Leashing The Beast

By: Nos

Tara Maclay was a soft-hearted, softspoken woman. But when something

needed to be done, or someone was suffering, she was there. She always had

an open ear. She cared, almost too much at times.

Maybe that was why Buffy had chosen her to confess to. Or, maybe, it

was because she was disconnected from the rest of the group. She really

didn't know, but she was going to help. She had thought The Slayer would be

overjoyed to find out there was nothing wrong with her, that the spell they

had cast to bring her back from the dead hadn't changed her in a sinister

way. Instead, she had broken down, sobbing, telling Tara that there had to

be something wrong with her. Begging her not to forgive her. The whole

story had come out when the tears dried, a good while later.

She was a little shocked; she really didn't expect the confession -- that

the Slayer was sleeping with a soulless vampire. One who loved her, true,

and would give his life for her or Dawn. But that wasn't the point. Spike

was evil. Buffy didn't understand why she was feeling as she was: so

attracted to him.

Tara had always had a soft spot for the vampire. He had proved to her that

she wasn't a demon, even if punching her in the nose was the way he chose to

do it. She still remembered his kind words to her after she had her mind

stolen by Glory, and had accidentally burned his hand.

She didn't see him as truly evil. Maybe it was because she was new to the

group, and hadn't lived through the fear Spike had caused them all in the

past. Whatever the reason, it had wrenched her heart to hear Buffy's final

confession: that she had beaten him bloody in the alley behind the police

station, and left him there. The Slayer had sobbed again, recalling how he

hadn't even tried to defend himself, he loved her that much. And she had

continued to hit him, with her full Slayer strength, after she had knocked

him out of vamp face.

She had finally convinced Buffy that they needed to check on him, to make

sure he was alright. The Slayer had reluctantly agreed, almost afraid to

face him. So they had split up, Buffy heading for the alley, and Tara for

the vampire's crypt.

Which was where she found herself now, standing outside his door, where she

had never entered. She fidgeted, and took the steps slowly, pausing to look

around before knocking on the door.

When no answer came, she opened the door, biting her lip, and stepped

inside.

"H-hello?" she called out, looking around.

She sensed movement to her right, and quickly spun to face it. Spike

stepped from the shadows, and she gasped, taking in the damage done to his

face. His usually pale skin had blossomed in a myriad of cuts and dark

bruises. His nose was broken, and one eye was swollen shut. Dried blood

still crusted his cheeks and lips.

He looked confused, and half asleep. He tossed the knife he had to the

floor and scratched his head.

"Tara? Wha' are you doin' 'ere?" he asked, mumbling around swollen lips.

He swayed a little on his feet.

It took her a while to respond.

"B-Buffy talked to me. She...told me everything."

The vampire stilled, tensing.

"So, you've come ta wha', finish the job she did?" he asked bitterly.

Tara shook her head.

"No! No...She's on her way...We wanted to make sure...you...you were

alright." She gave him a little smile and held out the first aid kit she

was clutching to her chest.

Spike blinked, and shook his head, almost losing his balance. He slumped

to the floor, leaning back against the wall.

"Why does she care?" he asked softly.

Tara didn't know how to respond to that. She didn't even know if Buffy did

care, or if she really was just using him.

"I..don't know Spike. She was really upset. If it helps...I'm...sorry

this happened."

He chuckled, almost a giggle, as high pitched as it was.

"Yeah. Well. S'pose we should wait for The Slayer then, eh?"

She gave him a little smile and knelt, opening the box on the floor. Not

looking at him as she spoke, taking out various items.

"I know what you're doing."

He blinked. "Wha'?"

She looked up for a second, before looking away again.

"What you're doing. Telling her she belongs in the dark, with...with you."

He narrowed his eyes a little, studying her.

"An' jus' what am I doin', pet?"

She gave that little half smile again, not looking up.

"You love her. And you think you could never really have her unless she

was in your world. You're...scared of losing what little ground you've gained."

He snorted, a little too quickly.

"I'm -not- scared..."

"Spike.." she cut him off. Something in her tone made him stop speaking.

"You are trying to gain more of a hold on her, by drawing her into your world.

But let me ask you this...What is your world, Spike?" she looked up then.

He stared at her. "Wha' do you think, pet? I'm a -vampire-. I live in the

dark. You lot 'ave proved time an' again I don't belong in -your- sorry world."

She just gave him a knowing smile, and stood up, dusting off her skirt.

The bandages and antiseptics were lined up before him, neatly, in a row.

"Just...Just think about it Spike. She'll be here soon. I'm gonna go."

And without looking back, she opened the door and left.

Spike stared after her, dazed. What tha bloody 'ell jus' 'appened 'ere?

Must be the concussion...

He shook his head, and leaned back, resting fully against the cold stone of

the crypt wall. Pulling out a nearly crushed cigarette, he lit it carefully,

avoiding the split in his lip, and closed his eyes.

Buffy paused, stopping about 10 feet from Spike's crypt, pulling her jacket

around her tighter. Though the air was pleasantly warm, even for a southern

California night, she was chilled. And tired. She knew he could probably

already sense her presence, as she could his. She knew he was there. But

she just didn't want to have to deal with this. Why was it always so hard?

Why couldn't she just pretend as if it never happened? She had tried that

before, with him. She still remembered how flustered he sounded, when she

pretended their first kiss didn't mean anything to her.

'We ... we kissed, you an' me. All 'Gone With The Wind,' with the rising

music, an' the rising ... music, an' what was that, Buffy? '

There really was no other way. She had to face him again, eventually. He

wouldn't forget, what she had done. She was sure of that. She just didn't

-want- to deal with it.

She groaned and started forward again, trudging toward the crypt as if

heading for her own execution. Though, at this moment, she might have

happily marched up the gallows if only to be spared what was likely going to

be an awkward and painful scene.

Taking a deep breath, she marched up the steps and opened the door. No

need to break old habits by doing such a thing as knocking, right?

She felt him, of course, before she saw him. Shutting the door behind her

as quietly as she could, she took in the scene. Three candles were lit,

casting very little light around the room. Spike was leaning against a

wall, near the door. He appeared to be sleeping, but one could never tell

with vampires. Though Spike wasn't a good example -- always wanting to move,

pace, kill, whatever -- vampires could stay still as a corpse for hours.

Because that's what they were. Corpses.

She just stood there for a moment, watching him. This living corpse before

her. It made her shudder to think of him that way. Wouldn't that make her

a necrophiliac? It wasn't like she hadn't loved...she quickly derailed

-that- train of thought...been with a vampire before. Angel, he was

different from the creature before her, as night is to day. He had a soul.

He was ashamed of his vampiric nature. He hid it from her. He felt

remorse, guilt, for his crimes. Spike didn't. He didn't -have- a soul. He

didn't know what it was like to feel remorse.

'Why don't you explain it to me?' he had said, when she stated the same to

him. -That- had thrown her. She didn't expect him to understand. Hell,

she didn't expect him to -want- to understand. But Spike was nothing if not

unpredictable.

So what exactly was he? Sure, he was a vampire, by definition. But how

could a vampire act as he does? Being a vampire slayer, she knew vampires.

They lived only for the kill, for chaos and destruction. They didn't watch

soap operas. They didn't take pleasure in eating human food. They didn't

enjoy human company. They were at best animals, at worst, deadly

sociopaths. Hunt. Kill. Feed.

But Spike wasn't like that. Sure, he reveled in violence. It was his

nature. And the chip -had- changed him. He couldn't kill anymore; couldn't

hunt. But most of his personality she simply couldn't pass off as the chip.

He -always- loved to eat, watch tv. Even Angel, basically a human trapped

in a vampire-shaped wrapper, didn't eat human food. Ever. And Spike had

helped her save the world, before the chip. His explanation? He -liked-

the world. And, he wanted to kick Angel's ass for stealing Dru. But his

first answer was he liked the world.

She shook these thoughts out of her mind. Every time she tried to

rationalize him, she got a headache. And if she thought about it too

long....

She took a step forward, looking at the carefully laid out first aid

supplies at his feet. Tara had been there. She smiled a little, wondering

what they had talked about.

He stirred, finally, and jerked violently on coming awake, startled by her

presence.

"Slayer..." he said, his voice slurred around bloodied lips.

"Spike." she nodded, hugging herself. What now?

"How are you?" It came tumbling out of her mouth before she could stop it.

She almost laughed.

He lowered his eyes....eye, since he couldn't very well look out of the one that

was swollen shut, and chuckled softly, also finding the humor in the statement.

"Fine, luv. Aside from the apparently colourful new complexion..." he

made a vague gesture toward his face. He looked up again, a flicker of concern

shining in his gaze.

" 'ow're you, pet?"

She shook her head, and moved closer, bending to take up a square of

gauze. She crouched next to him, avoiding looking directly into his eyes,

and opened the bottle of water Tara had left. Her hands shaking, (the same

hands that had pounded him senseless without a second thought, she forced

herself to remember) she began to gently clean the blood from his face.

He kept silent, knowing she didn't want to talk. Just like he always knew,

exactly what she was feeling.

'And I can fool Giles, and I can fool my friends, but I can't fool myself.

Or Spike, for some reason....'

He flinched when she wiped off the blood near his eye, the muscles in his

cheek twitching violently. She frowned in sympathy, but kept at it, until

the only discolouration on his face was from bruising.

She really couldn't do much for the swelling. She didn't think ice or

Advil would have any effect on a vampire. He would just have to rest, let

his natural vampire healing abilities take over. God, she had used her full

strength. Looking at him now, there was no way she hadn't. He hardly ever

bruised, even with all the fights he got himself into. Hell, the last fight

-they- had been in, he hadn't even been marked up that badly. A few claw

marks. Light bruising. Nothing really noticeable.

She realized that he was just watching her, blinking every so often. He had

started breathing, as he always did when she was around. He didn't seem to

notice. It was interesting, how human he could be without even trying.

She rocked back on her heels, and looked over her handiwork, still avoiding

eye contact. Nodding to herself, she grabbed his arm and pulled him gently to

his feet. Contact with his cold skin always sent shivers through her,

shivers that had nothing to do with temperature or fear.

"Wha..?" he asked gently, still dazed. She didn't blame him. The only

time she had ever seen him in worse shape was after a round of torture with

a hell god.

"You need to sleep. I'm putting you to bed," she replied softly, and

began to lead him toward the lower level of his crypt. "Can you get down

there alright?"

He stared at her, tilting his head slightly, before pulling his arm away

from her.

"Yeah."

He walked ahead of her, unsteady on his feet. She absently hoped he

didn't tumble down the ladder. But he made it alright, and she followed

quickly. He sank down on the edge of his bed, bending to pull off his

boots.

"I've got it." she said quickly, and knelt before him, unlacing them and

pulling them gently from his feet. He laid back, putting his arm over his

eyes for a moment, before pulling himself fully onto the bed. She pulled

the sheet over him, knowing full well he slept naked, but not trusting

herself to remove his clothing.

"Feel better then, luv?" he mumbled, his eyes closed.

She frowned, confused.

"What?"

"Feel better? This relieve all that nasty guilt? 'elpin' the battered

vampire ta bed?"

She blinked at him.

"Spike, this isn't about..."

He opened his eye, and stared at her.

"What -is- it about pet? S'not like ya care or anythin'. So why the hell

bother, eh, Slayer?"

Of course, she got angry. He had a way of doing that didn't he? Pissing

her off to no end with just a few words. But she took a deep, calming

breath, and bit back the bitter retort that hovered on her tongue. 'Of

course I don't care, you're just convenient....'

"Spike..." she said, her tone sounding a little more exasperated than she

had intended. "I do care. That's why I came. I am sorry I did this to

you. I really am." she crossed her arms. "But I really don't feel like

talking about it right now, alright? I'm sorry, I'm tired, just go to sleep."

"'s okay...," he mumbled, already half asleep, despite his anger. How in the

hell had he gotten back here, after what she did? "Night then, Slayer."

She swallowed. He'd forgiven her. Of course he had. He had forgiven her

the moment it was over. She was reasonably sure he would let her do it

every day, if he thought it would make her smile.

She forced back the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes, and moved

back towards the ladder. She turned back, to look at him.

Despite herself, and the sudden, intense feeling that she was leaping from

a cliff, she crossed the room, and pulled back the sheet on the other side

of the bed. She curled up on her side next to him, not touching him, just

watching him. He would have looked peaceful if not for the fact his face

looked as if he'd been in a prison riot.

Tomorrow. Questions could come tomorrow. Just a little nap, she told herself

as her eyes slowly drifted shut. Just a little while, then I'll go

home....

'It was a dark and stormy night...'

No, wait. Overused.

'Funny how things always seem to go your way when you're an evil genius...'

Better.

Warren pounded away happily on his latest entry in the log he'd been

keeping since he, Andrew, and Jonathan banded together to take over

Sunnydale.

"Hey! You...jerk! That's cheating!" came the high-pitched whine of

Andrew behind him, accompanied by the clicking of controllers.

"Idiot, it's -not- cheating, you can't cheat in this game!" Jonathan

replied, frustrated.

"But...but...you have me backed into a corner! And you're using that fast

kicky thingy, I can't get away!" came the whiner.

"That's the -point-! Jeez, you're such a..."

"SHUT UP!" Warren finally screamed, causing the other two to flinch

involuntarily and quiet down.

"See, now you made him yell..." one of them whispered quickly, before

shutting up altogether.

Warren sighed. The things he had to put up with. Idiots. If he didn't

need them....

'Things are looking up. Being on the lam is hard, but not without merits.

One being free time. While the retards spend it bitching about video

games, I found more important things to occupy my mind...'

Warren grinned to himself, and grabbed a small black controller that was

resting near the computer. He wouldn't let it out of his sight. He flipped

open the clear plastic safety shield, and idly fingered the three buttons on

its surface: one green, one blue, and one red. He spun around in his chair,

calling the others to attention.

"Gentlemen!" he interrupted another brewing argument, with Andrew seconds

away from throwing his controller at Jonathan's head.

They stopped, of course, and turned to him with a sigh, putting their games

aside.

"While you ladies were sucking your thumbs, I've come up with a plan....A

foolproof plan to get the Slayer off our backs."

"What, we're not going to just kill her?" Jonathan asked, looking Warren

dead in the eye.

The fearless leader smirked.

"Even better." he held up the controller with a flourish. "In my hand is

the cure for all our problems."

The other two regarded him dubiously.

He smiled.

"You remember when Spike came? And I looked at his chip?" They both

shuddered, and nodded.

"Well, I saved all the information. That baby was high tech. I knew that

it would be useful. And it is. I've not only figured out what the chip does,

I've figured out how to control it."

Andrew looked confused. Jonathan blinked at him.

"What does the chip do?" he asked.

"It's funny really. It zaps him whenever he tries to hurt a human being.

When he was here? Even we could have taken him."

"No way! And we let him get away with...." Andrew started.

"Not important! The Fett is fine. The important thing is, we now have

control. All we have to do is get close to him. Press this little button..."

He ran his thumb over the green button. "...and the chip is totally in our

control. It won't activate unless -we- activate it. Buffy thinks she has

him trained?"

He grinned.

"Now we do a little training of our own...."

He turned back to his computer, chuckling to himself.

'And now we change the game. Now -we- make the rules....'

////

Buffy yawned and stretched, blinking sleep from her eyes. She smiled to

herself. She felt....good. Well rested. She cuddled her sheet closer to

her chin, breathing in the smell of...leather...cigarettes...dust....

Her eyes snapped open. Spike's crypt. In -Spike's- bed. God, what time

was it?

She sat up slowly, carefully, looking over at the bed's other occupant. He

still appeared to be sleeping. Good.

She pushed the sheet back and got up as quietly as a Slayer could manage.

Looking around quickly to see if she was forgetting anything (and thanking

the Powers she was fully clothed...) she started to tiptoe across the room

to the ladder.

She made it halfway.

"See you tomorrow then, luv?" came the sleepy English accent from a tangle

of sheets.

She froze, and gritted her teeth. Damn vampires. Stealthy exits were

totally lost on him.

"Yeah," she said quickly, and against her better judgment, before darting

up the ladder and out of the crypt.

////////

Spike heaved a sigh, and rolled over. The hammering of her heart coulda

woke the dead. And it did. The moment she realized where she was, he'd

awakened as well.

He sat up slowly, testing to see if his head was still spinning. So far,

so good.

Bloody slayer. He was getting right tired of getting shot down for trying

to do the right thing. Hell, she hadn't meant to kill that girl. She hadn't even

done it at all, from what Tara said. But behind bars? What the hell could she do

to save the world? It wasn't like they'd grant her parole on the basis of impending

apocalypse, right? And where would her sister be? In a foster family. Or even

worse, with Daddy. Or her little Scoobies? He was -trying- to save her. Stupid

bitch.

'God I love 'er....'

He stumbled out of bed, and made it up the ladder without serious injury.

And then to the fridge. He'd eat, then sleep some more. Hopefully, it'd

only take a few days to heal up. Not likely, considering the pounding he

had taken. But he could always hope.

He slammed the fridge shut, and slummed into his recliner, pulling the top

of a container of cold blood. He wished for not the first time that he had a

microwave as he downed the thick liquid in quick gulps. Pig's blood wasn't

the best, but cold it was downright disgusting.

It had surprised the hell out of him, Tara's visit. The girl had barely

spoken three whole words to him the entire time he'd known her. And suddenly

she was mama bear? But she was right. He didn't know what world he lived in.

Hell yeah he did. He didn't live in -any- world. The Scoobies wouldn't accept

him. Would -never- accept him. And he killed his own kind. He was a traitor

in the eyes of the demon world.

He looked around. THIS was his world. Alone in his crypt. The only place

he really belonged.

He was startled from his thoughts by the sound of footsteps outside. He

sighed. Setting the now empty container aside, he struggled to his feet.

The door opened.

"Slayer, I really don' wanna talk right now, so if you could just be on

your merry...."

But it wasn't the Slayer who entered. He tilted his head, and trailed off,

staring at the dark-haired man before him. Robot-boy.

"What the heck happened to you?"

Spike growled, drawing himself up.

"You should see the other guy. An' if ya don' get the 'ell outta my crypt,

you'll be lookin' at 'im in the mirror."

Warren chuckled.

"Naw. It's cosy here. Oh, and I wanted to tell you. Found out a little

something more about your chip. It's neat really." He pulled out a small,

black controller.

"Not a hard signal to replicate, once you put your mind to it." He held it

out before him, and pushed a button on its surface.

Spike's eyes widened. Then rolled back in his head. Blackness came like

an oncoming car. No warning.

And as though someone had hit his 'off' button, Spike crumpled to the floor.

Buffy and Tara stepped into the welcoming silence outside of the Magic Box,

escaping the constant arguing over flower arrangements and seating charts

echoing from within. Tara rubbed her arms to stave off the chill in the

air.

"So, how's it going?" she asked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Buffy crossed her arms and sighed.

"I don't know. Good, maybe? We talked a little....I'm supposed to be

meeting him soonish."

Tara nodded.

"Want me to come?" she asked, giving that little half smile.

Buffy thought about it for a moment, then shrugged.

"Sure."

Buffy opened the door to the shop, and shouted inside that they were leaving,

which was most likely ignored. The girls headed out, walking in silence for a while.

Buffy was the first to speak up.

"He forgave me, you know. Just like that. 'It's okay...' he said. Why

would he do that? After what I did?" Her voice was getting smaller.

Tara gave the Slayer a sidelong look.

"He loves you. It's obvious. He's t-t-aking whatever he can get from

you."

Buffy didn't respond. They were nearing Spike's crypt, and both halted,

seeing the door wide open.

"D-Does he usually leave his door open?" Tara whispered.

"No, he doesn't. Paranoid and everything." She pulled a stake from her

jacket and crouched low. "Come on."

They crept forward, slowly, Buffy entering the crypt first. Tara followed

nervously, a defensive spell on her lips.

Buffy furrowed her brow, looking around. Her Slayer sense told her the

place was empty. Worry began to clutch at her chest.

"Spike?" she shouted, tucking her stake away, and relaxing somewhat. She

turned to Tara, watching as the girl also relaxed her battle stance.

"He's not here. Where would he go? He wasn't really in any condition for

a midnight stroll."

Tara nodded, looking around.

"Do you think something happened to...to him?"

The look on the Slayer's face answered her question.

//////

Spike's eyes snapped open. His first thought was 'Ow...,' his second

coming a few moments later. Wait a sec, this isn't my crypt...

"Stand up," came a voice from somewhere to his right.

He frowned. Who in the hell thought to give him orders? He turned his head

to see for himself.

Ah. Robot-boy and his two friends. Ha. He just stared at the group,

puzzled amusement reflecting on his battered features.

Warren sighed.

"Spot, you're going to learn really quick not to disobey me. When I say

stand up, you stand up!"

That was it. Spike dissolved into laughter -- riproaring, in your face,

you bleedin' idiots kinda laughter.

Warren's face turned beet red in anger. He held out the control and pushed

the yellow button.

Spike's laughter choked off and came to a screeching halt as the chip went

off full blast. He keened and grabbed his head, curling his knees close to

his chest. The bastard held the button for thirty full seconds before

releasing it.

"Stand up," floated again into Spike's hearing when rational thought

returned. Glaring the full-on 'I'm gonna tear you to little bits' glare he

was famous for, he slowly pulled himself to his feet.

Warren smiled.

"Good boy. Now, you're not to speak unless spoken to. You're not to move

unless you're told. And you will do everything we say, without hesitation.

Understand?"

Spike scoffed.

"Not bleedin'...," he began, and yelped when the chip went off again, nearly

sending him to his knees.

"This is so cool." Andrew fidgeted excitedly. "It's just like that Star

Trek episode when Picard got captured by the...."

"Shut up, Andrew." Warren snapped.

Panting, Spike watched this interaction.

Warren grinned, looking back to Spike.

"Now, it's time for your paper training, Spot."

Spike grinned right back.

"They say you can't teach an old dog new tricks..."

The sound of agonized wailing echoed throughout the basement lair of the

Troika.

"This is going to be harder than I thought..." Warren said over the vampire's

screams, finger still holding the yellow button down.

"How are we supposed to train him anyway? He's a vampire, Warren. They

aren't exactly trustworthy." Jonathan asked.

"It's easy. Like an animal, he will respond to negative and positive

reinforcement. All we have to do is make him see that we are in charge.

Then we have ourselves our very own trained attack vampire."

He released the button and the screaming stopped. Spike's eyes were squeezed

shut, blood trickling from his nose.

"Stand up, Spot." Warren commanded. He watched as the vampire struggled

slowly back to his feet.

"Now, what's your name?" he asked.

Spike panted, trying to gather his shattered thoughts.

"Spike," he said, and was zapped again, a quick jolt of intense pain

tearing through his head.

"Wrong. What's your name?"

He drew in a deep breath.

"WILLIAM THE FUCKIN' BLOODY!" he shouted, before falling over again,

clutching his head tightly and biting his tongue to keep from screaming.

"Stand up," Warren commanded again, this time through clenched teeth.

Wiping blood from his nose, he did as he was told, as quickly as he could.

The pillock had held the button for a good two minutes that time. He wasn't

about to repeat that experience again.

"What's your name?"

"Spot," Spike replied, gritting his teeth.

Warren grinned, and Andrew clapped his hands in excitement. Jonathan had

long ago stopped watching.

"Good boy."

'Dear The Slayer....'

"What if he's writing in some sort of code?" Andrew asked, watching the

shaking hand of their new 'pet' form words on a sheet of paper.

Warren waved a hand.

"His mind's totally blown, guys. He's not going to be thinking about codes

at all." He leaned over the hunched vampire's shoulder, scrutinizing the

note. "Make it as realistic as possible, Spot. She has to think it's from

you."

He turned his attention to the others again after Spike nodded. Clapping

his hands together, he rubbed them fiercely, grinning.

"So, this will throw her off the scent, give us a bit more time. She was

getting way too close. Spot's training is almost complete. A few more days

and bam! He'll be ripping her throat out."

"That is so cool." Andrew replied excitedly, almost hopping up and down.

He examined the vampire and the note. "Do you think we should, like, feed

him or something? He's getting kinda thin."

Warren scoffed.

"No. He's easier to control hungry." He snatched the now finished note

from the table, reading it quickly, and then looking to Spike.

"You are aware you write like a toddler, right?" The vampire ignored him,

of course. Warren chuckled, and handed the note to Andrew.

"Get one of your demon buddies to deliver this. If all goes well tonight,

we go into action tomorrow. For the test run."

Andrew grinned and turned around, clutching the note to his chest. He

paused, his eyes moving over the basement hideaway.

"Hey, where's Jonathan?"

////

[The next day...]

"So, what's the big bad?" Xander asked, falling onto the couch beside

Willow, eyeing the piece of paper the fairly pale Slayer held in her hands.

"Any word on the whereabouts of our missing vamp?"

Buffy shook herself out of her thoughts and handed the paper to them. Spike

had been gone for nearly two weeks. It didn't make sense. She had searched

high and low for him, beating up the entire cast and crew of Willy's, asking

Giles to use his Watcher connections elsewhere, and still, not a word about

the very noticeable vampire.

"Yeah. Found this this morning. It's...not right. I know his handwriting;

he writes better than this."

Xander frowned at the paper, before Willow snatched it out of his hands,

scanning the page.

'Dear The Slayer.'

'Tired of games. Leaving town now. I'll be back.'

'I love you.'

'William the Bloody'

Both Buffy and Xander watched her anxiously as she re-read the note

carefully, studying the way the letters were written, delving for clues.

"Well...," the former witch started, chewing on her lip. "The only thing I

can think of..." She furrowed her brow, noticing a pattern. "Every

sentence has three words. Huh."

"Three words?" Buffy sat forward. "What does that mean?"

Willow frowned and shook her head. "It could mean a lot of things. We

all know that Spike has a better grasp of the English language than this. And

the way he wrote..." She chewed on her lip again. "Like he was shaking.

Maybe someone made him write it? And he was trying to clue us in....Oh!"

Her eyes lit up and she started gesturing wildly. "Warren, Jonathan...and...

that guy! Three of them? Maybe...?" Her voice trailed off as she realized

it was pretty unlikely. For the fifth time that week, she suddenly felt

like she was needed somewhere. She had been passing it off as yet another

symptom of magic withdrawal, but she felt like someone was calling to her,

and if she only reached out and....No. No magic.

Not noticing the internal struggle occurring within her best friend, Buffy

spoke up.

"No...maybe you're right." She drew a deep breath. "This is our first real

clue. And the way the note is written.....Maybe 'I'll be back' means it's

all going to be okay?" Now she was the one reaching.

"I don't know, but Bleach Boy has got to be seriously messed up to write

something like this. Especially adding the 'I love you.' part....He's

desperate."

Buffy nodded in agreement with Xander, standing up.

"Xander, come with me. We'll start...I don't know, looking around. Dawn's

with Tara for the night, so she's safe....Willow, would you look around

online? See if you can find Warren's computer or something...."

Willow nodded at her friend, standing up to see them out the door.

"Yeah, I'm already pretty close. Be careful, guys..."

////

"But what about Jonathan?" Andrew asked, as they loaded Spike into the

back of their van.

"Screw him. We'll deal with him later. The test run's going to go as

planned. I think our Spot here deserves himself a meal, right?"

Andrew frowned, looking at the vampire. He had started breathing again.

That always unnerved Andrew. For the life of him, he couldn't figure out why

he did it.

"Yeah. He can barely stand, much less fight the Slayer."

Warren grinned at him while starting the engine.

"He won't have to fight her, numb-nuts. She trusts him. He'll take her

totally by surprise." He made a vague gesture to the back of the van. "Get

him wired up. We're rolling."

Andrew did as he was told, fitting a tiny piece of black plastic into the

vampire's ear while Warren steered them toward their destination. He had

finished by the time the van rolled to a stop.

Warren turned around, regarding the vampire, and pulling out the remote

control. He grinned in sick satisfaction when Spike flinched.

"Now, Spot, here are your orders. Find some girl, and feed. Then, go to

the Slayer's house and pick up one of her little friends, and bring them back

here. Do you understand?"

Spike nodded, keeping his eyes carefully downcast.

"Good. Now remember, we will be able to hear everything. If anything

seems amiss...." He hit the button quickly, causing a yelp from the

vampire. "Go."

Spike drew himself up on shaky legs, and exited the van.

Warren chuckled and spun around in his chair.

"Now the real fun begins...."

Spike stumbled along the nearly empty street, his thoughts whirling. One

name kept repeating itself in his mind, as it had since this whole thing

had begun, hoping against hope that some thread of the mental connection

that they once shared would still be alive.

'Willow, Willow, Willow, Willow....'

"Hurry up, Spot, if this takes all night, I swear to God...," an annoyed

voice chirped in his ear, causing him to stumble in surprise. He squeezed

his eyes shut, stopping in the middle of the road. Gotta do it, he thought.

Gotta get it done. Just go and find some bint....

And he found her. Lovely girl, standing in a halo of a streetlight.

Alone. Anxiously awaiting some ride, perhaps, someone she cared for. The

last thread of sanity in him wondered why he was ingraining her face into his

mind, speculating about her life. He watched her from the shadows, an

innocent standing there, and mused about what her parents would think, if

she had a boyfriend, and if the wanker would miss her, what her laugh

sounded like....

He leapt from the shadows drunkenly, and yanked her into the alley with

him. He knew what her scream sounded like. What her fear smelt like. What

about a smile, huh? No, not going to get that.

He was so weak with hunger and delirium, it took him a little while to get

her shoved up against the wall. He held her by the throat with one hand as

she pleaded, tears glistening in her eyes. Please don't's, and take

anything you want's mixed in with don't hurt me's.

But that's what he was going to do, wasn't it? What he was supposed to do.

Hurt her. Take her life. His shaking hand shifted to her shoulder,

pinning her there as his face contorted in demonic rage. He rushed at

her neck, biting hard, half surprised when the chip didn't punish him. It

would punish him if he didn't do this. He knew what her life tasted of now.

He drank deep, a thirsty man in a desert, blood burning his parched

tongue.

He pulled away and watched her slide bonelessly to the ground, his human

face back in place. Curious, he thought. How strange it was to be standing

here again, in this very moment. He'd been here before. Many, many times,

in many different places. In different times.

He turned, only a little less weaker than he had been before. God, did he

want more.

"Good job, Spot. Now go get one of the Slayer's friends and come back."

He nodded, even though he knew somewhere that they couldn't see him. It

didn't matter; that's what he was supposed to do.

No one, not even he, noticed the girl stagger out of the alley, holding a

hand to her bleeding throat, and run off.

////

"Oh goddess..." Willow breathed, the elation of having finally broken into

Warren's computer crashing quickly as she read what was on the screen before

her. Spike. Oh gods.

So she was right. The three nerds did have Spike. And what they were

doing...Warren had described it with pride. And in detail. She felt sick

to her stomach. They were planning on doing something tonight, but he

hadn't specified. She needed to find Buffy, and fast.

She stood up, and started down the stairs, when a noise made her freeze.

The house was dark. The only light on was in her room, since a tight budget

was forcing them to cut down on electricity.

"Hullo?" she breathed, making her way down the stairs slowly.

Not a sound. Only the darkness answered. She reached for the light

switch, looking around the living room, when her breath caught in her

throat. Spike.

He moved slowly out of the shadows, purely predator. Stalking. She'd seen

him like this many times before, and had hoped never to again. At least,

not when looking at her. His lips were bloodied, his skin paler than she

had ever seen it. Skin sunken into his face, making his eyes and cheekbones

stand out in a frightening way.

"Spike?" she asked quietly, backing up. And then he was on her. Her

shriek was cut off as he slammed her against the wall, knocking the breath

out of her for a moment. One cold shaking hand clapped over her mouth,

hard, her own teeth cutting the inside of her lip. She stared panicked into

his wild blue eyes, feeling sorry for him and terrified beyond imagination

of him at the same time.

He slowly raised the other hand, bringing it to his lips in a shushing

motion. She nodded quickly, watching as he turned his head, pointing at the

thing inside his ear. He growled suddenly, and smashed his fist through the

wall beside her head, causing her to shriek out again, the sound muffled by

his hand. But she was beginning to understand. He was making it sound like

he was killing her.

He slowly removed his hand from her mouth and rested his forehead against

hers, as if all his strength had suddenly been drained. He was shaking,

terribly, and she realized it was because he hadn't eaten anything, if

Warren's notes were correct, in two weeks. Cold fear leapt up in her throat

again. She remained still, fearing to make any move at all, as he tapped

the side of her head, then tapped his own temple.

She furrowed her brow in confusion, as he repeated the gesture a few times,

before she understood, and shook her head quickly. No magic. He growled

and did it again, harder. His bloodshot blue eyes inches from her own,

pleading. This was serious. It wasn't really magic anyway, just a psychic

ability, right? She closed her eyes, reaching out just a little, snatching

onto the thread she had laid in his mind that horrible summer, and....

[Willow, Willow, Willow, Willow....]

[Spike!]

[Willow....help....robot boy and his pals....]

[We know, Spike, we know. Buffy's out looking for them right now. Please

don't kill me?] she added as an afterthought, hoping it didn't drive him

over the edge.

His shoulders shook in silent laughter. His head rolled against hers.

[Killed a girl. Pretty girl. Standin' there all alone, in the dark. Had

to, they told me to, had to. Pretty girl with a mommy and daddy. And a

wanker boyfriend. Why'd they leave her alone? She didn't need to be alone.

She laughed pretty. I know she did....]

His internal rant continued. Willow paled at the horror of it. He had

killed again. And by the way he was describing it, even though he was

obviously on the edge of sanity, he had felt guilty about it.

[Spike!] she interrupted. [What do you have to do? Why are you here?]

[Want me to bring them a friend of The Slayer. Hurry up, Spot, won't be

waiting all night. Gotta do it.]

[I know. I know. Let me...uh....write a note for Buffy. Do you know

where they will take me?]

[1315 Elm. 1315, 1315...]

[Alright. I have to move, Spike.]

He didn't move. He still had her pressed to the wall, his forehead on

hers, talking once again about the girl he killed.

[Brown hair. She probably liked to braid it. Pretty girl. Oh god...]

his nostrils flared, scenting the blood of Willow's cut lip. [Hungry...so

hungry.]

Willow stilled again, fearing for her life.

[If...if you kill me, they'll be mad. They'll punish you more.]

He nodded against her head.

[Gotta go. Gotta do it.]

She pulled a pen out of her pocket and wrote the address down on the wall

behind her, hoping she got it right even with the awkward angle of her hand.

[Take me then, Spike.]

[Spot, they say...]

[No, you're Spike. You'll always be Spike.]

His thoughts stilled. Almost a minute passed before he thought anything else

at all.

[Sorry. Don't want to. Sorry, Willow. You're a pretty girl too.]

He pulled his head back and then slammed it hard into hers. Pain blossomed

in her head, and her knees gave out. He pulled her along behind him,

gathering her up into his arms when she could no longer walk. Dizzily, she

watched as he yanked the door open and stumbled out of the Summers'

household. Her vision blurred, and she struggled briefly, before the

darkness overwhelmed her.

((Do you feel the way you hate?))

((Do you hate the way you feel?))

((Always closer to the flame...))

((Ever closer to the blame...))

((Blame....))

[Spike...]

Stormy blue, bloodshot eyes flicked to Willow, for a second. She was

waking up. He watched her, tilting his head as she sat up, taking in the

room, her bound hands, and then looking to him.

"Spot! I didn't tell you you could move!" Warren shouted.

Spike winced, and ducked his head, snapping his gaze back to the position

Warren had left him in.

"She's awake," Andrew stated, pointing at the redhead.

"Ahh. Hello Willow. Welcome to our humble abode." Warren grinned like

mad.

"What...do you want with me?" Willow asked, frowning.

"You're bait. We knew the Slayer wouldn't come for the vampire." He was

pleased with Spike's reaction to the comment, another wince. "So we had to

take other steps."

"She's really pretty, Warren..." Andrew leered, and then jumped back six

inches at the sudden warning growl rumbling in Spike's throat.

All eyes turned to him again.

Protective instinct had driven the growl from him. He didn't even realize

he was doing it until Andrew had jumped.

"Spot, what the hell was that?" Warren asked, pulling out the control.

Spike shifted in his uncomfortable crouched posture, not looking up. The

growl rumbled to a halt. He didn't respond. Willow watched, wide-eyed.

"I asked you a question, Spot." Warren continued, pressing the yellow

button.

Spike yelped, and dug his fingers into his hair, falling over onto his

side. He tugged at his hair, nearly ripping it out at the roots, as if it

would make the pain stop.

"Stop it!" Willow shouted, her stomach turning. It was one thing to read

about what they were doing to him, quite another to witness it for herself.

Warren gave her an amused look, and released the button.

"Spot?"

The vampire slowly uncurled his hands from his hair and looked up at

Warren.

"I don't wan' you to hurt her." came the soft response, his voice gravelly

from lack of use.

Warren laughed. And took a step toward Willow.

((I am poisoned crazy lush..))

((Will these hands to lift me up...))

((We are servants of our formulaic ways...))

With a vicious growl, Spike pushed himself up and leapt in front of Willow,

panting. Oddly enough, even with this amount of disobedience, he remained in

the crouched position.

[Spike, don't! They won't kill me, they need me...] Willow's mental voice

trailed off, as Warren hit the button again. She trembled, the direct link

allowing her to sense the amount of pain Spike was going through.

Spike screamed, and curled into a ball, his whole form shaking, his hands

clawing at his head.

((I'm screaming daisies...))

((From fourteen miles away...))

((I've got my own time...))

((Got it all today...))

He took in shuddering, unnecessary breaths as the pain stopped and rational

thought and reality came crashing back.

"...If you do that again, I swear to the Gods, I'll..." Willow was

saying, her voice laced with malice.

"You'll what? You're not really in a position to make demands, girl,"

Warren replied.

Spike's eyes flickered to Willow's face, floating above him. She gave

Warren the cruelest smirk he'd ever seen her give. He wondered irrationally

if she'd been taking lessons from him.

((Make...))

((Up your mind...))

((Need some help...))

((Fight this mind, mind, mind....))

"I happen to be the most powerful of our little group. I'm even stronger

than Buffy. I don't like doing it, but I could make the both of you bleed

from every pore in your body with a single thought. Let. Us. Go." Willow

radiated confidence, her eyes swearing that she could back that statement

up.

Spike wondered whether or not she was bluffing. He shook his head several

times in a vain attempt to clear it, and pulled himself back up until he was sitting

upright.

[Willow, don't...Spot's not worth it...]

[Spike, shut up.]

He winced, half expecting the blinding pain again, since he had obviously

made her angry. He lowered his head, and absently wiped at his nose, attempting

to clean away the stream of blood there.

((Limbo this, and limbo that...))

((You were this and you were that...))

((Ever know that what you fear is what you find...))

Warren paled slightly, also unsure if Willow was bluffing or not. She

had suddenly begun to radiate the impression of power. Gone was the shy schoolgirl

Warren had taken her for.

((This Indian summer...))

((I signed my life away...))

((There's a greedy fly in here...))

((And I'll fly away...))

His finger slipped from the yellow button, and rested lightly on the red,

not pressing it. He hadn't figured on rebellion from "Spot" or his new captive, but

what had she said -- let US go? He could adjust his strategy.

"If you so much as try anything," he addressed Willow, "I'll press this button.

Once I do, there's no going back. The chip will continue to fire until he's dead. Even

I can't stop it."

((Make...))

((Up your mind...))

((Need some help...))

((Fight this mind, mind, mind...))

///

"Oh my god..." Xander choked, staring at Willow's still glowing computer

screen. They had returned only moments ago, to find the front door open,

and the wall by the stairs smashed in. Their search for the nerds hadn't

been fruitless; their fruit was in the form of Jonathan, who was sitting

downstairs on the couch, an angry Slayer standing over him.

Xander felt a pang of sympathy for Spike, reading Warren's detailed account

of the vampire's 'training'. Even Spike didn't deserve this. Nothing on the

face of the planet deserved this. Bastards. Xander felt the overwhelming

urge to grab an axe and bury it in Jonathan's head for allowing this to go

as far as it did.

He shut off the computer screen and made his way back downstairs, watching

as Buffy hung up the phone.

"What's up?" he asked.

"Tara and Dawn are on their way. Dawn is going to come with us, I can't

take the chance of leaving her alone right now. And we need Tara."

Xander nodded, running a hand through his hair.

"What's wrong?" she asked, taking in his slightly green pallor.

"Found Will's comp all logged on to Warren's upstairs. She cracked it, I

guess. He was pretty...graphic about what they're doing to Spike."

Buffy's eyes blazed with anger for a moment, before she turned to

Jonathan.

"Alright. You came for asylum. You've got it. In the form of 'I'm not

going to rip your head off right now.' Talk."

The boy fidgeted.

"I can take you to them. That, uh, address on the wall is correct. But I

can show you how to get in and stuff. It's not hard. They were, uh,

planning on taking one of your friends, to get you to come to them. They

won't expect you to come before they send a ransom note."

Xander stared at him.

"Why are you doing this? Betraying them?"

Jonathan met his eyes.

"Even I couldn't stomach what they were doing. They want to kill all of

you, or, at least Warren does, and Andrew is following him. I didn't sign

up to kill people."

Buffy shrugged.

"Doesn't matter. You'll take us to them. Xander, get some weapons. When

the others get here, we're leaving."

((Make...)

((Up your mind...))

((Need some help...))

((Fight this mind, mind, mind...))

The house looked nondescript. Dilapidated was the word for it. The

windows were boarded up, and the roof was caving in in certain parts. The lawn

was nothing more than a dirt lot; broken glass, glittering in the light of the

nearly full moon, shone like snow across its surface.

Buffy approached slowly, alone. The others had gone around the back of

the house, waiting for her signal before going in. She wasn't risking anyone

else in this.

Her thoughts spun quickly through her head. Jonathan had described the

layout of the underground basement in full detail, including where they were

most likely holding Spike and Willow. It wouldn't be too hard to find them.

What she would do when she did was anyone's guess. In the back of her mind, she

knew that she might have to stake Spike. But thinking about it in depth made

her stomach churn, so she didn't bother. She'd cross that bridge when she got

there.

She crouched low and gently lifted the rotting wooden door that led to

the basement stairs. Pulling a small dagger from her belt, she descended.

////

Spike tensed suddenly, his nerves tingling in the oddest way. He

remembered this, somewhere. It meant something special, that something was

coming....

His head jerked up, calling Warren's attention to him. He watched,

idly twirling a quarter between his fingers, as the vampire's eyes flicked about,

muscles jerking slightly. Spike didn't notice, however. The feeling tugged at

him, calling him, comforting him somehow. The corner of his mouth twitched.

"Spot? Something you wanna share with the rest of the class?"

The vampire wilted immediately, lowering his head and stilling. Warren

chuckled, and flicked the coin at Spike. It bounced off his shoulder and

clanged to the ground.

[Willow. Slayer's here.]

Willow jerked awake, glancing at Spike and then to Warren. She took a

few calming breaths and worked her hands, loosening her bonds somewhat.

A red light suddenly flashed above the door to the stairwell, signaling

that the motion detector had gone off. Warren jumped to his feet, Andrew

hurrying to his side.

"I swear to God, Andrew, if that damn cat set off the alarm again, it's

dead. Spot, defend!" Warren grated.

"It's not MY fault. You're the one who wanted to feed it," grumbled

Andrew, as Spike shot to his feet, facing the door.

The door smashed apart, flying open in a shower of splinters.

Brushing herself off, Buffy stepped in and grinned at the room.

"Wow. You guys having a get-together?" Her eyes roamed the room,

noting everyone's positions. She crossed her arms and flipped her hair. "If

I'd have known, I would have brought punch."

Warren licked his lips nervously, and gestured.

"Spot, kill her. Now!"

Spike took a step forward, clenching his fists tightly at his sides.

His breath was already coming in gasps. She was an angel, standing there, so

confident. He stared at her, transfixed for a moment, until a sharp burst of

pain behind his eyes brought him back to his task.

"Spot! NOW!" Warren shrieked, grabbing Andrew by the arm and backing

away.

Spike staggered slightly, shaking his head quickly, pulled up his fists,

resting lightly on his toes.

Buffy stared at him, terrified for him. She really didn't want to hurt

him. Not again. Not after what he had been through. She had seen the look in

his eyes; she knew he was still there, just being forced into this action. If

she could take him down quickly, and get to Warren and Andrew, this would all

be over.

"Willow, you okay?" she called to her friend, her eyes never leaving

Spike.

"I'm...fine, Buffy." Willow pushed herself to her feet, working

frantically now on the ropes that bound her hands. "Be careful. He's...not

all there."

"I know, Wills," she responded, before jerking her head back to avoid

Spike's first blow, the rush of wind from his fist touching her face. She

counter-attacked on instinct, driving her knee at his stomach. The blow landed

and bent him over, but he recovered quickly, and threw a solid uppercut. She

backstepped, but not quickly enough, and his fist crashed into her chin,

clacking her teeth together painfully and nearly driving her off her feet.

Taking advantage of her momentary stunned state, he whipped his right leg

around in a roundhouse kick, and sent her spiraling to the ground.

Buffy pushed herself up on her hands, and shook her head, quickly

getting back to her feet. It was strangely eerie fighting Spike in silence.

None of the usual banter flowed between them. Otherwise, she might be having

fun. There was nothing fun about the pained and lost look in his eyes. He

kept his gaze on her face, but never met her own. His fighting was normally

passionate and beautiful. Poetry. Now, it was just dead. She needed to end

it, and fast.

"Spike!" she said sternly, moving quickly back toward him. His eyes

snapped up to her own for a second, before finding the floor. She smiled

grimly and pulled her fist back, slamming it hard into the side of his temple,

pouring all of her Slayer strength into the blow. He staggered, and then

collapsed, panting. She raised both eyebrows in respect, at the fact he

wasn't unconscious. But he wasn't getting up for a while either way.

"Sorry, baby." she told him, feeling slightly giddy. It was almost over.

She stepped over him, her eyes burning into the two nerds before her.

Willow finally worked free of her bonds and joined her.

"This is going to be SO much fun..." the Slayer said cheerfully,

stepping toward them.

"Stop! No closer!" Warren shouted, his voice high-pitched in panic.

He held the remote out before him, hand shaking.

Willow grabbed Buffy's arm and stilled her.

"He said if he pushes that button, it'll kill Spike."

Buffy frowned, looking to the vampire who was already struggling to his

feet, and then to Warren. She crossed her arms.

"How?"

Warren, feeling a bit more in control, grinned, happy to explain.

"It'll put the signal on an irreversible loop. Nothing can stop it.

The chip will continue to fire until he's dust."

Buffy paled slightly, but tried to hide behind a scowl.

"What do you want?"

Warren held the control tighter, thumb resting lightly on the red button.

He licked his lips.

"I'll let them both go in exchange for you."

Buffy opened her mouth to respond, but never got the chance to.

"No." came Spike's grated voice from behind her.

There was a sudden rush of air as Spike charged past her growling, and

launched himself at Warren.

"Spike, no!" Buffy screamed, and joined him. Andrew promptly fainted,

taking himself off the somewhat dangerous list.

Spike smashed his forehead into Warren's, knocking the boy out in a

single blow as Buffy reached them. He stood quickly, backing away as if burned,

shaking violently.

The controller buzzed softly in Warren's limp hand, the red button firmly

depressed.

Buffy's world suddenly centered around that little red button. Thoughts

of 'Maybe he was bluffing...' and 'maybe it didn't work...' filtered through her

head. She raised her foot and smashed the controller with the heel of her boot,

grinding it to little bits. 'Maybe it has a delay...'

She turned to her lover, watching him, as he stood there, panting, his

eyes locked on Warren, fists clenching and unclenching. He was shaking still.

"Spike?" she said softly, reaching out a hand to him.

He flinched violently away from her touch, and then gritted his teeth, and

dragged his eyes up to meet hers.

"Love...you..." he gasped out, before he jerked, the chip firing full blast.

He shrieked and collapsed.

Time moves slower when you're afraid. Each heartbeat is felt like a knife

through your chest. Each breath burns your lungs.

Fear is the oldest of emotions.

It's what keeps you up at night, your pulse pounding in your eardrums.

You hold your breath most of the time, trying not to make a sound while you

strain to distinguish what is harmful and not harmful among the voices of the night.

Fear of what is creeping, hiding just beyond your vision, in the shadows your

eyes can't pierce. Fear of the darkness you hold inside yourself, that taste

of evil, that licks at your soul until you actually fear yourself.

But helpless fear is the worst. Watching something happen that you can't

prevent, no matter how strong, how quick, or smart you are. Standing

frozen, as it creates blocks of ice in your insides, sharp glass in your

throat.

A part of you convinces yourself that it's not happening. Fantastical

scenarios flitter through your thoughts, but the reality is still there.

Buffy had only felt this fear once before, seeing her mother lying

motionless on the couch. She had panicked then, screaming her mother's name,

trying to revive her already cold body. Helpless.

This time, she froze. No movement came from her as Spike collapsed. She

watched, disconnected, as Willow rushed to his side, trying to still his

struggling, only to be thrown away. As the others came in, soundless,

alerted by Spike's wails, that was the only thing she heard. The screaming.

She heard it clearly, but at the same time muddied, as though she were

floating in water. She wasn't supposed to be feeling this way. For him.

So frightened of losing him. He was evil. Soulless. A vampire. She

shouldn't care.

The world crashed back into being at her sister's terrified cry of her

name. Only seconds had passed, but the eternity of fear had dragged the moment

out forever.

"Buffy, what do we do?" Willow asked, still attempting to still the

vampire's violent thrashing.

"I...don't know..." the slayer muttered, before taking over, moving

finally, and taking charge. She pressed the heels of her hands on Spike's

shoulders, straddling him and holding him down with her weight. He bucked

wildly, gritting his teeth. The screaming continued.

Tara shielded Dawn, holding her tightly against her chest, as the girl

sobbed, covering her ears. Tara looked pained, but took the weight of

Dawn's grief for the suffering of her sworn protector. Willow softly

explained the situation to Xander.

He raised his voice, hitting the floor beside Buffy, helping hold Spike.

"Maybe, we should just....He's suffering, Buffy...."

Buffy shook her head violently, the exertion getting to her. Her breath

came in gasps.

"No...We have to do something! Willow, is there a spell, or something?"

Willow started to shake her head, passing a glance to Tara, but stopped.

Her eyes widened.

"Oh...Oh! Tara! Do you remember, that spell I taught you? The ionization

spell? It might be enough to block the signal for awhile, or at least

disrupt it, give us some time...."

Tara nodded, gently curling Dawn on the floor. The girl was getting hold

of herself, slowly, biting her lip against fresh tears.

"I...th-think I can do it," Tara said softly, almost unheard above the

din.

Tara kneeled, giving Willow a small smile, and took her hand. Energy

lending wouldn't hurt, not at this juncture. Willow had a reasonably good

handle on her dark magic addiction, and wasn't afraid this would tempt her.

Tara's magic was pure light.

Tara began to chant, softly, her head down, eyes closed. She held her

palm out, a soft green glow beginning to form in its center.

Spike's struggling was growing weaker. The fear leapt up in Buffy's

throat again, and it was all she could do to hold on. Blood streamed from his

nose and one ear, pooling on the floor under his head. She leaned her full

weight on her arms, trusting Xander to hold his legs, and started whispering

to her vampire.

"Hold on, please, just a little longer, you can do this, I know you can,

come on, Spike...." A litany of hope.

The air began to crackle with energy, and then exploded, harmlessly. Buffy

felt her hair rise, and chanced a look at the others. Everyone's hair was

standing on end.

"It worked!" cried Willow in triumph.

Spike tensed once more, straining against his captors, before falling back

to the floor, panting. He whimpered and mumbled, unintelligibly, twitching.

Buffy relaxed, catching her breath. She looked over at the two witches.

"How long will the spell hold?"

"I..I don't really know...I've never done it before...Maybe an hour? At

most..." Tara answered.

Dawn crawled closer to her sister and Spike, reaching out to touch the

blonde vampire on the head, but pulled away again when he flinched violently,

nearly bucking Buffy off of him again.

"What are we going to do?" she whispered.

Buffy bit her lip. She looked at her sister's pained expression, and then

to Xander's sick one. Willow and Tara had an almost mirror expression of

compassion on their faces. She made a decision.

"We have to get the chip out, and we have to do it now."

Xander looked at her as if she were crazy.

"Buffy, do you realize what you are saying? Even if we knew how to do it,

even if he survived, he would be free. He would kill again, probably starting

with us!"

Dawn gave him a glare that matched Spike's famous one in malice.

"You know that's NOT true. How many times has he saved your life, Xander?

I am not going to let him die! He withstood TORTURE for me. He fell off a

100-something story tower. FOR ME! I love him, and he's not going to die.

I don't care what you say."

Xander was taken aback. He melted, as all the Scoobies did when Dawn was

this angry and upset.

"Dawnie, I'm sorry, I'm just..."

The former key shook her head, giving him a tiny smile.

"Yeah, I know. It's alright."

Buffy's heart went out to them both. Her sister loved this vampire. And

she had a feeling she was getting there. She certainly loved him like she

loved Willow and Xander and Tara. But more than that? She was getting

there.

"He even stole that motorcycle for me," Dawn added, with a touch of

pride.

Spike jerked and whimpered again, bringing everyone's attention back to

him.

"So, how are we going to do it? I don't really know any neurosurgeons,"

Xander said, edging closer in case the struggling started again.

Silence filled the room. No one really knew. Even one of the scientists

who put the chip in couldn't take it out.

"I can do it." Willow said softly.

Everyone looked at her. Xander spoke first.

"Willow, you know you can't..."

"I have to, Xander. It's the only way. If...If Tara helps me, I can do

it. I have control now. It doesn't control me."

Tara squeezed her hand.

"Sweetie, are you sure? I mean..."

"Yeah. I can do this. I know I can."

Tara nodded, and then bit her lip, looking to Buffy.

"I'll have to drop the ionization spell to help. Can't have any

conflicting energies. We'll do it as quickly as we can."

Buffy nodded, and got a tighter grip on Spike's shoulders. He was just

starting to come around. His eyes were open, and staring at her in a cross

between fear and curiosity. It broke her heart.

"Spike, it's okay. We're going to fix you. You just have to hold on,

okay?"

He blinked, his eyes shifting to the side, then back to her. He licked his

lips.

"What..." he began. "What do you want?"

Tears formed in her eyes. She shook her head.

"Just be strong." She leaned down and kissed his forehead gently, ignoring

Xander's startled exclamation.

She leaned up and sniffed, wiping a hand across her eyes, and then

returning it to his shoulder.

"Do it."

Tara spoke a word and the charge in the air vanished. Spike's eyes

widened, and then slammed shut. He screamed once, then cut it off and bit

his lip, hard enough to make it bleed.

Willow took a deep breath, and started gathering her power. And her power

was immense. The empty void that had been inside her since she stopped

using magic was suddenly filled again, and it felt wonderful. But she

didn't linger on the feeling. She focused her thoughts, and dug for more,

energy lacing around her body. She felt Tara's energy begin to pour into

her, love and trust. She smiled, and let the magic inside fully, her eyes

filling with inky blackness.

She found what she needed immediately. All she needed was to think of the

problem and the spell would come to her. She reached out, and held her hand

above Spike's forehead. Her energy, red sparks, laced around Tara's white,

and she began to chant.

"Prometheus, giver of fire, giver of healing, heed my call!"

Spike jerked and screamed again.

"Extinguish pain, and bring it out. Bind pain, intruder rout."

Spike went deathly still, all his muscles clenched, rock hard.

"My will be done!" Willow screamed, and a light flashed.

Something snapped. Willow's hand jerked, and closed into a fist. Spike

let out one last scream, and then collapsed, breathing for a moment, before

he passed out completely.

Buffy was shocked to find tears streaming down her face. She looked up at

Willow. The black was already draining from her eyes.

The witch smiled at her. She was panting, sweat pouring from her brow,

blood trickling from her nose.

She opened her hand and turned it over. Something small and metallic hit

the floor above Spike's head with a gentle tinkling.

"I did it...." she breathed, and sank into Tara's arms, unconscious.

He was trapped.

Motionless, eyes riveted to a single point in space, watching. In a

flurry of blonde hair and black leather, the two fighters tore into each

other, ripping and kicking and biting. There was nothing else, but the two

of them, and the battle was horrific. Blood already pooled on the floor,

splattered the walls.

The Slayer always appeared about to win. She would knock the faceless

beast down, but each time it would get back up, and push on. It was wearing

her down, and all he could do was watch. He couldn't even voice his horror

at it.

And he knew he was doing this, that he was this faceless creature. But

how could it be him? He wouldn't blacken her eyes with his fists, tear her

flesh with his claws. He would never do that. And yet there he was,

watching himself.

The battle raged on.

***

"Open the door!" Buffy shouted, as Spike began to struggle in her arms.

Xander rushed ahead of her, fumbling with the keys before popping open the

Magic Box door. Buffy practically fell through it, the bell ringing crazily

above her head.

"Training room." she puffed out, grunting as her hold on the vampire

slipped a little. She hoisted him back up, tightening her grip to the point

of pain, and pressed on.

Xander again held the door as she struggled into the back room, and dropped

Spike on a training mat, falling to her knees soon afterward.

"Spike...Spike!" she shouted, trying to reach him, restrain him, and dodge

wild blows all at the same time. "Stop!"

She felt tears pricking her eyes again, but refused to let them fall. His

eyes weren't even open. God, what if he had brain damage?

Someone flipped on the lights.

"Buffy, he's not even awake. I think we need to...chain him up or

something." Xander spoke from behind her, refusing to look at the scene.

"Yeah..." Buffy breathed, exhausted. "There's some in the weapons chest."

"Here..." he grabbed them and locked the manacles around Spike's wrists,

looping the chain around a strong pipe in the wall. They both backed up

quickly to avoid the kicking feet.

He continued to thrash for a few moments, while Buffy and Xander watched in

silence, unsure what to do. From the front they could hear Tara making an

'anonmyous tip' about where the police could find the stolen diamond and the

murderers of Katrina Silver.

They had left Warren and Andrew in their 'lair', securely bound and gagged.

There was little else they could do; both were human. Not demons to be

slain. There had been a tense moment when Dawn had to be dragged away from

Warren, whom she had kicked squarely in the mouth, but Buffy didn't blame

her. She had had to struggle not to do much more herself.

The struggling finally stopped, and Spike sagged against the chains, still.

Xander looked away again, and helped Buffy back to her feet. He looked at

her lost expression and quickly pulled her into a hug.

"Hey...He's gonna be fine. It's Spike, remember?"

Buffy snorted, returning the embrace.

"Yeah. He won't ever go away when we want him to. This isn't any

different."

Tara poked her head in.

"I called Anya. She's on her way."

"She's so not gonna be happy about this..." Xander complained, referring

to the vampire locked in the training room, and he led Buffy out.

"How ya doing, Will?" The Slayer asked, sinking into one of the chairs

around the table.

"Good. Headachy, and dizzy, but good."

Dawn looked up from her study of the table, her eyes still red-rimmed.

"How is he?"

Buffy sighed, pushing a lock of hair out of her face.

"He's not good. When he wakes up...." she trailed off. If he wakes

up...."We'll see."

***

Sleeping that night had been hard. Knowing that he was alone, even for a

few hours, locked in the Magic Box, was killing her, but they had little

other choice. It was the only place strong enough to hold him that didn't

have any windows. Anya had promised she would come in early to check on

him, and call her if there was any change during the day. Everyone had

pretty much forced her to bed, all saying how much she needed her rest.

So Willow and Tara got a complaining Dawn off to school, while the Slayer

slept. She didn't even dream, she was so exhausted.

When the call finally came, it was around noon. It woke her instantly,

even though someone had answered it downstairs. She was changed and down

the stairs before Willow hung up.

"Was that Anya?" she asked.

Willow nodded, grabbing her coat.

"Yeah. He's awake. Tara!" She called. "We gotta go!"

***

Buffy increased her pace when she saw that the 'Closed' sign had been put

up on the Magic Box door. Anya had never closed the shop during the day,

unless there was something wrong. Xander's car was already out front. She

must have called him at work.

The three girls hurried inside, to an anxiously awaiting Anya, wringing her

hands.

"Thank god! He's been doing THAT for about a half an hour. Scared away my

money!" she whined. "I had to close early."

Growling and rattling of chains echoed from the back room.

"Has anyone been in there?" Buffy asked.

"No, I didn't go in." Xander paced near the door, running a hand through

his hair. "Didn't know what to expect...."

"That's okay, Xander. I'll...go see...." she trailed off, and marched

past them.

Xander went to console Anya, who looked as if she didn't know what to do

with herself. She couldn't understand why Spike was acting this way.

Buffy turned the doorknob and the noise inside cut off abruptly. She took

a deep breath and made herself push it open, and step inside.

"Spike?" she asked, shutting the door behind her as quietly as she could.

He was watching her, wide-eyed, before he tore his gaze away, looking at

the far wall. He was sitting up, and as she came closer, he looked as if he

were trying to push himself into the wall.

"Hey...it's alright, it's over...." She reached out to touch him, but he

jerked away. Her eyes flooded with tears again, and she bit her lip to stop

them from falling.

"Sorry about the chains. Everyone's...worried about you."

He didn't respond.

"Are you...hungry?"

He slowly shook his head, and she nearly jumped for joy that he was

understanding her, at least.

"Dawn's really worried...Dawn and I...we're worried about you, Spike. Are

you alright?" she asked, her voice as sincere as she could muster through

her tears. She reached out again, fingers brushing his shoulder.

He yelped and jerked away again, pressing his cheek to the wall, panting.

Her lower lip trembled, and tears traced down her cheeks. She got up

quickly and left the room, shutting the door carefully behind her.

Everyone shot to their feet at her reappearance. She hugged herself.

"H-how is he?" Tara asked, noting the tears.

"He's..." Buffy trailed off, and shook her head. "He's broken, like you

said, Wills. Totally broken...."

Xander somehow managed to pull off looking sick and pissed off at the same

time. His world had crumbled when Buffy died; one of his constants gone.

Now it was starting to crumble again. Broken was never a word used to

describe the always present and annoying vampire that would trade insults with

him till the cows came home. Another constant gone.

"But we can fix him, right?" Willow asked, looking a little sick herself.

"I don't know." Buffy shook her head, walking over to the phone. "But I

know someone who might."

*****

"Angel Investigations."

"Uh...Hi....I need to speak with Angel...please." Buffy said.

"Fine, may I ask who's calling?" replied the gruff and streetwise voice

on the other end.

"Buffy."

There was a pause.

"Oh...Buffy? Yeah, I'll go get him."

Another, longer pause followed, until the phone was snatched up again, and

an anxious sounding Angel spoke into the phone.

"Buffy? What's wrong? Did something happen?"

She closed her eyes. God, she was NOT looking forward to this.

"Yeah. I need your help. Actually...not me."

"Who?"

"Spike."

Pause.

"Uh huh."

"I told you he's been helping us. The chip and everything..." she fought

back the tears again, her voice cracking. "He was captured a couple of

weeks ago. Tortured. We just got him back, but he's..."

"Broken?" Angel asked, sounding surprised.

"Yeah. That's the word. I figured you knew something about..."

"Torture."

"Yeah."

Yet another long pause.

"Is he talking at all?"

"No. He won't let anyone touch him. He shook his head no when I asked him

if he was hungry, but that was it."

She could hear Angel swallow. She tensed.

"The aim of torture is not to kill the victim, but to break down the

victim’s personality. If he's that far gone, Buffy...He's going to need

a lot of help."

"I can handle it. What do I have to do?" she asked.

"Try to get some blood in him." he sighed. "I'll be there as soon as I

can."

Click.

Buffy blinked. He was coming? Here? She slowly hung up the phone. She

didn't know if that was a good idea, seeing how much Spike hated his

grandsire.

She looked over at the others, who were watching her expectantly.

"Uh...Angel's coming. To help."

Willow winced, glancing toward the door to the back room, knowing it

wouldn't please Spike. Anya and Tara looked a little confused.

There was a loud thunk as Xander dropped his head onto the table.

"Great." he said, the sound slightly muffled. He raised his head.

"Anyone got a muzzle? Or two?"

It had taken a little planning. Actually, it had taken a lot. But thirty

minutes and two scrapped ideas later, they were going in.

Buffy opened the door, a perfectly heated mug of blood in her hands.

Xander followed, looking pretty nervous. He hadn't liked this idea at all,

but it was the best they had. So, he got to be the distraction.

He stepped around Buffy, swallowing, and moved towards the chained vampire.

Spike watched him, his eyes wild, his lips curling back slightly. He hadn't even

noticed Buffy yet, apparently.

"Hey, Spike..." Xander started, taking another step. The vampire let

loose a growl, low, almost too soft to hear. Gripping tightly at the chains

that held him, he flattened himself against the wall.

"I come in peace," Xander held out both his hands, in the universal sign for

being unarmed, and continued forward, slowly. Buffy crept up behind him, holding tight to

the mug.

"Just want to talk..." Xander continued, now almost close enough to Spike

to reach out and touch him. He stopped, slowly crouching to appear less of

a threat to him. "We're just trying to help..."

Spike was frozen, it seemed, breathing harshly, muscles twitching and

trembling. A small part of Xander wanted to gloat; Spike was afraid of him.

Something that had never happened before, to his knowledge. But the

greater part of him was sickened by it. He couldn't understand how anyone could

do this to a creature, even a vampire like Spike. Staking, beheading,

burning, sure, that was fine. But this? It was like pulling the wings off

a butterfly.

Buffy was now close enough as well. She slowly set the mug down, and

nodded at Xander. He flicked his eyes to her for a second to let her know

he was ready, and reached slowly for the mug.

Buffy pounced, one arm locking around Spike's neck, jerking his chin up,

the other locked tightly around his chest, stilling his arms. The vampire

howled and thrashed, but was too weak to break the Slayer's hold. He must have

realized this, for his struggling stopped, as did his breathing, his eyes

locked on Xander. The terror in them made the boy freeze, for an instant,

before grabbing the mug and bringing it to the vampire's lips, forcing the

scent of it to his nose.

Spike vamped instantly, instinct taking over with the blood so close.

Xander tilted the mug, draining it slowly into his open mouth, and noted it

was comparable to feeding a baby bird.

The mug was emptied quickly, and Xander moved back, turned on his heel, and

left the room. He knew Buffy would want a moment alone with Spike now that

she had his attention.

****

God, this is hard, Buffy thought, her arms still locked around Spike, who

was watching Xander leave. The demon had already receded, and he was

starting to struggle again.

"Shhh, Spike..." she said softly, her mouth pressed to his ear. "We're

not going to hurt you. We're trying to help. We know you can get through

this....Please...." Those damned tears were starting to try and show again.

He made a soft sound in response, relaxing a little.

"We're all worried about you. We know...what happened. Warren can't hurt

you anymore."

His jaw clenched at the mention of the name, but he gave no other indication

that he understood. His eyes were drooping a little, as if he were fighting to stay awake.

"I'm here for you," she whispered. "You know that, right?"

He blinked slowly, and sighed, actually leaning into her hold. She was

comforting him.

The tears were flowing free now. She was overjoyed she was getting through

to him, but terrified that he would never be the same again. Her grip

relaxed, and she removed her choke hold on him. His head dropped to her

shoulder. Her hold on his arms turned into a gentle hug, and she supported

him.

She sniffled, threading her fingers gently through his hair. He winced,

and slammed his eyes shut, jaw clenching again.

"You don't have to be ashamed. What...happened, it would have killed

anyone else. You...are so strong...."

His eyes opened again for a moment, and she could swear there were tears in

them. But they slid closed again. He was falling asleep.

She kissed the side of his head, and laid him down as gently as she could.

He whimpered at the loss of her touch.

"I'll be back soon, William."

He made no response as she stood and scrubbed her cheeks. She turned and

left the room.

***

An hour after sunset, Angel arrived.

He frowned at the tinkling of the bell overhead as he entered the shop, Lorn

in tow. No one said a word. He looked at each in turn, taking in their

expressions. Willow looked terrible, pale and tired. Buffy looked worse,

as if she had been crying for hours. The ex-demon, Anya, was moving around

the shop, dusting things that obviously didn't need to be dusted.

Xander's face held no expression; he simply watched his fiancee, not even

glancing up when Angel and Lorne entered. Dawn was asleep, curled up on the

floor with her school bag as a pillow, a duster that was probably Spike's

serving as a blanket. Tara -- Willow's girlfriend, he remembered -- was doing

her best to comfort everyone, talking in low tones with Buffy and Willow.

Angel simply couldn't understand how this had affected them all so much.

It was Spike. It couldn't be that bad.

"Eek, the aura in here just screams 'brood'." Lorne spoke, dusting off his

jacket.

"Who are you?" Buffy asked, giving a soft smile to Angel, before taking in

the green-skinned demon.

"This is Lorne; he's one of the good guys. He might be able to help."

"Oh," was all Buffy said, before rising and moving toward him. She had

that 'let's get down to business look' on her face that he knew so well.

Resisting the urge to call Cordy and check on Connor, he met her halfway.

"Where is he?"

"He's in the back. He was sleeping, finally. We had to force feed him,

pretty much. He hasn't eaten since he was captured, apparently."

Willow looked over.

"When he came to...get me, he said he had killed someone. That they made

him."

Buffy closed her eyes, and lowered her head.

"Since then, then. Do you, uh, wanna see him?" she asked Angel.

He thought about it for awhile, glancing to the phone again. Lorne gave

him a look.

"Yeah."

Buffy nodded, hugging herself, and then pointed to the back room.

"He's in there." she said, before sitting back down.

Angel frowned, and shrugged, gesturing for Lorne to stay there while he

entered the back room.

The first thing he noticed was that Spike was chained up. He cursed

silently, shaking his head. Restraints would only further enforce the

'training' he had been put through.

"Spike, my boy..." he said rather loudly. His grand-childe jerked awake

in an instant, looking around, dazed.

"What have you gotten yourself into this time, huh?" Angel steepled his

fingers and crouched near Spike, tilting his head. He was surprised at the

fear in Spike's eyes. Never once had the younger vampire been frightened of

him, even after all his evil self had put him through.

"So, is this just some ploy? Make them think you're weak so you can kill

them all?" he asked, his voice smooth and even. "'Cause I gotta say, you're

doing a damn fine job."

Spike neither spoke nor moved. He simply stared at him, wide-eyed.

Angel chuckled and rose, giving a Spike a grin, before returning to where

the others were gathered. Only then did his attitude shift.

He sighed, looking around the room.

"I need to know everything that happened to him -- it's the only way I can

figure out how to pull him back. He's in bad shape. And Buffy?" he said,

turning to her.

"Yeah?"

"Next time someone is brutally tortured and stripped of any control, let's

try and not further that by locking them in chains?"

Angel finally lowered the stack of papers Willow had handed him, struggling

to control his anger. After reading Warren's account of Spike's training,

he was feeling the sudden impulse to break the boy out of jail and teach him

how it was done without technology. Even though he had issues with Spike,

and his demon was fairly impressed with the boy's work, he still felt the

need to avenge his grand-childe.

He stood, tossing the papers back on the table. The others watched,

expecting.

"Though Warren wasn't clear on the why, I think I've pinpointed the moment

Spike broke." He spoke firmly, his tone all business.

When he didn't elaborate, Buffy gestured for him to continue. He cast a

look toward the still sleeping Dawn, before looking back to the Slayer.

"I think we need to know," she responded to his unspoken question.

Angel drew an unneeded breath.

"Alright. It was during one of the all-night sessions he pulled. He was

trying to get Spike to tell him about himself. Warren found a scar on his side,

made by what appeared to be a knife. When Spike refused to tell him where he had

gotten it.....He reopened it. Stabbing him there. It took a few hours, doing it

over and over, before he told him. After that, Warren had little trouble with him.

He didn't say what Spike had told him; I guess he didn't consider it important.

I need to know what happened with that scar. Why it was so important."

No one spoke. Buffy had paled again, hugging her arms around herself

tightly. Lorn, most unconnected with the events, shifting in his seat.

"It obviously had to be something he was either ashamed of or afraid of.

Right?" he offered.

Willow cleared her throat.

"He was never very...sharey. We would only know if he was hurt when it

showed. But...but it had to be recent right? Since it's a scar..."

Angel nodded. "Yes, fairly recent."

"I know." Dawn's voice suddenly broke in.

Everyone turned to look at her. She was sitting up, holding Spike's duster

around her.

"Dawnie, you shouldn't have had to hear that..." Buffy started, before her

sister cut her off.

"If I hadn't, none of you would know." Her lower lip trembled slightly,

but she drew herself up, and put on a brave face.

"That night. With Glory..." she started. "When I was on the tower.

Before Buffy had to jump."

Everyone tensed, painful memories surfacing. The fact that the Slayer was

back did nothing for the pain her death had caused.

"I sent Spike up there..." Willow remembered.

Dawn nodded, hugging the coat closer. When she spoke again her voice was

emotionless, detatched.

"That creepy old man....Doc, was going to cut me, and start the ritual.

I saw Spike come up behind him, and I was so relieved...But Doc was too fast.

He got around behind Spike and stabbed him...." she held up the duster,

showing the clean slice through the side of it. "Here...It must'a hurt a lot,

but he tried still. Doc threw him off the tower. He...blamed himself. If he

had saved me, Buffy wouldn't have died."

Everyone was silent again for a moment.

"Dawn, why didn't you tell us this?" Tara asked, tears shining in her eyes.

"Because none of you cared!" The girl was close to tears now herself.

"None of you wanted to know. Don't tell me if I had, Xander wouldn't have

used it as ammo."

Xander swallowed, and remained silent, unable to deny the fact.

Angel took in this news. It was still hard to see his grand-childe

denfending a little girl. So unlike the Spike he thought he knew.

"Thanks, Dawn..." he said, sincerely. "I know that was hard, but it

helps a lot."

She smiled a little, and leaned back against the wall.

"So, you can fix him?"

"I think I can....I just have to know one more thing." He already

suspected, but he had to be sure. "What's the most important thing in

Spike's life? I know you guys don't know him that well..."

"That's easy." Willow piped in, eager to help. "Buffy. Or Dawn. Or

both." She furrowed her brow.

Angel looked at Buffy to confirm. She nodded slowly.

"He's in love with me."

"Good." Angel said, struggling to control the lingering jealousy in his

voice. "Makes what I'm about to do that much easier."

****

The dream had come again, through the fog. The faceless beast tearing to

shreds everything he cared about. He supposed it was a dream; memory couldn't be

so shapeless, could it? It didn't matter anyway. He was still trapped, lacking

the will to push through the fog to touch where soft voices sometimes filtered

through. He had no idea when he had entered the fog. He only knew it was safer

there. Let his baser instincts take control. It didn't matter. The need to hide,

and be alone.

Parts of him knew what was happening. But he just couldn't seem to care.

The fog was comforting, painless. He didn't have to remember there. He didn't

have to see the look on his Slayer's face when he had smashed it.

He was somewhere familiar, that he knew as well, but anywhere could be

familiar. Every once in a while, someone would come in, feed him, threatening to

make the fog disappear. But it always rolled back in, after sleep.

But something had changed. When he woke last, a sliver of fear had touched

him, the voice he heard something he remembered from long ago, when he was weak and

useless. He had lost something important to that voice. But he couldn't place it.

Protective instinct had almost driven him from the fog, but he didn't have the

strength to fight it.

Suddenly he realized he was no longer alone. That voice was there again,

taunting. He refused to see, to really listen. But it pressed on....

****

"...Spikey old boy, you should have been there...The way the blood ran...It

was pure poetry. You could have written sonnets about it...."

****

Fear tangling up in the comfort again. He felt his chest rumble as his

baser self growled, annoyed by this intrusion. GO AWAY! He wanted to scream, but

he couldn't. the voice was getting louder, his weary mind almost hearing it. Like

the soft voice of his Slayer when he had been fed last, it had come through. But

he didn't want this voice to come through. It was something he didn't want, ever....

****

"She didn't even put up a fight...The witches were hard, but if you

surprise them..."

****

Witches? Witches...he knew that. He could put names to the images that

word brought up. Images? No! If he was remembering, the fog would lift.

He could hear it now, the taunting voice. He tried to move his arms, press his

hands over his ears. The pain was returning too, the deep throbbing

headache.

"...And the little girl? Man, was she tasty. I just can't stop playing

with her. So innocent, you know how I love 'em like that. She doesn't even

cry anymore."

Dawn.

His eyes snapped open, and the fog shattered.

*****

Angel threw himself fully into the role. It wasn't the first time he had

pretended to be Angelus to get something accomplished. Spike was growling

full force now, barely taking breaths in between. His blue eyes were showing

some vague awareness, and were locked on him.

"And Buffy, she didn't even put up a fight. The witches were hard, but I

surprised them, took the stronger one, and the weaker just crumbled. Big

and soft she was, like sinking my fangs into a nice, ripe peach. Beautiful."

He tilted his head, pacing in front of his now unchained grand-childe,

hands clasped behind his back. He wafted the scent of Buffy's blood, donated

from a slice on her palm. They had to make it as real as possible.

"I tore through the boy, made him watch as I took his demon." He grinned,

squatting in front of the younger vampire. "Then I strung her up with her own

intestines. He didn't put up a fight after that. It was fun to rip him apart.

God, is he annoying."

He got closer, his face inches from Spike's, Buffy's blood on his breath.

"And the little girl? Man, is she tasty. I just can't stop playing with

her. So innocent, you know how I love 'em like that. She doesn't even cry

anymore. I'm thinking of keeping her forever. You want a taste before I do?"

Something flared behind Spike's eyes. A scream ripped from his chest and

Angel suddenly found himself across the room with a throbbing jaw. Spike,

enraged, coming after him. He leapt quickly to his feet, ready to keep the

other vampire from tearing his head off with his bare hands.

"BASTARD!" Spike screamed, pummeling Angel's face with blow after powerful

blow. Angel felt his cheek bone crack, but took the punches until he saw

his opening.

He ducked under a high punch, and hooked Spike's arm, pulling it behind his

back, locking his other arm under the blond's jaw. Spike's rage fueled his

strength, and Angel found himself flipped over the blond's back, landing

hard on the floor.

"Spike, do you smell anyone else on me?" he started the next step, while

scrambling out of the way of a boot to the head. Back on his feet, he danced away

from another wild blow.

"Shut up, you bastard, you killed them..." Another sharp blow to the face

was landed, and this time, Angel returned it.

"I didn't, Spike, we had to get you back. Don't you smell the soul on me?"

His words were heard, but Spike barely faltered, staggering back from the

blow to the nose.

"Doesn't matter. Bit's not a plaything. Gonna kill you..." He threw a

hard punch at Angel's chest, which the older vampire caught, holding the

wrist tight enough to hurt. The second hand followed and he did the same.

Snarling, Spike tried to break free, but Angel only tightened his grasp,

bones creaking.

"Warren can't hurt you anymore, you don't have to hide. They need you, you

know."

Spike's face faltered, but he didn't stop struggling, even though his

struggles became weaker.

"They don't, they..."

"We do." Buffy said from her place by the door.

Spike froze, his eyes finding Buffy.

"I didn't...." he started, his voice cracking.

"No, you didn't hurt me, Spike..."

One of his arms gave another half-hearted jerk, and Angel released him,

causing him to stumble slightly. The elder vampire stepped back, giving

Spike room.

He steadied himself, panting, watching Buffy, and now Dawn, who had come in

behind her. He choked back a sob.

They didn't speak. They simply came forward, reaching out gently at first,

and then quickly when he didn't flinch away, Dawn on one side, Buffy on the

other. They wrapped their arms around him, around each other.

He was still for a moment or two. Angel watched as his arms came up and

pulled the girls closer, holding them tightly against his chest, burying his

face in their hair.

They sank to the floor with him when his knees gave out and held him as he

sobbed.

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