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A/N-Again unbeta'd, so hope it's ok! Thanks to beanmommy for helping me plot suggestions!
Chapter 5

Buffy whipped around, a syrupy smile plastered on her face as she nervously looked around at the flurry of majorally incriminating activity that was going on around her. Thank god nobody was in game face because that would have been so not of the good.

"Are you in some sort of trouble again?" Hank asked, immediately jumping to wrong conclusions and wondering how much he was to blame for it. Maybe he shouldn't have let her dance like that on the stage, he realized in hindsight.... "Is that what all this security is for?"

"No, I'm not in trouble again," Buffy replied heatedly. God, why was she immediately blamed for everything the second something didn't make sense? Was that explained in the stupid Slayer handbook that she had never received?

"Go you with all the heavy duty pelvic grind-age! That was wicked hot." Blair exclaimed, easing the tension somewhat. "Whoa, speaking of hot..." Her eyes widened appreciatively at the impressive display of muscular bouncers who continued to populate the large backstage area.

Buffy's spider sense was driving her insane from being in such close proximity of so many of the undead and it was an effort to ignore its warning tingle. The human to vamp ratio was now clearly in favor of the undead, and Buffy didn't really care for those odds. Her unease grew as more men in black arrived to join in the preparations, giving her a wide berth as they passed by. Buffy was more than fine with that, not really much with the whole trusting thing.

She trusted Spike. Well, kinda, sorta. To a point, she decided on the spot. She'd be stupid to put ALL her trust in someone whose recent mission in life was to kill her.

His men were a different story, however. She was the Slayer, and she was weaponless. Luckily, something that could be easily remedied. Since all she had to offer in the way of protection was the not-so-much threat of plastic chopsticks, something with a bit more of an edge to it was her first priority.

"Are those props?" Sherry asked, pointing to boxes of weapons that were being opened. Buffy missed Sherry studying the weaponry being unloaded with a discerning eye, a look of intense curiosity overtaking her petite features as she beheld some of the older weapons being handed out.

"Oh yeah, total props. I think Spike is going to do some Knights of the Round Table revival or something," Buffy improvised lamely as she walked over to retrieve a large handled antique battle ax from one of the numerous selections. Slinging it easily over her shoulder, she rolled her eyes at the sudden, fearful looks of those undead in her immediate vicinity.

"Somehow, I'm just not seeing it," Sherry announced, her eyes searching Buffy's face quizzically.

"Buffy... I'm afraid I'm a little confused. Why exactly are we back here? And who is Spike?" Sobriety seemed to have become Hank's friend and Buffy was frantically trying to come up with a logical explanation that would explain this whole thing. Well, without really explaining it.

Because going into the whole Chosen thing? So not what she felt like going into right now.

Luckily for her, Spike came striding through the curtain, immediately becoming her Spike again the second he was off the stage. Ack, since when was he HER Spike? Bad thoughts!

This Spike looked like sauntering danger, cold determination etched on his focused features as his intense eyes sought her out immediately.

"Got the evacuation going," he announced to her, accepting a radio from one of his men, "I've got a group of men on that, getting them all downstairs."

"How'd you manage that one?" Buffy asked, thankful for the interruption even though she knew her dad was listening to every word.

"Told them some git bombed the mens crapper and the club was about to be flooded in shit. Luckily for them, before the smell became an issue I was opening a new Basement addition up early, and drinks were on the house for the rest of the night."

"Very 'Caddyshack' of you," Buffy replied dryly, rolling her eyes.

His answering grin warmed her before returning to the mission at hand. "How much time do we have left?"

The No Neck bouncer shrugged grimly. "I lost contact. Our visual has been lost."

"Buggarin fuck!" Spike bit out, going to the curtain and checking the progress of clearing out the top level. "We got any of those stink bombs?" he asked No Neck. When given the affirmative, Spike ordered, "Go ahead and unleash one of those, maybe that'll get their soddin' feet moving a bit quicker."

No Neck scurried away to do Spike's bidding.

"Buffy, what in the HELL is going on here?" Hank asked once more, his voice becoming more forceful due to his escalating confusion. His daughter had managed to involve herself in some sort of gang activity in one evening?

"Dad, I'll tell you in a minute ok?" Buffy replied with slight irritation, then turned back to Spike.

"If you knew where they were, why didn't you try to stop them on the way?" Buffy found herself asking, accepting the weapons and radio Spike handed her. She was well aware of the shocked looks of her 'party' but there were other things more important right now.

"Could have," Spike replied, feeling the budding tension, "but it's Friday night. Too many people out there, and you have an all out-and-out vamp fight in the middle of the street? Nah, too risky.Too many unknowns."

"A WHAT?" Hank interrupted. "Buffy, I need to talk to you. You will say goodnight to this...man, and we're leaving. Now."

Shaking off the parental hand that attempted to grab her arm, Buffy continued her conversation with Spike. "So, you are fighting on familiar ground, is that it?"

Spike nodded, opening a trunk that held Kevlar vests. Slipping one on, he handed a vest over to Buffy. "Got more control this way."

Hank sighed darkly. "I didn't want to listen to your mother, you know. I didn't want to believe that you were responsible for all the trouble you seemed to get in, but I'm afraid she was right."

Spike shot him a black look. "Are you an idiot? The girl isn't a troublemaker, you git."

Sherry picked up the battle ax that Buffy had set down and began examining it. "This is beautiful craftsmanship," she announced reverently, turning it over to study the other side. Shooting a direct look at Buffy, she asked, "These aren't props, are they?"

Buffy looked over at her and shook her head in a distracted manner, her dad's words shooting a trail of hurt through her. "No."

"Oh god, your mother is going to have a field day with this one," Hank grumbled, covering his face with the palms of his hands, the very picture of parental dispair.

"Dad, I'm sorry. We can talk about this later, but right now I just need you to trust me, ok? Can you do that?" Buffy pleaded, that feeling from earlier hitting her again. Why did she always get blamed?

Spike called three of his men over. "Need to get this lot downstairs. They belong to the Slayer. Anything happens to them, and you'll be praying for a quick dusting, got it?" he threatened, then looked at the one human among them. "And you'll be be strung up by your entrails and left to rot."

The men nodded gravely in acceptance and turned to the group in question. "Come with us, we'll get you downstairs."

"You're sparing three of your men to protect them?" Buffy asked, oddly touched.

Spike shrugged uncomfortably. "Wanted your focus on the fight, is all."

Buffy's dad refused to go. "Buffy, I need to know just what is going on.This is ridiculous."

Awe shining brilliantly in her wide eyes, Sherry put a hesitant hand on Buffy's arm. "You're...a Slayer?"

Suspicion immediately took over. "How do you know about Slayers?" Buffy demanded, tensing with anticipation.

Tbc...

a/n-thank you so much for all the reviews! Now, i wish they would just get to the fighting already! Also, this fic is nominated for Fic of the Week, so if you feel like signing in and voting.... feel free! Another of my fics that I'm writing with Starshine, Seed Born of Blood is also nominated.





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