“Milord?” Seth asked from where he was puking his guts out on the ground, the perhaps not-so-surprising result of having seen such carnage for the first time. His ashen face carried such a distraught look of grief that Spike truly wished that he could have spared the children this.

“You are going to have to kill us now, Sira?” The boy’s once laughing face was now contorted by fear and pain.

“And why the bloody hell would I do that?” the vampire replied truly surprised. These boys needed comforting; they needed their mums, and all they had was a sour old vampire that thought one reminded him of his cousin James.

He was William’s younger cousin, not mine. he raged inwardly. Then, looking at their huddled, terrified forms, he relented. Oh bloody hell, he was my cousin all right? All I want is for the bloody rug rats to quit crying and be happy. Is that to much to ask?

“Black Knight ye may be,” the leader of the red demons stated from behind him. “And demon ye surely are, but the penalty for a human that kills a demon is death.”

Instead of replying, Spike reached into his shirt pocket to retrieve his pipe and bag of tobacco that had replaced his Marlboros. He looked the remaining demons over carefully; the three red demons were spoiling for a fight, and the twelve or so blue-gray demons looked to be spoiling for…well, a good meal or ten and a few days rest. The Blue demons also had the smell of humans. Half-breeds perhaps?

“But you see, mate,” Spike began as he lit his pipe and took a long pull. “I am the Black Knight. And these, these…” He caught sight of Midnight, Matthew’s war horse, who inspired his lie. “Are my Black Riders, and are not subject to your laws.”

Even as he finished Spike was charging, bringing the gladius through a figure eight. On his forward swing he separated the red demon leader’s head from his shoulders. This time not bothering with a bluff, he shoved the falling body out of his way and gutted the second red demon. However, even as he spun to attack the third it seemed to grow an arrow from its right eye. It fell backwards as Spike nearly stumbled trying to stop his momentum. Spike hastily tried to hide his near fall by bending and wiping his sword free of blood on the demon’s shirt. Turning he ignored Buffy and the four women that seemed to always hover around her lately. Bloody hell, can’t they just leave me to fight in peace?
~~^^~~

He Said
“NO!” He heard Charena’s voice yell. “No Milady, those be the scholars.”
As Buffy unknocked her arrow, Spike continued to his steed. He looked through his saddle bags, but got the strange feeling he was being watched. He turned and saw Charena staring holes into his back, her expression angry. She shifted her gaze to the demons then back to him several times. Bloody hell, I’m not going to kill them, be too much like killing … He couldn’t think of a fitting description since he had killed kittens.

Then as he found his grain rations, it hit him.

“Oh,” he began eyeing the bone weary demons. “You blokes better sit down before you fall down.”

“Sit? Sit? SIT?” The woman screeched at him. This woman, this child that only a few weeks ago had to be given permission to eat she, had been so meek. “They are starving, Sira. They need to be fed.”

“Then bloody well build a fire and feed them,” he ordered impatiently. Did he have to think of everything? Was the bloody Slayers fault, it was. Put her in a room with the Stepford wives and they would come out wanting to vote.

“And where are we supposed to find this food?” This time it was the evil wench the Slayer herself who asked.

“It’s a bloody farm, you ignorant chit,” he answered. Not that he liked meek and docile women. He liked them just like the slayer was right now, full of piss and vinegar with fire in her eyes. Why he could rip her off her bloody saddle and shag her till she couldn’t close her legs for a week. “Look around. There is bound to be food here somewhere.”

He turned his back to them as he fitted the grain bag over his stallion’s head

“Ah mate,” he said in a voice too low for any but his horse and the boys to hear. “If we ignore them maybe they will go away.”

As the boys giggled he winked at them then continued in a slightly louder voice, unaware that Buffy had dismounted and was walking up behind him. “I misnamed you, mate. You need a more manly name.”

He gave the boys a mischievous look before adding brightly, “I know, I’ll name you Slayer.”

“You… named… your… horse… Slayer?” Buffy asked in a dangerous voice from behind him.
~~^^~~

SHE SAW

NO!” She heard Charena’s voice yell. “No Milady, those be the scholars.”

As if Buffy thought. She had just been scoping out threats. She nearly fell off of her horse laughing at Spike’s antics though. He had been in full swing at the demon she had shot, when the demon had fallen Spike had spun a full circle and then still nearly fell flat of his ass. As he turned back to look at her the sight of his eyes froze her in place.

There was something there that Buffy had never thought to see in the Slayer of Slayers eyes. Pure unadulterated fear. And it was directed at her. What had she done that scared him so much. Even as she fought down the urge to run to him and comfort him she found herself sliding off her horse to at least be nearer to him.

“Oh,” Buffy heard him say and it took her a minute to figure out exactly what he meant. “You blokes better sit down before you fall down.”

“Sit? Sit? SIT?” The Charena screeched at him. Buffy smiled to herself thinking how far her young friend had come in such a short time. “They are starving sira, they need to be fed.”

“Then bloody well build a fire and feed them.” The Slayers head jerked to stare at the ass hole. :Just once, just once I’ll kick him in the teeth:

“And where are we supposed to find this food?” Buffy asked slowly remembering the manners her mother taught her… and how scared Spike appeared to be of her.

“It’s a bloody farm you ignorant chit.” He answered. Buffy counted slowly to ten, then backwards to one. Then suddenly she remembered Tommy Cox, a boy in her third grade class. He had pulled her hair every day at recess all year long then cried when she refused to be her valentine. Her mom was right, men were just big boys

Then suddenly his eyes glazed for a second as he looked at her, the look he gave her when he was horny as hell and Buffy’s panties went damp in spite of herself.

“Look around there is bound to be food here somewhere.” He said looking at her hungrily.

She watched as the boys giggled. He winked at them then continued in a slightly louder voice unaware that Buffy had dismounted and was walking up behind him. “I misnamed you mate. You need a more manly name.”

What the hell had he named his poor horse?

He gave the boys a mischievous look before adding brightly. “I know, I’ll name you Slayer.”

“You… named… your… horse… Slayer?” Buffy asked in a dangerous voice from behind him.

“It is better than it was milady.” Matthew informed her with a grin. “He had named him Buffy.”

Again Buffy started counting to herself, this time not even thinking of stopping at ten, She made it to one hundred and then back to one before contemplating the various ways she could hurt him without killing him.

Spike rolled his eyes in disgust. He knew he hated these boys for a reason. Spike took a quick assessing look at Buffy and determined there was no way in hell he was going to win this argument, so in a tactic as old as time, he changed the subject. “Lieutenant Seth?

The boy answered in a questioning voice. “Sira?”

“You heard the ladies.” Spike gave the boy a meaningful look.

“Mount the…” Spike looked the remaining demons over to determine their species. “Brakuri up and move them into the inn.”

“Lieutenant?” Charena asked in a deceptively quiet voice.

“Yes Lieutenant, as in Lieutenants Seth and Matthews,” Spike grandiosely informed the women, then with a regal hand presented the women to the gangly, half-starved boys that stood behind him. “Not name changes, luv, but rank. These two are my Squad Lieutenants for the most feared demon hunters this world has ever seen. The Black Riders.”

Charena harumphed then rolled her eyes at Seth, who was also her younger brother. Buffy, however, knew the truth. These boys were half-starved true, and they were scared to death, but Spike was giving them more than just hope, he was beginning to instill a sense of pride and purpose to their lives. She wondered absently how much different her own life would have been if Watchers had used his tactics. All in all she could accept his naming his horse after her if it helped these boys.

Even as Buffy started to intervene one of the Brakuri interrupted. “Sira?”

“Yeah mate?” Spike answered moving towards the other adult male, thankful for his help.

“The fragoran demons?” the man blurted out. “They have a wagon train as well. Somewhere off to the west.”

“Anymore demons with the train?” Spike questioned.

“Not likely, sira. They should be sufficiently broken by now,” the Brakuri replied sadly.

“I’ll go get them,” Buffy said in a voice thick with sadness. “I’ll take Lieutenant Matthews.”

The boy looked back at his sira with such fear that Spike caught himself scenting the air to relish it. However, the boy was one of his and so…

“Lieutenant Matthews? Choose out three lancers and prepare to escort Lady Elizabeth to the other train.” He motioned to the other boys too, hoping it would help him understand what lancers were.

As Spike looked back at the women proudly, a slow eye roll from all of them met him. Bloody Slayer, it’s her fault. So to truly set them off he went into game face, tilted his head to the right and slowly rolled his tongue behind his teeth.

Buffy caught herself biting her own tongue to keep from verbally smacking him down. He made it so easy that she wondered why she shouldn’t. Then the memories hit her.

She hurt all over but her back was the worst. It was a raging inferno wrapped tightly in barbed-wire. Pain wasn’t new to her. Since being called as the Slayer it had almost became an old friend, but this pain had her wanting to beg just to pass out.

Since being called, pain had been her main constant. She had been gifted with a pain tolerance that exceeded by far anything a normal human could hope for, but still there had not been a night in two years that she hadn’t gone home with some new bruise, cut, or laceration. No, physical pain rarely touched her anymore.

Emotional pain, however, emotional pain was what Angelus had used on her for months and even now it twisted in her like a dull knife. The raging pain of her back was almost nothing beside the rips of her heart. Everyone she loved was dead.

She lay face down on what felt like silk sheets, a haze of red over her eyes as someone gently—almost kindly—worked a cool numbing cream into the inferno that was her back. The person shifted positions and suddenly her face was only inches from the buttons on his jeans. She knew whom they belonged to immediately, suprisingly not by the color, black, but by the smell of him—a warm almost woodsy smell laced with the acrid smell of burnt tobacco. It got worse, even though she had never even kissed him, at that moment she knew exactly how he tasted. That, however, was not what bothered her in her pain induced haze. What bothered her was that his thing was inches from her face, and he was hard.

“Spike?’ her pain laced voice called out.

“Just a second, love.” Spike’s voice drifted back to her ears from what seemed to be a great distance. And then once again she had faded out.

Buffy wasn’t sure how many times she had drifted back and forth between sleep and half awake, but every time Spike had been there. Whether it was to feed her, or bathe her, or to give her medicines, he had been there. He had done what no one before had ever been willing to do for her, not even her mother. He had placed his own life on hold and put her, Buffy, before everything and everyone else. He had barely had time to eat himself as he watched over her and protected her. He had constantly put her needs ahead of his own and in doing so, he’d won a place in Buffy’s heart.

Buffy stepped up closer to her man… best friend and pulled him into a kiss then nibbled roughly on his jaw while she informed him. “If you intend to sleep in the wagon and not under it tonight Spike?” She paused looking him in the eyes. “I suggest you rerename your horse. How about calling the poor thing Dru?”