"SPIKE!! God, stop it! Stop!" Buffy screamed and cried, trying desperately to pry the holy cross from the vampire's embrace. The awful scent of burning flesh and freshly oozing blood was enough to make her sick, but she overcame it in an effort to save him from the self-inflicted torture. One thing she'd always know about William the Bloody was to expect the unexpected. Even she should not have foretold after he'd left her bathroom that fateful night in May that he would journey to Africa to earn his soul; and certainly not the madness that seized him now.

He could not help but cry out as the pain flamed over his body, but he held steadfast to the wooden symbol,"Spike, please, you must listen to me - I've forgiven you. I forgive you." Finally she was able to insinuate her small hand around part of the cross. Using the might of her Slayer strength she took the cross from him, sending it spiraling over the church pew to the other side of the room. He stood there hands and finger still clawed as if he were still holding the object of his torment. The blessed wood had burned away his skin, exposing the muscles underneath and the blood seeping through the sinuous strings and flowing down over his abdomen, his pelvis and down his legs."Did you hear me? I forgive you."

"NO!" He involuntarily dropped to his knees, losing further balance and collapsing on his side. He looked up at her, the only part of his body not marred by a cut of scar was those crystalline blue eyes. There was so much pain in those eyes,"You mustn't ever forgive me!"

"I already have." He crawled to her feet, sobbing, digging his fingers into the dust and rocks that covered the floor of the ruined house of worship.

"Please don't forgive me, don't forgive me...don't forgive me..." She was frozen, unable to will herself to run, afraid to kneel down and offer him comfort. She stayed and he cried and not long after she was evoked into silent tears. Eventually she sat herself down beside him, hugging her knees to her chest. She sniffled and ran her sleeve under her nose and then cleared her throat. Eventually he stopped crying too and simply lay in the dirt, facing away from her.

"We need to get you some help for those burns, and the cuts." He remained silent. She tentatively brushed her fingertips over the bleached ends of his grown out curls, the long dark roots were a contrast. He and at his too thin waist. He wore a white tank top and the same old beat up Doc Martens. He was still Spike, just a happier and more relaxed Spike.

"It's okay, but should you really be here, with all the mirrors?"

"Well, yeah, how else am I ever gonna get anywhere?" He gave her a quick peck on the cheek and walked on through the glass. Her mouth was agape at what she'd just witnessed. She could see him on the other side walking jauntily away from her,"Ta, love, don't forget the password!"

"What? Password?" He was gone. She growled in frustration, her voice echoing off the other images of herself, then gasped when they all disappeared. On instinct her hands went to touch her face, making sure she was still real or that she didn't have ridges and fangs. She blinked hard and upon opening her eyes she saw someone else looking back. Buffy was surrounded by innumerable images of another girl. She was younger than Buffy, closer to Dawn's age. Her hair was a mess of dark ringlets affixed atop her head. She was dressed in a simple full length cotton nightgown, decorated with intricate smocking across her chest. The girl's eyes were a dark gray, accented by sharp cheekbones and a puggish nose.

The teenager had her arms outstretched, reaching for Buffy, her lips silently asking for help. Buffy stood immobile and terrified in the center of the room, unable to escape, but also unable to tear herself from the girl's urgent pleas. The Slayer began to panic, her instincts telling her she was under attack. She was mercifully distracted by the reappearance of her vampire. He was hurling himself against one panel of mirror, like her he was wanting to escape.

"Slayer help me! I can't get out!!" She broke away and started to pound her fists on the glass in an effort to rescue him, but she couldn't break through,"Buffy you must hurry! Help me, they're going to come and take my soul! Don't let them take my soul!" She started to kick the mirror,"Please..." he had gone to a whisper,"Baby, don't let them get my soul, I got it for you..." His last line came out as a whimper and then he was farther away, one reflection back, and then another, and another and another until he was only a spec in the distance. Buffy by now was ignoring the young woman, Spike's begging and crying resuming and consuming her.

"BUFFY!!" he screamed just before all the glass exploded.

Buffy sat up in bed gasping for breath, reaching for Spike only to find herself in her own room and Dawn seated at the end of her bed, gently shaking her awake."Are you okay?" Dawn asked.

"What? What time is it?"

"Seven, almost, your alarm's gonna go off in nine minutes. Nightmare? I heard you calling out Spike."

"Yeah, god, it was horrible."

"I'm sorry Buffy, seeing him last night must have been awful. I swear next time I will stake him."

"No, no, not that kind of nightmare. He was in danger and I couldn't get to him in time."

"That kind of dream? Why are you having dreams like that about Spike? After what happened?"

"He said someone was trying to steal his soul."

"Well that's funny, considering he doesn't have one."

"Not so funny. There's something you need to know about Spike. He has a soul now, Dawn." The younger girl let out an involuntary squeak,"Little too much to take before breakfast?"

"How?"

"It was hard to figure out what exactly happened. He was ranting, panicked, but I know that he went for it, asked for it."

"Wow."

"Understatement."

"All because of what happened in the bathflinched away, cowered within himself at first, then relaxed when she began to stroke his hair. It wasn't as majestic a scene as the Pieta, but they'd never been anything more or less than real."What are you doing to yourself, William?"

"You must forget William, Heaven won't have him back now that he knows what he became. You must abandon him, he is ugly, unwanted, mad, mean, cold and condemned."

"I can't do that."

"I'll hurt you, I'll taint your goodness, sully your purity." She almost laughed.

"I'm not pure, Spike, far from it."

"But you are, you are the chosen one. I am beneath you." She sighed, still stroking him as though he were just a large cat in her lap.

"Will you wait here for me to go get a first aid kit?" He'd gone into himself again, becoming deathly still and quiet."Give me an hour, I'll be right back." She got up and took off her coat, laying it over him. He looked dead, like a wild beast had torn him open, feasted and left the carcass for the carrion. She went running from the church, stopping once she got inside to collect herself. Breathing deeply, in and out slowly, she tried to process all she'd experience this night. Spike had a soul. Spike had fought for it, earned it. It was killing him.

Buffy jogged back to town after leaving the church and Spike behind. She thought maybe she'd find a drugstore and buy bandages and ointment to hold him together. She spotted Xander, who'd obviously followed her when she'd gone after Spike. He waved and she waited for him to run to her. "So what the hell was all that about?" he asked. After the incident with the product of one of Anya's vengeances Spike had gone berserk from the pain in his head when the wormlike creature had become human again and the vampire had injured him and sent the chip firing. Buffy of course had reacted.

"Do you have any money on you?"

"Yeah, a couple of twenties in my wallet, I think. Why?"

"We need first aid supplies, Spike's hurt." Xander scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"And we care because?"

"I'll pay you back." Incredulous, he fished into his back pocket for his wallet and crammed the bills into her open hand,"Thank you."

"Sure Buffy."

"You can go if you want, I can handle this by myself." Xander merely waved her off.

"Whatever stupid mess fangboy's gotten himself into this time, I want to be around to enjoy the colossal smackdown of it."

"It's not like that..." She accidentally tore one of the twenties she'd been compulsively wringing in her hands.

"I don't know why you bother...after what he did."

"Still none of your business, Xander. Let's go, okay?"

When they returned to the church, Spike was gone. Buffy picked up her coat and brushed the dust off it, noticing where spots of Spike's blood had stained it.

"Damn," she swore under her breath. There was nothing to be done tonight for the fallen man, she just hoped they'd have a chance to talk again.

Chapter 2 - Reflections

The Slayer walked through the entranceway and into the room made of mirrors. Like a fun house, the walls were paneled with slats of glass. She smiled like pink cotton candy joy at her infinite selves. Then a hand touched her shoulder and she was startled. Whipping around she was soon exhaling into calm.

"Sorry, pet, didn't mean to frighten. Mirrors, no reflection n' all that," explained Spike, grinning innocently. He wasn't quite himself, his hair was longish, still bleached, but with roots showing. He was dressed in cargo pants that barely stayed above his hips room?"

Chapter 3 - A Friend in Need

It had been Buffy's intention to leave the office early and visit Clem before heading home to make dinner, but her schedule had been filled until 3:30pm. Her office was small, without a window or any air circulation and it was also in an obscure part of the high school next to a janitor's closet, but it was hers. As the new counselor/liaison for the school Buffy had been able to abandon the Doublemeat Palace, thank god, for something that made her feel worthy beyond slaying. At first she believed herself to be woefully inadequate to counsel students, especially considering her lack of experience or a college degree. As it turned out she found herself more than capable. This was especially after it became obvious that the student sought her advice on primarily supernatural matters. Adults in Sunnydale may have been clueless, but the kids weren't, with possibly the exception of the new principal. Buffy doubted she was chosen for this position because she had gobs of good advice to dole out.

She was busy putting away her files when a suspicious character snuck past her open door. Putting down her folders and taking up the letter opener up off her desk, she went to follow. She spied the abundant shaped man wearing a black hooded sweatshirt to conceal his identity sneak down into the boiler room. Buffy groaned, she was so not in the mood to have someone blow up a high school. Moving cautiously with stealth the Slayer descended into the lower levels.

The intruder was obviously incredibly strong as he'd moved several full crates from his path to reveal a hole in the concrete just big enough for him to fit through. He had just finished putting several sacks through to the other side when the Slayer came upon him. Grabbing the back of his shirt she lifted him up and spun him around. The stranger cried out and tried to shield himself from the attack rather than fight back.

"Clem?!" she said, astonished.

"Slayer?" the wrinkly demon said back.

"What are you doing here?"

"Don't hurt me!" Buffy realized she was holding him forcefully up against the wall and let then let him down gently.

"Sorry Clem." He was fidgeting and behaving rather nervously.

"Don't be mad and please don't hit me! I'm not doing anything bad. No kittens on me even, nothing!" Buffy sighed and rolled her eyes.

"I'm not going to hit you."

"Promise?"

"Yes Clem." The demon visibly relaxed.

"Good, thanks. I'm not tough like Spike. I'm not so good with the pain management thing."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, um, nothing, honest. It's just that I remember you two used to be into that kind of thing and maybe Spike could handle all the bruises and broken bones, but I don't heal so quick."

"Broken bones? When?" Clem suddenly felt quite under scrutiny.

"Uh...there was the time right before your birthday party. I came over to his place and found him just barely inside the door. I helped him get to his comfy chair and got him some bloody and whiskey, the patched him up a bit. One of his cheekbones was shattered, there were broken ribs...his collar bone too. There were lots of cuts and bruises but he got a little angry and told me to leave them alone. It took a little while to stop the bleeding on his face, but I did good. It was happening alot so I figured he was okay with it..." Buffy swallowed hard, the lump in her throat felt like it was the size of and apple. Clem was obviously describing that horrible night behind the police station.

"Clem did he ever say anything about me?" The wrinkled one sort of shrugged.

"He said that you needed him for something. He said that he loved you and hope you felt better and that he'd helped you." Ouch.

"He wasn't angry?"

"Nope, just sad. He said you were hurting inside." Buffy hugged herself and regained her composure, images of a beaten and bloody Spike running through her mind knowing she'd been the cause of it. Meanwhile Clem was becoming increasingly anxious.

"What's the matter?"

"It's almost four o'clock. He wakes up around four and I should be there."

"Spike? Oh god...this is where he's been hiding? Take me to him!"

"That's not such a good idea."

"Why not?"

"He probably wouldn't want you to see him when he first wakes up, it's pretty bad."

"I don't care."

"But I care. He's my best friend. Please?"

"I need to see him, Clem, it's important."

"Later, okay? I'll try and get him to come to the crypt."

"Alright," Buffy lied. Clem nodded and squeezed himself through the opening in the wall, picked up his bags and hurried away into the underground caves. She waited a minute and then followed.

Chapter 4 - Firebird

She heard Spike before she caught the glow of Clem's flashlight. There were no words, just plaintiff cries and moans and then the screaming."GET THEM OFF!! Get them off me!!" the vampire pleaded, his cries echoing all around her. Buffy moved quicker, coming to the end of the passage and finding Clem wrestling with a half naked Spike. She was horrified by what Clem's flashlight revealed. Spike was living in absolute squalor with a few articles of clothing strewn about and papers carpeting the floor. There was a threadbare blanket stuffed into one corner behind the pair.

"Come on old buddy, it's only a dream," Clem cajoled, encircling his flabby arms around the flailing vampire to hold him still.

"They're all over me!"

"Shhhh...you're fine now, back in Sunnydale. Take some deep breaths." Spike did as his friend asked, slowly calming down.

"Sunnydale?"

"Yep! Good for you. Took less time to snap out of it with this one."

"Sunnydale."

"That's right, Hellmouth, Slayer...."

"S..Slayer? Buffy. Buffy - is she hurt? I didn't hurt her again did I?"

"No, the Slayer's just fine."

"You've promised to stake me if I think to go see her again. You must do it." Clem wasn't sure how to reply, so instead he let his grasp around the vampire go and eased him back against the wall of the cave. He fetched the filthy old blanket off the ground and lay it over Spike.

"Okay, I brought fresh bandages so we can change yours. Got the paper and charcoal you wanted, oh, and batteries for the other flashlight."

"I wanted candles."

"Last time I brought candles you used them to burn yourself. I have some blood for you too. Want to see if you can keep some down this time?"

"What would be the point, I'd only bring it up again later. It was the scarabs this time. They'd gotten under m'skin, were eatin' m'parts."

"The scarabs aren't here anymore, they're gone now. Why don't you have something to drink, maybe you'd get a little nutrients from it first....before you get sick. If you want the truth you're gettin' kinda scrawny. Please? For me?" Granted Clem was no Helen of Troy, but who could resist that wrinkly sweet face? Clem passed him an old water bottle full of blood and the vampire took obliging sips. As his friend went to work on methodically tending to the numerous wounds, Spike relaxed and was gently humming a tune to himself.

"That's haunting...but cool."

"The Firebird."

"Is it old?"

"Igor Stravinsky, 1910. The lady played it for me. I wish I dreamt more of her and less of what happened in Africa."

"Tell me about her again."

"She plays her violin and I sit at her feet as an obedient dog. She smiles at me and touches my hair, but she never says a word."

"Sounds nice. Oh! That reminds me. Did you want to go up and take a shower in the locker rooms? I've got bleach and lots of packs of sweet n' low. Make you a little like your old self."

"He ought to have stayed dead, but William needs somewhere to live." Clem was becoming accustomed at distinguishing which of Spike's words were rational and which were not, so he continued on and ignored that last sentence.

"How's about later you come by the old crypt tonight. There's an A-TEAM marathon on TNN."

"She may walk about tonight, we must protect her from the sight of me, mustn't remind her of that night. The tiles were cold."

"You don't have to."

"May I lay down?"

"Sure, buddy." Spike huddled under his blanket while Clem busied himself with cleaning the space. Buffy snuck back when he came too near her hiding spot, depositing a stack of papers there. When he went back to Spike she took up the papers and ran back to the boiler room. When she was once again in her office she shut the door, sat down and cried.

Chapter 5 - Illustrations

It took a long time for Buffy to compose herself after seeing Spike in such a manic, pitiful state. Their abusive relationship may have ended on a unparalleled and violent low, but he'd done more than shown remorse, he'd won his soul as a direct result of his actions. It was obviously effecting him gravely. He had been her lover, experiencing more with him in one night than in a year with Riley Finn. He'd also done his best to be good because of her the whole time, she could acknowledge that now. This new Spike seemed innocent and tormented and it was breaking her heart. At least he had Clem with him. The mere thought of him living in those dark and dank caverns make her stomach turn. He'd always been so confident and proud. She didn't just care about his welfare, she had feelings for him. Still. Even after everything.

She finally hazarded to look at the papers she'd dared to snatch. The first sheet of heavy paper was charcoal sketch of a child, beautiful and bright with golden ringlets of hair. However, there was fear in her eyes and soot all over her cherubic face. Buffy had forgotten that he could draw. She flashed back briefly to when she'd found his shrine to her in the lower portion of his crypt. Quickly she flipped through as many as one hundred illustrations until she picked out the nine that were of her and two of Dawn. The ones of Dawn showed the teenager quiet and smiling, but the ones of herself told a deeper story.

One had her stretched out on the crypt floor over oriental rugs, sleeping nude, satiated from hours of sex with him. She looked like a goddess. Another made her cheeks flush upon seeing it, it was her face contorted at the very point of climax. Other sketches were less explicit, just her smiling, looking off in the distance. There was one in which a hand she recognized as his reached out and caressed her face. But the last almost made her cry again. She remembered her words,"Ask me again why I could never love you!" and now she knew what her face had looked like.

***

Surprisingly enough Dawn had dinner waiting for her when Buffy arrived home shortly after 5pm. It was fairly simple, Kraft dinner and garden salad, but it was appreciated. Buffy had stowed the drawings of herself in her bookbag, but put the others on top of the counter, including the ones of Dawn. She didn't want to leave them in her office for anyone to find and the other truth was that the renderings of herself flattered her, how much he revered her. No one, not even Angel, held her in his mind like such an object of beauty.

"Lots of filing n' stuff?" her sister asked, setting the pot on the island and spooning out heaps of cheesy pasta into bowls.

"I saw Spike again. He's living under the school."

"And?"

"I think he's in trouble."

"What kind of trouble? Kitten debt trouble?" Dawn was deliberately trying not to show too much concern, when in actuality she was as panged as her sister.

"He's been hurting himself more than I thought. Burning and more cutting. He wants to die and if he can't have that he wants pain. I wish I could help. I told him I forgave him but I don't think it's enough."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Did you ever love him?" Buffy looked down at the table and thought of those drawings."You haven't been out with anyone all summer and..."

"I don't know. I have feelings for him, they haven't gone away. I know what he really wanted from me, what I gave to Angel. I just couldn't. This is all my fault."

"No, it's not."

"But it's not Spike's either. I want to help him. Clem's going to get him to the crypt later."

"What are you going to do?"

"I wish I knew, I don't know if I can do anything to get him back to himself."

"Could you ask him something for me?"

"What's that?"

"If he wants, maybe he could come over and we could watch a movie or something."

"I don't think he's up for it, Dawnie."

"You think maybe he'd understand that I just mean it's okay to come and see me?"

"I'll tell him that. It's a start."

"Hey, what are these?" As they ate Dawn thumbed through Spike's drawings, taking time to absorb each one. Meanwhile Buffy recounted what she'd seen between Spike and Clem. Dawn found the ones of herself and set them aside to keep."Wow, he's amazing."

"I know."

"He had a sketchbook last year. When he stayed with me he would sit and work in it. He'd never let me see. I think he was drawing you. Who are these people?"

"His victims over the years, probably."

"Oh god, Buffy...I know her!" Dawn held up a picture and Buffy was godsmacked, it was the girl from her dream.

"How? How do you know her?!"

"We went to school together, we had art class. She disappeared last year, just as the Glory stuff was happening."

"Who is she?"

"Duh, Jane Westerberg, like the richest family in Sunnydale. Do you think Spike did something to her?"

"Last year? He had the chip and he was helping us, no, this is something else. Listen, thanks for making dinner, but I'm going to start patrol early."

"Going to talk to Spike?"

"Yes. I think we can help each other."

Chapter 6 - His Last Victim

After Spike had left for Africa, Clem had stayed in the crypt so no other demons would take up residence. When it seemed that it was unlikely that the vampire was returning, Clem moved in. Buffy knew that the tunnel exit in the lower part of the crypt likely connected to where Spike was hiding, so hopefully they would both already be there. She knocked before entering, a courtesy she'd adopted for visiting Clem. Opening the door she found a familiar scene. Mr. Wrinkles himself was sitting with a bowl of Chex mix in his lap watching the television, but Spike was no where to be seen. He turned and gave her a weak smile, setting his snacks aside.

"He wouldn't come, I'm sorry Slayer," he offered,"He didn't want me to stay either."

"He shouldn't be alone."

"I can't force him. He's too strong for me to drag here and he gets really upset if I stay too long." She came down the steps to the lower level, angling herself against a sarcophagus while Clem put the tv on mute.

"How long has he been like this? How long as he been back?"

"A few weeks. It was weird, I was just walking along minding my own business one night and there he was, just sitting on the curb talking to himself. I was all like, hey buddy long time no see...you don't write, you don't call...and then he started crawling away. All the way back to the high school."

"And you've been looking after him ever since."

"He's my pal, even if he's not himself."

"You're a good friend."

"Well, it's Spike, you know? But I miss my friend. It's like this...look at the A-TEAM..." Clem pointed to the television,"Spike was always like Hannibal, confident, had a plan and purpose. Or he was B.A. all action and muscle. With you he tried to be Face, sweet and charming...but now he's just Murdoch. But the others all take care of him...so I'll take care of Spike."

"He's back at the school?"

"As far as I know."

"Wasn't there a girl on the show?"

"Oh, only towards the end."

"But she took care of them too?"

"Yeah, she did." Clem smiled, realizing she was making herself a part of the metaphor. Maybe his friend would be okay afterall.

***

Luckily Buffy passed the locker rooms as she was making her way through the dark halls of the high school. Getting inside the school had been a breeze, being there alone at night gave her a odd sense of nostalgia, especially considering Spike was there too. She heard the water of a shower running and as she walked parallel to the rows of lockers she heard his voice."Eight hundred, ninety two. Eight hundred, ninety three...." He continued counting as she turned the corner to where the showers were located. Her breath caught in her throat when she came upon him and she needed to hold herself upright against the wall to keep herself from collapsing."Nine hundred, four..." He sat naked under a spray of water, cold water as there was no steam, with an exacto blade stolen from the art room in one hand. With each count he slid the blade through his skin, opening up his skin and making himself bleed. He'd began on his leg, but had by now moved to his arm. He sat on the tiles in the pinkish water concentrating very hard on his work.

Acting on instinct, Buffy launched herself at him, grabbing the knife from his hand and throwing it away."NO! If I lose count I must start over..."

"This ends now, do you hear me? SPIKE!" He looked up at her, herself getting drenched under the cold water. Not taking her eyes from him, she reached over and turned off the shower and suddenly everything was very quiet. When she heard the sound of heavy breathing it took her a moment to realize that it was coming from her. Mindlessly she pushed her wet hair from her face and let the adrenaline dissipate. She reached out to touch him and he scurried away,"I'm not going to hurt you. You're doing a pretty good job of it yourself."

"Made...made good progress today, could've had it done by morning...but now I have to start over again. The cuts heal too...too fast and I lose count. One hundred and forty five minus twenty two, times three hundred and sixty five equals forty four thousand eight hundred and forty five....that's the closest I could get, can't remember everyone, can't remember."

"Who?"

"Hurt forty four thousand eight hundred and forty five since London alley 1880. Numbers are perfect things, it's not their fault that I can't remember precisely how many, so it will have to be forty four thousand eight hundred and forty five. Plus one."

"Me?"

"You."

Chapter 7 - Intervention

"Um...okay, we need a plan here. Let's get you dried off first and find you some clothes." She rose to her feet and looked around for towels, finding a stack of them by some sports equipment. Suddenly realizing his nudity before her Spike became highly agitated, covering himself with his hands in fretful modesty when she came near,"It's alright, it's not like I haven't seen it before."

"It's a nasty ugly worm, it should be taken off and put back in the ground."

"No, it's not. I don't think it's nasty or ugly. I'm going to help you, so just let me. Stand up." His first attempt failed when he slipped on the tile, cracking his knee when he stumbled, but on the second go he managed to get himself upright, though he showed her his back. Coming up behind him she reached around and wrapped the towel around his waist and secured it for him. She put another one around his shoulders and another over his head. He looked like a ridiculous wayward sheik, but she doubted highly that he could reason beyond the tip of his nose. Perhaps it was the cold from the shower or his vampire healing qualities, but the blood flow out of his wounds had already ceased. She toweled off her own hair and searched about for his clothes, finding the remnants of them, having obviously been cut off before he'd started in on his flesh. Delving into some innocent student's locker she found a pair of cargo pants and a white tank top that appeared to be clean."Put these on."

"Don't look." He reached behind him and he passed her the clothes.

"I won't, promise. I'll turn around." A few moments later a hand tapped her shoulder. She turned to see him and for a brief second she thought she'd seen him like this before, but quickly shrugged it off. His head was down and he clasped his hands in front of him. She helped him into his boots, the same ones he'd had for years, though they looked mighty weathered."Where can we take you?" He was about to answer when she held up a hand to silence him,"And don't tell me anything about hell, the basement, underground, under my shoes or on top of a cliff so you can wait for the sun to rise, somewhere practical please."

"7-11."

"Huh?"

"I'm hungry."

"You're hungry...I don't think they've got blood at the 7-11."

"Want nachos n' cheese." She smiled and put her hand to his back to lead him out of the locker room.

"Not just loony, a little bit odd too?" There was a definite innocence to the smile she received in return, like a small child's. It then occurred to her where she'd seen this, once again it was from her dream.

***

She'd told him to wait on the curb whilst she went inside the store for his food and she let out a sigh of relief when he was still there. Sitting down beside him, they munched in silence on gooey nachos covered in black olives and jalepenos. He seemed very content and grateful for the food. Intervention therapy at the 7-11.

"Spike, if I ask you questions do you think you can answer?" He circled his finger in the deep well of melted cheeze whiz at the bottom of the cardboard bowl,"Spike?"

"Anything you ask of me," he whispered, still hypnotized by his finger submerged in goo.

"Why have you been hurting yourself? Why the cutting?" He stopped his actions and wiped his finger clean with a napkin.

"S'what I deserve."

"Why is this what you deserve?"

"I've killed, I've hurt...so much blood. I'll never come clean, so I offer up my own in supplication, hope there'll be enough."

"There'll never be enough Spike, you know that. Nothing you'll ever do will take back over a century of killing." Tears prick at the corners of his eyes, then slide effortlessly down his gaunt cheeks."But that doesn't mean what you're doing to yourself is the answer."

"I have no answers, I ask the questions, but they all come back at once and I can't hear anything...too much noise." He started boxing his own ears and Buffy quickly brought his hands down and held them.

"You said you'd anything I asked of you?"

"Yes."

"Then promise me you will stop hurting yourself."

"But..."

"Promise me."

"I...I promise." He pulled his hands away from her and covered his head, cowering against his knees."Should never have come back....should never of come back."

"Why did you?" Suddenly, going from one hemisphere of thinking to another he spun around to face her, landing on his hands and knees and with eyes wide and manic.

"Because of what I did! How could I let that be our last memory?! Even if you kill me, anything would be better than that cold bathroom floor! How could I let it end like that? I had to come back, don't you see? I had to.....to ask, to beg, for forgiveness." He sat back, crying silently. Buffy got to her feet and stalked over to him, pulling him up and throwing her arms around him, pinning his arms to his sides. He stood rigid and petrified.

"It's a hug you big idiot, if you tense up anymore your head's going to explode....and no, before you even dare have the thought, you don't deserve to have your head explode."

Chapter 8 - Lost

"I'm so sorry..." he whispered, his voice breaking, his body relaxing.

"I know." She hid her face against his chest and let the tears she needed for him to see come."I did trust you to never hurt me like that and you did. That was possibly the worst night of my life that I can remember and I know it was for you too. How could we have let it get so bad?"

"I thought it was love. I tried to cut it out, I tried, honest. Just couldn't get deep enough." Sniffling, Buffy pulled away and looked at the streaks of healing red cuts that streamed out under the white tank top.

"Trying to cut your soul isn't the answer."

"Tried to get the demon out, give William back his body....but it's dead...so where would we go? I can't do this Buffy, they fight....steering perception, inviting contradiction..." He started backing away,"It's my insistence, you keep your distance! Leave now!"

"I rather stay, don't you go either."

"Machinery's broken, no directions for re-assembly."

"Spike you're not broken, just a little lost."

"Sowed destructive seeds, scavengers coming to feed. Nails into my head, nails into my head. Damaged, damaged, damaged." He'd now taken to pounding his clenched fist against his temple,"Damned, damned, damned." Buffy stopped his beating upon himself and looked into his liquid eyes, tears streaming down her own face. Patrons of the corner store were studying them.

"Come on..."

"To-morrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day To the last syllable of recorded time - And all our yesterdays have lighted fools...The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage....And then is heard no more: it is a tale, told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing. "

"God, Spike honey, you really are depressed."

***

As could be expected the sight of her home on Revello had him upset. It had him talking to himself, but too low and introverted for her to understand. Threading her fingers with his she pulled his reluctant person down her driveway and up the steps to the front door."I didn't get the chance to tell you yet, Dawn wanted you to come and see her. I think she's ready for you two to make up. She knows what happened between us, all of it."

"Children should be spared such scars. They'll never be on my nibblet."

"As she'll tell you, she's not a child. She and I have talked it out so you don't have to worry." They came inside to the darkened house to find Dawn asleep on the couch with the television on. Her homework was splayed out over the coffee table along with snacks and empty pop cans. Spike parted from Buffy and went to walk to the teenager, but stopped suddenly and fisted his hands into his hair, holding in a cry.

"Can't do this....don't belong here." Moving rapidly, he pushed past the Slayer and out the front door. Immediately he started running away. Buffy had no hope of stopping him, nor catching up, he was already out of sight. She was caught between going after him and letting be alone to calm down. He was in abject torment and she wanted to stop his pain and hoped the process could bring them closure on the past.

"Hey, you're home. How was patrol?" Dawn inquired, stretching out. The younger sister saw how upset the other was and changed her tone,"Did you find Spike?"

"I did. He was sitting naked under a cold shower in the boy's locker room cutting into his body with a knife." Buffy spat out the words in frustration.

"Did you do anything?"

"Of course I did something! I got him as far as the living room, but he saw you and got spooked."

"He was scared of me?"

"No, of himself around you. I think he was trying to spare you. He knows he's not well and it hurts him. It's like he's trapped down a dark hole and can't get out no matter how hard he tries. But whenever someone tries to help him out of it he refuses because he's afraid he'll pull us in with him."

"Buffy, we need to help him."

"How? I don't think therapy's gonna cut it. How can anyone possibly understand?"

"Angel does."

"I don't want Angle anywhere near Spike. Mister One Hundred Years of Brooding Torment would probably nuke Spike's psyche all together."

"Then what do you want to do?" Buffy was becoming increasingly frustrated, almost hysterical.

"I wish I knew! I wish....I wish....that this didn't hurt so much. I haven't had to think about him all summer. Why did he have to come back like this?! I can't yell at him, I can't hit him...I can't make him understand. Why did he have to hurt me...why does this hurt so much?" Dawn came over quickly and held her sister as she broke down. Dawn had an answer for her, but stayed silent. Buffy wasn't ready for the truth.

Chapter 9 - Past Life

The following day Buffy didn't have to go into work, therefore over breakfast she formulated a plan. The first order of the day had been a visit to the public library for research. To her surprise there were no records in the newspaper archives responding to a search for the disappearance of Jane Westerberg. There were mentions of her for her academic achievements as well as for her music. Jane was a prodigy with the violin and had prestigious orchestras from all over the world courting her even before she was sixteen. Her father John's family had been among the founders of Sunnydale and through the years had contributed to the construction of most of the town's churches and other sites of note such as hospitals and schools. He still lived in the area.

Lastly, Buffy discovered a few articles from seven years ago about the death of Mrs. Westerberg. Jane would have been only nine years old at the time. Mrs. Pauline Westerberg had been ill for some time and was under the care of a physician. A fall down a flight of stairs had broken the woman's neck. No foul play had been suspected as the young Jane had witnessed her mother trip and fall. There had been no one else in the house at the time.

Buffy's night before had been dreamless, she had barely slept at all in fact. The images of both Spike and Jane intermingled with each other were at the forefront of her mind. There was a connection between the three of them. Jane was calling her from somewhere for help, Spike was tormented and lost and within her reach and Jane was reaching for him too. Buffy reasoned that both she and Spike had been chosen to rescue this girl and the Slayer was bound and determined to see it done. Beside, she was a tried and true Scooby, she wouldn't resist a mystery.

***

The Westerberg estate left Buffy breathless. It was a Spanish Colonial styled house of a rich buttery yellow, a red tiled roof atop three stories surrounded by immaculate grounds. There was a gate barring the entrance to the long palm tree hedged driveway, but she found it was unlocked and without any security present. Leaving the SUV on the road, Buffy walked slowly up the sunlit path towards the house. The ideal scene before her faded when she noticed that all the drapes were drawn closed and the fountains in the garden were empty. There wasn't a soul about, no gardeners and certainly no residents outside. Coming the massive fronts doors Buffy knocked. After a while when no one answered she apprehensively but firmly used the lion head knocker to make her presence known.

She thought she heard sound on the other side just second before the door was hauled open and a large rottweiler lunged for her with jaws snapping. Buffy stumbled back, nearly falling over, terrified by the sudden attack. The dog however was leashed and being controlled from coming further than the doorway. A second figure made itself known, a tall man of perhaps fifty emerged, holding fast to the leather of the leash. He was well kept in earth colored slacks, smart leather shoes and a slate blue button down shirt. He had salt and pepper hair, dark gray eyes and Grecian features, rather handsome all told.

"You shouldn't be on the property, I don't tolerate trespassers," he announced, his dog still growling at Buffy. Wary of the animal, she kept back.

"Are you John Westerberg?"

"I am, what business is it of yours?"

"I'm sorry to be disturbing you. My name is Buffy Summers, I just need a few minutes of your time, please?"

"In case you cannot tell there's nothing you can try to sell me that I probably don't already own. If I don't have it that means I don't want it. Kindly leave."

"I'm not here to sell you anything. I'm here about your daughter." The man's demeanor went quickly from annoyed to stone cold angry.

"Get out of here now! Jane is no business of yours!"

"Please, please let me explain. I think she's in danger..."

"How can you possibly know such a thing?"

"This might be difficult to believe, but I've been having dreams about Jane, dreams where she's begging me to help her."

"More like impossible to believe. I don't know what you're playing at here Miss Summers, but it ends now. I can promise you that I can make you regret this..."

"I'm serious, okay? I don't want money or anything else like that. I've had prophetic dreams before. She's calling out to me to help her."

"Calling? That's not possible."

"No, not exactly, I can't hear her voice, but she's begging me. I can't let this go. I can only imagine how hard it must've been for you since her disappearance..."

"Disappearance? Yes, I suppose that's what you could call it. I know precisely where my daughter is."

"What?!"

"Jane isn't missing, she's been in the same place for over a year now."

"But..."

"She is perfectly safe and sound. Your deception has failed. If you don't leave now I will have the police remove you. Good day." He went to slam the door, pulling the dog back, but Buffy stopped him with her Slayer strength holding the door open.

"Please tell me where Jane is."

"I won't have you disturbing her."

"Is she dead?" He tensed, a creeping sadness overwhelming him.

"Might as well be."

"I promise I won't do anything that will upset you anymore. I need this, please." Buffy's last plea broke through his resolve when he saw the sincerity in her eyes.

"Fernridge Institute." With that he closed the door.

Chapter 10 - Reaching

Buffy spent the latter part of the day before Dawn got home from school online tracking down information on the Fernridge institute. It was a mental hospital, established in 1932 and presently under the directions of one Dr. D. Thaddeus. It was situated in a fairly remote location an hour inland from Sunnydale. The situation had Buffy puzzled and the only way to collect more clues to the enigma was to drive out to the place once Dawn had come home from school.

The teenager walked through the door an hour later with a garbage back in her hands."What's all this?" Buffy asked.

"First promise you won't be mad," Dawn replied, trying to put on an aire of innocence.

"I'm thinkin' I already am. Answer the question."

"Spike's stuff, from under the school."

"You went into the caves?! It's dangerous down there. You could have gotten hurt! Or lost!"

"I'm sorry Buffy, but was worried about him. He wasn't even there."

"No?"

"I called for him, told him I was glad he was home, but there was no answer. His stuff, mostly clothes were all over the place, everything's dirty. I'm gonna clean them for him."

"That's really good of you Dawn, I know he'd appreciate it, if he could I mean. No sign of him?"

"I'm sure. Where do you suppose he is?"

"I wish I knew. If Willow...or...or...Tara was here we could do a spell."

"I could try. I've done some small ones before. Tara was teaching me."

"You think you can?"

"Absolutely."

"Good, then once..." The phone rang and Buffy picked up the receiver. The information was imparted to her in ten seconds and she hung it back up."That was Clem, calling from a pay phone, Spike just showed up at the crypt."

***

Buffy ran to the cemetery, her conscious unaware of just how desperate she was to reach him. She burst through the crypt doors just like she used to. Clem, the poor dear, nearly jumped out of his saggy skin and as ever, spilled his snacks on the floor."Oh! Sorry!" she apologized.

"It's okay, I'm getting used to it."

"Where's Spike?"

"Over there." Clem pointed to the kitchen area. In a shadowy corner he crouched, rocking gently, bumping his head against the wall. His eyes were closed and his lips moved as if he were trying to work out a complicated mathematical problem in his head,"He came through the sewers about half an hour ago. He cried for a little while, he's had a really bad nightmare, he called them the Twins. I don't know what it meant. Then he crawled over there and got quiet."

"Thank you for calling me."

"You're welcome. Help him if you can." Buffy was stunned when Clem pulled his trembling lower lip into his mouth to try to stop himself from getting emotional, he turned away quickly."Excuse me."

She approached the vampire very slowly hoping not to startle him. She sat down cross legged in front of Spike, lightly touching his knee. He came out of his trance and looked up at her with bloodshot, watery eyes."Hey," she spoke soothingly.

"I never meant to hurt you," he whispered in a meek little boy voice.

"Shhh...it's okay, it's all in the past, I know you didn't mean to."

"I don't know how to make it right. Too many voices, voices from the dark. They try to pull me through a needle's eye, like I'm an unraveled thread. It won't work, I don't fit, don't fit anywhere, but they keep pulling and it hurts, Buffy. It hurts so much. Mother always took care of us. She'd give us tea with honey, biscuits with creams. She'd kiss my temple, she was so soft, tell me she was proud I was her son, that she loved me no matter what. Mother was waiting for me, she insisted I attended the party, maybe Miss Cecily Addams would be there, she said. I could read her my poems and surely she'd be flattered. William, you're nothing to me, you're beneath me..." He let out a high pitched hysterical giggle,"William the Bloody Awful Poet, skipping down the lane. Good boy? Bad boy? All the sodding same! Is mother still waiting? I wonder. If you see her, tell her I'm sorry I never came home. Number 117 Gloucester Place. Would she still love me now what I'm an abomination? No....no she wouldn't. There will be no more love for William."

"Your mother will never stop loving you. I promise."

"I don't know what happened to her. After Dru took me, I never went back - couldn't let Angelus ever know about her, he'd have done evil, vile things to her. I never wanted to be like him...but I..."

"You're nothing like Angelus." She said it with such conviction that he didn't question her. Having weathered this latest crisis of psyche, Buffy decided to give him something to reach for, helping her to find Jane Westerberg,"Why don't you sit down and get comfy?" Awkwardly he moved his legs out from under him and slumped to the floor. Both were apprehensive when Buffy took his hand in her's, but they each welcomed the kind touch. Buffy likened the moment to when he'd patted her back that night on her porch when she found out about her mother's brain tumor.

"Clem told me you've been having dreams about a lady." He nodded. Buffy reached into her coat pocket and brought out the folded drawing he'd done of Jane and passed it to him. He smiled when he opened it and looked upon it."Is this her?"

"Yes."

"Her name is Jane, she's the same age as Dawn. I've been dreaming about her too."

"She plays music for me, does she for you?"

"No, in my dreams she's trapped somewhere and she's asking me to help her." Spike looked horrified."I found out where she is and I'd like us to go there tonight."

"Me?"

"Yes, I want us to go together. I think this is something we're supposed to do."

"Is someone hurting the lady?"

"I don't know."

"We must help!"

"We will."

"The only time it doesn't hurt is when she plays her music."

"Does it hurt when I hold your hand?"

"Yes....but please don't let go."

CONTINUED...