Season 5. Begins with
‘Spiral’ in the abandoned gas station, and goes far off-canon almost
When Dawn makes the ultimate
sacrifice to save her sister, friends, and the world, Buffy’s mind
snaps. When Buffy's friends give up hope of her ever recovering, and become
afraid that she’ll turn violent and uncontrollable, they call in the Council to help.
Fearing what the Council will do, Spike, forgotten and ignored by her
friends, steps in. Will he be able to reach the Slayer when no one else could?
Will he be able to keep her out of the hands of the Council and away
from her ‘helpful’ friends? How much heartbreak, guilt, and failure can
one girl stand before her indestructible spirit finally resigns the
fight and gives up hope?
YOU for reading and especially to those of you who take the time to
email me feedback! Love hearing from everyone! Thanks also to Paganbaby
for taking time out of her hectic life to beta this for me! Her
suggestions ROCK! All mistakes
are mine because I can't stop fiddling right up to the last moment.
Rating / Warnings:
Content is only suitable for mature adults.
Contains explicit language, sex, adult themes, and other adult situations that
some people may find objectionable. If you are under the age of 17 or
find any of these themes objectionable – GO AWAY.
Later that night...
Spike absently touched the stake in his duster pocket, then the
one in his waistband as he crept up to the abandoned house. Dru was in there, he
was sure. He looked at the sky and knew the sun would be up in less than two
hours. If he didn’t get this over with quickly, he’d have to stay all day, and
he really didn’t want to do that. Firstly because Buffy would worry, and
secondly ‘cos he just didn’t want to spend that much time with Dru. Buffy was
right: Dru was dangerous. He knew he could handle her, but didn’t look forward
to playing her games for so long. One wrong step could put him at her mercy.
Deciding the direct approach would be best, he straightened
from his stealthy crouch and simply strode up to and through the front door like
he owned the place.
“Dru, need a word, pet,” he announced as he flicked the
door closed behind himself.
Dru was lounging on a well-worn settee talking with Miss
Edith. She looked up and smiled when Spike came in. “I knew you would come, my
sweet William. I knew my presents would show you how sorry I was ... how much we
belong together. Miss Edith
said you were still surrounded by the Slayer, but I knew you would come home to
your dark princess.”
“Look, Dru, appreciate the thought, luv, but Miss Edith’s
right. Just came t’ give you a chance t’ leave town. Ya need t’ leave us be,”
Spike explained, moving into the ramshackle living room of the dilapidated
Dru frowned dramatically and carefully set Miss Edith down
on the settee, then stood up facing Spike. “That’s no way to greet your
princess, my pretty Spike. I’ve come for you; I’m tired of being alone with just
Hana and Miss Edith. Daddy said…”
“Daddy?” Spike exclaimed, interrupting her. “Seen the
Magnificent Poof, have you? Or is this another one of your bloody games?”
Dru’s eyes widened as a grin spread across her face and she
bounced on her toes. “I have a secret!” she exclaimed gleefully. “Shhhh! Don’t
tell! It’s my little firefly … don’t let it out of the bottle.”
Dru pirouetted, swinging her arms out and letting her full
skirt whirl in a wide arc around her legs. “He doesn’t know, Miss Edith. He
doesn’t know about Daddy,” Dru whispered to her dolly when she stopped.
“What about Peaches?” Spike demanded, stepping forward
Dru stopped suddenly, facing him, her eyes as wide and wild
as Spike had ever seen them.
“Dru, don’t have time for your bleedin' games tonight. Ya need t’
get Miss Edith and clear outta here…” he began, in an exasperated tone.
“Oh no! The music hasn’t stopped yet! Daddy said we could
stay as long as the music played! You’re not my daddy! Bad dog! Grrrff!” she
growled at him, snapping her jaws. “Bad doggie!”
Spike clamped his eyes shut a moment, hissing out a
frustrated breath through his teeth. He opened his eyes and gave her his best
glare, one that used to make her shrink away from him and whimper. “Drusilla.
The bleedin’ music is in your head, you barmy bint. You can hear it just as well
in soddin’ Rio as you can ‘ere. I’m givin’ ya one chance here and now – pack up
and move on.”
Dru frowned, letting her lower lip come out in a fierce
pout. “Daddy said you wouldn’t want to play hopscotch with us. We’re having a
fine gala with streamers and balloons, and gumdrops for dessert. They’re yummy, my Spike. Don’t
you want one?”
Spike’s gaze grew arctic as he studied his sire. “What the
bloody hell are you on about, Dru? Where’s Angel? Is he ‘ere?” he demanded,
turning and looking around the interior of the old house as well as he was able
from where he stood. He should be able to feel Angel if he was nearby but he
didn’t feel anyone except Dru.
“Daddy’s gone out. Me and my girls were about to
have some nettle tea, crab cakes, and candy canes; would you like some, lovely
William? Miss Edith has been very naughty, she gets no candy canes; Hana shall
have her share.”
“Dru. Try t’ bloody focus. You gotta go – get outta town.
Now! I can’t have you hanging about spreading entrails over m’ soddin’
yard,” Spike repeated in exasperation. He moved forward and grabbed Dru by the
upper arms, shaking her slightly to try and get her to focus on what he was
saying. “Are you gettin' this? You need t’ go and never come back.”
Dru frowned again and looked around Spike’s head, her eyes
moving as if watching images floating around him. She leaned in nearer him, as
if to whisper a secret into his ear. “She still dances … ‘round and
‘round. She’ll turn you to ash, my Spike. She burns you … forever burns …
forever dances… No pretty gumdrops for sweet William. Only horrid black ones for
my Spike … all the colors will soon be gone.”
Spike sighed and released her. “If ya aren’t gone when I
come back ‘ere tonight, you’ll be the one tastin’ of ashes, Dru,” he warned as
he backed away from her. “Stay away from me and the Slayer. Get outta town. And
if Angel’s here, take him with ya.”
Spike wasn’t sure if Angel was really there or not; you
could never really tell with Dru. He hadn’t heard anything about the poof since
the Sunnydale collapse. Perhaps he’d been swallowed by the ‘sinkhole’ – that
would be a bloody blessing.
Spike left Dru standing there alone in the dilapidated house. She watched with a petulant frown as he turned away and left the old
house, pulling the door firmly closed behind him. As he strode down the front
walk, he pulled out his cell phone and his finger had just begun to press down
on the speed-dial for Buffy when he felt a familiar prickle on the back of his
He lifted his finger off the phone and closed his eyes in
exasperation. “Slayer,” he sighed. “Told ya I’d take care o’ …”
Suddenly a new warning was added to the other, racing up
and down Spike’s spine like a wildfire. His eyes flashed open, his demon jumping
to the fore in an instant. The phone fell from his hands as his body tensed and
coiled, ready to spring.
A dangerous growl rumbled from deep inside him. “Angel.
"Slayer! Watch your ba–" Spike's body suddenly began
to convulse, his warning to Buffy cut short. A sudden feeling of déjà vu
came over him. In his final, brief moment of consciousness, he realized he'd
felt this before, then his mind blanked and his body succumbed to the
electricity surging through it.
“I really should’ve gotten one of these suckers a long time
ago,” Faith bragged as she took her finger off the Taser’s trigger after
Spike convulsed and fell, face-first, onto the sidewalk.
“It was nice of our new friends at Wolfram & Hart to
furnish it before they all died,” she continued, grinning. She walked up to
Spike and poked his leg with one toe. There was no reaction at all from the downed
vampire, not even a groan.
Angel smirked as he met her, sauntering up from the other
direction to stand over Spike’s prone, unconscious form. “Very thoughtful,” he
agreed as he reached down and picked Spike up by the nape of the neck like a
“I could’ve taken him down without it though. Capturing a
castrated vampire wouldn’t have really even gotten my juices flowing,” Faith
“This was just a test run. We’ll need it when Buffy comes
for him,” Angel reminded her.
“I can take that bitch, too,” Faith asserted confidently.
“I want her in one piece. She’s mine to take apart,” Angel
Faith rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically. “Whatever
turns you on, big guy.”
“Dru’s gonna be so happy. A new dolly to play with,” Angel
remarked as the two brunettes headed back up the walk to the old house, Angel
dragging Spike along by the neck.
“Why the hell isn’t Spike home yet!?” Buffy demanded for
perhaps the hundredth time in the last hour as she paced frantically back and
forth across the front porch. He’d been gone since well before dawn and now it
was well past sunset. She'd managed to remain calm during the day, telling
herself that he simply got caught by the sunrise and that he'd be home as soon
as darkness fell. She told herself that he'd forgotten to charge his phone,
something that happened fairly frequently, and that was why he hadn't called.
But as the moon rose, and more and more time elapsed without any word or any
sign of him, her ability to quell her panic unraveled.
“There is insufficient data to determine the cause,” Joan
replied for the hundred and first time.
Buffy pressed the speed-dial on her cell phone again.
“Mailbox full…” the automated voice began when the call to Spike’s phone
connected. Buffy growled in a fair imitation of Spike before hitting the ‘end’
Buffy stomped down the porch stairs and all the way to out to the
street, looking up and down the empty suburban road for any sign of him, but
there was none. “Damn it, Spike …” she muttered under her breath as she
continued to scan for any movement at all. “Where are you?”
“There has to be something you can do to find him,” Buffy
insisted when she came back up onto the porch. “Can’t you ping his phone like
they do on TV?”
The Bot tilted her head, thinking. “I do not have that
technology, but I can download it. Please stand by.”
“Finally!” Buffy exclaimed. “I’m gonna call India and see
if she can come stay with the babies.”
"What if William the Bloody's sire returns?" Joan wondered.
Buffy shook her head. "I doubt she will. If my theory's
right, she's got what she came for: Spike. Plus, Dru can't get inside the house
"We've got to find them and get Spike back before she
leaves with him or ... ... or does anything with him," Buffy asserted, fear and panic rising in her
again at the thought of just what Dru might do to Spike. "We don't have much
“Are you sure this is right?” Buffy questioned as she
walked through a run-down section of town. “I don’t feel him at all.”
“The software for tracking cellular telephones indicates
the equipment assigned to his SIM card is in this vicinity. I also detect his
scent. I believe we are tracking the right train.”
“On the right track,” Buffy corrected, wishing she could
smell something other than ‘Sultry Summer in the South.’
“You should now try calling the target telephone again,”
the Bot suggested.
Buffy did so and they both stood on the sidewalk in front
of what looked like a haunted house and waited, listening intently for Pat Benetar to starting singing ‘Hit Me With Your Best Shot’. Instead, they heard a
buzzing coming from not too far away in the grass. Buffy practically leapt atop
the vibrating phone, snatching it up out of the high, unkempt grass.
“Shit!” she exclaimed, recognizing it immediately. “Shit,
“It appears that Spike has been separated from his cellular
“Ya think!?” Buffy barked at Joan in frustration.
“Yes, frequently,” the Bot replied stoically. “It is a
programmed response to stimuli…”
“Joan! We need to find him!” Buffy raged at her
doppelganger. "You don't know Dru like I do! Anything could happen!"
“Perhaps I can track his scent from here,” Joan suggested,
sampling the air with small sniffs as she turned in a slow circle.
Buffy waited, nervously chewing her lip and rubbing a
finger over Spike’s phone, as if she could conjure him like a Genie from a
bottle. Finally, the Bot stopped and looked at the dilapidated house they were
standing in front of.
“He went this way … and that way … and that way,” the Bot
explained, pointing first to the house, then to the right and then to the left.
Buffy sighed. “Swell … well, let’s try the most obvious
vampire lair: the haunted house,” she suggested as she tucked Spike’s phone into
her back pocket, pulled a stake out, and started up the worn, cracked, and
overgrown walk to the front door.
Buffy pushed the old door open hard enough that it banged
on the wall behind it and bounced back at her. She hit it again and stormed
through, stake at the ready, her eyes searching the dark for any movement. Joan was
right on her heels. She stopped next to Buffy just inside the door.
“Can you see anything?” Buffy whispered.
“Yes. My optics are capable of adjusting rapidly to low or
When Joan didn’t say anything more, Buffy rolled her eyes
and asked, “What do you see?”
“A fainting couch covered in 1970’s era green plaid
upholstery, a crumbling, inadequate fireplace, floorboards that require
“Any vampires or people?” Buffy cut her off.
“No, but … there is a sound of labored breathing and an
odor of blood coming from upstairs,” Joan informed her.
“Why didn’t you say that before?” Buffy growled at her.
“You asked me what I saw, not…”
“Shine your light,” Buffy interrupted. “Where are the
The Bot’s eyes suddenly lit up, literally, and cast a glow
over the whole area, illuminating the staircase off to Buffy’s right.
“Let’s go,” Buffy whispered, as she began to creep up the
Spike woke up screaming.
“Oooo! My little birdie’s singing again!” Dru gushed,
pulling the cross back from Spike’s smoldering chest. “Sing for me, sweet
William. You know how I love for you to sing,” she continued, touching the
golden crucifix, which she held with a lacy handkerchief, down onto his bare
Flesh sizzled. Spike screamed again, his eyes blazing amber
in the low light of the room, as his body convulsed in pain.
little baby, don’t say a word, Mama’s gonna buy you a mockingbird, and if that
mockingbird don’t sing …” Dru laughed maniacally as she removed the cross from
Spike’s stomach. “Silly song! Of course the little birdie will sing for his
“Druuu,” Spike growled, pulling against the restraints that
held his hands and feet immobile. “Let me go this bloody minute,” he demanded.
“The little birdie has a secret,” Hana observed from a
perch atop a nearby stool. Her feet swung loosely beneath her, her legs not long
enough to touch the foot rail. Her luminescent teal-blue eyes were glued to the
crystal globe atop her flower, which was glowing in a rainbow of colors.
“Oooo … I love secrets, don’t you, my Spike?” Dru wondered
giddily as she stood over him, setting the crucifix down.
Dru tickled her long fingernails across Spike’s wrinkled,
demonic brow. “Where are your secrets, William? Hidden in the cupboard? In the
tea kettle? Inside the little, shiny fishes? In the coal bin?”
Suddenly Dru’s eyes went wide and she began bouncing on her
toes gleefully. “All the little bits and bobs are gone!! Oooo – so many secrets,
my Spike! Like lollipops on a Ferris wheel! Round and round they go … where they
stop, only little lambs know!”
“Dru, let me go,” Spike demanded again, thrashing against
his restraints. They held strong, didn’t even budge.
“We’re having gumdrops. Don’t you want your gumdrops,
pretty William?” she asked holding up a small rectangle of paper and licking it
in a long, slow motion like it was made of candy.
“No, I don’t want any bloody gumdrops! Let me go this bloody
instant!” he yelled at her, rattling his chains wildly.
“But they’re so sweet and juicy…” Dru turned the paper
around so Spike could see what she’d been licking. “Little Slayer gumdrops …
drip, drip, dripping sugary, red snickerdoodle drops all down my dress.”
The angry demand that Spike had been about to voice again
died in his throat as his eyes widened in fear and surprise. She had a photo
from his wallet. It was of the twins, both laughing and covered in colorful cake
and icing, from their first birthday party.
“Daddy will be so pleased. My little birdie's all bright and
chipper ... chirp, chirp,
chirping! Like a meadowlark,” Dru squealed in delight as she pirouetted and
danced away, leaving Spike’s line of vision.
Spike growled and pulled on the chains holding him again,
but it was useless. He lifted his head to look around. It looked like he was in
a small room within a warehouse of some sort. It was dark, windowless, and
clearly abandoned, but areas where the drywall had been broken revealed metal
siding beneath. He was on a table, his wrists and ankles were bound to large,
concrete pillars that seemed much newer than the rest of the room. His shirt had
been removed, but he still had his jeans on. That meant Dru hadn’t really even
begun her games yet.
He had to get out and get word to Buffy. He'd been wrong
about why Dru was in town. It wasn't him she wanted; it was the bits, and
she wasn't alone, Angel was with her. Worse yet, Spike realized
now that the Slayer tingles he’d felt on the sidewalk earlier were not from
Buffy, but that other Slayer bint that Buffy had told him about: Faith. And she
was human. Bloody brilliant. She wouldn’t need an invite into the house.
There would be nothing keeping her from snatching the bits any time of the
day or night. Nothing, that is, except Angel’s stubborn pride. He’d want to do the deed
himself, just to prove how much more clever he was than Spike or Buffy. At least Spike hoped that
was still the case.
Spike turned his attention to the young girl still sitting
on the stool nearby, swinging her legs idly and looking bored. “What’s your
name, sweet bit?”
The girl turned her radiant eyes to him, tilted her head to
the side, and smiled. “Hana.”
“Hana … that’s a brilliant name. Means ‘flower’ in
Japanese, did ya know that?”
“Yes. It means ‘moon’ in Albanian … I am a moon-flower.”
“Are ya now? Brilliant, that. Where you from, luv? Sounds
like … Manchester, yeah?”
Hana’s smile widened. “Very close: Sale.”
“Ah, well then, you’re a ManU girl, I reckon. They’re
bloody brilliant; best in the world.”
Hana shrugged as her globe-flower began to sparkle and glow
again. “Not this year … quite disappointing; third,” she sighed. “But next
season they will top the league again.”
Spike quirked a brow at her. “Handy little gizmo, that,” he
remarked more to himself than her.
Refocusing on his agenda to get her to help him, he
continued, “Bet you like ice cream, yeah?”
“Oh, yes!” Hana gushed.
Could get ya some … all ya wanted, any kind. Just undo
these shackles and we can go…” Spike suggested.
“Miss Dru promised me gumdrops. I like gumdrops with my ice
cream … fancy, dripping, red gumdrops – they’re the best kind.”
“Got all the gumdrops you could ever want, luv … all the
ice cream and candy. It’s like Willy Wonka’s bloody Chocolate Factory at my
house. Just undo these…”
liar, pants on fire, nose as long as a telephone wire!” Hana sang giddily,
shaking her head in the negative.
The girl jumped down from the stool and was next to Spike
in the next instant. “It’s not nice to lie to little girls,” she chastised,
picking up the crucifix that Dru had left and laying it down on Spike’s stomach.
Spike growled and thrashed and finally screamed in pain as
his flesh sizzled and blackened.
Hana grinned sweetly, and then skipped happily away, her
long hair bouncing and swinging from side to side.
“Hi, I’m an old friend of Buffy and Spike’s. Are they …
home?” the man asked, peering in past the small, dark-haired woman and through
the front door of the Pratt home.
India looked up at the tall, brunette man that stood on the
front porch with annoyance. “It’s nearly midnight,” she informed him, standing
She wasn’t sure how long Buffy and Joan would be gone –
they hadn't been entirely certain, and hadn’t really given her much information
before they'd rushed away. India hadn’t seen Spike at all when she’d come over at
Buffy’s request to sit with the babies; she had no idea where he was or when
he’d be home, either.
The man looked back at her, meeting her violet-grey eyes
with his brown ones. He unconsciously licked his lips as he took in the ample
curves and slender waist of the woman before him. She appeared to be in her
twenties, with long, straight, midnight-black hair that hung to her waist, olive
complexion, and light eyes that flashed with an inner fire. She was no taller
than Buffy but had curves to spare in all the right places. She’d make a tasty
“I know it’s late, but we all used to be … night owls
together. I thought maybe they still stayed up late. I just got into town; was
hoping to catch up with them. It’s been so long since we’ve had a chance to
really visit. Can I … come in and wait?”
“I don’t think so. If you want to leave your name and
number, I’ll have them call you,” India offered.
“Oh, sure, I understand. Do you have … a pen and paper?”
the tall stranger asked hopefully.
India sighed and turned to go get a pen and paper from the
kitchen, but stopped at the last moment, gave the man a sweet smile, and closed
the door in his face, clicking the deadbolt for good measure.
Angel balled his hands into fists as he waited outside the
door, utterly frustrated. He was out of practice in the art of getting invited
in. Of course, it used to be all he had to do was smile and look pretty – that
ploy wasn’t working on this woman.
When he heard her coming back, he quickly moved away from
the door and down to the other end of the porch. He leaned casually against the
porch railing and put on his most charming façade. If he couldn’t get invited
in, then he’d just have to draw her out.
Buffy skulked up the creaking stairs as quietly as she
could, Joan right on her heels. When she got to the landing she heard what Joan
had heard: a soft moaning coming from one of the rooms down the hall.
She crept forward, stake at the ready, toward the sound.
She and Joan took up positions on either side of the closed door and, with a
silent nod to her twin as a signal, Buffy kicked the door open and burst
through, Joan right behind her.
They stood in a fighter’s crouch, back-to-back ready to
take on whoever or whatever was in the room, but no threat presented itself. The
moaning continued, however, and they both moved toward the source of the sound.
While Joan kept watch for baddies and continued to light
the room with her glowing eyes, Buffy reached out and touched the shoulder of
the person lying in a crumpled heap on the dirty floor. The man rolled over onto
his back with a gasp and another cry of pain.
“Giles!” Buffy exclaimed, the simple revelation colored
with shock and horror at the sight of her ex-Watcher.
He was covered in bruises, cuts, burns … in fact, he looked
very much like Buffy had looked after her four days in hell at the hands of his
former employer. Blood pooled on the floor beneath Giles, enough to be quite
worrisome, and he was barely conscious.
“Giles, what happened?” she asked anxiously, pulling an old
curtain down off the window and rolling it into a ball. She slid it under his
head as a pillow and began searching for the source of the blood.
“An … gelus,” he croaked out, reaching a hand out to her
“Ang … elus?” Buffy repeated, stressing the ‘elus’
part, her eyes growing wider.
Giles started to nod, but began to cough up blood. Still
coughing, he pressed his closed fist against her stomach insistently.
Buffy took his hand in both of hers. “Giles … how? What …
The old Watcher opened his closed fist and Buffy felt
something brush against her palm. She looked down to see the handful of platinum
curls Giles had been clutching fall into her hand.
She gasped, recognizing it immediately. “Spike!”
“Angelus … says,” Giles rasped out. “Trade him … for … you.”
Buffy’s eyes darted away from the snippets of her husband’s
hair to Giles’ pallid and bruised face. “Where?”
Giles shook his head and began to cough again.
Buffy looked up at her twin. “Call 9-1-1 and get an
ambulance out here,” she instructed.
“Where, Giles?” Buffy demanded again, looking back at her
“Don’t … know. Said … he would … contact … later.”
“Damn it! Damn it, damn it, damn it!” Buffy snarled,
clutching the locks of hair in her fist angrily. “I knew I should’ve staked that
bastard before when I had the chance … chances.
“Joan!” Buffy called, looking up at her twin who was on the
phone relaying the address to the 9-1-1 operator. “You need to get back to the
house. Don’t let anyone in but me or Spike.
India should probably stay until I get there so you can walk her home.”
The android nodded her understanding, still talking to the
operator on the phone.
Buffy looked back down at Giles. “How did this happen? How
did he lose his soul? ‘Cos I know it wasn’t skank-ho Faith!” Buffy
Giles shook his head weakly and let his eyes fall closed.
“The amulet … the weapon he used against … the First Evil. It … cleansed him of
the Gypsy’s curse. Removed his … soul.
“We … thought he had … perished … in the Hellmouth,” Giles
continued, his voice frail, barely audible. “But … Wolfram & Hart …
resurrected ...” Giles began
to cough again; this time blood splattered from his lips as he tried to get it
“It doesn’t matter,” Buffy assured him. “How doesn’t
Giles sighed and laid his head back down on the folded up
curtain, letting his eyes fall closed in relief.
Buffy sighed heavily and shook her head in dismay. Angelus
was on the loose and he had Spike. She rubbed at her exhausted eyes; her head ached
and her pulse was pounding painfully against her eardrums, making it nearly impossible
to think straight.
“Why … why did he do this to you?” Buffy wondered after a
Giles blinked his eyes open and looked up at her. “Said he
despises … leaving a job … half done.”
“I estimate that the ambulance will be here within three
and one half minutes,” Joan announced. “I will wait at home for you to arrive.”
Buffy looked up at her and nodded. “Be careful. Don’t let
anyone get too near you, okay? You remember what Angel looks like, right?”
“Yes. I have a full file on the Magnificent Poof,” Joan
assured her. “He wears lifts.”
“And Dru? Do you know Dru?” Buffy pressed.
“Yes. I have detailed information on William the Bloody’s
sire. She’s off her gourd most of the bloody time.”
Buffy took a deep breath and nodded. “And you remember
Faith, from when we were in Sunnydale?”
The robot nodded sharply. “The skank-ho that stole our axe
and insinuated that your ass was in need of a tuck and a lift.”
Buffy rolled her eyes. “Right. Ok – get home and stay
there. I’ll be there soon.”
Joan turned on her heel and headed out of the room. Buffy
immediately regretted it, since the Bot was the only light in the damn place.
“Buffy,” Giles gasped out, grabbing her arm as she began to
reach out to pick him up and take him downstairs. “Don’t … trade. Can’t trust …
Buffy nodded. “I know. Don’t worry. I’m not playing by his
“Dru … Faith … too many to … fight … alone,” Giles warned.
“I’m not alone,” Buffy assured him as she gathered his limp
form up into her arms and began feeling her way out of the room in the dark.
Red Rider -
I know you're out there
You're in hiding
And you hold your meetings
We can hear you coming
We know what you're after
We're wise to you this time
We won't let you kill the laughter
In the twilight's last gleaming
This is open season
But you won't get too far
We know you've got to blame someone
For your own confusion
But we're on guard this time
Against your final solution
We can hear you coming
(We can hear you coming)
No you're not going to win this time
We can hear the footsteps
(We can hear the footsteps)
Way out along the walkway
We know you're out there
But in these new dark ages
There will still be light
An eye for an eye
Well, before you go under
Can you feel the resistance
Can you feel the....thunder
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