Sweet Revenge

by Jackson Rayne

Part Twenty-Six

Xander staggered into his apartment, he didn't know how he'd got back from Spike's crypt, he couldn't remember the journey, just a rushing, noisy blur, though he remembered grabbing onto his stomach as he vomited, retching desperately without relief in the street. Disgusting. He was disgusting.

He looked around at his apartment with uncomprehending eyes. It looked so normal, so utterly still. It was home but he couldn't reach it, like he was looking at it from a long distance away, it was as silent as a tomb with no comfort to offer.

Shouldn't he be crying? Raging, screaming, anything, but all there was only an awful cold space. Surrounding him, inside him.

"I never loved him," he said aloud. His voice sounded so loud in his ears he winced. His throat burned, it hurt. Throat, nose, eyes, they all hurt. He groped his way to the couch and sat down stiffly, he needed to do something normal, and then he'd feel better. He pressed the remote and the T.V came on. He flinched back at the loud noise, the bright colours and groped again at the remote, turning it off. The silence fell again, worse this time and he began to shiver.

Maybe talking to someone would help. He pulled the phone over to him and held the receiver up to his ear but he couldn't think of a number to call. There was no one he could talk to and he just listened to the dial tone until an automised voice came on and told him to replace the receiver. With a dull thud he put it down. What was *wrong* with him? Maybe if he let this out then he'd feel better. He tried to cry but tears wouldn't come.

"Bastard," he said aloud, but it had no power behind it. He moved then, stumbling into the kitchen, opening and slamming cupboard doors, blindly searching until his fingers closed over the bottle of scotch the guys in work had given him for his birthday. It was still unopened. He wasn't really much of a drinker. The liquid glinted brown. Brown like the curtain he'd pulled back in Spike's crypt, and behind it. Buffy. Pictures of Buffy, clothes of Buffy's, Buffy's perfume, drawings of Buffy, hundreds of Buffy's laughing down at him.

Always Buffy . . .

"Never loved him," he said again, trying to use the words to switch off the memories. He looked down at himself. He should be bleeding. He was bleeding inside, slashed, torn to ribbons. There should be marks on the outside, on his body, his clothes should be ripped, *something*. He slopped some of the scotch into a glass and drank it, his fingers numb, not gripping the glass properly. The liquid burned down his throat, but it tasted of nothing. Clutching the bottle he staggered out of the kitchen, towards the mirror. He stared at his reflection in the glass, tentatively touching his face. His reflection didn't look real anymore, just random shapes that didn't make sense. Was that him? Trapped in the world beyond the glass. Impaled on this awful moment that didn't seem to be ending. Unable to conceive of a future where he wasn't half dead and cold all over.

A knock was rapped onto his door, but he couldn't move, couldn't answer, just stared into the mirror at the room beyond. The door was knocked on again, rattled impatiently and it flew open, but there was no reflection of anyone standing in the entrance.

---

"Xander!" Spike examined happily as the door swung open to reveal that Xander was there. When there had been no answer he'd been worried that Xander had decided to go on patrol after all and he'd have to wait for him to get back. He really wasn't in the mood for waiting, last night felt like forever ago. He ached to touch him, he'd missed him so badly. This had been one hell of a long day and they'd already wasted enough time. He and Xander had a lot to talk about - but there were a few things he wanted to do first, none of which included deep conversation. A few moans and cries of pure pleasure however would be perfect. Spike began to walk over to him, smiling, just a few steps before he could hold him, just a few steps to a whole new future, and no way was he letting go again.

"Why didn't you answer when I . . ?" Spike began then stopped. Stopped talking. Stopped moving. Just froze halfway across the room, his words sucked up until nothing was left but silence. Nothing but that and the sight of Xander's reflected face.

It was very quiet. Not much happened. Xander didn't move. Didn't speak. But in the utter silence Spike could hear the death knell as the future they'd come so close to collapsed around him. Something cold, sickly and frightened began to crawl under his skin, nestling inside him.

"You know don't you," Spike said dully.

Xander didn't speak, didn't turn to face him, the silence was his reply and Spike felt a roaring in his head as he saw the few steps between them grow, expand into a gulf that he could never bridge.

"I tried to tell you." Spike said at last when the silence became too terrible to listen to any longer. "I wanted to tell you. But I knew if I did, I'd lose you."

Xander still didn't move. Didn't speak.

"I couldn't bear it you see," Spike said, almost to himself. "If I lost you. I was going to make it up to you. For the rest of your life." Without him noticing tears began to slide silently down his cheeks.

"I didn't love you at first. You knew that. I do now. Nothings really changed." Was he even speaking? Was he even really here? It felt like he was sinking without a trace, his words falling on deaf ears because Xander never spoke, never even turned to see him, just kept looking at that empty space in the mirror where he stood in the room beyond.

"Xander, c'mon, scream at me, beat me up, just don't just stand there, trying to make out I'm not here. I know what I did. I can't believe I did it to you. I was an utter bastard - I seduced you, used you, played games . . ." He started stumbling over the words, but there had to be something. Something he could say that would fix this.

"I was so stupid . . . but then you were so . . .and I couldn't help myself I fell in love with you . . . I never loved Buffy, if I had I wouldn't have tried to hurt her - I know this is a nightmare, but..."

Xander still didn't move.

"I'll do anything to put this right, anything . . .I love you so much . . .just tell me what you want me to do."

Xander slowly turned around, Spike looked up as the hope, sharp and powerful sprung up inside him that died as he saw Xander's face. His eyes were red rimmed, burning in a white face, his mouth set in a cold hard line. "Get out."

"No," Spike whispered through numbed lips. He moved suddenly, springing over to him, grabbing on tightly to his arms. "Listen to me I *love* you, why this started doesn't matter anymore, it doesn't!"

Xander tried to pry his fingers away from his arms, nothing on his face but an expression of horrified distaste. Spike began to shake him desperately; Xander shook back and forth in his arms as unresponsive as a rag doll.

Spike stopped shaking him, and let go of his arms. He reached up holding Xander's face between his hands; he swallowed down a sob as he frantically smoothed back the dark hair, trying to take away the pain through simple touch.

"You have to forgive me," he pleaded as the tears still slipped down his face, his fingers tight in Xander's hair. "You have to."

He gazed searchingly into Xander's eyes, only this morning they had looked at him with hope, love. There was nothing in there now, they stared back at him, empty, unresponsive and numb.

He'd lost him.

The sobs came then, wrenching through his body as he crumpled, sinking to his knees, his hands clinging on to Xander's waist, tears soaking into Xander's shirt while Xander's hands remained limply by his sides. He buried his face into Xander's stomach, smelling his skin under the fabric of his shirt and this wasn't his anymore.

"Xander . . .*please*. You can't leave me, you *can't* . . ."

A sound like a sob was trying to break free from Xander came from above him, and for a moment Spike allowed himself to hope, but then he was hauled to his feet, and shoved away. Xander's face was pinched, but his eyes were dry.

"Get out."

"But . . ."

"Get out, get out, GET OUT!" Xander shoved him, again and again. Hard, quick pushes like he just couldn't stand to touch him. Spike staggered back as words coming from Xander filtered into his ears. Jerky, jagged sentences.

"Never want to see you . . .you're *disgusting* . . .how could you . . . "

Until he was at the door, Xander reached past him and wrenched it open pushing him through it, slamming the door in his face, as though he couldn't bear to look at him a second longer.

Spike instinctively reached out to it, then stopped, his fingers hovering just over the doorknob. He dropped his hand and slowly backed away until he hit the wall and let his legs buckle as he sank down to the floor, shivering uncontrollably.

/Xanderxanderxander/ It was all he could think, over and over. He didn't know how long he stayed like that, crumpled outside Xander's apartment like he'd been gutted, weak and powerless. He couldn't bear to move away, but eventually he couldn't bear to stay sitting there, listening to the silence from inside Xander's apartment, knowing he was just behind that wall, so close, but so completely out of reach.

He dragged himself up and stumbled blindly down the corridor on shaking legs. His eyes blurred and he couldn't see, couldn't hear except for the hoarse sobs resounding in his ears, they just went on and on.

---

Willow was just getting out of the bath when she heard the phone ringing and made a dash for it, for once it worked and she caught it before it stopped ringing. Hopefully it would be Xander, she was itching to talk to him, but she guessed he'd be holed up with Spike, doing whatever it was that they did. Thankfully her mind blanked out in an anti-ick protection device.

"Hello?"

"Hey Willow."

"Hi Buffy, are we still on for our calorie consumption bonding session?"

"Yeah - can you pick up some chocolate ice cream on your way over? Dawn wants some."

"Yeah right." Willow grinned.

"I may have a spoonful." Buffy admitted. "Hey have you seen Xander?"

"No not today, why?"

"He was over here before and he rushed off on me, I've tried calling but there's no answer. I'm getting worried."

"Why, what happened?" Willow asked concerned.

"I was telling him about tonight and he said he didn't think he'd come because you guys had been a bit weird. I said it was only because you cared and I told him how worried you were in case Spike was using him to get back at me after I told him to leave me alone and . . ."

"Woah! Wait - Buffy you told him that?"

"Yeah, and he just rushed off. Willow what's going on? Should I not have said? I was only trying to help. *Is* Spike doing something . . .?"

"Buffy I have to go, I'll call you back."

"But what about . . ."

Willow slammed the phone down.

" . . .tonight." Buffy finished to a dead line. "Why do people keep doing this to me?"

---

Buffy flew out of the house, after extracting a sincere promise from Dawn not to move until Giles got there and headed for Xander's. She had a hunch that Willow would be heading there, but had the advantage that Willow had further to travel than she did. Plus she could run faster.

She was in so much of a rush that she flew scant inches past one of Glory's minions watching her from the bushes and didn't notice. She also didn't notice when he began following her. She raced to Xander's place and hammered on his door but when there was no answer she tried it. It opened with no problem. She frowned - Xander must be here - no way would he go out leaving his place unlocked.

The apartment was dark, the curtains were closed so not even moonlight penetrated the gloom. She moved to snap the light on then paused. The hairs on the back of her neck stood lightly on end. Something was here, she could sense it. She lowered her hand. If the 'something' was Xander she didn't want to frighten him off or make it worse, whatever 'it' was, but something was very wrong. She could feel it.

"Hello?" She cautiously entered the room. In the darkness she waited for eyes to adjust a little before looking around. Dark, cold, silent. Yep. Wrongness was just baked right in. Ignoring the fear tickling at her spine she began to look around.

Nobody in the front room, no Xander curled up on the couch, or noisily pottering around in the kitchen. She peered in the bedroom.

"Xander?" He wasn't asleep in bed or in the bathroom. She stood and frowned as she circled slowly around in the front room. It seemed empty . . .

Then a kind of muffled shifting sound caught her attention to the corner of the room where the shadows were darkest.

"Xander? Is that you?" She slowly approached the shadows, seeing a bigger shadow nestled in amongst them. She knocked against his coffee table on the way over and flinched. Dreadful possibilities were racing through her head making her skin turn cold. Xander could have been turned, he could have been attacked, he could be dying . . .

"Xander, I'm gonna pull the curtain back a little bit," she said gently. She drew it back, letting the moonlight and streetlight enter the room, and lighten up the corner where he crouched.

She gasped involuntarily. It was the bad light, she reassured herself frantically. It was the poor light that made him look like that, like his eyes were bottomless dark pits opening up in the whiteness of his face. He flinched as he saw her and rubbed his eyes. Something terrible had obviously happened, but at least he was alive.

She knelt down next to him. "Can you get up?"

For a moment he didn't seem to have heard her then she saw the light glinting on the half empty bottle next to him, and wondered if he was just to far gone to respond.

"Okay - I'm just going to turn the lamp on over there," she said, swiftly snapping on the lamp.

He flinched and looked down shading his eyes from the light.

"Is it hurting your eyes?"

He shook his head. "I don't want you to look at me," he croaked. His voice sounded rusty, underused.

"Why?"

"Disgusting. Stupid."

Buffy flinched. "Don't say that! What's happened? Is it . . ." She stopped. She didn't want to say Spike's name.

"Is this my fault? Because of what I said this afternoon?"

Xander shook his head and gulped. "My fault. So stupid," he whispered.

"I don't think that." Buffy grabbed his hands and held them tightly, trying not to wince at the sight of him. "I'll *never* think that, no matter what."

His mouth twisted like he was about to cry, and she almost welcomed it, anything would be better than this bottled up unresponsiveness that was totally unlike Xander, but then he drew back from the edge, and just kept his eyes on the floor.

"What did he do? I know its something to do with him. It's okay. Tell me."

"Spike." Xander said eventually, his voice hitching on the word. "Spike."

"I know but . . ."

"Buffy. Let me talk to him," said Willow from where she had arrived, panting and out of breath in the doorway. "Give us a minute."

"I'm not going anywhere until I know what is going on here." Buffy snapped at Willow still holding on to Xander's hands. It was the only contact she had with him and it felt tentative at best.

"Buffy you don't understand."

"I'm trying to. You're not making it easy. Please Xander I know Spike's done something bad, tell me, I'll fix it."

Xander shook his head violently.

"Whatever he's done I'll kill him!" Buffy swore as the frustration got the better of her. "Xander what could be so bad that . . ."

"Xander." Willow knelt beside him. "After Buffy told you, what happened? Did you see Spike?"

"I went to his crypt," Xander whispered. "I saw it all."

"You saw the things he had?" Buffy guessed. "The pictures?"

"He still had all that?" Willow examined.

Buffy ignored her, still stroking Xander's hands. " What? What has he made you do? Why does seeing the pictures bother you so mu . . ." She stopped. She thought . . .but no, no *way* would Xander ever . . . She looked at him again, he was still staring at the floor, his hands resting limply in hers.

"Spike and you . . ." Buffy stopped. She looked at Xander who was still unable to meet her eyes, she looked at Willow and the wary, miserable expression on her face was all the confirmation she needed.

"Spike and *you*," she said in a totally different tone.

She dropped his hands in shock and leaned back on her heels. "No. *No*. You didn't, you couldn't have, Xander please, please tell me you didn't . . ." But Xander just shivered and hid his face in his hands like the shame was too much to bear.

---

In Xander's bedroom, out of his earshot Willow and Buffy faced each other warily.

"Buffy this is the last thing Xander needs right now."

"Have I got this right? Xander's been . . ."

"Sleeping with Spike. Yes."

"But Xander isn't . . .he wouldn't . . .oh God what is happening to us all?" Buffy asked helplessly. "Spike and *Xander*. How could this happen?"

"I don't know." Willow took a quick peak out to check that Xander was still in the corner where they had left him, before securely closing the door.

"Oh God," Buffy whispered. "This can't be happening." Suddenly she turned to Willow.

"You - you knew about this. Why didn't you stop it? Why didn't you tell me!"

"It wasn't exactly the right time to tell you! I tried to stop it, but things got complicated, I'm not sure what's going on. I know it's a shock but . . ."

"A *shock*?" Buffy mimicked in disbelief. " A *SHOCK*? When I get hold of Spike I'm going to rip him apart. He's sick, sick . . ."

Her voice broke as she sank down on the bed, and covered her face in her hands. There was a dip as Willow sat down on the bed next to her.

"This is all my fault." Buffy whispered at last.

"No, Buffy you can't blame yourself."

"I didn't kill him because he couldn't fight back . . because I thought he was helpless." She dragged her hand across her tear-streaked face. "And now Xander is paying because I was so *stupid*."

"Spike started this to get to you, Buffy. He knew it would hurt you."

"I hate him." Buffy's mouth twisted. "I *hate* him." Her hands clenched compulsively, like they just couldn't wait to get hold of him.

"Spike came to see me today," Willow said hesitantly. "He knew I'd worked out what was going on. He came to beg me not to tell Xander. He said he was going to leave town, and I'm not sure anymore what was going on, but I think . . .or I *thought* he meant it. He said he'd given up on the idea, he didn't want to hurt Xander. I don't think he wanted Xander to see all that stuff."

"So why did he still have it?"

"I don't know. I didn't think he was lying, but maybe I was wrong."

"Oh he was lying alright, he planned all this." Buffy rubbed her head trying to contain the ache throbbing inside. "Why didn't I make him leave town?"

"It doesn't matter right now, Xander is what's important."

"Yeah," Buffy sighed. "You'd better get in there."

"What about you?"

"I'll help him in my own way. I will hunt down. Maim. Destroy Spike." Her voice was filled with utter loathing.

"Buffy no!" Willow examined fearfully. "I know how you feel, and as much as I'd like to throw a thunderbolt at Spike myself right now, killing Spike isn't going to help Xander, it's not going to make this go away, it'll make it worse. Xander doesn't need the Slayer, he needs a friend."

"I'm the reason this happened! I'm the last person Xander needs to see right now, he probably hates me."

"Which is why you need to talk to him not go off being all 'Action Gal'."

"Willow I can't go out there!" Buffy rose to her feet and began pacing the room in agitation. "I know he's the victim in all this but it's not like he had to go along with it!"

Willow twisted her hands helplessly. "I think he lo . . ."

"God!" Buffy cringed in disgust. "Don't say that! Don't even think it! He could have stopped, asked for help . . ."

"Like you did when Angel came back from Hell?" Willow pointed out sharply as anger began to boil up inside her. She stood and moved to block Buffy's path. "Like you could just switch off your feelings and kill him when he turned evil?"

"That was different! I was . . .it was all different. But this . . .it's like I don't even know who that is out there! Its not Xander, its disgusting . . ." She heard the cracking noise a split second after the hot pain flew across her cheek.

Buffy gasped, her hand flying to cover her face. It hadn't been much of a slap, more noise than anything, and it certainly took a hell of a lot more than that to make her cry but her eyes still welled up again as she stared in shock at Willow.

Willow faced her looking just as shocked. "I'm sorry," Willow stammered. "I didn't . . I'm sorry." She looked down at her hand incredulously. "God, I can't believe I did that, I didn't mean to. . .Buffy . . ." She tentatively reached out and Buffy's face crumpled.

"I'm sorry too."

They wrapped their arms around each other, clinging on in a tight embrace, trying to draw strength, from each other, reassurance that somehow all of this would work out.

"Don't you get scary on me Will, I couldn't take it," Buffy gasped into her shoulder.

"I won't, I'm sorry," Willow replied, holding on even tighter. The stayed locked in each others arms for a long moment then eventually pulled apart, a little embarrassed in a way they'd never been before.

"I didn't mean that Xander was disgusting," Buffy struggled to explain. "I just meant . . .that Spike did this to him and it's like he's . . .tainted him, and Xander's let him, I just wish I knew *why*."

"So ask him, talk to him, you can help," Willow gulped. "How can *I* help him?" Buffy asked wiping her eyes.

"Think about it Buffy, you could be the *only* person that can help him."

---

Time didn't seem to have any meaning for Xander anymore. It felt like hours he'd crouched in the dark drinking before Buffy came, now it all seemed to be overlapping messily. He was drunk but it wasn't helping, it just made everything muffled and distorted. He couldn't believe it was still only one day. Only this morning he'd woken up in Spike's bed, from that to this.

But he couldn't think about that. Couldn't bear to think about last night, or Spike's visit this afternoon, he had to keep it blocked out, it was the only way he could stand it.

His bedroom door opened and Buffy came out looking pale and sad. He was half expecting her to leave, maybe spit on him as she walked past, but she sat down on the floor next to him.

"Hey," she said quietly.

It was kind of nice she was still trying, even now she knew. Xander only wished he could feel grateful, but he couldn't let himself feel anything. He knew what was lurking behind those floodgates of *feeling*, and it was too frightening to let anything in. He had to stay like this, trapped in a grey cold bubble he couldn't let himself get out of.

"Sorry about that." Buffy apologised. "It was kind of a shock."

"Yeah," he said dully.

Silence fell between them. He didn't hate Buffy . . .exactly, it was hardly her fault Spike had done what he did, but why couldn't things have been different? Couldn't she have done *something* so Spike wouldn't have done this? And it hurt to see her. Hurt to listen to her, to watch her move and know that this was what Spike had wanted, had always wanted and he couldn't even compete. He squeezed his eyes shut briefly, /never loved him/ and gulped at the scotch. Buffy shifted uncomfortably.

"How are you doing?" She asked at last.

He shrugged. "Oh, you know."

"Yeah. I know," she agreed softly. "You can cry you know."

He shook his head. "I don't feel like crying."

"Okay," Buffy said as she took his hand. "We can just sit here for a while."

Yeah, silence was good, he could cope with silence. Silence where he could sit and not think, not feel, just finish the bottle. But Buffy was talking again, and though he tried to block them, the words dripped into his ears, into his head.

"I remember after I . . .sent Angel to hell I couldn't cry. I almost did, but I had to hold it back. I was scared once I started I would never be able to stop."

/No, no don't listen, don't . . ./

"I was the same when . . .when Mom died. I thought I was coping," she continued as she stroked his hand. "But really I was just hiding. When something feels that bad, like you're dying inside, well I guess anyone would be scared to face that. But until you do you can't let go. You can't get better if you just switch off."

He felt his hand grip on to hers a little tighter even as he thought frantically /Oh shut up Buffy, please shut up, please don't. . ./

"You loved him didn't you? If anyone knows that you can't help who you love it's me. And when someone you love breaks your heart, you're allowed to feel hurt. You're allowed to cry."

A tiny earthquake was beginning inside him. Despite sitting so quietly he could feel something shift inside him. /No, no/ he thought panicked, but it spread, got bigger, more powerful, until he opened his mouth.

"I loved him," Xander said aloud, slowly, tasting the words in his mouth. "I did."

Like he'd finally slid the final piece into a puzzle the world that had been looking so wrong, so confusing that all he could do was hide from it in a dark corner, flew back into shape, a terrible, heartbreaking shape that he couldn't avoid any longer.

The bubble burst. The iron grip around his heart loosened, and he was dimly aware of Buffy taking him in her arms at the tears finally came.

---

Later - a long time later he was lying in bed with Buffy sitting beside him. Willow was in the kitchen, probably getting yet another jug of water. She'd made him drink a lot saying it would help the hangover tomorrow. He didn't think anything would make him feel better tomorrow but he'd drank it anyway. They hadn't spoken very much. He'd cried lot, but then so had Buffy and Willow. In a weird way it had helped, at least it lessened his humiliation that they *knew*; that he'd hit rock bottom in front of them. It was still painful to look at Buffy but the near hate he'd been feeling for her had faded into an ache that he could live with. She was hurting because he was hurting and somehow it made it easier to forgive her for the memory of drawing back the curtain. He let his head rest back on the pillows. It felt so good to just let its weight go.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Buffy asked.

Xander shrugged, then tried to smile except his face was so twisted with tears that he couldn't manage it. He felt damaged, disfigured with his misery. "Shame?"

"Xander . . ."

"I didn't think you'd understand."

"You didn't think I'd understand? You fell in love with a vampire and you didn't think I'd understand?!"

Xander shook his head. "Angel was different, at least he had a soul."

"Yeah and when he lost it I still loved him."

"Yeah, but it wasn't like I was supportive guy there. I didn't think I deserved any help. I knew what I was doing was crazy, but I couldn't stop it, I just felt like I had to go my own way and hope at some point it would all come together." He sighed shakily as his eyes began stinging again, but managed to hold back another crying bout. "But it all fell apart."

"I know the feeling." She smoothed the blanket down over him and managed to choke down her own tears. "I'm so sorry you got caught up in this I wish I could make it stop."

Xander sighed shakily. "Me too."

She squeezed his hand. "Try to sleep."

She left the room, gently shutting the door behind her.

"How is he?" Willow asked as Buffy entered the kitchen where she was drinking her fourteenth cup of coffee.

"Not great. I've never seen him like this before. I think he's resting now," Buffy replied wearily. "What time is it?"

"Nearly four," Willow replied through a yawn.

"Will you stay tonight? I don't think Xander should wake up alone."

"Sure. Tara knows I'm here. Buffy? Do you think I should tell him about Spike coming to see me? Maybe it'll help, maybe this is all some kind of mistake."

"The only mistake as far as I can see is that Spike hasn't been introduced to my friend Mr. Pointy," she paused, then grabbed her coat. "But maybe I can do something about that."

"Buffy? Where are you going?"

Buffy turned to face her, and Willow felt herself shrinking back in the chair. The determined Buffy 'kick ass' look had nothing on the expression of pure murderous rage on her face right now.

"Payback."

"Buffy!" Willow said quickly. "Buffy don't kill him! It won't help!"

"No maybe not." Buffy acknowledged as she opened the door. "But it'll feel *good*."

---

Spike sat numbly outside his crypt, the night air was waning into the pre-sunrise scent that warned him that time was short, but he still sat there, unmoving. No more howling, raging or screaming, he'd emptied himself out. Inside his crypt was torn apart, furniture broken, bottles smashed, one had shattered in his grasp leaving shards that had left tiny cuts all over his hands.

Xander was gone.

His eyes hurt but the tears still came, slipping silently down his cheeks, but no sobs, he was too tired now to sob. Still he couldn't face lying in the bed that had Xander's scent clinging to it. Couldn't face lying still and thinking about this day. Couldn't face sleeping only to wake up and know that Xander wouldn't be there, and it was all *his fault*. Everytime the horror hit him afresh, that he'd brought this whole thing on himself, and even worse, on Xander. He didn't know how this had happened, maybe Willow had lied, maybe she had told Xander anyway, maybe she'd told Buffy who'd told Xander, right now it didn't matter. All that mattered was he loved Xander and Xander was gone. He couldn't bear to think of what Xander must be thinking, feeling. He had to find Xander, he had to explain, but what could he say that he hadn't already said? All he could do was say 'sorry, I love you, I'm sorry . . .' But it wasn't enough.

Maybe it would be better tomorrow but today, now he couldn't think about tomorrow, couldn't think about anything but sitting here. In the distance a pink tinge began to break in the sky. He had to move but he was afraid to, to scared to take that step into his crypt and accept that the day would end like this. To scared to do anything that might mean that life was moving on, without Xander, his mouth opened in a soundless wail, he couldn't bear it, couldn't bear it, couldn't bear it . . .

A rustle came from behind him, but he didn't turn to face it, whatever it was could have him. He didn't care. He felt himself hoisted up and hurled, when he flew through the air he just closed his eyes and almost enjoyed the rush as the air flew past his ears, enjoyed the moment of weightlessness until he smashed back to the ground. Not a second to recover, even if he'd wanted to, she was on him again.

She . . .the Slayer, Buffy. So she knew. She didn't speak a word, as she dragged him to his feet and hurled him face first into the side of the stone mausoleum. His nose broke and began to pour with blood, she raised his head and pounded it into the stone again, again, again. All the time she never spoke a single word and Spike felt oddly removed from his body, almost dreamlike, as she pulled him back, punched him to the ground, and kicked him, hard kicks that landed on his thigh, his face, his stomach. He gasped, retched, laughed, cried and laughed again. It had worked, it was perfect, the reaction he'd dreamed of getting from her when he'd first begun this. She was crazy with grief, out of her mind with anger and sorrow and it was amazingly, incredibly funny that he'd come so far, yet ended up back at the beginning. Just as he'd imagined it except he wasn't dodging, shouting taunts, revelling in her pain, he was too busy drowning in his own. She straddled him and began to rain blows down on him, harder and harder. No words, no quips, just her breath loud and hoarse and the crunching as his bones cracked under her blows. He didn't move to block her, to try to get away, it didn't matter, nothing mattered. He laughed and bled, and the tears kept pouring, mingling with the blood, he didn't care. He welcomed the blows, it was a distraction from the wrenching aching pain in his chest where his heart should be.

She pulled back and grabbed the stake from her pocket, she raised it, and held.

---

Buffy froze, her hands clasped firmly around the stake. For the first time she looked at Spike under her, bloodied and battered he just looked at her from reddened eyes. He was still laughing at little, but there were tears on his cheeks glinting wetly.

/Has he been crying all the time?/ The thought flashed in her head as she stared at him. One word, one movement from him would have brought the stake smacking into his chest, but he just lay still.

The red mist hanging over her eyes cleared. She still wanted to kill him. Her hands twitched with the need to slam the stake down. But the consequences were just too high, if she killed someone Xander had loved, probably still loved despite everything it would only set the pain in stone, he would never trust her again.

/Do it. Do it./ A voice whispered. /He never has to know./

But there had already been way too many lies.

"Why?" She asked Spike at last. "Just to hurt me?"

Spike shook his head. "Get over yourself Slayer," Spike spat out a mouthful of blood and stared up at her out of an eye rapidly swelling shut. "This hasn't been about you almost from the start."

"Then why carry on?" A moment ago she could have dusted him and only felt joy, now all she felt was terribly, heartbreakingly sad, for Xander, for herself, for continually trying to save a world that let things like this happen.

"Because you stupid, *stupid* bitch I *love* him." He laughed again then, a terrible lost sound that made her skin crawl. So might Drusilla have laughed when she found the bodies of her family; then his laughter turned back into tears. "I love him."

"You don't know how to love." She slowly lowered the stake and moved off him. She stood, looking down at him.

"You're *disgusting*. You're *nothing*. I want you out of town, I want you away from me and mine, if you come back . . ."

"Do your worst love! I've got nothing to bloody go on for anyway. Did you find out? Did you tell him? I've got to hand it to you - you just keep on fucking up my life don't you?"

"You started this!" Buffy yelled. "You did all this! This is because of you, you and your sick games!"

"The hell with you," Spike said wearily, bitterly as he staggered to his feet wiping blood from his mouth with a shaking hand. "The hell with you and your fight and your key . . ."

Buffy froze. Spike had never come closer to dying than he did in that moment. Maybe it was even what he wanted. "You ever tell anyone who the key is and I . . ."

"I don't care!" Spike screamed. "You hear that you bitch! I don't care."

Buffy regarded him through reddened eyes for a moment. Pure loathing flooded through her veins, she was so close to staking him it took a palpable wrench to pull her eyes away, to unclench her fists.

"Stay away from us."

She turned away and wearily began the journey home. Spike's legs bucked again, but he managed to stagger slowly, relucantly back into his crypt.

As the pink flooded the sky with the sunrise Glory's minion cautiously came out from the gravestone he had been hiding behind, his eyes alight with glee as an unpleasant smile began to spread over his face.

Part Twenty-Seven

"What do you mean you CAN'T FIND HIM?" Glory roared, grabbing the offending minion by the throat, lifting him off his feet. She tightened her grip, listening to the minute cracking of his bones, the terrified choking sounds that escaped from his mouth. His arms and legs flailed wildly, yet he still didn't dare to try to force her hand away. Repelled by touching his grotesque skin she tossed him aside with a flick of her wrist as if she were brushing away a fly.

He crashed headfirst into the wall and slowly slid down, where he lay motionless, a wavy red trail along the wall behind him. She turned her furious gaze on the others, who stood cringing in front of her, their forced smiles belying the horror in their eyes.

"I don't want to hear any more 'you can't find him' crap! It's been a week since you promised me this guy, and here I am and oh look around," she flung her arm out to indicate her apartment and they all flinched back in fear. "He's still not here!"

Jinx gulped. "My deepest and most mortified apologies . . ."

"Screw your apologies, he knows who my key is!" She stamped her foot in frustration and the building shook around her, a long crack appearing in the floor. "Are you sure he's still even here? What the hell is in this miserable town worth staying for?"

"Oh believe us most wondrous and worshipped one, we have been watching all the exits, most assuredly he is still in town."

"Then why haven't you FOUND HIM!"

"He has left his home, vanished! We will redouble our efforts . . ."

"You'd better. Get out, out, out! I'm sick of looking at your disgusting faces! Follow the Slayer, follow all her little friends, scour this stinking town for him and don't come back without him!"

The others scuttled out while Jinx remained behind as Glory pulled at her hair, screaming in pure anger and frustration.

"Oh most divine of Gods, I beg you to remain calm . . ."

"Calm?" Glory whirled to face him and he recoiled at the mad light burning too brightly in her eyes. "This guy, we don't even know the name of has vanished knowing where my key is. Do you care that it's my only way of getting home?"

"Of course . . ."

"I have been trapped in this miserable dimension for decades and now my one shot to get home is here and nobody will help me! "

"I am here to help you . . . "

"So WHERE IS HE?!"

---

Unaware of the chaos and frustration he was causing Spike was enjoying a rare moment of peace. He sank comfortably back on the bed, arms stretched above him, childlike and content, and gazed dreamily up at the ceiling, watching the flecks of light making hazy patterns.

"Hey," came a voice, close to his ear.

Spike turned his head to see Xander lying next to him. His eyes were bright, his skin glowing.

"C'mere pet," Spike invited lazily.

Xander flashed a grin at him as he slid over, picking Spike up in his arms along the way. Spike laughed out loud as they rolled over and over. Just how big was this bed anyway?

Xander stopped rolling and shuffled around until they were lying in an embrace. Xander's hair tickled at Spike's cheek. Spike inhaled deeply, the unique Xander scent filled his senses. Sunlight streamed into the room, turning his pale skin golden. This was perfect. Except for that hissing, gushing sound that filled his ears. Where was that coming from anyway?

Spike glanced over at the bedroom door, it was slightly ajar, and through the crack he couldn't see anything but darkness, pitch black and for a second he could swear he had a flash of himself wading through the dirty water and grime of the sewers. Surrounded by chill and stench and dark. Shoving his fist in his mouth to choke back the sobs ...

"Spike?" Xander's voice spoke up sharply. "What's wrong?"

Spike looked back at Xander who lay in his arms. "Nothing's wrong."

Nothing was wrong. Spike was sure of it what could be wrong here ...?

A sick thud of fear slammed inside him as the sight of the sheets hit his eyes. Long filthy streaks were smeared over the white cotton. Spike bolted upright, and stared in disbelief at his hands, black, streaked with dirt.

The rushing noise roared in his ears as the sunshine faded away, the colour vanishing from the room, just the white sheets and the black grime he'd spread over them. He had to fix this, put it right . . .

"I have to wash my hands." Spike stuttered, holding them up in front of his face.

"Bit late for that." Xander said, his voice suddenly cold.

With a start Spike met Xander's eyes. Except Xander's eyes were never so empty and calculating. "You're not real." Spike said, and he knew it was true, but if Xander wasn't real why was he so scared? "This isn't happening."

"I thought it already had." Xander, sprawled in the filthy sheets, shrugged carelessly. "That's life huh?"

Spike shook his head. "No, it's not really black and white." And that was a pretty weird thing to say, but he couldn't think straight, the roaring noise was so loud and it was so cold and the right words were there somewhere, he knew that he just had to *find them*.

At some point tears had begun tricking their way down his cheeks, as Xander looked at him with a kind of disinterested compassion.

"Isn't it?" Xander took his hand, and the dirt oozed out from over Spike's hands covering Xander's skin. " See what happens when you touch me?"

"No." He frantically tried to rub it away, but it only made it worse, leaving trails of black all over them both, sinking into Xander's skin so much of it, he couldn't ever make this clean.

"He's with us now." Buffy appeared from behind him with a blanket that she wrapped around Xander's shoulders, her eyes like chips of ice.

"We'll never let you get near him again," Willow agreed as she sat down next to Xander handing him a flask of something foul smelling. "Just a sip of this and he'll forget all about you."

"I'm safe now Spike," Xander said calmly, lifting the flask to his mouth and this was all wrong Xander wasn't safe, Xander *needed* him, but the more he tried to yell at Xander to stop the more his throat froze up and all that came out was a choked cry, he could barely hear himself over the rushing noise.

"Xan -"

Spike snapped awake, tasting salt on his mouth, trying to force the lump down in his throat to get the rest of the word out.

" . . .der!"

Spike shot up, groggy and disorientated as his eyes darted around. A trickle of cold blue light filtered into the sewer tunnel harshly highlighting the emptiness. The rushing sound that he had heard, could still hear, was some water nearby gushing along. The icy chill registered. He was shivering, he'd been shivering all the way through.

Spike lifted his shaking hands to his face, they were clean, or as clean as living in tunnels would allow.

"Oh great." Spike said striving for normality, his voice echoing emptily around the tunnel.

"Another dream about Xander, just for a change."

His attempt at being casual was ruined by the immediate wrenching retching that followed.

---

The pealing of the phone was relentless, hammering at Xander's ears. He reached out his hand, and lifted the receiver.

"Hello?"

"Xander it's me."

"Hey Willow."

"Can you come over to the magic shop later today? We're having another research session."

"Sure, I'll be there in a couple of hours."

"Great, see you then."

"Great."

He dropped the phone back into the cradle, and slowly managed to sit up. He paused there for a moment, staring unseeingly at the wall. Waiting for his head to stop screaming in protest and his vision to right itself. He hadn't been to work in days, when he'd rung in he'd said he was sick and it wasn't a lie. He just hadn't told them what he was ill with, heartbreak, drink. The two were becoming entwined in his mind. He didn't like to think about how much he'd drunk since Spike had

/ripped him to pieces/

left, but it was way more than ever before.

/Hey look at me dad! You proud yet? Your boy can put 'em away just like you./

He'd always known that sooner or later this would be waiting for him. His hands were shaking badly as he grabbed the bottle by the bed, there was only a little left, but enough to soothe him inside. Stop the shakes. Numb his feelings. The pain never vanished but it kind of distanced, like it was happening to someone else. Until he sobered up. Sometimes he wished he could just carry on until the numbness swallowed him up and he'd never have to come back, but that was suicide, and he wasn't the suicidal type. As he finished the bottle he focussed on the clock at the side of his bed. It was ten in the morning.

He slowly moved off the bed. As he walked he pulled off his T-shirt and boxers, letting them remain where they fell. He flicked on the light and blinked against the brightness that flooded the bathroom. He didn't look in the mirror.

The light hurt his eyes. White light, reflecting off the stark white tiles and the taps that shone blankly back at him. He closed his eyes as he leant against the wall in the shower. His head hanging, he let the hot water cascade over him. He was fine. He was coping. He just needed to rest for a while.

---

Afterwards, when Spike had stopped heaving and shivering, eventually he was able to stretch out his arms and legs, letting tense muscles move, cold and stiff from being curled up so tightly. He groped for his smokes and lit up. He still smoked. Still drank blood when he was hungry, slept when he was tired, ran when he was restless. His body healed as the days passed by and he was doing okay. Sure he was. So okay he was letting himself rot down here in the sewers for the sake of being near someone he didn't even see. So okay he woke up crying. So okay he was cold, dying inside and nothing could make it stop.

This was love alright. Love, it held him here trapped and chained down, behaving - God help him - like Angel. Imprisoning himself down here, alone with his thoughts, risking his life if he got caught as though it would somehow atone for what he'd done. Except when Angel had done it, he'd kind of thought that there was something pathetically showy about it, all tormented and anguished. Sure Angel had felt bad, but didn't he kind of like the romance of the situation? Except there was nothing romantic about throwing up over and over. About missing Xander so badly he couldn't look at it directly. It came out in the crying spates that came on him unawares and left him shaking and exhausted with tears of loss and self-hatred. In the pain that had settled heavy and sharp on his chest, stabbing him every time he moved, swallowed, blinked. In running so scared he couldn't even settle in one tunnel. Running, always running along the sewers, trying to burn himself out. Running until his head roared and spots danced in front of his eyes. And all the time no matter how fast he ran and how loud he screamed in the silence he couldn't blot out the look that had been on Xander's face. The look that he had put there with his bloody plan.

And yeah he wished he could take it back, yeah he wished he could do some time travel and go back and just *fix it*, kill his old arrogant, manipulative shit bastard self and take his place and do it fucking right this time, but he couldn't.

After Dru had been bad. He'd roared, killed, fucked, drank, cried, all the usual post-break up destructive crap. But this was worse. Oh so much worse. At least with Dru he hadn't been imagining the sunrise.

It wasn't that he wanted to go out in it . . .exactly. He just couldn't stop wondering about it. About how close he could actually get to it. How bright would the sky be? Would it be pink? Blue? How high would the sun be before his skin started to smoke, before the fire caught? How hot would he have to be before the coldness went out of him?

Spike buried his face back into his duster that he'd been using for a pillow. It was clammy against his cheek with tears he'd shed in his sleep. He managed to hold back another draining crying bout, but he lay there cold and cramped, unable to get back to sleep, until his thoughts tangled together about dark eyes and the sunrise.

---

Some time later Xander opened the door to the magic shop wincing as the bell rang out announcing his presence. Buffy and Willow looked up from the table where they were surrounded by books; he nodded awkwardly to them, the heat sending prickles along his skin, and his eyes scratchy and sore. He carefully made his way towards them. Mustn't let them know he'd been drinking. They'd worry. Ask questions. Make him stop.

Giles stood behind the cash register his grey eyes watching him closely. Though the girls had stopped by frequently over the past week this was the first time he'd come to the magic shop. The first time he'd seen Giles since all this had happened. Of course Buffy had told him. How could she not?

"Hey Xander." Willow greeted him with a smile.

"Hey." He glanced past her. "Hi Buff."

"Hey," she said, the guilty torment on her face at odds with her casual greeting. "Nice to see you back."

He let his eyes drift over to Giles.

"Hey Giles," he said, his voice catching in his throat.

"Xander." Giles' eyes were cool, his tone expressionless giving nothing away.

"We're looking into Glory," Willow said, beckoning him over to the table and he sat down, looking at the huge pile of books they were working on.

"Now there's a surprise. Got anything?"

"Not so much," Buffy sighed. "Hellbitch, unstoppable."

"So what's the problem? We call Cordy get her to take on this chick and we all go to Disneyland." He had to keep the light-hearted banter coming, it stopped them asking if he was okay.

Buffy half smiled, but quickly frowned again. "There has to be something, a weak spot, but I can't find it." She rubbed at her eyes.

Hopelessness radiated off Buffy and he didn't have anything left in him to comfort her with. Everything he had was directed towards on just getting through this moment, there was nothing left over. Besides what could he say to help? Something they all knew, but just didn't dare to say. There was no way to beat Glory. She was going to win. It was kind of scary how little that bothered him.

"We'll find a weak spot." Willow snapped. "Will you two stop looking like that! We'll find a way guys."

Buffy nodded. "We will."

But her voice lacked conviction.

The three of them looked blankly at the books in front of them before reaching out to make another start.

Time ticked painfully slowly by, Xander shifted in his seat as they read. The stillness and the silence of the room should have been easy to bear, but he hated being so quiet, he needed noise, movement, something to stop himself from exploding under the pressure. His mouth was dry, and he could taste the alcohol in the back of his throat. Foul and oddly comforting, he wanted some more. Needed some more. Now. His skin was overheating, and the book was shaking in his hands. He rubbed his face hoping it would take some of the edge off, and found himself looking straight at Giles who quietly slipped away into the training room at the back.

"Xander?" Buffy said.

"Yeah?"

"Maybe, we could go out - just the three of us, do something a little down time would probably be a good thing, for all of us ..."

"Oh. Um ... sure. Sometime." He barely knew what he was saying, he was burning up in his own skin, he had to get *out*.

He shot up from his seat and the girls looked up at him in confusion. He couldn't leave, the weight of their concern pinned him down. He groped for an excuse that they would accept. "I'm just going to go ... you know." He nodded towards the door to the training room.

"Oh, sure." Buffy agreed. "Go talk to him."

He could feel their eyes on him all the way across the room.

"Do you think a night out will help?" Willow asked Buffy as the door closed behind him.

"Probably not," Buffy admitted. "But it's a start. He can't keep locking himself away."

"And you can't keep blaming yourself."

"Can't I? I just wish I could *do* something. Mend the black hole where his heart used to be."

Willow flicked randomly at the pages in her book. "You really think it's that bad?"

Buffy shook her head. "I think it's worse."

---

Xander carefully closed the door behind him. It was cooler back here in the training room. The light was dimmer and easier on his eyes, and although he couldn't bear the thought of a humiliating lecture from a disappointed and furious Giles they had to get it over with sometime. He watched Giles in silence for a moment, clearing assorted weapons away from Buffy's training session.

"Hey," he said nervously. "Can I help?"

"You can help put the pads away." Giles pointed to the padding he wore while Buffy was practising her punches.

"Sure." He began to put them away. For a moment they worked in silence then Xander said numbly, staring at the bright blue padding in his hands. "You know huh?"

"Buffy told me some, not all thankfully, but enough."

Xander nodded, staring at the blue pads like they could somehow anaesthetise him from this conversation. From this life. "I guess you must be really let down."

Giles sighed and he sat down on the bench, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes. " I knew of course Spike was up to something, I even knew it involved you. I had no idea though . . ."

Xander dropped his head, unable to look Giles in the eyes. "I bet you never thought you'd have to yell at *me* for getting involved with a vampire huh?"

"When I first found out, I couldn't believe it."

"Now you know how I felt." Xander said dully, "I wanted to stop, I tried to stop but I . . ." He stopped before he started raving. No crying though. He didn't have any more tears left, he was cried out and dry inside. "I'm sorry I let you down," he finished painfully.

"No, I'm sorry Xander." Giles said unexpectedly.

Xander's head shot up as he stared at Giles in bewilderment. "What?"

"I am responsible, for Buffy I know, but all of you. If I'd have only noticed . . ."

"No!" Xander denied, horrified. "Giles it's not your fault, like I was going to discuss the interesting new turn my life had taken?"

"Even so."

Xander sank down on the bench next to him. Giles didn't speak, but his eyes didn't hold any disgust, only compassion. Support; wordless but real flowed from him, somehow cooling Xander's skin, loosening the tightness in his chest that didn't seem to ever want to go away.

Xander heaved a shuddering sigh as the words that had been trapped in his throat managed to come out haltingly. "Buffy blames herself as well. So does Willow. Everyone seems to think that my mistake is their fault. I really screwed up Giles."

"No! Well . . .yes." Giles admitted. "But Xander punishing yourself like this is pointless. Yes, mistakes were made, by all of us, and you're allowed to be hurt, but you're also allowed to uh ... go easy on yourself," Giles finished slightly self consciously, and also without much conviction. As if he already knew that Xander would be completely unable to go easy on himself about this, ever.

"I won't lie Xander, this is going to be a hard and lonely time for you. Will be for a while I suspect. But you can always come to me. No matter how you may feel right now, you're not alone. And I'm not let down."

He placed a gentle hand on Xander's shoulder. Xander kept his eyes fixed steadily on the floor, unable to move, to speak, as gratitude so intense it hurt twisted with awful ripping shame inside him.

"How are you getting on?" Giles asked carefully.

Memories flashed through his mind of how he covered the cracks with dry eyes and flip remarks. How he kept going, kept breathing, speaking, smiling, and it was all an act because reality was him unable to eat, to unclamp his jaw even the smallest amount in case it let out the screams of rage and misery and pure fucking pain. Reality was the sleepless nights and the empty bottles at the end of them. Reality was how he'd been invaded, the most private part of his body and soul exposed, used and humiliated and it would never get better. He'd offered his poor heart out to an evil soulless monster who had thrown it back at him, turning it into something disgusting. Used him and taken everything he had, everything that was good and strong and destroyed it, so all he was left with was this shell of flesh and bone.

Xander shrugged. "I'm coping."

---

As the sun set Spike emerged from the sewer entrance, nerves lodged firmly in the back of his throat tasting sour in his mouth. He set off towards the butchers on the outskirts of town, keeping to the shadows, people came past him and he dodged away from them like a rat on the run.

He found the butchers, and bought his blood where the guy he dealt with took his money with a barely concealed grimace of distaste. Whether it was because of what he was buying or how he looked he didn't know.

He slipped into the alley behind the butchers and slowly sipped at the blood. Pigs blood, cool and bitter. It hurt as it slipped down his dry throat, and burned as it hit his stomach. He slowly managed to drink almost all of the bag and wiped his mouth with a shaking hand, forcing his game face back down. A
sudden blast of loud music caught his attention and he looked down the street to see a bar.

Spike drifted down the street and paused in the doorway of the bar. Less classy than even Willy's. It was dark, depressing and semi-full with people trying to drink themselves into oblivion. It was just the kind of place he needed. The chances of bumping into Buffy or any of her little gang in here were zero and Hell did he need something tonight. Anything to make him stop thinking, stop picturing that damn sunrise. As he walked to the bar he caught some hostile glances being shot at him. Later he'd probably find himself on the receiving end of some punching because his hair was dyed, or maybe because he didn't know when to keep his mouth shut. It didn't matter.

The guy behind the bar looked distastefully at him, and in this dump that must really be saying something. He probably already know Spike was going to cause some upset, Angelus had once said despairingly that he carried the threat of trouble around him like a beacon.

That didn't matter either. All that mattered was the guy served him.

---

Xander sank down on the couch and uncapped a bottle. Nights were the worst. The quiet seemed to press against him in a way so much more frightening than daylight, and in the silence he felt like he could almost hear it, whatever it was inside him that was still wailing. He couldn't drown it out with noise, the only thing that worked was this.

He should feel safe, there was no risk of Spike anymore. Buffy had swung by his crypt repeatedly and reported no signs of life, or unlife, he hadn't even hung around to pack up his stuff. Willow had done the dis-invite spell on his apartment, just in case, and the Spike madness was over, just an odd glitch in his past, a mistake that he could forget about as he picked up his normal life again. But there over by the door was where Spike had grabbed his wrist. Over by the fridge was the first time Spike had touched him. Here on this couch Spike had slept. And in there on that bed. On that bed.

He took a huge gulp out of his bottle. He wasn't going to think about that anymore. Fuck love, just *fuck it*, this was what love got you, got you ripped up, smashed destroyed, bleeding and never, never, *never* again. Not that he loved Spike anymore. All he felt now was hate.

Hate and awful, tearing pain that he just had to force down, keep buried.

/Don't *think* about it!/ He took another swig and the burning down his throat distracted him for a second. Maybe less. But it was something, something to take the edge off. It was routine now, his drinking fell into a rhythm that he found almost soothing. The gurgle of the liquid. The swallow. The slow steady black out of his thoughts, as the level in the bottle sank, eyes unseeing, not thinking. Not feeling.

Time trickled by around him, and when he came back to himself again he didn't know how long he'd been zoned out drinking. The bottle was still a quarter full, and the liquid had faded from being rough and hot in his throat to a smooth warmth.

Smooth like sliding his hand over Spike's skin.

He flinched. If only he could blot out that last night he'd spent with Spike. He tried not to think of it, but sometimes he just couldn't stop himself. Torturing himself as surely as if he was pulling out his own fingernails.

His lips had been tingling with how much kissing they'd done. How he'd been scared he wasn't doing this right but Spike somehow made him know just what to do, never known Spike could be like that, so free from his usual cynical, jaded veneer, shivering under him, sweet and open and tender. So tender. Spike under him giving himself up to his hands, his mouth, whispering yes it's good, yes he likes it, yes he loved him so much . . .and he'd never really known his body could be like this, slippy and hard and soft at the same time, sinking in and smooth, liquid heat and Spike wrapped around him, fingers clinging on to him tightly. And eventually wrapped in Spike's arms speechless with happiness and feeling *whole* for the first time.

And all the time Spike had been lying. Wanting Buffy, with all that Buffy stuff so close to where they'd been. *Using* him, making him love him just to tear him apart, all for Buffy.

Spike must have thought he was pathetic.

"No!" He yelled it out in the quiet his foot kicking out in angry protest and hitting the coffee table. A glass wavered under the movement then toppled. It didn't break but he heard a sharp crack. He snorted with a bitter amusement.

"Like my heart."

His words were slurred, and he flinched away from his tone, bitter and hopeless, just like his fathers, and he hates that, fucking *hates* it, but he can't stop because his skin is so hot he wants to rip it off, and it hurts so much, this thing inside just won't stop tearing him up and *why* can't he stop missing Spike, even now he hates him so much? He just has to take the edge off, *has to*
...

Trying to distract himself he leant over and picked up the glass. It was still in one piece - just. A huge spiderweb of a crack had spread through it.

"My heart." He tested his voice experimentally as he turned the glass over and over. It came out rough, cracked, like the glass.

Wondrously he let his fingers explore the cracked glass, revelling in the slightly raised edge he could feel. He pushed harder on the crack and a large piece of glass fell out. Broken, like he was broken. He put down the glass and picked up the piece that had fallen from it.

Almost hypnotised he traced the edges with his finger. One was smooth, safe where the lip of the glass had been, the others were wickedly sharp. Flashing against the light it winked up at him, cool in his hand, dangerous and uncaring. He lightly let his finger pass over the sharpest edge, almost like a tender caress. It sliced idly over his skin, leaving a thin red line on his finger. He retraced over it, pressing down slightly harder, excruciatingly slowly. It swelled up into a deep bleeding cut. Still he didn't stop. He dragged it lightly across the palm of his hand, over up across his wrist. For the first time he couldn't hear any wailing, nothing but his own breathing, his mind miraculously empty, just this, indescribably awful in the relief it brought as he pressed down harder.

Press down hard enough and he might get to the heartbreak. Let it all out.

---

Spike was losing track of time as his money vanished. He drank, a lot, but still couldn't really manage to get drunk. Not drunk to the point where he wanted to be, where he could forget. His head sank lower and lower until it was resting on the bar, his cheek resting in beer and the pain still sat on his chest. The place was filling up and the music playing on the jukebox was roaring through his head.

It's been awhile, since I could hold my head high

Spike half giggled, snorted, and nearly sobbed as the sour smell of the beer spilled on the bar attacked his senses. Wasn't that the truth. Couldn't even lift his head up off the bar.

And it's been awhile since I first saw you

/"The first time I saw you was in here." "Was it?"/

Spike grabbed at his drink to blot the memories out. Tried not to remember the first time, the way Xander had thudded down on the bed the air all knocked out of him as he watched eyes wide and pleading and hurting inside as Spike lowered himself onto him. Tried not to remember the graveyard, the taste of mud and rain as Xander hard and hot made him open, made him ache in such a *good* way, made him want to open up and take it in and never, ever let him out again. Tried not to remember the date, the beer and the awkwardness, so tentative and needful. Resting his head in his hand he tried to light a smoke. His fumbling fingers let the lighter drop.

And it's been a while since I could stand on my own two feet again

A light flaring up in front of his cigarette shone through the blur in his eyes, and he guided his cigarette towards it.

He hadn't even noticed anyone sitting next to him, as he inhaled deeply he met the eyes of a woman over the glowing tip of his cigarette. She was mid thirties with the restless air of someone looking for a little distraction. Her hair was dyed black and her mouth was outlined carelessly with deep red lipstick. She was watching him, as she flicked her lighter over and over in her fingers. Someone the Little Bit and her bitch of a sister would identify unerringly as a 'skanky ho'.

And it's been awhile since I could call you

He didn't thank her. Just looked away and inhaled deeply. Maybe another time and another place he'd have taken her up, but not now. It's not what he wants. Not anymore. Would her eyes change to nearly black? Would her mouth taste like mint and air and beer? Xander had mentioned a guy that had made a robot girlfriend. Spike had laughed at the time. How much of a loser must this guy have been? But if he could do that - make a robot look, smell, act just like he wanted ...

Everything I can't remember, is fucked up as it all may seem

Maybe he should go and pay a visit to this guy. Except he didn't want a programmed perfect robot. He wanted the original back. Lonely and smart and complicated and *real*.

And he couldn't have him.

The consequences that I've rendered, I've stretched myself beyond my means

He clamped his fingers over the lit end of his cigarette, the pain blotting out everything else. For a moment, and Christ this bloody *hurts*. Way more than the stupid cigarette burn. How the hell has Xander done this too him? How can someone just not being there make him feel so fucking *alone* so much bloody pain? Trapped and alone in his own skin, sealed off from the rest of the world, with him bumping up against the glass unable to talk, to touch, because his body had died so long ago, and now the rest of him was following. Cold inside, cold and hurting and so alone, mumbling tunelessly along with the words as the song played on.

"'S been a while since I can say that I wasn't addicted, 'n' 's been a while since I can say I love myself as well."

He knocked over his glass, spilling the contents over the bar. The bar guy shot him a filthy look.

"Give me another," Spike said dully.

"Don't you think you've had enough?"

"Give. Me. Another," Spike growled, his game face flickering over his face for a second. The bar guy jumped and hurriedly slopped another whiskey out for him, sliding it over to him without even asking for any money. Spike gulped at it as the vibrations from the music rattled around inside him like some kind of bloody echo in there.

"'S been a while, since I've gone and *fucked things up*, just like I ALWAYS do, but all that SHIT seems to disappear when I'm WITH YOU."

The bar guy was talking to some other guy, glancing over at him, he was probably getting restless. Wanting a little action maybe? Well he wasn't the only bloody one. Misery and a hopeless anger boiled up and over inside him, and he couldn't really remember the last time he wanted to kill someone this badly.

Not because he was hungry, because he's really not, and not even really for the fun of it, but those moments, when he was chasing someone fleeing from him down a dark street, those sounds as their breath came out in pants they desperately tried to suppress so he wouldn't hear them, those moments where he could damn near taste the terror pouring off them as he finally reached out to grab them, and then that moment when his fangs pierced the skin and the maelstrom of *taste* filled his mouth. Hot, rich, pure, *real*. That was when he knew he was truly still alive.

But he couldn't. No bite and no Xander and dead inside, and feeling a flash of guilt for even wishing that he could kill someone. Xander would hate that. His barstool rocking violently under him, he grabbed his drink and pushed away from the bar.

He couldn't get his feet to move where he wanted them. Or maybe he just didn't know where he wanted to go. He didn't know what he damn well wanted anymore, and it was because of Xander, not the stupid chip. Xander could have changed him, changed him into something, someone, he barely even knew what but something good. He didn't know who he was anymore. He wasn't the murdering evil bastard he'd once been. But the new him, unformed and cut off before he could really arrive hadn't taken his place. He was nothing. No one. All he had was an overwhelming love with nowhere to go and a glowing core of anger, at himself, at Xander at fate for throwing them together only to keep them apart and he couldn't stand it.

"And everything I can remember, is FUCKED UP as all may seem!"

People were watching him now, wary or annoyed as he howled along loudly, staggering blindly into tables and chairs.

"Right that's enough!" The guy from behind the bar appeared at his side with another guy, and under normal circumstances he'd have backed off because these guys were looking pretty pissed off and pretty big, but these weren't normal circumstances, he was too bloody angry and let down and guilty and *hurting*.

"Stay away from me you bloody pair of poofs," Spike snarled and waving his hand violently at them, as though just his will could keep them back. Liquid flew out his glass, splattering all over them. They took a couple of wary steps back. He grinned, sourly amused. They wouldn't be so wary if they knew that was about all the damage he could do to them. Yeah he was a sodding poof himself with no fangs but he didn't have to bloody advertise it. He could still intimidate with the best of 'em. William the Bloody reduced to starting a fight he couldn't finish.

"The consequences that I've rendered, I've gone and FUCKED THINGS UP again!"

"Get him out of here ..."

"Grab him *now* ..."

"You're going to regret this you ..."

He was about two steps away from being thrown out of this dump, and probably going to get a bloody good kicking in the process. He hurled his glass, not at them ... exactly, just close enough to make them nervous. It flew past, hitting the wall, it shattered, even past the music he could hear it, and it was crazy but the sound brought a kind of wrenching release, matching exactly how he felt inside. Something else was as shattered as he was right now, and right now it was the only thing that made any damn sense.

Grabbing blindly at glasses, bottles, people were yelling and ducking for cover as glass shattered, against the walls, on the floor, crunching underfoot as it was ground down even further. The sound of things breaking inside and out, loud and harsh and now he'd started he couldn't stop. He picked up a chair, smashing it into the wall and it disintegrated in his hands.

Why must I feel this way? Just make this go away

"You hear this Xander Harris?" Spike half yelled, half sobbed as he hurled another glass, the smash ripping at his ears. " This is what you're bloody doing to me! You come in and change me then you piss off and I."

And it's been a while since I saw the way the candles light your face

Smash.

"Won't."

And it's been a while but I can still remember just the way you taste

Smash

"Take."

And it's been a while since I've said I'm sorry

Smash

"It."

Drowning, in the music, in the shattering and in his own head where everything was black and broken, other people were just shadows, and he had to get this out, couldn't stop, couldn't bear to stop and know that Xander was still gone. He turned back blindly and ricocheted off the bar guy's chest. He could barely even see him anymore.

"I told you to get out! I'm not playing games here ..."

A whistling sound preceded him staggering back as the force of the hit shuddered through his body. His face was a ball of hot pain, his nose crumpled under whatever the hell he'd been hit with. Maybe a chair leg from the chair he'd destroyed. Now there was fucking poetic justice. With a roar his game face burst out as he tried to attackkilldestroy the guy.

Bolts of blue sizzling agony opened up in his brain electrocuting him inside.

/Ohfuckstopstopstoppleaseohpleasestop/

He screamed, clasping his hands to his head, trying to force it back underground couldn't see past the black and red pain that shot across his eyes, couldn't hear past his own screaming.

---

Xander was floating now. Watching the deep red that spilled from his arm over the glass, and it was so hot and clear. So pretty and straightforward and this edge was sharp alright but it was okay because at least this one was outside trying to get in, not the other way around. His other wrist was tingling now, he felt a kind of dreamy contentment. He'd get to that one soon, there was no rush. Because when he was done he'd just lie here for a moment and let it all drain out.

A frantic voice in his head was screaming for him to stop, stop it *now* but that voice seemed so distant and faint and even as he heard it his glass pressed a fraction harder into his arm and that was far closer. And what was there for him outside this moment anyway?

Nothing. Out there he was frantic, screaming for a relief that would never come. But the swell of blood that tricked out was almost good enough. As he pressed harder again tears, fat like the drops of blood that fell from his arm, ran down his face. The first he'd cried since the night he'd first found out.

It *couldn't* be, could it? Spike couldn't have been like that without caring at least a little bit could he? But hadn't Spike tried to explain, to apologise? He hadn't listened, but Spike had never let that stop him before. Surely he was going to come back and try again? Spike wasn't going to leave him here to

/die/

*hurt himself* was he?

The peeling of the phone shocked him, ripping the hazy web he'd been spinning in two. Before he could stop himself his hand shot out to answer it.

/Spike/

---

When the pain dulled to an ache in the base of his skull and Spike came back to himself enough to take in his surroundings he was lying on the ground outside the bar. The bastards had thrown him out. Call that a fucking fight? He could have ripped that place and everyone in it to shreds ... once upon a time. At the moment he was lying face down on the ground unable to move as he waited for the nausea to fade. He lay still, his face throbbing from where he'd been hit. It wasn't much, nothing he couldn't handle compared to the pain of the chip going off, or a beating from the Slayer but it still hurt, more than it should. Eventually he managed to drag himself to his feet and staggered down the alley towards the sewer entrance.

Blood that had poured from his nose stuck to his hands. Bleeding without Xander.

Was Xander bleeding without him? He passed a pay phone, and the need surged up so suddenly it left him feeling sick. He couldn't stop himself; there was no reasoning, just the instinctive urge to hear his voice, to know he was okay, to say something *anything* Xander take me back, take me in, just take me any damn way you want, hard, easy I don't care, fuck me hard, make me cry, just make me feel, let me feel you ...

He jammed a coin into it and feeling sicker than ever his fumbling finger hit the buttons to dial Xander's number, hearing the tiny clicks as the numbers were punched in, waiting for them to connect him, /hurry up hurry up hurry up .... /

---

Xander couldn't speak when he lifted the receiver, could only cling on tightly, his knuckles turning white as his arm throbbed in pain, blood running over his fingers, the phone and dripping all over the carpet.

"Xander?"

Xander felt his shoulders buckle.

"Hey Buff," he said dully.

"How are you doing?"

Xander closed his eyes so he wouldn't have to look at what he'd just done. His heart was thumping wildly in his chest, like it was trying to make up for the moment it had slowed down. Could have stopped if he'd carried on. He clamped his hand over his mutilated arm, trying to stem the flow, it poured out from between his fingers. So *much* of it.

"I'm good."

"Sorry to call you so late."

"I wasn't asleep."

"Oh. Do you want me to come over?"

"No. Not tonight Buff, I need ... I can't ..."

"Okay I understand. Listen, tomorrow I'm going away with Giles, I have this thing I want to try, a kind of a retreat, I'll be gone a couple of days and I was wondering . . ."

"If I'll be okay? Sure Buff, you go do the Slayer thing . . ." He ran out of breath, his arm hurt. Oh shit it *hurt*. Was he bleeding to death? His fingers were clamped tightly over his wound, and the blood was building up behind them, sliding out from between them, making them sticky and red.

"I was going to ask if you'd take Dawn to the movies." Buffy said. "She's staying with Tara and Willow, but I thought it'd be good to give them a break, but, uh Xander, *will* you be okay?"

"Oh sure." Xander looked at himself in the mirror and bit back the hysterical urge to laugh. A deathly pale, pinched face with lank hair and reddened eyes stared back at him. Blood all over him, his arm, his shirt, his hands, pattering on the floor around him. His eyes dropped and he found himself staring at the piece of broken glass. His stomach heaved at the sight of the traces of his blood smeared across it. Repulsed, he kicked it away, and it shot under the couch out of sight. "You know me. I'm coping."

---

Xander's line was busy. Spike slammed the phone down so hard the casing cracked, and he knew he wouldn't be picking up the phone again. The courage, cowardice, whatever the hell it was that had fired him to pick up the phone had ebbed away as fast as it had surged up. He turned away, heading wearily towards the sewers again. Sunrise was still a couple of hours away, but it was best to get under cover now. If he hung around he might not make it inside at all.

Part Twenty-Eight

The sound of footsteps roused Spike from his drifting state of half awareness.

Not that the footsteps were loud or that it was even so unusual to hear them. With Sunnydale's large demonic population it was fairly standard to hear some activity in the day as vampires tried to get from place to place. However it was rare that anyone came towards a tunnel that was clearly a dead end. Besides something about these footsteps bothered him. Maybe it was how quiet they were. Like it was someone, or something trying very hard not to be heard.

Spike slowly eased himself up from his prone position, crouching, his ears straining. It was still there, the overcareful lift and lowering of the feet that someone made when they didn't want to be heard. They were just around the corner now. Usually he'd light up a smoke and be waiting, ready for a fight, cocky attitude firmly nailed in place, but he was hungover and sore from the bash he'd taken in the face last night and inexplicably fearful of whatever was out there. Although his body was rooted to the spot his mind felt fuzzy, sliding out from his grasp. This felt almost surreal, like a typical kiddie's nightmare of something coming to get him. And it was getting closer.

Spike looked helplessly around the tunnel he had holed up in. Small and bare there was nowhere to hide and no way out bar the way that someone was in front of. The only concealment available was some deep shadows by the entrance. He swallowed. Shit. He didn't want to move *closer* to the thing out there.

/Move it!/ He snapped at himself, trying to jolt his frozen feet into action. /Any second it's going to come in and see me and something tells me that would be A Bad Thing./

His reluctant feet slowly inched their way over. Each tiny scuffle sounded like a thunderclap in the quiet. He didn't think whoever it was had heard him though, their pace remained unchanged, but they were still getting closer. Spike pressed himself against the wall of the tunnel, sinking into the shadows. If whoever it was came in there was a chance they'd walk past him before they saw him and he'd be able to run for it or attack them before they turned on him. He didn't know why he was so sure it was him they were after. Maybe they weren't. Maybe it was just a vampire looking for a place to sleep. Walking very quietly.

It wasn't the Slayer though, she smelt like vanilla. Whatever this thing was it smelt bad, like rotting rubbish that had been left to fester. Nearly here now. Slow and even quieter than before. Every inch of Spike tensed further, coiled and ready to pounce as the footsteps began to turn into his tunnel.

"Find anything?"

A male voice, loud and incautious broke the silence suddenly. It was hard to tell who started more violently, Spike or whatever it was looking around here. Fortunately the sound of one muffled the noise of the other.

A choked gasp from the first ... thing suggested to Spike he was having difficulty getting his words out.

"Don't *do* that!" It spluttered at last. "What are you *doing* down here?" Spike stayed utterly frozen, he didn't dare to even blink. The voices couldn't be more than eight inches away, just air and shadows between them and although they didn't sound particularly lethal something about them made his spine prickle unpleasantly.

"I was looking for you!" The second said affronted. "Why did you volunteer to come down here?"

"It's safer than watching the Slayer like you're supposed to be doing."

Spike felt his stomach lurch hard, even though he remained motionless. These things were hanging around the Slayer? What the hell was going on?

"She's gone away with her Watcher, that's why I came down here to find you. I was going to tell Glorificus, I um wondered if you would come with me."

Spike's mouth went dry, so these were Glory's boys, though what the hell they were looking for down here was anyone's guess, they surely didn't think the key was down here did they?

"Oh no - I'm not coming while Glory kills you for letting the Slayer get away."

"I didn't let her!" The second protested. " I heard her say she'll be back tomorrow, besides Glorificus could well be pleased, until she returns the key is unprotected."

"Which would help if we knew who the key was." The first snapped.

"So will you come with me?" The second asked nervously.

"Oh alright." The other agreed ungraciously.

They turned away and their footsteps, no longer cautious retreated, eventually fading from his hearing. Spike stayed pressed against the wall for a long moment as he shuddered - that had been way too close.

So Buffy was out of town for a couple of days with the Watcher in tow? Now that wasn't the kind of information that fate just planted in your hands without expecting you to use it in some way. Although Dru's habit of reading signs into everything, even watermarks on the ceiling, had occasionally bugged the hell out of him, every now and then she had been bang on. He'd been *meant* to hear that. Now he just had to figure out what to do with it.

---

It was the worst idea he'd ever had. Of all the insane ill thought out, half cocked plans he'd ever come up with this had to be top of the list. But hey, what did he really have to lose anymore? He'd already lost everything. If this went badly and he ended up coming across the business end of a stake then it would probably be a blessing. But not until he'd had his say.

The fact was that despite that he *ached* to run straight to Xander, if he turned up with no warning and Xander was still as pissed as he had been, he'd be dust before he got his words out. He needed someone who could break the news to Xander that he was still in town, convince Xander that he was genuine, persuade Xander to meet him ...

Basically he needed someone to be on his side, but the only people that would have any influence on Xander were the Scoobies, and they were the whole problem.

That left very few people. He'd sunk so low he'd even have begged for help from Soldier Boy if he'd still been around. Joyce was dead and Tara would follow wherever Willow led. No one else came into contact with Xander except his work pals, demons he was helping to kill and Dawn.

Dawn - whose very protective, very powerful, very pissed off older sister had gone out of town.

He cautiously rounded the ground floor apartment Tara and Willow shared, crouched so low he was nearly on his knees. The fresh air and nerves mixed with a painful shaking excitement made him weak, and despite his need to find Dawn, now, right away he forced himself to rest. To just stay *still*. There was no way he'd get to her like this, never mind convince her not to yell for the others. This was already dangerous enough - talk about confronting the lion in its den - without him passing out in the garden for the witches or sunrise to find.

Or one of Glory's boys.

There had to be one here somewhere, if they were watching Buffy and searching the sewers they must be keeping a close eye on Buffy's friends as well. He scanned the outside of the building closely but this side was in darkness, he steeled himself and peered around the corner where a light spilled out from a window. There he was. The scabby little reject was skulking around behind a bush by the lighted window. Spike paused for a moment to make sure he stayed utterly calm and quiet, then silently sneaked up behind him. The scent of flowers and freshly cut grass was strong but the stink of the demon was even stronger. Spike grabbed him, clamping one hand over his mouth, the other pinning his arms back, and dragged him back away from the window. He managed a surprised gasp before Spike swiftly broke his neck.

Spike shoved the body under a bush, trying to control his heaves. He wiped his hands frantically on the grass, the skin of these things felt *foul* like sandpaper with open oozing sores. He glanced around again; the garden was utterly still, utterly silent under the moonlight. It was kind of beautiful and for a second he felt oddly like crying. He *had* to get Xander back, he just *had* to.

/C'mon/ he chastised himself. /Miles to bloody go and all that, just got to get to Dawn, then to Xander, then .../

His mind blanked out, When he was face to face with Xander then he could worry about what was going to happen next.

He crouched under the window of the front room and carefully eased his head up. Tara and Willow were curled up on the couch holding hands, and Dawn was sprawled out in the chair, watching T.V and looking a little bored.

Excitement churned violently inside him and he had to force himself to stay down, to stay *quiet*. She was actually here! True the options to where she could be had been limited but still, his half-formed plan was actually approaching being a real possibility. Luck *finally* seemed to be running on his side. Dawn was yawning and examining her fingernails now, it wouldn't be long
...

Sure enough the next moment he heard Dawn say;

"Hey guys can I go play some music?"

"Sure Dawnie." Willow replied.

Spike shifted from under the window and followed her around the house to the bedroom. He could see her through the window rooting through the c.d.'s and tapes they had and for a moment the world swirled disturbingly grey and misty. He bit his lip until he could taste blood and the colour came back into the world. He braced himself against the wall and lifted his hand to knock quietly on the glass.

---

Dawn brushed her hair in front of the mirror, humming along with an old tape Willow still had of the Dingo's and trying to stem the restless feeling inside her. She loved staying with Willow and Tara, it would just be nice to *do* something for a change, like the Bronze. She totally got the 'be careful' vibe, but still, all these quiet nights in were getting boring. She'd had to fight tooth and nail to go to the movies, with Xander, in daylight! She idly ran the brush over her hair watching the strands lift and fall. Mom had loved brushing her hair. A wave of sadness was threatening to overwhelm her when a gentle tap came at the window making her heart leap up into her throat. She whirled around, dropping the brush in a clatter, her lips parted to yell for the others when she saw it was Spike.

"Spike!"

She still felt a moments worry, even though Spike was still harmless and didn't have an invite to anyone's house anymore, Buffy had been pretty definite about not talking to him if he showed up. She hovered uncertainly by the mirror, ignoring his frantic shushing gestures.

"What are you doing here?" She eyed him suspiciously, her arms folded, fixing him with a stern glare she'd been practising in the mirror. It wasn't up to Buffy's standard yet but she was still pretty pleased with it.

"Shhh!" Spike held his finger against his lips looking panicked, and beckoned her over to the window.

Dawn rolled her eyes but walked over to the window, still half prepared to yell for Willow. However when she got her first good look at Spike she gave a horrified gasp. His pale skin was faintly blotched with the yellow and purple of fading bruises, his nose was slightly bent out of shape and his cheeks, always thin, now looked as though someone had taken a scoop to them and hollowed them out. His eyes were bloodshot and he looked painfully tired.

"Spike," she whispered, opening the window. "What *happened* to you?"

"Got on the wrong side of Big sis."

"Yeah I should say so, what's going on? Buffy thinks you've left town, Giles is ready to stake you, Xander looks like the living dead. . ."

"You've seen him?" Spike interrupted eagerly.

"No, I heard Buffy and Willow talking." Dawn took a wary step back. She wasn't afraid of Spike ... exactly. But he looked terrible, and a little out of it, like those crazy men Glory was leaving a trail of behind her.

"Oh." Spike slumped against the window frame as though all the energy had been drained from him and Dawn couldn't help a surge of sympathy for him.

"Dawnie? Are you okay?" Willow opened the door, and Dawn whirled around to face her, her heart thumping uncomfortably in her chest.

"I'm fine Willow," she said brightly. "Just you know - singing along with the music."

"Oh, okay." Willow smiled at her before closing the door.

Dawn turned back to the window, where Spike cautiously got to his feet from throwing himself hastily on the ground.

"Close." Spike brushed himself off with shaking hands. "Thanks," he said gratefully. "For not saying anything."

Dawn shrugged. "It's not like you can get in. So why are you here?"

"I needed to talk to you - now I know you were a bit pissed with me ..."

Dawn rolled her eyes. "Understatement! I thought we were friends, sort of, but you were just trying to get to Buffy."

"What can I tell you Bit? I was a wanker. Sorry."

"You're apologising to me?"

"Yeah," Spike said with an ironic lift of his eyebrow, a flash of his old self that was almost painful to see in his current state. "Don't make me repeat it alright?"

Dawn felt a smile begin to pull at her mouth. Spike pressed on. "So - you want to be mates again?"

"Is this still a 'get to Buffy' thing?" Dawn questioned suspiciously.

"Little Bit," Spike said, with a slightly odd tone to his voice, "you have no idea how much I've moved on from your sis."

Dawn couldn't help melting inside despite Buffy's warnings, Spike was so cool - and kind of handsome - even when he was exhausted and beat up, and he'd come here to make up with *her*.

She smiled reluctantly at him. "Well ... I did kind of miss you."

"You too luv." Spike looked at her so gratefully she felt a little uncomfortable. Okay so they were cool again but Spike was looking at her like she was offering him the keys to Giles's car ... or something better.

Dawn shifted awkwardly. "Sooooo were you just drawn here to apologise or was there something else?"

"I need you to do something for me. Can you ..." Spike stopped, swallowed and Dawn found herself leaning forward a little closer.

"Can you give Xander a message?" Spike finished.

For a second Dawn was disappointed, she'd expected something a lot more exciting than that. "Yeah I'm going to see him tomorrow. But only if you tell me what's going on."

"You haven't heard anything?"

"No," Dawn rolled her eyes. The key she may be, but she still had the heart of a teenager. "Nobody tells me anything. All I know is a while back they were all getting antsy in case you were up to something then all at once everyone's being weird about you, which probably means that you were up to something." She fixed him with a questioning look. "So what did you do - spy on Buffy in the shower? Steal Xander's money? I mean that's about as bad as you can get isn't it?"

She used a light tone to cover up her worry - because she really *had* missed Spike and didn't want whatever it was he'd done to be *too* bad, and with all the worry the others had been having that he'd done something to upset Xander ... well she loved Xander, if Spike had been mean to him she didn't know if they could be friends again.

"It is to do with Xander. I ..." Spike stalled, cleared his throat and tried again. "I ... used him too, to try and get to Buffy. That's why Buffy and pals are out for my blood, that's why he's upset."

"Oh." Dawn said quietly.

"But I'm sorry," Spike said hurriedly, maybe reading her uncertainty on her face. "And I want him to know that. That's the message. Will you tell him?"

Dawn thought for a moment then nodded. "Okay, but why don't you just go over and see him now?"

"I need him softened up a bit first - which is why I need you Little Bit, and ..." Spike stumbled on the words again as though he was having to painfully carve each one out of stone. "Tell him I'll be at my crypt tomorrow night at nine if ... if he wants to see me."

"Okay." Dawn agreed again.

"If he doesn't show then I'll go - get out of town. Won't bother him again."

"You're really going to go?" Dawn blurted out dismayed. Spike may be an idiot - hey falling for Buffy was pretty stupid after all - and call her the 'Little Bit' but he never *treated* her like she was little and now they were friends again - or as much friends as you could ever be with Spike - she didn't want him gone.

"Yeah. If he doesn't come."

"Oh - well I'll try and get him there."

"You promise?"

"Yeah."

"And you won't tell anyone else about this?"

"Well duh! Spike I'm not stupid. Oh fine." She crossed her heart. "I'll give him your message and I won't tell anyone else about this. Promise."

Spike finally managed a smile. "Thanks." He shivered slightly suddenly, although it was a warm night. "Well, I'd better go. Don't want you getting into trouble."

"I can do what I want," Dawn huffed offended.

Spike's eyebrows raised themselves in an 'oh yeah?' look. She rolled her eyes and finished a little sheepishly; "They're watching some documentary about witches, they'll be there for hours. I can't invite you in but you can hang around for a bit." She tried to sound cool and like she didn't really care either way. "If you want, I don't mind."

He hung around at that window for an hour. Dawn carefully brought him a brimming mug of hot chocolate which they shared. They chatted quietly and she told him it was 'creepy' knowing Glory was looking for her - he didn't tell her about the lackey in the garden - and about a guy at school who was 'kind of okay'. Her hair smelt like coconut and despite the risk of being here, for the first time in over a week he felt a smile on his face and he wasn't thinking about the sunrise.

---

A minion staggered into Glory's chamber panting with exertion. From her reclining position on her bed propped up on silken pillows and surrounded by lackey's Glory looked at him with an expression of disgust.

"Uggh! Get out of here, you're all stinky!"

"Oh most exquisite and ..."

"I said get out!"

"But I bring you good news! I have found him, the one who knows who the key is!"

"What?" Glory leapt up in delight, beaming at him. "You have him? Now? Well that's good news! I was about to start brain sucking to cheer myself up, bring him on!"

"Well I uh, don't have him *with* me. But ..."

Glory stared at him, her smile fading. "You let him get away?" Her voice was dangerously calm, her eyes promising torture beyond his worst nightmares as she slowly came towards him.

"No! No, I didn't let him get away, he killed the other I was watching with, I was lucky he didn't see me. I didn't dare to take him on my own, lest he stole my miserable life - and thus depriving you of good news, most worshipped one! But I listened as he talked to the Slayer's sister."

"Alright." Glory asked, still calmly as she ran her hands lightly over his robe. "So where is he now?"

"Well as to now I was unable to follow him, I wanted to bring you the news, but Iknowwherehe'sgoingtobe!" This last was choked out in a last frantic breath as Glory's hand closed around his throat.

"What?" She released her grip. "You know where he's going to be?"

He nodded.

"Well this is perfect!" She turned to look at the others, beaming at them, and they returned her smile, relieved beyond words at her obvious happiness. "We'll send some of you boys to meet him!"

---

Xander checked around his apartment. It was clean; all the broken glass had been thrown away. His arm was bandaged up and he was okay. Well, okay was pushing it. But he hadn't had a drink yet today and hadn't had another close encounter with a piece of glass. He stomach heaved as he thought of it. Everytime his sore arm chafed against the bandage he flinched and not just because of the pain. Had he really thought Spike was going to save him? That was what happened when you let the hate down - more pain, he should have learnt that by now. If Buffy hadn't called when she did ...

He didn't want to think about it but his mind was filled to the brim of stuff he didn't want to think about - try as he might to keep it down sometimes thoughts sprung up in his mind. He automatically reached for the bottle hidden in the cupboard, then hurriedly snatched his hand away. He couldn't drink now - not with Dawn coming round any second for their movie.

He liked to think he would have stopped on his own, but would he have? He didn't want to die, but he couldn't bear to live like this either. It felt like Spike had taken a piece of glass to his heart and he was still bleeding, drowning from the inside out.

There was a knock at his door and he cast a last longing look at the alcohol before tearing himself away. He opened the door, managing a smile.

"Dawnster! Hey Willow."

"Package for you," Willow grinned, gesturing at Dawn.

"Hey Xander," Dawn said perkily, her eyes and hair were glowing. She always seemed so glad to see him. So young and alive. For a second he totally got what Buffy was talking about. If Glory hurt Dawn then she had to die. It was just that simple.

"Come in ladies."

He ushered them in hoping they couldn't smell any alcohol that may have been lingering in the room.

"Hey Xander, can I get a drink?" Dawn asked.

Xander tried to remember the last time he'd bought anything without an alcohol content. " Check the fridge Dawn, if you can track anything down and capture it - it's yours." Xander gestured towards the kitchen, and Dawn threw him a smile as she went to investigate.

"So Xander, what movie are we going to see?" Dawn called in.

"Anything you want Dawnster, even a chick flick."

"Cool! I know a couple of good ones! There's this one where this girl wants this guy to ask her out but he doesn't, but then he ..."

Xander groaned and turned to Willow. "Why did I say she could choose?"

"You should know better than to let a teenage girl have so much power," Willow agreed seriously.

They smiled at each other before Willow's face changed into a serious, worried frown. "How are you doing?" She asked in a low voice.

"I'm . . ."

"And don't you're fine or you're coping. Yell, or punch something - punch *me*, but don't say you're fine."

Xander dropped his eyes, suddenly very aware of his arm throbbing dully, reminding him of just how far from 'fine' he was. "It's hard," he admitted. "And awful. And every day."

"I know." She patted his shoulder gently, unable to hug him, hampered by Dawn being so close. "Xander ... I didn't know if I should tell you this or not, you didn't seem to want to hear it, and Buffy thought it would be a bad idea but, well Spike came to see me. You know, that day, before you found out. He wanted me to promise not to tell you about the Buffy thing. He said he loved you and couldn't do it."

"Oh." Xander said quietly. "Actually he came to see me, that day. The day I found out. He said pretty much the same thing."

"Oh. Does it help?" Willow asked warily.

"Not really."

Willow looked at him with worry. "But don't you think maybe ...?"

No, he couldn't think maybe, thinking maybe drove him crazy, opened him up to all the pain all over again and he was *filled up* with pain - couldn't take anymore, he had to just keep closed, even if Spike *had* loved him at the end it didn't help. He couldn't let go of how this had started. How he'd been nothing but a toy. How Spike had still kept all that stuff, so close to the bed.

"Xander there's nothing here!" Dawn yelled.

"I'll take you for a shake!" Xander shouted back, suddenly desperate to get out of here. "You know," he turned back to Willow, "I think we'd better head off. Dawnster! Let's go!"

"Okay!"

"Xander," Willow said hurriedly. "I'm sorry if I said the wrong thing - I was only trying to help you."

"No it's okay Will, but none of this matters anymore. I hate him." Willow didn't look convinced so he said it again. "I hate him."

---

Xander settled down in the booth opposite Dawn, watching with a slight smile as she gamely set about drinking a shake almost as big as she was. Despite his initial worry about today it was proving better - much better than he'd thought. She was easy to be with, her bright chatter soothing. She offered him some of her chocolate shake. To please her he sipped a little and at her smile his throat unclenched a little, enough so for the first time in a while something other than alcohol slipped down his throat without choking him.

Dawn was going on about how Buffy was on this retreat for 'some Slayer reason she doesn't think I'm old enough to understand' and how it was so nice to get out the house without being cross examined, and then she asked curiously; "What's that?"

Xander looked at where Dawn was staring. His sleeve had been pushed back and the bandage showed.

"It's nothing. I was running with glass. Fell. It smashed," he lied awkwardly, not meeting her eyes.

"Ow." Dawn said sympathetically.

"Just a quick ride to the fun room known as casualty and a couple of stitches," he said recovering his composure. "No big deal. And let that be a lesson to you." He tweaked at her hair. "It really does happen!"

Dawn squirmed under his teasing, pretending to be pissed off. "Hey quit it! Listen, I've got something to tell you."

"Oh yeah?" He continued to make a grab for the little sparkly clip she had in her hair. She shrieked and jumped away, fixing him with a fake glare, her eyes dancing with laughter. He kept his eyes fixed on that laughter. It made the image of the glass slicing into his skin fade away. "What have you got to tell me?" Thinking she'd spilt juice on a sweater of Buffy's that she shouldn't have been wearing or had a sneaky kiss with a guy maybe - there was an air of suppressed excitement about her.

"I saw Spike."

His hand dropped away from Dawn as the room turned grey, his heart thudding sickly in his chest.

"What?"

"I saw him last night."

It wasn't real. This couldn't be happening, any minute now he'd wake up. Except he could still taste the shake in his mouth and feel the grain of the table under his shocked nerveless hands. He felt sick. Real twisting nausea from shock.

"What did he say?" His lips were numb and the words came out stiff and slowly.

"He said he couldn't leave until he'd got things straight with you. He said you guys had a fight and he was really sorry, Xander are you okay?"

Someone was messing with the colour and sound dial on this room, now it wasn't grey and quiet, it was suddenly so bright and loud he couldn't breathe properly and his head was roaring. Someone had turned up the pressure in here and any minute now he was going to faint.

"What else did he say?" He managed to ask, ignoring her question.

"That he'd been trying to get to Buffy through you but once he'd got to know you he couldn't do it, but you'd found out somehow and he's really, really sorry. He told me to say the 'really, really' part . . .Xander? Will you see him?"

"I don't ... uh, I can't." Xander floundered desperately. "You should tell Buffy he's still here. Tell her now."

Dawn looked at Xander uncertainly. "Xander Buffy's away remember? And I promised I wouldn't tell. I crossed my heart and everything. He said if you didn't want to see him he was going to go anyway so it wouldn't matter. But can't you guys make up?"

"No."

"But Xander he is *really* sorry ... "

"He's lying, he's playing some game, he shouldn't *be* here!"

Dawn jerked back in her seat, she looked a little scared, and he managed to stop himself from shouting at her but he was sweating, shaking, and he didn't know what to *do*. He buried his head in his hands, trying to control nausea inside him, calm himself down.

Dawn tentatively reached out her hand, but then stopped short of touching Xander - she suddenly felt way out of depth on this one, too much mysterious, grown up stuff swirling around. " But ..." she began cautiously.

"Dawn," Xander's voice sounded weird, angry and choked up and there was something else in there as well. " I don't *want* to see him. I wish he'd never come here. I wish I'd never met him."

"Xander I know Spike can be an idiot but you didn't see him! He looks ... well kind of like you. And if you both look so bad, maybe making up will help. Wouldn't it?"

Xander was still staring down at the table, his eyelashes covering his eyes and she couldn't read him.

"Wouldn't it?" She repeated.

Xander finally looked up and Dawn felt herself turn pale, His eyes were full of tears, she'd never seen Xander cry, ever. But it wasn't that, it was him, he looked like he was hurting all over, with something so awful and painful for a moment it felt like a freezing cold hand was running over her soul.

"Xander I'm sorry ..."

"I can't talk about this Dawn, he's meant to be gone. He should be gone ..."

"Okay" Dawn said rapidly, only wanting to make him stop looking like that.

"Okay, so just don't meet him, and he'll go away. That's pretty easy isn't it?"

---

Easy. Right. But he wasn't going to tell a fourteen-year-old girl about the gay lovin' aspect to him and Spike, even if she was really a few millennia old. And she had a point; all he had to do was not turn up. He shouldn't go. All the way through the film that he didn't see or hear he knew that. All the way driving a mostly quiet Dawn back to Willow's he knew that. All the while he paced about his apartment waiting for the sun to set, for the clock to move forward he knew that. Waiting for nine. Once nine was over Spike would really be gone. But just before it hit nine he jumpily slung his coat on and left the house. Walking to the crypt felt like he was caught underwater pulled along by a current he couldn't fight. Even though he was walking quickly the movement felt slow. Sounds drifted into him from a long way away, his head oddly disconnected from his body.

When he reached the door to Spike's crypt he paused outside it. His eyes burned and he briefly rested his forehead against the cool stone. How had he gotten here? How had he gotten so hurt, so messed up? Even now it wasn't too late. He could turn back and go home, try and pick up a normal life again. He didn't know why he'd let himself be drawn here. Maybe it was the same urge that had prompted him to pull back the curtain, he didn't want to look but he couldn't stop himself. Maybe he just had a few things to say to Spike, because he couldn't go on like this, this wasn't a life it was torture. And maybe there was a tiny part of him that just wanted to hear some magic words that would put all this right. Easing the heavy door open he stepped into the crypt. It smelt musty. Old.

Spike's hair reflected off the light of Xander's torch, his pale face seemed to swim out of nowhere, the face that had haunted him. The face he thought he would never see again. They were both still, silent. The weird quality of the torch light bouncing around the crypt, the silence and the sight of Spike all gave him the confusing feeling of being in a dream. Spike looked so, so terrible. In a weird way it only heightened his allure. His eyes were burning in a pale, much thinner face; he looked macabre and beautiful. And for a second, just a second he wanted to take those few steps forward. Bury into Spike's arms and turn the clock back, tell him; 'oh I missed you, I missed you so much ... '

But the memory of drawing back the curtain kept his mouth clamped shut and his feet rooted to the ground as the anger poisonous and ugly, thick and bitter twisted inside him. The dream feeling drained away, now he felt gritty and harsh, sore all over. Maybe Spike did want him back. And that was good, because how he had a weapon, something he could use to beat Spike black and blue, tear into him and make *his* heart bleed. He was glad Spike looked awful. He wanted Spike to feel awful. He'd been through hell and he wanted to kill the creature standing in front of him. Wanted Spike to ache, beg for him and know that he could never have him. Hurt Spike as much as Spike had hurt him. Hurt him until he cried, begged for it to stop, but it never would.

---

Spike waited in the crypt, growing colder and more certain that Xander wasn't going to come. This day had been endless, agonising, and as nine came and went with no Xander arriving a sick despair filled him. Every second that passed beyond it was killing him a little at a time, taking Xander further away from him. He had to leave town, it didn't matter where. It really was over. Xander hadn't come. How could pain take up so much *room*? It was inside him, choking him, spilling up and over and no hope left.

He still waited though, pacing about the crypt, unable to bring himself to leave because if he did - then that really was the end of everything. Then suddenly, incredibly, he heard his heartbeat - smelt him, just beyond the door. Spike stared, frozen to the spot paralysed by hope and trepidation as the door finally eased open and he was there. Dark and silver, almost an extension of the moonlight. Spike felt weak, drained suddenly as if all his energy the past endless week had been poured into waiting to see him again and now he was here his strength had deserted him. Xander's lips were pinched, his hair dishevelled and his clothes crumpled. He looked pale and tired; his vitality stripped away, his energy cut to the bone. And he was beautiful.

The silence stretched out. Although Xander was here, somehow he seemed further away than when he hadn't seen him. He looked distant, removed from his reach, and Spike had never wanted him as badly as he did now.

"Xander." He couldn't stop himself from taking a step towards him, but when Xander swiftly took a step back he forced himself to stay still, stay calm, stay in control. Xander was *here*, that would do for now. He wanted to touch him desperately, but he was terrified to move in case it scared him off, terrified to talk in case he said the wrong thing. His tongue felt like it had detached from his mouth. It wouldn't work.

"You came." Spike said at last.

"I came." Xander's voice was utterly expressionless.

"I'm glad you're here."

"Are you?" Xander's voice didn't rise but Spike found himself flinching back.

There was a simmering anger gathering in the air between them, black and heavy like a storm cloud and it was all coming from Xander.

"Look," he began nervously. "I don't know what Red or Slayer told you about this but they couldn't have told you the whole story."

"Nobody told me anything Spike, they didn't have to. I saw it. I saw it all."

"You saw . . ." Spike asked confused.

"Your Buffy stalker closet."

"Oh God no." Spike heard his horrified voice as though from a long distance away. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "I burnt it. I burnt it all that day."

Xander shrugged.

"I'm sorry." Spike whispered.

"You're *sorry*?" Xander repeated, his voice riddled with a bitter anger and Spike realised with a sick thud that there was no way this was going to have a happy ending. Xander was drowning, unable to hear, see anything right now but his own pain, any apology would just drift uselessly past him.

"Do you have any idea what it was like finding that?" Xander continued, his voice shaking. "Knowing that I'd spent the night with you and all that was just a few steps away, and how could I have been so *stupid* and all that *shit* I talked and all the time you wanted *her* ... "

"No, I didn't," Spike pleaded. Yeah he was Loves Bitch. What of it? He'd beg on his knees if it would get Xander back. "I didn't want her from the start, it was all about you. You got inside my head, you're in my heart. In my gut. You're part of me now, I can't *be* without you. I can't say it right I don't have the words, but if you could *feel* what I feel. That night I told you the truth. Give me another chance, I'm not a monster."

"Yes - you are a monster. Vampires are monsters."

"Alright you've got me there - but I swear I'll never let you down again ... "

"Yeah and I remember you promising you'd never hurt me again and I believed you! How stupid was I?" Xander laughed sourly, then abruptly stopped, too angry to even use the pretence of amusement. " How many chances do you want Spike? Because you've used every one up and more. The only reason I came here tonight was to tell you to stay away from me."

"No." Spike stepped closer to him, touching close. Searching his face frantically for something - some part of Xander in there that he *knew* still loved him. "If you wanted to tell me that all you had to do was not show up. That's not the only reason. I couldn't feel like this without you feeling it to. I know you still love me. I know it i ..."

The punch was so hard, so quick he didn't see it coming. Even if he had he wouldn't have dodged it. He flew back crashing to the floor with a bone jarring thud.

Xander's face swam over him. "*That* is the only reason I have for seeing you!" He spat the words out, his voice trembling as he physically shook with emotion. "Get up!"

Spike shook his head, a lone tear making it's way down his cheek.

"I said GET UP!"

Xander grabbed him by his T-shirt, hauling him up to his feet. He was deathly pale and sweating coldly.

"I *hate* you." His voice shook with the violence of his feelings, he was gripping Spike's T-shirt so hard his knuckles were white. "You're an evil, disgusting *thing* and I feel sick that I let you touch me." He hauled Spike even closer to him so they were barely three inches apart. "You want me back Spike?"

Spike raised his head and looked Xander in the eyes. "Yes."

"You want me back so much it hurts? So much it rips you apart not to have me?"

"It's killing me being without you," Spike said, his voice wavering.

"Good. Because this is the closest you'll ever get to me again. You're going to leave town tonight. You'll never come near me, or Dawn, or any of my friends again, and I hope it hurts. I'm glad it hurts."

Xander expected almost any reaction from Spike but what happened next. He started laughing. *Laughing*.

Spike's eyes were burning way too brightly as he hung, unresisting in Xander's grip. "You always hurt the one you love hey pet? The way I see it we must love each other one hell of a lot. We couldn't tear each other apart like this if we didn't."

To his dismay Xander felt his face begin to crumple. The anger still burned inside him, but now there was sorrow as well. Overwhelming, heartbreaking sorrow.

"Don't," he whispered.

"It's true. You love me. I love you."

"No!"

"It's *true*!" Spike's hands came up to cover his, and to his shame he didn't shake him off.

"Admit it." Spike said, staring into his eyes. Those blue eyes that made him *ache* inside. "You still want me. Still love me. Passion like this - you can't fight it."

"Watch me." Xander said quietly. "I want you *away* and if that means killing you - well that's just a bonus."

They faced each other - Xander pale and grim, Spike with helpless tears burning in his eyes, wishing desperately for some magical words to arrive fully formed in his brain that could fix this when the door flew open. The smell hit Spike immediately. Glory's boys. A whole posse of them.

"Gentlemen," the guy in the lead said smoothly. "I'm so sorry to intrude but I wondered if I might beg a moment of your time."

Spike didn't like the way this guy was looking at them. Sort of smug, his eyes darting between them, taking in how close they were, the atmosphere, drawing his own conclusions. Add this to the fact that these guys had just barged in on them and well the whole situation stunk as bad as the demons did. What the hell was going on? Had this whole damn thing been a set up to get him to come out of hiding?

"Friends of yours?" He asked Xander bitterly.

The first guy punched Xander in the stomach.

"Guess not!" And that meant he could hurt them. How *dare* this scummy wanker touch Xander? Spike felt a growl well up, bursting into action he kicked the demon hard in the chest.

/See how you like it you *bastard*!/

Xander groaned and managed to straighten up in spite of his kidneys feeling hot and heavy like they might just fall loose of their place in his body. Spike was fighting viciously, like something possessed, but there were so many of them he was surrounded.

"Spike! Get off him you ..."

He staggered over managing to grab one of them who immediately whacked him across the face, he flew back, sliding across the floor. The whole scene was beginning to feel like a nightmare where no matter how hard you tried to get to something it always remained just out of reach, but he had to get over there - he had to help ...

Spike saw Xander hit the floor and a red mist of screaming fury and fear that Xander was hurt descended over his eyes he fought like ... well like a demon kicking, punching even harder trying to crush, destroy, *kill* these things that had touched Xander, he had to get Xander away from them ... but some of them managed to grab him from behind, pinning his arms down.

"Tie his hands! Glory will want him restrained!"

Rope chafed his wrists and damn it Xander the brave bloody idiot was coming back for another go! This time Spike heard the crunch as the demons fist connected with Xander's chin, he hit the floor and lay there, unmoving.

/Oh God no/

"Goddamnit let me go!" He was screaming - he could hear his voice but it made no sense to him, his hands were tied and they still jumped back nervously as he snarled at them, jerking his head to try and get to them. He struggled desperately against them but he was surrounded, pinned down, too many hands, fists all flying around.

"Gentle with him." The head guy was talking again in that plummy voice of his. Spike wanted to rip his vocal cords out. "She will want this one intact. After all he can't tell us who the key is if he is dead."

"Key?" Spike repeated as the words filtered in. For the first time panic for himself set in as he realised these guys were going to take him to the bitch herself. "I don't know who the key is I ..."

Something was shoved into his mouth muffling his protests, and they dragged him out. He tried to yell out for Xander, still lying on the floor, but could barely make a sound, barely move against the rope that was cutting into his wrists and their hands digging into his skin.

Terror began to rise in him. However much he fought it wouldn't do him any good. He was going to Glory.

Part Twenty-Nine

Spike glanced around him as he was dragged into Glory's place, very posh too.

Being a Hellgod must come with a few perks. A couple of big mirrors, she obviously liked the look of herself, plus a lot of satin and rich colours made it a pretty sumptuous place. Although maybe she should speak to her decorator because somehow it felt like a shrinking cell lined with sharp pointy objects, all aimed at him. Glory looked up at him as he was shoved to a standstill in front of her, rising from the couch she tossed aside her magazine and glared at him with open distaste.

"What the hell is that and why is its hair that colour?"

"Stunning One," said the lead guy - Spike had picked up that he was called Jinx.

"This is the one who can tell you about ..." He paused for emphasis and the other guy - Murk - finished with him; "The key!"

"Really?" Glory beamed at them both. "That's fantaboulas! And impossible." Her eyes flicked over Spike dismissively and he gritted his teeth, it felt she was scraping his skin with sharp metal. "Because see this is a vampire, Slayers kill impure creatures, not tell them their secrets. Lesson number one, vampires - not pure."

"Yeah damn right I'm impure. I'm as impure as the yellow driven snow." Spike agreed hiding his sick relief. "Let me go." Trying to sound confident, reassured. Now he knew he was home and dry his fears all seemed laughable, of course she wasn't going to torture him! It was all going to be okay - it wasn't like she would do any real damage to him if she didn't think he could tell her anything, surely? He was going to be let go, he wouldn't be hurt ...

Glory ignored him, walking around him, assessing him coldly. "You can't even brain suck a vampire. He's completely useless."

"Yeah so I'm just going to let myself out." He tried to shake Murk off but Murk tightened his grip.

"But your Holiness," Jinx objected as Spike wished fervently for five minutes, just five minutes alone with this bastard. "We observed him with the Slayer. They were fighting but he most definitely mentioned the key."

"Yeah that was just trying to piss her off!" Spike said hurriedly. "I haven't got a bloody clue who the key is!"

Jinx rolled his eyes at the interruption and continued to soothe Glory. "Also he was with the Slayer's friend this very evening. A most determined young gentleman, unhappy about us taking the vampire. As though he was ... precious."

"Really?" Glory looked intrigued. "Precious?"

Oh shit. Spike felt terror leap inside him. She looked like she was buying this.

"Oh yes Magnificent One," Jinx said smoothly, pressing his advantage. "Or as though he at least *knows* something precious. I believe if you persuade him, he will yield the information you need."

Glory smiled as she stepped back up to Spike. "Let's take a peek at you precious."

He looked at her warily as she studied him intently, a small smile playing on her lips. The scent of her perfume was overwhelming. A pretty little Hellgod, but the blueness of her eyes didn't hide that inside she was a ruthless, merciless bitch. Her smile scared the crap out of him, she was going to enjoy this. Oh shit what the fuck was she going to *do* to him ...?

"Sod off," he said nervously.

She laughed as though he'd just told her a slightly risqué joke - then punched him in the face. He'd been on the receiving end of a lot of punches lately. This bitch won hands down. The stinging pain of his face was only topped by the agony in his side and shoulder where he flew back and hit the wall with such force it crumbled under him.

Dazed, he lay on the floor, watching fearfully as her shapely legs danced over to him. "He doesn't look very fancy to me," she said threateningly, dropping her prattling exterior for a second. She pulled him up roughly by his lower lip. "Hey easy with the lip!" Spike protested as he succumbed to her pressure, following her like a dog on a lead. Her nail dug into the flesh and the taste of his blood filled his mouth.

"But if he knows the Slayer's secret," Glory continued, ignoring his protests, "maybe appearances are deceiving."

She flung him down on her silken bed, and he landed on his back, unable to struggle away, laying there helplessly as she clambered on top of him, pinning him down. Her skin was so soft, her hair so golden, but under all that he felt as though a cold snake was winding itself around him, just waiting for the right moment to tighten up and crush his bones ...

"Maybe there's something on the inside," Glory said thoughtfully.

This was bad. Oh shit this was so bad. Nothing, not Angelus, not the Initiative, not the Slayer had made him feel this cold toxic fear. But Xander knew these guys had him, Xander would come for him. He just had to hold on. Spike clenched his jaw in readiness as her finger twisted teasingly in front of his eyes then slid down to his stomach.

/Oh fuck Xander please hurry up./

And then awfulrippingtearingburning she was *inside* his stomach,

/ohstopstophurtssomuch/ swirling his insides around. His scream of pure pain resounded around the room, as she twisted her finger around playfully.

"Shhhh." Glory crooned soothingly, as she dug around even deeper, her eyes bright, her lips moist with pleasure. "What do you know precious? What can I dig out of you?"

---

Xander was drifting, fathoms deep, someplace black and soft. It was kind of nice, floating along, a deep, restful sleep, the kind he hadn't had in a long time, but somehow he knew it was very important that he wake up. Now, right away. But he couldn't get his body to respond, couldn't prise his eyes open, couldn't break through the layers of this overwhelming darkness.

/Wake *up*!/ His mind kept bellowing it at him. He tried to break free again but the blackness pressed down on him, thick and heavy and soft, so soft ...

/Wake UP! Wake up wake up wake up!/

Slowly, with a huge effort he began to obey the command, struggling through layer after layer of consciousness, a throbbing in his head and his arm was getting worse as he broke free. Finally he managed to prise his eyes open. This felt wrong, he certainly wasn't at home, he could smell the dust on the floor where he was lying face down. His limbs felt so heavy, as though he'd sunk into the floor. Groaning he painstakingly prised himself up and into a sitting position before he surrendered back into that beckoning sleep. He looked around, his fuzzy mind trying to grasp details of his surroundings while struggling to remember what had happened. He was still in the crypt, Spike - those demon guys, they were all gone.

"Spike?"

Standing up falteringly, leaning on the wall for support Xander looked around the crypt. Utterly silent, still and dark. He shook his head and immediately wished he hadn't. It hurt like hell where he'd been hit. He checked his watch and felt a cold shiver of fear. He'd been out for hours. He looked around again hoping that Spike would miraculously appear, but nothing. He wasn't here. The last he'd seen were those demon guys surrounding him.

He opened the door and stepped outside. The fresh air helped to wake him up blowing the cobwebs away. The demon guys had surrounded Spike, and he was *sure* he'd heard one of them mention Glory.

Oh *SHIT*. Ignoring his head that was still banging in pain he broke into a run.

---

Spike didn't know how long he'd been here. It felt like days but was probably only a few hours. Only. That was a joke. The things she'd done to him in that time, the many ways she'd made him scream over and over, and she wasn't nearly done yet. But neither was he.

He tensed as she walked around him appraisingly. He was chained to the ceiling, his feet just brushing the floor, his arms burning in their sockets. Her dainty fingers paused in their torment as she stood behind him. She indicated in the large mirror hanging on the wall opposite him.

"See me there?" She asked him her breath close to his ear, her eyes luminous, trailing her hand over his body lightly. He tensed in revulsion and fear as her hands brushed against cuts and bruises. "See me? Not you. You're not in there, you know why? You're *nothing*!"

A cracking sound ripped the air and the leather cut angrily into the skin on his back. He threw his head back, biting his lip, unable to hold back a muffled cry of pain.

"Nothing! So why. Won't. You. *Talk*!" She was almost crying in frustration as she shot around to grab his face. "Tell me who the key is. Tell me, tell me, tell ME!"

He kept his eyes steadfastly on her face, watching as she turned red and blotchy with anger as his mouth stayed resolutely shut. /Aww. What's the matter bitch? Not playing your game? Take it like a man. I don't play to anyone's rules but mine./

"God!" She yelled in frustration, and punched him hard across his face. His head flew back under the force, he rocked on his feet, the chains pulled at his arms, and then snapped him back. He lifted his head, his face a hot agonising ball of pain and stared at her defiantly through his swollen eyes.

"I hate you!" She spat, shaking in fury. "You worthless, useless *vampire*!"

"Yeah," Spike agreed, grinning wickedly through the blood dripping from his mouth. "But for a worthless, useless vampire, I'm doin' a *really* good job of pissing you off."

Glory stared at him, her eyes burning as the balance of power shifted uncertainly between them, and through his satisfaction Spike knew he was really going to pay for that. Now he'd gone and made it personal. She whirled away from him, throwing herself down on the couch, almost in tears.

"Jinxy why won't he talk?" She asked her voice wavering. "Why won't he tell me? Have I lost my touch?"

"No! Never!" Jinx rushed to reassure her. "It is a privilege for him to be honoured with your touch! You are the epitome of skilled agony and exquisite precision!" Jinx glared at Spike, while clucking soothingly to Glory. "The vampire doesn't appreciate your mercy Wondrous one. Maybe you should be less gentle."

Glory nodded and drew in a deep breath. She walked over to the mirror, running her hands over her silky dress, readjusting herself. She stroked through her hair with her fingers admiringly, visibly calming at the sight of her reflection. Then she turned back to him her eyes glittering as she came closer.

Spike swallowed.

"You will talk precious." She said confidently as she stroked his face gently. "Either you'll talk or you'll ..."

Her hands burst through skin and bone squeezing until he was going to burst, white heated pain ripped through him like a bolt of lightening, his scream causing the crystals in the chandelier to reverberate.

"Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhh!"

"Yes," Glory acknowledged calmly. "That's better."

And she went back to work.

---

"Guys! Guys!" Xander burst into Willow and Tara's place racing into the bedroom, turning on the lights. "Wake up!"

Willow and Tara blearily opened their eyes as Dawn shot up - she'd been unable to sleep for wondering about what had been happening with Xander and Spike, whether Xander had gone to meet him, if they were friends now.

"Xander" Willow croaked as she sat up, "What is it?"

"Xander what happened?" Dawn burst out. "Are you okay? I was worried."

"Guys," he panted. "Demony kinds of guys." He wanted to scream with frustration at himself, he couldn't get his words out properly, could barely breath, all he could think was those guys had Spike and God knows what was happening to him. "Buffy said the guys that work for Glory are kind of like hobbits with leprosy? Well this was like a whole *flock* of hobbits, they just grabbed Spike I think they've taken him to Glory."

"Wait - Spike's still in town?" Tara asked bewildered. Willow stared at Xander with stunned eyes full of questions. Questions that he couldn't deal with right now - he didn't know anything anymore. All he knew was these ... *things* had Spike and that meant bad things, all kinds of bad things.

"Yeah but we don't have time to go into that now. He ..."

"He knows about Dawn." Willow finished with horror.

"We have to rescue him!" Dawn blurted out in fear.

"How do we find him?" Xander asked, his voice shaking, trying to think past the fear that was thudding alongside every beat of his heart. There had to something they could do - a locating spell, *anything*, but the girls just looked around them blankly, maybe hoping a solution would magically appear.

"We'll need weapons." Tara said at last.

"Yeah," Xander agreed thankfully, glad for something to concentrate on. "I got nothing - you guys?" Willow shook her head.

"Okay we'll hit Buffy's place, stock up."

Willow nodded. "Let's go."

---

Spike wasn't sure where he was anymore, one moment he was sitting in his crypt with Dawn, telling her scary stories, the next he was floating in a bubble, white and safe, it turned to hundreds of tiny bubbles, he was in a bath with Xander, soapy and warm ... but that had never happened. He didn't care, he liked it here. But something was pulling him back. Slowly he drifted back to himself and struggled to open his eyes, wincing as the blood made his eyelashes stick together, eventually they eased apart.

He was still hanging from the ceiling, the shackles biting into his wrists, his arms and shoulders still throbbing in dull pain, but his insides, oh God his insides, what had she done to them? They felt all wrong, torn and open, he could feel hot liquid trickling inside him, gathering heavily in his stomach. His back burned, his skin shredded, tatters still hanging from him, brushing across where she'd whipped him raw. Was there any skin left intact? Had she ripped it all to shreds? His vision gradually cleared. Glory was standing in front of him.

"There you are," She smiled handing the small vial she'd been waving under his noise back to Jinx. "Nearly had me worried there."

Where was Xander? Why hadn't he come for him? He wanted to hold on, he'd tried so hard but he couldn't take any more of this, he couldn't. Xander hurry, hurry
...

Or maybe he wasn't coming. Maybe he'd been holding on for nothing.

"Xander," he mumbled his head lolling back as his vision went grey again.

"Xander?" Glory leapt forward in excitement. "Is he the Key?"

"No," he rolled forward again. "Not key." He couldn't open his mouth properly anymore. "Everything else though ..." His vision turned grey and hazy as he swayed, hanging helplessly in front of her.

"Who's Xander?" Glory asked Jinx.

"One of the Slayer's friends, Magnificent one."

"Could he be the Key?"

"Unlikely I think Beauteous thou, he has been in the Slayer's life for a long time. It is more likely the vampire is ... attached to the human. He seemed very focused on the human when we found them together."

"Awww," Glory crooned. "The vampire's in love!" She turned back to Spike grabbing his face and forcing him to look at her. "Shall I have him brought here precious? String him up next to you?"

Terror jolted him back into full alertness. "You stay *away* from ..." His voice failed him, his throat hoarse from screaming there was nothing left in him, only a few croaks.

"Does that torture you precious?" Glory crooned. "That's nothing. Wait until I'm cutting into him."

/No! No, not Xander, don't hurt Xander./ He shook his head wildly, looking at her pleadingly through his slitted, bleeding eyes.

"But I won't hurt him if you help me. Just tell me who the key is." Glory breathed softly, as though she was scared speaking loudly would disturb the air, make him change his mind.

/Yes, tell her, make all this stop, can't bear any more./

She looked so concerned. So ready to stop, maybe she didn't want to hurt him any more, and crazily he craved it - the feeling that someone cared about him, and right now she was all that was on offer. His eyes stung as he looked at her helplessly and her eyes blurred to a blue sheen. He hadn't cried yet but he was near to tears now. His mouth opened, the words she was aching for ready to fall from his mouth. He couldn't hold on to them anymore, there was nothing left in him to keep his grip tight on them, the only thing here was her.

And her minions. A slight movement caught his eye, making him glance away from Glory. Jinx was fidgeting uncomfortably, the scabby guy obviously didn't like the idea of grabbing Xander ...

Of course they didn't, she *wouldn't*, she was bluffing. No way would she risk the Slayer bursting in after her friend, not while she had him all tied up and still a chance of getting the key without involving anyone else. She was trying to break him.

His jaw set as he met her eyes again, his vision clearing, properly this time. He loathed her in a way he'd never loathed anyone before. Stringing him up, powerless and beaten. But he wasn't powerless. He had something she needed and he was damned if she was going to get it. This repellent bitch wasn't going to touch his Little Bit. She wasn't going to make him break his word, he'd promised Xander only a few hours ago that he'd never let him down again, and he wouldn't, not for anything. Especially not for this vain, spoilt, prattling cow. Xander would come for him.

Glory read the look on his face and sighed. "Then I suppose its back to the old ..."

Her nails flayed at his skin and Spike discovered he did have a scream left in him after all.

---

The sunrise came just as they got to Buffy's house, and the edgy terrified feeling inside Xander was getting worse. He had to stay calm, stay focused and rational, but there was nothing rational about how he felt, sickly scared and shaking, and he didn't even know what he was scared of anymore. It had been such a long time since Spike had been taken. Hours, when God knows what could be happening, for all he knew Spike had already told Glory and they were laughing together about how they were going to take Dawn ...

His fists clenched, if Spike had done *anything* to put Dawn at risk, he had to die. But what if he hadn't? What were they doing to him?

/Oh Spike, Spike, Spike, Spike/

"If we're going to stop Spike from blabbing about Dawn we're gonna need these." Xander said heading for the weapons cabinet. He couldn't think about the other stuff right now. Dawn's safety was the most important thing, not that his lover - *ex* lover could be in mortal danger. He had to hate Spike - it was the only way this was clear. After all Spike was scum, a user of people. He was bound to talk if it would save him. He burrowed through the cabinet passing out weapons.

"Ooh the big guns." Dawn said impressed. Willow shot her a stern glance as she removed a small axe from Dawn's hands.

"Xander where shall we go? Where shall we look for Glory?"

"I don't know!" Xander snapped, slamming the lid down in frustration.

"It's okay Xander." Willow said tentatively.

"No it's not we need to rescue Spike!" Dawn burst out impatiently.

Xander felt himself flinch and Tara took her aside. "Um ... Dawn, I, I think Buffy has more weapons upstairs. Why don't you go get those?"

Dawn nodded. "I can do that. I'll be right back." She darted upstairs as the other three exchanged glances.

"Okay this has gone way too far - she thinks we're going to rescue Spike," Xander said bitterly. No rescue. Spike didn't deserve a rescue, they just had to stop him from talking. He didn't care what was happening to him, he didn't care, he didn't care ...

"Well what are we going to do?" Willow asked uncertainly.

He didn't know. He *didn't know*. Damnit would Spike ever stop screwing with his mind? There was too much damn *stuff* churning around inside him. His hate of Spike, of what he'd done, clashing with his worry for Dawn, but under that there was something else. Something had crawled inside him and was squeezing tighter with every passing second that went by and they weren't getting any closer to finding him.

And all the time Dawn kept wondering aloud if he was okay, asking what they were going to do to help, talking about him like he was friend, a person, not an evil creature. She had faith he wouldn't betray her. And that was the hardest thing of all to bear.

But he couldn't say that. He had to keep this clear for them. "Find him, stop him from talking whatever it takes."

"And what are we going to do with Glory?"

"Whatever we do we're gonna need Buffy's help," Tara pointed out.

"Woah - group hang time?" Buffy's voice dropped into the pause as she walked wearily into the house. For a moment they all stared at her, stunned into silence at her perfect timing.

"Buffy - God this is good." Willow said.

"Didn't seem like it to me." Buffy said distractedly, her mind still obviously not fully with them. "'Death is my gift.'" She looked disgusted.

"Buffy we need to talk." Xander said quickly, they had to get *moving*. Buffy's eyes widened in alarm as she really took notice of them for the first time. "What's wrong - is Dawn okay?"

"Dawn's fine, she's upstairs. It's just ..." Willow paused, looking at Xander.

"Spike's still in town." Tara finished.

"Xander," Buffy stared at him in horror. "Omigod - you're having sex again with Spike?"

A loud clatter cut off Xander's angry protest as Dawn, who had entered the room unnoticed, dropped the sword she was carrying. "He's *whating* with *who*?"

Everyone froze, speechless, he could hear Willow's gasp of dismay and Xander felt himself pale, even while shame burnt two red slashes across his cheeks. Dawn stared at him, her eyes wide and horrified.

"Dawn go upstairs." Buffy said rapidly.

"I won't! *Xander* is having sex with *Spike*?"

"I am *not* having sex with Spike!" Trying to blank out that moment in the crypt when Spike's hands had come up to cover his own. He was past all that now, it was over, did he have to keep paying and paying?

"No one is blaming you Xander ..." Buffy began.

"Wait - there's blame now?" he snapped as anger boiled up inside him. Not only did they not believe him, but now it was apparently open to debate in front of a fourteen year old girl who may as well be his little sister.

"It's understandable," Buffy said desperately trying to be supportive. "You can't just switch off your feelings."

"Yeah - we understand," Tara chipped in. "Spike is mysterious and compact ..."

"But well muscled..." Willow finished.

Xander narrowly restrained himself from screaming in frustration. "I'm not having sex with Spike but I'm starting to think you two might be!"

Willow and Tara exchanged a look. "But you were with him last night?" Willow questioned gently.

"He asked me to meet him - I ... look we *don't* have time for this!"

"Yeah we're forgetting the most important thing." Dawn said quietly. "Glory has Spike and she's going to hurt him."

"Glory has Spike?" Buffy repeated ominously calmly.

"Yeah I was *trying* to bring that up." Xander glared at the others. "We were getting weapons."

"Grab 'em. We're going now. I have to kill him."

There was a moment's silence where everyone looked at him to see how he was talking this, but his voice was calm as he spoke. "We don't even know where to look."

"I know where to start." Buffy replied. "Willow, call Giles. Tara will you stay here with Dawn?"

"Of course."

"Oh but I ..."

"No," Buffy said in a tone of voice that Dawn dared not argue with. They left the house, Buffy in the lead, Xander close behind.

---

Glory's earlier anger had changed now into something worse. A cold determination to keep him alive and tortured until she broke him apart and found what she wanted inside him. She could treat him with a god's casual contempt he was nothing. Just an object to rip and break and smash and painpainpain. /Don't care, don't care, cut into me, rip into my insides and squeeze until they burst I'll never tell you./

He wouldn't give up Dawn. Wouldn't let Xander down. But the pain, oh shit the pain. It consumed him, swallowed him, burnt through to his bones and he wasn't strong enough to take this much more. His determination was nothing, so weak compared to Glory playing his screams like an instrument with her manicured fingernails.

Breaking bones with a snapping sound that makes him sick. Throwing up in front of her, can't see anymore through blood in his eyes and nearly passing out again into blessed relief, but she kept waving some more of that foul smelling stuff under his nose that kept him awake oh fuck oh hell please make it stop.

His mouth wanted to open, to let the words fall out, it was so hard to keep it clamped shut. Just his bruised and battered body the only thing between Glory and Dawn.

He pulled pointlessly against the chains. Pointless because even if he got loose he was wrecked, could barely stand, and minions were swarming all over the place. How far could he go before they caught him? One step - two and then Glory would throw him through the wall. Throw him through the wall ...

Glory's voice floated into his ears, "I have a riddle for you precious. How is a vampire that won't talk like an apple?" She forced his head back and pulled a knife across his chest. Sharp, his skin sliced open easily as she viciously drew it across.

/Oh God no don't peel me/

"Think I can do you in one long strip?"

"No more." He begged, was that his voice? Weak and rough from screaming. He couldn't take anymore. Xander wasn't coming for him. He had to look after himself.

"I'll tell you who the sodding key is."

---

Xander looked around the grassy verge where Giles had driven them too under Buffy's directions. It was very calm, peaceful with a slight breeze ruffling Buffy's golden hair and he tried to swallow the scream welling up as they looked around them, wasting even more time.

"Glory's key-sniffing snake was about here when I killed it." Buffy said. "It was heading back to her."

"Do you think she lives around here?" Willow asked.

That was all she had? "It's not a lot to go on," Xander pointed out trying to keep the shade of blame from his voice. It was hardly Buffy's fault she didn't know where Glory lived.

Buffy shrugged. "It's all we got. We've got to find him so I can kill him." She flinched guiltily. "I'm sorry Xander - I can't begin to know how hard this is for you - but I gave him the chance to leave and he didn't, and now he's too big a risk - he knows who the key is and there's no way he's not telling Glory." She looked at him beseechingly as though trying to beg for forgiveness for preparing to kill his lover. Former lover.

"You're right." Xander said numbly. "He's evil."

And evil creatures didn't deserve mercy or forgiveness or love, they should die. And Spike was evil, don't think about how he'd hidden in the sewers for days, just to stay close to him, don't remember how he begged for forgiveness, he didn't care.

"So you're still on board?" Buffy asked.

Xander nodded. "Let's find him."

"Okay guys split up and spread out. Check out the priciest looking places first. Xander you come with me, Willow, Giles stick together."

Willow and Giles peeled off in the other direction as he and Buffy began to head towards the nearest building, a pretty swanky looking place. The knot in his stomach tightened further. Spike could be in there. He really could.

As they neared it they picked up speed, until they were nearly running.

"How are you holding up?" Buffy asked.

"Fine," he said wilfully misunderstanding her. "The axe actually gets lighter the longer I carry it."

"You know what I mean."

He nodded, without letting his speed drop. "I want to find him, I want to know. I want it done."

---

Water, cool, pure, it slid down his throat like silk. Spike swallowed, wondering if it was going to come out of the holes she'd torn in his skin with those dainty fingers.

"Is that better?" She asked, all concern. "Do you think you can try to talk again now?"

He nodded wearily.

"Good. Because I'm tired of these *games*!" She smashed the glass against his face, tiny shards trapped in his skin. "'I need time, I need a drink' you're a very needy little bloodsucker and it's not very attractive!" She threw herself down on her couch and glared at him. "Just start talking."

She wasn't going to let him buy any more time. If he didn't do this now she'd just torture him again and any little strength he'd recovered would be torn away. He choked down his nerves and began.

"Yeah," he croaked as he glanced in the mirror at the wall behind him. "Okay the key. Here's the thing." He surreptitiously pulled against his chains. They gave a little, if he pulled hard enough he could get loose, but he was going to need one hell of a pull. Or a punch ...

"It's that guy on T.V, what's his name?"

Glory raised her eyebrows sceptically. "On the television?"

"That show, the price show? Where they guess what stuff costs?" Spike winced. Even though it was the only way out - well he wasn't looking forward to it.

"The Price is Right?" Murk suggested helpfully.

"Bob Barker!" Jinx said pleased.

"We will bring you Bob Barker - we will bring you the limp and beaten body of Bob Barker!"

Glory rolled her eyes in exasperation. "It is not Bob Barker you scabby morons!" Glory spat furiously.

"The key is new to this world, and Bob Barker is as old as grit." She turned to smile back at Spike. Fuck he was really beginning to hate that smile, but at least it meant this was working.

"The vampire is lying to me."

Spike giggled past his fear. Years spent pissing off Angelus, hiding his terror were finally paying off. "Yeah but it was fun. And guess what bitch? I'm not telling you jack. You're never going to get your sodding key because you may be strong but in our world ..." he untwisted the chain as much as he could, trying to loosen them a little more, aligning his hands so his wrists hopefully wouldn't snap like twigs when the punch came, "you're an idiot."

Glory smiled in disbelief as he spoke. "I am a God."

"The God of what? Bad home perms?"

"Shut up!" Glory's hands went to her hair and she looked at him uncertainly for the first time. She may be a Hellgod but she was a typical woman, more so in fact - with all these lackeys around her, she'd probably never been criticised in her life, he should have tried this hours ago. "I command you shut up!"

"Oh yeah okay. Sorry but I just had no idea that Gods were such prancing lightweights." Inside he was whimpering with fear that this mightn't work, but if he was going to get killed for it he may as well make it good, give the bitch a memory to make her flesh creep.

"Mark my words," he continued with conviction, "the Slayer is going to kick your skanky, lopsided ass . .."

Glory anxiously checked out her behind, he tightened his grip on the chains, keeping up the pressure, waiting for it - come *on* bitch just get it over with!

" ... back to whatever place would take a cheap ... " he paused to size her up, and finished - not without some small satisfaction - "*whorish*, fashion victim, ex-god like you."

That did it.

It all happened so fast, one second she was glaring at him and he was pulling like hell against the chains the next she'd spun around, her foot connecting squarely with his chest and pain exploded as ribs broke, organs were pushed out of place, but with a loud sudden snap the chain broke and he had a confused jerky impression of Glory receding as he flew backwards, smashing through the wall and skidding to a bone jarring stop.

Worked like a charm. Now if he could only get himself to move.

"Good plan Spike," he muttered to himself, his voice sounded odd, the words mushed and rounded but he forced himself to his feet. Got to get out. But it hurt so bad, skin, insides and out, torn and grating. His body was screaming at him to lie down, please give up, just die please. He ignored it. He could die as soon as he got out, for now he staggered down the corridor so slow, every step jarred sending more pain sparking through him, they were coming, he had to move but it hurt oh fuck it hurt.

He could see the lift through the alarming black spots dancing in front of his eyes, as he looked the lift door was closing. He tried to hurry, his left leg was numb, dragging behind him. Biting his lip to stop from screaming he got there just as the door closed. He almost let the tears of frustration come. It was so tempting to just lie back down...

"Here!" They'd spotted him, hurrying towards him.

/Oh God/ he begged, /if you have any use left for a demon let me get away, I can't take any more torture, if you don't want me to talk let me get away/

He struggled against the lift doors and maybe his prayer was being answered, at least a little as he found a tiny measure of strength he didn't even know he had left, he gave all he had, pushing so hard he might just throw up again from the pain of straining his battered and beaten body still further, but the doors slowly, grudgingly eased open.

"Oh God," he groaned as he slid through and let himself drop to the lift below. He hit it hard and white lights flashed violently in front of his eyes replacing the black spots, as the pain rocketed through him, momentarily paralysing him. He had to get into the lift, but he couldn't move, unable to bear setting off any more hurting. He could only lie there and wait for it to recede as the lift continued downwards. The white lights faded back into dark spots and beckoned to him. Beautiful, velvety darkness where he could put himself beyond pain.

In alarm he deliberately knocked his hand against one of his broken ribs. The darkness faded again, and the whiteness exploded back across his eyes, too bright, too painful, but it was safer than that darkness. His fumbling fingers opened the hatch and he let himself fall through into the lift just as it reached the ground floor and the doors opened. He could see the outside world from here, but he could already hear them clattering down the stairs after him, no time for escape - it was too late, it really was over.

But there was another way to keep them from getting him. He looked from the shadows of the lift at the sunshine streaming in through the windows and although he could hear them yelling, feel fear thudding at the edge of his mind, somehow it was easy to ignore. A bubble of quiet and clarity was spinning itself around him. Just a few steps and he could rest, he'd be done. /See Xander I did it. I didn't let you down again./

One of the minions was staring at him with open disgust as he ran down the stairs. "You do not insult Glory by escaping!"

/Oh yeah?/ Spike dragged himself to his feet, staring determinedly at the little shit through puffy eyes. /See how she takes me dying then mate. That'll really piss her off./ And if he was going he was gonna take as many of these little bastards with him as he could, but he'd never talk. Never, never, and he could swear even though he was still in the shadows he could already taste the sunshine and it tasted just the way he remembered. Warm, pure, fresh. He took the first step out.

And the door burst open.

---

As he and Buffy burst through the doors the first thing Xander saw was Glory's guys gathered on the stairs, looking at them with horror. He wondered why they were all gathered at the entrance before he caught sight of Spike, bloodied, battered, staring at him in amazement. They couldn't have looked at each other for more than a couple of seconds but Xander felt those feelings that he'd tried to push down until he pushed them away clench almost unbearably tight inside him, making a mockery of all his empty words and threats.

He cared what they'd done to him. Oh hell yeah did he care.

Spike closed his eyes in what looked like a burning relief before sinking into the shadows of the lift and collapsing to the floor.

Xander wondered afterwards if this was how Buffy must feel when she was fighting. So grounded he could feel the wood grain of the handle of the axe between his fingers, feel each tiny shiver that shot along it as he hit, hear the sounds as he smashed into them over and over, but at the same time it was all almost like being out of his body, fighting on autopilot because the only real thing was the pure burning fury that was coursing through his veins.

As he hacked his way through the demons, he was dimly aware of Willow and Giles yelling that they were here, joining the fray, but he didn't stop to look, to speak. The only thing that mattered was reaching Spike.

It was warm in the lift, quiet as the fight roared on outside. The axe still clenched in his hands, he stared at Spike's prone form. His eyes blurred and the axe hit the ground with a dull thump as he dropped to his knees next to him. The hate was still there, trapping words in his throat. Stilling his hands from reaching out to Spike. But under that. In spite of that. He didn't want to feel it, he hated feeling it, but he did.

/Oh God/ he thought helplessly. /I still love him. I can't help it. I love him./

"Hey."

Buffy's voice came quietly, breaking his concentration. He looked up, Glory's guys had gone, at least for now. Willow and Giles stood silently behind her, watching them. Buffy had a sword in her hand. He stared up at her and knew she would kill Spike to keep Dawn safe. And he could understand that. But if she wanted Spike dead she was going to have to come through him, and it wasn't right or fair or sensible but it was just the way it was.

His gaze met hers unflinchingly and after a long moment she slowly lowered the sword.

"Giles," she said, without taking her eyes from Xander. "Bring the car round. Hurry."

Giles nodded and pelted outside.

Xander looked at her questioningly. She shrugged. "We can't ask him what he told her if he's dust."

He stood back and she hoisted Spike up to his feet with more speed than care. Spike rocked, his eyes flickering open briefly, he muttered something incoherent and managed to steady himself, leaning heavily on Buffy.

Buffy gestured across the sunlit space where the sun came streaming into the windows. "How are we going to ..."

Xander wordlessly shrugged off his coat and draped it over Spike. Spike's eyes were falling shut again, he was too far gone to notice what was happening. Buffy nodded to the entrance where Giles roared up with the car.

"Let's go."

---

The others talked in low whispers as Xander stared blankly at the rows of murky looking potions behind the till in the magic shop. Giles had insisted on dropping himself and Buffy at the shop while he and Willow dealt with Spike and they had agreed. Buffy had been anxious to see Dawn and he'd been desperate to get away from Spike. Being around him made his feelings as murky as any of these potions. So angry, so sad, so protective. It was too hard to bear. Especially with Spike beaten and in so much pain and all he wanted was to take it away, and the next moment all he wanted was to make it worse. He wondered if any magic could make him stop feeling like this. Was there anything that could stop love once it had taken root inside you? If there was he'd take it in a second. He'd always been scared of falling in love and now he knew why. He *hated* this. Love shouldn't be like this. It shouldn't mingle in with hate until you didn't know what it was you felt. It shouldn't tear you apart inside. You shouldn't be so completely *helpless* against it.

He jumped as the shop bell rang out and Willow and Giles entered the shop looking tired.

"What did you guys do with Spike?" Buffy asked.

"Dropped him back at his crypt." Willow replied, flicking a concerned glance at Xander.

Giles rubbed his eyes wearily. "We tried to find out if he'd told her anything but he was too badly beaten to make much sense."

"Well even if he told her he'd just lie to us about it anyway." Xander said dully.

"Count on it." Buffy agreed. "But I have to know - *now*. If he did give us up Dawn and I need to get out of town - I mean she could be on her way here right now."

"But not to worry I'm sure we'll all be perfectly safe" Giles said, trying to give Dawn a reassuring smile.

"Safe. Right, and Spike and Xander having sex is a euphemism for them playing checkers." Dawn said sarcastically. Xander felt a bitter smile tug at his mouth.

"It sounded convincing when I thought of it." Tara said with a weak smile.

"I don't think he did." Willow said swiftly changing the subject. "Tell Glory I mean."

"You don't? Why?" Buffy asked curiously.

"Why would Glory have kept on torturing him if he'd told her who the key was?"

"And why would he have needed to escape?" Giles agreed.

There was a long pause as Xander stared steadfastly at the ground. He knew what they wanted but he couldn't do it - he couldn't face Spike.

"Xander maybe you could ..."

"No! No. Sorry Buff but if I'm around him I'll end up ..." /Killing him, kissing him/ "...doing something I'll regret."

Silence fell again as he felt rather than saw the concerned looks they exchanged.

"I'll talk to him." Buffy said at last.

"I have something that could help there," Willow said stepping over to the array of bottles and jars on the shelf. She ran her finger along the bottles thoughtfully and picked out a couple. As she opened them she said tentatively; "You know, I feel kind of bad for him."

"*What*?" His head jerked up as though she'd snapped a string.

"I'm on your side Xander," she hurried to explain. "What he did to you was awful, a total travesty I'm completely on board. But ..."

She trailed off looking at him almost pleadingly.

"He was so *beat up*," Xander finished quietly.

---

Spike lay motionless for a long time, afraid to move, to awaken the pain that was throbbing dully through his body. Far better to just lie here until he might feel better, whenever that might be. To just cling on to the thought that he'd survived. Never mind that survival seemed a pretty bleak prospect at the moment. Xander had come for him, but somehow he didn't think that meant everything was happy now. He only had to open his eyes and look around the crypt where he'd been dumped, alone and in pain to get that. At least if he'd stepped out into the light he'd be beyond all this, peaceful and finished. Maybe Xander would have believed him then, but fate apparently wasn't that kind. That would have been easier on him. He was doing to have to do this the hard way and live without him. Day by day, minute by minute.

The silence of the crypt swallowed him until he began to wonder if he was even really here. Nothing to anybody. He'd held on for so long, now it was over he felt curiously hollow, empty inside. Alone and drifting. No Xander, no determination not to give in, no Hellgod. In a twisted way at least Glory had needed him, wanted him, she'd *seen* him. Not that he wanted to go back there, Glory's attention was pretty hard to take. But the loneliness was hard to bear as well.

So it was with a queer sense of relief when he heard his door swing open and he recognised the scent of the Slayer.

/Oh great. Come to poke me with a stick while I can't move?/

She was a bugger for that 'hitting him while he was down ' thing, but at least someone was aware of him. Anything in this crypt now was an improvement. "Spike."

"'S me." Spike agreed, he opened his eyes to see her looking down at him, and he painfully eased his protesting, screaming body up into a sitting position. She flicked her fingers casually at him, the dust in the air hazily rose then settled with the movement. "Love those bruises on you."

"Yeah - you're not the only one that likes 'em, pretty near everyone wants to plant a few on me these days."

"Can't say I see a problem with that."

Silence fell.

"Well there's our dose of painful awkwardness over with." Spike said at last.

"If you want another round of beating me up though could you give me a couple of weeks? Cuts and bones need some time to heal."

"Why did you let Glory do this?"

Spike almost shrugged then thought better of it. "She wanted to know who the key was. You saying you wanted me to tell her?"

"Did you?"

"No!" He coughed desperately as the force with which he'd spoken tore at his hoarse, hurting throat, then went white as the coughing sent jolts of pain through his body as muscles that had been grabbed, twisted into a different shape and shoved back in, clenched and pushed. Clasping his hands to his chest to still the movement he shook his head. "I wouldn't ever. Glory never finds out."

"Why?"

And suddenly he was too tired to tell anything but the truth, to tired to try and hide behind any of the faces he'd worn with the Slayer. "The Bit, she's a mate, maybe the only real one I've ever had, stuck her neck out for me, and ... Xander. Although he's less pleasant these days." Spike shook his head self deprecatingly, trying to shrug aside his vulnerability. "I owed him that much. I promised I was never going to let him down again and I meant it. I love him, an' couldn't live with him being in any more pain. I'd let Glory kill me first." He looked down at himself and rolled his eyes at himself. Wrecked and ashamed, humiliatingly exposed in front of a girl he always tried - for one reason or another to look powerful in front of. "Nearly bloody did."

He kept his eyes averted from hers. Waiting for the mockery, the disbelief. The unexpected kiss brushing butterfly soft against his cut and swollen mouth flooded through him like a balm over his pain filled body.

He pulled away, staring at her with questioning, confused eyes, it had to be a trick - but she looked back at him gravely her green-blue eyes wide and clear and filled with things he'd never seen in there before, not for him anyway.

Respect, trust. In that moment they ceased to be enemies. Not friends but maybe something more important. Allies.

She slowly turned away. He tried to bite his tongue but couldn't help himself blurting out.

"And Xander?"

Buffy sighed wearily and stopped.

"Xander isn't coming Spike. What you did to him was gross and obscene . . ."

"It wasn't ... "

"DON'T!" Buffy snapped, her voice still had a spark of anger, but he knew it wasn't for herself. It was for Xander. She turned back to look at him and must have seen his misery as she continued a little more softly. "These games, they're not even real."

Spike hung his head - the shame was too great to even look up. Then she spoke again.

"What you did in there. For Dawn. For him. That was real."

Spike looked up. She paused, hovering over the next words, but her voice when it came was clear and firm as she threw him his reward.

"I'll see that he knows it."

For a moment they regarded each other gravely then she walked out, closing the door behind her, leaving him alone again. But not empty. Spike stared into the place she had stood for a very long time as a tiny spark of hope caught inside him.

---

Outside the crypt Buffy thoughtfully brushed her hands free of the truth powder she'd sprinkled Spike with before walking away.

Part Thirty

It was mid morning and hot, sunlight streamed into the magic shop making even the darker, more powerful potions and powders that surrounded them look harmless. Xander sat, surrounded by a pile of books, helping Giles research and listening to Willow chatter about the World Culture Fair she and Tara were going to this afternoon. After all this time, she still glowed whenever she spoke of her girlfriend, of the plans they'd made together. He tried to smile, nod encouragingly, but the dust prickled at his nose - the sunlight and the incomprehensible books were making his head hurt, and he just couldn't make himself respond to her obvious happiness.

" ... I can't wait to see what Tara's going to think of the ..."

How hot *was* it in here? The air was stifling, pressing against him stickily, draining his energy, the tiniest of movements took the maximum of effort.

" Then when we get back to our place I thought we'd ..."

The musty smell of the books was swamping him - irritating and stale, and he wished fervently for a moment that Willow would shut up - just *shut up* about the wonderful *couple* things she and Tara had planned.

"Geez Giles," he snapped suddenly, interrupting Willow in mid flow, slamming a book shut in disgust, "do you ever dust these things?"

Giles looked at him in mild surprise.

<Oh yeah sure,> he thought with a wave of irrational anger. <Look at me like *I'm* the freak. Why not? I know I do whenever I look in the mirror.>

"They're not ..." Giles began.

"I mean its bad enough we gotta be stuck in here with these three thousand page sleeping pills - you gotta make it *worse* with the 'old book' smell?"

"Well I did consider bathing them in fragrant oils but decided the information inside them was *slightly* more important than any affront to your sense of smell," Giles said dryly.

"If you ask me anything would be an improvement," he snapped back. " But hey look who I'm talking to. You haven't been away from this crap for at least the last decade - do you even remember what it's like to have a life?"

Giles flinched ever so slightly and somewhere inside him, so did Xander, but he was unable to stop - something was gnawing painfully inside him, making him lash out with sour satisfaction.

"Xander!" Willow exclaimed in shock, "What's the matter with you?"

"I don't know - maybe that you don't stop talking? Willow, you wanna talk about your great life, and girlfriend and the Culture Fair why don't you go talk to someone who gives a ..."

Suddenly his voice broke, the edgy, snappish anger departing just as fast as it had come, and he gulped, covering his face with his hands.

"Xander?" Giles' voice floated into his ears, weirdly far away, yet way too close. "Are you all right?"

His mouth was twisting across his face in a scrawl, inside his brittle defences were crumbling, he dug his fingers so tightly into his hair it hurt.

<Not *again*> he berated himself frantically as panic streamed though him. <Haven't I humiliated myself enough?> With an effort that left him shaking, he beat back the wail that was rising in his throat doing its damnedest to come out.

"Yeah." His voice came out a little shaky but he managed to choke back the lump in his throat, forcing away the danger of imminent collapse. He wiped his eyes and was dimly aware of Giles moving his chair closer to him, of Willow placing her hand on his shoulder. He let his hands drop from his face as crippling shame caught up to him.

"God, I'm sorry you guys, I didn't mean ... it's just ... Anya ... Glory ... Spike," he drew in a wavering breath. "Its been a rough couple of months."

Willow nodded, rubbing his shoulder soothingly, sympathy etched on her expressive face.

"It's understandable," Giles said gently. "You've been through a lot, it's bound to catch up to you."

"Yeah - but I shouldn't take it out on my friends."

"Xander ... I'm not eager for you to make up with the guy that did this to you, but maybe you should talk to him," Willow said tentatively. "I know things are kind of ..." She gestured vaguely with her hand to illustrate what she meant, "between you two right now."

Xander shook his head. "No, there's no ..." he mirrored her gesture. "It's all very clear."

"Willow could have a point Xander," Giles said reluctantly. "As much as I would like Spike as far away from you as possible it may help you resolve your ... uh ... issues with him."

For some reason a picture flashed into Xander's mind of the endless sleepless nights he spent, where no matter how he arranged the pillows or how many glasses of warm milk he had, nothing worked. He had the feeling the only thing that could push him into sleep was a cool body pressed against him. Was that an issue?

He shook his head, trying to push the memories away. "I don't want to see him."

Willow and Giles exchanged glances.

"You know the thing that *really* sticks in me?" he continued bitterly. "The thing that really cranks it up that extra notch? It's ..."

The door to the back room opened and Buffy came into the shop wiping her face with a towel. She paused as she felt their eyes on her, sensing the tension in the room.

"Hey guys," she greeted them warily.

"Hey Buffy," Willow said awkwardly.

"Is everything okay?"

"Fine," Giles said very unconvincingly. "Um ... did you have a good workout?"

"Yeah it was okay." She checked her watch and tutted in dismay. "I'd better get a move on. I have to drop out of classes, meet with Dawn's principle and I have ... uh, some other stuff to do first."

"Taking blood to Spike?" Xander asked, staring fixedly down at the table. His voice came out stilted and strange.

"Um yeah," Buffy admitted slightly shamefacedly.

"How's he doing?" Willow asked, shooting a nervous look at Xander.

"Better I think," she said quietly. "Not great, but yeah. He's getting better."

Xander kept his eyes averted, and Buffy continued tentatively; "Um Xander would ... you like to take it?"

He gave a small incredulous snort. "I really don't think so."

"I know this is bothering you ..."

"No - its a laugh a minute," he shot back sarcastically.

"Xander I'm on your side, but I can't just leave him. You know the minute he can look after himself, I'm out of there."

"Right."

"If you want I could take him a message ..."

"Buffy," Willow remonstrated gently.

"Okay ..." She backed down quickly, slinging her coat on. "I've gotta go."

Xander watched her as she walked across the shop, the empty aching place where his heart should be pulling at him, getting worse with every step she took, knowing that she was going to Spike. He bit his lip, trying to clamp down the surge of feeling building up inside him but as she reached the door ...

"Buffy!"

She turned back to him hopefully. "Yes?"

He was trembling, his heart thudding painfully fast in his chest, as he felt himself draw close, hover right on the edge of letting go of the past.

"Tell him ... tell him ..."

He choked as a memory flashed through his mind of Spike. Spike laughing carelessly at him after the first time he had slept with him. The rush of forgiveness that only a moment ago had flooded him, seeming so possible, so real, receded. He looked at Buffy waiting by the door and felt his lip curl in bitterness as he drew back from the edge. "Nothing."

Buffy's slight smile faded, she paused for a moment longer, but he kept his mouth resolutely clamped shut. Nodding sadly she left, the shop bell tinkling as she did. He was safe again, back on the firm ground of hating Spike. Safe, and a little sick, feeling oddly let down.

" It's *that*," he finished angrily, going back to what he'd been saying before she had come out. "That's what *really* gets to me, those two suddenly bosom buddies."

"Xander they're not ..." Giles began, when the phone peeled out. "Oh," He jumped to his feet then hovered indecisively by the table. "That will be the Council - they said they'd call with a report on their Glory research."

"Go," Xander said. "It's important."

Giles nodded resignedly. "I'll take it in the back." He squeezed Xander's shoulder comfortingly as he passed him.

"Giles is right you know," Willow said as the back door closed and the phone stopped. "Buffy's not his friend. She's your friend."

"So how is it she's now delivering blood to the guy that wanted to tear me up into little bitty pieces? Besides he was *obsessed* with her. She should stay away from him."

"Well, she doesn't want him to starve. He did do something good."

"What and that makes it all okay?" he asked disbelievingly. "Besides its more than that - its so obvious she thinks ... that she ... how can she trust him after ..."

Damnit! His voice was shaking again. Was he *ever*going to get past this humiliating urge to fall apart every time this came up?

"Well maybe its easier for Buffy." Willow said gently. "He never broke her heart."

"Yeah - I guess I got the deluxe package huh?" He gave her a brief sad smile. "I know he did something good," he admitted. "It just makes it worse. If he was just a demon it would be ..."

"Easier?"

"Clearer. Before he was just a bastard, now all at once he's a hero. He's a heroic bastard. How am I meant to know what to do if everything is so messed up? I know he saved Dawn and that should make up for it but there's other stuff ..." He looked down helplessly at his hands clasped tightly on the table. So much other stuff inside him, tearing him apart, why wouldn't it go away? Why couldn't life be easy?

"I hit Buffy," Willow said suddenly, interrupting his thoughts.

His head shot up as he gaped at her in astonishment. "What?"

Willow nodded. "The night she found out about you and Spike. She wasn't taking it so well and I hit her."

"Willow ... I can't believe it - my God I had no idea. Are you guys okay?"

"Yeah - but the thing is, it happened so fast, I don't think anything could have stopped me, but that time in the Bronze when he almost ..."

"I remember," he said hurriedly.

"He stopped. He stopped because you wanted him to."

"Geez Willow are you in the 'Spike's a hero' camp as well as Dawn and Buffy?" He snapped, ignoring his heart that was thudding with fear, because maybe, just maybe she was making him think things he didn't want to think - dangerous things.

"No," Willow persisted, "I'm in your camp - totally. I just think that when it comes to you there is other stuff there with him, I mean stuff other than the bad stuff."

He struggled to close his mind against whatever the hell it was that her words were awakening inside him. Something like ... yearning, sadness. He was past all that now - he had to be past it because that way lay painpain*pain*, and even if it was taking longer than he'd thought to get over Spike, hurting almost more than he could bear, well that was just something he had to deal with.

"Even if I did talk to him what am I gonna say? 'Hey thanks for nearly getting tortured to death but it doesn't change anything'?"

"Doesn't it?" she asked gently. "You know what Buffy said. He told her he did it for y ..."

"I know what he said!" He jumped to his feet in agitation. "It doesn't help!"

Willow's eyes followed him with concern. "Well you know he doesn't want Buffy right?"

"Yeah I know, but it doesn't suddenly make him a good guy! He's a monster - I already forgot that once and look how it turned out. He made this plan and okay - so he fell in ... "

He stalled, unable to say *those* words and then began again, now he'd started to spill out words he had to finish - had to explain to Willow what was going on in his mind, his heart.

" So he got ... *attached* to me and couldn't go through with it, what if he hadn't? He'd have carried on and left town singing a jaunty tune and left us to pick up the pieces. I can't forgive him Wills, I can't forget what he is, and I won't let myself ... care about a demon that uses people like that!"

"Maybe its not something you *let* yourself feel Xander. Maybe you just do."

"No. I hate him. I hate him for what he did. I hate that everyone knows, I hate myself for not being able to stop what happened with him, but ... I," he tried to stem the words but couldn't stop them flooding out; "I hate Glory for what she did to him." His fists clenched compulsively as the rage at Glory he tried to ignore pounded demandingly at the cold cage he'd built to contain it, screaming to be noticed, acted on. "Sometimes I just want to go and find her and ..."

"Woah - Xander," Willow shot to her feet, standing in his path, until then he hadn't even realised he'd been pacing restlessly. "You know you can't right? She'd kill you before you got through the door."

"I don't care!"

Willows eyes were wide and he froze as he registered what he'd just said. "*Sometimes* I don't care." He amended swiftly. "Sometimes I just want to take my best shot, I don't care if she squashes me like a bug - then I remember what Spike did and I want to take a swing at him myself. It's like that rollercoaster we sneaked on when we were kids. Just as I'm tearing in one direction - wham! - just as fast the opposite way." His energy deserted him and he crumpled, exhausted into the chair.

"Was that the time I threw up?" Willow asked, frowning slightly as she tried to remember.

"Yeah. And I've done my fair share of that lately as well."

They gave each other small twisted smiles that faded almost immediately. "I'm losing it Wills," he said brokenly. "Everything is falling apart and there's nothing I can do to fix it." He looked up at her with eyes that were somehow angry yet pleading. "Why did this have to happen to me? I can't stand *feeling* like this."

"Oh Xander," Willow's eyes ached for him, she took hold of his hand tightly. "It'll get better," she reassured him passionately. "It *has* to get better."

"How?" He asked desperately, his voice rising with frustration. "How can it? It's all so wrong now - I just wish I could go back and make it different - I wish he'd never come here - I just wish he'd left me the hell *alone*!"

---

Spike's eyes flew open, a soundless scream trapped in his throat as he forcibly pulled himself out of his nightmare. His eyes darted frantically around him, peering fearfully into the darkness that surrounded him.

He was alone. After a long moment he sank back onto the pillow, trying to stem the panic that was racing in his veins. He clenched the bundle of dark material in his fingers, taking in the scent, concentrating on the inhale, exhale movement to calm him. Deep seated itching nagged at him, in his very bones. An uncomfortable burning warmth swallowed him from the inside out.

In, out.

Inhale, exhale.

All that the itching and the burning meant was that he was healing. He must be - the forced breathing motion didn't hurt him inside the way it had done. Bones knitting together, skin healing, his insides less painful as they reverted back into their natural state. Soon he would be back to himself. Except for the memories. And the nightmares. Nightmares that Glory was waiting to grab him, nightmares he had never really gotten away, that he would regain consciousness still chained to Glory's ceiling, screaming out Dawn's name over and over as Glory changed into Xander looking at him in disgust. Not that he could ever tell anyone about these nightmares of course. Big Bads didn't have nightmares. If they had nightmares then they weren't Big Bads were they?

In, out.

Inhale, exhale.

His eyes and ears were on red alert in case Glory or one of those scabby minion guys were coming to get him. Not that he could fight them off, at the moment it was all he could do to walk. He couldn't do anything except hang around this crypt that didn't feel safe anymore waiting for his body to heal. He'd had some tough fights in his time and had always hated this part the most after being injured. The weakness, the forced inaction, the boredom and frustration as he yearned impatiently for his strength to return, but this now, this was the worst yet. Worse even than the time Buffy had put him in that bloody wheelchair. Waiting in this half alive, dull pain, where he couldn't deal with outside right now - the lights were so bright and hurt his eyes and the air was too much to take. But the loneliness was also hard to take.

Eventually he stopped forcing his breath, allowing his tight grasp to ease up a little. He didn't think Glory was going to come after him again. She probably didn't think he was worth it now she knew he had the Slayers protection. Him with the Slayers protection, now there was irony for you. Never thought he'd rise so high, or sink so low, depending on your point of view. But still knowing in his mind that Glory wasn't coming for him, and feeling it were two different things. He knew the bitch. Being tortured by someone gave you a real good feel for them. She wasn't going to give up, unless Buffy did something sharpish Glory would be coming. It was just a question of when - and who.

He shuddered, and dragged himself out of bed, limping over to the blood Buffy had dropped off for him this morning, he carefully opened the bag and drank it down. He wistfully remembered draining the blood of a Slayer straight from her throat. The heat and *power*, it had flooded through him until surely he must have been glowing with it. He looked down at the empty bag and sighed. Still it was good of Buffy to bring it. She actually seemed to think he was okay these days. Not great or anything like that but she brought him blood and smokes, asked occasional polite questions about his health. Although he was grateful that she wasn't making this any harder on him sometimes he actually found himself missing the days when she had threatened him hourly, because at least them he'd had a little pride, some attitude. At least then he'd had Xander.

He limped back over to the bed, sitting down and stretching his aching leg out.

Xander. Who hadn't come, and despite all the healing his body was doing that little fact was ripping him apart inside and getting worse with every passing day. How could someone just not being here hurt so damn much? It wasn't that there was a Xander shaped hole in his heart, it was his whole heart, it ached, it breaked, and it never let up.

And stupid and pathetic as it may be, he'd been nourishing a tiny hope that Xander would come to him and they could be together again, and no, there was no big reconciliation scene planned, no wild sex, or pretty speeches. There'd be time for all that stuff later, right now he just wanted Xander. Wanted Xander to sit with him, hold him and talk - or just be quiet - without restraint and he could drop this silent, suffering thing, stop denying just how scared he felt and just ... take some comfort.

But he hadn't come, and that really said a hell of a lot. Maybe it was time to face it. He wasn't *going* to come. Maybe now all that he could do was let go. What else *could* he do? Yes he'd done a terrible thing but he'd tried to stop it, apologised, begged, hung around at great risk just to be near him, tried to talk to him and let a hellgod tear him to shreds. He was all out of ideas, it was up to Xander now, and if he couldn't deal with the past ... then that was his loss.

Yeah. Sure. The misery and loss and fucking *pain* that clawed at him suggested differently.

But it was time to move on, find a bit of fighting spirit, regain his pride, his attitude. Xander wasn't coming back, if he wanted to move on from being just as pathetic as the Ensouled One, he would have to face that. He'd be alright. He'd lived without Xander for over a hundred years and done pretty damn fine, he didn't need him, he didn't need anyone.

His eyes fell on the bundle of dark material he had been clinging onto. Xander's coat. He didn't know how it had arrived here. He guessed it had been draped over him to protect him from the sun after pulling him out of Glory's place. It was a true testimony to how pathetic he'd become, hanging on to this tiny remnant of Xander, he should get rid of the damn thing, burn it maybe. Soon.

He shivered, and lay back down on the bed, trying to close his mind against harsh reality. The painful past, the unbearable present, the bleak future. Right now he just needed to imagine for a moment ...

He closed his eyes tightly and inhaled deeply, wrapping the empty arms of the coat around himself.

Continue

Part Twenty-Seven Song lyrics taken from Staind's 'It's been awhile'