It's Not Where You Start Out (8/17)
by Kelly Frieders
raykel2@cox.net

Genre: Drama, B/S
Rating: PG-13, nothing you wouldn't see on the show
Disclaimer: Spike's not mine. Wish he were, but my husband might object. Buffy and all the rest aren't mine, either. I'm just borrowing them from Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy for a while.

Summary: Post "The Gift." Way post "The Gift," actually. Takes place sometime the following year. There's some new interest in the Key and an old enemy is back in town. Spoilers for everything up to and including "The Gift."

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8.

Buffy took off for home at a dead run. She made it in record time, not even pausing when she hit her driveway; she just hurdled the front porch steps and crashed through the front door.

"Dawn!" she cried frantically, only to come skidding to a halt in the foyer as Dawn and Spike, both startled by her wild entrance, jumped up from the couch where they'd been watching something on television.

"Bloody hell!" Spike cursed. "What's wrong? The monks?"

Buffy assessed the situation quickly. Without taking her eyes off of Spike she said firmly, "Dawn, go up to your room."

"Why? Buffy, what's wrong?" Dawn asked, starting to panic a little. Good. If she was afraid maybe she'd listen.

Buffy came warily into the living room, placing herself between Dawn and Spike. "Just go upstairs. I'll explain later. Spike, I need to speak with you outside."

"What--"

"GO DAWN!" Buffy commanded, still not taking her eyes from Spike. He looked confused and a bit concerned and basically the same. But she knew what was lurking beneath. No chip, no soul, he *must* have fed by now. It was Angel all over again, damn him. She felt sick inside.

Dawn finally followed her sister's instructions and went up the stairs, Buffy subtly positioning herself between Dawn and Spike the entire way.

"What's going on? What did Willy have to say?" Spike demanded when Dawn disappeared up the staircase.

"Outside," she said tersely. She didn't move, waited for him to go first. He stared at her a moment, trying to puzzle out what was happening, then he shrugged and headed for the door. Buffy turned and followed, never allowing him to be behind her back. Just inside the door she surreptitiously opened the drawer on the stand in the hallway and retrieved a stake, which she shoved into her back pocket.

Spike was standing on the sidewalk at the bottom of the porch steps, waiting expectantly, while Buffy stepped over the threshold and onto the porch. She pulled the door closed behind her a bit too forcefully, then indicated with a nod of her head that Spike should continue around the corner where there was less light and not a direct line of sight to the house. He complied and she followed and as soon as he reached the gloom of the trees away from the streetlights she flew at him and gave him a hard right uppercut to the jaw.

"OWWW!!!" he growled in shock and outrage, "what the bloody hell was THAT for?"

"You BASTARD!" Buffy seethed, unable to maintain any semblance of control any longer. "You got yourself de-chipped!"

She had the satisfaction of seeing his face fall for a moment before the defenses kicked in. Then it hardened and he gave a cocky sneer. "So what if I did?"

That did it. Howling in fury, she launched herself at him again even as her fist curled around the stake in her pocket. Once more she had a brief moment of satisfaction at seeing shock -- and pain? -- register in his eyes, but when she reached him, stake ready to be driven home, his face turned to stone, his eyes cold and hard, and Spike -- the *old* Spike, the one who'd promised to kill her with such glee -- was back. He grabbed her wrist, preventing her from finishing the thrust before it reached his chest. His face inches from her, he seethed fury.

"So that's how it's gonna be, pet?" he said, holding her there a moment. "Well now that I can--" he then pushed her backwards, hard, knocking her off her feet and sending the stake flying out of her hand and clattering into the hedges beyond them. "I *will* defend myself," he finished.

She was up before he'd even had time to take a step, delivering a hard kick to his abdomen. He spun away, but not fast enough to ward off the blow completely and he let out a small "oof" of pain before returning with a left hook, which Buffy dodged.

"So as long as I was your little neutered pet vampire, nothing wrong with having me 'round, doing your bidding," he sneered. "But give a fella a little freedom and--"

"FREEDOM?" she roared, delivering another kick. "You think you're *free* now?" She dodged another blow then ducked low, kicking him off his feet. He fell hard but was up again before she could take advantage of the situation and still her stake was too far away to retrieve. She cursed herself for not making sure she'd had more than one on her.

"Well *yeah,*" he said, circling around warily.

"You just don't get it!" she went on, trying to maneuver him around closer to the fallen stake. "You're a *slave.* To the blood and the hunger and the need. That's not freedom!" Another punch, solid but not devastating. "Freedom is *choosing* to do what's right, not being driven to kill because of some damn biological impulse."

He laughed bitterly. "And you're so bleeding sure I've been feeding, are you?" He dodged another blow, then returned with one of his own, which clipped Buffy on the shoulder but didn't hurt much. Either he'd forgotten what it was like to fight against a slayer or he was playing with her.

"Why else would you get rid of the chip?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe to be able to PROTECT YOUR BLEEDING SISTER FROM THE SODDING HUMAN MONKS?" he roared, and this time the punch that came with it had some real power behind it. He was getting pissed.

Good. Would make it easier to kill him. Angry, cocky, defiant. Like Angelus. Not like Angel, with his eyes soft and pleading.

No, don't go there. She shook it off, refocusing on the fight before her. If she could just get him into vamp face it would be even simpler.

"I haven't fed for over two years!" he was finishing. "What makes you so sure I'd take it up again now?"

She kicked out, hard. "Liar," she spat. "What about the couple at the Bronze last year? With Drusilla?"

This got him. He faltered again, but only for a moment. She took advantage of it this time, connecting with a solid blow to the nose that knocked him backwards. She dove for her stake, but he was on top of her in an instant, tackling her. She twisted beneath him then kicked out hard knocking him off of her.

"Do you think I'm stupid?" she asked, trying to call his attention away from the stake so she'd have a better shot at getting it. "You show up with blood on your mouth and Drusilla at your side and she **told me you'd been feeding.** You didn't think I could put it together?"

"I thought you were out of it," he said a little softly. "I didn't kill the girl, Dru did. And I didn't--"

But Buffy wasn't about to let him finish. "Oh, *that* makes it okay," Buffy snapped, dripping sarcasm. "It was only *accessory* to murder. What was I thinking?" She threw another punch and his eyes hardened again.

"So why didn't you stake me then?"

This threw her. Why *hadn't* she staked him then? She'd hated him at the time, been horrified by his feelings for her. Why hadn't she just done it then when she didn't care?

//I DON'T CARE NOW!!// her mind screamed in protest. God, she had to get that stake and **end this.**

"Still, I haven't fed since then. Not even after turning off the damn chip, Slayer, and that was three days ago. I had plenty of chances, but I haven't done it. What's that tell you?"

//LIAR!!// she thought viciously. Surely he'd fed by now. He had no soul, no reason not to.

//He has a reason,// a quieter part of her mind asserted. She shook it off.

"It makes no difference. You've got nothing to stop you, no chip, no soul--"

"Oh *I* get it," he spat angrily. "This isn't about *me.* This is about sodding ANGEL."

"Angel has *nothing* to do with this!" she screamed, enraged. She edged closer to the stake.

"Like HELL HE DOESN'T!" he roared back. "Newsflash, Blondie! I'M NOT--"

"BUFFYYYYYYYYY!!!!!"

Spike and Buffy both stopped cold at the sound of the shriek coming from inside the house. Dawn! In an instant, their fight was forgotten and both turned and ran headlong for the house.

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Brother Ondrih gathered his forces in the woods behind the house; himself, his two brethren, and sixteen mercenaries, all dressed in black, their heads swathed with dark scarves. They were crude, violent men, but they were loyal, at least insofar as they were paid well. And Brother Ondrih had paid them well.

Brother Josef approached him. "Brother Ondrih?"

"Yes Josef? You sense a spell?"

"Yes, Brother. I believe it to be a barrier of some sort. Only those named in the spell are able to cross it."

"Well done, Josef," Ondrih nodded. Brother Josef had a special gift for perceiving spells and enchantments. Something in the way humans channeled the powers of the supernatural left a trace that Brother Josef could inexplicably detect. Like Brother Viktor's visions, a divine gift from God.

Silently, Ondrih motioned to Viktor. "Brother Josef has sensed a protection spell around the house." Brother Viktor nodded, and without further instruction he and Josef knelt down, painstakingly placing amulets along the ground in a carefully arranged pattern, and began to chant and pray.

While they were so occupied, Brother Ondrih addressed the legionnaires. "The Slayer protects the Key," he instructed them, "and she is a difficult adversary, so be vigilant. She is young and small, but do not be deceived. She holds an ancient power and can defeat many alone. We have arranged a diversion, but she might return at any moment. Regardless, she has allies and the Key will not be alone. Also, the Slayer is not above using profane methods to protect her. She consorts with Witches, who have protected the house with their magic. It will not stand against the power of God; my brothers' devotions will bring down the infidels' magic. When they do, we must act quickly. We will enter the house through the back and find the girl. Her bedroom is that window, just above and to the left of the porch," he indicated, pointing.

The men nodded in understanding; they had all been well-trained and educated about the Slayer and demons.

Brothers Viktor and Josef ceased their chanting and rose. "The barrier has fallen, Brother."

"Very well," Brother Ondrih directed the mercenaries, "we shall proceed!"

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Dawn heard the front door slam before she crept out of her room and back out to the landing. What the heck was going on? Buffy had looked frantic. Were the monks around? Had she and Spike gone to fight them? She shook her head. That didn't make any sense. Spike couldn't fight humans, which is why Buffy hadn't wanted to leave her alone with him in the first place. But now they were *both* gone and Dawn was alone in the house. Very strange and very unlike her overprotective sister. Something very weird was going on, and Dawn was going to find out what.

She thought about going downstairs and following them outside, but decided instead to go into her mother's old room, which overlooked the front yard. As she got closer to the window, she heard what sounded like shouting. Were Buffy and Spike having a fight? She peered out the window but couldn't see anything. She tried opening the window, but it was stuck. After pulling on it a few times, she finally saw that it had one of those little screw locks on it. If she got a screwdriver she could open it. And she was pretty sure she had one in her room.

She quickly went back there and over to the junk drawer in her desk. It was crammed full of papers and odds and ends, some of which spilled out onto the floor as she pawed through the mess. No screwdriver. Crap. In her dresser maybe? She went there and started looking, but to no avail. Geez, at this rate she'd miss the whole thing. Maybe she should just forget the window and go downstairs? If Buffy was outside she wouldn't see Dawn leaving her room. She could probably see more from the dining room than from her mom's room anyway. Satisfied with her plan, Dawn turned to leave-- and froze.

Framed in her window was a face. A human face, a man with a black scarf wrapped around his head. He gave her a wide, leering smile.

Finally, Dawn reacted. She turned toward the door and started to run from the bedroom, only to run into someone in a rough brown robe. She looked up just as he grabbed her by the shoulders. Brother Ondrih.

"Hello, Dawn."

"BUFFYYYYYYYYY!!!!!" she screamed at the top of her lungs.

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Buffy burst through the front door, Spike close at her heels, shocked to find there were three black-clad men on the stairway and several more pouring in through the kitchen. Good Lord, where did they all *come* from? Without taking a moment's pause, she leapt up the stairs, letting Spike go after the ones in the hallway and kitchen. He'd kill them, she realized with a twinge of regret, but there wasn't much she could do about that now. She had to get to Dawn.

She managed to throw the first man over the railing pretty easily and the second only gave her minimal trouble. The third went down quickly also, but while she was fighting him, two more appeared at the top of the stairs. Geez, how many of them *were* there?

She was peripherally aware of the sounds of fighting, fists on flesh, things breaking below her, but her focus was on the top of the stairs. One more man got tossed over the railing before two grabbed her from behind. Using them as leverage she kicked out at the one remaining in front of her, sending him flying up and into the hallway upstairs. She then heaved backwards, knocking one man off behind her, then twisted to get at the other one. He pulled a knife, which she ducked easily, then finally managed to kick him hard enough to knock him out. Taking the remaining steps two at a time she flung herself towards Dawn's bedroom.

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Spike dove at the men in black in the hallway, growling in fury. There was *no* way these bastards were hauling off the niblet, not while Spike was around. He flung two aside easily, knocking them both out as they hit the wall. A third took a little more work, but he went down too. God it felt good to be back in action, uninhibited by shocks and headaches!

The next bloke got fancy, pulling a knife. Spike dodged it and kicked down low, knocking the man's legs out from under him. Spike elbowed him hard between the eyes as he went down, but while he was so occupied two more had gotten past him and made it up the stairs. Damn! He had to work quicker, keep these buggers off Buffy's back to give her time to get to Dawn. Resolutely, Spike worked his way toward the kitchen, trying to stop any more from getting into the house.

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Dawn tried to pull back as Brother Ondrih clamped a hand over her mouth. "Shhhh, child," he said softly, "it's all right. It will be over soon, I promise. Soon all will be right again."

She shook her head in fear and tried to bite his hand, but she couldn't find purchase. Carefully, almost gently, he pushed her back onto her bed. By now four other men had joined them: Brothers Viktor and Josef from before, plus two men in black, including the one she'd seen at the window.

"Tie her and bind her mouth. We must move quickly, the Slayer will not be long."

The others nodded, the two men in black taking up guard positions while the two monks quickly pulled Dawn's arms behind her and wound rope around her wrists while Brother Ondrih held his hand over her mouth. Dawn struggled in vain, trying to pull away or bite Ondrih. He merely smiled at her sadly. "I'm sorry we must go through all this. It would have been so much easier had we not been interrupted before."

Dawn got a leg loose and kicked out, bucking him off of her. "Bite me, you stupid--" She never got to finish; Brother Viktor slapped her hard across the face.

"You will not speak to Brother Ondrih with such disrespect, you *creature,*" he spat.

Suddenly the door burst open. "You want some respect? Come and get it."

Dawn felt relief wash over her. Buffy!

The two guards went for her first, but two humans were no match for a slayer. The monks holding Dawn dragged her backwards, but suddenly one of them cried out in pain as a knife seemed to grow from his shoulder out of nowhere.

"LET HER GO!" Buffy demanded sternly.

"Sister Slayer, why do you continue to resist us?" Brother Ondrih asked calmly. "We wish only to right the wrongs that our misguided brethren inflicted upon you."

"I'm gonna be inflicting a whole LOTTA wrong on you if you touch one hair on her," Buffy growled. "We've been through all this before, Brother Ondrih. You're not getting your Key. Now let her go."

"I'm afraid--"

But he never finished the sentence. Before anyone could react, Buffy was on him, driving him backwards. With a loud crash he shattered the window and fell backwards through it. Buffy barely paused before turning on the two holding Dawn. "Wanna join your 'brethren?'"

The two men released Dawn and backed away. The second they let go, Dawn tore away from them and into Buffy. Instead of hugging her, however, Buffy grabbed her arm and yanked her towards the door.

"C'mon Dawn, we gotta get out of here."

They raced back out into the hallway, Buffy fighting off two more of the men in black as they went, until they were out the front door. "GO!" Buffy shouted, propelling Dawn forward. "We're going to Willow's. Run!"

Dawn hesitated. "Buffy, what about Spike?"

Buffy paused for the briefest instant, then pushed Dawn forward again. "I'll come back for him later," she said, her voice sounding odd. "I have to get you somewhere safe first." Then she grabbed Dawn's arm and pulled her forward and the two young women ran out into the street towards the UC Sunnydale campus.

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Spike heard the front door slam just as he had knocked the last man in the kitchen unconscious. He quickly ran back out into the hall and to the front of the house in time to see two robed monks come barreling down the stairs.

"They went out the front door!" one of them was shouting. "If we catch her we can still do the ritual tonight!"

Spike leapt forward, grabbing the nearest one, a heavy-set bloke. He whipped the man around to face him, then pushed him hard against the door frame. He slumped and Spike let go, letting the man's unconscious body drop to the floor, then he raced after the other one, tackling him in the front yard. Two good blows and he was out cold as well.

Slowly Spike rose, looking around. Buffy and Dawn were long gone. He considered going after them; they'd probably gone to Red's. He thought better of it, however, remembering that just prior to the monks' interruption Buffy had been trying her best to stake him.

Damn. His heart twisted in his chest. Things had been going so well, too. Sure, he'd been mad at her about treating him all helpless, and he'd been distant because of the secret he'd been harboring, but tonight they had been on the verge of making up. If only she hadn't found out. How in the bloody hell *did* she find out anyway? Willy? How would *Willy* have found out then? He shook his head. Not that it mattered. A fight like tonight would've cinched it anyway.

Slowly, Spike turned back into the house, wondering what to do. Probably be the last time he'd be able to step over this threshold, he thought, aching as he went through he front door. She'd have the lovewiccas over to do a deinvite spell in no time. Bugger all!

He looked around at the mess. Unconscious forms sprawled everywhere, broken furniture, blood. He licked his lips unconsciously, surveying the scene. Probably the best thing to do would be to make sure no one was stirring, then clear out. Best not be here when she got home.

Another wave of anger passed over him at that and he kicked the wall. Bloody hell! One minute he was sitting on the couch watching the telly with the little bit, the next he's back on the Slayer's hit list. All because she couldn't bloody trust him without the sodding chip! Two years of not feeding, more than a year of total devotion to her, and still she couldn't see him as anything more than a monster on a leash. And there was Dawn. It was a bloody certainty she'd never let him near the niblet anymore. He kicked the wall again. All of them, her stupid rotting "Scoobies," they'd all ostracize him again, only without the compunction about staking him. He'd finally managed to muster up a measure of respect, a measure of belonging and it was all gone in one shot because he didn't have a bleeding chip restraining him. Well, to hell with them all! He pounded the wall with his fist this time. To hell with them all, who needs 'em?

Everyone in the foyer and hall seemed down for the count, so he made his way back to the kitchen. Who was he kidding? *He* needed them. Well, the Slayer and kid sis anyway. Bloody bitch, why couldn't she *trust* him? Maybe he should just stay, have it out once and for all. It was fun, fighting was, and there was something primal about dancing with the Slayer. He could stay, finish the dance. It was tempting.

He entered the kitchen. Three men, all dead to the world, not moving a muscle. No, he reconsidered, not a good plan. She was out for the kill and he, well, he wasn't. Of course maybe when she looked around the house, saw all these tasty bodies lying about, *enemy* bodies, too, not innocents, and yet nary a one with a bite, maybe *that* would convince her. No, probably not good enough for the likes of *her.* She'd say he was just sucking up, trying to score points, never mind that he hadn't made any real attempts to score points with her since before Glory had tortured him. And she'd probably forgotten all about *that,* too. No, all she could see when she looked at him was an echo, a reflection of bloody *Angel,* and a poor one at that. Once again his life was about measuring up to Angel and as always, he fell short.

"BUGGER ALL!" he screamed, grabbing a plate off the counter, still unwashed after Buffy's and Dawn's dinner. He hurled it viciously at the wall, shattering it. He saw the trashcan next to the counter and kicked it, unleashing his fury upon it, imagining it was Angel he was flogging. Bloody sodding bastard, first everywhere Spike went, paving the road, setting the standard he could never match. He kicked the trashcan mercilessly, then picked it up and hurled it alongside the smashed plate, his rage building. He turned around, looking for something else he could give a good thrashing, vent his rage. He was about to grab the other plate off the counter when he heard a noise outside. Stepping over to the back door, he went out onto the porch.

Out in the yard a tall man dressed in monk's robes was rising from the lawn, stepping carefully over the broken glass that surrounded him. He was cut in several places on his face and hands and his robes were torn, too -- Buffy must've sent him through the window in Dawn's room before she took off. Again he licked his lips hungrily.

Slowly, predatorally, Spike stepped off the back porch and circled towards the monk. He looked up and gave Spike a determined glare.

"Brother Ondrih I presume?" Spike asked with cold civility.

The monk nodded by way of reply. "You cannot stop us," he said defiantly. "We *will* have the Key. We *will* put it all right, remove the False One from our presence and return the Key to its natural state."

"Over my dead body," Spike snarled menacingly.

Brother Ondrih smiled coldly. "I do not wish to harm those who have been deceived by my brethren, but if you prefer." He produced a short knife which he hurled at Spike. It hit him in the shoulder and Spike howled in pain. Then he lost it. He'd bloody well had enough. He morphed into game face and pulled the knife nonchalantly out of his shoulder, enjoying a moment of deep satisfaction as the monk recoiled in horror.

"Oh yeah. I'm already dead."

Brother Ondrih turned to run, but he wasn't fast enough. Spike had him by the shoulders and spun him around, tossing him like a rag doll into the railing beside the porch steps. He fell backwards over the rail and spilled out onto the porch.

Spike advanced slowly, enjoying the hunt.

"The Slayer allies herself with the unholy!" the monk stammered, backing towards the kitchen door. "It's a perversion, sacrilege!"

Spike vaulted over the rail. "I look like I care about your 'sacrilege?'"

"All the more reason to remove the Key from her presence." He pulled a cross out of his robes, hands shaking.

Spike was on him before he reached the door. He batted the cross away with ease, then shoved the monk brutally into the corner and pressed his face close. The smell of the blood on his face was intoxicating. "She's not a Key, she's a *person* and she stays with her sister," he growled softly.

"She's an aberration, a perversion of what is natural. Like you," Brother Ondrih replied defiantly.

Spike whirled him around so that he was now behind the monk, grasping him like a lover who'd just performed a brilliant dip. All that blood, his neck exposed and tender. He was entranced, ravenous. "Too bad you won't be around to make things all 'natural' again."

NEXT

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