CHAPTER 13

Dawn had never felt pain this deep before. Not when her mother had died nor when she came across the limp body of her older sister strewn over the rubble last spring. In both cases, it was as if she had been too preoccupied to grieve properly. The tears that had fallen when Buffy had come to her school that day had been her hardest cry. Denial had set in quickly followed by determination to raise Joyce Summers from her wooden prison. And when the plan had fallen through, Buffy was there to share in her grief.

It was the same when Buffy had died. She had always felt guilty that she didn’t grieve enough but the whole Glory ordeal not to mention her mother dying only a few months earlier had drained the teenager in every possible way. And then there was Spike. His presence lightened the burden from her shoulders. Though all the Scoobies had been gravely wounded by Buffy's death, none seemed to have taken it harder than he had. No matter what she, Willow or Tara said to him, he had the notion that it was his fault engraved into his stubborn skull.

Despite her pain, Dawn almost laughed at his refusal to see the truth of the matter. He had done all he could and that was all Buffy had asked him. It was never good enough for him. Just like their explanations at why she was not to blame for her mother's death.

At the thought of her mother, Dawn buried her tear-streaked face further into her pillow. Her face was molded into its center and a primordial scream of pain and frustration poured into the cotton fabric from her aching throat.

"Dawn," a newly familiar voice said from behind her. She cut her scream though the tears continued to fall.

"Dawn," Faith's voice said again, closer. Dawn could feel the young woman's weighted gaze on her.

"Go away," she managed through muffled cries. But Faith stood her ground. She sat gingerly on the edge of the bed, giving the emotional teen room to breathe. Speaking of which…

"You know, if you keep your face stuffed in the pillow like that, it's gonna end up sticking to your face." A tentative smile broke out on the woman's face when Dawn sullenly turned her head to the side.

"Well, maybe if I died, you all wouldn’t have to worry about me anymore," the total disregard for self caught Faith off guard. She quickly recovered and maneuvered into a position that gave her face to face contact with her future aunt. Dawn moved to turn away but Faith captured the girl's moistened face in her small hands.

"Look at me, Dawn," she demanded. The forcefulness of the tiny woman's voice sent chills through Dawn and she stiffened. Her wide eyes captured any residual tears. They managed to fall through when she was forced to blink. The way Faith looked at her, with that grim determination and love reminded her that this woman was indeed a Summers.

"Listen to me carefully." Faith's dropped her hands but assisted Dawn in sitting up. Dawn pulled her knees to her chin, arms wrapped tightly around them. Faith sat in front of her, one leg folded underneath her while the other dangled off the side of the bed. She smiled tiredly at Dawn.

"I'm not going to sugarcoat things for you, or treat you like a kid," Dawn almost smiled at that. "In the future…things aren't too good. Who am I kidding? They suck, big time." Dawn smirked at Faith's candor. If she was one thing, it was brutally honest. Just like someone's favorite vampire…

"What happened to Spike?" Dawn whispered. At the thought of Faith's similarities to the vampire and from what she had told them earlier, the teen had cast her angst aside for the moment.

This time, it was Faith's turn to look down. Her shoulders visibly slumped and she exhaled raggedly. The bed vibrated lightly as her unrestricted leg tapped rhythmically against the side of the mattress. She remained that way for several minutes before finally looking up at Dawn with blurry eyes.

"He…died," she choked out. The words were no less painful now than they ever were. She had always heard that pain was something you learned to deal with. Even the jagged wound left by the death of a loved one was supposed to close over time. Bullshit! She cursed inwardly. The pain never goes away.

"What happened?" Dawn asked, raising her head a little. "And why were you so against Buffy earlier? I mean if she's your mom…"

"She doesn’t deserve to be called my mom," Faith said without conviction. After what Buffy had done to Spike, Faith deemed herself alone in the world. She knew her mother had been captured that same day but she didn’t care. Part of her reveled in the fact that her mother was in the hands of Gabriel. But that revelry soon transformed and dragged her into an abyss of guilt and shame.

Wave after wave of guilt washed over Faith from the memory. She had been so close to ending it, knowing she had to do it. Not to relieve her mother's pain, but for the world.

The bitter sting of those words made Faith's stomach lurch. How could she have been so cruel? So unforgiving? This had been the woman that had given her everything and yet she had walked away from her helpless form, never looking back, even as Gabriel's demons had shackled Buffy and taken her away. Faith wanted to wallow in her own heartache, to feel that familiar pang of loss as sure as a stake through the heart of a vampire. But she couldn’t now. She had come up here for a reason.

"He died. Your sister killed him." She saw Dawn's gasp of disbelief but continued. "She thought she was doing the right thing. It was, after all, mentioned in the prophecy."

"What?" Dawn asked through the haze of newly formed tears. Buffy killing Spike? Never. Even when they had been mortal enemies, she had never done it. And now that they were together…she would just stake him just because a prophecy said so? "Why? Why was it so important to stake him?"

Faith laughed humorlessly. "That's what I didn’t understand. Well, actually, I had only found out what they had meant when I saw my…when I saw Spike turn to dust. They had been telling me for several days that something was going to happen and they might leave and never come back. Even though I was nineteen, they still shielded me from the reality of what it all meant." Dawn heard the resentment in her tone and could not help but to understand. Buffy was like that with her now, trying to protect her from all the baddies when in reality it only hurt her in the end.

"They told me something was going to happen. That Buffy had to do something and they made me promise that no matter what it was, I would follow through and return the 'favor'," the last word dribbled out in contempt. "Some favor. 'Hey kid. Why don’t you watch your mom kill your father, then turn around, and do the same to her? It'll be a blast. A great family bonding exercise'." She waved her hand in disgust.

"But couldn’t they have…I mean, there had to have been another way," Dawn said with pleading eyes. Faith smiled warmly. Maybe there’s still hope for you, Dawnie.

"That’s what I said." The warmth disappeared from her eyes and was replaced by a grim determination. "There is always a choice, Dawn." The teen picked up the hint right away.

"But…if it’s in something’s nature to be one way, then does it really have a choice? I mean, if something is naturally evil, then can it ever be good?"

Faith smiled but it didn’t reach her eyes. It was a condescending smile, as if she knew something that Dawn didn’t. It didn’t take long for Dawn to feel the anger bubbling within her.

"What?" she spat out, full teenage sullenness in effect. Faith cocked her head to the side, taking in this beautiful young girl in front of her. Her lip poked out, pouting, and Faith’s smile was now genuine. If it was one thing Summers’ women did well, it was pout. Of course that went hand in hand with their innate stubbornness, but that was beside the point.

"Do you think Spike is evil?" She asked Dawn, her tone neutral. The teen looked at her thoughtfully before bursting into a cacophony of giggles.

"Spike? Evil?" She asked incredulously, then rolled her eyes. "Spike and evil go together like me being a normal fifteen year old teen and not an ancient green gob of cosmic energy. So, no, I don’t think Spike is evil."

"Has he ever told you about the things he has done?"

"Yeah…I mean…." And Dawn remembered….

Faith couldn’t help but laugh at the girl’s shocked face. She was obviously recalling one of Spike’s vampiric tales. Dawn glared at laughing figure.

"What’s so funny?" Dawn asked, crossing her arms across her chest. That only made the petite woman laugh harder, until she held her sides in and massaged her cramping muscles.

"Sorry," she said, wiping tears from her eyes with the back of her hand. Dawn rolled her eyes. "It's just that…that face you just made."

"What about it?"

"That's the same face I made when he used to tell me his stories." She regarded Dawn momentarily. "That’s what you were thinking of, wasn’t it?" The teen dropped her eyes to the bed, her finger twirling in her dark hair. Faith viewed this girl. This little girl that lost her mother, was on the run from a hell-god and then lost her sister in a matter of months. The grief must have been overbearing. And now she admitted that she still blamed herself for what had happened. It reminded her so much of Spike. Even four decades after the events of Buffy's tragic dive off the tower, he still would not totally forgive himself. Faith saw it whenever Buffy joked about dying. He would flinch and that pain of loss, of failure, would creep across his pale features. Afterwards, he usually meandered off by himself, and Faith had, on occasion, saw him crying silently. She had never told Buffy nor confronted him. She just knew. And that was when it hit her. What happened to him was not so much Buffy's fault as it was a necessity's. Spike would have never left her, never left them, if it wasn’t the only way. At least at the time. Faith looked up at Dawn, remembering why she had followed her up here.

"Dawn," she said, the seriousness in her voice palpable. It was also coated with compassion. "I'm know you are not a kid, and I'm not going to treat you like one. I'm not going to say we live in a rosy future full of kittens and lazy Sundays spent lounging around the house as a family." It had been like that for a few years, Faith remembered, but ended all too quickly. She saw the lengths Buffy had gone to give her a halfway normal existence, under the circumstances of having two witches and an ancient key as an aunt and a vampire and vampire slayer as parents, that was. She touched her hand to Dawn's warm cheeks and sighed. How much had these women, these Summers women been through? When would it end? She doubted it ever would.

"Things happened, with you, that changed you in a way no one had realized. I don’t know what it was and I don’t know when. All I know is that it's soon." She saw the fear in Dawn's eyes and it wrenched her insides not to be able to take it away. But she had to continue.

"And when that happens, you probably won't even feel it. But this thing, whatever it is, will gestate and fester within you for years until it turns you into something…someone that's a far cry from what you are now. The things you will do…" she broke eye contact. The hurt and pain she was causing this young girl was pulling Faith under a tide of heartache. But she had a purpose.

"Dawn," she said, looking up with a renewed determination, "I just want you to know this. That through it all, you do come through in the end."

"Great. So how many people die before I finally get the guts to face whatever this is?" The hurt teen asked sarcastically.

"It doesn’t matter now. Because we are going to change that."

"How? Are you going to stop this thing when it comes for me?"

"No. For some reason, at least I think, that part is an important part to the restoration of this world. I know with me being here, things have already changed. But despite that, the major events will not be hindered by my actions."

"Then why are you telling me this?" the teen asked, confused.

"Did anyone ever tell you how impatient you can be? Anyway, just because I can't change things doesn’t mean you can't."

"I don’t understand."

"Yes you do, Dawn. Like I said, what happens to you cannot be changed, but what you do after that can be. Remember what I said earlier, downstairs, about choice? I meant it. No matter how hopeless a situation seems to be, no matter your resignation that it's over, you always have a choice. Remember that. Understand that." Again silence fell between the two before Faith continued.

"I know you don’t like to think of him this way, but before he fell in love with your sister, Spike was evil. Just because he never tried to harm you or your mother back then didn’t change that. But over time, his love for her, for you, and even the Scoobies, changed him fundamentally. He did what no other vampire had done. Without the benefit of a soul, Spike found his moral compass. He found his redemption in the love of you and Buffy. He defeated the demon within for you girls. And surprisingly enough, the demon acquiesced to William the man's domination. Dawn, the hardest thing for people to do is change who it is in their nature to become. But he did." Faith studied her hands and sighed.

"When the time comes Dawn, years from now, remember; no matter how great the pull of this thing within you, you will always be a good and loving person. Don’t let it change you. You are responsible for your actions, not anyone else. And no matter how hard, how hopeless you feel, you always have a choice." She tapped Dawn on the knee and moved to get up.

"Where are you going?" she asked. Faith swirled around, jubilantly. She had finally said it, and she truly believed her words would make a difference. That's all she had wanted to do, make that difference.

"Oh, I don’t know. Go outside, stretch my muscles, get some fresh air, kick a little demon ass. And not in that order," she smiled and almost skipped out the room.

Dawn stared at where her future niece had been and shook her head. She had a choice in things. She could change the way things ended up for her. Dawn felt good about that. And though Faith had not implicitly referred to it, some of the guilt Dawn felt for what happened to others trying to protect her had dissipated. They held no blame to her, they only did what came naturally and that was to protect someone they loved. Dawn leaned back against her pillow, and looked up at her star-covered ceiling. The choices people made were so often based on their desire to love or be loved. Dawn couldn’t fault herself for the Scoobies, Spike or Buffy for putting themselves in harm's way to keep her safe. How could she, when she'd do the same thing? So the world had turned into a rotten hellhole, no big. For an instant she understood, truly. If her choices were correct maybe - just maybe - she could make the world a better place.

CHAPTER 14

Under normal circumstances, the battle would have been over in minutes. Despite the six-to-two advantage, the demons wouldn’t have stood a chance against a slayer and a master vampire, even with the element of surprise on their side. As it was, their advantage was two-fold; first, with it being so dark with the trees blocking out any attempts at light from the town to reach the figures, Buffy had a difficult time discerning the position of her attackers. The second advantage paralleled the first; the shadow demon, was almost invisible in the darkness, and even with his heightened night vision, Spike could barely make the creature out.

"Bloody hell," the blond vampire cursed after his jaw shifted from a particularly solid blow from the leader of the group. He and Buffy had already staked two vamps, but that still left three and then the shadow demon was four. Two vamps were teaming up against his slayer though Spike dared not take another peak, as his hands were already full.

"How you doing, slayer?" he asked parrying a blow from the giant only to be kicked from behind by the shadow demon.

"Not too bad, considering I can barely see them," she shouted. A hand shot out from the darkness, connecting with her abdomen. Buffy fell to one knee and the vampire behind her flew gracelessly over her head. She heard it thump against the ground and curse. She couldn’t help but laugh.

"You think this is funny, slayer?" the ambulatory vampire asked.

"Well…yeah. I never thought I'd be thanking a vampire for, you know, doubling me over in pain." She saw the faint glint of metal soar through the air and she ducked just in time. The vampire's booted foot crashed loudly against a tree. Buffy used the opportunity to grab hold of his leg. She placed it on her shoulder and with all her strength, pushed down on his knee with both hands. A sickening crack reverberated throughout the trees and the vampire fell helplessly clutching his shattered knee.

"You know when they say 'break a leg'," she told it, straddling its chest, "that's only hyperbole," and then she plunged the stake into its heart, ushering the creature into oblivion. The other vampire had recovered by then and again implemented a its kamikaze dive that connected. Buffy was thrown back and the stake clattered to the ground.

The familiar hiss of a dusted vampire reached Spike just as he secured his grip on the pouncing shadow demon. He rammed it, chest first into a tree, satisfied when its hiss of air came out more like a gurgle.

"Serves you right, you ponce. Can't fight fair, can you." He slammed it against the tree again and its body went limp in his hands. He knew it wasn’t dead so he went for the kill.

"Balls," he shouted as the large vampire's fist connected with the small of his back. Spike lost his grip and the demon fell to the ground, scurrying away into the darkness. The vamp rained blows down on a stunned Spike's head and shoulders.

"Say goodnight, blondie," the vamp quipped, his large fist hurdling towards Spike exposed skull. At the last minute, Spike moved his head and the vampire's hand smashed against the solid wood, sending splinters flying. Clutching his broken hand, the vamp backed away before Spike grabbed him roughly by the lapels.

"No," said the master vampire, plucking a splinter from the tree, "you say goodnight." He lunged forward with the stake towards the vampire's exposed chest but was again tackled from behind. The vampire that had wrestled Buffy to the ground came to its leader's rescue. The powerful vampire snaked its arms around Spike's shoulders, locking him in a full nelson. Before he could fight to break the hold, a head smashed into his face, littering his vision with stars. The head butt was followed by a bone-jarring punch and then a kick to the chest that knocked both Spike and the vamp holding him hard into the tree. Spike struggled mightily but the previous blows had stunned him significantly. Spike saw the big vamp pick up the make shift stake. His jaundice eyes smiled at the blond vampire before he reared back and sent the stake into Spike's chest.

"Buffy!" he screamed before darkness claimed him and he knew no more.

Faith stepped out to the back porch and inhaled deeply. The distinct scent of rain still lingered though the showers had long since ceased. She stretched her arms to the sky as if grasping for the stars that remained hidden behind the clouds. It felt good to be outside again. The hair along her skin bristled as the cool wind caressed her bare flesh. She looked down at the black Nikes she borrowed from Buffy's closest. She would have rather slush through the wet grass bare-footed but bare feet didn’t bode too well in a fight.

"I know you're out there," she said. She waited with her arms crossed, toe tapping against the porch steps. A few moments passed before three hideous demons emerged from the shadows.

"Ahhh, Flanzen'da demons," Faith said thoughtfully, hopping off the steps onto the level ground. "Can't say I've seen many of you guys. But Maria did teach me about you." She regarded her three opponents as they circled her, malice their only intentions.

"Hmm, let's see what I remember. Big, strong, razor sharp bone protrusions," The first one charged Faith, sweeping at her with its right arm. She grabbed it by the wrist and yanked with all her might, rending the arm from the socket. The beast howled inhumanly, a thick, black substance oozed from the wound. She slammed the bone part of its arm through its face and it emerged from the back of its head. One down.

She brushed a lock of hair out of her face and smirked. "Boy did you guys get a raw deal. Not only are you androgynous gits, but having weak joints must be a bitch. Guess you guys don’t fancy too many arm wrestling contests. " The other two demons let loose a high pitched squeal which caught Faith off guard. She stumbled backwards against the steps, temporarily discombobulated. The two demons moved in for the kill with a preternatural swiftness.

The demons were a stride away from the slayer when they were rammed with an unseen force, knocking them back ten feet. Faith looked at the stunned demons, perplexed. She shook the cobwebs from her head and glanced back. Sure enough, all three Scoobies (and Dawn) stood there. Willow was holding Tara's hand as the latter had just finished uttering words Faith was not quite familiar with.

"Thanks guys," she saluted and dashed over to the reeling demons, "I'll take it from here." Faith reached the demons in several hurried strides. She had almost forgotten their siren-like ability to disorient their prey. And she had almost paid for it. Time to end this freak show, she said to herself.

She reached the first demon and flipped over its head. She grabbed the horns perched atop its head and despite that they cut into her hands, she held tight. As she came out of her flip, she twisted her body in a half circle, the Flanzen'da demon's head wrenching with her twist. But she wasn’t finished. Instead of landing on her feet, she piked her lower body and sent her feet crashing into the demon's back, shattering its already twisted spine. It didn’t even get a chance to scream before it fell to the ground, dead.

"That’s two," she said.

"Faith!" Dawn yelled and the slayer turned to the girl's voice. Though she didn’t see the last demon's swipe at her head, she felt it a mile away. Ducking casually, Faith pirouetted in the direction of the blow and lashed her right leg out. It caught the Flanzen'da in the ankle, knocking it to the ground. She was immediately on top of it, her slashed hands pummeling the demon's face. One. Two. Three. She lost count of the punches. Her knuckles were raw and bloody. It wasn’t until she felt a warm hand against her arm that she stopped.

"Faith," Dawn said, her eyes displayed both horror and concern. Faith looked from Dawn to the demon. It was dead, all right. She rose to her feet as if in a stupor and looked out into the night. What happened to her? Why did she feel the rise of panic in her chest so suddenly?

"Are you ok?" Dawn asked, the slight tinge of horror in her face transformed to complete concern.

"Yeah, Dawnie," Faith replied, absently. Something was wrong. "Dawn," she said, grabbing the teen forcefully by her shoulders, her blood staining Dawn's green shirt. "Get in the house now. Don’t ask questions, just go," she pushed Dawn in the direction of the house and immediately regretted her decision.

"Hey, my little slayer?" said the all too familiar voice of the figure that stood between them and the door. Faith's stomach lurched like it never had before. Her skin broke out into a cold sweat and she backed up, her fear in total control.

"No," she said meekly. The figure only smiled. Faith was so preoccupied with the figure that she didn’t even notice Dawn's scream.

"Willow! Tara!" The girl called to the still forms on the porch. Xander was no where in sight. Ignoring the figure in front of her, Dawn ran towards her friends, only to be stopped by a powerful hand around her neck.

"Urgk," she gasped as she was lifted off the ground. Her feet dangled helplessly in the air and she struggled to break free. But his grip was too strong and Dawn felt herself slipping into the realms of unconsciousness.

"Cute little thing, isn't she?" Seth asked the huddled slayer as he dropped Dawn's limp body to the ground. He sauntered over to the terrified slayer and knelt down beside her. He slid his cool hand up and down her arm, reveling in the wash of fear that cascaded off of her. Tears streamed down her cheeks and Seth moved to where his face was only an inch away. He snaked his tongue out, capturing a random tear on it.

"Good," he said. "Better than I remember, actually." Faith felt his leer over her body before his hand slid between her thighs. She jumped in disgust at the violation but fear held her in abeyance. He stroked her intimate parts, his eyes full of desire. "And other things, I'd really like to see, as well." Faith whimpered, and tears fell even faster from her terrified eyes.

"I love it when you're scared," he whispered in her ear. "Fear is such a powerful aphrodisiac." He pushed his other hand underneath her shirt and squeezed her breast roughly.

"Please, no," she cried which only made him more aroused. He felt his erection against his pants and wanted to take her right now. But he had a job to do.

"As much as I'd love to, sweetie," he said, finally standing, "but I have some place to be." He walked over to Dawn's unconscious form and hoisted her over his shoulder. He walked away and before leaving, turned to the distraught slayer.

"Oh, by the way, if you and your friends wanna find me, I'll be at this place called the Bronze. It's a stupid nightclub. But if the slayer wants to see her sister alive, tell her to be there, tomorrow night at midnight." He looked at his watch. "So, you have about twenty-eight hours to get there. Oh, and make no mistake, it is a trap. Oh, and I see you don’t have your locket on you. Make sure you bring it as well. I wouldn’t want to be stranded in this dump too long." He laughed mirthlessly and disappeared into the shadows.

Faith hugged herself tightly, her body crawling with reminders of her past defilement at the hands of Seth. Seeing him had only reminded her of what she was. A failure. She had failed Spike and then her mother. And now, Dawn. She tried to stand but fell back to the ground. She laid on the wet ground in a fetal position wrapped her arms tightly around her jittery body. She wanted, had to, do something. But she couldn’t. She'd wait for Buffy and Spike and then deal. But regardless of how she felt, Seth was right; they had no choices left.

She laughed hysterically before bursting into sobs. Maybe she was wrong what she had told Dawn earlier. Maybe you didn’t always have a choice. Maybe some things couldn’t be helped. Those thoughts only further ensconced her in grief and soon the only sound heard through the cloudy night were the painful cries of a lost, little girl.

CHAPTER 15

Buffy swore as she felt her throbbing head. There was a nasty gash on the side of her head where she had been pummeled by the vampire. Damn. Why didn’t I get the whole night vision deal as part of the slayer package? She pouted. She moved to get up when she heard the struggling to her left. Oh my God, Spike! She screamed in her head before hearing him yell her name. She jumped to her feet and saw the shadow of an arm striking forward. It had something in its hand…

A stake.

"Spike!" the scream tore from her throat before her legs instinctively carried her forward. She knew she was going to be too late. The little light that shone through the forest opening shone on two silhouettes, both too large to be Spike. The vampires stared at her too stunned to move. She lashed out with her foot, catching the one closest to the tree in the chest. His back slammed against the trunk and he slumped to the ground, dazed. Buffy didn’t hesitate in attacking the second, larger vampire. She threw a flurry of punches, all either connecting with his face or his gut. Her final shot to the body dropped him to his knees, the stake falling from his giant hand. Without a second thought, Buffy grabbed him around the neck and twisted with all her hate, anger and pain. The vampire screamed before she ripped his head from his shoulders. His body evaporated into pile of dust.

Buffy looked over to the other vampire who was just now rising to his feet. A primal scream echoed from her throat and she kicked the vampire with all her strength in the chest, caving it in. He spasmed before falling into particles of ash.

Buffy's fell to her knees in shock. Somewhere on her, she felt the twinge of injuries, though they were only moderate. But the injury to her heart was much more than that. She had been too late. Spike was gone. Tears fell at that realization. He was gone. She would never see him again. Never talk to him or hear his 'bloody hell' s. She'd never see his scarred eyebrow or hear his throaty laugh. Never feel his hands run up and down her body. Never hear him call her name when his passion burst forth within her. Never hear him say 'I love you' again…

Tears streamed down her face and she studied the faint outline of her hands. All those things she'd never see or hear or feel again were bad enough. Worst of all was that she'd never be able to tell him how she felt.

"Spike," she whispered into the wind. A part of her held out the hope that he still existed. But she had seen the stake plunged into his heart.

"Spike," she said again. "I never got to tell you…"

"Tell me what, luv," the British voice sounded to her right. She whirled around thinking the pain had made her delirious. That voice. It sounded like…

"Well, are you gonna sit there all wigged-out or are you gonna help a bloke up?" Her eyes narrowed and that's when she saw him.

"Spike," she said in disbelief.

"Yep. The one and only. Now that we got that out the way," he attempted to stand but fell back down. Buffy rushed over to him and bowled him over in her enthusiasm.

"Bloody hell, woman," he winced as she fell on top of him. He moved to speak but was silenced as Buffy rained kisses all over his face, culminating with a deep, passionate kiss on the lips. Despite the pain in his chest, Spike returned Buffy's advances with his own fervor. Her hands ripped his shirt and traced up his smooth chest. The pain forgotten, Spike's hands caressed her taut back as she moaned longingly into his mouth.

She pulled away, her mind a jumble of images. Was she kissing Spike?

"What? I saw you…die," she managed.

"Well, I’m here now, so that means I didn’t die," he said in mild exasperation. The way she had kissed him. He’d never felt her lips filled with so much…what was it?

He winced slightly as her hand traced the wound to his chest. He saw her wide eyes look up at his twitch.

"S’alright, luv. Bloody wankers. Pure amateurs."

"But I saw it…I saw them…stake you."

He shrugged. "Guess I must’ve shifted enough to throw his aim off." He felt around the wound. "Bloody thing still ‘urts like hell." He glanced up at her and she cast her eyes to the ground.

"Buffy?" he asked. "Are you ok? Are you hurt?"

"I thought I lost you," she confessed timidly. She managed to look up at him, her eyes displacing all the fear and pain that washed through her moments ago. Spike was stunned. She did not cower behind her shield of indifference to hide what she felt. She bared all her emotions to him in that one look. And for the first time in his un-life, William the Bloody was speechless.

His reverence was broken as Buffy assaulted him again with the hard press of her lips against his. Her hands greedily took in his body, a few times passing over his wounded chest. But nothing mattered now except her. To feel her against his skin. There were too many barriers between them, barriers that had to be torn asunder.

Spike shed his duster and Buffy her jacket all the while never breaking their kiss. She pulled back momentarily and gazed at the outline on the ground below her. The little light that did slither through the trees highlighted his pale skin. She hissed when his cool hands maneuvered under her top and caressed the tender flesh of her breasts, gently squeezing her nipples. Her shirt was off almost instantly. She dove in for another kiss, her breasts smashed up against his chest. Her hands probed his entire upper body as his firmly gripped her gyrating hips. She felt his cool desire and he her fevered urgency. Spike tried his best to control what was building inside of him but it was useless. With a practiced ease, he flipped Buffy onto her back. She hissed at the cool leather against her bare skin but was lost again in his touch.

Their kisses grew more demanding and Buffy thought she could take no more when she felt Spike cool tongue dance along her taut nipples. She gasped, Spike's name slipping from her lips. There was no thinking now, only feeling. And the more she felt him, the more she needed him. Her desperation in full-force, Buffy's hand shot to Spike's waistline and fumbled with his button and zipper. He grunted as her petite fingers slid his zipper down and found access to his burgeoning erection. She pulled him closer to her face as the jeans slid down his slim hips. He broke contact with her for a moment and Buffy groaned her disapproval. Then she felt his blunt teeth nibble the soft flesh of her stomach.

"Spike," she moaned, her arousal escalating like an uncontrollable fever. Despite the coolness of his skin, wherever he touched blazoned like it was on fire. He kissed her stomach and his hands massaged her breasts. Buffy arched her back in pleasure when his mouth found her heated core. Even through the jeans, the desired effect was achieved. Spike worked her zone as if nothing was between them and Buffy thrashed wildly, her hands tangled in his blond locks.

"Need…you…now," she forced out. Spike smiled up at her. He could clearly make out her flushed features with his night vision. In one quick tug, Spike forced Buffy's jeans and panties down to her ankles. With a little help from her, he removed her boots followed by the final vestiges of clothing. He retook his position on top of her, his erection brushing against her mound. The inviting furnace between her thighs was in full tilt. He wanted to tease her so bad but it had been far too long. Wasting no more time, Spike thrust his hard shaft into Buffy's awaiting embrace. Both gasped in astonishment at the familiar yet strangely unique feeling of it all.

"I love you, Buffy. God, I love you," Spike panted as he slid in and out of her warm core. With each thrust, Buffy's muscles clenched tighter around Spike's member. It only increased his arousal and Buffy screamed as his cool flesh pounded against her warmth.

"Spike," she said and he stopped enough to hear her. He didn’t know why, but it he knew he needed to listen.

"Yeah, luv?"

He saw her lips curl briefly into a half smile. "Shag later," she mused before her eyes turned deathly serious. She bit her lip and Spike saw the uncertainty in them. Whatever it was, she was nervous.

Still sheathed inside of her, Spike gave Buffy an encouraging kiss, passionate yet soft. His lips trailed along her jaw line and his teeth nicked her earlobes. Finally, he made his way to her pulsating jugular and clamped down with his mouth. She made an unintelligible gurgle before the words escaped her mouth.

Spike ceased his pursuits and lifted his face up to look her in the eyes. She couldn’t have said that. Could she?

"What did you say?" he asked timidly. His body trembled as he awaited her response. He was afraid to ask, thinking it was all wishful thinking on his part. But there it was in her eyes, the sincerity of her words. And for good measure, she repeated it again.

"Make love to me, Spike." For a second, Spike's body was frozen in place. She said…she wants me to…he stared at her in disbelief. He tried to speak but words failed to materialize. It was Buffy that broke his trance as she reached her hands around his neck and pulled him down for a reunion with his soft lips. It broke his lapse and he found himself in the familiar rhythm of their bodies intertwined in a mass of limbs.

Spike couldn’t help hide the rapture he felt at her words and Buffy felt the difference. Though it was almost impossible, everything felt even more intense than before. Every cell of her body and mind were tingling. She had never felt so alive and didn’t want the feeling to stop. Not ten minutes ago, she had though he was dead. That brief moment had given her introspection towards what she really felt. She just couldn’t say it. But she could show him. And for now, that seemed to be enough.

***

The walk back to the crypt was a blur. After their bout of lovemaking, Spike and Buffy decided that an indoor environment was more suitable for round two.

They were barely through the door when Spike plundered Buffy's mouth with his lips. She dropped the bag by the door and he kicked it closed. Buffy backpedaled as Spike's tongue advanced on hers, never releasing her arms from their grip around his neck. His hands greedily explored her body as if for the first time. He cupped her butt and she groaned into his mouth. Spike shuddered slightly at the intake of her warm breath. Buffy felt the welcoming feel of his erection against her stomach and smiled inwardly. She jumped into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist. Her momentum carried them further into the crypt until they fell over onto the bed.

"New bed?" she whispered between pants. Spike slithered his tongue up and down her flesh and Buffy squealed in delight. She craned her neck to the side, in offering and all Spike could do was gaze at its perfection. He could see the hammering of her blood through her jugular and at once his demon begged for release.

She wouldn’t know what hit her. It coaxed. All that rich slayer blood sliding across your tongue and down your throat. Spike shivered at the demonic voice's incessant plea. It was always there, goading him to take her when she was so vulnerable to him, her defenses down. It was always a struggle, but one look at her and he was always able to repress the demon. No, he would never hurt her.

"Never," he breathed in her mouth. Buffy disengaged from his lips long enough to study his eyes. His rich blue orbs gazed at her in a mixture of love, lust, pain, fear and hunger. The latter unnerved her and she found herself asking, "Never what?"

He looked at her. Really looked at her and sighed. How had he gotten so lucky? Yes, he knew he was lucky and no matter how much he attempted to convince her that she loved him, he'd never convince himself that he deserved it. He knew he was a monster. But she had treated him like a man. He had never been in love with someone that made him feel so complete, so alive.

The desire in her eyes was evident as was the fear. He cursed himself. Did she sense the waver in him? Or the badgering of his demon to be let loose? Though he was ashamed of his moment of temporary weakness, it didn’t matter.

"Never. I'd never hurt you, luv," he said, his voice full of sincerity. Buffy didn’t break eye contact. She only looked at him harder a minute longer, searching. Then she broke out into a sheepish grin, a slight flush appearing in her cheeks.

"I know," she said and rushed to his awaiting lips.

Where their outdoor engagement was weighted with passion and slow love making, this session was raw, more primal. Clothes flew in all directions as the slayer and vampire wrestled on the mattress for supremacy. At no time did their lips break contact as they rolled around the new bed, always flipping the other way when they would come perilously close to tumbling off its edge.

Finally, Spike conceded and allowed his love to straddle him.

"Time for some fun," she intimated seductively. She reached between his legs and gripped his shaft tightly with her tiny hands. He groaned as she stroked it up and down, every so often brushing it against her curls or teasing his tip with a feel of her blazing entrance. It didn’t take long for him to be coated with her wetness. She eyed him longingly before taking her hand between her thighs and exploring herself. It almost drove Spike over the edge. He moved to get up but was held in place by her hand against his chest.

"Don’t," she whispered. Spike obeyed as he watched her nimble fingers kneading her throbbing sex. Oh how he wanted a taste. As if reading her mind, Buffy pulled her saturated fingers away from her core and rubbed them across Spike's lips. He darted his tongue out, to taste her juices. He moaned as her distinct flavor rushed over him, her arousal clear in the fragrance. She placed her fingers at his mouth and he sucked on them until the only saturation on them was from his mouth. All but one, that was. Before he could finish the job, Buffy pulled her index finger away and twirled it around, in admiration. Then, without warning, she enveloped it with her mouth, never taking her eyes off the disbelief etched in Spike's face. She worked it in and out of her mouth and it was all he could do not to come right there. His control was hampered even further by the gyration of her hips and thrilling whimpers fell from her soft, swollen lips.

"Buffy," Spike pled. "You'll never find a bigger fan of foreplay, luv, but if you don’t want to be straddling a big pile of dust from my current temperature elevation..." He frowned when she winced at the mention of him being dust. His concern turned to fascination when her countenance took on more of a devious form.

"Elevation," she repeated as she slid down his body. "That reminds me of something." Buffy placed soft kisses across his chest and flicked her tongue out at his nipples, careful to avoid the puncture in his chest. He begged for her to continue and he screamed her name when her teeth bit down on the tender flesh around his nipples. It was enough to hurt but not enough to draw blood.

"You wicked girl," he uttered as she trailed her tongue down the center of his chest. The anticipation of what she was going to do next was almost unbearable. He glanced down at her as she held his stiff member in her hand and studied it intently. Her ripe lips were only inches from where he wanted them. She looked up at his awaiting eyes and smiled.

"You like to watch me?" she asked seductively. Spike tried to speak but his vocal cords refused to work. All that came out was a husky grunt. "I'll take that as a yes then." She stroked his shaft up and down slowly, intermittently kissing the tip. It was driving him crazy and she knew it. Finally, Buffy took him into her mouth and Spike screamed her name. He looked down at this beautiful woman, the love of his un-life pleasuring him. What had he done to deserve this?

Spike watched as Buffy slid her mouth up and down his hardened shaft, sometimes flicking her tongue out to taunt him even more. But after a few minutes, she fell into a comfortable rhythm and the vampire knew it was only a matter of seconds before he burst.

"Buffy," he whispered and it was all it took to let her know. She quickened her pace and Spike tore into the sheets as his hands contracted involuntarily. He wanted the release so bad, but not yet. Using all his willpower, Spike ushered Buffy off his cock and pulled her up to him. He kissed her fully on the lips before flipping her to her back. He stared at her with a feral gaze. It reminded Buffy of a jungle cat the second before it pounced. He leaned in to her and kissed her softly on the lips. She urged for more but he pulled away. He laced her upper body with the softest of kisses, trailing them down to her belly button. They both knew what was on his mind and Buffy spread her legs to accommodate him. Spike only smiled. The first time he had done this to her, he had to almost pry her legs open she was so shy. Afterwards, she practically begged him to do it. Well, maybe not beg, but alert him of her desires with body language and sultry looks.

Spike nestled his head against her left thigh, breathing in the aroma of Buffy's arousal. It was ambrosia to him, gracing him with fathomless stamina. He traced his tongue against her thighs that vibrated in anticipation. He kissed and licked her swollen lips as Buffy's hands around his head 'urged' him to get more in depth. He smiled at her insistence and dove right in.

Buffy almost passed out at her lover's first flurry. The way he moved his tongue, applying pressure in all the right places, was mind blowing. There were even times when this was better than when he was inside her. She felt the dexterity of his tongue glide back and forth against her swollen walls. She arched her back impossibly high as Spike cupped her butt with his hands.

Spike lapped at Buffy's core as if his life depended upon it. He loved doing this to her, pleasing her to her little heart's content. The way she moaned his name and begged him not to stop delighted him to no end. That was the case now. He continued his oral onslaught until it he felt her muscles tighten. She was close.

"Spike," she screamed. Before she could do anything else, he was on top of her and plunged himself into her to the hilt. "Spike!" she yelled as he hit that spot deep inside of her. He slid in and out, a man with a purpose. Buffy's hips bucked to meet his, thrust for thrust. Her nails found purchase against his back and he howled as she dug them into his skin. She used her slayer strength to pull Spike down to her until their lips were locked in a familiar dance. Their tongues wrestled with one another, lapping hungrily as if the world was ending.

"Buffy," Spike moaned into her mouth. The time was nigh for his release. Hers as well. Buffy's walls gripped Spike's shaft tightly until it was too much and they both released the weeks of pent up frustration and desire for the second time that night.

Exhausted from their session, Spike collapsed on top of the slayer, dispersing his weight so not to completely engulf her petite form. Both panted though the vampire didn’t require oxygen. Some habits died hard.

Buffy curled her leg around the back of Spike's knee, her head rested against the crook of his neck. She inhaled deeply, taking in his scent. Despite the calm that washed over her body, the butterflies in her stomach were even more active now. She felt that the after sex cuddling was even more intimate than the sex itself. Spike had draped a tentative arm across her chest, awaiting her rejection. Buffy smiled into his skin and patted his arm for reassurance. She wasn’t sure how long it would last but for now there was no where she wanted to be other than here, in his arms.

CHAPTER 16

In her twenty plus years of life, Willow Rosenberg had never been awakened by pain. The searing pain in her left arm coupled by the cacophony of voices screaming inside her tiny skull changed that.

First time for everything, she managed to think through the haze of pain.

She whimpered meekly as she tried to force herself up. Not wishing to aggravate her left shoulder any further, she struggled to her knees with the use of only one arm. A wave of nausea ripped through the red head as she struggled to sit up. She definitely had a concussion. She placed her a tentative hand to her head and was startled when her palm came back, smeared with blood.

"Oh, that can't be good," she whispered, studying it with an odd sort of fascination. The sight of blood had snapped her back into the reality of the situation. Something bad had happened here. One minute, her, Tara and Xander were watching Faith wipe the back yard with some nasty looking demons and the next, she felt as if her arm was seceding from the rest of her body. She glanced absently at said arm. That can't be right, she thought as she studied it. Her shoulder was no longer 'shoulder-level', rather several inches lower than it should have been. Her eyes widened at the sight of it until they drifted to the body to her left.

"Tara!" she yelled, scooting over to her unconscious ex-lover. Fear gripped Willow at the sight of Tara's injuries. Her right arm splayed away from her body at an odd angle. Whatever had befallen Willow had happened to her as well. Tara's blond locks were a darkened hue, matted with blood.

"Baby," Willow cooed, reaching a tentative hand towards the injured Wicca. She brushed Tara's head aside and had the wherewithal to feel for a pulse. It took a moment for confirmation but she had a steady pulse going and at the realization, Willow let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

"Tara," she resumed. She ran the back of her hand softly against the Tara's head, her eyes closed, almost willing her to wake up. A faint moan escaped Tara's swollen lips and Willow's eyes shot open, filling with tears of relief.

"Willow?" she asked groggily. She tried to push her way up but cried out as she discovered the exquisite pain in her arm.

"Don't try to move, sweetie," Willow warned and moved over to Tara's good side.

"My arm," she started.

"I know, I think it's dislocated. Don’t worry, you're not alone," Tara slowly turned her head to face Willow and the red head pointed to her own souvenir. "Looks like we've got a matching set," she quipped despite severe discomfort.

Notwithstanding her own pain, Tara smiled, though it came out more like a grimace. She almost managed a laugh but her face scrunched in concentration.

"Do you hear that?" she asked.

Willow only stared at her focused lover, lost. She then stilled her mind and there it was. A steady, whimpering. To be honest, she had heard it before but was too concerned with Tara and her own injuries to pay it much attention.

"It sounds like somebody crying," Willow said and her heart stopped.

"Dawn," they both said in unison.

"We have to see if she's okay," Tara said, snaking her arm around Willow's waist as the red head mimicked her. It took a few minutes of struggling, and coupled with grunts of pain, they managed to get to their feet.

"Whoa," Tara said as she swayed.

"You okay, sweetie?" Willow asked.

"Yeah," she reassured. "Just kinda got sucked onto the pain train is all." They both smiled, gaining strength from one another's touch. Their smiles faded as the sorrow-filled cries echoed through the winds.

"It's coming from the back yard," Willow said. They both took measured strides down the steps, cautious of jarring their already throbbing injuries. Each step they took was marred with a painful reminder yet they continued forth without complaint. They scanned the yard when their gaze fell upon the huddled figure.

"Faith," Tara whispered.

The young girl lay on her side, knees drawn up to her chin, her hands pressed to her head. Her body twitched at irregular intervals and it didn’t take much for the two to recognize that something happened. Something bad.

The two Wiccas hobbled up to Faith's wrecked form. She was talking to herself. In an almost inaudible whisper, she kept repeating the same word; No. Willow dropped her arm from Tara's waist and the latter followed suit. The former bent down to touch the distraught girl but pulled back.

"What?" Tara asked.

"Well, I don’t want to get her all stainy with blood, you know."

Tara smiled at Willow's uncertainty. Her eyebrows were arched in that way of hers when she didn’t know what to do. Tara ran her knuckles down the right side of Willow's face. How she loved the petite red head. She was never really complete until she stumbled across Willow Rosenberg in the Wicca group meetings. How long had it been? Two years? Almost three. How quickly time scampered away with it all. The memories of bliss coupled with that of heartache. It was a roller coaster ride to the nth degree, the only thing constant her love for Willow. No matter what happened, she would always love her.

She pulled herself back into reality and focused on the shaking woman in the grass. She'd have plenty of time to tell Willow how she felt. Now, she had to focus on Faith.

"Faith," Tara's fingertips touched Faith's naked arms and the young woman flinched violently, as if she had been struck. Startled, Tara fell backward onto her butt and winced at the pain ignited from the unwelcome jolt. She shut her eyes tightly and forced back the tears the pain threatened to usher forth. She shook it off and got to her knees with Willow's help. She reached her hand out again, her resolve stiffening. Whatever it was, this girl needed them.

"Faith," she said, her voice an eclectic blend of warmth and power. Willow looked at her former lover in admiration. Even her patented resolve face didn’t carry the weight of authority and tenderness Tara just did. You never cease to amaze me, she thought before turning back to Faith.

"Faith," Tara repeated, with more force. She laid a steady hand on the girl's shoulder. She flinched but Tara steadied her. "Faith, come back to us. We need you to tell us what happened. What happened to Dawn." Tara stopped when she saw the glint of recognition in Faith's eyes.

"Dawn," she whispered.

"She's not here," Willow chimed in. They watched as a transformation undertook Faith. The childlike fright vanished and was replaced with a warrior's focus

Faith's hands dropped from her head and pushed her to a sitting position. Willow was the first to notice the blood on the young woman's hands but said nothing. Other than her emotional turmoil, the future slayer didn’t seem to be in too much physical discomfort.

"He took her," Faith managed, though her voice was hoarse from crying. Her glazed eyes stared toward the house until they finally registered the two women in front of her. It didn’t take her long to pinpoint the two injuries to the women.

"You're injured," she said. She gave them a quick once over before stating what they had already assumed.

"You are lucky he didn’t rip your arms completely off," she said as she helped both women to their feet.

"Well I guess we are lucky with that," Willow said sarcastically. She almost laughed when Faith gave her the look of annoyance. It was the classic glare Buffy usually saved for Spike. Guess she really is Buffy's kid, Willow mused.

"Who…who is 'he'?" Tara asked and noticed Faith wince ever so slightly.

"Later. Right now we have to get you all taken care of." Willow only nodded. Faith positioned herself between the two Wiccas and they draped their uninjured arms around her. The simple walk from the steps had taken a lot away from them and Willow felt the sharp pain in her head intensify. She wondered how Tara was coping. She kept silent on the slow walk, saving her strength. Whatever was going on, they were going to need it. And knowing that her and Tara were practically useless was why Willow did not push Faith to tell her the details. It wasn’t as if they really could do anything right now anyway. They were never much of a threat in the physical sense but now, with their injuries, casting a simple glamour would be a Herculean task. Now if Xander were here…

"Xander!" Willow yelped, and immediately regretted it. Nausea washed over her and she doubled over. She would have fell face first into the ground were it not for Faith's iron grip around her waist.

"Take it easy, Willow," Faith said, almost smirking. Spike's smirk, the red head noticed. "I don’t think Buffy would take to kindly to you hurling on her shoes, ya know. Though there is that best friend clause that gives said friend one free cookie toss on best friend's shoes." Everyone was silent as the two witches looked from Faith to each other and back again. Not trusting that their bodies could handle any form of laughter, they smiled broadly.

Faith continued forward to the inside of the house. Her body still tingled horribly where he had touched, no, violated her earlier. And her mind began playing over and over the horrors he bestowed upon her before she escaped. She only wanted to be left alone to die. But now, between these two women that obviously loved one another and at one time loved her, she was hit with a surge of hope. Things were beyond hope in the future, but maybe that could change. Maybe together, here, now, with her family, everything would be all right. As the three women ambled up the steps, Faith said a prayer that this time they would find a way.

***

They found Xander slumped against the wall, nose broken and throttle marks visible on his neck. Other than that, he was fine. Faith sat the two women on the couch before going to revive the unconscious man.

Willow and Tara sat at opposite ends of the couch, their damaged goods slumped on the cushions. They watched as Faith carried Xander into the living room as if he were a child. She effortlessly placed him in the recliner opposite them. His head lolled to the side, arms and legs splayed out in all directions, the perfect picture of a man thoroughly inebriated. It would have been funny were his face not incrusted with dried blood.

"Not doin' so hot," Faith said to them. It wasn’t a question.

"Not so," Willow returned meekly.

Faith stepped over the table. Yet another action that was quite amusing, considering her diminutive legs.

"Bugger," she swore as her trailing shin banged against the table. She shook it off and perched herself on the cherry wood. Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply, content etched across her face while the rest of her body remained deathly still. Willow couldn’t believe how much she looked like Buffy though on further inspection, the girl displayed several distinct features.

"You both have severe concussions," she said, breaking Willow out of her physical analysis of the girl. Faith opened her eyes. "To top it off, the dislocations of your shoulders' will probably require surgery. But seeing as we only have about twenty-seven hours or so…well that only leaves us with one option."

"What is that?" Tara asked. Her eyes were heavy and she looked the worse off between the two.

"There is a spell, one of the first ones you taught me. It's very complex but I guess my mixed heritage gave me some advantages after all." She sighed at the puzzled look the Wiccas gave her. "Long story short, my body can withstand a lot more than your garden variety slayer or vampire for that matter. Moving on, the spell will alleviate you of the concussion and its effects. As far as the dislocation, it will lower the pain to tolerable levels."

"Tolerable?" Willow asked, stealing a glance toward Tara. "What do you mean tolerable? I mean, you are all with the bootie kicking and punching, but we…we aren't too familiar with the whole 'levels of toleration' thingy."

Faith chuckled at Willow's reservations. "It'll be like a really deep bruise. Don’t worry." She knelt between them, her face serious but her eyes remained playful. Her eyes wavered between Tara and Willow. "So, who's first?"

***

"Thank God that's over," Willow gasped. Tara had gone first to steel her former lover's nerves and did a respectable job. Still, it did nothing to alleviate the pain of having your arm shoved back into the socket. She had shut her eyes thus she hadn't heard Xander creep over to hold her hand as Faith took the necessary actions. It only took Faith a few moments to recite the incantations for the spell. The pain in her head was completely gone, except for stinging sensation where the gash in her head was. The discomfort in her shoulder was just that, discomfort. No longer did it sing its own tune of blazing agony, but it was quite obvious to her that things were still amiss inside. She rotated her shoulder and winced. It was still tender but manageable.

"It feels like I got a super duper shot of novocaine," she quipped, getting to her feet. "I mean, I can feel all the not so nice stuff rattling around and all but I can deal."

"Yeah," Tara continued, "there's no more of that 'oh my goodness, my arm is falling off' type of feeling. And that…that bass drum playing in my head retired for the evening." She felt Willow's eyes on her. "What? I can make quip-y comments too."

"No, it's not that," she took Tara's hand in her own, "it's just that…when I saw you there, your hair all matted with blood, I thought you were…" but she couldn’t say it. The mere thought of Tara dead unnerved her in a way nothing else could. Even when Glory had brain sucked Tara, still Willow didn’t feel the raw hollowness that overtook her when she first saw the blonde's unconscious form laying so still next to her. It was like a part of her was torn asunder, never to be put right again. Even if they weren't together, Willow knew she would be content just knowing this beautiful woman sitting across from her was okay.

A light caress broke Willow from her reverie. Tara. She looked at Willow so longingly as if she knew what had been on the red head's mind. Willow touched her hand and found that Tara's finger was wet. She touched her own cheek. It was also wet. She had been crying without even realizing it.

"Sweetie, I understand. You don’t have to say anything else." That stayed like that for a minute until muffled cries broke their moment.

"Where's Faith?" Willow asked, noticing for the first time that the girl had left the room. Xander had left to pick up Anya ten minutes earlier. He promised to return as soon as he could but Faith had convinced him to get some rest. For whatever reason, he conceded but demanded that they call him with a plan of action as soon as Buffy got back.

The two women cautiously made their way toward the sounds. "Faith?" Willow called out as they entered the kitchen. The noise was definitely close by though the island shielded their view from part of the kitchen.

"Faith?" Tara half whispered. She crept around one side of the island and saw the source of the grief.

Faith sat with her knees to her chest, back against the cabinet. Her hands were pressed so tightly against her face that her veins threatened to pop through. Tara wasn’t sure whether she was more disconcerted by that or the way Faith rocked back and forth against the wood paneling. Tara ran a hand through her blood-stained hair and lowered herself down to the floor. She saw that Willow had mimicked her as if to form a protective shield around the obviously distraught girl. They shared a brief glance of concern before Tara nodded for Willow to take action.

"Faith, can you hear me?" Willow probed. She laid her hand uncertainly on Faith's bare shoulder. She almost recoiled at the touch and Willow could feel her shrinking away. She knew something really bad had happened to her but they needed Faith to tell them what was going on. Willow took a deep breath before focusing her resolve.

"Faith," the words came out as more of a command this time and the girl immediately looked up. And Willow wished she didn’t have to see her face.

The young woman's face was wet with tears and red from her hands pressing into her skin so hard. Her lip trembled like a child awaiting reprimand. But her eyes. Willow failed to recall if she had seen such pain in someone as she stared at now. It was as if all the negative emotions were condensed and somehow transferred to this young woman before her. Loathing. Hatred. Self-hatred. A scorching fear. All were present as Faith's glassy eyes stared at her. But most of all, there was an overwhelming sense of hopelessness in them. The back of Willow's through was choked with tears as she looked at the mess of a person before them. Not twenty minutes ago, the confidence bled off this girl as she patched up their injuries. How can this be the same person? Willow asked. Her eyes widened as she remembered the helpless form her and Tara had come across in the back yard earlier. But she had put it together so fast. What happened?

"What?" Willow asked, realizing that Faith was saying something. Tara had wrapped her arm around the girl's shoulder, the trail of tears visible on the Wicca's face. Her eyes were closed and she muttered something Willow couldn’t quite hear.

"Don't let him take me," Faith pled. The desperation in her voice was heart wrenching and it took all of Willow's effort not to burst into tears. "Please don’t let him take me. Please." Fresh tears poured from Faith's eyes and Willow couldn’t help but pull the frantic girl's head into her body.

"Nobody's gonna' take you," she reassured the girl. "Nobody's gonna hurt you."

"I…can't. I just can't let it happen…again. I'd rather die…" she choked before her words were drowned in a frenzy of harsh cries.

The two women enveloped the shrieking girl with loving arms, though neither spoke. Words wouldn’t help right now. Faith needed to let it all out, whatever it was. But Tara did know. A tiny portion of her mind knew the truth, why Faith was so utterly afraid of whomever it was that had taken Dawn and knocked them silly. The way Faith cringed when she had tried to console her or the wild look of revulsion that shone from those blue-green embers. She could only think of one thing that could have such a profound effect on a young woman this strong, transforming her into an impotent shell of her normal self. She knew, but she refused to acknowledge the words.

God, Dawn. Tara thought and a shiver snaked up her spine. What if he tried to do the same thing to her? Why had he taken her? Yes, they needed Faith's help and fast. But for now, they'd let her cry. Tara wasn’t sure the girl would ever get over it but she was a Summers; she'd deal.

Tara closed her eyes and made a silent promise to Faith. No matter what it took, the man would never lay another hand on Faith again. She knew what that entailed and what she may have to do and though she had never killed, never even considered it, there was a first time for everything.

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