Here Is Gone

By Terri

Chapter 31

Spike and Dawn were sitting in the living room when the clock struck eight. Dawn was painting his nails their usual black (she had noticed that the manicure Harmony had given him weeks ago was in dire need of repair) and yammering about boys. He was pretending to pay attention and nodding and making agreeing noises at appropriate intervals. Then Giles walked in to save him.

“Rupert! My fellow countryman! Please tell me you brought alcohol,” he called as Giles entered the house.

He saw Giles taking in the tableau before him and watched the man give a visible sigh of relief that he would not be alone with a female teenager.

‘Spineless wanker…’

“Spike. It’s so good to see you up and about,” Giles greeted, thankfully carrying two six-packs of beer.

He plastered a smile upon his face. “Well, you know. It takes more than my psychotic ex-girlfriend using my chest as a cutting board to keep me down.”

“Well, yes, I have learned from experience that vampires are remarkably resilient.”

“Yeah, we are. Is that Corona?”

Giles looked at the beer he was carrying. “Yes, it is.”

Heedless of his wet nails and Dawn’s disapproving glare, he held out a hand.

“Pass one over, Rupes.”

Giles came into the room and handed him a bottle obligingly.

“Ta,” he said, opening the bottle with his teeth and taking a swig.

Dawn made a disgusted sound and put away the nail polish. “I’m gonna go do my homework,” she groused sullenly and stalked from the room.

They watched her go.

“Have we been reprieved?” Giles asked.

Spike swallowed his mouthful of beer. “Not a chance. I give ‘er an hour tops. We’re too good of an opportunity to miss.”

“Good lord, I can’t imagine what it must be like to live with a teenaged girl, let alone two other… headstrong women.”

“It’s easy. Ya just gotta remember three things. One: keep your mouth shut and your head down. If they don’t notice you, you’re in the clear. Two: the answer to any question they ask you is ‘yes’, unless of course it’s the dreaded ‘does this outfit make me look fat’ question. In which case, the answer is a vehement NO. Even if she looks like week-old stuffed sausage in it, the answer is still no. Three: if your girl is an insane bitch who wants to destroy the world, bugger outta there as fast as you can,” he explained, counting off on his fingers.

“Thank you for that useful and helpful advice, Spike.”

He took another swig of beer. “Always glad I can be of service.”

Giles came and sat next to him, his face serious.

“I was going through that journal you lent me. The one where you wrote down what you remembered from the other timeline. It would seem that we will learn of Warren very soon.”

Spike nodded. “Yeah. Tonight. His sex-bot crashes a party over at the uni. I was there before. Got tossed through a window. Glad I’m not there now. ‘S good enough if I’m here to learn about it, right? Then I can go contact him to make me one of Buffy.”

Giles nodded uncomfortably. “Yes, that would seem logical.”

“Unless you think we can skip it this time ‘round. Do without the bloody bot.”

Giles pulled out his own beer and opened it. “No. I think it would be best to keep things as they were. As distasteful as the idea is, a robot Buffy to act as a decoy could prove quite valuable.”

“Yeah.” He finished the beer and reached for another. “How we gonna break it to our girl? Buffy’s not gonna take it well and I don’t wanna bugger things up. She knows I love her.”

Giles nodded. “I know. She asked me and I told her. She took it well, I think, all things considered.”

Spike agreed. “Yeah. And things are goin’ okay. Between us, I mean. Last time it was a complete disaster.”

“So I’ve read. Really Spike, did you honestly think chaining her up and offering to kill Drusilla for her would make her believe you loved her?”

Spike looked away. “Seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Giles just shook his head and took another drink. “Speaking of Drusilla, I received word from my contacts in Argentina. Our box arrived safely. They will follow our instructions to leave it in broad daylight and break the lock. She’ll have to wait for sundown before she can escape so they’ll be long gone by then.”

“Thanks, mate. You didn’t have to…”

“Yes, I did. Not even Angel could bring himself to kill Drusilla. She is a tragic, but necessary, part of your lives. Besides, I owed you a life. You no doubt saved mine when you convinced Angelus to stop torturing me 2 years ago, and most likely saved me again when you placed yourself between me and Drusilla four days ago.” Giles gave him a knowing glance. “And yes, I did notice that. I am *Watcher* after all.”

“Still, it meant a lot to me. Thank you,” he repeated, then smiled. “So, is the plan to get completely knackered before Bit comes back down?”

“It’s that bad, is it? I thought you said it was easy.”

“Okay, I admit it. I lied. It’s pure Hell, and us vamps are supposed to like that sort of thing. I swear Dante forgot the tenth level of Hell, in which men are forced to endure the never-ending torments of teenaged girls tittering about clothes, make-up and boys, and throwing hormone-driven temper tantrums.”

“Oh dear. A fate worse than death,” Giles commented dryly.

“Or undeath.”

“Do you need rescuing?”

“You offerin’ a spot on your couch?”

“If you still need it.”

He thought a moment. “I could use another day or so of rest and there’s never tellin’ who’s gonna pop in to the crypt. But I’m healed up enough to go back if you want to keep your couch open. I just can’t handle any fightin’ or movin’ about too quick. Not for another day at least.”

“Well, we’ll see, shall we? Spend the night at my place and go back to your crypt tomorrow if you’re feeling up to it.”

“Thanks, Rupes.”

“Can’t have you going insane and staking yourself before we defeat Glory, can we.”

He grinned. “I’m not gonna stake myself, and I think I’m already certifiable.”

“Really? What makes you think so?”

“I’ve lasted four days in this house without going berserk, I’m starting to know the difference between Ivory soap and a Dove bar, and I’m actually beginning to recognize some of Bit’s boy bands,” he confessed.

Giles eyed him warily. “A true sign of an unstable mind.”

The loud cacophony of one of Dawn’s said boy bands began pounding from upstairs as Dawn turned up the volume on her stereo. Both men cast eyes to the ceiling, noticing how the foyer light swayed with the beat.

“Oh, for the days when teenagers were hors d'oeuvres,” Spike bemoaned.

Giles sighed and handed him another beer.

Buffy came home around midnight to relieve Giles of Dawn and vampire duty. Giles’ relief was evident on his face, even though Dawn had been sent to bed an hour ago.

“Dear God Buffy, there’s only so much I can take. We're simply going to have to change the system. A fourteen-year-old is too old to be baby-sat. It's not fair to her,” Giles said.

“What did she make you do?” Buffy asked knowingly.

“Well, we listened to some aggressively cheerful music sung by people chosen for their ability to dance, then she painted Spike’s nails while we ate cookie dough and talked about boys.”

Buffy struggled to hold back a laugh and only partly succeeded. “I'm so sorry, but if it makes you feel any better, my fun-time-Buffy party night involved watching a robot throw some guy who hit on her across a table.”

“A robot? That's interesting,” Giles commented.

“A robot? Really?” Spike added, coming to stand beside Giles. He’d dressed and was prepared to leave. “How do you know it was a robot?’

“Well, if she wasn’t a robot, she was a very cheerful, wickedly strong girl able to toss me across a room.”

“Are you hurt?” he blurted.

Buffy waved her hand dismissively. “I’m fine. Just have a bruise. We're going to work on it in the morning. Or, if you wanted to hang out a little longer, we could…”

Just then Joyce came through the door, a happy smile on her face.

“So who wants to hear everything?” she enthused.

“...listen to Mom talk about boys.”

“Yes, right! Must go! See you tomorrow! Good-bye, Joyce,” Giles said hastily, hurrying out.

“Bye, Rupert,” Joyce said, waving one hand.

“I’m gonna go with him, Slayer, Joyce. Ol’ Rupert’s got some scroll or some such he thinks might have some info on that Glory bint, but it’s written in one of the demon languages I know how to read,” he lied smoothly.

Buffy looked taken back. “Really? He didn’t say anything about it to me.”

“He just found it tonight before he came over. I promised to look at it for him and see what I could make of it.”

“Spike, are you sure you’re all right to leave?” Joyce asked worriedly.

He gave her one of his winning smiles. “I’m just going to play over at Rupert’s house and have a sleep-over. I promise we won’t stay up all night reading comic books and lobbing spitballs at each other.”

“Ewwww,” Buffy said.

“Well, if you’re sure you’re up to it…”

He gave Joyce a quick peck on the cheek. “I am. I’ll pop by tomorrow to see you. I’m so glad you had a wonderful time on your date. I do want to hear about it, but if I don’t go now, Giles will leave without me.”

“Dawn traumatized him that much?” Joyce asked.

“She made him eat cookie dough and listen to her talk about her teenage crushes at school.”

“I think she’s scarred him for life.”

He smiled. “No doubt. See you tomorrow.”

“Good night, Spike,” Joyce said.

“Night, Spike,” Buffy repeated.

He walked out and Joyce closed the door behind him. As he walked to Giles’ car, he heard Joyce joking with her daughter about leaving her bra in her date’s car, and laughed when he heard Buffy’s cry of “Mother!” in response.

He paused and looked back at the house, feeling lightweight for the first time since he had been sent back. Joyce was healthy, Buffy knew he loved her and hadn’t completely shoved him from her life, Dru hadn’t needed to be killed and Giles was actually giving him a chance to prove himself. Maybe things were finally starting to look up.

“Good God! That's horrible! Don't do that!” he heard Buffy gasp.

“I left it in the restaurant,” was Joyce’s reply.

He heard the sound of footsteps as Buffy ran up the stairs, yelling, “No more! No more!”

“On the dessert cart!” Joyce called after her.

Spike shook his head and continued on his way to where Giles was waiting.

‘God I love these Summers women!’

Chapter 32

Without the loud banging of Buffy and Dawn going through their morning routine to rouse him, Spike slept late and did not wake until Giles called his name. He rolled over, shaking away sleep, and blinked at the man standing next to him.

“Mornin’ Rupert,” he greeted, stretching, then winced and gasped as his wounds protested. “Ow!”

He touched his black T-shirt where the bandages were underneath and his fingers came away stained with blood.

“Oh, bloody hell.”

Giles sighed. “Well, I was about to tell you that I was headed to the Magic Box, but it seems we need to attend to your wounds beforehand.”

He didn’t protest as Giles helped him take the shirt off, revealing the blood-soaked wrappings.

“Oh dear. Well, let me get some bandages,” the Watcher said, frowning at the sight.

“Got enough for a job this big?”

“With Buffy Summers as my Slayer, do you honestly have to ask that question?” the man replied, heading for the bathroom.

“Point.”

Giles returned with several packages of gauze bandages and a pair of medical scissors. Then he cut away the soiled dressing to reveal the still seeping stab wounds.

“Good God, Spike, I thought you said that you were healing.”

“I am. Just healin’ from the inside out ‘s all. If you look, they’re not as deep. Don’t go all the way into my chest anymore. ‘S just surface bleeding now. Been a lot worse before this. Buffy helped change ‘em. Didn’t want Bit and Joyce seein’ all the blood.”

Giles frowned and used gauze pads to staunch the wounds. “That was probably wise.”

“Why did you take me there, anyway? Not that I minded bein’ cared for by Nurses Summers, but I was shocked to wake up in Joyce’s basement.”

“We knew that you were seriously injured and would require care. We also knew that, with her infatuation with you, if Dawn wasn’t able to see you during your recovery, she would most likely sneak out to find you. It was a matter of insuring that Dawn stayed safe and wasn’t haring off to the cemetery,” came the reply.

“Hmmph. Kinda like goin’ into a burnin’ house to fetch the kid’s hamster coz you know if you don’t do it, the kid will,” Spike observed.

Giles flicked him a glance. “Precisely.” He padded more gauze onto the wounds. “There. I think I’ve got the bleeding stopped.”

“I think so too.”

Giles pulled out the wrapping and began dressing the gauze in layers of bandages.

“What are your plans for today?” Giles asked him.

“Swing by my crypt and get the box I have there so I can go to that Warren git and order the bloody bot. No help for it, the wanker’s gonna leave town soon. Maybe go see Joyce. I promised her I would pop in today but I’m feelin’ knackered.”

“Probably from the blood loss. I do have two packages of blood in the refrigerator from the last time you stayed here, and I’ll bring more home this afternoon.”

“Thanks, Watcher.”

He reached for his bloodied shirt, but Giles grabbed it first.

“This is ruined. I’ll loan you one of my old sweatshirts for now until we have time to stop by your crypt.”

“I’ll prolly go back there tonight. Another day of vamp healin’ and these should be just nasty scratches.”

“If you think that’s best” Giles commented, going to fetch a sweatshirt from his bedroom.

He brought back an old Manchester United sweatshirt and handed it to Spike.

“Man United, Rupert?” he questioned, looking at the insignia.

“It was a gag gift from an old classmate. Why do you think I don’t care if you bleed all over it?”

Muttering under his breath, Spike carefully pulled the sweatshirt on and covered the bandages while Giles heated him a mug of blood. He gave the man a thankful nod when Giles handed him the warm cup.

“If you’re sure you won’t need anything, I’ll be off. If you have any troubles, call the Magic Box.”

“Thanks, Rupert. If I’m not here, don’t worry. As I said, I have to go out.”

“Do be careful. Vampires are flammable in sunlight, you know.”

“Oh dear, are we really? Good thing I’ve got my trusty blanket then,” he replied, wide-eyed.

Giles shook his head and gathered his coat. “Have a good day, Spike.”

“You too, Rupes,” he called as Giles left.

After the Watcher had gone, Spike went back to sleep. He awoke late morning, ate the last bag of blood, checked his bandages to make sure he wasn’t sieve-Spike, and tidied himself up a bit. Then he took the blanket and his duster and made a dash for the sewers. The effort hurt his wounds so he had to rest a bit before making his way to his crypt and then to the robot geek. It took him a while to get there. The trip was the most walking he had done since the incident with Drusilla and he kept getting lightheaded. He got there just as Warren was packing up to leave. Luckily, he’d changed into his usual black on black and was able to intimidate the git into making the Buffy-bot for him without too much trouble.

Business with the loser who would try to take over Sunnydale completed, he headed for the gallery. Unfortunately, when he got to there, Joyce’s assistant informed him that Joyce had gone home. He rested at the gallery for a while, perusing the new acquisitions, then made his way back to the tunnels. It was slow going for him and he hoped he would get to the house before Buffy or Dawn came home, but he wasn’t sure if he’d make it. As it was, he knew it was already after one and he still had a ways to go.

Over an hour later, he finally arrived at the manhole on Revello. He listened carefully for sounds of traffic before pushing his already exhausted body out of the tunnel and making a quick run for the front porch. Blessedly, the door was unlocked so he zipped in, fighting back the wave of dizziness that hit him, and slammed the door shut. Safe. Leaning against the front door, he pushed away the vertigo and stumbled for the kitchen where he hoped blood bags were kept in the refrigerator. He found three and he was so hungry that he drank two of them cold.

It was only after he regained some sense of balance that he noticed the stillness of the house.

“Joyce?” he called.

There was no answer.

Furrowing his brow, he turned up his vampire hearing and listened. No heartbeats, no living sounds at all. He wondered if Joyce had decided to go out.

‘Maybe left early to pick up Nibblet. I hope she wasn’t waiting for me to get here and thought I stood her up.’

He took a step out of the kitchen into the hall and the smell hit him. Vomit. He looked down to see a wet spot on the carpet.

‘Fresh.’

Concerned, he sniffed the air, trying to uncover any more clues as to what was going on and a new scent assailed his nostrils, once he knew far too well and did not want to ever smell in relation to a Summers: death.

Half-panicked, a sick feeling in his gut, he traced the smell to the living room couch, the same couch he had lain on just the day before and bantered with Joyce and the girls. The scent was all over the cushions, intermingled with Joyce’s unique odor.

‘No…’

More scents assaulted him: Buffy, Giles, strangers, the antiseptic tinge of medical supplies… and he could feel his senses becoming overloaded.

“No… nonononononononononono. Oh god, no,” he gasped to no one, then switched to gameface and roared. “NO!”

His only answer was silence.

It took him hours to stagger his way to Sunnydale General Hospital. It probably wouldn’t have taken him quite so long if he hadn’t collapsed in a sobbing heap in the tunnels and vomited up all the blood he had drank. By then he was soaked in sludge from the sewer, covered in his own vomit, and couldn’t stand his own smell let alone subject anyone without vampire senses to it, so he had to go back to his crypt long enough to clean up and change clothes.

The sun had almost set by the time he finally crawled up the tunnel that led to the hospital basement, and his legs barely supported him as he struggled down the hall. He was numb, focusing only on putting one foot in front of the other, using the wall to keep him upright.

“… still examining her…” came a fragment of Giles’ voice to his sensitive hearing and he locked on to it, tracking its location.

His movements seemed leaden, his mind not fully inside his body, as he followed Giles’ voice to a waiting room down the hall from the morgue. He came upon a scene of Buffy, Dawn, Giles, and the Scoobies all sitting forlornly in the sterile, too-bright room, and stopped in the doorway, unable to force himself to go any further. If he did, it would mean it was real and not a nightmare from which he could not wake.

“Spike!” a tearful Dawn called, and barely had time to register her movement before she was in his arms, hugging him. The pain was excruciating. He gasped, staggered and she let him go, horrified that she had hurt him.

“Oh God. I’m sorry! I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry,” she apologized, bursting into tears.

He reached for her, needing to comfort her in spite of his pain. “’S’ok, Sweet Bit.”

She came into his arms, gently this time and he held her loosely, but his eyes were on Giles, naked and pleading as the man came over.

“Rupert?” he managed, his voice small.

Giles took off his glasses, wiped his eyes and shook his head. “Spike, I’m so very sorry.”

“But… we had ‘er on blood thinners. She said the Coumadin was making her gums bleed so she was taking aspirin instead…”

“We don’t know the exact cause of death yet. The medical examiner hasn’t finished his examination.”

“But we just saw her yesterday. She was fine. She smelled fine.”

Giles looked at him with sympathy. “From everything we know so far, it appears to have happened very suddenly. I doubt there was much warning.”

“I don’t understand. I did… I warned…”

“You did everything you could, Spike. There wasn’t anything else you could have done.”

‘But there must have been. She’s still dead! I must have missed something… How could I have missed something?’

He looked to Rupert, begging to understand. “But…”

“You mustn’t blame yourself, Spike. It’s not your fault.”

‘But it must be. Otherwise, Joyce’d still be alive.’

Giles raised his eyes to see the doctor standing in the waiting room doorway.

“Doctor,” he said, calling attention to the man’s presence.

Buffy looked up sharply, a half-terrified look on her face, then she stood and approached stiffly. Dawn pulled herself out of Spike’s arms and faced the physician.

“Okay, I've examined your mother's body…” the doctor said.

“Can we see her?” Dawn asked.

“Dawn. Not now,” Buffy admonished.

“The on-site report seems to be more or less accurate. Your mother did have what looks like an aneurysm, a sudden hemorrhaging from a ruptured arterial vessel near where the tumor was removed,” the doctor explained.

“Shouldn't we have known about that, that it was a danger...” Buffy said.

“Sometimes these things are detectable and sometimes they're not. Joyce was aware of the possibility of a rupture, and the effects. She didn't even get on the phone, so clearly this was very sudden. She may have felt a little nausea and probably passed out as it happened. I doubt there was much pain, and even if someone had been by her side…”

Cold ice washed through Spike as realization hit him. ‘An aneurysm, not a blood clot. But Bit told me it was a blood clot! I know she said it was a blood clot! Oh, God! And I pushed to get her on blood thinners and that made it worse! It *is* my fault! It’s all my fault!’

“-- it's doubtful this could have been dealt with in time,” the doctor was finishing.

“Well, thank you, Doctor...” Giles said.

“You're sure there wasn't a lot of pain?” Buffy blurted suddenly.

“Absolutely. I think we can be almost positive about that,” the doctor said with assurance.

‘Liar. She bled to death from internal hemorrhaging. And she couldn’t soddin’ clot her blood coz I was a wanker and pushed for her to be on blood thinners. Oh God, what have I done? Joyce… Oh Mum, from wherever you are, can you ever forgive me for screwing it up so royally?’

“What, ah, what needs to happen now?” Giles was asking.

“Well, there will be some forms, and some decisions you'll need to make...” the doctor replied.

“Buffy, why don't you let me handle those as much as I can,” Giles told Buffy.

‘Good. Good old Rupert’s takin; over. He’s got it. He’ll take care of it. Don’t need me. I’m a useless waste of space who just killed Joyce Summers. Oh god oh god.’

“We will need you to sign a couple of release forms…” the doctor was saying to Buffy.

Buffy was looking overwhelmed and shocked. He wanted to reach out to her, to tell her he was sorry, but he couldn’t. The words stuck in his throat, choking him as the guilt crashed down.

“Yes, thank you, Doctor,” Giles interrupted, then addressed Buffy, “I’ll figure out which ones you need to see.”

Spike looked up at Giles, his vision alternating between black and red, and he began to pant heavily. It was all hitting him now: the helplessness, the reality of his failure. Rupert was filling the role of reliable father-figure, just as he always did. And him? He did what he always did when faced with the futility and uselessness that was his existence.

He ran.

Giles found him in his crypt hours later, piss drunk, half-naked, and screaming the refrain from Depeche Mode’s Blasphemous Rumours at the top of his lungs.

“I don't want to start

Any blasphemous rumours

But I think that God's

Got a sick sense of humour

And when I die

I expect to find

Him laughing!” he roared in gameface.

He’d ripped open the stab wounds with his nails to make them bleed again and poured an entire bottle of whiskey on them, just for the benefit of the added pain. The look on Giles face when he came in convinced Spike that Giles thought he’d gone completely crackers.

“Spike! Spike, what the hell do you think you’re doing?!”

He turned his head to look at the Watcher, his soul and demon wailing in his head.

“Kill me! Kill me, Rupert!” he cried, pointing towards the weapons chest where he kept the stakes.

Giles stormed over to him and slapped the bottle of bourbon he still had in his hand, sending it smashing to the floor. He gave a manic giggle at the sound of shattering glass.

“No,” Giles refused. “I will not.”

“Kill me! I’m an evil monster! I killed Joyce!”

“You did not. Joyce Summers’ death was not your fault.”

“But it was! It was!” he insisted, looking up at the man, begging him to understand. “I got it wrong, Rupert! It was a bloody aneurysm! Not a blood clot! And I pushed to get ‘er on soddin’ BLOOD THINNERS!”

“Which you told me yourself that she wasn’t taking because she didn’t like the side effects,” Giles replied vehemently.

“It doesn’t matter! Don’t you see! I still got it wrong and she’s still dead!”

He saw Giles attempt to keep his temper. “Spike, some times these things are just meant to happen and there’s nothing we can do.”

“Then why send me back here?! Why give me a chance to make it right if there’s nothing I can do in the first place?!”

“Maybe to help you learn what you can and cannot change. Just because Joyce still dies in this timeline, doesn’t mean you should give up. You have to believe that there is a reason why this has happened.”

“What? Now you’re tellin’ me to believe there’s a bleedin’ higher purpose to all of this? You told me that before when they shoved this damn chip in my brain! It’s was bollocks then and it’s bollocks now! I’m a useless waste of space who deserves to die! Kill me you spineless bastard! KILL ME!” he screamed, lunging for the man.

The chip fired, blinding him with even more pain and he howled, falling from atop the sarcophagus and crashing to the floor.

“I don’t have time for this, William! Buffy and Dawn need me. And I can’t be coddling you!” Giles scolded.

He began to laugh maniacally at the cosmic joke that was his unlife. He didn’t see Giles storm over to the refrigerator, pull the bag of ice he kept there for mixed drinks out and stomp back over until the bag was dumped on him, covering his naked chest with frozen ice cubes. He yowled and sputtered from the shock of cold.

“Pull yourself together and stop this nonsense! We need you. Buffy needs you and Dawn needs you,” Giles ordered.

The words only made him laugh more.

“God damn you, Spike,” Giles seethed, cracking at the seams.

“Already damned, Rupert. Now send me to Hell!”

It looked like Giles might actually do it. The man’s face went red with anger and his fists clenched, but then a new figure came into view and he calmed as Tara laid a hand on his arm.

“Tara?” Giles said, surprised.

“It’s okay, Mr. Giles. I’m here to help,” Tara answered.

“No no no no no,” Spike protested, trying to crawl away as Tara approached him.

“Spike…” the witch whispered.

“No, Glinda. Get away. Get away. I’m evil. I destroy everything I touch.”

She ignored him and knelt by his side, one hand coming around his head to press a sachet to his face.

“Breathe. They’re calming herbs: chamomile, marjoram and lavender,” she said gently.

“Vampire, don’t need to breathe,” he said, but needed to inhale in order to speak, and the fragrant scent filled his nostrils. Its effects were immediate and he began to calm down. Aromatherapy was so much more powerful on vampires because of their heightened sense of smell.

“Shhh. Just breathe,” Tara soothed.

“Tara. Oh thank god,” Giles said.

“I thought you might be coming here and suspected that you could use my help, so I followed you,” she admitted.

“It was a foolish thing to do, but I’m glad you did. I admit that I am at a loss and out of patience.”

“Buffy and Dawn are your primary concerns. I understand that. It’s okay. I can take care of him,” she assured.

“I need to go check on Buffy, but I don’t want to leave you with him. It’s too dangerous for you to walk back alone.”

“Willow knows I’m here. I have a spell. I can call her if I need…”

“Don’t leave me with her, Rupert,” he begged. “I’m evil. I’ll hurt her. I won’t mean to…”

“Hush,” Tara said. “You’re not evil, Spike.”

“But I am…”

She stroked back his hair tenderly and looked him in the eye. “I can see your soul, Spike. I know you won’t hurt me.”

“But I killed Joyce.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“But it was. I got it wrong.”

“You did everything you could,” she insisted.

“But it didn’t work. And I tried,” he told her, the grief coming up as his rage faded.

“I know you did, Spike.”

“I did. I swear I did. I tried, Glinda. I tried so hard,” he repeated, needing her to understand.

“I believe you.”

“I did. Really I did…”

“I know.”

The anger was gone and only despair was left, and he couldn’t hold it back anymore. It swelled in him, rushing up like a storm surge, and came pouring out. As it crested and broke, Tara took him into her arms and held him as he cried.

Chapter 33

“The funeral is tomorrow,” Giles told him sadly.

Spike nodded, huddling in upon himself and taking a sip of the tea Glinda had left for him. Vampire Prozac in valerian, kava and chamomile. He was sitting on Giles’ couch, drained, exhausted and lost.

“It’s a daytime ceremony, unfortunately. For all of Sunnydale’s Hellmouth-induced ignorance, they are reluctant to hold evening burials,” the man continued.

“S’ok. Don’t deserve to go to her funeral anyway,” he replied.

“Spike, I…”

“Here, before I forget…” he interrupted, pulling a large manila envelope from the ubiquitous folds of his duster, and offering it to Giles.

Giles took it and peered inside, seeing the papers and cash.

“What is this?”

“We gotta take care of our girls, Rupert. Most of Joyce’s life insurance’ll be eaten up by medical bills. I hocked everythin’ I could. Those are the slips for the accounts I set up for Buffy and Dawn after I killed the Sobek cobra demon. Put the cash in them, split 70-30 with Buffy gettin’ the lion’s share. She’s gonna be Dawn’s guardian and she’ll need help.”

Giles looked in the envelope again, humbled. “Thank you, Spike. I’ll be sure to add my own contribution when I make the deposits.”

He nodded and took another sip of the tea. It tasted weird, but at least it didn’t remind him of hot chocolate. He couldn’t stand the thought of cocoa right now.

“What are we gonna do, Rupert?”

“The same as we have been: use your knowledge to affect the outcome.”

“Didn’t work for Joyce. Plan’s not workin’. We need a new plan,” he insisted.

“I don’t think we can take Joyce’s death as a sign that our current plan isn’t working. I truly believe that there was nothing we could have done to save her,” Giles insisted.

“Would’ve if I’d gotten it right. I dunno how I got it so wrong. I know Bit told me Joyce died of a blood clot.”

Giles sat down next to him, offering unwanted comfort.

“Spike, Dawn is only fourteen. It’s entirely possible that she misunderstood what killed her mother and interpreted it as a blood clot.”

He shrugged and shook his head. “Doesn’t matter now, does it.”

“Spike, it’s painfully obvious to me that you are determined to blame yourself for Joyce’s death, even though I do not think you are in any way responsible for what happened. Joyce Summers had a brain tumor. Even if she hadn’t died the same way she had before, there is no telling that the tumor wouldn’t have returned and killed her at a later date. The only comfort we can take with us is the knowledge that she didn’t suffer and that it was very quick,” Giles said gently.

“How do we know she didn’t suffer? She died alone, didn’t she? Wasn’t anyone there to know if she suffered any.”

Giles ducked his head and squeezed his eyes shut. “I… I did see the body…before she was taken away. Her face had no pain on it, no fear. I don’t think she knew what was happening. She fell on the couch and…”

“No more. Please. I…”

Giles stopped.

“I just… I couldn’t save her. Everythin’ I did, everythin’ I tried was for nothin.’ She still died. What if… what if no matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, I can’t save Buffy either?” he asked, pleading for Giles to offer him some hope.

“You can’t give up, Spike. We need you. We need your strength.”

“Fat lot of good I’ve done so far,” he muttered, then grabbed Giles’ wrist. “You know this changes everythin’, Watcher. We have to kill Ben now. Glory’s gonna start gaining power. We gotta take ‘im out.”

Giles shook his head. “Not yet. Some new books have just come in from the Council. I am hoping there will be some information and spells in them that can help us.”

“They’re not gonna do us any good! She’s a bleedin’ *god* Rupert! She takes over from Benny, stoppin’ ‘er’ll be a bitch!”

“Not until I’ve exhausted all other options.”

“Damn you, Watcher!” he yelled, throwing the mug of tea and smashing it, liquid flying all over the carpet. “You still don’t trust me, do you? I’m tellin’ you. You don’t have a choice. Ben has to die or Buffy will!”

He stood up, storming over to get his coat.

“Where are you going?” Giles demanded. “Spike, you mustn’t do anything hasty!”

He pulled the coat on angrily. “Off to take care of somethin’ I can kill. Nibblet’s gonna try to mojo ‘er mum from the great beyond night after they bury ‘er. Last time, I took ‘er to Doc and he learned she was the Key. This time, not only am I *not* gonna take her to see that bastard, I’m gonna kill him before he gets anywhere near Dawn.”

With that he stalked out, slamming the door behind him, and headed for Buffy’s house. Upon confirming that both Buffy and Dawn were upstairs in their rooms, he snuck in and raided Buffy’s weapons chest for the Gruth’lak battleaxe. The battleaxe was a much more powerful weapon than Buffy realized, and he hoped it would be enough to kill whatever demon Doc happened to be. He remembered from the previous timeline that Xander had killed Doc with a sword through the heart. This time he planned to lop the bastard’s head clean off his shoulders.

He paused, listening, hearing the sounds of numb grief and silence, and his heart broke.

‘I’m sorry, Buffy. I’m sorry, Dawn. I’m so so sorry. I dunno how I’ll make it right, but I’ll try.’

He snuck back out, half of him wanting to stay and comfort the girls, but he had things that needed to be done. He found Doc’s place without any trouble. It was exactly where it had been before in the other timeline. He entered without knocking, the battleaxe tucked into his belt loop and concealed behind the duster.

“Hey. Anybody home?” he called to the dim, cluttered apartment.

A moment later Doc shuffled out of the bedroom, dressed in a robe and pajama trousers, and he had to steel himself against the wave of hate and rage he felt.

“I know you,” the demon said, surprised.

“Do you now?” Spike answered, smirking, remembering from before how Doc had said he had recognized him.

“You're that guy. That guy who always hangs around down at the corner mart. Big into dominos, aren't you?

“Can't say that I am.”

“That's crazy, isn't it? I'd swear you were him. I mean, your hair's a different color and you're a vampire, but other than that…”

Doc trailed off, pensive. Spike bided his time, hand twitching with the itch to grab the axe and kill the man, but he had to wait for just the right moment. He knew from experience how fast and strong Doc really was, and knew he would only have one chance to kill him.

Finally, Doc moved closer. “How can I help you?”

“Resurrection spells. Friend of mine’s mum kicked it. Wanna know what’s to be done about it.”

“Oh, no… That's… You don't want to mess with that. I know a couple of tonics, make the grieving fly by…” he offered.

“She doesn’t want any tonics.”

Doc sighed, distracted and Spike moved closer. “Jeez. I don't know…”

‘Just a little further…’

He was almost within striking range as the demon rifled through some papers and books piled on one of the tables. Then Doc paused and sniffed the air.

“What is that…?” He rounded on Spike, eyes wide. “You have a soul!”

“That’s right, mate.”

“But there’s only one vampire with a soul and he’s in Los Angeles.”

“Newsflash, mate. There’s two of us now, only I’m better lookin’ and not a bleedin’ poofter,” he replied, closing the distance between them quickly, reaching behind him for the axe.

“Who are you?” Doc asked, still off guard and obviously confused. It gave Spike the brief seconds he needed.

“Your executioner,” he answered, whipping out the axe.

He swung before Doc had a chance to react and sheared the demon’s head from his body. The body fell with a heavy whomp, writhed for a moment, then lay still as the head rolled a few paces away. He looked down at the head, saw the eyes go black, then blank and the mouth drop open.

“Not gettin’ anywhere near my Bit,” he said to the lifeless head.

Assured that the demon was dead, he started a fire in the fireplace and threw the head in. He waited until he saw it start to burn, then picked up the battleaxe and headed out. He left the door wide open.

Chapter 34

Someone called the poofter. He wasn’t sure who and he was fairly certain it wasn’t Buffy or Dawn. If he had to guess, he would pick Willow as the likely candidate. Didn’t matter, really, who called him, only that he was there comforting Buffy on the night of her mother’s funeral.

It looked like they were keeping Vigil by the fresh grave, although with the way they were sitting, he doubted Buffy even knew that was what they were doing. Trust Peaches to figure he was ‘protecting’ Buffy by not telling her about Vigil and the necessity of keeping watch over a loved one’s grave the first few nights after burial. The first night was the most dangerous, of course. That was when the body was freshest and most useful. The longer the body stayed in the ground, the less likely it was that someone would try to raise it or take it.

Almost no one was dumb enough to raise a body that had been rotting for more than a couple of weeks… Willow being an exception, of course, having waited 147 days to perform her resurrection spell. She had been extremely lucky that the spell had worked out as well as it did. More often than not, what came back was a caricature of what had been, and a seriously flawed one at that. It wasn’t the first time he had suspected that Red had gotten some help from sources Higher Up.

So there he was, ready to stand Guard for Joyce’s Vigil and he found himself usurped by Angel the Magnificent, swooping in like a brooding poofter to play the sympathetic hero and get all snuggly with Buffy. It made him want to heave. Trust Angel to show up when Buffy was weakest and neediest, just to rub it in her face that they couldn’t be together and that she needed a “normal” life. Angel never could take Buffy when she was strong. Her strength unnerved him, unlike Spike who was drawn to and thrilled by Buffy at her strongest. It might have had something to do with Angelus’ egoist streak. Even as an unsouled demon, Angelus could never stand to lose to anyone or anything.

The axe itched in his hand and he fingered the blade, feeling the sharp edge cut into the pad of his finger. The pain made him wince but refocused him. He knew he had to stay away from them. Angel was sure to sense his soul and it was no good if Buffy found out. Joyce’s grave was safe for the night. He would come back the following night in time to catch Dawn trying to cast her resurrection spell. In the meantime, he wasn’t sure if Angel had sensed him, or if Buffy had mentioned him, so he was reluctant to go home. He walked around aimlessly for a while then ended up at Giles’ doorstep. Knocking faintly on the door, he half hoped that the man would be too drunk to answer, but he had no such luck.

A bedraggled and weary Giles opened the door and blinked at him. “Spike?”

“Hello Watcher. May I come in?”

Giles stepped back, allowing Spike to move past him.

“How are you doing? I haven’t seen you since…” Giles began.

Spike placed the battle axe gently down on the table and responded. “Been alright. Killed me a demon. Doc, the bloke I told you about, the one who cut Dawn on the tower.”

“That… that’s good. I just hope you haven’t acted too rashly.”

Spike shrugged. “There’s nothin’ we could have learned from him that I don’t already know.”

He sat down on the couch and hung his head. “Went to stand Vigil. Found Buffy there with Angel. Somebody must’ve called him.”

“Angel is here? Are you sure?”

Spike nodded. “Yeah. Can’t miss ‘im. Mr. All Broody and Hair Gel. Snugglin’ with Buffy. Comfortin’ her…”

Giles retrieved his glasses and cleaned them. “Yes, well, perhaps that is what she needs right now. Lord knows, she wasn’t accepting any comfort from any of us.”

“Poof likes ‘er weak. Never could stand it when she was strong. Wanted ‘er dependant. That way he could control ‘er. Angelus doesn’t like his women strong. Queen Bitch Darla was enough for him,” he muttered.

“Having met Darla, I would concur that she was ah… very spirited.”

Spike laughed without mirth. “Wouldn’t call ‘er that, but okay.”

Giles sat next to him. “You look… worn. You haven’t been eating have you.”

Spike shook his head. “Haven’t been able to. Can’t stomach anythin’ right now. ‘S’all messed up. Killin’ Doc helped tho.”

“Are you sure he’s dead? You said that you and Xander had killed him before.”

Spike nodded. “Cut of ‘is head and threw it in the fireplace. Unless his headless body can stand up and pull ‘is head out of a bleedin’ fire, my guess is that he’s dead.”

“That would seem logical, yes.”

“Felt good. Used the battle axe I gave Buffy for her birthday. Went an’ got it. I’ll put it back when I get a chance.”

“I’m sure Buffy would appreciate that.”

Spike shrugged. “Doubt she’ll even know I used it. Blade was clean. She probably’s never even taken it out for a spin.”

“How did you get that axe, really?”

Spike snorted. “I killed the owner, of course. ‘S the only way to get a Gruth’lak battle axe.”

“And you did this how long ago?”

“About sixty years ago.”

Giles sat back, thinking. “I must say that I am impressed. From everything I have heard, Gruth’lak demons are very strong and extremely difficult to kill.”

Spike looked away, pain flashing across his features. “They are, but I had incentive. Blighter was after Dru.”

Uncomfortable silence fell between the two men until Giles stood and fetched drinks for them both.

“I’m no stranger to grief, y’know,” Spike commented, accepting the bourbon gratefully. “My Da and little sis both died before I was turned. I knew loss and mourning clothes well. I thought I was done with grievin’ but now…”

Giles sat next to him again. “Well, I’m sure the soul is feeling the pain quite keenly.”

Spike shook his head. “No Watcher, you don’t get it. I grieved for Joyce *before* I got the bloody soul. First time ‘round it hit me like an axe in the chest. Feels the same now.”

He drank the bourbon, glad for the burn of the alcohol even though it hit his empty stomach. “Can I sleep here, Watcher? Dunno if Peaches saw me, but I don’t fancy wakin’ up on fire. ‘Sides, Poof is bound to see the bloody soul and tell Buffy.”

“Spike, do you think it’s wise to keep your soul a secret from Buffy?”

“Tellin’ her would leave more questions than answers, Rupert. Best not to say anything until after the Hell Bitch is dead.”

“I will respect your wishes for now, but you do know that you can’t keep it from her forever, don’t you?”

“Watcher, if I can keep ‘er from takin’ that swan dive off the tower, I will tell ‘er anything she ever wanted to know. I’d even sing it, I’d be so damn happy,” he replied wearily.

“Yes, well, I doubt the singing will be necessary.”

Spike took another sip from his bourbon, ignoring the roiling of his stomach. “Why not? Might surprise you. I got a decent voice. We could make a nice duet, you an me. Kinda like Sid Vicious meets Barry Manillow.”

Giles’ head shot up, his face indignant. “I kindly ask you not to insult me by comparing me to Barry Manillow. I fancy myself more of a Bob Geldof type of performer.”

Spike snickered. “Boomtown Rats…”

“They were a very nice band in the seventies,” Giles sniffed.

“Velvet Underground was better.”

“This from a man who thinks punk rock is a classic musical artform.”

“Ramones all the way, baby,” he said with a wry grin, smiling for the first time in what seemed like ages.

“I Want to Be Sedated. Yes, of course.”

“Now now, Watcher, you forget I’ve lived with you. I know your dirty secrets. You’ve got Ted Nugent records hidden in your closet.”

“How did you…? You’ve been snooping in my bedroom.”

Spike did his best to look innocent and drank down the rest of his drink. “What can I say, Watcher. Evil.”

“Of that, I have no doubt,” Giles answered wryly.

“Evil who is out of alcohol. Refill, Rupes?” he asked, holding up his empty glass.

Giles rolled his eyes but poured him two more fingers of bourbon.

“Shall I put on Cream while we drink ourselves into oblivion,” the man offered, pouring himself another drink.

Spike waved his hand at the stereo. “Knock yourself out, Watcher.”

Giles rifled through his collection and pulled out the album he and Joyce had listened to during the ill-fated evil candy episode. As the guitar rift from the first song came out of the stereo, he closed his eyes and remembered.

Spike leaned back against the couch cushions and listened to the music. The glass of bourbon rested, untouched, between his legs, and he ignored the tears that slid down his cheeks.

Chapter 35

He carried the axe with him on his back when he left Rupert’s to head for the cemetery on the following night. He knew he wouldn’t need it, but he had to make Nibblet think that he had come to protect Joyce’s grave. Dawn was smart enough to notice if he didn’t have a weapon, and would be sure to ask questions later.

Sure enough, just as he had done before, he found Dawn kneeling by the fresh grave. The teen looked small and broken, and she was fighting back tears as she read from the book she had stolen from the Magic Box. He saw her collect some dirt from the grave, swallowed the lump in his throat and stepped up.

“I hope it’s just dirt you’re after,” he said grimly, making Dawn gasp and reel to face him.

“If the spell calls for anything more than that, you’re into Zombie territory.”

“Spike! I wasn’t…” she tried, desperate.

“I know good and well what you’re up to. That book you’re holding is infamous.”

The look on her face almost broke him- almost. But he knew too well how badly resurrection spells could go, Buffy’s resurrection not withstanding, and he choked every time he thought of Joyce coming back as a mindless zombie.

“Please. Don’t tell Buffy. I can’t… I… I just have to get her back. I have to,” Dawn pleaded.

“Dawn,” he said softly, lowering himself to kneel next to her. “I miss your mum. She was good and decent and I liked her a lot. And because I liked her and looked to her as I would my own mum, I can’t let you go through with this spell.”

“But I need her. Buffy… she’s always so busy, and I’m nothing but a burden to her… and with Glory looking for the Key…”

The tears started rolling down Dawn’s cheeks and he reached over to brush them away with his thumb.

“Dawn, Buffy loves you very much. It’s just that Slayers have a hard time with the softer emotions coz their lives are so hard.”

“But, I need my mom,” the teen sobbed. “I have to get her back. Willow said… she showed me…”

“Did Wills give you this book?” he asked, trying to hide the anger in his voice.

Dawn recoiled a little bit. “N…no, but she showed me another book, one that she and Tara have, that talked about this one.”

“So you nicked it from the Magic Box,” he prodded.

She looked ashamed and nodded. “Yes. And the spell ingredients.” She looked at him, begging. “It says I can bring Mom back. The spell says it raises the dead.”

“Yeah, and the dead don’t take too kindly to it. Trust me, Bit, your mum deserves to rest in peace. There’s no tellin’ what you’ll get if you do that spell. Joyce could come back half rotten and without a mind,” he cautioned seriously.

“But the spell…”

“Black Mojo like that is wonky, Bit, an’ it never turns out the way you think it will,” he said. “Believe me, Dawn, if I thought we could bring Joyce back and be guaranteed that she’d have all her pieces and parts in all the right places and ‘er mind intact, I’d dig ‘er up for you.” He reached for her, seeking to hold her. “But there are no guarantees. What if you brought back somethin’ that looked like your mum that either me or Buffy would have to kill?”

“I would never do that!” Dawn insisted, horrified.

Spike shook his head. “No guarantees, Sweet Bit. One wrong word, one mispronunciation, one spell component misplaced and you could have a monster on your hands. You want that?”

“No. But…” she tried.

He glanced at the book. “You read Latin?”

Dawn followed his line of sight. “No, but I have a translation…”

“Uh huh and Latin never has words that sound like each other and the spell couldn’t possibly be mistranslated,” he said, giving her an incredulous eye.

She grew angry and struck him in the chest with her small fist. He barely felt the blow.

“What do you care! You’re a soulless vampire! You can’t feel emotions and grief!”

“Singin’ Big Sis’s song, are we now?” he growled angrily.

“I need my mother back!”

“And I’m sayin’ what comes back won’t be your mum!”

“I don’t care!”

“Yes, you do,” he countered, stung and hurt by her words. “You think I don’t feel pain? You think I don’t miss your mum? Who was it that brought ‘er chocolates and looked in on ‘er? Who was it that watched telly and talked about Passions? I loved your mum. She was kind and good and took care of me even though I’m a demon. She never treated me like a freak. I…”

He stopped, wiping away the tears that came unbidden to his eyes. “I loved Joyce like my own mum. I loved her, I did. And I’d have saved ‘er if I could’ve.” He hardened and turned to Dawn, grim-faced. “But Joyce is dead, and nothin’ we do is gonna change that, and she’d want me to honor her memory by makin’ sure the daughters she loved stay alive. And that includes stoppin’ you from makin’ a huge mistake.”

Gritting his teeth, he reached over and grabbed her wrist, holding it firm but not tightly enough to hurt her. Then he stood, hauling her to her feet with him as she struggled.

“No!” she yelled, punching at him with her free hand.

He shook his head. “No axe for you tonight, Sweet Bit, and I won’t let you kick me in the jewels again. I’m takin’ you home to Buffy.”

“No! You can’t! I won’t go!” she cried, digging in her heels as he tried to pull her away from the fresh grave.

“Don’t have much say in it, Bit. Vampire strength here.”

“I’ll scream. I swear I will,” she threatened.

“And bring every vamp and nasty within hearing distance down on us. Buffy’s home, Bit. I took patrol for her tonight,” he told her, walking forward.

She stumbled and almost fell. He caught her around the waist, holding her up, but ready to defend himself if it proved to be a ruse. She leaned limply against him, crying.

“You don’t understand. I need her, Spike! I need... She… Who… who’ll take care of me…”

Her broken sobs cut him to the quick and he wrapped his arms around her.

“I will, Bit. You’ve got me. You’ve still got me. You’ll always have me.”

“But she understood… she…”

He stroked her hair and hugged her close. “I know, Bit. I know.”

She broke down completely then and collapsed in his arms, weeping uncontrollably. He held her, letting his own tears roll down his cheeks and fall into her hair.

“Spike?” a new voice said hesitantly, and he turned his head to see Willow and Tara standing there. He fixed the redhead with an angry glare, but said nothing.

“Is everything all right?” Willow asked worriedly, and not a little guiltily.

Behind her, Tara saw the book and spell components and gasped, hurrying forward.

“No worries, Glinda. She didn’t get too far with it.”

Tara quickly gathered up the book and stolen items while Willow looked helplessly on.

“Bit tells me you put the bug in her ear,” he said evenly, letting some of his ire creep into his voice.

“Me? N… no. Not really. I wasn’t… I didn’t mean to…” the witch stammered, flushing.

“Willow thought the book she showed Dawn was just a history book. She didn’t know that it referred to specific spells and grimores,” Tara explained.

Spike raised an eyebrow at Tara and he knew that she saw that he was unconvinced, but neither was willing to further the discussion.

“Dawn,” Tara said, addressing the teen who was huddled in Spike’s arms.

“Save it, Glinda. I already read her the riot act. Now I just want to get ‘er home to Big Sis.”

“Oh, we can do that…” Willow offered, but stopped when Dawn recoiled further into Spike’s embrace.

“I think Nibblet wants Big Bad to take her home. I can better protect her when Buffy throws her fit when she finds out what Little Sis was up to.”

“You’re sure she didn’t get far with the spell?” Tara questioned.

Spike shook his head. “I’m sure. She was just gettin’ the grave dirt when I arrived.”

Tara’s mouth thinned into a grim line, but she gave a wordless nod. “You get her home, Spike. We’ll do… clean up here.”

Spike nodded back and lifted Dawn into his arms. She didn’t protest and tucked her face into the lapel of his duster.

“Thank you, Spike,” Tara said seriously as he moved to carry Dawn home. “I’ll… I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He gave a small nod to acknowledge that he had heard her then slowly walked off. They didn’t speak as he carried her from the cemetery to her home on Revello. There was nothing really that could be said. Each carried their grief like a heavy shroud that wrapped around them and suffocated words in their throats. Dawn kept one small hand curled into the leather of his coat, her head resting lightly against his shoulder as he walked, taking her ever closer to her fate.

He knocked lightly on the front door of the Summers’ home, dark and silent as a tomb, and immediately heard running footsteps hurrying to answer. The door flew open to reveal a disheveled Buffy, still in her rumpled clothes.

“Dawn!” she cried, seeing her sister in the vampire’s arms. “Oh my god! Where have you been? What did you do?”

“Now, now, Slayer, lay off a bit. Nibblet’s fine. Found ‘er by your mum’s grave, but she’s all right now. All safe and sound,” he said, stepping inside.

“You went to the cemetery? At night? Dawn, are you crazy?”

Dawn gave Spike a frightened look, then realized that he wasn’t going to tell Buffy about the spell.

“I… I went there to… to try to bring Mom back,” she admitted, knowing that if Spike didn’t tell Buffy, Tara and Willow surely would.

“You what?” Buffy demanded.

Spike sighed, both surprised and proud that Dawn had come clean with her sister. Dawn struggled in his embrace to he set her down gently on her feet.

“I found her gatherin’ grave dirt for a spell. Stopped ‘er before it got too far.”

Buffy stared, shocked and horrified. “Dawn. How could you? How…?”

“To get her back, okay? I wanted her back,” Dawn replied, her earlier anger returning full force.

“Dawn!

“You have no idea what you were messing with! Who knows what you could have actually raised – what might have come through that door!” Buffy scolded. “Tara told me those spells go bad all the time. People come back *wrong.*”

“But I need her. I don’t care if she’s… I’m not like you, Buffy, I don’t have anybody!” Dawn yelled back, tears spilling over.

“What? Of course you do. You have me,” Buffy gasped, shocked.

“I don’t! You won’t even look at me! It’s so obvious you don’t want me around!” Dawn insisted.

“That’s - that’s not true,” Buffy stammered, casting Spike a glance.

He shook his head grimly. He wasn’t going to get involved here. Buffy and Dawn needed to have this out. Buffy needed to see how much her sister needed her.

“It is! And the way you’ve been acting! Mom *died* and it’s like you don’t even care!”

Buffy’s eyed widened with horror and pain.

“God - of course I care. Of course I do. How can you think that?”

“How can I not? You haven’t even cried! You’ve just been running around like it’s all been some big chore - cleaning up after mom’s mess…” Dawn seethed.

Buffy, still appalled by Dawn’s accusation, lost her temper and slapped Dawn across the face. Even as Spike took a step forward, his face concerned, Buffy’s hand flew to her mouth and she stared at her sister.

Both girls were shaking and Buffy began to unravel, her careful control beginning to fray at the edges as her anguish began to emerge, and she started to cry.

“I’ve been working - I’ve been busy, because I have to… be…” Buffy choked, tears running down her face.

“You don’t. You’re avoiding me.”

“I’m *not.* I have to do these things, ‘cause… ‘cause when I stop, then she’s really…gone. And I’m trying, really trying to take care of things… But I don’t even know what I’m doing… Mom, she always knew…”

“Nobody’s asking you to be Mom,” Dawn insisted.

“Well, who’s going to be if I’m not? Huh, Dawn? Have you thought about that? Who’s going to make things better? Who’s going to take care of us?”

Buffy wept openly, desperately as Dawn and Spike watched, helpless, as Buffy fell apart. Seeing her there, small and looking more childlike than he’d ever seen her, Spike fought to keep his own tears at bay. Dawn wasn’t so lucky.

“Buffy…” she sobbed, reaching for her sister.

“I didn’t mean to push you away… I didn’t… I just didn’t want you to see me… I mean… Oh, God… What are we going to do, Dawny? I’m just so scared…”

The sisters embraced, crying, the weight of their bodies dragging them to the floor in a tangled heap as they clung to each other. Unable to bear the sight of his two girls in such pain, and still feeling the terrible guilt of his failure, Spike staggered out, leaving the front door open. He could still hear their heart wrenching sobs long after he had stumbled away from the house and he collapsed against a tree, his own sobs ripping their way out of his throat like razorblades.

‘I promise. I promise you, Joyce. I’ll save your daughters. I’ll keep them safe, even if I have to die doing it. I lost you, Joyce. I won’t lose Buffy too. I failed you. I won’t fail again. Never again.’

For once, the demon and the soul were in complete accord.

Chapter 36

He was nervous. Why was he nervous? He had very valid reasons for doing what he did and even Rupert agreed with him. So why was it that, now that the moment had come, he felt like a deviant caught playing games with sheep?

He cleared his throat but couldn’t look at his audience. “See, it’s like this,” he began, faltering. “Remember that Warren geek? The one who made the robot girlfriend?”

He glanced up. Xander, Willow, Tara and Anya were still looking at him with expectant eyes. He looked down again.

“Well, I thought… I thought that maybe… It might be a good idea…”

“Spike, what did you do?” Tara asked bluntly but gently.

He sighed and rolled his eyes, his hands dropping to his sides. “Oh, bloody hell.”

Shrugging his shoulders back, he reached over to open the training room door and gestured them in. They went, casting him suspicious glances as they passed. He closed his eyes and managed to count to six before he heard Xander yell.

“You sick bastard!” the young man accused.

He gritted his teeth and entered the training room, ready to face his fate and defend his position. He found them all gathered in wide-eyed horror around the deactivated Buffy-bot.

“It’s not what you think!” he insisted.

“Oh, so I am not seeing a robot that looks just like Buffy. One that was made by that wacko who made his own personal sexbot?” Xander seethed.

If he could have blushed, he would have. “Well. Yeah. But she’s not a sexbot! I mean, yeah, she looks like Buffy…”

“Exactly like Buffy. This guy’s really good,” Willow commented, examining the robot.

“I know, and that’s what gave me the idea. Now we have a *decoy.* The ‘bot’s almost as strong as Buffy and we can program it to *fight,*” he explained.

“The robot Warren made was very strong,” Anya agreed. “And another Buffy might prove useful.”

“That is *not* Buffy,” Xander argued.

“Of course it isn’t Buffy,” Spike snapped back. “But I doubt the Hell Bitch is smart enough to figure it out.”

“You want to use this against Glory,” Willow said, her eyes widening at the possibilities.

He touched a finger to his nose then pointed it at the redhead. “Bingo. And that’s why I mentioned it to Rupert.”

“Wait a minute. *Giles* knew about this?” Xander interupped.

He blinked at them. “Well, yeah. How else was I gonna get Buffy’s clothes and pictures? Steal them from her basement?” ‘Like I did last time…’

“I don’t understand why Giles never said anything to us about it,” Willow wondered.

“We weren’t sure how it would turn out so we were keepin’ mum. It’s just a coincidence that Warren finished it just after Rupert took Buffy on her little Vision Quest. But it works out because now we can take her out on patrol while Buffy is gone and see how she… it does,” he explained.

Willow walked around the robot, scrutinizing it. “Can it fight?”

He rubbed his neck. “Well… not exactly.”

“Explain not exactly,” Xander demanded.

“Well, I couldn’t very well tell that Warren geek that I needed a robot of the Slayer to fight a Hell God, now could I?”

“That would seem rather peculiar,” Anya replied.

“Yeah, it would. So I made him think that this was a robot of a girl I wanted but couldn’t have.” ‘Sometimes the best lies have grains of truth…’

“So it is a sexbot,” Xander said.

“No! Well, not really. It is programmed to kinda like me…”

“As in likes to have its tongue down your throat?” Xander snapped.

“No! Well, maybe, I dunno. You’re missin’ the point!”

“And the point is?” Xander prodded.

“I did have him program it to fight in certain situations. Role playing scenarios and the like…”

“Oh! Dominance games!” Anya piped up gleefully.

“Yeah, kinda,” he admitted. He cast a glance at Tara who was desperately trying not to laugh.

“Oh, so now we not only have a sexbot that looks like Buffy, we have a sexbot that looks like Buffy who is programmed to be a Dominatrix,” Xander growled.

“Well, I wouldn’t put it quite that way. She… it is going to need some reprogramming, but I know you can do it, Red.”

A giggle escaped Tara’s lips.

“How do we turn it on?” Willow asked.

“Um, there’s a button, on her back. A little spot on the spine down towards the middle of the back,” he replied.

He saw Willow feel around for the button and heard the click-whir of the robot turning on, but he wasn’t ready for what happened next.

The ‘bot’s eyes opened and it smiled when it saw him, just as it had it the previous timeline. He was so shocked by the twisted deja-vu that hit him and the feelings of guilt and shame that struck, that he was completely unprepared for the assault.

“Spike! Oh Spike!”

The ‘bot flew at him, grabbing his face and kissing him passionately. Then it twisted him around, threw him down to the training room floor and straddled him.

“You’re mine, Spike!”

“Red! Red! Off switch! OFF SWITCH!” he yelled, trying to fend off the quickly roving fingers.

A moment later, the ‘bot fell limp and he was able to pull himself out from under it with most of his pride intact. Xander looked sickened, but Willow and Tara were laughing silently.

“Well, that was truly perverted and disgusting,” Xander said.

“I dunno. I thought it was kinda cute how she just flattened him like that,” Willow commented.

“She was very direct,” Anya noted with a nod.

“Maybe he likes them that way. All blunt and down to business,” Willow furthered.

“Some do. There’s a certain attraction to bluntness. Besides, vampires are known to like violent sex. Blood play is usually involved.”

“Ewww. Ahn, I did not need to know that,” Xander complained.

“It can be very erotic and sexually satisfying,” the ex-vengeance demon said reasonably.

“Ahn, stop! Stop!”

Spike groaned. “If you’re quite finished making fun of me and making assumptions about my *preferences,* I’ll leave you to your work of reprogramming it to not jump me.”

He moved to leave while he still had some pride left, but Willow put a hand on his arm and stopped him.

“Oh no you don’t, Mister. You’re gonna stay here and help me reprogram her. I can’t very well program her not to jump you if you’re not around to be jumped.”

“And it could prove amusing to see you tossed to the floor a few more times. I think Xander would find it very satisfying,” Anya added.

‘I’m doomed,’ he thought, but sighed, giving over and following Willow back to the deactivated robot.

It took most of the afternoon for Willow to work through Warren’s complex programming, but she did manage to get the robot to stop sexually assaulting him. She was not, however, able to completely remove all of the robot’s attraction and affection towards him. It made for interesting troubles in reprogramming her fighting skills. Every time she threw him across the room and seemed to actually hurt him, she’d take to apologizing profusely and seek to ‘make it better.’ The women were continually amused by the sight of him getting pummeled then doted on, but Xander left after the third or fourth time it happened.

Finally, the robot was deemed ready, and that was fine with him because his bruises were starting to sprout bruises. Given the evil glint in Willow’s eyes, he wasn’t entirely certain that she hadn’t orchestrated some of the more creative beatings that the robot had doled out. Maybe she wasn’t as accepting of his reasons for having Warren make the Buffy-bot as she said she was, and she found it therapeutic to have the robot crush him to the cement a few more times than was actually necessary. Whatever her reasoning, he was glad for the reprieve and the robot was deactivated to await its first patrol.

Night came more quickly than he thought it would and he really wasn’t ready to step out of the cool refuge of the training room. There was naught to be done for it, however. The bot had to prove her mettle and there were vamps to kill. He remembered well the first time he had lived through this night. He’d woken to find his robot gone and felt a sudden terror that she had gone out without him. His fear turned out to be well founded because she’d unerringly run right into Xander and Anya in the graveyard. They hadn’t known then that the facsimile hadn’t been Buffy, and they’d gotten an eyeful when he and his new toy had played out another one of his fantasies right there on the grass. But all in all, he had to smile, knowing that Xander thought the real Buffy had been straddling him that night, riding him like a champion and crying her pleasure to whomever could hear. It was amazing the boy hadn’t popped a blood vessel and bled to death right there.

There would be no hanky-panky on this night, and he and his robot were flanked by Willow as well as the whelp and his demon-girl. Willow was lax to allow her new project to go out on her first patrol without the full support of the Scoobie Gang. They entered Shady Rest and traveled east from there, looking for any sign of evil afoot. They found none.

Spike kept an extra eye out for Glory’s minions. He knew that previously Glory had discovered that the Key was in human form and had sent her minions to spy on the gang in order to determine the Key’s identity. The Buffy-bot’s fierce protectiveness of him had made the minions think that he was the Key, and it had resulted in his subsequent kidnapping and torture. He was hoping he had managed to avoid that this time around. Since he had been sent back, he had been working very hard to ensure that Glory stayed in the dark about the Key’s true form, and part of that had been making sure Buffy stayed away from Ben. He’d been mostly successful in that endeavor, although Buffy had told him that she’d run into ‘that intern from the hospital’ a few times. There were no offers for coffee or flirtatious encounters this time around, though, and no real opportunity for Ben to discover that Dawn was the Key… well, except for the night in the mental ward. Ben had been there. He might have heard that crazy Knight call Dawn the Key It was possible that Glory now knew the Key was human, but so far he hadn’t seen any evidence of the Hell Bitch’s minions snooping around.

Things didn’t pick up in the patrol department until they reached their third cemetery. Then it seemed that all of the vamps they’d missed in the other two sought them out all at once. The fighting got pretty heated for a little while, but the ’bot held her own against them and dusted quite a few of them without any assistance. It left him free to watch the others and keep them all safe. A couple of times he got into it with one of the more powerful vamps and got knocked around a bit, but other than making the ‘bot get all defensive and worried about his welfare, he was fine.

They finished their patrol and headed back to the Magic Box to turn off the ‘bot for the night.

“There. All safe and sound,” Willow announced, setting the ‘bot up in a corner of the training room. “And she didn’t do too badly either.”

“No, she… it fought pretty good out there tonight. Dusted what? Eight vamps?” Xander commented.

“Somethin’ like that,” Spike agreed.

“Well, I have to get back home. Tara is with Dawn and I’m sure she’s worried,” Willow said.

Spike nodded. “Be seein’ you then. Buffy and the Watcher should be back soon and we’ll break the news of our newest weapon to ‘em. I’ll toddle off to my crypt and pop by tomorrow night. Tell the Bit I said hi.”

“I will. Thanks, Spike,” Willow said brightly, setting off to leave.

Spike watched them go then let himself out the back door and headed down the alley. He was already three blocks away when he heard footsteps running to catch up.

“Hey, Spike. Wait up!” Xander’s voice called.

Surprised, he stopped and turned around, waiting for the young man to come jogging up to him.

“Harris? Somethin’ wrong?” he asked, confused.

Xander stopped to catch his breath and Spike waited as patiently as he could for him to be able to speak.

“I… I just wanted to talk to you,” Xander admitted between gasps.

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” The man paused, calming and looking thoughtful. “Look. I know I gave you a hard time about the robot. But I wanted to tell you that I think it was a good idea. That thing fought really well tonight and I think you could be right about being able to use it against Glory. I mean, even if it was originally supposed to be some sick sex toy, you brought it to us to use and anything we can get to help us right about now is a good thing. Besides, I know you’ve been trying to help us a lot lately and I haven’t been very accepting of that.”

The words came out in a rush and Spike smirked.

“Wills put you up to this, didn’t she?” he commented.

Xander couldn’t hide the guilty look, but Spike had to give him points for trying.

“No!” he lied. “No, she didn’t…” Spike leveled him with a look and he caved. “Okay, okay. She did. I admit it. She pointed out that I haven’t been very forthcoming with the thanks lately.”

Spike pulled out a cigarette and lit it. He’d all but stopped smoking, but he was getting nervous and uncomfortable, and a nicotine hit would calm him down.

“You don’t owe me anything, Harris.”

The words brought Xander up short and his mouth thinned into a grim line. “No. I don’t. But neither do you. You could have left Sunnydale any time, but you haven’t. You’ve stayed and protected Dawn and tried to help us. I don’t understand why, and I do question your motives, but the truth is, you’ve been helping and that deserves a thank you.”

Spike looked away, drawing on his cigarette. “Got nowhere else to go. Can’t hunt. Can’t feed. Initiative boys buggered me up, right and good. Demon needs violence and the only way I can get it, is huntin’ other demons. Doesn’t make me too popular with the home team, y’know. Best help the Slayer, ally myself wi’ ‘er and get protection and a decent spot of violence at the same time. Other nasties know I’m in good with the Slayer, they think twice about comin’ after me. Works out for both of us. Can’t have some skanky Hell Bitch messin’ that up, can we?”

“I guess not,” Xander admitted, unconvinced.

“And there you have it. The great mystery of William the Bloody solved. I help because I don’t want anything buggerin’ my cushy setup here in Sunnyhell,” he shrugged, trying to deflect Xander’s scrutinizing gaze.

“Right, and that includes babysitting Dawn and guarding Joyce’s grave.”

“I…”

Xander cut him off. “Look. I dunno what’s going on, but Willow told me about you stopping Dawn from casting that resurrection spell, and Tara’s been pushing all of us to be nicer to you. Now, I have no idea what your ulterior motives are, and I probably don’t want to know, but I did want to acknowledge that we’ve noticed your help and I wanted to say thanks. That’s all.”

Spike looked at him and swallowed the lump that formed in his throat, managing a tight nod. “You’re welcome.”

“Gentlemen…” came a sibilant voice from behind them.

Spike and Xander turned around to see one of Glory’s minions standing behind them.

“I'm so sorry to intrude, but I wondered if I could beg a minute of your time?” the minion asked.

Spike turned to Xander. “Get out of here, Harris. Now.”

“What the Hell is going on?” Xander blurted, fists clenching as two more minions appeared.

“Run you idiot!” Spike ordered.

Xander looked from Spike to the minions then back to Spike. Knowledge of the very real and present danger they were in dawned in his eyes and they opened wide. Spike did his best to place himself between Glory’s cronies and the boy in hopes that he could defend them both, but it was not to be. To his credit, Xander did try to run, but his reaction time was a hair too slow and one of the minions slammed him into the side of a building, knocking him out. As the boy slumped to the pavement, Spike fought. He landed a few good blows, but in the end there were simply too many of them for him to overcome, and, just as they had done before, they bound his hands and dragged him off to Glory.

Chapter 37

“Hey! Hey, son. You okay?”

The voice seemed far away, but it was accompanied by a vigorous shaking of his shoulder. He groaned and tried to open his eyes. Pain lanced through his head and he groaned, one arm reaching up to finger the nasty lump that had formed on the back of his skull.

“Son? You okay?”

Responding to the insistent voice, Xander opened his eyes and his blurry vision focused on an elderly man peering down at him.

“Wh… what happened?” he asked, finding his voice.

“I don’t know, son. I got off work and found you here lying on the pavement. Looks like someone knocked you into a wall.”

Still confused and slightly disoriented, he tried to sit up and remember what happened. Looking around, he saw that it was just after dawn.

‘I must have been out for hours. It’s amazing I didn’t become a vamp snack,’ he thought.

Vamp. Snack. Spike.

It all came back in a rush. Spike, their conversation, his awkward thanks, then the scabby guys in monk’s robes jumping them. They looked like how Buffy had described Glory’s crusty minions. Whoever they were, they’d slammed him into the wall and dragged Spike away.

“Oh. Oh god. Spike. They got him.”

“Spike? Who’s Spike? Did somebody take your dog?” the man asked.

Xander struggled to his feet, shaking off the last of the disorientation. “No. He’s…” What was Spike to them anyway? Certainly not a friend, but no longer an enemy either. He didn’t have time to think about it.

“Look, I gotta go.”

“Are you sure you’re okay? Don’t you want to go to the hospital or something?”

He shook his head. “No. I gotta be somewhere. Thanks.”

He didn’t look back as he hurried towards his apartment. Judging by his watch, he’d been out for hours. That meant Spike had been in Glory’s clutches for hours and there was no telling what the god was doing to him.

‘And he knows Dawn is the Key. Can he be trusted not to tell?’

The uncertainty made him move faster and he pounded on the door when he got home. Willow opened the door, her eyes wide and frightened.

“Xander! Where’ve you been?” she asked as he pushed his way inside. “Anya came looking for you at our place. We came back here to wait for you, but you didn’t show. We were about to go looking…”

“Xander!” Anya called, rushing over. “What happened? Did you and Spike run into trouble?”

“The guys that work for Glory? Buffy said they were kinda like Hobbits with leprosy? Well, this was a whole flock of Hobbits and they grabbed Spike. I think they're taking him to Glory.”

“Oh my God,” Willow gasped. “And he knows about Dawn!”

By now Tara was awake, sitting up from the blankets piled on the floor. “What is it? What’s happened?”

“Glory’s minions took Spike,” Xander replied.

“Oh my God,” Tara blurted, repeating her lover’s exact words.

“Well, what are we going to do?” Anya questioned.

“We have to get him back,” Tara said in a voice that brooked no argument.

Her tone surprised them and they gave her odd looks.

“O… okay, but don’t we need Buffy…” Willow stammered.

“No, we have to get him back now. Before Glory hurts him. We have to find him,” Tara insisted.

“Okay…”

“How do we find him?” Xander asked.

“Oh! Maybe the bot! The bot might have some kind of homing device in it. I mean, Warren’s girlfriend-bot was able to track him here to Sunnydale,” Willow offered.

Tara was already getting out of bed. “And there’s a spell we can use. A locator spell. We can get the ingredients at the Magic Box.”

“What’s going on?” Dawn’s voice asked, tired but worried.

“Dawny!” Willow said, going to the teen and trying to downplay what was happening.

“I heard something about Spike. What’s happened to him?”

The others looked at each other. Xander had a story on his lips and he was about to speak when Tara cut him off.

“Dawn, Xander and Spike were attacked. We think Glory’s minions may have taken Spike,” she explained gently.

Dawn face filled with horror. “No. Oh no. What are we going to do? We have to find him!”

Tara tried to calm her before she became too distressed. “We’re going to go look for him. Buffy and Giles aren’t back yet. Willow is hoping that the robot Buffy has a homing device in it that is programmed to find Spike. If not, there’s a locator spell we can cast. We’re going to go to the Magic Box to get the robot and the ingredients for the spell.”

“I wanna help,” Dawn insisted.

“Dawn… it’s too dangerous…” Willow tried.

“If you try to leave me here, I’ll just follow. You’d have to chain me up or something to keep me here.”

“We could lock her in the closet,” Anya offered.

“I know how to pick locks,” Dawn countered, then added when they looked at her with shocked faces. “Spike taught me how. He said it could come in handy if any nasties ever caught me and locked me up somewhere.” She lifted her chin defiantly. “So locking me in a closet won’t do any good, I’ll just pick my way out.”

Shaking their heads and deciding that a conversation with Spike on what was and wasn’t appropriate to teach a fourteen year old girl could come after they had rescued the vampire, they headed out.

They went to the Magic Box first to collect the robot and the ingredients they needed for the locator spell. The ‘bot activated with a quiet click and the eyes popped open.

“Hello. Your name is Willow. You’re my friend,” the robot said cheerfully.

“Uh, yeah. That’s right, Buffy-bot.”

The robot looked around at all the others staring at her. Dawn made no attempt to hide her shock.

“Oh my god. I mean, you guys told me it looked just like Buffy, but…”

“Dawn!” the robot greeted happily, coming forward to give the teen a hug. Dawn wasn’t able to back away fast enough. “You’re my sister!”

“Yeah. Right,” Dawn replied, hurt.

“Uh, Buffy-bot. We kinda need your help,” Willow said, getting the robot’s attention.

The robot paused to look at all the people in the room. “Why is everyone staring at me?”

Willow cleared her throat, making the robot look at her.

“Where is Spike?” the robot asked with complete innocence.

“That’s why we need your help. Spike is missing and we need to find him. Do you know where we can find him?”

The Buffy-bot blinked several times and looked at each of the individuals in the room in turn, then looked back at Willow, blinked, and said, “No.”

“Well we were thinking that maybe Warren had put some kind of homing device in you that would help you find Spike…” Willow tried.

“No. And I don’t think I’m a robot,” she replied in the same cheerful voice.

“Um, yeah. Right.”

“I’ll get that locator spell and look up the ingredients,” Tara said, eyeing the robot and stepping out of the room.

“I’ll help you,” Dawn offered, looking for any reason to get out of the training room.

Together Tara and Dawn amassed the supplies needed in order to cast the spell.

“Now all we need is something that belonged to Spike, so we can specify him as the person we want to find,” Tara said when they were finished gathering the ingredients.

“Oh! Spike has some clothes at our house. In the basement from when he… you know,” Dawn said.

“That will do. And we should get weapons from Buffy’s house anyway,” Willow agreed.

“Let’s go,” Tara ordered, shocking them again by her forthright words and atypical assertiveness.

They followed her out of the Magic Box, robot in tow.

Once at Buffy’s house, Dawn went into the basement to get an article of clothing that Spike had left behind from his convalescence while Tara set up the spell in the living room.

“Whoa, group play time,” Buffy said, coming into the living room.

“Buffy!” Willow greeted. “You’re back early!”

“Yeah,” Buffy sighed. “Death is my gift. Pffah.”

“Huh?” Willow asked.

Buffy shook off her memory and looked around at the others in the room.

“What’s going on?”

“Hey! You look just like me!” the Buffybot chirped.

Buffy stared at the robot, her eyes wide. “Oh. My. God.”

“No no, it’s not what you think,” Xander hastened.

“Buffy, I’m going to head off to the… oh good lord,” Giles said, coming into the house, but he stopped short when he saw the robot.

“You’re Mr. Giles. You’re from England,” the ‘bot beamed.

“Oh dear, I see that Warren finished it in our absence.”

Buffy rounded on her Watcher. “You knew about this?!”

Giles looked away nervously. “Well, yes, Spike and I discussed it…”

“SPIKE?”

“Whoa, whoa, wait Buffy, calm down,” Xander tried.

“Calm down? Calm down? There’s a sex bot with my face on it standing in my living room and you want me to calm down?”

“She’s not a sex bot!” Willow interrupted. “Well… not anymore. We’ve changed her programming.”

Buffy scowled. “Oh that makes me feel sooo much better. Where is he?”

“Buffy, please. Let us explain,” Willow begged.

Buffy frowned but nodded.

“After you and Giles left for your trip, Spike came to the Magic Box with the robot. He said he and Giles decided to have Warren make a robot that looked like you for us to use as a decoy against Glory. But Spike couldn’t tell Warren what we really needed the robot for, so he had him make another girlfriend-bot. Then when it was done, Spike brought it to us so we could reprogram it. Buffy, it’s really strong and it fights really well. We took it on patrol last night and it killed eight vampires all by itself,” Willow explained.

“Eight?” Buffy repeated.

“Okay, I found these,” Dawn said, coming into the room. She was carrying a black t-shirt and pair of black socks.

“Dawn, why are you carrying Spike’s clothes?” Buffy demanded.

The teen blinked at her sister. “Buffy, you’re back!” She rushed over and hugged Buffy. “Oh, I’m so glad you’re back! We need your help!”

Buffy hugged her sister then pulled back. “Okay. Okay. I go away on a vision quest where I meet up with cave-slayer, complete with dreadlocks and facial mud, and when I come back, I find all my friends in my house, a robot that looks like me standing in my living room, and my sister taking a vampire’s clothes out of the basement. What gives?”

“We need the clothes for a locator spell,” Tara said, taking the clothing from Dawn and bringing it to where she had set up the spell.

“Locator spell?” Buffy repeated, taking in the set up.

“Buffy… last night, Glory’s minions jumped me and Spike. They knocked me out and took Spike,” Xander admitted.

“Glory has Spike?” Buffy gasped.

Xander swallowed hard and nodded.

“Oh dear, this… this is awful news,” Giles stammered, cleaning his glasses and casting a glance at Tara.

“Don’t worry. We’re going to find him and bring him back,” Tara said confidently.

Giles went over to where she was preparing to cast the spell.

“A locator spell?” he asked.

Tara nodded, spreading some cornmeal into a sacred circle.

“I can help,” Giles offered.

She gave him another nod and handed him the map of Sunnydale to place in the center of the Circle.

“How long has she had him?” Buffy demanded.

“A few hours. They jumped us as we were leaving the Magic Box last night,” Xander answered. “He’s probably told her about Dawn by now.”

“NO!” Dawn cried. “Spike would never tell Glory about me. Not ever.”

“Dawn, Spike’s a vampire...”

“A vampire who loves Buffy. And he loves me too. He’d die for us. You know he would.”

“Whoa, Spike loves you?” Xander blurted, rounding on Buffy with an accusing glare.

Buffy tried to downplay the revelation. “I found out a few weeks back.”

“And you didn’t tell any of us?”

“I didn’t think it was important.”

“Not important? Another vamp falls for you, one that *already* doesn’t have a soul, and you didn’t think it was important? When were you going to tell us, Buff? After he started killing us or before?” Xander accused.

“Hey! That’s not fair! You know Spike can’t hurt any of us because of the chip. Besides, he loves me and Buffy, and he loved Mom too,” Dawn argued.

“Dawn, Spike can’t love. He’s a soulless monster who killed people for centuries,” Xander countered.

“That’s quite enough,” Giles interrupted, an edge to his voice. “We need quiet in order to cast this spell. I suggest that you gather weapons we will need to rescue Spike from Glory and be ready to leave once we know where he is.”

He and Tara shared a look, then joined hands. Willow, Dawn and Anya looked on while Buffy and Xander did as they were told and gathered weapons. Buffy pulled the Gruth’lak battleaxe out of the weapons chest and studied it, a sad frown on her face.

“So, is this, like, ‘I love you forever and I want to make you into my immortal sex slave’ love? Or is it ‘I’m scarily obsessed with you and will stalk you from the shadows’ love?” Xander asked snarkily, out of earshot of Giles and Tara.

“It’s a ‘I’ll be whatever you want, whatever you need, and I’ll never leave’ kind of love,” Buffy replied softly, lowering the axe. “It’s messy and complicated and terrifying, but it’s real, Xander. At least, it’s real to him. Giles told me Spike first told him under the truth spell, so it can’t have been one of his lies.”

“Okay, but you know… it can’t be real.”

“I don’t know anything,” she said.

“Buffy, Spike doesn’t have a soul.”

She turned to him. “I know, but…” She stopped, thinking, then shook her head. “Look, I can’t do this now. I just know that Spike would never hurt me or Dawn, and that right now he’s in trouble and we have to do what we can to save him.”

“And I know that the guy has been doing a lot for us lately, but you know he’s going to tell Glory that Dawn is the Key and you and Dawn should be heading out of town instead of us trying to rescue the soulless killer from a Hell God,” Xander countered.

“So it’s okay for us to use him and beat him and pump him for information when we need it, but he isn’t worth our efforts if he needs our help?” Buffy snapped back.

Xander shook his head and put up his hands. “I’m just saying... Spike’s a demon, Buffy. He’s not human. He doesn’t have a soul and he’ll never be Angel.”

“You think this is about Angel?” Buffy seethed.

“Isn’t it? I mean, come on, you had a thing for a vampire once. It’s logical that you could fall for another one.”

“I am not in love with Spike!” she insisted. “But he isn’t my enemy anymore and he’s helped me a lot. He deserves the benefit of the doubt here.”

Xander sighed and gathered his thoughts. “But Buffy… in order to save him we’re gonna have to find Glory.”

Buffy’s lips tightened and she nodded. “I know.”

Just then Dawn came running to find them. “We found him. Tara and Giles have the spot on the map.”

Buffy leveled an expectant look at Xander and held it until Xander looked away.

“Okay. Dawn, you and Tara stay here and be safe. The rest of us will go,” she decided, walking towards where Tara and Giles were set up. She glanced over her shoulder. “Xander, are you with us?”

The young man made an unhappy face but finally nodded. “Yeah, Buff. I’m with you.”

She gave him a soft smile.

Chapter 38

Pain.

Pain was his world. Pain was his universe. Pain was all that was left of his mind and soul.

He remembered all too well the tortures Glory had visited upon him and her attentions were no different this time, only now he made a terrible realization. He had killed the Sobek demon before it had a chance to lead Buffy to the clearing near the apartment complex where Glory lived. Without that point of reference to start form, even if the Scoobies did come after him- which he doubted they would- they would have no idea where to even begin their search. The knowledge added an edge of dark despair to his suffering. He was truly on his own. No rescue party would arrive at the last minute to save him from this Hell Bitch’s cruelties. If he was to survive, he would have to save himself.

And he had to survive. Somehow, in spite of all his efforts, Glory still found out that the Key was in human form. It was another example of the futility of his actions. No matter what he did or how hard he tried, the events from the previous timeline still seemed to occur in the same sequence that they had taken before. Now Dawn was in serious danger again and so was Tara. He had to get out of there and find a way to kill Ben. It all came down to that one solution: killing Ben. He had wanted to kill Ben from the outset, but had allowed Giles’ adamant refusal to sway him from his task. He now recommitted himself to taking out the intern and nothing, not Buffy, not the Watcher, not even the Chip or his own death, was going to stop him.

Now all he had to do was escape from the Hell Bitch’s clutches, and get somewhere safe long enough to heal and figure out how to kill a human when the chip wouldn’t let him even *think* about hurting anyone. Gathering what was left of his strength, he prepared to taunt Glory into kicking him out of the chains so he could try to stagger his way out of the building.

‘Worked so well the last time…’

A sharp slap to the face brought him out of his thoughts and he became aware, once again, of his body hanging from the chains in the ceiling, broken and bloodied as he tried to alleviate the pressure by standing on his toes.

“I have a riddle for you, Precious. How is a vampire that won't talk like an apple?” she taunted sweetly.

She brought a knife down to his chest, and peeled away the skin, leaving a patch of exposed red flesh. He went rigid with pain and gasped.

“Think I can do you in one long strip?” she asked, flashing the knife.

Spike swallowed slowly and licked his lips. “Enough,” he whispered hoarsely. “No more. I’ll tell you who the sodden Key is.”

Glory gave him a vicious smile and pulled the knife away. “Good.”

As he had before, he tried to stall for as long as he could but it only earned him more pain and beating. Finally, he thought he had the timing about right and asked for a glass of water. Glory graciously provided him with one and held it to his lips so he could drink. She had done this for him before, and he knew that she would soon smash the glass into his face.

“Is that better? Do you think you can try to talk again now?” the hell god asked.

Taking a deep breath, he managed a nod.

“Good. Because I'm tired of these *games!*”

The glass smashed against his cheek, slicing into his flesh as it shattered.

“I need time, I need a drink… You're a very needy little bloodsucker and it's not very attractive! So start talking!” Glory demanded, throwing herself down on the couch and facing him with her legs crossed.

“Yeah, okay. The Key. Well, here's the thing…” he began, surreptitiously working to loosen the chains that held his wrists and trying to twist his hands through.

“It's that guy. On TV. What's his name?”

“On the television?” Glory repeated, incredulous.

“On that show, the Price show, where they guess what stuff costs…” he continued, casting a glance behind him to the closed front door.

“The Price is Right?” one of the minions in robes offered.

“Bob Barker!” another finished excitedly.

“We will get Bob Barker! We will bring you the limp and beaten body of Bob Barker!” the first minion said.

Glory stood up and spun on her minions with narrowed eyes. They cringed.

“It is not Bob Barker, you scabby morons!” she yelled, then approached Spike. “The Key is new to this world and Bob Barker is as old as grit.” She came close, her face mere centimeters from his own bloody cheeks. “The vampire is lying to me.”

He laughed thinly, with not a small hint of hysteria and bitterness in his voice as he continued to work on freeing his hands.

“Yeah,” he admitted. “But it was fun. And guess what, bitch? I'm not tellin’ you jack. You're never gonna get your soddin’ Key. Because you might be strong, but in our world, you're an idiot.”

“I am a God,” Glory said seriously.

“The God of What? Bad home perms?” he taunted, seeing her get angry and feel at her hair.

“Shut up! I command you shut up!” she demanded.

“Yeah, okay. I mean, sorry, but I just had no idea Gods were such prancing lightweights,” he continued, looking back at the door and trying to line his body up with it.

Glory have him an angry snort, coming close as he punctuated his next words with as much contempt as he could muster.

“Mark my words, the Slayer is going to kick your skanky lop-sided ass back to whatever place would take a cheap, whorish, fashion victim ex-God like you.”

On cue, just as he finished saying the words, Glory rounded and kicked him so hard that the chains that held him snapped and he went flying backwards, directly through the closed front door in a torrent of splinters. He was exceedingly lucky that one of them did not pierce his heart. He landed in the hallway and struggled to his feet in spite of the pain he was in.

“Good plan, Spike,” he choked to himself as he stood on shaky but mercifully unbroken legs.

Unsteady and in agony, he made his way as quickly as his battered body would allow to the elevator. It closed in front of him as he got there and he had to pry the doors apart. Glory’s minions were hot on his heels as he forced the doors open and threw himself down the shaft to land on the roof of the descending car. Pushing the escape hatch in, he let himself fall through the opening and land heavily on the elevator floor. He knew the minions would be waiting for him when it stopped at the lobby and he would have to fight his way through them, then get down to the basement where he could hopefully either find a way into the sewers or hole up in a safe place to hide until nightfall.

He stood, ready to fight the moment the doors opened, knowing there would be no help for him this time. The elevator stopped and the doors slid open. He tensed and prepared to do battle for his unlife.

“You do not insult Glory by escaping,” one of the minions said as they came towards him.

Setting his jaw, he was ready for them, fists clenched. Then a miracle happened and for a moment he could not believe what he was seeing as the building doors flew open with a powerful kick and Buffy was there, crossbow in hand. The robot, the whelp, the watcher, witch and demon girl were all with her, all battle ready and supremely pissed off.

His legs gave out as the shock washed through him, followed by relief and some studded awe as he watched the Slayer and the Scoobies begin to fight. He noticed that she was wielding the Gruth’lak battle axe like a true warrior and he smiled through bloodied lips.

‘She finally got a chance to use it,’ he thought.

It was the last thing that entered his mind before he passed out.

He woke with a scream on his lips, but was quickly shushed by a soft voice and gentle hand.

“You’re safe. It’s okay. You’re safe now,” a voice whispered and he recognized it as Tara.

“Glinda?” he choked.

“Yes. It’s me. Buffy and the others rescued you from Glory. You’re in Buffy’s basement. You already had clothes and a cot here so it seemed the logical place to bring you,” Tara explained.

“Danger,” he managed.

“No. No, it’s okay. Willow and I have the protection spells up. If Glory tries to get anywhere near here, they’ll sound an alarm.”

“How’d you find me?”

“Location spell. Giles helped and you had left some of your clothes here so we had something to use as a focus.”

He was so humbled and grateful that he almost started to cry.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely.

“We couldn’t leave you there. You’re family,” she answered, recalling memories of that night not so long ago when he and the others fought for her against her family.

“I want you to know, too, that we didn’t tell. About your soul, that is. Giles and I. We kept it secret still. But we couldn’t let Glory hurt you… well, more than she already did,” she added.

“S’ok. I understand. Grateful. Where’s Dawn?” he asked, his concern coming through in spite of his hoarse voice.

“She’s safe. She’s upstairs. Worried about you. We’re all worried about you. You’ve taken a number of beatings in a very short time.”

“Buffy?”

“She’s upstairs too. Do you want me to get her?”

He managed a small nod.

“Okay. I’ll go get her, but don’t talk too long. You’re really weak and you need to heal. Willow and I put more pain-block spells on you, but you still need rest.”

As she moved to leave, he reached out for her hand, feeling blindly for it because his eyes were nearly swollen shut. When her hand came in contact with his own, he held it loosely.

“Glinda…”

“Yes?”

“Glory knows the Key is human. I don’t know how she knows. Don’t go anywhere alone, okay? Even if you and Red are havin’ a bit of a tiff, don’t go stormin’ off by yourself, okay? Trust me on this one, please,” he warned faintly.

Her hand gripped his tightly then released. “I won’t. Thank you.”

He nodded, rolling his heads back and letting his hand fall from hers. She smoothed back his hair then he heard her leave. It was quite a few minutes before he heard the tell-tale footsteps on the basement stairs.

“Slayer,” he whispered in greeting before she had a chance to speak.

“Tara said you wanted to see me,” Buffy’s voice said, calmly but with an edge of apprehension.

“Wanted you to know. I didn’t tell.”

There was silence, then Buffy said softly. “I know.”

“Don’t make a difference, though. Glory knows the Key’s human.”

“How?”

He shook his head. “Dunno. ‘S why they got me. Thought I was the Key.” He tried to laugh but coughed instead. “Wankers.”

“This is bad, Spike.”

“I know. She’s gonna start comin’ for the Scoobies, one by one. ‘S just a matter of time.”

He heard her settle next to him on the floor beside his cot. “We have to find a way to beat her before she finds out about Dawn. Giles has been going through the stuff the Council gave us, but so far nothing’s been helpful. She has to have a weakness or else those monks would never have sent her to me in the first place.”

“I’m workin’ on it, but you have to give us a minute. Cuts and bones need mending.”

“I should let you rest. Glory really beat you up. You’ve been beaten up a lot lately.”

He sighed and smiled to himself. “Takes more than all that ta keep me down. I’m a tough old bastard, I am. Take a lickin’ and keep on kickin’.”

Buffy laughed softly at his joke. “Yeah, I figured that. You’ve suffered a lot lately. And you’ve helped a lot. Granted I’m not pleased with finding out you had a robot of me made by that twisted geek Warren, but…”

“It wasn’t supposed…” he tried.

“I know, but still eewwwww. I’m just glad it isn’t a good copy of me. I mean, how could anyone think that thing was me? It isn’t even real.”

He wisely kept silent, knowing full well that Warren’s creation had fooled the demons of Sunnydale for almost 4 months during the summer of Buffy’s death. Then he felt her hand take his gently.

“What you did for me… and for Dawn. That was real. I won’t forget it.”

He heard her lean close then felt her plant a chaste kiss against his temple.

“Thank you,” she whispered very softly.

“Buffy…” he murmured, but she was already pulling away.

“I should let you rest. I have a sick feeling that things are gonna heat up pretty quick around here and we’ll need your help.”

He nodded as she stood and walked away. He tracked her with his hearing until she paused at the basement steps.

“I’ll have Dawn bring down some blood for you. She’s anxious to see you and it’ll give her an excuse to come down,” she said.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” There was another pause, then she said softly, “Get some rest, Spike. And thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” he whispered back, but she didn’t hear him. She had already climbed her way up the stairs, leaving him alone in the basement.

Chapter 39

He healed. Physically at least. It could not be said that the other, unseen, wounds were healing. Rather they festered inside of him, eating away at his very sanity. As he lay there in Buffy’s basement, bones knitting and flesh mending from yet another vicious beating, his mind ran circles around itself trying to formulate a plan. He had to stop Glory and to do that he had to kill Ben. Giles wasn’t going to help him. That meant the Scoobies wouldn’t help him if he went to them. He couldn’t do it and be sure he’d succeed on the first try before the chip knocked him unconscious. He would only have one chance to kill the intern and if he failed Glory would know that her secret was out. He needed allies; allies that wanted Glory dead as much as he did and were willing to kill innocents in order to accomplish that goal.

The answer came to him in the form of a sick epiphany. He was absently fingering a wound where Glory had sliced him with a knife and his thoughts turned to Mediaeval torture methods, which led him to thinking of the Dark Ages and knights on horseback. Then he remembered the modern day Knights of Byzantium, dressed in all their rusted glory, sworn to destroy the Key at all costs in order to sever its link to The Beast. The Knights had no qualms about killing an innocent girl. They were prepared to sacrifice Dawn, and anyone who got in their way, in order to complete their mission.

The plan seemed perfect. Once he was healed enough to go out, he would seek out the Knights and offer them Ben. Why kill a tool when you could get the hand that wielded it? Spike remembered that the general they had captured told them that the Knights had never been able to determine the identity of Glory’s human host. He could give them Glory’s biggest weakness in trade for Dawn and the Scoobies’ safety. The Knights would kill Ben and Glory would die with him. The Hell Bitch would be gone, Dawn would be safe and Buffy would never have to jump off the tower.

The answer was so ridiculously simple he was shocked he hadn’t thought of it before, and a stream of hysterical giggles bubbled out from his lips, catching the attention of his caretaker of the moment, Tara.

“Spike?” the witch asked, leaning over him as he tried to suppress the sounds. “Spike are you all right?”

He looked at her, his face still battered, but cracked into a grin. In the previous timeline she’d gotten brain-sucked and was now a gibbering idiot, but this time, she’d heeded his warnings and had not gone to the fair where Glory had found her the last time.

“You’re the only one who ever listened to me,” he commented.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. Nothin’ matters anymore, ‘cept keepin’ you lot safe.”

Tara ducked her head shyly and let her hair hide her face, but he reached over and grasped her wrist gently to command her attention.

“Listen to me. No matter what happens, I will never betray Buffy and the Scoobies. I would die for her and Dawn, and I nearly bloody did.”

“I… I know.”

“You remember that, Glinda. No matter how it looks. I will never betray you.”

She fixed him with a steady stare. “Spike, what are you going to do?”

“I dunno yet, but I have some ideas. The Hell Bitch said a few things while she was gettin’ creative with my body parts,” he hedged.

“Like what?” she pressed, her face intensely interested.

“Can’t say just yet. Don’t want to get anyone’s hopes up. Gotta do some diggin’ first. When I know for sure, you lot’ll be the first to know.”

She took his hand and squeezed gently. “Spike, please don’t do anything rash. I know that you are very worried and scared for us, but the warnings you gave me about not getting caught alone, they count for you too.”

He gave her a tender smile. “Don’t want to have to come haring to my rescue again, eh Glinda?”

She snorted at his attempt at humor. “More like tired of washing the blood out of your clothes.”

“Me I just burn ‘em and steal new ones.”

“Oh now you tell me,” she chided jokingly.

He chuckled and smiled at her, turning his head away and closing his eyes as he released her wrist.

“Tired?” she asked.

He swallowed and nodded.

“I’ll let you rest then,” she said, adjusting his blankets.

“Wake me when Passions comes on.”

“I will.”

He fell asleep to visions of knights on horseback with flashing swords and shining armor.

*******

The following day, Spike woke with the uncanny knowledge that he was running out of time. Even though he wasn’t yet completely healed and still had a severe limp, he set about executing his plan to enlist the knights’ help in disposing of Glory, but there were a few things he needed to take care of first just in case things went sour.

Going to the used car lot he and Buffy had raided before, he stole the camper and hid it in the alley behind the Magic Box. He knew that the Scoobies would need it if Glory came after them. He passed over the Porsche again, knowing it was too small for everyone, and that he also couldn’t be sure he would be around to drive it. He knew what he was doing was terribly dangerous and that there was a distinct possibility that he would not survive it. With that in mind, he left a letter for Giles explaining what he planned to do and informing him of the dangers and the whereabouts of the camper.

Mission completed, he went in search of the Knights of Byzantium, knowing he was walking straight into the lion’s den, but feeling that he had no choice. He found their encampment without too much trouble. Really, how inconspicuous could a legion of armored knights and war horses be? It wasn’t like they could hide out in an abandoned warehouse and lie low until they were called to battle. In the end, he found them in the woods, a full encampment complete with tents and campfires.

Gathering his courage and hoping he wasn’t making the biggest mistake of his unlife, he walked straight into their midst.

“Oi! Who’s in charge around here?” he announced loudly, commanding their attention.

He was immediately surrounded by at least a dozen armored knights with swords. He put up his hands in surrender.

“I come in peace,” he said. “I have information that will prove useful to you in your… eh… holy quest.”

“What do you know about our quest?” one of the knights demanded, shaking his sword at him.

“I know a helluva lot more than you think I do, and if you wanna take down the Hell Bitch, you’ll put your little pointy things away and let me speak to your leader.”

With that, he feigned disinterest, lowered his arms and lit a cigarette. The knights around him fidgeted and murmured, but none tried to attack him.

‘Plan might just work…’

“Demon! Hell spawn! Beast of Satan!” came a loud voice.

‘Then again, maybe not.’

Spike raised his head to see an elderly man in robes, most likely a priest or cleric, coming through the ranks of knights. He cleared the soldiers and came at him, crucifix waving. He snarled, demon coming forth to the shock of the knights, and shied away from the holy object.

“Get thee behind me, evil spawn!” the cleric cried.

“Oi! Put that thing away will ya? I told you I come in peace.”

“Demon! Why should we believe your lies?”

“’Cause I’ve got information about The Beast,” he insisted, still shying from the crucifix.

“You speak with a forked tongue, devil child. Nothing you have to say would be of any use to us.”

He was getting sick of the man waving the cross at him, pushing him closer to the ranks of sword wielding knights, and he was losing patience. Besides, the man smelled like moldy books and tongue oil. He rounded and faced the priest, head high and yellow eyes blazing.

“Look, I don’t want that bitch opening the portals any more than you do! I’m here to help, you wanker,” he snarled, lunging forward and thrilling at the sudden fear in the old man’s eyes.

The priest shoved the crucifix directly in his face but did not touch him with it. He held his ground and steeled himself not to flinch.

“What’s in gonna be then?” he challenged.

The two stared at each other, a battle of wills as each refused to give quarter, although Spike was none too happy to have a cross dangling quite so close to his nose. Then a new figure came through the circle of knights. He was more highly decorated than the others, and the tattoo on his forehead was more detailed.

“We already know the monks made the Key human, demon,” the newcomer said.

Spike broke eye contact with the priest in order to face the new man. The priest thankfully lowered his cross and allowed the man to come close. Spike shook off his demon and looked at the man with his human face.

“Well, yeah. They did.”

“We know it is the Slayer’s sister. Our brother who was defiled by The Beast told us this,” the man, a general, added.

‘So that’s how they found out. The crazy knight from the mental ward.’

“Yeah. But I can do you one better than that. I know who The Beast’s mortal host is,” he replied smugly.

The general pulled his sword and pointed the tip at Spike’s nose. “I know decapitation will kill your kind, demon.”

“We don’t like sharpened sticks much either. Your point is?”

“If you have come to tell us lies, we will kill you.”

He blinked and looked bored. “Well, yeah. Figured that. I’m a vampire, mate, not an imbecile.”

The general stared at him for a moment, then said, “Tell us what you know.”

He went to take a drag from his cigarette and saw that it had burned down to the filter. Sighing, and casting the priest an irritated glance, he lit another and took a hit.

“I want to make a deal first,” he said, blowing the smoke in the priest’s direction.

“We do not make deals with the devil,” the cleric sneered.

Spike shrugged and looked expectantly at the general.

“What are your demands?” the general finally said, to the shock of those around him.

Spike gave him a satisfied smirk, flicking the cigarette ashes on the grass by the general’s boots.

“’S real simple, really. I give you Glorificus’ human host and you leave the Slayer and her little sis alone.”

His words surprised everyone. Even the general looked stunned.

“That is your condition?”

He nodded and crushed the cigarette under the heel of his boot. “It is.”

“You want the Key for yourself,” one of the knights spat.

He gave the knight a withering glare. “No. Without Glory, the Key is useless,” he said, looking back at the general. “The Key is the Link, the Link must be severed. Such is the Will of God. Have I got it right? Kill the man, you kill the God. Kill the God, the Key becomes a normal teenage girl whose only concerns are boys, makeup and not gettin’ eatin’ by nasties like me.”

Spike gave the general a level stare, one eyebrow cocked.

“You are correct, demon. If The Beast is destroyed, the Key’s power is useless. Only the one who made it can wield its power,” the general confirmed.

“There you have it then. Have we got a deal?”

“Why would you want us to spare the girl?” the general demanded.

“The Slayer and me, we got a deal. I help her kill the nasties in this town in return for her not killin’ me. Works out rather nicely for both if us. I don’t get killed, she gets another pair of hands in the slayin’ and I get to have all sorts of fun metin’ delicious violence on prey that’s a lot more difficult to kill than you measly mortals. It’s a win-win situation,” he explained calmly.

“Now, enter one Hell Bitch with visions of world destruction and a really bad fashion sense. Complicate that with the fact that said Hell Bitch is after the Slayer’s little sister. Oh, did I mention that I’m sworn to protect the little sister? It makes for a bit of tension, it does, and interrupts our regular slayin’ schedule, and that messes with my killin’ fun.”

“You have a soul,” the priest said suddenly, a hint of awe in his voice.

Spike stopped his soliloquy and gave the cleric an angry glare.

“Well, so you found me out. Nancy boy vampire went and got himself a soul. Bravo.”

“You are the one that was foretold in the ancient scrolls. The demon who would betray his own kind.”

“Hate to disappoint you, padre, but that’s my poof of a grandsire. He’s the one with the grand destiny. Me, I’m just love’s bitch.” He returned his attention to the general. “So, back to the matter at hand. I give you Glory’s human host and you leave the Slayer and her sis alone. Have we got a deal?”

“How do we know you are telling the truth?” the general asked.

“Well, aside from this pesky soul not wantin’ me to lie, I can prove it.”

“Tell us what you know. If you speak the truth, we will honor your request.”

Spike nodded.

“Glory’s got herself a posh pad in an apartment complex not too far from here. I got a chance to look at it when she picked me up and took me over to her place for a spot of torture,” he said, pointing to his bruised face. “See, she knows the Key’s human too and she decided that the vampire was the weakest link if you know what I mean. Now, during my stay there, in-between the bouts of excruciating pain, I managed to discover a little room in said apartment that was made up as a bedroom for Glory’s human half. The human half is a doctor who calls himself Ben. He interns at Sunnydale hospital, when he isn’t strutting around in dollies and high heels.”

There was a moment of silence before the general spoke again.

“You will take us to this place.”

Spike gave him an evil grin.

“With pleasure.”

Chapter 40

Spike ran. He ran until he thought his injured leg had surely broken into a dozen pieces, and all the wounds that had half-healed from Glory's tortures had reopened and spilled his borrowed blood all over himself and the street. But no pain he endured could match the blinding panic that seared through him now, the all-encompassing terror that drove him past the point of all his endurance.

The Knights of Byzantium were gone. All of them. What poor sods were still left alive were surely being held as food for the Hell Bitch. The rest were dead, slaughtered like cattle and left to rot on the killing field. The apartment complex was in flames, the fire casting blood red shadows on the surrounding buildings and flooding the nearby park with toxic, black smoke- smoke he used as cover in which to make his desperate escape.

The plan seemed simple enough. When Glory was weakened, she either found a victim to brain-suck or lost her ability to hold Ben back. All they theoretically had to do was wait until Glory morphed into Ben and then kill him while he was vulnerable. It was a very simple plan. Because vampires were immune to the forgetting spell that Glory/Ben cast that made humans forget they had seen one switch to the other, Spike would watch for Ben and alert the knights of his whereabouts. The knights would then attack and kill Ben, striking too quickly for any of Glory's minions to stop them.

All of this had been decided after he had guided them to the apartment and showed them the small room with Ben's meager possessions. Neither the intern nor the God was home, but a handful of minions were there to guard the apartment. They tried valiantly to fulfill their duty, but the knights overpowered them and barged into
the living room. They didn't kill them, and when Spike asked why they didn't just slit the minions' throats, he was told that Glory would simply reanimate any minions that were killed.

After his claims were substantiated, the knights went to lie in wait while he scouted for Glory or Ben. It wasn't long before he spotted the intern's nancy-boy car pulling into the apartment complex's parking lot, and he alerted the troops.

How was he to know that the poof had guts? The little wanker actually fought back and Glory's crusty minions actually came to his defense. Things still would have been alright, but then the Hell Bitch came out to play and all Hell broke loose. He'd known that the Bitch was strong, but nothing could have prepared him for the ferocity of her attack or the carnage that she left in her wake. The rout was an upset that even the great Angelus would have appreciated in his days of soulless killing and mayhem. He barely escaped with his unlife, using the explosions from erupting gas lines to cover his fleeing form, and now he was running, running for the Magic Box because he knew it was just a matter of time before Glory discovered that Dawn was the Key.

He flew through the doors of the Magic Box where he knew the others would be if Giles had found his letter. He didn't even bother to slow down as he bolted into the store, and was met with a fist to the ace. He reeled back from the impact, collapsing to the hard floor, and looked dazedly up at a supremely pissed off Watcher who was rubbing his fist.

"You stupid idiot! You traitorous son of a bitch!" Giles accused.

"There's no time! You gotta get outta here! The Knights are gone and Glory's gonna come gunnin' for ya! You gotta rally the troops and bugger out NOW!" he countered angrily.

"What have you done?!" the Watcher roared.

"What you wouldn't do! I found someone who'd help me! But it all went wrong and now she's gonna come for ya!" he yelled back, struggling to his feet in spite of his wounds.

"What were you thinking? You've betrayed us all!"

"What the hell is going on here?" Buffy demanded, coming into his field of view. She was dangerously angry and he feared for his unlife again.

"Buffy, let me explain…"

"You irresponsible idiot!" Giles seethed.

"Giles…" Buffy warned, then turned to him, standing near to him, arms crossed. "You. Talk."

By now the others had gathered around, staring at him with concerned and worried expressions on their faces. He scrambled to think of a proper explanation that wouldn't give everything away.

"Right. It's like this. When Glory was playin' peel the vamp, I found out somethin' real interestin' about our Hell Bitch. Way I figure it, works like this: when Glory was kicked out of Hell Central, the only way they could do it was to tie her to a human form, a mortal form. Now this form lives as long as the Hell Bitch does, but it's not invulnerable. While she had me, I found out that the mortal form is our favorite intern, Ben," he explained in a rush.

"Ben? Ben from the hospital?" Buffy asked.

He swallowed and nodded. "The very same. So, I did some diggin' and I confirmed that if you get rid of Ben, you get rid of Glory."

"Kill the man and the God dies," Tara commented, her eyes opening wide.

He nodded at her, trying to catch his breath. "Exactly. Well as soon as I knew for sure. I told Giles."

Buffy rounded on her Watcher. "Wait a minute. You knew about this?"

Giles took off his glasses and cleaned them vigorously. "Yes. Spike told me what he had discovered."

"You're telling me that Spike told you about a *major* weakness in Glory and you didn't tell me?"

"Buffy… I was exploring… other options."

"Other options?" she repeated incredulously.

"We wanted to avoid killing an innocent if at all possible," Giles
explained.

"He's no innocent. Tonight proved it for me. He knows damn well what's goin' on!" he spat back.

"So what happened?" Buffy ordered. "What did you do?"

He cringed under her hard stare but was determined to hold his ground. "Well, Watcher wouldn't help me, and I couldn't do it myself because of this damn chip they shoved in my brain, so I went to someone who would. I looked up our resident idiots in armor."

"The Knights of Byzantium," Willow breathed.

"Yeah. Them. Anyways, I figured if they were willin' ta kill a little girl in order ta stop Glory, they'd be willin' ta kill an intern in trade for killin' Glory herself."

"Go on," Buffy prompted.

"First off, I'd like ta say that the knights already knew Dawn was the Key. I didn't tell `em. Turns out, they came and got the bloke Glory brain-sucked, but he was at the hospital the night Dawn went into the loony ward. He saw her and recognized that she was the Key.
He must have let it slip when his buddies came to get him," he admitted. "So they were already plannin' a full frontal attack on you in order to get Dawn. I just made `em go after a bigger fish."

Buffy nodded that she understood and he continued, his eyes never leaving her face.

"Well, I was right, and as soon as I proved ta them that I was tellin' the truth, they were more than willin' ta go after the Hell Bitch herself and leave Dawn alone."

"How nice of them," Buffy commented dryly.

"But something went wrong, didn't it. You said we were all in danger," Anya interrupted.

"Yeah. Somethin' went wrong all right. When we attacked Ben, the blighter fought back, then he traded places with his worse half, and he blew us all to kingdom come. When I got out of there, the whole block was on fire and what was left of the knights were bein' rounded up by Glory's minions. I slipped out in the smoke and came runnin' here. Now Glory knows that her secret is out and she's gonna come gunnin' for us. She also got the knight that's all loony. My guess is he'll tell her about Dawn pretty soon."

"We gotta get out of town," Buffy said.

He nodded. "Already planned for that. Nicked a Winnebago and stashed it behind the shop."

"So that's where that ugly camper came from! I was going to call the police and have it towed," Anya admitted.

"It's a good thing you didn't. It's you lot's ticket out of here.
Grab your toothbrushes and a pair of clean knickers and bugger out."

"You stole a camper?" Buffy asked dubiously.

"What? It's big enough to tote the whole Scooby crew. Could've nicked a Porche but I figured you wouldn't want to leave anyone behind."

Buffy pursed her lips thoughtfully. She had the Slayer look on her face, the one that made all the tough decisions and executed all the difficult plans. Spike was glad to see it because it meant that Buffy was already figuring out what they were going to do next.

"Okay. Glory knows where Dawn and I live so we can't go home. Wills, you and Tara go back to your place and get supplies. Xander, Anya, you do the same. Giles, we have to talk but not right now. I need you to gather whatever you think we'll need. Move people. We have a half hour. Let's get going," the Slayer commanded.

The group took their marching orders and scattered. Knowing that Buffy had everything under control, Spike gratefully sank down onto the bench at the reading table. He was in considerable pain and glad for the rest. Too much had happened in too short of a time, and he was nearing his breaking point. He let his head fall to the table and closed his eyes, allowing himself a brief respite from the chaos that sought to consume him.

He'd dozed off when the aroma of warmed blood roused him, and he lifted his head to see Tara placing a tall container of heated blood in front of his nose. Her eyes were hooded and full of concern.

"Back so soon?" he asked.

"I never left. Willow is getting the things we need. I wanted to stay here and make sure you were alright."

He gave her his trademark smirk and winked at her as he gratefully accepted the food. His expression fell, however, when he tried to sit up and pain lanced through his body, making him gasp. Tara pushed the blood towards him.

"Eat. There are herbs in it that will help with the pain."

He nodded and reached for the container, raising it to his lips. His hand only shook a little bit as he drank it down.

"Thanks, luv," he sighed when he was finished.

"This is what you meant, wasn't it. About not betraying us," Tara said softly.

He lowered his eyes and refused to answer.

"Why didn't you tell us?"

"I did. Told the Watcher," he replied.

"Why didn't you tell Buffy?"

"Same reason Giles didn't want to tell `er. Ben's human. Didn't want `er ta have to make that choice."

"Yes, well it was my choice to make," Buffy's angry voice interrupted as she slammed the Gruth'lak battle axe down on the table. A sullen Dawn was behind her.

"What else are you keeping from me?" she demanded, her expression brooking no argument.

He swallowed heavily and tried to quell the fear in his heart.

"There's a demon I killed. A nasty bloke I heard served the Hell Bitch. I lopped off `is head with that very axe, but I may have left somethin' important behind in `is place. I heard about it later, a wooden box he kept scrolls in, but I never got the chance to go back an' look for it."

"Where is it and what am I looking for?" Buffy ordered.

"Buffy! No! You can't go," Dawn cried.

Buffy looked to her sister, then back to him. "Tell me what I need to know."

"Buffy!"

Buffy looked back to her sister. "If what Spike says is true, then this guy may have had something that can help us. I'm the only one not doing anything else. I can go and be back before the others get here. Glory didn't know where this demon lived, did she?"

"I dunno. I was only there the once. I doubt she'll go lookin' for him tho. He was small fish," he admitted.

"So it's probably safe then. Where am I going?"

Reluctantly he told her where Doc had lived and described the small wooden chest he and Xander had taken from the apartment in the previous timeline. He really hadn't wanted to tell her, but he feared her wrath if he refused, and he simply wasn't up to dealing with her anger.

She left in a swirl of blond and black leather and he watched her go with some amusement. It seemed ironic that he would be in her place this time around. Since he had been trying to keep the Scoobies one step ahead of Glory, Buffy had only had to fight the Hell Bitch twice, unlike the four or five times she'd gotten beaten by Glory the last time around. Nor had she had to face her best friend's lover getting brain-sucked and then have to save Willow from becoming toast herself.

While this Buffy was tired and scared, she wasn't beaten. Last time, Buffy had been completely drained, exhausted and soul weary. It had led to her catatonia when Dawn was finally taken, and broke her in a way he never ever wanted to see her broken again. That Buffy had been ready to give up, ready to die just to end the pain. He remembered what Buffy had told him about her conversation with Giles on the night of her death; how she was tired and didn't want to live a world that kept demanding that she sacrifice the ones she loved. That Buffy had been a shadow of her former self. This Buffy remained undefeated.

It suddenly struck him exactly how much he had been able to change this time around. Even though all of the major events remained the same, he had been able to spare Buffy a great deal of pain by avoiding certain situations or by taking the pain on himself. So far, if anyone had been defeated by Glory, it was him, but not even that could be said because he was still unliving and in full control of all of his faculties. Therefore, while he hadn't been able to alter the timeline significantly, he had affected a staggering amount of change with his efforts.

The realization gave him the first glimmers of hope he'd felt in a long time. If they ran, no Knights were around to waylay them. Giles would never be skewered, Ben would never be called to treat him, and that meant Ben wouldn't do his Glory switcheroo and grab Dawn. All they had to do was hold out for a few more days, and Glory would lose her window of opportunity to use Dawn to open the portals. They could do that, couldn't they?

"What are you thinking?" Tara questioned, drawing him out of his thoughts.

He looked at her and gave her a smile. "I'm thinkin' this plan might just work."

Both she and Dawn blinked at him.

"Well, that's good," Tara said.

His smile broadened. "Yeah it is."

"Did you really go to those Knights to try to save me?" Dawn asked.

"Yeah, Nibblet, I did."

She slapped him across the face. Hard.

"You stupid IDIOT! You could have gotten yourself killed!" she screamed.

He rubbed his stinging cheek. Pint-size packs a punch. Oww.

"Dawn!" Tara reprimanded.

"You put yourself in terrible danger for me. What if they hadn't believed you? What if Glory had gotten you again and killed you this time? What would we have done without you!" Dawn continued, starting to cry.

"Oh, Nibblet. I'm sorry," he said, softening and reaching for her. He'd been through too much and suffered too much pain to care about what the others would think. Dawn was precious to him, as precious as Buffy, and she needed him to hold her and prove to her that he was still with her.

She fell into his arms, aggravating all of his injuries, but he didn't care. She was safe in his embrace and he planned to keep it that way. All they had to do was wait until Buffy and the others got back, then they would run and hide out until Glory's time was up. Finally a simple plan that would work where all the others had failed.

Neither he nor Tara were prepared for the alarms that suddenly went off or explosion that blew in the storefront windows. They barely had time to register that the advance warning spell Willow and Tara had placed around the Magic Box had sounded off before the blast knocked them back. Tara screamed as she was thrown to the ground by the pressure wave and was knocked unconscious. Spike, still holding Dawn, was flipped upside down and slammed by the heavy table as it blew over and knocked him into the bookcases. Dawn was underneath him, protected from the brunt of the impact by his body, but they were both trapped by the broken table and the bookcases that had collapsed on top of them.

"Spike!" he heard Dawn cry.

"Dawn!" he answered, struggling to use his back to dislodge the debris on top of them so he could see if she was injured.

Suddenly the weight on his body was lifted away and he looked up to see Glory looming over them.

"Well, well, well, lookie here. It's my Key in a neat kiddie size package."

He struggled to rise, to keep Dawn out of her clutches, but the hell god simply grabbed him and threw him like rag doll. He sailed clear across the store and hit the glass counter, shattering it under his weight.

No…he thought as he watched Glory drag Dawn from the rubble. No.
God, please no…

"You and me are gonna have so much *fun,*" Glory said with a sadistic smile as she pulled the weeping, struggling teen behind her.

"Spike!" Dawn screamed. "SPIKE!!"

He couldn't move, shards of glass stabbed him along his back. His leg was bent at an odd angle, the fingers of his left hand mangled and broken. Still, he used his right hand, grasping at the floor even though it was littered with glass that sliced into his palm, and tried to drag himself from the wreckage to get to Dawn.

Dawn. Must save Dawn…

"SPIIIIIIIKE!!!"

"DAWN!"

"Ta kiddies. See you all in Hell!" Glory taunted as she forced Dawn from the shop.

"DAWN! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!"

He reached out one helpless hand at the empty air where Dawn had been, the image of her terrified, pleading face burning itself into his shocked mind.

Dawn… She took Dawn. Glory has Dawn. I failed. I failedifailedifailedifailed. I FAILED!!

Blackness clouded his vision, crushing him under its weight. He couldn't take it, not after all he had been through, all he had done to try to protect Dawn and Buffy. His mind shattered into a million pieces and scattered like a supernova exploding out into the universe. Then he saw and felt no more.

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