Chapter 32:

As he watched the limousine take her away there were two forces that buoyed him up. Two things that kept him from crumbling, just like the concrete, in a sobbing heap in front of Illyria and anyone else who cared to gawk.

One was love. The other was hate. He loved the way she felt in his arms. Loved the way her eyes crinkled in the corners when she smiled. And, the way her voice took to lilting, the way only hers could, when she talked about every little girl's fantasy, and secretly every boy's too, about a white dress and veil.

She'd described it in such detail that he could see it in his mind's eye. Nothing, not even the delicate lace of her gown was left unknown to him. And he was surprised, when the full picture came into focus, how closely it matched his own vision of her. A vision that was not the fractured light that shone through Willow's misguided spell. No, what she had described to him, for her, and by extension him, was a true vision of love.

And, somehow she would have it. That was his promise to her.

He loved how she mutilated the English language to the point that what came out of her mouth wasn't English at all, but instead was a language all her own. He loved that, even after years of being around her, and a year of being apart, he was only now beginning to decipher the subtleties and meaning of Buffy Summers.

They just don't make them like that anymore. And they shouldn't. She's one of a kind.

But the hate is what kept him standing. It kept him up, when all he wanted to do was fall. The idea that Angelus had anything to do with this, or that his actions might upset one hair on her head, made him positively shake with rage. The rage kept him warm. It had to, because the second Buffy left, he felt something leave his body. He wasn't sure what it was, but the space it left in him was a cold and hollow void in the center of his being and it was rapidly spreading, rendering his limbs numb and useless. The rage kept him up. It made him feel. It kept him warm when he was not, and he was thankful for it.

Illyria noticed the set in his jaw and the stiffness of the vampire's limbs as he slowly crawled up from the pavement. She had offered assistance but he disregarded her presence as though she had been a nuisance to him. He'd pushed her away as if she were nothing more than wind in his ear.

"Where are you going?" she asked, as he slowly walked away from her.

"To find Angelus."

The cadence of the vampire's voice, and the venom it carried with it, made Illyria fear for what he would do, should he find his quarry, so she followed.

"You cannot fight him," she said as she kept pace with him.

He stared ahead, "Can't I?"

"In your weakened state, he is sure to kill you."

He shook his head, still refusing to look at her, "I'm dead already. The body just forgot for a while. Maybe he'll finish the job," he sneered, "Or maybe, I'll kill him first. Flip a coin, Highness. Doesn't mean much to me, either way."

"But it means something to me, Spike."

The Texas twang forced him to turn, "Stop it!" he hissed, "You're not her so don't try and pull the heartstrings now," he spread his palm over his chest, "I hear tell this heart doesn't beat, anyway," his face was hard as a marble statue, "Never quite believed it, until now," he whispered.


"The heart in this cavity has also ceased its proper function," Illyria said, shifting back to her natural state, "Yet somehow when Wesley ceased to be, I felt a rage I could not contain. I felt a need to do violence that I could not explain. I understand some of what you feel at this moment. Yet, you cannot be the warrior your mate requires, if you are not. Fighting Angelus now, when your weakness is so pronounced as to be inescapable, is not only ill-advised but it is foolhardy."

Spike tilted his head in contemplation of her, and blinked, "Mate?"

Illyria combed over the words she had chosen. The syntax of the human language was clumsy and awkward, perhaps the words she had chosen did not convey the meaning she intended, "She is your companion, is she not, that is how she functions for you?"

"Yeah, just hadn't heard it put quite like that, before," he shook the cobwebs from his head, "Very well. What do you suggest?"

She slowly turned Spike back to his apartment, "No warrior goes into battle without rest, counsel and stratagem."
*************

Buffy woke to a headache, stale air, heat, darkness and the taste of blood in her mouth. She moaned a little as her head swam in the syrup that hung thick in the air. The smell was so viscous that the weight of pushing air through her lungs caused pain.

Buffy cursed herself for forgetting everything Spike had tried to tell her in the first thirty seconds of the fight. It was stupid of her to think that Drusilla would fight fair. Drusilla wasn't Spike, who despite the occasional homicidal urge or two always engaged her on an even playing field.

No, this was Drusilla she was dealing with. With her, all bets were off.

She called out into the black, "Drusilla, I know you're here," she squinted at the hazy shadows that crossed her vision, "And I know you can see me. Got to say, this isn't your best move. Spike will be coming for me, soon. When he finds out you've hurt me," she smirked, "Things are gonna go bad for you, pretty fast. Let me go, and maybe he won't dust your ass."

"I know that. Miss Edith knows too. But sometimes a mother has to make sacrifices to bring her family together again. Miss Edith misses her William and I miss mine. If he wants you, all he has to do is give me what I want."

Drusilla stepped forward until she was face to face with Buffy. Buffy could see that Drusilla was holding something in her hand; the movement of it was creating little shimmers in the dark. "All he has to do is give Miss Edith a present. Then I can go be with her, and we'll all be a family again."

Something about her tone cut through the pain in Buffy's head. She tried to move but felt the heaviness of metal at her wrists. This was not good. How would Spike handle this? "Dru," she said, "this isn't very ladylike of you. What would Miss Edith say if she knew you'd treated a guest like this?"

"I know. But, it was the only way to keep you here until the guests of honor arrived," she produced a blade from somewhere out of the blackness. Buffy hissed as she felt the cold steel tip press against the skin of her throat and felt the wetness of her blood as it oozed over the blade, "Until then, I want to have some fun."
*****************************

Angel went over that night again in his head. Holland had stood there, in the driving rain, and smiled at him. Everything he'd ever cared about was gone, or nearly so, and all he could do was stand there looking smug telling him that he was still the Powers' puppet. How could that be so? He'd done well. Taking over the Los Angeles branch of Wolfram and Hart had been a good move. So why was Holland still so smug.

Angel thought back to the conversation they'd had in that alley behind the Hotel:

"No need to threaten me," Holland said, "I'm already dead. I can't get much deader." Holland looked thoughtfully at Illyria as she carried the charred remains of Spike and sighed, "It really is too bad that you threw in the towel so soon, Angel. The Powers are still hoping that this turns out for you, really. The straightforward approach, you know, visions and such, didn't seem to be getting the message through to that incredibly dense skull of yours. They felt that a more non-traditional approach might be of some help. So they reached into their bag of tricks and pulled out a golden oldie," he smiled, "This one hasn't been used for millennia. But, I guess, when trying to get through to someone like you, one must be able to think outside the box."

"Does your yammering have a point? I've got things to do."

"You always were a pleasant fellow, Angel. Getting to my point, the Home Office was given carte blanche in its dealing with you, and your cohorts. The Powers wanted to see how you would respond. Think of it like a rat in a maze. The Powers wanted to see how you would react to their little psychodrama. I must say, the Home Office is impressed with your marks thus far, but the play isn't over yet. It still has a third act. Your colorful friend, there," Holland nodded his head in the direction of the church, "is the lynchpin. I suggest you do whatever you have to do to keep him alive, so to speak. He has a significant part in your redemption, Angel. In fact, he is the key to you getting everything you want."

"You expect me to believe that the Powers knew about what the Home Office was doing, and they did nothing to stop it?"

Holland rolled his eyes, "Oh, you really are one-dimensional aren't you? Angel, just as the office in Los Angeles is, or rather was thanks to you, a branch of Wolfram and Hart, the Home Office functions as a subsidiary, or branch, of the Powers. So, yes, they knew. And now, the cost of a building and several valued employees has to be added to my monthly expense report," he sighed, "I despise paperwork. I'd better get the nose to the grindstone. Take care, Angel," Holland said as he disappeared into the mists, "I'll be in touch."
*************************

"Thanks for coming, Bit, you too Red. It's nice to know that cooler heads sometimes do prevail. If it hadn't been for Blue, I don't think I would have been able to reach out and ask for your help with this. I'm not thinking clearly, and I need your help. That crypt keeper in the business suit took Buffy someplace that I wish she wasn't, and told me to wait for sundown tomorrow before I go after her. There are so many things that could happen to her between now and sundown tomorrow. Dru could have already," he shivered at the thought, "The things she learned from her Daddy..." He closed his eyes. For an instant he thought he was back in that nightmare. He could smell her blood, just as strongly as if Buffy were standing right in front of him. She was bleeding.

He opened his eyes to find Dawn staring at him with concern in her eyes, and no blood anywhere in sight, "Dru, she could..."

"No, Spike, don't think like that. There must be some reason Drusilla wants Buffy," Dawn said, "Can you remember how she used to think? I mean, you were with her for a hundred or so years, right? There must be some kind of sense in all her craziness."

"Her kind of madness seldom makes sense, Little Bit."

"But you did," Willow said, "In a weird loopy-loop kind of way. You made sense, when you were crazy. Maybe we just have to find a good translator."

"But Dru is no mastermind of evil. She doesn't think for herself. She can't. Angelus took that away from her. We have to know who's behind her, pulling the strings," Spike nodded grimly, "I was right the first time, Blue. We have to find Angelus. And, when I do, I'll take his head off."
**************************************************

Before Angel could comprehend what was happening, he found himself suspended in mid air, pinned to the back wall of his hotel room, held in place only by the force of Spike's grip.

"Thought I was weak as a kitten didn't you?" Spike hissed, his eyes shining with rage, "Thought you could take her and do the kinds of things to her that you used to do to me and Dru? I might take your head for even thinking it. But I'll let you tell me all about the master plan. Then, I'll take your head off. And, if I find out that she's even chipped a perfectly manicured nail, I'll take your head off again, just because I can."

"Not...my...plan," Angel wheezed, trying to pry Spike's fingers from his throat.

Spike's grip tightened, "Not yours? Whose is it then?"

"The Powers."

Spike let go of Angel and he slid down the wall in a heap, "Start talking, Angel. Now."
 

Chapter 33:

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

"Sweetie, can you hear me?"

"Mommy?"

"Yeah, Sweetie it's me. You okay?"

Buffy moaned, "My head hurts. Kind of dizzy," she ran her tongue along her lips, "Thirsty too. It's hot."

"Hang on Buffy. Help's coming."

"Why are you here Mommy? I miss you."

"I know. I'm always with you, Sweetheart. I'm here because I knew you would need someone with you until he came."

Buffy let out a weak sigh and slipped into the comfort of unconsciousness.
******************************************

Angel was grateful that he didn't need to breathe because the pressure Spike had applied to his throat would have crushed the life out of him. He almost wished he had been crushed. By the look in Spike's eyes Angel knew there was nothing he could say that would keep him from following through on his threat. Angel winced at the heat of Spike's aureolin gaze as he towered over him. When Spike had grown that tall Angel wasn't sure, but he did not think it was a good time to be asking questions. Answers were what Spike wanted. And, although he had to admit he had more questions than answers himself, answers were what he would provide.

"I'm breathless with anticipation, Angel. Talk."

"I don't know much. All I know is what Holland tells me. And, he doesn't tell me much."

Spike's voice rumbled, "Well then, that puts you one step up from me," Spike's tongue grazed the tip of his fangs, "I think it's best for all concerned if you bring the White Hats up to speed. And, do it fast or I might forget myself."

Angel avoided the heat of Spike's eyes, "All Holland will tell me is that everything that happened last year was because of me."

"Well we already knew that, didn't we?" Spike yanked Angel to his feet by his shirt collar and shoved him, soundly, against the wall, "Tell me something new, oh wise and brooding one. I'll give you a hint. Who's Holland?"
***************

Buffy tried to center herself. She knew that showing any kind of weakness would just play into Drusilla's plans, whatever those were. So she was a little thirsty, so what? She was a Slayer. She was the Slayer. She had fought hundreds of demons without breaking a sweat. She wasn't going to let a crazy vampire take her down like this. She was scared, yes. She would be foolish not to be. Drusilla held all the cards right now. But, Buffy also knew that there was a wildcard in the deck. Drusilla might know Spike, but there was one factor about him that Buffy bet Drusilla had failed to factor in. And that was that Spike had gone to Hell and back again to be with her.

There wasn't much that Dru could say, or do to her that would convince her that Spike couldn't, or didn't love her as much as he said he did. She only wished that she'd had this epiphany sooner. Maybe if she had, they could have avoided this whole mess.

Buffy summoned up all the courage she could and moistened her dry lips to speak, "Drusilla, time to come out of the shadows, don't you think?" her voice was stronger than she thought it would be. That was good because it meant she could, maybe, bluff Drusilla a little longer, "Really Dru, this isn't like you. You're not a coward. You're proud of what you do. You're proud of who you are. Come out where I can see you, and then we can talk this out. I just want to see whom it is I'm talking to," she tried to breathe and was greeted by stabbing pain. Drusilla must have wreaked havoc with her ribcage while she was passed out.

"Damn Drusilla," Buffy moaned, "You did a bang up job on my ribs, that's for sure. But you did it while I was asleep. That doesn't project power that projects fear. What's the matter, Dru, is the heat getting to you? Or is it something else? Could it be that something in that crazy head of yours knows that this is wrong? Could it be that you know that this is not the way to get your way? I mean, if you want to kill me, there are quicker, easier ways to..." Buffy noticed that her skin felt sticky and her stomach felt woozy, like she was going to vomit. She was almost certain that the fuzziness she felt climbing up her limbs was due to blood loss. Her courage was slipping. She had trouble holding a thought in her head, and suddenly her tongue was sticking to the roof of her mouth, making it hard to speak. What was it she was saying? When had she turned into a three-year-old? She couldn't remember the words.

She was dangling on the tightrope of consciousness again. On the edges of her vision, she could see Drusilla coming toward her, ready to push her over.

"That's it, child," Drusilla said, "you sleep. You'll need your rest for when William gets here."
**********************

Suddenly Spike felt his stomach lurch. He had to admit, that was a new sensation, because as a rule, vampires didn't feel the need to vomit. Still and all, there it was. And he felt as if he'd been ensanguined with Buffy's blood.

He dropped Angel in disgust, "Are you telling me that all of this, everything that happened, was just a test to see how the Powers' little pet vampire would perform?" Spike choked on the bile rising in his throat, "And that Buffy, Drusilla and I, even poor little Fred, are just pawns on a chessboard?" Angel started to answer, but the homicidal glint in Spike's eyes made him stop, "And that the man who has Buffy now, this Holland of yours, he ran the Los Angeles office of Wolfram and Hart until you locked him in a wine cellar with Darla and Dru, and rang the dinner bell?" As the picture became clearer, Spike felt more and more ill. It was as if hearing this had drained all the blood out of him, "And now Holland, who got a big promotion, to CEO of Hell, took on a new assignment?"

Angel nodded.

"And how does Dru fit into this?"
**********************************************

Buffy couldn't remember being this thirsty. Right now, she would have given anything for a little sip of water. Any thought bigger than that, her brain was too muddled to slog through.

"Sweetie," Joyce said, "Just hold on a little longer," her voice held a tinge of worry, "And, Buffy, no matter how tired and thirsty you get, don't drink anything Drusilla has to offer. Don't do anything she asks. Just hold on until Spike can get to you."

Through the haze that had become her existence now, she thought she heard her mother's voice calling. Her Mommy was trying to tell her something, something important. But she couldn't remember what that thing was. Why couldn't she remember? How long had she been here? She was tired and cold and her head was so heavy. She could have been here for hours, or was it days? She didn't remember.

Her Mommy kept telling her to hang on until he got here. She would do that, but she couldn't remember who he was. And she was so tired.

"Is he coming, Mommy? I can't remember." In her head the words rang loud and strong, but outside her own inner sanctum, she had lost her power of speech to the rivers of blood that had long since coated the concrete floor beneath her.

"He's coming, Sweetheart. Just hang on."
***************************

Spike's head was spinning. The horror of what Angelus had said was still palpable.

A choice that really wasn't a choice. It was made for him, the minute he'd watched Buffy slip into the night with that undertaker who called himself a lawyer. It was an easy choice.

Now all that was left was the goodbye.

He held Dawn as she cried against his shoulder, "But, it's awful, Spike. It's just awful," she looked up at him with tears in her eyes, "I just got you back, Spike. I can't lose you again."

"I can't let you lose Big Sis either, Bit," he gave her a small smile, tussling her hair a little, "You'll get over the tears," he swallowed the lump in his throat, "Before long, you won't even miss me," he choked.

"But I will miss you, Spike. I will," Dawn sobbed.

"Me too you, Bit," he tipped her chin up so that he could see her eyes. He saw the grief on his own face in the reflection in her eyes, "I could always see myself in your eyes; Buffy's too. In case I don't tell you later," his eyes went down, "or in case I can't, I love you Dawn. I really love you."

The use of her given name made her chin quiver with sadness, "I love you too, Spike. Never forget that."

"Are you daft? I could never, I would never forget that. It's hard-wired into this old noggin of mine."

The emotions in the room were making Illyria ill. The insanity that the vampire was suggesting was unacceptable to her. There was another way out of this quagmire. She had offered it, almost demanded that the vampire do as she required.

"Further discussion is pointless," Illyria announced, "The solution is obvious. It's so simple even a mind as miniscule as yours is, vampire, should grasp it. I go in your place."

His eyes bore into hers, "Thanks for your ringing endorsement, Highness. I've made the decision. You are not going anywhere. I am," he looked down at Dawn again, "Someone has to look after my Bit. In case Angelus comes away with the spoils. He's not nearly the people person I am. It could get ugly. And in case Buffy doesn't..." he stopped when he saw the fright in Dawn's eyes, and nearly bit through his tongue for even mentioning the possibility. He smiled, trying to reassure her, "But that won't happen, Bit. I promise. I won't let it."

Spike picked up the stake and the holy water just as the car pulled up outside his flat, "Well, off I go then," he turned and gave Dawn one last smile, "Wish me luck?"

"Good luck," dawn said as Spike slipped out the door.

He stepped with determination to the waiting car and ducked in without a word, "Let's do this thing, Holland. Buffy doesn't have all night. Once I've seen her and know she's all right, you can have what you came for."

As the door closed, Spike did something he hadn't done since he was turned. He prayed.


 

Chapter 34:

The ride to the factory was filled with memories and images of her. Thoughts of Buffy were the only things that kept Spike in that car. The image of her face was the only thing that kept the numbness at bay. Without it, Spike would be frozen with fright.

The cold kept his voice apathetic, "I see Buffy first. That's the deal. Then we do this."

"Certainly," Holland said, "Of course, it may not come to that. As I said, Angelus has been given the same offer. He might accept the terms."

Spike stared straight ahead, "Buffy's fate in Angelus's hands? Somehow, I'm not comforted by that."

Holland nodded, "Coincidentally, neither am I. But then, I've got seniority with the Home Office," he shrugged, "so I win however this turns out. Did you know that the Higher Ups didn't foresee you? You blindsided them," he sighed, "You threw the whole system into lockdown. We were troubleshooting for months. The overtime alone..."

Spike knew the man was talking, but he couldn't be bothered to listen. His imagination was getting the better of him. The things he knew Drusilla was capable of doing when she was given free reign blinded his eyes.

Even when he didn't have a soul, some of the torture she was fond of made him squeamish. That was why he never left her to her own devises for very long. He just hoped that Buffy would be able to hold out until he could find her.

Drusilla not only didn't have the conscience a soul would give her, she didn't have a rational mind that would stop her more depraved impulses. Spike knew that she would take Buffy through her worst fears. She could make the torturer wear a familiar face, just as her Daddy had before her.

He just prayed to whatever God would listen that the one inflicting the pain she was going through now wasn't wearing his face. He hoped it wouldn't be, but somehow he knew it was.

"Hang on Buffy. God, please hang on," he whispered, as he watched the buildings slowly stroll by the car's window and disappear into the night.
************************************

Something in her head screamed. No time to be the scared little girl, Slayer, buck up. Open your eyes. Buffy wasn't sure if she was dreaming or not, but the directive was her only port in a storm of confusion so she took it.

Buffy opened her eyes and saw the dark spot on the floor. It seemed like a living thing. It kept growing even though she wanted to scream for it to stop. She would have screamed if her throat weren't so incredibly dry. Her tongue felt like sand.

Maybe if she looked at something else? But how could she, when her neck felt like it had bricks tied to it?

Drusilla grabbed Buffy by the hair and brought her eyes up to see her, "Still awake? Oh goody. That means I can play some more."

Play? Oh, God, this can't be good. Her body felt like it weighed a million pounds. No surprise really, given the extremely large puddle of what Buffy assumed was her blood. Drusilla would have given the Ripper a run for his money. Buffy didn't know what to do. If someone was coming for her, someone was coming her Mommy had told her he was coming.

Someone was coming. She knew that, and she held onto it like a life preserver. Now, if she could just remember the name. If she could just reach back far enough into the dark and find the light. It was small, but it was there. There! She had it. She had the name. Spike, that was it, that was the name! He would come for her. He'd promised.

Spike had said something important to her before she left. What was it? That seemed so long ago now. But, it was important. Something she had to remember. Oh yes. I love you.

Suddenly her head was clear. It was still a little fuzzy but she knew enough to know that Dru was close. She was probably watching her. Best to strike when, and where, she could. There may not be another chance.

Spike had told her not to give Dru any opening. Not to let her see how scared she was. It had seemed so easy in theory. In practice however, things were slightly different. How could she keep Dru from seeing her fear when she was blinded by it, herself?

"Are we having fun yet?" Buffy sneered, through cracked lips, "Because... this is kind of ordinary. I thought my Watcher said you were..." her light-headedness made the words come slowly, but Buffy still had enough kick left in her to make Drusilla hurt, and hurt bad.

"Go on," Drusilla smiled, "What does your Watcher know of me?"

"That... you're...bent!" Buffy finished, with a grimace.

Her ears wrung from the impact of her fist. Buffy tasted her own blood in her mouth.
********************************

Spike watched as the warehouse loomed into view. His own personal House of Horrors, and Buffy was somewhere inside. And, knowing Drusilla's propensity for torture and sharp implements, she was slowly bleeding to death.

Well, not today.

"Buffy's in there?" he asked Holland, already knowing the answer.

"Yes. So are Drusilla and Angelus," Holland shrugged, "You may encounter them, you may not. That's not the objective."

"If you don't want me to fight Angelus, what is the objective?
****************************************************
YESTERDAY EVENING-8: 30 PM

"Well Angel, she's in play now. You can stop this. Spike doesn't even have to go through this. You can save him the pain you went through," Holland smiled, admiring the light as it bounced in the sphere, "All you have to do is give away something you were forced to take. How hard is that?"

Angel spoke with the voice of all his years, "I've already given up the Shanshu. What more do you want?"

Holland shook his head sadly, "Angel, that's where you're wrong. In order to give something up, in order to sacrifice, you must first believe in something. You don't believe in anything. Not even yourself. Therefore, you risk nothing. You give up nothing."

"If I give you what you're asking for, do you know how many people could die? How many I could kill?"

Holland nodded, "Yes. But that fact didn't enter into the equation when it was Winifred's life that hung in the balance, did it? Was Winifred more important to you than Buffy is?"

"No!"

"Well then the answer is simple isn't it? If you're worried about self -control, Spike is a shining example of what can be achieved with a little determination. If he can do without it, I'm sure you could. After all," Holland smiled devilishly, "you are the better man, aren't you?"

Angel slumped his shoulders in defeat, "Holland, I can't give you my soul."

"Well then, tomorrow night, 'William the Bloody' will be playing the part of Orpheus to her Eurydice'. Meet you in time for the overture, Angel."
*************************
TWENTY-FOUR HOURS LATER

"Mommy, I've said I'm sorry. Why does he still hurt me so much?"

"You've forgotten, Sweetie. He told you she would trick you."

"He hates me, Mommy. I deserve it. Did you know I beat him up, just because he dared to love me?"

"He told you not to give up. Remember what he told you?"

"No Mommy. It hurts too much. I can't breathe. Mommy, why does he want to hurt me? I'm so tired Mommy. I just want to sleep."

Joyce kissed her temple, "I know Sweetheart. But you can't, not now. Not when there are still so many things you have to do. There are so many things he can show you, Buffy. You just have to trust him, and hold on."
**************************
"All I have to do is get Buffy out, and we can go on our merry way?" Spike squinted at Holland in disbelief, "What's the catch?"

"Clever man, there's always a catch," Holland said, "It seems, our Miss Edith is pining for something she lost. All you would have to do is give it back to her."

Spike thought about that for a moment. He nodded grimly as he prepared himself, and his few weapons, to enter his own personal Hell and pull Buffy back.

Holland found himself, strangely enough, proud as he watched Spike slowly limp into the darkness of the factory.
**************************

The oppressive heat and the overpowering scent of molasses hit Spike quickly. He had to remind himself that Buffy was somewhere in this maze or he would have let the fear take over. Not only was it dark as pitch in here but the smell stuck to the inside of his nostrils, mouth and eyelids, just as it had in the nightmare a few nights ago.

He had to shut his eyes tight against the thought. This was not a dream. This was all too real, and Buffy was counting on him. So, fear or not, on he would go.

Actually the dark was not really a hindrance to him, not here. Here, he could navigate the twists and turns blindfolded. He'd relived every nuance of this place since Dana had held him captive here.

If he were quiet, and reached down deep enough, he could find Buffy. There. Now, it was just a matter of following the humming bird flutter of her heartbeat and find her before it gave out.

"Buffy? Love, can you answer me?"

No answer. He swallowed and tried again, "It's me, Spike. Love, I know you're here. I'll find you don't you fret. Just hang on, all right?"

Spike heard a whisper of movement; movement so slight that it almost wasn't movement at all. That could only mean one thing. A vampire was near, and from the speed of the shadows in the room, he knew it had to be Drusilla.

"Drusilla, I'm here. I'll give you what you want. Just let the Slayer go," he tried not to let fear creep into his voice.

Her voice came out of the darkness, "Do you know what Miss Edith wants?"

He nodded in the black, "Yes. She wants William to go back to heaven, is that right?"

She sounded pleased, clapping her hands with joy, "Oh, my boy is so bright! He's almost blinding!"

Spike bellowed to the dark empty space, "Holland, did you hear that? Take the soul out of me, right now! Just give me Buffy back!"

"As you wish."

With that, Spike fell to his knees in pain and terror. He didn't hear anything though; all he felt was the pain of a vital part of him being ripped away. All he saw was Buffy, nude and drenched in blood, hanging by her manacled wrists, not two feet in front of him

Somehow instinct took over. It had to, because otherwise he couldn't have dealt with what happened next.

It all happened in the blink of an eye. Drusilla stood behind Buffy's limp, lifeless body, with an orb in one hand and a stake pressed directly in front of Buffy's heart, in the other. Spike watched, as if in slow motion, as the stake penetrated the tender skin of Buffy's sternum. In that same instant, Drusilla's head reared back as if a bullet had struck her. Her body slowly faded into ash, revealing that it was Angelus who'd dealt Drusilla her death stroke.

As Drusilla's ash floated to the ground, the sphere that housed the soul of a poet was smashed into tiny shards on the concrete floor below, sending the soul back to the ether from whence it came.

The shock of what he'd seen, and felt, drove Spike into unconsciousness.
*************************
In Buffy's groggy state she didn't comprehend it all. What she did see as she slowly awoke was a grief-stricken Angel covered in ash.

He looked up at her with a tearstained face and said, "Oh, God Buffy. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
*************************
 

Chapter 35:

The smell of Buffy's blood roused him. At first it was comforting to him because it meant she was near. It was comforting until it overwhelmed him. The scent was too strong. There was just too much blood. Something had to be terribly wrong. It took a few seconds for Spike to remember where he was and what had just happened. The floor beneath where he had fallen was saturated with her scent, with her blood.

When that reality seeped into his conscious mind, his weakened limbs gained the strength they needed to propel his body back, in disgust, from the horrible sight in front of him. The shock of what he'd been through suddenly meant nothing to him. Nothing mattered to him but Buffy. The sight of her gave him inner strength he didn't know he possessed.

Buffy was suspended from a chain rigging in the ceiling. Her wrists were bound over her head, in manacles. Her body seemed to float and sway with her slightest movement. The weak attempts she was making to free herself only caused the weight and momentum of her body to spin her in slow, dizzying circles, adding to the disorientations that he knew she was experiencing. A feeling she was unable to stop because her feet were at least six inches off of the factory floor.

That was when he noticed Angel, seemingly frozen in place in front of her line of sight. Her head was hanging down and Spike could tell that she had lost consciousness, whether from shock or blood loss he didn't know, nor did he care. The only thing that his whole universe consisted of was the ever-fading whisper of her heartbeat.

Somehow he made his limbs move even though the clothes he wore were sodden and heavy with her blood.

"If you're not going to help her, Angelus, get out of the way!" he seethed as he tossed Angel aside and reached up to try and wrench the chain that held her, from the ceiling. He tried to position himself so that his body would absorb her fall and any jarring he would cause her. "Sorry Love. Let's try and get you out of here, all right?" he said gently as he pulled on the chain.

The rigging crumbled under his force and he gently held Buffy as he guided her body to the ground. Spike held her loosely in his arms, grasping her under her knees before she touched the floor because he didn't want her to have to awaken in a pool of her own blood.

He looked at the corner in which he'd tossed Angel, who was still staring dumbfounded, at him as he struggled to free Buffy. "Give me your coat," he said.

"What?"

"I said, give me your coat! Do you want Buffy to go out of here exposed to the elements! Now, hand it over."

Angel handed his coat over. And as Spike tenderly held Buffy in his arms, he wrapped her up in it. "There you go Love. This should help keep you warm."

Looking back over his shoulder at Angel he said, "Tell the others that I'm taking her to hospital. County General is closest. Tell them to meet us there."

Disregarding his own comfort, Spike carried her out of the factory as quickly as he could, the obstacles of the twists and turns, and the added weight of the satchel of weapons he carried forgotten in his urgency to get her to safety.

Once he was out in the open night air, he set her down on a little patch of grass near the building's entrance.

He looked her over with a concerned eye. Her injuries were too numerous to count. She had to get to hospital fast, but hospital would do her no good at all if she died before he could get her there. More than half of her blood volume was lost. The first thing he had to do was try to replace her lost fluids somehow.

As he reached into his satchel for the vile of holy water he carried, he thanked his father for insisting that he attend medical college for two years. The only reason he hadn't returned for his last year of schooling was that his father had died six months prior to when fate stepped in and he met with Lady Death, and he'd had to return home to care for his ailing mother. The medical knowledge he retained had made him a very effective killer.

And now he was finally using that knowledge for its intended purpose. With trembling fingers, he uncorked the small vile as he supported her head, "Here Love, drink this. It isn't much, but it will help until we get you to hospital."

Buffy's head weakly swayed from side to side, avoiding the water that he was trying to give her, "Love it's all I can give you right now. I'd take the manacles off, but I think your wrists are broken," his face was getting damp and his vision of her was a blur of red. There was so much blood, "And I don't want to hurt you anymore. Please take just a sip, Love. Then we'll be off, with eagle's wings, to hospital. Please?"

He strained to hear her delirious reply, "No..promised."

Spike could have howled with joy. His hold on her tightened a little, "Promises are good, Love, except in this case. You need it."

"Trick. Don't hurt me," her body was too dehydrated for the luxury of tears. Spike knew that if she weren't a Slayer, she would have been dead hours ago.

"I won't hurt you, Love. Not if I can do anything to avoid it. Please, just one little sip?" Spike ignored the natural instincts against self-injury, and placed the tip of the index finger of one hand at the mouth of the vile and tipped it over. The water stung his skin, but he paid it no attention. Buffy was more important to him than his own comfort. He brushed his fingertip against her dry lips, "Here, this should help," he nodded in encouragement as her tongue licked away the water droplets, "That's it. Bottoms up."

Buffy's eyes fluttered open. Spike knew from the look of terror that floated across her gaze that Drusilla had indeed invaded a place in her mind that had been safe for her once. He silently cursed Dru as he tried to comfort Buffy, "It's all right, Love," he smoothed her hair, "don't worry. Everything's going to be fine."

Spike shed the small cache of weaponry he had slung over his shoulder, leaving it on the grass as he rose from his knees, held her close to his chest, and ran with her toward the hospital.
*****************

Dawn was frantic with worry. She hadn't wanted to leave Spike's apartment for fear that he wouldn't come back. At least, she reasoned, if she stayed someplace that she knew Spike would go, eventually he'd have to be there. He would know to come back. If he didn't know where she was, how would he know to come back?

Willow had to remind her that Spike would probably stop by the Hotel too. So being here, instead of there, would be okay.

But that was hours ago. And he still hadn't been seen or heard from. The fact that there was no news only made her more afraid. She had good reason to be, she'd lived on a Hellmouth for most of her life. She knew all the things other people thought were just the stuff of nightmares were very, very real.

She also knew that if Buffy were hurt, Spike might not be able to get past that. She was afraid that he might just wait for the morning, and she would never see him again.

"Dawn, I'm sure Spike is fine," Xander was saying, "I mean, the guy was a walking charcoal briquette. What could be worse than that?"

The pain that was showing on her face made Xander wish the earth would open up and send him to his own private circle of Hell, "Okay. Not helping. Sorry, Dawn, sometimes my mouth outruns my brain, and then my brain has to smack my mouth around a little for getting away from it. But, I'm sure we'll hear something soon," Xander hugged Dawn, "Spike wouldn't let you worry long. We'll know something soon."

Just then, there was a knock at the door. Dawn startled at the sound but rushed to open it as her heart suddenly took residence in her throat.

When she saw Angel, standing in the doorway instead of the vampire she had hoped for, she lunged for him. The surprise of her attack caught Angel unawares and he collided with the wall across the hall with an amazing force and speed.

Dawn was hurling accusations, and fists at him, "You son of a bitch! You killed him! I told him not to go. I begged him! But he wouldn't listen to me," if she had been a little older, the punches she landed would not only be bruising, but bone crunching as well, "Did you kill Buffy too? Did you? You tell me what you did to her, you evil, sadistic bastard!"

Angel waited for fatigue to slow down the blows that were raining on his head and face before he none too gently pushed Dawn off of him. He lay there, in disbelief, as the Scoobies had done nothing to stop the tiny torrent of fists and allegations.

"When I left, they both were alive," Angel muttered, "Buffy was barely holding on. She'd lost a lot of blood. If I hadn't been there, she would have died."

Dawn's eyes blazed in fire, her fists were clenched, "Where is Spike?"

"He took her to County General. He's there with her now. He wants you all to meet him there."
*****************************

He must have looked like an axe murderer coming into the emergency room of the hospital covered in Buffy's blood.

"Nurse, you have to help me," he said as he rushed up to the triage nurse, "I found this woman wondering in the old warehouse district. She said she'd been kidnapped. Then she passed out, and I brought her here," it was at that point that all rational thought flew away, "You have to help," he begged, "I think she's been raped."

The nurse proceeded in a calm orderly fashion, having been witness to all manor of injury in her years of working as a nurse. She motioned for a gurney, "Do you know this woman?"

"Only by acquaintance," he lied, as he placed Buffy gently on the stretcher, "I think her name is Buffy Summers."

"Any known allergies, Mister...?"

"Dustin. William Dustin. And no. No allergies. Please take care of her."

"We will. I'm going to have another nurse look at you," she said as she hurried behind a restricted area with Buffy, "You stay there. The nurse will be right out. Sit down. You look like you might be going into shock."

That was hours ago. Or, it could have been merely moments. Everything that had happened since he'd awakened in a pool of her blood was just a nightmarish blur. The few precious moments of consciousness Buffy had had while on her way here were filled with desperate pleas for him not to hurt her.

The things Drusilla could have done to her made him physically ill to even imagine.

Drusilla. Oh, God. Drusilla was gone. His Dark Princess, the one he'd loved for so long that it had almost been as natural to love her as breathing had once been, was gone. She was nothing more now then a handful of dust.

Ashes to ashes; dust to dust. For dust thou art, unto dust thou shall return.

And now, because of her, Buffy might be so traumatized that she never may be truly his again. Buffy may turn out to be another of Angelus's victims. Another of his artistic creations, beautifully, brilliantly mad.

As he sat in the small hospital chapel, soaked through to the skin in Buffy's blood because he hadn't allowed that poor little candy striper to get within a kilometer of him, he plotted his revenge.

Angelus would pay for taking his soul, his Buffy, away from him.
********************************

 

Chapter 36:

As he sat there, in a place that made it clear he was unwanted with her life all over him, he was shaking with rage. The rage filled the void in his chest and cascaded over his limbs. The peaceful calm of this place was foreign to him. He didn't really fit anymore. He knew that. The one person that made him fit, that made him feel like he belonged, was dying. Even if she somehow survived the night, someday she would die. She would die, as all humans did. One day, he would feel a numbness that would never stop. He dreaded that day.

But that day was not today. And he would do whatever he had to for it not to be. Even if that meant bargaining with someone he knew didn't like him very much.

He wasn't sure how a thing like this was done. So, he started out with what he knew, "Okay," he said softly, staring at the cross on the wall, "I've never been much on the ritual. And I know this goes against every rule you've got up there. But, I've never been one for rules, either. I'm kind of a rebellious sort," he shook his head at the juxtaposition of two, seemingly, separate events.

When he'd first come to Sunnydale, he'd laughed at the old vampires, cowering before a God he was sure didn't exist. He'd been so sure that he'd tossed their Anointed One in a cage and hoisted him up to the sunlight to meet the one they all revered, and feared so much.

Now, all these years later, he was so much older now; he was embracing the ritual that he had once mocked. He was embracing things he knew would burn him, in hopes that someone, somewhere would take pity on this empty pantomime, and save her.

Except it wasn't empty. How could it be, when something in him still believed? "I guess the fact that I'm trying to plead my case just proves what a fool I really am. Always have been, I suppose. I know I shouldn't even be wasting the time asking," he hung his head, unable to look at the symbol that held so much promise, and pain, for him. And for her, "But, I'm asking anyway. Please, don't take her yet. She's so young," the dampness mixed with the dried blood on his face and made his skin feel like it was too tight. It made him feel brittle and old. Maybe he was too old. Maybe he was too old to be asking for any kind of consideration. But, he wasn't asking for himself, he was asking for her. Surely, for her, something could be done, "God, she's still so young. Please, don't take her. I still need her. I can't..."

The words were lost, and he began to sob.
***********************

Giles rushed up to the nurses' station followed by Dawn, Xander and Willow, "Nurse, someone named Buffy Summers was brought in here some time ago. Is there any news on her condition?"

"Are you relation?"

"No," Giles answered, clearly flustered, "but this girl is her sister," he said, as Dawn stepped closer to the desk.

"How is she?" Dawn asked, "Can I see her? Is she...?"

"Miss Summers, your sister is being taken care of. She lost a significant amount of blood, but we're doing what we can for her. It was a good thing that the gentleman who brought her in was able to get her here as quickly as he did. Your sister was in bad shape when he brought her in. She's still critical, but we're hopeful that we got to her in time, thanks to him."

Dawn looked around for Spike, but didn't see him, "The man that brought her in, where is he?"

"He's in there," the nurse said, pointing to the small room that served as the hospital chapel, "I'm more concerned about him than I am your sister right now, Miss. He won't let anyone near him, and he looks like he might be suffering from shock," the nurse shook her head, "He seems quite...agitated. And I must warn you, his appearance may frighten you."

Dawn smiled knowingly, "Somehow, I doubt that. Thank you. Will you come get me if there's any news about my sister, or when I'll be able to see her? I'm going in to thank him for saving my sister."

"Yes, of course," the nurse said as Dawn entered the chapel.
********************

Buffy began to wonder if she were really dead. He hadn't been back in quite some time. The last thing she remembered was seeing his face. He was trying to give her water. She knew it was a trick. Her Mommy had made her promise not to drink, so she didn't. Drusilla could use every trick in the book if she wanted to. Nothing was going to make her break that promise. Not even seeing him again would make her break that promise.

She knew he was dead. He was dead, and this time there was nothing that would bring him back. She knew this because the nightmare she had, had come true. She'd seen it herself, before she'd passed out. There was Angel, just like in her dream, covered in his ashes.

She wanted to cry. But then Drusilla used that sweet face of his, the detail was so amazing she almost believed it was real, to make her drink. She knew better than to drink anything she had to offer. If she did that maybe she would wake up dead.

She wanted to see him again, even if it was a trick. Even if he wanted to hurt her like he had before, she wanted to see him. She missed him so much that when Drusilla softened the face a little, even going so far as to add tears in the eyes to make her trust what it was saying, she almost believed. She almost gave in. She missed him that much.

Then suddenly, even the small comfort of his face was gone and she was set adrift on a sea of faces she didn't recognize. She was listening to voices and sounds she didn't know. She was tired and hurt and she felt sick to her stomach.

She wanted him. He had to explain this. How could this have happened?

"Angel," she moaned, "Why, Angel? Why?"

The doctor who attended her noticed her stirring, "The intravenous fluid bolus and the blood transfusion she was given seem to be taking effect. She's coming around," the doctor was amazed by what he was seeing. With the number of lacerations and stab wounds this girl had, not to mention the blood loss, she should have been dead on arrival, "This is absolutely amazing. I'll go tell the family."
***********************

There was nothing in her eyes when she looked up at him. They were vacant. Nobody home. And he was afraid that the owner would never be back.

Why did he even care? He shouldn't. He should be wondering why there was a gaping hole in his chest all of the sudden. But somehow that didn't seem to matter. Not when all he could see, everywhere he looked, was her blood. It was in his hair and in his eyes. The scent of it was clinging to the inside of his nostrils and running into his brain. It was under his fingernails and on his skin. She was everywhere. Even in his mouth, she was there. There was no way to get clean. No way to get her scent off of him. There was nowhere for him to run.

The numbness he was feeling made no sense to him. There was no reason for it. He shouldn't even care. His Drusilla was gone. He should have been tearing the place apart. He should be raging. He should be a whirling dervish of rage. It should be unstoppable. But, it's not. Somehow, he found himself unable to move, unable to blink. He couldn't even think. He seemed frozen, and he couldn't understand why that was.

He was frozen. Numb. And, somehow he found himself staring at the odd rust color on his hands. He just couldn't take his eyes off of it. And no matter how hard he scrubbed, it didn't come off. It just stayed there, staring back at him. Screaming at him.

There was a little breath of a voice that came from the door, "Spike," it said, all sugar and innocence, "are you all right?"

Somewhere he knew that the sound he heard should have been comforting. But, what was comfort? He turned toward the sound and the demon slipped, "Get away from me, Dawn," it warned. "You don't want to be around me just now. Things aren't making sense. I could hurt you. Go away!"

Dawn had seen this before. They'd both been through the grief of losing Buffy once before. So she knew that he was serious. She knew that he was only warning her because he'd seen something horrible and he couldn't process it all. She knew that, in his own way, he was trying to protect her. And, she kept her distance.

She nodded her head and slowly stepped into the room, "It's okay. I won't make any sudden moves. I promise," she said as she sat down on the small bench, as far from him as the small room would allow her to be while still being in the same room with him, "Do you mind if I just sit here, and wait with you until it passes?"

The two just sat together, yet each felt totally alone, in silence.
********************************

The doctor approached the group as they were huddled in the waiting room, "You asked for an update on Miss Summers's condition?" he asked as he surveyed the group.

They all breathed a sigh of relief, but it was Giles who spoke for them, "Yes doctor. How is she?"

"She's conscious now. Though she is still a bit incoherent," he pulled Giles away from the others slightly and spoke in hushed tones so the others wouldn't hear, "Are you her father?"

"No. No, I am not. Though at times both she and I wish it was so. Her own father is out of the country. There is no way to get in touch with him. If something is wrong, if she needs any sort of treatment, I am authorized to give consent," Giles sighed, "if she cannot do so, herself. Is there something wrong, doctor?" he asked, suddenly feeling very old.

"She is awake and asking for someone called Angel. But, before anyone sees her, I thought you should be made aware that we've run some tests, and based on our findings, we had to notify the police."

"Good heavens," Giles breathed, "The authorities are only notified in cases of some type of... assault. Am I correct?"

"Sir, that woman was brought to this hospital with multiple stab wounds and lacerations. Our tests show that she may have also been sexually assaulted. It was our duty to call in the authorities."
*********************

Dawn just sat there patiently and waited for Spike to say something. She knew she could be in for a long wait. The last time something like this happened the only thing that brought him out of it had been her presence. If it hadn't been for her, the night Buffy jumped from that tower would have been Spike's last. Not even the impending daylight had made him move from her body. Only her plaintive cries had gotten through.

As she watched Spike, motionless and blood stained, her thoughts returned again to that morning.

They all gathered around the rubble, staring at her. They made no sound. They were all so shocked that sound and movement seemed out of place here.

The silence grew. It grew until it was so large that it became something that wasn't silence anymore. It was something new. It was something more terrifying than Glory, more terrifying than all the vampires in Sunnydale put together. What Dawn heard was the worst thing ever.

She heard a weeping sound that quickly turned into a gut-wrenching wail. That soon made a metamorphosis into this great rumble of rage that was so loud that it almost blew out her eardrums.

She looked to see what the Hellmouth could conjure up, what kind of monster could make that sound. She looked, and she saw what had made that sound. A sound that she wished she could make, because it sounded just like her heart felt. But she couldn't make that sound.

So, she did what she could to try and comfort the creature that was making that sound for her.

He had somehow dragged himself over to where she had fallen. His body was draped over hers, like a shroud. He was crying, begging her not to be dead. Dawn had never seen him like that before, and it scared her.

She tried to warn him. She tried to tell him that the sun was coming, but when she got close to him, he let out the most animalistic growl, as if he were mortally wounded. When she tried to move him physically, his body became as inflexible as granite. The only thing that saved Spike from the sun's deadly rays had been her pleas for him to stay with her and to take care of her, because that is what Buffy would have wanted.

It was the same now. There would be no moving him until he wanted to be moved. She was glad that the little stained-glass windows in this room would be able to protect him a little if he chose to stay here much longer.

There was a small knock at the door, "Dawn," Willow said, "Buffy's awake. The doctor says we can go in one at a time and see her, now."

Dawn was weak with relief, "Did you hear that, Spike? Buffy is awake! I'm going to go up and see her now. I'll let you know how she is and you can see her when you're feeling better, all right? Bye Spike. I love you."
*************************************

When Dawn got off the elevator to the third floor intensive care unit she saw Angel coming out of a room that she assumed was Buffy's. She walked quickly up to him and with fire blazing in her eyes, asked, "What do you think you're doing here? Didn't you get the message back at the hotel, or do we have to go another ten rounds? I don't care if I break both my arms teaching you, but you will learn to stay away from my sister," she came up to him until her sneakers were on top of the toes of his shoes, "You got me?"

Angel almost laughed at this mini powder keg of a girl. If he didn't know that her sister was the Slayer, he would have taken it as an empty threat. He'd learned a long time ago not to take the Summers girls at face value. Still, all the bluster and swagger wasn't Dawn. He knew just who the influence was here, "I think you've been hanging around Spike a little too much, Dawn."

"And who else was there? You were never around. For three years Spike was there. He was there when I needed him. He was there when Buffy needed him. Where the Hell were you, Angel?" Dawn shook her head, "I so do not want to get into this with you right now," she nodded toward her sister, who was lying behind a glass door, hooked up to all sorts of monitors, beeping and whirring and making all kinds of sounds that Dawn didn't understand, "Did she say anything?"

Angel hung his head, "No, not to me. She just sat there with her eyes staring through me. It was like I wasn't even there. Like I didn't even exist. It was kind of creepy, even for me. I don't know if anyone will be able to get through to her now. It's like there's no one home in there."

"Just like Spike. He's in the chapel downstairs, and he's acting just like that. He's frozen," Dawn mused, "Like he'd been traumatized by something even he couldn't cope with. What happened in the warehouse, Angel?"
***********************

IN THE INTERREGNUM

Joyce was beside herself. In this place of peace, she was anything but peaceful.

"But you don't understand. When this happens he'll have nothing to hold on to. No peace at all. You saw what happened. You can't let them, you can't let him go through that alone. There must be something you can do?"

"We understand your distress, child. But there is nothing to be done for it. This thing is done. It cannot be undone."

"Fine," Joyce was determined, " I may not exist on their plane anymore, but I'm still a Summers. If a trial by fire is what you want, then that's exactly what you're gonna get! I'm not leaving my babies down there alone."

When the right stars were aligned, the flame winked into existence for the briefest of moments, then folded back into space. The exchange was made.

They wouldn't even notice it was there until they needed it.

Up in the heavens, mothers smiled. Everything would be all right. They had made sure of it. It had always been this way. For eons of time mothers had been the keepers of existence, the key to it, in fact.
**************************

The things Angel told her sent Dawn rushing, first to Willow to ask for her help if Spike needed it, then she found herself back on the third floor heading for her sister's room.

When she got there, she found a policeman standing by the door, "See if you can get your sister to tell us what happened to her."

Dawn tried to remember that the policeman was only doing his job asking her this, "Officer, my sister has been through quite an ordeal. I'm sure she'll tell you all the things you want to know. When she's ready. Until then, I'm not going to do anything to rush her. Now, if you will excuse me, I'd like to see if my sister feels like talking to me."

"Of course," he said as he left Dawn alone and disappeared behind the closing elevator door.

Dawn looked closely at her sister. If she understood what the machines were saying, then Buffy would be fine, physically. She might even be out of the hospital soon. This was one of the first times Dawn was glad that her sister was a Slayer.

Physically, Buffy was fine, or would be very soon. But her eyes were blank. It was like somebody had erased something but then forgot to put anything in its place.

She sat down in the chair next to the bed, "Buffy, Angel told me what happened in the warehouse. He told me what Drusilla did," Dawn bit her lip and continued talking, hoping that Buffy could hear her somehow, "He told me what happened to Spike there."

Dawn noticed as big fat tears started to roll silently down Buffy's face, "You miss him, don't you?"

Buffy gave a slight, but very definite nod.

"But Buffy, he's not gone. Not really. Willow can help him."

"No. He's gone. Dust. Just like my dream," Buffy sounded like she was underwater. She was slipping back to the place she had been in just after the Hellmouth closed. Dawn didn't want to lose her to that place again. Or Spike, either, if she could help it. Two people she loved very nearly more than her own life were drowning. Dawn had to save them both before they went under and couldn't come back up.

"No, Buffy, you're wrong. And, I can prove it. Just give me a little time," she kissed her sister's forehead as she left the room, "I'll be back soon, I promise, and I'll prove it to you!"
********************

Angelus's presence in the chapel turned his granite limbs fluid again, "You said what?" his voice felt and sounded like it had been drug over a gravel road.

"I told her what went down in the factory."

"How could you do that? How?"

"She wanted to know, Spike. She's not a kid, anymore. She can be told these things."

Anger and rage that was millions of years old moved his petrified limbs to action. Spike was up and moving before he even had time to think about the consequences. He grabbed Angel's arm in a vice grip, "You, Angelus, are coming with me," he growled as his eyes flickered to amber, "because we are not discussing how much your ass is getting kicked, in a church with sick people all around," he paused, tilting his head to one side and grinned a grin that gave just a hint of menace as he pulled Angel out into the hall, down the elevator and into the underground parking garage, "Although I must say, there aren't many that are as sick as you are, Angelus."

As Angel felt himself being pushed, somehow he lost his footing and his head came crashing into the Porsche that suddenly took up his whole field of vision. The impact sent the alarm screeching. Angel felt sure that the prospect of being caught would stop Spike, or at least slow him down so that he could talk some sense into the boy. That wasn't the case.

The thud that sounded when his head hit the car only spurred Spike on. Next, Angel found himself being grabbed by the scruff of the neck and turned over so that he was starring into Spike's eyes. Those eyes had nothing guiding them. Nothing was going to stop him. Spike didn't have a soul that would tell him when to stop. All Angel saw in those feral eyes as they stared down at him was death.

"Buffy wasn't enough, was she Angel?" Spike hit Angel's chin with a left hook so hard that even he cringed when he heard the bones crack, "You just had to expose Dawn. Pure, sweet, and innocent little Dawn; you just couldn't leave her out of the fray?"

Angel's head was ricocheting off of the concrete floor. If he had been human, the back of his skull would have caved in from the force of impact.

"You just had to expose her to all the death and the blood, didn't you?"

Angel thought he could see tears mixed in with the anger and blood on Spike's face as it quivered in and out of his vision, "You just had to tell her that I couldn't love her anymore! You had to take that away from me, too! You took Drusilla," the blows kept up a furious pace, "Drusilla's sick, twisted fun house mirror vision hurt Buffy in a place I can't even know. She'll never be the same," Spike closed his eyes, giving Angel a brief respite from the crushing blows, "Her eyes are different. They're dimmer somehow. And that's because of you! The cuts and bruises will heal," Spike punched Angel until he heard his own hand crunch. The rage inside him needed an outlet.

He was in mourning. He was mourning Buffy and Drusilla. He felt the rage at the loss of the soul, something he'd fought so hard for, flowing out of him through his tensed muscles and clenched fists, and into Angelus, then shattering somewhere in the ether. He was mourning a little girl, too. He was mourning the love he knew he had lost, the love of Dawn, his Bit, when he lost his soul.

He knew she wouldn't understand why he'd done it. And he remembered that he promised that he would never hurt her sister again. When he'd made that promise he was sure he could keep it. He went and fought for his soul so that he would be able to keep that promise. But now, without that soul, Spike wasn't sure he could keep that promise anymore. If he couldn't keep that promise, how was Bit supposed to love him?

"But now, because of you everyone I love is gone." Spike grabbed Angel up again and stared into his battered face, his amber eyes still glowing, "Now, give me one good reason why I shouldn't tear your head off right here and dace in your dust."

He didn't hear an answer. What he did hear was a sweet, innocent little voice, "Spike, you can kill Angel later, if you want to. I'll even help you. But, right now Buffy needs you," Dawn said, "And, I think you need her, too."
*********************************
 

Chapter 37:

She found herself walking on the beach at sunset. Or, it could have been sunrise; she couldn't really distinguish which one it was. The point was the sky was tuning that pretty orange color that only comes twice a day, at sunrise and sunset.

Buffy felt the softness of the sand as it cradled her feet. She could smell the salt in the air and feel the gentle mist from the waves on her face. It was cool and comforting. Like he had been.

"Buffy?"

She turned and saw a small flicker of light coming toward her. Sunset, she thought. It must be sunset here; otherwise there would be no need for candles.

"Mom?"

Her face glowed a little. Buffy wasn't sure if it was due to the candlelight or the fact that she was dreaming.

She was dreaming. But how could she have fallen asleep when everything was so horrible on the outside? How could she be so selfish? He wasn't here anymore. She shouldn't be dreaming about beaches and her Mom and candles, not when he wasn't there to share it with her.

Joyce smiled, "Oh, Sweetie he's here with you," she winked, "I made sure of it."

"But, I saw it. He's dust. I know it."

"Honey, let me show you something," she said as she knelt in the sand. Buffy watched as two large circles were drawn, one next to the other, in the sand, "You see the point where the circles overlap?"

"Yeah."

Joyce nodded, "They're separate but they're together, too. At that one point, they exist together. They need each other; otherwise the circles wouldn't be complete. Understand?"

"No."

Joyce sighed, "Okay, let's try it another way," she said as she blew out her candle.

"But, Mom, now I can't see you."

"Buffy, you don't need light to see me. It's always twilight here. Didn't he tell you not to use your eyes?"

"Yeah, he did," she whispered, choking on her tears.

"I know. That's good advice, Sweetheart. And that's why I gave you both a little gift," Joyce hugged Buffy giving her a little kiss, "I knew this was going to be hard, on both of you. So, I did what I could to help."

"What gift, Mom?"

"It's just a little surprise. You had your gift. I have mine. I love you, Buffy."

Buffy felt a kiss brush her cheek as her mother disappeared.
***************************

Spike paced outside Buffy's room. He wasn't sure what would happen once Buffy opened her eyes and saw him. Would she recognize him? Would she cry? Would she scream? Or, would she stare off into space, too far for him to reach? Had Drusilla's last act been to do something he had sought to do, but thankfully had neither the inclination, nor the strength anymore, to accomplish? Had Drusilla finally killed Buffy Summers?

He was unprepared for just how ill the idea of her death made him feel. As he stared at her diminutive frame lying in the bed with tubes and wires crisscrossing every which way, he tried to gather the courage to go in and see her.

At the factory he'd been running on instinct. It was animal fury that had driven him then. Even things he should have taken pleasure in, the throttling he'd given Angelus, had been without thought. If it hadn't been for Bit, Angelus would be dust on a concrete floor right now.

Spike wondered if Angelus knew just how close he'd been to crossing a line. He wondered if Angelus knew that Dawn had saved him. When Spike thought about it, he knew that Dawn had saved him too. It wasn't that far of a jump to just letting the fury take hold. If that had happened, no one would be safe.

As he watched the two girls he loved more than his existence, the ones he loved, and prized even more highly than his own soul, he wondered why he still cared for them. It didn't make sense to him since he didn't have a soul to tell him they mattered, but somehow they did. He still cared. And, if it were possible, he cared even more than he had before the soul stood in the place of his dead heart. Something in him still burned, like a tiny candle flame, for them. Something kept him warm. He didn't know what it was, but he knew that without it, he wouldn't be entirely whole.

Dawn came out of the little room. When had she grown up? "How is she, Dawn?"

"I think she's sleeping now. You can go in to see her, if you want to."

"I can't Bit," he choked, "not like this."

Dawn took hold of Spike's hand, which still had Buffy's blood on it, "I don't really think she'll care what you look like, Spike. Just go in and be with her. That's all that matters."

He shook his head, suddenly feeling exhausted, "That's not what I meant, Dawn."

The pain in his eyes made Dawn want to cry. She knew he was feeling the loss of his soul now. She could see that he was drowning, and Buffy was the only thing that would save him. But, he wouldn't take the safety she would give him for fear of dragging her down in his wake.

"Spike, take some advice from a girl who's even older than you are," she winked, trying to put on a brave face, "What you did for her proves, to anyone with eyes and even an ounce of heart, that you have more soul," she stopped when he lowered his eyes, "Hey, look at me," his gaze returned to hers, "What you did proves that you have more soul without one than that other vampire," she practically spat out the words, "does with one. Now, go in and see her. Just sit with her. She'll know you're there. You won't even need to talk."
**********************

Down in the parking garage, Angel was licking his wounds. He was glad Dawn came when she did. If she hadn't come at that moment, Angel was certain he would be headless right now.

"And, what does that say about you, Angel? The fact that he was able to control himself when he so clearly wanted to tear your head from your shoulders, I wonder, would you have been able to stop?"

"Holland, do you ever tire of pestering me?"

"It's a legitimate question, Angel."

"Angelus isn't me."

"Oh really?" Holland was incredulous, "Because lately, to be frank, the Home Office has had trouble differentiating the two. Angel and Angelus seem to be acting quite similar these days. That's why the Powers put on this little passion play. They wanted to see who really deserved the dessert at the end of the meal. Guess we all get what we wanted. The Higher Ups get their Champion," Holland sneered.

"But Spike doesn't have a soul. How does he end up with the Shanshu?"

"Oh, don't worry. He won't be getting the brass ring quite yet. But, he's on the fast track now. It won't take him long at all. Certainly not as long as it took you," he shook his head, "What am I saying, you still don't have it, Angel. And let's face it, you probably never will," Holland shrugged, "But who knows? Prophecies are such tricky things. I could be wrong, entirely. Somehow though, I doubt that I am. But look on the bright side, Angel; you'll have a nice cushy corner suite down in the Home Office just waiting for you. Nice doing business with you," he grinned as he handed Angel his business card, "We look forward to a long and, shall we say, fruitful relationship."

With that, Holland Manners disappeared.
**********************

He looked down at her sleeping face and wondered if the fairy tales could be true. Could he wake her with just a kiss? "Open your eyes. Please, Buffy. I need you to be all right," he took her small hand in his and kissed her fingers lightly. He didn't know what to say to her, so he said the first thing that popped into his head. It seemed crazy. She wouldn't go for it, he was sure of that. After all he didn't have a soul now. And, Buffy wanted to be a normal girl.

But then, what was normal anyway? Dawn was right, what he did proved he had something no one else did, "Buffy," he suddenly was unsure of his words, whether out of fatigue or just plain fear, he couldn't tell. But it was too late to back out now. The words were off of his tongue before he knew what he'd said, "Buffy, if you wake up, I promise to get you a beautiful circle of gold to fit on your beautiful finger. Just wake up, now."

When his brain processed what he'd said, he wondered where it had come from. As it turned out he needn't have looked far to find the answer, because at that very moment, Dawn and Willow were having a very enlightening conversation.
********************

"Willow, you have to help Spike get his soul back."

"But, Dawn, he doesn't need it," Willow said, smiling, "He and Buffy already share one."
*******************************

Buffy didn't need to open her eyes to know that Spike was there. And, somehow, even though she couldn't articulate just how she knew, she knew what he had done to save her. She knew just what he had lost. And she knew what he had gained.

She looked up into his tired beaten face, and asked, "You promise?"

The joy Spike felt at seeing her emerald eyes had to express itself, "Yes. I promise. As soon as you're well enough."

The reply was weak, "I feel like a million bucks."

"I love you, Buffy Summers," Spike said as he leaned over and gave her a gentle kiss.
********************************

 

Chapter 38:

Buffy looked at him with such sadness in her eyes that it would have taken his breath away, if he'd had any to take. He tried soothing her hair back and tracing tiny circles on her temple, "Hey, none of that now. The light was there a moment ago. I saw it," he kissed her temple, " Where did it go so quickly?" he smiled, "You haven't come to your senses yet have you? Because I was hoping to bask in your glow just a touch longer."

"No. Spike I..."

His brows knitted with worry, "Then it must be something else. What is it?"

"Spike, Drusilla she..."

The mention of her name caused a cloud to pass over the little ray of sunshine he had been bathing in, and he felt the cold, "No talk of her now. There's nothing to be done for it. You're all that matters."

"I'm sorry. I know you loved her," tears were coming, even though her body was too far beyond them they still came. Not for Drusilla, but for him. She felt the swell of grief in him. That grief was eclipsed by his concern for her. She didn't know how she knew, but she did, "and, I'm sorry."

"Did Dawn tell you what happened?" Spike asked.

"No. I just know."

"Then you know that I would give up everything I had," Spike's voice was strained with worry and grief, " I did give up what I had, for you." He shook his head as he watched tears coming down Buffy's face, "And, I don't regret it. I'd do it all again, if I had to, for you. Drusilla doesn't even matter one jot. All that matters," he wiped away the tears as they were falling, "is you. Nothing else. You're all I know about. And, you're all that I care about. Just you. Understand?"

She nodded.

"Good. We understand each other, then," he slowly rose to his feet, "You just do your job and get well again," he turned back to look at her before he left the room, "I'll take care of everything else. I love you."

Dawn was waiting outside her sister's room for Spike to come out. She couldn't wait to tell him what Willow had told her. She was sure it would make him happy.

When she saw him come out of the room, he looked anything but happy. He looked like he'd just been handed the news that another apocalypse was headed to town, "Oh God," a look like that on Spike's face did not mean anything good. She started to panic, " Spike, did something happen to Buffy?"

"No Bit," he whispered, "Nothing like that."

"Then what? You look even pastier than when you went in there. And, believe me, that's pretty pasty."

"I believe I just asked for your sister's hand."

Dawn was confused, "You don't already have two?"

Spike was giddy and frightened all at once. He felt like the bottom had just dropped out of his world and at the same instant that that happened, he felt that his world would stop if he didn't indeed wed her, and do it soon, "No, Dawn, I just asked your sister to be my wife."

Dawn grinned, "You did?" she bounced on her toes, ready to grab him in the biggest hug he'd ever had, "What did she say?"

"She didn't turn me down."

Dawn encased him in a bear hug, "Oh Spike, that's such good news! I can't wait to plan the wedding! Oh, and the reception! We should have a big band, with lots of trumpets. Buffy likes trumpets. You do like trumpets, don't you? Oh this is going to be so much fun! I love you, Spike!"

Spike was bemused watching that wonderful, whirligig of a girl, as she raced off down the hall to spread the news, "I love you, too."
*******************

Angel was smarting. Spike had beaten him before, many times. At least one of those times had been in recent memory. But, he'd never looked murderous before. Yet with all that rage flowing through him, he'd managed to stop, not at the point of a stake or a blade but at the behest of a little girl.

Angel wondered if maybe Holland had a point. If given the same circumstances, would he be able to control his demon? Could he pull himself away from the abyss? Was the key to gaining the humanity he'd lost, not in how many people you helped, but in something else, something that was more of an idea than an action? Something Spike seemed to have an intuitive grasp on, while he'd been flailing around for almost a decade trying to find the meaning and reason for his existence, had Spike found it, without even looking?

Could Spike really be the one? In the end, would it be him?

As Angel exited the hospital, the last vestiges of night were burning away. He had much to think about. And, it seemed, an eternity in which to do so.
*******************

SIX MONTHS LATER

It was raining again, but she didn't mind. She knew what she was doing, where she was going. This was the last thing to do before she walked down the aisle, or to be more precise, the park, tomorrow night.

As she closed her umbrella, she was happy to see him waiting for her. She walked up to the pew he was sitting in, and sat down next to him, "You sure you want to do this? You can still back out you know."

He looked at her with a cautious eye, "Not getting cold feet, are you?"

"No."

"No? Let's do this then. It seems right."

"Okay," she said as she and Spike prepared to light the candles.

"Ladies first."

Buffy was suddenly overcome with emotion. So overcome that she nearly couldn't light the small wick. Her voice seemed to fail her, "For William. May he rest in peace."

Spike gave her a little nod of encouragement, and William a moment of silence, before he set the flame to glowing on his own candle. In a voice hushed by a century of history, he said, "For Edith. May she find peace and forgiveness with the angels."

They both watched as the two flames seemed to melt into one.
***********************

THE NEXT NIGHT

This was supposed to be easy. People had been doing this for centuries. So why was she so nervous?

"Willow, please tell me he didn't pull a Xander and disappear? Please tell me he's going to be there when I need him. I couldn't take it if he wasn't."

Buffy must have asked her the same question a thousand times in the past thirty minutes, "George, you tell her. My legs are still sore from running out to the gazebo the last time she asked."

"Buffy," George said, patiently, "Spike is down there, giving Xander fits, asking about you every five seconds. He's there," she smiled, "Trust me. There's nowhere he'd rather be right now. Besides, if he tried to skip out, Dawn would just drag him back here, by his ear."

"Do you think he'll like the dress? I went to five different vintage clothing shops before I found one in authentic Victorian lace. I really hope he likes it."

"Buffy, he loves you. Your dress is absolute perfection," George said, "and you're beautiful. But he would love you even if you were dressed in a burlap sack!"

"Really? You think so?"

George nodded.

"Okay, let's do this."
*************

Buffy couldn't think. The minister was talking, she knew that. He was saying something important. But she couldn't take her eyes off of him. His eyes were so blue. Even in this dim candlelight, they were such a bright blue. So bright she was almost blinded by it.

She looked down at where their hands met. At the small rings they were wearing. His hands were so small. Almost too small to be as strong as they were. But, they were the perfect size for her. They would hold and caress her, and love her until she couldn't take the bliss she knew he could give her. They would protect her. They would catch her when she fell, and hold her when she couldn't stand.

A wife. She was going to be a wife to him. Something she never thought she'd get to have, she was going to have. In about five minutes she was going to be a wife to Mister William Alistair Dustin.

She almost laughed. Who knew he had a name like Alistair? No wonder he'd preferred "Spike."

The next thing she knew, he was kissing her. And it was the best kiss she had ever had, or ever would have for as long as she lived.
********************

Later, at the reception, as they were dancing their first dance, Spike smiled and whispered in her ear, "See all those trombone players, Love? Count them. There are exactly seventy-six of them. Just like I promised."

"I love you," she whispered, as she kissed his lips.

"I love you too, Buffy. So much," he answered as he swept her away, dancing on a cloud of air.


THE END