound.

       The vampire dusted, and Spike turned as Beowulf limped over towards Andy and began to nuzzle the girl's face, and Spike could see tears coursing from her eyes. The smell of blood in the air immediately made his nostrils flare, reminding Spike that he hadn't fed yet that day, but he shoved the deep-seated hunger down deep before going towards her.

       Beowulf made a token growl at him, but otherwise didn't object as Spike helped Andy to her feet, brushing her long, black hair away from her eyes, “Hey, now, luv...don't cry. It's over now...”

       “What happened?” She asked, her sightless eyes wide, and he could smell the fear fairly flowing off of her, “Who...what was that thing?”

       “The reason why you shouldn't be out at night,” He replied, “Come on, now...let's get you home, alright?”

       “Right...sure...” Andy's breathing was a bit labored, and she stumbled when Spike tried to guide her, her knees still weak. “Home...good. Oh God...how's Beowulf?”

       “He's fine,” Spike assured her, “Limpin' a bit, but otherwise okay.”

       “Okay...good...I'm good...everything's good...”

       Spike shook his head slightly when he saw she was disorientated. He sifted through her thick hair till he found an angry looking bump forming in the back of her head, and winced a bit. Concussion was most likely the problem.

       “Okay pet,” He swung her up into his arms, “Glad everything's good for you. Come on, you stupid mutt...and don't give me that bloody look...s'all your fault, you know.”

       Beowulf only growled again, but limped obediently behind the man carrying his half-conscious mistress.

       “Ow...” Andy winced as Spike disinfected the palms of her hands while she sat on the couch bed in his apartment, and the vampire glanced up at her before removing a roll of bandages from his first-aid kit. Beowulf was lying across the threshold of the front door, panting a bit, his front left paw already wrapped in gauze. He had been surprisingly compliant when Spike had wrapped his sprained paw, and was now just watching the vampire attend to his mistress, ready to attack if he sensed any sort of dismay on her part.

       “Sorry...” Spike said as he carefully wrapped her hand, “Alcohol's a bitch.”

       “Yeah,” Andy replied quietly, her gaze on a point above his head, “So...that thing...”

       “Aye...vampire,” Spike turned his attention to her other hand, gently removing debris from the scrapes before swapping it with a cotton ball dipped in alcohol. “If it hadn't been for your mutt, you would have been dinner.”

       “And you're...?”

       Spike smiled slightly at her still dazed tone, wondering idly if it was from the bump on the noggin or just the struggling to believe what he had told her. “Yeah, I am...”

       “Okay...so...he's a vampire...”

       “Was,” Spike corrected but she didn't seem to hear him.

       “And you're a vampire...but while he tried to...eat me...you're...fixing my hands.”

       “Right.”

       “Can I? I mean...just...one more time? Please?”

       Spike chuckled quietly, then lifted her hands to his face, and she felt along the smooth, human planes, and then she heard the sound of bones cracking, and his features transformed beneath her fingertips, becoming ridged and sharp. Spike patiently allowed her to run her warm fingers over his face, closing his eyes when they neared them, and then was horrified when a purr was ripped from his chest.

       She drew her hands away in surprise, “Was that you?”

       “Uh...would you believe me when if I said I have a cat?”

       “Nope,” Andy smiled tentatively, “You purred.”

       “Did not,” Spike denied as she lifted her hands again to feel along his face, and the sound was repeated against his will. “Okay...maybe I did.”

       Andy laughed softly, “Your eyebrows are gone,” She said as she felt where they should have been, “And your scar's bigger.”

       “Just the skin stretching over bone,” Spike explained, “It's not really bigger.”

       “So...all that vampire stuff...it's true then? Crosses...mirrors...wooden stakes? All of that?”

       “Yeah, well, most of it. Don't turn into a bat or nothin'...and I don't get tangled in fishnets on windows or count beans that are thrown on the ground.”

       “Too bad. I mean...turning into a bat...pretty cool.”

       “Not really...bats are just flying rodents with rabies. Why in the hell would anyone want be one?”

       “So, you can't fly?”

       “I can jump pretty high,” Spike replied, “If that's any consolation.”

       “Well...I guess...” She frowned suddenly, “Um...okay...you ever read Anne Rice?”

       “Yeah, why?” Spike asked, and watched as Andy blushed, “Oh! Shit! No! I'm not impotent or nothin' like her soddin' characters are. I can have sex. And I'm pretty damn good at it if I say so myself.”

       Andy laughed, then bit her lip almost shyly, “What's your story then?” She made claws with her hands, “Why aren't you know...grrr?”

       “Let's just say that I've been sufficiently curbed for the good of all,” Spike shuddered a bit, “You don't want details.”

       “I don't?”

       “You don't,” Spike asserted, “It's personal.”

       “But otherwise...?”

       “I would've eaten you in a heartbeat.”

       “Good to know,” Andy appeared almost nervous, “Good to know.”

       Spike chuckled, “Want a beer or something?”

       “God, yes,” Andy replied, and Spike straightened, heading towards the kitchen, leaving the girl to demurely fold her hands in her lap, unable to do anything else but sit there, since she was in unfamiliar territory. “So...what else can you tell me about vampires?”

       “Well,” Spike grabbed out two Heinekens from the refrigerator, “Crosses, holy water...generally work. But only on vampires with a Christian background.”

       “Why Christian?”

       “Why would a cross have any affect on a vampire that was raised Moslem or Buddhist?” Spike pointed out as he returned to her side, and sat beside her on his bed, handing her the beer. “Means nothing to them. Same with Jewish vampires. Star of David does the same as a cross would, however. Crosses are always good to have, but I suggest having something heavier around. Holy water works on vamps of all cultures, however, since it's actual blessed.”

       “Would a blessed cross work on all vampires?”

       “Not sure...but that's a good point,” Spike replied with a smile, “Would try it out myself, but for my own aversion to them.”

       “God...I feel like such an ass,” Andy glanced in Spike's direction, “Sorry about yelling at you before...if I had known that you were really just worried about me...”

       “S'alright,” Spike shrugged off her apology, “All's forgiven,” Spike glanced towards the door, where Beowulf was still sitting, “Your dog's leering at me again.”

       “Beowulf, wall.”

       To Spike's surprise, Beowulf stood up and turned to face the door before sitting down again. “What in the...? Why did you teach him to do that?”

       “Let's just say...if my dad found out I taught Beowulf to do that, he'd be completely freaked.”

       “Aw...” Spike raised an eyebrow, “You need your Seeing Eye dog in bed?”

       “Funny. No, if I don't let him in the room, he'll whine and scratch at the door...it's kind of hard to concentrate when he does that. Hey...how do you do your hair if you can't see yourself in a mirror?”

       “How can you?” Spike replied pointedly, and Andy rolled her eyes.

       “Right...okay, I'm stupid. How old are you?”

       “Twenty-five when I was turned...” Spike frowned, doing the math in his head, “134. Counting years I was living.”

       “Wow...so you really did see Roller Disco...I feel pity for you now.”

       Spike laughed, “Yeah...I even had the white jumpsuit for a while...that was before I discovered punk, a'course...and I never went back.”

       “White jumpsuit?”

       “Oh...right...whole Saturday Night Fever phase I went through. I had a John Travolta complex.”

       “Oh...okay, now I'm scared.”

       “What? Now you're scared?” Spike sounded insulted, “I tell you that you're in the same room as a big, scary vampire...and you only get scared when I tell you I wore a white jumpsuit in the Seventies?”

       “Actually...it was the John Travolta bit...I may be blind, but even I heard enough to know he's a horrible actor.”

       “Ah, right...then you're absolved,” Spike replied, “How's your head?”

       “Hurts like a bitch,” Andy sighed, reaching back to touch her bump and winced, “I'm going to have a huge headache tomorrow...maybe I'll just skip class and stay in bed. Exemption for near-death experience.”

       “Won't get any rest though...Old Lady Dilling saw us come in, I think.”

       “Oh...God...” Andy fell back on the bed and closed her eyes with a groan, “She's worse then both of my parents combined. Last time I had a little cold she acted like I had contracted the plague. She shoved so much soup down my throat I almost drowned in chicken noodle.”

       “Oh, poor baby,” Spike said in amusement, staring down at the girl lying on his bed, “I caught her folding my knickers tonight. The woman actually broke into my apartment to do my laundry. I think she's missing a few marbles upstairs.”

       “Could be,” Andy shook her head, “I'm never going to get a moment's peace.”

       “Could stay here...doubt she'd think to look for you here, and she hasn't broken in during the day yet.”

       “What? And kick you out of your bed? Couldn't do that.”

       Spike glanced towards Beowulf, who had finally fallen asleep, facing the door, that dog is really gonna cramp my style. He leaned over Andy, picking up a strand of her black hair and toyed with it between his fingertips as he lowered his voice, “Didn't say you had too. Big bed...little lumpy, I admit...”

       “What?” Andy perched herself up on her elbows, lifting an eyebrow, “I don't even know your name...and you want me to sleep with you?”

       “William, and no, you may never call me that,” Spike replied as he dropped her hair, and shifted his weight to his hands as he placed them on either side of her body.

       “Uh-uh...and what's my full name?” She questioned, smiling up at him coyly, and Spike frowned.

       “Um...Andrea?”

       “Nope,” Andy made to slip away, but Spike let out a low, playful growl, moving to prevent her escape.

       “Now you got me curious...afraid I can't let you go till you tell me,” He threatened her, “But...truth be told...I might not even then.”

       “Adriana,” Andy replied, “Adriana Collins.”

       “Adriana,” Spike repeated with a soft, thrilling purr, watching as she flushed a bit, hearing her heartbeat speed up a bit, “Pretty name.”

       “It's okay, I guess,” Andy replied with a shrug, then smiled, “You going to let me go now? Or do I have to sic Beowulf on you?”

       “Maybe I feel like calling your bluff,” Spike replied, then lowered his mouth to her ear, whispering, “Do you even know how beautiful you are right now?”

       A sharp intake of breath was his answer, and he smiled as he brushed his lips against her eyelids, and they closed over blue orbs that only saw darkness. When he captured her lips in a kiss, they parted without protested, and he nearly groaned as he deepened it, the heat of her skin seeming to seep into him. She broke the kiss suddenly, “Down Beowulf, wall.”

       Spike glanced over his shoulder too see Beowulf tensed to spring, but he immediately returned to the door at Andy's order, “Stupid mutt.”

       “Don't call my dog a mutt,” Andy said somewhat breathlessly, then shoved on his chest, rolling him onto his back, and Spike was about to protest till she straddled him and initiated the next kiss.

       Spike dug both of his hands in her thick, silky hair, maneuvering so that he could devour more of her mouth from his position beneath her, and Andy smiled against his lips before breaking the kiss once more.

       “What? What's wrong?” Spike asked dazedly, and she laughed quietly.

       “Had to breath,” She said, panting a bit, “Apparently something else vampires don't do.”

       “Not really,” Spike said, and then his throat went dry as Andy pulled her baggy sweater over her head and tossed it over her shoulder, and he stared up at the cream-colored lace bra she was wearing.

       Beowulf lifted his head as Andy's sweater hit him, and whined as he glanced over at his mistress before turning to face the wall again, laying his head on the ground and covering his snout with his front paws with a whimper.

       Hot, fetid breath was washing over his face, and Spike wrinkled his nose, nearly gagging at the smell. He cracked one eye open, then jerked in surprise when he saw Beowulf panting, with his head resting on the bed, mere inches from his face.

       “Goddamn mutt,” Spike mumbled half-heartedly as he closed his eyes again, reaching out for Andy, but only coming up with a pair of small feet with blue toenails.

       Spike lifted his head, staring at her feet a bit disjointedly, trying to remember how he ended up at the bottom of the bed, then grinned slowly, “Oh...yeah...”

       He righted himself so that he was lying beside Andy, her back to him, and he draped a possessive arm around her waist, dropping a kiss on her bare shoulder. She murmured in her sleep, and then turned to face him, opening her eyes blearily.

       “Hmmm...what time is it?” She asked, yawning widely, and Spike glanced over his shoulder at the alarm clock on the table beside his bed.

       “Nearly noon,” He replied before lazily tracing a finger over her face, and she snuggled up against him, closing her eyes again, “Your dog is eyeing me again.”

       “Ugh...” Andy sighed as she started to sit up, “He needs to be walked...”

       “No,” Spike pulled her back down to him, kissing her deeply, and Andy wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. However, Beowulf's whine forced her to break it off.

       “Dog...walk...unless you feel like taking him out for a stroll,” She disentangled herself from his grasp, “Uh...can you help me find my clothes?”

       “Fine, fine,” Spike rolled out of bed reluctantly and began collecting her clothes for her, glancing over his shoulder as she stood, stretching her back, breasts bouncing enticingly as she arched towards him.

       “God...I am so sore...” She rolled her eyes when she heard Spike chuckle, “The bed was lumpy!”

       “Sure it was,” Spike said as he gave her the clothes that had been tossed all about the room, pulling his own jeans, and then fished his pack of smokes out of his duster, as well as a long, rectangular velvet box. “Shit...it's Tuesday, right?”

       “Yeah, I think so...why?” She asked as she pulled on her light blue sweater, and then smiled, “Oh! I am so stupid! How could I forget?” She crossed towards where she smelled the cigarette smoke, and Spike removed the smoke from his mouth as she wrapped her arms around his waist, standing on her tiptoes to plant a chaste kiss on his lips, “Happy birthday. Your present is in my apartment, and I'll grab it later, okay?”

       “Huh?” Spike blinked in confusion, “What? For me? I thought it was your birthday...”

       “What? Mrs. Dilling told me...” Andy rolled her eyes and Spike shook his head as they both realized they had been played. “She was trying to fix us up, wasn't she?”

       “Looks like,” Spike replied in amusement, and then tapped her on the nose with the box, “If it's not your birthday, then I guess you don't deserve this.”

       “Then you don't deserve the incredibly thoughtful and fantastic present hidden beneath my bed,” She replied cheerfully, “Too bad...I may have to burn it.”

       Spike pulled her back to him, trying to kiss her once more, but sighed as Beowulf started to growl. “Stupid mutt.”

       “My baby is not a mutt,” Andy defended her dog, bending as Beowulf came up to her, and started to play wrestle with him, “He's a big scary doggie, aren't you?”

       “He's not scary. He's a mangy little fleabag.”

       “Then why did you keep looking over your shoulder last night? Frightened he was going to take a chunk of your cute butt when you weren't paying attention?” She asked as she straightened, slapping said butt playfully, “Think I can sneak past Mrs. Dilling without her knowing I was here all night?”

       “Luv...unless she's completely deaf...I think she already knows...what with the fair imitation you were doing of a banshee last night.”

       “Oh God...” She dropped her head against his shoulder with a little laugh, “We traumatized poor Mrs. Dilling.” She lifted her head, “Oh my God...what's she going to think about the...Animal Planet sounds from your end, huh? She's going to think we're completely demented! You sounded like a petting zoo!”

       Spike chuckled, “Well...on the bright side...she'll probably start knocking on our doors before coming in,” He tried to comfort her, then kissed her forehead, “You're coming back after you walk the mutt, right? I think you mentioned something last night about staying in bed all day. I'm not too impartial to that plan myself.”

       Andy smiled as he wrapped his arms around her waist, reaching up to rest her hand on his face, already familiar to her fingertips, “I need a shower first, and then I need to change my clothes...need to feed Beowulf, and then feed myself.”

       “Nnnoo...” Spike whined, pouting, “Take too long...we'll shower together, eat the dog, and run around naked and never have to leave the apartment.”

       “Hmmm...tempting...but no,” Andy giggled as he nuzzled her throat affectionately, nipping at her skin playfully, “How's my hair look?”

       “Got that wonderful `just been fucked but good' look,' Spike replied, and Andy rolled her eyes, fishing around in her jeans till she found a stray rubber band in one of the pockets and pulled her hair back into a slightly lopsided ponytail.

       “So very charming. I'll see you later, all right?” She kissed his cheek, “Beowulf, come.”

       Spike reluctantly let her escape but not before stealing a few more impassioned kisses on her way out. He heard a door open down the hall, and he broke away from her lips to glance over at Mrs. Dilling, who was peeking her head out of her apartment. “Mornin', Mrs. Dilling. Sleep well?”

       Andy slapped his chest, then disentangled herself from his grasp, smiling in Mrs. Dilling's direction, “Good morning, Mrs. Dilling...”

       “It's nearly afternoon,” The old lady replied, sounding a bit scandalized, “Morning is long gone, dear.”

       “Right...” Andy straightened her clothing, “Uh...Good afternoon then...” Mrs. Dilling shook her head, retreating back inside her apartment without another word, and Spike stifled a laugh as Andy's cheeks flushed. “I am so going to hell for this.”

       “For scaring little old ladies? I don't think so...now...sleeping with demons...you might be in a little trouble for that...”

       Andy groaned, then gave him a playful shove, “Shut up! You're no help whatsoever.”

       “Probably not,” Spike grinned, then swatted her behind with a low growl, “Go walk the mutt and hurry your cute arse back up here. Not done with you yet.”

       “Oh...assumptions...who says I'm coming back?”

       “You don't, I'll be forced to hunt you down,” He threatened lightly, but meaning every word of it. “You will be back?”

       “Have too...have to burn your present, now don't I?” Andy reminded him with a smile, then sighed when Beowulf tugged at the hem of her sweater, “All right...now I really have to go. I'll see you later, Will.”

       “Hey!” Spike glared at her back as she started towards the door, “I told you not to call me that!”

       “You told me not to call you William,” She reminded him without looking back, and Spike shook his head as she slipped out the front door, out into the bright Californian sun.

       “Devious little chit...” A smile tugged at the corner of his lips, and then he scowled when he heard his cell phone ringing. “Oh...right...and now for the ruinin' of Spike's day...” He grumbled as he went back inside his apartment.

       “How many roads must a man walk down, before you call him a man? How many seas must a white dove sail, before she sleeps in the sand?” Andy smiled as she ducked beneath the hot water, rinsing away the shampoo in her hair as she sang without music, her voice echoing off the walls of the shower. “How many times must the cannonballs fly, before they're forever bann--”

       She jumped as the door to her bathroom flew open with a bang, a sharp breeze of cold air diving in at her, and she covered herself with a shriek. The door slammed shut again, only to be followed by a snarl and then a heavy thump that made the door rattle on its hinges. “HA! Take that, you soddin' git!”

       “SPIKE!” Andy reached for the towel on the rack, while trying to shut off the water at the same time, “You scared the shit out of me!”

       “Sorry, luv,” Spike turned from the door, grinning as he swept his eyes over her dripping, towel clad form, but then noted the deadly glare she was sending him, her arms crossing over her chest. “I wasn't planning on it, pet...but your dog almost took a chunk out of my hide. I had to go somewhere.”

       “Was that what slammed into the door? You killed my dog!”

       “He's not dead...probably has one hell of a headache though...”

       Andy shook her head slightly as she stepped out of the shower carefully, “I thought you were going to wait for me at your place?”

       “Change of plans,” Spike sighed, leaning against the bathroom door as he watched her at her toilette, “Got a call from those pains in the arses I was tellin' you about. Apparently...it's the end of the world...again.”

       “Again?” There was an end of the world before?”

       “Several times...third time this year, by my count,” Spike told her with a roll of his eyes, “Listen, I'm going to be busy tonight, and maybe for the next couple of nights. You have to promise me to stay indoors after dark...don't invite anybody inside your apartment unless they walk in of their own freewill.”

       “I can't stay indoors...I have another tutoring session tonight, and tomorrow, I have study group for Sociology...I can't blow them off.”

       “Poodle...I'm not kidding about this. You remember what happened last night...”

       “I know...but I promised...I have responsibilities to take care of, besides, I have notes to catch up on because I missed classes today. I have Beowulf, we'll be fine.”

       “Dog, I'm not worried about, you, I am,” Spike told her, sounding a bit frustrated, “And why do you have to be so damned dedicated to school?”

       “Because I can't depend on looks alone?” Andy suggested sweetly, dropping her towel to the ground, crossing towards her clothes that were resting on the toilet. “It's sweet you're worried, Spike...but I can't stay indoors all the time, too frightened to go out and live my life. Besides, most deaths happen in the home. I might slip on the kitchen floor, split my skull open on the counter, and then, after a few days, Beowulf will be forced to eat my dead, rotting body to keep from starving.”

       Spike grimaced, “Ugh...nice imagery there, turtle dove. That's just...gross.”

       “You see my point, though,” She stated as she buttoned up her blouse, then sat down on the toilet to pull on her socks. “Stop worrying about me, you big baby...but tell you what...if I get eaten, you can be the first to say `I told you so.'”

       “Bit of an empty promise, that,” Spike replied, troubled when he saw she wasn't going to change her mind. He was highly tempted to tie her to her bed, but Beowulf would probably rip his throat open if he tried that. “At least...call me when you leave and then call me from the library when you get there...and then I'll sneak out to walk you home again.”

       “I think I can live with that,” Andy replied with a sigh as she pulled her hair up into a bun and then opened the bathroom door, and then moved about her apartment easily, having the layout and position of everything memorized in her mind. “Feel like frosted flakes? Sorry, but I don't have much in the way of food...but I have macaroni if you want that.”

       “I'm good,” Spike replied, curiously looking about her apartment. She had several bookcases lining the walls, filled with Braille and audio books, as well as what looked like journals with thick, stiff pages. She had a sofa bed as he did, but it was folded up, a few pillows resting on top of the couch. She had a small TV cabinet, complete with a VCR and television, as well as a stand filled with CDs. In the very far corner of the room, there was a desk with a computer resting on top of it, and Spike frowned. “Why do you have a computer? I mean...you know...”

       “Voice recognition program,” Andy explained from the kitchen, “I can tell the computer what to do without needing to see the screen. Useful little piece of software...don't even have to type if I don't want too. But I still have to have someone spell and grammar check for me.”

       “That's just...neat,” Spike said, turning his attention from the computer as Andy came out of the kitchen with a bowl of frosted flakes, smiling a bit as he sat on the couch, and she plopped down beside him, curling her feet beneath her butt.

       “So...end of the world? Sounds big, huh?” She hinted not so subtly as Spike watched her smash the end of her spoon into her flakes, crunching them up so the milk moistened them.

       “Not really...happens so many times, I lose track,” Spike bragged lightly, “Gettin' to be an old pro at it.” He frowned, “God, I am so pathetic.”

       “Why's that?” Andy asked curiously, playing with her spoon absently, glancing up when she felt his weight shift, and then he was pulling her across his lap with an arm around her waist, his free hand keeping her bowl from tipping over.

       “Maybe `cause I think you're so cute when you eat frosted flakes. That has to rate high on the pathetic scale. Or maybe it's the whole `big, bad, evil vampire' getting bragging rights for saving the world. Take your pick.”

       “I think it's a toss-up,” She replied, finding it hard to concentrate on eating with the blond vampire nibbling on her earlobe. “How's the world going to end this time?”

       “Probably something involving earthquakes...hell on earth...fire and brimstone...big nasty, ugly bastard trying to eat people...you know, the usual bit,” He told her, “Put down the frosted flakes so I can ravage you.”

       “What? We're up to ravaging? I'm still stuck on the cute while eating Tony the Tiger...” She blushed as Spike burst out laughing and hid her face in his shoulder, “Okay...that so did not sound that dirty in my head.”

       “Oh, it was adorable...” Spike frowned, “Okay...now that was pathetic.”

       “Yeah, it was,” Andy agreed, then squealed as Spike tumbled her down to the couch with a growl.

       “This...doesn't make any sense,” Giles mumbled to himself as he looked over the prophecy for what felt like the hundredth time. He had almost memorized the entire thing, but it didn't help him to understand what he was reading.

       Willow was bent over a few volumes from his library, together with Tara, hoping to find something within them to help them understand the prophecy.

       Why must they always speak in riddles? Giles thought in annoyance, glancing at Buffy and Xander, who were sitting on the couch, looking bored out of their minds. Spike had yet to show up, even though the sun had set half an hour before, and he was growing annoyed, hoping the vampire would be able to throw light on the ancient prophecy. He found Spike was sometimes useful in interpreting things from the time he had spent with Drusilla and her mad ramblings.

       Finally, his front door was thrown open so that it banged against the wall, and Spike swept in, duster flying out behind him, ever-present cigarette hanging from between his lips.

       “Spike, so glad you could join us,” He said dryly, giving the vampire a look over his glasses. “I trust that this little gathering hasn't interrupted any of your plans for the evening?”

       “Yeah, it did,” Spike replied without sarcasm, throwing himself into his favorite chair. “Well? How's it goin' to end this time? Boils and pustules? Always a fun one.”

       “Ewww...gross...” Buffy gave Spike a disgusted look, and then glanced at Giles, “It's not that, right?”

       “I'm...not entirely sure,” Giles replied, shaking his head, “This prophecy...”

       “Oh! Let me guess!” Spike lifted an eyebrow, “Vague and one big pain in the ass riddle?”

       “Basically...yes,” Giles returned to the book he had been toiling over for the past few days. “Word of Scienant, black on appurys, resides in sandreks, the dark geporny that shall suconme all the rowld. In webbed somagoser threads, the doblo shall flow lefrey.”

       “What the...?” Buffy stared at Giles, “What in the hell does that mean?”

       “I don't know,” Giles shook his head, “I've never seen the likes of it...it...sounds partially translated...but the rest of it's in a language I've never seen or heard before. I was hoping Spike would recognize it.”

       “It's not in any demon language I know,” Spike replied, shaking his head, “Sounds like complete nonsense to me.”

       “The text that follows it implies that a great evil shall raise...possibly in the next day or so. However, if we can translate the rest of the text, we may have an idea of how or where it's going to happen...”

       “You called me down here for that?” Spike asked in annoyance, “For a freakin' riddle that you don't bloody well understand?”

       “Spike...we have too...” He was interrupted by a loud beep, and Giles watched as everyone in the room, save him, reached for their pockets, or purses, respectively, and pulling out cell phones.

       “Me!” Spike called, then jumped to his feet, darting into the foyer, “ `Ello?”

       “Hey, I made it, alive, dad,” Andy's voice came over the line, and he grinned, “How's the world saving gig working for you?”

       “Bloody horrible,” Spike glanced into the living room, scowling when he saw the Scoobies looking towards him, then lowered his voice, “They damn well called me down here to friggin' talk about a prophecy that's not even translated. Damn thing reads like a children's riddle.”

       “Sounds crappy,” Andy heard one of the librarians pass close to her, and turned to face a wall, “What's the prophecy?”

       “Huh? Why?”

       “I kick ass at riddles. Seriously...I actually won a contest at the Renaissance Faire one time.”

       “Not even in English, poodle,” Spike told her, “But if you wanna knock yourself out...” Spike crossed back into the living room, and stole the book out of Giles' hand, despite the Watcher's protest. “Word of Scienant, black on appurys, resides in sandreks, the dark geporny that shall suconme all the rowld. In webbed somagoser threads, the doblo shall flow lefrey.”

       “It's a book,” Andy replied right away, “At least the first part.”

       “What? You're kiddin' me, right?” Spike glanced at Giles, “She says it's a book.”

       “What?” Giles frowned, “There's no mention of a book.”

       “Maybe a scroll...what was the rest of it?”

       Spike repeated the prophecy, spelling out a few of the words that she asked for, while Giles watched on with a frown, asserting, “There's no mention of a book anywhere in it...can I?” Giles held his hand out for the phone.

       “Luv, I'm switching you over to the resident book-worm,” Spike told Andy, “He's British, so you'll like him.”

       Andy laughed as Giles took the phone, “Uh...hello? Whom am I speaking too?”

       “Hey,” Andy greeted, feeding a few more quarters into the pay phone, “I'm Andy, sir.”

       “Right...uh...Andy...why do you think the prophecy mentions a book? I've read it over and over again, and I can't find any mention...”

       “It's an anagram,” Andy answered, “Every third word is an anagram. Scienant translates to Ancients, appurys is papyrus, sandreks is darkness, geprony is progeny, suconme is consume, rowld is world, somagoser...I'm having trouble with that one...gossamer, I think, doblo is blood, and lefrey is freely.”

       “Word of Ancients, black on papyrus, resides in darkness, the dark progeny that shall consume all the world. In webbed gossamer threads, the blood shall flow freely,” Giles replaced the words that Andy indicated, blinking in surprise, “Good Lord...you're right. It is an anagram.”

       “Ha!” Spike grinned, “My girl figured out in three seconds what you couldn't figure out in three days?”

       “Shut up, Spike,” Giles replied absently, writing down the translation, “Word of Ancients, black on papyrus most likely does refer to a book...but webbed gossamer threads?”

       “You have a girl?” Buffy asked, raising an eyebrow at Spike, and the vampire glared at her before flipping her off.

       “Shut it, Slayer.”

       “A spider...has to be a spider...followed by the reference to blood. It's the only thing I can think of that has threads and is interested in blood.”

       “Of course,” Giles said thoughtfully, “Uh...right...thank you...Andy, was it?”

       “Andy?” Buffy repeated, eyes widening as she glanced at Willow, “Spike's girl is Andy?”

       “Yeah...and no problem...got nothing else better to do with my time,” Andy replied brightly, and then smiled when she heard Spike grabbling with Giles for the cell phone.

       “Hey, baby,” Spike apparently won the battle, and Andy rolled her eyes.

       “Did you beat up the old guy for the phone, Spike? That wasn't very nice.”

       “Yeah, well...” Spike glanced over his shoulder, scowling, “Gimme a sec, pet...they're all bloody well leering at me. Bunch of soddin' eavesdroppers.” He went back out into the foyer, and leaned against the front door, “So...what're you wearing?”

       “The same thing you saw me wearing when you left,” Andy replied, feeding another quarter into the pay phone, “I, unfortunately, did not change into a whip cream bikini before I headed to the library.”

       “Too bad,” Spike replied, chuckling, “Would've been nice imagery,” He dropped his voice even lower, “Black lace negligee...card catalogue...late fees...God, it's making me so hot.”

       “WE CAN HEAR YOU!” Xander screamed from the living room, “Please! STOP!”

       “Y'know...two years ago...I would've ripped out his throat and worn his intestines for a neck-tie for that,” Spike sighed heavily, “God, I hate my life.”

       “Poor baby,” Andy replied in mock-sympathy, glancing over her shoulder when the girl she was supposed to be tutoring called her name, and held up a hand, indicating she needed a few more minutes. “Okay, I'm probably going to be stuck here for an hour. If this one hasn't read the book either, I'm upping my tutoring fees. I'm not paid enough for this crap.”

       “At least you're getting paid,” Spike replied, removing a cigarette from his pack, “Listen...if I can slip out early enough, you want do something? Movie? Um...or not a movie...sorry...stupid question...”

       “No...movie sounds nice. I'll get someone to check listings for me from the library computer.”

       “You sure...? I mean...movie can't be too fun for you...”

       “Just be prepared to describe what's goin--” Andy yelped as the floor beneath her rolled suddenly, and she pitched forward into the payphone, striking her forehead on the cool, metal surface and she heard something crash in the back of the library, “Son of a fucking BITCH!” She touched her head, feeling warm, sticky blood, “Hey! My first earthquake...it sucked.”

       “Earthquake?” Spike frowned, “Luv...there wasn't an earthquake.”

       “Well, I didn't trip and split my skull open while standing in one spot,” Andy replied, “You didn't feel that? I think a bookcase fell over.”

       “Shit...Andy...pet...do me a favor, grab the mutt, and get out of there.”

       “Wait...after that big deal you made about leaving the library by myself...”

       “Adriana, I'm fuckin' serious, all right?! Get out of there!” Spike snapped, more worried then angry, then tensed when he heard a shrill scream on the other end of the phone, “Andy?!”

       “Wasn't me,” She assured him, but her voice was terse, “I can hear something moving around in there, Spike...”

       “Don't hang up the phone, and get out there, baby,” Spike leaned into the doorway, gesturing at the weapon's cabinet with an impatient grunt. “Now!”

       “Gone,” He heard the phone being dropped, and Andy impatiently calling for Beowulf. Buffy came up to him, carrying a double-sided axe and started to ask him something but he drew his hand across his throat, glaring at her as he pressed the phone to his ear, waiting to hear the sound of the library doors opening and closing. Instead, he heard a loud swear, and then Andy came back on the phone.

       “The security doors were tripped...I think the power went out,” She told him calmly, even though Beowulf was snarling and spitting, and she could hear an almost metallic, rasping sound deep in the stacks. “Listen...there's an office somewhere around here...I'm going to try to get in it and lock the door.”

       “Do that, then,” Spike said, “Is there a phone in there?”

       “I think so...”

       “All right...I'm going to hang up, as soon as you get in there, call me again.”

       “Okay...talk to you in a few...” Andy said, and Spike closed his eyes, sucking his cheeks in as the line went dead, and he lowered the phone slowly, punching the connection button.

       “Spike...?” Buffy started to say, but Spike shoved past her, heading towards the weapons cabinet and grabbing out a broadsword, and then started loading up on the smaller stuff, shoving them in the waistband of his jeans and pockets of his duster.

       “Okay...when the vampire's freaked out...not good!” Xander observed worriedly, and Buffy gave him a look before stocking up on weapons herself. She had heard enough from his end of the phone call to know something was drastically wrong.

       Spike kept glancing at his phone, then looked up at Buffy, “She should have called by now...it would only take her a few minutes to get in there...”

       “She doesn't know the layout of the office,” Buffy reminded him, “It may take her awhile to find a phone.”

       “What's going on?” Willow asked worriedly, “What's happening?”

       “Library...the goddamn prophecy's happenin' at the library,” Spike replied tensely, starting towards the door, Buffy on his heels.

       “Wait...we don't know how to...stop this...or even what this is,” Giles called out, “You can't go till we know what we're facing.”

       “What? Sit around while this thing eats my bird? Don't bloody think so,” Spike snapped back at him, “I'm not sitting here with my thumb up my arse, while my girlfriend becomes a snack for some fuckin' spider demon or whatever!”

       “Giles, you research, you have Spike's number,” Buffy broke in, “Call if you get anything. Wills, Tara? You guys come with us...we might need spell-casters.”

       “What about me?” Xander asked, and Spike and Buffy exchanged a look before replying in unison.

       “Research.”

       Xander scowled as Tara and Willow hopped to their feet, grabbing up their things together, “Hey! I can help!”

       “I don't have time for this,” Spike told Buffy, “I'll bloody well meet you there.”

       “Spike...you should wai--” Buffy started to say, but Spike ignored her as he threw open the door, and sprinted out into the night. “Shit. He's going to get himself killed.”

       Spike raced through Sunnydale, cutting through yards and practically throwing himself over the fences separating the yards. He held his cell phone clutched in one hand, still waiting for Andy's call, but the phone was being stubbornly silent.

       Come on, baby...give daddy a call...Spike pleaded silently as he leapt up, feet scrabbling along the wood of a fence, and he winced as a splinter slipped underneath his thumbnail, but he ignored the pain as he dropped down to the other side.

       He was on the very far edge of the campus now, and he could see the large, Romanesque building that housed the college library. All the windows were black from where he was standing, and there was a large, jagged crack running from the roof to the ground, and Spike shuddered at the sight of it.

       He started to run again, and started up the front steps off the library, only too see a large, metal grill blocking the doors into the library, and he swore profusely, having forgotten that Andy had said the security doors had been tripped when the power went out.

       “SHIT! CUT ME A FUCKIN' BREAK, WILL YOU!?” Spike snarled at the sky, and then frowned, looking up at one of the windows high above the doors. They didn't have a grill on them. He glanced at one of the columns beside him, then slipped his cell phone in his duster pocket. “Right...just like climbing the Eiffel Tower...” He said to himself, “Just less wind shear and footholds.”

       He reached behind him, making sure the sword and its sheath was attached firmly to his body before starting to scale the column, sliding down half a foot for every two feet he gained.

       His boots scrambled for purchase as the muscles in his arms burned as he hauled himself up, and finally, he found himself directly across from the windows, breathing a shuddering sigh of relief when he saw the thin ledge running beneath them. Finally...something he could work with.

       He took a few precious seconds to rest himself before curling his legs nearly up to his chest, almost losing his grip, but he vamped out, his fingernails sharpening, and he drove them into the stone, snarling when two of his nails were ripped off, blood from his fingers nearly making worsening his position. With a roar, he shoved himself off of the column and launched himself through the air, hands outstretched.

       He slammed into the ledge at chest level, and he started to fall downwards, but he managed to grab it before he could fall back to the ground. He swung his body to the side, using his leg to get a grip on the ledge, and then hauled himself up with a grunt.

       “Christ...” Spike looked at the column, then back down at the ground, panting for breath that he didn't need. His arms were burning from the strain he had put them under, and he glanced down at his hand, wincing when he saw the missing fingernails. “Goin' to feel that tomorrow,” He muttered, and then glanced at the window before slamming his fist through it, shattering the glass.

       He heard it twinkling to the ground, and then a strange, metallic, skittering sound that made his skin crawl. He kept his demon at the fore as he looked through the window, sweeping his gaze around the black library but was unable to distinguish much of anything save for the dark shapes of the shelves.

       He stepped onto the windowsill, and then dropped down to the ground, hitting the floor with no more then a rustle of leather and a crunching of glass beneath his boots. He heard the skittering sound once more, further back in the library, but he ignored it for the moment as he glanced towards the doors, seeing the payphone Andy had to have been using to call him.

       He straightened and silently made his way towards it, nostrils flaring when he caught the faint smell of blood, and he could see a black shadow gracing the edge of the phone. He lifted his finger to it, coming away with a bit of tacky substance, and licked his fingers, yellow eyes flashing. Blood...but not much. She had mentioned something about splitting her skull open and guessed that she must have accidentally slipped into the payphone during the `earthquake.'

       A small stack of quarters was resting on top of it, and he picked one up, absently toying with it before flinging it towards the back of the library. He heard it clang against something solid, and then a soft, wheezing sound, and the rasping of metal.

       Office...there was only one office he could see, and it was behind the check-out desk, and Spike made his way towards it when he saw the shut door, and he hoped that Andy had managed to make it to safety before whatever shit that had hit the fan had come flying at her head-on. Come on, you right bastard...have her behind that door and I swear, I will start going to confession every bleedin' Sunday...and I'll even fuckin' become the new altar boy.

       He tensed, glancing over his shoulder when he thought he saw a shadow move, and he stared into the darkness, eyes slightly narrowed as he waited for the motion to repeat itself. However, he waited vainly, and he started towards the office again when he decide he was allowing his eyes to play tricks on him.

       He opened the door carefully, half expecting Beowulf to barrel at him, teeth bared, “Andy? Poodle? You in there?” He asked quietly, “Adriana...”

       There was no answer, and he swore when he saw it was completely empty. “Shit...shit...SHIT!” He screamed the last, and he whirled when he heard Beowulf barking in the darkness, and he called for him, but he didn't obey. Spike was a bit heartened to think that the mutt wouldn't leave his mistress as long as she was alive. He stepped out of the office, staring off into the darkness, and this time, he was sure that he could see the shadows moving.

       “Right...you can play this smart...and wait for the Slayer and her little Scoobs to show up...” He heard Beowulf yelp and start to whine loudly, “Fuck it...you were never that smart anyhow.”

       Buffy paced outside the library, looking upwards at the shattered window, where they assumed Spike had gotten in, the bit of blood slowly dripping down the column seeming to support that theory.

       “Christ...” Buffy glanced at Tara, “How in the hell do you think he managed that?”

       “Pure adrenalin,” Tara answered quietly, “I think he really cares about her.”

       “Wills? How's it coming?” Buffy glanced at the redhead, who was kneeling beside the door, stripping the wires of the security system so that she could try and bypass the command that was keeping the metal grill down.

       “I'm not sure...I'm a hacker, not an electrician,” Willow replied, frowning slightly, “I'm not even sure this will work if the power's off.”

       “Are you sure you can't do a spell?” Buffy asked, glancing at Tara desperately, “There has to be something...”

       “I'm...there's spells to open doorways, but they're unstable,” Tara answered, “And...the energy I'm getting off this place...it's not good energy. It could completely backfire any spell we try to cast. Add an unstable spell on top of that...and it'll probably turn us inside out or something.”

       “I don't think I'm going to be able to get up there like Spike did,” Buffy said, looking upwards once more, “And I definitely don't think I'm going to be able to make the jump without falling and becoming Buffy vegetable matter.”

       Willow shook her head worriedly, then jumped when the wires sparked and she jerked her hands away, “OW!”

       “Are you okay?” Tara asked immediately, concerned for her girlfriend, and Willow nodded.

       “Just a bit singed,” She replied, sticking a finger in her mouth. “I don't think this is working.”

       “Great...the world will be ended because someone decided that a few copies of Huck Finn needed a fancy security system,” Buffy remarked in irritation, “I will never get this town.” She cocked her head when she heard tires screeching down below, rolling her eyes, “Ten to one, it's not a cop investigating the library's silent alarms.”

       Tara shook her head, “It's Xander...” She said, watching as the boy jumped out of his car, then opened up the trunk, removing a tire jack, and he ran up the library steps, brandishing it triumphantly.

       “Ha! Look who comes through in the end!” He said as he sat the tire jack down on the ground before the grate, shoving it underneath before cranking it. The metal grating started to lift with a groan. Xander watched the jack, not wanting it to slip and very likely take his kneecaps out in a spray of blood. “Okay...that's about as far as it's gonna go,” Xander said when he got the grill lifted about two feet off the ground, “It's going to be a tight squeeze, and one of us is going to have to wait here to get it open again.”

       “Great,” Buffy grimaced, then dropped to her knees and shoving her weapons beneath it before rolling under, Willow and Tara following her.

       “Okay...it looks like I'm the one waiting,” Xander muttered, letting the tire jack go, and the grill slammed back down to the ground. “Is Spike already in there?”

       “Yeah,” Buffy stood up on the other side, picking up her weapons once more, “He went through the window.”

       “Window?” Xander frowned, “What window?”

       Willow pointed upwards, then glanced into the dark library on the other side of the glass doors, “You might want to stay close to the doors, in case we need to escape, screaming our heads off.”

       “I have never screamed my head off in my life,” Buffy replied, easily kicking open the library doors, and then frowned when she heard something move in the darkness, “Better stay close.”

       “Illuminate,” Willow said, smiling as a little tinkle bell light sparked into being, but it abruptly fell away when she heard the same metallic rasping, louder this time as the light seemed to startle whatever was hiding in the darkness. “Oh...Goddess...that's creepy...and we can only hear it.”

       “Them,” Tara amended, “Didn't Andy tell Giles she thought the prophecy was about spiders or something?”

       “Dark progeny,” Willow replied, “Resides in darkness...they don't like the light.”

       “Let's get more light then,” Buffy replied, hefting her ax, “Lots more light.”

       “Illuminate,” Tara held up her hand, another tinkle bell light appearing, then glanced around the empty lobby of the library before tentatively calling Spike's name. There was no answer, save for a soft wheezing sound, and Tara silently began praying to the Mother Goddess as she, Buffy, and Willow slowly made their way into the darkness.

       “You're a stupid...stupid...stupid...bastard...” Spike muttered beneath his breath as he passed the American literature section of the library, slowly making his way into the absolute darkness that cloaked the entire building. Every step of the way, he was plagued by the sound of the metal-like rasps, the shadows that moved with menacing clicks, and the soft, continuous wheeze that made it seem as though everything around him was breathing. “Should have waited for the soddin' Slayer...”

       He reached for his pack of smokes, needing something to calm his nerves, finding the whole experience unsettling. He popped a cigarette in his mouth, and removed his lighter from his duster pocket. He glanced around as he rolled the wheel, his Zippo springing to life, and he instantly wished he had never taken up smoking.

       Only inches from his face, hanging from the ceiling by a silk thread the thickness of a rope, was a silvery-bodied spider-like creature. It had two elongated, glistening fangs, and pale drops of fluid dripped from them, and dropped to the ground, and the venom in the liquid hissed when it touched the ground, and began to melt through the floor, and it was easily the size of a large dog. It let out a shrill, ear-piecing scream as the light hit it, and it's eight legs clicked together as it pulled itself upwards, racing up the thread swiftly.

       “JESUS FUCKIN' CHRIST!” Spike nearly dropped his lighter as he fell backwards on his butt, his eyes wide, the flame going out, plunging him back into darkness. He immediately shot back to his feet as the clicking sounds resumed, this time surrounding him from all sides. “ANDY!” He screamed into the darkness, “Andy! Where are you?!”

       There wasn't even a whimper from Beowulf this time, and Spike raked a hand through his hair, his nerves severely shaken, wondering if he should just give up on Andy and wait for Buffy. In all likelihood, Andy was already dead anyway. He felt his heart leap up into his throat at that thought; barely knew the girl for two weeks, and already, he couldn't even think about her being dead without feeling as through his insides were being ripped out.

       He shoved his pack of smokes in his pocket, fingers brushing against the black velvet box he had yet to give her. “Right...” He took a deep breath, steeling himself, “Trapped like a rat in a room full of fuckin' metal spiders, your woman and her stupid soddin' dog are probably arachnid chow...and help's probably not coming anytime soon...yeah, I'd say I'm fairly screwed.”

       He slipped his sword out of it's sheath, then shrugged out of his duster to remove his red, silk shirt, and he wrapped it around the end of the blade, and then lit the shirt with his lighter. He blinked against the sudden luminance and smirked when he heard more shrieks as the fire forced the creatures back. “Yeah! I made fire, I'm a fuckin' God!” He shouted at the retreating spiders, “Don't like that, do you, you shit-eatin' bastards!?”

       He realized he was starting to sound a little insane, and he was starting to feel it. The clicking was getting on his already strained nerves, and the very thought of a spider the size of a German Shepard was freaking him out completely.

       As he delved deeper into the library, the floor started to slope downwards, and he slipped on something slick and wet. He glanced down, seeing he was standing in a pool of blood, and he saw a pale, white hand lying in it...without a body attached. He held up the torch, trying to peer deeper into the darkness, and he could see the white, faux marble floor had cracked and collapsed into the basement of the library, and the wheezing sound was gradually getting louder.

       His torch sputtered as it ate the last of the shirt, and Spike swore as it went out, and then stripped out of his black t-shirt, wrapping it around the sword. At this rate, he'd be fighting those bloody things bare-ass naked, but he would do it as long as he had the slimmest chance of finding Andy and getting her out of there alive.

       “Into the pit of hell...” He muttered beneath his breath as he started down into the dark cavity, eyes narrowed as he peered into the gloomy murkiness ahead of him, the metallic rasping of spidery legs growing louder and even more insistent, making it hard to hear anything else. However, he thought he heard a low whimper farther down below, and he pushed on downwards.

       Above, behind and to his side, he could hear the `spiders' moving about, their metallic bodies rubbing together, creating a cacophony of rasping squeaks that made his ears ache. They kept pace with him, keeping just out of the reaches of the light, offering him brief glimpses of their silver bodies, but he didn't see them full-on, for which he was both grateful and a bit freaked out about.

       Thick threads began to drop from the ceiling, and he drew up short, and then glanced over his shoulder as more dropped down behind him. The sons of bitches were trying to trap him! That suggested a level of thinking that disturbed Spike more then he wanted to admit, but he only removed a large, curved dagger from the waistband of his jeans. He started to slice through the threads, his concentration centered on cutting his way forward, and he didn't notice the looped thread dropping down above him till it fell over his head. Spike's head snapped back as the loop tightened, and he was yanked off his feet, the torch clattering to the ground and snuffing out.

       Spike grabbed at the thick thread around his throat, feet kicking as he tried to dislodge himself, nearly screaming when he heard the clicking of the spiders' legs as they drew closer to him, no light left to protect him.

       “Illuminate!” There was a bright flash of light that blinded Spike, and the spiders all screamed as one, the sound deafening him, and he blinked, spots of light dancing in front of his eyelids. There was a soft swish sound, and then he crashed to the ground, the thread holding him severed, and he rolled onto his knees, gasping for breath. He lifted his head to see Tara and Willow holding hands, their power combined to give a little more force to the light that had saved his skin, and Buffy was standing over him with an ax, her eyes slightly wide as she stared forward into the area illuminated by the light.

       Spike had never been so glad to see the Slayer in his unlife, but he followed the girls' gaze, scrambling to his feet when he saw what they were staring at. Suspended from the ceiling were at least a dozen white `cocoons', roughly the size of a person; swathed in the thick, silvery threads.

       “Oh…Goddess…” Willow breathed, “Those…those are the people, aren't they?”

       Spike scooped up the dagger he had dropped, going towards the first cocoon, and began cutting through the threads, then jumped back with a shout, staring at the face he had uncovered. It was…had been…a person, but their face was now shriveled and black, their expression frozen in the grotesque parody of a scream.

       “They've…been sucked dry,” Tara said softly, “They sucked them completely dry…”

       “Slayer! Get the others!” Spike snapped, jumping to the next cocoon, hands shaking as he cut away the threads only to be facing another black face, but it wasn't Andy. God no…please no…not like this…don't let her have died like this…

       Willow and Tara kept their hands joined, sweat beading on their foreheads as they fought to keep the light lit, despite the dark energies pounding away at their resistance, unseen, but not unfelt. Tara was watching Spike, whose face was set in a hard, cold mask, but his eyes were wide and shining with unearthly light as he kept cutting away at the cocoons. He was becoming more desperate when each one only produced another body like the first, while at the same time, relieved that none of them had been Andy.

       He was in an agony of anticipation, expecting each cocoon to produce the dark-haired girl, when he heard the repetition of a small whimper. Spike went rigid, then glanced further down the line of cocoons, seeing eyes flash with silver incandesces as the light hit them.

       He immediately abandoned the cocoon he was working on and raced downwards, hearing the tiny whimper again, and he nearly shouted in relief when he saw Beowulf lying on the ground beneath the cocoon. However, he ignored the dog in favor of slicing away at the thick threads, hands sticking to them a bit. A bit of jet-black hair became visible, and Spike dropped the blade to start tearing at the threads with his bare hands, exposing Andy's pale, drawn features.

       “Oh…Christ…thank you…” He breathed, staring at her beautiful face, apparently having interrupted the spiders' in their feeding so that they hadn't reached her yet. He yanked the rest of the cocoon apart, and her body fell limply into his arms, her frame shuddering and her chest rose in small, shallow inhalations. He sat on the ground with her in his lap, frowning when he saw her lips were slightly blue, and then reached up to touch her face before calling for Willow and Tara, eyes wide.

       Tara came up to his side as he removed his duster and wrapped it around Andy, starting to rub her arms vigorously, “She's frozen,” He told her in dismay, “She's freezin' cold…”

       “She's in shock,” Tara replied quietly, removing a small, dried flower out of a small pouch at her waist and handed it to Spike, “It's lavender…it should help a bit…”

       Spike nodded before forcing it past her lips and making her swallow it, his eyes riveted to her face as he watched color slowly seep back into her cheeks. Tara went towards Beowulf, who was still lying on the floor, his paws twitching in obvious pain, and she laid a hand on his side, and then immediately withdrew it, staring at the blood staining her palm.

       “He's been bitten,” Tara glanced back at Spike, who only had eyes for Andy at the moment, then looked up as Buffy came up, shaking her head.

       “The rest are gone,” Buffy told them softly, “How's Andy?”

       “She's in shock, Buffy…we have to get her out of here,” Tara answered, watching as Spike brushed Andy's tangled, sweaty hair off her forehead, “She needs a hospital before she gets any worse.”

       “And Beowulf is as good as gone,” Willow added quietly, in case Andy could hear her. “I can't believe he lasted this long…he must have been keeping the spiders away from her…”

       Spike glanced towards the canine, who was breathing in ragged, pained breaths, his eyes bright and shiny as he stared at Spike, letting out a small, pathetic growl, as if trying to warn the demon away from Andy. “Can't leave him like that…” Spike looked towards Buffy, “He's in pain…we can't leave him like that…”

       Buffy chewed on her bottom lip before nodding, and Spike turned his head away, squeezing his eyes shut as the Slayer knelt next to the dog, bare back tensing when he heard the snap of the animal's neck. He stood, cradling Andy to his chest gently, her skin still cool to the touch.

       “What about the spiders?” Buffy asked as she straightened, feeling sick to her stomach as she stared down at Beowulf, “If they get out of here, we're screwed.”

       Spike glanced around when the clicking started again, then jerked in surprise when he heard the sound of crashing bookcases, and then of something heavy being dragged.x; "IT! They're blocking the hole!”

       “What?!” Buffy's eyes widened, “They can't be! They're overgrown bugs, for Godsakes! They don't think!”

       However, when the reached where the hole opened up into the library, several, heavy bookcases blocked their only exit. Spike clutched Andy more firmly to his chest, staring back the way they had come when the wheezing started once more. There was a long, drawn out rasp that echoed around them, and the three girls clapped their hands to their ears at the loudness of it, and Spike winced, unable to block the sound.

       “What in the hell is that?” Buffy shouted over the din.

       “My guess?” Spike's eyes narrowed, “Mama's gettin' hungry.”

       “Okay...now I'm officially freaked,” Buffy hefted her ax, glancing at the Witches, who were starting to look a bit peaked from trying to keep their enhanced tinkle bell spell active and in control, and Buffy glanced at the floating light, noting it was starting to ebb in its intensity. “Shit.”

       Andy mumbled unintelligibly, her face turning into Spike's chest, and he tightened his grip on her, looking upwards as a spider skittered across the edge of his vision, and more threads started to drop down from the ceiling behind them, as if attempting to drive them forward. “Let's not keep mother dearest waiting,” He said as he took point, picking up the sword he had dropped as they passed it holding it awkwardly in one hand.

       Tara shuddered as they walked past the cocoons, mummified countenances leering out at them from within their white, silk coffins, and she once again found herself sending a prayer up to the Mother Goddess for protection for her and her friends.

       Spike's bare back gleamed in the enchanted light, his white-blond head bent slightly as he kept an eye both on Andy's face and on the shadows that surrounded the group. Buffy walked backwards, watching the area they vacated, while Tara and Willow remained in the middle, hands linked once more. However, the force of the luminance was fading, and Buffy and Spike could both see the shadows approaching gradually closer to them.

       “Guys...could we put a little more tinkle into the tinkle bell light?” Buffy asked nervously, “The natives are getting restless back here.”

       “We're trying, Buffy,” Willow replied, “But it's getting harder...the energies are...”

       “Dark,” Buffy finished for her, “Yeah, I know, but I don't want to know what happens when it goes out.”

       “Someone give me their shirt,” Spike said, and all three girls stared at him like he had gone insane, and Buffy crossed her hands over her chest protectively.

       “Hey, buddy...just because your girlfriend is unconscious...”

       “For torches, you daft twit,” Spike gave Buffy a look, “Didn't think I came in here half-naked, didja? We'll give the Wiccas a bit of a rest...we'll need the light when we come up against the big mama...and I'm not taking off her shirt...she's still shiverin'.”

       “Right,” Buffy started unbuttoning her shirt, thankful that she had worn a bra for once in her life. She passed it to Tara, who had taken the sword from Spike, and she wrapped it around the blade, lighting it with Spike's zippo.

       “Stay close, ladies...” Spike took a few steps back when the tinkle bell blinked out of being, the darkness closing in around them, the spiders immediately filling in the spaces the light had vacated. “Watch for threads from the ceiling...the bastards are liable to take our heads off if we're not careful.”

       They started on their way, but it was slow going, since they had to keep stopping so that Buffy could slice through the threads that blocked their way. She ducked a looped strand that fell from the ceiling, and then went rigid as an unearthly shriek rent the air, looking towards Spike.

       Andy was thrashing in his arms, and Spike hissed as her nails dug into his face as she went ballistic, apparently not knowing entirely where she was. She snapped her head upwards, slamming it into his chin and he stumbled backwards into Willow, and he lost his grip on her. Andy slammed into the ground, and rolled down the incline into the darkness.

       “SPIKE! NO!” Buffy tried to grab for the vampire before he lunged after the girl, but he evaded her grasp, and she swore loudly, “Wills...light...”

       “Illuminate,” Willow held up her hands, and immediately, they could see Spike kneeling over Andy, pulling the almost hysterical girl to his chest, trying to sooth her...and less then ten feet from the couple was the full-sized version of the spiders.

       Easily the size of a Mack truck, with fangs the length of a human being, it's legs four times the length of it's body. Its fibrous, silver-lined body heaved with a sickening wheezing sound that they had been hearing all night, and its metallic legs rubbed together, creating an almost deafening rasp, and Spike slowly lifted his head at the sound. “Spike...Andy...” Willow breathed, “Get out of there...”

       Spike slowly stood, pulling Andy up with him, urging her behind him gently, and shushing her when she started to say something. He was staring at the lids closed over the eyes of the mama spider, and breathed a small sigh of relief. It was sleeping...the bloody mama spider was sleeping!

        Spike allowed his body to relax a bit, closing his eyes as he turned towards Andy, dropping his mouth near her ear, “You trust me, right?” Andy nodded, “Don't say a word...just...follow me...and we'll get out of here just fine.”

       “Beo--”

       He kissed her lips lightly, stopping her words, before whispering in her ear again. “Safe, luv...” He winced a bit. Okay, it was a horrible lie, but it was better then telling her Beowulf went to go live on a farm and herd sheep like his father had told him when a carriage had run down his dog. Okay...seek therapy for traumatizing events as a child later...get your girl past the fuckin' fat as hell spider with you-size fangs now.

       “Spike...” Buffy whispered, her eyes going wide, “Get back here...now...”

       Spike glanced at the Slayer, and then looked back at the mama spider, inhaling sharply. Six, gigantic, depthless black eyes were staring at him...reflecting his own image back at him.

       “Cor...” He breathed, feeling his entire body relax as he stared into them, and his arms slowly dropped down from around Andy's waist, turning to face the spider head on.

       “Spike!” Willow hissed in alarm, “What are you doing?”

       He ignored them and Andy took his arm, trying to stop him, but he only yanked on his arm, dragging her along with him.

       The spider's fangs clicked together as the vampire approached it of his own accord, hand lifting up slowly as he stared into its eyes, and the spider began to unfurl its body, preparing to receive him.

       As its legs rasped together, it seemed to Spike that it wasn't a true rasping rather then a million voices calling to him from the blackness of the thing's eyes, beckoning him to come join them.

       Buffy rushed forward, past the riveted vampire and she swung the ax through the air, letting it fly from her hands. The spider screamed as the blade pierced one of its huge, black eyes, a viscous fluid dripping from the ruined orb, and it reared up over the Slayer, it's fangs dripping venom. Spike blinked as the deadly gaze was broken, feeling disorientated as he gained control of himself once more.

       “Oh...shit...” Andy said, “I think you just pissed it the hell off.”

       Buffy stumbled back, and Spike yelped as the spider dropped back down to the ground, the floor rolling beneath them, its legs crushing the cement beneath its feet. “Not good,” He squeaked, and then grabbed Andy's hand, practically yanking her off her feet as he and Buffy retreated away from the enraged creature.

       “Okay...why isn't it running away from the flames and tinkle bell light?” Buffy asked, her eyes wide, “The others did.”

       “Look at the size of that fuckin' thing! Do you think it's scared of a bloody BIC for Chrissakes?!”

       “Calm down!” Buffy snapped at him, “Right...inventory...what do we have?”

       “A sword, an ax, a lighter, two witches and a blind girl...I'd say we're pretty well screwed,” Spike groused, then glanced at Willow and Tara, “Right...me an' the Slayer try to distract it, you two get Andy out of here.”

       “Uh...Spike?” Andy glanced in the direction of the large spider, who had started to click its fangs together, “It's communicating with the others.”

       “What?!” Spike glanced at the big spider, who, surprisingly, hadn't try to make a move towards them, “What are you talking about?”

       “Listen!” Andy gestured at the darkness on the other side of them, “The clicking sounds! They're talking to each other! They're planning something!”

       “How can you tell...it's just clicking...” Buffy replied, and Andy glanced at her, “They can't be planning stuff...they're just bugs!”

       “Its swarm behavior,” Andy replied, “You see the same thing in bee hives. Those little spiders...they're the workers...and the thing in here with us...it's the Queen. The Queen's immobile, so she communicates with the rest of the hive, basically giving orders...to protect the nest.”

       “Nest?” Willow repeated, “There's a nest?!”

       “It's behind her, more then likely,” Andy replied, “She can't move much, so she won't be far from the place she laid her eggs...and directly below the library is a central tunnel for the catacombs...”

       “Catacombs?” Buffy questioned in bewilderment, “Sunnydale has catacombs?”

       “The catacombs are actually an old, advanced sewer system,” Andy clarified, “There was an earthquake over a hundred years ago that buried most of the original Sunnydale. It's filled with bones now...and for years they speculated that the old cemeteries had been destroyed and the bones from them somehow ended up in the old sewers. More then likely, though, it was where demons and vampires were getting rid of their victims. Hence...catacombs. Anyway, the old sewers run across the entire town...and if those eggs hatch...those little bastards will be crawling all over Sunnydale...feeding the Queen and allowing her to lay more and more eggs. And several of those eggs are more then likely Queens as well. Born with no other purpose in mind then to reproduce and create more of them till the entire town is overrun...and they'll start spreading. All over California...all over the West coast...then out towards the East. Like Manifest Destiny...with arachnids.”

       “Jesus Christ...” Spike glanced towards the Queen, who was watching them in eerie silence, as if understanding every word they had said, but Andy slapped his cheek, as if sensing he had been looking in that direction. He turned his gaze away before he could be trapped once more. “They stopped talking.”

       “Son of a bitch,” Andy muttered beneath her breath as Spike stepped closer to her, taking her hand in his.

       “So, Anagram girl...if you're so damn smart...how do we kill them?” Buffy asked, tightening her grip on her ax.

       “Huge can of Raid? How in the hell should I know?” Andy replied, “I found squashing works.”

       “Yeah...right...” Spike was about to look towards the Queen before catching himself, “I volunteer the Slayer.”

       “Cute, Spike,” Buffy gave the vampire a dirty look, “So, we have to kill the Queen, take out all the workers, and get rid of a whole nest of spider eggs...hey! No problem! If we had about a quadtrillion weapons!”

       “The workers won't be a problem when the Queen's dead,” Andy replied, “Kill the Queen and the hive dies...the eggs will still be a problem...but the workers will lose the will to live once their Queen is destroyed.”

       “And we're going to have to do it in the dark...and without a sword,” Buffy glanced at the dying tinkle bell, and then her two witches. Both Willow and Tara were starting to look tired from keeping up the usually simple spell. Tara was already removed her shirt to wrap around the sword before lighting it, renewing the torch. “And in our bras...great...fantastic. This just gets better and better.”

       “I'm still for the distraction plan,” Spike told Buffy, “I need to get Andy out of here. She can't do anything more...”

       “Hey! Excuse me,” Andy glared at him, “I've been living in the dark for eighteen years. I think I'm a little better equipped for these conditions then you are.”

       “That may be,” Spike replied, “But I'd still feel better if you'd get...” He paused as Andy's body went rigid, “What is it?”

       “They're abo--” Her words were choked off as another looped thread dropped down from the ceiling, and she was dragged upwards before Spike could react.

       “ANDY!” Spike leapt up, grabbing for her, fingers brushing against the hem of the duster she was still wearing, and then fell back to the ground, watching helplessly as Andy disappeared into the darkness above, “FUCK! ANDY!”

       “Spike! Watch out!” Buffy called out as more threads dropped from the ceiling, but the vampire threw caution to the wind and grabbed one of them, jerking on it with all his strength.

       Willow screamed as the spider the thread was attached too came crashing down amongst them, and leapt backwards, slamming into Tara and knocking the torch from her girlfriend's hands. The sword clattered to the ground, and Buffy's eyes went wide as it was snuffed out, throwing them into absolute darkness.

       “Oh...shit...”

       Andy grabbed at the thread cutting off the air around her throat, tears of pain jumping to her eyes as the thread only seemed to tighten with her struggles.

       She could hear Spike shouting in the darkness and then Willow's scream as she was dragged along the ceiling, their voices becoming dimmer as distance was put between her and the group. She shuddered as she felt cold, metallic legs caressing her skin like an obscene parody of a lover's embrace, and then a burning sensation as venom dripped onto her.

       She was starting to black out from lack of oxygen, and she ceased her struggles, and then blinked in surprise when a few seconds later, the thread loosened enough for her to breath. She inhaled deeply and hungrily, pulling the air into her starved lungs, stamping down the almost overwhelming urge to vomit.

       Suddenly, she was falling to the ground, and she yelped as she struck the hard floor, her teeth rattling in her jaw when she was jarred by the impact. The thread around her throat tightened till she scrambled to her feet, and then she felt more threads encircle each one of her legs, trapping her so that she could still move, but if she tried to rebel, her legs would be ripped out from beneath her. What in the hell are they doing? She thought in frightened bewilderment, and then was jerked forward, forced into walking. Behind her, she could hear the Queen wheezing and clicking her fangs together once more, and then Spike shouting her name.

       She tried to call back to him, but as soon as she opened the mouth, the thread around her throat went taut, cutting off her air-supply once more, and then she felt one of her feet slip into nothingness, and she jumped backwards, falling onto her butt as the threads around her legs tightened.

       “Oh...SHHIITTT!” Andy screamed as she was dragged forward, falling feet first into the abyss.

       “Where'd you drop it?!” Spike snapped as he felt along the ground on his hands and knees, trying to find the sword Tara had accidentally dropped, head jerking up when he heard Andy's screamed swear, coming from somewhere behind the Queen. “She's still alive!”

       “Not for long, if we don't start making with the slicing-dicing,” Buffy replied, “How many weapons do you have?”

       “On me? I have a dagger,” Spike replied, his voice taut with worry as he stared intently in the direction in which he had last heard Andy's voice, growing more and more worried when he heard nothing further from her end. “Had a few extras in my duster…but Andy's got `em now.”

       “Write that off as a loss, then,” Buffy said without thinking, turning her head at every little sound, “Why haven't they attacked yet?”

       Spike gritted his teeth together as he finally heard the scraping of metal, probably the sword being dragged off, and straightened with a swear, “Great…just…bloody GREAT!”

       “Spike…” Willow said meekly, “Calm down…”

       “Calm down?! CALM DOWN!?” Spike shouted, “We're stuck in the bloody dark with a fuckin' monster the size of a truck, huge as hell spiders surrounding us and probably plotting to suck us all dry, and my girlfriend is probably being eaten alive, and you want me to CALM THE FUCK DOWN?!”

       “SPIKE!” Buffy snapped in his general direction, “Get a hold of yourself before I punch you in the head! GAWD! You're acting like a hysterical woman!”

       “Stop it!” Tara finally lost her temper, “If you two would stop fighting for five damn minutes and work together, we might actually survive this! SO CUT IT OUT!”

       Buffy blinked in surprise at Tara's uncharacteristic shout, and then took a deep breath, knowing she was right. “Okay…fine…no more fighting…” She reached out, feeling around in the darkness till she found Tara and Spike's arm, grabbing on to them, “Everyone grab someone…we don't want to be separated.” Tara reached out till she found Willow's hand, and Spike took Willow's free arm, forming a sort of circle. “Are you sure you guys can't do a spell?” Buffy asked, “Anything at this point would be welcomed.”

       “We could barely keep up the illumination spell,” Willow replied, “All my energies been drained just doing that…we won't be much good till we re-charge our `battery.' Does anyone else have the creepy feeling that they actually took Andy for a reason?”

       “Yeah,” Spike replied, shuddering when he heard the Queen start clicking her fangs together once more, “God knows for what. Slayer…gimme the ax, all right?”

       “What? Why? What are you planning?”

       “Going back to distraction plan. I distract the Queen, you three get past her…Slayer, you try to find Andy, and the Wiccans escape out through the catacombs…get help or somethin'. Then destroy the nest.”

       “What about you? How are you going to get past the Queen?” Willow asked worriedly, and Spike worried his bottom lip before answering her.

       “I don't. Someone's gotta keep her from returning to the nest, and the workers from going after you three. If I'm trying to kill the Queen, they'll be more concerned with me then you.”

       “What? You want us to just leave you here?” Tara asked, “But…”

       “No buts, Witch,” Spike said, his tone bordering on irritation, “You have your damned jobs. You find Andy, destroy the nest, and get out before you have one very pissed of mama spider on your arses.”

       “Spike…” Buffy said softly, “You know Andy is probably dead by now…we should think of another plan…”

       “You'll look for her!” Spike snapped, “Until you actually see her body, assume she's still fuckin' alive!” He grabbed the ax from her hands, “Be ready.”

       “Spike!” Buffy swore as he broke off from the group, but tightened her grip on Willow and Tara. “You stupid, stubborn son of a bitch!”

       Spike vamped out in the darkness, eyes glowing as he threw himself towards the Queen, noting with a deep sense of satisfaction that she was completely surprised at his brazenness as he swung the ax into another one of her black eyes, taking care not to look into them.

       The Queen screamed in agony, the sound nearly deafening Spike and making his eardrums ring. She reared up towards him, lifting one of her legs to swat at him like a fly. “NOW!” He screamed, and Buffy, Willow and Tara flung themselves past the Queen, barely missing one of her gigantic legs as she flailed it when Spike hit another one of her eyes. Spike watched them slip past her, the second of distraction nearly be his undoing as he caught a leg full in the chest and was sent flying backward into the wall, ax slipping from his hand.

       The Queen clicked her fangs together again before heaving herself along the tight passage, her body scraping against the side of the walls as she tried to bear down on the vampire. Spike crab-walked backwards before rolling back to his feet with a snarl, recovering the ax, “Yeah! Dinner's ready, you fat hell-whore! Come an' get it!”

       “OW! CRAP!” Buffy swore as she tripped on something in the darkness, “How in the hell are we supposed to find Andy in this shit?”

       Willow winced when she heard Spike shout at the Queen, mentally urging Buffy to move faster. Goddess only knew how long Spike could hold off the Queen or even stay alive for. They needed to get help as quickly as possible...before the eggs had a chance to hatch. Buffy suddenly gave a yelp, starting to fall forward, but Willow's reflex alone saved her from pitching forward into the large hole in the floor, and she was pulled back before she could fall. “Are you all right?”

       “Yeah, fine,” Buffy answered, taking a deep breath, “That was a close one. What do you think? Is that where the spiders came up from?”

       “Probably,” Willow answered, then backed away when she heard loud clicking coming from down below, “Let's not stick around to find out, huh?”

       “Right,” Buffy felt with her foot along the edge of the hole, closet to the wall, and was relieved to feel there was a bit of ledge. She began to inch along it, her body plastered to the wall, Willow and Tara following along with her, all of them aware that if any of the spiders attempted to attack them, they were sufficiently screwed.

       They reached the other side of the hole, and Buffy breathed a sigh of relief, squinting as she peered into the darkness, “Andy!” She called, swearing when there was no answer. “She has to be dead by now.”

       Tara chewed on her bottom lip, remembering what Spike had said, but she was inclined to believe Buffy. They hadn't heard anything from her, and she could be anywhere in the darkness, possibly even inches from them, and they wouldn't know it. “We need to get flashlights and come back...we can't find her in the dark like this. Not if she's wrapped up in another cocoon or unconscious...and we still need to find that nest.”

       “Even if we find it, we got nothing to destroy it with,” Buffy added, “Spike has our only weapon, and Andy has the rest. Unless you guys can conjure up a giant roach hotel, we're useless.”

       “Andy said the old catacombs are connected to the new sewers, right? We could probably find a manhole and get topside pretty quickly...and you have weapons in your dorm room, and Tara and I have spell stuff. From there, we could do a locator spell without the energies in the library affecting us...we can locate Andy and the nest...come back and start killing spiders.”

       “Shit...” Buffy ran a hand through her blond hair, grimacing a little. “You sure you can do a locator spell on Andy from there?”

       “Yeah, pretty sure,” Willow replied, “Almost entirely sure...”

       “We may have difficulty penetrating whatever dark magicks is inside the library,” Tara offered, “But I'm pretty sure, with both of us, we can break through it. Our powers only weakened once we hit the doors.”

       “Okay,” Buffy peered into the darkness stretching out before them, “Let's do that then...better then stumbling around, waiting to get eaten.”

       Tara clasped Willow's hand in her own, and Buffy took Willow's other hand, and the three girls started off in the direction of the catacombs, leaving the gaping hole behind them.

       “Ow...” Andy winced as she slowly sat up, touching her forehead, feeling the cut that she had received during the `earthquake' had split open again, the blood drying into a sticky mess on her face. “Son of a bitch...” She muttered, taking a deep breath through her nose, and immediately regretted it. The scent of rotting flesh and offal hit her nostrils, and she doubled-over as her stomach clenched violently, vomiting onto the warm, moist floor.

       She panted heavily through her mouth, sweat running down her body from the heat, and she pressed the sleeve of Spike's duster against her lips, closing her eyes as she fought for control of her own traitor body. Finally, she managed to quiet the surging of her stomach, and she rocked back onto her heels, breathing through her mouth.

       Warm...moist...She frowned, running a hand over her forehead, sweat trickling between her breasts. The heat was almost oppressive in its intensity, and she could hear a low thumping in the background, and she inhaled cautiously, catching the faint scent of oil underlying that of refuse and rotted flesh. Boiler room...She came to the realization that she was in the old boiler room of the library, but that didn't explain why the air was so humid. Oil heat was dry, not stifling and muggy. “Oh...fuck me backwards...” She muttered beneath her breath as she slowly stood, her eyes going wide. “I'm in the goddamn nest.”

       Sure enough, when she took a few steps to the side, her foot struck something warm and squishy, and she grimaced as she slowly knelt down, hand shaking as she reached out to touch what her foot had bumped against. Her hand struck the moist, dry threads wrapped around an egg sac, and she bit her lip as she felt along it, counting the eggs in one sac. She reached her other hand out in another direction, striking another sac. Twenty eggs in once sac, two sacs so far...that was forty spiders. She continued on down the lane, losing count at about twenty sacs, shuddering. Four hundred spiders...and more then likely, at least one egg in each sac contained a Queen. They would overrun Sunnydale in no time.

       Andy straightened again, swearing profusely underneath her breath as she swiped at her forehead again, sweat stinging her sightless eyes as it ran down her face. She started to remove the duster Spike had wrapped her in, but hesitated. She fingered the worn leather between her fingertips, inhaling the scent of cigarette smoke, bourbon and Old Spice. She settled it back on her shoulders, deciding to brave the heat instead.

       She turned her head in the direction of the low thumping, and started towards it, stepping carefully in the blackness that she had never feared before till now. She chewed her bottom lip till it bled, and jerked with a small scream when she ran up against something solid...and inanimate.

       “Get a grip, Adriana,” Andy muttered to herself before feeling along the object she had ran into, the sharp smell of oil hitting her nostrils. It was an oil drum; she shook it, hearing the swish of liquid inside, and then felt around till she found more, most of them empty, but some of them still containing enough fuel for her to work with. However, it wouldn't do her any good if she didn't find something to light it with.

       She felt inside the duster pockets, thanking her maker that she had decided not to remove it as she came up with Spike's pack of cigarettes. She popped open the top, sighing in relief when she found an extra Zippo nestled inside. She flicked it on, and when she felt the heat of the flame, she hurriedly closed it again, not wanting to start the party early, and slipped it into the back of her jeans. She removed a knife from the duster, frowning in worry, hoping that Spike wasn't feeling the need for the few blades in the pockets of his coat, and began working the blade along the edge of the lid, trying to pop open the top of the drum, hissing in pain when it slipped and sliced along her palm, but immediately went back to work.

       She glanced upwards when she heard someone scream in pain, her face blanching. “Oh God...Spike...”

       Spike hissed, clutching his bleeding arm, where one of the Queen's fangs had punctured it, feeling the hot, burning venom work its way through his system. It wouldn't kill him, but the pain alone was enough to stagger him and drain nearly all of his already waning strength.

       The Queen clicked her fangs together, sending out orders to her workers, and Spike glared in her direction as he forced himself back to his feet, only to collapse against the wall with a curse. He had lost his ax somewhere in the darkness, and his dagger, when he had last seen it, had been buried in one of the Queen's eyes. Of the six, he had managed to take out three, which so far only served to piss the humongous spider off. He was so very screwed.

       He pressed his hand against the wound in his arm, swearing when he felt the blood flowing freely, the spider's saliva especially suited prevent clotting. So very screwed. He closed his eyes, leaning back against the wall, and breathing heavily through his mouth. He hoped that Buffy and the others had destroyed the nest, since he didn't know how much longer he could last trying to dodge both the Queen and her minions.

       He lurched forward towards the Queen again, white spots dancing in front of his eyes, clenching his jaw and his hand clutching his arm, blood dripping between his fingers. “Come on, you whore...” Spike gritted out, his voice slurring slightly, barely able to stand on his own feet. The Queen only clicked her fangs, and then Spike felt something tighten around one of his feet, and he glanced down, seeing he had stepped into a thread that had been lying on the ground, “Son of a...AHHH!” The line was tightened, and his legs were jerked out from beneath him.

       He started to feel nauseous as he spun in one place, suspended from the ceiling upside down, and even though it was impossible for him to vomit, he felt his stomach clench and bile rise up into his throat. He caught a flash of black eyes as he rotated in the air, and then one of the smaller spiders dropped down in front of his face and he couldn't stop the scream that was ripped from his throat as the spider sank it's fangs into his throat.

       Andy gave a grunt as she yanked the lid off the sixth and last oil drum, her palms slick with blood from the numerous cuts she had received from the knife she had been using to pry the lids loose. The slashes throbbed with a sharp, stinging pain as a bit of oil splashed onto her hands, mixing with the blood and making an almost slimy mess on her hands, but she only gritted her teeth together, and bore it.

       She started to drag the oil drum out from amongst the others, then pushed it onto it's side, kicking it hard enough to make it roll to the other end of the room, the oil trickling out along the floor. “Should've stayed in Kansas,” She muttered beneath her breath as she dragged out another drum and pulled it to another part of the room, and gave it the same treatment. “Never had this goddamn trouble back home...where spiders are the freaking size they're supposed to be...”

       She glanced upwards when she heard the spiders returning, and shrank back against the wall, ducking her head down and drawing the duster more firmly around her, attempting to hide her pale face with her hair. She didn't know exactly why she had been dropped down there, but more then likely, she was meant to be a snack for the eggs when they hatched. Lovely...all her hopes and dreams...shattered...to become the equivalent of a Hostess Twinkie for a bunch of arachnids. Her father would be so proud.

       She heard the sound of something heavy slamming into the ground in the direction of the hole, and she slowly lifted her head as the sound of the spiders receded. She frowned as she stepped out of the shadows, and started towards where she had heard something fall, nearly tripping over what had plummeted to the ground. She bent, fingers striking cool, bare skin, and her eyes widened, “Spike!” She felt for a pulse, heart sinking when she couldn't find one. “Oh...God...” She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath as she rocked back onto her heels, chewing on her bottom lip worriedly. She then frowned, remembering he wasn't supposed to have a pulse in the first place, and she drew her hand back, slapping him across the face as hard as she could.

       Spike jerked up with a snarl, and Andy gasped when she found herself on the ground below the vampire, his hands grabbing for her throat. She immediately brought her knee up, slamming it into his abdomen and hefted her body up, and flipping him over her head.

       Spike rolled for a few feet, and laid on his back, a bit stunned. Andy approached his side carefully, the pungent scent of blood hanging all over him, “Spike?”

       “Fuck...” Spike winced as she knelt beside him, “Andy? What in the hell are you still doin' here?”

       “Got tossed into a big hole, just like you,” She replied, “You're bleeding.”

       “Yeah...” He sat up, closing his eyes as a wave of dizziness swept over him, “Got bit...on the arm and throat...” His eyes flashed yellow when he turned his head towards her, “You're bleeding too.”

       “I cut my hands up a bit...no big deal,” Andy felt along his arm, till she found the large puncture wound in it, feeling blood leaking steadily out of it, and then along his throat. “You're bleeding way too much,” She felt along in the dark till she found an egg sac, and carefully started stripping a thick thread from it, peeling it in thin shreds.

       “Stay away,” He grunted out, fighting the sudden surging hunger within him, “Can't...hungry...”

       “In your state, I could probably take you,” Andy replied, and Spike watched as she started to wrap the shreds of thread around his arm, jerking in surprise.

       “What are you doing?! I don't want...”

       “Calm down,” Andy ignored his protests, continuing to wrap his arm in it, then started to work on his throat, “The Assyrians believed that spider silk held healing properties...and most Native American tribes used spider webs to staunch the flow of blood.”

       Spike shook his head, then frowned, glancing around, “Do you smell oi--” His tongue froze in his mouth when he finally caught sight of the egg sacs, staring at row upon row of the Queen's offspring, “Oh...fuck...we're in the nest!”

       “Yep,” Andy straightened, then held out her hand, helping him to climb to his feet, and he leaned against her unsteadily, the poison still working havoc on his system. “You should rest...”

       “We've got to get out of here,” Spike replied, “We've got to get the others to destroy the nest...”

       “Relax,” Andy started back in the direction of the remaining oil drums, and then eased him to the ground near the boiler, “Just sit tight...”

       Spike craned his neck, looking back at the drums as Andy started dragging another one out past him and towards the far left corner of the room. She gave it a kick, and he watched as the oil dripped out across the floor before climbing back to his feet and grabbing a drum for himself, gritting his teeth together as his body practically screamed in protest as he lifted it in the air.

       Andy turned her eyes in his direction when she heard the oil splashing onto the ground, and then tensed when she heard one of the spiders near the hole. She winced as it gave a sudden screech, and Spike whirled in time to see it running back up it's thread, still screaming. “GODDAMMIT! They saw us!”

       “Move faster,” Andy started to head towards the back of the room again, but she tripped over a egg sac, and went sprawling on top of another one, gagging as she felt it explode beneath her, covering her in a thick, slimy substance. “Oh...gross...” She looked upwards when she heard the Queen let out an ear-piecing screech, covering her ears. The room started to vibrate as the `immobile' Queen somehow managed to turn herself around and came racing back for her nest. “Oh...not good!”

       “Shit! Andy, stay there!” Spike shouted before grabbing another drum and hurriedly spreading the oil around the eggs. He raced for another drum, and started to lift it up when Andy called out his name in alarm.

       “Spike! She's abo--!”

       The ceiling suddenly came crashing down around them, and Spike stumbled back against the drums as the Queen slammed into the ground in front of him, still screaming. Andy went flying back as one of the Queen's legs slammed into her chest. She cried out in pain as she landed on a large slab of cement that had been part of the ceiling a few moments before, a sharp, metal strut rammed through her hand.

       Andy hissed as she slowly pulled her hand off the metal spike, blood pouring down her arm, and she pressed it to her side with a swear. She used the blood covered strut to haul herself back up to her feet, then felt along the large slab, feeling several other sharp, broken off spikes sticking out from the cement, broken when the Queen had crashed down.

       Spike pressed himself against the wall as the Queen went into full attack mode, trying to protect her nest, and the sharp scent of Andy's blood filled the air around him. He threw himself to the ground as the Queen's fangs slashed forward at him, then howled when one of her legs slammed into his shoulder, and she lifted him up, her remaining eyes boring into him like laser beams.

       Andy straightened fully, and placed herself directly in front of the struts, feeling the points digging against her back as she stumbled a bit, wincing when she heard Spike's pained howl. She removed the lighter from the back of her jeans, and flicked it on, holding it above her head.

       “HEY!” She screamed at the Queen, and Spike watched as the Queen turned her gigantic head to look towards Andy, and the Queen abruptly let him drop when she saw the flame. “GET THE HELL AWAY FROM MY BOYFRIEND!” She let the lighter drop to the ground, and the oil ignited with a blast of wind that threw Andy's hair back, illuminating her features as the duster billowed at her feet.

       The Queen watched as her eggs caught on fire, rearing back in shock at the sudden light and a shrill scream of rage rent the air. “Andy!” Spike called out in alarm when he saw the Queen was about to rush the blind girl, “Get of there!”

       Andy ignored him, holding her arms out as if waiting for the creature's embrace, “You want me? Come and get me, you eight-legged BITCH!”

       “ANDY!” Spike staggered back to his feet as the Queen charged her “MOVE! NOW!”

       Andy stood her ground, lifting her chin defiantly, but her attention was solely focused on the feel of the vibrations beneath her feet, and the screams of the infuriated spider. At the last possible moment, she threw herself to the side, feeling the heat of the fire she had ignited as she landed in a patch of eggs. The Queen ran full-tilt into the cement slab, and into the metal pikes that had been hidden behind Andy's back, impaling herself.

       Spike clutched his hand over his torn shoulder as the Queen started screaming once more, this time in pure pain as she flailed, trying to dislodge herself from the metal struts. Spike glanced at the oilcans, and then kicked one with all his strength, smirking as he watched the oil catch fire as it traveled towards the Queen. It bumped against her backside, and then went up with a sizzle. Her fangs slashed the air as she thrashed desperately, the flames traveling up her broad back, “HA! Take that, you eight-legged, six-eyed bitch of a whore!” Spike snarled at her, and then his eyes went wide as the fire started traveling towards him and the remaining oil drums. “Oh...shit.”

       Andy sat up, cradling her speared hand to her chest, listening to the horrible death cries of the Queen, and the responding screams from her legion of workers. She barely had time to savor her victory before she felt Spike yanking her to her feet, and practically tossing her upwards out of the Queen-enlarged hole. She actually felt the ceiling brush her back before she crashed to the ground with a gasp of pain. Seconds later, the sound of Spike's boots hitting the pavement heralded his arrival, and then he was dragging her to her feet again, telling her to run.

       Spike glanced over his shoulder as the light from the flames flooded the corridor, and then shoved Andy to the ground without warning, throwing his body over top of hers when the oil drums below blew, which in turn, sent the entire boiler system sky-high. Spike crossed his hands over the back of his head, squeezing his eyes shut as the library's foundations were rocked by the blast, the screams of dying workers and the Queen's renewed shrieks as she burned nearly driving him mad.

       He pressed himself closer against Andy as spiders started dropping from the ceiling, twitching, their eyes wide and inhuman as they convulsed in their death throes, dying even as their Queen died.

       It felt like hours before the heat of the flames started to subside and the screams began to die down as the last of the spiders died. He dropped his head on Andy's shoulder, taking a deep, shuddering breath, her scent mingled with that of blood, oil and soot. “You alright?” He asked her quietly, lifting his head to meet her slightly wide eyes, her pretty face smudged with grime, oil and blood, and chuckled, “Cause you look like shit.”

       “Just what I wanted to hear,” She muttered tiredly, closing her eyes, “Is she dead?”

       “You killed that bug dead,” Spike replied, brushing her tangled hair out of her face, and then dipped down, catching her lips in a gentle kiss, lazily deepening it as her arms came to rest around him, pulling him closer to her. He broke it when he felt her wince, and he lifted his head as she removed her injured hand from his back, “Oh...Christ...luv...your hand...”

       “It's fine...just hurts like hell...” She winced as he gently ran his fingers along the wound, and then he kissed her forehead tenderly. “You lied about Beowulf, didn't you?”

       “Yeah,” Spike sighed as he sat up, helping her to sit up as well, and she leaned against him wearily, tired from the ordeal, “I'm sorry, pet...he was bitten...I'm so sorry...”

       “I'll miss him...” She rested her head in the crook of his shoulder, tears springing to her eyes, and Spike wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close and nuzzling her throat affectionately.

       “Know, luv...” He replied quietly, “But he kept you safe till I could find you. He did everything he was supposed to do...he protected you to the end.”

       “Yeah,” Andy sighed deeply, closing her eyes once more, “I think I could sleep for a million years...as long as it's not in that lumpy bed of yours...”

       Spike chuckled weakly, kissing her temple, “Maybe we should look into gettin' a place with less roaches and actual bedrooms...and no Mrs. Dilling staining my skivvies pink...”

       “Hmmm...” Andy smiled a tiny bit, “I don't even know your full name and you want me to move in with you?”

       “William Stewart Holdenbrook,” Spike replied, “And no, you may never call me that.”

       “Nice name,” She muttered, “Still not enough to make me move in...”

       “How `bout I love you, then?” Spike watched her face through half closed eyes, smiling when she smiled.

       “That might do it,” She said in response, “I think...I love you too, Spike...but...” She turned her face towards his, “You realize...though...you're only getting half a woman...I'll never know what your face really looks like...or be able to walk around an unfamiliar room without running into things...wouldn't you rather have someone who could...?”

       He stopped her words with a deep kiss, pulling her against him, but they both broke away with twin hisses of pain. “Heal first, kiss later,” He smiled at her, brushing her hair from her eyes again, “And come on...you just took on a spider the size of a semi and killed it all by yourself...that's gotta count for something. If I hear you depreciate yourself like that again, I'll be forced to eat you.”

       “Promises, promises,” Andy smiled, lying her head back against his shoulder, and Spike chuckled, looking up when he heard voices.

       “Sounds like the cavalry is here...late as always,” He winced as a flashlight pierced the darkness, shining full on his face, and turned his face into Andy's hair.

       “Spike? Is that you?” Giles stepped out of the shadows, Xander, Willow, Tara and Buffy on his heels, and Spike sighed as he forced himself to his feet, helping Andy up as well, and they leaned against each other as they faced the Scooby Gang. “Good God, man...you look like hell!”

       “Been through it,” The vampire remarked tiredly, noting the slew of weapons the group were carrying with them, “If you're here to destroy the nest, you're a little late...my girl here torched the place and killed the Queen.”

       “Hey, Andy,” Buffy looked a little bit sheepish, “Really glad you're alive...” She winced when Spike shot her a dirty look, “Sorry!”

       “Bloody well better be,” Spike started to take a step forward, but his knees buckled, and Andy yelped as he dragged her to the ground with him. “Ow...bloody hell...”

       “Spike...how did you say the Queen managed to capture you in a thra--?” Giles started to ask from the kitchen of his home, where he was recording the events of the night before in his journal. However, the only response he received was `shhh' from Willow, Buffy and Tara, who were standing near the couch, each of them with strange little smiles on their faces; Xander merely looked like he was trying to control his gag reflex. “What?”

       “It's so cute,” Willow gushed, and Giles frowned, picking up his journal and returning to the living room.

       “I really must get this all down while it's fresh in everybody's memor--” Giles paused, seeing what the four people were staring at, and felt a smile tug at the corner of his lips.

       Spike was sprawled out on his couch, filthy boots resting on top of it, his shirtless body now covered in bandages. However, all thoughts of yelling at him for putting his shoes on his furniture was the farthest thing from his mind. Andy was curled up on top of him, face buried in the crook of his neck, bandaged hands tucked beneath her chin, and her dark hair partially hid her face, and Spike's arms were wrapped around her middle as they both slept. The only thing marring the picture perfect scene was Spike's demon, which was to the fore, his ridged brow resting against Andy's thick, tangled hair, and he growled softly, tightening his grip on the girl in his grasp when he subconsciously felt Giles pass by.

       “Uh...right then,” Giles shook his head as he closed his journal, “I suppose the rest could wait till later...Xander? Would you draw the blinds? It'll be dawn soon...”

       “Is anyone else worried the evil vampire is going to take a chunk out of the blind girl?” Xander asked sarcastically, “I mean...hello! Spike!”

       “Xander, shush!” Buffy gave him a look, “You'll wake them up.”

       “Look at him! He's all...'grr'! He could take a bite out of her at any moment.”

       “It's a...pro-protective reflex,” Tara offered in explanation, “He's protecting her, not eating her.”

       “Yeah, what she said,” Willow smiled at her girlfriend, “We should've brought a camera.”

       Xander rolled his eyes, mumbling something about people never listening to him when it came to the important stuff, but held his tongue as Giles drew the blinds himself, ushering the kids out the door quietly.

       Once everybody was gone, Giles returned to the living room, smiling slightly as he removed a folded blanket from the back of the couch and draped it over the slumbering pair. He shook his head as he switched off the light on the end-table, leaving the couple in darkness before heading to bed himself.

The End

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