Part Fourteen
This part was co-authored by Lynx <mailto:lyment@earthlink.net>

Spike dashed through the streets of Sunnydale, his boots connecting with the pavement so hard that it shook him to the core, rattling his teeth. The Slayer's pleas echoed in the distance as his legs carried him farther and farther away from Revello Drive. He made it to the outskirts of town before he slowed, jogging past several abandoned buildings on his way to the cemetery. He would collect his belongings, assuming there were any left, and then he'd put as many miles as possible between himself and Buffy before sunrise. Spotting an alley, he slowed to a walk and turned in, attracted to the darkness that matched his even blacker mood.

It wasn't until he paused to pull a cigarette out of his pocket that he heard the sounds of bare feet slapping the pavement, and Buffy's ragged breathing. He stood in the shadows and watched as she appeared at the mouth of the alley, silhouetted against the streetlights only momentarily before she jogged into the darkness. Damn her. Damn her for chasing after him with no weapons, no shoes on her feet, and a strappy, flowing dress that fell just below her knees. What the hell was she thinking?

When she was even with him, his arm snaked out of the shadows and he gripped her, spinning her to face him. "What the fuck are you doing?"

Buffy gasped, startled at the fact that she hadn't felt him there. She blinked several times, willing her eyes to focus in the darkness. "Spike, I - I want to talk to you."

"I don't want to talk to you," he growled, roughly shoving her away when her hands came down to rest on his arms. She stumbled into the thin veil of light, almost losing her footing, and he had to force himself to keep from going to her again. "I don't want to talk to you and I don't want to look at you. You make me sick."

Buffy leaned against the brick wall, still unable to see him clearly. Her head swam for several seconds, and now that she had stopped running, she could feel how raw the bottoms of her feet were from the asphalt. Taking a deep breath, she whispered, "Please, Spike, tell me how to make this right."

Spike laughed loudly, hatefully, and stepped closer to her. "Make it right? How can you make it right when there wasn't anything there to begin with?"

She stood up straight and stared up at his face, shocked at how cruel his gaze had become. "There was something, you know there was."

"All I know is that I don't know you at all. I don't want to know you." Spike shook his head. "And anything you thought was happening between us was all in your imagination."

"Stop it!" she screamed. "I didn't imagine how good it felt when you kissed me, or...when you touched me."

"You think that was real? I'll let you in on a little secret..." Spike moved closer to her, his eyes blazing, fingers gripping her upper arms so she would be forced to hear him out. "Everything you felt was caused by Willow. Her and her little friend cast some sort of spell - that's all it was." Spike felt vindicated as soon as the words were out of his mouth and her face fell.

"A spell? What do you mean?" Buffy made no move to throw his hands off of her, despite the fact that he was holding her so tightly that it almost hurt.

"She was mucking about again, sticking her nose where it doesn't belong! She cast a spell and it backfired, big surprise!" He loosened his grip on her, then pushed her away from him when her eyes filled with tears. "Don't bother crying, your playacting won't work this time."

"How do you know she did a spell?" Buffy asked him, hoping that what he said wasn't true. She sniffed loudly, dragging her fingers under her eyes to catch her tears. "How? Tell me!"

"She told me," he replied with a shrug, then turned on his heel to walk away from her.

"When, Spike?" Buffy chased after him again, catching his sleeve and turning him to face her. There was a little more light peeking over the building and she stared into his eyes, intent on hearing the truth. "When did she cast the spell?"

He shook her hand off his arm as if she were a pesky mosquito. "I don't know, sometime after you came home from the hospital! When you were sitting in your wheelchair all day, pissed off at the world," he growled. "And to be honest, I liked you better then. At least you weren't a sniveling liar like you are now."

She ignored his final statement as her mind raced to find the words to make him believe the truth that she'd kept to herself for far too long. "But, Spike...that day that I was attacked...I was coming to see you, to tell you..." She trailed off, losing her nerve. Chewing her lip, she started to turn away.

"Tell me what?" he snarled, and this time, he grabbed her, making her face him.

"I was coming to tell you...that I was falling for you." She gazed up at him, silently pleading with him to react the way she had longed for. "I couldn't stop seem to stop thinking about you, and I wanted you to know how I felt...that I wanted you..."

"Yeah, right," he snorted. He wanted to push her away again, but hesitated, still clinging to her upper arms. "Is there no end to your lying? Don't you have any pride?"

Infuriated, Buffy shoved him away. "Obviously not, since I'm standing here with you!"

"Well, I didn't ask you to follow me, so fucking leave already!" he shouted, pointing back the way she had come.

"I'll leave when I'm good and ready!" she yelled back at him, not budging an inch.

"Fine," he said, shrugging indifferently. "You stay here, and I'll leave."

"Oh no you don't." Buffy ran around him, blocking his way. "I didn't just save your ass back there just so you could walk out on me."

"I saved your ass, you saved mine. We're even. Now get out of my way." Spike's voice was deadly, sounding much more like it had before his encounter with the commandos. Thanks to his burning rage, he felt strong again, strong enough to push the limits of his chip if she stood there taunting him much longer.

"No, you're going to stand right there and listen to what I have to say." She took a deep breath, trying to collect her thoughts, then narrowed her eyes at him when he growled and his face changed. "You can't do anything to hurt me, so just shut up and let me finish."

"I can't do anything to hurt you?" Spike grabbed her, spinning her until her back was against the wall, then trapped her there with his body. "I can hurt you a million ways you've never even thought of," he purred in her ear. His hand came up, cupping her breast, and he was momentarily stunned to find her nipple hard beneath his touch. He recovered quickly and touched her with more force as he continued, "...without even breaking a sweat."

"Spike, stop..." Buffy pleaded, feeling a tremor of fear. He was so angry, his mouth at her neck, and while the chip in his head should have offered assurance that she was safe, it didn't seem to be having any affect on him. He was grinding his hips between her thighs, letting her feel the hardness beneath his jeans as he cupped her breasts and dragged his thumbs across her

sensitive nipples. It shouldn't have turned her on...but it did. In spite of his anger, in spite of her surroundings, she could feel the inevitable arousal start to course through her veins.

Buffy moaned softly, and Spike smirked at how easy she was. "You don't want me to stop, do you?" He pushed the thin strap of her dress aside and suckled at her flesh, delighting in the salty taste of her skin. "You've been begging for this for a long time."

She blushed in the dark, but didn't try to stop him as he pushed her dress down further, exposing both of her breasts to his gaze. She held her breath when he lowered his head, laving first one nipple, then the other, surprising her with the gentleness of it. Softly, he ran his tongue in

circles until she arched her back and whimpered. The whimper turned into a sharp cry when he suddenly nipped her flesh hard enough to cause pain. Before she could push him away, Spike moved his hand lower, yanking up her dress angrily and grabbing the waist of her panties. She struggled against him, trying to grab his hand. "Spike, no! Not like this..."

"Not like this?" he growled, his face still ridged and his fangs glistening in the moonlight. "This is what you wanted, remember? You wanted to fuck a demon, Buffy!"

"I - no - I wanted -"

"Wanted what? Wanted romance? I told you, that's not what I'm about." Instead of struggling to get his hand in her panties, he grabbed hold of the waistband and ripped them from her body. Taken by surprise, she let go of his wrist. Taking advantage of his sudden freedom, he moved his hand between her legs. He slid two fingers inside of her warmth and smiled evilly when she gasped and arched to meet him. "You're already wet, Slayer," he murmured softly, slowly pumping his fingers for a minute before removing them. A tiny sound came from Buffy's throat as he held his hand in front of her face. "Look," he told her, his fingers glistening in the dim light. "This is how much you want me." He let his hand brush across her lips, then put his fingers in his mouth, tasting her juices.

Buffy stared at him with wide eyes. She unconsciously licked her lips and saw his eyes glitter in the darkness as she tasted herself. She was frozen in place, unsure of anything except the pulsing between her thighs. No one had ever treated her like this before. She'd never had her own arousal flaunted in front of her face, never had a guy just take what he wanted instead of asking. It should have made her angry enough to stake him where he stood, not make her whole body throb with need. At that moment, she hated him more than she'd ever thought possible...and wanted him with an equal amount of fervor.

Spike grinned knowingly in the dark, almost as if he could read her mind. He eased his fingers back inside her and began fucking her with them, using his thumb to manipulate her clitoris. As Buffy moaned and clutched at his arms, he whispered a torrent of obscenities in her ear, urging her along, coaxing her, his tongue flicking over her skin as if to punctuate every shocking word.

"Oh God, Spike, please..." Buffy almost sobbed, her head thrashing against the brick wall behind her. For so many weeks she'd been unable to feel anything below the waist, and now there was so much going on down there, she felt like screaming. The sensation of his fingers sliding in and out, his voice in her ear - "That's it, baby, fuck my hand, cream all over me..." - it was all too much. If she didn't come soon, she'd go insane.

Spike knew exactly how to bring her right to the edge, and when he felt the slight tremors of her approaching climax, he stopped what he was doing, ignoring her cry of protest as he pulled away. After a moment of shock at being left hanging, the Slayer glared at him angrily.

"Bastard!" she hissed. "I hate you!"

"No, you don't," Spike replied coldly. He stared at her flushed face as he slowly and deliberately unfastened his jeans. "You want me, Slayer. You're practically begging me to fuck you right here in this alley."

"No." She shook her head, trying to ignore the heat between her legs. "You can't do this, Spike. You can't treat me this way, like a - "

"Like a whore?" he smirked. Her hand came up to slap him and he caught it, holding it above her head as he pressed the length of his body against hers. She moaned involuntarily as his other hand cupped and squeezed her breast, while his mouth played over the sensitive skin at her throat. "It doesn't matter how I treat you," he murmured against her neck. "You still want me

to fuck you."

"Nooo..." Her protest was little more than a sigh as her body was engulfed in flames again.

"You're so close, aren't you? Right there on the edge, baby, so close to coming I can feel it under your skin. Wanna get off, Buffy? Just say the word..."

"God, I hate you," she whispered tearfully. "I hate you so much."

And then his mouth was on hers, silencing any further protest she might have had. He hadn't intended to kiss her, only manipulate her body until she begged him to pound her into the wall. He wanted to remain cold, untouched...

He bloody well should have known better.

The first touch of her hot quim had nearly brought him to his knees - literally. It was only his anger that saved him at the last second from dropping to the ground and tonguing her for all he was worth. He wasn't about to give up control of the situation, and using his hand had allowed

him to maintain his distance.

Of course, that meant fuck-all now that his mouth had disobeyed him and plunged right in. His tongue tasted everything she was feeling - anger, fear, desperation, hunger - and it was better than virgin blood, better than a fresh kill on a moonlit night. In an instant, he was lost in a sea of human emotion and demon lust, in danger of disappearing altogether.

Buffy had finally stopped struggling and was clinging to him with a hunger she hadn't felt in months. The need that he'd sparked a few moments ago now threatened to become a bonfire as he ground his hardness between her legs, their mouths hot and wet and open against each other in a frenzied clash of teeth and tongues. There was nothing tender or loving in Spike's touch, but

at that very minute, all that mattered was feeling him against her skin.

Spike felt himself getting ready to come in his pants and somehow managed to pull back, breaking the kiss and pushing away from the wall and the soft body in front of it. He held her gaze, his voice tight with tension as he lowered his zipper. "Tell me to stop if you don't want this. Tell me to walk away right now..."

And while she watched with eyes that were glazed over with desire, he pushed his jeans down over his hips, releasing his engorged cock. Free from the confines of his jeans, it sprang up, straining toward her, looking like a column of sculpted marble in the blackness.

"All you have to do is say no," he whispered hoarsely, his hand stroking the length of his shaft as he waited for her answer.

Buffy slowly tore her gaze from his proudly jutting erection and found herself paralyzed by the heat in his previously cold eyes. She wondered if this was what hell felt like, this burning, clawing need that seemed to magnify with each passing moment. Could that column of cool flesh put out the flames inside her, or would it only help them consume her entirely? Nothing mattered anymore; she was damned either way. And there was really only one thing she wanted.

"I...I can't," she finally answered in a ragged voice. "I can't say no." Her hands clenched into fists as the admission was forced from her by her own traitorous body. "I don't want to stop, Spike. I want..." She took a deep breath, knowing that there was no going back now. "I want you to fuck me."

Spike felt his cock jump in response. Before she could change her mind, he grabbed her, sliding his hands around to her backside. He lifted her easily, entering her with one thrust...and found himself slipping into flesh that was hotter and tighter and softer than anything he'd ever felt before. Knowing that the slightest move would have him coming in an instant, he kept perfectly still, his body straining from the effort.

Buffy's eyes flew open as Spike sheathed himself to the hilt and then stopped moving except for the slight trembling of his body. She wrapped her legs around his slim hips and clung to him as his head fell to her shoulder and he pushed her up against the wall. She could feel him taking deep, unnecessary breaths and brought her hand up to stroke the back of his neck. "Spike?" she whispered shakily.

Her voice broke through his concentration and he raised his head, staring at her with burning eyes. The intensity in them took Buffy's breath away for a second, her surroundings falling away as she tumbled into their bottomless depths. The only things she remained aware of were his hard flesh stretching and filling her, and the burning need thrumming through her veins at a breakneck pace. A tiny sound escaped the Slayer as she unconsciously started writhing against him in an effort to ease the throbbing at her core.

With a snarl, Spike still her hips. He bent his head and deliberately licked a path from the hollow of Buffy's throat to her ear, skimming lightly over her jugular, causing a deep shudder to run through them both. "Please," she mewled, beyond anything except the desperation to feel his

cock moving inside her.

"I thought you weren't the begging kind," he murmured, letting a fang graze her earlobe. When she angrily choked off a sob, he smiled to himself, then began thrusting in a slow and torturous motion, keeping her pinned to the wall.

Spike knew all too well that the illusion of control always worked to his advantage. Unfortunately, like many things in life, it was fragile, tenuous...unpredictable. After only a few strokes, the sensation of what felt like molten lava gripping and caressing his cock nearly had that shred of control snapping like a dry twig. Nothing in his unlife had ever felt this good, and he suspected that nothing ever would again. He wanted it to last an eternity, just go on twisting and pumping until they both withered and died, but in this particular instance, that eternity was about to end all too soon. As if to hammer the point home, his hips began moving faster and faster, until he was pounding the Slayer violently against the wall.

Buffy twisted and writhed in Spike's embrace, clinging to him fiercely as the fever built to an almost unbearable pitch. Her hands tore at his hair, clawed at his back, pulled him closer as if she wanted to climb under his skin. His cock felt huge and throbbing as it churned inside her, his mouth wet and delicious against her lips, her throat, her breasts...anywhere and everywhere he could possibly reach. She could feel the rough wall behind her scraping her back raw, but didn't care. The alley had ceased to exist as the two of them raged and fought and slammed together in the hot night air - straining, heaving, clutching, and moaning in a tangle of sweat and anger, oblivious to anything except their own lust and impending climax.

Control long gone, Spike held onto the slippery body molded to his and angled Buffy's hips slightly so that he was grinding against her swollen clit. "I'm going to make you come so hard, Slayer," he rasped in her ear. "So fucking hard, and so deep, and I'm going to fill you until you can't take anymore..."

His voice was all the trigger she needed. Entire body tensing, Buffy let out a shriek as the orgasm ripped through her. Harder and faster, Spike rammed into her quaking pussy, driving her over the edge and beyond, letting her contractions bring him into the abyss with her. He felt his hardness swell to gigantic proportions, and then howled as a torrent seemed to burst from his loins. Over and over, he pulsed and throbbed and pumped, filling her again and again, until there was nothing left of him but an empty shell. Completely drained, stunned by the intensity of his orgasm, Spike buried his face in her neck and tried to remind his body that it didn't need to

breathe.

Wet. Wet and sticky and limp and nearly unconscious just about summed up Buffy's state of being at the moment. She couldn't have moved even if she wanted to, and disengaging from Spike was the furthest thing from her mind. She had never felt so satisfied, so spent...

So blissful.

"I love you, Spike," she sighed, tangling her hand in his hair. The words fell from her lips of their own volition, seeming to hover in the air above them. Things would be better now, Buffy was sure. There was no way he could still be angry after what had just happened. Even as she thought the words, she felt the arms holding her stiffen, the muscles beneath her hands become tight.

*I love you, Spike.*

As the Slayer's soft statement broke the silence of the alley, Spike felt his jaw clench. How many times had he heard those words? How many times had Drusilla whispered them in his ear and then run off with Angel, leaving him behind? Over the course of his unlife, no other three words had ever had the power to make him feel this way, make him feel so betrayed. Just the sound of them filled him with an uncontrollable feeling of helplessness and rage. He straightened up and pulled back to look at Buffy's face. Her eyes were soft and unfocused with spent passion, a small smile playing about her lips. She looked so happy, so at peace. He hated her for it.

And the only thing he wanted to do was hit her until she bled.

Buffy noticed the look in his eyes and felt the fear creep along her spine. She trembled, the air around her suddenly cold. As cold as Spike's stare. No, she thought desperately, this wasn't happening. Not now, not after... Surely he felt something for her? What had happened had been more than fucking, more than just sex. Hadn't it?

"Spike?" she whispered fearfully as he continued to stare. "Say something, you're scaring me."

"I was just thinking, pet..." he said, reaching behind him to unwrap her legs from around his waist and set her back on her feet, "that perhaps you've missed your true calling." Her hands slid from around his neck to fall at her sides in confusion. His lip curled derisively as he watched her. "That was *almost* as good as the time I fucked Mata Hari behind enemy lines. Now *there* was a bird who knew what she was about. Don't worry, though. I'm sure that at the rate you're going, you'll be as skilled as she was in no time."

Buffy looked at him, hurt etched across her face. This was Angel all over again, that awful morning at his apartment -"You were great. Really. I thought you were a pro." She slowly shook her head, unwilling to believe that this was happening again. How could he do this to her, how could he treat her this way? Why did the men in her life feel this constant urge to rend and tear at her heart until there wasn't anything left?

"Why are you doing this? she asked hoarsely.

Spike saw her face start to crumble, saw the tears gathering in her eyes, and waited for the feeling of satisfaction to overwhelm him. It never came. The fact that he cared about hurting her made him even angrier, and the urge to lash out was stronger than before. Maybe if he left her entirely broken, the raging torment inside him would subside. It was worth a try, right?

And just like that, he knew exactly what to say to bring her to her knees.

"Why the tears, Slayer?" he said with mock concern. "Don't tell me you thought that this meant anything. I would have thought that after that Parker chap you'd be able to tell the difference between getting fucked and having a relationship. Shouldn't you be used to this by now?" Bingo, he thought, watching her face go deadly white in the darkness.

Buffy couldn't breathe. The pain that knifed through her at his words was sharp and intense, bringing back all the hurt her past relationships had heaped upon her. It was as if all of her ex-boyfriends had ganged up at once - just one big Buffy bashing free for all. She had never imagined that she could make Spike hate her this much. What a fool she'd been.

"Get...away...from...me..." she choked out, her body shaking uncontrollably.

Spike snorted. "Gladly, Slayer. I got what I wanted anyway." He leaned closer for a second, dropping his voice a couple of octaves. "How do *you* like feeling used? Fun, isn't it?" He straightened, turned on his heel and began walking away, stopping after a few steps.

"Oh, by the way," he said, turning and snapping his fingers as if he'd forgotten something. "I'll be sure to let Angel know that 'Slutty the Vampire Slayer' is back in business. I do so love keeping him informed." He gave a short, mocking chuckle, then strolled out of the alley, calling out, "Later!" over his shoulder.

In the ensuing silence, loud, choking sobs filled the air as Buffy's legs gave out beneath her. She crumpled to the ground and rolled into a ball, rocking back and forth as the tremors wracked her body. Ice cold, gasping for air, she lay there amid the scraps of paper and cardboard that littered the alley, only aware of one thing.

Everything she'd ever wanted was gone, and nothing would ever be the same again.

Part Fifteen
This part was co-authored by Lynx <mailto:lyment@earthlink.net>

<><><><><>

Angel had been given a small mission. The Council had decided that he should be the one to question Willy again as to the whereabouts of the vampires that had attacked Buffy. He had a wad of cash in his pocket to help sweeten the deal, courtesy of the Council, and a very large chip on his shoulder that guaranteed that when he found the vampires, they wouldn't have to worry about what the Council had in store for them.

He felt restless and out of sorts as he walked the streets of Sunnydale. Something was wrong - he could feel it pulling at him, vague and unidentifiable - but there, nonetheless. At first, he'd just chalked it up to finding Buffy and Spike together, and the feelings that his errant childe always managed to stir up. He'd decided to walk to Willy's to clear his head, but the feeling grew stronger with every step, leading him down streets that weren't even on the way. It was only when he reached the mouth of the alley that everything became crystal clear.

Cordelia's vision.

Small cries that reminded him of a wounded animal reached his ears, filling him with dread as he entered the alley. It was dark, but it didn't take him long to locate the figure lying in a heap against the far wall.

"Buffy?" He ran, dropping to his knees when he reached her. "Oh my God, Buffy, what happened?" He gently tried to pull her into his arms, but her body remained rigid, locked in a fetal position.

How had she gotten here? Everything was exactly as Cordelia had described it: Buffy's dress was torn, the paper thin fabric barely clinging to one breast, she was nearly catatonic, and the scent of blood was unmistakable. And underneath the blood, something Cordelia hadn't mentioned.

Semen.

Fighting the rush of fury that threatened to consume him, Angel took off his coat and slipped it around Buffy's shoulders. She continued to whimper and sob, rocking slightly with her arms locked around her legs. Helplessly, he wondered if she was even aware of his presence. "Buffy, c'mon, baby, talk to me..." he murmured, stroking her hair. "Who did this to you?"

She froze, as if suddenly realizing that someone was with her. "Angel?" she sniffled, making his heart break at the way her voice familiarly caught on the first syllable of his name. Her eyes met his and she shrank back from him, seeking the comfort of the wall behind her. "No...go away..." She struggled to get her legs beneath her, clawing at the wall as she surged to her feet. "Don't look at me..."

"Buffy!" Angel lunged forward to catch her as her legs buckled. She pushed him away and leaned against the wall, wrapping her arms around herself protectively.

"Don't touch me. Just leave me alone." She couldn't stop shaking, remembering the contempt in Spike's eyes as he left her. She couldn't bear to see that same look in Angel's eyes. Not now.

He stared at her in shock. "You can walk." He took a step forward and stopped when she recoiled. "How - when? Buffy, what happened here tonight?"

A single tear rolled down her cheek as she whispered, "Spike." She could feel a twin trail of wetness trickling down her thigh, a reminder of her lust and ultimate humiliation. "Spike happened."

Angel's reaction was violent and instantaneous. "I'll rip his fucking head off!"

Startled at his outburst, Buffy looked up, her eyes encountering the familiar fangs and ridges. She was at once touched and frightened by the fury she saw reflected in his burning yellow gaze. She shook her head. "It's not necessary, Angel."

"Not necessary?" he snarled. "That piece of filth raped you, and now I'm going to do what I should have done years ago, and wipe him from the face of this earth."

She blinked at him, fighting an inappropriate urge to laugh. Of course, Angel would assume that she'd been forced. How could he sweep into her life and rescue her otherwise? Only he didn't have that right anymore. He'd thrown it away the moment he decided to leave her. But now here he was, back in her life, and he looked upon her as someone who needed saving, as someone too pure and good to feel simple lust. She didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the absurdity.

How quickly he'd forgotten. Less than a year ago, she'd barely been able to keep her hands off of him. How many times had he had to restrain her from sliding her hands down his pants, from wriggling against him in desperation? How many times had he pulled away from her hungry mouth as it sought to taste his skin?

Buffy stood there trembling as anger threatened to engulf her. How dare he assume anything where she was concerned? A helpless victim? Unwilling? If only he knew just how willing a participant she'd been in what had transpired here tonight. Suddenly, she was stricken by the perverse desire to enlighten him. "Rape? Spike didn't need to rape me, Angel," she told him bitterly, pushing away from the wall. She slowly stalked toward him, not bothering to sugarcoat her words. "I wanted it, all of it. I *begged* him to fuck me," she felt a twinge of satisfaction when he visibly flinched, "up against the wall like some slut. And he did."

Angel shook his head, unable to believe what she told him. This wasn't *his* Buffy. She was pure - innocent - and she would never, ever, want Spike to touch her in that way. She was obviously in shock, which was the only possible explanation for her behavior. He spoke to her in a low, calm voice, the kind used to reason with ledge-jumpers. "No, you don't know what you're saying. You're a mess, Buffy - you're bruised, you're bleeding - this doesn't look the least bit consensual to me."

"Don't patronize me!" she hissed. "I know exactly what happened here tonight. Spike didn't make love to me, he fucked me, and what's more, I liked it." Her voice rose. "Is that what you wanted to hear? Do you want details? Do you really want to know how easily he made me come all over his big hard c-"

"Stop it, Buffy!" Angel yelled as he grabbed her upper arms and shook her. Her eyes were wild as she stared up at him, and he wondered briefly if this was really the same girl that he had fallen in love with. "If this was what you wanted, if it was so fucking wonderful, then why were you lying here by yourself in this condition?"

"Why?" She wrenched herself out of his grasp. "I'll tell you why...because as usual, no man can stand to be around me for very long. They all walk away - my father, *you*, Parker - why should Spike be any different? At least he didn't have the gall to tell me he loved me before he left."

Angel's jaw tightened. "You know perfectly well why I left - why I *had* to leave."

"God!" she yelled. "I am *so* sick of hearing that! You left so I could have a life, blah, blah, blah. Well, guess what? I don't have a life. I don't have anything."

"That's bullshit! You have a calling, a higher purpose than most people ever dream of - friends and family who love you -"

"Love? How dare you talk to me about love? I loved you with everything I had and you still left me, I still wasn't enough for you!" she spat out.

"You spoiled little brat!" Angel snapped, grabbing her again. "Don't you know what that cost me? Don't you have any idea how much I loved you, how much I *still* love you?"

Tears filled her eyes. "Then why, Angel? If you love me so much, then how can you stand to be away from me?"

Deep brown eyes stared down at her, filled with more sorrow than Buffy thought she could stand. "I can't," he said hoarsely, dropping her arms. He turned away and ran a hand through his hair. ""I thought leaving you was the hardest thing I've ever done..." Pain etched his features as he glanced back at her. "...until Giles asked me to come back."

Buffy couldn't breathe as the weight of his admission settled over her. All this time, all of these months of wallowing in self-pity, and she'd never even stopped to consider how hard it had all been on him. She'd been too consumed by her own pain to think about his side of it, and besides, it had been *his* decision to go. She hadn't thought of it as a sacrifice on his part, only as a punishment for her, the usual 'Buffy doesn't get to be happy' theme song of her life. Part of her had actually hated him for the misery he'd put her through.

And now he probably hated her right back for what she'd done tonight.

"Angel..." She reached out to him and stopped when he flinched almost imperceptibly. Her hand hovered in the air for a moment before dropping back down to her side. She was right, he hated her. Or at the very least, was totally repulsed by her.

Her gaze drifted over her surroundings and down at her torn dress. The very fact that Angel was seeing her like this, was standing here completely aware of everything that had happened between her and Spike... Could she really blame him for recoiling?

Her humiliation was complete. Not only that, but her sense of self-loathing had reached new pinnacles. She blanched as she recalled the hateful things she'd said to him, how she'd thrown her actions with Spike right in his face. What was happening to her? What kind of person was she becoming? And more importantly, how could two people who claimed to be in love keep hurting each other like this? And she did love Angel, that was a given. It wasn't something she could turn off, no mattter how much Spike had come to mean to her.

"God, how you must hate me," she whispered.

"I could never hate you," Angel answered dully, without inflection.

"But you are disgusted with me." When he offered no denial, tears filled her eyes again. "I'm so sorry, Angel. I don't know what's happened to me, I keep doing...things. Things that I'm not very proud of." She took a deep breath. "Do you want to know why Spike left me?" Angel turned to face her once again. "I lied to him. About why I quit the Council...and about being able to walk."

His eyes narrowed. "What do you mean, you lied about being able to walk?"

"I got the feeling back in my legs the other night. I - I didn't say anything, I just kept pretending to be paralyzed." She watched his expression darken, a chill creeping along her spine. "I wanted to tell him, but Spike was taking care of me, and things were going so well, and I was afraid...I was afraid he'd leave me if he knew I could walk."

The muscle in Angel's jaw twitched as he ground his molars together. "Do you mean to tell me that earlier, at your house, you could walk?" She nodded almost fearfully. "When you dragged yourself out of the bathroom while Spike and I were fighting - that was all an act?"

"Yes."

He blew out a breath of air and turned away from her, hands clenching and unclenching in the pockets of his duster. "I can't believe you'd do something like that. That you'd deliberately deceive your mother and Giles...and me."

"I'm sorry, Angel-"

"Don't!" He held up a hand. "Just...don't, all right?" He looked at her with tormented eyes. "I feel like I don't know who you are anymore."

"That makes two of us, then," she sighed. "Look, I didn't plan it, it just happened! I got scared -"

"Come off it, Buffy! This is Spike we're talking about. He doesn't do anything without getting something in return. He stayed with you because it was safe, not because he cared about you."

"You weren't there, you didn't see the things he did for me. He made me stop feeling sorry for myself. He told me I was beautiful...he didn't treat me like a damn cripple. He understood what it was like to be in that wheelchair."

"Saint Spike," Angel sneered.

"I needed him, Angel. I depended on him, and the thought of losing him terrified me. He's the one who saved me from the vampires who attacked me. I'd be dead if it weren't for him."

"If he saved your life, then I'm indebted to him. I'll be sure to say thank you before I shove a stake through his heart."

"Angel, stop-" She reached out, only to have him pull away again.

"I left so that you could have a *normal* life!" he shouted. "That didn't include fucking vampires, and it certainly didn't include you falling for Spike, of all people! For Christ's sake, Buffy, he's not even human!"

"And neither are you," she answered softly. "All of this, it just happened. You weren't here, you were gone...and he was the person I spent the most time with." Her voice broke. "I'll always love you, Angel. I can't stop loving you, no matter how hard I try. But I had to move on, and I do have feelings for Spike - strong feelings. I know it's not what you want to hear, but it's the truth." She looked up at him, willing him to meet her eyes. He tried to look away, but she reached up and turned his face toward her. "I'd give anything not to have hurt you, you must know that. But you hurt me first. You left me here, and for a long time, I thought I'd die without you. I don't want to feel that way ever again." Angel compressed his lips together, hurt and anger vibrating through every part of him.

"Things are different now," she continued. "*I'm* different, and so are you. I have a lot to deal with - namely, trying to stay alive and figure out just who my enemies are. And right now, you can't be what I need you to be. Spike can be here for me in ways that you can't. I'm going to need his help when I go up against the Council. If he'll ever speak to me again, that is."

"Spike doesn't forgive easily."

"I know that. I have to try though, I have to make him see -" Her voice grew panicky. "I need him, Angel."

"You don't need him, you have the rest of us to help you-"

"Don't you get it?" she yelled. "I'm *scared*! I'm terrified that I can't be the Slayer anymore. I think...I think that I've lost my nerve...and Spike might just be the only person who can help me get it back. He won't put up with any bullshit, he'll *make* me face up to things. He won't let me run away."

"And I would?"

"I don't know. But Spike doesn't have a soul, and he doesn't love me - he's made that clear. There won't be any soft feelings getting in the way, do you understand that?" Tears spilled over and ran down her cheeks as she reached for his hand. "Please, Angel...try to understand."

Angel closed his eyes, trying to escape the vision of her with Spike, trying to separate how he felt from what Buffy needed. He could feel the warmth of her hand in his, and it only served to remind him of what he could never have. Of what Spike would be free to enjoy, if he chose to come back. And all it did was fuel his overwhelming need to get as far away from Buffy and Sunnydale as possible, and never look back.

But it was a need he had to ignore for the moment.

There was no way he could abandon Buffy with everything she was going through. As much as it pained him, he'd have to stick around long enough to see that she was safe. He cleared his throat. "I'll help as much as I can, whatever Giles needs me to do. But I can't accept this, Buffy. I can't stay here and watch you be with *him*."

Buffy closed her eyes. "I understand." She opened them again and stared up at him sadly. "Thank you, Angel." He nodded, and she took a deep shaky breath, relieved that the worst was over.

Suddenly, her knees buckled, her legs unused to carrying her for such a long period of time. Angel caught her as she fell, and muttering a curse, swung her up into his arms. "It's almost dawn, I'd better get you home," he murmured, striding out of the alley.

"I'll be okay in a minute," she whispered drowsily. "I'm just so tired."

Feeling her nestled in his arms, just like old times, Angel couldn't stop the pang of longing that ran through him. He held her tighter, letting her scent wash over him like a narcotic, the way it always had in the past. For that brief moment, nothing else mattered. The Hellmouth could open up beneath them and he'd willingly jump in, as long as he could stay like this.

And that was exactly why he had to leave town as quickly as the situation would allow.

Buffy sighed and snuggled against him. "You always make me feel so safe. I've missed feeling like this." Angel stayed silent. "I wish...I wish..." her voice trailed off, leaving the obvious unsaid. In seconds, she was asleep.

Angel bent his head until it touched hers. "Me, too, Buffy," he whispered. "Me, too."

He walked on toward Revello Drive, unaware of the pair of eyes that watched from the shadows.

Written By: Chelle <mailto:thechelle@worldnet.att.net>

Part Sixteen

<><><><><><><>

A blond figure separated itself from the shadows and stepped out into the lamplight. Spike's eyes were the color of flint as he watched Angel disappear around the next corner, still carrying his precious burden. His hands clenched tightly into fists as he tried to ignore the jealousy that ripped through him at the sight of the tiny Slayer cradled in his sire's arms. "That's right, take her home," he muttered unconvincingly. "I'm through with her anyway."

Kicking a rock that lay near the edge of the road, Spike felt his anger explode and clenched his fist, driving it into the nearest telephone pole, splintering the wood and the skin of his knuckle. The pain didn't register, though; the only thing he felt with one hundred percent clarity was rage. It drove him onward, past the park, past the ruins of the school, and finally into the crypt that had been his home. As he had predicted, his belongings, what few there were, had been strewn about and destroyed.

There was nothing there he could salvage, except the mason jar that he had hidden behind some loose rocks. He clawed at the stones in the wall, loosening them, then grabbed the jar. His money was still there. It would be enough to buy a car from the sleazy little demon on the outskirts of town and leave it all behind. He couldn't get away fast enough.

Stuffing the money in his pocket, he turned and bumped into a woman. She stood watching him impassively, even as he morphed and growled at her. "Who are you?" he demanded.

"It's what I can do for you that you should be interested in," the woman smiled, walking toward the marble bench in one corner of the dark and dank room. "Call me a kindred spirit - someone who knows what it is like to walk this world as a demon, but lack the ability to give in to the impulses that drive us."

He eyed her, seeing something vaguely familiar in her face, in her reddish brown hair. "You're a vampire."

"I am. Sometimes." Her face slid into that of her demon and she traced her fingers over the ridges in her forehead. "I, too, have been rendered helpless by the Initiative. Tell me, hostile, what is it that you feel when you feed?"

"I can't feed at all," Spike growled. "All I have to do is try and it feels like my fucking head is being sliced open."

The woman frowned and crossed her arms. "I think that I envy you."

"You envy me?" Spike chuckled sarcastically, low in his throat. "What is there to envy in being stripped of what you are?"

"You feel physical pain when you feed. I would gladly endure that to avoid the emotional pain, the guilt that accompanies me when I feed."

Spike stiffened and put his hands on his hips. "Oh, bloody great. You have a soul? What is it with damn vampires and their souls? And why do they always seem to find me?"

"I have no soul. I have an earlier model chip than the one you have. It releases a chemical into my brain when I feed on humans and it makes me feel the most agonizing guilt that you could ever imagine."

His mind flashed to Buffy's face, the tears streaking down her cheeks, her dress pushed up around her waist. Oh, he could imagine. Quickly shaking the image away, determined not to care, he looked at the woman. "No offense, but I like the newer version better."

"I'm sure that's true," the woman replied, standing again. "I can help you, but you must help me in return."

"You can help me what?" he asked, eyeing her up and down.

"I can deactivate that chip in your head for a price." She took several steps toward him, pausing when she was only a few feet away. "Not a monetary price, but a small kindness on your part."

"And what did you have in mind?" he inquired, eyebrows raised.

"I want to kill her. I want to kill Maggie Walsh, my daughter, my own flesh and blood, and the second I do, when the kill is a victory and before I feel the guilt, I want you to kill me."

Spike narrowed his eyes at her. "Your daughter? Your daughter is the bitch who did this to me?"

"And to me." She held out a slim hand. "I'm Isobel Walsh." Spike stared at her outstretched hand and she sighed, dropping it back to her side. "My own daughter turned me into a monster, and then implanted me. You have no idea just how devious she is, hostile."

"Call me Spike." He folded his arms across his chest. "And tell me exactly how you can deactivate the chip in my head, but not the one in yours."

"I can get you on the inside. I can show you how to do it. The reason I haven't done the same for myself is because I don't want to be what you once were. I don't judge you for wanting that again, but I *will* keep my word." Isobel smiled up at him, holding out her hand once again. "Would you like to hear my plan?"

"I'm all ears," he told her, firmly grasping her hand in his. "But I'm also one cautious bastard. You play me, you'll get played."

Isobel only nodded, and then reclaimed her seat on the marble bench. As she spoke, telling him how they would infiltrate the Initiative, she watched a genuine smile begin to spread over his handsome features. When she finished laying out her plan, the blond vampire was practically bouncing, and she had no doubt that when he was able to resume his former lifestyle, people would quake in fear before him.

And her own demon rejoiced his good fortune.

She would keep her word.

***********

Giles rushed up the sidewalk to the Summers' front door. He had just gotten home when Angel called and told him to come right away. Not bothering to knock, he entered the house and immediately shouted for Buffy.

"She's in the shower," Angel called from the kitchen.

Giles hurried through the house and stopped in the doorway. "Is Spike assisting her?"

Angel set the box of hot cocoa he had found on the counter and moved toward the sink to fill the teakettle with water. "She can walk."

"What?" Giles sounded stunned as he tried to process the three simple words that Angel had said. "She can walk? How- when- ?"

"I don't know." The vampire put the water on to boil and opened another cabinet, pulling out a cup. "She said she got the feeling back in her legs the other night, but she didn't elaborate."

"The other night? But I saw her, she was still in the wheelchair..."

"She didn't tell anyone. Said she was afraid that Spike would leave if he knew," Angel told him flatly.

Giles could see the tension in the vampire's jaw and knew that his anger was barely held in check. "Angel, what happened tonight? Where is Spike?"

"Spike is gone. He and Buffy had a...a fight." Angel hesitated, running his fingers through his hair. He looked up at the other man, his eyes full of pain. "I found her in an alley, Giles, just like Cordelia's vision. At first she was too upset to talk. Her clothes were torn, and I thought...I thought that she'd been raped."

A startled look of alarm crossed Giles' face. "Good lord-"

"She hadn't been," Angel assured him. He wasn't sure how much to tell the Watcher, but didn't know if he could trust Buffy at this point to tell Giles the truth. He decided to forge ahead and avoid going into detail. "She told me..." His eyes closed for a second and he had to force the words past his lips. "She told me that she has feelings for Spike. *Strong* feelings. That they'd had - that they'd been..." Unconsciously, Angel squeezed the cup he'd been holding and it shattered in his hand.

Giles just stared at the vampire, unsure of how to process this new information. His slayer involved with another vampire? With Spike? It was almost inconceivable. "Angel...I -I'm terribly sorry. I never imagined..."

"I need to get out of here, Giles," Angel interrupted. "I can't be near her right now. I'll finish up that business with Willy, and then I'm heading for the mansion. You can contact me there." He didn't look at the Watcher as he spoke, his gaze fixed on the crumbled pieces of mug on the floor.

Giles shifted uncomfortably, at a loss for words. "I understand. Thank you for your help, Angel."

Angel nodded, then walked toward the door. Giles' voice stopped him. "You won't do anything...rash, will you?"

"No," he answered without turning. "I won't do anything rash." His hand on the doorknob, he paused before opening it. "I never should have come back here," he whispered, disappearing before Giles could say another word.

In the ensuing silence, Giles raised his eyes to the ceiling, wondering what could possibly happen next. "Bloody hell," he murmured, and headed upstairs to find out exactly what was going on with his Slayer.

**************

When Giles reached the bedroom door, Buffy was standing in front of her mirror dressed in baggy sweats, staring blankly as she combed through wet, tangled hair. Even though Angel had told him about her being able to walk, it was still a shock to see her on her feet in front of him after months of being in the wheelchair.

"Buffy?" he called out quietly as he entered the room. "Are you all right?"

Her head shook slightly and her hands dropped to her sides. "No, Giles," she whispered brokenly. "I'm not all right."

He crossed the room and took her hands in his, alarmed by how icy they were. "Come, sit down," he murmured, leading her to the bed. "Tell me what happened, tell me everything." He sat her doown and joined her on the bed, hesitantly putting his arm around her shoulders.

Buffy leaned into him, breathing in his familiar aftershave. His strong arms and soothing voice broached her meager defenses, and she crumbled for the second time that night. "Oh, Giles," she sobbed into his shoulder. "I'm so stupid! I should have called you as soon as I got the feeling back in my legs, instead of lying and making a mess of everything. F-First Spike, and-and then Angel," her breath came in gasps, "I-I suppose you... hate me now...too."

"Of course I don't hate you," he sighed. "Although...I do question your judgment at times."

She shook her head. "You don't know, you don't know the things I did..."

"I've spoken to Angel, and I've got eyes, Buffy," he murmured against her hair. "I think that I can surmise most of it." There was a long silence as Buffy's face flamed with mortification. Giles cleared his throat. "Angel mentioned that you told him you feel...something...for Spike. Are you sure it isn't just...gratitude, because he took care of you?"

"I'm sure," she sniffled. "I started liking him before I was attacked. All that time we spent together afterward only made it grow stronger. And now I … I think I'm in love with him, Giles, and it doesn't even matter, because he can't stand the sight of me."

"Oh, Buffy, I'm so sorry." His arms tightened around her and he murmured more words of comfort as she clung to him and cried.

When the flood had slowed to a trickle, Buffy pulled away and wiped at her face with the back of her hand. She avoided looking at Giles for a moment, then sighed and glanced up at him. "Angel left?" When he nodded, she asked, "How was he? When you got here?"

"He was...upset."

"Wow, Giles, understatement, much?" She shook her head. "I know how much I hurt him tonight. Seems to be my specialty lately."

"Buffy, I'm not sure what occurred with Spike, but as far as Angel is concerned...perhaps there were some things that needed to be said? A sort of...closure, as it were. You weren't allowed any when he left."

"No, I wasn't, but that doesn't excuse my behavior. I can't believe he brought me home after -"

"He loves you, Buffy. Whatever else has happened, I can't imagine that either one of you could abandon the other. No matter what the circumstances."

His words served as a painful reminder of just how different things were with Spike. The blond vampire had no problem walking away from her, as evidenced by his post-coital behavior. Buffy felt a fresh stab of pain as she recalled his hateful remarks. Devastated didn't even begin to cover how she felt.

Flushing, she stood up and walked over to the mirror, avoiding Giles' eyes. Picking up her brush, she began working through the tangles in her hair again.

"Angel said that you and Spike had a fight. Are you sure you're all right - physically, I mean?"

"Physically, I'm fine. Legs work and everything."

Giles took a deep breath. "Yes, about that...what happened, exactly? How were you able to walk again?"

Briefly, she told him about suddenly waking up with feeling in her legs. She kept brushing her hair as she did so, trying to avoid thinking about Spike and what had happened between them.

Giles listened intently as she related her reluuctance to tell Spike the good news. He frowned. "I wish you had called me. You know how imperative it is that you keep me informed."

"I'm sorry, Giles, I didn't think about it. I just...wanted Spike to stay with me."

"Well, now is the time to think about it. The Council is in town to deal with Maggie Walsh. I've spoken to them about formulating a plan, and with you able to walk, we'll have the element of surprise on our side when we move to strike."

"We?" She narrowed her eyes at him. "What? You rejoined the damn Council?"

Giles paused, clearly taken aback, then nodded his head. "I've formed an alliance with them, yes. As for rejoining them, they've yet to ask me, but -"

"But you would? After what they did to us both?" She tossed the brush down on the dresser and turned to confront him. "How dare you?"

"How dare I?" he questioned, surprised by her anger. "Pardon me for stating the obvious here, Buffy, but how dare you keep something like this from me? How long were you planning to keep up the charade? And how do I know that you weren't able to walk days ago? Weeks? You certainly seem steady on your feet."

"Don't you accuse me of that!" she shouted, pointing a finger at him. "I told you that I just started walking this morning. And you couldn't possibly hope to understand my motivation for not calling you right off the bat."

"Well, then enlighten me," Giles crossed his arms, regarding her with a serious expression.

"I didn't call because I knew what your response would be. Fall off the horse, get back on. Scared of the water, jump in and don't test it."

"I don't understand."

"You expect me to just start slaying again, don't you? You expect me to grab the bull by the horns and-"

"Could you please refrain from using metaphors?"

"Fine," Buffy snapped. "Here's a non-metaphor for you. I don't want to be the Slayer. I would rather be some dried up cripple in some filthy hospital, then go back out there," she pointed toward the window, "and let them finish me off."

"You don't mean that."

"Yes, I do!" She stalked toward her closet, yanking her ornate trunk from under a pile of clothing. Moving swiftly, she unlatched the clasps and pulled the top up, then lifted a tray, exposing an arsenal of weapons. "Look, Giles, I've got stakes," she threw one as hard as she could, flipping it end over end, and it embedded in the wall, the handle sticking out only a few inches. "I've got crossbows," she fired it off as well, the bolt slicing through her lampshade and shattering the bulb. "I've got Holy Water," toss, "more stakes," toss, "and would you look at this? A mace!" wind, throw, "and none of it did a damn bit of good, did it? They almost killed me. AGAIN!"

"Buffy, stop it!" He crossed the room and grabbed her arm, halting the rain of weaponry. When she turned on him, he gripped her upper arms and held on, fully aware that she could toss him across the room just as easily as she had tossed her stakes. "Listen to me," he ordered gruffly. "I know how frightened you are."

"No, you don't!" Buffy half shouted. "Giles, you have no idea!"

"Do you think I don't feel terror at the danger you face every day? What happens to you, happens to me. When you are hurt, I hurt. When you bleed, my soul bleeds along with you because it's my duty to see to it that you are safe." He reached for her hand and took it in his. "I felt the same relief you must have felt every night for the past few months, knowing that you were safe and sound at home and not out there fighting demons. We didn't choose this life, Buffy. We were chosen and though it can be quite a burden at times, it's ours to bear."

"I can't bear it! People always leave me because of who I am! My dad, and Angel," her breath began hitching and new sobs suddenly burst forth, "and Spike- Spike - God, it hurts so much!"

"Buffy," Giles said softly. "I'm still here. I'll *always* be here. We'll get through this, the same way we get through anything. Together."

His voice gentled her for a second, letting her regain control. She drew a deep breath and looked him in the eye. "I won't work with the Council, Giles. I *can't*."

"I see," he answered flatly, releasing her.

"Please understand -"

"I'm sorry, but I don't understand. This is your calling, your sacred duty, Buffy-"

"Giles, please!" Her voice grew strident. "I can't do it, all right? I can't trust the Council, and I can't help you. I'm sorry."

"Very well, then. Angel and I will take things from here. I'm sure that between the two of us, and the men from the Council, we can put an end to Maggie Walsh's reign of terror. If you change your mind..."

"I won't," she assured him. "And I'm not sure I'd be much help anyway at this point." She looked up at him beseechingly. "Giles? Are we...okay?"

Giles didn't respond for a few slow, agonizing seconds. Finally, he nodded, a sad smile parting his lips. "Yes, we're 'okay'. Perhaps you should get some rest. The sun is up already and you didn't get any sleep last night. I could bring up some hot chocolate, if you like, before I go."

"That would be nice, thanks."

He walked toward the door, pausing before he left. "I'm sorry about Spike, Buffy. About...everything that's happened. I-I'll let you know if he turns up."

"I'm not sure he will. Not after..." She turned away, blinking back tears.

"After what?" Giles asked before he could help himself. "What happened between you two?"

"I don't want to talk about it. Please, Giles, I just want to sleep, okay?"

"All right, Buffy," he sighed. "I'll get your drink, and check in with you later, then." When she didn't answer, he turned and left the room, and finally, she was alone.

Buffy let herself collapse onto the bed as every muscle in her body screamed with fatigue. She felt stiff and sore, and her legs were trembling from overuse after so many months of inactivity. Weakly, she dragged the covers over her and huddled beneath them, shaking. It felt as if she'd never be warm again, never feel strong again.

Never be free from the heartwrenching pain in the middle of her chest.

"Spike..." she whimpered softly, curling into a ball. The tears came again and she didn't even try to stop them. How had things gone so completely wrong in so short a time? She and Spike had grown closer in the last few weeks, on their way to becoming more than just friends. And just like that, her lies had destroyed it all. Because of her stupidity, another man she loved had walked away from her. Telling him how she felt hadn't made a bit of difference; he was still gone.

And she wanted him back, more desperately than she'd ever wanted anything in her life. She needed his strength, needed him to help her get past this fear that was eating her up inside. The fear was controlling her, keeping her from being the Slayer, and if she couldn't be the Slayer anymore, then what would she be?

Nothing, she'd be nothing. And she'd still be alone.

A few minutes later when Giles returned, he found her asleep, her tear-stained face tense in slumber, fists tightly clenching the blankets under her chin.