Satellite

Chapter 1

~Includes excerpts from the song "Satellite" by the Dave Matthews Band.

~ Author’s Note: Takes place early in Season 5 (in a world where Glory never came to Sunnydale and Joyce doesn’t die), directly after the end of "Afterwards".

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

Satellite in my eyes
Like a diamond in the sky
How I wonder
Satellite strung from the moon
And the world your balloon
Peeping Tom for the mother station

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

Buffy awoke to find herself in bed alone. She touched Spike’s pillow, but it had already lost the heat from his body. She sighed, unalarmed but worried. Rising, she drew a blanket around her shoulders. She walked downstairs quietly, trying not to wake her mother and sister. The kitchen was empty, but she’d known he wouldn’t be there. Night was cresting into morning, creating just enough light for Buffy to be able to see Spike. Lying outside on the grass, he stared up at the last, lingering stars. She frowned, watching him from the window. Though she could not see his face, she knew he was hurting. She’d had seven days of falling asleep beside him, and seven dawns of waking up without him. Nothing she’d done to help seemed to work- the confusion and pain of suddenly finding himself both human and immortal Slayer were too strong for her to heal. She needed help. Turning away from him, she picked up the phone.

Outside, Spike watched silently as the colors of sunrise washed away the night. Even after seven sunrises, the sight startled him. He knew, of course, that it couldn’t harm him anymore, and he was glad for that freedom. Once was more then enough when it came to burning alive, no matter that the memories he held were mostly fuzzy and detached. Like the rest of his emotions, Spike thought, sighing. He knew it upset Buffy to wake up alone. He could feel her concern nipping at the edge of his consciousness, thanks to their mutual soul. She didn’t understand why he needed to feel the shock that came when the sunrise didn’t hurt him. She didn’t – couldn’t!- understand. It was the only emotion he knew was his alone, and not hers.

He closed his eyes, feeling her with his mind as she walked outside, a cup of tea steaming in her hand. He loved her. That was the one emotion he was sure of. She smelled of sleep, sweat, and sex, and suddenly he wished that he’d never left her to wake up alone. She was scared for him. Scared for herself as well, he realized, at the risk she was taking with her heart. He had to pull himself together, for her sake if not for his own. She deserved better then another brooding ex-Big Bad.

"Hey you," she said, sitting beside him on the damp grass. "I brought you English Breakfast. Get it? English Breakfast?" She set the mug beside him. "Okay, so it wasn’t that funny."

"You get an ‘A’ for effort, though," he said, smiling at her. "You should go inside. It’s chilly out here."

She touched his cheek, his face reflecting back to him in the shine of her eyes. "I love the bedroom look on you. Tousled hair, sleepy eyes---you’re very yummy in the morning. Maybe we should see if Calvin Klein needs a new model."

"Not a chance, pet. You’re the only person I’ll be showing my delicates to, thanks very much." He sat up, ignoring the tea in favor of pulling her into his lap. "Nice pajamas you’ve got there." He ran his hands over her hair and kissed her. "If I’d known you wore cartoon animal clothes to sleep when I was trying to kill you, it would’ve made the job a lot easier."

She stuck her tongue out at him. "I knew there was a reason I never told you," she said sarcastically. "Beyond the fact that mortal enemies don’t usually talk about clothes in the middle of a fight. What’d you wear to bed when you were a vampire? Flannel PJ’s with pictures of bleeding limbs and helpless victims all over them?"

"We’ve all got our fantasies, love. But, no. I slept the same way I do now---" He smirked at her.

"Naked," she said, peppering tiny kisses along the line of his jaw. "Uh-huh. And if I’d known that when I was trying to kill you---"

He reached his hands, wet with dew from the grass, under her shirt and wiped them on her belly. She jumped up, biting back a shriek to keep from waking up her mother. Looking up into her glaring face, he laughed. "If you’d known I slept naked all those years, you would have--- what?"

She sank back onto his lap, straight-faced. "Killed you. What else? But---" She pulled his face against hers, kissing him hard. He broke off and sputtering for a breath, still unused to the necessity of it. She smiled. "I’m awfully glad I didn’t."

She kissed him again, then stood and walked towards the house, leaving him looking after her hungrily. "Hurry up and get showered before Dawn and Mom wake up," she called over her shoulder. "I’ll make breakfast. Giles is coming to see you. He’ll be here in a few minutes."

"Giles?" Spike brushed himself off quickly and followed Buffy inside. He sat at the kitchen table, watching her as she opened the cabinet and found two cereal bowels. "No cereal, please. It’s too cold outside for a cold breakfast. What’s Giles want with me? No more shots, right?"

"That’s between you," she said, pulling him to his feet, "and your Watcher." She turned him around and gave him a push. "Go. Shower. Dress. Be nice, and I’ll make your favorite eggs."

"Scrambled?" he asked hopefully, kissing her nose and grabbing a box of eggs out of the refrigerator. "And please, pet, don’t call him my Watcher."

"Scrambled," she agreed. She cracked an egg into one of the cereal bowels. "He is your Watcher, but I guess I don’t have to remind you about that. Go. Don’t use all the hot water again. If you’re in there too long, I’ll get Dawn to flush the toilet. Then we’ll see how much you like having a human’s reaction to heat and cold."

He growled at her, but couldn’t help smiling when she growled back. He might be confused but, all things considered, he was glad to be alive.

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

Satellite headlines read
Someone's secrets you've seen
Eyes and ears have been
Satellite dish in my yard
Tell me more, tell me more
Who's the king of your Satellite Castle?

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

Giles walked into the kitchen moments after Spike left. He took a seat in front of Buffy and watched as she poured the eggs into a pan. "He seems fine, Buffy," he said, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes tiredly. "Happy, even."

"You were listening at the door?" She glared at him. "How long have you been here?"

"Long enough." He eyed her grass stained pajamas and rumpled hair. "But not too long, thank God. Why did you feel this was important enough to pull me out of bed?"

"Because, Giles, he isn’t fine. Okay, yeah, he can crack jokes and eat like a pig and do--- all the other things a normal guy would do." She stirred the eggs vigorously. "But he’s so--- he’s so lost. He won’t talk to me about his feelings."

"Sounds normal enough to me. Aren’t men suppose to be stoic and unemotional?"

Buffy waved the spatula at him, frowning as little bits of egg flew off. "Can we quit with the sarcasm for a minute, please, and try to focus? It’s not that he doesn’t have emotions. He does, believe me. Big, huge, lurking emotions that I get to share with him and sort out, thanks to the Powers. But he doesn’t realize he’s feeling them. For some reason, he’s numb. He doesn’t really feel anything."

"I’m not sure I understand. He’s overwhelmed with emotion, yet he’s also numb?"

She sighed. "Yes. He thinks the emotions are from me. This whole connection we’ve got going is very confusing. It’s difficult to figure out whose is what, you know? It’s hard for me, but it’s harder for Spike. I’m still pretty much the same person I was before, but his whole existence has changed. I don’t know what to do. I can’t help him anymore than I am, Giles. I need you. You have to think of something."

Reaching into the cupboard for a plate, she felt a shiver pass through her. Spike had turned off the water upstairs. Weird, she thought. She hadn’t figured out exactly how far did the psychic stuff went, but it seemed that she knew what his body was experiencing. That explained why she’d felt hot soon after he would’ve been stepping into the shower, and why- she blushed, tossing Giles a quick look- the sex they shared was so amazing. To feel what he felt while he was feeling what she felt- weird again, she thought, and way, way confusing, but also wonderful.

"I don’t really know what to say, I’m afraid," Giles said, watching Buffy transfer the steaming eggs from pan to plate. She turned her back to look for the pepper shaker. He quickly stole a bite of egg, but managed to look innocent before Buffy turned around. "You won’t let me tell the Council about his- ahm- new calling, and without their assistance I can’t get my hands on any of the more informative books about the Powers. You won’t even let me ask Angel about his experiences with them. My own books have no information whatsoever that could tell Spike anything. Anya never dealt with the Powers in all her years as a demon. I’ve used up every resource I’ve got. How can I help?"

"This isn’t about his transformation, I don’t think. Maybe some of it is, but I think his biggest problem right now is trying to figure out what he’s suppose to do. His path, you know? He’s a Slayer now. That’s--- that’s huge. Huge, and one hundred percent different from what he was, and scary."

She set a fork and the pepper shaker next to Spike’s plate, along with a bottle of ketchup. "I remember how terrified I was when I first got called. Being a Slayer didn’t make sense to me for a long, long time. It’s a hard thing to accept, you know. He’s probably chock full of questions, and unfortunately, he’s not the one making friends with the Woman in his dreams. He needs someone who can give him answers. What if you took him on a quest?"

"A quest?"

"Yeah, you know. You take him out to the desert, make your little circle of twigs, do the hokey-pokey and shake your gourd. He wanders around until he meets the guide. They’ll chat, and then maybe all his questions’ll get answered." She frowned, considering. "Or, not. The guide’s kind of cryptic. But cryptic answers are better than no answers, right?"

Giles gaped at her. "Quest? Guide? Buffy, how did you know about this?"

She patted his arm. "Old World stuff, Giles. I wasn’t feeling--- well, let’s just say, I was having some problems with my identity. Big problems. You took me on a quest. At first, it seemed like a waste of time- I didn’t understand anything the First Slayer told me, and I definitely didn’t like what she had to say. But it all made sense eventually. It helped me. And I think it will help Spike."

"Ahm- all right." He cleaned his glasses slowly. Although he’d spent the past week trying to adjust, he still found Buffy’s memories of a life he’d never lead extremely disturbing. "I suppose I could take him to meet the guide. Do you think he’s strong enough? Physically, he’s recovered, but emotionally? After all that’s happened, perhaps it would be wise to wait a while, give him more time to adjust to being human. Don’t you think he should concentrate on what it means to be a man, before he worries about being a Slayer?"

"It doesn’t work like that," she said, sitting down beside him. "You can’t separate the two. Yeah, I’m Buffy, and yes, I’m also the Slayer. But I’m no more Buffy than I am the Slayer. Does that make sense?" She sighed. "I’m confusing myself. What I mean is- Spike’s gotta learn to deal with *all* that he is. He needs help, and he needs it soon. Like, yesterday. You’re his Watcher now. You have to help him. Please?"

Giles nodded. "Right then. We’ll do it. I’ll need a few hours to prepare, so I’ll leave you. Make sure Spike gets plenty to eat today- he’s going to need all of his strength. And Buffy---"

Buffy rolled her eyes. "I know, I know. Don’t call you his Watcher."

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

Winter's cold spring erases
And the calm away by the storm is chasen
Everything good needs replacing
Look up, look down, all around, hey satellite

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

Chapter 2

~Includes excerpts from "So Tonight That I Might See" by Mazzy Star and "Black and White" and "Possession" by Sarah McLachlan

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

And I would be the one

To hold you down

Kiss you so hard

I’ll take your breath away

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

Buffy shifted uncomfortably on the couch and frowned down at the book in her hands. "Read this, Buffy," she said, mimicking Giles in an overdone English accent, "It’ll help pass the time. You won’t even notice we’re gone." She stood up with a sigh, flinging the book away from her. "’Theories and Speculation on Alternate Dimensions’ wouldn’t hold my attention if I was locking in solitary, much less now".

"So, why don’t you go sit on the porch? At least then you wouldn’t have to check the window every two seconds to see if Giles’ car is there." Dawn watched her sister from the doorway with amusement. "It’s only been twelve hours. I thought Giles said it could take a few days before Spike finds the guide."

"Well, yeah," Buffy said, flopping herself back down on the couch. "But it didn’t take me that long. And I didn’t have anyone sharing all my feelings when I did my quest. Spike’s cold, so I’m cold. This bites. You’d think this whole soul-connection thing would be good for something besides telling me Spike needs a warmer sweater." She shivered. "And apparently, so do I."

Dawn tossed her a blanket. "C’mon, grumpy icicle Buffy. I’ll make you some cocoa and we can both sit on the porch and wait for them. Okay?"

Buffy followed her into the kitchen. "You’re worried about him too?"

"Of course I am. I know you told me that this Guide is suppose to help him, and that’s good. He needs help, I know. I live here too, I see things. He’s not the same. If the quest’ll help him, then I’m happy. But what if the Guide tells him stuff that upsets him? He’s not the most stable person right now."

She set a mug in front of Buffy, frowning. "But you’d know if something bad was happening to him, right? Because you love him and you’re all soul-ey together."

"Soul-ey?" Buffy raised an eyebrow. "That’s not even a word. But yeah, I would know if he was hurt, I think. I’d feel it, just like I feel that he’s cold."

"And you’re okay. So, he must be okay too. We don’t need to worry. When he comes home, we’ll make sure he gets warmed up. And tomorrow, maybe he’ll let us take him shopping for clothes that are less vampy than what he wears now. That’d be fun."

Buffy drank the hot liquid slowly, absorbing the warmth. "You’re right," she said, wiping her mouth. "I’m okay, so he’s okay. And hopefully he’ll be a little less cold if I stay warm. So--- wanta make me some more cocoa?"

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

the road is long
the memory slides
to the whole of my undoing
put aside
I put away
I push it back to get through each day
and all I feel is black and white
and I'm wound up small and tight
and I don't know who I am

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

"The ants go marching one by one, hurrah, hurrah," Spike sang loudly into the darkness. His feet slipped on the desert sand, but he maintained his balance and kept walking. And walking. This sodding quest was taking forever. He shivered, unused to feeling cold after so many years of having a vampire’s resistance to temperature. "The ants go marching one by one, hurrah, hurrah!" He shouted the song, trying to warm himself. ‘I feel like a bloody ant, walking brainlessly in a line’, he thought, and marched his feet accordingly. ‘Watcher-boy better not be playing with me. Real funny. ‘Walk that way, Spike! And by-the-by, keep walking. Forever. Never to lay your filthy hands on my precious Buffy again. Mwahahahaha!’. He smirked, then continued to sing. "The ants go marching one by one, I sure wish that I had a big gun--- Hey! Hello puss."

An enormous cougar sat in front of him. It stared at Spike with dramatic gold eyes, one predator sizing up another. Spike warily backed up a few steps. "Mate, it’s your desert. I’m just a guest. No challenge here, right? Nice kitty."

The cougar gave him a long look, then turned and walked away. It looked back over its shoulders at Spike as if to say, "Come on! What are you waiting for?"

"Right then," Spike said, "I’m game." He followed the big cat cautiously. "Take me to your leader."

The cougar led Spike to the base of an enormous mesa. He looked up, trying to see the top, but the rock disappeared into darkness above his head. Sitting down tiredly, he leaned his back against the wall of rock. He looked for the cougar, but it was gone.

"Bye, then, kitty," Spike said nervously. He rested his head back against the rock and closed his eyes, resolving to give the Guide one more hour to show up before he walked back to Giles. Back to Buffy. He sighed sleepily, missing her warmth. She’d be going out of her mind with worry by now, he knew. Focusing, he tried to send her vibes of calmness. He didn’t really believe she’d feel them, but it comforted him to try.

Suddenly, a fire appeared in front of him, large enough to light the night sky brilliantly. A voice came from behind the flames, a British voice. "Hello, Warrior."

Spike leapt to his feet and peered into the fire, trying to make out the man’s features. "Are you---"

"This is just a form. The form belonged to the man you were," said the Guide. "You have questions, Warrior."

"Um- yeah. Lots of questions, actually. How much time’ve you got?"

The fire snapped and grew, as though angered. "Ask your question," the Guide said tersely, "Or lose your chance."

Spike snapped to attention. "Right then. Can you tell me why I’m here? Why’d this happen to me? One day, I’m a vampire. The next, I wake up and I’m a Slayer with a soul on timeshare. What am I suppose to do now?"

"You share a soul with the Other Warrior, she whose gift is death."

Spike’s mouth went dry. "Okay, I guess."

"To each coin there are two sides- light and dark, good and evil, joy and sorrow, peace and war. You’re here to maintain the balance. That is why there are two Eternal Slayers."

"So, what then? I’m the bad one, and she’s the good one? Is that suppose to be the balance?" He jumped back as the fire sparked in his direction. "Hey! Watch it with the fire, would you?"

The Guide glared at him. "You and your Other are not the balance, you create the balance. The Eternal Slayer’s are neither good nor evil- they are. You are the same in all things, save one."

"What---"

The Guide interrupted him. "The Other’s gift to give is Death, and she has given it. You still hold your gift. Life is your gift, Warrior. Just as Love led the Other to her gift, so shall Hate lead you to yours."

Spike stared at the Guide. "Hate? No, you don’t understand. I’m done with the whole hate-violence-evil thing."

"Hate is Love, Warrior. Love is Hate. Passion rules all, equalizes all. Hate- Love- they are absolute values where Passion is zero."

"Huh?" Buffy had warned him that the Guide was cryptic, but she hasn’t said anything about it speaking in *math*.

"Your question has been answered. We are finished." With that, the fire disappeared, taking the Guide with it.

*******

Giles pulled into the Summer’s driveway. It was two o’clock in the morning, and all the lights in the house were off. "I’ll drop by tomorrow. We’ll meet with Buffy and analyze your conversation with the Guide more thoroughly," he told Spike, blinking blearily. "Get some rest. And don’t let Buffy stay awake all night pestering you for information. She needs her sleep as well."

"Yes, sir," Spike said sarcastically. "Don’t worry. Whatever the Guide meant, I don’t think it was a bad thing. It seemed to like me."

"Yes, of course. With your winning personality, how could it fail to like you?"

Spike shook his head and gave Giles a rueful grin. "You win. I’m tired. It’s too late to play this game, old man. G’nite now."

"Night, Spike," Giles said, smiling as he watched him slam the car door and walk up the path to the porch.

Spike climbed the steps of the porch slowly. His legs ached from his trek through the desert. He started to unlock the front door when he heard a loud snore. Looking to his left, he saw Buffy lying with her knees curled up against her chest, a dark blanket covering her. Stifling a giggle at the sight, he walked over to her and nudged her with the toe of his shoe.

"Pet?" he said, "Wake up now. Let’s go inside."

Buffy’s only response was to snore louder. Spike bit his lip, snorting back a laugh. The Slayer snored like a truck driver. If only he’d known that months ago! He’d always been on the look-out for a new insult for her. Now, it was more endearing than anything else.

"Pet?" he repeated, kneeling beside her and shaking her shoulder lightly. "All right then, up you go." He lifted her into his arms and cradled her against him. She snuggled instinctively against his chest, making his heart pound. "Let’s just get in the house, love. Then we can snuggle."

"You need some help?" Dawn poked her head out the front door, shivering slightly. "She’s been out here for hours, waiting for you. I told her she’d freeze, but she said that since she was already telepathically cold, it didn’t matter if she got physically cold."

"I didn’t know she could feel the cold I felt," Spike said, looking down into Buffy’s face.

"Yup. So, I made her lots of cocoa. We were trying to warm you up by warming Buffy up, but she said that she didn’t think it worked." Dawn looked disappointed. "We wanted to help."

Spike smiled at the girl. "You helped, I’m sure. Let’s get Big Sis inside now before she wakes up and yells at me for letting you catch a chill."

He walked inside and upstairs, taking Buffy into her bedroom. Dawn followed him and peeled back the bedclothes so he could lay Buffy on the bed. She sat next to her sister and tucked the blankets around her. Spike watched her fondly. "It’s not often you get to play the caretaker, is it Nibblet?"

"Nope. I’m mostly the one getting cared for. And that’s nice, you know. I can be grown up sometimes, but other times, I’m still just a kid who needs looking after. I like it because it means Buffy cares, you know? Like, she has to take care of every single person in the world. She’s the Slayer, so that’s her job. But she takes care of me the most, and that means she loves me most. That’s why I like to take care of her sometimes, too, even if she’s older then me. But sometimes, I can’t take care of her. I mean- jeez, how many apocalypses has she fought? I can’t kill monsters. I still want try and help her, though."

"Because you love her. That’s good, Bit. You’re suppose to want to take care of the people you love." Spike sat on the bed. He touched Buffy’s hair, his face lined with exhaustion. "I still don’t know what I’m doing half the time. Got a lot of noise in my head, you understand? But I do know that I’ll always take care of her. And of you. No worries, right?"

Dawn smiled. "Sure," she said. "I want in on the big Scoobie conversation tomorrow. I want to know for sure that you’re safe."

"We’re leaving the Scoobies out of this one. It doesn’t have anything to do with them. But I don’t mind if you hear my side of things. Tomorrow though. Off to bed with you now."

Climbing off the bed without waking her sister, Dawn walked over to Spike and hugged him. He hesitated briefly, but hugged her back. "Having you here makes me feel happy," she whispered.

Closing his eyes, Spike tightened his arms around her. "Me too," he said, and was only a little surprised to find he meant it.

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

So tonight the crash goes by
Small like wind and refuse to die
The crash of light come down on me
Come so close that I might see,

see the light come down on me
I hold you tight like rain
Sunshine on a rainy day
Sunshine on a rainy day
*******************************

Chapter 3

~Includes excerpts from songs by Toad and the Wet Sprocket

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

Moving in waves

Caught in a slow landslide

Sleeping still but so alive

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

Buffy inhaled deeply as she followed Spike into Giles’ apartment. It smelled of tea and musty books, comforting scents she always associated with her Watcher. She sat beside him on the couch, waiting as he finished his phone call. Spike leaned against the wall next to the kitchen, the tension in Giles’ body making him too uneasy to sit.

"Are you out of your bloody mind? That is--- that is completely unacceptable," Giles sputtered after a long silence. "How thick-headed are you? We’ve been through this before. Buffy does not work for the Council any longer! If anything, you work for her. The same idea now applies to Spike. You’ve no right to blackmail them."

Buffy shot Spike a nervous look. Her anxiety raced through him, sending chills down his spine. He shrugged his shoulders, knowing nothing about her past with the Council. She beckoned him closer with a quick motion of her hand. He lowered himself onto the arm of the couch and gave her a reassuring smile as she rested her head against his thigh.

"Fine. Yes, I said fine, you stubborn pillock! I’ll speak with them about this, and get back to you. No, not in an hour. We’ll call you back at our convenience, not yours." Giles slammed the phone down. He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths before turning to Buffy and Spike. "How much of the conversation did you understand?"

"Umm--- not a whole lot. The Council wants something from us, and they’re trying to blackmail us," Buffy said. "You’re not happy with them- big surprise there, I know. But, you’re not completely against whatever it is, because otherwise you’d have told them to go to Hell and been done with it."

Giles flashed her a quick, frustrated smile. "I did tell them to go to Hell. Unfortunately, if they did go at this moment, it’d make things that much worse for us. The Council doesn’t want anything from us, this time. In fact, we need something from them. And yes, they’re blackmailing us. If we don’t do what they’re asking us to do, they won’t give us the information that we need."

"Okay--- back up here," Spike said, confused. "What information? And what’ve these guys done to make you go all crazed-librarian on them?"

Giles stood and paced around the living room. "More than I have the time to explain to you, Spike. Suffice it to say, they are not to be trifled with, or trusted. Ever. Unfortunately, we still need them. The Council has the most extensive library in the world. It holds books and text on everything preternatural. Demonology, Dimensional Theory, Prophets and Prophecies--- it’s all under their thumb. We can’t gain access to it without their direct consent."

"And we need these books--- why?" Buffy asked.

"Spike’s quest--- the Guide talked about absolute values. I did a bit of research this morning, and discovered that there was an ancient prophet who thought and spoke in mathematics. He went by the name of Rhyios."

"Huh? He could speak in math? How is that even possible?"

"It’s not so strange as all that, Buffy," Spike said. He stretched his legs out in front of him, wincing. His entire body ached from his journey the day before. Being human definitely had its drawbacks. "There’re more languages then you can imagine, human and otherwise."

"Yes," Giles said, "for example, the pianist Chopin was said to think in music. Math and music are very similar."

"Okay, I guess. So, the Guide was talking about this prophet, this Rhyios?"

"Actually, I think the Guide was quoting Rhyios, not just talking about him. That’s why it is imperative that we read the full prophecy. There must be some information there that the Guide wanted us to have."

"Wanted me to have," Spike corrected. "It was my sodding vision, after all."

"It must be important," Buffy said. She reached for Spike’s hand, cradling it protectively. "We have to get into that library. The Guide told Spike that there is a balance to all things, and that his gift mirrored mine. Well, my gift killed me. Spike could be in danger and whatever Rhyios prophesized could save his life."

"But Buffy, you were a regular Slayer when you died. Spike’s immortal. I don’t think we need to fear for his life."

"Immortality isn’t everything it sounds. I mean, take vampires! Supposedly immortal, but we kill ‘em everyday. Being immortal sounds great, but we can still be hurt, even killed if we take enough damage." Buffy took a deep breath, steadying herself. "What does the Council want from us?"

"You," Giles said, looking at Spike. "They want you to come to them, to their headquarters in London. You are a curiosity to them, an enigma. Never before has a vampire become a Slayer. They want to test the limits of your abilities and, by doing so, also learn about Buffy’s new status as an immortal."

"No deal," Buffy said flatly. "No way are they "testing" you. That’s just a nicer word for torture. We’ll find another way to get our hands on those books."

"There is no other way," Giles said. "Believe me, I wish there were. I spent all morning on the phone with Travers, trying to negotiate for more options. I’m afraid that they are enjoying their newly found power over you, Buffy, after loosing all control. The two of you- you’re all they have, don’t you see? They could have waited out Buffy’s time as the Slayer, knowing that they would be in control of the next girl to be called. Only now, there will be no other’s called. You are the end of the line, and they’ll do whatever it takes to position themselves over you."

Buffy clenched her jaw stubbornly. "There are always other options. We could break in, steal the books."

"I already thought of that. It won’t work. Travers will have that place guarded like a castle. Besides, Buffy, it’s really not up to you. Spike might be newly human, but he’s not a child. This is his decision to make."

"I’ll do it," Spike said, his face calm. "Whatever it is, I’ll do it. We have to know, right? The Guide wanted me to know something, and we have to know. If it’ll take torture to make sure none of us die, I’ll do it."

"No way!" Buffy said. "You don’t know the Council. These guys--- they are crazy. Who knows what they’d do to you." She grabbed his wrists, pulling him closer to her. "I can’t just sit by and watch you get tortured. Not again."

"It won’t be like it was in the Old World, love," Spike said, stroking her hair. "No more frying in the sun, right? And you don’t have to watch."

Giles cleared his throat. "Yes, actually, she does. Travers wants you there, Buffy. They don’t want to harm you, but they do want you to witness their tests." He looked down at his feet, evading Buffy’s stricken eyes. "They won’t do anything to harm him permanently. It might be painful, but only temporarily so."

Buffy looked at Spike silently, her eyes pleading him to say no. He kissed her lightly, trying to comfort her. "We’ll do it," he said to Giles, his eyes locked on Buffy’s. "We’ll do it, right pet? We’ve come this far--- you’ve brought us this far. You didn’t make me human just to have me up and die on you, right? And I sure as hell haven’t been putting up with all this soul crap just to bit it the first time something says ‘boo’ to me. If we don’t get this information because we’re afraid of a little pain, I could die, and all we’ve done will be for nothing." He grabbed her shoulders and gave her a small shake. "We can do this, love. You know we can."

Buffy closed her eyes, uncertain. Was she really strong enough to sit back and watch him be tortured? Images of Spike from the Old World pounded her mind. Spike, bruised and broken after being tortured by Glory. Spike, beaten to the ground by Angelus, shouting for her to do the sunlight spell. Spike, burning in her arms. And Spike in the New World, lost and confused. All the suffering--- it couldn’t have been for nothing. She owed him more than that. She owed herself more. She was the Slayer- she had to pull herself together.

Standing suddenly, she walked to the kitchen. The sink overflowed with dirty dishes, but there was just enough room for her to stick her head under the faucet and soak herself with water. It saturated her hair, the cold clearing her mind. Dripping, she searched the countertop for a hand towel, but there was none. Bachelor’s pad, she thought absently. She pushed her hair behind her ears, letting it drip, and walked back into the living room. Standing beside Spike, she put her arm around his waist.

She looked at Giles, her eyes steely with newly found determination. "Make the call."

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

Breathing in waves

Pulling away, rising

Running scared but so alive

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

"I’m not saying it again, Dawn. You - Can’t – Come!"

Dawn scowled at her sister. She turned to Spike, her eyes wide and pleading. "Spike? C’mon. It’s London! This might be my only chance ever to go there!"

Spike looked away. He walked across Buffy’s bedroom to lean against the window. "No, Bit. Sorry. And don’t be giving me the kicked-puppy eyes. Big Sis said no, so no it is."

"Great, make me the bad guy," Buffy said, grunting as she pulled a large suitcase from under her bed. "This should work for our clothes and stuff, but what about weapons? Do they let you check swords and cross bows at the gate, or will we have to wait in line?"

"I wouldn’t know. Never flown before. Last time I crossed the Atlantic, flying was still a birds-only deal." He opened the closet and pulled out a few items. "I don’t think you’ll need the heavy artillery. We’re going to meet with the Council of Watchers, not the Council of Demons."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Shows what you know about the Council," she said. "Is there really a Council of Demons?"

"Sure," he said sarcastically, winking at Dawn. "They have annual meetings, tea and finger sandwiches, the whole bit. Maybe I’ll try and wrangle us an invite this year. You’d love it, I’m sure."

Buffy smacked his arm. "Watch it, mister. I know where you sleep." She studied him as he tossed a pair of jeans and a tee shirt into the suitcase. "Is that all you’re bringing?"

"Don’t know why you’re complaining," he said, eyeing the pile of clothes she’d set aside to pack. "The less I bring, the more you can pack."

"True," Buffy said, smiling. She took a dress out of her closet and added it to the growing mound on her bed. "More for me makes me happy--- though, it’s not like meeting with the Council is a dress-up date." She frowned. "What does a girl wear to something like this? It’s definitely a wash-and-wear occasion."

Dawn looked into the suitcase, then back at Buffy hopefully. "Hey, if he only packs one change of clothes, there’ll be room for my stuff too!"

"No!" Buffy and Spike said in unison.

Glaring at them, Dawn said, "I liked it better when you wanted to kill each other."

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

I see you on a road I travel

I move in time

The earth forgives my trespass

And I'm alive...

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

Chapter 4

~Includes excerpts from songs by Toad and the Wet Sprocket.

Author’s Note: I’ve never been to London, but I’m pretty darn sure there’s no castle like I’ve described- at least, not with freaky Council people inside. Artistic license, okay? All British people, please forgive me.

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

don't listen now

there are liars everywhere

liars are everywhere

something rushes over me

and I find myself standing here

lift my eyes up to the sky

and offer a silent prayer

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

"Umm--- why didn’t someone tell me the Council lives in a castle?"

Buffy stood on the busy London sidewalk, gaping up at the building that housed the Council’s headquarters. Shoppers bustled on the street behind her, seemingly accustomed to having tourists stare at the castle. The chilled air smelled of sea water and fish, familiar scents that eased her tension slightly. See, she thought, I can do this. I’m calming down, relaxing. Yup, this is me relaxed- or, as relaxed as I’m gonna get waiting to watch Spike tortured. And tortured in a castle no less!

"It’s not really a castle. More like--- more like an enormous stone compound. With turrets--- ahm, and gargoyles." Giles rang the buzzer beside the gate twice and stepped back, waiting for a response.

"Right," Buffy said, watching the security camera as it zoomed in on her face. "Add a drawbridge and a moat, and you’ve got a castle. Stick Travers in the moat, and you’ve got a moat-monster. Very authentic, don’tcha think? They’re obviously rolling in the green stuff if they can afford a place like this. They should’ve been paying you more, Giles. Remind me to beat up--- I mean, hit up Travers for you."

"If this Travers bloke is as bad as you say, why’s he still alive and in charge?" Spike frowned at the camera, noticing that it spent twice as long focused on his face than it did on Buffy’s.

"You just answered your own question. The Council are bad guys- they need someone bad in charge." Buffy sighed, impatient. "You know, breaking and entering is sounded better and better." She walked down the sidewalk, searching the stone fence for weaknesses.

"And more impossible," Spike said. "Gates, thick walls, cameras--- look, they even have dogs keeping all their little treasures safe."

A pack of Doberman Pinchers raced across the grass towards the gates. They ignored Giles in favor of growling at Spike. He backed up a few steps, his hands in the air. "No need to get worked up, pups," he said, looking at Giles for answers.

"Perhaps there’s still a bit of demon in you. They’ve been trained to attack the non-human." Giles glanced at Spike. "Or maybe it’s your hair."

"Hey!" Spike said, glaring. "I---"

Buffy walked back to the gate and interrupted him. "Stop. No fighting right now. If the Council sees you two acting like you hate each other, they’ll think of it as a weakness. And do you know what they’ll do with our weaknesses?"

"Exploit the bloody hell out of them," Giles said, glowering at the castle as though it wore Travers’ face. "That’s what this is all about, after all. Finding our weaknesses, then figuring out how to use them for their own benefit."

"And I’m just guessing that what’s to their benefit isn’t to ours?" Spike said.

"Generally speaking, yes." Giles pressed the gate buzzer again. "They are the consummate bullies. It must be Quentin’s idea to make us wait out here for them to deign to notice our presence. He’s trying to show us that he’s in control, that he has power over us. Buffy’s right. We must present a united front."

Spike smirked at Giles. "Right, then," he said, taking the Watcher’s arm. He gestured pointedly at the camera. "Old mates, that’s what we are. Best of pals. Bosom buddies."

"Don’t ever say ‘bosom’ to me again, Spike," Giles muttered darkly, giving the camera a strained smile.

"What’s wrong?" Spike said. "Certainly wasn’t your bosom I was talking about."

Giles gritted his teeth, still grinning as the camera zoomed on him. "Shut--- your--- mouth." He sighed with relief as the camera pointed away from him. Pushing Spike away, he growled, "I don’t have bosoms, you prat."

"Stop it, both of you!" Buffy shouted. She punched Spike on the arm, and glared at Giles. "I mean it! No more or I swear, I will leave both of you here and go shopping. On your credit card, Giles. And Spike, I’ll fill a dozen suitcases full of English stuff- heavy English stuff- and make you carry them all the way home. Jeez, you guys! Grow up, please!"

The men looked at her, chagrined. "Sorry," they said in unison.

She moved to stand between them, separating them. Suddenly, the dogs perked their heads up and ran away, towards the castle. The gate swung open on its mechanical hinge with an ominous creak.

"Enter," said an hollow voice from the intercom speaker.

"Here goes nothing," Giles said, walking in ahead of his Slayers.

Spike threaded his arm around Buffy’s waist. "Here goes everything."

*****

Inside, a butler led them along a wide hallway lined with portraits. Giles deliberately did not look at the pictures, but Buffy slowed the group and studied each one. She stopped in front of one of the last portraits, amazed.

"Um, Giles? This guy looks like your evil twin." She traced the air above the man’s face. "You, with black hair, a widow’s peak, and sideburns. And what’s with the chin? I could stake vamps on that thing."

Giles coughed, covering a smile. "Buffy, if you’ll recall, I told you that being a Watcher is a traditional profession in my family. That man is Robert Giles, my grandfather. I’m told he wasn’t as--- as evil as he appeared, but the sinister look did help him to keep his Slayer on the straight and narrow."

Buffy raised an eyebrow at him. "Don’t even think about it. I’m still recovering from you as a stevedore. You with sideburns just might be the thing that pushes me over the edge."

Flushing, Giles pointed to the portrait across the hall. "That’s my grandmother, Agnes Giles. She didn’t have sideburns, but she did have a rather alarming mustache."

"I could handle you with a mustache, I guess, since you’re a Mister Giles and not a Misses." Buffy turned to see the picture. "She was lovely. Not evil looking at all. Why is she on the wall with all the scary ex-Council guys? I don’t see the Council being real equal-opportunity back then. Don’t tell me we’re standing on the birthplace of feminism. I just don’t want to give Travers that much credit before he tortures my soul mate."

"Not even close," he said, taking Buffy’s elbow and leading her behind the butler before she could find another way to procrastinate. "Most of those men were Watchers, or otherwise involved in the management of the Council: researchers, professors, scientists, archaeologists--- you name it, they have one. Robert Giles ran the library—"

"Big surprise there," Spike interrupted, needling Giles. "Is being poncy a generational disease with you people?"

Looking at the butler, Giles decided to play nice. "Yes, library science is also a Giles family tradition. Robert ran the library, and Agnes worked with him there. However, her main job was the translation of ancient texts. She had an ear for languages, though most of the ones she knew fluently are no longer spoken. It was in her book of memoirs where I first read of Rhyios. Were it not for her, we might have had no hope of puzzling out the prophecy."

"Praise be to Granny Giles," Spike said, dodging Buffy as she raised her hand to pinch him.

"Knock it off," she whispered menacingly, glancing at the butler. "Ever hear the expression, the walls have ears? United front, remember?"

"Sorry, love, but I’ve been waiting all day for these blokes to be ready to torture me. I’d like to do whatever I can to get my mind off it. Pestering Giles is a good stress reliever."

She put her arm around him and gave him a quick squeeze. "That’s understandable," she said, "But if you keep it up, Travers will hear you, and then you might be in for more then one day of torture. These guys do not have a sense of humor. They aren’t playing around. This is for real. Get it?"

"Got it," he said, frowning at her.

"Get it?" she asked Giles, touching his arm.

"I’ve got it," he said. "It was alright. We really did call her Granny Giles."

The butler led them through a pair of heavy oak double-doors and into a conference room. Sitting around the long table were a dozen men and women who Buffy had never met. At the head of the table sat Quentin Travers. He stood as they entered, an empty smile on his face, and motioned for them to be seated next to him.

"Rupert, Miss Summers," he greeted, shaking their hands. He turned his stern stare on Spike. "And you must be William the Bloody. Son of the Scourge of Europe. Slayer of Slayers."

"Actually, I just go by Spike these days," he said, going for casual. "But hey, you can use the whole name if you’d like."

Travers stared at him, his unblinking eyes remarkable in their utter impassiveness. The Councilman reminded Spike of a bird of prey, and so he returned the stare, almost expecting the man’s pupils to spiral like a birds. Disquieted, Travers sat abruptly, intentionally not waiting for Spike to sit first.

"Rude," Spike muttered under his breath, sitting beside Buffy.

She elbowed him sharply in the ribs. "Hello Quentin. Can’t say I’m glad to see you. Let’s get on with this. What are you going to do to him?"

Travers nodded at Giles. "Still the same colorful girl, eh Rupert? You’ve had years with her since the Council last looked in on you, and still she’s got no respect for her betters."

"She has plenty of respect for her betters," Giles said evenly. "It’s only, she’s yet to find them. Buffy’s as good as they come."

"Quite," Travers said, as if the single word settled his point. "Well, Miss Summers, we do have big plans for your vampire."

"He’s not a vampire," Buffy said. "Not anymore, at least."

"That is one of the things we will be determining. In all of recorded history, there is no evidence of a vampire becoming human, much less becoming a Slayer. Obviously his heart beats, and the sun is not harming him, so I suppose he must be human enough. However, we will be testing him to learn exactly what he now is- and just as importantly, what he now is not."

Buffy sighed. "You could have saved us a very long trip, Quentin. He’s a Slayer now, same as me. Didn’t Giles tell you that on the phone?"

Quentin chuckled arrogantly. "Yes, he did indeed. But Miss Summers, I am not in the habit of taking the word of a- pardon me, Rupert- fired Watcher, especially when that word flies in the face of all we know of vampires. Mr---" he coughed, "Mr. William shall be tested, and with no further delay."

He looked across the room to two muscular men who stood guarding the door. "Fredricks, Manheim," he said, "Please escort the vampire to quarantine room number four."

Spike stood. "They don’t need to escort me. I’m doing this of my own free will. I keep up my end of the bargain, you keep up yours."

"The text, yes," Quentin said, standing. "While you and Miss Summers undergo the tests, Rupert will have full access to our library resources. If you become uncooperative, Rupert will be shown the exit, without his information."

Buffy stood. "Fine," she said, her eyes spitting fire. "Fine. We’ll play this your way, this time. But only this time, Travers. You don’t want to see me after today. Trust me."

Quentin smiled mildly. "I fully intend to avoid you," he said. "I might be ruthless, but I’m not an idiot. I’ll avoid you for a while, allow your temper to cool. Then when the next disaster strikes, you’ll have had time to forgive us, and perhaps even to realize that we’re on your side, Buffy."

Buffy looked at him wordlessly. He would never understand her, or her capacity to protect the people she loved. If he thought she would forgive him for the torture of her soul mate--- she bit her lip. No time now to get worked up, she told herself. It would be bad to take Travers’ head off before Giles found the information on Rhyios. But later--- she bit her lip again, harder. Spike looked at her questioningly, feeling the pain of her teeth on his own lip. She avoided his eyes and, taking his hand, walked towards Manheim and Fredricks.

Giles watched as his Slayers were led from the room. "Not an idiot," he repeated, shaking his head. "Ha bloody ha."

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

whatever I fear the most is whatever I see before me

whenever I let my guard down, whatever I was ignoring

whatever I fear the most is whatever I see before me

whatever I have been given, whatever I have been

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

Chapter 5

~Includes excerpts from songs by Toad and the Wet Sprocket

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

Am I two souls

One hard, one whole

Am I real

I don't want to feel anything

Anymore

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

Spike rested his head on the rim of the toilet, his mouth open and panting. Strings of vomit ran down his chin. His stomach clenched spasmodically, and he tightened his grip on the towel on his lap. Sweat stung his eyes. He closed them and concentrated on his breathing. "In, one two three," he muttered, taking in a slow breath, and holding it. "Out, one two three". He released his breath, noticing gratefully that it stopped his head from spinning. "Again, Spike," he said, too sick to care that he was talking to himself. "Again. Don’t let those buggers get the better of you." A burning sensation rose in his throat, and he raised his head back over the toilet bowel and threw up again. And again.

Finally, the nausea subsided. Spike sank down where he was, too weary to move out of the bathroom. He laid his cheek against the floor, appreciating the coldness of the cement against his flushed skin. Behind him, Manheim the bodyguard leaned against the doorframe. He watched Spike closely, but did not come to his aid.

Spike struggled to a sit. He wiped his mouth on the towel, then tossed in at Manheim’s feet. "Thanks for nothing, mate. And I do mean nothing. What, they pay you a bonus to watch me sick up?"

Manheim stared at him, his face impassive. "The blood you drank made you ill?"

"What the bloody hell do you think? I wasn’t doing that for kicks." Spike stood, and walked into the outer part of the tiny quarantine cell. He dropped onto the narrow army cot and laid on his back, his arms folded under his head. "Of course the blood made me sick! You try drinking six liters of the stuff, see how brilliant you feel."

"You passed the test. You could not tolerate the blood as a vampire would have."

"I told you, I don’t like blood anymore. Are we done yet? You’ve beaten on me, bled me, and put me in the sun. What’s it take to convince you people?"

"We cut you, and you bled, but you healed as a vampire would. The bruises we gave you faded as well." Manheim raised an eyebrow suspiciously. "Explain that."

"The bloody Powers messed with me. I can’t explain in. But I’m not a sodding vampire." Spike rolled over onto his side. "Are we done now?"

"My superiors tell me when we are done."

"Ah, I see. You’re a minion. How insulting. Guess that nit Travers wouldn’t want to dirty up his poncy little hands, eh?"

Manheim looked away, a smile tugging at his lips. He took a breath, then gave Spike a stony glare. "Mr. Travers is with the Slayer."

Spike sat up abruptly. "Where is Buffy? I want to see her." He put a hand over his stomach, where a hot ache still lingered. He knew she’d sensed his pain. Her reaction to his torture had overlaid the original pain, doubling it. All of his strength had been sapped in the effort he’d made to block her out. His awareness of her had not yet returned. "If he’s hurt her…"

"The Slayer has not been harmed." Manheim took a cellular phone from his belt and dialed a few numbers.

Spike stood and stretched his legs, trying to shake off his weakness. It wouldn’t do to be unprepared for whatever hoop the Council would have him jump through next. He had to stay on his toes.

Manheim frowned into the phone. "What are my orders, sir?" He waited, his nose twitching slightly during the long pause. "Yes sir. The Subject is ready to transfer. I’ll bring him to you directly."

He clipped the phone back onto his belt and looked at Spike. "Turn around," he said, grabbing Spike by the shoulders and leaning him against the wall. He pulled Spike’s hands together and slapped a set of cuffs on him.

Spike smirked at Manheim over his shoulder. "Getting rough now, are we? You allowed to have that much fun on the clock?"

Grunting, Manheim pushed Spike forwards. "Walk."

Spike walked ahead of Manheim out of the cell. "Where are we going? Is it time for lunch yet? I’m feeling a bit peckish for something to eat that’s not liquid and bloody."

"I’m taking you to Travers. He wants to witness your final test firsthand."

"Right then," he said, relieved. Buffy was with Travers. He’d finally be able to see for himself that she was safe.

Spike walked ahead of Manheim, down the long hallway. He tried not to look into the windows of the cells that lined the hall, but failed as his curiosity got the better of him. Some cells were empty, but most were occupied with various types of demons. He shuddered as images of the Initiative flooded him. "Not now," he muttered to himself. "Gotta hurry. Gotta make sure Buffy’s alright. This is no time for the trauma routine."

"Hey, Spike!"

Spike stopped shortly in front of one of the cells. He stared inside at the green-skinned demon who stood in front of the barred window. "Do I know you?"

"Yeah," the demon said, throwing Manheim a nervous look. "Well, I mean, no. Or… kind of. You knew me. Or maybe I should say, you would have known me. Anyways… I’m Buello. We were…. well, not pals, exactly, but I knew you in the Old World. My girl Julie worked for you. She was sort of a go-for, for you and the rest of the Council."

"So?" Spike narrowed his eyes. "What d’you want from me?"

He gave a hard, barking laugh. "I’m in here, you’re out there. Guess what I want?"

Spike raised his arms, wincing as the cuffs chafed his wrists. "I’m not exactly in charge, you see."

Buello’s face fell. "I guess you’re not part of the Council this time around. Wish you were. See… Julie’s not around yet, and if I don’t get out of here soon, I won’t make it to Hawaii in time."

"Hawaii?"

"Julie’s mom’s there. I haven’t met her yet. She doesn’t know it, but she’s just waiting for me to make her…" he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "And then, we’ll have Julie. But only if I get out of the damned cell."

"Buello," Spike said, trying to keep his balance as Manheim shoved him forwards. "Buffy… she’ll remember you. We’ll try and get you out of here."

Manheim slammed a meaty fist against the wall beside Buello’s cell. "Walk," he said. "Walk."

"Walk, walk," Spike mimicked in a squeak. "They should send you back to university, mate. Can’t you say anything more interesting?"

"Walk or I’ll beat you unconscious and carry you." He fingered the nightstick that hung from his belt with affection.

Spike took three quick steps ahead of him. "That’s… umm," he shot a quick look over his shoulder, checking the distance between Manheim and himself. "That’s much better."

********

"More tea, Miss Summers?" Travers asked, gesturing at the teapot that sat between them on the table.

Buffy stared at the untouched cup he’d poured for her an hour before. "I don’t want any tea," she said. "I want to see Spike."

"Shortly. Manheim is bringing him here as we speak. Again, I apologize for separating you from him. It wasn’t in our initial plan. However, the opportunity to study the long range effects of his physical state on your own was too important to squander. We simply had to take advantage of the situation, in order to gain as much knowledge of your condition as possible."

Buffy glared at him. She folded her arms across her stomach, which still ached. "Do you expect me to forgive you? Shake hands? Have tea?" She leaned across the table, her eyes burning into his. "Your flunkies tortured Spike, and through him, me. They used my link with him to hurt him even more. You know he was feeling all the pain I felt- he must have hurt twice as much because of me. You made me a part of his torture. I could kill you for that alone."

"The insights we’ve gaining into the connection you have to Mr…. to William will benefit you as well, you understand. Perhaps you should rethink your hostility."

The table shook as Buffy shot to her feet. She lunged towards Travers, only to be stopped by Fredricks who seized her from behind in a choke hold.

"You know I can break this guy," Buffy muttered, her body rigid. "I could take his head off, easily. And you know, Travers, that you’d be next."

Travers rose slowly and walked towards her, meeting her glare steadily. "You could. Of course you could. I very much doubt that there’s anyone in this building who could match your strength. However…." he broke off as the double doors to the conference room opened and Spike and Manheim walked in.

Spike rushed towards Buffy. "Let go of her," he growled, pulling at his handcuffs. "Let her go now!"

Fredricks looked at Travers, who nodded. "You may release her," he said, moving back to his seat.

Buffy grabbed Spike and pulled him into the corner of the room, trying for privacy. The men hung back, but watched the two Slayers vigilantly.

Ignoring them, she threw her arms around him. "You’re okay?" she whispered. She burrowed her head into his neck and threaded her arms around his waist, under his bound arms. "You’re really okay?"

Spike buried his face in her hair, taking comfort in her scent. "Now I am," he said. "Have you seen Giles?"

She pulled back enough to look into his face. "No, but Travers said that he’s almost done with the research. They’re going to let us go soon."

"After one more test." He nuzzled his face against hers. "I wish they’d free my arms. Cuffs are only fun when you’re the one with the key, love. I can’t feel a thing below my neck."

She rubbed her hands over his shoulders, trying to help the blood to flow. "One more test? What else could they want from you?"

Travers cleared his throat loudly. "Come back to the table, Miss Summers, William, and we’ll proceed."

The Slayers exchanged an anxious glance. They walked slowly to the table. Buffy helped Spike into one of the chairs. He chuckled uneasily. "If you blokes would just pass the handcuff key to Buffy, I’d be able to sit on my own. Sort of hard to balance with no arms."

"Very soon, very soon," Travers said, waiting for Buffy to take her seat.

She sat as close to Spike as possible, holding his arms firmly. They weren’t going to take him from her again. They would go together, or not at all, no matter what the consequences. Her glare at Travers told him as much.

He nodded. "You won’t be separated again. I give you my word."

Still on edge, Buffy said, "What are you going to do to him?"

"The last test will be an evaluation of your claim that William is immortal." Travers snapped his fingers at Fredricks, who pulled a sharp, wooden stake from a box beneath the table. "Manheim will drive this stake through William’s heart. If he survives, you are free to go, with whatever information Rupert has collected. If he dies," Travers shrugged, "then the world will have one less vampire."

Buffy stared at Spike, horror rimming her eyes. "No," she said, "No."

Spike looked down at his lap, thinking. Finally, he met Buffy’s eyes. "Yes," he said simply. "You trust that Woman of yours, right? And she said we’re immortal."

"But… but, we don’t know how it will effect you! We don’t know for sure… we don’t know anything for sure! Vampires are immortal, but being staked still kills them. You can’t let them do this to you."

"Buffy," Spike said, his voice soft but piercing. "Love, we have to do this. We need the information too badly. It will be alright." He leaned into her. "I promise, love, whatever happens, I’ll be alright."

Buffy pulled him against her. She kissed his cheek, then leaned her forehead against his. "I love you," she whispered, staring into his eyes. "I love you. We’re going to have a talk about this death-wish of yours when we’re back home." If we make it back home.

She stood and walked around the table to Travers. Fredricks and Manheim moved to stop her, but Travers called them off with a quick shake of his head.

She stood beside the Councilman and held out her hand. "No one’s staking Spike but me. Give it to me."

Travers nodded, and Fredricks slapped the stake into her hand. She turned and slowly walked towards Spike. Silence hung heavily between them. He tried to stand, but couldn’t.

"Take the cuffs off of him," Buffy ordered. She shifted the stake in her sweaty palm. "Now."

At Travers’ look, Manheim released Spike and helped him to his feet. He faced Buffy, determination strong on his face. "Thanks, pet," he said, standing still in front of her. "Go on then. Give it to me." He gave a shaky laugh. "You’ve been waiting for this day for years."

She took a deep breath. "Close your eyes," she said, "Please. Keep them closed. I don’t want you to see it coming."

"I’m not a bloody coward. If you have the stones to do this, the least I can do it not be weak about it. No more stalling now, Buffy. Do it."

She nodded, biting back tears. "Fine." She drew the stake back and with a sharp swing, impaled him through the heart.

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

Good night, don't fear

I always will watch over you my dear

Good night, sleep well

I'll see you with the rest of them in hell

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