Spike and Hel returned to Slayer headquarters shortly after nightfall, sauntering into the living room. Upon their entrance, all eyes were on the pair of outcasts as the Potentials stared at them in silence. The house appeared to have been converted into an impromptu triage unit, the healthy girls tending to the wounded ones.
At the sound of footfall on the stairs behind them, Hel and Spike spun around.
Buffy stood at the foot of the steps, grasping a scythe. The curved blade was embellished by a gleaming coat of blood-red, and at the base of the animal skin-wrapped handle was a wooden stake. "You're back."
"Sorry I'm late. I didn't want to come." Hel sneered, starting towards the kitchen.
"Hel, wait." Buffy began, taking ahold of her arm. At the scathing glare Hel directed her way, Buffy released her grip. "Look, about last night, I'm shouldn't have—"
"How about we just pretend I give a shit and leave it at that?" Hel interrupted her curtly, eyebrows raised.
Buffy was taken aback, her green eyes blown wide and mouth slightly agape. "I'm trying to apologise!"
"Don't bother." Hel replied dismissively, striding past her.
Pursing his lips thoughtfully, Spike's wicked blue eyes followed Hel out of the room, and his mouth curved into a sly, naughty little smirk as he checked out her behind. Once she was out of sight, he sauntered after her.
She turned to face him, unsuspecting of his intentions.
Before she had time enough to stop him, he scooped her up in one swift swoop and threw her over his shoulder.
Yelping in surprise, she immediately began to squirm and struggle against his grip. "Put me down! I order you to put me down this instant!"
He chuckled, grinning at her irritation. "Not gonna happen, luv."
Ignoring her protests, Spike carried her back through the kitchen, passing right by everyone else, and up the stairs. Then, and only then, did he finally put her down as requested. The second floor hallway was filled to capacity, teeming with Potentials.
Grabbing onto the leather lapels of his black duster, Hel spun him around and shoved him into the hallway closet. She pulled the door shut behind her.
The closet was incredibly tiny, leaving absolutely zero room for the preservation of personal space. There was long stretch of awkward silence, punctuated only by the combined sound of their breathing. Her heart was racing, slamming against her ribs. His mind was spinning, overflowing with questions. The complete absence of light only served to further increase the tension.
"We can't hide in this closet forever." He remarked, and although it was pitch black, she knew he was smirking.
Laughing breathily, she leaned back against the door. "Wanna bet?"
"I would never bet against you."
"That's very wise of you." Hel commended.
Suddenly, and without forewarning, she felt his lips on her own. She responded with a passion that caught him off guard, her arms encircling his neck and her fingers knotting in his short, platinum blond curls. Taking ahold of her waist, he kissed her with equal enthusiasm.
Together, they hid from the swarm of teenaged girls for at least another hour or two, pressed up against one another in the cramped, dark closet. Normally, Hel would have been panicking in such a tiny enclosure; she hated feeling trapped. But somehow, with him, it wasn't so bad.
Later that night, Buffy returned from her confidential Slayer mission.
Dawn had been waiting by the front door, and when her older sister walked in, she swung a swift kick at her shin.
Buffy gaped at her, taken aback. "Ow."
"Dumbass." Dawn grumbled.
Buffy glanced over at Xander, who was seated at the dining room table with Anya, Giles, and Willow.
"Don't look at me." Xander deflected, "This a Summers' thing. It's all very violent."
Buffy stared sternly at Dawn. "If you get killed, I'm telling." On that childish note, she entered the dining room.
"Did you find out anything about the scythe?" Willow inquired.
"It slices, dices, and makes julienne preacher."
Giles looked stunned. "Caleb?"
"I cut him in half." Buffy replied matter-of-factly.
"Alright!" Willow exclaimed, beaming.
"He had that coming." Anya commented.
"Hey, party in my eye socket, and everyone's invited!" Xander blurted, grinning. His enthusiasm dimmed beneath their collective stares. "Sometimes I shouldn't say words."
Rolling her eyes, Hel turned to leave.
"Hel, wait."
This time, at Buffy's insistence, Hel paused.
"Give this to Spike." Tentatively taking Hel's hand, Buffy placed an object of considerable weight in her palm. It was a round crystal pendant, approximately two inches in diameter, in a silver starburst setting that hung from a coarse silver chain.
Hel's brow furrowed in confusion as she studied the amulet. "What is this? And where did you get it?"
"The translation isn't very clear, but what we do know is that it's a very powerful, possibly volatile, weapon. Supposedly, it bestows strength to the right person who wears it— someone with a soul who is stronger than human. A champion."
Hel's eyes snapped up to meet Buffy's. Rendered speechless by her sudden shift in attitude towards Spike, she could do nothing but gaze incredulously at Buffy for a moment longer, before turning on her heel and heading straight for the basement. Unable to tear her eyes away from the enchanting relic, she stood at the bottom of the steps in a daze.
"What's that, then?" Inquired a familiar voice from nearby.
Hel lifted her head to discover Spike staring at her expectantly from his cot, pausing briefly to compose her thoughts before she spoke. "According to Buffy, it's a weapon. She said it was to be wielded by someone ensouled, but more than human."
He stood and took a few steps toward her. "Looks like an ordinary necklace to me."
"Don't let its appearance fool you. I've come across many a powerful piece of jewellery in my day."
He held out his open hand. "May I?"
"It's volatile. We don't know—"
"You'll be needing someone strong to bear it, then. You planning on giving it to Andrew?"
"Buffy said the amulet was meant to be worn by a champion."
He bowed his head in disappointment, and she took a step towards him. She reached for his hand, raising it up and setting the amulet in his palm. The corner of his mouth twitched, tempted to crack a smile. His eyes rose to meet hers. "Been called a lot of things in my time."
With a reassuring smile, she closed what remained of the gap between them. Hel's slender pale arms encircled his waist as she rested her cheek upon his chest, and Spike returned her embrace.
"I don't know what I would do without you." She whispered.
He didn't know how to respond to her confession of sentiment, and so, afraid of spoiling the moment, he remained silent. Longing for a break from the constant tension, they broke apart briefly and took to their cot for some much needed shut-eye.
Unfortunately, Spike was rudely awoken by a nightmare at around midday. As if seized by a sudden terror, he jolted violently beneath the covers. "I'm drowning in footwear!" He cried out, bolting upright. His brow furrowed as he awoke fully and became more alert of his surroundings. "Weird dream." He muttered to himself.
Laying back down and snuggling against Hel, Spike exhaled a soft sigh as the reassurance of her presence soothed his nerves. Within mere minutes, he was fast asleep once more.