DISCLAIMER: Everything but the plot is Joss'. Too bad.
PREVIOUSLY ON BUFFY: Cortina decided to run away without telling anyone, only to be stopped by Giles, while Buffy and Spike are starting to see that the changes that have been happening to them recently have not all been good…

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

The sun was bright, flooding the earth like an over-exposed picture, and he had to squint behind his glasses in order to see the forms on the playground. Bloody great, he thought. Another one of Buffy's dreams. His initial irritation was eased, however, when the realization that it meant the Slayer was finally sleeping crossed his mind. Must mean she's around here somewhere, he mused, and began scanning the people who mingled about.

When he saw Joyce sitting on the bench, Spike froze, eyes fixed on the top of her head as she looked down at the book in her lap. One of her hands absently played with the blanket that trailed out of the nearby pushchair, and even from that distance, he could see the small smile on her lips, his eyes starting to brim with tears as he realized what Buffy was doing. Gotta play it out, he thought, brushing angrily at the salt that slipped down his cheek, and marched over to the edge of the play area.

"Hi, Joyce," he said, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans.

She looked up, her smile widening, tilting her head in that I'm-not-really-annoyed-but-I-should-pretend-to-be mum way, and it was all he could do not to hug her on the spot. "Now, William," she said. "You better not let your mother hear you call me that. You know how she hates it."

"Oh. Right. Sorry, Ms. Summers." That was when he realized that, though she was sitting and he was standing, he was meeting her at eye level. Spike frowned, glancing down at his body, and had to bite back the curses that automatically sprang to his lips. No wonder he couldn't find Buffy. She'd made both of them kids in this little romp through Memoryland, which meant…His hands went to his face and he scowled. Yep. Stupid glasses.

"I suppose you've lost Buffy again," she said, recapturing his attention. "I swear, if you don't keep a closer eye on her, you're going to lose her for good one of these days."

Although her tone was light, the words frightened him, and Spike cocked his head to stare at her. "Can you tell me where she is?" he asked slowly. "I promise this time---."

Her tsking was matched by the slight wave of her finger. "Don't go making promises you can't keep," she warned, and the same chill went over his spine. It didn't sound like Joyce. She'd never been like that. If he didn't know better…

His head jerked around, searching the other benches, blue eyes dancing from one mother to the next, watching as this one picked her baby up from the pram and that one leaned over to help her son tie his shoe. "She's not here," Joyce said behind him, and the words stung. "She asked me to keep an eye on you for a while."

He wasn't going to turn around. Not Joyce, he reasoned. She's dead. Just a dream. "Where's Buffy?" he repeated, his voice hard.

Her sigh was unmistakable. "Buffy's where she always is," she replied. "On the merry-go-round."

That area of the playground was deserted, and Spike knew she didn't see him as he approached, her long hair trailing behind her as she pushed the empty wheel in circles before jumping on to ride out the speed. Without having her pointed out, he wasn't sure he would've known it was her, her face mostly hidden as she played, her voice silent in spite of the laughter that came from the other children. It was only when it slowed to a stop and Buffy hopped off, glancing up and noticing him for the first time, was he certain. It was the eyes. It would always be her eyes.

"You wanna ride?" she asked. "It's super fun. I'll even push." She was already getting her hands into position on the bars.

"Buffy…"

He saw her shoulders stiffen, head whirling to look at him, and the smile spread across her face like wildfire. "Spike!" she yelled, and leapt, tackling him so that they went tumbling to the ground, rolling in the dirt until they finished with her straddling him. "Look," she giggled. "I'm on top again."

"And you're…bloody heavy…" he gasped, pushing at her legs so that she wasn't sitting on his chest.

Buffy slid her bottom down so that it rested on his hips and sat up, gazing at his face quizzically. "You look way different," she commented. "I forgot you wore glasses before you were turned. And your hair." She reached out and twisted a couple of the light-brown curls between her fingers, another giggle escaping her lips. "You're a geek."

"Am not!" Heaving with all the strength the child's body allowed him, Spike pushed her from atop him, sliding back so that he could scramble back to his feet. "It's your stupid dream," he reminded. "Although…" His voice trailed off, his brows knitted together as he looked around at the cheer that surrounded them. "Kinda Mary Poppins, don't you think? You know…considerin'…"

She immediately sobered. "I used to play here a lot when I was a kid," she started. "Well, not here exactly. It didn't look quite like this, but…pretty close." Her face grew pensive as she looked around the perimeter of the park. "Some of my easiest memories are of this place. Mom would sit over there and read, while I'd run around and do the playing thing. Sometimes, even Dad would show up on his lunch break or something."

Spike frowned, scanning the adults in the area. "Is he here now?"

Buffy laughed. "God no. Wouldn't that just be too much fun…" Sitting down on the edge of the merry-go-round, her face crumpled as her sneakered foot kicked at the dirt. "I just realized…I have to call him. Tell him about Mom." Her eyes were shiny as she looked over at him. "How come I'm only just now thinking of that? Huh? Told you I was a rotten daughter."

"You're not." He sat down next to her, the silver bar separating their thighs, and took her hand in his. "It's only just happened. You've got to be patient with yourself."

"I'm going to have to start paying you for all the free therapy you keep giving me," Buffy joked harshly.

"Nope. Won't happen. 'Cause if you do that, it totally mucks up the whole sleeping together thing." His blue eyes twinkled behind the lenses of his glasses. "Wouldn't be ethical for the doctor to be shagging his patient." His smile faded. "So why aren't you over with your mum, luv? Why're you playin' all by yourself?"

"I'm not. Not anymore."

His head tilted. "Y'know what I mean. Guess you were always just a little thick, huh?" When she punched him playfully in the arm, his grin returned. "And you always answer first with your fist. Nice to know some things never change."

"She did." Her hazel eyes were fixed on Joyce's form on the bench. "When the dream started, I was sitting with her. It was nice…at first…and then…" Buffy glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "You're going to think I'm weird."

"Too late for that, so try me."

"She started…talking about things. Slaying things. Things I never told her about. And, yeah, I know it's just a projection of my subconscious; I did get something out of psych class, thank you very much. But, it wasn't what she was saying so much as…how. Like…I can't believe I'm even saying this…it made her hungry. And it gave me the wiggins. So I told her I was going to play for a while."

For once, he was glad of the privacy the dreams gave them, that Buffy couldn't see inside his head, that she couldn't feel the sense of dread that oozed around his heart at her observations regarding Joyce. So it wasn't just him. He hadn't been imagining it. Dream Joyce could've stepped straight out of his nightmares and into Buffy's, but somehow, having that knowledge in hand didn't make him feel any better.

"So let's play," he said, hopping to his feet. "All we're goin' to get to do when we wake up is work on gettin' some of these riddles sorted, so we might as well enjoy this while we can."

"You wanna push or you wanna ride?"

His smile was crooked. "You've been goin' at it a bit, pet. Why don't you let me push so you can just have fun, 'kay?" The kiss she planted on his cheek was unexpected, and Spike felt himself blush as she clambered onboard.

"You're kind of cute for a geek, you know that?" she said, as she settled herself down, tossing him a quick smile.

He didn't respond, just shook his head, and grabbed hold of the silver bar to begin the ride for her. Their mingled laughter floated through the park, catching the attention of several of the adults, who watched the two children play, but nobody noticed when Joyce lifted her head, her eyes fixed on the pair, nor did they see when the book in her hands dissipated into dust, catching on the wind to float off in the direction of the merry-go-round. It was just as well. Buffy and Spike were having too much fun.

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

He knew there was blood dried on his face, but he also knew he had to report back as quickly as possible, lest anyone started suspecting something went amiss and came after him. He liked his job; the last thing he wanted to do was jeopardize it. He just had to make sure that nobody found out that he'd been seen, since that had been the only really explicit part of his orders.

When he saw the light in the hallway, though, he froze, his heart suddenly pounding. Shit. In the three days they'd been set up in the abandoned building, this light had never been on, which could only mean that someone was actually here waiting for him. He wanted to run, but knew he wouldn't. Face the music. Take it on the chin. Even if Quentin Travers did scare the holy crap out of him.

"At least tell me you know where they are," he heard Quentin say as he stepped into his quarters. No hi-how-are-you. Straight for the jugular.

"Yes, sir," he said, back rigid, eyes focused forward. "I can take you there whenever you wish, sir."

"You'll be needing medical attention first. Is it broken?"

"Yes. I think so, sir."

Quentin's eyes narrowed. "Who did it? Rupert? Spike? Although with his chip---."

"It was the Slayer." His eyes grew thunderous at the memory. "She's dangerous, sir. She would've killed me---."

"Don't exaggerate." All gentility was stripped from Travers' voice. "Buffy Summers is one of the best Slayers we've had this century. She would never kill a human being."

"No offense, sir, but I think your intelligence regarding the Slayer may be outdated. She was ready to do it, and she would've, too, if it wasn't for the vampire."

Travers frowned. "Spike? What did he do?"

"He talked her down, kept her back so that I could get out of there."

"Do you know why?"

"No, sir."

Quentin rose from his seat near the bed, forehead wrinkled as his brain worked at the conundrum posed before him. Their information regarding the cleansing was perfunctory, at best, and though they knew the effects had liberated the children of the wind, they were not prepared for adverse ramifications that may make the Slayer a potential threat. And yet…she had been stopped…by Spike, no less. Perhaps it wasn't quite as bad as this employee painted.

"I will send the doctor up to tend to your injury," Quentin said as he strolled toward the door. "I suggest you…rest. You will need your strength for later."

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

She wouldn't let him touch her, though his hands itched to just grab her by the shoulders and hold her down. Instead, Giles had to watch as Cortina paced around the edges of the library, her fingers trailing along the shelves, occasionally reaching out to touch a spine of a book, all the while refusing to meet his eyes. He leaned against the closed door behind him, sighing.

"How much longer are you going to keep this up?" he asked quietly. "You're going to have to speak to me sooner or later."

"I vote for later."

"And I vote for sooner."

"So it's a draw." She stood behind the desk, pale blue eyes sweeping over the scattered texts on its surface. "Do you not teach your protégés to clean up after themselves? It's going to take me forever to reorganize all this."

"You're changing the subject."

"Hard to change it when we didn't really have one in the first place."

"Damn it, Cortina! This is not a time for playing games!"

The muscles in his arms were tightly sprung, and she could see him fighting to maintain control as he folded them across his chest, his hands bunched into fists under his armpits. It ached to know she was the reason for it, and with a sigh of resignation, the white demon sank into one of the chairs.

"You're right. It's not." She pulled out the chair next to her and angled it toward her. "Would you sit over here, please?" she asked. "I'm a glutton for punishment."

He didn't need to be told twice. Within seconds, Giles had crossed the room, seating himself opposite her, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his knees as his hands stroked her leg through her robe. "Did he threaten you?" he murmured. "Is that what you're afraid of?"

Cortina laughed. "Quentin Travers may be a pompous, calculating jerk, but he is most definitely not the source of my fear. Although, I will give him credit. He is very good at his job."

"So what happened? I assume they're interested in studying you…that that was their purpose in abducting you in the first place."

"Oh, Rupert." She sighed, her head bending so that her hair fell over her face, a snowy shield that hid her from him. "This would be so much easier if I didn't care about you."

"Cortina…look at me…"

"I can't. I can't…bear to see the disappointment in those gorgeous eyes of yours."

"Disappointed? Why would I…?"

"Because I'm not who you think I am." She looked up then, unable to resist the pull. "Or rather, I'm more than you think I am. And more is not better. It's such a long story. I don't even know where to start."

"Start with this." Leaning over, Giles extracted the book Cortina had so carefully placed in middle of the table, holding it up between them until she looked at it. "I saw you pull this out, and I saw you deliberately place it in a spot so that we would find it in the morning. What's in it that you so desperately wanted us to see?"

It was easier to focus on the black binding than on his face. "Some of your answers," she said softly. "That book is the only one of its kind in existence. All the rest have been destroyed."

"And what is it?"

"Wrong question," she murmured. "Don't you want to know where I got it from?"

"All right." Giles took a deep breath and lowered the book. "Where did you get it?"

Her pale eyes were sad. "I stole it. Over a hundred years ago. From…the Council libraries. Now go ahead and ask the next question."

"…Why?"

"So that they couldn't have it." Her voice dripped with venom, in spite of the unshed tears that had suddenly sprung into her pale eyes, and she smiled. "Now. Aren't you glad you decided to follow me? I told you it would've been better if you'd just stayed asleep."

Gently laying the book back on the desk, Giles returned his hands to her knees, massaging the tight muscles of her legs as he contemplated his next words. "I meant what I said," he finally managed. "I like my life much better with you in it. Whatever this is that's…troubling you, I want you to know that I'm here to understand. But I can't do that if you don't tell me what exactly is going on."

Cortina took a long time to answer. Settling against the back of her chair, her gaze grew pensive as she just looked at the Englishman's face, memorizing the lines as if they were sustenance. "I don't like hurting people I care about," she finally said.

"I know that---."

"You know that of me now," she interrupted. "That wasn't…always the case."

"We all have a past." He shook his head. "I know whereof I speak, remember?"

The air in her lungs burned as she held her breath, but found herself unable to let it out, the confession inside burrowing its way to the surface. "I…know…what's after Buffy and Spike."

It was the last thing he expected to hear. "You know…" Giles straightened, hands sliding back onto his own lap. "Wait. Did you say…Buffy and Spike?"

Cortina nodded. "That's what Travers wanted to talk about---."

The mention of his employer's name caused the tension inside him to erupt. "Travers is in on this?" he demanded. "What in bloody hell is the Council trying to---?"

Her hand snaked out and gripped his wrist, stopping him from bolting from his chair. "They're trying to save her," she hissed. "They're doing everything in their power to get them back under control---."

"Them? Back under control? Are you trying to tell me that they are the ones responsible for whatever threat is out there?"

"No, I'm not!" Her own anger was rising, but hers was born in frustration, not the fury and hatred that was seething in the Watcher. Picking up the book, Cortina thrust it at him. "It's all in here. Read it. It'll explain it a helluva lot better than I am!"

Giles just stared at the text, his rage clenching around his skin like a strait jacket. "Just. Tell me." Dangerous blue eyes met her pale ones. "What are they…and how do we kill them?"

"The Council calls them, the children of the wind. That's how they travel…when they're free to do so. In the demon world, they go by another name, one that is just a little more…descriptive." Her chin lifted. "We call them the Soul Eaters…and you can't…kill them, I mean…"

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

She wanted to touch him, to feel him holding her, telling her that this was all a bad dream and that it was time to wake up. But it wasn't. And she couldn't. Not until he knew the whole story. And even then…the choice to touch would have to be his.

Cortina's fingers traced the delicate edge of the spine, her pale eyes locked on the book in her hands. "You have no idea how much I'm fighting starting, 'Once upon a time in a land far, far away,'" she joked, although there was no levity in her tone, the somberness of the air weighing her words with lead. "Because the irony of it is, it's the most apt beginning for all this."

"Fairy tales are for children," Giles said, his eyes unintentionally hard behind the lenses of his glasses. "And we're not children."

"I don't suppose you have kids," she mused. "Of your own, I mean. Somewhere…back in England maybe…an accident from your Ripper days, perhaps?"

There was no mistaking his frown. "No, not that I know of. Why are you changing the subject again? I've asked---."

"I'm not." She looked up, determined to face this head-on, and swallowed hard. "Please. Bear with me. I haven't told this story in over a hundred years. I might be a little…rusty."

Against his will, Giles felt some of his frustration dissipate, the pain that was etched across her fine features lending its own flame to the fire inside him. Whatever it was she had to share, it was eating her up, and he was powerless to help…not until he knew the entire tale. "All right," he murmured, and leaned back into the chair. "I'll trust you on this."

"I know you love Buffy as if she were your own," Cortina started, "and I know that many of those feelings transfer to her friends, as well. I'm sure if asked, you'd do just about anything for her. And that's good. That's as it should be. For you." There was a slight hitch in her voice as she continued. "But when they're yours…when you've borne them…suffered for them…bled for them…and something comes along and takes all that away…you break, and when you put yourself together again…sometimes you find that…you're different. Things are different. The world is different. And you don't care."

"You're not saying these creatures that are after Buffy are yours, are you?"

She couldn't help but laugh, unable to contain herself at the absurdity. "God, no. Not only are they centuries older than me, they're an entirely different species."

"I'm sorry. It's just…you're talking of children, and you said the Council calls them the 'children of the wind.' I assumed---."

"That's just a euphemism they've coined so that they can fit them into one of their neat little boxes," she replied. "To catalog them away under their demonic texts."

"Then…" Giles frowned. "You've never mentioned anything about having your own children."

"Because I don't. Not anymore. They're dead."

For the first time since she'd started, Giles leaned forward, reaching out to stroke her cheek as the tears spilled silently over her skin. "I'm so sorry," he murmured.

She shrugged. "It was a long time ago. It's almost funny, because I was actually thinking I was finally past all this. This week…meeting you…for the first time in years, I managed to forget. I was actually planning for the future. I haven't done that in ages, not to any serious degree. I had one job, one focus, and that was to hide. To make sure that no one could find me. And then when they finally do, it's because I decided to take a risk and open my door to you. How's that for irony?"

"I don't suppose Quentin told you how he discovered your presence?" Giles queried. "I assure you, I didn't---."

Cortina cut him off with a shake of her head. "I know. You're not going to want to hear this because it's just going to make you angrier at him, but when they came and did their little show-and-tell with Buffy about Glory, they set up surveillance on all the Scoobies, as well you and Buffy. That's how they found me. Not because of anything you did. Because of their own intervention. And their inability to let sleeping dogs lie."

There was a moment of silence as Giles dropped his hands to his lap, eyes down as he digested her words. "I had originally thought they had abducted you in order to study your species," he finally said. "I'm beginning to suspect that perhaps my assumption was a little naïve."

"Will I be hurting my case if I say I find that wonderfully endearing?" Cortina murmured. "That, in spite of everything you've ever done in your life, there is this hopeless romantic buried deep within you that desperately wants to believe in the best in those around him?"

"Forgive me if I don't agree with your assessment."

"No, I don't suppose you would."

"So, if their purpose was not for studying, why did the Council kidnap you?"

She smiled. "And here we cut to the nitty gritty." Gently returning the book in her hands to the desk, the white demon averted her eyes, keeping her face in profile so that she could continue without having to see the effects her words would have on him. "Quentin Travers wanted to make a deal with me. If I would agree to help them with the Soul Eaters, they would exonerate me from all my past misdeeds, and I could return to a life where I wouldn't have to hide anymore."

"But you said…they can't be killed."

"They can't. But they can be bound. And for the Council, that's good enough."

"And this…history is what you're trying to run away from now?"

"No." Her denial was firm, and took Giles by surprise, lifting his gaze to watch the play of emotions across her skin. "I'm not proud of what I was, but I've accepted it. My original exile wasn't an attempt to renounce it. I ran a century ago because I was being hunted for what I did. I had a nickname, too, at one point, although it wasn't nearly as charming as Ripper." She licked her lips, her mouth suddenly dry. "I was renowned as Cortina the Destroyer, because I ensured that everything I touched turned to dust. There were those I felt had wronged me, so I sought them out…and if I didn't kill them outright, I tortured them to such a degree that they'd end up begging to die." Glancing out of the corner of her eye, Cortina saw the frown creasing the Watcher's brow. "Does hearing this…shock you?" she asked.

"I'd be lying if I said no," he murmured.

"It's all right. I know you spend most of the time we're together trying to forget that I'm actually a demon and you're not. Hell, I do it myself. But it doesn't change the reality of it. When it comes to things that mean a lot to me…my friendships, my family, my loves…I've always been reactionary, and not always in a good way." She waited for some kind of a response---anything---but was met with only silence. Not going to look at him, she vowed silently. I can't. Just go on. Do it. Tell him the whole story.

"How much do you know about the local legends?" she asked.

"Regarding you and the Lookout?" Cortina nodded. "Well, there are the tales that get told by the parents. How you ran away after your husband murdered your children, went crazy, and began kidnapping local kids, using their bones to dig out the caves in the desert." Giles' eyes narrowed. "You're not telling me that that's all true, are you?"

"Not all of it," she said softly. "But every good lie is based in truth. At one point, I did have a partner that humans might have considered a husband, and I did have kids, two of them, a boy and a girl. And, indirectly, he was the one responsible for their deaths." The deep breath she took did little to calm her racing nerves. "I left him when I decided it was over, and took our kids with me, but that didn't sit too well with him, and he kept showing up. I kept running, and the whole thing turned into this vicious cycle until finally I decided to play hardball."

He waited for her to continue, watching the tension in her jaw, the lines of her throat as she kept swallowing, almost as if the words were struggling to climb their way out of her voicebox. The tremor in her hands was more pronounced, fingers vibrating against the arm of her chair as she struggled to maintain control, and Giles realized just how terrified the white demon really was. He wanted to help her, the desire to take her in his arms---to tell her that none of it mattered---suffocating, yet knew he wouldn't…couldn't…not until she'd told him all.

"It wasn't pretty. Anger very rarely is. And when it was done, I realized too late that I'd pushed him too far. So he struck back in the way he knew would hurt me the most…by kidnapping our children and selling them to your Council of Watchers."

Those were the words that finally drove him to his feet, his disbelief emanating from his limbs with every stiff flex of his muscles. "We…they…don't traffic in the purchase of children," he sputtered. "Not even if they're demon children."

"They do," she insisted, gazing up at him sadly. "Well, they did. This was a hundred and fifty years ago, Rupert. Times were very different then, and the fact of the matter is…the Council needed my children, or rather, they needed Vroleks. My children were convenient."

"But why?" Giles demanded. "What on earth could be so important that they would---?"

"The Soul Eaters were free, killing indiscriminately along the countryside of England, and your Council had just learned of a way to stop them."

"You said they can't be killed."

"They can't. It's kind of hard to kill something that doesn't have a body."

"Are they ghosts?"

She shook her head. "No, they're non-corporeal."

"What's the difference?"

"Ghosts are creatures that were once alive. The Soul Eaters are alive, just…without form."

His eyes were burning behind his glasses, and Giles slipped them off, rubbing at his closed lids as if by doing so it would magically restore his clear vision, make everything before him go away. "You understand this is…quite a bit to digest," he commented.

"That's why I told you to read the book," she tried to joke, knowing even as she did so that it fell on deaf ears.

"You mentioned something earlier about binding," he prompted, his spectacles dangling from his hand.

Cortina nodded. "The Council learned of a ritual that they believed would permanently place the Soul Eaters into a sort of holding pattern, of which apparently, Vroleks were a key ingredient."

"But magic doesn't work on your species."

"Don't ask me how they did it, because I don't know. I don't know any of the particulars. I only learned about all this after the fact." Her voice hardened. "The only thing I can tell you definitively is that whatever they did, it killed my children. Their ritual did work, but at a price, and the day I found out, I vowed to take my revenge. Hence, my Destroyer phase." Cortina's thin fingers wrapped around the arm of her chair, knuckles white, mirroring the stone in her words. "I started with my beloved husband. Tortured him…and when he screamed for mercy, I hurt him some more. I believe he finally died from blood loss. Then…I killed his family, and everyone he had ever held dear. And when I got bored with that, I turned to those who'd actually conducted the ritual."

"The Council…"

"I'd slaughtered half of their Watchers before they ever knew what hit them. Even tossed in a couple Slayers in training for good measure. I burned their libraries, sold their secrets, did everything I could to hurt them even a fraction of what they'd done to me. I even faked making a deal with them, just to get on the inside to do a little more damage."

"Why have I never heard any of this?" Giles asked. "Your species isn't even supposed to exist. Why would---?"

"Because they were embarrassed," she interrupted, and looked up at him. "I was a single female demon, and I managed to bring their organization to their knees. All. By. Myself. At least, that's what they believed. I actually had some help for parts of it." Her laugh was a rasp that grated over his skin. "There are a lot of demons out there who are more than willing to get involved in hurting your bosses. I took advantage of that, and ended up getting all the credit.

"The Destroyer part of my life lasted for twelve years. Twelve, very long, years. When I decided enough was enough…that creating more deaths wasn't going to bring them back or make me feel any better…I stopped. And I ran. And I hid on the Hellmouth for a hundred and thirty-seven years. And now the Soul Eaters are back, and so's the Council, and everything is falling to pieces again."

"I still don't understand why you want to run again, though. You say it's not because of your history, so I assume you weren't running because you were afraid to tell me." He almost looked hopeful as he stated the last, eyes darting to meet hers before dancing away.

"I was afraid to tell you. Even when Travers threatened to use you against me in order to get me to cooperate---."

"He…what?"

"The man does his homework. He was prepared to sacrifice you in order to get me to agree to their plans, because he knew that I wouldn't be able to allow that to happen. Then, when he said the Soul Eaters were after Buffy and Spike, that was pretty much the clincher. As long as I remained in their custody, I would've done everything I could to make sure the three of you remained safe."

"And then we rescued you…" He knew what was coming next, and mentally kicked himself for not having figured it out long before she had to spell it so clearly.

"And I got another chance. Contrary to what you may believe or what Buffy might think, I am far from noble. I do what I have to do to save my own skin. When the Council started actively hunting me, I ran and hid. Whatever this binding ritual is, it's lethal. It killed my children, and I see no reason why it won't do the same thing to me." Very slowly, she rose from her chair and stood before Giles, gazing up at him while refusing to allow their bodies to touch. "I don't want to die. I'm not ready to. That's why I was running. Well, that's why I was preparing to run. I'm not really going anyplace now, am I?"

"You're…not?"

"How can I? It was different…before, when I thought …before you said…" Cortina smiled in spite of the tears in her eyes. "I can't believe this is actually harder than telling you about killing the Council."

Now was the time to touch her, to slough the trouble from her flesh like a dead skin. Giles could feel her need for him hovering there between them, spectral hunger that sang of pain, and though his own need was just as great, he hesitated, locking his arms at his side to stave off his own instincts, turning his head to avoid having to look into those pale blue orbs.

The demon sighed. "I'm going to rest in my room," she said softly as she side-stepped away from him, walking slowly toward the door. "I'll make arrangements to return to the Council's little hideaway in the morning so that they can do…whatever it is they have to do to save Buffy and Spike." As her fingers slid around the knob, she glanced over her shoulder, seeing his bare back still facing her. "If it'll make you feel better, you can sleep outside my door to ensure that I don't run away, but it won't be necessary. You have my word on that."

The room echoed of silence after she had left, and Giles felt the tension wrap tighter around his chest, his head a tumult as everything she had just said whipped around. So much information…so little time…and he had no idea where to start in processing it…

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

Her small hand soothed a gentle tattoo between his shoulder blades, head tilted so that she could keep an eye on Spike's contorted face, his cheeks flushed as the spasms that had wracked his child's form receded. "You gonna be OK?" Buffy asked, and tried not to look at the pile of sick that now adorned the too-green grass behind the bush. "You want me to go find some water or something for you?"

"No, I'll be right as rain soon enough." Wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand, he straightened, glaring at the motionless merry-go-round behind them. "Y'know, there's a bloody good reason those bastards got banned in England."

"You should've said something. I wouldn't have pushed so fast." Her grin was wide. "Although it was kinda funny to see you jump off so quick."

"Next time we go dream-hoppin', I wanna have a say in what goes on. No more kid trips, and no more death traps."

His mood did nothing to faze her smile. "You're the one who wanted to play," Buffy reminded him as he began to stride away, back towards the rest of the park. She hurried to keep up with him. "I feel better. Doesn't that count for anything?"

Spike stopped, and turned to look at her. "Counts for everything, luv," he said, pushing a strand of hair away from her cheek with a small smile. "Sorry for bein' such a git."

"And I'm sorry I made you sick." Leaning forward, she kissed him lightly on the cheek. "But I'm not kissing you for real until you rinse out your mouth, or we wake up, whichever comes first."

He glanced around at the thinning crowd, watched as children began drifting to the benches to take parents in hand and leave the playground. "What're we s'posed to do now?" he queried.

"Go home, I guess," she shrugged. Her blond head swiveled, body following after, and she frowned, hazel eyes settling on the vacant seat. "Where'd Mom go?"

Even the pushchair was gone. As the two children slowly paced off the distance, the crowds around them seemed to dissolve, until by the time they were standing before the empty bench, Buffy and Spike were the only two left in the park. Without thinking, her hand slipped into his, and she inched closer to his side.

"Knew it was too good to be true," he muttered.

"What?" Her voice was barely above a whisper. Any louder seemed sacrilege in the now-derelict air.

It was a tickle around his ankles, barely there and yet unequivocal. The chill that crept up his jeans stiffened his grip, his head jerking to stare at the clouds that were drifting over the sun, and Spike felt the human heart he was beginning to hate pound within his ribcage. "Run."

The ground sucked the sound of their running footsteps as they raced back toward the merry-go-round and away from the encroaching storm, leaving them in a vacuum that constricted around their thin bodies. Buffy could feel the panic creeping across her skin, and lowered her head, barreling forward as she fought to suppress it. She hadn't sensed anything until they'd started moving; now, there was no mistaking the wind that was whipping her hair across her cheeks, or battling against her chest, trying to drive her back. Though she desperately wanted to look over, to confirm that Spike was still at her side, she didn't, keeping her gaze focused on their destination, the haven that would shelter the pair from whatever it was that was after them. How did they know the merry-go-round would be safe? she wondered. It was one of those dream things; they just…knew.

Buffy reached it first, swinging her legs over the silver bar to straddle the center of the ride. Her knuckles were white as she watched Spike stumble, breaking his fall with the heels of his hands, before tripping the last few feet to latch onto the circular dais, his glasses slipping from his nose to fall silently to the dirt track that surrounded them. As he blinked, squinting into the dimming evening light, the air around them whipped into a gale, tearing at their fingers, driving particles of sand into their skin and shredding it into tiny scarlet ribbons.

"Don't let go, luv," he hissed into her ear as he wrapped himself around her, placing his hands over hers as they hung on.

"Last thing on my mind," she replied, and squeezed her eyes shut as they waited it out.

"Buffy…"

The Slayer's lids flew open and she found herself staring at her mother, the wind suddenly dead around her, the swaddled form of a baby cradled in Joyce's arms. The older woman was smiling, but there was no joy there, and behind her, she felt Spike stiffen.

"Whatever you do," he whispered, "don't let her get to you. It's not your mum. Remember that."

She knew the truth behind his words---a dream, it's just a dream, she silently intoned---but seeing her, having her so close, alive…Buffy felt her heart leap into her throat as Joyce slowly shook her head.

"Now, William," the older Summers woman said sadly. "Don't make me get your mother."

There was no mistaking the tension in his arms as she felt him bury his face in her neck, averting his eyes from the vision in front of them. "Not her, not her," he murmured into her flesh, and Buffy found strength in the light of his determination.

"What do you want?" she demanded.

"Just to talk," Joyce replied. "I miss our talks. Don't you?"

"You're not real."

"Oh, Buffy." Her head tilted, gazing at the girl as she shifted the weight of the bundle in her arms. "I wish just once you'd stop being the Slayer for a second, and try being my daughter. Your father would be so disappointed if he could see you right now."

"She's playin' you…" She felt his words more than heard them, but the assurance he meant to convey didn't work, and Buffy's heart began to quicken.

"I was thinking some nice hot chocolate is just what we need. What do you say? It's always so…satisfying, don't you think?" The young girl saw the glittering come to Joyce's eyes, hardening them to stone, and involuntarily began to inch forward, the siren promise beckoning to her even as her eyes remained fixed on the pair waiting outside of the safety of the merry-go-round. She knew with every inexorable slide that it was wrong, something wasn't right, but her body refused to cooperate, edging itself closer to the brink to join her infant sister in Joyce's embrace.

Although he lacked his vampire strength, Spike's grip was still a vise around Buffy's upper arm, stopping her just as her sneakered foot approached the empty space surrounding the ride. "It's one of them," he hissed. "And if you get off here, she's goin' to hurt you more than you ever thought possible." She looked back at him, his blue eyes black. "Trust me on this."

The scream that tore from Joyce's throat as Buffy eased herself back into position between Spike's legs shattered the stillness of the air, whipping it back into the frenzy that had attacked them as they ran. As the two children watched, her fingers stretched into talons, digging into the blanket that wrapped the baby, quickly slicing ribbons of scarlet into the white.

"Dawn…" Buffy whispered, and held her breath as the blood began to drip from the baby, soaking into the parched earth in lassitude.

Wrapping his arms tighter around her, Spike said softly, "Now would be a good time to wake up, luv…"

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

Her lids bolted open, and despite the reassuring presence of Spike's chest beneath her cheek, there was no denying the panic that was flooding through the Slayer's body as she fought to control the trembling that convulsed her limbs. She sat up, using the rock of his abdomen as a brace, and swallowed. Most of the images were already fleeing, skittering away from her consciousness like feral cats running from encroaching humanity, but the message remained. Dawn was in danger.

"Spike!" Buffy's hand shook at his shoulder, mentally cursing that he could sleep so heavily. "Spike, wake up!"

As the vampire began to stir, she jumped from the bed, reaching for the clothes that had been so carelessly tossed to the floor earlier. A quick glance at her watch told her what she needed to know, that they still had a couple hours until sunrise. Good, she thought. Just enough time to get it done.

He blinked, slow to release the blanket of sleep. "Next time, try to hold off on sleep until I'm out of it, pet," Spike drawled. "I like my dreams better."

"Get dressed," she ordered, tossing him his jeans.

"Don't tell me you're in the mood for another midnight stroll."

"Nope." She pulled her top over her head. "A drive."

His mouth opened, and froze as he realized what she wanted. "It was just a dream, Buffy," he finally said. "Dawn's safe with the witches."

"And she'll be safer with me. Now come on. I need you to drive."

"Rupe's not goin' to like us nickin' his car," Spike grumbled as he rolled from the bed.

"He's not going to know. We do this right, we're there and back before the sun comes up." Buffy grinned. "Besides, we just got Cortina back. You really think Giles is thinking about anything other than her right now?"

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

The words were starting to blur before her, and the demon set down the pen to rub tiredly at her eyes. Though sleep was what she needed, so far, it had been elusive, slipping through Cortina's fingers like water, finally frustrating her enough to drive her to her writing desk. If she was going to do this---no, not if, she was going to do it---there were matters to be taken care of, arrangements to be made. And time was not on her side for a change.

As her hands fell from her eyes, her gaze slid to the pile of clothes folded up neatly at her side, the smell of his cologne wafting to her nostrils as she hesitantly extended a finger to trace the tiny stitches of a seam. At least it was over. Painful as it had been, Cortina didn't have to worry anymore about what Giles was going to think if he discovered the truth, or how he would react once he had that information in hand. She already knew. Not that she blamed him. It was a lot to absorb, and considering she had spent a good number of years destroying much of what he deemed precious, there really was no reason to expect that he would've responded any differently…not, and still be the same man she knew and admired.

A quiet rap at the door behind her did nothing to break her attention from the scent of his shirt. "Come in," she called softly. It must be close to dawn, she thought. She had left explicit instructions she wasn't to be disturbed until it was time for her to go; it was a shame that time had already passed so quickly.

"I'm not…interrupting you, am I?"

She refused to allow the sound of his voice affect her, and sat up, withdrawing her hand to turn and look at Giles standing in the doorway. "Of course not," she replied, chin high.

"I thought you'd be sleeping."

"It's hard to sleep when your brain refuses to stop working." She watched as he buried his hands deeper into his pockets. "Did you need something?" she prompted after a moment of silence.

Giles ignored her question and stepped further into the room, glancing over her shoulder at the paper in front of her. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"Just…taking care of some business," she said, turning back to look down at her work. "Leaving instructions for what should happen in my absence." The smile she gave him was fleeting. "You're going to have quite an impressive library when all this is over," she quipped.

His frown was immediate, his tone amazed. "You're writing a will?"

"Well, when you say it like that, it sounds quite fatalistic, doesn't it?" Cortina picked her pen back up and faced the paper again. "I just want to make sure that my books don't end up as kindling. I know you'll take care of them."

Giles snatched the pen from her grasp, stepping away to prevent her from taking it back again. "This is just a little too melodramatic, even for you," he said harshly. "I did not come in here to watch you give up."

"It's not giving up," she argued. "The Council's ritual proved deadly the first time they did it. There's no reason for me to think it won't be deadly again, and if I don't do this…" She stopped, a tiny line appearing between her brows. "Why did you come in here?"

For the first time, he averted his gaze. "I was…cold."

"Oh." Her disappointment edged her voice as she pushed the pile of clothes across the desktop and toward him. "There are extra blankets in the cupboard if that's not enough."

"And…I wanted to talk." As he took a deep breath, Giles returned to the desk, perching himself on its corner to look down at her. "I don't like being lied to," he started.

Cortina bristled. "I haven't---."

"Let me finish," he interrupted, holding up his hand to cut off her words. "I can understand withholding certain…facts when circumstances dictate its necessity, but bald-faced lies make me angry. And right now, I am furious. But not with you." Slowly, he took off his glasses and set them aside. "Though I can't say that I condone what you did, I do understand it. Pain, grief especially, has this remarkable tendency to push us in directions we may never have envisioned, and sometimes that means people get hurt."

"Why does that sound like you're not talking about me…?" Cortina murmured, pale eyes fixed on the determination in the Englishman's face.

"We all have pasts. We've all done things we're not particularly proud of. The important thing is to move on from it. Like you did."

"I didn't move. I ran."

"You made a conscious choice to stop," Giles countered. "And contrary to what you may think, you are not the same person you were a hundred years ago. The Cortina I know is generous of spirit, romantic to a fault, and outside of Buffy, the most persistently stubborn woman I've ever encountered. All of that may be as a result of what happened with…your children, and the Council, but it doesn't matter. What matters to me is who you are now, because that is who I care about."

She pretended to pout. "I can see I've been demoted." At his slight frown, she clarified, "Earlier, you said you loved me."

He couldn't help but smile at the restrained twinkle in her eyes. "This will go much faster if you just let me talk," he chastised mildly. "Now, I will admit, I haven't always been able to…ignore personal history in dealing with people---."

"Like Spike."

His smile faded, but he nodded his head. "Yes," he agreed. "Like Spike. Like…others. But I'm learning. And the fact of the matter is, I can hardly judge you by standards that are different than how I'd judge myself."

"I hope you don't think I've ever---."

"No, I know you haven't. You're probably one of the few people with whom I've ever even felt comfortable discussing my…Ripper days. Which is how I know you'll believe me when I say that I can understand how Cortina the Destroyer can become the same Cortina who would even consider doing this ritual to save the Vampire Slayer. She is part of you, but she isn't all of you." Very slowly, Giles leaned forward to take her hand, pulling her to her feet so that she leaned against him, encouraging her to press her weight into his, brushing his lips across her forehead. "I'm sorry I couldn't say all this to you in the library. I needed---."

"---to process it all," she finished, shaking her head. "It's OK. I understand, though I will admit, I certainly wasn't expecting this. Hoping for, yes. Expecting it, no." The relief that loosened her limbs shone in her eyes as she gazed up at him. "But you said you were angry. If it's not me…"

His jaw tightened. "Sometimes, I'm quite ashamed to be associated with the Council," he said grimly. "And don't think for a second that I'm going to let you deliver yourself to them like some sacrificial lamb. I plan on having a few words with Quentin Travers myself. I think it's about time I got some straight answers for a change."

"That doesn't help Buffy, Rupert. The Soul Eaters aren't going to stop until they're satisfied."

"There has to be another way."

"Not that I particularly like agreeing with them, but don't you think Travers would've tried finding it before he came to Sunnydale?"

"Not necessarily." Giles pressed his lips together as his hand lifted to pinch the bridge of his nose, his eyelids flickering shut. He had a killer of a headache, but things must be said, issues had to be considered. There would be time enough later to try and get rid of the pain. "You don't know the man the way I do, Cortina. He's brilliant, he's devious, and he's determined. If he knows a path, he takes it. And as far as he's concerned, the path that led to you was most likely a godsend in his eyes. Their ritual worked before. He probably sees no reason why it wouldn't work again."

"And I'm just a demon to him," she said softly. "Inconsequential."

"Only to him," Giles replied, re-opening his eyes to stare into hers. "Only to him."

When she felt the tears---of relief, this time---prick her eyes, Cortina quickly lowered her head, unwilling to let him see them yet again. Her gaze fell on the clothes that rested behind him. "You said you were cold," she murmured. "You should probably get dressed."

"I was hoping I might be able to get some more sleep before morning," he said, and straightened, taking her hand in his as he stepped away from the desk and toward the bed.

"You don't have to do this." She didn't want to say it, but neither did she want this to be about pity.

Giles stopped, looking back at her drawn face. "Would you rather I slept somewhere else?" he asked gently. "Because frankly, I don't want to be anywhere else but here right now."

Cortina smiled. "No," she said. "Here is good."

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

The crisp night air cut into their lungs as they waited. At the rear, a muffled cough traveled up the length of the group and Travers turned to look at the offender, brow furrowed in disapproval, choking off the sound with merely a glance. This was not the time for noise, not the time for distraction, and if the men thought he would stand by and allow even the slightest disruption ruin the task ahead of them, they had another thing coming.

"Are there any further questions?" he asked, his voice barely audible in the darkness. Although he waited in anticipation, all present knew that to speak now would be inviting disaster and inevitably severe punishment. Their instructions were clear and succinct; not understanding them now was tantamount to idiocy.

"Good." Travers nodded. He turned to look back at the cave's opening, a black mouth that gaped in the exposure of the desert. "Then, it's time…"

They had been prepared to fight ever since her return. Though intruders often wandered onto her lands, threatening her privacy, no real menace had endangered the white demon in decades, and those she enlisted to guard her well-being were anxious to repay Cortina for the years of sanctuary she had provided. This was their duty. This was their honor. And this was their pleasure.

The humans thought their presence was a surprise. This worked to the guards' advantage, hastening them to positions of defense that would enable them the greatest spread. With so many entrances to the caves, it was impossible to cover them all, but this new threat was sloppy, predicating their proximity with noise that may have escaped the attention of lesser beings but was a patent signal for those whose life work was to protect, and protect they would.

The first was dispatched in silence, a swift strike through the chest with a rapier that emerged from the shadows, crumpling in a black heap to the dirt floor. A cursory examination of the human's lifeless form confirmed what they had been warned about, that the attack when it came would be by those well-armed and prepared to battle for as long as necessary. Stripping him of his weapons, they were even more prepared for the second.

And the onslaught began…

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

His hand traced the delicate hollow of her spine, fingers trailing up over the white tendrils that slid over her shoulders before skating back down to linger at the curved juncture between her back and buttock, then repeating the dance in a soothing rhythm that slowed Cortina's breathing to an even in and out that fanned across his bare chest. All thought of cold was banished, the heat of her bare flesh against his eradicating it from memory, leaving behind only the sorrow that wrapped them both in its tight embrace.

"I'd really rather you didn't go," Giles said softly. "You're protected here."

"I can be an asset," she argued. "If you've got me, they can't do any magic. And it's not like I can't defend myself. I think I've pretty much established I know how to fight when I need to."

"You've only just recently been injured. Your hands have hardly healed enough to warrant fighting."

"Not all weapons require hands."

He hesitated, momentarily intrigued by the possibilities she was suggesting, but finally said, "Regardless, the Council will be playing for keeps, especially once they realize we're after Quentin. It's not wise."

"I worry about you and Buffy trying to take them all on your own, though." Cortina lifted her head, gazing up at him, her eyes still slightly red-rimmed from her earlier crying. "Won't they be expecting you?"

"We were able to get you with little problem," he countered.

"And I still think it was too easy. They didn't even place a guard on my room after they made me the offer, like…they were done with me."

"Perhaps they assumed we wouldn't find you so quickly," Giles said, but inwardly doubted his own assessment. It had been too easy, and he feared to consider why.

"Well, I only hope I'm wrong. I hate it when I turn out to be right about these kind of things."

"I'll have to…tell Buffy and Spike about the Soul Eaters." His tone was low, his pace measured, and he averted his gaze to stare up at the ceiling.

"I know. It's OK."

He knew that would be what she'd say; he only hoped she wouldn't be surprised by what his response to that would be. "I see no reason for them to know of the…repercussions of the Council's first attempt at the ritual. As far as I'm concerned, those are private issues that have nothing to do with our current situation."

Her chin rested on his chest, and for a moment that she refused to allow to linger, Cortina felt a swell of emotion bubble into her throat, the love she'd dared not admit to herself before now threatening to tumble from her lips as she contemplated her words. It had been a long time since she'd let anyone get to her the way Rupert Giles did---too long, he would probably argue---and she only regretted that they would not have more time to enjoy it. "Thank you," she said simply, and saw the relief relax his mouth. "I appreciate that, even though I'll probably end up telling them myself anyway." She smiled when he looked down at her. "What's a little mayhem between friends?"

The sharp knock shattered her brief moment of levity, and Cortina groaned as she rolled away. "I can't believe I forgot to tell them not to come get me," she grumbled, reaching for her robe as she strode for the door.

Giles watched the grace of her shoulders as she slid the silk over her skin, leaving the front to hang slightly open with a guileless disregard for any shame. It wasn't going to be simple, and the risks were great, but there was no way he could allow this woman to slip out of his life, to hell with her past.

It took only a moment of rapid-fire speech from the demon at the door for Cortina's eyes to widen, then narrow as her lips thinned, her jaw tensed. As she barked back a response Giles didn't understand, she glanced over at the Watcher on the bed, the cold fire that burned in her eyes pulling him to a half-sitting position.

"What is it?" he asked as she closed the door.

"At least we know now why they let me go so easily," she replied, dropping the robe from her shoulders as she marched over to the wardrobe.

He swung his long legs over the side of the bed, watching as she pulled out one of the few pairs of trousers she owned before reaching for a long sword that hung at the back of it. "Why?" The dread deadened his voice, though he was fairly certain what was coming next.

"It looks like Travers has decided to move the party to my house." When she smiled at him, Giles saw a glimpse of the danger that had threatened so many a century previous, and felt a stab of fear skewer the pride within his gut. "Do you want to help me let him know what we think of people who show up without an invitation?"

Offering him the hilt of the sheathed blade, Cortina waited as he stood and crossed the room, hand folding over hers as he took the sword. "I guess this settles our disagreement, then," he commented as she released her grip.

The demon smiled. "Yes, and this way we both win." At his confusion, she clarified, "I get the protection of my men, but I still get to help. Win win. I like those odds."

Giles' frown relaxed. "So do I," he murmured. "So do I."

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

They were halfway to the car when they heard the noise behind them, echoes of metal mingling with cries that were both demon and human. Their turns were simultaneous, each looking back to stare at the empty corridor that led into the bowels of the cave, the luminescence of the walls casting pale shadows across the planes of their worried faces.

"That doesn't sound good," Spike commented.

"No," Buffy agreed, and frowned as the weight of her options began to bear down on her shoulders.

"We're already here," he said softly. "You know I love Dawn as much as you do, but as far as we know, she's sound asleep and perfectly safe with the witches. We stay, we can help whoever's in danger back inside…"

"Giles…" she murmured. Turning on her heel, she began heading back toward the din, her pace gradually increasing.

"Actually, I was thinkin' of Cort," Spike said, running to catch up to her side. He smiled at the annoyed look she shot him. "But, saving Giles is good, too…"

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

As she rounded the corner, Cortina spied the fracas in the widening corridors, the scattered bodies of both men and demons dotting the dirt floor, with even more of them still standing, facing off in battles that were most often one-on-one. If it weren't for the presence of Rupert at her side, she would've ended the thing right then and there with a war cry, but to do so in the manner that would finish the intruders would prove deadly to her lover as well. And that was something she couldn't allow to happen.

Upon more careful consideration, Giles had returned the sword to her wardrobe, opting instead to arm himself with a crossbow and dagger. "I may not like them," he'd said, "but they are still men. I'd like to let as many of them live as possible." Personally, though she understood his rationale, Cortina suspected that the weapons he'd chosen were just as lethal, especially in his trained hands, but if it made him feel better about fighting those he'd held in such alliance for so many years, so be it. The sword she'd kept for herself, ignoring the ache in her hands and wrists, determined not to let the Council win on this one small point.

They were separated almost immediately, drawn into separate battles as they fought the men who suddenly showed up in front of them. The thrill of adrenalin coursed through her system, and the white demon felt the familiar tang of power as she ran her blade through her attacker's stomach, a salty elixir that threatened to intoxicate as she moved on to the next, slicing into his flesh as easily as melting butter. Unlike Giles, she had no qualms in killing the intruders. This was her domain and they were trespassing; she would do anything she had to do to protect hers and her own. Even if it meant Rupert's contempt when they were done.

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

When she saw the first black-clad figure, Buffy's heart sank. The Council. Shit. Her mind flashed back to the man in the desert, and everything became clear. Cortina's escape had been so simple because they wanted her free, out so that they could follow her and discover where she lived, where they were hiding. And Buffy had walked right into their plans. Like an idiot.

Stop being so hard on yourself, Spike thought as he came up behind her and saw the melee before them. You couldn't have known.

It's my job to know.

No, it's your job to be the bloody hero in this mess, so stop feelin' sorry for yourself and get out there and kick some Council ass.

And what about you? Buffy looked back at him, saw the concentration narrowing his eyes. Are you just going to stand back here and bake me some cookies for when I win?

The shrill scream of a demon, followed almost instantly by a dull thud which sent a shower of dirt crumbling from the ceiling, pulled her attention back, and the Slayer squared her shoulders, bracing herself to leap into the conflict. Back to our original plan, she directed to Spike. Go get Dawn and take her to somewhere safe. Once this is over, I'll find you and bring Giles and Cortina to wherever you are.

Right, she heard in her head and felt him ease away, slipping back into the corridor with as much as silence as he could muster, allowing her to keep the element of surprise just a little bit longer. Be careful, luv.

Buffy smiled, eyes glittering as she considered where she was going to enter the battle. Always.

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

At one point, he caught a glimpse of Buffy, her hair flying as she landed a hard kick to the man's chest in front of her. When she tackled the intruder, they rolled out of his line of vision, and Giles returned to concentrating on the fight before him. His own knuckles were bloodied, his crossbow long since discarded since cracking the trigger when he'd used it to bludgeon a particularly hefty assailant, and the fine cut on his brow from the edge of some dagger was dripping erratically into his eye, forcing him to wipe at his face every so often to clear his sight. Still, a small part of him had to admit that the fight was quite a rush; it had been a while since he'd been so heavily caught within the fray.

He knew from the number of bodies littered around him that Cortina and her men were taking no prisoners, leaving the Council's troops dead or dying as they fought to protect the caves. Casualties of war, Giles rationalized, who knew the potential price they may have to pay when they signed up. As far as he was concerned, as long as at least one of them remained alive for them to question afterward, he would be happy.

His heel slipped on a pool of blood, and the Watcher went down in a heap, landing with a force that sent knives of pain into the small of his back. Above him, he saw the black-clad figure hesitate, eyes narrowing as his chest heaved, then pull a stiletto from a sheath at his side. The blade flashed in the dim light of the cave, and just as Giles was tensing to roll aside, he saw the rapier erupt through the man's abdomen, showering the Englishman in blood before crumpling to the ground.

A gloved hand grasped his own, hauling him to his feet, and Giles found himself staring into the horned face of one of Cortina's men. Violet eyes met blue, the tacit understanding passing between them instantly, and the demon gave him a curt nod before turning to riposte an oncoming assault. Sides were drawn, and for once, it felt good to be on the demons'.

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

He could feel the fight as he ran towards the entrance that would lead him to the car, flashes of black across his eye, the occasional scent of blood filling his nostrils, even an odd jolt through his leg as one of Buffy's powerful kicks met the body of one of the intruders. As much as he hated not being able to participate, the Slayer was right. Against the Council, Spike was more of a liability than an asset, his inability to fight the humans without the chip firing muzzling him more efficiently than if he'd been hogtied. Stupid bloody technology, he grumbled, whipping himself around the corner. Part of him almost wanted to say to hell with it and go fight anyway, but the fear that Buffy would end up sharing his headaches held him back. He could handle his own pain; he knew he'd never be able to stomach being the cause of hers.

The entrance to the cave loomed in front of him, and Spike quickened his step, aware that time was slipping by and he still hadn't sussed out a plausible safehouse for him to stash Dawn when he got her. For that matter, he wasn't so sure he shouldn't grab the witches, either. Though their magic wouldn't do them any good with Cort around, the Council was well aware of their connection to the Slayer and may consider them a bargaining chip in whatever plan they had in mind. Probably would be a good idea to take them along for the ride as well.

So intent on getting outside, he never saw the shadows leap from the recesses of the wall, dragging him to the ground. Surprise dissolved into anger, but before Spike could lash out in defense, he felt the tiny pinprick in the back of his neck, and the world melted around him into black.

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

As she felt the man's nose crunch under the impact of her fist, Buffy tasted the bloodlust in her throat like bile, and had to physically restrain herself from leaping forward and smashing the Council member against the wall, to slam his head against the stone and feel it shatter beneath her power. Instead, she just watched as he fell to the earth, the blood coursing freely from his ruined face, one eye already swollen shut. The scent was heady, and she swallowed as she stepped back, noticing for the first time since joining the clash that the caves were now silent.

Her head swiveled and she saw Giles bent over, hands on his knees while he seemed to be regaining his breath, while in the far corner, Cortina was wiping the blood from her sword using a torn strip from her scarlet-stained shirt. Though there were many of her guards still around, the only Council members that remained were lying on the floor, and Buffy frowned as she stepped over the bodies to her Watcher's side.

"Where'd they all go?" she asked, scanning the various exits as he straightened. "Don't tell me we won already."

"I'm sorry you're disappointed," Giles said, barely able to keep the wheeze from his voice. "Personally, I'm rather grateful they've retreated."

"Something's not right here," Cortina argued as she joined the pair. "The Council I know wouldn't give in so quickly."

"And it's not like we were really winning," Buffy said. At her Watcher's raised eyebrow, she hastened to add, "Yet. Winning, yet. Because we would've. Just not…yet."

"Bloody women are never satisfied," Giles muttered, dabbing at the blood that ran down his face.

"What did they want? Any ideas?" Buffy looked quizzically between the two, only to be met by twin shakes of their heads.

"At least once, they had a chance to grab me, but nobody took it," Cortina said. "They just wanted to fight."

"At least I know what that man I saw outside earlier wanted," the young blonde commented, turning to look at the damage around her.

"What man?"

She glanced back at her Watcher. "I went for a walk and ran into a guy prowling around in the desert. He took off when Spike---." She broke off, suddenly aware of the silence in her head, the slow chill freezing her muscles as her thoughts reached out…searching…anything…no…

He wasn't there…

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

"But that doesn't make sense," she argued, her pitch higher than normal as it strained with anxiety. "Why would these things be after Spike? He doesn't have a soul."

Giles and Cortina exchanged a quick look before the demon returned her pale gaze to Buffy's confused face. "I don't think that's entirely true anymore," she said gently.

"We believe this might be one of the residual effects from the cleansing," Giles interjected. "You've said yourself, there is a…connection between you two that wasn't there before. It is possible that you might be sharing your soul, or in becoming human for that brief time, perhaps Spike inadvertently reacquired his own." He settled into the chair next to the Slayer, his eyes now level with hers. "Right now, the how is not important." Her brows lifted in surprise. "Yes, I realize the irony of that, but please, try to focus."

"Quentin Travers was very clear, Buffy," Cortina said. "The Council is convinced they're after both you and Spike, and to be honest, I'd be inclined to believe that they're telling the truth. When it comes to the Soul Eaters, the Watchers seem to know what they're talking about. And that means you're both in danger."

"Well, I am, at least," Buffy said bitterly, and rose from her chair to resume pacing around the small library. When she'd first realized she couldn't feel her lover's presence any longer, the first thing she'd done was race through the tunnels to check to see if Giles' car was still there, hoping against hope that maybe he'd just had an accident as opposed to the more logical conclusion that the entire fight with the Council had been a diversionary tactic just to grab him. She hadn't even made it outside. It hadn't been necessary. There, in the dirt just inside the exit, lay Spike's lighter, half-hidden in the loose grit, the unmistakable outlines of footprints surrounding it almost like sentinels.

"I just don't get why they'd snatch him," Buffy mused. "I'm the one they're supposed to be all concerned with protecting, not a chipped vampire they've never shown any interest in before."

"On that one, I can't help you." Cortina rested her hand on Giles' forearm. "I'm going to tell her about the other."

The Slayer stopped in her tracks, her arms folded across her chest as she stared at the pair seated at the desk. "Other?" she demanded. "There's more? How can there be more?"

"The reason the Council took me in the first place." The Vrolek sighed. "They know how to stop the Soul Eaters---."

"Oh, my god. They don't need to kill Spike, do they?"

"No. They need to kill me."

Giles looked at Cortina over the rim of his glasses. "We don't know that," he argued. "It's entirely possible---."

"It doesn't matter," Buffy interrupted. "I'm not going to let them kill anybody. Now that I know who the enemy is, I'll just take care of them myself. Can't be any harder than trying to find a way to get rid of Glory, and she's a god."

"You can't battle with the Soul Eaters," her Watcher said. "They're non-corporeal."

"What does that mean? They're ghosts?"

Cortina rose from her seat. "Oh, I am not having this conversation again," she commented, and began heading for the door.

Giles straightened. "Where are you going?"

"I assume Buffy wants us to go get Spike." The white demon looked over at the Slayer for confirmation and was answered with an emphatic nod. "I'm going to see if I can scrounge up some help for you. It's almost daylight. I'm not going to be of any use."

"I am not going to let this turn into a war between demons and Watchers." He stood, facing off with the Vrolek. "We have more than enough resources to handle this on our own."

The sudden tension between the two acidified the air, and Buffy found herself glancing between the two, watching the silent battle of wills in confusion. There was more going on here than they were letting on, but unless they decided to share the details, it was going to continue being silent, because she didn't have the time to be dragging it out of them.

Cortina's shoulders relaxed, and her smile was small. "If that's what you want," she said. "I was only trying to help."

"There are other ways," Giles murmured, relaxing as well. "Just as I know there must be another way to stop the Soul Eaters."

This time the demon laughed. "Ever the optimist," she said, shaking her head.

"So, we'll arm up, go get Will and Tara, drop off Dawn at Xander's, then go get Spike back." Buffy ticked the list off on her fingers as she spoke. "And when we get back here, we'll figure out how to kick ghost butts without having to kill any of our friends." When Giles opened his mouth to speak, she waved him silent. "Yeah, yeah, not ghosts, I know. But it rolls off the tongue much easier than non-corporeal so I'm sticking with it."

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

Though the pen was poised within his grip, its nib just millimeters from the paper, Quentin hesitated, contemplating yet again the ramifications of his signature on the document. Killing them would serve absolutely no purpose other than to rid the Council of an unnecessary burden, and though it wasn't possible for them to serve any current function, he found himself reluctant to order their deaths. It wasn't their faults the Soul Eaters were now free; if anything, they deserved life in payment for their contributions, even if they had been involuntary.

Quentin sighed, and set the pen back down onto his desk, rubbing tiredly at his eyes. "Are the preparations complete?" he asked quietly, not bothering to turn and look at the young man who stood in the doorway.

"Yes, sir," came the response. "The vampire is securely stowed, and the staff has been disbanded. We're just awaiting clearance. And for yourself to board, of course."

"Thank you." He waved his hand in dismissal, eyes still gazing at the paper. No. Not yet. It wasn't needed. He would consider it again once the Soul Eaters' issue was dealt with.

Not everyone was vacating the Hellmouth. With the targets soon to be divided, his team could concentrate on retrieving the Vrolek again, and the time he was praying he was buying would allow the Slayer to remain safe, to slip the reins of this new threat so that she could continue her calling. It was a tremendous gamble he was taking, but Buffy Summers was worth it. The current situation with Glorificus demanded the presence of such a strong fighter, and it was his job to ensure that she stayed here, even if it meant a few sacrifices along the way.

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

She watched them pull away from the curb, the car lurching slightly as she knew Giles struggled with the gear shift, and Dawn's lips thinned as she pressed them together. Getting left behind. Again. Welcome to her life.

Buffy had said that the Council had kidnapped Spike and they were going to rescue him, but had she even stopped to ask if Dawn wanted to come along and help? Oh, no, because that would just be too considerate. Forget that Spike was her friend too. Forget that she was in just as much pain, or that she could contribute to the gang just as much as any of the others. Forget that she even existed because that just made the Slayer's life easier. No sister, no problem.

"How 'bout pancakes for breakfast?" Xander asked from behind her.

Dawn settled back onto the couch, turning away from the window, still imagining she could hear the car as it drove away. "No thanks," she said. "I'm not hungry."

"They're blueberry," offered Anya. "Or if you're not in the mood for pancakes, we've got some of those frozen waffles you just pop into the toaster. Or cereal. I'm pretty sure we have some Fruity Pebbles in the cupboard."

Xander smiled apologetically. "Actually, Ahn, we are currently Pebble-less."

"I just bought those two days ago!"

"And I had a midnight craving for some Flintstone goodness."

"What's the point of me going grocery shopping if all the food just disappears around here?" She flounced off into the kitchen.

"I thought that was the point of groceries," he said, following after her.

Dawn watched as the pair continued their lighthearted bickering in the adjoining room, oblivious to her presence on the sofa. If it wasn't one extreme, it was the other. Willow and Tara had hovered, wanting her to talk about Mom's death, trying to coax her into letting out what she was feeling. Xander and Anya were coping with the news of Joyce's death differently, resorting to the banter and nit-picky issues in their own lives to keep them focused and their minds off the morbid reality of someone so close to them being murdered. Both couples didn't get it when it came to the teenager. For that matter, neither did Buffy.

Her hand curled around the comfortable weight of her bag at her side, the thick outline of the book inside it a tangible solace for her to hold onto. Contrary to what they might all think, she wasn't powerless, or non-helpful, or an albatross to be borne in not-so-silent complaint. No, Dawn was more than willing to take that extra step, do what had to be done. She just wasn't usually given the chance. It must be the Summers gene, she thought. 'Cause Buffy was all about the do-what-has-to-be-done thing.

"Hey, Anya," she said, rising from her seat and crossing the room. "If Buffy's not back before you go into work, can I come into the Magic Box with you?"

The ex-demon exchanged a look with her boyfriend, who shrugged. "Sure, that should be OK," Xander said. "If that happens, we'll just leave a note for Buff, let her know where you're at."

"Thanks." In spite of her earlier protestations, Dawn's stomach grumbled audibly as Anya poured the first of the pancake batter onto the griddle. She blushed when they looked in her direction. "Maybe I'll have some of those after all," she said. "Best way to start the day and everything."

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

The soft purr of the engine was doing nothing to ease Buffy's heightening anxiety, her nerves skittish as her foot tapped noiselessly on the floor of the car. In the back seat, Willow and Tara were preparing a few spells they thought might help, huddled over their book, but every once in a while, she would catch their eyes in the side mirror, looking up into the front seat, their concern etched in fine lines around their mouths. They had been told enough of the situation to know how dislocated the Slayer was feeling, even if they didn't completely understand it. She just wished they would all just stop feeling so sorry for her.

"Giles…"

He glanced over, saw her staring at her hands, and his frown deepened. She'd said barely half a dozen words since leaving Cortina's caves but her fears were running rampant across her face, in spite of her silence. There was more to her separation from Spike than she was telling; he only hoped she was finally ready to talk about it.

"Yes?" he prompted, after nearly a minute of nothing.

"Which do you think it is, Spike has his own soul, or Spike has part of my soul?" She turned her head away from him, hazel eyes fixed on the road outside, but he could hear the worry shading her words, and felt his own unease jump in his stomach.

"I really don't know," Giles admitted. "As far as I understand it, what happened between you is entirely unprecedented. Everything. This link you two have while you're awake---."

"It's not just while we're awake."

He almost didn't hear her. "What are you saying, Buffy?"

The two witches in the back seat pricked up their ears to hear her reply. "I'm saying, that when Spike and I are both sleeping, it's all he-said-she-said in whosever dream gets started first." She looked over at her Watcher. "That's how come he knew about my Slayer dream. He was there. He saw it all."

Giles sighed. "When were you going to tell me this?"

"I'm telling you now. Don't I get points for that?"

"This isn't a game, Buffy. I'm not keeping score." The silence filled the car as he slowly turned the wheel, directing them down the street that housed the Council. As he pulled up to the curb, he glanced at his charge, blue eyes full of worry. "When we get him out of there, I want to sit down with both of you and discuss everything that's been going on. Perhaps, together, we can find answers that just might alleviate some of your fears."

She smiled. "Thanks, Giles. I was afraid…I know Spike's never been one of your favorite people. I didn't want to make things worse for you."

The corner of his mouth lifted. "Worse than seeing my Slayer with another vampire?" he joked. "Somehow I don't think that's possible."

She still had no answers, and though she dreaded actually finding them out, currently Buffy had a job to do, and it was time to focus her attention. Twisting in her seat, she looked back at Willow and Tara. "Ready?" she asked. When they nodded, her hand gripped the door handle. "Then let's go."

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

The quiet echoed around her, and Buffy felt her heart stop as she pushed open the last door, almost hoping that the entire Council would be waiting on the other side, armed and ready for her. At least then she would know that they hadn't made this trip in vain. When the dim emptiness greeted her, though, the fear that she had momentarily closeted away returned with a vengeance, gnawing at her insides with diamond teeth, and the dagger in her hand went flying, embedding itself into the far wall, as if grateful to be escaping her anger.

She wanted to scream, and to cry, and to shout, and to sob, but none of it would come, her body immobile in its impotence. Of course they wouldn't have brought him back here. That would've been too easy. Travers knew she could find their little hideaway and stashed Spike someplace else, and if Buffy had even given it one little extra thought, she would've known that instead of jumping on the bandwagon to return to the original scene of the crime. She had assumed that they would move too fast for the Council to pick up house, and now she was paying for that arrogance, the precious time she had lost now as gone as the vampire.

She didn't even turn when she heard the footsteps behind her, her hazel gaze fixed on the hilt of her blade as it still reverberated from her force in the opposite wall. "Don't say it," she said. "I already know."

"Elvis can find him," Willow said. "We've just got to get back---."

"I've got something else I can try, too," Buffy said, her words clipped.

"Don't worry, we'll find him," soothed Tara.

That turned her around, to face the trio with ice. "I know," she said calmly. "This is far from over."

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

He saw the warning light go on from the pilot and knew that they were about to take off, his hands automatically going to his seatbelt to double-check that it was buckled. Although he knew it was going to be a long flight, he could take a small pleasure in the fact that he wouldn't have to spend the entire time in the hold, having already made arrangements to trade shifts with Rick at the door. Not that it was a hard assignment. Just that it creeped him out having to babysit with stiffs.

His gaze stole to the inert form strapped down to the gurney. Vampires were better when they were moving around; at least then, he knew how to fight them. Seeing them motionless like this set off a whole number of warnings in his head, almost like it was too good to be true and that any second they would pounce, and he'd be dead, or worse, a vamp himself. This one was supposed to have some sort of technology in his head that prevented him from hurting humans, but frankly, he'd believe that one when he saw it. Of course, the bleached demon also had enough drugs in him to keep him knocked out for the duration of the flight, but he wasn't taking any chances. His crossbow was ready and waiting at his side.

No, the male body wasn't the one that bothered him so much, maybe because he knew that it was a vampire and something he could deal with, should the need arise. The one that really bugged him was the woman, and he began to wish he'd asked that she stay covered up. She was stretched out on a second gurney next to the man, her skin ashen, blonde hair falling in limp waves. Logically, he knew he had nothing to fear from her, but that didn't stop the feelings from bubbling under his skin. It was just something about dead bodies…