Slip Of Mind, by Trisha H.

Summary: Takes place directly after Dead Things. It's a response to a challenge posted by Nos on Crumbling Walls (http://cgi.komodo-skin.com/forum/). I'll post the challenge first, then my story. The Super Geeks gain control of Spike's chip and use him like a weapon, but since they are the Super GEEKS, things don't go quite the way they planned. B/S in nature.

Rating: R to be safe. I don't really know.

Disclaimer: They're not mine. If they were, I'd be nicer to them. I'd set them up in a condo on the beach and make them have long, happy, boring lives that no one would want to watch on tv... wait, maybe not. But anyways, they're Joss's to torture, not mine. And he does such a good job at it.

Spoilers: Through Dead Things.

Dedication: For Nos, since she created this really neat challenge, and since she's been so supportive of my other fics. Thank you! Oh, and everyone should go read her story, "When Darkness Falls". It's wonderful.

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-------Requirements:

-The Trio of Nerds find out what Spike's chip does, and somehow (you decide) are able to control it.

-Spike confesses something sinister to Willow

-Dawn/Spike friendshippyness!

-Post Dead Things

-A song by Bush, Dave Matthews Band, or Candlebox

-A near death (or dust) situation involving a main character. (Buffy, Spike, Dawn, Willow, Xander, Anya...)

-------Other Requirements: (Optional)

-A crossover with Angel

-A scene where Buffy tends the wounds she gave Spike in `Dead Things'

-Mention of the De Soto

-A starving vampire

-Mr. Gordo

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"Who's hotter, Counselor Troi or T'Pol?" Andrew said, the light from the computer screen reflecting off his eyes as he read the website. He swiveled around in his seat. "Troi. Definatly."

Jonathan drained a can of Mountain Dew and tossed it in Andrew's direction. "No way. T'Pol is way hotter than Troi. She has the..." He cupped his hands six inches out from his chest.

"Yah... well... Troi's are bigger." Andrew cupped his hands a foot from his chest. "They just make T'Pol's look all fancy in her space suit."

"What's wrong with that?" Jonathan grabbed the computer mouse. "Here, dickbreath, I'll show you..."

"Boys, boys," Warren said, tsking them. "We have better things to play with than space boobs."

Exchanging a blank stare with Jonathan, Andrew said, "Better than boobs? No such thing."

Warren whipped a remote controller from behind his back and raised his eyebrows. "We have this."

"So?" Jonathan gestured at the television. "We watch TV all the time. How's that better than boobies? `Specially in the daytime. There's nothing on until after dinner."

Andrew turned off the computer monitor and walked towards the television. "That's not true. TLC has this show called Maternity Ward. Sometimes you can see... things..."

"Eww, Andrew. There's like... blood, and stuff. And they're moms. That's just gross." Jonathan grabbed the controller from Warren and studied it. "This isn't for the television. You've modified it. This... what is this?"

"When you two girls are ready, I'll tell you," Warren said, straightening to his full five foot, six inch height and holding his head proudly aloft.

Jonathan and Andrew sat on the floor at his feet, looking up at him with adoration- though Jonathan's appeared slightly worn at the edges. Warren took note of that, then grabbed a chair from the computer terminal and spun it around. Straddling it, he smiled at his fellow villains.

"What we have here," Warren said, brandishing the remote controller with theatrical flair, "is the key that will solve our biggest problem. What is the one thing that's stopping us from ruling all of Sunnydale?"

Andrew tentatively raised his hand. "Umm... the Slayer?"

"Exactly. And what do we need to do to her?"

Snorting, Jonathan said, "Well, let's see. We've already made her think she's gone insane and made her think she's killed someone. Gee... I guess the only thing we haven't done to her so far is kill her."

Warren's mouth twitched. "Exactly," he repeated.

Jonathan jumped to his feet. "You... you're crazy, you... you... you crazy freak! We are not killing another girl!"

Warren stared him down. "We're not killing another girl," he said soothingly. "Spike is."

"Newsflash freak-o. Spike's on her side now. Remember what we saw when we bugged his crypt?"

Andrew rubbed his chest, his eyes dreamy. "Yeeeaaaahhh," he said. "That was... hotter than Troi and T'Pol together."

Ignoring Andrew, Warren pulled Jonathan aside. "Look, numbnuts. The Slayer knows we killed Katrina. Yes," he said, as Jonathan started to argue, "WE killed her. She knows you better than the rest of us- she will find you. Do you really want to spend the next thirty years playing girlfriend to Bubba the serial killer?"

Jonathan flushed. "No."

"Okay then." He turned to include Andrew. "Remember when Spike came and made me check out his chip?"

Andrew shuddered and glanced at the Boba Fet figurine for reassurance. "Trauma! Trauma!" he cried shrilly. "We don't talk about that day!"

"Don't pee your pants again. The Fett is fine. That was a difficult day, I know, but what came out of it will save us all a lot of trouble. After a lot of work, I finally discovered what the deal is with Spike's chip. Every time he tries to hurt a human, it puts out electrical energy which causes him a lot of pain. It doesn't stop him from wanting to hurt people, but it is an effective muzzle. I found the frequency of the signal that the chip works on, and I've figured out how to manipulate it so that the electrical output triggers certain chemicals which cause specific behaviors. This remote controller is our link with the chip. By pressing the right buttons, we can command Spike to do... well, pretty much whatever we want."

Jonathan grabbed the controller. "It looks pretty normal to me," he said, frowning with doubt. "How can you be sure it works?"

Standing, Warren pointed at the door. "I'll prove it. To the van Kemo Sabe's! Victory awaits us."

Andrew walked out dutifully, as directed. Jonathan hesitated, then followed Warren to the door.

*****

Buffy paced nervously outside Spike's crypt, her face still swollen from crying. The frosty grass crunched under her shoes, reminding her that if she wasn't so distraught, she'd be freezing cold. No, she thought, not distraught. Distraught described her earlier that night, as she beat her fear and anger out on Spike's face and sobbed her shame out on Tara's lap. Now she felt empty, but not in the disassociative sort of way that had plagued her since her return. This emptiness held an aspect of relief. She'd managed to let out her dirty, little secret. Tara knew she was sleeping with Spike, and had accepted it. She'd even understand the possibility that Buffy loved Spike. Then again, Tara had also thought it was alright if Buffy was simply using Spike. But she had listened to her, had held her as she cried. She'd helped her upstairs and ran her a hot bath, then waited downstairs to intercept Dawn. When Buffy, tear-weary but clean, opened the bathroom door, Tara had been
standing in the hallway with a cup of tea in her hands. She'd tucked her into bed and held her hand as she fell asleep. No matter how flawed she found Tara's belief that there was nothing wrong with using Spike, she was grateful for the comfort of a friend.

Looking down at her hands, Buffy thought of all the things they had done. Lots of good things, she knew, things she could take pride in, things that made her who she was. And some things that were less then good. Committing robbery with Faith. Beating information out of Willy. Sending Angel to Hell. Many things that fell into the gray area between right and wrong. Still, there were lines she would not cross. Lines like murder. She'd never killed anyone without reason. And lines like abuse. She had never exploited someone's emotions for her own benefit. She'd never used anyone, never. It was against everything she believed in. And she wasn't using Spike. She had feelings for him, real feelings. Good feelings. Scary feelings.

<It's okay if you love him,> Tara had said, her voice and eyes radiating kindness. <He's done a lot of good, and he does love you.> Buffy replayed the words in her mind as she paced. Spike has done a lot of good, she told herself. But does that make him good? Can evil doing good actually become good? She kicked a rock with the toe of her shoe in frustration. What about good doing evil? Warren certainly wasn't born evil, and now he defined it. If good becomes evil by acting evil, wouldn't it make sense for evil to become good by acting good? Or, good enough?

Good enough for what? Buffy shook her head, annoyed with herself. Good enough to sleep with? Good enough to bring home? Good enough to love? No, that would be irrelevant now. Love didn't seem to care whether or not its object was a saint or a criminal. It simply existed inside of her, ignoring all her pleas for it to leave, disregarding all the logic she attacked it with. If only Tara had told her she'd come back wrong. If only she'd given her a scapegoat for her feelings. Being damaged had been her last weapon to use in her battle against loving Spike, her last line of defense. Buffy faced the crypt, taking deep breaths to calm herself. She had to go inside, had to face what she had done to him. With no weapons, with nothing to guard her heart, she had to see him.

Or, she thought, I could just go home...

Suddenly, the door to the crypt swung open, and Spike stood before her. His pale skin glowed in the darkness, like a beacon. She reached out to him, only to find the doorway empty, the door shut. Blinking, she tried to focus. He had been there... or maybe not. Maybe time was still hiccupping, thanks to Warren.

Taking her vision as a sign that she should act, she gave the door two, quick knocks. No one answered, so she let herself in. "Spike?" she called, her voice hoarse.

The crypt smelled of candle wax. Buffy knew he must be on the lower level. She slowly climbed down the latter and paused at the bottom to allow her eyes to adjust to the soft candle light. "Spike?" she said again, walking over to his bed.

He lay on his stomach, fully clothed, his eyes so swollen that Buffy couldn't tell if he was awake or asleep. Bruises blackened the whole of his face. Dried blood crusted under his nose and mouth, and in lines on his forehead where there had been ridges when he was in vamp face. A deep gash lined his left cheekbone. His skin looked overripe with swelling. She touched a fingertip to his right eye gently, where the worst of the swelling bloomed. "How the hell did you make it home?" she whispered, kneeling on the bed beside him.

Spike stirred, wincing as he tried to open his eyes. "Buffy?"

"Shh," she said, stroking his hair. "It's me."

"Buffy," he repeated, the word slurred with pain. He tried to sit up, only to fall back weakly against the pillows. "You didn't kill that girl. Don't go to the police." Fresh blood welled up around his mouth as it moved.

"I didn't kill her," Buffy said, leaning over his feet and unlacing his boots. She eased them off, then moved to his waist and unbuckled his belt. "It's okay. I did go into the station, but I never talked to the police. I overheard the desk clerk talking about the girl who died. Then... well, the details aren't important. Remember Warren?"

Spike tried to nod, but it hurt too much. He opened his mouth to say yes. That hurt less, but still caused him to flinch.

Buffy touched her fingers to his lips. "Sorry," she said, her eyes bright with guilt. "No more questions, I promise. Anyways, her name was Katrina. She used to date Warren, and he killed her. Then he sicced those demons on me. They're the ones that made time loopy. Warren wanted me to think I killed her. He almost succeeded."

Spike struggled to a sit. "We'll... get him..." he mumbled before flopped backwards.

"Hey there," Buffy said, taking him by the shoulders and easing him into a more comfortable position. "Slow down, Superman. You're not going anywhere tonight. I'm going to clean you up, then you are going to rest and heal. Warren and his flunkies will still be waiting to get their asses kicked tomorrow night. That's soon enough."

The look Spike threw her as she left the room said that in his mind, yesterday wasn't soon enough. She smiled at him, but kept moving. After gathering supplies, she hurried back to the bedroom and climbed onto the bed.

"I'm going to clean you up," she whispered, staring into Spike's battered face. He twitched slightly as she touched the wet cloth to his forehead, but let her tend to him.

The cloth caused the slightly healed wounds to reopen. Buffy bit back a curse as blood ran into her lover's eyes. ""Sorry about that," she said, sopping up the red fluid before it could run onto the pillowcase.

He touched her knee gently in acceptance, and she continued to bath him. Sorry about that, she thought bitterly. About *that*! Why not sorry about beating him up to begin with? Had he been human, she would have killed him. He'd accepted it, had told her to put it all on him, all her feelings, all her fears. And she had. Somewhere between the first punch and the last, she'd realized that it was her own face she was punching, not Spike's, her own soul that she worried was missing, her own wrongness she was punishing. As she nursed her handiwork, she could still taste the horror that filled her in that alley when she realized what she'd done.

<You only hurt the ones you love, pet.>

Even after taking her beating, he'd still smiled as he said those words. No one else in the world would have allowed her such a release.

<He does love you.>

She stroked a damp curl from his forehead. Tara thought he loved her, she'd said as much with pure certainty. And she would know, Buffy thought, rinsing the rag in the bowl of water and dabbing it over his lips. She'd been there all summer while Buffy was dead. She'd seen parts of Spike Buffy never would, parts that had convinced her of his love.

<You can't feel anything real.>

Buffy choked down tears, remembering her harsh words. It was she who couldn't feel, not Spike.

<This isn't real, but you can make me feel...>

She'd sang that to him, months before. She'd convinced herself that the only emotions she could feel- her emotions for Spike- were not real, that he wasn't real. And why? Out of shame? Out of fear?

<You're dead inside.>

She shuddered, her hand jerking away from Spike's face.

He opened his eyes, catching her look of guilt and confusion. Slowly, he reached for her and stroked a hand through her hair. She leaned her cheek into his palm, the coolness of his skin calming her.

"Pet," he whispered, drawing her closer to him.

She laid her head on his chest, tentatively at first. He wrapped his arms around her. Sighing, she surrendered to herself and snuggled her head under his neck.

"Spike," she said, tracing the curve of his ear. "I'm... I'm so sorry."

"Hush, love. I could've stopped you if I wanted to, you know that. You needed it. And I..." He broke off, rubbing his temples. "I... oh God, it hurts..."

His eyes opened wide, then wider. He jumped up, screaming with pain, clutching his head between his hands. Staggering across the room, he fell to his knees and beat his head against the cement floor. "Buffy!" he yelled. "Buffy!"

A series of violent tremors ran through him. When they subsided, he turned to meet Buffy's eyes. What she saw on his face sent her scrambling backwards. Even in vamp face, he shouldn't look that feral. Animals look like that, she thought. Not humans. Not vampires.

"Spike?" she said, rising from the bed and moving warily towards the ladder. "Something's happening to you. I'm going to go get help."

He growled at her, a low sound that reverberated in her chest. She gave up the cautious approach and raced to close the last few feet between herself and the ladder. Spike launched himself towards her and grabbed her from behind. He swung her onto the bed.

"No," she cried, struggling as he bared her neck.

She brought her knee up hard between his legs, but it didn't phase him. He reared back, his mouth open. "Spike, don't do this, please don't do this," she muttered, grabbing at the bedclothes in search of a weapon. Suddenly, she remembered what she wore around her neck. With one hand, she ripped open her shirt.

Spike fell back from her with a shriek, shielding his eyes from the pain of her cross. She held it out in front of her like a shield as she left the bed in search of a stake and the pair of handcuffs they'd played with earlier that day.

When she found them, she dropped the cross. Immediately, he charged towards her, berserk with fury. Whispering an apology, she punched him in the face with all her strength. He flew back against the far wall and landed in an unconscious heap.

"I don't know what's wrong with you," she said as she lifted Spike and cuffed him to the bed. "But this isn't you. I know this isn't you. Whatever is making you act this way... I'm going to fix it. I'm going to go get help, but I'll be back soon." She leaned over his face and kissed his forehead, taking comfort in the familiar scent of his hair. "I'll fix you. I promise."

*****

"That," Andrew said, climbing into the driver's seat of the Super Van, "was way, way cool. We're like... his zombie masters."

"Yeah, real cool," Jonathan said, rubbing his face with both palms. "We made Buffy's boyfriend try to kill her. Aren't we just awesome. Gee, maybe we should go tie up her little sister and torture her. I think that's the only part of Buffy's life we haven't screwed with yet. We're sociopathic enough that a little thing like child torture wouldn't bug our consciences, right?"

"Very funny," Warren said, turning away from the monitor that displayed the lower level of Spike's crypt. "Okay, so it didn't go as planned. The Slayer is still alive. But at least we know that our remote control vampire is really under our power. I push this button, and his chip buzzes his adrenal gland, plus a few others, that flood him with so many chemicals he'd kill anything that moves. All we have to do is stick whoever we want dead in front of him, push the button, and boom! All our troubles go bye-bye."

"Wrong, moron. He's under Buffy's power. You can click on your controller all you want, but she's the one with the keys to the handcuffs." Jonathan snatched the controller from Warren. "What do I push to make him Spike again?"

"Umm..." Warren looked down at the buttons. He pointed to `mute'. "That one."

Jonathan pressed it and looked up at the monitor expectantly. They watched Spike growl and scream, straining against the handcuffs, not effected at all by the mute button.

"Try it again," Warren said, licking his lips. "Maybe it's stuck. That thing was the controller to my mom's TV for years. It's sort of worn."

Jonathan glared at him and tried again. Spike roared furiously, obviously still effected. "Great," Jonathan muttered, tossing the controller back to Warren. "Now what?"

"Now nothing. We have no control over him whatsoever," Warren said smoothly, running his fingers through his hair. "Well, hey. We tried. No harm no foul, right guys? I mean, he's a vampire. It's not like we hurt a person."

"Not this time," Jonathan said, pushing Andrew out of the way and sitting on the driver's seat. He turned on the engine with a snap of his wrist and drove back to the lair.

Chapter 2

Summary: Takes place directly after Dead Things. The Super Geeks gain control of Spike's chip and use him like a weapon, but since they are the Super GEEKS, things don't go quite the way they planned. B/S in nature. . It's a response to a challenge posted by Nos on Crumbling Walls ([1]http://cgi.komodo-skin.com/forum). The challenge details are written in the first chapter.

Rating: R to be safe. I don't really know.

Disclaimer: They're not mine. Never were, never will be, Joss owns the whole world, blah blah blah.

Spoilers: Through Dead Things.

Feedback: PLEASE! [2]Dragolyn@hotmail.com

I would love to know if you think I wrote the character's voices right. Especially the Scoobies. I've never written them before, so this was new territory for me.

*********

Convincing Xander to meet her at Spike's crypt was easier than Buffy imagined it would be. She'd raced home to make the call for help, ignoring the nagging voice inside her mind that shouted about how it wasn't the smartest of plans to leave Spike tied up alone, even for a little while. Too many creatures of the demon world had it out for him these days, thanks to his sudden change of nature. Trying to ignore the pricklings of fear growing in her stomach, she ran up the stairs to her bedroom and threw a change of clothes into a bag. Passing by Dawn's room on her way to the bathroom, she thanked whatever lucky stars had made this crisis fall on a school day.

"Will!" she shouted, digging through the medicine drawer. "Wake up! Come on! I need your help!" Bandages, gauze, antibiotic ointment... none of those things would help Spike. Burn cream, tiny scissors, latex gloves, an ace bandage... no, no, no! She needed... what? A demon psychologist? A miracle? "No, something realistic," she said, running into Willow's bedroom and shaking her sleeping friend by the shoulders. "Will, wake up. Wake up! I need a spell."

"H...huh?" She sat up groggily, brushing her hair off of her face with both hands. "Buffy, what is it? What's wrong? Is Dawn okay?"

"Not Dawn," Buffy said, flinging off the bedclothes and tugged Willow to a stand. "It's Spike. He's... well, there's no time to explain. Just get dressed, okay?"

Willow shook her head. "Buffy, you know I can't do any magic. This... this isn't a test, is it? To see if I'll give in? `Cause I wont. I'm past that now."

"No test," Buffy said as she threw open the closet and tossed a pair of jeans onto the bed. "Call Tara. Now. Get dressed, go get Tara, and meet me at Spike's crypt."

"But Buffy..." Willow looked at her with nervous eyes. "I don't know... me and Tara don't exactly talk..."

"Not now, Willow. This is too important. Get her. Bring her, and whatever you'll need for a spell to... to... I don't know. He's crazed, like an animal. Do you still have any of those tranquillizers you used to give Oz wolf?"

"Spike's crazed? What happened?"

"Willow. Not. Now." Buffy growled, looking anxiously at her watch. The sun wouldn't rise for another hour. That gave all sorts of creatures plenty of time to stumble across Spike. Restrained as he was, he'd be helpless to protect himself. She had to hurry. "Bring whatever you think could help calm him, and get there, with Tara, as soon as you can." She rushed out of the room, not waiting for an answer.

Willow stared after her, blinking, trying to process what had just happened. "Wrong," she muttered, pulling on her clothes. "Something is very wrong here."

Picking up the phone with a shaking hand, she hesitated briefly before forcing herself to dial the numbers. "Hi, Tara? It's... it's me,Willow. Sorry to wake you up, but... it's Scooby time."

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

Xander climbed down the ladder to the lower level of the crypt, followed closely by Willow and Tara. He walked towards Spike's bed, but leapt back with alarm as Spike lunged against the restraints, snarling at him. "Holy tamales, Buff. Why didn't you mention on the phone that Spike's turned into a... that he's become a... what the heck is wrong with him, anyway?"

"You just answered your own question. What was I suppose to say? I have no clue what happened. He's gone all Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. One minute, he was Spike. The next..." she gestured towards the bed, at a loss.

Willow approached the bed slowly, her hands open in front of her. "Hey there, Spike, it's okay," she soothed. "Remember me? Little ole, couldn't hurt a fly me?"

Tara raised a skeptical eyebrow, but said nothing. She followed Willow to the bed, a syringe in her hand. "Give him this, if he'll let you," she whispered, passing her the tranquilizer.

Spike stared at them, yellow eyes wild, teeth bared. The restraints were tethered to the corner bedpost, forcing him to lay on his side. His hands clenched into tight fists as he watched Willow draw near. The curved line of his body went rigid. A low growl rumbled from his chest.

"He is *so* not going to let you poke a needle into him right now," Buffy said from the foot of the bed. Kneeling on the mattress by Spike's knees, she ignored his ferocious noises. "I'll have to hold him down." She grabbed him by the shoulders, being careful to avoid his snapping jaws. "Xander, a little help please? Grab his legs and hang on tight."

Xander sat beside Spike's legs and leaned on them with his forearms. "Not having much fun here, Will," he grunted, struggling against Spike's thrashings. "Hurry, yeah?"

"Hurrying," she agreed, and quickly thrust the needle into Spike's arm. She jumped back, followed by Xander.

Buffy stayed on the bed, her hands white with the effort to hold Spike still. She couldn't bring herself to look at his eyes. They rolled in their sockets, completely void of comprehension. Focusing on her own hands where they dug into the pale width of his upper arms, she waited for the drug to bring him back to her. Heat welled beneath her eyes, and she bit her lip, staunching the tears. <He'll be fine, in just a minute. Just another minute and the drugs'll work and he'll be Spike again.>

A minute passed, and then another. They trickled by slowly without changing a thing. Xander paced the room, trying to ignore the expression on Buffy's face. Nothing leads to panic as quickly as the sight of a horrified Slayer. His eyes widened as he watched her run her fingertips over Spike's sweat-dampened hair. Okay, that's weird, but not *too* weird, he told himself. Spike's her friend now. He... helps out with Dawn... and patrolling...

Catching both Buffy's gesture and the look on Xander's face, Tara grabbed him by the arm. "Hey, could you... umm... uhh... oh, could you get the box of magic supplies from the car please? We'll need them if the drug doesn't start working soon."

"We'll need them even if the drug does work," Willow said, observing Spike with a critical gaze. "Something's doing this to him.... something unnatural."

"Do you think it's his chip?" Buffy asked, blinking rapidly as sweat dripped into her eyes. Spike had ceased struggling, but his muscles were taut and ready to take advantage of the first sign of weakness. She didn't dare relax her hold on him. The cuffs would keep him still, keep him from hurting someone else, but she needed to touch him. She needed to feel his familiar skin under her hands, to know that something of him was still with her. "It could be... I dunno, backfiring, or something?"

"It would be pretty weird if the chip could naturally malfunction in a way that would make him more dangerous then he was before it was implanted. Those Initiative docs would have made certain that wouldn't happen. This isn't natural. I don't know what's wrong with him, but I know how to find out. There's this spell I found once, when I was trying to undone what Glory did to your brain, Tara. It's like a... a pinpointing spell. It'll map his brain and find any areas of unusual change. I don't know exactly what makes it work, or for sure if it'll help, but... well, I don't know what else to try."

"That'll be fine, Will. I'm sure." Xander said, patting her arm. "I'll go up to the car then, and you guys can..." he glanced at Buffy and his jaw dropped. She was petting him! Petting Spike! And the way she was gazing at the vamp... like he mattered to her... like he was something precious! He shot an incredulous look at Willow, but the witch was too involved in her thoughts to notice what was happening. "Umm... what's going on here?"

"N... Nothing! Don't worry." Tara took his arm and turned him away from the bed. "Just... let it rest for now, okay? There's too much to do as it is. Go on and get the box, please."

Xander climbed the ladder, biting his lip. Something nagged at his memory... he'd missed something... something important. "Oh. My. God!" he yelled, smacking himself in the face. He poked his head down through the hole in the floor and glared at Spike. "Exercises my ass! You... you... and you, you were... together... You!!!"

Tara pointed at him threateningly. "Xander, go!"

Walking out of the crypt, he could only shake his head. "Ew..." he muttered. "Exercises. Am I the biggest dummy on the Hellmouth or what? `Gee Spike, have you seen Buffy?'," he squeaked, mimicking himself. He shuddered. "I saw Spike having invisible sex with Buffy, and just let it happen! Ew!"

"You saw what?" Dawn asked. She leaned against his car, her school backpack at her feet. "Buffy? And Spike?"

Xander froze. "You... You didn't hear that."

She grinned at him. "Oh yes I did. Spike and Buffy had sex while she was invisible. That's what you just said, isn't it?"

Covering his face with his hands, he groaned. "It's *so* much worse hearing it from someone else's mouth, Dawnie. Thinking it was gross enough. Listening to you say it is... oh man, as soon as we bring him back from crazy-land, I'm going to have to kill him."

"No, you're not." Dawn punched his arm. "You're not doing anything to him. You're not even going to bug Buffy with this penis-envy crap till after she takes down the new Big Bad."

"Um... hello? I have a penis, ya know. No need for envy here." He blushed. "Umm... I mean... you're Dawn... you're not suppose to talk about things like... things...."

She shouldered her backpack and opened the door to his car. "C'mon, let's do whatever it is you're doing, then go back and help Buffy. I heard her yelling at Willow before I got out of bed, something about a problem with Spike. You can fill me in on the details."

"Sure," he said, surprised. "I guess. You're fifteen now. That's the legal age for demon killing on the Hellmouth, right?"

"I'm fifteen... or maybe a million and fifteen, who knows? Depends on if the Bosses Of Us card the Key or Dawn Summers. Either way, I'm old enough to be some kind of help." She pouted, knowing Buffy wouldn't agree. "I can at least run for snacks... or make jokes when everyone's stressed... or something."

"Then what would I do? I shouldn't let you come. Job security and all that. The Scoobs might like your doughnuts better than mine." Xander said, ruffling her hair. "But I guess I can risk it. You can help. Hopefully Buffy'll be too distracted with her newest corpsey love toy to beat me up for not sending you back to school. Or... not hopefully. Ignore that part. Ew."

"Are you sure *you're* old enough to help?" Dawn asked, rolling her eyes.

"I dunno, but if I have to see Buffy petting Spike ever again, I sure wont be getting any older. The first time almost did me off."

A terrible scream from inside the crypt broke through their banter. "Time to go," Xander said, grabbing the box. They heard another scream, followed by the sound of something breaking. "Time to go NOW."

**********

"Andrew! Quit that, you psycho!" Jonathan looked at his friend, then back at the disgusting image on the video monitor in the Super Van. "What do you think you're doing? Why is Spike barfing blood?"

"What else would a vampire barf, stupid?" He leaned back in his seat, laughing. "Look, it got all over Willow. She started screaming and that other girl grabbed her. Then, I pushed this," Andrew said, pushing the `volume up' button on the remote controller. "Look what that does!"

Spike's body began to convulse on the monitor. Jonathan watched as Buffy threw herself on top of the vampire, trying to hold him still. His face, vamped since Warren had first messed with his chip, seemed to grow horrifically bumpy. Jonathan could barely recognize any human features.

"Look how freaked she is," Andrew said, zooming in on Buffy's face. "She's... like..."

"She's petrified," Jonathan muttered, grabbing the remote controller. "You... you're getting as crazy as Warren. C'mon, Andrew. Don't be like this. This isn't what we signed on for. Show me how to stop this."

"Fine," Andrew said, his face falling. He took a last look at the monitor, just in time to catch the single tear that dripped down Buffy's nose as she gazed into Spike's terrible face. "Spoilsport. All you have to do is push the Power button. It'll undo everything except that part Warren broke."

Jonathan pressed Power, and watched in amazement as Spike's body drew up into a spastic ball, then straightened slowly. Buffy leaned over him, then motioned to the strange girl, who grabbed a cardboard box from a teenager. She began pulling items out and placing them around the bed in a circle.

"They're doing a spell," Jonathan said. "This could take a while. Let's go."

Andrew touched a fingertip to the screen, stroking Dawn's image. "Who's this?" he asked, his voice thick. "She's... look how hot she is."

Snapping off the monitor, Jonathan grabbed Andrew by the shoulders and ushered him to the passenger's seat. "We have to get back to the lair. Warren'll be pissed if he gets back from his parent's house and we're not there."

Nodding, Andrew glanced back at the black-screened monitor. "Who was that girl?" he repeated.

"Dude, that was Buffy's little sister, Dawn. Get that look off your face. Even if she wasn't the Slayer's sister, she's still totally jailbait." Jonathan started the van and began to drive, but kept a wary eye on Andrew. Something wasn't right with him. Something was... "Hey. Your eyes are all glazed. What's up with your eyes?"

"Nothing, I don't know. What's wrong with yours?" Andrew giggled, digging into his pocket. He pulled out a small, brown pill bottle. "Have you tried these? They're great. Grrrrrreat!!!! You know, like Tony the Tiger?"

"Drugs? You're doing drugs now!"

"Lighten up, man. Eat one of these, and all your worries disappear. Like super Prozac, only with giddiness and.... what? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Andrew," Jonathan said, struggling to stay calm. "Where did you get those pills?"

"From Warren." He smiled, the cloudiness of his eyes giving him an unnatural air of innocence. "He said they'd make me easier to be around, and happier."

"More like, easier to boss around," Jonathan said. He grabbed the bottle from Andrew's hand and tossed it angrily into the back of the van. It broke open, he could hear the sounds of dozens of pills bouncing off the computer equipment. "What the hell is wrong with you? Why are you letting yourself become Warren's bitch?"

Slumping deeply into his seat, Andrew sighed and closed his eyes. "He said the pills would make me forget about Katrina. The way her body sounded when it fell on the stairs... the color of the blood on her hair... the tangy smell of it... oh God, Jonathan." He jumped up and stumbled behind the passenger seat, scrambling desperately around the floor in search of a pill. "Oh God, the smell of her blood."

His mouth a grim line, Jonathan checked the rearview mirror guardedly. "I know, Andrew. I remember. This whole thing sucks. We're not super villains anymore. We're worse than that now. But Warren's even worse than we are. We have to get away from him. We have to."

"He'll never let us walk away from this. You know he wont. He'd kill us first. We know too much about him, about what he's done. About what he's planning to do with his stupid human toys."

"I know. We need help. I'm taking us to help," Jonathan said. With a final check of the mirror, he turned the van left onto Revello Drive. "Or possibly, to a slow, agonizing death, but let's just hope she'll help us instead. We're dead either way. Comforting to know things can't get any worse."

References

1. http://cgi.komodo-skin.com/forum
2. mailto:Dragolyn@hotmail.com

Chapter 3

Summary: Takes place directly after Dead Things. The Super Geeks gain control of Spike's chip and use him like a weapon, but since they are the Super GEEKS, things don't go quite the way they planned. B/S in nature. . It's a response to a challenge posted by Nos on Crumbling Walls ([1]http://cgi.komodo-skin.com/forum). The challenge details are written in the first chapter.

Rating: R to be safe. I don't really know.

Disclaimer: They're not mine. Never were, never will be, Joss owns the whole world, blah blah blah.

Spoilers: Through Older and Far Away, though probably not. I'm just saying so in case I accidentally mess up the timeline and drop something in I shouldn't.

Feedback: PLEASE! [2]Dragolyn@hotmail.com

******

Waving at Xander, Buffy watched him drive away with heavy eyes. He knew. He hadn't said anything to her, but she knew he'd figured out, finally, that she and Spike were lovers. Too worried and tired to care, she trudged up the steps to the front door and made her way inside. She flopped down on the living room couch, exhaustion ruling out the notion of climbing the stairs to her bedroom. After hours spent trading off between nursing and restraining Spike, she was finally home. Leaving the crypt had been difficult, but after she'd nodded off while standing, Tara had insisted. Pleasantly surprised by her friend's newly found assertiveness, she'd let Xander drive her home. He had needed to return to work, and Willow to school, but Tara had volunteered to stay with Spike. Dawn, too, would be with him; once she'd seen what the vampire was going through, she'd refused to leave his side.

Pulling a thick, wool throw blanket over herself, Buffy closed her eyes and snuggled into the cushions. As tired as she was, she couldn't sleep. Images from the past twenty-four hours flashed through her mind like a frenzied slide-show. Katrina, crumpled on the ground, dead. Dawn, half asleep, hugging her, yelling for her to leave while yearning for her to stay. Spike in the alley, his face bloody beneath her fists. Tara, being the truest friend Buffy could imagine, listening to her with compassion, mothering her. Spike, on his bed, holding her guilt-stricken face in his hands, comforting her. Spike, chained to the bedpost, bent on killing anyone he could get his hands on. The redness of the blood he vomited as it sprayed over Willow. His face, distorted far past mild vampy bumps, staring up at her and seeing a stranger, seeing no one, seeing... food.

With a low whimper, Buffy swung herself up and walked to the kitchen, the heavy weight of her emotions dragging at her feet. She opened the refrigerator and leaned her face against the cool metal of the door as she looked inside idly. She didn't want food, she thought, swinging the door shut. She wanted comfort. She wanted her mind to stop spinning and let her rest. Turning to the sink, she ran cold water over her hands and splashed it onto her face, trying to clear her thoughts. The water dripped down her arms to her elbows, soaking the sleeves of her shirt. Sighing, she gripped the hem, and was about to pull it over her head when she heard a muffled giggle, followed by a sharp slapping noise. The sounds came from behind the door to the basement, which hung slightly ajar.

Deliberately casual, she lowered her shirt and wrung the water out of her sleeves into the sink. Walking around the island countertop, she grabbed a knife from the drawer. As she approached the door to the basement, she held the weapon behind her wrist, hidden from sight but easily wieldable. She took one step closer to the door, then another. The rustling behind the door grew louder.

Suddenly, the door flew open in her face. She leapt back and crouched low, ready for a fight, but straightened when she heard the familiar nasal voice of Jonathan.

"Don't hurt us! Don't hurt us!" he cried, standing in front of Andrew, his arms raised protectively. "We're not here to fight, and we're not armed. Please... just put the knife away."

She walked towards him, passing the knife from hand to hand. "I think I'll hang onto it, if it's all the same to you. What's wrong Jonathan? A big Super Villain like you, scared of a little knife?"

"I'm scared of you," he said quietly, forcing himself to stand still as she neared.

"Yeah? Is that right? Wonder why." She grabbed him by the collar and threw him back against the wall. "Maybe `cause you think that I don't like getting framed for murder? Well, aren't you just the smartest guy around. You're right. I don't like getting framed for murder. And do you know what I like even less? Murder."

"We didn't..." he choked as she squeezed his neck. "Okay, okay, we did help. Sorta. But we didn't kill her. We didn't want her dead."

"Yeah," Andrew said, cowering against the back door. "We just wanted to..."

"Shut up Andrew!" Jonathan said, eyeing Buffy's knife. He knew exactly what the Slayer would think of attempted rape. The bright kitchen lights glinted off the blade, reminding him of the flash of the Cerebral Dampener. "Warren killed her. Not us. We wanted to rule Sunnydale, not kill girls. That wasn't part of the plan. Warren... he's crazy. And when he knows we've come to you for help, he'll kill us too."

"And I care... why?" Buffy said, her eyes flashing with anger. "That girl *died*, Jonathan. She died. And everything else you guys have done... lots of other people could've died too. This isn't some high school prank. This isn't even making all of us think you're a hot movie star. This is *murder*. Give me one reason I should help you."

Jonathan stared at her, desperation paling his face. "Andrew," he said, still looking at Buffy. "Go ahead and show her."

"Umm... show her what?"

"The *thing*, asshole, you know, the controller!"

Andrew pulled the remote from his pocket. "This?"

Jonathan rolled his eyes. "Those drugs make you such an Einstein. Yeah, that!"

Buffy took it from him and studied it, confused. "I should help you because you have a T.V. controller?"

"That remote doesn't control a television, Buffy. It controls your boyfriend's chip." Jonathan tugged himself free of her grasp and stepped away from her. "Or mostly, it does. Except for the part that Warren broke."

She let him go for a moment, slowly understanding what had happened. "Spike's freak-out, his seizures, the throwing up... all that was *you*?" She took a step towards the boys, who flinched back. "He could've killed me," she said, her hands bunched into menacing fists. "I almost had to kill him to protect myself. And you're telling me you did this? For what? Fun? Did you get a good laugh out of watching me nearly kill my lover?"

Andrew snorted. "Well, I *was* getting a laugh, till Stupid here turned off the video monitor."

Jonathan elbowed him sharply in the ribs. "Don't listen to him, Buffy. Warren gave him these drugs... well, never mind. Look, I tried to help you. Warren made Spike go psycho. He wanted him to kill you, so you couldn't tell anyone that he'd killed Katrina. I swear I tried to help you! I tried to make him turn it off, but he couldn't. The controller was broken. Things were totally out of control. Andrew starting acting weird... I didn't know what to do. We went back to the crypt, to see what was happening. I didn't know Andrew was flying on those pills until I looked over at the screen and saw what he was doing to Spike. Then we came here. For help. Warren is crazy. Really, really crazy."

Taking a deep, calming breath, Buffy crossed her arms. "You didn't answer my question. Why should I help you?"

"Because Spike and Katrina are just the first part of Warren's plot. Things are gonna get really ugly, real quick here. Andrew and I are the only ones who know what he's planning. We're the only ones who can help you. And we will, we'll help you, if you help us. If you protect us from Warren, and... if you promise not to kill us."

Eyeing the two boys warily, Buffy reached out a foot and kicked a chair over to them. She perched on the edge of the countertop and motioned for them to sit. "Talk," she said, stroking the remote controller absently. "And talk quick. I have some place I need to be."

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

The lower level of Spike's crypt had not been built to hold so many living bodies at one time. The air tasted stale and was acrid with candle smoke. Buffy coughed, adjusting to the lower level of oxygen. She shoved Andrew, his hands tied tightly behind his back, across the room towards Tara to be guarded. "He wont try anything," she told her friend, looking at Andrew derisively. "He's too high on Warren's happy pills. But if he does anything suspicious, yell."

Willow had to light another candle in order to study the mechanics of the remote controller. "This is pretty sophisticated, Buffy. Warren's way more advanced at this stuff than I am. I'm sorry... I don't think I can fix it."

Buffy strode to Willow's side, dragging Jonathan behind her. "Can you help her?" she asked him, one hand on the rope that loosely bound his arms. "Can you tell her how it works?"

"Uh... I don't think so. Warren didn't show us how he made it. We weren't really... I mean, I'm the spell guy, and Andrew can summon pretty much any kind of demon you'd want. Warren was the one who knew about stuff like this, not us."

From the bed behind them came a low moan. Spike lay on his side, struggled towards consciousness, his teeth grinding, his eyelids fluttering. He pulled against his restraints weakly. He was still too firmly gripped by the sedative to do any damage, but was sobering rapidly.

Dawn scooted off of her seat on the bed. She opened Willow's purse and took out another syringe full of the tranquilizer. Looking from the needle to Spike and back again, her hands began to shake. She turned to Buffy, embarrassed. "I can't do this, Buffy. He helped me. He saved my life. I should be able to help him, I know I should. But I just can't stick this needle in him. I just can't."

"It's okay, Dawnie," Buffy said, taking the syringe from her sister. She ran a hand over the girl's hair, smoothing the long strands till they fell softly down her back . "It's hard for all of us. You know he'd understand."

"Yeah," Dawn said, not at all convinced. She backed away from the bed. "Sure."

Buffy knelt beside Spike and injected him in one quick, stabbing motion. She rubbed her hand over the pinprick on his arm. "See? All better," she said, more to herself than to Spike. All better. Hah. Things were *so* far from being all better. She gripped his hand in hers, squeezing it tightly. "I'll fix you," she whispered, staring into his slack face. "I will. Somehow."

"Buffy," Willow said, sitting on the bed beside her, the remote controller in her hands. "I have a friend who might be able to take this thing apart, look at all its insides, and maybe tell us how to turn it off. Well, maybe. " She frowned, her words trailing off weakly. "He usually fixes computers. And sometimes, umm, sometimes cars. But hey, how much different could this be?"

"Thanks Will," Buffy said dubiously, staring down at Spike's hand in hers.

Tara stood over them, looking at Spike with compassionate eyes. "I wish that spell could've done more. All we learned from it was that his chip's buzzing his glands and filling him with hormones, and we didn't even need magic to know that. Jonathan told you as much. I want to help him... to help you... but there's nothing else I can do."

Giving Spike's hand a final squeeze, Buffy stood and walked over to Jonathan. "Maybe you can't help Spike, but that doesn't mean there's nothing for you to do. Something big's happening with Warren. Tara, Willow... you guys should hear what Jonathan has to say. We might have to wait on curing Spike, just for a little while." She looked at Dawn, who'd returned to sit with Spike. "Dawnie, could you go upstairs and get Spike some blood from the refrigerator?"

"He ate a few minutes ago," she said, glaring at Buffy. "You just want to get rid of me. You don't want me to hear what Jonathan says. But I need to hear. Maybe I can help."

Buffy sighed. "Fine. Stay. Jonathan, start talking."

"Why ask Jonathan? I was there too, you know," Andrew said peevishly from the corner. "It's not like he's in charge. He's not the boss of me. I know a bunch more about Warren's Cerebral Dampener than Jonathan does."

"Cerebral Dampener?" Willow asked, staring at Jonathan, ignoring Andrew. "Does that do what it sounds like it does?"

"Pretty much. It's like that thing they used in Men In Black. We flash someone with it, and all their memories go away. We give them new memories, or suggestions, or... well, or they just do whatever we say. Like slaves." Jonathan looked away, flushing. "Like Katrina. Warren flashed her, and he became her master."

"Not just him," Andrew said with enthusiasm. "Us too. She called us Master. Remember when she said I was hot? That was totally cool."

"Andrew, shut up," Jonathan said. He looked up at Buffy, shame in his eyes. "Don't listen to him. He's high. Believe me, when we realized what we were doing to her, we... it was wrong. Both of us got that. Warren didn't. He was freaked out at first, but that didn't last long. He reworked the Dampener, figured out how to make its effects last longer. The whole reason the three of us teamed up to begin with was to take over Sunnydale. That's why we've been messing with you. We couldn't rule if you were around."

"Keep talking," Buffy said, her jaw clenching with anger.

"Warren figured that a quick way to take over would be to flash everyone with the Dampener. Make a whole army of slaves, willing to do whatever he tells them too. He told us that we'd rule with him, but I don't believe him. As soon as he's flashed the Dampener at everyone, he'll turn it on us. He's out of control. You know what he was doing while we were spying on you guys this morning? He was at his parent's house, putting the whammy on them. His own parents! If he'd do that to them, he'd do it to anyone." Jonathan paused, shaking. He wiped beads of sweat from his brow. "You've gotta help us. Now that we've told you, don't you believe we're on your side?"

Buffy looked down at Spike, taking in the sight of the chafed skin on his wrists, where he'd struggled against the handcuffs. She looked at the bed sheets, covered with his blood. She saw the round, frightened bird-eyes of her sister, who was bathing Spike's forehead soothingly with cool water, and remembered that she'd been doing the same thing when Warren had turned her lover into a weapon and used him to try to kill her.

"Whatever side you're on Jonathan... I don't know. But it's not my side. On my side, we don't hurt innocent people. We don't torture them. We don't kill them." Buffy stepped towards him, fury contained deep inside of her, but visible through her eyes. "If you want to help my side right now, that's fine. But when this is done, you're both leaving Sunnydale. For good. If I ever see you here again..."

"Or us, either," Dawn said, glaring at the boys. She looked over at Tara and Willow, who nodded their support. "We wont let you get away with this. No matter how nice you are right now, you're still the bad guys."

Andrew giggled, rocking back and forth on his knees. "Hear that, Jonathan? We're the bad guys. How cool is that?"

Jonathan slumped down into a chair and closed his eyes. "Cool, Andrew," he said sardonically, taking in deep breaths to calm himself. "Very cool."

"We have to make a plan, and get to Warren before he can hurt anyone else. Will he be able to track you guys to us?" Buffy asked, touching Dawn's shoulder lightly for comfort.

"I dunno. We left the van in your garage, he can't see it there. But Warren's tricky. He could have a tracking device on it, or on some of the equipment inside it." Jonathan looked down at his shoes. "Or on us, even."

"Okay, so, you guys strip and change into some of Spike's clothes." Buffy glared at Jonathan as he opened his mouth to object. "Yes, Spike's clothes! I don't care how stupid you look, I just don't want to see you naked. Willow, can you go back to the house and get rid of their van? Take whatever you think we could use to help Spike out of it, then drive it someplace that wont lead Warren to us."

"Sure," she said, packing up her things. "But what about Spike? We can't leave him here alone. All those demons are after him. And Warren could come for him."

Buffy turned to Tara, who sat beside Dawn on the bed. "Can you two keep things under control here?"

"S-sure, of course," Tara said, nodding. "But what if Warren comes while we're here? I could stop him, maybe, from taking Spike under normal circumstances. But with that Dampener... I don't want to be anyone's slave." She shuddered, thinking of Glory. "Not ever again."

"If he comes, take Dawn and hide. Don't let him see you. I don't want him taking Spike, but that's better than taking all three of you. Okay?"

"Okay. But what are you going to do?"

Buffy opened a large, wooden chest and began pulling out weapons. "I'm going after Warren," she said, sticking a knife under her belt. She walked over to Spike and brushed her fingers across his forehead tenderly. Leaning down, she kissed his cheek, not caring who saw or what they thought. "I'll bring him to you," she whispered into his ear. "He'll pay for this. And he'll bring you back to me."

Straightening, she moved to the ladder and began to climb, pushing Jonathan up ahead of her. Pausing on the top rung, she looked down at her friends. "Take care of him," she said, her soft voice clashing with the determined glint in her eyes as she waved a hard towards Spike. "Please."

Dawn threw her sister a salute. "Yes, Captain," she said with a brave smile. "Whatever you say."

Chapter 4

Summary: Takes place directly after Dead Things. The Super Geeks gain control of Spike's chip and use him like a weapon, but since they are the Super GEEKS, things don't go quite the way they planned. B/S in nature. . It's a response to a challenge posted by Nos on Crumbling Walls (http://cgi.komodo-skin.com/forum). The challenge details are written in the first chapter.

Rating: R to be safe. I don't really know.

Disclaimer: They're not mine. Never were, never will be, Joss owns the whole world, blah blah blah.

Spoilers: Through Older and Far Away, though probably not. I'm just saying so in case I accidentally mess up the timeline and drop something in I shouldn't.

Feedback: PLEASE! Dragolyn@hotmail.com Thanks SO much to everyone who's left feedback for me.

**********

"Thanks for making cookies Mom, but we're not hungry," Jonathan called over his shoulder, walking down the stairs to the basement in front of Buffy. Closing the door to the rest of the house, he turned to face the Slayer. "She doesn't come down here. Something about me being a man now and needing my privacy to meet nice, marriable girls. That's why she was so happy to see you with me."

Buffy shuddered a bit. "Ew. I'm so not dwelling on that thought. Why are we in your parent's basement?"

"Well, we used to have a super cool lair, before... the whole invisibility thing. Willow knew where it was though, so we had to move all our stuff somewhere no one would think to search. This is our new lair."

"*This* is your lair?" Buffy asked, looking from the enormous Star Wars posters to the exposed water pipes and unfinished walls with a smirk. "Your parent's basement? How lame. Or, maybe not. I guess it's not totally a bad. Definitely the last place I would've looked for you. The last bad guys I fought had a penthouse. This is... so much dorkier."

Jonathan ignored her, scanning the room for signs that Warren had been there. "It's okay," he said finally, kicking aside a pile of dirty laundry. "I think he's still at his mom's house."

"Um... hello? I said we were going to go look for Warren. Looking in places where you know he's not gonna be is not a good way to find him. If you're just wasting my time, you're gonna be one unhappy little geek."

"I'm not, I swear. I brought you here for a reason. There's something you've got to see," Jonathan said unhappily. He walked to the back of the room and opened a door. "They're in here. All of them."

"Them?" Buffy said, pushing past him into the bedroom. "Them who?"

"Warren's slaves."

A dozen people were crammed into the small room. They stood in rows, swaying back and forth slightly with exhaustion their faces did not, could not, reflect. Buffy walked towards the nearest person, a middle aged man with soft jowls and gray sideburns. She waved her hand in front of his face. His eyes didn't track her movement; he didn't even blink. Had she not known better, she might have assumed he was a mannequin. But he wasn't. He was a human being, a husband, judging by his wedding band, and maybe a father. Someone with people who loved him, people who were probably worried about him. He didn't deserve to be mind-raped.

"Who are they?" she whispered to Jonathan, her voice thin with anger. She pressed down on the man's shoulders, forcing him to sit, to rest his legs. "What are they doing here?"

"I don't know most of them," he said, looking away. He shuffled his feet, wishing he was anyplace else. "Warren brought them here a few at a time. He said they're people who got in his way, people who got suspicious of his plans."

Buffy grabbed him by the shoulder, her hands shaking. "How could you do this? This is... it's sick! These are people with rights, with feelings and families. They're not toys!"

"Hey, at least Andrew and I fed them. That was more than Warren was going to do. He liked to pretend that they weren't even in here! Not us. We gave them food and tried to make them comfortable. Really, we tried."

Looking towards the back of the room, Buffy pointed to a small figure curled into a ball. All she could see of him was a narrow back and a head of tousled brown curls. "That boy couldn't be more than five years old. Why did Warren do this to him? He got too suspicious, is that what you said? How suspicious could he possibly have been? He's too young to even say the word!"

Jonathan shrugged. "The kid is Warren's neighbor, Nathaniel. We were told he found one of Warren's girlfriend bots. Andrew and I were too scared to ask for the details."

"You brought me here to rescue these people?" Buffy said, scooping the insensible little boy into her arms. "Let's go then. Let's get them out of here."

"No. The effects of the Dampener wont wear off for another day or more. What would we do with them? Plus, they wont go with you. Trust me."

"Wanna bet?" she said, starting for the door. "C'mon people, follow me. You're free, all of you. I'll get you away from these psychos. You can go home, go back to your families. They'll take care of you. Warren wont hurt you again."

None of the victims moved. They didn't even seem to realize she was there.

Thoroughly disturbed, Buffy grabbed Jonathan's arm. "You're their Master, right? Well, order them to wake up! Make them come with us!"

"I'm no one's Master, not after how I acted when Katrina... when she died. Warren didn't trust Andrew or I after that night. He thought we were too weak, or at least that's what he said. Now I know he just wanted all the power for himself." Jonathan stepped out of the room and motioned for Buffy to follow him. "They have to stay here for now, until they come back to their senses. They wont follow you out, and you can't carry them- well, okay, you could, Slayer strength and all, but it'd be a bad thing to do in their condition. You could damage them, permanently."

"So, what? We leave them here for Warren to find? No deal. He'll just zap them with his magic brain melter again. I wont let that happen."

"I can put a ward on the door to keep Warren from hurting them again. Okay?"

"Fine," Buffy said, her arms tightening around Nathaniel. "But I'm taking the little boy with us. He can stay with me until Warren's mind control mojo wears off. Then, we'll find his mom and dad. And *you'll* come up with some kind of explanation about where he's been, not me."

"I don't think that's such a good idea. We still have to find Warren. How are we suppose to do that with you carrying zombie boy?"

"Don't worry about that. You just do your spell. Leave the planning to me."

"We could wait here for him. This *is* his lair. Eventually he'll show up looking for Andrew and I. You wouldn't have to carry the kid all over town, and hey, we have cable." Jonathan pointed to the kitchenette. "And popcorn."

"You really don't get it, do you? Is this still a game to you, even after everything that's happened? I'm the Slayer, you freak. I don't just sit around waiting while the bad guy is out hurting people. Sitting on your morals is your job, not mine," she said, disgust dripping from each word. "Do your spell. I'll wait for you outside."

She walked up the stairs, pausing at the top. "You're still the enemy, Jonathan," she said, staring down at him coolly. "You and Andrew both. Don't forget that. You don't get to relax. You don't get to make suggestions. You and me- we're not friends. We're not equals. I'm the boss. I give you orders for a few days, and you follow them. Then you're leaving town, and going far away where I won't have to deal with your crap anymore. Get that?"

Clutching Nathaniel tightly to her chest, she stormed out of the room, not bothering to wait for Jonathan to respond.

Jonathan looked away, and noticed Andrew's light saber leaning precariously against the wall in the corner. On the floor beside it sat his Sunnydale High School yearbook. Looking back towards the empty stairs, he dropped his face into his hands and whimpered.


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


"Is it time for that? I mean, he is still asleep. Do you have to give him another shot right now?" Dawn asked, looking at the needle in Tara's hand with wide eyes.

"It's okay," Tara said, bending over the bed and injecting the sedative into Spike's upper arm. The vampire stayed curled on his side, still as death. "I think it's better to do it now, before he's making noise. Maybe if we don't let him wake up even a little, he wont remember any of this."

"I was worried about that," Dawn said. She sat cross-legged at Spike's feet, fingering the hem of his jeans idly. "About what he'll remember, I mean. He'd hate knowing he was this helpless, and that we took care of him. Doesn't really fit with that whole 'Big Bad' image of his, and all."

"Big Bad, huh?" Tara smiled, thinking of the times during that last, terrible summer when Spike had been anything but bad. Caring for Dawn had been his whole focus before Buffy's return. No creature could have looked less evil than Spike in a pink, plaid apron, teaching Dawn how to bake bread. "Big Bad. That'd be something to see."

"I've seen it," Dawn said, her eyes shadowed. "Or, that is, I remember seeing it. Buffy kept him away from me, of course, but there were a few times that are hard to forget. He was really... really something, back then."

"You sound... you sound regretful," Tara said, taking Dawn's hand. "Don't tell me you feel sorry for him because he can't murder innocent people anymore. He's your friend, but... I know you couldn't mean that."

"Of course not. No killing is a big happy thing in my book. It's just... you should've seen him, back then. Okay- yeah, he was evil. Like, really evil. He would've killed Buffy if he could have, and he did kill tons and tons of people, he and Drusilla. He was a monster, a demon. But..." she looked down at Spike's lifeless face, at the limp, defenseless length of his body. "He was also so... dynamic. Such a force. And now..."

Tara patted her shoulder, her face tight. "He's still something. Or, someone, I mean. He's just... rebuilding. Trying to find his place. It took him more than a century to create the life you saw him with. Give him time, and I'm sure he'll make a life that's just as... big. But in a good way, this time. He has you to help him. A-and Buffy."

Dawn circled her finger around the protruding bone of Spike's ankle, trying to decide how to word what she needed to ask. "Tara... does Buffy... she and Spike, are they... together?"

"More or less," Tara said, her voice gentle. "Is that okay with you?"

"More or less," Dawn echoed, biting her lower lip. "I guess I've known for a while now that something was going on with them, but Buffy was really careful not to let on how she felt."

"Until he got hurt, I don't think Buffy even admitted to herself that she loved him. It was hard for her to let herself believe that she could love someone with Spike's past. I mean, that'd be hard for anyone." Tara sighed, remembering the terrible look on Buffy's face when she'd told her that she hadn't come back wrong. "And with everything else she's gone through... you can see how she'd be confused. Sometimes, it takes a good... umm.."

"A good kick in the pants?" Dawn suggested, raising an eyebrow.

"Or somewhere," Tara said, looking down at Spike's face. The bruises from Buffy's attack were still visible, though mostly healed. "She shot him down, and he still kept coming. She insulted him, attacked him with words, and he never backed down. She beat him up, over and over, and he just kept getting back up, kept getting in her face, kept proving his love to her. He annoyed her, but... well, she could pretend through all those things that she didn't feel anything for him. But when she realized she might actually loose him... hello to facing her feelings!"

"Wow," Dawn said, staring at Tara. "Listen to you. You're really into this, aren't you? You like it that they're a couple?"

"I don't know if I'd call them a couple, not yet at least. But yeah, I want it to work out for them. Not just because I'm a romantic... really, I'm more realistic about stuff like love now than I was a few months ago. I just think that Buffy deserves someone who understands her. Someone who loves her, all of her. And Spike... he deserves someone too. He's worked really hard, and done a lot of good, but it's hard for him. If he has Buffy, I think he'll find himself on a decent path, no matter how many times he screws up." She smiled down at Spike, noticing the way his lips relaxed along the lines of his trademark smirk. "And he will screw up. But so will she. They'll learn together, I think."

The girls fell silent for a moment, letting the truth of Tara's words absorb into their minds. Dawn pulled her legs up and hugged them against her chest, resting her chin on the tops of her knees. She closed her eyes, trying to convince herself that she didn't care if Buffy ever found love. Her sister didn't have time for her as it was. If she had a boyfriend- a *real* boyfriend, Dawn corrected herself, thinking of Spike- well, if she had one of those, she might as well move to Timbuktu and be done with it. Dawn would never see her, ever, if that happened.

But as hard as she tried to steel her heart against Buffy, she just couldn't do it. The grief of watching her sister die was still too near, as well as the memory of all Buffy had given up to protect her. With a tentative hand, she reached out and grasped Spike's ankle. Blast it, she thought, annoyed with herself. She'd always accepted Spike for her own sake. She could do it for Buffy's as well. Meeting Tara's gentle smile, she felt her lips curve upwards.

Suddenly, they heard a slamming noise from the upper level of the crypt. Dawn jumped up from the bed, her nerves alit with fear. "That's not Buffy or the gang. It's way too soon for them to be back. Could it be Andrew?"

"No, Willow took him with her to help get rid of the van." Tara stood and walked towards the ladder. She climbed to the top rung and peered upstairs, then dropped back down to the floor. Looking at Dawn with wide eyes, she motioned for her to get under the bed. "It's Warren," she mouthed frantically.

"But..." Dawn protested in a whisper, pointing at Spike's unconscious body. She couldn't leave him there, defenseless.

Footsteps neared the top of the ladder. Tara grabbed Dawn by the shoulders and shoved her under the bed. Pausing only to grab the remote controller, she rolled out of site just as Warren's feet came thudding down the ladder.

"Oh God, oh God," Dawn breathed, clutching Tara's arm. "Spike!"

Tara held the girl against her side, comforting and silencing her at the same time. Trying to breathe in the dusty air without coughing, they watched as Warren's dirty gray Nikes circled slowly around the bed. Dawn tried unsuccessfully not to flinch as his feet moved closer towards her face. He gave the bed frame a sharp kick and, leaning over Spike, began to laugh.

"Who's in charge now, bleach brain? Huh? Me. Not you. Look at you, all limp and pale and pathetic. But not for long. You'll see. I have big plans for you, my bloodsucking friend. Big plans. You'll never meet a leather collar you'll like, not after I'm done with you."

"Leather collar?" Dawn mouthed to Tara, gulping. They watched Warren's shoes as he moved across the room and stood underneath the ladder, calling out to someone upstairs. A second pair of feet appeared at the side of the bed, feet clad in fancy, brown loafers.

"Pick him up and take him to the car," Warren said in a monotone. "He's so out of it, he should sleep all the way back to the lair, but keep the cuffs on him just in case. We don't want any trouble, not yet at least."

"Yes, Master." The voice was deep and resonating. It belonged to a man, a large one. Tara craned her neck, trying to get a glimpse of his face, but could see nothing higher than his ankles.

The mattress above the girls creaked and dipped down towards their heads as the strange man leaned on the bed and lifted Spike into his arms. He stomped towards the ladder, his steps heavier now with the added weight of one, lean vampire. Warren rustled through some of Spike's belongings for a minute, then followed his slave upstairs.

Dawn cringed as she heard the crypt door slam shut. She scurried out from underneath the bed and sat on the empty sheets, looking lost. "What now?" she asked Tara. "Buffy's gonna freak when she finds out Warren took Spike. What are we going to do?"

Searching the room quickly, Tara shook her head, her mouth a grim line. "I don't know. We have a problem. Warren took Spike, but left all the tranquilizers here."

"Why would he do that? Without those drugs, Spike's way out of control. Even with him wearing the handcuffs, Warren's no match for him."

"I know that. What's more, Warren knows that. So he must want him that way. He's got to have some kind of a plan that calls for crazy-Spike. And I'm guessing that whatever it is doesn't involve rainbows and kittens." Tara packed the medical supplies into her purse quickly. "We've gotta get out of here, and find Buffy. She'll make it right. Oh, and umm... hey. You don't need to worry about a thing. It'll all be okay."

"Sure," Dawn muttered, trailing behind Tara as she climbed up the ladder. "Psycho murderer guy's kidnapped Spike to help him take over the town with his human zombie army. No reason to worry at all."

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