Part Six: Two Birds, One Schmoe

by cousinjean

***

They decided to go at sunrise. Safer, as the vampire patrols would be turning in for the day, plus it added an element of surprise. Nobody ever launched an attack at dawn. Leastwise, not in Sunnydale.

The plan was simple: Spike would go in alone, while the others created a diversion to occupy Adam and the guards. Warren had already hacked into the system, and would prevent Spike from showing up on the monitors. He'd grab the girls and get out through the tunnels. After a quick errand, they'd all meet up in his crypt.

"You're sure you know which crypt I mean?" Spike asked Giles.

"Yes, Spike. For the tenth time, I'm quite familiar with it."

Spike nodded. "Just making sure. You should probably come alone."

"Like hell," said Gunn from the driver's seat.

"Quite right, Charles, but Spike does have a point. The smaller our number, the less likely we'll be seen."

"Yeh," said Spike, "and barricade yourselves in once you get there, just in case you are seen. I won't be bringing the girls through the front door, anyway."

"Just get them there," said Giles. "Don't worry about us." He put a hand on the dash to keep from leaning into Spike as they rounded a corner. "You have the list?"

Spike pulled it out of his pocket to show it to him, then put it away.

"Good. Don't lose that. You're sure you'll be able to get into the magic shop?"

"Willow works for me, don't she?"

"In theory," said Giles. "It's been impossible for us to get in and get supplies since she took up residence there."

"No worries, Rupes. I'll get the stuff."

Giles nodded. "Hopefully, Halfrek's summoning spell uses the same ingredients as Anyanka's. If this Tara is as adept as you claim, she should be able to help me with any necessary modifications."

"We're here," Gunn announced, pulling the truck off the side of the road. The three men climbed out of the cab while a motley crew of humans, demons and Slayer looked on from the back of the truck.

"Two sentries guard the entrance," Spike said, scratching his neck. The sun wasn't over the horizon yet, but the sky was light enough to make his skin tingle. "Take them out, getting inside will be a cake walk. I need help for that. Who's with me?"

"Me," said Lauren, hopping down from the truck bed.

Clem raised his hand. "I'll go."

Spike raised an eyebrow. "Those Franken-soldiers are tough, mate. You sure you can handle yourself?"

"I know I don't look like much," he said, "but I swing a pretty mean axe. Besides, it'll look more convincing if you have a demon in the mix."

Spike nodded. "Right, then. Giles?"

He held up some manacles. "I'm afraid we only have this one pair."

"You put 'em on, and take the lead. The rest of you, just ... keep your hands out of sight."

"Right." Giles turned to Gunn. "You know what to do?"

Gunn nodded. "Take the homies, get in front of the cameras, raise some hell and bring the soldier freaks running."

"And get the hell out before we're caught," added Lindsey.

"Yes, good." Giles looked around at the rest of the group. "Do be careful. Perhaps Jonathan could simply create the illusion of mayhem?"

Gunn grinned, and punched him on the shoulder. "Don't worry, G. We'll watch our backs. You just be sure to watch yours," he said with a pointed glare at Spike. "I already lost one of my favorite English the last time we stormed this castle." He looked back at Giles. "I don't want to lose the other one."

Giles smiled. "We're taking every precaution, Charles. I'll see you at the rendezvous point."

Gunn nodded. "You better." He got back in the truck. The remaining four stood back and watched as they drove away.

"All right, people! Show time." He checked Giles's manacles and looked over the Slayer and Clem to make sure their weapons weren't visible. Then he nodded. "Let's go."

He led them up the path to the cave entrance. Sure enough, Hekel and Jekel stood guard. Hekel stepped in front of the opening. "Who goes there?"

"Spike goes here." He did his best to look pleased as punch despite the butterflies competing for the World Cup in his stomach. "Brought some prezzies for Adam."

"It's not time for your tribute."

"No, but the last one wasn't quite up to par. This ought to make it up to him."

Hekel eyed the threesome. "What've you got?"

"Nothing too fancy. Just the fearless Resistance leader." He pointed at Giles. "Oh, and a Slayer." He put his hands in his pockets and looked up at Hekel.

The guard nodded appreciatively, then looked at Clem. "What's he?"

Spike shrugged. "Hell if I know. He was with the others." He put a hand over his chest and sighed theatrically. "Humans and demons, working together in solidarity. Warms the cockles of my heart, you know?"

Hekel stared blankly at Spike for a moment. Humorless git. Then he turned to Jekel. "Call it in. I'll escort them." He turned back to find Spike suited up and in the midst of a spin kick that knocked his weapon out of his hands.

The other three leapt into action. As the Slayer launched herself at Jekel, Clem tossed an axe to Spike. In one fluid motion he plucked it out of the air, twirled it in his hands and swung; but Hekel blocked, knocking it out of Spike's hand. It flew threw the air, bounced off the lip of the cave, and clattered to the ground.

Hekel swung with his human fist. Spike caught it, but before he could do anything the bastard raked his ribcage with his demon hand, slicing sharp talons through leather, cotton and skin.

"Bloody hell," Spike muttered, clutching his side.

Hekel punched him again, knocking him back a step, then kicked him in the chest. Spike slammed backwards into the cave wall. Stunned, he dropped to one knee. Hekel loomed over him. Spike lunged, tackling the monster into the opposite wall. Hekel let out an "oof!" on impact, but then grabbed Spike and lifted him overhead. He turned to smash Spike headfirst into the stone wall. Then he made a gurgling noise and his arms went limp. Spike fell safely to the ground. Hekel landed on top of him, the head of an axe imbedded in his back.

Spike looked up at his savior. Clem gave him a little wave. "Told you I was good with an axe."

Spike grinned. "Good show." He looked outside the cave, where Giles was scavenging all of Jekel's high-tech toys and the Slayer was wiping her sword on the grass. Spike shoved Hekel off, took Clem's outstretched hand, and got to his feet. He dislodged the axe, then paused to clap the demon on the back and hand it back to him before heading over to Giles.

"Let's hope you don't come up against one of those things inside," Giles said with a disapproving look.

"What? I was handling him."

Giles snorted. "Looked to me like you were doing a thorough job of getting your arse handed to you."

"Yeh, well ... I might point out, you lot were three against one."

"You might. You might also take this with you." Giles handed him Jekel's gun. "But don't use it on Adam. It works like a high-tech taser. He would simply absorb the energy and become stronger."

Spike nodded. "I seem to remember something about that."

Lauren came over, her eyebrows arched high. "You're arming the vampire?"

Giles gave her his most stern Watcherly look. "I'm providing our ally with the means to protect himself on a dangerous mission."

She stood there, hand on hip, eyes darting between them. Then with an exaggerated eyeroll she said, "Whatever." Spike wasn't sure if that look was more typical of sixteen-year-olds or Slayers. He knew one of each, and both excelled at it. And here he'd always thought it was a Summers trademark.

He slung the weapon over his shoulder, then pointed at her sword. "Could actually do with that too, Pet."

"I don't think so." She jerked her head towards Clem. "Take his axe." Clem smiled and held it out to him.

Spike shook his head. "Can't hide the axe in my coat, now can I?"

"How is that my problem?"

"Lauren," Giles sighed, "let Spike borrow your sword."

She looked at Giles, her eyes wide as saucers. "Now you want me to relinquish my weapon to a vampire?"

Giles pushed his glasses up and massaged the bridge of his nose. "These are very special circumstances, Dear."

Spike couldn't help but smirk. "And I'm a very special vampire."

Now that look was pure Slayer.

"Come on, Pet. I promise to return it, all clean and shiny and sharp as ever."

With a put-upon sigh, she unhooked the sheath from her waist and handed it to Spike. "I still say I should go with him," she said as he tucked it inside his coat.

"No," Spike said.

"I'm afraid I must agree," said Giles. "If you were captured you'd prove too much of a liability. And I simply can't afford to lose you." Then he softened, and laid a hand on her shoulder. "I'm not about to trade one Slayer for another. If all goes well, I'll get to spend tonight with both my girls."

Lauren smiled a little, but then turned her glare back on Spike. "What makes you so sure he'll come through?"

"Don't worry, Slayer," Warren's voice crackled, "that's why I'm tagging along."

Giles raised a hand to the tiny communicator hidden in his ear. "Is it time yet?"

"Yup," Warren replied. "I'm in the surveillance system. I can have the camera feeds looped with the touch of a button."

Giles and Spike nodded at each other. "Good luck," Giles said. "Oh, and Spike?"

"This the part where you threaten me again, Rupert?"
Giles smiled, but then he turned serious. "Not a threat, so much as a reminder. Once you go in there, you're on your own, except for Warren's assistance. If you get caught, we won't come to rescue you. And it won't do you any good to sell us out. Our camp is portable. It's being packed up and prepared to move even as we speak. If you betray us, we'll know, and if Warren loses contact with you, we'll assume the worst."

Spike nodded. "Heard all that the first time, y'know."

"Yes, well. It can't hurt for you to hear it again. Also, remember this." Giles took off his glasses and leveled his gaze at Spike. "If you do betray us ... if you cock up our chances of ever getting her out of there ... you won't be able to find us. But I will most definitely find you." He put his glasses back on. "That last part actually was a threat."

"Yeh, I got that." The gun slipped from his shoulder. Spike sniffed as he pulled it back in place. "I won't fail you, Giles." He turned and entered the cave. As the darkness of the tunnel swallowed him up, he added softly, "I won't fail her."

And he wouldn't. Not this time. That was the whole point of the soul, wasn't it? So he could stop hurting her, and become the kind of man who made things better for her for a change? Hadn't worked out that way so far. He had thought -- had really believed -- that the two of them, Spike and William combined, could be enough of a man for her. He took a deep breath as he reached the entrance. Guess it was time to test that theory.

He pulled Finn's keycard out of his pocket and ran it through the lock. Nothing happened.

"Warren?"

"Hold on," came the reply. "Shit. His code's been reconfigured."

"Bloody ... What now?"

"Give me a minute." In the long stretch of silence that followed, Spike alternated between wanting to smoke and wanting to smash things. "Okay," Warren said at last. "Try it now."

Again, Spike slid the card through the reader. This time it beeped at him, and he stood back as the door slid open. He waved his gun in front of the opening. When nothing happened, he tucked the weapon under his coat and peeked inside. The corridor was empty. He stepped through the door.

"You're sure I'm not on the telly?" he whispered as he started down the long hallway.

"Nope, you're as invisible to the cameras as a ..." Warren giggled.

"What?"

"Nothing. Just ... I was gonna say 'as a vampire.'"

Spike rolled his eyes.

"But I guess that's a fallacy, huh? Y'know, I've always wondered why that is. I mean, digital devices, yeah, but regular cameras work with, like, mirrors and lenses and stuff, so you'd think--"

"This thing have an off switch?" Spike dug the communicator out of his ear and looked it over.

"Jeez, who peed in your Cheerios this morning? I was only trying to make conversation."

"Yeh, well, we're on a mission here, Brain Trust. Now let's focus, shall we?"

"Sorry." Warren fell silent, and Spike replaced the device. He came upon the room where he'd met with Adam. Flattening himself against the wall, he edged his head around to look in the floor-to-ceiling window. The television monitors were lit with scenes from around the compound. A few showed Adam's soldiers fighting off members of the Resistance. Spike didn't see himself on any of them. A lone figure stood in the middle of the room, watching.

Finn.

Spike closed his eyes. "Bugger."

"What?" asked Warren.

"Small problem, but nothing unexpected." Spike pulled his head back and slumped against the wall. "Too bad we don't have that invisibility ray of yours."

Warren laughed. "Invisibility ray, huh? Yeah, that would come in handy. Too bad those are science fiction."

Spike looked up at the ceiling. "Right. Fiction." He peeked through the window again. Finn stood at one of the computers, turned so that his peripheral vision would catch any motion in the corridor. Getting past without being seen -- now that presented a problem.

One of the voices at the back of his brain sighed rather theatrically. Hello, vampire? 'Bout time you started thinking like one of those, innit? Of course. He didn't have all this super-speed for nothing, did he? "Warren, can you see into the monitor station?"

"Uh ... yeah. Got it."

"Tell me when Finn turns his back to the window."

"Sure." Another silence stretched too long for Spike's liking. Then, "Okay, now!"

Spike flew past the window and open door. He didn't stop till he reached the end of the corridor, where he rounded a corner and waited, gun at the ready. "Did he see me?"

"Nope, you're in the clear."

With a relieved sigh, Spike turned and proceeded to the holding area, following the path that Finn had led him on ... had it only been the morning before? It felt like so much longer. Only two nights ago he had stood with Buffy on her front porch, fighting to conceal his amazement as she invited him in for a cuppa ... two nights ago, and a world away from where he was now.

He started down a row of cells, keeping his eyes straight ahead, just as he'd done before. He didn't think he could take it if any of them cried out for help, didn't want to know how it would feel to refuse them. Thankfully, they didn't ask. Instead, they shrunk away from the glass ... away from him. They knew better. His was not the face of a savior.

She reacted the same way when she saw him coming, and backed all the way up against the wall when he stopped in front of her cage. He did look at her, tried to reassure her with his eyes, but she just dropped her gaze and slid down the wall into a huddle on the floor. With a sigh, Spike scanned the wall for the lock. He ran his card through the reader and stood back as the glass slid up into the ceiling. She stared at him in wide-eyed terror as he stepped into the cell.

"It's all right, Tara," he said gently, extending his hand. "Come on, Pet. I'm getting you out of here."

"W-where ..." She closed her eyes as she struggled to speak. "Where are you t-taking me?"

"Someplace safe, I promise."

She stared at his hand, her doe-eyes full of fear.

His shoulders slumped a little. "Tara, I'm not gonna hurt you. We're running out of time. We need to go. Now."

She lifted her eyes to meet his, and searched deep. Spike held her gaze, unwavering, no matter how much her probing eyes unnerved him. She must've found something there that satisfied her, because she reached up and let him help her to her feet.

"Wh... why ..." she began as he led her out of the cell, but he shushed her.

"I'll explain it all once we're out of here, all right?"

She swallowed, and nodded. He motioned for her to stay close as they made their way to 314. Once there, the outer door opened easily, by order of Finn's keycard. Spike started to slide it through the reader on the inner door.

"Hang on," said Warren.

Spike froze, card poised above the lock. "What?"

"Didn't you say this door has a secondary security measure?"

Oh sodding hell. "Right, yeh. Retinal scan."

"I'm trying to crack it," said Warren. "Don't run the card through. If the system doesn't like the scan results after it reads the card, all hell might break loose."

"Good thinking. But hurry, will you?"

"Who are you t-talking to?" asked Tara, looking even more frightened than before.

Spike tried to smile reassuringly as he pointed to his earpiece. "It's just ..." His voice trailed off as the irony hit him. He shook his head. "Nobody you need to worry about, Pet."

She nodded, but didn't look any less worried as she hugged herself.

"Come on with that lock."

"Uh ... problem," said Warren.

"What is it?"

"This lock has all kinds of redundancies. I mean, they are really serious about security on this door. I'm pretty sure I can get past them all, but it's gonna take some time."

"How much time?"

"More than you have," answered Finn.

Spike turned to see the hulking former Iowa boy filling the door frame. Arms crossed, he looked from Tara to Spike to the cell door. "Let me guess. You're trying to get in a little three-way action with the Slayer?"

A slow smirk spread across Spike's face. "Something like that. Wanna watch?" He pointed his thumb at the door behind him. "Let us in, we might even let you play."

Finn returned his smirk. Then he unfolded his arms and advanced on Spike.

Spike got his gun up and pulled the trigger. Nothing. "Balls," he muttered, frowning at the controls on the side of the weapon.

Finn laughed and grabbed hold of the gun. "You have to turn off the safety." He shoved the butt into Spike's face. Spike released it in favor of holding his nose as he staggered back. Before he could fall, a clawed hand reached out, grabbed the front of his shirt, and flung him into the hallway. Spike hit the floor and skidded head first into the opposite wall. Finn came at him, whipping the gun around and taking aim. Soon as he got close enough, Spike kicked the gun out of Finn's hands and sent it skittering down the corridor.

Spike flipped onto his feet, landing -- game face on -- in a feral crouch. The two creatures locked eyes. Finn sneered, and Spike growled. Out of the corner of his eye, Spike saw Tara sneak into the hall behind Finn. "Tara, stay back!"

Finn started towards Tara. Spike leapt to intercept, but Finn's move was a feint. He spun and landed a boot to Spike's face, knocking him back to the ground. Finn laughed as Spike struggled to sit up and wiped blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. Finn loomed over Spike, folding his arms.

"Trying to protect the witch?" Finn shook his head. "I knew that soul of yours would be a problem." He reached for his own weapon, strapped to his leg. As he leveled it at Spike, his eyes widened, and he turned around. Tara was backing away, holding the other gun like a club. Finn rubbed the back of his head and advanced on her. "You really shouldn't have done that."

Spike got to his feet. As Finn took aim at Tara, Spike pulled the Slayer's sword from his coat and lunged. The blade penetrated Finn's kidneys and exited through his gut. He looked down at the tip protruding from his stomach, and laughed. Spike gave it a twist, making Finn gasp. Then he pulled it out. Finn dropped to his knees and fell face first to the ground.

Spike nudged him with a boot. No response. He looked at Tara. "Bully for teamwork."

Still holding her gun like she was next up to bat at cricket, she stood beside Spike and looked down at Finn. "I d-didn't know how to turn off the safety."

Spike shrugged. "Whatever works, yeh?" His features returned to human as he grinned at her.

She offered him a tentative smile and nodded her head. Then her eyes grew wide and she screamed. She grabbed Spike by the shoulder and started hopping up and down. "Oh, God! Get it off! Get it off!"

Finn's demon claw clutched her ankle. Finn himself still appeared unconscious. Spike stomped on the animated hand until it released its grip, then he stabbed it with the sword as Tara backed up against the wall. The hand twitched a couple of times, then went limp.

God, he hated this world.

Spike leaned on the sword for a moment, collecting his thoughts. "Warren? How's that lock coming?"

Silence.

Spike frowned. "Warren!"

"Uh ... bad news, man. I can't get around the secondary measures. Maybe if I had a few hours ..."

Spike sniffed, and wiped more blood from his nose. "Not a problem," he said. He yanked the sword out of the dead hand, and with a twirl and a flourish, sliced off Finn's head. "Here, hold this," he told Tara, handing her the blade by the hilt. She took it, but she and the sword both trembled as she watched Spike pick up the head. He went back through the outer door to 314, resting the head against his hip like a soccer ball as he fished the card out of his pocket with his free hand.

He ran the card through the reader. "Please hold for retinal scan," came the response. Spike pulled back Finn's eyelids, then held the head up for the scanner. "Recognition: Finn, Riley. Second in command." The door opened. Spike turned and punted the head back into the hall with a mutter of "Pillock!" Then he retrieved the sword from Tara and ushered her into the cell.

Buffy sat on the floor, slumped against the wall beside the door. No straightjacket this time. Spike crouched in front of her. "Buffy?"

Her glassy eyes stared straight through him.

Spike took her gently by the wrist and lifted her hand. When he let it go, it fell limply to her lap. He let out a slow breath. "She's gone catatonic again."

"No," said Tara, kneeling beside them. "I ... I read once about w-waxy ... um, I don't remember the term. But it means if you position someone's limbs, they stay in that position? Th ... that's what catatonic people do."

Spike looked at Tara for a moment, then turned back to Buffy. He called her name again. Still nothing. His jaw clenched as he stood up. "Warren, have you got that other door? To the lab?"

"Yeah, it should be on the wall opposite the door you just entered."

Spike turned around. Sure enough, there was a door on that wall. He didn't remember seeing it last time. What's more, it was open. Warren was actually ahead of him for once. "Right, then." He knelt beside Buffy and gathered her into his arms.

"So, what do you think is w-wrong with her?" asked Tara.

"She's been anesthetized," said a voice from inside the lab.

Spike set Buffy back down and turned to see a figure standing in the doorway.

"This," said Adam, tilting his head to regard Spike and Tara, "is unexpected."

***

END, PART SIX

Part Seven: Bitch In the Box

by cousinjean

***

"This ... is unexpected."

Few times in his existence had Spike felt true fear. That's fear as in pure, blinding, piss-your-pants-if-you're-human terror. Strangely enough, considering that he was -- or had been until recently -- an inherently selfish being, it was usually for someone else's sake.

That last night in Prague, he had felt it. And that endless, critical half-second up on that tower... Moments when he realized he'd been overconfident; that he was outmanned, outgunned ... out-whatever, and that his cockiness would cost him everything in the world that he held dear. In these moments, he knew fear.

He was having one of those moments.

Adam stepped inside the cell. He sniffed the air, and looked at Spike. "You disabled my brother."

Spike snapped out of it. There was too much at stake to let fear slow him down. He gripped his sword. "That's one way of putting it."

Adam smiled in that smug way of his, secure in the belief that nothing could touch him. "No matter. I'll fix him."

Spike moved between Adam and Buffy. "You got any protection spells," he muttered to Tara, "now'd be a good time to use them."

She shook her head, fumbling with the gun. "I c-c-c ... I can't turn off the safety!"

Spike took it from her. "Won't work on him anyway. Get behind me. Get her up." He could hear her muttering something under her breath as she went to Buffy.

Adam made no move. He just watched, like one might watch a spider with vague fascination before growing bored and stepping on it. And this spider couldn't run for it 'cause he had to protect the flies.

"Spike?" Warren. Twerp had the nerve to sound bored. "You get the Slayer yet? What's the hold up?"

"Bit busy at the moment," Spike muttered.

Adam tilted his head to regard Spike. "You're working with them now. Curious. I did not think you would be like the other one."

Spike allowed himself a grim smile. "Y'know, I 'spect there are worse things I could be."

"Who are you talking to?" asked Warren.

Adam stepped closer to Spike and leaned down to speak in his ear. "Me."

"Oh, shit."

"You can bloody well say that again." Taking advantage of the distraction before Adam could straighten back up, Spike thrust the sword at his throat. The bugger caught it before it penetrated. Spike put all of his strength behind the blade, and for the briefest of moments the two of them reached a stale mate. "The lab!" Spike shouted at Tara. "Get in there!"

As Tara pulled Buffy to her feet, Adam grabbed Spike by the front of his shirt. He tore the sword out of Spike's hands and threw him across the room. When he slammed into the wall, his gun bounced and skidded back across the floor to Adam, who picked it up and aimed it at the girls. Spike struggled to get up, but before he could, Adam pulled the trigger. A bolt of energy jumped out of the gun, but dispersed in a field around them. Tara stopped in her tracks, visibly shaking as she struggled to support Buffy, eyes terrified yet determined. Her chanting grew louder.

Spike leapt. "Go!" he shouted as he landed on Adam's back, grabbing his neck in a strangle hold. "That's right," he growled in the bastard's ear. "I'm your problem, not them."

"Indeed." Adam threw himself backwards into the wall, crushing Spike, again and again. But Spike held on. His vision swam, but he could see the girls move through the door into the lab.

"Warren, can -- unh!" Maybe he couldn't have the wind knocked out of him, but he still needed air to talk. He got his feet up behind him and kicked off of the wall, shoving himself and Adam forward. "Can you close that other door?"

"Yeah, I th--"

"Do it!"

Adam gave up trying to knock him loose. Spike fought off a wave of dizziness. If he could hold on a bit longer; time this just right ...

Then Adam remembered the sword in his hand. He raised it, and turned it around toward himself. Oh, fuck, this would hurt. Adam plunged the sword into his own gut. It went clean through him and into Spike's side, stopping against his ribs.

"Bloody..." He let go of Adam at last and slumped to the floor, clutching his side as Adam pulled the sword out of his stomach without so much as a flinch. He tossed it aside and moved to stand over Spike. As he raised his arm the Polgara spike shot out of his wrist. He aimed it at Spike's head, but as he brought it down Spike rolled out of the way.

The door started to come down at last. Gritting his teeth, Spike scrambled to his feet and ran. He was going to have to dive for it. He jumped -- and a blast from that fucking useless gun hit him in midair. Stunned, he landed just short of the threshold. Adam lowered the gun and started toward him, but Tara was faster. She grabbed him by the arms and dragged him into the lab just before the door slammed shut.

Spike just lay there for a moment, twitching, until the effects of the blast wore off enough for him to speak. He opened his eyes and looked up at Tara. "Thanks."

She offered him a small smile.

"You too, Warren," he said. "Good show, Mate."

No answer.

"Warren?" Spike's arm felt like lead, but he managed to lift it and dig the communicator out of his ear. He stared at the melted lump of plastic in his hand, then sighed and let his arm go limp as he remembered Giles's "reminder."

... if Warren loses contact with you, we'll assume the worst ...

"Sorry, Ladies," he said as he struggled to sit up. "Looks like we're on our own." He felt more than a bit wobbly as Tara helped him stand.

"Y ... you're bleeding," she said, looking at his stomach.

He pressed a palm to his newest wound and then looked at his blood-stained hand. "What else is new," he muttered, and wiped it on his jeans. He glanced around, but didn't see Buffy. His chest constricted. "Where --"

"Under there." Tara pointed at the operating table. "I set her down a-and she rolled ..."

Spike squeezed his eyes shut and blew out a relieved sigh, and then nodded. "Right." He scanned the room for a ladder that stood at the end of a bank of equipment. "We need to get up there." He pointed. "Then we can get out through the tunnels."

"Okay," said Tara. "Um ... how come y--"

A bang on the door cut her off. Spike gave her a gentle push toward the ladder. "Go." Another bang shook the door as he knelt to retrieve Buffy. This time it left a large dent. Spike abandoned all attempts to be gentle and slung Buffy over his shoulder. His head still swam a bit as he got to his feet.

Another bang, and the plaster around the door frame crumbled. Spike shook off his dizziness and ran to the ladder. Tara was already halfway up. When she reached the top she turned to look down at him. "If you want to hand her to me ..."

He shook his head. "Behind you, there should be an opening that leads to the tunnels. See it?"

She glanced around, then nodded.

Just then he heard another bang, followed by a crash. He looked back to see a gaping hole in the wall where the door used to be. Adam was already through it. Spike looked up at Tara, who stared at Adam, her mouth working to form soundless words.

"Run!" he shouted at her.

She snapped out of it, and disappeared from view. Spike climbed behind her as fast as he could. Thankfully, Buffy weighed next to nothing, because his own limbs each felt they weighed a ton. He reached the top rung, but a hand grabbed his ankle and tried to pull him back down. "Typical," he muttered as he hung on single-handed, keeping an iron grip on Buffy with his other arm, and kicked Adam repeatedly in the face. At last the bastard let go and Spike somehow got up the ladder. He didn't spare a glance behind him as he shoved Buffy through the opening and then climbed in after her. Spike slowed down just long enough to pick her up again, and then he ran like hell.

***

"Spike, stop!"

"We're almost there," he said, dragging Tara along behind him. If anyone had followed them, he'd led a merry chase -- twisting and turning through the tunnels and sewers in an attempt to throw off any would-be captors. But now they were back on course. "Just a bit farther," he promised.

She pulled her hand out of his grip. He turned to see her doubled over, hands on her knees, gasping for air. "I can't ..." She shook her head. "Gotta rest."

Spike shifted Buffy in his arms and sighed. He listened for movement behind them, but heard none. No immediate danger, then. "Of course," he told Tara. "Sorry." He moved his weight from foot to foot as he gauged the distance to their destination. "Look," he said when she started to breathe a little easier, "we're really close. Just a few more meters, then you can rest all you need to. All right?"

Tara raised her eyes to meet his, wariness creeping back into her expression now that they no longer faced a mutual threat. "Wh ... where are you taking us?"

"Right now, the magic shop. We need supplies. After that, someplace you'll both be safe."

She studied him again, her eyes roving over him. He rolled his eyes and looked away. He couldn't do this again. Instead he focused on the sleeping girl cradled in his arms. Even as he guarded her, treasure that she was, he clung to her like a life preserver. He knew she wasn't his Buffy -- not that he could rightfully call any Buffy his. But she was still Buffy: his love, his purpose ... his life.

"Okay," Tara said at last. She straightened and nodded. "Let's go."

Spike led her to the ladder going up to the trap door that let into the shop's basement. "I'm gonna go up and make sure it's safe," he said, setting Buffy gently on the ground. "Stay with her. If you hear someone coming, give a shout." Tara nodded as she knelt and settled Buffy's head in her lap. Spike took one last look around to make sure they were alone. Satisfied, he climbed the ladder and opened the trap door.

"Willow?" he called out as he stuck his head up through the floor. No answer, and he still had his head. That was a good sign. Still, he climbed on up to have a better look. She'd fixed up the basement; brought in furniture, lined it with candles ... turned it into a proper lair. The lady herself lay stretched out on a bed in the corner -- dead to the world, so to speak. Good thing he'd looked.

"Willow, wake up," he said softly. She didn't stir. Safe bet she wasn't faking, then. Spike dropped back through the trapdoor and landed next to Buffy and Tara below.

Buffy was sitting up, squinting at her surroundings through groggy eyes.

"She just woke up," said Tara. Spike put a finger to his lips to shush her.

Buffy blinked up at him, sleepy confusion giving way to fear and panic. "Spike? Where the hell--"

"Shh, Buffy!" He squatted in front of her and kept his voice low and, he hoped, soothing. "We're underneath the Magic Box. We're going to go up there and get some things, but you have to stay quiet. All right?"

"No, not all right," she spat back at him, and he clamped his hand over her mouth without thinking. Her eyes filled with terror, but that instantly gave way to resignation. Spike wasn't sure which he hated more.

"There is a vampire right above us who would kill you as soon as look at you." He ignored Tara's frightened whimper. "Right now, she's asleep. We have to get past her without waking her up. Which means that you have to stay quiet. Understand?"

Buffy nodded, and he removed his hand from her mouth. She looked up at Tara. "Who're you?" This time, she whispered.

"T-tara. I'm Tara."

"She's a friend," said Spike, standing up. "You up to climbing this ladder yourself?"

Buffy started to get to her feet. Spike reached down to assist, but she jerked her arm away. Tara helped her instead. She looked a bit wobbly, but after a moment she nodded.

"Right, then. I'll go first, just in case Red's awake." He noticed Buffy scanning the tunnel, considering her options, and sighed. Even in this dimension he knew her too well. "There are worse things than me lurking about down here, Pet, and you can't fight them. Best to stick with the devil you know, don't you think?"

She glared at him, but he was right, and she knew it. She wouldn't run.

"Stay close," he said, and went back up the ladder. Once he made sure Willow was still asleep, he turned to help them up. Tara came next, as she'd needed Buffy's help to reach the bottom rung. They both stood back as Buffy climbed through the trapdoor. Spike quietly lowered it, then ushered them toward the stairs. This time Tara led the way, with Buffy in between. Halfway up the stairs, her gaze drifted over to the bed, and she stopped.

"Willow." Her voice caught on the name. She turned to give Spike a look of pure malice the likes of which he'd never seen from her, and he felt his gut twist in an all-too-familiar knot. He knew he hadn't actually turned Willow, but guilt threatened to overwhelm him just the same. After all, it had been his wish that killed her, right? Just because he'd failed to bite her in his own world didn't make him any less culpable in this one. In fact, all of the loss this Buffy had known over the last few years could be laid right at his feet. He swallowed. He wanted to drop to his knees and beg forgiveness, to hand her a stake and bare his chest ... anything that might make her feel even the slightest bit better, if only for a moment. Instead, he urged her to keep going. She continued up the stairs without a fight.

The shop looked different, like it had before Giles bought it. The counter still sat up front, near the door. Gone were the overstuffed chairs and piles of pillows, the lighted table that had become Scooby Central, and most of the ancient tomes Spike was used to seeing along the shelves. No, not gone -- they'd never been there in the first place.

Right, enough of the tourist bit. He had work to do. He pulled out his list and handed it to Tara. "Help me find this stuff?"

Understanding dawned on her face as she scanned it. "Oh ... oh. You think I ..." She shook her head. "I do magic, b-but this ..." She looked up at him, afraid. "It's really advanced. I m-might not be able to ..."

"You're a witch?" Buffy gaped at Tara, then at Spike. "What, you're gonna have her do a love spell on me?"

"What? No ..." You were going to use a spell on me? He closed his eyes and felt his jaw involuntarily clench.

"No," Tara said, "this doesn't look like love spell stuff."

"It's not." Spike looked at Buffy. "This isn't about you." He turned to Tara. "And there's already someone to work it. That's not why I rescued you."

Tara nodded, but she looked only slightly reassured. "Then why --"

But he couldn't let her finish, because he heard footsteps on the basement stairs. Bloody buggering hell. He ushered both girls into the bathroom, heading off Buffy's protestations with a whispered "Willow!" He heard the basement door open just as he pulled the bathroom door shut.

"Looking for me?"

Spike turned to see Willow standing there, a hand on her hip and suspicion in her eyes. He smiled. "Who else?"

She looked past him to the bathroom and raised an eyebrow. "I haven't been in one of those since I died." She returned his smile. "Except to eat, I mean."

"Yeh, well. Never know with you women, do you?"

"Guess not." Her smile faded and her eyes narrowed as she slunk toward him. "You were missing." She put a little pout in her words and on her lips. "You and Giles ..."

"Yeh." He sauntered away from the bathroom door -- came as close to sauntering as a bloke with cracked ribs and a stab wound could, at any rate -- and over to a shelf full of dry goods. "He escaped, took me hostage."

This time both eyebrows shot up. "That old man took you hostage?"

"Well he had help, didn't he? Got a new Slayer on his team, for one ..."

Willow finally took notice of his fresh cuts and bruises. "You look like shit."

"Feel like shit. Had a hell of a time escaping. Thought the bastards really had me this time."

"Aw." She sidled up to him and put her hands on his chest. "Poor Spikey." Her hands slid down and pulled his shirt out of his waistband. "Want Willow to kiss and make it better?" She bent to lick the blood caked around his wound. He hissed as she ran a hand over the claw marks on his other side, and she pulled back to look at them. "What did that?"

"Uh ... they got demons working with them."

"Huh. How 'bout that." She grinned up at him, the tip of her tongue poking through her teeth, and got on her knees.

His mind went blank as she went to work undoing his belt. Then his eyes landed on the bathroom door. "Buffy ..."

Willow's hands jumped away from his fly as if it had bitten them. She stood up and frowned, and her shoulders slumped. "If you want somebody to pretend to be her, you can go home to Harmony." She turned to walk away.

"No," Spike said, grabbing her arm and turning her back to him. "She's escaped."

"Who?"

"Buffy. That's why I came here. I need you to get a team together and go find her."

Willow shook off his hand and stared at him. "Buffy's dead. We watched Adam kill her, remember? You said you wished we brought popcorn?"

Spike shook his head impatiently. "She's not dead. Adam's been keeping her as his special pet. I went there after I got away from the Resistance and they told me. We're supposed to bring her back."

"Buffy's alive?" Willow's expression went from shocked to hopeful as this information sunk in, and for a second Spike wondered if there was a bit of the old Willow's feelings left over for her best friend. "Does this mean I get to kill her?" Well. So much for that.

"Adam wants her alive, I expect."

Willow pouted. "Fine." As she looked at him, her eyes narrowed again. "Your aura ..." She sniffed the air. "And that smell." Oh, lovely. Here it comes ... "I thought maybe it was the stinky herbs or something, but it's like ... " She wrinkled her nose. "Just like Angel." Her eyes widened and she put a hand over her mouth to suppress a laugh. "Oh my God, you have a soul?!"

Spike sighed and did his best to look bored as he dug out his smokes. "Wondered when you'd pick up on that." He popped a fag in his mouth but before he could light it Willow plucked it out.

"Not in my store. It smells icky."

He raised an eyebrow. "And the pickled rat tongue and dried frog innards smell like a field of daisies?"

"Those are magic smells," she said defensively. "Anyway, how the hell did you get a soul? I thought I was the only one who could do that spell."

Shit. He was brilliant at lies of omission, which was all that had been needed so far. But this called for a bald-faced fabrication, and he was perfectly aware of how much he sucked at those. Aw, fuck it. "Giles."

"You're kidding."

"No." He shook his head. "He, um ... he thought I might switch sides if I became all soul-having." He nodded. That sounded convincing, didn't it? He tried not to look too proud of himself.
Willow tilted her head and studied him. Perhaps it was a bit early to pat himself on the back. "Did you?"

"Did I ... Please. I've got the sweetest set-up of my entire bloody unlife here. You think a soul's all it takes to get me to give that up? The conscience didn't do much for me the first time 'round, Sweetheart, why should it be any different now?"

Willow studied him a bit longer, then smiled her knowing, Mona Lisa smile. "Still ... I bet it's a nuisance." She slithered back up against him and ran her hands over his chest. "It's not like we don't know how to get rid of it." As she sucked his earlobe into her mouth he tried to focus on Buffy and Tara hiding in the bathroom. "I could give you a happy right now, or ... ooh!" She pulled back and grinned at him. "We could go back to the house, let Harmony in on the action. We could play while you watch, then you can play with both of us until that nasty soul's just a bad memory."

Spike found it difficult to speak. "Y'know, Pet, the word picture alone's almost enough to do the trick." He shook his head. "But we'll have to worry about that later. There's work to do now."

"Oh, come on, Spike." She swirled her tongue in the hollow of his throat as her hand wandered down to his crotch. "There's always time for a little fun. And it's for a good ca--"

He grabbed a fistful of her hair and jerked her back, forcing her to look at him. "I said get to work!" He shoved her away. "I won't be anywhere near perfectly happy until Buffy's back where she bloody well belongs. Go. Find. Her."

Willow frowned at him and rubbed the back of her head. "Maybe a locator spell ..."

"Whatever. Just go get everybody ready. I'll meet you at the house."

"Fine. Master. What are you gonna do?"

"I, uh ... I'm gonna clean myself up. Then I'm gonna go out back and have a smoke. Had a bit of a rough day, I think I deserve one. Don't you?"

Willow shrugged. "Whatever." She turned and went back into the basement. Spike listened as her footsteps sounded on the stairs, then he went to press his ear to the door. When he thought he heard the trapdoor slam shut, he opened the door and stuck his head in. "Oi, Will! One more thing!"

No answer. She was gone, then. He went to the bathroom and knocked. "You can come out now."

The door opened, and Tara emerged.

"She's gonna do a locator spell," Spike told her. "Know any counter spells, keep her from finding us?"

Tara nodded. "I'll need some ingredients."

He motioned around at the shop. "Shouldn't be a problem."

Realizing Buffy hadn't come out of the bathroom yet, he looked inside. Buffy stood at the mirror, clearly horrified by what she saw. Her fingers roved over her closely cropped hair, lingering now and then on the surgical scars. They moved down to her face, tracing the sunken eyes, the gaunt cheeks, as though trying to verify that the haunted girl in the mirror was really her. Or maybe that it wasn't. Her eyes began to shine, and her lip trembled. Spike wanted to pull her out of there, to take her by the shoulders and tell her how beautiful she was, but the words would ring hollow to her ears coming from him. Instead he stepped inside and stood next to her.

It startled him a bit, his lack of reflection. Not that he'd expected it to be there; but ever since he'd gotten his soul, it made him angry whenever a mirror refused to acknowledge his existence. These simple sheets of glass, nothing magical about them or the coating on the back, reminding him of his inhumanity, of how little he mattered to the universe.

He reached out and tapped Buffy's reflection. "That's not you," he said gently. "This is temporary. It'll get better." She turned away from the mirror and looked up at him. He met her eyes. "You'll get better."

She glanced back at the mirror, then pushed past him into the shop.

"So, we should probably hurry," said Tara, "in case she comes back."

Spike tore his gaze away from Buffy and nodded. "We need candles, right?" He picked up a box of tapers from a nearby shelf.

"Yeah, and a toad stone ... um, do you mind if I ask what this spell is for?"

"Summoning spell. Need to summon a vengeance demon."

Tara was reaching for a jar, but her hand froze in midair. "You're going to curse someone?"

Spike let out a laugh. "I'm the one who's cursed, and the rest of you by proxy. Gonna make the bint undo it, if I can ever find her." Tara looked even more confused. Spike took a deep breath, then launched into his explanation. "Her name's Halfrek. She's a friend of Anya's," he added for Buffy's benefit, but she appeared to be ignoring them as she stared out the window. "Anyway, she, um, she tricked me into making a wish. Changed history, and not for the better. Created a whole other world." He waved his hand to indicate their surroundings. "I just want to put everything right again."

Tara's brow wrinkled up. "Another world ..."

"Yeh. I know it's hard to believe, but I'm not the same Spike you know. And I'm not gonna hurt you." He raised his voice to add, "Either of you."

Tara seemed to accept this, and she nodded. "In your world ... we knew each other? I mean, I ..." Her eyes widened. "Was I a vampire?"
"No! No, you did the hero bit along with the rest of the Scoobies."

"S-scoobies ...?"

"Nevermind. Point is, you were the only one of Buffy's friends that I could tolerate half the time. The only one didn't ever look down your nose at me."

"That's why you rescued me."

"Got it in one." He moved toward the back of the store, browsing the shelves.

"So ... is it true, what she said?"

Spike looked at her, eyebrow raised.

"Do you really have a soul?"

From the front of the shop, Buffy laughed.

Spike turned toward her, but she still had her back to them, gazing out the window. Her shoulders shook with silent laughter. Or possibly sobs. He fought the urge to go to her and turned back to Tara. "Yeh. That part's true." More audible laughter from Buffy. She sounded a bit hysterical. "Look, we got everything? We should get going." The bell over the door jangled, and Spike whirled around; but nobody entered, and Buffy was gone. "Balls," he muttered as he flew to the door.

The doorway was shaded enough for him to step outside, but he couldn't get to where she stood in the middle of the street. "Buffy ..."

"It all looks the same."

Spike followed her gaze, which swept downtown Sunnydale. To his surprise, she was right. There were fewer people milling about, and some of the shops had been boarded up. The curfew signs were new. But there were still cars parked in the street, still people having coffee at the Espresso Pump. He wondered if it was brave of these people to hold out, refuse to go into hiding, change their way of life ... or if they were just stupid. Or maybe they'd all struck some kind of deal, figured out a way to coexist. Like Mary.

He shook his head. "Looks can be deceiving, Pet."

"I could run," she said quietly, as though thinking out loud. She looked at Tara, who stood next to Spike in the doorway. "We both could."

"Um, I don't think ..." Tara looked from Spike to Buffy. "I mean, where would we go?"

Buffy glanced at Spike, then lowered her head and hugged herself. God, she'd never looked so lost before. Not even that first night, after she'd come back ...

"You could run," he told her. "Both of you, I can't stop you. I won't try. But then you won't see Giles."

Buffy's head snapped up, and her eyes flashed with anger. "You have Giles?"

"No," Spike sighed, "I don't have Giles. I know where he is, and he's waiting for me to bring you to him. I can take you, if you let me. We'll go there right now."

"Giles would never trust you like that."

At this, Spike laughed. "Bloody right! Giles doesn't trust me. He's got at least a dozen backup plans worked out for if I screw him over. And if I show up there without you ... he's already figured out exactly how he'll torture me before he dusts me."

She stared at him, still skeptical.

He closed his eyes and rested his forehead on the doorjamb. Jesus, he was tired. "It's up to you. I'm going to meet Rupert, with or without you." He opened his eyes and turned slightly to look at her. "I just want to make things right, Buffy. It'll be better for all of us if you help me." Without waiting for an answer, he turned and went back inside.

A few paces in he stopped and lit a cigarette. He had a third of it smoked before he heard the door shut behind him. He turned to see Buffy standing there, arms crossed defiantly. She walked up to him.

"I don't believe you," she said.

His eyebrows knit in confusion. "What don't--"

"All that stuff you said before. The wish, the other reality, the soul ..." She shook her head. "I don't believe it. I don't know why you decided to get me out of there, but it changes nothing. If you so much as touch me, chip or no chip, I'll kill you."

Spike sighed, breathing smoke out his nose, and nodded. "Understood."

Her chin tilted up just a fraction of an inch, but it made her look almost regal. "When we get there, if you are not on your absolute best behavior, I'll tell Giles about your visits. And then I'll watch him kill you." With that, she turned and went to the basement.

Spike watched her until she disappeared through the door. He took one last drag and looked up at the ceiling as he blew it out, then tossed the butt on the floor. He didn't bother to step on it. Let the place burn. Maybe, if he was lucky, that bitch that called herself Willow would be in it when it did.

Taking the bag of supplies from Tara, he motioned for her to follow. Then he set off to meet his fate in the place where this nightmare had started.

***

END, PART SEVEN

Part Eight: Be All My Sins Remembered

by cousinjean

A/N & acknowledgements: This was a tough chapter to write, folks, so I'm sure it'll be a tough chapter to read. You might want to have a nice, happy, fluffy fic lined up to read after you're done with this one.

Special thanks to DevilPiglet/Serpentine for diving into the beta pool. I needed all the encouragement I could get on this one. I hope she feels she got her money's worth. ;-) Big thanks also to fenwic and adjrun for taking time out to beta despite a week of conning, relative visiting, vacationing and just generally dragging their respective tails all over the west coast. And to Abby for carving out time in the midst of moving. It seems everybody had stuff going on, and I really appreciate that they stuck with me.

Thanks also to adj the Shakespeare nut for the title on this one. If you're wondering, it's from Hamlet. Don't ask me which scene.

Only two more chapters to go. I can't promise how quick they'll be in coming, but they will get posted before the season premiere airs.

***

"Here we are."

Buffy and Tara surveyed the empty cavern. "And 'here' is where?" asked Buffy.

Spike imagined the other Buffy asking that: a toss of her hair, hands on her hips, eyebrow raised. Impatience and just a hint of the old disdain underlying the sarcasm in her voice -- the combination of which would be supremely irritating if not for the spark of anticipation in her eyes. Baiting him in a verbal sparring match that would lead to ... fighting? Sex? One of them stomping off in anger? All of the above? Hell if he ever knew where they'd end up. That was half the fun.

But this Buffy's eyes held only tired wariness and well-earned loathing that -- far from spurring him to think of the snarkiest answer possible -- made him hate himself as much as she did. If that were even possible. Her voice held no attitude. She issued no challenge; it was simply a question.

"Home, sweet home," he told her, keeping his tone light. "Or it was, at any rate."

"Oh, right. In your reality."

So. She remembered sarcasm after all. He nodded. "Matter of fact." He set down the bag of supplies and pointed at the hole leading up to the crypt. "Need to get up there. I'll go first, make sure it's safe. Then I can pull you both up."

"I can do it myself," said Buffy.

He eyed her frail-looking frame skeptically, but thought it best not to argue. "'Course you can. Just let me check it out first, all right?"

Crossing her arms, she looked away and shrugged.

"Stay close to Tara. Anything happens while I'm up there, she can protect you." Buffy let out a bitter laugh. Spike ignored it and looked at Tara. "Best start on that counter spell. Willow might already be working her mojo."

Tara nodded and went to rummage through the bag.

With that, Spike jumped up, grabbed the side of the opening, and pulled himself into the crypt. Halfway up, two pairs of hands pulled him the rest of the way. They dragged him backwards and slammed him into the wall, pinning him there.

"Hey! What th--" Spike's head snapped back and he tasted his own blood. He glared at Giles, Lauren and Gunn, unsure which of them had thrown the punch.

"You turned off your communicator," said Gunn.

"I did n--"

Gunn hit him. "Don't lie to us! You were talking to Adam, and you turned it off. You led them to us, right? How long till they get here?"

"That's not what --"

Gunn hit him again. "How long?!"

That did it. Spike felt his features change as he threw all three of them off. "Now listen here," he snarled, slipping into combat stance. "I don't have a chip in this world, right? Next one of you touches me, I'm gonna take full advantage of that fact."

"Go ahead." Lauren aimed a kick at his head. He ducked, but she switched feet and spun around for another one. Spike grabbed her leg and used her momentum to swing her into a wall. It stunned her enough for him to close in. He hauled her up and pinned her there, a hand at her throat.

"Didn't Giles ever tell you what happened to most of the Slayers I've fought?" Fear flashed across her face. Guess he did.

"That's enough," said Giles, and Spike felt something pointy poking him in the back. He let go of Lauren and turned around. Giles and Gunn stood side by side, both aiming crossbows at his heart. "Spike, you were warned that if you lost contact, we would assume the worst."

Spike dug the melted device out of his pocket and held it up. "There's your bloody communicator!" He threw it at Giles and it bounced off his chest. "You might tell Warren for future reference that they don't stand up to getting fucking tasered."

Lauren crossed her arms and moved to stand next to Giles. "Where's my sword?"

Spike yanked up his shirt to expose his wound. "Right about there, last time I saw it. Sorry, didn't think to wrestle it out of Adam's grip before I left. Bit busy running for my life!"

Giles's face fell. "You didn't get her, then."

Spike sighed, and melted back into human face. As tired as he was of having the shit beat out of him, he had to sympathize with the bloke. He looked past Giles to the opening in the floor where Buffy, obviously incapable of obeying a simple request in any universe, was trying to pull herself into the crypt. Spike jerked his chin toward her. "I got her."

Giles followed his gaze. When he saw her, his arm went limp, and the weapon slipped from his grasp. "Oh, dear Lord."

Spike shoved Gunn out of his way and went to help her up. For once, she let him. "Told you he didn't trust me," he said as he set her on her feet. But she wasn't paying attention to him. Her eyes locked on Giles. An expression of disbelief warred on her face with reluctant hope.

Giles's features fought the same battle, but guilt, sorrow and joy had joined the fray. He took a tentative step forward. "Buffy ..."

She didn't move. She didn't seem to know what to do.

He took another step. "I-if I had known ... I saw Adam break your neck."

Her gaze faltered as she raised a hand to massage her neck. "He fixed it."

Giles put a trembling hand over his mouth. Then he lowered it and shook his head. "I didn't ... but I should have. I should have known. Oh, my dear ..." He went to her, reaching out a hand to stroke her hair. "My dear girl. I am so, so sorry."

Buffy's lip trembled as she nodded, swiping the back of her hand across her eyes. Then the dam burst. She flung herself into Giles's open arms, and all of the horrors visited upon her flooded out in a tidal wave of tears. They both sunk to the ground, Giles rocking her as she cried. "Forgive me, Buffy," he murmured. "Please forgive me. I swear I didn't know. Oh, my darling ..." His voice broke. He took off his glasses and hid his face against her hair.

Spike turned away to give them some privacy and saw Tara peering up at him from the cave below. Bugger, he'd forgotten about her. "Hang on," he told her, glancing up at Gunn and Lauren. They both stood about gaping at Buffy and Giles. No sense of decorum, either of them. "A little help over here?"

As they came over, Spike dropped into the cavern beside Tara. "Should've said something, Pet."

She shrugged and gave him an uncertain smile. "It sounded kind of intense up there. I didn't want to interrupt."

Spike returned her smile. "Here's a tip. If you don't interrupt this crowd just 'cause they sound intense, you'll never get a bleeding word in."

"Thanks. I'll remember that."

Spike nodded. "Up you go, then." He put his hands around her waist and lifted her up to Gunn. Once she was inside the crypt, Spike pitched the supplies to Lauren, then pulled himself back up. He straightened, dusted himself off, and pointed at each of them in turn. "Tara. Gunn. Lauren," he said by way of introduction. He glanced over at the pair still huddled on the floor. "That's Giles over there with Buffy."

Tara eyed the two of them for a moment, then looked away. Always polite, this one. "Is, um, is he her dad?"

"Something like that."

The four of them stood around for a moment, not sure what to do next. When the awkwardness became too much to bear, Gunn took the supplies from Lauren. "Let's see what's what," he said, carrying them over to one of the tombs.

"You got the summoning spell?"

"G has it. Part of it, anyway." Gunn turned to Tara as he spread out the supplies. "I think he's hoping you can help fill in the gaps. You do magic, right?"

Tara nodded. "It ... it's been a while ..."

Gunn grinned. "I guess there wasn't a whole lot of call for conjuring or whatever on the inside, huh?"

Tara brushed her hair out of her eyes and shook her head.

"If you're such a powerful witch," asked Lauren, eyeing her up and down, "how come you couldn't just magic yourself out of there?"

"Oi! Back off, will you?" Spike stepped in front of Tara.

"It's a valid question," said Gunn.

Spike rolled his eyes. "Jesus Christ, you people give whole new meaning to the word 'paranoid.'"

Gunn drew himself up to his full height and loomed over Spike. "We didn't get this far by trusting in the wrong people, vampire."

"It's okay," Tara said, putting a hand on Spike's arm. "They can ask me questions, I don't m-mind."

Lauren raised her eyebrows. "So?"

"We couldn't. Do magic, I mean. I mean, we could, he didn't put chips in our heads or anything. He ..." She paused to lick her lips. "Adam, he brought in another witch ... a vampire. She put a w... a ward on each of our cells, to prevent us from doing magic."

"Willow, I'd wager." Spike nodded. "Makes sense. What fun would it be to take away your powers? You'd be useless then, he might as well just kill you."

Tara nodded. "Anyway, I'm not really that powerful."

Gunn and Lauren seemed satisfied. They started going through the supplies, asking Tara more questions, keeping busy while they waited. Spike stole away for a cigarette. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Buffy and Giles pull apart at last. Spike settled on the ledge underneath the window, leaned back against the side of the alcove, and closed his eyes. He tried not to eavesdrop, but the crypt wasn't that big, and sound carried. He didn't need vampire senses to hear what they were saying. Finally, he gave up trying to be polite, and watched them through half-lidded eyes.

Buffy ran a hand over the snotty mess she'd made of Giles's shirt. "Sorry."

"Don't be," he said, taking her hand in his.

With her free hand, she wiped her eyes. "God, I must look totally disgusting right now."

"Nonsense." He stroked her cheek with the back of his finger. "You've never looked more lovely."

Buffy smiled a little, the first true smile Spike had seen from her. "Liar."

"Not at all. But you know what they say about beauty," Giles said, wiping his own eyes and putting his glasses back on. "Eye of the beholder and all that. And you truly look beautiful to this beholder."

Buffy's smile widened and she ducked her head. Then she looked over at Gunn, Lauren and Tara. "So this is your big Resistance movement?"

"Part of it, yes. There are more, of course. The others are resettling our camp."

"My mom, she's with them?" Giles's face fell, and the hope on Buffy's face went down a notch. "I mean, she got out, right? Before everything --"

"She did," Giles assured her. "Your mother accompanied me to Los Angeles, after you ... I mean, after ... Anyway. I kept her quite safe."

Buffy nodded. "You're going to say 'but.'"

Giles sighed. "But ... she became ill. She had a, ah ... a tumor." Buffy tensed at the word. "By then, Adam's forces had already moved in on L.A. We were unable to get her the proper treatment." Buffy retreated back into herself, drawing her knees up to her chin and hugging them to her. Giles laid a hand on her back. "She went peacefully, Buffy. Please let that be some consolation." She buried her face against her knees and began to rock a little. Giles looked frightened. "Buffy, I ... I wish that ..." He looked around and saw Spike, who had given up all pretense not watching them. "Perhaps when everything is restored ..."

Spike shook his head.

Giles's shoulders fell. "I see."

Mirthless laughter came from Buffy. She raised her head. "What, in Spike's world? Giles, you don't actually believe him."

Giles looked at Spike as he considered. "So far he's given me no reason not to."

Buffy stood up. "No reason? Giles, he's Spike. That's all the reason you need."

Spike stood up as well. If she decided to tell Giles everything, he should be ready to defend himself.

Giles remained seated on the floor, looking back and forth between them. "Normally, I would agree," he said, his eyes finally resting on Buffy. "But this Spike has a soul. That much has been verified."

"Oh, a soul. Of course. That makes all the difference." Buffy shot a glare at Spike. "I guess those human scientists that Adam brought in to help him cut me up and ..." She swallowed. "And other stuff ... they must've checked their souls at the door."

"She's got a point," said Lauren.

Buffy looked at her, her face a question mark.

Giles got to his feet. "Buffy, this is Lauren. She's the, er ..."

"I'm the Slayer," Lauren supplied.

Buffy took it like another blow. "Then Nelke ..."

Giles removed his glasses and ran a hand over his face. "The same battle in which you ..." He sighed. "She got me to the exit, but before she could follow, Willow got in a parting shot."

Buffy shook her head and folded her arms. "First Faith, then Nelke." She looked at Spike. "Guess you two are tied."

Spike threw his spent cigarette on the ground and shoved his hands in his pockets as he met her gaze. "Guess so."

She moved to stand before him. "So is that what this is all about? Breaking the tie?"

"No!"

"No?" She indicated Lauren. "You've got two Slayers right here, Spike. Her defenses are down, and I can't fight you. You worm your way into their trust, wait until we're all vulnerable, then, hey! You're back on top!" Her voice rose, and so did her fists, but she didn't try to hit him. "Is that it? Did you finally come up with a plan you could stick to?"

"No, that is bloody not it!" Spike grabbed her by the shoulders. She gasped, but he didn't let go. The others went for their weapons.

Tara ran over to them. "Stop it!" Spike let go of Buffy and backed away. Tara stood between him and the others, a human shield. "If he wanted to kill you, he had plenty of chances." Funny how her stutter disappeared whenever she got angry.

Buffy shook her head. "But h--"

"No! What he went through for us ... You were unconscious. You didn't see. But he almost died for us, Buffy. Adam almost had him, and all he wanted was to keep us safe. God, if you had seen the way he protected you ..."

Spike put a hand on Tara's shoulder. She looked back at him, and he shook his head. That information probably wouldn't help things with Buffy at this point.

"You don't know him like I do," said Buffy.

Tara turned back to her. "If he's telling the truth, if this is a different Spike ... then you don't know him at all."

"If he's telling the truth," said Gunn. He lowered his crossbow and looked at Spike. "Look, man, you came through today, but ..." He shook his head.

Giles chewed on the ear of his glasses. "It is rather a lot to take on faith," he conceded.

"And I can't," said Buffy. Hugging herself, she sat down underneath the window. "I can't take anything he says on faith."

Back to bloody square one then, was it? Brilliant. "Fine!" Spike threw up his hands. He couldn't do this again. "Don't believe me. You know what? I don't need your help. I'm immortal, yeh? Well, so's Halfrek. That means I've got all the ruddy time in the world to fix this. I'll figure it out on my own. So have fun with your little rebellion. I'll just be on my merry way." He turned on his heel and started for the door, but they'd taken his advice and propped a sarcophagus lid against it. Undaunted, he shoved it out of his way.

"So that's it?" asked Gunn. "You're just gonna turn your back on us?"

Spike whirled around. "Don't you get it? This --" he gestured around at the crypt -- "it's not real. None of it matters. Once I fix things, none of this will have ever happened."

"That may be," said Giles, "but it's quite real for the rest of us. And it was real enough for you when Buffy was Adam's prisoner."

Spike gritted his teeth and raised his eyes to the ceiling. Then he pointed at Buffy. "She doesn't want my help!" He dropped his hand. "And I won't make her help me. God, if I ..." He ran a hand through his hair and paced, then stopped before Buffy and dropped to his knees. "If there was a way, Pet ... if I could prove it to you ..." He shook his head, and gazed helplessly up at her. Her face remained expressionless. "What must I do, Buffy? What will it take to get you to trust me, even just a smidgen? Name it, and I'll do it. Anything you want."

For a long while they just looked at each other, Buffy impassive, Spike imploring. Finally, she closed her eyes and turned her head away. Spike dropped his head to his hands.

"Um ..." Tara's voice broke the silence. "I know this spell ..."

Spike raised his head, and everyone turned to look at her.

Giles put his glasses back on. "We already considered a truth spell. We decided it wouldn't be reliable enough."

"I-it's not a truth spell," said Tara. "It's more like an, an empathy spell? This old wizard taught me, before they separated us and put the wards around our cells. It ... it bonds two people, connects them so that they share each other's memories. Each relives them through the other's eyes. It's ... pretty intense."

"And if Spike is telling the truth," said Giles, "then the person bonded to him should experience his world firsthand." Tara nodded. Giles looked at Spike. "I'm game if you are."

Spike looked at Buffy, but she still refused to meet his eyes. He nodded, and got to his feet. "Right. What do we need to do?"

"I'll need to draw a circle," said Tara, going back to the supplies.

"No." Buffy stood up.

Giles and Spike looked at each other, then at her. "Buffy," said Giles, "this could be just the proof we require."

"I know. I'll do it."

Giles shook his head. "You're in no condition --"

"I have to see for myself, Giles. Besides, you're talking about bonding with Spike."

"All the more reason why it shouldn't be you."

Buffy shrugged. "Why not? I've already seen the worst he can do. Hell, I've lived it."

Giles turned a cold, lethal stare on Spike.

Spike just nodded. "'Sides, it goes both ways, right Pet?" He smiled ruefully. "Can't think of a more fitting punishment."

Buffy looked at him. "You'll go through with it, then?"

"I will. You sure you're up for it, though? Might see some things that are pretty tough to take."

She snorted. "Believe me, Spike. Nothing you've done will surprise me."

He tilted his head and held her gaze for a moment. "We'll see, Love."

The endearment made Buffy bristle, but she took no action.

Tara motioned them to the front of the crypt. With a piece of charcoal, she drew a wide circle. "This is just to help anchor you," she explained. Then she placed a pillar candle in the center and lit it. "You both need to sit and face the candle." Buffy and Spike took their places inside the circle. "Y-you have to hold hands."

Spike held out his hands and waited. He felt revulsion flowing off of Buffy as she recoiled. At last, she swallowed and placed her hands in his.

"Close your eyes," Tara instructed. "Think of a point in time. Don't go back too far, it can be overwhelming if you try to do too much at once. Just think back a year or so."

Spike tried to think of a good time for them both. He thought over that first year, after he realized he was in love with her. Hadn't exactly been a good year for either of them. He was still trying to pinpoint a memory when Tara began to chant.

And then his memories were no longer his own.

It began with flashes. Like a camera bulb, searing images onto the backs of his eyelids. But the images came with feelings, scents, sounds ... as if he was there. He was there. What's more, he was her. He saw through her eyes, felt her emotions. Anger, determination, shock, fear, grief, hatred ... all hitting him in rapid succession along with images of Riley, Angel, Adam. Himself. Then the memories slowed, played out longer. He began to put them in context.

He was in a locked room he didn't recognize, but he wasn't alone. Angel was there, crouched in a corner, half mad from starvation. Cordelia spoke to him in soothing tones, trying to talk him down. Adam watched from behind glass to see which of them Angel would turn on first. Buffy prayed for it to be her.

Flash forward to Cordelia, lying on the floor, her body wracked with spasms as her eyes rolled back in her head. Buffy tried to go to her, to help her, but they dragged her away. When she tried to fight them the chip fired, almost causing her seizures of her own.

Flash forward to her cell. Riley entered -- no. Not Riley. Not any more. She had to remember that. "Thought you'd like to see your old lover again," he told her, throwing a handful of dust in her face. "Get up. You have visitors."

But she couldn't. She could only stare at the dust coating her clothes, too numb to grieve like she wanted, like she knew she should.

"I said get up!" Riley grabbed her by the hair and hauled her to her feet. She refused to cry out. Riley stepped aside, and Adam entered.

"Your bonus," he said, ushering someone inside.

Buffy felt mild surprise and disgust as Spike appeared from behind Adam. Spike stared at her, his eyes wide with wonder. "She's really alive," he breathed. He took a step toward her, and she stepped back, afraid. He broke into a slow grin. "This is gonna be fun."

Spike stared helplessly at himself and shuddered.

***

It took Buffy a moment to understand what was happening. She watched in wonder as images of her friends passed before her: Xander, Willow, Riley, all of them alive and well. But other feelings accompanied the flashes. Irritation, frustration, jealousy, warmth, rejection, fondness, anger, all forming a confused jumble of emotion.

Now she hung from chains in a strange apartment. A woman, small yet unbelievably powerful, taunted and tortured her. Through the pain, she clung to a single thought: If you tell, it will destroy Buffy. Hold on for Buffy's sake.

Flash forward to a metal plank high above Sunnydale. A young girl stood at the end, bound at the wrists. Dawn. Buffy didn't know how, but she knew the girl. Loved her. "Spike!" the girl called out, her voice full of relief and hope instead of fear. Suddenly Buffy understood. She was Spike, and Spike had to protect Dawn. An old man stood in his way. Spike tried to take him on, but the old man was too fast. It was over as quickly as it had begun. He'd failed. Oh God, he'd failed her. He'd failed them both. He didn't know how long he lay there. Gradually he became aware of pain shooting through his body, but it was nothing compared to the knowledge of what his failure would cost him. The sun was coming. As much as he wanted to let it take him, instinct forced him up. The others were there, gathering around. He limped toward them, to see what they were looking at, and he saw. The culmination of his failure. His love, his life ... broken and bleeding atop a pile of rubble. He tried to sense a heartbeat, but there was none. She was gone. Grief hit him like a physical blow, and he buried his face in his hands.

Flash forward to Buffy's house. Spike parked a motorcycle in front and flew up the front walk, fear gripping his heart like a vise. He'd failed again. He'd made a simple promise -- his only reason for going on. Now he'd fucked it up, and lost her. "Dawn!" he called as he went through the door. He nearly collapsed with relief when she appeared atop the stairs, but then anger bolstered him. God, he was furious. If not for the chip he'd pound some sense into the girl. Have to settle for shouting at her instead.

"Spike, look," she cut him off, trying to distract him.

"I've seen the bloody 'bot before. Didn't think she'd patch up so --" Oh. Oh, God.

It couldn't be ... but it was. Her scent, the rhythm of her heart beating strong inside her chest, a sound he thought he'd only hear again in his dreams ... but how? He couldn't take his eyes off her. Who gave a bleeding fuck how? She was back, and she needed him. He would protect her this time, take care of her like he'd taken care of her sister. Christ, she was so beautiful, so alive ....

Buffy stared up at herself and smiled.

***

They lasted longer now, grew more detailed, more vivid. Spike lost his sense of self. There was only Buffy -- her thoughts, her feelings. Her revulsion and despair.

She sat on the cot in the middle of her cell while he prowled around her, stopping now and then to run a hand through her hair. Every time he touched her, she suppressed a shudder. She only half-listened to him rant about why Drusilla had left him as she envisioned the many ways she could shut him up if it weren't for the chip.

"But she was right, you know." He sat beside her. Buffy refused to react. "I didn't figure that out until I learned you were still alive. Ever since that first time Adam showed you to me ... I haven't been able to think about anything else." He twirled her hair around his finger. "Anyone else."

She swatted his hand away. A warning twinge fired in her brain, giving her the beginnings of a headache. She glared at him. "So Drusilla dumped you because she thought you loved me. That's why you sold me out to Adam? Used my boyfriend as bait? Because you love me so much?"

"Now, now, Slayer. First of all, that was business. Nothing personal."

"Right. I'll remember that the next time my dead boyfriend straps me down and tortures me."

"Second of all," he continued as if she hadn't spoken, "don't flatter yourself. Love you? Please." He got up to pace some more. "Do I think you're a hot little number? Sure I do. I may be dead, but I have eyes. And I'm no poofter." He moved behind her, bent to press his lips against her ear as he spoke. "Do I dream about shagging you so rough and raw that you're still screaming my name after I've left the room?" He straightened and leaned against her. She could feel the beginning of an erection pressing into her back and almost choked on her disgust. "Oh, yeh. Not a night goes by that I don't." He paced back around in front of her. "Do I admire you?" He shrugged. "God knows you're a worthy opponent. Or at least, you were. But love?" He laughed. "How could I ever love you, you stupid bint?"

"Well, seeing as how that would mean you understand what love is, I'd say that you couldn't."

He smirked at her for a moment. Then he slapped her. Grabbing her by the shoulders, he hauled her to her feet. "Who the bloody hell are you to lecture me about love? A hundred and twenty years I was faithful to Dru! You're gonna stand there and tell me I don't know what love is?"

Buffy shoved him, and the chip went off. The pain nauseated her. Or maybe that was Spike. He was on her again, shaking her. "I'm obsessed with you, is what she said. Ever since our truce ..." He stopped the shaking and held her steady. His gaze drifted down to her mouth. "She's right. It's like you follow me around, haunting me ..." He closed his eyes and shook his head. "I've got to get you out of my system."

"No."

"Shh." He stroked her hair. "I won't hurt you, Slayer. It'll be good, yeh? Just this once, and we can forget it."

"Spike, get off me!"

But he wasn't listening. He closed in to kiss her. Buffy balled up her fist, braced for the pain, and hit him, knocking him across the room. The pain blinded her. She clutched her head and dropped to her knees, but a pair of hands caught her before she fell, and slammed her into the wall.

***

She slammed him into the wall, and in that instant, he got it. The games she played, the denial ... "You're afraid I'm gonna --" But her mouth closed over his. She wouldn't give him a chance to speak it. Didn't matter now, though. She was kissing him, more passionately than any of the other times. He couldn't even remember what he'd been about to say. Kissing Buffy. That was all that mattered. That was all there was.

He turned her around so he could deepen the kiss, but she shoved him away. Then she was on him again, shoving him backwards into another wall. He barely registered the beam that fell where they'd been standing only a second before as she kissed him again. He almost didn't notice when her legs wrapped around his waist. And then the most extraordinary thing happened: she pulled him out, and slid herself onto him.

He stopped kissing her then. He had to see her. It ... it had to be a mistake. But she held his gaze, her eyes filled with desire and determination. He could only stare back at her with undisguised awe and, he guessed, not a little bit of gratitude. And then she began to move. Oh, God. The times he'd dreamed of this, tried to imagine how it would feel to be inside her ... none of it had prepared him for the reality of it. That, coupled with the look in her eyes ... it overwhelmed him. He had to close his eyes. And then she was kissing him again. Oh, bloody... Christ, this was amazing. Were they making love? Would she ever allow him to call it that?

He turned, leaned her against the wall for better purchase. Bloody hell, it was happening too fast. But it was happening for her, too. He thought he heard crashing somewhere in the distance, but he couldn't be sure. He heard her cry out, and he let go. His knees gave out. He stumbled backwards, taking her with him. They fell ... he thought they'd never stop falling. But then they did, and he was still inside her. She was looking into his eyes again. He ... God, he loved her so much. He had to say so, had to tell her. He opened his mouth. "I love y--" But she kissed him again. She wouldn't let him say it. Fine, then. He would show her. With his body, he would worship her. By morning, she would know. She wouldn't be able to deny it any longer.

***

He backhanded her. She fell to the floor, and scooted back against the wall as she held her burning cheek.

"Oh, bloody hell. Get up, Slayer." When she didn't move, he picked her up and shoved her back into the center of the room. "You don't want to go to ruin, do you? Fight me!"

She gritted her teeth. She would not cry. "I can't."

He rolled his eyes, and threw a punch. She dodged it. He grinned. "There you go, Love!" He swung at her again.

Buffy blocked his punch. "I told you, don't call me Love!" She swung, and connected. She screamed as the chip fired, but as she picked herself up off the floor, she thought it had been worth it. At least, until his boot connected with the side of her head.

"Get up," he said. She didn't move. "I said, get up!" He grabbed her hair and pulled her to her knees. She pushed him away and forced herself to her feet. She heard him laugh. "That's my girl."

***

"That's my girl." He urged her on, ignoring the pain. Whatever she inflicted on him, it was nothing compared to the way she was beating herself up. He could take it. He wasn't so sure that she could.

"I am not your girl!" She hit him again, knocked him on his ass. That did the trick. She jumped on him and started pounding his face. Hurt like hell. Jesus, she was strong. She was beginning to tire, though. He could've stopped her, but she had to keep going. Let her take it all out on him. Better than going into that police station and throwing her whole life away over something she had no power to stop. Beating him to a bloody pulp, that he could take. But he couldn't take losing her. Not again. Not like this.

She shouted at him as she hit him. "You don't ... have a soul! There is nothing good or clean in you. You are dead inside! You can't feel anything real! I could never ... be your girl!"

That last one hurt. More than his face -- that was completely numb by now. Must be bad, by the look on her face. It was all right, though. Say something to let her know it's all right. Bloody hell, his lips were swollen. Make them work anyway, before you lose her.

"You always hurt the one you love, Pet."

That only made it worse. She got off of him and stood up.

"Buffy?"

She paid him no need. Just walked past him, toward the station. He reached for her, but he couldn't move. She'd done a hell of a number on him. All for nothing. She went inside. He'd failed again. He just wanted to keep her safe. Why did he always fuck it up?

***

She couldn't fuck it up. She'd only get one chance. If they caught her, or found her too soon, they'd fix her. They'd make sure she could never do it again. And it would never end.

She stared at her wrist, at the blue vein. God, what she wouldn't give for a knife or a razor. Anything sharp. This was going to hurt. But there were worse ways to hurt, she knew that. This one last little bit of pain, and she'd never have to feel those other ways again.

Steeling herself, she closed her eyes, and bit down hard on her wrist. She whimpered as she clamped her jaw tight, and gagged when blood flowed into her mouth. She spat it onto the floor, then sat back and watched it run out of her wrist. She'd expected it to spurt more. Maybe she didn't do it right.

The door opened. "What have you done, Slayer?" Riley. But not Riley. She could never quite remember that.

"Buggering hell," said another. Spike. Only the one Spike.

"Let's get her to the infirmary," Not-Riley said.

"What, and give up my bonus? I don't bloody think so." Spike shook off his coat, then peeled off his shirt. "I got her. She hasn't lost that much, I can patch her up."

"You'd better. Adam won't be happy if you let his prize rat die."

"She won't die," Spike said, shredding his tee-shirt and wrapping it around her wrist. "Will you, Pet?"

Not-Riley left them, and shut the door.

"There now," said Spike. "You didn't really think I'd let you die by any hand other than mine, did you?" He stood, pulling her to her feet. He licked her blood off of his fingers and smiled. "Still, if you're so eager to spill your own blood ..."

He turned her around and shoved her face first into the wall. She was dimly aware of the sound of his belt being undone, and of his hands pushing her pants down. She'd lost enough blood to feel dizzy, which made it easier to pretend she'd left her own body. When he shoved himself inside her, and then shoved his teeth into her neck, she wasn't there, so it was okay. He couldn't touch her. As he drank her blood, he also drank her consciousness. She felt herself drifting away. Everything faded mercifully to black.

***

Plaster cracked against his back as he crashed into the wall. Surprised, he shook off the dizziness and stared at Buffy.

"Ask me again why I could never love you!"

She clutched her robe tight. Bruises were already forming on the bits of skin he could still see. But he ... No. He hadn't ... "Buffy, my God. I didn't --"

"Because I stopped you!" Tears streamed down her face. "Something I should have done a long time ago."

Spike couldn't stop staring. This ... this didn't happen. He didn't just try ... but he did. Oh, God. How could he ... He loved her, more than anything, and he ... he tried to rape her. He swore he'd never hurt her, and he tried to rape her. He had to get out of there. Had to get away from her.

He ran.

What the fuck was that? And why the bloody hell did he feel like this? He was a vampire, goddamn it! He wasn't supposed to feel guilty! He was supposed to hurt her. He was supposed to kill the bitch! Causing her pain wasn't supposed to cut him up like this. He had to do something. Had to make it stop. Had to make sure it wouldn't happen again.

He left.

The demon said he had to pass a test. Fine. He could do that. He could take whatever the bastard threw at him. He did, too. Hurt like hell, but it was nothing he couldn't handle. His prize, though ... that was something else entirely. He'd never known pain like that. Everything he'd done, everything he'd been, all the hurt he'd caused ... it all came back on him tenfold. And he knew. The soul hadn't made him what he was. It didn't turn him into something Buffy deserved. He would never deserve her. He was a monster, and always would be. She could never love a thing like him. Nothing could ever make him worthy of her.

Nowhere to run.

Spike collapsed on the cave floor and sobbed. Never had he felt so utterly alone.

Buffy jumped as a sob outside her echoed the one in her head. She opened her eyes and took in the crypt. Spike had broken out of the circle. He was crawling away from her on his hands and knees, but he stopped as his stomach heaved. Buffy watched, frozen, while he dry-retched between sobs as full of despair and self-loathing as the ones he'd cried in the cave. Tara knelt beside him, trying to hold him up. The others surrounded them, nobody knowing what to do. Again, Spike gagged, and then he rested his forehead on the cold concrete. His whole body shook.

Buffy felt torn. Part of her wanted to go to him, to try and comfort him. She started to reach out; but then she remembered what he must've seen that had torn him up so, and she recoiled. She thought of the things she'd just witnessed -- the things he'd done for her, the things she'd done to him -- and she couldn't deal with it. She had to get out of there.

She scrambled to her feet and ran for the door. Ignoring Giles's cries of protest, Buffy escaped into the night.

***

END, PART EIGHT

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