What would've happened if Angelus really lost his soul during the episode, Enemies during Season 3? I started this story in April of 1999, back when there were only a few fics of this sort out there. I finished it in 2/2000. NC-17!

When the Soul Stealer makes Angel his newest conquest the effects are far-reaching…changing everything…

Chapter One

As the blond vampire ran over the Welcome to Sunnydale sign the second time in less than six months, he realized that once again it was because of Druscilla that he came back to the Hellmouth.

But this time it was because of her visions and not for some fool's mission to somehow win back the love of his unlife.

Nope, now he had her.

At least he did, until the visions.

It was pretty much up in the air now. For all he knew, once she woke up three days before and discovered Spike had left, she could've found a couple of minions to take her back here as well. Not to find Spike, of course.

But for him.

Her daddy.

His sire.

Angelus.

Spike heard himself growl and felt his demon take over and he welcomed it. If what she saw was true, he would need his demon to fight his sire—to send the bloody asshole back to Hell where he belonged. Spike knew that if he succeeded, he might end up in Hell with the prick, but it was a chance he would just have to take.

Fury and rage propelled him upward from South America back to Sunnyhell. Rage against his sire—a red hot anger that had yet to die even with the knowledge that both the demon and the soul of Angelus had spent more than two hundred years in Hell.

And he was furious at the Slayer for not being able to keep her legs shut tight against Peaches—inviting the bloody bloke back to terrorize everyone—demon and human alike.

For over three days, that anger pushed him beyond even vampiric endurance, as he snuck out of his lair just before dawn and began the long drive north so he could either prevent Angelus from re-emerging or to kill the bastard if he did come back.

The world just wasn't big enough for both Spike and Angelus to be both undead and kicking. Not after last year, when Spike watched his whole life become systematically destroyed by his once mentor, friend and yes, lover. More than any being alive, Spike despised Angelus. And if it was the last thing he did, he would make sure the bloody prick was dust.

Reversing the car, he pulled his DeSoto back onto the street and headed towards the Slayer's house. No matter how much the girl said she hated Spike, she was the only one alive that hated Angelus as much as he.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Buffy laid in bed, her heart thumping loudly and prayed. Their plan was simple: ensnare Faith. Find out if she was really in league with the Mayor or discover if she had somehow decided to go undercover without informing the rest the Scooby gang. As much as Buffy wanted—no, needed to believe the latter, in her heart Buffy knew that Faith had chosen the 'dark' side. All the signs were there. Her anger, distrust, her lust of death and violence. Her denial of pain when she accidentally killed the Mayor's assistant. How, no matter how hard Buffy, Giles and her mother tried, she steadfastly refused to allow herself to trust them.

Her mother offered her home to Faith and the other Slayer refused, choosing to live her life in squalor instead. And the bitch of it all, was Faith never let anyone forget while Buffy, Xander, Willow, Oz and Cordy lived in nice homes with heat and air conditioning and family, she was forced to live her life in a hotel room, alone. It didn't matter at all that the other slay had chosen that existence—it was still everyone else's fault that she was there.

And then there was Xander.

Faith nearly killed him and then claimed she was just 'playing' around. It didn't matter that Xander had bruises that decorated his neck that said it was not a game. It didn't matter that Xander was Buffy's friend.

And then there was that attempt on Willow's life. Sure, Buffy knew that every human was a potential meal for vampires, but the local vamps had a tendency to stay away from the Slayer's friends and family—knowing that if they did kill one of her own, the fight would become personal. Everyone—demon and human alike—remembered what had happened the year before when Angelus had terrorized the Slayer's people.

No one was safe.

And as much as demons love to wreak havoc, they were smart enough to know that pissing off the slayer was not in their best interest. So, an unspoken truce was rendered. Keep it professional. They do their evil and the Slayer's do their slaying. That way the fight

was clean, almost tidy, in comparison to the year before. The best thing about it was Buffy didn't have to worry nearly as much about her friend's lives as she had the year before.

Which led her back to hoping and praying that Faith was still on the side of the 'white hats.' Because if she did choose the Mayor as an ally, then once again the battle would be brought back home.

Oh yes, the plan was simple, but the knot in her gut that formed in the beginning of the night had yet to diminish. Instead it had grown, leaving her both restless and agitated.

The Slayer sighed, rolling over onto her side, hugging a pillow and closed her eyes and finally slipped into an uneasy sleep—silently praying that she was wrong. That when she woke up in the morning everything would be all right.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Parking his car around the block from her house, Spike quickly got out and ran towards the Slayer's home. The further into Sunnyhell he drove, the more 'off' it felt. The usual evil currents that all good demons revel in, had jumped nearly as high as it had been the year before, during the time with Acalthla. Any other time, Spike would've loved it. But now, all it seemed to do was pound in the feel of doom that Spike had been fighting since he left Brazil.

What if he was too late?

He shook his head—not really wanting to think that far and turned his attention to the tree that he'd seen Angel as well as Angelus climb countless times, and jumped for the lowest branch. He then swung his body up and within minutes he found himself inside her room—watching her struggle in her dreams.

Moaning softly, she flipped over onto her back, the sheets that covered her body, slipping sensually down, revealing a royal blue silk camisole. Her nipples were erect and appeared to be pushing against the material, causing part's of Spike's anatomy to press uncomfortably against his jeans. He shook his head in amazement, wondering what kind of gods would send such a beautiful creature to this place solely to kill his kind.

Whomever they may be—they had a sick sense of humor.

Adjusting himself, he found himself grinning as his mind played out one of his most prominent fantasy's: the seduction of the Slayer. Even though both of their extincts were to kill one another—Spike knew for a fact, he had the same effect on her as she did on him.

She may hate him—but she lusted after him. He smelt her arousal everytime their bodies were pressed against each other. He hardened—she became wet and wanting.

He shook his head, silently cursing himself.

Dru was right. If lusting after the Slayer was any indication, he was getting soft. Time to get the show on the road, he thought to himself as he walked softly over to her bed and studied the situation.

First things first, he thought as he picked up the stake from her bed stand and stuffed it in his duster's pocket. I wonder if she keeps that for me? I'm touched. He looked upwards, eyeing the cross that hung on the bedpost and picked the offending object up by its chain and carefully placed it under the bed—out of her reach.

He then looked down at her. One arm was flung over her face; her other hand was clutching and unclenching the bed spread as her body moved back and forth.

Bracing himself for the fury she was guaranteed to unleash, he grabbed both hands and plopped down on top of her at the same time—immobilzing her.

"Morning, luv," he said, his voice laced with humor as he watched her hazel eyes flash in anger.

Gods, this felt too good, he thought to himself as he felt his cock harden once again.

"Spike!" she hissed, trying to yank herself out of his grasp. "What the hell are you going here? In my bedroom? In my bed!"

He chuckled lightly, suddenly wanting to see her blush—force her to acknowledge his effect on her. It didn't have to be verbally—a nice aroma of arousal mixed in with a good, honest blush would do.

He bent his head down to her ear, and lightly blew into it—feeling her shiver in response. Grinning, he spoke, "Not that I wouldn't mind a shag or a hundred with you, that's not why I'm here."

Growling, she pulled on her arms once again, as a deep, beautiful shade of red spread from her chest upwards to her face. One down, he thought to himself and then felt her nipples even tighten more—poking his chest.

He pushed his lower body down more, settling himself in between her legs.

She whimpered as a wave of muskiness hit his senses.

Ah! Did it!

"Spike," she said, her voice low and threatening.

"Luv, I wouldn't do that if I were you. You know how much violence turns us demons on," he said conversationally.

She then pushed her body upwards—trying to knock him off her-only to inflame his senses more. Damn her! he thought as he reigned in his very much alive sexual responses and sighed dramatically.

"Come on, luv. You can't tell me you've never felt a man turned on before. I know you did have a go with your lap boy once and if Dru's visions have any truth to them, I'd say you've fucked and fucked up once again."

"Bastard—" she stopped and frowned, her lower lip sticking out in such an enticing manner that it took some will power to keep him from ravaging her right there and then—Angelus be damned. "Dru's visions?"

He nodded. "That's why I came back. Can't have that bloody arse running around again trying to destroy the world and steal my women again."

"Women?" She frowned and then suddenly her eyes widened. "That's it! That's what I've been feeling! Spike! Let me up—I've got a Slayer to stop!"

"You're not going to stake me then, pet?"

She shook her head impatiently. "Not if you move your dead ass, I won't!"

"Luv, it's not my ass you feel," he said, whispering in her ear.

She growled.

"Ah, you love me, Slayer! Admit it!" he said as released her and stood up, instantly missing her warmth.

"Finally," she muttered as she slipped out of bed. She turned on her bedside lamp and headed straight to her closet.

Spike leaned against her desk, enjoying the view as she pulled out a pair of jeans and slipped them on over her panties. "So, luv, are you going to fill me in?"

She grabbed a sweatshirt and turned around to face him. "Did you ever meet the other Slayer, Faith?"

He shook his head as he watched her pull the sweatshirt over her head. "Nope, can't say I have—but I have heard of her."

She nodded, frowning as she glanced at her reflection in the mirror. She sighed and turned back towards her bed post. "Where's my cross, Spike?" her voice laced with exasperation.

"Underneath your bed," he said, smirking.

"Asshole," she muttered as she squatted down and reached under her bed. "Got it." She then sat down on the edge of the bed and began putting on her socks. "Well, Angel, Giles and I suspect that she's joined forces with the Mayor. You do know about the Mayor, don't you?"

"Aye luv, every demon that's interested in Sunnyhell knows of the Mayor. His ascension coming up, isn't it? And if the other Slayer joined him, that would make your job a helluva lot harder, wouldn't it?"

She nodded once again as she stood up and grabbed a black duffel bag. Opening it, she pulled out three stakes and began tucking them in various hiding spots around her body. "The plan was that Angel and I would have a huge falling out in the middle of the Bronze—and end up fighting outside. We made sure Faith was around, heard Angel say that he wished that he was Angelus again—if only so he could snap my neck and we leave—in opposite directions. Both beaten and upset.

"She fell for it. With Oz following her, Faith went to the mansion and came on to him. He responded—with enthusiasm." She stopped and closed her eyes. Spike could tell this killing her. "They ended up leaving together. The last anyone saw of Angel was both him and Faith going inside of City Hall."

Spike frowned, wondering if Faith was really that dense. Anyone who knew Peaches, knew that he was a pansy ass as a soulboy...

"Luv, how did you expect this to work?"

She rolled her eyes. "Easy. Anyone who knows of Angel's past—of all of our group's past, knows of the conflicts, all of the mistrust and anger. Especially when it came to Angel. Also, we finally know who let him out of Hell. Who's to say that the First isn't there—still egging him on, like it had done over Christmas? And last but not least," she stopped and bit her lip in frustration. "The fight was started because I was dancing with Xander. "

Spike chuckled softly, remembering what Angelus told him about Buffy's dancing. "Dancing, luv? Or was it making love with your clothes still on?"

She smiled. "The second. Xander," she giggled, shaking her head. "He was going nuts. I almost felt sorry for him. And I'm sure that some of that anger that Angel showed was real." She sighed and met his eyes. "I did my job well."

Spike mulled over what she told him and wondered what was going to go wrong. Obviously something, or Druscilla wouldn't have had the vision. And if Spike learned anything after spending over a hundred and twenty years with his princess was her visions were eerily on the mark.

"Spike, are you sure you want to help?" she asked, bringing him out of his thoughts. He looked up and saw her free hand clasping the bedroom door knob. "You know, Dru will never take you back if you do."

He smirked at her. "Luv, I figured that out in Mexico. But, I also know, if he does return, I lose her anyway. Damned if I do, damned if I don't. Besides, I'd bet you that if he comes back, you and your little friends won't be only ones he'll be out to kill. Angelus never did take too kindly to betrayal."

She nodded once and opened the door. "Let's go then. I have to leave a note for my mom first."

Shocked at first, he followed, silently wondering when she started to do that. Then he remembered, Joyce Summers now knew of Buffy's fate and probably insisted on knowing where her daughter went off to when her duty called.

Only on the Hellmouth, he thought to himself as he watched her scribble a note and stick it on the refrigerator. He glanced at the microwave, checking out the time and silently calculated the remaining time he had until he had to find some place to stay during the day. Four hours until dawn. Would it be long enough?

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Chapter Two

As the two walked towards Spike's car, Buffy couldn't help but remember the other two times that Spike was fighting with her and not against her. Even though the last time he had been in Sunnydale, he had been drunk as a skunk and kidnapped Willow and Xander, still when she, Angel and Spike had faced Trick's boys, the two vampires and slayer fought side by side as if they had done so for centuries.

She shouldn't have been surprised—really. Considering that Angel had chosen both of them for companions—maybe even lovers, if what her little voice told her about Angel and Spike was true. Although Angel liked to claim that Angelus was a totally different entity from the souled Angel—Buffy had her doubts. Ever since she had met Willow's vampire counterpart and Angel's reaction to the other Willow, she secretly believed that there was more to a vampire than just a demon. Besides, how could anyone explain Spike and his ability to love if all there was to vampirism was a demon animating a corpse?

Sighing, she glanced over at the said vampire, noting the clenching of his jaw and the tenseness that seemed to radiate out from him. This really bothers him, she thought to herself in amazement. Although she knew that Spike hated Angelus, it hadn't really hit her until just then how much.

He hates Angelus as much as I do.

Suddenly, a sharp pain hit her heart, threatening to send her into a panic. Angel's gone...somehow she knew it was true, even though they had no proof. Somehow Faith and the Mayor managed to break Willow's unbreakable curse.

She clenched her eyes shut and stopped walking, feeling her heart race. "He's gone."

She felt a cool hand grab her arm and her eyes snapped open. For just a second, she thought it was Angel and her eyes watered. Blinking back the tears, she realized it was Spike and a wave of disappointment crashed down on top of her.

"Slayer?"

Biting her bottom lip, she shook her head. "We're too late, Spike. I can feel it."

He dropped his hand and pulled out a cigarette and a lighter. Once he took a deep drag, he nodded once. "I hope you're wrong, luv, but—"

"You feel it too."

He shrugged and started walking again. "I don't know what I feel, Slayer. I haven't slept in three days—I haven't had a decent meal since San Diego and all I've thought of was how much I wanted to tear my sire apart limb by limb if he managed to find his demon self again." He opened the car door and tossed his cigarette aside. "Neither of us are Dru—so let's drive our little butts over to the mansion and find out for sure instead of mind-fucking ourselves over what-ifs in the middle of the street."

She chuckled softly. "What do you know? You really aren't a stupid demon after all."

"Ah luv, I'm full of surprises," he said smirking as he got into the car and leaned over to unlock her side.

She opened the door and a wave of stale cigarettes, vodka, tequila, blood and pot hit her. "Geez Spike, when was the last time you cleaned out your car? 1980?"

"Fuck you, Slayer." He turned the ignition and the De Soto roared to life.

"I thought that was what you wanted," she snapped as she turned to her side, one arm hanging onto the seat and the other bracing against the dashboard.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

A block away from the mansion, he pulled over to the side and turned off the ignition, ignoring the panic that he had been fighting since leaving the Slayer's house. It wasn't until he was surrounded by the Slayer and Joyce's scent as well as the Summer's own personal atmosphere did he realize what it was that was bothering him since he arrived in Sunnyhell.

He felt Druscilla.

It was her essence that called him when he began his drive through Sunnyhell.

He might as well admit it to himself—he lost her a long time ago. Her madness—the very thing that he loved—needed Angelus' far more than she needed Spike's love. And if she had to choose—their sire would win everytime.

Druscilla was Angelus'—to punish, to have, dominate, manipulate and own. Not love, because Angelus had never been capable of that. But for Dru, that didn't matter. She needed what Angelus gave her for more than she wanted Spike's love.

"Bloody hell," he snapped, tearing his keys out of the ignition. He turned to the Slayer and found that she had been looking his way, but her eyes had a faraway look about them. Probably thinking about Peaches—how her last word's to the bloke had been angry and hurtful—even if they both knew they weren't true.

"Luv, Dru's here."

The Slayer's green eyes widened. "How?"

Spike rolled his eyes. "Knowing her, she probably set me up. Knew the moment I left and arranged for her own transportation up here."

She frowned, her eyes studying him suspiciously. "You better not be fucking with me, Spike," she warned, her hold on her stake tightening.

He arched an eyebrow at her. "Come on, Slayer. You know me better than that."

She began gnawing on her lips. "I also know that you would do almost anything to keep her, too."

A wave of anger flooded him. "Except bring that wanker back!" he yelled, slamming a hand into the steering wheel, bending it. He shook his head, chuckling humorously. "I'm ashamed to admit it—but I hate him more than I love her."

She sighed, nodding. "I know. I hate him more than I love Angel." She looked down at her hands. "That's because he gets such a thrill out of destroying our love." She lifted her head, her eyes wet with fresh tears. "We've got to find out, Spike. We can't just sit here and dread it." She opened the car door and stepped out, grabbing her slaying bag before closing and locking the car door. "Let's go and at least find out—and kick some ass if we need to."

He quickly followed suit, and within a minute he was walking beside her, smoking a cigarette and ignoring his Dark Princess's siren call that had been tugging at his heart for the last hour.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The last person, or that is demon, she expected to see hiding behind a row of bushes in front of the mansion was Whistler. It had been over nine months since his last appearance in Sunnydale, and Buffy knew instantly, seeing him, meant that Angelus had returned as well. It was at that moment she felt her heart break and silently wondered if she would ever be able to love again.

Life was too cruel. Why couldn't she have at least one solid thing in her short life? All she wanted was to know that Angel was nearby—a phone call, or a short walk away. He was the only being alive—with the exception of Oz maybe, that understood what it was like to walk that fine line of evil and good. Of viciousness and gentleness. Of love and hate.

She took a deep breath and knelt beside the demon, motioning Spike to follow. "Whistler."

"Took you long enough. What were you two doing, picking out china patterns?"

Spike growled, his eyes flashing.

Buffy silently thanked the vampire. She forgot how much the little demon irritated her. "Is it true? Is Angel gone?" she asked softly, her voice trembling.

The demon nodded. "They managed to get a soul-taker to perform the ceremony."

Buffy frowned. "I thought Giles knew the only demon that could do that and he owed him a favor."

Whistler sighed. "He did owe the Watcher a favor. It would've worked out fine if the lousy demon could keep his wife out of the Mayor's reach." The demon stood up and walked away from the mansion, signaling to Buffy and Spike to follow.

Once the three of them were far enough out of hearing range to whatever vampire patrols were circling the mansion, Whistler sighed. "We all underestimated the Mayor. And other factors," he said, glancing at Spike.

"You mean Druscilla."

The demon nodded. "I don't know everything, Spike, but I think that you know by now, she set you up. She told you her vision to test you. From what I've heard tonight, if you hadn't left, she would've stayed with you—Angelus be damned."

"Fuck!" The vampire began pacing, his movements almost stiff—waves of rage emanating from him. "But she knew bloody well what the hell I was going to do! I never once apologized for helping the Slayer and I still don't regret it." He shook his head. "I still have wet dreams about pounding the pillock's skull in with that crowbar."

Buffy almost smiled at that as she turned and to look at the mansion—knowing that until a few hours ago, Angel had been there—and now he was gone.

"What about the curse? Can Willow perform it again?"

Whistler shook his head. "Not the curse—if she could find a restoration spell—maybe that would work. I don't think the curse will work again."

"Why the hell not?" Spike asked, as he leaned against a tree. "It's not as if it isn't still there in his body. It's always been there. It's just a matter of dominance."

"What?" Buffy whipped around, not believing her ears. "You mean his soul has always been there?"

Spike rolled his eyes. "I don't know what fairy tales those watchers been telling you, pet, but the soul doesn't leave the body when the demon enters—it's just subdued. That's why he had all that bloody guilt—because he was there—watching everything the demon did—but powerless to do anything to stop it."

Her mouth dropped open as she sent a few silent curses towards the watchers. "Is what he's saying true?" she asked Whistler. "Is this another lie told to young, naive girls to prepare them to go out and battle the evil of the world?"

Whistler glared at the vampire and nodded slowly. "You have to remember, Buffy, maybe a dozen or so Slayers have made it to their eighteenth birthday. They usually don't live long enough to worry about the moral implications of what they do."

"I gotta get out of here," she said as she shook her head. "There's nothing more we can do tonight—now that we know he's back. We'll just have to work from there.

"I just want to go home and cry now. After I call Giles."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Why the bloody hell are you here?"

"Balance, my man, balance."

Spike growled softly at the demon and turned to watch the Slayer disappear through the trees. "For once, I have to agree with the Slayer. There's nothing left to do tonight. I don't fancy myself meeting the sharp end of a stake—not when I haven't fed in over 24 hours. Plus, there's a bottle of tequila in my car that's calling my name. You can tell me the real reason tomorrow."

The vampire then followed the slayer to his car, leaving the demon to contemplate the balance of good evil in the world all by himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Luv, wait up. I'm taking you home," Spike called as he watched her walk past his car down the street. Cursing under his breath, he took off and followed her, silently amazed that she managed to keep her emotions under control for as long as she had that night. "Slayer! Stop acting like an arse and get your butt back here!"

She stopped and whipped around, stake in hand. Her face red and puffy. "Fuck you, Spike! I'm in no mood to deal with you tonight. Go bother someone else. Hell, go eat and leave me. I don't even fucking care right now!" Her voice cracked as sob escaped her lips. "Shit! You're the last person I want to see me like this. For all I know, hatred be damned, tomorrow night you'll be over there rubbing all over your 'ho—trying to get back into Angelus' good graces." A sardonic laugh rang out. "Good graces—what a fucking oxymoron. Tonight I told Angel that I hated him and I wished he would just leave me the fuck alone.

"And guess what? He did. After all his struggles to fight his personal darkness—to find his way—to have it end like this....God, I want to kill her. Until just now, I felt sorry for her. I saw a part of myself in her. If my mother died or if my parent's were like Xander's—she could've been me. Or I could've been her. I could even rationalize why she tried killing Xander. I know she has issues with men." She shook her head, her body stiff and angry. "But this," she paused as she shook her head again, "I can't. I want her dead. I want another one called. Maybe the next one will have some fucking sense."

Her hand holding the stake dropped as her she bowed her head. Hearing her small cries, Spike inwardly sighed as a part of his undead heart went out to her. No matter what anyone thought—this slayer was the strongest of them all. What most considered a weakness was her strength—her love. He slowly approached her and once he could, he pulled the stake out of her grasp.

"Come on, luv, let me take you home," he said as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and guided her back to his car.

"You know—I really want to hate you right now," she said softly. "But, I can't. I can't do a lot of things, can I?"

He opened her side and gently pushed her into the car. Once inside, he turned to her, wanting to say something, but finding that he was all said out. What else was there other than 'I'm sorry' and somehow it just didn't seem fitting for a demon to apologize. So he took her home instead.

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Chapter Three

For the ten-minute drive back to her house, Buffy stared unseeingly out the window. The warm winds blew at her hair, as she once again replayed in her mind, the last time she had seen Angel.

Even though they both knew it was just an act, they still said things that hurt one another. How else could you make the fight realistic? Buffy knew how Angel would react if he saw her ‘dancing’ or as Spike put it, ‘making love with her clothes on,’ with Xander.

He’d go ballistic.

Which he had done.

As many times as he denied it, Angel was jealous of Xander.

Xander saw Buffy in the sunlight, came over to the Summer’s house for breakfast on weekends—talked to her when Angel was forced to stay inside, away from the sun’s killing rays.

Xander saw and lived with a side of Buffy that Angel could never touch.

And Xander was human. And warm. His heart beat. His blood was his own. All the things that Angel had lost nearly 250 years before and had lusted for now that he was a souled vampire.

Yes, Buffy knew. And she did it anyway—for the plan. A plan that failed miserably and took the one person in the world that she felt connected to away...

Forever.

She never thought she could feel as bad as she had the year before when she sent Angel to Hell.

How fucking wrong she was.

She inwardly sighed, fighting a yawn. She was exhausted—emotionally as well as physically—and yet the last place she wanted to go was home.

"Pet, we’re here," Spike said as he gently shook her shoulder, jolting her out of her thoughts.

She turned and faced her sometime ally—most of the time enemy—and noticed he was watching her strangely. She gave him a small smile. "Don’t worry, Spike. I’m not losing it. I was just thinking about how much I don’t want to go inside. Somehow, it makes it all too real, you know?"

He turned around and reached over to the back of the car and pulled out an unopened bottle of tequila. Quickly breaking the seal, he tipped it to his mouth and took several large drinks.

"Yeah, I know." He slid the bottle between his legs and lit a cigarette.

"Spike?"

"Um?"

"Where are you staying?"

The vampire shrugged noncommittally as he took a drag off his cigarette. "The factory, I suppose."

That will not do, she thought to herself. As much as she hated it, she needed him. And as the evening wore on, she realized it wasn’t only to fight Angelus, but because Spike was the only one who understood her pain—because in this instance—it was his as well.

She shook her head and ran her fingers nervously through her hair. "No, Spike. He’ll find you. I’ll lay money the mayor’s got someone watching the place right now. " She leaned down and grabbed her slaying bag from the floor. "I can’t believe I’m gonna suggest this—but if you promise to keep your fangs away from me and mine, you can stay with us."

His scarred eyebrow lifted in surprise. "Are you sure, Slayer?"

She sighed again. "Do you promise?"

"What about your mum?"

Buffy giggled despite herself. "I have no idea how you did it, but you charmed her thoroughly. You know, she forbid any of us to do the uninvite spell because she wanted to make sure that you knew you were always welcome in her home." Buffy laughed out loud. "Giles nearly had a heart attack and Angel—he was seething. Even though she knows—knew," she caught herself, "that Angel had his soul, she still didn’t like him or trust him. So tell me, how the hell did you do it?" She asked, watching him finish off the tequila.

"Honest and polite. And never threatened her, luv. That’s the truth. I like your mum. She treats me with respect and cares for me, even though she knows I’m a soulless demon. I’ll tell ya, luv, if more humans were like that, there would be less eligible happy meals with legs, if you get my drift," he finished with a wink in her direction.

She groaned out loud as she opened the car door. "You know, you are the most exasperating person on the face of this planet?" She stepped out into the street and slammed the door shut. "Half the time, I don’t know if I want to laugh or stake you when I’m with you.

"So, do you promise? "

He pulled out a duffel bag and the tossed the empty bottle into the backseat. "Yeah, luv, I promise—as long as you keep those stakes away from my heart. I sorta fancy my undead organs—"

"I promise," she said as she walked past him and headed towards the front door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

As Spike lay in the makeshift bed the Slayer had fixed for him on the floor of her room, he tried to remember a time when killing a slayer was more appealing than wanting to shag one.

But he knew the answer.

Pre-Sunnyhell.

He silently chuckled, thinking of what that hick vampire, Gorch had said to him earlier this summer when he met up with him in Texas. "That Slayer—she ain’t like any one I ever met before. Do you know she had me help her fight some egg-spewing demon with her and then tried to stake me?"

The overweight vampire was aghast that a Slayer would even consider fighting side by side him—it just was not normal.

But then Buffy had always said, she never got to read that handbook that everyone was talking about and her actions seemed to back that up. She improvised—following an instinct that seemed to only get better with age. And it worked far better than anyone ever thought possible. Spike was sure that those old tweed stuff shirts in England were throwing fits at the unorthodox methods of their slayer.

But still, she was alive when so many women in her shoes had died so much younger than her.

After Acathla, Spike tried to remember the two slayers that died at his hand and he couldn’t. Oh sure, he could remember their rich, life-filling blood and the sound of their whimpers as their life force left them. But he couldn’t remember what either of them looked like or if they had any family or friends.

They were just the enemy and he treated them as such.

With his Slayer—and that’s what she was in his mind—his Slayer—he knew her friends not only by name but by face. He had talked to her mother for hours over the phone in the past couple of months and had been at one time on intimate terms with the love of her love.

So, was he getting soft?

He didn’t think so. The thought of the other slayer dying by his hand sent welcomed chills down his spine. Blood and mayhem still called him once the sun set and yet, he couldn’t forget the sinking feeling in his gut when Whistler told him that night that he was there for balance.

Balance for what?

Good? Evil?

And at whose expense? His? Poof’s? Dru’s?

The way Spike’s gut tightened, he had feeling he knew who was the small demon’s next project and that idea did not sit well with William the Bloody.

The vampire inwardly groaned as he tried to turn his exhausted brain off. He extended his senses and realized even through all his inner musings, he had yet to hear anything from the young woman causing all his self-introspection.

Her silence was damning.

"Slayer?"

"Spike—don’t." He heard her take a ragged breath. "I can’t—not now."

Never one to follow orders or requests; he turned over to his side, facing the bed, and lifted himself enough to take a peek at her.

He bit back a moan.

There, lying in nearly the same position she had been when he had first shown up, was the Slayer, but this time, her eyes were wide open and filled with unshed tears.

She turned her head and their eyes met.

In 200 years, he had seen many humans cry, but until then, Spike never considered tears to be physically beautiful. Before, they had soothed his demon—their anguish filling him with glee.

But hers, they were different. Her hazel orbs—watery and filled—watched him carefully as he sat up.

Not even wanting to think about why he was doing this, he pulled himself up and on sat on her bed. She silently watched him, tears now slipping serendipitously from her eyes as he scooted over and slipped in behind her, wrapping his cool arms around her fevered body.

Her silent pain called to him. So similar to his, that he had no choice but to gather her small body in his arms and hold her as the tears of a love forever lost flowed freely from her heart through her eyes.

As her body began to shake, he caressed her arms and head and felt each sob as if it were his own. Because maybe, if she cried enough for herself, she could shed a few for him as well.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

With a nearly finished cup of coffee in her hand, Joyce Summers opened her front door to leave for work.

She stopped.

Lying on the steps was a long, white thin box reminiscent of a flower box, with a small, white card taped to the top.

She bent down and picked it up, absently noting its weight and whom it was addressed to as she walked back into the house through to the kitchen.

She left it on the counter, knowing that Buffy would see it when she got up, but Joyce knew she had to be the one to call Spike. Not only did Buffy hate the vampire, she doubted if Buffy had any way of contacting him. No, Joyce would call his voice mail and let him know when she got to the gallery.

Not trusting her daughter’s need to ‘protect’ her, Joyce had long ago left all evidence of her contact with him at the gallery—safe from her daughter’s prying eyes.

Before leaving, she gave the box one more glance while silently debating whether or not to wake Buffy now, or give her a couple more hours of much needed sleep.

No, she would call Buffy from the gallery as well. Her daughter had a late night and tired slayers were sloppy slayers.

After taking one last sip of her coffee, she left the house and headed for the gallery, not noticing the two strange cars parked in front of her house as she drove away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Slipping down from the car window, Faith wiped the gathering sweat from her brow, once again ignoring that tingle of conscience that tugged at her soul every time she saw or thought of Joyce Summers. After nearly five minutes, she heard the Summer’s Jeep pull out of the driveway and drive past her car. Only then did she sit up and grab the cellular phone that lay on the passenger seat. Hitting the speed dial, she made her call.

"Hey Boss, it’s inside."

"Good. Very well done, Faith. Why don’t you go home and catch some rest. We can’t have a tired Slayer tonight, now can we?"

She found herself grinning in response. As evil as the mayor could be, he still took care of her. "Sure thing. I’ll be at home if you need me," the slayer said then hung up. Bed—my wonderful comfortable bed.

"It may be empty now, B, but pretty soon I’ll have my own pet vampire to fill it," she whispered to herself as she turned on the ignition and pulled her brand new Mustang GT out onto the road. As she passed the black De Soto, she smirked, remembering Angelus’ rage once he found about the return of his wayward childe to the Slayer’s side.

Angelus’ anger was a beautiful sight. A wondrous, sexy sight.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spike’s phone rang first.

Half asleep, he entangled himself from the warm, sleeping body of the slayer and reached down to the side of the bed and grabbed his duster. Digging through the inside pocket, he found it and pulled it out.

"What?"

"Spike? It’s Joyce."

He felt the slayer’s body stiffen at the sound of her mother’s voice. "Joyce?"

Buffy reached over to snag the phone from him and he slapped her hands away and turned to his side—trying to ignore the hot feel of her glaring eyes on the back of his head. "What can I do for you?"

"I know it’s early—or late—for you, but I thought I was just calling your voice mail. I’m sorry—"

"It’s alright, luv. I had all my calls forwarded," he said, rolling over onto his back and meeting Buffy’s confused, swollen eyes. "What’s wrong?"

"No—nothing like that. It’s just that this morning someone left a package at the doorstep for you and Buffy and I—"

"Package? What kind of package?"

"That’s the strangest thing. Not only was it addressed to both you and Buffy, but also for a flower box, it was pretty heavy. I know you an my daughter don’t get along—"

He felt Buffy tense at the word flower box and Spike remembered over a year ago when Angelus had sent Buffy a dozen red roses…"Can I call you back?"

"Sure. I’m at work now. Do you have the number?"

He couldn’t help but chuckle at Buffy’s indignation when he nodded. "Sure do, luv. Thanks and I’ll get back to you. " He closed the phone and met the slayer’s astonished face and grinned.

"What can I say, pet? She likes me."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter Four

"You do know that we are going to talk about this later, right?" she asked the blond vampire who was sitting way too comfortably on her bed—in her bedroom—in her room! And her mother! She clenched her teeth, forcing that desperate urge to scream as well as rip his dead heart out, down.

"Take deep breaths, luv. It helps."

Her hands balled into fists. "Argh! Coming?"

"Is it sunproof?"

She sighed dramatically. "I'll just bring it up. Is that all right, O' Undead King of Irritation?"

"Just peachy, Slayer."

She yanked the door open and stomped through it, slamming it closed behind her, cursing the whole time. "Damn egotistical, peroxide blond, fanged-face asshole! How dare he insinuate himself into my life! Without any say-so from me. Next thing I know, my mother'll be the one picking out the fucking china pattern and we'll be married with me flung helplessly over his shoulder like a prized heifer in a cattle auction. Why him? Why does she like him and not Angel—"

She stopped midway down the steps, clutching the hand rail.

"Because," she answered herself. "Spike doesn't lose his soul like most people misplace their socks, that's why."

Biting the inside of her cheek, she ignored the newest streams of tears as they flooded her eyes. Barely able to see through the clouds of moisture, she slowly continued down the stairs.

Angel—gone.

Angel was no more—ever.

Only he was never ever really gone. He'd always been there—on the inside, looking out when the demon was in control. And now, he was going to die being stuck in a body that was no longer his—if it had ever been, since that night in Galway over two-hundred and sixty-some odd years ago. His last days on this Earth now will be spent watching his demon destroy everything that he had worked so hard to rebuild.

The First did prevail after all.

She wiped her face as she stepped into the kitchen, instantly spying on the box sitting on the counter. Just as she reached for it, she stopped, suddenly unsure. A part of her wanted to open it now, away from Spike's knowing eyes, but as her fingers slipped underneath the edge of the lid, she changed her mind.

She couldn't. Her heart was racing uncontrollably as that now-familiar feeling of dread filled her. For herself as well as for Spike.

For a whole lot of reasons that she really didn't want to analyze too much—they needed to open this together. The main reason being that she didn't want to be alone to suffer Angelus' wrath—she didn't think she had it in her to do it again. If it had to be Spike to stand next to her while she did this, then so be it.

She moved her hand over to the gift card, noting the elegant script of Angel's and sighed when she saw both her and Spike's name.

They both needed to be there for this.

As if reading her thoughts, she heard Spike yelling from her bedroom.

"Don't you even think about it, Pet! Get your bloody arse up here and bring that blasted thing with you!"

"Piss off," she muttered as she picked it up, noting the weight and feeling as her nightmare was just getting worse.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Xander was late again.

In all the years that Willow and Xander had been friends, that one trait had managed to stay with him when some many of the others had fallen to the wayside.

Well, that and his unhealthy love of Hoho's and less specific, his love of junkfood in general. Even at eighteen, he couldn't seem to keep it together enough to be ready when she pulled into his driveway.

Nevermind that they had discussed this just the night before how they were on for breakfast before meeting up with everyone else at the library at noon.

Nevermind that this 'breakfast' like the past eight Saturday morning get-togethers, was a joint effort between the two childhood friends to build new bridges and mend the broken paths that had been made by both of them in the past year so they could and would always be friends.

And finally, nevermind that Willow's Saturday mornings had become a haven of sorts—where she could just be Willow. Not Oz's girlfriend, or Buffy's best friend, or Giles' research assistant or even resident witch when the need so arose. These two hours of the week spent in Xander's company helped her remember who she was and how far she had traveled to get where she was now.

It helped her feel better and more secure because no one understood how much Willow had grown in the past three years more than Xander.

He had been there from the beginning—when she'd been shy and geeky Willow, friend of Jesse and Xander's—to now, fledgling witch and demon-hunter.

Only Xander really knew her.

And even though she was in love with Oz and would do anything for Buffy and Giles, Xander in some ways would always come first. Because home, family and hearth always came first.

Because it just was.

Which was why after the third blare of her car horn, Willow began to get worried.

Xander always stuck his head out of his bedroom window after the second horn honking.

And she knew he was at home, because the night before, her and Oz dropped him off a little past midnight after an interesting night at the Bronze. She still had to call Buffy. She was worried about the Slayer almost as much as she was about Xander. Even though she knew that the fight between Buffy and Angel had been planned as a rouse to bring to the surface Faith's loyalties, they still exchanged some hateful words.

Shaking her head, as if it would push Buffy out of her mind, she replayed Xander's last words to her as he stepped out of the van were: "See ya at ten, Will. Thanks Oz."

And then he closed the van door and sprinted up to his front door. Willow and Oz remained there until he went inside and the porch light flickered on and off. That was his signal that all was cool.

"Where is he?" she whispered, her voice trembling. She turned off the engine, pocketed the keys and stared at the front door, silently willing it to open and Xander to step out.

When nearly five more minutes passed, she got out of the car and slowly walked up to the drive, towards the front door. With each step, the invisible fist that had been clenching her insides since the third horn blare, tightened its grip.

By the time she reached the front door, she shivered, feeling a cold sweat break out across her body.

Something was wrong.

She slowly lifted her hand and knocked once, the hollow sound of her fist impacting the wood door, echoing eerily inside the Harris' home as it swung open and hit the door stop only to stop halfway on its journey back. Her throat tightened and even though she wanted to go inside, she couldn't make her feet move. It was as if she were frozen in place. She coughed lightly, trying to clear her throat, but everytime she tried calling out, only pitiful squeaks came out.

And then, a small breeze brushed by her, bringing along with it the metallic scent of blood.

Willow's stomach lurched.

Finally able to get her legs to move, she turned on her heel and ran straight to her car, digging out her car keys as she went. Moments later, she was out onto Xander's street and heading over to Buffy's.

No matter how much Willow had change, she could not go into that house alone.

Not if she wanted to remain sane.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Buffy had barely made it through her bedroom door when Spike shot up out of her bed and yanked the box out of her grasp.

"Spike! Chill!"

"Blood Slayer. I smell blood. "

Her mouth dried. "Blood? Why would he...?"

"Talk to any of your mates today?"

"No, just Mom and you. Although you hardly qualify as a 'mate.'"

"Just keep telling yourself that, pet, and maybe one day you'll be believe it," he said smirking at her as he began to lift the lid off the box.

Before either of them could see what was inside, they were interrupted by a loud, frantic pounding of her front door.

He stopped, allowing the lid to fall haphazardly back down onto its home. "Expecting anyone?"

"No—"

"Buffy—wake up. It's Xander—"

"Willow."

"The witch."

"I'll be right back, she said as she left her bedroom.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spike knew as soon as he heard the witches cries, what was Buffy's half of the present.

Knowing Angelus, it could be a whole array of bloody, body parts. A heart maybe? Or one of the poor bloke's eyes. Or maybe some other errant piece of the whelp that the pillock cut off in a moment of demonic glee.

He shut his eyes, instantly remembering the year before when Angelus gave Druscilla a heart for Valentine's Day. Although Dru was thoroughly impressed and oohed and ah'ed over it, all Spike could think of was how much that one little act reminded him of a cat bringing home its kill as an offering. How animalistic and useless. Sunshine was definitely a better gift—although Dru did turn the poor pup after forgetting to feed the pitiful thing for a couple of days. A demonic puppy was a sight to behold and was one of the only things that kept Spike entertained for the following three months—until Angelus dusted the dog after discovering Sunshine was honing in on some of the demon's meal.

Gods, he hated that asshole.

Which brought him back to the contents of the box. What had Angelus left for him?

"Bloody hell, " he growled, impatient with himself and that tendril of fear that was weaving its way into his being. Fed up, he yanked the lid upwards.

And gasped.

A dozen long-stemmed red roses lay perfect on the bosom of a very familiar china doll—which in turn, was covered with a bloodied and torn flannel shirt. Beside the flowers lay a battered leather wallet.

Growling, he dumped the box's contents onto the Slayer's bed and found himself actually sighing in relief when he saw that there were no ashes in there.

Druscilla was still alive.

At least for now.

But the message was clear: any time, any place, any reason.

He picked up the wallet and was about to open up when he heard a loud gasp.

"Xander's! That's Xander's. I know—'cause I got it for him—two Christmas' ago."

Spike turned to see Willow crumble, nearly hitting the floor before the Slayer shook herself out of her own stupor and caught her.

After she sat Willow down on a chair, Buffy walked over to him, all the while studying the items on her bed. "The shirt's his too. He was wearing it last night." She picked it up, noting the blood. "Is it fresh?"

Spike nodded. "A few hours—maybe four at the most, luv."

Buffy nodded and reached for the box lid and pulled off the card. Ripping open the envelope, she pulled out the note.

"'A Token of My Love, '" she read from the front. "Bastard, " she whispered as she opened the card. "'To my dearest Buffy and Spike. . .

'"As you know by now, I have returned with Dru and the lively and witty Faith at my side. I always did have a thing for Slayers, but then you knew that, didn't you, Buff ? We will be looking forward to the next time we meet.

"'Oh yeah, one other thing: tell Willow thank you for once again banishing me to the confines of that wuss's brain and for that, I'll make sure Xander visits her first when he awakes.

"'Pleasant dreams. . .

. . . . . . Angelus. '"

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter Five

It was Willow that finally broke the silence.

"We—we have to—to call Giles and—and go over to Xander’s—get Oz. May—maybe someone is still al—alive," she whispered as she wiped her face and picked up the phone. She stopped just as her finger nearly touched the dialer. "Bu—Buffy, how did Angelus come b-back? I thought the soul-stealer owed Giles?" She wide green eyes stared at her friends—confusion and pain radiating out from them. "And Spike, why are you here?" She turned her attention to the vampire.

Buffy shook her head, and held out her hand, her mouth clamped shut—almost as if she was afraid of the pain that was dying to be released from her—and glanced over to the vampire, silently asking him to answer the question.

Spike rubbed his tired face and nodded to the Witch. "Call the Watcher and the Wolf, and bring them over. I don’t want to tell this story again, all right luv?"

She nodded, confusion still evident as she started dialing the phone.

"Red, don’t worry about me. On this, I’m on your side."

Buffy nodded in agreement. "Trust me on this, Willow—he is," she whispered quietly as she picked up Xander’s wallet and opened it.

Spike watched her face crumble as she pulled out what looked like a snapshot and held it tightly to her heart. A sob shook her body and once again, Spike felt the pangs of empathy ring through him.

He walked over and sat down on the bed, and slowly reached for her, pulling her down onto his lap. With his arm around her, he rocked her. "Luv, can I see?" he asked, nodding towards the picture.

She held it out from her chest, showing it to him. It was a picture of her, Willow and the boy, sitting on a park bench. He had his arms around both of them—all three of them smiling. The joy on their faces was apparent. They were happy.

"It was taken about a couple weeks before Acathla. I remember that day—because it was the first day I actually felt happy since Angel had left. I felt like I was getting some of my life back. Oh, I knew that I had to kill him—I guess it was because I finally was able to let go of that hope. And it was such a relief…"

"Can you come over now? And page Oz—it’s important. Devon’ll just have to deal," Red said over the phone, pacing in front of the bed. Spike watched her eyes shut everytime she saw the shirt—but not before she flinched physically. At first Spike was puzzled why she wasn’t as upset as they Slayer—then it hit him.

She was the one who cursed Angelus.

She knew she could do the same for the whelp. That was what was keeping her from breaking. In her mind, she hadn’t accepted the whelp’s death.

"Bloody curse," he muttered to himself. Instantly he felt two pairs of eyes land on him. "You’re planning on cursing him, aren’t you?"

Willow’s mouth clamped shut and instantly she turned around. "Giles, thanks. And hurry." She hung up the phone and faced Spike and Buffy. "So—so what if I am. I am not going to lose anyone else if I don’t have to!"

He groaned and released the Slayer. Suddenly pacing seemed to be a pretty good thing to do.

"It’s a curse, Red. Not a restoration. It’s got that blasted happy clause in it—or did you forget that! That’s what got all of us in this bloody mess to begin with! Poof-face got a happy and suddenly he’s Angelus—the demon we all love to hate! Do you really think that’s fair to the boy? To live an eternity without being able to be happy?"

Buffy shut her eyes and nodded. "Will, he’s right. It was a curse—not a spell—a curse."

Red pursed her lips and shook her head, ignoring the angry tears that ran from her eyes. "It’s okay for Angel but not Xander?"

"I didn’t say that! Last spring—it was different. If I had had the courage to kill him, I would’ve. But I couldn’t kill him. And we had to get rid of him. Cursing him was a way to get him out of the way. But now—even if we could curse him again—I don’t think he would want us too. We had enough problems keeping our hands off each other—the happy clause loomed above us—he was miserable. Willow, he tried killing himself on Christmas Eve."

Spike stopped mid-stride. "How?"

The slayer shook her head, and laughed humorously. "He was going to greet the sun. But someone had a different idea—we had a freak snowstorm—no sun."

"Divine intervention, pet?"

The slayer shrugged. "Hell if I know. But if it was, where the hell was it last night?"

Spike frowned, remembering what Whistler said. "They were caught with their pants down, luv. Just like we were. Whistler said as much."

"Whistler?" Willow asked as she shook her head. "Wait a minute—about the curse—"

"Will, the soul never leaves the body after its been turned. The demon’s just in control."

The witches mouth dropped open. "Bu—but I thought—"

"I know," Buffy interrupted. "So, did I."

Red’s eyebrows creased as she looked up at Spike. "Why are you so different? Even before Angelus—you still loved Dru. Why is your demon capable of love and not Angel’s?"

Spike sighed, hating that question was asked even though understanding why it had been. Hadn’t he asked that same question thousands of times in his own mind—even if he never had vocalized it?

The bedroom door opened, saving Spike from having to answer. He groaned outloud when he saw who the Watcher had brought with him: Whistler.

"Because like souls, demons change with incarnations. Depending on their experiences, they, like souls, can go either way…less demon-like or even more so."

Spike growled, hating to hear that answer but inside knowing it was the truth: his demon wasn't nearly a cruel and sadistic as most. It never had been. In reality, his demon was more 'humane' than his soul. It always had been.

"Oh come on, Spikey—you know it's true."

"Yeah, well you didn't have to bloody shout it out to the world!"

Whistler chuckled as he strolled into the room and headed straight for the bed. He picked up the discarded card and read it silently. After he set it back down, he looked at each of them. "I'm sorry."

The watcher, silent until then, picked up the card himself and read it. "Oh dear Lord, he's back. Whistler informed me of it, but I really didn't believe it." He glanced over at Willow. "Are you sure Xander's not home?"

She bit her lip nervously. "I didn't actually make it into the house. But it just felt wrong. The door wasn't even closed all the way and I—I smelled bl—blood."

The watcher nodded. "Well, considering Faith's previous relations with him and with Druscilla being back—"

"Angel's turned him," Buffy said, picking at her bedspread. "That note…" she shook her head. "Xander's gone."

The Watcher sighed, taking off his glasses and pinching his nose. "Let's not jump to conclusions. Has anyone checked out the mansion today?"

Everyone shook their heads.

"Okay, once Oz arrives, you two," he said looking at Red, "head over to the mansion. Take Xander's shirt and see if Oz picks up his scent. Now, that means, stay outside—in the sun. If the bloody pillock's back—he'll know that we need to do this. So, stay away from any place that may be dangerous. Buffy, Whistler and I will go to Xander's. If need be, we'll call the police." He stopped and looked up, finally acknowledging Spike's presence. "And you need to rest. We'll stop by Willie's on the way back and pick up some blood. Whistler told me that you've been on the road for over three days. And if we're going to finally get Angelus, we need you at your full strength."

"What about Wesley?"

The watcher groaned, rubbing his temples. "Maybe he'll go running off to England now that his Slayer has gone rogue. Bloody hell, I don't know. He's useless. Maybe he can stay with Cordelia—protect her or something. If Xander's been turned, she'll be one of his main targets."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Twenty minutes later, Whistler, Oz and Willow were downstairs waiting for Giles and Buffy. The slayer had grabbed an outfit and headed for the bathroom to change, leaving Spike and Giles alone in her room.

For the first couple of minutes, neither man said anything, almost as if they were sizing one another up. Finally, Spike couldn't take it and had to ask him why the Watcher wasn't aiming a crossbow at him.

The Englishman gave the vampire a sardonic smile and began clearing off the bed, placing the 'gift' items back in their original box. "Whistler. I've known the demon on and off for over twenty-five years. He pulled my arse out of a few rough spots—especially during those days of my misspent youth. Ironically, it wasn't until later, while studying with the council, did I realize how powerful and influential my guardian demon was. The short of it all is that he said that I could trust you—at least in this matter—and reminded me of how much I had relied on Angel, even if I had hated the bloke."

Just what he needed to hear. Whistler did have plans for him after this. "Bloody hell, this was not the way I pictured spending the rest of my existence! All I ever wanted was my Black Goddess, some blood and a regular spot of violence to put things in perspective. Not this."

The watcher shrugged unsympathetically. "I could say I'm sorry Spike, but I'd be lying. But I do know what it's like doing something that goes against yourself—no matter how much fun you have while you're doing it—it just doesn't sit well with you. I have a feeling that's how you ended up here, instead of with Druscilla."

Spike glared at the watcher, hating that he was right, and nodded once.

"But," the watcher continued, "I also have no doubt in my mind that you will continue to wreak havoc in areas that do not go against yourself. Whether or not that's demon enough for you, I don't have a clue. Nor do I really care. I assume that's why Whistler's here—to help you work out those issues. "

He walked over to the door and opened it. "Now, if you'll excuse me, please inform Buffy that I will be downstairs with the others waiting for her. Remember, rest."

And he left the room, closing the door behind him.

"Bloody hell," Spike muttered as he pulled off his tee-shirt and tossed it onto a chair. Soon his jeans followed and naked, he turned, getting ready to slip under the covers.

That is, until he heard a distinctly feminine, "Ooh."

He straightened, instantly recognizing the Slayer by both her scent and her voice, and started grinning when he saw a deep dark blush cover her exposed skin. Cor, she's blushing everywhere. He felt himself begin to stir in excitement.

Still smiling, he kept his eyes on her as he pulled up the covers and slipped underneath them. Watching her stand there, aroused and angry at the same time, stirred his need even more. Finally, he broke the silence.

"Well, Slayer, are you going to stand there and ogle my body for the rest of the day or are you going to do your daytime slaying duties and leave me to rest? Or there's the third option."

"What's that?" she whispered, her voice low and definitely sultry.

I will have her before this is finished, he promised himself silently. "What's what?"

She stomped her foot in agitation and finally moved from the spot she'd seemed to be anchored to. "_The_ _third_ _option, asshole," she growled out as she picked up her slayer's bag by the door.

"Oh, that. You could stay here with me and let me find out for myself how much of your body does blush when you're aroused."

She instantly clamped her eyes shut and sucked in a deep breath, as if picturing in her mind exactly what he meant. He couldn't help but smile at her response. Gods, she was gorgeous.

"Oh, whatever." She turned on her heel and stepped out the door, slamming it behind her, leaving him alone.

"She wants me," he whispered to himself. The door whipped open and she stuck her head inside.

"Get over yourself, Spike. Before you go to sleep, call my mom and let her know you're here. You wouldn't want her to come home and air out my room or anything, now would you? And I know I wouldn't appreciate coming home to finding a pile of vampire dust on my bed sheets. Such a bitch to get out.

"See ya, Spikey."

The door closed once again.

"Bitch," he muttered to himself. "Just as I was getting the upper hand too." And then it occurred to him—that's why he enjoyed the Slayer. She was his equal in so many ways. In battle—both the physical and verbal. And if he was lucky, in bed as well. At least he hoped he would find that one out soon.

Grinning, he turned to the phone and dialed the gallery's number. He didn't even bother asking himself how he had memorized it—he didn't feel up to the soul-searching the answer would require. Brooding was something his sire did when he had his soul. Not Spike, William the Bloody, thank you very much.

"Summer's Gallery."

"Hello, Joyce. It's Spike."

"Spike, how are you?"

"Bloody exhausted. It's been a rough few days."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Is—is it about Druscilla?"

"Among other things. Listen, the Slayer told me to call you. I've been in town since last night. Actually, I was at your house when you called—"

"Where?"

"The slayer's room. "

"Spike!"

"Joyce, it's okay. We're on the same side for right now. It's complicated."

"Are you and Buffy sleeping together?"

If he could've blushed, he would have. "No Joyce. I just needed a safe place to stay and she insisted the factory wasn't. Oh bloody hell, Angelus is back, Joyce. Dru saw it in a vision and that same night I left Brazil to come back and see if I could prevent it or help Buffy dust him for good."

"Oh my God, my poor daughter," her voice cracked. "Is she okay?"

"You're daughter is a strong one. She's keeping it together. But with this as well as the Mayor's ascension, she's a bit preoccupied. 'Probably why she wanted me to call you instead of herself."

Joyce sighed loudly. "What was in the box?"

"Later Joyce. It would be better if you talked to us in person. As it is, the slayer wanted me to call you to warn you that I was here." He fell back on to the stack of pillows behind him and stretched, feeling the last few days of fatigue settle heavily into his body. "I've got to go. I haven't slept in three days—except for about three hours earlier this morning and I really need to do some catch up. Can we talk about this later?"

For a moment, Spike thought she was going to argue with him. For the past three months, he had gotten to know Joyce Summer's pretty well, and the one quality she shared with her daughter was a fierce protectiveness of those she loved. Spike could tell she was torn between worrying about her daughter and worrying about him.

"I'll be okay and so will she. She made me swear to keep my fangs off her and hers and I don't break my word—"

"But what about her and her stakes?"

"That was part of the deal as well."

Joyce chuckled softly. "Okay, Spike. I understand."

"One last thing."

"What?"

"Can you get home before it gets dark. It would make me feel better. And if you can't, call one of us and we'll escort you home."

"That won't be—"

"Joyce, promise me."

A heavy sigh reverberated through the receiver. "All right. I will. Sleep well, Spike."

"Thank you. I think I will."

He hung up the phone and closed his eyes, allowing himself to finally succumb to the exhaustion that had been plaguing him since he had left Brazil.

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Chapter Six

As the Slayer, Buffy had thought she had pretty much seen it all when it came to death. From the broken dead bodies of her schoolmates to the Master's Lair, where the stench of death and rotten blood permeated everything around it. Or those two murdered 'children' in the school playground to the massacre in the AV Lab her first year in Sunnydale.

But none of that or any of the other horrors she had faced in her three years of slaying prepared her for the bloodbath awaiting her, Giles and Whistler at the Harris' home.

As she stood there, in between the demon and her watcher, the first obtuse thought that flittered through her mind was: where did all the blood come from?

There was no way two or even three humans could have as much blood in their bodies as what was painted across the walls of the living room, thrown on the ceiling and furniture and soaking in the carpet.

As her eyes skimmed the room, out of the corner of her eye, she saw the naked bodies of Xander's parents. Taking a deep breath through her mouth, preparing herself, she looked down onto the floor where they lay and felt her stomach make a sickly roll.

This had to have been Angelus' work—she couldn't imagine Faith having the stomach needed to play with her victims' dead bodies. Besides, Angelus knew of Xander's home life and the picture that had been drawn for Buffy and the rest of the gang, was a sick parody of the Harris' marriage.

Both of Xander's parents were alcoholics and neither of them had taken their vows of marriage seriously. Although no one understood why they remained married; they did—torturing themselves and Xander with their violent, drunken union.

In some ways, Xander's life, was a lot like Willow's. Both of them had been pushed off to the side long ago, mostly forgotten, until something caused their parents to take notice. Unfortunately for Xander, when his parent's attention had been caught, he had rarely survived physically unscathed. The Harris' were both physically abusive—to the point that even Sheila Rosenberg had called Child Welfare to report them for child abuse a few years before.

But nothing came of it.

Like so many things on the Hellmouth, the Harris' family problems had been ignored and swept under the rug. As long as they kept the house up and the yard mowed—no one really gave a shit.

Which was why the scene in front of them was even more sickening.

Both of their bodies were pale and bloodless; Mr. Harris' body was on top of Mrs. Harris, as if he was making love to her. Except for one important detail—his penis was hanging out of his butt and Mrs. Harris was sucking on her own tit—which, had been violently removed from her chest.

The expressions on both of their faces was one of horror and pain—their eyes wide open and now unseeing.

Each of them bore the tell-tale signs of vampiric feeding—Mr. Harris sporting a pair of teeth marks on his behind and Mrs. Harris' remaining breast was literally littered with nearly a half dozen different bites.

Again the question that kept running through Buffy's mind was: where did they get all that blood?

Shaking her head, as if to push those thoughts out of her mind, she finally found the strength to move her nearly frozen legs. Covering her mouth, she turned and took off up the stairs to Xander's room. Her stomach was heaving, but she refused to get sick. Instead she swallowed the bile, ignoring its acidic burn as it traveled back down her throat.

Reaching Xander's room, she flung the door open and flipped on the overhead light.

Her knees collapsed as she heard herself sob out loud in relief.

His room was untouched—as messy as it always had been—with his bed unmade, dirty clothes scattered all over the floor. His backpack, still filled with books from the day before, sat on top of his cluttered desk.

And then she saw it.

A single red rose, in a crystal vase, sat in the window sill, with a card casually propped up against it.

The card was addressed to Willow.

And of course, it was in Angelus' handwriting.

Buffy didn't remember much of what happened after that. Vaguely, she thought it was Whistler that found her.

She remember cool arms lifting her as she clutched the rose, vase, and card to her chest and then, she did the most un-slayeristic action of her long career: she fainted.

Minutes later she woke up as Giles' battered Citroen bounced over another pothole and heard the hushed whisperings of her watcher and the demon.

"It's her greatest strength and in turn, greatest weakness," Giles said as his voice shook with emotion. "And I cannot fault her. It's what's kept her not only alive, but the world safe as it is for this long."

She heard Whistler sigh. "I know that, Ripper. But unfortunately, so does he. And he will do everything in his power to destroy her. This may be just the beginning."

Buffy inwardly moaned, as Whistler words penetrated her heart and soul, leaving it a shattered mess.

He was right. She didn't kill demons because it was her sacred duty—she did it to keep her family and friends safe. She never did buy that 'being called is a privilege' crap, like Kendra or the hundreds of Slayers before her. It wasn't an honor or privilege; it was a burden. And one that she fought against for nearly two of the three years she had been a slayer. It wasn't until she returned from last fall, did she finally accept her destiny.

But even then, it was on her own terms. Not Wesley's, the Council of Watcher's, or even Giles—but her own—to keep her people safe and alive. So that they could have all the things that she never would be able to: a mate, children, a job, a house and safety. If she couldn't have those things for herself, then by God, everyone else she loved would or she would die trying.

Remembering that gave her the courage to face Whistler and Giles—after her uncharacteristic display of weakness at Xander's and she pulled herself up into a sitting position and leaned forward. "Hi."

"Buffy! Are you okay?" Giles asked as the car swerved a bit to the right.

Grinning, she nodded. "Giles—the road." She turned to Whistler. "I'm sorry for that," she said referring to her fainting spell. "I guess I wasn't ready for that. It hit me so—so hard—to see that rose and know that not only was Xander gone but inside of Angelus' is his soul—crying for release—forced to watch all this." She shut her eyes against the threatening tears. "I knew what he was capable of. I read the diaries. But last year, he was so—"

"Preoccupied?" Whistler supplied.

"Yeah, I guess that's what I mean. Last year, he could've killed us all in one night. He had an open invitation into almost everyone's house. But instead, he wanted to play games. With the exception of Ms. Calender—well, it could've been a lot worse," she said as she watched Giles' face for a reaction.

He barely flinched.

We've all hardened so much this year, she thought to herself as she turned back to Whistler as he began to speak.

"It's different this year. You and him haven't been intimate since the last time he lost his soul. Also before, he came home to both of his children." The demon sighed, taking off his hat and running his fingers through his hair. After putting it back on, he continued, "With Spike's defection, I'm sure he feels that the time for games have long passed. All he can think of is revenge. Against you for sending him to Hell, against Willow, for re-cursing him and against Spike, for his betrayal."

Buffy nodded in agreement. It was different last year. For her as well.

Last year, she harbored the hope of his returning—believing somehow, someway she would get her Angel back.

This time she knew better.

As far as she was concerned, he was dust.

It was the least she could do for Angel.

His soul deserved some peace.

So, if Angelus wanted to try and destroy her and her loved ones, that was fine. He could dream all he wanted to about the big coupe and her dead body laying at his feet. But she wasn't the same innocent young girl she had been the year before. It wasn't going to be an easy battle for him and with Spike at her side, Angelus just may find himself back in Hell—where he belonged.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Are you okay?" Oz asked her softly as he turned the ignition of the van off.

Willow nodded silently—still unable to find her voice.

Funny what guilt can do, she thought to herself. And that's what it was: guilt. As soon as she saw Oz walk through Buffy's front door, it felt as if a bucket of cold water had been thrown on top of her—shaking her out of whatever had possessed her since the days following the factory and when she and Xander last kissed.

She caused this.

It was all her fault.

If she hadn't been so afraid of Xander's rejection and love, Xander wouldn't have been in the position he had been the night before. He would've never slept with Faith, which in turn, would've never made him a likely candidate for Faith's vampiric boytoy.

That was the only reason why Angelus had chosen him, instead of someone else.

Faith still wanted him.

And Goddess help them all—what a vampire Xander would make. Her double told her as much; describing in dark detail, the fun Xander and Willow had together as vampires—forever together—bound in their undead lives as they had been when they were still alive.

A part of Willow ached to see Xander like that—strong, confident, proud, sensual. It was the same part of herself that she knew would be the dominant part if she were brought across.

Her dark side.

She shuddered at that thought and finally turned to Oz, finding him watching her—worried for her or about her. She couldn't tell which one. How could she explain this to him? How could she tell him that it was all her fault and that even though she loved Oz—she couldn't live without Xander. How? Could he understand that despite having two parents that loved her—although absent—that Xander was more her family than they had ever been?

He made her real.

Just as she had for him.

She hardly understood it herself—it just was.

It had always been.

"Willow?"

She shook her head, absently wiping at her tears and shrugged apologetically. "Spike says I shouldn't curse him."

"Why?"

"Because of the clause. He said a lifetime without happiness is wrong." She glanced over at him, watching his reactions. "And Buffy agrees with him."

"What do you think?"

She bit her lip as a new wave of tears flooded her eyes. "That if I lose him—I'll," she stopped and shook her head. "Oz, I can't talk about this with you…if I do…I'm afraid…I'll lose you too."

His eyes shut in pain. "You love him."

She nodded. "Yes. But—but I love you too. When I chose you—it was because you're better for me as—as—a couple—to be in love with—than Xander. But I never considered letting him go totally. He would always be there—be my friend—in my life. That was enough."

"And now? If he's gone?"

Willow glanced out the window, staring at the houses that lined Crawford street. "I don't know. And that's what terrifies me, Oz. The only reason I'm the Willow you know today is because of him. He and Jesse—they made me real. Will I disappear now that they're both gone?"

She let out a shuddering sigh and turned around and grabbed Xander's shirt. Handing it to Oz, she met his eyes and gave him a small smile. "Let's just get this over with."

Oz took the shirt and reached for the door, but stopped. "Willow, you're not alone. I love you."

She bit her bottom lip and nodded, silently wondering if that would ever be enough—if Xander was really gone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Buffy stuffed four of the six blood bags into the refrigerator and sighed. Glancing at the clock, she was amazed that only two hours had passed since everyone had gathered here in her kitchen.

Two hours ago, she still had been an innocent. But now, at eighteen, she finally felt as hardened as any soldier who had fought in any war.

She had finally seen it all.

Shutting her eyes against the image, she grabbed the two remaining blood bags, intent on waking the errant vampire that was now occupying her bed and forcing him to feed. She did not want to wake up to find him snacking on her because he couldn't control the starving demon.

As she trudged up the stairs, she remembered how she'd felt the year before when Kendra had died. Somehow that was nothing compared to how she felt now. Even in the darkest recesses of her heart and mind, she never allowed herself to contemplate losing Xander or Willow. They were her rocks—her anchors—that kept her at least somewhat in the real world. They constantly reminded her why life was worth fighting for—that friendships and love were the only constants in her short life.

As she carefully opened her bedroom door, she once again made a promise to herself, that she would do everything possible to keep Willow safe—and alive. She had to…

Shaking her head, she closed the door and tossed Spike's lunch onto the bed. After kicking off her shoes and socks, she turned around, pulling her shirt off and walked over to her closet. She pulled out an oversized tee-shirt and a pair of boxers. She slipped the shirt on and undid her bra, pulling it off and letting it drop soundlessly onto the floor. After slipping her hands through the sleeves, she unzipped her jeans and pulled them down.

She then put on the boxers and turned around, nearly squeaking in fright.

Spike, awake now, was sitting on the bed, game face on and drinking from the second bag, all the while staring at her hungrily.

A deep red blush instantly covered her skin as an influx of conflicting emotions filled her. She wanted him. She wanted to cry. She wanted to sleep. She wanted Angel. She hated Angelus.

And she was pissed.

At who, she didn't quite know. But anger seemed to get the top billing as she grabbed one of her shoes and threw it at him—hitting his ridges on his true face.

"Damnit Spike!" she yelled, ignoring his growling, as her voice started to crack with emotion. "Don't do that—not now!" She finished softly, as she walked over to Spike's makeshift bed on the floor beside him and started to lay down when his arm snaked around her waist and pulled her up onto the bed.

"Luv, what happened? Why are you back so soon?"

She almost didn't answer him.

The pain, still fresh, twisted at her gut as her mind flashed upon the bloody scene in Xander's living room.

But when he pulled her back against his chest, much like he had the night before, something inside of her broke. She turned in his arms, burying her head into his chest, clutching at his arms as she told him what they had found.

When she reached the part of her fainting, she physically cringed as the words stumble out, acutely ashamed of her actions.

"I'm the slayer, Spike! Not some sniveling, whiny little girl who collapses at the first since of trouble! I've faced the Master, Lothos, Acathla—the fucking Three—and yet, when I saw that rose and card, it terrified me."

Hiding her face from what she was sure his condemnation, she felt his cool hands gently pull her head back. "Do you think it'll happen again?"

Her eyebrows creased as she shook her head.

"Neither do I," he whispered as he wiped the tears off her face. "Pet, it happens. You're not a demon. You can't be expected to be strong all the time. Besides, this was about your mate and Angelus, and you weren't in any immediate danger—so you allowed yourself to react. I've never seen you even flinch while you are in battle. You just didn't have your slayer hat on—that's all. You were just being Buffy."

She let out a soft chuckle. "Slayer hat? What have you been reading? Cat-in-the-Hat books?"

Trying not to smirk, he looked her straight in the eye. "Bite me."

Closing her eyes, she yawned. "That's your job."

"That it is," he mumbled. "So, did you read the card that he left?"

She shook her head. "I couldn't—not then. Giles said he'd let us see it tonight—when everyone comes over. They have to perform the uninvite spell again. All we need is Angelus busting in here with a hoard of vampires."

He nodded in understanding. "What about the witch and wolf? What did they find?"

She yawned again, enjoying the coolness of Spike's bare chest. "Xander's there. Oz thinks he's already been changed. Something about his smell being different."

"I'm sorry, luv."

"S'okay. We'll figure something out. The fucker hasn't won yet." Yawning for the third time, she opened one eye and looked up at him. "I'm going to go to sleep now. We've got a few hours before they show up…"

He nodded as his arms tightened his hold on her, making her feel safe, despite the fact that she once again was defenseless in a demon's arms.

Too tired to care or think about it, she just allowed herself to enjoy it, as she slipped off into a dreamless sleep.

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Chapter Seven

The first thing that registered in Buffy's consciousness was the cool hand that was gently caressing her back, downwards over her buttocks and back upwards in a sensual, but comforting manner.

Spike, she thought to herself, remembering how she fell asleep. That was the second thing.

The third and fourth things came to her almost simultaneously: God, that feels sooo good and oh my God, I knew it was Spike and didn't even think it was Angel…

Abruptly, she sat up and rolled off his lap. Biting her lip, she looked up at him apologetically, meeting his stormy eyes and noting that seemed to darken from earlier. "That felt too good."

"It was supposed to," he said quietly and surprisingly, at least to her, seriously.

She nodded, closing her eyes against the onslaught of emotions that seemed to hit her every time she even tried to use her mind. "What's going on?" she asked, pointing to herself and him. "I mean, why now? Why not last fall? Or last spring?"

Spike snorted and reached over for a cigarette. "You know damn well why now. Our significant others are no longer significant now. And you can't tell me that you don't wonder about us—aren't attracted to me…don't want to jump my bones…"

She chuckled, shaking her head. "Full of yourself much?"

He glared at her.

She lifted her hands in a mock surrender. "All right, you're right. But Spike, I can't just—just sleep with you because it'll feel good—"

"It's as good of a reason as any—"

"—I'm not like that and—"

"—it's not like I have a soul to lose—"

"—I don't want to wake up alone and empty—with you laughing at me—"

"What?"

Oh God, he heard that, she thought to herself as she began picking at the sheet, purposely not looking at him.

He lifted her chin up with his finger, forcing her to look at him. "Slayer, what was that? Why would I laugh at you?"

Tears flooded her eyes as she stared at the wall over his shoulder, ashamed that what Angelus had told her over a year ago still stung as deeply as it did when he told her. What a way to promote abstinence. Kill a girl's self-esteem so she'll never have to the courage to give of herself again.

"Buffy, talk to me. What did that pillock say to you? It was Angelus, wasn't it?"

She nodded as she wrung her hands. "It was the next day—after we did it—and I didn't know, ya know? I thought it was Angel and when I woke up and he wasn't there—I got real scared. The Judge was together and Angel just disappeared while we were sleeping. So, after school, I went back there to wait for him.

"He showed up right after the sun set and he was different—cold and cocky, treating me like I was just an easy lay, pushing all those insecurity buttons that I didn't even know I had—calling me Buff—and said that I was okay, for a virgin, but the way he said, he might as well have called me a cold fish."

Spike inwardly cursed his sire as he pulled the slayer into his lap. "Luv, you realize that he said those things to hurt you, because that wasn't what I heard. He came back to the factory that night, his old demon self, so full himself, it made me wanna puke and bragged about how he bedded the slayer and what a hot piece she was."

"Really?"

He reached for hand and held it, caressing the back with his thumb. "Really. You never discussed this with Peaches?"

She shook her head. "Too many other things to talk about—like sending him to Hell and all. It seemed so insignificant in comparison. Besides, I was so afraid of even talking about sex—like somehow it would jinx us into doing it again and then, he'd lose his soul." She chuckled humorlessly. "Jeez, if I'd known he was going to lose his soul regardless of what we did together, a part of me just wishes we would've done it again."

She peered up at him, wondering if he was secretly laughing at her—not that she would blame him. A part of herself was laughing at her. The part of her that the Slayer resided—the tough, no nonsense, warrior that killed demons and vampires without blinking an eye. Except for those last few weeks before Faith had killed the Mayor's assistant, she rarely let that side of herself completely out—even while patrolling. It scared her. Sometimes, when she would lay awake at night, she would wonder how different she really was from the demons she killed—for that slayer part of her wasn't much different than Spike or Angelus.

At least as far as she could see.

And watching Faith stray over to the other side only seemed to support that theory. As much as she argued with Faith about it, she knew the other slayer was right—they were killers…

"Pet." Spike shook her. "Where did you go?"

She frowned and shook her head. "No where special. So," she started.

He sighed and leaned back against the pillows, pulling her with him. "Slayer, I'm not going anywhere—at least I'm not going to be fighting against you anymore. That's why Whistler's here."

She turned her head, unable to hide her shock. "I thought it was—"

"Because of Angelus."

She nodded. "Yeah—because Whistler is the one that pulled his butt out of the gutters in New York City."

"Well, I was hoping for that. But nope, he basically came out and told me last night. But to be honest, I had a feeling." Snorting, he lit a cigarette. "Well, I've never been like other vampires. I've always had feelings—human feelings. But I wasn't a nice bloke as a human. Angry and a pisser, to be honest, and a killer. Once I came across, all those feelings just seemed magnified. I was pretty much of a sociopath as a human, so all those feelings of love, compassion and caring didn't come until later."

"Druscilla?"

"Actually no. It was Angelus," he said quietly, his eyes taking on a distant feel. Buffy wasn't surprised by this revelation. She had always believed that at one time Spike and Angel were intimate. It just made sense.

He continued as he turned his attention back to her. "It didn't take long for the demon to teach what was left of the human, William Attison, how to feel. Bloody ironic, isn't it? The demon was the one who knew how to love. But it also knew how to hate. And it still had a powerful bloodlust—especially if anyone I cared about was threatened. Both of those slayers—they were after Dru—and I knew killing them would guarantee me a spot as a master vampire. That way, Dru and I would be left alone by other vampires."

"And me?"

"Luv, I really didn't try to kill you—or you would've been at least as hurt as I was when the church organ fell on me—even just once." He took a drag off his cigarette. "It was mostly for Dru. She hated you because of Angel. Soul or not—the Poof was hers—at least in her mind. Me? You fascinated me. You had friends and family helping you. You didn't follow the rules. You fought like me—improvising and witty. You were beautiful and sensual and my sire was in love with you. And he was my first love, so I wanted to see what he saw."

She looked back down at the comforter and began plucking at it as she thought over what he had just said. She tried to remember what she felt when she had met Spike that first time, but all she could see was the love-hazed picture of Angel in her mind. Back then, he seemed to fill all her time—either in her fantasies or when he was by her side.

But she did have one picture of Spike that seemed to stand out among the debris of Angel: the first night they had met in the alley by the Bronze. That cocky way he tipped his head, clapping his hands at her fighting technique. She remembered thinking, 'Oh great, a-Billy-Idol wanna be with a sense of humor.' Then she really looked at him and thought, 'oh God, he's hot too!'

And then the rest, so they say, was history.

Pulling her out of her thoughts, Spike tipped her head up, met her eyes. Once their eyes met, she felt herself falling into their stormy depths. As his eyes tugged at her, she found herself leaning forward—her heart beating wildly—until their lips met.

"Just a kiss, luv, just a kiss," he whispered against her lips.

"Okay—I think I can handle that."

The corner of his mouth turned up in a smirk. "We'll just have to see about that."

She was just about to snap back at him when her world seemed to be turned upside down. Once their lips met—it seemed that kiss took on a life onto itself. Their lips moved, gently touching one another, nibbling one another's softness. Investigating one another—testing each other's responses.

Buffy had no idea who opened their mouth first, but once that happened, she felt one of his hands, clasp her head, keeping her in place, while the other arm wrapped itself around her waist, pulling her back on top of him, as their tongues battled like their bodies had for over the past year.

Her hands were far from idle as one cupped his face, her thumb tracing his cheekbones while the other wound its way up and around his neck, caressing his cool skin at his hairline around the nape of his neck.

Her breasts suddenly felt heavy and wanting as her nipples hardened in excitement. A rush of hot need ran through her body, centering on her sex. As she pushed herself against him, she felt his on arousal, and her body responded. As her head swam, her legs fell open as she hugged his body closer to hers.

And then her world turned and suddenly she was the one on her back as he moved from her mouth, raining kisses on her face, moving to her ear.

One hand propped him up as the other cupped her breast. She heard small whimpers and inwardly giggled when she realized it was her that was making those sex-crazed noises.

It had been so long.

And then he began whispering in her ear, calling for her. "Buffy," he whispered and then his tongue slipped inside, causing her whole mind to splinter in need. But it was hearing her name in the throes of passion from him that seemed to seal her fate. It touched a part of her that she had thought died when Angel had lost his soul. A sense of belonging—a part of something bigger than herself. Her eyes closed against the tears as she fought the need to weep in relief.

Since Angel had returned, she had unconsciously searched for this feeling—praying that it would return and in turn, give her the strength she needed to continue the fight for the good.

But it never came.

Instead, she found herself searching, always needy in his presence, always wanting but never belonging…

A sob escaped as her arms tugged his body down on top of hers, stopping his tantalizing touches of seduction. Biting her bottom lip, she looked up to see him staring down at her in confusion and arousal.

She lifted a hand and caressed his scarred eyebrow, smiling through the tears. "Yes," she whispered and kissed him chastely on the lips. "But, not now." His face fell. She could commiserate with him. Both of them were going to have to take very cold showers after this.

Sighing, she glanced at the clock and felt her body tense when she saw the time. "Fifteen minutes, Spike! We're gonna have a full house in less than fifteen minutes! And my mom? Where is she?" She pushed on him, trying to get him to move.

"In just a minute," he said, turning her head back so that he could see her face. "I just want to make sure I understand before I let you slip away again."

"Hey!"

"Slayer," he warned her, but ruining the effect of being stern by giving her grin. "Are you saying yes to us having sex or yes to that and—" he stopped, seemingly searching for the right words. "Giving us a shot."

"Both of them." She leaned up and kissed his cheek. "All of them." She kissed the other cheek. "Now, get up!" And then placed a gentle, loving kiss on his lips.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Grinning, he rolled off her and watched as she scrambled out of bed and tore through her dresser, pulling out a pair of underwear, bra and a pair of socks. "Call my mom and see if she left yet, will ya?"

She said yes, he thought to himself as he picked up her phone and dialed the gallery's phone number. On the fourth ring, he began frowning as he watched the Slayer slip out of the room. They had about a half an hour before sundown. Hopefully, Joyce was on her way home.

He hung up the phone and leaned back in the bed and thought about what had just transpired between the two. In all his fantasies about her, he never imagined that kissing her would be as enticing as it had been in reality. She was so alive; everywhere she touched, inflamed him, and called to him.

With Druscilla, he always felt like he had to play a part for her—whether it be the tough, bloodthirsty Spike or her caring companion, doting lover or viscous vampire.

Especially lately.

Once he 'won' her back from that bleeding Chaos Demon, he never felt secure with her. It always seemed that she was watching him—waiting for him to screw up.

And he did.

The moment he left her to return to Sunnyhell, he showed her that his sire's death was more important than her life.

But to be honest, they were over long before Brazil. Once she chose to dote on Angelus instead of caring for Spike while he was incapacitated. He knew their sire would demand a lot of Dru's time, but Spike had no idea that she would ignore him in the process. Those five months—living with Angelus while he tormented Spike with Dru—broke his undead heart.

And after nearly a year later, Spike realized, when it came to Dru, it was still broken.

The door flew open and the slayer rushed through, dressed in a pair of tight jeans and one of the sleeveless, spaghetti strap shirts she seemed to love. "Your turn. Did you call my mom?"

He nodded. "Yeah luv, but I think she already left. She didn't answer."

"Hopefully," she murmured. "Did you tell her about Angelus earlier?"

"Yeah, she was worried about you."

Buffy shut her eyes and nodded. "It's funny. She was right. She never did trust Angel." She looked up. "I'm going to get something to eat. The towels and wash rags are in the closet. Feel free to use whatever shampoo you choose." She walked over to the door and stopped. "How long does it take for someone to rise after they've turned?"

"Depends on how much blood is exchanged. If Angelus gives him a lot, it'll strengthen the demon, which in turn will give him the power to wake up quickly."

She nodded once. "I guess you didn't say anything to her about Xander, did you?"

"No, slayer, I didn't. I wasn't sure and if he hadn't been turned…"

"I know. But he was. I just know it." She stared at the ceiling. "I don't know if I can stake him, you know. Xander's one of my best friends. Him and Willow…" she shook her head. "Go, take your shower. I'll be downstairs."

He waited until her heard her steps down the steps, and got up, wrapping a sheet around his naked body. Once he tied it around his waist, he dug through his bag and pulled out a clean outfit and headed for the bathroom to take that cold shower.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once shower and dressed, he headed downstairs and walked towards the kitchen, overhearing the heated discussion in the kitchen.

"We have to kill him now!" Buffy said, slamming something down on the counter. "Tonight. We can't afford to have Angel running around. He already got Xander—who's next. With Faith being able to enter uninvited—everyone one of us is a target. It isn't just to hurt me—it's not just personal now. Not with Xander…"

"Let me curse Xander then, Buffy. Take him out of the picture."

"Luv, didn't we already talk about this?" he asked stepping into the kitchen. He went over to the refrigerator, motioned to the prom queen to move and opened it, pulling out two blood bags.

"Ewww? Is that what I think it is?"

He rolled his eyes as he poured the contents into a tall mug. "Oh, are you offering?"

"No!" Cordelia stammered, inching closer to the only person he didn't know, a dark-haired man about thirty—dressed in tweed--ah, the other watcher.

"It's just that—well, it's just gross, that's all," she finished, practically hanging onto the Watcher.

Spike shook his head and moved over to the microwave and stuck the mug in it, timing it for two minutes, and turned back around to Willow. "Luv, I have no problems staking the whelp. Unlike everyone else here, I didn't care for him."

Willow's green eyes filled with tears as she shook her head. "No, please don't. I've looked over the curse and I found the 'happiness' clause. I took it out. Let me try," she said, looking up at Giles, "the curse without the clause. If it doesn't work, then Spike can kill him."

"What about an orb of Thessulah?" Giles asked as he sipped his tea.

"I've got six of them already. I ordered them off the Internet from a reputable Wiccan shop that has an online store."

Cordelia snickered. "Can you say overboard, Willow?"

"Well, once I found them, I wanted to make sure I had enough. I knew, just like all of us, that we could easily be turned—and after seeing my vampire counterpart and hearing about Xander's," pausing, she shuddered, "I just had to be sure—to be safe."

The microwave beeped and Spike pulled out his dinner. Before drinking, he turned to the other demon. "Can it work without the clause, mate?"

"I'd have to see it to make sure—but if it's the same curse, it should. The gypsies were the ones that changed it. The original one had no happiness clause."

Buffy shot out of her chair and before anyone could stop her, had lifted the demon into the air by his shirt.

"Buffy!" Joyce yelled, running over to her daughter's side.

"Mom! Stay away! He knew about the clause and never said anything! How could you? So many people died last year—and you knew!"

"Slayer! I didn't know they changed it! Damnit, who the hell do you think gave it to them in the first place? They changed the damn thing and never said a word!"

Her eyes clamped shut as she released the demon. "Why? Didn't they know what could happen?"

"They didn't care, kid. All they wanted was their vengeance."

"And ended up losing two of their own for their trouble," Giles added quietly.

"Well, as your watcher, I don't believe you have a choice in the matter. Stake Xa—Xander. He's a vampire and you're the slayer—it is your duty," the new watcher said haughtily.

"I know what my fucking duty is, Wesley! Do you? How did the council react the news of a rogue slayer, huh?"

"Well, um—"

"Buffy!"

"I'm sorry, Mom. He's no more my watcher than he's your lover."

Spike nearly choked on his blood. "Cor, luv, you're heartless."

Joyce shook her head and glared at the other watcher. "And you, Mr. Windham Price, don't you ever tell my daughter what her duty is. From what I can see, she has lived her duty, sacrificed her life for her 'duty' and her happiness. And all any of you, Mr. Giles being the exception, do to help her, is make her struggle even more painful than it already is!"

"Uh, excuse me," the wolf broke in quietly. "Aren't we getting a little off topic here? Don't we have an uninvite spell to do as well as find Xander and see if he's really been turned?"

"And stake Angel," Buffy added quietly.

"Well, that too."

"I agree," Spike said, placing his cup into the sink and rinsing it out. "I'm dying to run into poof-face and slam his face into the pavement. Aren't you, luv?" he asked, turning to the Slayer.

Grinning, she nodded. "Yeah, I sure would. So, Giles, what's the plan?"

Wesley sputtered, trying to interrupt the older man, but quit once he saw Spike, in game face, glare at him.

"Well, let's do the spell here. Anyone else invite Angel in since he's been back?" Everyone shook their heads. "Good then. Willow, where would you go if you were turned?"

"The Bronze," she said without thinking. "But will Angel let him out this soon?" she asked, turning to Spike.

He shrugged. "It depends on how much he wants the bloke to stay alive. If he's just a pawn, then I'd say yes. But then, he could come with a small army to protect the boy."

"Small army—Bronze. Doesn't sound good, does it?" Buffy asked the others quietly.

"No, it doesn't. Well, then, let's prepare ourselves. Willow and Oz will perform the uninvite spell. Once they're finished, we need to go to the library and arm ourselves and head over to the Bronze to wait."

Chapter Eight

"Wanna dance?"

Spike looked up from the table and met the sea-green eyes of the Slayer as she shifted from one foot to the other.

Afraid of a little dance with me? he thought to himself as he grinned at her. "Sure thing, luv."

He stood up and took her hand, ignoring the looks her friends were giving both of them and led her out on to the dance floor.

Grateful that it was a slow song playing, he took one of her hands and held it up to his chest while he placed his free one at the small of her back. As they swayed gently to the music, Spike allowed himself these few spare moments to enjoy her small, but lethal body pressed up against his—just increasing his desire for her even more. As he breathed in her unique scent—vanilla mixed in with what he had dubbed nearly a 100 years before as Slayer-scent and of course, her arousal, which shot up the moment they were in one another's arms.

He could get used to this—the Slayer wanting him as much as he wanted her. And acknowledging it. He meant it when he said that he wasn't going anywhere—Whistler had seen to that. Whether that meant he was staying in Sunnydale, he didn't know. But at least they wouldn't be fighting on opposite sides anymore.

He did wonder where all this acceptance came from. Was it only early that day that he had been bitching to Giles about not wanting this future—to be chosen to work with the ones that fought for balance instead of good or evil? And yet, now that he was better rested and fed, he ironically felt more at peace than he had been in quite some time. Being on Whistler's side didn't actually mean he was working for the good side—it just appeared that way because lately the evil has gotten more of an upper hand than the good in this ongoing battle. With more and more humans alive than ever before, there were more vampires than ever. With the influx of vampires came more opportunities of other demons getting a foothold into this dimension.

And once that happened, evil seemed to just run rampant—causing an explosion of possible Hellmouths as well as other possible portals from the demon dimension.

Whistler and crew fought for balance. That didn't mean no vampires or no evil. It just meant that it had to be kept down—for just a few demons could raise a lot of Hell.

Wasn't it just a mere twenty vampires last year that nearly sucked this dimension into Hell?

He was so glad he had put his foot down when it came to Acathla. He still felt pangs of guilt about the Judge, but his love for Dru seemed to cloud his reason back then. It nearly gotten him zapped as well. Wouldn't have that been a hoot? Would he have ended up in Hell for being too humane? He always did wonder where Dalton went.

He shook his head at the idiocy of demons. How could demons take over this dimension if they got rid of all the brains? Even Angelus' demon seemed to lose IQ points with age. And he was the exact opposite. The more years he was on this Earth, the more knowledge he accumulated.

Oh well, he always did break the rules, he thought to himself as he tightened his hold on the Slayer. He had just kissed the top of her head when he felt her stiffen in his arms. He looked down and saw that she was staring over his shoulder towards the entrance. He turned his head in time to see at least a half a dozen minions enter, immediately recognizing two of them as his from the year before.

Showtime, he thought to himself as he squeezed her hand reassuringly. "Come on, luv, we best get back to the table," he whispered into her ear.

She nodded slowly as she stepped away from him, still holding onto his hand tightly as they walked back to the others.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

For just a few minutes, she told herself as Spike pulled her into his arms. Although a part of her was still in Slayer-mode, another part of her was enjoying being in Spike's arms.

She had no idea where 'they' were going, but she did know that Spike wouldn't betray her like Angel had.

Instinctively, she knew that before she had talked to Whistler, when she nearly made love to the vampire. But after she put the stop to their little foray, she decided she needed to speak to the demon herself and find out exactly what was going on with Spike.

Before Spike had made it to the library, she pulled Whistler over to the side and asked him point blank what was with Spike.

He touched the rim of his hat and smirked at her. "So, I was right about the china!"

She groaned, feeling her face turn a nice shade of pink. "I just want to know what I'm getting myself into."

He nodded, his face suddenly serious as he watched Willow, Oz and Cordelia unload the weapon's locker. "Well kid, he's still a demon."

"I know that! But he's different! At least different than most vampires I've ever dealt with."

Whistler nodded. "Just like I said earlier—his demon has changed with incarnations. I remember the last time his demon was walking around. It was about four hundred years ago. He ended up on the wrong side of one of his minion's stakes for being too soft."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, he was about four hundred years old at the time and got bored with just being evil. The thrill of blood and mayhem lost its appeal and more times than not, he ended up talking with his potential meals and then letting them go. He finally just decided to change hunting tactics." Whistler chuckled softly. "He started hunting the dreads of society. You know the types—murderers, rapists, wife-beaters. Well, his peers didn't care for his choices."

Buffy rubbed her face tiredly as she thought about what he said. "So, what you're saying is that Spike's demon—the thing that's animating William the Bloody's body—is not evil. Not like Dru or Angelus."

"That's about it—in a nutshell."

"So, what is it? If it's not evil, then is it good?"

He sighed as he took off his hat. "Kid, you Slayer's see everything in black and white. You have to. Because you're dead, if you don't. But most of us, aren't just pure and good, or dark and evil—we're a mixture of both."

She nodded in understanding. "I know that. Remember what I was like before I was called? Or look at Giles—his past is full of darkness—yet he's a good guy."

"Well, demons that end up in the middle are just like that—but more extreme. He'll still kill to feed, but," he paused, closing his eyes in concentration and suddenly grinned as he looked up at her, "I can guarantee you that he won't be killing innocent young virgins anymore.

"But remember one thing, kid. Demon's need violence. It's like food to humans or dusting vampires to slayers. He has to find it somewhere. If he doesn't find it in hunting, then he'll need to get it while fighting the 'bastions' of evil. That's why there so few of us demons that actually make it to the Gray side. If we can't find a way to placate our nature, we just say the hell with it."

He glanced at the library doors as they opened and in walked Spike. He turned back to her and smiled while putting his hat back on. "Good luck, kid. You're in for a helluva a ride," he said as he walked away, heading for Giles' office.

Buffy inwardly sighed at the memory as Spike's hold on her tightened. In the last few days, she learned more about demons and souls than she ever thought she would and yet, instead of feeling satisfied with said knowledge, she realized all it did was egg on her curiosity more. She should've asked him where slayers came from and if there were angels or whatever on the Gray side.

But she didn't and now she wondered if she would ever get those answers.

Oh well, the hell with it, she thought to herself as she felt Spike kiss the top of her head. Just as she was thinking of how sweet he could be, her slayer-sense went wild.

Instantly, her eyes shot up, looking over Spike's shoulder, to the front entrance.

It was as if someone had doused her with a bucket of cold water.

One moment, she was deep in thought while in the safety of Spike's arms—

--and the next, her world crumbled, as Angel's army entered the Bronze—followed by Faith, Xander, Druscilla and Angelus.

And Faith was the only one that still had a beating heart.

Xander was no longer human.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

It wasn't until Cordelia actually saw him, did it sink in.

The whole day, she pushed the thought away—refusing to touch it or feel it.

She told herself it was because of Willow. Watching the redhead cry and carry on, as if she was the only one who had the rights to worry about Xander, pissed her off.

But that wasn't the truth. She realized that now.

It had nothing to do with Willow.

It was something much more insidious, yet intangible.

For months now, she'd been having dreams about a world much different than this one. After meeting Willow's vampire double and discovering that her friend Anya was actually a 1200-year-old-demon-turned-human, she knew that the dreams were, in reality, her experiences in that other universe.

Unfortunately, that knowledge didn't make them less horrific. In some ways, it made it even worse. To know that in another reality, Sunnydale was a demon haven where the Master ruled all with a bloody fist, scared the hell out of her.

As well as it should. The other Sunnydale was dark, even when it was daylight, filled with frightened residents who'd finally acknowledged the reality of vampires and demons, but not because they took off their blinders as much as they couldn't deny the evil when it enveloped the town. It was too cloying—too suffocating—not to acknowledge it.

It still blew her away to think it was all because one person didn't show up when she was needed.

If she had known two years ago, how important Buffy was to not only her but everyone she love's, survival, she would've never blamed the slayer for the weirdness that seemed to invade Cordelia's life.

Unfortunately for Cordelia, it took a badly made wish for her to realize how important Buffy was to the well being of Sunnydale.

In that other reality as well as in those dreams, she died while being held by both Willow and Xander—both vampires. They had wrapped their arms around her in parody of a loving embrace, as they each sank their deadly teeth into her neck—draining her of her blood.

In the daylight, when the dreams held less power, Cordelia could see the irony and had even laughed about it occasionally. It seemed pretty apropos, considering how they had both not only broke her heart but also drastically changed her life—for the worse—in this reality.

But that Xander, she thought to herself as she watched her former boyfriend walk through the front entrance, and this one, she added, had touched something wanting inside of her.

Sometimes, her mind would add scenes in the dreams that she knew didn't really happen. In those, sometimes she would find herself being made fucked by Xander, his cold, inhuman body pounding into hers—not only taking her blood, but her soul and self…

Other times, the vampire Willow was there. They would surround her, much like they had done when they killed her. But this time Cordelia would be naked, as the two vampires would play with her body—intermittently taking her blood as well as making her come.

What did the French call orgasms? A little death.

It seemed as if she would have a thousand little deaths before the blackness would come and claim her. As Xander would play with her breasts, teasing her nipples, biting and sucking sensually, drawing blood and licking it up as it he had done with ice cream when they were dating, Willow would be going down on her.

Before those dreams, Cordelia had never thought of other woman in a sexual way. But just remembering the vampire's cool mouth as it teased her clit and bit her labia, and sucked her juices and her blood, she couldn't say that anymore.

Most of the time, all she had to do was remember those dreams and she would be aroused for hours afterward.

So, when Giles had called her this morning to inform her of Xander's disappearance and possible undead state of being and of Angelus' return, she instantly felt herself get turned on—shaming her for the rest of her life.

In one horrifying second, she saw the other Xander, dressed in black leather, carrying himself with a confidence that was only fleetingly at best while human, with power and danger pulsating around him.

And she knew, just as in that other universe, Xander would be the death of her in this one as well.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Xander looked just like her double said he would: sexy, gorgeous, self-assured wearing black leather pants, a dark tee-shirt and a black leather coat, not unlike Angel's.

She could feel a part of her being called to him as his eyes instantly met hers across the crowded club. The deep brown eyes, once a reflection of an abused, neglected boy, then a young man, were now those of a demon, cold and commanding—much like him.

Her heart began to race as she mentally braced herself for their confrontation. She knew he was going to come to her. If not tonight in the Bronze, then later at her balcony. If she didn't do the curse as soon as they all left the club, she wondered if it would get done at all. Without Oz, Buffy and Giles, at her side, she didn't think she would ever be able to resist his calling.

And she knew he would never kill her.

Because even now—with a demon inside of him—he still made her real. Just as she did for him.

Her eyes filled with tears as he smiled at her—so much like the millions of smiles he had given her through out the years—but still different. Faith hung on him as if he was her gigolo, but she couldn't help but catch the flash of contempt that crossed his face.

She was just a substitute—for Willow or Cordelia.

Willow pulled her eyes off of him and looked over at Cordelia. She too seemed enraptured by Xander's presence. I wonder which one he goes to first? she asked herself as she found herself turning her attention back at her best friend.

And he would visit both of them—of that she was sure.

Unless you do the curse, her sane part of her mind reminded her as Oz squeezed her hand.

Yes, she had to do the curse and soon, before Xander's eyes pulled her into him. She could already feel their power as they called to her. Come to me, Willow, they said as a smirk formed on his lips. You're only real with me…

Willow would've gone if Oz hadn't had such a tight hold on her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Oh, bloody hell," Spike muttered as he tugged on the Slayer's hand. "Buffy, we've seen and now, let's get out of here."

She frowned at him. "What the hell are you talking about, Spike? We can't just let these minions have a free smorgasbord." She straightened her free hand, causing a stake to slide down. "I'm ready to kick some ass."

He glanced back over at Red and saw the dazed look on her face and shook his head. He could feel the whelp's power and presence from here and knew that both the witch and Cordelia were affected as well. "We can't. We have to get them out of here!" He physically turned her around to look at Willow. "Look at her—and the prom queen! Can't you feel him? The whelp is strong! Hell must've been good for Angelus if he can make a vampire a day old feel this powerful."

Buffy's mouth opened in shock as she reached over and shook Willow. "Wills, we have to get out of here—so you can curse him."

Her friend nodded slowly—her eyes still glued to Xander's. Buffy dropped Spike's hand and grabbed Willow's arms as she looked over to Oz. "Spike, go get Giles and Whistler. Tell him to get them out of here. We'll stay."

He nodded as he jogged over to the side, honing in on the other demon's presence and following his senses. Not too far off from their table, he spotted the two watchers and Whistler.

Without preamble, he told them of Buffy's plan.

"I'll stay here, with you two," Whistler said. "I doubt if Angelus will want to take us on if he sees me."

Spike nodded, knowing the demon's reputation as well as remembering what Angelus had told him the year before about Whistler.

If Angelus' was this powerful, they would need all the help they could get.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

As Buffy opened the back door of the Bronze, she pulled up her stake and slipped inside, dusting her third vampire of the night, as he stood watch over the door. The other two attacked the six of them as Buffy walked her friends to Oz's van.

She walked past the bathrooms and slipped through the doorway, as she searched the crowd for a familiar red hat or white blond head.

She spotted both of them on the other side of the club, standing by a table, watching the crowd. She waded through the throngs of oblivious teenagers and within a minute she was standing in between the demons.

"What did I miss?"

Spike shrugged as he shook out a cigarette. "Not much, luv. As soon as Peaches saw Whistler, he called his minions over and must've told them to mind their manners—because they're all just standing there staring over here."

Whistler waved at the smoke, glaring at Spike. "You're gonna have to quit those things," he muttered quietly, almost as if he was talking to himself. "I hate cigarettes. Reminds me of Hell too much." He bent his head to Buffy's. "I think they're waiting for you. The boy seemed a bit upset when you took the girls away. And then the Slayer got pissed at the boy."

Spike grinned. "She's a firecat, isn't she, Slayer?"

Buffy nodded sadly. "Yeah, she is. She just enjoyed the slaying bit a little too much. And developed a god-complex."

The blond blew out a cloud of smoke. "What do you mean, pet?"

"She believed that because she was a slayer, that she didn't have to go by the same rules as everyone else." Buffy shrugged. "I could understand enjoying the fighting and killing demons part. I can get into that. But, I never forgot I was a human first. I think Faith did."

"Here they come," Whistler said.

Buffy's looked up to see Faith lead the pack as the wound their way through the dance floor and crowd towards them.

Like Xander, Faith was wearing tight leather pants and boots. Instead of a black tee shirt, the Slayer had on a white, sleeveless crop top the snugly fit her chest. The only one that wasn't wearing leather was Druscilla. Instead, the vampiress was wearing a deep red, mid-calf length dress with a scoop neckline that reminded her of those high-waist dresses of the late seventeen hundred's. She felt Spike tense beside her and could definitely sympathize—for Angel was as gorgeous as he was the year before in his leathers. God, that was the only thing she liked about Angelus—his leathers. More than once since the ensouled Angel had returned, she wished he would pull them out again.

But he never did, claiming they reminded him too much of his demon.

She straightened, clutching her stake tightly in her fist as Spike reached over the table and grabbed her free hand, squeezing it once, before letting it go.

That's all she needed—to know that he was still there, by her side.

"Hey B, what's cookin'?" Faith asked, as she leaned against Xander.

Her former best friend's pale arm circled the Slayer's waist.

Her stomach turned, knowing that Xander's soul was inside, screaming in disgust.

"Faith." She lifted her eyes and met Xander's cold, lifeless brown ones. "Hello Xander—how's the night life?"

He grinned as he shrugged. "Pretty good, Buffy. Blood, sex and gore. What else can a teenager ask for?"

Buffy shrugged, inwardly wincing knowing that Xander had said something like that before, but sarcastically.

"It's a shame we never finished that dance, though."

Buffy shook her head. "Never will, either." Unless they do the curse, she added silently. She saw Dru move out from behind Xander and head for Spike as Angelus stepped forward to stand next to Xander.

"Well, Buff, how did you like my present?"

She rolled her eyes, feeling her shoulder's tightening even more. "So original, Angelus. Didn't you figure out last year, your presents do nothing for me?"

Before he could answer back, she heard a loud growl. She glanced over to Druscilla to see her hand shoot out towards Spike.

"I smell that awful Slayer on you!"

Spike caught her claw and squeezed it. "Yeah, and I smell Peaches all over you, Dru. What of it?"

Her true face appeared as she hissed. "You've gone soft, my Spike, sitting here with the Slayer and him," she said, glaring at Whistler. "I'm going to enjoy rolling in your ashes."

He sighed impatiently as he flung her hand back over, causing her to stumble. "Get over it, pet. I did."

Whistler began strumming his fingers on the table as his eyes studied each of the four, finally stopping at Faith. "You know, kid, running with demons will only get you killed. Didn't your watcher ever tell you that?"

Faith snorted in contempt. "Well, no one ever told B that either—"

Whistler shrugged as he pushed back from the table. "Well, her choice in demons is much better than yours." He turned his attention back to Angelus. "Get your boys and leave, Angel. There's some lasagna with my name on it and it's calling my name."

Angelus stared at the demon. "Why are you here?"

The small demon once again shrugged his shoulders. "Why am I ever where I am? Balance. The same as always."

Angelus nodded and turned to the vampiress, who by now, was leaning over Faith's shoulder, staring at Buffy.

"Dru, Faith, Xander—let's go."

"Bye B."

She watched Faith turn, with Xander behind her. He stopped and looked back at Buffy. "You did pretty good, Buffy. I was sure you would lose it. I was actually counting on that—but you surprised me."

Buffy dipped her head in acknowledgement. "You've seen one demon, Xander, you've seen them—"

She stopped as she watched him crumble onto the floor as a blue light flashed in his eyes. He moaned, clutching his stomach as Faith came up behind him, holding his shoulders.

Buffy noticed that Angelus and Dru never even stopped.

"What the hell did you do to him. B?"

Whistler walked around the table, heading for one side of Xander as Spike moved to do the same.

"I didn't do anything, Faith. But Willow?" She stopped and shrugged her shoulders, leaving the sentenced unfinished.

The other slayer stood up, and backed away slowly until the crowd of teenagers seemed to swallow her up. Buffy didn't see her until she ran out the door.

"Buffy?"

Buffy quickly ran to her friend, the stake still clutched in her hand, as Spike and Whistler stood on either side of him—ready to grab him if the curse failed.

"Xander? Look at me," she commanded, knowing if she saw his eyes, she'd know if he were ensouled.

He lifted his head and Buffy's breath caught as her friend's eyes, filled with blood tears, met hers.

Her friend was back.

"My parents—oh God it was horrible!" His body shook as she wrapped her arms around him and held his cold body to hers.

She slowly stood with Spike's help, holding Xander. "Can you walk?"

He nodded, his face still buried in her shoulder.

"Let's get out of here. We got what we came for," she said quietly as she began threading her way through the crowd, feeling Spike and Whistler's presence behind her and Xander. "I'm taking you home, Xander."

He nodded again—apparently still unable to speak, and Buffy shuddered as tears finally flooded her eyes, trailing down her face.

She had no idea why she was crying, but after this past hour, she figured they were well deserved. At least, I got my friend back, she thought to herself as she squeezed his arm again. Xander's back.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter Nine

"Did you feed, kid?" Whistler asked after the four of them had settled into Spike's DeSoto.

"Me?" Xander asked as he lifted his head off Buffy's shoulder.

"Yeah you."

Xander nodded, but not before Buffy caught the flash of pain that crossed his pale features.

She rubbed his arm supportively, inwardly wondering when she became the impromptu counselor of the ensouled creatures of the night. Three years with Angel, she answered herself. "Anyone you knew?"

She watched his face ripple in pain, his demonic features only visible for a few seconds, before becoming human again. "Harmony," he whispered as he stared down at his hands. "Angelus had her there—waiting. Faith brought her."

Buffy bit the inside of her cheek as a shot of guilt ran through her. Her job was to protect…her job. She glanced over the car seat at Spike; silently wishing he was there by her side instead of driving. She turned and faced her friend. "It was the demon, Xander. Remember that." She watched his eyes shut as fresh blood tears ran down his face. God, where was Willow when you needed her? she asked herself as he squeezed Xander's shoulder, pulling him back into her embrace. She sighed, thinking of blood and two vampires and her house and once again looked up at the blond vampire. "Spike, how much blood is left?"

He turned and met her eyes. "Two bags, luv."

She nodded; knowing another stop at Willie's was in order. "Can we—"

He chuckled softly. "On my way there now."

She shook her head. Scary—we're even thinking alike. Maybe that's why we never could defeat each other…"Xan?"

He looked up, game face on and met her eyes.

Smiling gently, she touched his ridges.

"Oh," he mumbled, closing his eyes in concentration. Seconds later his human face returned.

She took a deep breath and continued. "I'm sorry that we have no Angel to instruct you on the delicacies of ensouled vampiric living, but I'm sure that Whistler," she paused nodding at the demon, "and if you're real nice, Spike, will help you."

He frowned, staring at the blond vampire's head and shook his head.

"What?" she asked.

"Why, Spike? What's the deal? I had to listen to Dead Boy bitch for hours today about your betrayal, all the while Dru was crying and throwing a fit."

Buffy saw Spike flinch and felt her shoulders tighten in empathy. It would be a long time before either of them would be free of their former loves.

"Angelus," she heard him spit out. "That's what bloody happened."

"He's the one that helped me last year with Acathla," Buffy said, rescuing the elder vampire. "And when Dru had a vision a few days ago about Angelus' return, he came to either stop it or help me kill him."

Xander nodded, obviously understanding. "Angel—he's crazy. You know that, don't you? Not just evil, but is really missing a few screws."

"I know, mate," Spike said as he pulled the car over and put it in park. "He was last year as well."

Buffy glanced out the window and saw that they were parked in front of Willie's.

"You want to come, Slayer?" he asked as he turned and met her eye.

She nodded and opened the back door. Before closing it, she stuck her head back in. "We'll be right back. We're just going to pick up some dinner for you," she stopped and gave a glance at Spike, "and hopefully for Blondie as well." She grinned, knowing before he even said a thing, that he was preparing to argue with her. Something familiar, she thought to herself. And somehow, arguing with Spike is comfortable.

"Now, Slayer. I'm not going to bag it. I've already told you that, so you can bloody well forget it!"

"I'm the Slayer!" she said, slamming the car door shut. "How the hell am I supposed to allow you to feed?"

"The same way that I allow you to live!" he shot back.

Even a week ago that sentence would send her in a tailspin, making her just itch to stake the irritating vampire. But now, she just smirked back at him, making sure he caught the dramatic roll of her eyes.

One thing she had to say, Spike was fun and kept her on her toes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"What's with those two?" Xander asked as he listened to the two blondes bicker all the way to the entrance of Willie's bar. He picked up a few stray phrases with his enhanced hearing: 'no innocents' by Spike and 'no killing' by Buffy being tossed back and forth as if they were participating in a tennis match instead of talking. Reminds me of Cordy and I. Before, he thought to himself

"They're a trip, aren't they?" the demon asked Xander. "I'll tell you, no one, except maybe the Fates themselves, expected those two to team up. Heads nearly rolled on that one."

Interested, Xander scooted forward. "Why?"

Whistler grinned as he turned to the young vampire. "'Cause, Spike has no soul, kid. The only times a Slayer and Vampire ever joined forces was when a soul was involved."

"Like me," he whispered, watching the demon nod in agreement. "It was Willow, wasn't it?"

Whistler's eyebrow arched. "Who else? Same crew that did Angel last year."

Xander nodded, falling back into his seat as he closed his eyes. Angel. Every time he heard that name, he felt his demon howl in frustration for being so far away from his sire—his power source. Why me? he asked himself.

Because, you fucked Faith, he answered himself.

Shaking his head ruefully, he thought of how much his life had changed in the last 24 hours. Was it just last night that Oz and Willow dropped him off at home after a strange and emotionally draining night at the Bronze? Everything they did the night before—from the dance with Buffy to Oz trailing Faith—had been to bring Faith's loyalties out into the open.

Unfortunately, for Angel and Xander, it seemed that Faith and the mayor were one step ahead of Slayer and company. The joke, as it was, was on Xander and Angel.

Xander's eyes snapped open and watched Whistler. "Why didn't you curse Angel too?"

The demon grimaced as he looked down at his hands. "Couldn't, kid. The soul isn't a rubberband that can snap back in place with a few chanted words. This last time was it. If we had cursed him again, it would've destroyed his soul. This way, when we dust Angelus, his soul at least will be free to be reborn or whatever."

Xander shuddered silently, thinking of how much Angel's soul must be in agony. Hell, the prick hadn't been back two hours before he made a bloodbath out of Xander's home.

The picture of his dead parent's would haunt Xander for the rest of his unlife. Angelus had been beyond cruel—with Dru egging him on and joining in on the festivities. And Xander couldn't help but feel responsible. If only he hadn't screwed Faith, then maybe she wouldn't have been in his bedroom the night before…waiting for Xander to come home.

He had been ambushed. When Oz and Willow had dropped him off, the farthest thing from his mind was Faith. As he closed the door and flicked the porch light on and off, all he wanted to do was go to bed. The past week had been hell. Between failing that history test on Thursday, to worrying about Faith, to having to watch Cordy and Wesley the Wonder Wimp unbashingly flirt in front of him, he was exhausted. Not to mention what that dance with Buffy had done to his hormones. It took him nearly two months to recover from the last one. Who knew how long this one would take?

The next morning, he was going to breakfast with Will—his touchstone—to unwind and find himself once again and just like the past eight Saturday breakfast's, he was looking forward to it.

For nearly a year, since he and Cordy had begun dating, he felt Willow and his relationship falter. No matter how hard he tried not too, he couldn't seem to stop taking advantage of her friendship and the security she represented in his life. After Jesse's death, Willow had been the only good, lifelong stable thing in his life and he guessed, somewhere along the way, he began to feel she'd always be there.

Then they kissed.

And a part of his heart that he hadn't even realized was missing seemed to come home. Was this always meant to be? That was a question he asked himself thousands of times since Homecoming. Or would it have been all three of them—that when everything was said and done, Jesse, Willow and him would join together—confirming themselves—rejoicing in their deep friendship?

Xander knew he wasn't in love with Willow—but he did know he loved her with all his being. It was the most pure thing in his life and he almost blew it.

So, the breakfasts were a good thing. It anchored him in a way nothing else could. It was with that thought, that he entered his bedroom, closing and locking the door behind him, that kept him preoccupied enough not to notice Faith until she was nearly liplocked with him.

He had been in the process of taking off his tee shirt when she stepped out of the shadows and in front of him.

Wary, he just stood there and said nothing. He had no idea what had happened earlier with Angel—so her allegiance was still up in the air. And Xander knew first hand that a pissed off Faith was a dangerous Faith.

It was that inaction that cost him his life.

Still silent, she wrapped her arms around him and pulled his tense body into her embrace. While her tongue had been down his throat and his cock had hardened to nearly painful proportions, Angelus and Dru had crept out of his closet and had come up behind him.

The first inclination that he had that something was off was when he felt a hard cock rub his ass and cool, feminine fingers caress his neck.

That was the first time Xander had been raped—by either sex.

Luckily for him, he passed out after the third round of 'Let's Fuck With Harris.'

Xander could see with his mind's eye Dru and Angelus sharing an especially bloody kiss after Dru nearly tore off his nipple with her fangs.

Xander woke up tied up in the living room—just in time to watch Angelus and Dru play switch the body parts with his parent's bodies.

He fainted that time, but unfortunately not soon enough to for that memory of his mother's drunken screams to haunt him for eternity as Angelus sawed off her breast with a dull butcher knife.

He could still see Angelus standing there, above his parent's corpses, in the bloody remains of the Harris' living room, as he licked the knife clean of the blood.

Even Faith looked a bit peaked.

Xander woke up once while he was being carried firearm style over Angelus' shoulder. He managed one good kick in the prick's gut before Faith knocked him out with a stake.

The next time he woke up was in the mansion, naked, with two vampires and a slayer having sex.

He tried getting away, but Angelus had posted some nameless vamp at the door.

He was drug back into the bedroom, thrown unceremoniously onto the huge, king-sized bed and shown just what vampires do to their good little human playthings when they interrupt their sexual playtime.

He nearly lost his other nipple that time.

Unfortunately for him, it was that interruption that brought all three of his captor's attention onto his present state of living.

After one last bloody round of sex, Angelus finally drained his broken body. By that time, Xander hadn't any will to refuse anything—so when the vampire brought his mouth to his cool chest where a cut had magically appeared and said, 'drink!'

Xander drank.

The rest, as they say, is history.

"Kid! Are you okay?"

Xander shook his head as if he could push those memories away and nodded. "Yeah, I'll be okay—after I get to dance on that prick's ashes and get about a hundred years worth of distance from this."

The demon nodded knowingly. "If it makes you feel any better, you were created to be his childe—not a minion. Angelus wouldn't have spent so much energy into trying to destroy you if he hadn't been special."

Xander felt a burst of cold laughter spew out. "You've got to be fucking kidding me, right? I'd rather have been a minion any day."

"Yeah, I know kid. Ask Spike one day what Angelus did to him, before he brought him across. And you know Dru's story. You actually got off easy—compared to Druscilla."

Xander shook his head and stared out the window, watching Buffy and Spike exit the bar. He could hear the gentle bantering between the two and silently wondered how Spike could be so different from Angelus?

And then he asked himself if he really wanted to know.

He decided he didn't, too fearful of what that knowledge would bring.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So, how do you think he's doing?" Buffy asked Spike as soon as they stepped inside the bar.

He shrugged as his eyes scanned the bar, and found what he was looking for. He grabbed her hand and began walking across the bar, towards the back hallway, where the bathrooms, telephone and cigarette machine resided.

"Spike!" she whispered angrily, trying to stop him.

Ignoring her until they were out of the way of prying eyes, he pushed her against the wall with his body, wondering if she realized how much she turned him on when they bickered. The energy that passed between the two seemed to send his senses into a tailspin—making him want to drop his pants and sheath himself into her tight, wet hole.

And getting a taste of her earlier didn't calm that need; it just seemed to make it more pronounced—if his erection was any indication.

Grinning, he placed his hands on either side of the wall behind her, and bent his head down to her ear. "Luv, do you realize how much you turn me on?" he asked her as he began to rain kisses down her neck to her jaw line.

"Spike," she murmured with a hint of laughter in her voice, as she haphazardly pushed against his chest. "We've got—"

He slammed his lips against hers—his tongue invading her mouth—demanding entrance to her hot mouth.

Her moan was like music to his ears.

And when he felt her body arch into his—her breasts—pebble-hard despite all the clothing in between her skin and his, he nearly came.

His hand moved down and cupped her breast, squeezing it, enjoying the whimpers he was soliciting. He had to stop or he would end up taking her right there—public place or not.

He dropped his hand to her waist as he broke off the kiss. "Damnit Slayer—no more fighting until I can shag you to next Sunday."

"You mean tomorrow?" she asked, giggling.

"Bloody hell, luv, look what you do to me. I can't even think straight."

Her fingers caressed his face, and grinned. "The feelings mutual, Blondie." She tiptoed and kissed him gently on the lips. "We've got to go."

He nodded and began backing away, but stopped when he took in her ravished look. Lips swollen and bruised—her clothes de-shelved—her chest heaving and couldn't stop himself. He cupped her face and brought his lips down to hers, and kissed her—trying to convey in his actions how much she meant to him.

He pulled back before his hormones demanded he take it further. Taking her hand, he looked down at her and grinned. "Ready?" He started chuckling. "You know, we just gave Willie something to talk about for the next six months or so."

Buffy grinned back at him as she squeezed his hand, when suddenly the smile disappeared.

"What is it, Slayer?" He asked her even though he knew the answer. It was the same thing that flashed through his mind repeatedly in the past 24 hours. Did he have the right to want someone else, when he had just spent over a hundred years with Dru. Did his desire and feelings for the slayer mean that he hadn't loved Dru for all those years?

Her beautiful eyes, once again filled with tears, softened as she studied his face. "Is this," she stopped and nodding to their clasped hands, "okay? I mean—why do I feel like I'm being unfaithful to a man that I hadn't even been intimate with in over a year? I know he's gone—forever. And I also know, that he would want me to move on—but every once in a while, I just feel like somehow I'm betraying him."

Tempted to wrap his arms around her and protect her from herself, he instead jammed his hands in the pockets of his duster and looked down at her. "You have to figure this out for yourself, pet. I can't tell you what's right or not—but I can say, in my 200 plus years of living or unliving as it's called, you can be in love with more than one person."

She nodded slowly, as if she were processing what he had said and sighed softly. "You're right. And I knew that before I even said anything—it's just—" she paused as she pursed her lips. "It's just that I guess I needed to hear it."

He pulled his hand out and grabbed hers, and pulled it up to his lips. "I understand, luv. Come on, let's go get the whelp some food and get out of her," he said as he led out of the hallway towards the bar. It wasn't going to be easy—them. But then he knew that before he even started down this road.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Do you think it worked?" Cordelia asked Willow as she sat across from her at the Summer's kitchen table.

Willow looked up, exhaustion apparent in her pale face and nodded yes. "I felt it—just like I did with Angel."

Cordelia sighed as she sat back in the chair. It's now or never, Chase. While you got her alone. "Willow?"

"Umm?"

"Do you love him?"

Willow straightened in her chair. "You mean—am I in love with him? Right?"

Soundlessly, the brunette nodded—afraid of how needy her voice would sound if she used it. God, she hated feeling this way—especially around Willow.

Willow, who on the outside, led a shy, sheltered life but in reality, seemed to command an extraordinary amount of loyalty from the people who cared and loved her. For years, Cordy watched and observed Jesse, Xander and Willow and found herself aching to have friends that loved her like those two boys obviously did Willow. It made Cordelia's friendships pale in comparison—and rightfully so. Ironically, it wasn't until she began dating Xander that she had begun to feel what it was like to have friends that actually cared about her—instead of her name or father's bank account.

And then she lost it all.

Willow sighed, trailing her finger on the table, drawing imaginary figures on the surface. "No, I'm not in love with him." She sighed loudly, as if searching for the right words to say. "I—I'm sorry about what happened—when it happened. But, I'm not sorry that it happened though. I needed to know—what exactly my feelings for him were—in order for me to love Oz the way I should. I just wish no one got hurt because of that."

Cordelia felt her adrenaline rise as it had every time she remembered seeing them in each other's arms, kissing as if there was no tomorrow, and forced herself to take a deep breath before she said something to break Willow's mood. "Go on."

"He's a part of me—I love him, but I'm not in love with him. And he isn't with me. He's in love with you."

Cordelia stood, suddenly needing to move as she worked through her thoughts. "You know, Willow, I believe you—and yet I can't help but feel as if that scar on my stomach is your fault. Yours and his. Even though," she stopped as she felt her voice crack and took a deep breath. "Even though logically, it could've happened anyway—to any of us as we walked up those stairs. And someone might've been killed instead of being impaled—"

"Cordelia—"

"Stop! Let me finish. I reacted badly. Trust is a real big issue with me and you guys betrayed it. But," she stopped, her eyes shutting against the tears. "But when Giles called me this morning to tell me about Xander, I knew that it didn't matter. Not in the long run. Because I still—still loved him," she finished, as she felt her heart begin to shatter. Wrapping her arms around herself, she felt her body begin to shake as months worth pain started bubbling forth. "Why? Why then? Why not before me?" she asked, her eyes still closed.

She heard Willow's chair slide against the floor and her light footsteps as they crossed the room to her. "Cordy—I'm sorry—sorry about the kiss—about the spike—about hurting you. I wish it would've happened before too, but you know Xander—he lives on his own timetable," Willow finished as Cordelia felt her hands touch her arms. She opened her eyes to see a tear-faced Willow standing in front of her and felt the last of her resolve crack as her face crumbled and a loud sob escaped. It wasn't until Willow wrapped her arms around her and held her tightly while she cried, did she finally feel what she had known for years—it was Willow's ability to love and forgive that made people remain forever loyal to her.

Just as Cordelia would herself.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter Ten

It was well after three in the morning when Buffy was finally able to usher everyone that wasn't staying at the Summer's home out the door—meaning, Willow, Cordelia, Oz and Wesley the Wonder Dick…

God, she really couldn't stand him.

Which left her mother and Giles, a demon and two vampires to argue sleeping arrangements in the kitchen.

Why couldn't anything ever be simple in her life?

As she listened to Xander and Spike argue about who was getting the couch in the basement and who was using the floor all the while Giles was sputtering that he didn't think it was appropriate for a slayer to sleep in the same house with two vampires—especially with Joyce there as well—she finally just couldn't take it anymore.

What a wonderful way to end an equally wonderful day.

"Spike's staying with me in my room. Xander can take the couch in the basement and Whistler can have the bed in the spare bedroom. Mom, go stay over at Giles."

Her mother met her eyes, and for the first time since she'd discovered Buffy's secret, she saw complete understanding reflected back to her.

Buffy felt another part of her already shattered heartbreak. Is this what it took for her mom to respect and understand her life as a slayer? Losing Angel, nearly losing Xander and having Spike back in their lives?

Why in the hell didn't I think of that myself? Buffy asked herself, desperately trying to ignore the rising hysteria in her heart. She instead gave her mother a grateful smile.

"Buffy, I really don't think—"

"Buff! Not again!"

"Giles, Xander, " she interrupted both of them and then glanced over at Xander who was leaning against the kitchen counter, glaring at her. Somehow, his death-stare took on a whole new meaning now that he had demon residing in his body. "Let it go," she said, her voice broking no argument as she turned her attention back to her watcher. "He's going to be sleeping on the floor. Just like he did last night."

"And what the bloody hell is it your business where I sleep to begin with, Whelp?"

"Look at her history!"

"Xander, just shut up and think for a moment before you begin to dictate the terms of my personal life. You are what you've hated for the last three years and you better deal with it!" She turned around and glared at him. "I love you. You’re my friend. You've saved my life and at times, my sanity—and you being a souled-vampire, doesn't change that. Nada. I still love you. I'd still risk my life to save you, just as I know you would do the same for me. If I can see that—a vampire slayer—then, why in the hell can't you?" She ended as she cupped his cool face with her hands.

"But Buffy—he doesn't have a soul!"

She groaned, feeling a headache tease her senses, as she dropped her hands. "Whistler, do me a favor and talk to him," she asked the demon as she turned to her watcher and her mother. "Thanks, Mom," she whispered as she gave her mother a hug. Once she opened her eyes again, she saw Giles not quite glaring at her, but she could feel his discomfort coming off him in waves. "Giles, it's okay—it's safer this way for everyone. If by chance if Xander wakes up all demon-like and hungry—I'd feel much better knowing that mom's safe, but also that there would be the three of us here to control things."

He nodded as he slipped his glasses off and stuck one of the ends in his mouth. "Just be careful."

Buffy sighed, shutting her eyes in response. He just couldn't let it go. Somehow or other, Angel always came back up in the conversation. "I will. Now, I'm off to bed."

She turned around and left the kitchen, all the while thinking of how much she just wanted to sink into the sheets and let everything that had happened in the past 24 hours just disappear under a cloud of unconsciousness.

Whether it would happen though, was another story.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spike watched the Slayer trudge tiredly up the stairs and instantly wanted to follow her, but didn't. One, if he followed her now, the Watcher and Xander would be on him like flies on flypaper and he was just too exhausted to fight it.

He also needed to get a few things straight with the whelp. All Spike knew was if he had to put up with that kids smart-mouth for the rest of eternity, one of them was going to end up in an ashtray a lot sooner than either of them cared to.

It was time to teach his baby brother the intricacies of vampire etiquette and Spike was just itching to do it.

But first things first, he thought to himself as he turned to look for Joyce. Take care of the boy's needs then you can enjoy the sound of his breaking bones…

Leaving the kitchen, he caught the Slayer's mother at the foot of the steps and asked her where he could find extra blankets and even more importantly, were there windows in the basement that needed to be covered.

She sighed, exhaustion apparent on her face. "It has a few small windows, but I do have some cardboard boxes and nails down there. Would that help?"

Spike nodded as he gently squeezed her hand in thanks. As he turned, Joyce's tired voice stopped him.

"Spike, I know I asked you this earlier—but something's changed between you two, so I'll ask it again. Are you sleeping with my daughter?"

His eyes shut, silently swearing up a storm. This was the last thing he wanted to deal with now; but like in the past, Joyce always seemed to have impeccable timing with the difficult questions. He turned his head and met her questioning eyes. What to say? No, not yet, but I want to Joyce. I want to fuck the brains out of your daughter tonight and for the rest of her life or even eternity, if I could. No, that wouldn't do, he thought silently. Just because he was a soulless vampire didn't mean he had no tact. He just used it sparingly. He opened his mouth, unsure of what he was going to say, when the words slipped out of his mouth. "I think I maybe falling in love with her…"

Did he just say that?

By the look on her face, she appeared to be in just as much shock as he. Their eyes stayed glued to one another's for nearly a minute longer, when she broke contact and sighed. "She's not going to have a normal life, is she?"

Suddenly, he understood her reservations. Out of all of the people in the slayer's life, Joyce was the only one treated him with respect and dare he say, caring, despite who or what he was. And because of that, her approval or disapproval of whatever the slayer and him were pursuing meant the most to him.

It wasn't him, per se that she was against, as much as her daughter's lifestyle choices. If Buffy was choosing another vampire as love interest over a human male, then normality, i.e., children, marriage, a house—a future—wasn't something either the slayer believed was possible for her or something Buffy wanted in her life.

Another parental hope had just been destroyed.

"I don't think it's in the cards, love. Maybe, if her first love were human, it would've been different, but now? Even if I weren't around, she probably would look for some other preternatural male to share her life with. It's safer for her mate as well as her that way."

Tears flooded her eyes as she nodded in understanding. "Take care of my daughter, Spike."

"I will—that much I can promise you."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

As Xander stood in the Summers kitchen, warily watching Spike follow Buffy's mom out, he thought of what Buffy had just said to him and couldn't help but feel stung by her observations.

She was right. By giving him back his soul, he was now the very thing he's hated since seeing Jesse's demonic face grin back at him three years before.

How far we've fallen, he thought to himself as he turned to the window and looked out into the black of night. Will Willow be next? Was this their fate—the original three musketeers? What would Jesse think if he saw his friend wearing fangs and demonic ridges?

His dead heart tightened as a familiar pang of guilt washed through him. Was he wrong in staking Jesse? He shook his head at the craziness of it all. Didn't Darla change him? That would make Jesse in vampire lineage—his uncle.

He barely managed to squash the manic laugh that was just itching to be released.

God, if only Jesse could've kept his hormones in check long enough for there to be a soul restoration, then maybe this undead life of Xander's wouldn't seem so bleak. As it stood, all he could see was a future surrounded by smart-ass demons that appeared to be fighting on the same side as the Buffster.

That was another thing—Xander had a hard time believing in the sincerity of either of those demons.

It was only three, four months ago that Spike rolled through Sunnydale and made a mess out of everyone's lives. Granted, he didn't try to kill anyone that last time, but he sure wore the face of a demon. How could he change that much in such a short period of time?

And how could Buffy trust him?

Or trust Xander for that fact.

Xander could feel his demon squirm inside of him, just itching to be released and that only seemed to reinforce his misgivings about the whole Spike thing. How could Spike be trusted if he had anything similar to Xander's demon residing his body?

Groaning softly, he turned away from the window to see Whistler watching him quietly from his perch on the counter top.

"Kid, we need to talk," the demon said as he slid off the stool and signaled for Xander to follow him as he opened the basement door.

As Xander went down the steps, he flashed back to the last time he had been down there: the first time he and Cordelia kissed.

He could almost feel her warm arms around him as they clutched one another in a passionate embrace, only to be fighting the next minute.

Such passion.

So much pain.

"You see, kid. It's like this…"

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Willow sighed as she burrowed deeper into Oz's arms. As usual, her parents were gone and with just a glance, Oz knew what she was asking.

She needed him.

She needed to feel his warm arms embracing her, holding her, treasuring her almost as much as she had needed Xander back. That was the crux of the matter. Xander affirmed her existence and Oz gave it life.

And she needed that—feeling alive.

Because never before, even with the Harvest and the Master, had her life felt so expendable as it did in the past 24 hours. With a minimum amount of resistance, Xander's life had been destroyed and he was brought across.

Never before had the reality of their situation—their fight against the horrors of the Hellmouth—been so obvious as when Faith switched sides.

And it wasn't just that she changed loyalties, it was all the calamity she brought with her when she did so. Like a domino affect, the Slayerettes lives were forever altered and changed.

It didn't even take the Mayor's Ascension to do that.

All it took was one angry, hurt slayer to join forces with Sunnydale's resident head evil and suddenly everything that Willow held dear in her heart was in jeopardy.

Willow wondered what Faith would do for an encore.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

After Spike nailed the cardboard against the last window, he tossed the hammer onto the worktable and turned to his newest sibling.

He barely managed to keep his eyes from rolling at that thought.

Why, out of all the Slayer's friends, did Angelus choose the Whelp to be his childe? Last year, all the prick wanted to do was kill him. Never once did he mention that he might have other plans for Harris.

No, Angelus' plans had always been for the Slayer first and foremost and the Witch as secondly. Angelus saw the possibilities in Willow's quiet, gentle strength, her quick mind and intellect and her power as a witch.

And after hearing of her doppelganger, Spike couldn't help but wonder if Angelus had been right with that.

She would've been a powerful, sensual vampire—just as the whelp was.

After all his arguments against the soul restoration spells, he finally could see the logic behind it. Even with a soul, Xander Harris was no longer the whelp that Spike continued to call him. Although his demon was under wraps, its power seeped out—blanketing the boy—daring anyone who had the balls to fuck with him to just give a try.

Not even Spike was that strong when he had been turned, and he knew he had been a force to be reckoned with.

The Master's lineage.

It didn't matter that the fucker was dust particles—his power and strength lay in his childer and their childer—forever to be passed down.

Shaking his head, he leaned back against the table and watched Xander as the boy paced restlessly in front of him. "Well, spit it out, boy," Spike said after lighting a cigarette.

Xander stopped, his eyes shot up and glared at Spike. "I don't know if I should."

"Why the hell not?"

Xander sighed, shutting his eyes but not before Spike caught the flash of yellow that flared in them. Got a temper too, he thought to himself with maybe a hint of approval.

"I don't feel up to being beat up on right now. It's been a rough 24 hours."

Spike took a long drag off his cigarette and nodded. What Xander said was true. The kid lost his human existence, his parents, most likely his virginity in certain places and his blood innocence. "All right, I'll accept that. You don't have to say a bloody thing—just listen and listen well. Since Angelus is no longer available for your 'training' as a member of the undead club, I guess I'll have to do.

"You're a lucky fucker. I'm not as harsh or cruel as the prick and I don't get into the bloody mind games our sire revels in—as long as you don't cross me. First rule: I don't want to hear your opinions about the Slayer and I. If you have to rag on someone, do it when we're not around. She's a big girl now, and she knows what she's getting herself into—"

"Are you sure?"

Bloody hell! What, he managed to make it through a whole minute? Spike clenched his teeth as he dropped the cigarette and squashed it with boot. "Get it out—this is you're only chance, boy. After this, I'm going to show you why they call me Spike. Got it?"

Xander's eyes shot open as his demon face appeared. "It's just that she knew what she was getting into with Angel. And look what that mess brought us!"

Spike nodded. "And? No soul to lose, boy. Look at me!" His human face slid off as his temper flared. With vampiric speed, he crossed the room and grabbed the younger vampire's arms, shoving him violently against the wall and immobolizing him. After Spike placed his arm across the boy's throat, pinning him down, he stared into Xander's yellow eyes, forcing the boy's demon to acknowledge Spike dominance. "There's no William the Bloody here—just a fucking demon who happens to love and protect those he cares about. No dichotomy—none of the inner battles that you're going through right now. I'm a demon. Period. I've made my choices, boy. There's no going back to the other side and dancing in the blood of innocents with Druscilla and Angelus. It's either join up with Whistler or greet the sun.

"Do you understand?" he asked as he watched Xander's human façade slip back on. Maybe he got through to him.

Nah, Spike thought. The kid's too stubborn. But maybe he's realized he's lost the battle. That's enough for tonight.

Xander's eyes then dropped, acknowledging defeat. He bucked his chest, trying to dislodge Spike's body. The elder vampire stood there for over a minute longer, saying nothing, as he continued to hold the boy still. Finally, he backed off and walked over to the couch and casually sat down on the arm of the couch as he watched the boy fling himself longways onto its cushions. "So, what else?"

"Do as I ask. I'll give you the same courtesy as I do with all my childer—and explain things if you don't understand them. As long as the time and place is appropriate. Don't worry, I won't send you to a senseless death. And when we train, I don't want to hear you bitch and moan about how much you hurt. Vampires can withstand a helluva lot of pain, and you have to learn how to deal with it. And maybe even enjoy a bit of it," Spike added, smirking.

Xander chuckled humorously. "Already learned that—my parents were great teachers. Would've made wonderful vampires," he finished softly as a flash of pain crossed his face. "When do we start?"

Spike stood up and began walking towards the steps. "Tomorrow afternoon. About four. Make sure you've cleared an area out down here, so we can have some maneuverability." He started up the stairs and suddenly stopped, turning to look at his newest Angel toss-off. "Don't fuck with me, Xander and we'll get a long fine."

With that, he made his way upstairs, looking forward to sleeping in the slayer's arms.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

It wasn't until after he walked Ms. Chase to her door, did he realize that someone had been watching him. The hairs at the back of his neck stood out as he turned around to walk back to his car.

Was it Angelus?

Or Faith?

As he reached into his jacket and grasped the cool, hard wood that had been in his pocket, a part of him hoped it would be a vampire.

At least then, he would have a chance.

Against his own slayer, he knew his death would be imminent.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter Eleven

It wasn't until he saw her lying there on her bed, with just a thin sheet covering her silk clad body, that Spike realized he wouldn't be going to sleep anytime soon.

Once he closed and locked the bedroom door behind him, he leaned back against it and watched her—mesmerized.

As her chest moved rhythmically with every breath, he found his eyes drawn to the erect nipples that were visible through her nightclothes.

His cock hardened instantly.

In love…was he really falling in love with her?

A part of him wanted to scream, 'Lust! Not love, lust!' like that bloody hysterical character on the telly, Taxi.

But it was more than lust.

And more than hate.

And he always did like her—even when he wanted to kill her.

And now that her death wasn't the foremost on his mind, all that passion he had for her just switched gears, in a sense. Instead of wanting to pound her head in, he wanted to pound into her hot wet hole. Instead of breaking her neck, he wanted rain cool kisses down its length.

Instead of sucking her dry—he wanted to taste her light.

"Bloody hell," he whispered as he ran his hand through his hair and began to softly pace in front of her bed.

Love.

He had fallen in love with the bloody girl and hadn't even had the sense to realize it until he had talked to Joyce earlier that night.

So many years spent devoted to Druscilla only to face her cold rejection once Angelus came back, nearly blinded him of the truth. All this time, for the past two years, he had thought he was just attracted to the Slayer.

Well, not just attracted to—more like lusted after—her.

But now, as he paced the length of her room, surrounded by her scent and essence, he realized that he wanted so much more than a few quick rolls in the sheets—he wanted this—her—to be with him—always.

He stopped; shutting his eyes against the reality of her destiny and nearly sighed.

There would be no forever with her—she was the Slayer.

She would die, in nearly a blink of an eye compared to his immortality, and once again he would be alone.

"Fuck me."

He kicked off his boots and shed his clothes, dropping them onto the chair beside her bed and just stood there, in only his boxers, for a moment. He briefly scanned the area and noticed the bedroll she had laid out for him the night before, had been carelessly tossed to the side of the room.

The message was clear; she wanted him with her.

Another minute slowly ticked by as he stood there, weighing his options. He could pull the bedroll out and lay there, wide awake and mentally kicking himself for the next eight hours or he could just take a chance and do everything inhumanly possible to guarantee she would live a long, healthy life with him by her side.

Putting it that way, Spike knew there wasn't much of a decision to be made.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

As soon as Faith could slip away from the two master vampires, she did.

Once she left the atrium, she wandered the halls of the mansion, going from one dusty room to the next, as her mind kept trying to wrap itself around the events of the last 24 hours.

It wasn't an easy task.

Every time she thought her conscience had finally quieted, her heart would silently ask her if it was truly worth it.

All of it.

From turning her back on Buffy and Giles to working for the mayor, to helping to free the demon, Angelus, from the ensouled vampire's steel grip.

To murdering Xander's parents…

…to having Angelus bring him across.

Was it worth it?

Faith had no idea anymore.

All she knew was the sick feeling at the bottom of her gut every time she saw Xander's face in her mind as he watched Druscilla and Angelus torture the two most important people in his life. Or the horror she felt when she realized that within twenty-four hours, she once again lost Xander—this time to a spell and not her own fear.

And now, as she listened to her watcher's pain-filled screams echo loudly through out the nearly empty house, coupled with the insane laughter of Dru's and the smug satisfied chuckles of Angelus', all she wanted to do was bury herself under a pack of covers in her bed at home—and hide from the world—just like she had done so many times as a child.

She turned the corner of the neglected hallway and noticed that a door was open. Which was unusual here, on the third floor of the west wing. She found herself drawn to it as she aimed the flashlight beam through the door. Once she reached the threshold, she felt her chest tighten.

"Holy shit," she whispered to herself as she stepped into the room. She saw a few candles sitting on a table and decided to light them. Once the room was filled with the golden hue of light, she walked over to the closest wall and stared at the sketches, as her mouth dried in shock.

Buffy.

Nearly all of them were of Buffy. And the ones that weren't of the other Slayer—were of the rest of the Scooby Gang. Even a frighteningly accurate portrait of Faith was displayed for all to see.

It obviously was done from memory. Before last night, Faith had only been to the mansion two times before. The first time was to kill Angel and the second time was when Angel and Buffy had subdued her and chained her to the wall.

The picture was of her standing there, hands and feet shackled against the wall in the atrium, her chin jutting out defiantly—but that wasn't what touched her.

It was her eyes.

It was as if Angel saw all the pain, anger, confusion, regret and rage in them, and drew what he saw.

Faith never realized her eyes told so much with just a look.

"He was always good at reading what was in people's souls—that's what makes his demon so powerful."

Faith whipped around, stake in hand, instantly recognizing the voice. "How the hell did you get in here?"

The short demon chuckled softly as he shrugged. "Trade secret." He glanced down at the stake and then back at her. "You can put that down—I'm not here to hurt you—or take you away—or even threaten you."

Her grip tightened on it as she lowered her arm. "Then what are you here for?"

He took off his hat and held it in his hands. "To talk."

Her body tensed. How did he know? She had to get out of here. If the mayor ever found out she was having doubts…

"Faith—there was a reason that Angelus' was cursed. Just look around you," he said as he slipped his hat back on and walked over to the other side of the room. He pointed to a picture. "This is of Darla, his sire. She was the Master's childe. Not even Kakistos was as dangerous as the Master." He pointed to a picture beside it. This one showed Spike and Druscilla standing over a pile of dead bodies—children bodies—locked in a bloody, passionate embrace. "And these two. Now that you've meant them, you can judge for yourself. Druscilla's barely 130 years old—yet she wields the power of a master vampire three times her age! And Spike—I'm just glad he came to his senses. In some ways, he's even more powerful than his sire, because he uses his brain. And Xander—couldn't you feel the power radiating from him? "

"Your point?"

He sighed. "Did you meet Willow's doppelganger?"

Faith shook her head. "No, but I heard about her," she said, chuckling softly.

Whistler smiled himself. "What a piece of work. She was the Master's childe. Two years old and she had the vampires in this town bowing down to her. And like Druscilla, she was insane." He turned back to her. "The master's lineage is too powerful. That coupled with the surreptitious nature of demon incarnation makes it too risky. Even some of the higher ups in the Demon Dimension want that bloodline destroyed. It's too independent, too strong—mentally, physically and a lot of them wield, at least to demons, distasteful attributes—"

Faith snorted. "Like what—small dicks?"

He rolled his eyes. "No—feelings. This," he said waving his arms around the room, "wasn't just Angel's doing—its Angelus' too. The demon's always been a bit compulsive and manic. Since returning from Hell, its just been magnified. Angel could barely control him—even with a soul. Spike and Dru were nearly zapped by the Judge for harboring 'human' feelings—such as love. And Darla, she loved Angel and it got her dusted."

He stopped and stared at her. Eyes older than time stared into her cracked soul—

"No one could kill him, so he was cursed. At least that way, there was the possibility of the bloodline thinning with the passage of time.

"Both times Angel's demon resurfaced, he's become even more obsessive, controlling and dangerous. He will kill you, Faith. And most likely, he will find a way to kill the mayor as well."

With that said, the demon called Whistler disappeared.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

For the second time in less than 24 hours, Buffy awoke to Spike's cool ministrations as his hands caressed her body.

This time she knew what she wanted.

She wasn't quite sure what she felt for Spike—but she did know that her feelings were much closer to love than anything else.

How they got there so fast, she had no idea. Was it because he was a demon that could love? Or the knowledge he wouldn't leave her in the morning by turning into a soulless bastard that wanted to kill all her friends?

Or was it the passion he evoked in her?

Or could it be his quiet presence as he stood by her side—supporting her?

Or maybe it was because her mother adored him?

Buffy nearly broke the mood and giggled out loud at that thought.

Whatever it was, Spike had it. And for over a year, Angel didn't have it.

So when she felt his body settling on top of hers, she opened her eyes, and smiled up at him as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Hi," she whispered as her fingers played caressed the nape of his neck. "What took you so long?"

He growled Xander's name half-heartedly as his fingers brushed her hair off her forehead. "The bloody whelp. He is one stubborn S.O.B., isn't he?"

Buffy did giggle at that. "Yep, that's my Xander. So, I guess being undead didn't change that, huh?"

Spike sighed dramatically. "Alas no, my pet," he said and kissed her softly on the lips. "But have no fear, I took care of him."

"Is he still in one piece? No full ashtrays around here that I need to worry about?"

"Yea have little faith, Slayer. I restrained myself. Just stated some rules—told him I was his de-facto-sire and how he better well mind me or I'll pull out one of my trusty spikes." He actually wiggled his eyebrows at her for emphasis.

She chuckled softly as she traced his ear with her finger. "Good, put the fear of Spike in him—damage him for the rest—" she stopped, inhaling deeply when one of his hands dropped down caressed the inside of her thigh.

"Umm, like that, pet?" he asked right before his cool tongue dipped into her ear.

Another wave of heat flowed through her body as he nibbled on her earlobe.

"Yeah, you could say that," she said, her voice low and shaky.

He kissed his way down her neck to her jaw line. "You taste so wonderful, love. So sweet." He stopped once he reached her mouth, whispering the last line against her lips.

"I do?"

He nodded as his lips turned and clasped her bottom one and began nibbling on it.

Her tongue slipped out, tentatively touching his mouth, silently inviting him.

His mouth opened and instantly the playful kiss evolved into something much more passionate as their tongues touched.

Buffy sighed as her legs parted even further, instinctively searching for his hardness.

Her arms were once again wrapped around his neck, one hand pushing his head down to her, as her mouth opened even further for him. Her other hand rubbed his back, using her nails.

When the kiss deepened, she felt his hand move behind her and grab her behind, holding her tightly against him, as their bodies rubbed sensually against one another. Then his fingers slipped underneath her panties—his cool hand on her ass sending chills through out her body.

He suddenly broke the kiss.

She opened her eyes to see him watching her intently.

"Buffy, are you sure?"

She cupped his face and kissed him softly on his lips. "Yes, Spike, I'm sure. I want you—I want to feel you inside of me…"

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Wesley Windham-Price, Watcher extrodinaire, how are you doing on this lovely night?" Angelus asked the beaten and bound figure at his feet.

Druscilla glided over to stand next to him—her presence almost throbbing with excitement. "He's filled with fear, my Angel. So delicious."

Angelus watched her as she closed her eyes, swaying to some tune only heard by her and shook his head ruefully. Squatting down, he grabbed a handful of the Watcher's dark hair and yanked his head up and grinned as he watched the human struggle to open his eyes.

It was a beautiful sight.

Just as Dru said, Angelus could feel the man's fear as it hit the vampire in waves, filling his senses, tantalizing him—urging him to do more to him just so he could take in more of the man's horror—inhale it like human's do air.

"Damn, it's good to be back, my boy! Aren't you glad?"

The watcher moaned.

Angelus chuckled softly as he dropped the Watcher's head, enjoying the nice thumping sound as it echoed loudly through out the room. Such a coward. He could torture him for years and still enjoy it!

Harris took a hell of lot more and never broke. Not once did the boy break down the night before. The only signal Angelus ever got that he did indeed beat him was the boy's passivity when Angelus' turned him.

He growled, shooting up and instantly began pacing. "Dru—what kind of demon do you think the Watcher would make?"

Her body instantly stilled. Angelus watched her for nearly a minute, nearly ready to repeat himself, when her eyes fluttered open. "Miss Edith says his demon will be cruel and heartless, like my Angel, and smart too."

He nodded, thinking the same. Especially after seeing Harris' transformation and meeting Willow's vampiric double. He didn't know what it was, but his childer usually became master-vampire material. "Next question, pet. How the hell do I keep them from cursing him?"

Actually, that was the most important question of all. If he knew his Willow, the witch had that fucking curse memorized and owned at least a dozen orbs. Willow was the living embodiment of the saying, 'be prepared.'

Dru eyes lit up. "Ms. Edith says we should hide him and have serpent cover for him…"

"Serpent?"

"I think she means the mayor, Angelus," Faith said as she stepped into the room. "Why? What are you thinking?"

Angelus turned and studied the slayer—noting the drawn look on her face. "Where were you?"

She shrugged. "Around."

He felt his human face disappear as he struggled to tamper the rage building in him. A part of him really liked Faith—her sadistic nature—her blatant distaste for the rules—but a larger part of him hated her. It screamed for him to turn her or kill her or do something other than treat her like an equal.

She was the enemy—regardless of where her loyalties stood.

"Not good enough," he growled.

She threw him a disgusted look. "Wandering around! Jesus—thinking okay? Get a grip, Fangboy!"

Before he could stop himself, he had knocked the stake out of her hand and had her pressed against the cold concrete wall. "Faith," he whispered in her ear as his fangs scratched her neck. Just the smell of her blood aroused him. Grinning, his cool tongue lapped the trickles of the red liquid that seeped from her wounds. "What did I tell you yesterday?" He asked as he felt her buck up against him, trying to push him off her.

It didn't work. He just stood there, grinding himself on her—immobilizing her.

"Fuck you."

His hand shot up and gripped her chin, bruising it, as he forced her to look at him in the eye. He smirked, shaking his head. "No, no, no, no Faith, fuck you." His mouth smashed against her lips as his free hand tore at her pants, yanking them off.

It was time to teach the slayer some manners.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spike returned her kiss with enthusiasm as his hands grasped the bottom of her camisole and began lifting it upwards. He pulled away just far enough to remove the garment and toss it aside, then turned his attention back to her mouth, all the while his hands caressed her sides—causing her to skin to break out with goosebumps.

He grinned against her mouth when he felt her back arch upwards, into his touch. He could smell her arousal—stronger than ever before. It was as if she had been holding back before—keeping it in check and now that her heart, mind and body were all united—she let herself go.

And her touch was driving him wild. It felt as if she had a dozen hands—as they skimmed his cool skin, warming it with her touch. Once they dropped to his boxers, her fingers caressed the silk, causing him to shudder in desire.

Almost as if he were retaliating, he slipped his hand under her panties and tickled her bush, causing her to buck upwards.

"Spike…"

He nearly came hearing her utter his name in a breathy moan.

He sat up, pulling his hand out of her underwear and hooked his fingers on the top of the garment. She lifted her butt up and he pulled the piece of cloth off her body, leaving her naked for his perusal.

She was beautiful.

But he knew that even before he saw the way her tanned, bare skin glowed in the candlelight. Or how her full, pert breasts laid there, against her chest—just begging him to ravage them…

Or the scent of her sex—so intoxicating, he idly wondered if it were some kind of drug to lull demons into a slayer's thrall.

He wanted to taste and touch everything and hear her scream his name as she came.

"Spike—get down here and make love to me!"

"Impatient, luv?" he asked as crawled up and covered her body with his.

She grabbed his arms and pulled him even further up so their faces were level. "Yes—I'm dying here, I hope you know!"

Smirking, he bent his head down and nibbled on her neck as he settled himself in between her legs, his cock barely touching her hot hole. As he kissed his way upwards to her ear, he slowly entered her cunt, stopping when only the knob of his cock was inside. "We can't have that, can we, luv? What would the Watcher's Council say? Their best slayer dies in the arms of a soulless vampire…cause of death: sexual frustration."

"God damnit, Sp—oh Jesus—" she nearly yelled as he sheathed himself inside her.

He braced his arms on both sides of her head and bent his head down to hers—their lips barely touching. "Slayer, better now?"

She growled softly, her eyes filled with both lust and amusement as she pushed her pelvis up—trying to force him to move inside of her. When that didn't work, Spike felt her vagina muscles tighten around him. He nearly lost control then. "Cocky asshole," she muttered softly before the tip of tongue slipped out and licked her lips.

Somehow, it was that small, innocent act that broke his control.

He heard himself growl as he smashed his lips against hers, pushing his tongue into her mouth as he began to slowly pump in and out of her.

As their mouths battled, Spike felt her legs lift up and wrap themselves around his waist, opening herself even further for him.

He gladly pushed his way through.

It wasn't long before their coupling took on nearly frenzied qualities. Spike couldn't seem to keep his hands still as they skimmed over Buffy's hot skin.

By the time they both came, he wasn't sure who was making the most noise—Buffy's screams as she peeked or his roar right before he sunk his fangs into her neck.

He'd just retracted his fangs and had begun licking the twin holes on her neck when he felt the whelp's presence just outside her bedroom door.

"Bloody hell—"

"Xander—go to bed. I'm okay—still alive."

She heard the other bedroom door open and Whistler's New York accented voice call out. "Harris—"

"I know—I know—I'm going."

"I'm bloody going to kill that kid tomorrow," Spike muttered against neck.

He felt her chest rumble underneath him. "Teach us to ever have sex with him around. He's going to be worse than Angel ever was—"

He lifted his head, suddenly feeling the need to see her eyes and her face. To see for himself that she had no regrets. "Buffy?"

Her face broke into a huge smile as he felt her muscles contract, squeezing his cock. "Yes?"

He sucked in an unneeded breath in response, promising himself he would return the favor later. "Quit that, luv! Be serious for a moment, pet," he whispered. She nodded, the smile disappearing from her face, but not from her eyes.

He shook his head, trying not to grin and as his blue orbs met her hazel ones. "Are you okay, luv?" He brushed a lock of hair off her face and kissed the tip of her nose.

She nodded, nibbling on her bottom lip. "No regrets, Spike. Actually, right now, I feel better than I have in over a year. It's like I'm finally free…ya know?"

And the funny thing about it, he did know. Because oddly enough, he felt the same.

He was finally free from Dru.

"Yeah, I think I do know," he said, hoping that she could see the truth in his eyes. He suddenly grinned as he felt himself hardened in her warmth. Happily, he started moving in and out of her. "Can I take this slow, now?"

She giggled. "Yeah—let's do."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

There were times in Faith's life that she wished she had learned to keep her mouth shut.

This was one of those times.

But just like when she was a child and her mother stood over with a hairbrush in hand getting ready to smack her daughter's head with the object, instead of cowering like all good little girls did, Faith fought back—using the first weapon she learned how to manipulate: her mouth.

And the funny thing about it was—it was the same weapon she always turned to first—even now as a slayer.

She could've lied to him when he had asked where she'd been. She could've even told him the truth—and just not mentioned Whistler.

But her own fears paralyzed her and now she was going to pay the price.

The night before, she had been a willing participant in Angelus and Dru's sexual escapades. Now it seemed, she was going to be punished—just as Xander had been the day before.

As Angelus tore at her leather pants and yanked them down to her knees, she felt another piece of her self-respect disappear into that dark fog that had been following her since she killed Alan, the deputy mayor, all those months before.

After she felt the vampire's cold fingers jab into her cunt, chuckling at her wetness, she wondered if she would be lucky enough to meet death during this altercation.

Let another slayer be called.

She flunked out.

She failed her calling, herself and yes, her bloody and broken watcher that was staring the display from the cold embrace of Druscilla's arm as the vampiress' other hand was stroking his cock through his torn pants.

Gods, could it get any worse?

Yes! her mind yelled, as Angelus grabbed her hair and brutally attacked her lips, bleeding them and her tongue before he pushed her down to her knees and unzipped his pants.

Fear tickled her gut as his iron hard cock popped out of his pants. The night before, she had managed to avoid having to go down on him—fearing its length as well as girth, but now she knew she had no choice.

Barely given enough time to catch her breath, he pushed himself into her mouth, his claws digging in her shoulders as she struggled not to choke.

"Faith—no teeth or you're dead."

She didn't need to hear the threat—she already knew it in her bones. As her jaw widened and she clamped down on her gag-reflex, those sketches she found flittered through her mind as Whistler's word's haunted her…'He will kill you, Faith.'

Two hours ago, she didn't really believe it. Now she knew better, she thought to herself, as she felt the first of numerous bruises form in the back of her throat.

The worst part of the whole thing was the way her body instantly responded to his. One night of sex—and it knew what it wanted—the hell with her mind's or heart's misgivings…

The body wanted to feel his ice-cold cock pound into her—it wanted Angelus to possess her, control her and own her.

Her mind and heart just hoped that she would survive the experience.

Suddenly her mouth was free and was falling down onto her back, her face stinging from Angelus' fist.

"No zoning out, Faith! I like my partners to participate!" He was smirking at her—reveling in her discomfort. Prick, she thought to herself as she watched him squat down beside her and run his finger down the side of her face. As she saw him lift it to his mouth, she found herself surprised to see it red with her blood.

She hadn't even realized she was bleeding.

"Assume the position, my dear. Hands and knees."

Biting her bottom lip, she obeyed, silently wondering if she had ever been as scared as she was right then. Not even when she Kakistos killed her watcher or when she realized that it had been a human chest she sunk her stake into…

And then he was inside her, bruising her cervix instead of her throat—filling her, possessing her.

One of his hands squeezing her hip bone so tightly, she feared he was going to crack her bone as he held her in place while he pounded into her sopping wet hole. The other hand was wrapped around her dark tresses, yanking her head up as he grunted in her ear, whispering to her all the horrid, dark things he was going to do to her before the night was finished.

And the worst, by far, was the tendrils of electricity that was sweeping through her body as he continued to fuck her into submission. She could feel her vagina muscles contract and knew that she was going to come—regardless of how terrified she felt or lack of stimulation to her clit.

A cold sweat broke out over her face, chest and sex and she heard Angelus growling in her ear. "Come on, bitch…come for me…be the dog you are…"

And then it happened.

A wave of helpless swept through her body and she heard herself screaming his name as he sunk his fangs into her throat. They bucked up against one another, each one coming with a strength that amazed her.

Her last thought before she passed out was now she knew she would never be free of him—he did own her like no other ever had.

Chapter Twelve

As Whistler stood in the aether and looked down at the sleeping pair in Buffy's bed, a twinge of regret and sadness filled him.

It was time for him to leave and yet, for the first time in years, he found himself reluctant to do so. Even the year before, when he knew that this same slayer was getting ready to face the demon that held her one true love and the world captive in its angry heart, he hadn't felt this kind of remorse.

He knew then that she would survive.

It had been written.

But now, in the days ahead, her future was unsure. Too much depended on other beings and their motivations, and yet, for the prophecy to be fulfilled, she had to survive—soul intact.

The balance of all depended on it, and yet, because of his position, he could do no more than he already had done. He had laid the groundwork; ensured Spike's allegiance and as the days wore on, the vampire would discover what it actually meant to join his team.

Unfortunately, because of the immediate situation, Whistler couldn't outright tell him—the vampire had to discover it all on his own or it might unfavorably tip the balance of power once again. And if that happened, then Angelus' return would be for naught.

It wasn't supposed to be this way.

The soul-stealer was supposed to be working with Rupert Giles and not for the Mayor. The ruse that Angel, Giles and Buffy came up with was supposed to supply them with enough information so that the forces of good could battle the upcoming ascension.

Angel's soul was to have remained intact.

Druscilla and Spike were to have stayed in Brazil.

Xander Harris was suppose to graduate from high school and eventually join the army—utilizing that military training that he had come upon during that Halloween spell.

And Wesley Windham-Pryce was to have gone back to Britain and the Watcher's Council, with his proverbial tail between his legs, and spend the rest of his life learning from the mistakes he made while in Sunnydale.

But the balance had tipped somewhere else and in the scramble to right the wrongs, a series of events had taken place and, because this was the Hellmouth, they were amplified.

Call it the ripple effect.

And now, once again, the balance was precarious at best, and everything depended upon two young women, both warriors, now on opposite sides, to make the right decisions when it counted the most.

Whistler could only sigh.

It did not look good.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been a long time since Buffy had experienced a prophetic, slayer dream. In a lot of ways, this dream reminded her of the ones she had shared with Angel when the One Evil was haunting him.

Like those dreams, this one had cohesion—a common thread that held each scene.

The thread in this instance was she.

To be more specific, her last battle, defeat and finally death.

She was alone—one girl against two master vampires and a slayer.

Faith had managed to ambush her, using her human-ness to catch her unawares during the daylight hours, and subdue her.

Now Buffy was shackled naked in the atrium of the mansion as Dru beat her, using a sharp leather whip, all the while Faith and Angelus watched.

Buffy was lucky in a sense—she didn't physically feel the pain each time a new cut was formed or an older one was deepened. But her mind knew and her soul cried out each time that the leather hit her skin.

She knew—she would not survive this.

Whatever this creature who wore the face of her ex-lover had planned, the end sequence was the finale of Buffy's mortal life.

And hopefully her life period.

Just when she felt her soul splinter and cry out against the pain, Buffy heard Dru drop the whip.

Seconds later, she felt two cool tongues lap up the blood that flowed freely from her wounds. A low purr followed a soft chuckle and then without warning, she felt the searing pain of two sets of fangs as they sank into her neck—blinding her senses.

A pair of cold hands slipped around her body to squeeze her breasts, pulling and tugging unmercifully at her nipples. Soon, a cold, hard cock tore through her last vestige of virginity as she felt her mortal life slip away.

The last word she whispered was: "Spike…"

And then she died.

"Luv, wake up. It's okay. I'm here," she heard the comforting cadence of her lover's British accent pull her through the remaining haze of her dream.

Her eyes blinked back the tears and she saw Spike leaning over her; concern marring his expression—and it hit her.

She did love him.

Leaning up, she kissed him gently on the lips as her arms tugged his cool body back down on top of hers—trying to push away the horror of what she had just dreamt away.

"Are you okay?"

Her eyes shut as flashes of the whip swept through her mind and she felt herself tremble in response.

"Just hold me, Spike."

He nodded, still looking concerned as he rolled over onto his back and pulled her on top of him, wrapping his arms tightly around her.

Despite her best efforts to remain awake, exhaustion crept its way through her body and against her own volition, sleep soon followed.

Unfortunately, it wasn't dreamless.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

For the second time in as many days, it was the phone that woke him.

Pulling free a hand, he grabbed the receiver before its second ring, and growled softly into the receiver.

"Yeah mate? It better be good."

"Sp—Spike?"

His eyes shut as the Watcher's voice washed over him. Never, in all his years, did Spike ever think he'd be in the position to speaking to one of them first thing in the day.

"Yes Giles," he said, sighing softly. "It's me."

"Put Buffy on—I—I found something—"

"She had a hard night. Nightmares."

"—Oh dear. Were they prophetic?"

Spike rubbed his tired face and then opened his eyes. "I don't know. She didn't say."

"You know of the Codex, don't you?"

"Yeah…"

"I checked it first thing yesterday and there was nothing," the watcher paused and took a deep breath. "I wish I could say the same today."

Spike blinked his eyes, gently pulling away from the slayer's sleeping form and sat up. After lighting a cigarette, he leaned back against the headboard and tried to decipher the meaning behind the Watcher's words. "What did it say?"

Giles cleared his throat. "Only the first stanza is visible, but it's titled 'Metamorphosis.'"

"What does it say?" Spike repeated.

"'What was once of light, is now of the dark. That of the dark has been lightened. The prisoner shall finally be free. What was will no longer be. What will be, has never been.'"

"What the fuck?"

Giles cleared his throat again. "My thoughts exactly. And with Whistler here—"

Spike glanced at the clock: two PM. At least they had gotten some sleep. "Give us about an hour and then come on over."

"Yes, that'll be good."

It didn't occur to Spike until he hung up the phone that he had just told Joyce Summers she wasn't welcome into her own home for another hour. "Bloody hell, you git," he muttered to himself as he stabbed out the cigarette. "That'll earn you points with the lady's mum." He shook his head ruefully and looked down at the slayer and suddenly, for just a moment, everything else was forgotten.

He could just watch her for hours—just sleeping. As he felt himself stir, he groaned softly and turned around, swinging his legs off the bed. If he didn't put some space between himself and her, he'd be exactly where he didn't want to be found when the Watcher and Joyce arrived—snug deeply inside of Buffy.

In love. He was bloody in love with not just a mortal, but the slayer.

How fucked up could he get?

Shaking his head, he stood up and grabbed a pair of clean jeans, slipping them on over his naked body. Once decent, he walked over to the forgotten bedroll and picked up a discarded blanket, and wrapped it around himself.

Once protected from whatever errant sunrays that managed to slip through Willow, Oz and Cordelia's impromptu project of sun-proofing the house the night before, he headed for Whistler's room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Harris! Wake up—you bloody fool! Xander!"

"What?" the whelp's eyes flashed yellow as he growled at Spike.

"Put your fangs back where they belong," Spike snapped as he leaned against the arm of the couch. "I need to ask you something."

Xander rubbed his eyes, blinking up at Spike. "What?"

"Did Whistler talk to you at all last night?"

"Yeah, right before you and I had our heart to heart."

"No," Spike shook his head, trying to reign in his temper. "After that?"

"No," he paused as he shut his eyes. "I mean, I don't think so…"

"What do you mean, you don't think so?"

"It was a dream, I think. Or maybe he came down and talked to me while I was asleep."

"What did he say?"

Spike watched as the boy flung the blanket off his body and sat up, and leaned forward on his knees, holding his head. "I think it was about you." The young vampire looked up and met his eyes. "Something like, you need to remember to follow your heart and to remember your folklore. Yeah, that's it! He said, tell Spike that he needs to—no, he said, listen to your heart and remember your folklore."

Spike finally felt whatever control he had slip, and let out loud growl as he picked up coffee can filled with nails and threw it against the wall. "That bloody, noisy, no good-demon-from fucking hell! He left! You know what that means, Harris? It means we're in deep shit! He always leaves when the shit's getting ready to hit the fan—and he always comes right before it happens!" He started pacing in the space right behind the couch. "Mother fuck! Giles found a prophecy in the Codex and Buffy had a nightmare last night—and now Whistler disappears."

Xander stood up and grabbed his pants off the chair and slipped them on. "Spike—calm down, man. It's happened before—"

"Yeah, but not when I loved her—"

The younger vampire actually chuckled aloud. "Welcome to the club, my man." He slipped on a tee shirt and turned for the stairs. "You need to keep your head, Spike. She's going to need you. I know. I've been there before."

As Spike stood in the empty room, listening to Xander's soft steps up the stairs, he realized the boy was right. In this instance, the whelp was the teacher and he was the student.

Spike hated it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

It wasn't until she was awake, that Faith realized she'd just experienced her first real Slayer dream.

It was finally official—she was a slayer.

This had been the last piece of the puzzle—eluding her for nearly a year as she had struggled to adjust to her new life.

Unlike Buffy, Faith had some warning about her possible calling—but not much.

The Tweed Guys had found her on her fourteenth birthday while sitting in the dirty and dank hallways of Juvenile Detention, awaiting her placement. She'd been taken in for beating the neighborhood bully nearly to death.

The Tweeds rescued her, stuck her with her first Watcher—a gentle and kind woman with a sharp mind and even sharper combat skills.

It wasn't until Faith herself had been called, did she learn that her guardian had been a potential slayer herself.

All of it—the saving Faith from the juvy authorities to taking the errant young girl under their wings to training her—teaching her how to defend herself—was wonderful. A lifeboat in a sea of neglect and abuse that had been Faith's life since birth.

It was just a shame that it'd been too late.

The scars were already there. The abuse had already been suffered. Her psyche had already been damaged.

Faith knew this.

So did her watcher.

Too bad The Powers That Be didn't and activated her anyway.

And just like her rescue two years before and her calling, the dream was too little too late—

Especially since it forewarned her of her own death.

Groaning softly, ever conscious of Angelus sleeping beside her, Faith tugged on the chains that had her secured to the iron bed.

His bed.

He couldn't have his pet slayer run away and leave him, now could he?

Never before had she felt the need to flee as much as she did at that moment. Not with Kakistos, not with Mr. Trick and not with her drunken mother standing over her with a hairbrush, ready to strike.

Because, if the dreams were right—she'd have to sacrifice herself for the greater good. The same good that had ignored her and allowed her to suffer at the hands of her mother and the countless boyfriends she had paraded through their home. The same good that seemed always to favor Buffy over herself, no matter how much heart Faith put into slaying and fighting for the Light.

And for the first time in her seventeen years, Faith didn't know if she had the power to refuse.

It was at that moment Faith finally understood what it meant to be the Slayer…

It meant that she had to be willing to sacrifice everything that she was for the cause because not to, would mean certain death for the world.

She also understood what the other slayer gave up the year before and Faith couldn't help but wonder what kind of drugs The Powers That Be were on to choose this time to finally force Faith into coming into her full destiny.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Gone?" Buffy asked, dropping the towel onto the chair beside her closet. "What do you mean, gone?"

Spike felt his throat dry as he stared at the naked young woman standing in front of him, hands on her hips, her breasts tilted up fetchingly as her eyes flashed angrily at him.

"Spike! Get your eyes back in your head! Where the hell is Whistler?"

He groaned, dropping his head as he tried willing his hard-on down. "Get some clothes on, Slayer, before I say the hell with your mum and your watcher and I throw you on that bed right now!" His eyes flashed yellow as they met hers.

She gave him a purely feminine smile and nodded her head in acquiescence. "As you wish." She turned around and began dressing.

"So, did he say anything to anyone before he disappeared into the Great Unknown?"

Spike fell back onto the bed and shrugged. "It depends if you call visiting Harris' dreams, saying anything, luv."

Finally dressed in a pair of jeans and tee shirt, she sat down beside him as she began pulling up her socks. "What? What did he say?"

"He said 'to listen to my heart and remember my folklore.'"

"Damnit Spike, I hate riddles!"

She had just finished tying her shoelaces, when Spike finally couldn't take not knowing anymore. He turned to her and lifted her chin up with his finger, forcing her to meet his eyes. He had to know what she had dreamt of the night before. "Do you remember what you dreamed, Buffy?"

As he watched the pain ripple across her face, he felt his stomach clench in a knot. Please don't let her say it, he mentally chanted to himself as he watched her take a deep breath and face him once again.

"It was a slayer dream."

"And?" He asked, needing to push her—needing to know the answer.

She shook her head and stood up. As she paced in front of him, he could feel the pain and anger coming off her in waves. "I don't know if I want to tell you. I'm afraid you'll freak and ruin whatever chance I have to survive this." She stopped and kneeled in front of him, placing her hands on his knees. "One thing I've learned is that these dreams hide the real truth underneath appearances. Meanings are tucked underneath visions. The truth is never clear."

"Love, what did you dream?" He asked, grabbing her hot and sweaty hands in his, stilling her.

Sighing, she lifted her head and met his eyes. "I dreamt of my death. Faith kidnapped me and Dru whipped me and she and Angelus drained me. " She shrugged. "And that's it—minus some really gory details that I don't feel like sharing right now—including blood and sex." She stopped and forced herself to grin and added sarcastically, "You know, those things that seemed to go hand in hand with vampires in general."

Spike traced the tear trails with his finger and leaned forward and kissed her gently on the lips. After pulling her up into his lap, he wrapped his arms around her small, warm body, all the while inhaling her sweet scent.

If he lost her…

He found he couldn't finish that thought.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter Thirteen

"So, just so we're all on the same page," Buffy started as she began pacing the kitchen floor. "Whistler has left. And if he follows his modus operandi, that means the bad mojo—the really bad mojo is coming. And, just when we could actually use another Watcher—the Wonderless Wesley has scurried home to the Motherland—"

"Buffy," Giles said, chiding her.

Buffy heard Spike chuckle softly behind her.

"—And," she continued as if she hadn't been interrupted. "There's a new prophecy afoot and finally, I dreamt last of being tortured and drained at the hands of Dru and Angelus. Not a fun way to say adios to this world."

She felt a pair of cool arms wrap themselves around her waist, stilling her as her stomach did a lazy roll as flashes of the night before came to mind. She could really get used to this—his support, his love—his caring. She felt him kiss her on the top of the head.

She just had to stay alive long enough to enjoy it.

"Love, you said yourself these dreams aren't meant to be taken literally."

She sighed softly, knowing that he was right and nodded in agreement. "Well yeah, I may know it, Spike, but that doesn't mean I feel it." She turned to look at Giles. "What exactly did this prophecy say again, Giles?" She bent her head to the side and rested it against his forearms. Feels so good...

Giles pulled out a piece of paper and slipped on his glasses. "Like I said earlier, it's only one stanza—"

"Which means what, mate?"

Giles looked up at Spike and frowned. "That there may be more coming. With the Codex, prophecies don't always appear complete. Something may happen which will trigger another line, or change what's written." The watcher cleared his throat and looked down at the table. "This is what has been revealed so far: 'What was once of light, is now of the dark. That of the dark has been lightened. The prisoner shall finally be free. What was, will no longer be. What will be, has never been.'"

"Can I see that?" Willow asked, her hand extended to the paper.

Giles nodded and pushed it across the table.

Willow studied it quietly for a moment and lifted her head to meet Buffy's eyes. "This first line is easy. 'What was once of light, is now of the dark.' The first person I think of is Faith. But it also could apply to Angel."

"Maybe it's about both of them," Oz said, reading over Willow's shoulder. "Why not? Their defection—together—is what is so devastating, right?"

"Yeah," Xander said as he sunk down even further in his chair. "If it had just been Faith—it would've hurt, but it wouldn't have hit us this hard. With Deadboy—" Xander stopped, shaking his head. "Damn, I'm going to have to figure out another name for him," he said shaking his head.

"Try Peaches. He loves that, mate," Spike said as he tightened his arm around Buffy's waist.

"Peaches? Why Peaches? Is it because he's got—" Xander stopped and his head fell dramatically on top of the table. "Never mind, I know. Peaches it is."

Buffy couldn't help but smile to herself as she watched her friend turn an interesting shade of gray. So, that's how vampire's blush, she thought to herself. She knew why Spike called him Peaches. Angel was a pretty young man when he was turned. In other words, not all his body hair had filled before he had been turned. Some of it was more like peach-fuzz than real honest body hair. She had to admire Spike's ability to hit below the belt.

Another thing to love about him.

"So," Joyce said as she picked up the paper. "If the first line refers to both Angel and Faith, then the second line refers to Spike, right?"

"That would be my assumption. 'That of the dark has been lightened,' brings me to believe that Spike, not evil anymore, but still a demon, loyalty's have changed. Whistler once told me that the group of demons that he associates with call themselves the Gray Council, using the Tolkien reference as a guide."

Cordelia looked up from the table and sighed. "It also could mean Faith."

"Why?" Buffy asked.

Cordelia shrugged. "No matter how angry and hateful she is, she's still a slayer, Buffy. Think about it."

Buffy's eyes shut and shook her head. "I don't want to think about it. It's the bitch's fault that all of this happened—"

"Buffy!"

"Mom, it’s true! If she hadn't joined forces with the Mayor, none of this would've happened!"

"That maybe true, pet," Spike said, as he leaned over her shoulder to look at her. "But I know first hand how hard it is to go against your nature. If what Whistler says is true, it took me two incarnations to finally accept that I wasn't a card member of the demon's from Hell anymore. The other slayer may find that she can't follow through—no matter how angry she is."

Biting her bottom lip, she nodded, acknowledging the truth in his words. But it couldn't seem to stop the raging hate that filled her heart every time she thought of Faith's defection. Her sister-in-arms left her. In some ways, Faith's abandonment hurt her more than Angel's. At least with Angel, he didn't have a choice. Faith made a choice. And if her visions had any truth in them, then Faith also would play a key role in her death as well.

How could she ever forgive that?

Taking a deep breath, she pulled herself out of Spike's arms and walked over to the table and picked up the piece of paper. "'The prisoner shall finally be free,'—that's got to be referring to Angel's soul. Since we now know that demons only dominate a person, not kick the soul out as we were led to believe, then his soul would be a prisoner is his demon-ruled body. If what this says is true, that means his death is pretty much a given. All this so he could die?" She shook her head. "It just doesn't make any sense."

Willow reached over and squeezed Buffy's hand. "I know, Buffy. I miss him too."

Buffy's eyes shut—ignoring that familiar stab of pain that seared her heart everytime she thought of Angel—and took a deep breath. "Well," she said, reading the last two lines of the prophecy. "Does anyone even care to guess what the hell these last two lines mean? 'What was will no longer be. What will be, has never been.' I've heard of vague-ing it up—but this has got to take the cake."

Giles took off his glasses and sighed. "As of right now, I'd have to agree with you, Buffy. It appears to be nebulous on purpose. It could be that we aren't supposed to know until it happens—if it happens."

"Then why write it?" She snapped, slamming the paper down on the table, causing nearly everyone to jump in their seats. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "Okay, what else? We have Whistler's message to Spike and my dream."

"What exactly was the message, Xander?"

Xander sighed and looked over at the watcher. "He said to tell Spike that he should 'listen to his heart and remember his folklore.'"

"Anything else?"

"Sorry, G-man, that's it."

Giles nodded. "Well, since our enemies have such an intimate knowledge of our tactics, I do think it would be for the best that no one goes anywhere—day or night without a partner. That means you too, Buffy. Especially with your dream. Faith, unlike her companions, can go out during the day and I'm sure, they'll take advantage of that."

"Giles, what about school? Tomorrow is Monday."

Cordelia sighed. "You guys go ahead and do a round-robin. My parent's are out of town for the next week and you two can with me." She turned and looked at Xander. "And you too, if you want."

Xander smiled at her and reached over the table for her hand.

"Sorry about that love, but he's staying with me. Where ever the hell that is."

"Here, right Mom?"

"Buffy—"

Giles stood up and walked over to Joyce. "Will you all excuse us for a moment?"

At the various nods, Giles grasped Joyce's elbow and led her out of the room.

"Why does he have to stay with you?" Cordelia asked as she stood up.

"Because, pet, he's just a fledgling and until I feel he's ready to go out on his own, he's sticking with me."

Buffy watched Xander reach for Cordelia's hand and tug her back down to her seat. "He's right, Cordy. It's part of the whole now-Xander's-a-blood-sucking-fiend-package."

"Is he right? Is this is some vampire thing?"

Spike chuckled softly as he nodded yes. "Love, if he didn't need me to keep an eye out on him, I sure as hell wouldn't be angling to have him spend more time with me than necessary."

"Thanks a lot."

Giles and Joyce stepped back into the room with Joyce in the lead.

"Well?" Buffy asked.

"I'll be staying at Mr. Giles until this mess gets cleared up."

"Unfortunately," Giles said as he took his glasses off and began to polish them. "If Spike and Xander found somewhere else to stay, they wouldn't be protected by the invite rule. Until this is settled, it would be for the best if they stayed with one of us. And as the slayer, Buffy, you're in the best position to protect yourself, if the need arises."

Buffy nodded as she turned to her mother. "Thanks Mom, I know how hard that was," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Joyce opened her arms and Buffy fell into her embrace, reveling in the feel of security that her mother's arms could bring her. Just for one second, she could forget everything and be the little girl with ribbons that wanted to be an ice skater when she grew up.

It was a shame that second always seemed to get shorter the older Buffy got.

Buffy pulled back and sighed. "I want to patrol. I'm sure, if Angelus is anything like he was last year, he's been busy."

"Take Xander and Spike with you. As for the rest of you—we need to do some research." Giles stood up and walked over to her mother, taking her arm and led Willow, Oz and Cordelia out of the house.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Faith tugged on the leather collar around her neck and stared at the front of the mansion.

She so did not want to go in there.

In the past day, she had begun to hate herself when she was around Angelus. It was like everything that she'd ever worked to be as person disappeared under a cloud of lust and pain—leaving only a shadow of her former self in its wake. And then she would glance at Druscilla and feel her stomach take a nauseous turn, fighting to rid herself of her last meal.

That could be her in a few years—if she lived that long.

How did this happen?

Even the mayor noticed the difference in her. He said as much earlier when she brought Wesley in to meet him. As planned the night before, he agreed to use some of his more obscure contacts to come up with a cover for the ex-Watcher's disappearance and made arrangements for him to be sent to LA that very same night.

Faith shuddered.

She hated her watcher as a vampire. Devious, arrogant and cruel—with none of the social restraints that kept him in place before losing his soul. Faith didn't think it was possible for one man to be more of an asshole than he had been before he was turned.

She had just been proven wrong.

After getting Wesley packed up and moved out, the mayor sat her down and had a heart to heart talk with her. How could a man that could be so malevolent and evil, care so deeply for her? Because he did. He asked her if she had eaten yet and when she told him no, he called out for some take-out Italian and prodded her for the next hour on what was going on at the mansion.

She avoided his questions, knowing that he would be furious if he found out that Angelus had been abusing her, but she just couldn't risk him being hurt. If she did talk and Angelus discovered her indiscretion, not only was she at risk, but the mayor as well.

She actually was afraid for Richard. Because deep down, she knew if anyone could figure out how to bust through his invincibility, it would be Angelus. She couldn't let that happen. Mayor Wilkins was the first person to actually take an interest in her—love her and only her—since her first watcher.

She loved him too much to lose hi.

So instead, she put on her best face and smiled at all the appropriate places, eased the older man's fears and left as quickly as possible.

He even accepted her explanation for the collar. She told him she had picked up months ago and only now, decided to wear it.

Chuckling softly, she shook her head.

She could only wish that were true. No, the collar was Angelus' gift to her and he had the only key.

After he woke up in the afternoon and tortured her with his sensuous touch and lively tongue and fucked her until her legs felt like they were going to pop out of their sockets—sending her into a blissful high that clouded every sensible bone in her body, she felt the collar slip around her neck and the click of the lock being turned.

"Faith, now everyone will know who you belong to," Angelus whispered in her ear as his fingers titillated her clit. Grabbing a hold of the chains, Faith's eyes shut—desperately trying to stop the tears that were slipping out as she felt her body tighten as yet another orgasm tore through her.

She didn't know who she hated more—him or herself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Xander?"

The young vampire looked up to see his best friend standing in front of him—concern marring her features.

He sighed. I wonder when I'll stop doing that? he asked himself as he watched her facial features change from concern to hesitant. Dread filled him, intuitively knowing what she was going to ask him. He could almost hear the words before they left her mouth...'how are you?...do you want to talk about it?...are you okay with this?...'

Every imagined question was like a stake in his heart—bringing up emotions that he had yet to weed through or even understand. How could he explain to her that he had no idea how he was doing? That two days ago he was worried about flunking that history test and now his soul was in a constant battle with a demon to control his blood lust and not drain his instinctual enemy and his best friend, the slayer.

How could he tell her any of this?

How could he tell anyone any of this?

He pulled his eyes away from her and looked across his shoulder at Spike and for the first time since this whole mess started he wished that Deadboy was still...Deadboy—the souled, angst-filled vampire that he had spent the last three years hating.

Angel would've talked to him and helped him.

Xander chuckled softly. The irony was rich. Here were two vampires, both sired by the same vampire and one yearns for the demon he was nearly a hundred years before and the other wishes with all his undead heart for Angelus' souled counterpart. Neither of them satisfied with the vampire as he was right now.

To coin a phrase Spike used – it was a bloody mess.

Sighing again, he turned back to Buffy and smiled down at her. "Yeah?"

Shrugging, she began kicking the gravel under her feet and suddenly she sighed. Pursing her lips in thought, she suddenly growled softly. "Why is this so hard, Xan?" She rolled her eyes. "I mean—I don't even know where to begin. And if I feel that way, I can just imagine how you feel." She began to wring her hands. "I can't help you with the I'm-a-blood-sucking-demon-with-a-soul-stuff, so I'm not even going to try—unless you come to me," she amended. "But your parents—can you or do you even want to talk about that?"

Of all the things she could ask, it had to be this one—the one subject that he'd managed to steer clear of since he woke up this afternoon. He shook his head. "I'm not really ready, Buff. Don't know if I'll ever be, you know? Close, bonding moments were not a norm at the Harris household. Drunken, screamed-filled nights were. Unfortunately, I can't remember feeling anything for either of them other than contempt for so long, I don't even know how I feel now that they're gone."

She squeezed his arm and nodded sympathetically. "Well, okay," she said as she dropped her arm and began pacing again.

"How are you doing?"

"Me?"

He nodded. "Yeah you."

She shrugged and looked over at Spike.

The vampire was staring off into the cemetery, smoking a cigarette as he leaned against headstone. A small smile curled her lips and Xander couldn't help but shake his head at his friend's choices for boyfriends. When he heard her yell out the night before, for a moment, he felt his world crumble. All that kept running through his mind was, 'not Buffy, please not Buffy too.'

He didn't know if he was relieved or disappointed to discover that it had been a yell of pleasure and not of fear or pain.

"I'm all right. In someways, better than I've been in long time and others, not too good."

Xander nodded, thinking of the prophecy and her dream. He felt the air stir and looked up to see Spike head over towards them. He watched the vampire walk over to Buffy and wrap his arms around her and kiss her gently on the forehead. "Why don't we hit another cemetery, love. This place is dead," he said, grinning.

Xander rolled his eyes and groaned softly as Buffy pulled back far enough to playfully hit Spike in the stomach.

"That joke horrible the first time I heard it. After the thousandth, it just gets worse." Sighing, she bent her head back and looked up at him and smiled. "All right, I guess you're right." She lifted her head and glanced over at Xander. "Let's head out."

Xander nodded, picking up her slaying bag and followed the couple out of the cemetery.

It's going to be a long night, he thought to himself as he gave the cemetery one last backward glance. Make that a long unlife.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter Fourteen

School.

Sighing softly, she stared at the entrance as Sunnydale High School and wondered if she had the strength to go inside.

Dread filled her—it seeped into every pore of her body—causing her stomach to sickeningly reject the English muffin she had manage to swallow down earlier.

Please don't let me throw up...please.

She so did not want to be here.

She didn't want to face the knowing glances of her schoolmates as the whispered about the Harris'—just loud enough for her to hear.

She didn't want to deal with the guilt that was sure to come everytime Harmony's name was brought up...

All her fault.

Ultimately, no matter how much Xander, Cordelia, Willow, Oz, Giles—now even Spike—tried to bare some of the load that fell on her taut shoulders—it really didn't matter.

In the end, it was her fault.

She failed when she allowed Angelus to live for the five months he did the year before when he had first lost his soul.

If she had done her duty then, Jenny Calendar would be still alive, Giles' hands wouldn't ache everytime the barometric pressure dropped, Xander would still be human, Harmony would still be alive and annoying—hell, maybe even Faith would still be fighting with her instead of against her.

The only good that came of Angelus' existence last Spring was the shaky alliance between her and Spike. The same alliance that eventually led him back to her nearly a year later—but this time to her heart.

And even that argument was questionable. He could've very well on his own decided to change sides...although most likely if that had happened, it would've been much later—long after Buffy was gone.

She felt a hand rest on her shoulder and turned to see a very concerned Giles watching her. "Buffy, we need to go inside," he said softly.

She nodded, grabbed her book bag and slipped out of the car.

Together, slayer and watcher headed towards the school doors.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Faith watched as Buffy and Giles entered the school together and found herself sighing in relief.

More time to put off the inevitable.

Obviously, Giles had decided to use his brains when combating Angelus this time. Since nearly 6 am she had been watching the Summers' home and was actually surprised to see the watcher's beat-up old Citroen pull up in front of the slayer's house. Seconds later, both car doors opened and Faith watched Joyce Summers and Giles exit the car and quickly slip inside her home.

Not even five minutes later, all three of them left together.

Guessing that they were going to drop off Joyce Summers first, Faith decided to beat the slaying team to school and see if she could see what was going on with the rest of the Scooby Gang.

Sure enough, after waiting only five minutes, she spotted Oz's van pull into the school lot and park. Minutes later, Cordelia, Willow and Oz stepped out of the van.

Together.

The Scooby Gang wasn't taking any chances. A part of Faith actually felt proud of her former allies—knowing that they were taking the Angelus/Faith combination seriously—not allowing themselves to be lulled by the apparent safeness of daylight.

But as proud as she may feel, she also knew they were making her job all the more difficult. And if Faith didn't grab Buffy within the next couple of days, the Slayer doubted she would survive the wrath of Angelus.

So, here she was—damned if she did, damned if she didn't and she had no idea what to do about it.

If she actually succeeded in getting Buffy to Angelus without getting mortally wounded in the process, it only confirmed Faith's dreams—which in turn made her death more real.

It's your choice, babe, her inner voice reminded her. You could still kidnap B, hand her over to Loverboy and go back to your apartment—let the Fates decided the future of the other slayer. Not you.

Although her voice was right—hell, it was always right—Faith didn't know if she could do that—just leave the other Slayer with Angelus and Dru—without her being present as a witness.

Whether or not they were on the same side didn't really matter when it came to honor. B and Faith were of the same ilk—they were Slayers. Out of five billion humans on this planet—there were only the two of them. Didn't she owe her sister—in some ways more true than if B were of the same blood—the common courtesy and respect due a slayer to be there during her death?

But see, there lies the crux of the problem, she thought to herself. If Faith stayed for those festivities, how would she not follow through with her own destiny?

The destiny her slayer dream had shown her?

Groaning, the dark-haired slayer punched the steering wheel, nearly bending it as her mind swirled around the issue. No matter how many times or how many angles she looked at it—she always ended up in the same place.

Her death.

So angry at her fate, the slayer didn't even notice the tears that ran freely down her face as she slammed the car into first gear and headed back to her apartment.

If she had, she may've just drove straight out of Sunnydale; Faith hadn't cried in nearly a dozen years.

Things were not boding well for her—not at all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

As Willow stepped into the library and stared at the empty seat that Xander used to sit in every morning before class, she stopped in her tracks. Her heart dropped into her stomach, her eyes filled with unshed tears as a deep, heart-wrenching pain filled her.

She recognized it. It was similar to the one she had when she realized Jesse was really gone—no longer there to listen to her moan about Xander's obliviousness, or her parent's absence.

An emptiness that had yet to be filled.

Unconsciously, she reached over and grabbed Cordelia's hand, somehow knowing that she needed the other girl's support—to know that someone was aching as much as she, and squeezed it.

Cordelia squeezed back.

"It'll be okay, Willow," Oz whispered as his arm tightened around her waist. "He may not be able to be here today—but tonight it's possible."

She nodded once, acknowledging Oz's voice of reason and looked over at Cordelia.

The cheerleader had yet to relinquish her hold on Willow's hand—her tan face washed out and pale, as she absently chewed on her bottom lip. "It's really real. I wanted it to be a dream. For me to walk in here—insult him about his clothes or his lack of coolness and be able walk away, my head up high with the knowledge that yet again, I managed to get underneath his skin." She let out a harsh laugh. "Guess who the loser is now—"

Willow found herself in the invariable position of defending Cordelia, of all things, against herself. "No Cordy, he always knew—and still does—that's just your way. It may've angered him sometimes—but it never changed his feelings for you." Willow took one last deep breath and looked over at the prom queen. "Besides, why do you need me to tell you that for? Didn't he want to stay with us last night? He wanted to be with you—just like he always has. Not Buffy and Spike, that's for sure."

Cordelia let go of her hand and straightened her shoulder as a small smile curled her lips. Willow could feel the other girl's gratefulness for changing the subject.

"Don't I know it. I mean, Spike—look at him! When do you think he's last changed his clothes style? And bleaching your hair white? How Loserville can you get?"

Willow heard Buffy's giggle before she stepped out of Giles' office. "Yeah, I'm gonna have to work on him about that. Even me, the fashion faux pas of Sunnydale, can see that Spike's wardrobe is definitely in need of rescuing."

Willow chuckled softly as she moved over to their table. "Well Buffy, considering your job is rescuing, you should be perfect for the job—the job that is rescuing Spike from his dated clothes closet."

"Closet? Does he even have a closet?" Cordelia asked as she sat down in her chair, placing her books in Xander's seat and pulled out a nail file.

Buffy shook her head in mock dismay. "Try a duffel bag of unknown origins...crammed with various sundries that I have periodic nightmares about."

"I don't know Buffy, but that seems a little worrisome," Oz said, his face expressionless except for his eyes which Willow could see were sparkling with humor.

"I'd have to agree with you under normal circumstances—but nightmares about the killer duffel bag are lot easier to deal with than some of the other nasties that like to visit my personal sleepytime."

"So, how was Xander?" Cordy asked, still filing her nails.

Buffy shrugged. "I checked up on him before I left and he was still asleep. I do know that Spike's planning on giving Xanman his first lessons on how to be a member of the undead community. Whatever that means."

Willow frowned, seeing the dark circles under the slayer's eyes, despite her forced cheeriness. "Are you okay? Any dreams last night?"

"Tired...regular, run-of-the-mill nightmares—but nothing like Slayer dreams. I'm okay, Will, I just didn't want to be here."

Oz chuckled. "Well, you're not alone. We three almost skipped until Willow reminded us that you would be here dealing with all this on your own."

Buffy's head dropped as she stared at her own nails. "Thanks. It means a lot."

"Well, you owe us," Cordy snapped as she stood up and grabbed her books. "Because the way I see it, I could've watched All My Children and at a pint of Ben & Jerry's today. I so do not want to deal with this!"

The slayer lifted her blond head and looked over at Cordelia. "You're right—I do owe you."

Willow scrambled out of her own seat—seeing a need to break the tension—and grabbed her backpack. "We better get going. We don't need to be late for first hour—on top of everything else."

She walked over to the door and stopped. "Giles, I'll be here during third hour—my free period."

"Oh right. Thank you, Willow."

"Bye Giles."

"See you later, Giles."

"Later!"

And all four of them left for first hour.

Willow only wished the rest of the day went as smoothly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

After popping his meal into the microwave, Spike opened the basement door and flipped the light switch a couple of times.

"Hey Xander—time to get up! If we're going to train, you need to wake up now!"

Spike heard a low-level growl echo through the basement and chuckled softly to himself. The whelp was not a morning person.

Or was that afternoon person now?

"Oh well, too bloody bad," Spike whispered to himself as the microwave beeped. After pulling out his glass mug filled with now warm blood, he stuck Xander's in it and once again programmed it.

Just as he was about to yell down the basement again, the phone rang.

Thinking it was Buffy or Joyce, Spike picked it up.

"'Allo?"

"May I speak to Joyce Summers please?"

Frowning at the official sounding voice, Spike inwardly groaned—just knowing that this wasn't good news. "She's not here, mate. She's at work."

"Would that be Summers Gallery in Sunnydale, California?"

"Yes...?"

"Very well, I'll try her there. But if I don't get a hold of her, could you give her a message for me?"

"Sure thing, mate," Spike said as he picked up the pen and paper by the phone, preparing to write it down.

"Tell her to please contact Lt. Richardson at the Santa Monica Police Department at 555-1500 extension 1320. Tell her it's of the utmost importance concerning Henry W. Summers."

Spike repeated the message to make sure he got it right and hung up the phone. With his hand still on the receiver, he turned to Xander, who was now drinking his breakfast.

"Let me make a guess and say that wasn't Ed McMahon calling saying Joyce won ten million bucks."

"Unfortunately no. What's the library's phone number?"

Xander rattled it off and Spike dialed it, tapping his foot impatiently on the floor as he waited for the watcher to answer.

"Sunnydale Library."

"Giles?'

"Yes, is this Spike?"

"Yeah mate, we've got trouble."

Five minutes later, Spike had his coat on and his breakfast downed as he tapped his foot impatiently, waiting for Xander. "Hurry up, boy! We don't have all day!"

Grumbling could be heard as the youngster stomped up the stairs. "Are you sure it's safe for me to go there? I mean, everyone thinks I'm dead!"

Spike rolled his eyes. "Come on, kid. Get real! The way people forget things in this town; no one will bat an eye if they see you. Besides, we're going through the sewers and entering through the back of the library. I seriously doubt if we'll run into anyone of the living."

"What about the unliving?"

Spike shrugged as he picked up two black blankets that he had carefully tugged off a couple of dining room windows and handed one to Xander. "You've fought vampires for how many years and you're worried now?"

Xander had the sense to laugh. "All right, you win," he muttered as he covered his head. "Now, if I remember right, there's a sewer entrance just in front of the house."

Spike nodded a knowing smirk on his face.

"You knew?

"Of course I knew. You think I didn't know every possible way to get to the slayer's house when I was itching to break her neck? Granted, back then she was still the slayer—even in my mind—but I tend remember things like that. Especially if I'm living here."

Xander sighed as he shook his head. "So much to learn..."

Spike chuckled softly as he walked past him and headed for the front door. With his hand on the doorknob, he turned back to Xander. "Are you sure you want to come with me? Two days old and day traveling is not exactly conducive to a long unlife..."

"I'm sure. Let's get going before I do something like vampiric equivalent to pissing in my pants."

Spike nodded sunglasses in place and opened the door.

As they ran to the sewer entrance, all Spike could think was he was grateful he didn't hear any screams of burning death.

Maybe the day wasn't too bad after all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Oz and Cordelia will go pick her up," Willow said quietly as she rubbed her friend's back. "Giles, could you write them passes?"

Sighing softly, Giles nodded as he filled out two excuse slips. "I'll just run these down to the principal's office—"

"What about Schneider?"

The watcher pulled off his glasses and rubbed his tired eyes. "I really don't care about Schneider at the present. If I have to deal with him, I'm sure I'll manage."

Willow nodded, noting a bit more of 'Ripper' coming out—more so than normal. She turned to Buffy and felt her heart break. There she sat on the couch, her feet pulled up and arms wrapped tightly around them as she rocked back and forth. Although she didn't hear the sobs, Willow knew if she was facing her friend, she would see the tears.

Buffy had a tendency—especially in the last year, to mourn quietly—as if she feared what would happen if she actually expressed her pain outloud.

Oh sure, there were exceptions. Her eighteenth birthday...when Angel's return from Hell was discovered...but they were in actuality, few and far between.

Which was what really worried Willow. Out of everything that had happened in the past three days, didn't this deserve the sobs?

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Buffy could feel Willow's concern, her hesitant desire to comfort her, but she couldn't accept it.

She didn't deserve it.

It was all her fault.

The guilt, which seemed so horribly heavy this morning, was nothing like what she felt now. Now it felt as if her heart had been torn out and stomped on.

As her mother's words kept replaying in her head, it was all she could do not to go crazy—berserk—run out of the building right in Faith's waiting hands.

Just so she wouldn't have to feel this horrible thing stuck in her throat, clawing at her—desperate to escape.

Those idle words of her mother's...idle, because taken separately, they could mean so many different things.

But together, they destroyed her world.

I’m so sorry honey...pause...sniffle...but your father's dead...

Dead.

Just like Angel and Harmony.

Just like Xander.

Just like she was going to be in a few days.

Dead.

Dead.

Dead by vampires.

Dad. Angel. Xander. Harmony. Me.

All dead.

All my fault.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was Willow who was waiting for Xander and Spike at the back of the library. As she leaned against the bookcase, tears slipping down her pale cheeks, she wondered if anything would keep Buffy from running out to confront Faith.

Goddess, Angelus knew where to strike and how to hurt her. If he had used this method the year before, the world would've surely been sucked into hell, because the slayer would've been dead or even worse, her spirit would've been shattered.

Much like it has now.

Biting her bottom lip, she jumped when she saw the door open and Spike and Xander step into the library. Xander immediately ran to Willow, wrapping a cool arm around her shoulders and kissed her gently on her hair.

For the first time since he'd been turned, she didn't care that he was cold. She was just glad he was there.

Willow grabbed Spike's arm before he began to walk away.

"What?" He snapped impatiently.

"She's really bad Spike. Please get through to her. I think she's going to run right out of here to Faith. I mean it." Willow added as she dropped her hand.

Spike nodded and took off towards the front of the library.

Maybe he would get through to her.

He had to.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter Fifteen

When Spike saw his lover sitting in the corner of the watcher's office, rocking back and forth, hugging her knees so tightly that the blood had stopped circulating in her fingers, for a moment he flashed back to Dru.

How many times had he been faced with this type of situation with Dru, rocked emotionally senseless from the various voices of her insanity?

Too many to count.

Taking an unneeded breath in preparation, he stepped inside the room and shut the door behind him. Slowly, he made his way to her, all the while racking his mind for something to say to her other than, 'it sucks, doesn't it love?' which unfortunately was the only thing he could come up with at the moment.

Because that's what it was—a sucky situation in which there were no real words of comfort other than the obligatory fate answer which really seemed a bit lame to him.

Why else was her father sucked dry and his dead body left sitting at the patio table in the backyard with his uneaten dinner in front of him? A small dinner alone in his backyard had become the playing ground for some vampire with his own dinner on his mind.

Or it was revenge?

Which of course, the slayer automatically assumed it was or she wouldn't be so distraught now.

Sighing softly, he sat down beside her, lit a cigarette and waited.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Buffy wasn't sure how long Spike had been there, sitting quietly next to her when it finally hit her that she was no longer alone.

So Buff, are you going to talk to him or not? she asked herself as she stilled her body and dropped her hands.

She turned to face him, really studying his angular profile and heard herself sigh appreciatively. And even as that thought managed so slip out, another bout of bone-jarring guilt slammed through her.

She didn't deserve to feel anything good. She failed. She was no slayer. If she had been the kind of slayer all those stupid watchers touted as law—her father would still be alive—Xander would still be alive—Angel...Angel would be dust and so would Spike.

Her chest tightened as her eyes filled with tears at the craziness of it all. No wonder slayers never lived long—the sheer grayness of her duty seemed to grow more with each day—leaving her so torn that she had no idea what her duty was.

What was it? Three years ago when she first found out about her fate? Barely fifteen years old and so naive. When Merrick told her all vampires were bad—she believed him. And why wouldn't she? They were ugly, they sucked the blood out from innocent's necks and they liked to play with their food.

It was so clear back then.

And it was still was clear until she met Angel. One of the most beautiful souls she'd ever met—who worshipped her, loved her and protected her like she was a goddess instead of a confused 16-year-old girl who just happened to kill vampires at night—and he was a vampire.

But at least Angel was cursed with a soul. Her world still could be divided into neat black and white sections. He was good because his soul was in control. Souls were good. Demons were bad.

That lasted until she began fighting with Spike.

First were the questions of how could a demon love someone so much that he would do anything for her—the way Spike loved Druscilla?

How, she asked herself repeatedly late at night when her mind wouldn't shut down long enough for her to fall asleep. Demons weren't supposed to love. Love was a soul thing—not a demon thing.

Then, as the months went by, she got to know him. And she actually found herself enjoying kicking his ass. He was brash, abrasive, fun-loving, intense, cocky, funny...someone that she could enjoy fighting for quite some time. A nice contrast to the dark and broody Angel.

Was that when she first began to feel something other than contempt for Spike?

Or was it those nights that she lay in her bed, missing Angel so much it was like someone cut out a part of her soul and she desperately needed to know that someone out there was feeling the same pain? And knowing that Spike must likely was...

But it could've been when Whistler introduced himself in Giles' townhouse, explaining to her that not all demons were bad—some of them worked for a balance. Not exactly a resounding claim for the good, but one that made sense nonetheless. And right on the heels of Whistler, had come Spike with his offer of an alliance of sorts—to save the world, save Dru and bring down Angelus.

Every reason Spike gave her—even the one with the happy meals with legs, was made from his heart—his feelings. From his love of Dru, hatred of his sire to his desire to see Manchester United win a World Cup and finally to his concern as to where his next meal was going to come from.

All of it came from his heart.

And now, nearly nine months later, the same Spike that told her that he liked this world was sitting quietly beside her, his concern nearly palatable as he waited for her to finally just give in to all those feelings that were running amok in her heart. For her to succumb to the pain—share it with him, so she could go on and be able to face the next day with her stake in hand and vampire dust floating capriciously about her.

She chuckled softly, her head falling on his shoulder as her eyes filled with tears as she thought of the unfairness of it all. To lose her soulmate, find love and lose her father all within three days was almost too much for her broken heart to take.

"Want to talk about, love?" he asked, lighting his second cigarette.

Buffy watched the smoke curl in the afternoon light—swirling seductively in the air and sighed softly.

"I—I don't know," she whispered. "I don't—I can't—I just hurt and feel so guilty..."

He reached for her hand and held it tightly in his cool grasp. "We don't know for sure he was killed by Angelus—"

She stiffened, immediately trying to pull her hand away as she felt the low ebbing anger that had been simmering underneath the guilt, seep through.

Spike didn't let go.

"You know I'm right."

Growling softly, she relaxed and closed her eyes. "Yes, I know you're right—but I live on the Hellmouth and coincidences don't happen. He killed my father because he couldn't touch any of us!"

Another exhale of smoke—adding to the dimming whirls in the air.

"And if he did? What could've you done, pet? Be in two places at the same—"

This time she did get free as she shot up on her feet. Ignoring the tingling in her limbs, she began pacing restlessly in front of him as her eyes stared at the walls around them. "I failed last year, Spike. That's what this is about, Spike. Don't you get it? Xander was right last year. I should've staked the fucking bastard the moment I realized he lost his soul! If I had, then everything would be different," she ended softly, with her hands on her hips, as she studied the linoleum-tiled floor. "Everything."

Spike dropped his cigarette and crushed the butt with his boot. Buffy looked over at him in time to see him shaking his head at her.

"What? You don't think I'm right? Didn't you come here three months ago with some drunken plan to kill Angel and me because I failed my duty last year? Didn't you?"

He snorted as he stood up and walked over to her, careful to remain out of the direct sunlight. "Love, I was pissed, drunk, angry, lonely and didn't want to accept that I didn't have the balls to kill him myself. A lot easier to blame you then it was to accept some of it myself.

"I sat there, in that bloody chair for two months longer than I needed to—just biding my time. Just like you were, love. I wanted you to do it—take him down because I didn't want to. Acathla is what got my sorry ass in gear. Just like you.

"I'm a bloody master vampire and I let that wanker fuck me over and basically pried my own cheeks open so he could do it!"

Buffy watched as his face morphed—his yellow eyes glaring at her—as he struggled to keep his anger in check and felt something crack in her heart. Maybe it was hearing of his anger and guilt being repeated back to her that made her realize that they were both victims of their heart. What made Spike unique as a vampire was the same thing that made her unique as a slayer—their ability to feel and do so deeply.

They fought and lived for their hearts.

Her chest heaved as a loud sob escaped her lips. Knees buckling, she fell down on the floor, as her whole body shook. Seconds later, Spike was there, wrapping his cool arms around her as he pulled her on his lap, rocking her back and forth as she cried tears for both of them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yawning, Faith pulled her car into SHS parking lot and drove to the side, careful to remain hidden, but able to see the door. She'd just turned off her car when she saw Joyce Summer's pull into the parking lot and hurriedly get out of the car and run to the front entrance.

Something happened.

Faith's gut told her so.

Was that a good thing or bad thing, she asked herself as she leaned back against her seat. Whatever happened, compelled Joyce to break her routine and risk traveling alone—so did that mean Buffy would take that chance too?

And if she did, what would Faith do?

Follow through with Angelus' demands and kidnap Buffy for him or would she ignore the opportunity and risk his wrath?

For two days she had been racking her brains trying to come up with an alternative solution—one that didn't send the world into a millennia of darkness and didn't get her killed and she had yet to find one. Sure, she could try and kill Angelus, but the opportunity had yet to come up. Whether it was because she was the slayer or that he fed from her, she didn't know. But whatever the cause, she had yet to be able to sneak up on him.

He always knew she was there. Even before she could sense him—he was there holding that damn key and grinning maliciously all the while whispering sensually all the things he had planned to do to her. All Faith had to do was hear his voice and she was fucked. Her stomach clenched, her sex became sopping wet and her knees weakened in lust.

He owned her and she had yet to figure out how to buy her soul back from him.

Forcing herself to unclench her teeth, Faith took a deep, calming breath as she tried to relax. It was an almost impossible task and had been since Angelus had returned.

What the hell was she thinking joining up with the Mayor?

It was going to get her killed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Where is she?" Joyce Summers asked as soon as she stepped through the library doors.

Xander sighed as he stared at Giles' office door. "They're in there," he said, pointing to it.

Joyce started for the door.

"Wait Joyce!"

She turned to him, anger in her eyes as she lifted an eyebrow. "What Xander?"

Running his fingers through his hair, he nodded at the door and shook his head. "She finally broke—a couple of minutes ago. I—I—"

Giles cleared his throat and walked over to Joyce, taking her hand. "Let Spike have a few more moments with her, shall we?"

Joyce looked back over to the door and then up at Giles' eyes and nodded slowly.

Xander watched the ex-watcher lead Joyce to one of the tables and pulled back a chair for her.

Once the older woman finally sat down, tears filled her eyes as her body collapsed—whether it was in exhaustion or pain, the young vampire couldn't tell. But if he had been married as long as Buffy's parents, he knew he would feel the pain. How can you not hurt when you lose someone you had once loved for all those years?

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Joyce nearly jumped in her seat when she heard the office door click open and shut. Her head shot up and immediately saw Spike leaning against it, eyes shut, his face drawn.

A pair deep blue orbs searched the room and landed on her.

"Joyce, could you sit with her—"

Joyce shot up from her chair and ran across the library to Spike.

"—she's asleep right now, but I don't know how long it's bloody going to last—"

"How is she doing?" Giles asked as he stepped up beside Joyce.

Spike shrugged. "I got her to talk, if that's what's bothering you," the vampire said as he shook out a cigarette and lit it. "She's feeling guilty. Thinks she should've staked him a year ago and everyone will be a lot happier."

Joyce felt her eyes water as she thought of what Spike had just said. How can a 17-year old girl be forced to make choices like that? What kind of higher power would even place this kind of responsibility on girls as young as Buffy...and Faith.

It was almost as if they were asking for trouble.

Blinking back her tears, she reached over and squeezed the vampire's arm. "Thank you, Spike," she whispered and walked past him to Giles' office.

She had her daughter to take care of—something she hoped she would be doing for a long time—if she had any say over the matter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spike fell into the hard covered chair next to Xander and glanced over at the younger vampire. "How much did you hear, mate?"

The whelp looked up, his brown eyes troubled as he began to roll a pencil across the tabletop. "Enough," he said, looking up. "Enough that I want to run in there and beg for her forgiveness," he admitted softly. "A lot has happened in the past year."

"And?"

Xander looked up and met Spike's eyes. "I don't hate him anymore." He let out a harsh laugh. "Ironic, isn't it? He's gone for good—this time—and I can't even tell him that I'm sorry. Buffy did what she had to do—what she could do and still be true to herself. She couldn't stake him anymore than I could Willow or Cordy, if I were in her shoes. I did it once and I still have nightmares."

"Did what once?" Spike asked, curiosity peaked.

"Stake a friend once he was turned. You never met him. Darla turned him for the Harvest—nearly three years ago. Jesse was his name. He, Willow and I had been best friends since kindergarten."

Xander shoved himself away from the table and ran his fingers through his hair. "I've been thinking about him lately—with all that's happened with me and I can't help but think—what if, you know?" He shook his head, his eyes landing on the office door. "I wouldn't be alone anymore."

Spike shook his head, growling softly. "Were you in danger? Did you have a choice?"

"No, he didn't."

Spike nearly jumped at the sound of the witch's soft voice. "I wasn't there, but Buffy said it was a kill or be turned situation. Xander did what he had to do which I'm eternally grateful for. As well as Buffy, Cordelia—even Giles. Xander, you would've died that night and then who would've brought Buffy back that night she died? Or saved Cordelia when the Order of Takara came calling?"

"Or got me the bloody hell out of Angelus' torture chamber last spring," Giles added, as he placed his hip on the table. "

"Well, from where I sit, it appears that you didn't have a choice, Harris. Anymore than the slayer did when she sent soulboy to Hell." He shook his head as he remembered the guilt that filled her eyes and sighed softly. "Unfortunately, both Buffy and I did have a choice last spring, before Acathla and neither of us did anything about it. That's what tearing her up inside. She knows that Angelus' return, Faith's betrayal—those things and everything that happens because of them—even her father's death—she wasn't at fault. But if she had staked him the year before..."

"Then none of this would even have been an issue," Cordelia finished quietly. "Well, she's right—it wouldn't. "

"Cordy!" Xander snapped.

"But," she continued, obviously ignoring Xander's outburst. "After all that's happened—I don't condemn her. I finally know how she felt. I wouldn't wish last Spring on anyone."

Spike turned his attention to Giles and watched him rub his eyes wearily. "I must say, they never teach you how to deal with that. When the First came last Christmas, wearing Jenny's face, I had my own dose of what Buffy had to deal with. It wasn't pleasant," he added softly.

Spike snorted. "Bloody hell," he whispered, shaking his head.

"What?" Giles asked.

Spike shook his head, wondering how he could even begin to explain his feelings about Angelus' return. At first, he had been so happy to see his sire as he strode into the factory, that he never once considered how much damage the soul had done to his demon. It didn't take long for him to figure out that the Angelus of today was nothing like the Angelus of his younger days. The Angelus that he had loved with all his demon heart.

"Spike?"

Frowning, he leaned back in his chair and lit a cigarette. "Do you have any idea why I allied myself with the slayer last year?"

"Yeah, you wanted Dru back," Xander said, chuckling softly. "And we see how well that went."

Spike didn't even feel his face change as he glared at the whelp. "Harris—a little more tact, mate. Oh you'll be wearing my boot print on your ass."

Xander scowled softly, slinking in his chair.

"I know this one," Willow said as she sat down across from him and Xander. "You didn't want the world to end, you wanted to kill Angelus and get Dru back."

Spike nodded once, his eyebrow arched.

"Buffy told me—when she got back last fall."

"Well, for all the fighting against demons you all do, you don't know much about them, do you?"

"Meaning what?" Cordy asked. "That they're usually ugly and wear awful, outdated outfits and they want to eat us—present company in someways, excluded. What else is there to know?"

Children, he thought to himself. How did this group of kids beat my ass repeatedly?

That, he may never know.

"Well, as Whistler pointed out to Xander, there's a big difference between minions and childe's, right?"

Xander nodded. "He did, but he never explained how there's a difference."

"Ah, the blood exchange. How much did you drink from Angelus?"

"Mental image not pleasant," Cordelia mumbled to herself as she finally sat down on the other side of Xander.

Xander sighed, his eyes shutting in memory. "A lot right after I woke up. It seemed everytime I turned around, he was pushing my face to his neck or something. And if not him, Dru was doing it as well."

Spike's eyebrow shot up. "Did she drink from you as well, when you were still alive?"

Xander nodded.

That explains it, Spike thought to himself. With both Dru's and Angelus' blood running through him—no wonder he's so powerful for such a young vampire. "They wanted to make sure you were strong—that's why they did that. I've never sired anyone with someone else, but I've heard of it being done before. I'll bet she even added a bit of her blood to Angelus' right after he drained you." Spike dropped his cigarette and crushed the butt under his heel. "Well kid, how does it feel to have two sires?"

Xander visibly shuddered. "Not much better than one," he said, his head dropping.

"Well, back to my original point, like Xander, I was Angelus' childe. And until he became obsessed with Dru, I was his only childe. And he was my world. A childe's loyalty to his sire is unwavering—the exchange of blood does that.

"It wasn't a completely smooth ride, especially after Dru arrived, but in the end, we three became an unstoppable force." His eyes closed as he remembered those days. "He wasn't like he is now. He's the one that showed me the wonders of the world—enjoying all its offerings. He's the one that taught me about loyalty and yes, even love. Yes, he still loved to kill, feed and create havoc, but there was more to unlife than just that. The Angelus that returned last Spring was nothing like that," he finished, opening his eyes to find Red's intense stare on him.

"He changed," Willow whispered.

Spike nodded. "Yeah, he did. The curse did that to him. I don't know how or why—but it made the demon obsessive, angry—destroyed its ability to love. He treated everything around him with contempt. The only thing important to him was destroying the slayer and making my unlife pure hell." He chuckled to himself. "In a sense, he became to me what he became to you all—a hated enemy."

"Wow," Willow said in amazement.

"Well, this is all fine and good," Giles interrupted. "But what does this have to do with Buffy?"

Spike rolled his eyes at the watcher. "Everything, mate. You see, she wasn't the only who failed last spring. For two months, I played possum in that bloody wheelchair—frozen. Just like her, I knew he had to die and just like her, I did nothing and just bided my time—hoping that my sire would return, while she searched for a way to bring her Angel back to her. We both wanted him to live, hoping that he become someone else."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Buffy's eyes fluttered open and immediately she recognized her surroundings: she was lying down on Giles' couch in his office.

And she wasn't alone.

She turned her head and saw her mother sitting in a chair; her elbow propped up on the wooden arm of the chair as she rested her head on back of her hand—sleeping soundly.

Even with her eyes closed and face relaxed, Buffy could see the toll the last few days had taken on her. There were dark circles underneath her eyes—her face seemed more pale and drawn. Newly formed worry lines were decorating her forehead and once again, Buffy felt that stab of guilt.

All her fault.

No matter what Spike said, she couldn't blame him. He was a demon. He didn't even have a soul and it wasn't his duty to rid the world of vampires.

It was Buffy's alone.

And because she followed her heart and let her emotions rule her actions, one of the world's most feared vampires was free again to kill and maim—and most likely do it in Buffy's name.

He had to be stopped.

Now.

Before anyone else suffered his wrath because of her.

Careful not to make any noise and wake her mother, Buffy slowly sat up on the couch and looked out the window of the office. Sitting at the Slayerettes favorite table was everyone left in the world she loved—except her mother who was with her now.

Xander—leaning back in his chair—his once tanned face marred by the paleness of a vampire's. She watched as he glared at Spike. Buffy smiled to herself when she realized he was scowling at him.

Willow—sitting across from Xander—looking so much better now that Xander had been ensouled. No matter how much she loved Oz, it had always been apparent that to Buffy that she needed Xander. Xander was her touchstone.

Oz—quietly standing behind Willow—his hands resting on her shoulders. The stalwart guard—the protector—the lover—Willow was his world.

Giles—sitting at the corner of the table—nervously cleaning his glasses as he watched Spike. Impatience and anger seemed to be battling for dominance in his stance as well as on his face. It was a look that Buffy was all too familiar with.

Cordelia. She was sitting on the other side of Xander, much closer to him than she had allowed herself to be for months. No matter how much she may've protested—Buffy saw her love for Xander clearly in everything she did.

And finally, Spike.

Her chest tightened as she watched him growl at Xander—his eyes flashing yellow as a hint of the demon appeared. Even as her eyes filled with tears, a small smile curved her lips as she watched Xander's true face appear when he snarled back at the master vampire. Those two were in for some fun-loving centuries, she thought to herself. They may not see it yet, but they actually get a long—a lot better than Xander did with Angel.

How long has it been since Xander has had close, male friend? Wasn't it three years ago that Jesse had died?

Rubbing dry her face, Buffy realized that even her thoughts didn't want tread on her feelings for Spike. It was as if she knew if she examined them too carefully, she would never follow through with her plan—her heart—her hope—would stop her.

And she couldn't let that happen.

Especially in light of the slayer dream she had just had.

She knew what had to be done. The balance must be maintained or all would be lost.

Angelus must die.

And he had to die soon.

Taking a deep breath, she straightened her shoulders and clasped the cold doorknob in her sweaty hands. I can do this, she thought to herself. I've done it before—I can do it again.

She turned back to look at her mother—memorizing everything about her and sighed. "I love you, Mom," she whispered so softly she was knew she wouldn't hear and bit her bottom lip to stop it from trembling.

Once she was sure she wasn't going to cry, she opened the door, put on her best acting face and walked into the library.

As she felt six pairs of eyes land on her, she knew she could do this. She had to or everything she had fought for in the past three years would be for naught. Everything being her loved one's safety.

And she wasn't ready to let go of that hope—it was the only one she had left.

Minutes later, she left the library, supposedly on her way to the restroom, when she snuck down the hallway and headed for the door—careful not to make any noise.

She didn't need to be caught—she was on a mission.

She had places to go—people to see—by herself.

But then, that was always the way of the Slayer—now wasn't it?

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter Sixteen

It didn't take long for Buffy to spot Faith's new car—it was the only one in the lot that not only had been parked out of plain sight, but it was all shiny, bright and new. And red. Can't forget that, can we? Faith and a red sports car seem to fit together—like Spike and his damn cigarettes.

In other words, it screamed Faith.

Ignoring the churning in her stomach and her weakening knees, Buffy kept walking.

She had to.

This had to end.

Even though she had stumbled down this road before, it still didn't make her less frightened to know that she was walking into a trap. No stakes or other weapons to protect her—just herself.

Offering herself up for a demon meal. How fucking stupid could she be?

But then Fate did that, didn't it? It was a wonder that Buffy even knew how to think for herself with all the prophecies, slayer dreams and fate-like things that seemed to rule her life.

Well, no matter, she thought to herself. It won't matter much after tonight, will it?

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spike wasn't sure what it was that tipped him off that Buffy was no longer at the high school.

One moment he was halfway listening to Giles quietly speak to Joyce—their voices low and worried—and the next, he looked up at the library's double doors and somehow just knew.

Knew in his gut—just like he knew when Dru told him about her visions of Angelus' return, that it was going to happen—that Buffy had no plans in returning to the library.

She had left.

Instead of going to the bathroom, she had walked straight out the building to Faith's waiting car—in other words, to her death.

Slowly, he stood up and walked across the library, avoiding the few remaining sunspots, and stopped at the closed doors.

Only peripherally aware of what was going on behind him, Spike extended his senses as far out as possible—desperately in search of her familiar heartbeat and blood scent. Needing to feel it—to feel her.

She's gone.

He stopped.

What the hell was that? he asked himself.

She's gone, Spikey. Prophecy must be fulfilled. Balance must be maintained...

"Bloody hell," he whispered. It was Whistler's voice that he heard in his head—the bloody, annoying demon that fucking disappeared—

"Spike?" Willow's voice called out. "What's wrong?"

You can't do anything—it's up to them. It's always been up to the Chosen ones. Trust Buffy and Faith...trust your love...

"Spike man, what the hell is wrong with you?" Xander asked.

The whelp was right behind him. Somehow Spike knew that even before he heard Harris' voice.

Somehow Spike knew where everyone was everywhere.

His mind spinned as a flash of blond hair filled his inner vision. A pensive look on her beautiful face. Hazel eyes filled with tears as she stared out the car window—wondering if this was the last landscape she would ever see.

She turned her head and Spike studied the dark-haired young woman driving the car. Faith. Her face, that Spike intuitively knew hid most of her inner emotions, was now open as he saw her pain, apprehension, resentment and finally acceptance...

As a searing pain tore through his head, blinding his vision, he finally understood—everything.

And then Spike collapsed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Where are we going?" Buffy asked her voice quiet and resigned. "This isn't the way to the mansion."

Faith chuckled as she shook her head. "You didn't expect them to stay there, did you B?" She glanced over at her sister slayer in time to see her shrug nonchalantly.

"I really didn't think about it, I guess."

Faith frowned as her mind processed what Buffy had just said. It was so unlike her—to be both passive and resigned—that Faith decided right then and there that she needed to talk to the other slayer—before they both faced Angelus and Dru.

She pulled the car over to the side of the road and switched off the engine. Turning in her seat, she faced the blond slayer and really studied her.

Whatever had happened to Buffy, it had taken its toll on the other slayer. Her face was drawn and tired. Her eyes were so sad that a part of Faith wanted to reach out to her and hold her.

What the hell is wrong with you, girl? she snapped at herself. This girl is as good as dead and you want to comfort her?

What was wrong with her? A week ago, Faith's path seemed clear as glass. And now, everything inside of her was eschewed. Her loyalties to the Mayor were battling Angelus' loyalties which in turn was fighting in her own Slayer instincts.

She felt as if she was being pulled a dozen different directions and the only clear path open to her led to her own death.

Was this how Buffy felt all the time?

Groaning softly, she cleared her throat—waiting for the other slayer to look over at her. When Buffy's hazel eyes met hers, Faith spoke.

"What are you doing, B?"

The blonde's eyebrows creased as Faith watched a wave of confusion flash across her face. "What do you mean?"

Rolling her eyes, Faith took a deep breath and tried again. "Why did you come out here today—offering yourself like a fucking lamb to the slaughter?" She paused, feeling a stab of anger, her voice rose. "Why do you want to die?"

Buffy snorted as she turned to stare out the windshield. "You know why. Everyone has always known my weaknesses, because they're my strengths—"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Oh come on, Faith, you can't tell me that Angelus didn't plan this? He had to have known what my dad's death would do to me..."

Her dad was dead? That was the first Faith had heard of it. "He died? When? How?"

Buffy shook her head and she leaned back against the headrest, staring out the car window. "I don't want to get into this now, okay? He's dead. Drained in LA. Dead's dead—"

LA. Wesley-the-Wonder-Watcher-turned-vampire. It had to have been him. I wonder if Angelus gave him instructions to do that before I deposited the prick-face at City Hall?

"Wow—I'm sorry, B. I didn't know," Faith whispered as she turned back to the steering wheel. Her fingers clutched the ignition key as her mind tried wrapping itself around this newest piece of information.

It was wrong.

Somehow, in Faith's mind she had drawn a line and Angelus' had just crossed it. The Scooby Gang—they were easy pickings—it was okay to hurt them, turn them or kill them—they had chosen sides in this battle. But to reach out and hurt Buffy's father, who knew nothing of his daughter's calling—who didn't even live in the same city as the slayer—just seemed wrong in Faith's mind.

It wasn't until she had made it across town to another mansion—much like the one on Crawford Street and turned the car off—did she figure out why it had bothered her so much.

It made Faith feel vulnerable.

And Faith hated it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Spike!" Xander called out, catching the blond vampire before he hit the floor. Sinking to his knees, he managed to turn his 'defacto' sire's body so that it was facing the ceiling and studied his face.

His human face had long ago disappeared, leaving his true-face in its place—twisted and in pain. His body was stiff—as if all his dead nerves had ignited or someone had zapped him with a thousand bolts of electricity.

"Giles—get over here!" Xander called out right before the seizures began.

How in the hell can vampires have seizures? he asked himself as his eyes quickly scanned the surrounding area—in search of something to put in his mouth.

Vampire or not, Spike still could swallow his tongue.

"I need a stake—a small one but sturdy!" He yelled out.

Seconds later a pale hand held one out in front of him.

Xander grabbed it and opened the vampire's mouth, slipping the stake horizontally under his elongated incisor teeth and as far back as the corner of his mouth would allow.

"What happened?" Willow asked, sitting down next to him as her fingers touched his forehead. "He's hot—that can't be right," Willow mumbled, her other hand touching Xander's face. "But it is—he's at least five degrees warmer than you."

"Oh dear," Giles said as he kneeled down beside them. "We should take him in the office—"

Spike's body suddenly contracted as his arms flailed about—one of them hitting Willow and knocking her across the floor.

"Ah shit, Wills—"

"Willow, are you okay?"

Xander heard Willow moan and cough softly. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just remind me never to get to close to epileptic vampire again."

"Cordelia, go wake up Joyce and then go get Buffy! Oz—get over here and between the three of us—we should be able to get him into my office—"

"On it," Cordelia yelled out and Xander heard the office door open and close.

Spike's body suddenly relaxed—the stake began slipping out of his mouth.

Willow picked it up.

"It's stopped—"

"I see that, Xander. We need to get him in the office now!"

Oz stepped into view and grabbed one of the vampire's legs while Giles took a hold of the other. "On the count of three."

Xander nodded, his hands gripping the older vampire's arms so hard, he knew Spike would have bruises later on to prove it. Fear curled itself in Xander's belly—making his demon scream as his soul cried out. Just the day before, Xander had been inwardly complaining about his own Angel missage, when in reality he had already come to depend on Spike...

"—Two. Three!" The three men stood up and began the quick trek across the library to Giles' office. Just as the reached the door, Joyce opened it—stepping back and allowing them to enter with their burden.

Xander silently thanked Joyce for moving the table back against the wall, so the space in front of the couch was open. He didn't know much about seizures, but he did remember that the patient needed to stay on flat and on the floor—so there was no chance of him falling and causing himself further injury.

"She's gone, Giles! Buffy's gone!" Cordelia's paniced voice yelled out in the other room.

Oh god, Buffy, why? Xander silently asked her—intuitively knowing just where she went.

Spike was once again lying on the floor—his head in Xander's lap—when the young vampire looked up to see his girlfriend skid to a stop at the office's threshold.

Cordelia's face was white as the significance of Buffy's disappearance sunk in. Like Willow, Xander and Giles—Cordelia knew what that meant. Buffy had done the same thing the night of the Spring Fling—when she had been destined to meet her death at the Master's hand.

"Oh dear Lord," Giles whispered as fell back against the desk. "I should've known—"

Xander felt his eyes water as he looked down at Spike's now peaceful, although very dead-like expression. Did he know? Xander asked himself. Was there more of a connection between Buffy and Spike then any of us believed possible?

"Should've known what, Rupert?" Joyce asked, her voice rising with each word. "What did my baby just do?"

Xander felt Willow enter the crowded office and looked up to see her reach for Joyce's hand. "She went to meet Angelus."

"What the hell does that mean?" Joyce yelled out, yanking her hand out of Willow's grasp. "I am not going to lose my daughter too! Do something! Anything!"

"If Xander's willing, I could drive over to the mansion—it'll be dark by the time we get there—and you can use that vampire-sense thing and see if she's there yet."

Xander glanced down at Spike—suddenly reluctant to leave the only being alive that could help through this—his unlife as it was—and looked over at Willow, who was kneeling down beside him.

"I'll keep an eye out on him."

Sighing, he nodded yes. "I'm game."

"Cool, I'll get the van." Oz disappeared out the door.

"I'll come with you," Cordelia said, looking down at Xander.

Giles took a deep breath and nodded. "I might as well too. If she is there—you'll need all the help you can get."

Xander nodded, his hand absently rubbing Spike's ridged forehead and sighed.

When did his life—or unlife—get to be so damn complicated?

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Are you sure, B? I can turn around and we can leave now—out of here. Fuck the mayor, Angelus, Dru—our fate—" Faith asked, facing the other slayer. One last chance for both of us to get out of this alive...come on, B, take it...I don't want to die...

"Fate? Did you finally have that slayer-dream, Faith?" Buffy asked as she stared at the house in front of them. "I've had a couple in the last few days," Buffy whispered. She shook her head as tears fell down her cheeks. "Where were they last week? I even had one about you—after Alan."

She turned to face Faith. "Why Faith? Why did you do this?"

Faith sighed as her eyes closed. She finally just shrugged. "Because it seemed like the only thing I could do."

Even as she said it, Faith knew that was bullshit. It wasn't the only thing she could do. If she had trusted Giles and Buffy—none of this would've happened. But something inside of her just couldn't trust the elder watcher and Buffy. They were the Establishment in her mind. The do-gooders that always seemed to make a mockery out of her life and her pain. How could she trust any of them when all they did for most of her life is ignore her misery?

It just wasn't possible.

Buffy chuckled humorlessly and opened the car door. "I really didn't want to die, you know. I always thought that I would somehow beat the early-death curse of being a slayer. I had so much to live for. Ironic, isn't it? The same things that I want to live for are the same things I'm willing to die for."

Buffy's words sent chills down Faith's spine as she recognized the truth in them. Like the other slayer had said earlier, Buffy's weaknesses were her strengths.

What were Faith's weaknesses?

Too many to count.

But her strengths?

Maybe Faith would be lucky enough to discover those before she too went the way of slayers and met death.

Buffy stepped out of the car, slamming the door behind her. Glancing over through the window, Faith's eyes remained glued to the other slayer's back as she popped open the glove department and pulled out a stake—her lucky stake.

Once she slipped it in her boot, she took a deep breath, calming her racing heart and stepped out of the car.

Maybe I'll find out I'm not so bad after all, she thought to herself as she walked around the car and grabbed Buffy's arm.

Together, the two slayer's headed for the house—ready to meet their fates.

Chapter Seventeen

The first thing he did was rape her.

There was no fake seduction or feeble attempts to force her to enjoy it. No, it was definitely of the wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am category—minus her readiness.

Buffy silently wondered if she would ever be able to enjoy sex again.

God, if she hadn't talked to Xander and Spike or had those dreams, that act alone might've broken something inside of her.

Luckily for her, it didn't.

But when she saw those cold, demon eyes of his—piercing hers—filled with lust, hatred, anger and a desperate need to control and dominate—Buffy finally 'got it.' She now knew why Xander hated Angel so much after last spring.

Before, when she saw Angel, she saw goodness, love, safety, security—and when she saw Angelus, it was his cruelty—sheer evil-ness that haunted her.

But she could always separate them. Unfortunately, she wouldn't ever be able to say that again.

And how could she?

The same cock that had broken through her hymen with infinite tenderness and love was the same one that was driving her so hard into the concrete floor, it was a wonder her bones hadn't broken under his abuse.

Those same lips that had kissed away her tears and her fears for over two years were the same ones that bit, sucked and nibbled her entire body until she was covered with bruises and bite marks.

The same voice that had whispered loving tidbits in her ear was the same one that continually berated her and cut into her soul with his words.

God damnit, she hated him.

She hated him with every fiber of her being and just kept praying that he would slip up and kill her accidentally—forgetting about his promises to hand her over to Dru once he was finished.

Unfortunately, God wasn't listening.

He let her live.

And then the fun really began.

Angelus had just lifted himself off her when Dru danced across the room and stood above Buffy, giggling softly.

"My Angel gave the naughty slayer lots of pretty colors, didn't he Faith?"

Buffy's eyes shut as she heard the other slayer snort deprecatively. "Yeah, Dru, he sure did."

Then Dru flittered across the room and Buffy heard the sound of chains rattling and falling. Here it comes, she thought to herself, remembering her dream of being chained and whipped. At least this means the end is near.

"Faith, bring her over here," Dru commanded.

Buffy opened her eyes to see Druscilla, the once-consort of Spike—Buffy's Spike—standing there, waiting impatiently by a handful of chains that were dangling from the ceiling.

That is where I'm going to die, Buffy thought to herself as she felt a warm pair of hands grab her arms and lift her easily off the ground. She looked up at Faith and frowned, suddenly unsure of her earlier hatred for the other slayer. It wasn't anything Faith had said or done—it was more like a feeling that Buffy was getting from her and had gotten from her since she had walked over to the slayer's car earlier that day; Faith did not want to be there anymore than Buffy did. And if Buffy could believe what Faith had said earlier—her sister-in-arms had also been experiencing the wonders of slayer's dreams as well.

Maybe, for what it was worth, those damn Powers That Be, set all this up in motion for something greater to happen. Something more important than Buffy or Faith's lives. More important than Xander's mortal life or Angel's existence. More important than Hank Summers' life...

God, wouldn't that be nice, she thought to herself as Faith began snapping the shackles around her wrists and ankles. As Buffy heard each latch click, she imagined hearing the sound of a gun cocking and shuddered, unable to ignore the similarities.

Because, in a lot of ways, that's what these chains were to her—a loaded pistol fated to go off...

It wasn't until she felt the first slash of agonizing pain crash across her body, centering on her back, that she realized Faith had stepped back and Druscilla was starting the second part of the plan to destroy Buffy Summers: her torture.

As the pain washed through her body, Buffy swore to herself she would not succumb to its helplessness.

She would not allow him to beat her in that way.

She couldn't, because if she did, than he won so much more than just her hope—he won it all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Willow sighed softly as she once again ran the cold cloth over Spike's fevered skin.

For nearly two hours, she and Joyce had continually stood watch over the vampire—hoping beyond hope that he would awake in time to save Buffy from Angelus.

But as the minutes wore on, Willow's faith began to falter, knowing that the longer Buffy remained in Angelus' hands, the less chance she had of surviving.

If the vampire was pissed off at Buffy a year ago for having Angel's memories of their love, Willow could imagine the rage he felt against the slayer for sending him to hell under the soul's tutelage.

It would be endless.

Which meant, in turn, that Buffy's death would be as painful as her dreams showed it would be.

It just wasn't right, Willow thought. Wasn't it written somewhere that the good guys always prevail and evil always gets put in its place? Although the last three years hadn't always proven that theory true to the letter, it did seem to be the overall theme of their lives. Buffy always seemed to win—when push came to shove. She succeeded against this same vampire that Willow was tending to now numerous times in the past—pushing him far enough back that the good would equal out the bad.

And with Angelus? In the end, Buffy came up on top against him as well—sending him and his soul straight to Hell when the demon tried opening the portal through Acathla.

Biting her bottom lip, Willow closed her eyes against her tears.

"Why?" she whispered. "Why did she do it?"

"She loves us, that's why Willow," Mrs. Summers whispered as she caressed the vampire's blond locks. "And my baby has always followed her heart."

Willow dropped the rag into the water bowl and reached over Spike to squeeze the woman's arm. "She must've had a good teacher."

The older woman's eyes—clouded with tears—met Willow's as a small smile curled her lips. "Thank you, Willow. I just hope I have more time to teach her other things as well."

Withdrawing her hand, Willow nodded and stood up—suddenly feeling the need to move. She looked out over the empty library and felt something inside her crack.

It wasn't until much later did Willow realize that it had been her heart that had been broken that night.

The young hacker-witch grew up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So, did my Spike make you come, Slayer?" Dru asked, whispering in her ear.

Buffy bit her bottom lip and forced herself not to respond.

"I see his mark on you—right above my Angel's," the vampire paused for a moment and Buffy felt her cool tongue lap at both pairs of holes. Buffy shuddered, feeling her stomach turn in response. "I like my Daddy's better. It's brighter and has much more color. Would you like another set? Then you'll be marked by all three of us. Um?"

Fuck you, Buffy silently chanted at Dru. Angelus and you may 'mark' my skin, but Spike's got my heart...

"Slayer blood—so potent and full of life—isn't it, my Angel?"

A soft chuckle echoed through the room. "Aye, it sure is, Dru. Especially Buff's. It's so noble and heart wrenching, don't you think?" Buffy lifted her head to see him growl playfully in Faith's ear.

The other slayer was sitting in his lap while Angelus had his hand up her shirt, tweaking her nipples.

Buffy watched as Faith whimpered lustily, pushing her breast into his hand while leaning her head down on his shoulder, crooked over to the side to give the vampire easy access to her neck.

Buffy wasn't the only slayer who was marked—as if the collar wasn't enough to show the world who actually owned Faith—the bite marks were.

Angelus' cold eyes met hers as his hand slid down Faith's stomach to the vee in between her legs. Buffy heard the rustling of clothes falling to the floor behind her and mentally prepared herself for the second leg of Dru's torture. Not even a minute later, a pale, feminine hand slipped around Buffy's body and cupped her breast, cool fingers pinching her nipple in time with Angelus' hand.

Faith moaned loudly as she watched Dru's hand, pressing herself into Angelus' hand while the vampire began nibbling on the dark-haired slayer's neck—careful not to draw blood.

"Naughty slayer has pretty breasts," Dru whispered right before sucking on her earlobe.

Buffy bit her bottom lip as she concentrated on the painful throbbing of the wounds on her back—desperate not to respond to Dru's ministrations.

The blond slayer's number one erogenous zone was her ears and Buffy just knew that Angelus had imparted that little bit of knowledge to the vampiress.

Tears ran freely down her face as she began shaking her head in denial. Of all the things to happen to her now, this had to be the worst. Not only was she being beaten, but treated as a sexual toy by a female vampire...

Buffy had never been with a female before.

"If I make you come, pet, will you cry all those pretty tears for me?" Dru asked in between sucking her neck. Buffy felt her nipples harden as a rush of heat flooded her system. "Will that break you, um? It did me—when Daddy made me come at the convent...all those nice nuns in pretty little pieces and beautiful bright colors all around us as he hurt me and pleasured me..." Growling softly, Buffy heard the vampiress face change and wasn't surprised to feel the prick of a fang as she scratched her shoulder. "All that pain—in my heart and my body and all that pleasure..." Dru's free hand slipped down Buffy's stomach, gently caressing her as her chilled tongue lapped at the small wounds on the slayer's shoulders. "Daddy taught me well, didn't he?" she asked as her fingers slipped down to Buffy's sex and teased her outer lips.

Moaning, Buffy shook her head in denial as she felt herself getting wet. None of her dreams ever warned her of this. She was prepared to die, even painfully so, but this? Never.

Opening her eyes, she looked across the room and met Faith's lust-filled gaze. In the short amount of time that Buffy had closed her eyes, Angelus had stripped the other slayer of her leather pants and now had Faith sitting on his lap with his prick buried deep inside of her. As the vampire lifted the slayer up and down on him, Faith played with her clit, moaning loudly as her body became flushed signaling that she was close to coming.

"Oh God—just kill me all ready," Buffy whispered as she tried wiggling out of the vampiress' grasp.

A loud growl filled Buffy's hearing as Dru pinched her clit, causing Buffy to cry out in pain. "Death is too easy for you, nasty slayer," Dru said softly as her tongue teased her neck. "I want you to suffer like I did when you took my daddy and my Spike away." The vampiress fangs pressed against Buffy's throat, teasing her as her tormentor began to softly tug on the slayer's nipple. Minutes passed as Dru lazily tickled Buffy's sore and throbbing sex—causing the slayer to whimper as her arousal grew.

Buffy knew the moment she had lost the battle that Dru had been waging, when she found herself pressing her neck into Dru's waiting mouth. She wanted the vampiress to drink from her, despite the danger to herself, to her soul and to everything that Buffy had ever stood for.

But then Buffy had walked into the battle already on the losing side; she knew how pleasurable a vampire bite could be having been the recipient of one from both Angel and Spike. Unfortunately, that's what Dru had been counting on.

"Not yet, my sweets. My Angel wants to taste you first."

Seconds from causing Buffy to climax, Dru stepped back from the slayer, leaving her wanting. Needing that little death and all those little and big deaths that came with it.

A loud groan quickly followed by Faith's scream as the other slayer reached her fufillment echoed damningly throughout the room. Buffy's eyes shot open, suddenly knowing deep inside of her that she was already damned when Dru stepped into her line of sight propping the whip on her shoulder, with her other hand behind her back.

Breathing heavily, Buffy lifted her head and met the vampiress' cold demon eyes—forcing herself not to flinch at the hate she saw there. Growling, the vampire lifted her arm holding the whip back and grinned as she brought the thin, leather material down with supernatural strength—slicing the same breast that the vampire had teased only minutes before.

Buffy didn't even notice that she had bitten through her lip as she forced herself not to scream.

As Buffy hung in chains, Dru grabbed her hair and lifted her head. "Now, now, now—no hiding, nasty slayer—at least not until I show you my surprise," she said, giggling. "Do you want to see it now?"

Buffy said nothing; knowing that any answer she gave Druscilla would be wrong.

Dru grinned as she brought her hand out from her back and held it out in front of Buffy—waving the achingly familiar weapon in front of her face.

The blond slayer felt something die inside.

Of all the things for the vampire to choose to bring on Buffy's death—why did it have to be this one? As her eyes studied the rustic, black metal stained with dry, flaky old blood—tears ran down her cheeks. The bitch—how dare she bring him in here in this room with them. He had made his choice—left his toys of torture and pain home and joined Buffy...

How dare she bring Spike into this.

"You bitch," Buffy whispered as her eyes blinked the tears away. "Is that for me? Or are you trying to give him some sort of message when he finds my dead body?"

Dru just smiled coyly as she ran the metal across Buffy's stomach, marking her with the rust and other sediments that flaked off the spike. "I remember when my Spike first used this—so much rage—his demon loved to scare all those poor, weak humans—he was so beautiful...covered in all that blood...causing all that pain."

Buffy felt her chest constrict as she sobbed—unable to stop herself from crying out loud as Dru's intent became clear. How many nights did Buffy lay awake after hearing about Spike's love of this weapon, did she wonder if this was how she would die? Something so instinctual—that seemed to permeate everything that Buffy was—recoiled at the thought. It was one thing to die in battle—or by a set of fangs or broken neck, but another thing to be used as a pin cushion for a railroad spike.

And now that she let that same vampire into her heart—the idea that his former consort would use his favorite weapon on Buffy—darkened everything Buffy and Spike had shared.

Buffy didn't even realize she was screaming his name as Dru impaled her foot with it.

But then, by that time, Buffy wasn't too aware of anything—except the pain.

The pain in her heart and in her body was always there.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

As soon as Spike felt the world darken around him, he intuitively knew what was happening to him. He was 'evolving' as Whistler put it.

Although the short demon hadn't elaborated on the specific powers that went with Spike's spoken allegiance with the Gray Council, he had heard things—seen things in his 200 years that gave him some inkling as to what was going to happen.

He just didn't think it was going to happen so soon and right in the middle of a crisis. Every fiber in his being screamed that he had to wake up and find Buffy—to stop her from turning herself over to Angelus—no matter what prophecy or the Council or anyone said. Wasn't it his feelings—his ability to love that made him so desirable to the Gray Council in the first place? If that were true, why would they risk Spike's loyalty by taking away the one person that guaranteed his allegence?

< But is that so? > a strange, melodic voice whispered in his mind. < Even if you lose her or even your existence now—you'd still be here—in front of us—eventually. >

< It is written. So shall it be, > another voice boomed. This being had a definite male quality to it.

< She must do this, my child, > yet another voice whispered in his mind. < Balance demands it. >

< Demands what? That she die? > Spike yelled, spinning crazily around in the mists of his mind. < Bloody hell, people—she's seventeen fucking years old— >

< She's the slayer. > The booming voice stated.

< Well, fuck me, do fucking tell! >

< He's angry, > the first voice sang—her voice so sad, it nearly hurt Spike to hear it.

< He's a demon. >

The booming voice again.

The bloody prick's getting on me last nerve, Spike thought to himself as he glared through the mist. < Yeah, I'm angry—you would be too if your unlife had been turned upside down like mine has in the last few— >

< William, these things are not always in our hands...just like you, we have to wait and hope. The Slayers know what they must do. We must trust them...you must trust her... > the third voice said quietly and calmly.

Growling, Spike clenched his jaw as his eyes shut in frustration. Always talking in riddles and never giving a bloke a straight answer—is this where Peaches' got his cryptic act from?

< Just ask, William and we will tell you. >

Reading my mind now—fucking wankers, he thought to himself as a dozen questions flooded his mind. Like what exactly was the slayer's plan? What were they supposed to do? Why did Buffy have to depend on the other slayer—when she was the one that had brought this all on herself? Everything seemed so turned around as if he was a player in a hastily written play—almost as if no one knew how the events led them to where they were now. Like him leaving Druscilla. Only one thing in the world would pull him away from his Dark Princess—and that was Angelus. And by him leaving Dru, a whole other world of possibilities all beginning and ending with Buffy had opened. Spike would've never pursued the slayer in any other circumstances except those that had happened.

Groaning, Spike mentally took a deep breath and asked his questions—fearing the answers almost as much as the unknown. But he had to know—and this was his chance.

And as the entities answered each one—a hot, searing pain sliced into his whole body—branding him—

It wasn't until he awoke, that he realized how high the price had been for those answers, as his body sang in pain.

Spike hadn't felt this bad since the organ had fallen on top of him.

"Bloody pricks," he whispered, his eyes meeting Joyce's frantic ones. He forced his hand up—reaching for hers. Grasping her hot and sweaty palm in his, Spike gave it a small squeeze. "We have to trust them, Joyce," he managed to whisper before passing out again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

As Buffy hung in her chains—her body long ago surrending to the pain—she wondered how much longer Angelus would let Dru play before they both finally gave in to their demons and drained her.

She was actually looking forward to it.

Inwardly chuckling, she allowed herself to float away—and idly wondered when she'd learned the art of astral projection. Maybe it was a slayer thing, she thought to herself as she looked down at her battered, broken and bloodied body. Or maybe it was just her imagination—taking her some place where Dru wasn't standing in front of her—licking Buffy's body as if it were an ice cream cone—cleaning the blood off of Buffy with a type of glee that only a vampire would possess. Angelus had come and gone periodically—tweaking a nipple here—bringing Buffy to the verge of an orgasm there—but he always returned to Faith—almost as if he feared she would run away.

Buffy looked across the room at Faith and suddenly found herself flying across the room and hovering beside the napping slayer. Even as she reached out her hand—not nearly as surprised at its ghostly appearance as she should be—Buffy wondered why she kept finding herself drawn to the other slayer.

All night—even while Faith was screaming in pleasure—there had beensomething in the dark-haired slayer's eyes that called to Buffy—begging her to trust Faith. It was almost as if they were saying, 'I have a plan, B—it might not be much—and neither of us may make it out alive—but they will die.'

Buffy took more comfort in that look than she had ever thought possible—considering how horrid the last couple of months had been with the other slayer.

A plan, she thought to herself as her hand squeezed the other slayer's arm. Come on, Faith. If I can astral project—you can wake up, she silently chanted as her hand slipped through the slayer's body.

Faith shuddered, her eyes flickering as Buffy heard her whisper, "B."

< Yep, its me, > Buffy thought to herself as she looked around—suddenly realizing she wasn't in the main room but somewhere else—somewhere familiar.

Buffy found herself chuckling when she recognized the setting. She was standing in Renfield cemetery. < Faith? >

< Right behind you, girlfriend. >

Buffy turned around and met the other girl's sad eyes. < We're in your dream, aren't we? >

Faith nodded as she grinned. < I've always liked this place...quiet and peaceful. I used to come here after patrolling and just sit. >

< So did I, > Buffy said, leaning against a headstone as she studied the other slayer. The clothes were the same, but here, in Faith's mind, she seemed much more relaxed and less angry. This was the Faith that Buffy had come to love. The girl that Faith hid underneath all the pain and distrust. Buffy instantly felt herself relax, intuitively trusting this girl—knowing on an instinctual level that here—in Faith's mind and heart, they were on the same side. Sighing softly, Buffy gave the other slayer a small smile. < So, Faith—what's the plan? >

Faith's face darkened as she turned and looked away. < They're going to drain you—and probably soon. You may not remember—but I had to step out earlier. The Mayor called, > Faith paused, shrugging, as she pursed her lips. < I snuck in a tranquilizer gun. I don't know how else to do it. They aren't going to do it willingly, so I'm going to have to take matters into my own hands... >

< What are you talking about? >

< Didn't your dreams tell you? >

Buffy frowned, shaking her head. < No, they didn't tell me how—just what needed to happen. That if I turned myself over to Angelus, that my soul as well as everyone else's would be safe. At least for now. >

Faith nodded as she took in everything that Buffy had said. She began to pace in front of Buffy—almost as if she was reluctant to tell her the rest of the plan. She stopped and took a deep breath and faced Buffy. < They probably didn't tell you the how because they knew you wouldn't follow through with the plan if you knew it, > Faith admitted as she nibbled on her bottom lip. < While Angelus and Dru are busy with you—I'll shoot them with the gun—slice one of them open and force you to drink from them— >

< Faith! I don't want to be a vampire! >

< I know, > she whispered. Suddenly Faith walked up to her and clasped Buffy's shoulder's, forcing her to look Faith in the eyes. < And I don't want to die, B—but that's what's going to happen, > she said as she shrugged. < It's what was destined to happen the moment the Mayor and I stole Angel's soul from him. I realize that now. All week I've been trying to figure out how to get out of this—but it's impossible—because there's no other way. Hell in Sunnydale is one thing—Hell on Earth is a whole different story and that's what's going to happen if we don't do this exactly the way I say— >

Buffy opened her mouth to protest when she felt a cool metal slice into her leg. Gasping, she fell over and saw the ethereal red liquid slip out of her leg.

Faith kneeled down beside her, her hand caressing Buffy's hair. < Looks like you need to go back, B. Your soul needs to be in your body for this thing to work. >

Groaning, Buffy nodded as her other leg jerked in pain. Gritting her teeth, she straightened it and saw a long, deep knife wound on her thigh. She looked up at Faith and gave her a small smile. < See ya in the afterlife, Faith. >

Faith cupped Buffy's face with both of her hands. < You won't be there if I have any say about it, > she said as Buffy felt her mind being tugged back to her body.

Not even a minute later, Buffy was back in her body as the two vampires began their last round in playing with 'the naughty slayer.'

This time, there would be no reprieves. Buffy could feel her death in her soul.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter Eighteen

They didn't even hear her leave.

Faith ignored the stab of jealously that snuck its way into her heart as she quietly stepped outside and ran to her car. It was like a little chant in her head, reminding herself that was how she got everyone in this position in the first place—allowing her envy of the other slayer to darken everything else—and she opened the car door. Reaching over the front side seat, she tugged on the blanket that covered the gun. Tossing it over to the side, she grabbed the gun, slid open the dart chamber and popped open the glove department. A minute later the gun was loaded, cocked and she had a handful of darts in her coat pocket.

Turning off the overhead light, she left the car door open and ran back into the house, slipping through the still-open front door. Quietly placing the gun behind the door, she shrugged off her coat and dropped it on top of the weapon then peeked inside the room.

The two vampires were still raping the other slayer; Buffy's whimpers of pain-induced pleasure sent chills down Faith's spine. Tugging on her leather collar, Faith promised herself she would get the key to unlock the damn thing before she dusted Angelus.

She would not die with a slave collar on her neck.

A loud growl broke her thoughts as Faith heard Angelus sink his fangs into Buffy's neck. Dru's own purr of satisfaction soon followed. Stepping back, Faith reached behind her and grabbed her coat and the gun.

Picking the weapon up, she aimed for Angelus'—knowing that if she didn't take him out first, she would never have the courage to follow through with the plan. The vampire's hold on Faith was nearly unbreakable; only Faith's desire to see the world continue gave her strength to fight against him.

That, and knowing that she too would die soon.

Buffy's eyes fluttered open, meeting Faith's from between the two dark-haired creatures that were feeding from her, and blinked her hazel eyes once at the slayer. Faith nodded, aimed once again and fired three shots at Angelus. Before he even fell, Faith took out Dru as well.

Now comes the fun part, she thought to herself as she reloaded the gun and pulled out two stakes, sticking them in the back of her pants. She went over to the table where Dru and Angelus had laid out all their 'toys' and grabbed two more sets of chains and slung them over her shoulder.

"How you doing, B?" she asked as she walked over to the other slayer.

"Peachy," Buffy whispered, her voice so soft that Faith knew if she hadn't been the slayer, she wouldn't have heard her. "Hurry Faith—th—they took—so—so much."

Seeing the blonde's near-death like complexion, Faith couldn't help but agree. "Watch Dru, will you? Tell me if she even blinks. I need to chain them up before we do this."

"'Kay."

Still keeping the gun pointed at the vampire, she knelt down beside him and turned him over onto his back. After nudging a few times, Faith took a deep breath and placed the gun behind her. Inwardly praying he wasn't playing possum, she tugged on one chain set and pulled it off her shoulder, letting it drop to the floor. With each snap of the shackles, Faith felt a bit of her self-respect return. By the time he was somewhat immobilized, Faith felt a wave of relief sweep through her body.

Free, she thought to herself. At least, I'll die free.

Grabbing the gun, she scooted over to Druscilla and repeated the same action with her as she did with Angelus. She knew she should just stake the vampiress, but as she stared at the beautiful, but deranged vampiress, Faith couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for her and found that she didn't have it in her to kill Dru. Nearly a hundred and forty years before, this young woman had found herself the object of Angelus' affections. Her innocence and gentle nature had been snatched away and replaced with a darkness that Faith had only tasted.

But Faith could've been Dru.

Never again would she judge those who fell under someone else's control.

Hopefully, Buffy would do what Faith found that she couldn't and kill the mad vampiress.

Shaking her head, she looked up at Buffy and sighed softly. Although not dead, the other slayer was approaching her end much more quickly than Faith would have liked. Standing up, she undid the shackles that held the slayer and gently laid her down beside Angelus.

Reaching into her boot, she pulled out her dagger—taken from a demon nearly a year before—and before she could even begin to doubt her sanity, sliced Angelus' neck open.

"Come on, B," Faith whispered as she lifted the other slayer and positioned her mouth over the vampire's wound. "Suck B—you gotta do it!"

Nothing.

Groaning, Faith picked up Buffy and laid her head down on Faith's lap, noting the other slayer's red-stained lips. Once again, Faith took her dagger and this time sliced Angelus' arm and lifted it over Buffy's mouth—making sure the wound was covering her mouth.

"B—Buffy, you have to do this. Remember—this is what needs to be done. Drink, damnit! Drink!" She yelled at the other slayer, massaging her throat and pressing her lips around the wound.

Faith's eyes filled with tears as the hopelessness of the situation filled her. Buffy was minutes away from dying and if she didn't drink from Angelus, everything that Faith and B had suffered through was for naught.

"Drink," she whispered, bringing her lips down to Buffy's ear. "Girlfriend, listen to me—you have to do this. This is no time for one of your rebellions—just drink, please..."

Faith nearly jumped when she felt the other slayer's throat move.

"Thank you!"

Another swallow nearly thirty seconds later.

And another—maybe twenty seconds later.

Within a minute, Buffy was drinking on her own.

Groaning, Faith moved out from under Buffy and squatted down in front of the pair. Taking a deep breath, preparing herself for a battle, she clasped Angelus' arm and pulled it away from the slayer's mouth.

Buffy's head fell as her eyes opened, focusing on Faith.

Faith's breath stopped as she watched the only person she could truly call a friend die.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"How is he?" Giles called out the moment he stepped into the library.

Willow ran out of the office and met the watcher, hope apparent in her eyes as she stared at the double doors waiting for everyone to enter.

Giles reached over and squeezed the young woman's shoulder and shook his head. "No, Willow, we didn't find them."

Shutting her eyes against her tears, she nodded and took a deep breath. Once she appeared calm, she looked up and met his questioning glance.

"He's better. He's still hot, but not as hot as he was. I need Xander to make a guestimate as to what a vampire's normal temperature is. He did wake up once for a couple of minutes, and mumbled something about trusting her. We think he was talking about Buffy, and he passed out again."

Giles nodded as he stepped into the office and knelt down beside Joyce and ran his hand over the vampire's forehead. "Xander, could you come here please?"

Xander appeared in the doorway, his eyes falling on Spike's prone body. "I'm here. What do you need, G-Man?"

Giles watched as Willow opened the file cabinet and pulled out the first aid kit. She took out the thermometer and shook it. "Willow's going to take your temperature. It appears that Spike's fever went down, but we aren't actually sure what's normal for a vampire."

Sighing, Xander fell back onto the couch and opened his mouth. Willow slipped the thermometer into his mouth and stepped back.

"I'm going to talk to Oz," she said softly, and disappeared into the other room.

Giles looked over at Joyce and suddenly felt a whole new wave of guilt fill him. "I'm sorry, Joyce. We think Druscilla did a spell to mask their presence. Neither Xander nor Oz could detect their presence anywhere in Sunnydale and yet, we all know they're here—somewhere."

"What about that mansion?"

"It was cleared out. Not even a vampire in sight," said the Watcher.

She caressed Spike's face, ignoring her tears as a small sigh escaped her lips. "Did you know that he and I kept in touch since his last visit?"

Giles shook his head, grateful once again for his 'English' reserve or he might have been sitting there with his mouth gaping open like Xander was.

"Xander—you need to keep your mouth closed for the proper temperature reading," he told the young vampire before he turned his attention back to Joyce. "No, Buffy never said anything."

Joyce chuckled softly. "Buffy didn't know. I kept his phone number at work. I would leave messages on his voicemail and he would call back. We usually talked once a week. I knew that things weren't going very well with him and Druscilla. He tried—the demon way—as he put it—but I knew back then, his heart wasn't it," she said, smiling. "I could tell by the way he reacted everytime Buffy's name would come up—that he was already in love with her. He just didn't know it."

Giles shook his head. "In all my years of studying and researching demons and vampires, no one ever told me that they could go against their very nature. I believed it was impossible. Sure, I knew there were exceptions, but I thought that those exceptions had more to do with the type of demon than their own hearts. When I met Angel two years ago, I didn't even think it was possible for a demon to have a soul. And now I find that not only is it possible, but that a demon's very nature can change with time—just as a human's soul can."

Willow slipped into the office and took the thermometer out of Xander's mouth. After holding it up to the light and squinting, she sighed softly. "It's too low to read on this." She shook her head. "I guess what we can do is take Spike's temperature, and if he gets a reading, we'll know he has a fever."

Giles nodded. "It's the best we can do, Willow."

She handed it to Giles and turned to walk out the door. Suddenly, she stopped. "You know, what he said earlier—about Angelus from before—he loved the old Angelus. The one before he got cursed."

Giles sighed, nodding slowly. "Yes, he did. And why not, he's a demon. Whatever happens tonight, I'm sure that Spike's future is not going to be an easy road. Without a soul, all he's going to have is himself to keep himself in check."

"And me," Xander whispered and suddenly laughed outloud. "Like I could do much, right? But, he's all I've got since the one person that could help me with this is gone forever."

Feeling his knees scream in protest, Giles finally sat back and leaned against the wall. "You'll do fine, Xander. I just hope the same can be said for everyone else."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Faith didn't even see him coming. She should've known that he wouldn't stay put. One moment she was watching Buffy take her last breath and the next, she was down on the floor, the back of her head bleeding as Angelus draped himself over her—pulling the chain holding his wrists together taut against her throat.

"So Faith, talk to Daddy. Tell him why you betrayed him—"

Faith swallowed hard, despite the chains as her mind began to spin. Shit, shit, shit...what in the hell were you thinking girl, not chaining him up to the wall, girl? God damnit it to hell—a little laziness and cockiness and look what happens. Shit...what to tell him...what to tell him...think quick, girl...or B's gonna be fucked...he'll either stake her or leave her like she is...or...

She blinked her eyes, praying that she still had enough moxy in her to even attempt to manipulate the bastard, and prepared to speak.

"Angelus—let me explain!"

He tightened the chain. "Don't fuck with me, slay-girl. I can easily get another pet," he said, as his fangs nicked her lip.

Her heart scampered out of control as she felt the hot dribble of her blood trickle down her face until he leaned over and licked it slowly. "Faaith," he said in a sing-song voice.

"I—I didn't want it to be—be just me," she whispered, praying that her lie showed, but not the depth of the lie...

What a dangerous game, your playing, Faith, her little voice taunted her.

Angelus tipped his head as he stared at her. "You have a thing for Buffy?" he asked, chuckling softly. "I always had a feeling you went both ways, but Faith! Buffy?" He laughed, his deep voice full of mirth and sarcasm. Shaking his head, his fingers caressed her face until they reached her chin. Suddenly they tightened, causing her to cry out. "Won't work, Faith. The truth."

Tears flooded her eyes as she glanced over at the dead body of her friend. She had to do this—she had to. Her death was imminent—it was the moment they stole Angel's soul away from him...

She shook her head and met his yellow, angry eyes. "You wouldn't believe me."

"Try me. Not that I won't kill you for such a betrayal anyway, but if I like your answer, you may get it easier than her."

Nodding, she forced herself not to flinch as his fingers dug into her skin and continued to stare at his eyes. "I wanted to see what would happen if a slayer was turned. If it worked with her, I thought maybe..." she drifted off, leaving the rest unsaid.

Angelus smiled as his grip on her chin lessened. "Now, that makes sense. Too bad, little girl, you won't get your wish. Slayer's don't turn very well. It's that awful soul of yours. It's very strong and no matter how strong the demon is, they constantly battle one another, leaving the host crazier than a mad-hatter. Makes Dru look like a poster-child for the Level Head Society." He shook his head, dipping it down to her neck and nuzzling her bite marks.

She forced herself not to flinch when his teeth sunk into her neck. All she could do is pray to those fucking Powers that something stopped him before he took too much. She inwardly sighed when he withdrew after only a couple of mouthfuls. Good, she thought to herself, ignoring the fact that she was actually happy that he planned to torture her for a bit longer. Just keep me alive long enough until she rises...

Her eyes shut as exhaustion hit her. She didn't even bother fighting him when he stood up. Instead, she just waited for whatever was going to happen next.

It wasn't until she felt his hand grab her hair and pull her to her feet that she realized she had finally surrendered to her fate—much like Buffy had earlier that day.

See B? We aren't too much different after all? she thought to herself seconds before his fist slammed into her face, knocking her out cold.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was her soft sobs that drew him. So many times in the last few days, Spike had heard them and had felt drawn to their source. After two hundred years of walking the earth, causing pain, destruction and death in his wake, it was ironic that one young woman's pain would call to him—touch a part of himself that he had sworn died long before his mortal life had ended.

And even though there had been times in her life, that he had been the cause of that pain, somehow, something had changed. Whether it was her or him, he didn't know.

All he knew was that he needed to be there for her.

Walking through the darkness, allowing his instinct to draw him to her, he suddenly found her—her essence—curled up around itself as deep shudders of pain racked her body. He needed to hold her—tell her all was okay—just to hang on there for a little bit longer and that the darkness would go away.

That it would never be this dark while he was by her side.

Dropping to his knees, he wrapped his ethereal arms around her and drew her to him, whispering soft words into her ear. Almost immediately, he felt her uncurl her body and fling herself towards him—seeking his comfort and love—needing it beyond anything else.

< Baby, talk to me—tell me what's wrong? >

< Sp—Spike? >

< I'm scared and it hurts and it's dif-differnt! >

Kissing her temple, he rocked her shaking body as his hold tightened. < Different? What do you mean? >

She sniffled, pulling back away from his chest. < It's not like the last time. Where's the light? The tunnel? My grandma? I was all alone this time. >

< The last time? > he asked, suddenly confused. And then he remembered. Two slayers. Two slayers meant that Buffy had already died once, but was brought back. < You mean the last time you died? >

She nodded as she snuggled closer to him.

< It's different this time, because your soul's in limbo, waiting to see if the prophecy will be fulfilled. >

< Prophecy? >

< Remember, pet? 'What was once of light is now of dark. That of the dark, has been lightened. The prisoner shall finally be free,' > he paused, pulling back to look into her eyes. < And here's your part—the part that no one understood until now—'What was, will no longer be. What will be, has never been.' Remember it? >

She wiped her face, sniffling as she nodded. < I remember now. So, what does it mean? >

He smiled down at her, caressing her face. < You know what it means, pet. Quit being so bloody obtuse. Why did you leave the library? >

She stilled as her eyes took on a distant feel. < Because of the dream. The dream showed me what would happen if I didn't let him and Dru hurt me and kill me. Everything would be gone—the Balance would be forever changed. >

Spike snorted in disgust. < But they didn't tell you how the Balance was going to be maintained? >

She shook her head.

< Bloody fucking pricks! > he muttered to himself. < Figures that they would leave out the most important parts. > He took a deep breath and faced her—holding her tightly by her arms. < So, what happened—right before you died? >

Spike watched as once again her eyes closed in thought. Her features suddenly twisted as new tears slipped through her eyes. She opened them, biting her bottom lip as looked up at Spike. < Faith. She knocked out Dru and Angelus while they were draining me. She tied them up and undid my chains. And then...and then she got her knife out and—and she cut Angelus' neck and tried making me drink. >

< Did you? >

She shook her head again. < No, even though I knew I should or at least knew that Faith thought I should. But I couldn't—I don't—didn't want to be—a—a vampire. It was my worst fear for so long—until Angelus came. I used to lay in bed at night and see myself become a shell of what I was and kill all the people I loved and I can't do that, Spike. I can't. I don't want it! >

He pulled her into his arms and rocked her back and forth as the tears once again fell freely as he waited for her to make the needed connections.

< But it doesn't matter what I want, does it? > she asked softly as she looked up at him. < Because Faith begged me to drink and she—she cut Angelus' arm and pushed the cut to my mouth and begged me. She said that her death—her death had to mean something. But what the hell is she talking about? She didn't die! I died. I was turned! I was the one that drank his blood. I was the one that died. >

< Listen to me, Buffy. You know why we don't turn slayers? I mean, ideally, a slayer vampire would be so powerful and so strong that you would be a fool just to waste all that potential. But the problem is, slayer's souls are stronger than a normal human's soul. They don't relinquish control very easily and the demon becomes enraged. >

< So what you're saying is that somehow the Balance is going to maintained by a crazy slayer vampire—>

Spike chuckled to himself as he shook his head. < I won't let that happen, love. I promise you that. Just let me finish. But you are right—without intervention—a slayer-vampire does become insane. But now, with two slayers, the impossible has happened. A slayer's blood has mystical properties that when consumed by a vampire, gives them even more strength and power. That's why the Master's childer are so strong and powerful. The Master killed more than two dozen slayers in his reign. He passed that strength to his childer and those childer passed it on their own childer. Angelus managed to bag at least three slayers in his 150 years plus reign of terror. So, now you know why we all have been so hard to kill. >

< So, what's this have to do with me? >

Spike took a deep breath and looked down at her liquid eyes. < The only way your soul can be anchored and remain anchored is if your first meal is a slayer. >

He felt Buffy's whole body stiffen as his words sunk in.

< I have to eat Faith! >

< I wouldn't have quite put it that way, but yeah. >

She began shaking her head as she pulled out of his embrace. < No way! That's wrong! It's wrong on so many levels that I can't even begin to tell you. That's cannibalism—how do you guys do this? How did Angel survive? How's Xander doing this—I can't—I can't— >

Buffy stood and began pacing as she waved her hands in the air. < How can you expect me to do this? It's bad enough that—that I drank from him—God, I hate him. Have I told you how much I hate him? He hurt me. He laughed at me as he raped me. He knew exactly how to hurt me. It's funny—I don't hate Dru. She's just being Dru and a demon. But him—that's Angel in there—and Faith, she just watched! >

< Because she knew, baby. She knew what had to be done. >

Buffy stopped. < She accepts this? >

Spike nodded, ignoring the sick turning of his stomach as his mind imagined all the horrible things that Angelus and Dru had done to her...his Buffy. < Love, if she's following through with it, then she accepts it. What did she say to you? >

Pursing her lips, Buffy stared down at her feet, shuffling one of them back and forth. < She said that it had been her fate the moment she and the Mayor took Angel's soul away. She also said that she'd been trying to find alternative solutions—but there were none. This was our fate—hers and mine, > she looked up at Spike. < So, what is—is the two slayers? >

Frowning in confusion, his mind scrambled to figure out where she was at as he mentally repeated her words to himself until it finally sunk in. < Oh, you mean the prophecy? >

She nodded. < Yeah, the prophecy. >

< Yeah—what is, is the two slayers. What will be—is a sane, souled, slayer-vampire. >

Nibbling on her bottom lip, she nodded as she processed the last of her duties as a mortal slayer and sighed. < I don't have much choice, do I? Either feed off Faith or die crazy and demonized. > She snorted as she shook her head at the thought. Her legs folded and she gracefully sat back down and wrapped her arms around her legs. < The good thing about it, is that I won't be alone. I'll have you and Xan. >

He sat down beside her and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. < I'll be there, baby. Right by your side. We can discover all our new powers together while Harris sits on the sidelines and grumbles about being just a normal, average vampire... >

Buffy giggled. < As if being a descendant from the Master is anything but normal, right? > She leaned her head on his shoulder and sighed softly. < How many more of us are out there? >

He shrugged and kissed her temple. < I don't know. Darla was pretty picky. I heard rumblings a while back about her turning someone after Angelus was cursed. Never met him—because she went over here, while Dru and I stayed over in Europe. Dru's childer never made it. Somehow her insanity was passed on—it corrupted the demon as well as the base personality. And me? I've got a couple running around. Last I heard Nathan—who I turned in the middle of the 19th century—was in Australia stirring up trouble. And Jonathan's in Russia somewhere. I turned him right after Angelus was cursed—to help me out with Dru. He was with us in Prague. We split up right after that. >

< What about Angel? >

Spike snorted. < He's got a few more out there, love. He was always turning someone. Delusions of grandeur, you know. A real family man. Always wanted a huge coven filled with his childer and fledglings. I know he's got one bloke out there that's older than me—name's Penn—or something. He's like a serial killer with fangs. Last I heard, he was in LA in the thirties. I'm sure we'll be bumping into them in the future—all of them. Especially if we manage to kill Peaches. They'll be coming out of the woodwork to stake our asses. >

< Nice to know that I have— > She gasped, bending at the waist. < Spike, what's happening? >

< You're being called back, love. Remember first meal has to be Faith! >

< And if she's not available? >

< Wait and we'll do the soul restoration spell. >

< Spike, can you find us? >

He grasped her hands and tugged her to him. < Love, I know where you are. I'll be there as soon as possible with Harris, deal? > She nodded, tears filling her eyes. Giving her a small smile, he bent and kissed her softly on the lips. < I don't know if you'll remember any of this—but if you do, remember this: I love you. >

< And I love you too, Spike >

Spike held on to her until she disappeared, leaving him alone in the darkness. Sighing to himself, he knew it was time to wake up and find Buffy.

Everything was in its place.

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Chapter Nineteen

The first thing Spike noticed when he came to consciousness was the comforting feel of warm fingers sliding through his hair—calming him. For a moment he remained still as he extended his senses in hopes of identifying the person caressing him.

He instantly recognized her scent: Joyce Summers.

Blinking his eyes, he looked up to see the slayer's mother; her face drawn and weary—her fear and pain nearly palpable as she desperately tried to deal with the day's events. First she loses her ex-husband, then her daughter... Spike thought to himself as he reached up and grasped her wrist, stilling her.

"Joyce, I'm okay," he whispered, his throat dry.

"Spike—you're awake!" She leaned down and gave him a huge hug. "I was so worried. I don't think Buffy could handle losing you too," she whispered, her eyes losing focus as her thoughts turned inwards. Suddenly, they cleared and looked him in the eye. "Are you all right? How do you feel?"

He shrugged, trying not to wince when he moved his body. Bloody hell, I'm going to have to feed, he thought to himself. "Yeah ducks, I'm all right. Feel like I've been a few rounds with your daughter, but other than that, nothing that a few pints of O negative couldn't cure." He released her hand and sat up, closing his eyes against the dizziness. "Is there any blood here?"

Joyce nodded as she stood up and walked over to the small refrigerator that Giles kept in his office. "Xander ran over to that bar—Willie's?" she asked pausing until he nodded his head. "And grabbed some for you—knowing that you would probably be a bit hungry." She pulled out a bag and stuck it in the microwave. "How long?"

Spike blinked his eyes and shook his head when he realized what she was asking him. "A minute, Joyce." Spike sighed as he stretched his legs, trying to work out the kinks before he attempted to stand. "Can you go get Xander, Giles and Willow for me? We need to get Buffy back."

"You know she's gone? How?"

He sighed, nodding slowly. "Right before I passed out, I figured it out. The bloody Powers—mucked everything up," he said quietly.

Frowning in confusion, Joyce nodded and stepped around him to the door. After opening it, she called out for the three, telling them to come into the office.

By the time the microwave beeped, Spike had four sets of anxious eyes on him, waiting for an explanation. After Joyce handed him the blood bag, he bit into it, ignoring the humans and drained it quickly. Already feeling better, he managed to stand up and walk over to the trashcan to throw the empty plastic bag away before another wave of dizziness hit him. "Bloody hell," he muttered as he stumbled over to the refrigerator and pulled out another bag. This time, he bypassed the niceties of heated blood, and drank the crap cold. He shook his head and finally felt himself relax in relief. No more dizziness. "Thank Satan," he mumbled to himself as he leaned against the wall and pulled out a cigarette to light it.

He sighed as his eyes studied the four other occupants in the room. He knew this wasn't going to be easy. One thing he had learned in the last few days he'd spent with this group was that everything had to be talked over, rehashed and analyzed to death. It was a wonder anything ever got done. Taking another drag, his eyes stopped at the whelp. "How long to sunrise?"

"It's only 10pm, Spike."

Spike nodded, wondering how his night sense could get so messed up. "Good—that'll work. Harris, I need you to gather as many weapons that us two can carry and load the DeSoto. Can you do that, mate?"

Xander nodded, shooting up from the couch. "Are we going to get Buffy?" he asked quietly as his hand grasped the doorknob.

"Yeah Harris, that's what we're doing."

The young vampire closed his eyes in relief and hurriedly left the office.

Spike turned his attention on Willow. "Pet, can you get all the ingredients for a soul-restoration spell and be ready to do it tonight, if necessary?"

Willow's face paled as her eyes shut, but not before a few tears leaked out. After taking a couple of deep breaths, she indicated she could. "All the stuff's at home—but I don't need anything else."

Feeling a bit better, Spike pushed himself off the wall and began to pace with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. "Good. Get the wolf to take you home, pick-up the supplies and then come back here."

Willow glanced over at Giles and Spike noted that despite the Watcher's obvious distress, he still managed to squeeze the young witch's arm and give her a small smile. "Go ahead, Willow," he said softly, closing his eyes.

The redheaded witch pushed herself off the couch and was heading for the door, when she suddenly stopped and turned back to the vampire. Spike stood there in amazement as she ran over to him and wrapped her arms around him, squeezing him gently around the waist. "I'm glad you're okay, Spike," she whispered and turned around and left before he could managed to find his voice.

He shook his head, grinning at the sheer craziness of his unlife and dropped his cigarette, stomping it out. He looked up at Giles and Joyce and felt his stomach clench. Now comes the hard part, he thought to himself.

"Close the door, Giles," Spike said softly.

The watcher leaned over the end of the couch and pushed the office door shut. Once done, the older man leaned back against the back of the couch and took off his glasses, rubbing his eyes. "I'm not going to like this, am I?"

"No mate, I don't suppose you will."

"Buffy—you think that Buffy's a vampire, don't you?" Joyce asked, her voice shaky and barely restrained.

"They buggered me real good, they did. The Powers or the Council—whatever the hell they call themselves—decided to start my 'conversion' the moment I realized Buffy had left us, so I wouldn't try to stop her..."

"Bloody hell," Giles whispered.

Spike nodded in agreement. "Fucking pricks. You see, it was the prophecy. It needed to be fulfilled," Spike added, snorting in disgust. "Everything in the first two parts of the prophecy except that little bit about the prisoner being set free has already happened. And the 'prisoner' couldn't be taken care of until that last little bit—that stanza that the slayer was bitching about the other night—was fulfilled. Remember it? The nebulous one?"

Giles nodded as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "What was, will no longer be—"

"What will be, has never been," Joyce finished.

Lighting another cigarette, Spike chuckled. "Yep, that's it. The 'what was' bit—is the two-slayer situation. After Buffy and Faith die—there'll only be one called," Spike said feeling that manic laughter that he'd been fighting since he woke up, bubbling up. "Because—now, here's the good part—one of the two slayers now—won't actually be totally dead. She'll be turned. You see, they had it all worked out, even though I was told that this was not the way things were supposed to be. I guess it was a good back-up plan." Spike shook his head in disgust as his pacing took on frantic qualities. "If everything goes as planned, once this night is finished, the Powers will have one immortal, sane and souled, slayer vampire—"

"That's impossible!" Giles exclaimed, shooting up from the couch. "Slayers can't be turned! They go mad!"

Joyce whimpered softly, her head falling into her hands.

Spike grimaced as he watched Joyce and sighed softly. "Normally, I would agree with you, mate. But that's where Faith comes in."

Joyce's tear-stained face lifted up as her eyes widened. "You said both of them were going to die. Oh dear God—"

Spike nodded. "Yeah, that's the plan. A slayer's blood is ambrosia to vampires. Powerful—gives vampires added strength their entire existence and can be passed down to their childer. That explains why our bloodline is so strong. The Master drained nearly two dozen slayers during his reign. The blood has mystical properties as well. The downside of it all, is that it takes a really strong demon to resist the 'human' aspects of slayer's blood. This is why Dru's insanity remained with her once she was turned; the blood enhanced that part of her humanity—forcing it to remain. It's also why Angelus' obsessive nature was amplified when his demon was in control and why my demon—already possessing 'human-like' traits—just flourished. We'll have to see how this affects Xander. With Angel—when he was ensouled—it amplified his humanity. Made his conscience and guilt stronger than it would've been if he had been turned by someone not of the Master's bloodline. That's why there was such a difference between the human Angelus and the ensouled Angel.

"Amazing," Giles whispered as he rose up from the couch and began pacing. "So, what you're saying is that if a vampire drained enough slayers, he would have the equivalent of a soul?"

Spike nodded as he looked out the office door and watched Cordelia as she was unloading various weapons from the cage. "Maybe a bit twisted, but like a soul nonetheless."

"And this has to do with my daughter how?"

Spike shook his head and turned back to the couple on the couch. "First of all, remember that the soul doesn't leave when a person is turned. It's just overpowered and subdued," Spike said as his eyes met the watcher's.

Giles nodded, sighing.

"And like Giles said, slayers aren't turned successfully. The 'slayer' aspect is too strong to be dominated by the demon. And the demon seems to react instinctively against that 'goodness' that won't leave and wages a war inside the person. It's close to what happened to Angelus—but even worse—because an ordinary human soul in itself isn't divine. A slayer's soul is. It's the closest thing to divine that humanity has." Spike paused and lit a cigarette. "The one thing that can settle the battle between the slayer's soul and the demon is the blood of a slayer. And because there's only one slayer at a time—"

"What about potential slayers?" Giles asked interrupting him.

Spike shook his head. "It has to be a slayer at her peak. In my experience, having drained both a newly called slayer and one that's been fighting for a while—there's a difference. The blood is strengthened by time. Faith has been a slayer for nine months. Granted, her blood isn't as strong as Buffy's, but it's strong enough."

Giles collapsed back down on the couch. "Fuck."

"You mean, Buffy—my beautiful daughter—is going to have to drain Faith in order to remain sane?"

Spike nodded as he spotted Xander standing outside the office door. Waving him in, he told him to shut the door behind him.

"Car's loaded. Oz and Willow have left."

Spike reached into his duster pocket and pulled out his cell phone.

"Then why the soul restoration?" Giles asked, apparently finding his voice.

Spike looked up and met the watcher's eyes. "It's the Hellmouth, Watcher. Nothing ever goes according to plan here in this bloody place," he said as he handed the phone to Xander. "You keep this—since you know the number. We may need them." He reached for the doorknob and turned back to Giles. "Tell them whatever you want, but keep them out of the way for a while. It's not going to be pretty."

"Spike!" Giles called out.

Spike stopped. "Yeah?"

"Where is she?"

Spike chuckled softly as he shook his head. "Angelus managed to move into a nice, beautiful home just three doors down from where the cheerleader lives. I think the address is 243. We'll call. Come on, Harris. Let's get the slayer and kill the prick."

Together, Spike and Xander left the office and headed out into the night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

She still hadn't screamed; Faith was so proud of herself.

She would've laughed at her own foolishness if she had the energy to do so. But unfortunately, she couldn't risk wasting her energy on such superfluous emotions. No, all her reserves were being kept on hold for the other slayer. It was almost like a silent mantra that she had begun chanting in her mind once Angelus began having his fun with her.

I will not die...I will not die.

So far, Faith had been lucky.

But then, she'd only been under his control for maybe half an hour. And he hadn't been idle. She'd already been raped in all three holes. Bastard, she thought to herself as she watched him roll off the bed and saunter over to his toy-box. She had taken a peek in the thing earlier in the week and was surprised to find that her stomach could still clench in fear. All sorts of painful gadgets resided in there—things that even Faith, with her worldly experience, couldn't name.

She felt herself shudder as she watched him pick up the nipple clamps, silently wondering if her promise not to scream would soon be broken. If they had been normal clamps, she would've been fine for the most part. But no, never would she be that lucky; these were made especially for those who loved blood. Instead of just pinching the nipple, the clamps sported two sharp points that actually impaled the breast—meeting underneath the nipple in the flesh.

God, she hoped he wasn't planning on using that pussy clamp she saw in there—or she just might end up going mad just like Dru.

Just let her survive until Buffy revived—that's all she asked.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spike turned off the ignition and pulled out the keys. "So, any more questions?" he asked the young vampire as he opened the car door.

Xander opened his mouth to say something and suddenly shook his head, closing it again. "Nope," he muttered quietly. "I just hope we can pull this off."

"Harris, if we're lucky—Angelus and Dru are still out of it and Faith's just sitting next to the slayer waiting for her to revive."

The dark-haired young man looked at Spike pointedly. "And when have any of us been that lucky?"

Spike chuckled softly as he nodded in agreement. "Around here, never."

"Let's go," Xander whispered as he opened his door and slid out of the car.

Spike met him at the trunk and opened it. Within minutes, both of them had not only enough stakes to dust a good two dozen vampires, but Spike was wielding a staff, Xander had swung the tranq gun around his arm and was carrying a crossbow in his hand.

"Ready?" Spike asked Xander as he watched him slip the last stake in the back of his pants.

Xander nodded once. "Ready."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Faith managed to keep silent until he began flicking the clamps with his fingers.

That's what did her in.

Pain seared through her body, causing her adrenaline to soar as her nerves became sensitized to his ministrations. Then his cold tongue lapped at the blood, cooling her flesh and she began to whimper in response.

Laughing, he leaned back and stared at her. "Tighter Faith? Or looser?"

Closing her eyes, she turned her head away from him.

His slap across her face nearly broke her nose. "Don't you ever look away from me, my dear bitch."

She faced him—her eyes blazing.

"There's that fire," he said softly as his head dipped down and nipped at her neck. "So," he whispered in her ear. "You wanted to be a vampire. Why would I ever turn you, Faith? You're trash—white trailer trash. You're nothing special," he said and ran his tongue down the edge of her ear. "Not even as a slayer."

She felt herself flinch at his words as tears flooded her eyes. Bastard, she thought to herself.

"See—you know it yourself." His mouth moved up her neck to her chin, nibbling and biting her skin. She could feel nearly a dozen or so small cuts ooze blood as he made his way to her mouth. "Poor, insignificant little Faith who had to be bad in order to be noticed," he whispered against her lips, smearing her blood across them and then flickering his tongue out to capture it.

He sat up and straddled her, his erect cock lying on her stomach. His hand clasped her throat, tightly enough to make her uncomfortable, but not tight enough to choke her. "Now, if I was going to turn either of you—it would be Buff. She's unique. She's always surprising me." He snorted, shaking his head. "The bitch even managed to send Soul-Boy to Hell. Gotta give her points for that. It's just a shame she'll be mad when she wakes up," he said as he shook his head in mock dismay. Suddenly, his face lit up—his brown eyes lighting up with a devilish glint.

Faith managed to stop her shudder.

"So Faith, want to stick around and see what a crazy slayer-vampire does when she's in the throes of her first hunger?" He smirked as he jiggled one of the clamps—his eyes closing in pleasure when he heard her screams. "Maybe that's how you should die—it would be pretty appropriate, wouldn't it? Then I'll stake her—after she's served her purpose."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spike pushed open the door—surprised to find that it wasn't even closed properly and slowly slid inside as his eyes scanned his surroundings.

Three things he noticed right off the bat: one, Dru was still chained and out cold. Two, Angelus and Faith were missing and three, although Buffy was dead, blood lined her lips and Spike knew that she had been turned.

Cocking his head to the side, he sensed an erratic heartbeat and the fear-filled aroma of a slayer and surmised that Angelus had managed to get free.

Turning to Xander, he nodded towards the door and quickly slipped outside.

Xander followed the vampire.

"Mate, I can't do it. I can't stake Dru. I wish we could just let her go," Spike whispered as he began pacing in front of the car. "I don't want her dead. I just want her gone—as far away from me as possible. A hundred and forty years—"

"Spike—"

"—I can't just stake her and say, 'easy come, easy go.' I've been in love with her more than half of my life—"

"Spike—stop it! Listen, how 'bout we just shoot her up with tranqs...dump the whole gun in her and take her somewhere. You know anyone that may want to take care of her after all this is done?"

Spike's eyes widened in disbelief. "You'd do that?" He asked the younger vampire, leaving off the 'for me', but knowing Xander understood what he was saying.

Xander shrugged as he rolled his eyes. "You say that's she's my sire as well as Deadboy. Well, Dru's evil—but it's not personal. Not like Angel. I have to trust you with this—and if we stake her, your judgement may get skewed. So..."

Letting out a sigh of relief, Spike nodded. "Thanks," he whispered as his mind was already working out a plan. "Okay, here's what we'll do. You go in there and secure Dru and Buffy. And I'll go and get Faith and kill the prick. Sound good?"

Pursing his lips, Xander nodded once. "One condition."

"What?" Spike asked scowling.

"If you can, stake him with me in the room. I want to see it."

Spike chuckled as he shook his head. "Deal."

He then turned around and headed back to the house all the while wondering if Harris wasn't his childe after all.

He sure as hell acted like it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Knowing that he wasn't quite ready to real with Buffy's presence, he ignored her pale, dead body. Instead, Xander picked up Dru's unconscious body and quickly left the mansion.

It wasn't until he had her in the trunk did he unload the tranquilizer gun into her already dead-like body.

As each dart hit her, he silently questioned his actions. Not because he was having second thoughts, but because he wasn't having any.

He didn't want her dead either.

And what unnerved him the most about that was it wasn't because Xander had any personal feelings about Dru; on the contrary, he could care less if she lived or died. It was that he didn't want Spike to hurt.

He saw the vampire's love for the insane childe of Angelus' and Xander couldn't help but want to ease the other vampire's burden. If that meant that Dru should live, than so be it. Xander had a feeling that without Spike or Angelus, Dru's impact on the balance of things was going to be minimal, if not undetectable. Her deadliness always seemed to be in consort with her love of the two male vampires. Without them in her life, Xander doubted that Dru had the emotional or mental strength to stir up any trouble.

As he closed and locked the trunk, Xander shook his head and hoped he was right. Because if he wasn't, he knew without a doubt that Dru would be a force to be reckoned with in the future.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spike should've known that he wouldn't be able to sneak up on Angelus.

The bloody prick was nothing, if not aware of Spike's presence. As his favorite childe, Spike had had the pleasure of sharing blood with his sire for so long, that before Angelus was cursed, they could sense each other's emotions as well as pinpoint one another's whereabouts.

Dru might have been an obsession for his sire, but Spike knew that he was the closest thing to being a true mate and companion for Angelus.

That's why everything the year before had hurt so much.

For over a hundred years, he was everything to Angelus—a childe, a lover, a friend, a companion, a confidant.

And in five months, Angelus destroyed it all.

Tore Spike's heart out and spit on it with contempt.

All because the demon hated the thought it could have any 'human' feelings at all—whether it be towards a cute but deadly blond slayer or his favorite childe—a crippled and broken vampire.

The reason Dru was now perfect for Angelus was because the demon had no emotional bindings to the vampiress other than maybe wry.

"Spikey...glad to see you could join the party," Angelus said, tossing a wooden stake in his hand.

Spike chuckled sardonically as his hold tightened on the staff, silently thanking the watcher for having access to the slayer's weapons. Only a slayer would have a staff that wielded a point as sharp as any stake.

He quickly glanced over to the body on the bed and quickly took inventory of her injuries. Faith had been beaten and tortured, obviously raped—but she was still alive.

Maybe things weren't as bad as they seemed.

"Angelus, I see that you've been enjoying yourself," he said, leaning against the door frame.

His sire snorted contemptuously. "The bitch tastes nasty for a slayer. Now Buff, on the other hand...delicious," he said, kissing his fingertips.

Spike nearly flinched, but caught himself. Instead, he just nodded, silently acknowledging the point in his sire's favor. "So, now what, mate? Are we going to stand here for an eternity or what?"

Angelus grinned. "You always were the impatient one, my boy. Why are you in such a hurry to die?"

Spike snorted as he pushed himself off the doorframe. "Bloody git, you were always too arrogant for your own good. Where are all the fledglings? Left your perimeter unguarded. Getting sloppy, old man."

Angelus looked up underneath his eyelashes. "Who said I didn't want you here, oh childe of mine? Maybe I did it on purpose."

"Yeah right. Admit it, you just fucked up and lost. You want to know what I think, oh sire of mine?"

"What?" his voice was cold and emotionless.

"I think you want to die. I think somewhere inside of you, you fear that you're turning into another Dru, and your pride being what is, you detest that you're losing it. You see what your future is every time you look at her and you hate it. And what better way to go then at your favorite childe's hand?"

That's all it took for Angelus to lose it.

Stake up, he leaped at Spike.

And just as quickly, Spike lifted the staff and held it out as Angelus' momentum impaled his body upon the wood.

Within seconds, Spike's sire and first love disappeared into a cloud of dust.

Spike's knees buckled as his hold on the staff loosened. Falling down on his knees, he stayed there and stared at the dust...all that was left of his sire.

Angelus, the Scourge of Europe was no more.

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Chapter Twenty

"Spike! She's awake!" Xander's panicked voice shook the blond vampire out of his painful stupor.

Wiping his face, Spike stood up and glanced over at the other slayer.

She was a mess.

Thank the gods for slayer's accelerated healing abilities, he thought to himself as he walked over to the bed.

Sitting down next to her, Spike couldn't help but feel his teeth itch in hunger at the smell of her freshly spilt blood. Like heroin slayer's blood was. Growling softly, he reached over her and quickly undid the nipple clamps, ignoring her hiss of pain and the aroma of fresh, slayer's blood.

"Should've chained him to something," Spike said softly as he tossed the clamps over the side of the bed.

"I realize that now," she spat out in between her clenched teeth.

Chuckling, he broke the chains. "What is it they say about hindsight?"

She rolled her eyes as her head fell back onto the bed. "Can you get this collar off? I don't want to die with it on," she added softly, oblivious of the fresh tears staining her cheeks.

Sighing, Spike slipped his fingers underneath it and ran them across the soft worn leather of its underbelly stopping at the lock. He slipped his hand underneath the cloth, posed to pull the sections apart. "Take a deep breath, love and remember that I'm not trying to choke you, okay?"

Nodding, she filled her lungs and then met his eyes.

Spike broke the lock and handed the collar to her.

He stood up and just as he was about to pick her up, she stopped him by squeezing his arm. "Is there anything I can put on around here?"

Biting back the urge to growl, Spike stood up and walked over to the closet and spotted a discarded robe laying on the chair. He picked it up and thought of his Buffy out there, being oogled by a hormonally challenged newly-turned vampire and growled again. Flinging the door open, he instantly spotted one of his sire's shirts and pulled it off the hanger. He then turned back to the slayer and tossed the shirt in her direction.

"Thanks," she whispered before wincing sharply as she sat up. Grinding her teeth, she slipped her arms through the sleeves and closed two of the buttons. "Ready whenever you are."

Tossing the robe across his shoulder, he strode over to the bed and slipped his hands underneath her legs and lifted her into his arms.

Together, they left the bedroom and made their way back to the front of the house.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hunger.

Deep, body-wrenching hunger filled her.

Rage.

Fear.

Hatred.

Sorrow.

Buffy's eyes snapped open to stare at Xander who was leaning over her. Growling, she tried grabbing him, not even sure why she needed to, but sure that he would somehow help the conflict inside her. Unfortunately for her demon, he fell backwards and out of her reach.

She tugged on the chains.

"Buffy, hold on. Just a few minutes," he said, his eyes never leaving hers. "Spike! She's awake!"

She tipped her head.

Spike...Spike...

Suddenly flashes of her dream came to her. She, lying in the darkness, crying. Spike coming for her and taking her into his arms...calming her fears...whispering his love for her.

The plan...Faith...Angelus...she was a vampire.

Buffy growled and jumped at the sound of her own voice.

A vampire. She was a vampire and she had to drink from Faith. Only Faith. Not Xander. Not pig's blood. Not some poor kid that was walking down the streets of Sunnydale alone. But Faith...because Faith was important...important because Faith was a slayer...like Buffy.

Never before had there been a successful turning of a slayer...'slayer's go mad if they're turned, love,' he'd said. Buffy'd go crazy...but not if she drank from Faith.

"Faith," she whispered through her clenched fangs.

"She's coming, Buff. Spike's bringing her down now. Spike!"

"Geez Xander, are you sure you're a vampire?" Faith's weak voice echoed through the room.

Buffy's head shot up and instantly she felt herself calm down at the sight of her lover.

"Spike..."

"I'm here, baby," he whispered as he walked across the room and stopped in front of Xander. He slowly placed Faith down in front of him.

Every cell in Buffy's body was screaming to break the chains and just drink from Faith. She was human. Buffy could feel Faith's erratic heartbeat and smell the richness of her blood as it seeped into the air.

But she didn't. The slayer part of her stopped the demon cold and she could feel the two parts warring in her body, grappling for control...for domination over the other.

She shut her eyes, whimpering softly.

A hand pressed against her cheek.

Her eyes shot open to see Spike squatting in front of her. Blood tears filled her eyes as she took in his ragged appearance and suddenly she realized she hadn't felt her sire. "Angelus?"

His eyes shut briefly, but not before Buffy saw his pain in them. "Dust, love."

Biting her lip, she nodded once. "I'm sorry, Spike."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Xander?"

His eyes dropped down to the scantily covered slayer on the floor and he found himself at a loss. He didn't know what or how he felt about this young woman—the only woman he had slept with as both a human and a vampire—a woman that he had admired at one time and hated other times.

"Yeah Faith?"

She swallowed hard, blinking her eyes. "At my apartment—there's a letter to the Mayor. Can you mail it for me?" She turned her head, ashamed at her tears. "Maybe he'll listen to me and stop the Ascension himself." She looked up at him and tugged on his hand. "Also, I need to tell you something...you guys need to know this..."

"Know what?"

She grimaced and her face paled. "Wesley. Angelus turned him. Mayor arranged a safehouse. I don't know where. Just in LA...Xander, I'm not sure, but he may've been the one that killed Buffy's dad."

"Fuck."

Faith nodded, her jaw clenched. "I—I didn't—I wouldn't—wouldn't have let him go, if I'd known that was his plan...it was wrong."

Xander pursed his lips as he forced himself not to respond. She was right—it was wrong. And he understood her moral code, if he didn't agree with it himself. He lifted a hand and brushed her hair off her face. "I know, Faith."

She met his eyes and gave him a small smile. "I like you better this way, with a soul. Take care of B, will ya? Help her. Make sure Blondie doesn't leave her." She gave him a small smile as she leaned into his hand and closed her eyes.

"I will, Faith," Xander said softly as he watched her chest go up and down with each breath. He looked over at Spike and Buffy to see Spike watching them.

"Is she ready, mate?"

Xander nodded as he slipped his hands under Faith's prone body and picked her up. "Damnit!"

Faith's eyes snapped open as an ironic grin curled her lips. "Such a softy, Xan. It's okay. I'm okay with this—" she stopped, biting her bottom lip as her eyes filled with tears. "My fault, okay? And B knows this—we're five-by-five."

Groaning at her use of her favorite phrase, he nodded and scooted over to sit in front of Buffy. He looked over and met his best friend's now-demon eyes and wasn't surprised to feel an earth-shattering ache quake his undead body. God, he missed Buffy already. The human Buffy. "Buff?"

Her face changed as she gave him a gentle smile and looked down at Faith. Her chained hand reached down and tucked a dark strand of the other slayer's hair behind her ear. "Faith—thank you," she whispered and kissed the slayer's forehead. Suddenly, the blonde's faced morphed into that of a demon's as her hands lifted Faith's unprotesting body onto her lap. She gathered the other slayer's hair in one hand and held it as a sob racked Buffy's body. "I can't—"

"Love, you have to," Spike said, his eyes sad, as he gently caressed her face. "She wants this. You know you have to—"

"It's wrong. God help me, it's wrong!" Buffy's yellow eye's filled with blood tears as she shook her head frantically. Suddenly, she roared as her head shot down and her fangs latched onto Faith's neck.

Xander had to give Faith credit. She didn't even flinch.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was almost as if a part of her was standing back watching the whole thing—her, Buffy Anne Summers, slayer extraordinaire drinking the blood of her sister-in-arms. She could feel her demon scream in victory as it savored Faith's rich, magical blood. And even though a part of her felt disgusted and hated herself with every fiber of her being, there was another part of her that understood almost on a molecular level that this was the right thing to do.

With every swallow her body took, she felt stronger, more aware of her body, almost as if she was taking over, instead of the demon.

Ironically, the demon seemed too drugged out to even care. All it wanted was the blood. The sweet, taste of blood made it happy.

As it faded back, allowing her soul to surface, Buffy found the white noise and confusion she has been feeling earlier had faded. Now, everything seemed just more there...more real, if that were possible. She could hear everything, from Faith's slowing heartbeat to Xander's fingers nervously tapping the floor. She could feel Spike's presence—more so than she ever had as just the slayer.

What was happening to her?

She lifted her head, pulling her fangs out of Faith's neck and sighed as she heard the other slayer's final heartbeat. Not even aware of her face changing back to its human countenance, she looked down at the woman that had given her life in order that Buffy could live and felt her face crunch up in pain. Her eyes filled as her body shook.

Without much thought, Buffy yanked on her arms in order for her to hold Faith's cooling body closer to her, pulling the chains from their holdings in the wall, breaking them. As she held the limp body in her arms, ignoring the stench of death that was already emanating from the body, Buffy mourned.

For her human life. For Faith's life...Angel's...Xander's...and her father's.

Buffy cried as only a slayer-vampire could, red blood tears of a demon's, and the heart and innocence of the Chosen One.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spike scooted over and sat next to his lover as his eyes sought out Xander. "Call the Watcher. She needs them," he said softly as he wrapped his arm around her shaking shoulders.

Xander nodded, wiping his face and pulled out the phone from his coat pocket. He stopped before dialing and looked over at Spike. "Is it done? Any more surprises for us?"

Spike felt his body tense at the question. Was it done? He asked himself as he searched his mind for any errant facts that he could've forgotten with all the stress and pain of the past few hours.

He found nothing.

"It's done."

The boy nodded and quickly dialed the number as he scrambled to his feet. Backing away from Spike, Buffy and Faith's body, he turned his back and spoke quietly into the phone.

Even though Spike could hear what the younger vampire was saying, he wasn't very interested in it. He was more concerned with Buffy.

Leaning his head against the wall, his mind went over everything that had happened in the past four days and suddenly he let out a loud, sardonic cackle. All this had happened in four fucking days?

Four days and everyone's life had been irrevocably changed—and not necessarily for the better.

And once he started laughing, he couldn't stop. It was too fucking crazy! What did Council say to him? That this was all big, huge mistake? A mistake—a bloody fucking mistake and he lost his sire, his princess and fell in love with the slayer.

A fucking mistake and now for the first time in history there was a successful turning of a slayer-vampire.

A mistake.

Soft fingers touched his face and he looked over to see Buffy watching him carefully. She had let go of Faith's body and had turned to face him. The wanker's red robe hanging loosely about her—was that a touch of breast Spike saw? Shaking his head, he met her swollen eyes.

"Are you okay?"

He let out a slow, chuckle and shook his head. "Did I tell you this was all a mistake?"

He felt her body tense. "A mistake? What do you mean?"

He snorted as he watched the whelp walk over to the front door. He couldn't even look at her when he told her this or he just might lose it and began crying like the sod he had become. "They told me that the Balance—the bloody, fucking balance got out of whack somewhere else and they had to scramble to right things. My sire was never supposed to lose his soul. Matter-of-fact he was going to be a bloody Batman in LA—fighting the good fight," Spike grinned to himself, picturing his sire with a black cape. "The kid over there wasn't so supposed to live the rest of his life as a souled-vampire. Me, I was supposed to stay in Brazil. At least for awhile. To be honest, I'm the only one that appeared to benefit from the craziness," he added as he thought about his near-miss at the hands of human demon-hunters and a fucking implant. "You," he paused and looked over at her, suddenly compelled to take her out of this house and into his arms and never let her go. "Were supposed to go to college, fall for some human git and be the bloody bane of my existence." He shook his head and pulled her into his arms. Wrapping them around her body, he buried his head in her neck and felt himself shudder. "And we would never know that we loved each other...each too stubborn and angry to admit it. Wasting our time beating the shit out of one another instead of shagging."

"Why? How did things get so messed up?"

He lifted his head and peered over her shoulder to see her face. She looked as confused as he felt. He kissed her cheek. "The Hellmouth, love. The situation was ready and waiting for things to be righted, and it spun out of control. The only way to fix it was for you to become a sane, slayer-vampire, the whelp to be a souled-vampire and me to finally commit to the Council."

"And now look at us."

"Three undead fools tied for the rest of our bleeding unlives to the Gray Council and fighting their fight."

"Any regrets?" She asked softly, leaning her head back so their lips were just millimeters from touching.

"A thousand, love, but they all seem to pale when I feel you in my arms."

She pressed her soft lips on his and sighed. "Me too."

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Epilogue

Buffy stared into the sunlight and for the thousandth time wished that the sun's rays felt natural on her skin like they had when she had been human.

Unfortunately, with her new state of being, they didn't.

The sunlight, an enemy of the undead and most of the demon world, didn't scorch her or burn her into a flame of ashes as it did the rest of the vampire population.

But it didn't like her too much either.

Although her skin didn't blacken like that of normal vampires when exposed, it just made her uneasy, almost like when her spider sense had acted up when she had been human.

"Spider sense and the sun—who'd have thunk it?" She asked herself softly.

She leaned against the brick wall and stared out into the slowly awakening city below her and wondered what those stupid powers had planned for her next.

It had been six months since she had awakened to find Spike pinning her down in her bed, making smart-ass comments about her sex-life and how he wouldn't mind 'a shag or hundred' with her.

Six months since Angel had lost his soul and Angelus had returned with a vengeance.

Six months since Xander had been turned and then re-souled.

Six months since Harmony, her father, Faith and at least a dozen or so humans had died at

the end of her sire's cruel teeth.

Six months since Angelus had been dusted and Angel's soul had been freed.

Six months since she and Spike had fallen in love.

And six months since Buffy had evolved from being a freak among humans to a freak among vampires.

"And what a long, strange trip it's been," Buffy quoted softly as her head fell and her eyes closed in memory.

How they had managed to stop the Mayor from Ascending was still nothing short of a miracle. From Buffy and Spike's planning and the Scooby Gang's recruitment, the graduating class of Sunnydale High had fought back and Giles, Buffy and the new slayer, Stephanie, had blown up the school to stop it.

If Wilkins had ever received Faith's letter, he didn't let it stop him. Instead, it had enraged him. Buffy nearly lost the remainder of her mortal friends to his machinations. Giles was almost killed in, of all things, a drive-by shooting. Only Xander's newly appropriated undead reflexes and quick thinking had saved her watcher from a painful death. Willow was stalked by a magic-stealing demon that wanted to suck the life out of her. Oz had a spell placed on him that forced him to remain in wolf-state for three extra days until Spike found the counter-spell. And Cordelia was nearly drained.

But they made it. And blew the mayor back into Hell itself.

And Buffy even graduated.

Wonders never ceased.

So, here she was in LA, waiting. For what, none of them knew. While Willow and Oz stayed in Sunnydale with Giles, her mother and Stephanie—Xander, Cordelia, Spike and she were in LA, living in an old building that Angel had bought a month before he had died.

Apparently, he had been thinking of leaving Sunnydale.

Buffy blinked the tears away and sighed. She could almost hear him explain to her why he was leaving her—it was too hard—he loved Buffy too much. No one had accepted his return. Giles. Xander. Her mother.

Each excuse felt like a silent betrayal, even though he had never had the chance to say them.

Angel was gone before he had even left.

But then, Buffy thought, hadn't she been as guilty of that as he had been? Scrambling to hold onto something that would lead her down the road to nowhere, desperately in love with a soul that was constantly battling a demon to remain in control?

Hadn't that fight at the Bronze his last night alive been a bit too real for comfort? Wasn't she the one bemoaning how apart, yet tied to Angel she was? Wishing and wanting for more, but knowing where it would lead?

Isn't that why she had fallen so hopelessly and deeply in love with Spike? Because in reality, Angel was already gone and had been since they had made love in his bed the year before?

A million regrets...

...and yet, things weren't that bad. Yes, she missed Angel but somehow the pain wasn't nearly as bad now that she knew his soul was finally free from the pain of unliving. His fate would've been far worse if Angelus had remained among the undead. She could stand outside in the sunlight—thank God for her slayerness—and her need for blood was minimal. And yet her strength as a vampire was double the norm.

It could've been a lot worse—a lot worse.

And she wasn't alone. She had Spike, Xander and Cordelia were there—ready to jump into the fray when things got out of hand.

She had their friendship and love. She had a soul.

There were still some unfinished matters that came from the great debacle of last spring. There were rumblings in the undead community of a new master who was smart as a whip and as cruel as Angelus. Buffy knew it had to be Wesley, but she had yet to find him.

He would die...for her father and the countless others that suffered his abuse and cruelty.

And of course, there was Dru. Still alive and talking to the stars according to Spike. He had found someone to care for her—one of his childer's, Jonathan, who lived in Russia. Neither Buffy nor Spike knew how long that arrangement would last, but everyone hoped that it would be for as long as possible.

Spike. Buffy smiled to herself as she thought of her lover, his taut body wrapped around her, introducing Buffy to the joys of vampiric sex as well as teaching her what he had learned in his 200 years of unliving. God, did she love him. So thoroughly and completely that sometimes she wondered how she could've managed to survive without him. He brought life and laughter into every facet of their lives. He continually kept her on her toes and at the same time treasured her.

She knew, without a doubt, that he was the best person to live her unlife with. Angel, if he had lived, had too much pain and regret clouding his life, to ever give fully of himself. Or accept her as she was now.

She took one last look at the sky and whispered a soft thanks into the air. One thing she knew for sure, none of this would've been possible if it hadn't been for Faith.

God, she missed her. She had been the brave one in the end. Not Buffy or Spike or Xander. But Faith. She had faced her duties and done them without complaint. She had bared her neck for Buffy and given the slayer a chance at a new life. One that Buffy would never have had as just the slayer.

Sometimes, Buffy would swear she felt the other slayer's presence—a sardonic laugh filling the air. A whispered affirmation that everything was all right. 'It's five-by-five, B.'

"Yeah Faith," she said, smiling. "It sure is."

The End

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