Whatever horror show was currently playing in Spike's brain, Buffy'd had just about had enough of it. 

 

He strained at the shackles binding him, roaring and growling like a wounded lion.  The sight and sound tore at her heart, making it hurt for her tormented, besouled lover. 

 

 

Spike was strong.  No one knew that better than she did.  But everyone had their limit...the point where they absolutely could not take another instant of pain.  When would he reach his?

 

She clenched her fits tightly as she watched him, her nails biting painfully into her own flesh.  He was lost in it now. She could see it...sense it. 

 

He was being tortured again. Not physically, as he had been when 'The First' had hold of him.

 

No, this torment was taking place in his mind.  Whatever memory Giles had hoped to coax forth with that damn stone slithering around in Spike's brain, was obviously bringing other agonies along with it. 

 

Any second now, she was going to lose it. This thing that was happening to him was so awful to watch that she was about to burst into tears.

 

 

 

 

 

Lost in the nightmare, Spike sank to his knees. His muscles tensed and relaxed as he struggled with

his bonds.

 

It was all tearing through his brain at lightning speed. Every horrible, unforgivable atrocity he had ever committed against an innocent. Faces he had no names for floated in and out of focus. Frightened...tear stained...blood splattered faces.

 

People who had done nothing to him, nothing more than be in the wrong place at the wrong time. 

 

Other faces...not innocent at all...laughing at him. Urging him on.

 

Drusilla, who had changed him into a murdering animal. Angelus, who had refined the changes.  Darla, who had helped to teach him.

 

The four of them rampaging through Europe, doing exactly as they pleased. Killing...feeding...stealing; over

and over, for years and years and endless FUCKING YEARS AND WOULD IT EVER STOP, EVER END...AND WHY WAS IT NEVER ENOUGH, ENOUGH, ENOUGH!!  OH, GOD..ENOUGH!

 

 

How high did the body count go?  How many lives had he carelessly torn to shreds?

 

How many stars are in the sky?

 

 

His mother's face, so kind and gentle. A woman who had never so much as spoken a harsh word to him, and he had condemned her to damnation.  Because of him, she had died out of God's grace and would never find the eternal peace she'd deserved.

 

Her face looked so sad. But not for herself...for him.

 

 

 

Sticky, jam covered fingers clutching at her skirt, staining the delicate fabric...china plates shattering into so much dust...clothing torn on wrought iron gates...flower beds trampled...school books lost forever, and "It's all right, darling,"  she would say, "They're just things, not important at all. You're what's important.You're mummy's sweetest boy and I love you very much. My son...my little boy..William.."

 

She held out her arms, but he couldn't go to her. Something restrained him. He tore at it violently, but he

couldn't break free, so he turned away, shamed to the depths of his restored soul.

 

 

The knowledge was unbearable.  Flinging his head back, he screamed.

 

 

 

 

Buffy held her clenched fists against her ears as she watched Spike lose himself.  Tears stung her eyes at the tragic sight.

 

He had become completely wild, growling and screaming in a fit of madness.

 

The others just stood there, doing nothing to help.

 

Well, they couldn't help anyway.  No one could help Spike now.

 

No one, but her.

 

Forcing herself to break out of the paralysis that was keeping her from going to him, she began moving closer.

 

"What are you doing?" Xander asked, looking at her as if she'd lost her mind. He grabbed her arm and made her face him. "Look at him," he gestured with a nod of his head. He's dangerous now. Stay AWAY from him, Buffy!"

 

 

"He needs me," she said curtly, pulling out of his grasp.

 

They all protested loudly, but didn't try to hold her back.

 

With no hesitation, quite sure in her purpose, she knelt beside Spike. The Prokaryote Stone lay on

the floor beside him, like a black teardrop. 

 

The demon controlling him was still howling and flailing, but she wasn't afraid.  This was Spike, and

demon or not...he loved her.  He would never hurt her.

 

"Spike...Spike look at me. I'm here."  She placed both hands on his cheeks and made him lift his head.

 

His eyes darted around the room, both frightened and enraged as he struggled to pull away from her.

 

Buffy refused to allow it.  She held on tighter, determined to make him see her.

 

"Spike...stop it!" she said, raising her voice. "Stop it and look at me.  Look...at...me.  I'm right here.

I've got you now."

 

He stared at her, wild-eyed, a cornered animal.

 

She was desperate to bring him out of this madness. Remembering how he had been before, she was frightened to her soul that THIS time, he might not be able to  come back.

 

"Spike!"  She leaned closer, looking intently into his eyes. "You can do this," she said calmly. "You can fight this thing. Don't let it...don't let it destroy you."

 

Her throat was tightening with pain, and tears shimmered in her eyes.

 

"Do it for me," Buffy begged on a ragged breath. "I know you can. I believe in you, remember? Now, you

have to believe in yourself."  She swallowed hard. "Come back to me. Please, love. I need you."

 

 

Her voice filtered through his insanity.

 

 

Her face, now.  The girl that he loved.  The girl that believed in him.

 

And he would do anything...ANYTHING...for her.

 

Her gentle touch calmed him, soothed his feverish mind.  She was here now.  Buffy was here. She

would save him.

 

He could rest.  Finally...he could rest.

 

"I...I believe...in you," he echoed her words as the demon retreated back inside of him to lick it's

wounds.

 

His strength deserted him.  He fell forward into her arms, and began to cry.  Harsh, racking sobs that

made his entire body tremble from the force of them.

 

 

 

Buffy felt her own tears trickle down her cheeks.

 

She cradled his head against her breast, rocking a little, letting him cry it out.

 

In between sobs, he babbled out bits of sentences and incoherent apologies as he burrowed more

deeply into her embrace.

 

"It's okay," she whispered. "It's all over. I'm here...and I won't let them hurt you...not ever again."

 

Her gaze fell upon the others, standing there, watching them with frozen expressions, intruders in a

very private moment.

 

Buffy frowned, holding Spike protectively closer, not wanting any of them to see him this way. "Get

out of here,"  she said firmly, jerking her head towards the stairs. "All of you. Leave us alone."

 

"Buffy....he might..."

 

"NOW, Xander!" she snapped, cutting his protest off short.

 

Slowly, they left, one by one.  Giles was the last to go, and he stopped briefly, looking as though he might

say something, his face a mixture of uncertainty and pity.

 

It angered something inside of her. Who were they...to pity him?  He didn't need their pity, and he wouldn't want it.

 

Shifting slightly on the floor, she turned her back on her watcher.  She heard him sigh, then climb the stairs, closing the basement door behind him.

 

After he was gone, she took a key out of her shirt pocket and unlocked the manacles on Spike's wrist,

wincing when she saw that he'd rubbed the skin raw in his frenzy.

 

She leaned against the wall, and he slid down until his head was pillowed in her lap.  With his face pressed

to her stomach, she felt his tears dampening her shirt.

 

The heart in her chest was thudding painfully.  Closing her eyes, she gently rubbed his back, waiting....

 

When he was calm...she would tell him.

 

It was time.