Chapter 15

“Stephanie doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

Buffy absorbed Roxy’s words as her mind worked over the precarious situation in which she was immersed, searching for any cracks in the bad guys’ plans. Stephanie had gone to check up on the situation with the kranooks and the riots breaking out across Vampire Villa, leaving Buffy with Roxy. Buffy stood apart from her, keeping an eye on the vampires lining the walls while watching the vampiress-witch prepare her supplies. . . supplies that would take Angel’s soul from him.

When he awoke from his poison-induced slumber, a vicious monster would be in the place of Angel’s heroic spirit. And Angelus would be another weapon in Stephanie’s arsenal. Buffy felt a little numb at the thought. She wasn’t sure she was ready to deal with something she hadn’t had to face since she was a teenager.

The memories of Angelus’s twisted mind games and brutal murder of Jenny frightened her. . . made her experience a physical and emotional vulnerability she had not dealt with in a long time. She hated the feeling and had taken great pains to avoid it since then. She knew that Angel had voluntarily lost his soul a second time about four years ago, and she was grateful Willow had restored him before she had to witness it. Even now, she couldn’t bring herself to view Angel lying on the pallet alone.

Being faced with the helplessness again and trying to contain it made her irritable.

“Explain,” she demanded. Buffy moved closer to Roxy as she ran a slender finger over the words in what looked like one of Giles’s ancient spell books.

Roxy nibbled on her lower lip as she concentrated on the text, and after a heartbeat, she explained, “Well, for one thing, the spell to cure the kranooks’ poison only works on individuals without souls. And to cure Angel, his soul has to be removed.”

“Oh.”

Roxy began mashing herbs together using a marble mortar and pestle. “And Stephanie doesn’t know what she’s getting herself into. . . even though she should since she read many of the Watchers’ accounts of Angelus.”

Buffy eyed Stephanie’s vampires who remained unmoving behind them. “You should be careful what you say.”

Roxy was strangely calm, and Buffy still couldn’t fathom her motives. Was she a wild card in this whole mess? “I’m not worried,” the vampiress replied.

Buffy couldn’t help herself. “Little vampires have big ears. . . and big mouths.”

“But little brains.” The corners of Roxy’s lips quirked, and Buffy could tell she was holding back a grin. “Be patient. I have to take Angel’s soul to cure him. Afterwards, you’ll see.”

“See what?” Buffy was past tired of Roxy’s hide and seek games.

Roxy didn’t answer but reached to the left of the counter, opening the door to a small room. “Go ahead. It’ll be just a few minutes. The room will keep your soul safe from the spell I’m casting.”

Buffy studied Roxy’s eyes and saw something there that she couldn’t describe. It was enough to make her invest temporary trust in the vampiress and step into the tiny room. As she stood behind the two-way mirror, the door clicked shut behind her.

The room only had space for a small chair, but Buffy couldn’t bring herself to sit. Instead, she stared at the scene unfolding before her with a curious sense of detachment. This couldn’t be happening. . . could it?

Facing the two-way mirror, Roxy raised her arms over the prone form of Angel and began reciting the words of a spell. Her voice started low and deep in her throat and gradually rose until it sounded inhuman. Some unseen force took over her arms, and her limbs jerked spasmodically as sparks crackled over her forearms and lit the dark, flat blackness that had overtaken the whites of her eyes.

Buffy felt something tug hard in the inner depths of her being as if her essence was being scooped out of her. Was this what it was like to have her soul removed? Dizziness overtook her, and she felt her spirit fighting to maintain control of her body. In desperation, she clutched the frame of the two-way mirror to keep from collapsing.

With one last, high-pitched syllable that Buffy thought would split her skull, Roxy brought her hands to Angel’s chest, and Buffy felt the pull evaporate.

Primitive, unearthly power rushed into Angel’s body, swirling over his mid-section and spreading over his arms and legs as if they were digging something out of him. . . something that didn’t want to give. Then, Angel’s body jolted up from the table, and a rush of glowing energy ripped up from his abdomen and vanished within the space of an instant.

Roxy fell backward, landing unceremoniously on her behind in a wave of blond hair and long limbs, her face a mask of pain and exhaustion.

Her equilibrium returning, Buffy stared, still feeling as if she were watching something on a movie screen. She blinked once, and the scene shifted.

Angel stirred on the table, and as he moved, his face contorted into his vampire mask. He sat up lazily and shook his head like a panther that was stretching after a long nap. When his eyes opened, they were golden and. . . empty. With a roar, he leapt from the table, aiming his previously caged might at Stephanie’s vampires.

They swept into action, and Roxy had the presence of mind to back away from the scene and remain low to the ground. She inched closer to the tiny room where Buffy hid.

Buffy couldn’t remove her eyes from Angelus. He tore into the vampires like they were stuffed animals filled with organs and muscle. Even when she’d fought Angelus in the past, Buffy had never seen such violence. Being contained must have done something to the demon. . . made it fiercer. Blood from ripped throats and limbs bathed the white room in a sea of red.

Buffy almost didn’t hear the scratching sound at the door, but it persisted and got louder. Feeling like she was moving through a sea of mud, Buffy strained to focus on the sound and tugged open the door.

Roxy spilled into the room, but Buffy barely noticed. The colors and sounds of the scene before her were now more vibrant and strident, and she couldn’t remove her eyes from the violence.

Angelus swung a clawed hand at the closest of the remaining vampires. The youthful red-haired demon had dropped his weapon and shifted out of his crinkled face in a desperate attempt at gaining mercy from his out-of-control attacker. Angelus’s fingers dug into the flesh of the vampire’s neck, and licking his lips, he laughed as he ripped the throat from its thin casing. Blood swam down his wrist, and he licked it up with flourish. Angelus kicked the now limp body out of the way and grinned at the feeble attempt his next attacker made at staking him.

With his free hand, Angelus twisted the long stake in the vampire’s hands, making him stumble forward. Angelus snatched up the opportunity and landed a forceful kick to the vampire’s abdomen, sending him sprawling to the ground. Angelus straddled his prey and reached down, snapping his neck with a laugh.

Then, his eyes landed on Buffy who stood paralyzed in the doorway with a weak Roxy at her feet.

Picking his way over the bodies blocking his path, he slid on his human front and strode toward Buffy, smirking. “Buffy. What a lovely gift.”

Buffy simply stared. . . too much in shock to form one of her witty comments in response. She vaguely heard Roxy pulling herself off the ground to stand beside her.

“Cat got your tongue?” he asked, wiping his bloodstained hand across his mouth, letting his mouth hang open like an animal. “Maybe I can help you with that. Loosen you up a bit.”

Buffy’s eyes were wide in horror, and she let them slip from Angelus’s visage to the moving vampire near his calf. Angelus’s grin grew, and he stomped on the upturned face, squashing the feeble attempt to drag him down in a loud crunch of twisted tissue and shattered bone.

“Pesky little critters, aren’t they? They don’t wanna die.” He paused and looked up at the red-dotted ceiling with a thoughtful expression. “Although it was kinda fun.”

“Stephanie won’t be pleased,” Roxy said coolly from Buffy’s right.

“Stephanie? Is that where we are?” Angelus spun around, noting the exit. “So, where is she? I want to give her a proper greeting.”

“She thinks she can control you. Wants you as a weapon,” Roxy said, taking hold of Buffy’s shaking arm at the elbow.

Buffy could only watch as the scene unfolded.

Angelus whirled to face them again, letting his arms hang loose at his sides. “Really? Now that’s interesting. We’ll have to see about that.”

“I know she can’t control you, but like I said, she thinks she can,” Roxy reiterated, inching over the blood-sodden floor to the counter where she’d mixed the herbs for the spell.

Angelus narrowed his eyes, regarding Roxy with suspicion. “And who are *you* exactly?”

“You know who I am.” Although Angelus was close, Roxy kept her tone even. . . calm.

“You’re the witch who works for Stephan,” he concluded with satisfaction, taking a step toward them.

“Yes, you know me from Stephan’s,” Roxy admitted, indicating that he also knew her from another situation.

“And from somewhere else,” Angelus said, letting himself follow the vampiress’s lead.

“From where?” Her words coming out a bit hoarsely, Buffy spoke before she thought, and she felt Roxy’s cool nails push into the flesh around her elbow.

Angelus’s attention re-focused on Buffy and off Roxy. “Buffy. So, what’s with you and Spike?”

Roxy had her back to the countertop, and with her free arm behind her back, she was attempting to snag something. Buffy recognized the move and bore her eyes into Angelus’s yellow ones to distract him from the vampiress. “Jealous?”

His eyes flashed, and he glared. “Please. I’m far from jealous. I’m simply. . . curious.”

“Yeah, right.”

Angelus’s gaze shot to Roxy, and he jolted forward. “Hey!”

“Too late,” Roxy said, throwing a handful of crumbled herbs from a small pouch into Angelus’s startled face. She rattled off a quick string of incomprehensible syllables.

With a howl, Angelus crumpled to his knees, clutching at the shooting pain in his eyes. “Damn, witch!” he shouted, burying his face in his palms.

Roxy didn’t hesitate; she dodged the soulless vampire in an attempt to make it to the door. She stopped when she noticed that Buffy wasn’t following. “Buffy! Come on. It’ll only last a few seconds. We have to get out of here.”

Buffy was staring at the agony on Angelus’s uncovered face as if she were under his thrall. Her head jolted up at Roxy’s worried tone, and she seemed to come back to herself. Careful not to look at Angelus, she sidestepped the bodies and puddles of blood, rushing to Roxy’s side.

They made it to the door before Angelus spoke again. “Buffy.” Angelus’s composure had returned. Like a child getting sucked into a horror movie, Buffy couldn’t resist glancing over her shoulder to witness an erect Angelus facing them. Although she knew he couldn’t see her, she felt as if he were peering directly into her soul.

Time seemed to stand still as he spoke, “Remember this, Buffy. People don’t change. They are who they are. And Spike. . . Spike isn’t innocent. He has just as much blood on his hands as I do. You may think that you’ve changed and that he’s changed. But he’s not any different than he was. The demon can never be completely eradicated. And you. . . you’re still the same little girl who will always be left behind.”

Rattled, Buffy closed her eyes for an instant as she absorbed the words of her ex-lover. In the back of her mind, she heard running footsteps, and her nose was full of the stench of gore. Buffy’s heart thumped so loud in her chest that she was certain every vampire in the fortress could hear it, and nausea threatened to overtake her. Roxy chose that moment to break into a run away from the sound of the guards, tugging Buffy with her.

* * *

The inner paths of Stephanie’s world were foreign to Buffy as Roxy raced them through narrow passageways, wide corridors, and various sized rooms in an effort to escape their pursuers. A few times, they crouched and hid from passing vampires. Thankfully, they were in too much of a rush to notice Buffy’s scent and heartbeat. She guessed Angelus was giving them a run for their money. . . although there was the kranook problem as well.

The spaces and places became a blur in Buffy’s mind, and her thoughts kept going over and over the bloodbath she had just witnessed. No matter how hard her brain worked, she couldn’t separate Angelus’s actions from Angel’s face. She shivered even as she ran.

If Angel was re-ensouled, could she ever look at him the same way?

She kept asking herself and not coming up an answer.

Roxy halted and held up a hand for Buffy to do the same.

First things first. They had to survive.

Buffy re-focused her senses on their surroundings. Nothing reminded her of the room with Angelus and the blood.

A thought hit her like a ton of bricks.

Angelus had killed none of the vampires; their broken bodies were still undead despite severe damage to their limbs and organs. Buffy’s horror intensified even if the vampires deserved what they got. Her stomach protested, but she willed herself not to dry heave.

“There’s an escape route in here,” Roxy whispered, leading a wary Buffy by the sleeve.

Taking in deep breaths of cool air to calm her dissident stomach, Buffy studied the large room they’d just entered. The ceilings were low and the lights dim, illuminating the walnut-colored walls and giving the room an aura of warmth and safety. Brown leather sofas and delicately carved end tables were arranged in a circle. The tops of the tables were littered with ancient texts and stacks of weathered papers. Buffy was reminded of Stephan’s library, and she wondered if the room was Stephanie’s sanctuary.

No one was present.

Grasping onto the tendrils of the confidence she felt a few days ago, she summoned all her fear and anger. Seizing Roxy’s shoulder, she smashed the vampiress into the wall, pinning Roxy to the surface with a vice-like grip around her neck. Buffy leaned heavily into Roxy’s body to prevent her from moving her arms and legs.

Buffy glared. “First, you’re going to tell me what the *hell* is going on. And don’t make any sudden moves because I’ll snap your neck.”

Roxy was flustered for the first time. Being in danger of dying does that to a person. . . or vampire. “Look, Buffy, I know as much as you do. I’m just a spy for Stephan. I don’t work for Stephanie. . . not technically.”

“You’re lying.” Buffy kneed the vampiress in the gut, and Roxy flinched but didn’t make a sound. Secretly, Buffy was impressed. “And that’s a damn big technicality. You unleashed Angelus!”

“It had to be done. He would have died.”

“You’re a powerful witch. . . in the same league as one of my friends. You could have given him his soul back as soon as you cured him.”

Roxy said, “I don’t know that spell. It’s a gypsy curse.”

“Well, you could’ve kept him unconscious until we found someone who could.”

“Buffy. . . look. . . we needed a distrac. . . .”

Buffy shoved harder against the vampiress. “You said you *knew* Angelus from somewhere. . . where?”

Roxy closed her eyes and sighed. Buffy waited.

When Roxy re-opened her eyes, she whispered, “Angel. I know Angel. . . not Angelus.” She attempted to wave an arm as she said the next words, but the limb was too squashed by Buffy’s strong muscles. “I don’t really know him know him. But I used to work at Wolfram and Hart. . . a long time ago. I’d see him at the office, but I don’t believe we ever spoke.” She hesitated at Buffy’s continued glower, but then, Roxy added, “I promise you that I’m on your side.”

“Vampires don’t keep their promises.” Buffy recognized the quality in Roxy’s eyes that she’d seen earlier. “A-and I don’t believe you.”

“You do. I may not have the same motives as you, but I’m definitely on your side in our current situation. We’re both tired from the spell with Angelus, and we need our strength to get us out of here alive. Once we do get out, I swear. . . no, I *will* tell you the truth. How’s that?”

Before Buffy could respond, a half-dozen vampires with stakes-on-sticks rushed into the room. Their yellow bandannas marked them as Stephanie’s minions.

As they rushed the pair, Buffy released Roxy. At last, here was something Buffy knew. She didn’t have to think or feel. . . just act. “Sounds like a plan to me.”

With a grunt, Buffy blocked the flying kick and twisted the vampire’s leg at the knee, shattering his kneecap. She snatched the weapon from his hands and jabbed him in the heart with the wooden end.

As he burst into dust, she held up the weapon and grinned. “Cool. I wish it had wood on both ends though. Then I could be Darth Maul Slayer!” She jammed the weapon back, staking the vampire sneaking up behind her, twirled the stick, and rammed it into the vampire approaching from the front.

Roxy was holding her own with two other vampires, and riding the energy of the fight, she noted, “Thought you were tired.”

Doing a somersault to avoid two more attackers, Buffy said, “Already there. I’m a good faker. Where’s this exit of yours?”

Muttering a few words, Roxy ignited a small ball of flames above her open palm. With another syllable, the flame shot forth, consuming the vampire rushing her. “Just a sec.”

The vampiress danced out of the path of the burning vampire as he turned to ashes and floated over the ground. She caught the stake that Buffy tossed her and whirling, she swung it out long, dusting another vampire from a distance. “Totally getting the whole Jedi thing.”

Feet planted firmly apart and hair slightly askew from her ponytail, Buffy stared down the remaining vampire, giving him a little half-smile as if to say, “Bring it on.”

The vampire panicked and started to run the opposite direction, but Roxy whipped her stake up and pegged him before he could make a single step. “Bulls eye.” She bent her wrist up and blew on the end of the wood as if it were a smoking gun.

As Buffy felt the energy from the fight dying away, her suspicion returned. . . although a little less strongly. “How do we get out before more show up?”

Roxy’s playful expression faded. “Right. See the carpet in the center of the circle. Help me pull it up. Stephanie has her private escape hatch under there. It’s a little icky, but it leads through the sewers and out of the fortress.”

“How do you know all this stuff?”

The vampiress shrugged. “Stephanie trusts me.”

“Like I’m trusting you now. How do I know that Stephanie won’t be waiting for me down there?”

“Because the kranooks will be. Stephanie won’t go where they are. If she senses their presence, she won’t use this means to escape. She’s lost control of them.”

Buffy felt every hair on her body rise at the thought of the horrible battle with the snake-human hybrids. . . the battle in which they’d almost died. “I can’t fight them. Not in the shape I’m in. And neither can you.”

“That’s why we won’t be fighting them.”

“What do you mean?”

Roxy started shredding the carpet in small strips. “The kranooks are our allies. Didn’t you know that? They may not want what either of us want, but they have a common enemy: Stephanie.” She glanced up at the gaping Buffy. “Need some help here.”

“Right.” Buffy began assisting in the destruction of what looked like a very expensive carpet from some Asian country.

Several minutes later, they uncovered a small trap door. Buffy pried up the metal from the concrete frame. A foul odor accompanied by a damp mist swept up from a dark pit. She wrinkled her nose and raised an eyebrow at Roxy.

The vampiress nodded and took the opportunity to slip into the inky underworld with a single graceful leap.

Inhaling what might be her last clean breath of air, Buffy followed. Part of her hoped that they would run into a few more vampires on the way out, so she wouldn’t have to think about Angelus or Angel. . . or about what Angelus had said about her and Spike.

TBC. . . Special thanks to Sandy for the great beta read!

Next chappie: Spuffiness. . . finally! But it’s not completely rosy. . . stay tuned. . .

Thanks tons for the feedback! You guys rock! *hugs*

Chapter 18

            Buffy couldn’t help herself.  She mentally and physically took a step back, trying to fathom what demon Spike had just revealed.  In the end, she. . . or rather the other Buffy had chosen Spike’s life over her own.  Instead of Spike dying for the world, the alter-Buffy had died for Spike. 

            Her heart beating in her throat, she met vampire Spike’s clear blue eyes as if seeing him for the first time.  “Why?”

            Demon Spike shrugged.  “She. . .”

            Jenn spoke for him, filling in the blanks, “She believed in him. . . believed that he would stay behind and fight for Angel. . . fight to help him rally back from the evil that was starting the consume him through Wolfram and Hart.”

            Buffy exchanged a look with her Spike, and for some reason, she longed to reach out and touch him. . . just to reassure herself that they were in a different place than the Spike who remained a vampire.  Without a word spoken between them, he read her thoughts, and he moved closer to her so that she felt his body hovering near her back. 

            “I still don’t see what this has to do with anything,” Jon snarled with more volume than his other interruptions. 

            “He’s starting to sound like a broken record, but he’s right,” Harmony said, fluffing her hair and staring off into space as if bored by the entire conversation.

            Vampire Spike ignored his ex, “Only, I failed to bring him round.  He sank further and further into the clutches of the senior partners, and there was nothing I could do but watch.  And I only stayed around to watch because of. . .”

            “Celeste,” Buffy supplied, memory forever imprinted with the image of the little blond-headed girl who had called her “Mommy.”

            Demon Spike nodded.  “Right.  Had to make sure she was safe from the evil.  And because Angel slipped further, that must mean that the tension across dimension lines was lessened.”

            “I don’t understand how this tension could be affected so much by one being,” Jenn offered.  “You think there’d be enough Slayers to keep the tension going.”

            Roxy explained, “Not all the Slayers are major players in the battle between good and evil. . . no matter what we or they might like to think.”

            “It comes down to down to you three for some reason,” vampire Spike suggested, nodding at Buffy and Spike in turn.  “You and you and your Angel.” 

            “Again, I ask how this relates to my people,” Jon interjected.  He was starting to sound like a broken record. . . a deadly broken record that hissed and packed quite a wallop in his attack.

            “It relates because you want to stop Stephanie, too,” Roxy replied.  “The senior partners want to temporarily stop Stephanie so the power differential can continue to build. 

            “We want to *kill* Stephanie,” Jon corrected.  “Doesn’t matter how many of us die in the process.  We want her dead for what she has done to us. . . making us slaves to the magic through the chips in our head.”

            “Never said the senior partners didn’t want her dead,” Roxy added quietly.  “Know I do.”

            Harmony nodded.  “Michael and I want her dead for what she did to Stephan.  She ruined everything for us; we were set in the city.”  She sniffed delicately.  “She burned down my shop!”

            “Wait a minute.  There’re chips in brains involved?” demon Spike scoffed.  “Well that just makes everything all grand.” 

            Everyone stared at him.  Apparently, he was over his tears of a moment ago.  Buffy surveyed him and decided that wasn’t accurate.  He was just putting up his bravado again.

            “What?  Just glad they’re not in my noggin.”

            “But it’s okay for them to be in ours?”  Jon leered at the vampire, but the kranook leader seemed more placated now that the subject was on something he cared about.

            “Actually, it may be the key to everything,” Roxy said.  “Spike, Buffy, and Angel have a prophecy to fulfill.”

            “That’s gonna be real easy.”  Buffy made a face.  “Or did you forget that you took Angel’s soul from him?”

            “To save his life!”

            “Well, now he’s batting for the other team.”  Buffy’s eyes rounded, and someone snickered.  She thought it was demon Spike.  “That came out *so* wrong.”

            Roxy winked at her.  Buffy wasn’t sure if she wanted to strangle the witch or give her a hug after the experiences they’d shared together.   

            “And now, we can use that to our advantage,” the witch assured them.

            “How?” Spike asked.  “He’s kind of. . . well, evil now.”

            Roxy nodded.  “Which is why we give him his soul back from afar.”

            “Hey!  You said you couldn’t do a gypsy curse,” Buffy reminded her.

            “I can’t.  But Willow can.”  Buffy opened her mouth again, but Roxy spoke before she could utter a sound, “And I have a way that you can contact her.  Meanwhile, the rest of us will give Stephanie and her vamps the fight of her life.”

            “And after Angel gets his soul back?”  Buffy asked.

            Roxy sighed.  “I’m afraid that I don’t know what will happen then.”

* * *

            Buffy had chosen him twice. 

            In the semi-dark depths of the underground, Spike inhaled the stale scent of unused air and clutched a torch in one hand, lighting their path.  He was having a hard time fathoming the truth.  Even though it was plain as day in his mind, his emotions weren’t quite up to speed.  Hell, had his emotions been steady for the last three years without her?  He thought they had been. . . when she wasn’t in the picture.

            Now in the quiet space. . . in the calm before the storm, Spike found himself wondering what would have happened if he had ignored her attempt to run away from him and gone after her instead.  Would they be in this awkward space of touching and not touching. . . drawing close and pulling back?

            Shifting the pack on his shoulder, he glanced at the Slayer. . . *his* Slayer out of the corner of his eye.  Buffy walked along beside him as she had always done, blond hair trussed up in a bouncy ponytail that swung with an innocence that he knew she no longer possessed.  She seemed oblivious to him. . . focused on their mission to get to the highest possible spot within the kranook caverns. . . closest to the mystical energy source humming through Stephanie’s headquarters. 

            Spike clenched his jaw. 

Roxy better not have been lying about where they needed to go, or he’d personally tear every limb from her body even if he had to get re-vamped to do it. 

            “So how’re we gonna call Willow again?” Buffy asked him out of the blue, a spark of green glinting in her eye as she peered up at him.

            “We’re going to try to harness the energy the witch told us about, using this baby.”  Spike tilted his head toward the bag on his back.  The magic amplifying device Roxy had given them felt heavy against his spine. 

            “And we got the spell.  Say the right words, do a little dance, and viola, Willow contact?”  Spike could picture her frowning as she went over the plan in her mind.  “I wonder how we’ll we know it’s working?”

            Spike chuckled.  “I suppose when Red starts talking in our heads, pet.”

            “Inter-dimensionally?  You have *no* idea, do you?” she asked, and Spike could see her incredulous expression in the dim lighting. 

            Levity between them sure was better than the alternative awkwardness that could have easily slid into place after their last one-on-one encounter.  Spike wasn’t sure how many more of those he could take on the current mission. . . or any other mission for that matter.  What would happen after they accomplished their task of dashing Stephanie’s dreams?

            “Actually, no.  Somehow we’re supposed to help Angel retrieve his soul, so we can fulfill our end of the prophecy.”

            She laughed then.  “This is crazy, isn’t it?”

            “What is?”  Spike agreed, but he wanted to hear her view of the craziness.

            “All these different agendas, different dimensions, different decisions, Roxy’s plan, the vagueness of the stupid prophecy.  God, who would have known that one little decision on my part would be so important?  Makes me wonder what would happen if I. . .”

            She stumbled over something in the dark, but Spike caught her by the elbow, holding onto her so she wouldn’t fall.

            “You all right, love?”

            “Like *this*, for example,” she continued, clapping her hands together to knock off excess dirt from the cavern wall that she’d touched in an effort to balance herself. 

            “What?”

            “You know.  If I walk the wrong way or fall over, is it going to cause some catastrophic event in the near or distant future?”

            “I think that you’re giving yourself far too much credit,” he said in a lower voice.  He bit the inside of his cheek in annoyance at himself for breaking the amicable flow of their conversation.

            She shook her head.  “You’re right.  You’re right.  I suppose all the power I wielded in terms of huge alterations in the timeline was just around that last apocalypse at the Sunnydale hellmouth.”

            “I suppose.”  Spike wasn’t going to fill in the blanks for her.

            So, she kept going on her own, “Do you ever wonder what would have happened if I would’ve stayed with you?”

            Spike wasn’t expecting that question to come flying out of her mouth.  Then again, he knew better than to try and predict anything she did or said. 

His initial reaction was to say something sarcastic, put her in her place, and stalk off the opposite direction, ignoring that he had just had the same thought not a few minutes before. 

But his rational mind knew better. . . knew that he really had nowhere to go in this hell.  Space between dimensions his ass. . . this was hell.  Annoyingly, the emotional part of him didn’t want to hurt her despite what she had done in the past.  And he was annoyed with himself because he knew what that meant about his own feelings. 

            Instead, he chose to be logical in answer to her question, “I think we’d have mucked it up royally.”  He paused, but she had no response, so he took her silence as agreement and admitted, “You weren’t ready, but neither was I.  I was a vampire for over one hundred years; think I adjusted to the whole human thing right off the bat?  No puns intended.”

            The light on Buffy’s face hinted at a corner of her mouth going in the upward direction.

            “Have we had this discussion before?” he asked aburptly, staying with her mood.

            She sounded more amused, “Hmmm.  I *think* so.  Only last time, there was considerably more yelling and emotion on both our parts.  And then, there was the whole Jonathan thing.”

            “Don’t bring him back up,” Spike mock-growled. 

            “Well, you brought him up last.”

“I know.”  Spike grimaced.

“What were you saying?”

            “That we’d have mucked the whole thing up?”

            “Yeah, that.  You’re probably right.  We weren’t ready.”  She halted dead in her tracks and placed a small hand against his forearm.

            He watched her with a quizzical expression on his face.  “What?  Did you hear something?” 

            “And now?  We’re different now.”  She slid her hand along his arm and pressed her palm against his.

            Scar molded against scar. 

            Spike blinked.  Was she daft?  Had she forgotten the recent events in his bunk at the kranooks’ lair?  What they’d said to one another. . . or rather what he’d said to her? 

            “I know what you’re thinking.  I don’t have to decide now.  I have to make up my mind about whether or not I trust myself enough to trust you.”  She shook her head as if to clear her thoughts.  “That sounded a lot less confusing in my head.”

            “Where are you going with this, pet?  We have a mission here.”  He removed his hand from hers and hooked his thumb under the strap of the backpack, pulling it away from his shoulder. 

            She stared at him as he tried to push past her.

            This time, she grabbed *his* arm.  “No.  I’m not finished.”

            “Well, I am.”

            “No, you’re not. . . not until I say you are,” she insisted, finding an untapped source of energy and dancing around until she was in front of him, blocking his way.

            “Since when should I listen to you?”  Spike was irritated now, and he just wanted to stop what was happening before he didn’t have any control over his feelings.

            “Stop it.  You’re just circling back around to the same argument that we had since we started this mission, and that. . . that prevents us from communicating.”

            “Don’t see that you’re the expert at communication.”

            “No.  No, I’m not.  But I’m trying here.  I’m *trying*, Spike.”

            “Why bother?”  He sighed as he gave into the emotion that was making his heart pound in a way that it hadn’t in a long time.  “It’s not like we can take this conversation anywhere right now.  We have a mission.”

            “Screw the mission!” Buffy shouted, throwing both arms in the air.  “All you talk about is ‘the mission!’”  She studied the ground for a second with a little frown on her face.  “God, no wonder everyone got sick of me before,” she said almost to herself.  Her gaze slammed into his again.  “It’s all about the ‘bloody’ mission!  Even when I was off figuring myself out. . . it was about finding and helping all the Slayers in the world. . . teaching them lessons and showing them the ropes. . . teaching them the mission!  Screw it!”

            Of all the things she could have said. . . “What did you say, pet?”

            Her eyes were ablaze even in the diffuse light.  “I’m sick to death of ‘the mission’ ruling my life.  I’m a person here w-with thoughts and f-feelings and rights and needs.  Damn it!  I have needs.  And I deserve to take every rare chance that’s offered me to try and meet those needs!”

            Spike stared at her.

            “Even if my everyday decisions don’t carry that much weight in the mystical battle between good and evil, they carry a lot of weight to me, and hell, they can make a big difference in my life!  And so, I’m making a choice!  Right here.  Right now.  This moment.”  She paused half a second to breathe, and she began pacing back and forth under Spike’s nose.  He couldn’t help but be amused by the motion of her ponytail punctuating her statements.  “So I’m insecure; so I’m not perfect.  Everyone is, and I never will be!  So I’ve had a few bad experiences, so I need a little reassurance every now and then when someone from my past tries to hurt me. That does *not* mean that I’m not ready to make a decision!  That does not mean I’m an emotional cripple!  And that does not mean I don’t know what I want!”

            Spike wasn’t sure what exactly she was hinting at.  “Buffy. . .”

            “What?”  She looked up at him with wide green eyes and half-parted lips, all innocence as if she’d completely lost track of what she was saying with his utterance of her name.

            “Bottom line, pet.”

            “Oh.” 

            The scar above Spike’s eye jumped half an inch. 

            She searched what she could see of his face. . . his eyes. . . .  Then, she mumbled something so softly that he almost couldn’t make it out.  After all, he didn’t have vampire hearing anymore.

“What?” he asked, uncertain whether he believed what she’d just admitted.

Something akin to hurt flashed over her features, and she spun on her heel and dismissed him with a flick of her hand.  “But if you can’t handle it.”

And she was off up the next incline and closer to the heart of Stephanie’s headquarters. 

He took three large strides after her and spun her around with his free hand.  The pack slid from his shoulder to the ground. 

“Hope you didn’t break it,” she whispered, not sure what she meant.

            His fingers dug into her upper arm, but not enough to hurt her.  He couldn’t really hurt her anyway. . . not really.  “Don’t say those kinds of things unless you mean them.”

            She glared at him, extricated her arm and stepped back.  “You didn’t even hear me.”

            “Say it louder then,” he said, his voice indignant despite his attempt to sound neutral.  “Say it like you mean it.  You can’t, can you?”

            Tears glazed her corneas, sheathing green in crystalline liquid.  She focused on his chest, pointing an index finger toward his sternum.  “Don’t. . . don’t you. . .you even start with that crap again.  Don’t you build another wall when I’m trying to tear this one down.”

            Spike’s own vision blurred before he was cognizant of the pain of the memories racing through his mind. 

            Buffy noticed and calmed by his display of emotion, she rested an open palm on his chest. . . over his heart.  “You’re trembling, and your heart is going so fast,” she marveled, not for the first time, at his state of living.

            “God, Buffy.”

            Deliberately moving her hand from his chest to his hand that was wrapped around the torch, she covered his fist, splaying fingers over knuckles.  In gentle motion, she pulled the blaze down so that the fire echoed against the depths of her eyes. . . so he couldn’t deny the genuineness of her words. . . .

            “I love you, Spike.”