Here is gone (Part Three)

Someone called the poofter. He wasn’t sure who and he was fairly certain it wasn’t Buffy or Dawn. If he had to guess, he would pick Willow as the likely candidate. Didn’t matter, really, who called him, only that he was there comforting Buffy on the night of her mother’s funeral.

It looked like they were keeping Vigil by the fresh grave, although with the way they were sitting, he doubted Buffy even knew that was what they were doing. Trust Peaches to figure he was ‘protecting’ Buffy by not telling her about Vigil and the necessity of keeping watch over a loved one’s grave the first few nights after burial. The first night was the most dangerous, of course. That was when the body was freshest and most useful. The longer the body stayed in the ground, the less likely it was that someone would try to raise it or take it.

Almost no one was dumb enough to raise a body that had been rotting for more than a couple of weeks… Willow being an exception, of course, having waited 147 days to perform her resurrection spell. She had been extremely lucky that the spell had worked out as well as it did. More often than not, what came back was a caricature of what had been, and a seriously flawed one at that. It wasn’t the first time he had suspected that Red had gotten some help from sources Higher Up.

So there he was, ready to stand Guard for Joyce’s Vigil and he found himself usurped by Angel the Magnificent, swooping in like a brooding poofter to play the sympathetic hero and get all snuggly with Buffy. It made him want to heave. Trust Angel to show up when Buffy was weakest and neediest, just to rub it in her face that they couldn’t be together and that she needed a “normal” life. Angel never could take Buffy when she was strong. Her strength unnerved him, unlike Spike who was drawn to and thrilled by Buffy at her strongest. It might have had something to do with Angelus’ egoist streak. Even as an unsouled demon, Angelus could never stand to lose to anyone or anything.

The axe itched in his hand and he fingered the blade, feeling the sharp edge cut into the pad of his finger. The pain made him wince but refocused him. He knew he had to stay away from them. Angel was sure to sense his soul and it was no good if Buffy found out. Joyce’s grave was safe for the night. He would come back the following night in time to catch Dawn trying to cast her resurrection spell. In the meantime, he wasn’t sure if Angel had sensed him, or if Buffy had mentioned him, so he was reluctant to go home. He walked around aimlessly for a while then ended up at Giles’ doorstep. Knocking faintly on the door, he half hoped that the man would be too drunk to answer, but he had no such luck.

A bedraggled and weary Giles opened the door and blinked at him. “Spike?”

“Hello Watcher. May I come in?”

Giles stepped back, allowing Spike to move past him.

“How are you doing? I haven’t seen you since…” Giles began.

Spike placed the battle axe gently down on the table and responded. “Been alright. Killed me a demon. Doc, the bloke I told you about, the one who cut Dawn on the tower.”

“That… that’s good. I just hope you haven’t acted too rashly.”

Spike shrugged. “There’s nothin’ we could have learned from him that I don’t already know.”

He sat down on the couch and hung his head. “Went to stand Vigil. Found Buffy there with Angel. Somebody must’ve called him.”

“Angel is here? Are you sure?”

Spike nodded. “Yeah. Can’t miss ‘im. Mr. All Broody and Hair Gel. Snugglin’ with Buffy. Comfortin’ her…”

Giles retrieved his glasses and cleaned them. “Yes, well, perhaps that is what she needs right now. Lord knows, she wasn’t accepting any comfort from any of us.”

“Poof likes ‘er weak. Never could stand it when she was strong. Wanted ‘er dependant. That way he could control ‘er. Angelus doesn’t like his women strong. Queen Bitch Darla was enough for him,” he muttered.

“Having met Darla, I would concur that she was ah… very spirited.”

Spike laughed without mirth. “Wouldn’t call ‘er that, but okay.”

Giles sat next to him. “You look… worn. You haven’t been eating have you.”

Spike shook his head. “Haven’t been able to. Can’t stomach anythin’ right now. ‘S’all messed up. Killin’ Doc helped tho.”

“Are you sure he’s dead? You said that you and Xander had killed him before.”

Spike nodded. “Cut of ‘is head and threw it in the fireplace. Unless his headless body can stand up and pull ‘is head out of a bleedin’ fire, my guess is that he’s dead.”

“That would seem logical, yes.”

“Felt good. Used the battle axe I gave Buffy for her birthday. Went an’ got it. I’ll put it back when I get a chance.”

“I’m sure Buffy would appreciate that.”

Spike shrugged. “Doubt she’ll even know I used it. Blade was clean. She probably’s never even taken it out for a spin.”

“How did you get that axe, really?”

Spike snorted. “I killed the owner, of course. ‘S the only way to get a Gruth’lak battle axe.”

“And you did this how long ago?”

“About sixty years ago.”

Giles sat back, thinking. “I must say that I am impressed. From everything I have heard, Gruth’lak demons are very strong and extremely difficult to kill.”

Spike looked away, pain flashing across his features. “They are, but I had incentive. Blighter was after Dru.”

Uncomfortable silence fell between the two men until Giles stood and fetched drinks for them both.

“I’m no stranger to grief, y’know,” Spike commented, accepting the bourbon gratefully. “My Da and little sis both died before I was turned. I knew loss and mourning clothes well. I thought I was done with grievin’ but now…”

Giles sat next to him again. “Well, I’m sure the soul is feeling the pain quite keenly.”

Spike shook his head. “No Watcher, you don’t get it. I grieved for Joyce *before* I got the bloody soul. First time ‘round it hit me like an axe in the chest. Feels the same now.”

He drank the bourbon, glad for the burn of the alcohol even though it hit his empty stomach. “Can I sleep here, Watcher? Dunno if Peaches saw me, but I don’t fancy wakin’ up on fire. ‘Sides, Poof is bound to see the bloody soul and tell Buffy.”

“Spike, do you think it’s wise to keep your soul a secret from Buffy?”

“Tellin’ her would leave more questions than answers, Rupert. Best not to say anything until after the Hell Bitch is dead.”

“I will respect your wishes for now, but you do know that you can’t keep it from her forever, don’t you?”

“Watcher, if I can keep ‘er from takin’ that swan dive off the tower, I will tell ‘er anything she ever wanted to know. I’d even sing it, I’d be so damn happy,” he replied wearily.

“Yes, well, I doubt the singing will be necessary.”

Spike took another sip from his bourbon, ignoring the roiling of his stomach. “Why not? Might surprise you. I got a decent voice. We could make a nice duet, you an me. Kinda like Sid Vicious meets Barry Manillow.”

Giles’ head shot up, his face indignant. “I kindly ask you not to insult me by comparing me to Barry Manillow. I fancy myself more of a Bob Geldof type of performer.”

Spike snickered. “Boomtown Rats…”

“They were a very nice band in the seventies,” Giles sniffed.

“Velvet Underground was better.”

“This from a man who thinks punk rock is a classic musical artform.”

“Ramones all the way, baby,” he said with a wry grin, smiling for the first time in what seemed like ages.

“I Want to Be Sedated. Yes, of course.”

“Now now, Watcher, you forget I’ve lived with you. I know your dirty secrets. You’ve got Ted Nugent records hidden in your closet.”

“How did you…? You’ve been snooping in my bedroom.”

Spike did his best to look innocent and drank down the rest of his drink. “What can I say, Watcher. Evil.”

“Of that, I have no doubt,” Giles answered wryly.

“Evil who is out of alcohol. Refill, Rupes?” he asked, holding up his empty glass.

Giles rolled his eyes but poured him two more fingers of bourbon.

“Shall I put on Cream while we drink ourselves into oblivion,” the man offered, pouring himself another drink.

Spike waved his hand at the stereo. “Knock yourself out, Watcher.”

Giles rifled through his collection and pulled out the album he and Joyce had listened to during the ill-fated evil candy episode. As the guitar rift from the first song came out of the stereo, he closed his eyes and remembered.

Spike leaned back against the couch cushions and listened to the music. The glass of bourbon rested, untouched, between his legs, and he ignored the tears that slid down his cheeks.

He carried the axe with him on his back when he left Rupert’s to head for the cemetery on the following night. He knew he wouldn’t need it, but he had to make Nibblet think that he had come to protect Joyce’s grave. Dawn was smart enough to notice if he didn’t have a weapon, and would be sure to ask questions later.

Sure enough, just as he had done before, he found Dawn kneeling by the fresh grave. The teen looked small and broken, and she was fighting back tears as she read from the book she had stolen from the Magic Box. He saw her collect some dirt from the grave, swallowed the lump in his throat and stepped up.

“I hope it’s just dirt you’re after,” he said grimly, making Dawn gasp and reel to face him.

“If the spell calls for anything more than that, you’re into Zombie territory.”

“Spike! I wasn’t…” she tried, desperate.

“I know good and well what you’re up to. That book you’re holding is infamous.”

The look on her face almost broke him- almost. But he knew too well how badly resurrection spells could go, Buffy’s resurrection not withstanding, and he choked every time he thought of Joyce coming back as a mindless zombie.

“Please. Don’t tell Buffy. I can’t… I… I just have to get her back. I have to,” Dawn pleaded.

“Dawn,” he said softly, lowering himself to kneel next to her. “I miss your mum. She was good and decent and I liked her a lot. And because I liked her and looked to her as I would my own mum, I can’t let you go through with this spell.”

“But I need her. Buffy… she’s always so busy, and I’m nothing but a burden to her… and with Glory looking for the Key…”

The tears started rolling down Dawn’s cheeks and he reached over to brush them away with his thumb.

“Dawn, Buffy loves you very much. It’s just that Slayers have a hard time with the softer emotions coz their lives are so hard.”

“But, I need my mom,” the teen sobbed. “I have to get her back. Willow said… she showed me…”

“Did Wills give you this book?” he asked, trying to hide the anger in his voice.

Dawn recoiled a little bit. “N…no, but she showed me another book, one that she and Tara have, that talked about this one.”

“So you nicked it from the Magic Box,” he prodded.

She looked ashamed and nodded. “Yes. And the spell ingredients.” She looked at him, begging. “It says I can bring Mom back. The spell says it raises the dead.”

“Yeah, and the dead don’t take too kindly to it. Trust me, Bit, your mum deserves to rest in peace. There’s no tellin’ what you’ll get if you do that spell. Joyce could come back half rotten and without a mind,” he cautioned seriously.

“But the spell…”

“Black Mojo like that is wonky, Bit, an’ it never turns out the way you think it will,” he said. “Believe me, Dawn, if I thought we could bring Joyce back and be guaranteed that she’d have all her pieces and parts in all the right places and ‘er mind intact, I’d dig ‘er up for you.” He reached for her, seeking to hold her. “But there are no guarantees. What if you brought back somethin’ that looked like your mum that either me or Buffy would have to kill?”

“I would never do that!” Dawn insisted, horrified.

Spike shook his head. “No guarantees, Sweet Bit. One wrong word, one mispronunciation, one spell component misplaced and you could have a monster on your hands. You want that?”

“No. But…” she tried.

He glanced at the book. “You read Latin?”

Dawn followed his line of sight. “No, but I have a translation…”

“Uh huh and Latin never has words that sound like each other and the spell couldn’t possibly be mistranslated,” he said, giving her an incredulous eye.

She grew angry and struck him in the chest with her small fist. He barely felt the blow.

“What do you care! You’re a soulless vampire! You can’t feel emotions and grief!”

“Singin’ Big Sis’s song, are we now?” he growled angrily.

“I need my mother back!”

“And I’m sayin’ what comes back won’t be your mum!”

“I don’t care!”

“Yes, you do,” he countered, stung and hurt by her words. “You think I don’t feel pain? You think I don’t miss your mum? Who was it that brought ‘er chocolates and looked in on ‘er? Who was it that watched telly and talked about Passions? I loved your mum. She was kind and good and took care of me even though I’m a demon. She never treated me like a freak. I…”

He stopped, wiping away the tears that came unbidden to his eyes. “I loved Joyce like my own mum. I loved her, I did. And I’d have saved ‘er if I could’ve.” He hardened and turned to Dawn, grim-faced. “But Joyce is dead, and nothin’ we do is gonna change that, and she’d want me to honor her memory by makin’ sure the daughters she loved stay alive. And that includes stoppin’ you from makin’ a huge mistake.”

Gritting his teeth, he reached over and grabbed her wrist, holding it firm but not tightly enough to hurt her. Then he stood, hauling her to her feet with him as she struggled.

“No!” she yelled, punching at him with her free hand.

He shook his head. “No axe for you tonight, Sweet Bit, and I won’t let you kick me in the jewels again. I’m takin’ you home to Buffy.”

“No! You can’t! I won’t go!” she cried, digging in her heels as he tried to pull her away from the fresh grave.

“Don’t have much say in it, Bit. Vampire strength here.”

“I’ll scream. I swear I will,” she threatened.

“And bring every vamp and nasty within hearing distance down on us. Buffy’s home, Bit. I took patrol for her tonight,” he told her, walking forward.

She stumbled and almost fell. He caught her around the waist, holding her up, but ready to defend himself if it proved to be a ruse. She leaned limply against him, crying.

“You don’t understand. I need her, Spike! I need... She… Who… who’ll take care of me…”

Her broken sobs cut him to the quick and he wrapped his arms around her.

“I will, Bit. You’ve got me. You’ve still got me. You’ll always have me.”

“But she understood… she…”

He stroked her hair and hugged her close. “I know, Bit. I know.”

She broke down completely then and collapsed in his arms, weeping uncontrollably. He held her, letting his own tears roll down his cheeks and fall into her hair.

“Spike?” a new voice said hesitantly, and he turned his head to see Willow and Tara standing there. He fixed the redhead with an angry glare, but said nothing.

“Is everything all right?” Willow asked worriedly, and not a little guiltily.

Behind her, Tara saw the book and spell components and gasped, hurrying forward.

“No worries, Glinda. She didn’t get too far with it.”

Tara quickly gathered up the book and stolen items while Willow looked helplessly on.

“Bit tells me you put the bug in her ear,” he said evenly, letting some of his ire creep into his voice.

“Me? N… no. Not really. I wasn’t… I didn’t mean to…” the witch stammered, flushing.

“Willow thought the book she showed Dawn was just a history book. She didn’t know that it referred to specific spells and grimores,” Tara explained.

Spike raised an eyebrow at Tara and he knew that she saw that he was unconvinced, but neither was willing to further the discussion.

“Dawn,” Tara said, addressing the teen who was huddled in Spike’s arms.

“Save it, Glinda. I already read her the riot act. Now I just want to get ‘er home to Big Sis.”

“Oh, we can do that…” Willow offered, but stopped when Dawn recoiled further into Spike’s embrace.

“I think Nibblet wants Big Bad to take her home. I can better protect her when Buffy throws her fit when she finds out what Little Sis was up to.”

“You’re sure she didn’t get far with the spell?” Tara questioned.

Spike shook his head. “I’m sure. She was just gettin’ the grave dirt when I arrived.”

Tara’s mouth thinned into a grim line, but she gave a wordless nod. “You get her home, Spike. We’ll do… clean up here.”

Spike nodded back and lifted Dawn into his arms. She didn’t protest and tucked her face into the lapel of his duster.

“Thank you, Spike,” Tara said seriously as he moved to carry Dawn home. “I’ll… I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He gave a small nod to acknowledge that he had heard her then slowly walked off. They didn’t speak as he carried her from the cemetery to her home on Revello. There was nothing really that could be said. Each carried their grief like a heavy shroud that wrapped around them and suffocated words in their throats. Dawn kept one small hand curled into the leather of his coat, her head resting lightly against his shoulder as he walked, taking her ever closer to her fate.

He knocked lightly on the front door of the Summers’ home, dark and silent as a tomb, and immediately heard running footsteps hurrying to answer. The door flew open to reveal a disheveled Buffy, still in her rumpled clothes.

“Dawn!” she cried, seeing her sister in the vampire’s arms. “Oh my god! Where have you been? What did you do?”

“Now, now, Slayer, lay off a bit. Nibblet’s fine. Found ‘er by your mum’s grave, but she’s all right now. All safe and sound,” he said, stepping inside.

“You went to the cemetery? At night? Dawn, are you crazy?”

Dawn gave Spike a frightened look, then realized that he wasn’t going to tell Buffy about the spell.

“I… I went there to… to try to bring Mom back,” she admitted, knowing that if Spike didn’t tell Buffy, Tara and Willow surely would.

“You what?” Buffy demanded.

Spike sighed, both surprised and proud that Dawn had come clean with her sister. Dawn struggled in his embrace to he set her down gently on her feet.

“I found her gatherin’ grave dirt for a spell. Stopped ‘er before it got too far.”

Buffy stared, shocked and horrified. “Dawn. How could you? How…?”

“To get her back, okay? I wanted her back,” Dawn replied, her earlier anger returning full force.

“Dawn!

“You have no idea what you were messing with! Who knows what you could have actually raised – what might have come through that door!” Buffy scolded. “Tara told me those spells go bad all the time. People come back *wrong.*”

“But I need her. I don’t care if she’s… I’m not like you, Buffy, I don’t have anybody!” Dawn yelled back, tears spilling over.

“What? Of course you do. You have me,” Buffy gasped, shocked.

“I don’t! You won’t even look at me! It’s so obvious you don’t want me around!” Dawn insisted.

“That’s - that’s not true,” Buffy stammered, casting Spike a glance.

He shook his head grimly. He wasn’t going to get involved here. Buffy and Dawn needed to have this out. Buffy needed to see how much her sister needed her.

“It is! And the way you’ve been acting! Mom *died* and it’s like you don’t even care!”

Buffy’s eyed widened with horror and pain.

“God - of course I care. Of course I do. How can you think that?”

“How can I not? You haven’t even cried! You’ve just been running around like it’s all been some big chore - cleaning up after mom’s mess…” Dawn seethed.

Buffy, still appalled by Dawn’s accusation, lost her temper and slapped Dawn across the face. Even as Spike took a step forward, his face concerned, Buffy’s hand flew to her mouth and she stared at her sister.

Both girls were shaking and Buffy began to unravel, her careful control beginning to fray at the edges as her anguish began to emerge, and she started to cry.

“I’ve been working - I’ve been busy, because I have to… be…” Buffy choked, tears running down her face.

“You don’t. You’re avoiding me.”

“I’m *not.* I have to do these things, ‘cause… ‘cause when I stop, then she’s really…gone. And I’m trying, really trying to take care of things… But I don’t even know what I’m doing… Mom, she always knew…”

“Nobody’s asking you to be Mom,” Dawn insisted.

“Well, who’s going to be if I’m not? Huh, Dawn? Have you thought about that? Who’s going to make things better? Who’s going to take care of us?”

Buffy wept openly, desperately as Dawn and Spike watched, helpless, as Buffy fell apart. Seeing her there, small and looking more childlike than he’d ever seen her, Spike fought to keep his own tears at bay. Dawn wasn’t so lucky.

“Buffy…” she sobbed, reaching for her sister.

“I didn’t mean to push you away… I didn’t… I just didn’t want you to see me… I mean… Oh, God… What are we going to do, Dawny? I’m just so scared…”

The sisters embraced, crying, the weight of their bodies dragging them to the floor in a tangled heap as they clung to each other. Unable to bear the sight of his two girls in such pain, and still feeling the terrible guilt of his failure, Spike staggered out, leaving the front door open. He could still hear their heart wrenching sobs long after he had stumbled away from the house and he collapsed against a tree, his own sobs ripping their way out of his throat like razorblades.

‘I promise. I promise you, Joyce. I’ll save your daughters. I’ll keep them safe, even if I have to die doing it. I lost you, Joyce. I won’t lose Buffy too. I failed you. I won’t fail again. Never again.’

For once, the demon and the soul were in complete accord.

He was nervous. Why was he nervous? He had very valid reasons for doing what he did and even Rupert agreed with him. So why was it that, now that the moment had come, he felt like a deviant caught playing games with sheep?

He cleared his throat but couldn’t look at his audience. “See, it’s like this,” he began, faltering. “Remember that Warren geek? The one who made the robot girlfriend?”

He glanced up. Xander, Willow, Tara and Anya were still looking at him with expectant eyes. He looked down again.

“Well, I thought… I thought that maybe… It might be a good idea…”

“Spike, what did you do?” Tara asked bluntly but gently.

He sighed and rolled his eyes, his hands dropping to his sides. “Oh, bloody hell.”

Shrugging his shoulders back, he reached over to open the training room door and gestured them in. They went, casting him suspicious glances as they passed. He closed his eyes and managed to count to six before he heard Xander yell.

“You sick bastard!” the young man accused.

He gritted his teeth and entered the training room, ready to face his fate and defend his position. He found them all gathered in wide-eyed horror around the deactivated Buffy-bot.

“It’s not what you think!” he insisted.

“Oh, so I am not seeing a robot that looks just like Buffy. One that was made by that wacko who made his own personal sexbot?” Xander seethed.

If he could have blushed, he would have. “Well. Yeah. But she’s not a sexbot! I mean, yeah, she looks like Buffy…”

“Exactly like Buffy. This guy’s really good,” Willow commented, examining the robot.

“I know, and that’s what gave me the idea. Now we have a *decoy.* The ‘bot’s almost as strong as Buffy and we can program it to *fight,*” he explained.

“The robot Warren made was very strong,” Anya agreed. “And another Buffy might prove useful.”

“That is *not* Buffy,” Xander argued.

“Of course it isn’t Buffy,” Spike snapped back. “But I doubt the Hell Bitch is smart enough to figure it out.”

“You want to use this against Glory,” Willow said, her eyes widening at the possibilities.

He touched a finger to his nose then pointed it at the redhead. “Bingo. And that’s why I mentioned it to Rupert.”

“Wait a minute. *Giles* knew about this?” Xander interupped.

He blinked at them. “Well, yeah. How else was I gonna get Buffy’s clothes and pictures? Steal them from her basement?” ‘Like I did last time…’

“I don’t understand why Giles never said anything to us about it,” Willow wondered.

“We weren’t sure how it would turn out so we were keepin’ mum. It’s just a coincidence that Warren finished it just after Rupert took Buffy on her little Vision Quest. But it works out because now we can take her out on patrol while Buffy is gone and see how she… it does,” he explained.

Willow walked around the robot, scrutinizing it. “Can it fight?”

He rubbed his neck. “Well… not exactly.”

“Explain not exactly,” Xander demanded.

“Well, I couldn’t very well tell that Warren geek that I needed a robot of the Slayer to fight a Hell God, now could I?”

“That would seem rather peculiar,” Anya replied.

“Yeah, it would. So I made him think that this was a robot of a girl I wanted but couldn’t have.” ‘Sometimes the best lies have grains of truth…’

“So it is a sexbot,” Xander said.

“No! Well, not really. It is programmed to kinda like me…”

“As in likes to have its tongue down your throat?” Xander snapped.

“No! Well, maybe, I dunno. You’re missin’ the point!”

“And the point is?” Xander prodded.

“I did have him program it to fight in certain situations. Role playing scenarios and the like…”

“Oh! Dominance games!” Anya piped up gleefully.

“Yeah, kinda,” he admitted. He cast a glance at Tara who was desperately trying not to laugh.

“Oh, so now we not only have a sexbot that looks like Buffy, we have a sexbot that looks like Buffy who is programmed to be a Dominatrix,” Xander growled.

“Well, I wouldn’t put it quite that way. She… it is going to need some reprogramming, but I know you can do it, Red.”

A giggle escaped Tara’s lips.

“How do we turn it on?” Willow asked.

“Um, there’s a button, on her back. A little spot on the spine down towards the middle of the back,” he replied.

He saw Willow feel around for the button and heard the click-whir of the robot turning on, but he wasn’t ready for what happened next.

The ‘bot’s eyes opened and it smiled when it saw him, just as it had it the previous timeline. He was so shocked by the twisted deja-vu that hit him and the feelings of guilt and shame that struck, that he was completely unprepared for the assault.

“Spike! Oh Spike!”

The ‘bot flew at him, grabbing his face and kissing him passionately. Then it twisted him around, threw him down to the training room floor and straddled him.

“You’re mine, Spike!”

“Red! Red! Off switch! OFF SWITCH!” he yelled, trying to fend off the quickly roving fingers.

A moment later, the ‘bot fell limp and he was able to pull himself out from under it with most of his pride intact. Xander looked sickened, but Willow and Tara were laughing silently.

“Well, that was truly perverted and disgusting,” Xander said.

“I dunno. I thought it was kinda cute how she just flattened him like that,” Willow commented.

“She was very direct,” Anya noted with a nod.

“Maybe he likes them that way. All blunt and down to business,” Willow furthered.

“Some do. There’s a certain attraction to bluntness. Besides, vampires are known to like violent sex. Blood play is usually involved.”

“Ewww. Ahn, I did not need to know that,” Xander complained.

“It can be very erotic and sexually satisfying,” the ex-vengeance demon said reasonably.

“Ahn, stop! Stop!”

Spike groaned. “If you’re quite finished making fun of me and making assumptions about my *preferences,* I’ll leave you to your work of reprogramming it to not jump me.”

He moved to leave while he still had some pride left, but Willow put a hand on his arm and stopped him.

“Oh no you don’t, Mister. You’re gonna stay here and help me reprogram her. I can’t very well program her not to jump you if you’re not around to be jumped.”

“And it could prove amusing to see you tossed to the floor a few more times. I think Xander would find it very satisfying,” Anya added.

‘I’m doomed,’ he thought, but sighed, giving over and following Willow back to the deactivated robot.

It took most of the afternoon for Willow to work through Warren’s complex programming, but she did manage to get the robot to stop sexually assaulting him. She was not, however, able to completely remove all of the robot’s attraction and affection towards him. It made for interesting troubles in reprogramming her fighting skills. Every time she threw him across the room and seemed to actually hurt him, she’d take to apologizing profusely and seek to ‘make it better.’ The women were continually amused by the sight of him getting pummeled then doted on, but Xander left after the third or fourth time it happened.

Finally, the robot was deemed ready, and that was fine with him because his bruises were starting to sprout bruises. Given the evil glint in Willow’s eyes, he wasn’t entirely certain that she hadn’t orchestrated some of the more creative beatings that the robot had doled out. Maybe she wasn’t as accepting of his reasons for having Warren make the Buffy-bot as she said she was, and she found it therapeutic to have the robot crush him to the cement a few more times than was actually necessary. Whatever her reasoning, he was glad for the reprieve and the robot was deactivated to await its first patrol.

Night came more quickly than he thought it would and he really wasn’t ready to step out of the cool refuge of the training room. There was naught to be done for it, however. The bot had to prove her mettle and there were vamps to kill. He remembered well the first time he had lived through this night. He’d woken to find his robot gone and felt a sudden terror that she had gone out without him. His fear turned out to be well founded because she’d unerringly run right into Xander and Anya in the graveyard. They hadn’t known then that the facsimile hadn’t been Buffy, and they’d gotten an eyeful when he and his new toy had played out another one of his fantasies right there on the grass. But all in all, he had to smile, knowing that Xander thought the real Buffy had been straddling him that night, riding him like a champion and crying her pleasure to whomever could hear. It was amazing the boy hadn’t popped a blood vessel and bled to death right there.

There would be no hanky-panky on this night, and he and his robot were flanked by Willow as well as the whelp and his demon-girl. Willow was lax to allow her new project to go out on her first patrol without the full support of the Scoobie Gang. They entered Shady Rest and traveled east from there, looking for any sign of evil afoot. They found none.

Spike kept an extra eye out for Glory’s minions. He knew that previously Glory had discovered that the Key was in human form and had sent her minions to spy on the gang in order to determine the Key’s identity. The Buffy-bot’s fierce protectiveness of him had made the minions think that he was the Key, and it had resulted in his subsequent kidnapping and torture. He was hoping he had managed to avoid that this time around. Since he had been sent back, he had been working very hard to ensure that Glory stayed in the dark about the Key’s true form, and part of that had been making sure Buffy stayed away from Ben. He’d been mostly successful in that endeavor, although Buffy had told him that she’d run into ‘that intern from the hospital’ a few times. There were no offers for coffee or flirtatious encounters this time around, though, and no real opportunity for Ben to discover that Dawn was the Key… well, except for the night in the mental ward. Ben had been there. He might have heard that crazy Knight call Dawn the Key It was possible that Glory now knew the Key was human, but so far he hadn’t seen any evidence of the Hell Bitch’s minions snooping around.

Things didn’t pick up in the patrol department until they reached their third cemetery. Then it seemed that all of the vamps they’d missed in the other two sought them out all at once. The fighting got pretty heated for a little while, but the ’bot held her own against them and dusted quite a few of them without any assistance. It left him free to watch the others and keep them all safe. A couple of times he got into it with one of the more powerful vamps and got knocked around a bit, but other than making the ‘bot get all defensive and worried about his welfare, he was fine.

They finished their patrol and headed back to the Magic Box to turn off the ‘bot for the night.

“There. All safe and sound,” Willow announced, setting the ‘bot up in a corner of the training room. “And she didn’t do too badly either.”

“No, she… it fought pretty good out there tonight. Dusted what? Eight vamps?” Xander commented.

“Somethin’ like that,” Spike agreed.

“Well, I have to get back home. Tara is with Dawn and I’m sure she’s worried,” Willow said.

Spike nodded. “Be seein’ you then. Buffy and the Watcher should be back soon and we’ll break the news of our newest weapon to ‘em. I’ll toddle off to my crypt and pop by tomorrow night. Tell the Bit I said hi.”

“I will. Thanks, Spike,” Willow said brightly, setting off to leave.

Spike watched them go then let himself out the back door and headed down the alley. He was already three blocks away when he heard footsteps running to catch up.

“Hey, Spike. Wait up!” Xander’s voice called.

Surprised, he stopped and turned around, waiting for the young man to come jogging up to him.

“Harris? Somethin’ wrong?” he asked, confused.

Xander stopped to catch his breath and Spike waited as patiently as he could for him to be able to speak.

“I… I just wanted to talk to you,” Xander admitted between gasps.

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” The man paused, calming and looking thoughtful. “Look. I know I gave you a hard time about the robot. But I wanted to tell you that I think it was a good idea. That thing fought really well tonight and I think you could be right about being able to use it against Glory. I mean, even if it was originally supposed to be some sick sex toy, you brought it to us to use and anything we can get to help us right about now is a good thing. Besides, I know you’ve been trying to help us a lot lately and I haven’t been very accepting of that.”

The words came out in a rush and Spike smirked.

“Wills put you up to this, didn’t she?” he commented.

Xander couldn’t hide the guilty look, but Spike had to give him points for trying.

“No!” he lied. “No, she didn’t…” Spike leveled him with a look and he caved. “Okay, okay. She did. I admit it. She pointed out that I haven’t been very forthcoming with the thanks lately.”

Spike pulled out a cigarette and lit it. He’d all but stopped smoking, but he was getting nervous and uncomfortable, and a nicotine hit would calm him down.

“You don’t owe me anything, Harris.”

The words brought Xander up short and his mouth thinned into a grim line. “No. I don’t. But neither do you. You could have left Sunnydale any time, but you haven’t. You’ve stayed and protected Dawn and tried to help us. I don’t understand why, and I do question your motives, but the truth is, you’ve been helping and that deserves a thank you.”

Spike looked away, drawing on his cigarette. “Got nowhere else to go. Can’t hunt. Can’t feed. Initiative boys buggered me up, right and good. Demon needs violence and the only way I can get it, is huntin’ other demons. Doesn’t make me too popular with the home team, y’know. Best help the Slayer, ally myself wi’ ‘er and get protection and a decent spot of violence at the same time. Other nasties know I’m in good with the Slayer, they think twice about comin’ after me. Works out for both of us. Can’t have some skanky Hell Bitch messin’ that up, can we?”

“I guess not,” Xander admitted, unconvinced.

“And there you have it. The great mystery of William the Bloody solved. I help because I don’t want anything buggerin’ my cushy setup here in Sunnyhell,” he shrugged, trying to deflect Xander’s scrutinizing gaze.

“Right, and that includes babysitting Dawn and guarding Joyce’s grave.”

“I…”

Xander cut him off. “Look. I dunno what’s going on, but Willow told me about you stopping Dawn from casting that resurrection spell, and Tara’s been pushing all of us to be nicer to you. Now, I have no idea what your ulterior motives are, and I probably don’t want to know, but I did want to acknowledge that we’ve noticed your help and I wanted to say thanks. That’s all.”

Spike looked at him and swallowed the lump that formed in his throat, managing a tight nod. “You’re welcome.”

“Gentlemen…” came a sibilant voice from behind them.

Spike and Xander turned around to see one of Glory’s minions standing behind them.

“I'm so sorry to intrude, but I wondered if I could beg a minute of your time?” the minion asked.

Spike turned to Xander. “Get out of here, Harris. Now.”

“What the Hell is going on?” Xander blurted, fists clenching as two more minions appeared.

“Run you idiot!” Spike ordered.

Xander looked from Spike to the minions then back to Spike. Knowledge of the very real and present danger they were in dawned in his eyes and they opened wide. Spike did his best to place himself between Glory’s cronies and the boy in hopes that he could defend them both, but it was not to be. To his credit, Xander did try to run, but his reaction time was a hair too slow and one of the minions slammed him into the side of a building, knocking him out. As the boy slumped to the pavement, Spike fought. He landed a few good blows, but in the end there were simply too many of them for him to overcome, and, just as they had done before, they bound his hands and dragged him off to Glory.

“Hey! Hey, son. You okay?”

The voice seemed far away, but it was accompanied by a vigorous shaking of his shoulder. He groaned and tried to open his eyes. Pain lanced through his head and he groaned, one arm reaching up to finger the nasty lump that had formed on the back of his skull.

“Son? You okay?”

Responding to the insistent voice, Xander opened his eyes and his blurry vision focused on an elderly man peering down at him.

“Wh… what happened?” he asked, finding his voice.

“I don’t know, son. I got off work and found you here lying on the pavement. Looks like someone knocked you into a wall.”

Still confused and slightly disoriented, he tried to sit up and remember what happened. Looking around, he saw that it was just after dawn.

‘I must have been out for hours. It’s amazing I didn’t become a vamp snack,’ he thought.

Vamp. Snack. Spike.

It all came back in a rush. Spike, their conversation, his awkward thanks, then the scabby guys in monk’s robes jumping them. They looked like how Buffy had described Glory’s crusty minions. Whoever they were, they’d slammed him into the wall and dragged Spike away.

“Oh. Oh god. Spike. They got him.”

“Spike? Who’s Spike? Did somebody take your dog?” the man asked.

Xander struggled to his feet, shaking off the last of the disorientation. “No. He’s…” What was Spike to them anyway? Certainly not a friend, but no longer an enemy either. He didn’t have time to think about it.

“Look, I gotta go.”

“Are you sure you’re okay? Don’t you want to go to the hospital or something?”

He shook his head. “No. I gotta be somewhere. Thanks.”

He didn’t look back as he hurried towards his apartment. Judging by his watch, he’d been out for hours. That meant Spike had been in Glory’s clutches for hours and there was no telling what the god was doing to him.

‘And he knows Dawn is the Key. Can he be trusted not to tell?’

The uncertainty made him move faster and he pounded on the door when he got home. Willow opened the door, her eyes wide and frightened.

“Xander! Where’ve you been?” she asked as he pushed his way inside. “Anya came looking for you at our place. We came back here to wait for you, but you didn’t show. We were about to go looking…”

“Xander!” Anya called, rushing over. “What happened? Did you and Spike run into trouble?”

“The guys that work for Glory? Buffy said they were kinda like Hobbits with leprosy? Well, this was a whole flock of Hobbits and they grabbed Spike. I think they're taking him to Glory.”

“Oh my God,” Willow gasped. “And he knows about Dawn!”

By now Tara was awake, sitting up from the blankets piled on the floor. “What is it? What’s happened?”

“Glory’s minions took Spike,” Xander replied.

“Oh my God,” Tara blurted, repeating her lover’s exact words.

“Well, what are we going to do?” Anya questioned.

“We have to get him back,” Tara said in a voice that brooked no argument.

Her tone surprised them and they gave her odd looks.

“O… okay, but don’t we need Buffy…” Willow stammered.

“No, we have to get him back now. Before Glory hurts him. We have to find him,” Tara insisted.

“Okay…”

“How do we find him?” Xander asked.

“Oh! Maybe the bot! The bot might have some kind of homing device in it. I mean, Warren’s girlfriend-bot was able to track him here to Sunnydale,” Willow offered.

Tara was already getting out of bed. “And there’s a spell we can use. A locator spell. We can get the ingredients at the Magic Box.”

“What’s going on?” Dawn’s voice asked, tired but worried.

“Dawny!” Willow said, going to the teen and trying to downplay what was happening.

“I heard something about Spike. What’s happened to him?”

The others looked at each other. Xander had a story on his lips and he was about to speak when Tara cut him off.

“Dawn, Xander and Spike were attacked. We think Glory’s minions may have taken Spike,” she explained gently.

Dawn face filled with horror. “No. Oh no. What are we going to do? We have to find him!”

Tara tried to calm her before she became too distressed. “We’re going to go look for him. Buffy and Giles aren’t back yet. Willow is hoping that the robot Buffy has a homing device in it that is programmed to find Spike. If not, there’s a locator spell we can cast. We’re going to go to the Magic Box to get the robot and the ingredients for the spell.”

“I wanna help,” Dawn insisted.

“Dawn… it’s too dangerous…” Willow tried.

“If you try to leave me here, I’ll just follow. You’d have to chain me up or something to keep me here.”

“We could lock her in the closet,” Anya offered.

“I know how to pick locks,” Dawn countered, then added when they looked at her with shocked faces. “Spike taught me how. He said it could come in handy if any nasties ever caught me and locked me up somewhere.” She lifted her chin defiantly. “So locking me in a closet won’t do any good, I’ll just pick my way out.”

Shaking their heads and deciding that a conversation with Spike on what was and wasn’t appropriate to teach a fourteen year old girl could come after they had rescued the vampire, they headed out.

They went to the Magic Box first to collect the robot and the ingredients they needed for the locator spell. The ‘bot activated with a quiet click and the eyes popped open.

“Hello. Your name is Willow. You’re my friend,” the robot said cheerfully.

“Uh, yeah. That’s right, Buffy-bot.”

The robot looked around at all the others staring at her. Dawn made no attempt to hide her shock.

“Oh my god. I mean, you guys told me it looked just like Buffy, but…”

“Dawn!” the robot greeted happily, coming forward to give the teen a hug. Dawn wasn’t able to back away fast enough. “You’re my sister!”

“Yeah. Right,” Dawn replied, hurt.

“Uh, Buffy-bot. We kinda need your help,” Willow said, getting the robot’s attention.

The robot paused to look at all the people in the room. “Why is everyone staring at me?”

Willow cleared her throat, making the robot look at her.

“Where is Spike?” the robot asked with complete innocence.

“That’s why we need your help. Spike is missing and we need to find him. Do you know where we can find him?”

The Buffy-bot blinked several times and looked at each of the individuals in the room in turn, then looked back at Willow, blinked, and said, “No.”

“Well we were thinking that maybe Warren had put some kind of homing device in you that would help you find Spike…” Willow tried.

“No. And I don’t think I’m a robot,” she replied in the same cheerful voice.

“Um, yeah. Right.”

“I’ll get that locator spell and look up the ingredients,” Tara said, eyeing the robot and stepping out of the room.

“I’ll help you,” Dawn offered, looking for any reason to get out of the training room.

Together Tara and Dawn amassed the supplies needed in order to cast the spell.

“Now all we need is something that belonged to Spike, so we can specify him as the person we want to find,” Tara said when they were finished gathering the ingredients.

“Oh! Spike has some clothes at our house. In the basement from when he… you know,” Dawn said.

“That will do. And we should get weapons from Buffy’s house anyway,” Willow agreed.

“Let’s go,” Tara ordered, shocking them again by her forthright words and atypical assertiveness.

They followed her out of the Magic Box, robot in tow.

Once at Buffy’s house, Dawn went into the basement to get an article of clothing that Spike had left behind from his convalescence while Tara set up the spell in the living room.

“Whoa, group play time,” Buffy said, coming into the living room.

“Buffy!” Willow greeted. “You’re back early!”

“Yeah,” Buffy sighed. “Death is my gift. Pffah.”

“Huh?” Willow asked.

Buffy shook off her memory and looked around at the others in the room.

“What’s going on?”

“Hey! You look just like me!” the Buffybot chirped.

Buffy stared at the robot, her eyes wide. “Oh. My. God.”

“No no, it’s not what you think,” Xander hastened.

“Buffy, I’m going to head off to the… oh good lord,” Giles said, coming into the house, but he stopped short when he saw the robot.

“You’re Mr. Giles. You’re from England,” the ‘bot beamed.

“Oh dear, I see that Warren finished it in our absence.”

Buffy rounded on her Watcher. “You knew about this?!”

Giles looked away nervously. “Well, yes, Spike and I discussed it…”

“SPIKE?”

“Whoa, whoa, wait Buffy, calm down,” Xander tried.

“Calm down? Calm down? There’s a sex bot with my face on it standing in my living room and you want me to calm down?”

“She’s not a sex bot!” Willow interrupted. “Well… not anymore. We’ve changed her programming.”

Buffy scowled. “Oh that makes me feel sooo much better. Where is he?”

“Buffy, please. Let us explain,” Willow begged.

Buffy frowned but nodded.

“After you and Giles left for your trip, Spike came to the Magic Box with the robot. He said he and Giles decided to have Warren make a robot that looked like you for us to use as a decoy against Glory. But Spike couldn’t tell Warren what we really needed the robot for, so he had him make another girlfriend-bot. Then when it was done, Spike brought it to us so we could reprogram it. Buffy, it’s really strong and it fights really well. We took it on patrol last night and it killed eight vampires all by itself,” Willow explained.

“Eight?” Buffy repeated.

“Okay, I found these,” Dawn said, coming into the room. She was carrying a black t-shirt and pair of black socks.

“Dawn, why are you carrying Spike’s clothes?” Buffy demanded.

The teen blinked at her sister. “Buffy, you’re back!” She rushed over and hugged Buffy. “Oh, I’m so glad you’re back! We need your help!”

Buffy hugged her sister then pulled back. “Okay. Okay. I go away on a vision quest where I meet up with cave-slayer, complete with dreadlocks and facial mud, and when I come back, I find all my friends in my house, a robot that looks like me standing in my living room, and my sister taking a vampire’s clothes out of the basement. What gives?”

“We need the clothes for a locator spell,” Tara said, taking the clothing from Dawn and bringing it to where she had set up the spell.

“Locator spell?” Buffy repeated, taking in the set up.

“Buffy… last night, Glory’s minions jumped me and Spike. They knocked me out and took Spike,” Xander admitted.

“Glory has Spike?” Buffy gasped.

Xander swallowed hard and nodded.

“Oh dear, this… this is awful news,” Giles stammered, cleaning his glasses and casting a glance at Tara.

“Don’t worry. We’re going to find him and bring him back,” Tara said confidently.

Giles went over to where she was preparing to cast the spell.

“A locator spell?” he asked.

Tara nodded, spreading some cornmeal into a sacred circle.

“I can help,” Giles offered.

She gave him another nod and handed him the map of Sunnydale to place in the center of the Circle.

“How long has she had him?” Buffy demanded.

“A few hours. They jumped us as we were leaving the Magic Box last night,” Xander answered. “He’s probably told her about Dawn by now.”

“NO!” Dawn cried. “Spike would never tell Glory about me. Not ever.”

“Dawn, Spike’s a vampire...”

“A vampire who loves Buffy. And he loves me too. He’d die for us. You know he would.”

“Whoa, Spike loves you?” Xander blurted, rounding on Buffy with an accusing glare.

Buffy tried to downplay the revelation. “I found out a few weeks back.”

“And you didn’t tell any of us?”

“I didn’t think it was important.”

“Not important? Another vamp falls for you, one that *already* doesn’t have a soul, and you didn’t think it was important? When were you going to tell us, Buff? After he started killing us or before?” Xander accused.

“Hey! That’s not fair! You know Spike can’t hurt any of us because of the chip. Besides, he loves me and Buffy, and he loved Mom too,” Dawn argued.

“Dawn, Spike can’t love. He’s a soulless monster who killed people for centuries,” Xander countered.

“That’s quite enough,” Giles interrupted, an edge to his voice. “We need quiet in order to cast this spell. I suggest that you gather weapons we will need to rescue Spike from Glory and be ready to leave once we know where he is.”

He and Tara shared a look, then joined hands. Willow, Dawn and Anya looked on while Buffy and Xander did as they were told and gathered weapons. Buffy pulled the Gruth’lak battleaxe out of the weapons chest and studied it, a sad frown on her face.

“So, is this, like, ‘I love you forever and I want to make you into my immortal sex slave’ love? Or is it ‘I’m scarily obsessed with you and will stalk you from the shadows’ love?” Xander asked snarkily, out of earshot of Giles and Tara.

“It’s a ‘I’ll be whatever you want, whatever you need, and I’ll never leave’ kind of love,” Buffy replied softly, lowering the axe. “It’s messy and complicated and terrifying, but it’s real, Xander. At least, it’s real to him. Giles told me Spike first told him under the truth spell, so it can’t have been one of his lies.”

“Okay, but you know… it can’t be real.”

“I don’t know anything,” she said.

“Buffy, Spike doesn’t have a soul.”

She turned to him. “I know, but…” She stopped, thinking, then shook her head. “Look, I can’t do this now. I just know that Spike would never hurt me or Dawn, and that right now he’s in trouble and we have to do what we can to save him.”

“And I know that the guy has been doing a lot for us lately, but you know he’s going to tell Glory that Dawn is the Key and you and Dawn should be heading out of town instead of us trying to rescue the soulless killer from a Hell God,” Xander countered.

“So it’s okay for us to use him and beat him and pump him for information when we need it, but he isn’t worth our efforts if he needs our help?” Buffy snapped back.

Xander shook his head and put up his hands. “I’m just saying... Spike’s a demon, Buffy. He’s not human. He doesn’t have a soul and he’ll never be Angel.”

“You think this is about Angel?” Buffy seethed.

“Isn’t it? I mean, come on, you had a thing for a vampire once. It’s logical that you could fall for another one.”

“I am not in love with Spike!” she insisted. “But he isn’t my enemy anymore and he’s helped me a lot. He deserves the benefit of the doubt here.”

Xander sighed and gathered his thoughts. “But Buffy… in order to save him we’re gonna have to find Glory.”

Buffy’s lips tightened and she nodded. “I know.”

Just then Dawn came running to find them. “We found him. Tara and Giles have the spot on the map.”

Buffy leveled an expectant look at Xander and held it until Xander looked away.

“Okay. Dawn, you and Tara stay here and be safe. The rest of us will go,” she decided, walking towards where Tara and Giles were set up. She glanced over her shoulder. “Xander, are you with us?”

The young man made an unhappy face but finally nodded. “Yeah, Buff. I’m with you.”

She gave him a soft smile.

“Let’s go.”

Pain.

Pain was his world. Pain was his universe. Pain was all that was left of his mind and soul.

He remembered all too well the tortures Glory had visited upon him and her attentions were no different this time, only now he made a terrible realization. He had killed the Sobek demon before it had a chance to lead Buffy to the clearing near the apartment complex where Glory lived. Without that point of reference to start form, even if the Scoobies did come after him- which he doubted they would- they would have no idea where to even begin their search. The knowledge added an edge of dark despair to his suffering. He was truly on his own. No rescue party would arrive at the last minute to save him from this Hell Bitch’s cruelties. If he was to survive, he would have to save himself.

And he had to survive. Somehow, in spite of all his efforts, Glory still found out that the Key was in human form. It was another example of the futility of his actions. No matter what he did or how hard he tried, the events from the previous timeline still seemed to occur in the same sequence that they had taken before. Now Dawn was in serious danger again and so was Tara. He had to get out of there and find a way to kill Ben. It all came down to that one solution: killing Ben. He had wanted to kill Ben from the outset, but had allowed Giles’ adamant refusal to sway him from his task. He now recommitted himself to taking out the intern and nothing, not Buffy, not the Watcher, not even the Chip or his own death, was going to stop him.

Now all he had to do was escape from the Hell Bitch’s clutches, and get somewhere safe long enough to heal and figure out how to kill a human when the chip wouldn’t let him even *think* about hurting anyone. Gathering what was left of his strength, he prepared to taunt Glory into kicking him out of the chains so he could try to stagger his way out of the building.

‘Worked so well the last time…’

A sharp slap to the face brought him out of his thoughts and he became aware, once again, of his body hanging from the chains in the ceiling, broken and bloodied as he tried to alleviate the pressure by standing on his toes.

“I have a riddle for you, Precious. How is a vampire that won't talk like an apple?” she taunted sweetly.

She brought a knife down to his chest, and peeled away the skin, leaving a patch of exposed red flesh. He went rigid with pain and gasped.

“Think I can do you in one long strip?” she asked, flashing the knife.

Spike swallowed slowly and licked his lips. “Enough,” he whispered hoarsely. “No more. I’ll tell you who the sodden Key is.”

Glory gave him a vicious smile and pulled the knife away. “Good.”

As he had before, he tried to stall for as long as he could but it only earned him more pain and beating. Finally, he thought he had the timing about right and asked for a glass of water. Glory graciously provided him with one and held it to his lips so he could drink. She had done this for him before, and he knew that she would soon smash the glass into his face.

“Is that better? Do you think you can try to talk again now?” the hell god asked.

Taking a deep breath, he managed a nod.

“Good. Because I'm tired of these *games!*”

The glass smashed against his cheek, slicing into his flesh as it shattered.

“I need time, I need a drink… You're a very needy little bloodsucker and it's not very attractive! So start talking!” Glory demanded, throwing herself down on the couch and facing him with her legs crossed.

“Yeah, okay. The Key. Well, here's the thing…” he began, surreptitiously working to loosen the chains that held his wrists and trying to twist his hands through.

“It's that guy. On TV. What's his name?”

“On the television?” Glory repeated, incredulous.

“On that show, the Price show, where they guess what stuff costs…” he continued, casting a glance behind him to the closed front door.

“The Price is Right?” one of the minions in robes offered.

“Bob Barker!” another finished excitedly.

“We will get Bob Barker! We will bring you the limp and beaten body of Bob Barker!” the first minion said.

Glory stood up and spun on her minions with narrowed eyes. They cringed.

“It is not Bob Barker, you scabby morons!” she yelled, then approached Spike. “The Key is new to this world and Bob Barker is as old as grit.” She came close, her face mere centimeters from his own bloody cheeks. “The vampire is lying to me.”

He laughed thinly, with not a small hint of hysteria and bitterness in his voice as he continued to work on freeing his hands.

“Yeah,” he admitted. “But it was fun. And guess what, bitch? I'm not tellin’ you jack. You're never gonna get your soddin’ Key. Because you might be strong, but in our world, you're an idiot.”

“I am a God,” Glory said seriously.

“The God of What? Bad home perms?” he taunted, seeing her get angry and feel at her hair.

“Shut up! I command you shut up!” she demanded.

“Yeah, okay. I mean, sorry, but I just had no idea Gods were such prancing lightweights,” he continued, looking back at the door and trying to line his body up with it.

Glory have him an angry snort, coming close as he punctuated his next words with as much contempt as he could muster.

“Mark my words, the Slayer is going to kick your skanky lop-sided ass back to whatever place would take a cheap, whorish, fashion victim ex-God like you.”

On cue, just as he finished saying the words, Glory rounded and kicked him so hard that the chains that held him snapped and he went flying backwards, directly through the closed front door in a torrent of splinters. He was exceedingly lucky that one of them did not pierce his heart. He landed in the hallway and struggled to his feet in spite of the pain he was in.

“Good plan, Spike,” he choked to himself as he stood on shaky but mercifully unbroken legs.

Unsteady and in agony, he made his way as quickly as his battered body would allow to the elevator. It closed in front of him as he got there and he had to pry the doors apart. Glory’s minions were hot on his heels as he forced the doors open and threw himself down the shaft to land on the roof of the descending car. Pushing the escape hatch in, he let himself fall through the opening and land heavily on the elevator floor. He knew the minions would be waiting for him when it stopped at the lobby and he would have to fight his way through them, then get down to the basement where he could hopefully either find a way into the sewers or hole up in a safe place to hide until nightfall.

He stood, ready to fight the moment the doors opened, knowing there would be no help for him this time. The elevator stopped and the doors slid open. He tensed and prepared to do battle for his unlife.

“You do not insult Glory by escaping,” one of the minions said as they came towards him.

Setting his jaw, he was ready for them, fists clenched. Then a miracle happened and for a moment he could not believe what he was seeing as the building doors flew open with a powerful kick and Buffy was there, crossbow in hand. The robot, the whelp, the watcher, witch and demon girl were all with her, all battle ready and supremely pissed off.

His legs gave out as the shock washed through him, followed by relief and some studded awe as he watched the Slayer and the Scoobies begin to fight. He noticed that she was wielding the Gruth’lak battle axe like a true warrior and he smiled through bloodied lips.

‘She finally got a chance to use it,’ he thought.

It was the last thing that entered his mind before he passed out.

He woke with a scream on his lips, but was quickly shushed by a soft voice and gentle hand.

“You’re safe. It’s okay. You’re safe now,” a voice whispered and he recognized it as Tara.

“Glinda?” he choked.

“Yes. It’s me. Buffy and the others rescued you from Glory. You’re in Buffy’s basement. You already had clothes and a cot here so it seemed the logical place to bring you,” Tara explained.

“Danger,” he managed.

“No. No, it’s okay. Willow and I have the protection spells up. If Glory tries to get anywhere near here, they’ll sound an alarm.”

“How’d you find me?”

“Location spell. Giles helped and you had left some of your clothes here so we had something to use as a focus.”

He was so humbled and grateful that he almost started to cry.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely.

“We couldn’t leave you there. You’re family,” she answered, recalling memories of that night not so long ago when he and the others fought for her against her family.

“I want you to know, too, that we didn’t tell. About your soul, that is. Giles and I. We kept it secret still. But we couldn’t let Glory hurt you… well, more than she already did,” she added.

“S’ok. I understand. Grateful. Where’s Dawn?” he asked, his concern coming through in spite of his hoarse voice.

“She’s safe. She’s upstairs. Worried about you. We’re all worried about you. You’ve taken a number of beatings in a very short time.”

“Buffy?”

“She’s upstairs too. Do you want me to get her?”

He managed a small nod.

“Okay. I’ll go get her, but don’t talk too long. You’re really weak and you need to heal. Willow and I put more pain-block spells on you, but you still need rest.”

As she moved to leave, he reached out for her hand, feeling blindly for it because his eyes were nearly swollen shut. When her hand came in contact with his own, he held it loosely.

“Glinda…”

“Yes?”

“Glory knows the Key is human. I don’t know how she knows. Don’t go anywhere alone, okay? Even if you and Red are havin’ a bit of a tiff, don’t go stormin’ off by yourself, okay? Trust me on this one, please,” he warned faintly.

Her hand gripped his tightly then released. “I won’t. Thank you.”

He nodded, rolling his heads back and letting his hand fall from hers. She smoothed back his hair then he heard her leave. It was quite a few minutes before he heard the tell-tale footsteps on the basement stairs.

“Slayer,” he whispered in greeting before she had a chance to speak.

“Tara said you wanted to see me,” Buffy’s voice said, calmly but with an edge of apprehension.

“Wanted you to know. I didn’t tell.”

There was silence, then Buffy said softly. “I know.”

“Don’t make a difference, though. Glory knows the Key’s human.”

“How?”

He shook his head. “Dunno. ‘S why they got me. Thought I was the Key.” He tried to laugh but coughed instead. “Wankers.”

“This is bad, Spike.”

“I know. She’s gonna start comin’ for the Scoobies, one by one. ‘S just a matter of time.”

He heard her settle next to him on the floor beside his cot. “We have to find a way to beat her before she finds out about Dawn. Giles has been going through the stuff the Council gave us, but so far nothing’s been helpful. She has to have a weakness or else those monks would never have sent her to me in the first place.”

“I’m workin’ on it, but you have to give us a minute. Cuts and bones need mending.”

“I should let you rest. Glory really beat you up. You’ve been beaten up a lot lately.”

He sighed and smiled to himself. “Takes more than all that ta keep me down. I’m a tough old bastard, I am. Take a lickin’ and keep on kickin’.”

Buffy laughed softly at his joke. “Yeah, I figured that. You’ve suffered a lot lately. And you’ve helped a lot. Granted I’m not pleased with finding out you had a robot of me made by that twisted geek Warren, but…”

“It wasn’t supposed…” he tried.

“I know, but still eewwwww. I’m just glad it isn’t a good copy of me. I mean, how could anyone think that thing was me? It isn’t even real.”

He wisely kept silent, knowing full well that Warren’s creation had fooled the demons of Sunnydale for almost 4 months during the summer of Buffy’s death. Then he felt her hand take his gently.

“What you did for me… and for Dawn. That was real. I won’t forget it.”

He heard her lean close then felt her plant a chaste kiss against his temple.

“Thank you,” she whispered very softly.

“Buffy…” he murmured, but she was already pulling away.

“I should let you rest. I have a sick feeling that things are gonna heat up pretty quick around here and we’ll need your help.”

He nodded as she stood and walked away. He tracked her with his hearing until she paused at the basement steps.

“I’ll have Dawn bring down some blood for you. She’s anxious to see you and it’ll give her an excuse to come down,” she said.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” There was another pause, then she said softly, “Get some rest, Spike. And thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” he whispered back, but she didn’t hear him. She had already climbed her way up the stairs, leaving him alone in the basement.

He healed. Physically at least. It could not be said that the other, unseen, wounds were healing. Rather they festered inside of him, eating away at his very sanity. As he lay there in Buffy’s basement, bones knitting and flesh mending from yet another vicious beating, his mind ran circles around itself trying to formulate a plan. He had to stop Glory and to do that he had to kill Ben. Giles wasn’t going to help him. That meant the Scoobies wouldn’t help him if he went to them. He couldn’t do it and be sure he’d succeed on the first try before the chip knocked him unconscious. He would only have one chance to kill the intern and if he failed Glory would know that her secret was out. He needed allies; allies that wanted Glory dead as much as he did and were willing to kill innocents in order to accomplish that goal.

The answer came to him in the form of a sick epiphany. He was absently fingering a wound where Glory had sliced him with a knife and his thoughts turned to Mediaeval torture methods, which led him to thinking of the Dark Ages and knights on horseback. Then he remembered the modern day Knights of Byzantium, dressed in all their rusted glory, sworn to destroy the Key at all costs in order to sever its link to The Beast. The Knights had no qualms about killing an innocent girl. They were prepared to sacrifice Dawn, and anyone who got in their way, in order to complete their mission.

The plan seemed perfect. Once he was healed enough to go out, he would seek out the Knights and offer them Ben. Why kill a tool when you could get the hand that wielded it? Spike remembered that the general they had captured told them that the Knights had never been able to determine the identity of Glory’s human host. He could give them Glory’s biggest weakness in trade for Dawn and the Scoobies’ safety. The Knights would kill Ben and Glory would die with him. The Hell Bitch would be gone, Dawn would be safe and Buffy would never have to jump off the tower.

The answer was so ridiculously simple he was shocked he hadn’t thought of it before, and a stream of hysterical giggles bubbled out from his lips, catching the attention of his caretaker of the moment, Tara.

“Spike?” the witch asked, leaning over him as he tried to suppress the sounds. “Spike are you all right?”

He looked at her, his face still battered, but cracked into a grin. In the previous timeline she’d gotten brain-sucked and was now a gibbering idiot, but this time, she’d heeded his warnings and had not gone to the fair where Glory had found her the last time.

“You’re the only one who ever listened to me,” he commented.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. Nothin’ matters anymore, ‘cept keepin’ you lot safe.”

Tara ducked her head shyly and let her hair hide her face, but he reached over and grasped her wrist gently to command her attention.

“Listen to me. No matter what happens, I will never betray Buffy and the Scoobies. I would die for her and Dawn, and I nearly bloody did.”

“I… I know.”

“You remember that, Glinda. No matter how it looks. I will never betray you.”

She fixed him with a steady stare. “Spike, what are you going to do?”

“I dunno yet, but I have some ideas. The Hell Bitch said a few things while she was gettin’ creative with my body parts,” he hedged.

“Like what?” she pressed, her face intensely interested.

“Can’t say just yet. Don’t want to get anyone’s hopes up. Gotta do some diggin’ first. When I know for sure, you lot’ll be the first to know.”

She took his hand and squeezed gently. “Spike, please don’t do anything rash. I know that you are very worried and scared for us, but the warnings you gave me about not getting caught alone, they count for you too.”

He gave her a tender smile. “Don’t want to have to come haring to my rescue again, eh Glinda?”

She snorted at his attempt at humor. “More like tired of washing the blood out of your clothes.”

“Me I just burn ‘em and steal new ones.”

“Oh now you tell me,” she chided jokingly.

He chuckled and smiled at her, turning his head away and closing his eyes as he released her wrist.

“Tired?” she asked.

He swallowed and nodded.

“I’ll let you rest then,” she said, adjusting his blankets.

“Wake me when Passions comes on.”

“I will.”

He fell asleep to visions of knights on horseback with flashing swords and shining armor.

*******

The following day, Spike woke with the uncanny knowledge that he was running out of time. Even though he wasn’t yet completely healed and still had a severe limp, he set about executing his plan to enlist the knights’ help in disposing of Glory, but there were a few things he needed to take care of first just in case things went sour.

Going to the used car lot he and Buffy had raided before, he stole the camper and hid it in the alley behind the Magic Box. He knew that the Scoobies would need it if Glory came after them. He passed over the Porsche again, knowing it was too small for everyone, and that he also couldn’t be sure he would be around to drive it. He knew what he was doing was terribly dangerous and that there was a distinct possibility that he would not survive it. With that in mind, he left a letter for Giles explaining what he planned to do and informing him of the dangers and the whereabouts of the camper.

Mission completed, he went in search of the Knights of Byzantium, knowing he was walking straight into the lion’s den, but feeling that he had no choice. He found their encampment without too much trouble. Really, how inconspicuous could a legion of armored knights and war horses be? It wasn’t like they could hide out in an abandoned warehouse and lie low until they were called to battle. In the end, he found them in the woods, a full encampment complete with tents and campfires.

Gathering his courage and hoping he wasn’t making the biggest mistake of his unlife, he walked straight into their midst.

“Oi! Who’s in charge around here?” he announced loudly, commanding their attention.

He was immediately surrounded by at least a dozen armored knights with swords. He put up his hands in surrender.

“I come in peace,” he said. “I have information that will prove useful to you in your… eh… holy quest.”

“What do you know about our quest?” one of the knights demanded, shaking his sword at him.

“I know a helluva lot more than you think I do, and if you wanna take down the Hell Bitch, you’ll put your little pointy things away and let me speak to your leader.”

With that, he feigned disinterest, lowered his arms and lit a cigarette. The knights around him fidgeted and murmured, but none tried to attack him.

‘Plan might just work…’

“Demon! Hell spawn! Beast of Satan!” came a loud voice.

‘Then again, maybe not.’

Spike raised his head to see an elderly man in robes, most likely a priest or cleric, coming through the ranks of knights. He cleared the soldiers and came at him, crucifix waving. He snarled, demon coming forth to the shock of the knights, and shied away from the holy object.

“Get thee behind me, evil spawn!” the cleric cried.

“Oi! Put that thing away will ya? I told you I come in peace.”

“Demon! Why should we believe your lies?”

“’Cause I’ve got information about The Beast,” he insisted, still shying from the crucifix.

“You speak with a forked tongue, devil child. Nothing you have to say would be of any use to us.”

He was getting sick of the man waving the cross at him, pushing him closer to the ranks of sword wielding knights, and he was losing patience. Besides, the man smelled like moldy books and tongue oil. He rounded and faced the priest, head high and yellow eyes blazing.

“Look, I don’t want that bitch opening the portals any more than you do! I’m here to help, you wanker,” he snarled, lunging forward and thrilling at the sudden fear in the old man’s eyes.

The priest shoved the crucifix directly in his face but did not touch him with it. He held his ground and steeled himself not to flinch.

“What’s in gonna be then?” he challenged.

The two stared at each other, a battle of wills as each refused to give quarter, although Spike was none too happy to have a cross dangling quite so close to his nose. Then a new figure came through the circle of knights. He was more highly decorated than the others, and the tattoo on his forehead was more detailed.

“We already know the monks made the Key human, demon,” the newcomer said.

Spike broke eye contact with the priest in order to face the new man. The priest thankfully lowered his cross and allowed the man to come close. Spike shook off his demon and looked at the man with his human face.

“Well, yeah. They did.”

“We know it is the Slayer’s sister. Our brother who was defiled by The Beast told us this,” the man, a general, added.

‘So that’s how they found out. The crazy knight from the mental ward.’

“Yeah. But I can do you one better than that. I know who The Beast’s mortal host is,” he replied smugly.

The general pulled his sword and pointed the tip at Spike’s nose. “I know decapitation will kill your kind, demon.”

“We don’t like sharpened sticks much either. Your point is?”

“If you have come to tell us lies, we will kill you.”

He blinked and looked bored. “Well, yeah. Figured that. I’m a vampire, mate, not an imbecile.”

The general stared at him for a moment, then said, “Tell us what you know.”

He went to take a drag from his cigarette and saw that it had burned down to the filter. Sighing, and casting the priest an irritated glance, he lit another and took a hit.

“I want to make a deal first,” he said, blowing the smoke in the priest’s direction.

“We do not make deals with the devil,” the cleric sneered.

Spike shrugged and looked expectantly at the general.

“What are your demands?” the general finally said, to the shock of those around him.

Spike gave him a satisfied smirk, flicking the cigarette ashes on the grass by the general’s boots.

“’S real simple, really. I give you Glorificus’ human host and you leave the Slayer and her little sis alone.”

His words surprised everyone. Even the general looked stunned.

“That is your condition?”

He nodded and crushed the cigarette under the heel of his boot. “It is.”

“You want the Key for yourself,” one of the knights spat.

He gave the knight a withering glare. “No. Without Glory, the Key is useless,” he said, looking back at the general. “The Key is the Link, the Link must be severed. Such is the Will of God. Have I got it right? Kill the man, you kill the God. Kill the God, the Key becomes a normal teenage girl whose only concerns are boys, makeup and not gettin’ eatin’ by nasties like me.”

Spike gave the general a level stare, one eyebrow cocked.

“You are correct, demon. If The Beast is destroyed, the Key’s power is useless. Only the one who made it can wield its power,” the general confirmed.

“There you have it then. Have we got a deal?”

“Why would you want us to spare the girl?” the general demanded.

“The Slayer and me, we got a deal. I help her kill the nasties in this town in return for her not killin’ me. Works out rather nicely for both if us. I don’t get killed, she gets another pair of hands in the slayin’ and I get to have all sorts of fun metin’ delicious violence on prey that’s a lot more difficult to kill than you measly mortals. It’s a win-win situation,” he explained calmly.

“Now, enter one Hell Bitch with visions of world destruction and a really bad fashion sense. Complicate that with the fact that said Hell Bitch is after the Slayer’s little sister. Oh, did I mention that I’m sworn to protect the little sister? It makes for a bit of tension, it does, and interrupts our regular slayin’ schedule, and that messes with my killin’ fun.”

“You have a soul,” the priest said suddenly, a hint of awe in his voice.

Spike stopped his soliloquy and gave the cleric an angry glare.

“Well, so you found me out. Nancy boy vampire went and got himself a soul. Bravo.”

“You are the one that was foretold in the ancient scrolls. The demon who would betray his own kind.”

“Hate to disappoint you, padre, but that’s my poof of a grandsire. He’s the one with the grand destiny. Me, I’m just love’s bitch.” He returned his attention to the general. “So, back to the matter at hand. I give you Glory’s human host and you leave the Slayer and her sis alone. Have we got a deal?”

“How do we know you are telling the truth?” the general asked.

“Well, aside from this pesky soul not wantin’ me to lie, I can prove it.”

“Tell us what you know. If you speak the truth, we will honor your request.”

Spike nodded.

“Glory’s got herself a posh pad in an apartment complex not too far from here. I got a chance to look at it when she picked me up and took me over to her place for a spot of torture,” he said, pointing to his bruised face. “See, she knows the Key’s human too and she decided that the vampire was the weakest link if you know what I mean. Now, during my stay there, in-between the bouts of excruciating pain, I managed to discover a little room in said apartment that was made up as a bedroom for Glory’s human half. The human half is a doctor who calls himself Ben. He interns at Sunnydale hospital, when he isn’t strutting around in dollies and high heels.”

There was a moment of silence before the general spoke again.

“You will take us to this place.”

Spike gave him an evil grin.

“With pleasure.”

Spike ran. He ran until he thought his injured leg had surely broken into a dozen pieces, and all the wounds that had half-healed from Glory’s tortures had reopened and spilled his borrowed blood all over himself and the street. But no pain he endured could match the blinding panic that seared through him now, the all-encompassing terror that drove him past the point of all his endurance.

The Knights of Byzantium were gone. All of them. What poor sods were still left alive were surely being held as food for the Hell Bitch. The rest were dead, slaughtered like cattle and left to rot on the killing field. The apartment complex was in flames, the fire casting blood red shadows on the surrounding buildings and flooding the nearby park with toxic, black smoke- smoke he used as cover in which to make his desperate escape.

The plan seemed simple enough. When Glory was weakened, she either found a victim to brain-suck or lost her ability to hold Ben back. All they theoretically had to do was wait until Glory morphed into Ben and then kill him while he was vulnerable. It was a very simple plan. Because vampires were immune to the forgetting spell that Glory/Ben cast that made humans forget they had seen one switch to the other, Spike would watch for Ben and alert the knights of his whereabouts. The knights would then attack and kill Ben, striking too quickly for any of Glory’s minions to stop them.

All of this had been decided after he had guided them to the apartment and showed them the small room with Ben’s meager possessions. Neither the intern nor the God was home, but a handful of minions were there to guard the apartment. They tried valiantly to fulfill their duty, but the knights overpowered them and barged into the living room. They didn’t kill them, and when Spike asked why they didn’t just slit the minions’ throats, he was told that Glory would simply reanimate any minions that were killed.

After his claims were substantiated, the knights went to lie in wait while he scouted for Glory or Ben. It wasn’t long before he spotted the intern’s nancy-boy car pulling into the apartment complex’s parking lot, and he alerted the troops.

How was he to know that the poof had guts? The little wanker actually fought back and Glory’s crusty minions actually came to his defense. Things still would have been alright, but then the Hell Bitch came out to play and all Hell broke loose. He’d known that the Bitch was strong, but nothing could have prepared him for the ferocity of her attack or the carnage that she left in her wake. The rout was an upset that even the great Angelus would have appreciated in his days of soulless killing and mayhem. He barely escaped with his unlife, using the explosions from erupting gas lines to cover his fleeing form, and now he was running, running for the Magic Box because he knew it was just a matter of time before Glory discovered that Dawn was the Key.

He flew through the doors of the Magic Box where he knew the others would be if Giles had found his letter. He didn’t even bother to slow down as he bolted into the store, and was met with a fist to the face. He reeled back from the impact, collapsing to the hard floor, and looked dazedly up at a supremely pissed off Watcher who was rubbing his fist.

“You stupid idiot! You traitorous son of a bitch!” Giles accused.

“There’s no time! You gotta get outta here! The Knights are gone and Glory’s gonna come gunnin’ for ya! You gotta rally the troops and bugger out NOW!” he countered angrily.

“What have you done?!” the Watcher roared.

“What you wouldn’t do! I found someone who’d help me! But it all went wrong and now she’s gonna come for ya!” he yelled back, struggling to his feet in spite of his wounds.

“What were you thinking? You’ve betrayed us all!”

“What the hell is going on here?” Buffy demanded, coming into his field of view. She was dangerously angry and he feared for his unlife again.

“Buffy, let me explain…”

“You irresponsible idiot!” Giles seethed.

“Giles…” Buffy warned, then turned to him, standing near to him, arms crossed. “You. Talk.”

By now the others had gathered around, staring at him with concerned and worried expressions on their faces. He scrambled to think of a proper explanation that wouldn’t give everything away.

“Right. It’s like this. When Glory was playin’ peel the vamp, I found out somethin’ real interestin’ about our Hell Bitch. Way I figure it, works like this: when Glory was kicked out of Hell Central, the only way they could do it was to tie her to a human form, a mortal form. Now this form lives as long as the Hell Bitch does, but it’s not invulnerable. While she had me, I found out that the mortal form is our favorite intern, Ben,” he explained in a rush.

“Ben? Ben from the hospital?” Buffy asked.

He swallowed and nodded. “The very same. So, I did some diggin’ and I confirmed that if you get rid of Ben, you get rid of Glory.”

“Kill the man and the God dies,” Tara commented, her eyes opening wide.

He nodded at her, trying to catch his breath. “Exactly. Well as soon as I knew for sure. I told Giles.”

Buffy rounded on her Watcher. “Wait a minute. You knew about this?”

Giles took off his glasses and cleaned them vigorously. “Yes. Spike told me what he had discovered.”

“You’re telling me that Spike told you about a *major* weakness in Glory and you didn’t tell me?”

“Buffy… I was exploring… other options.”

“Other options?” she repeated incredulously.

“We wanted to avoid killing an innocent if at all possible,” Giles explained.

“He’s no innocent. Tonight proved it for me. He knows damn well what’s goin’ on!” he spat back.

“So what happened?” Buffy ordered. “What did you do?”

He cringed under her hard stare but was determined to hold his ground. “Well, Watcher wouldn’t help me, and I couldn’t do it myself because of this damn chip they shoved in my brain, so I went to someone who would. I looked up our resident idiots in armor.”

“The Knights of Byzantium,” Willow breathed.

“Yeah. Them. Anyways, I figured if they were willin’ ta kill a little girl in order ta stop Glory, they’d be willin’ ta kill an intern in trade for killin’ Glory herself.”

“Go on,” Buffy prompted.

“First off, I’d like ta say that the knights already knew Dawn was the Key. I didn’t tell ‘em. Turns out, they came and got the bloke Glory brain-sucked, but he was at the hospital the night Dawn went into the loony ward. He saw her and recognized that she was the Key. He must have let it slip when his buddies came to get him,” he admitted. “So they were already plannin’ a full frontal attack on you in order to get Dawn. I just made ‘em go after a bigger fish.”

Buffy nodded that she understood and he continued, his eyes never leaving her face.

“Well, I was right, and as soon as I proved ta them that I was tellin’ the truth, they were more than willin’ ta go after the Hell Bitch herself and leave Dawn alone.”

“How nice of them,” Buffy commented dryly.

“But something went wrong, didn’t it. You said we were all in danger,” Anya interrupted.

“Yeah. Somethin’ went wrong all right. When we attacked Ben, the blighter fought back, then he traded places with his worse half, and she blew us all to kingdom come. When I got out of there, the whole block was on fire and what was left of the knights were bein’ rounded up by Glory’s minions. I slipped out in the smoke and came runnin’ here. Now Glory knows that her secret is out and she’s gonna come gunnin’ for us. She also got the knight that’s all loony. My guess is he’ll tell her about Dawn pretty soon.”

“We gotta get out of town,” Buffy said.

He nodded. “Already planned for that. Nicked a Winnebago and stashed it behind the shop.”

“So that’s where that ugly camper came from! I was going to call the police and have it towed,” Anya admitted.

“It’s a good thing you didn’t. It’s you lot’s ticket out of here. Grab your toothbrushes and a pair of clean knickers and bugger out.”

“You stole a camper?” Buffy asked dubiously.

“What? It’s big enough to tote the whole Scooby crew. Could’ve nicked a Porche but I figured you wouldn’t want to leave anyone behind.”

Buffy pursed her lips thoughtfully. She had the Slayer look on her face, the one that made all the tough decisions and executed all the difficult plans. Spike was glad to see it because it meant that Buffy was already figuring out what they were going to do next.

“Okay. Glory knows where Dawn and I live so we can’t go home. Wills, you and Tara go back to your place and get supplies. Xander, Anya, you do the same. Giles, we have to talk but not right now. I need you to gather whatever you think we’ll need. Move people. We have a half hour. Let’s get going,” the Slayer commanded.

The group took their marching orders and scattered. Knowing that Buffy had everything under control, Spike gratefully sank down onto the bench at the reading table. He was in considerable pain and glad for the rest. Too much had happened in too short of a time, and he was nearing his breaking point. He let his head fall to the table and closed his eyes, allowing himself a brief respite from the chaos that sought to consume him.

He’d dozed off when the aroma of warmed blood roused him, and he lifted his head to see Tara placing a tall container of heated blood in front of his nose. Her eyes were hooded and full of concern.

“Back so soon?” he asked.

“I never left. Willow is getting the things we need. I wanted to stay here and make sure you were alright.”

He gave her his trademark smirk and winked at her as he gratefully accepted the food. His expression fell, however, when he tried to sit up and pain lanced through his body, making him gasp. Tara pushed the blood towards him.

“Eat. There are herbs in it that will help with the pain.”

He nodded and reached for the container, raising it to his lips. His hand only shook a little bit as he drank it down.

“Thanks, luv,” he sighed when he was finished.

“This is what you meant, wasn’t it. About not betraying us,” Tara said softly.

He lowered his eyes and refused to answer.

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

“I did. Told the Watcher,” he replied.

“Why didn’t you tell Buffy?”

“Same reason Giles didn’t want to tell ‘er. Ben’s human. Didn’t want ‘er ta have to make that choice.”

“Yes, well it was my choice to make,” Buffy’s angry voice interrupted as she slammed the Gruth’lak battle axe down on the table. A sullen Dawn was behind her.

“What else are you keeping from me?” she demanded, her expression brooking no argument.

He swallowed heavily and tried to quell the fear in his heart.

“There’s a demon I killed. A nasty bloke I heard served the Hell Bitch. I lopped off ‘is head with that very axe, but I may have left somethin’ important behind in ‘is place. I heard about it later, a wooden box he kept scrolls in, but I never got the chance to go back an’ look for it.”

“Where is it and what am I looking for?” Buffy ordered.

“Buffy! No! You can’t go,” Dawn cried.

Buffy looked to her sister, then back to him. “Tell me what I need to know.”

“Buffy!”

Buffy looked back to her sister. “If what Spike says is true, then this guy may have had something that can help us. I’m the only one not doing anything else. I can go and be back before the others get here. Glory didn’t know where this demon lived, did she?”

“I dunno. I was only there the once. I doubt she’ll go lookin’ for him tho. He was small fish,” he admitted.

“So it’s probably safe then. Where am I going?”

Reluctantly he told her where Doc had lived and described the small wooden chest he and Xander had taken from the apartment in the previous timeline. He really hadn’t wanted to tell her, but he feared her wrath if he refused, and he simply wasn’t up to dealing with her anger.

She left in a swirl of blond and black leather and he watched her go with some amusement. It seemed ironic that he would be in her place this time around. Since he had been trying to keep the Scoobies one step ahead of Glory, Buffy had only had to fight the Hell Bitch twice, unlike the four or five times she’d gotten beaten by Glory the last time around. Nor had she had to face her best friend’s lover getting brain-sucked and then have to save Willow from becoming toast herself.

While this Buffy was tired and scared, she wasn’t beaten. Last time, Buffy had been completely drained, exhausted and soul weary. It had led to her catatonia when Dawn was finally taken, and broke her in a way he never ever wanted to see her broken again. That Buffy had been ready to give up, ready to die just to end the pain. He remembered what Buffy had told him about her conversation with Giles on the night of her death; how she was tired and didn’t want to live a world that kept demanding that she sacrifice the ones she loved. That Buffy had been a shadow of her former self. This Buffy remained undefeated.

It suddenly struck him exactly how much he had been able to change this time around. Even though all of the major events remained the same, he had been able to spare Buffy a great deal of pain by avoiding certain situations or by taking the pain on himself. So far, if anyone had been defeated by Glory, it was him, but not even that could be said because he was still unliving and in full control of all of his faculties. Therefore, while he hadn’t been able to alter the timeline significantly, he had affected a staggering amount of change with his efforts.

The realization gave him the first glimmers of hope he’d felt in a long time. If they ran, no Knights were around to waylay them. Giles would never be skewered, Ben would never be called to treat him, and that meant Ben wouldn’t do his Glory switcheroo and grab Dawn. All they had to do was hold out for a few more days, and Glory would lose her window of opportunity to use Dawn to open the portals. They could do that, couldn’t they?

“What are you thinking?” Tara questioned, drawing him out of his thoughts.

He looked at her and gave her a smile. “I’m thinkin’ this plan might just work.”

Both she and Dawn blinked at him.

“Well, that’s good,” Tara said.

His smile broadened. “Yeah it is.”

“Did you really go to those Knights to try to save me?” Dawn asked.

“Yeah, Nibblet, I did.”

She slapped him across the face. Hard.

“You stupid IDIOT! You could have gotten yourself killed!” she screamed.

He rubbed his stinging cheek. 'Pint-size packs a punch. Oww.'

“Dawn!” Tara reprimanded.

“You put yourself in terrible danger for me. What if they hadn’t believed you? What if Glory had gotten you again and killed you this time? What would we have done without you!” Dawn continued, starting to cry.

“Oh, Nibblet. I’m sorry,” he said, softening and reaching for her. He’d been through too much and suffered too much pain to care about what the others would think. Dawn was precious to him, as precious as Buffy, and she needed him to hold her and prove to her that he was still with her.

She fell into his arms, aggravating all of his injuries, but he didn’t care. She was safe in his embrace and he planned to keep it that way. All they had to do was wait until Buffy and the others got back, then they would run and hide out until Glory’s time was up. Finally a simple plan that would work where all the others had failed.

Neither he nor Tara were prepared for the alarms that suddenly went off or explosion that blew in the storefront windows. They barely had time to register that the advance warning spell Willow and Tara had placed around the Magic Box had sounded off before the blast knocked them back. Tara screamed as she was thrown to the ground by the pressure wave and was knocked unconscious. Spike, still holding Dawn, was flipped upside down and slammed by the heavy table as it blew over and knocked him into the bookcases. Dawn was underneath him, protected from the brunt of the impact by his body, but they were both trapped by the broken table and the bookcases that had collapsed on top of them.

“Spike!” he heard Dawn cry.

“Dawn!” he answered, struggling to use his back to dislodge the debris on top of them so he could see if she was injured.

Suddenly the weight on his body was lifted away and he looked up to see Glory looming over them.

“Well, well, well, lookie here. It’s my Key in a neat kiddie size package.”

He struggled to rise, to keep Dawn out of her clutches, but the hell god simply grabbed him and threw him like rag doll. He sailed clear across the store and hit the glass counter, shattering it under his weight.

'No…' he thought as he watched Glory drag Dawn from the rubble. 'No. God, please no…'

“You and me are gonna have so much *fun,*” Glory said with a sadistic smile as she pulled the weeping, struggling teen behind her.

“Spike!” Dawn screamed. “SPIKE!!”

He couldn’t move, shards of glass stabbed him along his back. His leg was bent at an odd angle, the fingers of his left hand mangled and broken. Still, he used his right hand, grasping at the floor even though it was littered with glass that sliced into his palm, and tried to drag himself from the wreckage to get to Dawn.

'Dawn. Must save Dawn…'

“SPIIIIIIIKE!!!”

“DAWN!”

“Ta kiddies. See you all in Hell!” Glory taunted as she forced Dawn from the shop.

“DAWN! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!”

He reached out one helpless hand at the empty air where Dawn had been, the image of her terrified, pleading face burning itself into his shocked mind.

'Dawn… She took Dawn. Glory has Dawn. I failed. I failedifailedifailedifailed. I FAILED!!'

Blackness clouded his vision, crushing him under its weight. He couldn’t take it, not after all he had been through, all he had done to try to protect Dawn and Buffy. His mind shattered into a million pieces and scattered like a supernova exploding out into the universe. Then he saw and felt no more.

The first thing Buffy saw when she arrived back at the Magic Box was the broken window. The window hadn’t been so much broken as completely blasted away, and she threw herself through the open door that teetered on one hinge.

The wreckage stunned her and she tried to take in all of it. The circular reading table was flipped upside down and cracked into two pieces. The bookcases behind it had collapsed and all the books lay scattered on the floor. Tara lay unconscious amid the debris, her hair cascading over her face. In the front of the store, the glass counter had been smashed and glass was littered everywhere. Lying in a pool of his own blood, his body facing the open door, one hand outstretched to reach for nothing, was Spike. The vampire’s eyes were open, his face blank as he stared straight ahead.

“Buffy!” Willow cried, rushing in.

The witch skidded to a stop beside her friend and they both stared at the damage before them.

“Oh my God,” Willow breathed, then she saw Tara. “Oh no! TARA!”

Willow raced to her lover’s side, panicked as she shook the other girl. Buffy was relieved to hear a pained moan come from Tara.

“Tara! Oh God, Tara! What happened?!” Willow asked as Tara sat up, one hand on her bloodied forehead.

“The window… it exploded and… I heard Dawn scream…”

“Dawn! Where’s Dawn?” Buffy demanded, her eyes sweeping the rubble.

“She was with Spike when…” Tara stopped, looking around the shop until she saw Spike on the floor by the smashed counter. “Oh my God.”

“The alarm, Buffy, the one we cast to warn us if Glory showed up, it sounded. I think… I think Glory might have taken Dawn,” Willow said, her eyes wide and frightened.

Buffy immediately began ripping through the piles of books and broken wood, tossing them aside in a desperate search for her sister. The two witches watched with tears on their cheeks until Tara managed to make her way to Spike’s side.

The vampire was completely still and silent, his eyes open and blank. He didn’t even blink.

“Spike?” Tara whispered, shaking him gently. There was no response.

Suddenly, a foot came from the right, kicking Spike hard in the gut and rolling him away. Shocked, Tara looked up to see an enraged Buffy.

“Where is she?!” Buffy demanded.

Spike’s lack of response only served to make her angrier and she kicked him again. “Where’s my sister you undead pain in the ass!”

“Buffy…” Tara tried.

“What happened, you bastard!” she yelled, kicking the prone vampire repeatedly.

“Buffy!” Willow cried. “Buffy STOP!”

Panting heavily, the Slayer stopped, her hands clenched into fists and her face stained with tears.

“Buffy… Spike’s… he’s not responding. I’m… I’m not sure he’s even in there anymore,” Willow explained.

Tara crawled over to the blank-faced vampire and looked into the wide, staring eyes. “I think… I think he gone inside.”

“Oh good lord,” Giles’ voice breathed and they looked to see the Watcher, Anya and Xander standing in the open doorway.

“The shop! What happened to the shop?” Anya screamed. “The money!”

The ex-demon raced for the toppled cash register as Giles and Xander surveyed the damage.

“Oh man, what happened here?” Xander breathed.

“Giles, Dawn’s missing,” Buffy said tersely.

“The advance warning alarm sounded. We think… we think it might have been Glory,” Willow added.

“Glory?” Giles repeated, stunned. “How?”

“We don’t know. Spike might know, but he’s zombie-vamp,” Buffy replied.

“He’s gone catatonic, Giles,” Willow explained worriedly. “He’s not responding at all.”

Giles walked through the sea of shattered glass to where Willow and Tara sat by the vampire’s side. Judging by the amount of blood on the floor and on Spike, the vampire had not gone down quietly, but the open, blank stare on Spike’s face worried him. He leaned down and shook the vampire on the shoulder.

“Spike.” He shook a little harder when he got no response. “Spike!”

“It’s no use, Mr. Giles,” Tara said.

Giles sighed. “Unfortunately, if what you say is true and Glory does have Dawn, then we need Spike because he is the only one who has any idea where Glory would have taken her.”

“Why?” Buffy demanded. “Why would Spike know where Glory took Dawn? What else are you keeping from us, Giles?”

Giles sighed again. “I know that Spike has done extensive legwork on Glory and her plans to use the Key. It’s been his obsession for the last few months.”

“Oh and here I thought Buffy was his obsession. Nice to know the guy can split his attentions like that,” Xander commented irritably.

“Xander, not now,” Buffy snapped back.

“It is true that Spike has been… preoccupied with his feelings for Buffy…”

“He loves her,” Tara interjected. “And Dawn.”

“Yes, I do believe he does,” Giles agreed. “As such, keeping the two of them safe has been his priority. I have yet to determine how much his presence and actions have affected this situation. I know there has been a great deal that he has done in the demon world. What he has uncovered, he has been reluctant to tell me, probably because he thought I would not help him. I have no doubt that he knows more about Glory and the ceremony than he has let on.”

“Because Spike never keeps secrets and tells lies,” Buffy snarked.

Giles ignored her comment. “It is quite possible that Spike has an idea of where the ceremony is taking place and when. We need to do everything we can to bring him back from wherever he has gone.”

“I can try to do that Giles,” Willow offered. “There are some spells…”

“Good, Willow. You do that,” he confirmed.

“In the meantime, we can go through this box of scrolls Spike had me get from this creepy guy’s apartment,” Buffy said, indicating the small wooden chest she had dropped on the floor when she returned to the Magic Box.

“Who?” Giles asked.

Buffy picked up the box and handed it to Giles. “Spike told me about this demon guy he killed. He said he heard that he was a follower of Glory and might have a box of scrolls that could help us, but that he never got a chance to go check it out. I told him I would go.”

She looked around at the wreckage, frowning guiltily.

“It was why I wasn’t here when… Giles you don’t think…”

The older man cut her off. “No. I seriously doubt he knew Glory would attack that quickly. If he had, he most certainly would have urged us to move faster. It is likely that he was taken by surprise.”

“Still, if I’d been here…”

“You would most probably have been killed or otherwise defeated by her. Glory is very strong,” he assured.

“You’re probably right,” she conceded.

“Well, let’s see what’s in this box, shall we. Where did you say Spike sent you?”

“Some rat’s nest on the other side of town. Real dump that smelled awful. Spike said he killed the guy who lived there.”

“Was there a body?” Anya asked suddenly.

Buffy’s brow creased. “Actually, no there wasn’t. But there was a big bloodstain on the rug. Struck me as odd because Spike isn’t known for cleaning up after himself.”

Anya looked thoughtful for a moment, then gave a confident smile. “It was probably scavengers. There are demons that eat carrion.”

Buffy crinkled up her nose. “Ewwww. So did not need to know that.”

“Here, let’s clear a space and see what these scrolls have to offer. I doubt we have much time so we need to work quickly,” Giles said.

“We’re just about ready here, Mr. Giles,” Willow announced from where she and Tara sat by Spike.

“Very good. I hope you succeed in bringing him back.”

“So I can kill him,” Buffy added lowly.

Giles ignored her as he cleared away a safe spot to sit and read the scrolls.

********

Willow lit the incense and cast the spell that would allow her access to Spike’s mind. Breathing in deeply, she recited the words and felt her consciousness slip inwards, going through a dark tunnel. When she finally stopped moving, she opened her eyes to see a dark and barren wasteland. The earth was blackened and devoid of all life, fissures in the ground belched foul-smelling smoke. The sky was blood red with ominous black clouds and thunder rumbled in the distance. Looking around across the empty plain, she spied a fortress looming on the horizon.

‘Guess that’s where I need to go,’ the young witch thought.

As she made her way across the scorched earth, Willow realized that it wasn’t as empty as she had originally thought. All along the way, there were bodies, covered in black ash, littered on the ground. At first, she thought it was a battlefield and that the corpses were fallen soldiers, but then she realized that the dead ranged from the very young to the very old, with men and women of all ages in between.

‘His victims,’ she realized, gasping.

Tears stung her eyes as she lost count of the dead; pitiful, twisted bodies strewn all long her way. They were silent as she passed, and only the howling wind answered her unspoken prayers. It sickened her to see them, contorted in their death throes: a young woman preserved in a silent scream here, a man with a railroad spike jutting out of his eye socket there. Hundreds of them, thousands of them; the accumulated carnage of a century of killing, and she wondered to herself how she could have ever considered this creature to be her friend. How she could ever have turned her back to him or left him with her lover or trusted him in any way.

‘He was an unrepentant killer for over a hundred years. He tried to kill Buffy lots of times. He tried to kill me, and Xander. The only thing that stopped him was the chip. What could Tara have been talking about when she said he’d changed?’

But hadn’t he? He’d been helping them for the past year. He’d taken beatings and risked his unlife to keep the rest of them safe. And Tara insisted on multiple occasions that Spike deserved better treatment from them. But how could he when he had killed so many without remorse or mercy?

‘It doesn’t matter right now. We need him, so I have to get him back.’

The ground rumbled beneath her feet and she felt a shiver of fear run up her spine. Stepping up her pace she hurried for the fortress, feeling an urgency she hadn’t felt before. Eyes were watching her, she just knew it. She could feel them staring holes into her back, and she began to run. Snarls came from behind her and the sound of rushing feet dogged her heels. Terror seized her and she raced across the open plain, praying that she would reach safety before whatever was behind her managed to catch up.

The ground she thought was flat proved to be anything but as holes opened underneath her feet as she ran, tripping her up and adding to her growing panic. The snarls were still behind her and getting closer, but she was almost to the forbidding walls of the fortress. Picking herself up off the blackened ground where she had fallen beside the body of a teenaged girl, she wrenched her gaze away from the horror of the girl’s screaming face and made a final dash.

She hit the solid metal doors, sobbing with relief as she found it unlocked. Grabbing the heavy handle in both hands she pulled with all her strength. The door creaked but did not open. Half mad with panic, knowing her pursuers were almost at the gates, she yanked as hard as she could, feeling the rusted hinges begin to give way. She screamed and pulled again, and the heavy door screamed back as it screeched open.

Only opening it wide enough to squeeze her thin body through, she slammed the door behind her and threw the heavy bar. Twin thuds thumped against the other side, nails scraping across the metal, and two howls rose up over the high wall, as she paused a moment to catch her breath and calm down before she took stock of her surroundings.

Leaning against the barred door, she turned around and looked upon an empty stone courtyard. There were no bodies here, in fact it looked as if the open space had been swept completely clean, and there was another door directly across from her, this one wooden and arched. Wiping the sweat from her brow, she staggered her way across the courtyard, and put her hand on the door handle. It, too, was unlocked, but appeared to have been unused for a long time.

It didn’t take as much effort to open this door as it had the larger, outer one, and soon she found herself looking down a long, stone hallway. Closing the door behind her, she kept an ear out for any dangers or surprises, and made her way down the hall. There was an opening off to her left and she turned to find a half open door. Flickering light was coming from behind the door, so she slipped in quietly and found herself in a library. The flickering light was coming from a fire crackling in the large stone hearth, but it was who was sitting beside said fire that made her gasp.

His hair was sandy brown and a riot of soft curls that defied their owner by slipping out of the band he tried to keep it in. Thin wire glasses perched daintily upon his sharp nose as he held a well-loved book in his delicate, perfectly manicured hand. He was dressed as a Victorian gentleman in gray tweed, one leg crossed over the other as he read the book in his hand. A cup of tea, long forgotten, sat on the table beside him, along with a small plate of crackers and sausage.

“Spike?” Willow gasped, shattering the quiet.

The figure jumped, dropping the book, and looked at her with shocked eyes.

“Oh! Oh dear…” he stammered, scrambling to pick up the book.

He handled it with great care, stroking the spine to make sure it hadn’t been broken.

“Spike, is that you?” she tried again, taking a tentative step closer.

“Spike? Who? Oh no, not I. I am not… he,” he replied.

The resemblance was remarkable. Take away the brown hair and tweed, and replace them with platinum blonde and black leather, and it was Spike without a doubt. Her quick mind quickly tried to figure out what was going on.

“William?” she offered.

The Spike look-alike stood up tall and straightened his jacket. “Yes. I am William.”

‘Okay, like, totally weird. Spike was a real nerd when he was alive.’

“Um, hi. I’m Willow.”

William bowed stiffly. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Willow, although I am confused as to how you came to be here.”

“I came in through the front door.”

He looked surprised. “You did? You crossed the… oh. Oh, I see.” He dropped his eyes and turned away.

“Yeah, I crossed the field full of bodies.”

“The cemetery… yes.”

“It’s kinda creepy out there, actually.”

William nodded. “Yes. Yes, I am aware.” He raised his eyes to her again. “You must be very brave.”

“Well, I kinda needed to get in here. I’m looking for someone. Hey, maybe you know him. He looks a lot like you only he’s got bleached blonde hair and wears a lot of black.”

William stiffened and stared at her. “Him? What… what do you want with him?”

“I need his help. Can you tell me where he is?”

William shook his head sadly. “I don’t think he can help you, m’lady. He’s… he’s been indisposed for quite some time. I haven’t seen him in a good while. He used to come and taunt me, tease me about my reading and poetry.”

“Poetry?” Willow repeated.

William sniffed and turned up his nose. “I’m quite good, really.” Eyes opened wide in hope. “Would you like to see?”

“Umm, sure.”

He gave her a brilliant smile and scrambled to retrieve a yellowed note pad from a shelf. He handed it to her proudly, and fidgeted his hands as she read the neat handwriting.

“Effulgent?” she repeated.

He gave her a shy smile. “It was my last work. I died before I could write another.”

“Whoa. You died?”

“Well, yes, of course. Mr. Parker stole the notepad from me and read the work aloud. It wasn’t finished, of course, and the ink was still a bit wet, but… Afterwards, my lovely Cecily rejected me and I ran out into the street.” His eyes grew misty and far away. “That’s when *she* found me. She saw me, saw what was inside of me and wanted me to be with her. I agreed. It hurt. When she bit me, that is. Hurt a lot, but then it didn’t hurt anymore and I went somewhere far away. It was nice there. Peaceful. I could see what was happening to what remained of my body, but I was somewhat removed. It did not affect me.”

He paused and looked around the library. “And then I came to be here. Something happened. The demon… the one you called Spike. He… I was called back. We really didn’t get along at first. In fact, we rather loathed each other. It was quite unpleasant. But then *they* came, and he protected me from them. He said I would be safe in here, and so far that has been true. They haven’t been able to cross the threshold. They tried for a while, but then they stopped trying. That’s when he stopped coming to check on me…”

Willow creased her brow, trying to take it all in. Then her eyes opened wide as the truth dawned on her and she gasped, covering her mouth with both hands.

“Oh my goddess. You’re his *soul!*”

William blinked at her. “Well, yes. I suppose I am.”

She stared at him in abject shock. “What… how… Was Spike cursed?”

“Cursed? Good Lord, no. He chose me.”

“Chose you? How?”

“The demon he went to gave me to him.”

“Demon? What demon?”

“The one in Africa. The one he went to see after…” He stopped, looking away and lowering his eyes. A slight shudder passed through his thin frame.

“After?...” she prompted.

William shook his head. “After. In the time before.”

Willow was confused but she knew she had to let it go. She was running out of time and she had to get Spike back if they wanted to save Dawn.

“Look. I don’t understand, but I don’t have time right now. I need to find Spike. Can you tell me where he is?”

William looked at the half open door and shied away, wringing his hands. “I cannot leave this room. They’ll get me if I do. You should stay here with me. You’ll be safe here. The tea cup is always full and the plate replenishes itself…”

Willow motioned for him to be silent. “I can’t. People are depending on me. Glory has Dawn and Spike might know where she’s been taken. I have to find him and get him to come back with me.”

“Oh. I see.”

“Can you tell me if he’s here in this fortress?”

William nodded slowly. “Yes. I’ve never seen him go… out.”

“Okay. I’m gonna go look for him.”

He looked at her with worried, frightened eyes. “Do be careful, Miss Willow. Don’t let *them* get you.”

She set her jaw and nodded. “I won’t.” She turned and put a hand on the door jam before casting him a backward glance. “And thanks.”

“You’re most welcome,” he whispered back as she left him behind. “Good luck.”

‘I’m gonna need it,’ she thought to herself as she stepped back into the stone hall.

Buffy walked over the where Tara was sitting vigil over her lover and the catatonic vampire.

“Any change?”

Tara shook her head. “No. I’m sorry, Buffy. But I’m sure Willow is doing everything she can to bring Spike back. It just might take some time.”

“We don’t have time, and every minute Glory has Dawn, the less of it we have.”

Tara frowned. “I know, but…”

“Buffy...” Giles called.

Turning her head, the Slayer looked at her Watcher and sighed.

“Let me know if she so much as twitches,” she said to Tara.

Tara nodded and gave her a watery smile.

“What did you find?” she asked

Giles hesitated, then haltingly answered, “Well, according to these scrolls, there is a way to stop Glory.”

Buffy waited for him to continue, but when he finally did, his voice was awkward and unsure.

“I'm afraid it... Buffy. I've read these very carefully. There's not much margin for error. Do you understand what I'm saying?”

“Might help if you actually said it,” she replied dryly.

“Glory plans to open a dimensional portal by way of ritual bloodletting,” he told her sadly.

“Dawn's blood?”

“Yes. Once the blood is shed at a certain time and place, the fabric separating all realities will be ripped apart. Dimensions will pour into one another with no barriers to stop them. Reality as we know it will be destroyed, and chaos will reign on Earth.”

“So how do we stop it?”

“The portal will only close once the blood is stopped. And the only way for that to happen is ...” He paused then looked directly at Buffy and said grimly, “Buffy- the only way is to kill Dawn.”

Buffy gave him a blank stare then set her jaw. “Not an option. Give me something else.”

“Buffy... we might not have any choice.”

“Explain it to me again,” she insisted calmly and slowly.

“The Key was living energy. It needed to be channeled, poured into a specific
spot at a specific time. With all attendant ritual, of course. The energy would flow
into that spot, the walls between the dimensions break down. It stops -- the
energy is used up -and the walls come back up. Glory uses that time to get back to her
dimension, not caring that all manner of hell will be unleashed on Earth in the meantime,” Giles answered.

“But only for a little while, right? The walls come back, no more hell?” Anya interrupted.

“But that's only if the energy is stopped. And now that the Key is human ... is Dawn ...” Tara replied, proving to the others that she was listening from her spot on the floor.

“The blood flows, the gates will open. The gates will close when it flows no more,” Giles recited from the scroll. “That will be when Dawn is dead.”

“Why blood? Why is it Dawn's blood, why couldn't it be, like, a lymph ritual?” Xander huffed, upset.

“Because blood is life,” Tara whispered.

There was a pause as everyone digested what Tara had said, then Buffy moved on.

“Okay, pretty simple math, here. We stop Glory before she can start the ritual. There's still a few hours, right?”

“If my calculations are right, but Buffy...”

“I don't want to hear it...”

“I understand that...” he tried again.

“No you don't understand! We're not talking about this!” she yelled.

“Yes we bloody well are!” Giles yelled back, standing up. “If Glory begins the ritual... If we can't stop her ...”

Buffy stepped up to him, defiant and enraged. “Say it. Come on, we're bloody well talking about this, tell me to kill my sister!”

“She's not your sister,” he reminded softly.

“No. She's not. She's more than that.” Buffy stopped, trying to find the right words. “More than family... my sister, my daughter...”

“She's your sister and your daughter?” Xander said, confused.

“She's me. The Monks made her out of me. I hold her and I feel closer to her than... It's more than just the memories they built, it's physical, it's... Dawn is a part of me. The only part that I...”

She stopped unable to go on. Tara left her place by Willow and Spike’s side, and came over to hug her.

“We’ll solve this. We will,” the young witch promised.

“Buffy, if the ritual starts, every living creature in this and every other dimension imaginable will suffer unbearable torment and Death. Including Dawn,” Giles said sadly.

“Then the last thing she'll see is me protecting her.”

Giles shook his head. “You'll fail. You'll die. We all will.”

“I'm sorry. I love you all, but I'm sorry.”

Anya raised her hand. “Okay, all in favor of stopping Glory BEFORE the ritual! Suggestions? Ideas? Time's a-wastin' ... Oh! Willow! I bet Willow’s got some dark
spell a'brewin'. Make her a toad, little hoppy toad, then we hit her with a hammer...”

“What about Ben? He can be killed, right? I mean, I know he's an innocent, but, you know, not, like ‘Dawn’ innocent. We could kill... a regular guy...” Xander offered, then hung his head when Giles looked at him. “God...”

“It's doubtful he'll surface again this close to the ritual. Especially after the Knights’ failed assassination attempt. We have to expect it's Glory we're dealing with,” Giles countered.

Anya began to panic. “Well somebody come up with something!”

“Should we join essences and become superslayer again?” Xander suggested.

“That worked against Frankenbot, but to kill a true god... I don't think it's enough. And I need you guys conscious ...” Buffy replied with a sad shrug.

“But we don't have to kill her, just stop her from performing the ritual. I mean, there's just the one time she can do it, right?” Tara said.

“Yeah, we get her on the ropes, we just gotta keep her occupied till it's too late!” Xander enthused.

“Okay, but I'm still not hearing enough ideas, she's a god, let's think outside the box!”

“Anya, apart from your incredibly uninfectious enthusiasm, have you anything to contribute? Any ideas on how to fight a god?” Giles commented testily.

“How about we don't pick on my gi...” Xander began but Anya cut him off.

“The Dagon's Sphere!” the ex-demon piped up.

“Sorry?” Giles said.

“When Buffy first met Glory she found that magical glowy sphere that was meant to repel Glory. We've got it in the basement. It might drive her back, or hurt her... oh!” She ran across the room and waved at the Troll Hammer. “And Olaf the Trollgod's enchanted hammer. You wanna fight a god, use the weapon of a god.”

Buffy crossed to it and picked it up, hefting it easily.

“I like this.”

“Built for squashin'!” Anya cheered, waving her fist.

“Good heft to it. I just might do some damage with this. Thanks Anya.”

“Here to help. Want to live,” came the simple reply.

“Well. We have some ideas. And a little time to come up with some more. Could give Glory a decent run, but ...” Giles said.

They all looked to where Spike still lay motionless and staring with Willow, her eyes closed, sitting cross-legged next to him.

“But we still have no idea how to find her,” Buffy murmured.

Willow walked down the stone hall, eyes searching for any sign of Spike or the mysterious *they* William had warned her about. There were doors, lots of them, lining the hall, and more halls of more doors branching off of the corridor she was in.

‘He could be anywhere, in any of these rooms,’ she thought sadly. ‘It could take forever for me to look through all of them.’

Resolutely, she placed on hand on a random doorknob. “Well, here goes nothing...”

She turned the knob and gave the door a trial push. It gave, creaking slightly, and swung open.

“Spike? Spike are you in here?” she called, peering into the darkened room.

But it wasn’t a room at all. It was the alley behind the Magic Box and it was day. Spike was there in the shadows, smoking a cigarette. She rushed up to him.

“Spike!”

He did not appear to see or hear her.

“Spike?” she tried again, waving her hand in front of his face.

Spike did not acknowledge her, but turned his head when the back door of the shop opened and a somber Buffy stepped out.

“Buffy!” she cried, but the other woman did not seem to see her either.

‘What is going on here? I feel like Ebenezer Scrooge in A Christmas Carol...’

“Buffy,” he greeted.

Buffy looked at him, surprised. “Spike. It's daylight and you're ...”

“Not on fire? Sun's low. Is shady enough here.”

Buffy nodded in understanding. Spike sat on a packing crate, and gestured to the space beside him. Buffy sat down next to him.

“I was gonna go in, but I overheard you and the Super-friends sharing ‘a special moment’ and I came over a bit queasy.”

He threw down the cigarette butt.

“Say, aren't you leaving a hole in the middle of some soggy group hug?”

“I wanted a little time alone.”

“Oh. Right then...” he stood and headed for the alley entrance, but stopped at the edge of the sunlight.

“That's okay. I can be alone with you here.”

“Thanks ever so.”

“Right.”

He returned to her, his face concerned and Willow wondered what she was witnessing and when it happened.

“Buff? Slayer? You okay?”

She looked at him and nodded. “I’m here. I’m good.”

“Buffy, if you're in-- if you're in pain. Or if you need anything... If I can help you...”

“You can't.”

“Well, I haven't been to a Hell dimension just of late, but I know a thing or two about torment.”

‘Hell dimension?’ Willow thought.

“I was happy,” Buffy replied.

“I don't ...”

“Wherever I ... was ... I was happy. At peace. I knew that everyone I cared about was all right. I knew it. Time didn't mean anything, nothing had form... but I was still me, you know? And I was warm and I was loved... and I was finished. Complete. I don't understand about dimensions or theology or any of ... but I think I was in heaven.”

Spike stared at her, a horrified look on his face. Buffy looked back at him, sad and somber.

“And now I'm not.”

“Buffy...” Spike tried.

“I was torn out of there. Ripped out of there by my friends. And everything here is bright and hard and violent... Everything I feel, everything I touch... this is Hell. Just getting through the next moment, and the one after that... knowing what I've lost ....”

Buffy stopped, clearly unable to say any more. She rose and walked into the sunlight, leaving a speechless Spike in the shadows.

“They can never know. Never,” Buffy said over her shoulder, then walked away slowly.

‘What the hell was *that*?’ Willow thought, shaking off the creepy feeling that had settled on her and hurrying out the door.

She closed it tight and leaned against it, breathing heavily, then she moved down and opened the next door.

This one was Spike’s old crypt. Buffy was sitting in the gloom on the vampire’s old chair. Spike was there as well, facing her, leaning against the television. His heads was bowed, his shoulder slumped. Once again, neither of them acknowledged her presence.

“I do remember what I said. The promise. To protect her. If I'd done that ... even if I didn't make it, you wouldn't've had to jump,” Spike suddenly said.

‘Jump?’

“But I want you to know I did save you. Not when it counted, of course. But after that. Every night after that. I'd see it all again, do something different. Faster or more clever, you know? Dozens of times, lots of different ways ...” Spike paused then added emphatically. “Every night I save you.”

The broken look on Buffy’s face was too much and Willow practically ran out.

‘What the hell is going on here?!’

She began opening doors, thrusting her head into each of them to see where they led. Each appeared to be some kind of scene that occurred between Spike and Buffy. One had them riding on a motorcycle together, and another had them talking over whiskey in the lower level of Spike’s crypt.

‘I didn’t know it looked like that down there...’

Still another had Buffy screaming at Spike as she beat him mercilessly in an alleyway while he did nothing to defend himself. Then there was the one of him and Buffy obviously having sex even though they were pretty well concealed under a rug.

‘Whoa. Twisted fantasy there...’ she thought, quickly shutting that door.

More and more scenes, some violent, some sweet, some tragic, showed themselves to her as she made her way down the hall. Again, most of them were of Buffy and Spike, but a few had her and the others in them. She saw Joyce’s death and Riley’s transgressions, and perhaps the most telling, her own lover Tara as a victim of Glory’s brain sucking. Then she came to the last door in the corridor she was in and she opened it.

It was night in a place she did not recognize, but she saw herself and all of the other scoobies there. They were at a construction site, and there were rubble and human and demon bodies all over the place. There was no sign of Buffy or Dawn, but Spike was lying on the ground at the base of this huge rickety tower, obviously severely wounded. He was looking up at the top of the tower so she looked up too, in time to see a huge portal open up in mid air and all manner of demons and black energy come spewing out.

‘Oh my God...’

Then a lone figure leaped off of the tower, arms spread, and she screamed as she saw that it was Buffy. Her scream was echoed by a howl from Spike as they both watched Buffy plummet to her death.

“BUFFY!” Willow cried.

A hand landed on her shoulder suddenly and she screamed again, spinning to find William, pale and panting, behind her.

“You won’t find him here,” William said.

Shaking, swallowing her grief and terror, she nodded and allowed him to take her out. Back in the hallway, she staggered and lost her balance, collapsing to her knees. Young William knelt next to her, his face concerned.

“It struck me as unseemly for a gentleman to allow a lady to go off into danger unescorted,” he said.

“What... What was that?” she demanded of him, tears on her cheeks.

“The time before,” came the cryptic reply.

“That makes no sense. None of that ever happened. What is this place?”

He looked at the door-lined hallway then back to her. “It’s where we keep the memories we’d like to forget.”

“But none of that *ever* happened!”

He looked at her sadly and rose to his feet. She stood as well, forcing her legs to do her bidding. He regarded her for a long time, then sighed and motioned for her to follow him.

“I don’t like to come down here. It’s unpleasant, but I think, in this case, sadly unavoidable,” he told her as he took a side passageway and bade her to open one of the doors. It revealed another intimate scene between Buffy and Spike.

“It was love, but it was tainted, you see. His by the demon inside him and hers by the suffering she had endured,” William explained as he took the doorknob from her hand and closed the door.

“I don’t understand.”

“Time isn’t linear,” he offered as an explanation. “It can loop back upon itself.”

She creased her brow, trying to process. “Are you saying that Spike went back in time?”

“The demon deemed us worthy.”

“So... all of that... actually happened.”

It was almost too much to handle.

“He couldn’t save her. Not from the Hell God who took her sister or from herself after she was brought back from the dead.”

“Brought back from the dead? Who would do such a thing?”

He regarded her with eyes that reflected back her own fears.

“He couldn’t save you either.”

“Oh. Oh no. No, I would never...” she emphatically denied.

He held up one thin finger. “Never say never, Miss Willow. None of us can say what we will or will not do. He certainly never intended to become what we became. Sometimes our choices are taken from us by our passions.”

He opened another door for her and she witnessed the painful reenactment of an attempted rape. She almost retched in the hall.

“Oh my God.”

“They were destroying each other with their own pain,” William said.

He led her to yet another door and turned the knob. She held her breath, dreading what she would see on the other side, and found herself in a cavern painted with gruesome and disturbing cave paintings. Then a severed demon head came from around a bend, followed by a weary and bloodied Spike. In his hand was another severed demon head.

“Right then. That was a bloody doddle and a piece o'piss...” Spike said defiantly as he tossed the second head to the ground and dropped to his knees.

“Got any more tests, ya ruddy ponce? I'll take anything you throw at me. If it'll get me what I need to take care of the Slayer, give her what's coming to her, you just bring it on. Bring on the whole...” he asked snarkily, then stopped as something started moving under the soil. “Bloody hell...”

His face hardened and he tensed as hundreds and hundreds of scarab beetles erupted from the earth and began to swarm all over him.

Willow cringed as they crawled over his screaming face and poured into his mouth.

“Oh, oh my god. Oh my god...”

She tried to back away, but a hand stopped her and she saw that it was William, his face grim.

“There’s more.”

She stood, transfixed as she watched the beetles swarm then recede, leaving a prone, battered Spike in their wake. He lay there for several moments and she wasn’t sure if he was conscious or even still alive, when he suddenly drew breath. Willow then saw a monstrous gnarled demon shuffle up to loom over him. His eyes fluttered open and he stared at the ceiling.

“You have endured the required trials,” the demon said.

“Bloody right I have,” Spike replied, weak but defiant. He pushed himself up into a sitting position. “So, give me what I want. Make me what I was... so Buffy can get what she deserves.”

“Very well,” the demon agreed, reaching out a scaled hand to touch Spike’s chest. “We will return... your soul.”

White light flooded the cave and Spike screamed in agony.

Willow rounded on William. “I thought you said he chose you.”

William nodded. “He did.”

“No, he didn’t. That demon just tricked him!”

William shook his head. “Spike’s goal was always to regain his soul.”

“But how could he...”

“Because the demon loved her, but knew Buffy would never love him back without a soul. I know this because he would never have been sent back to correct things if the demon hadn’t chosen the soul willingly.”

Stunned, Willow made her way back out into the hall. William followed at her shoulder. She stopped, leaning against the stone wall, her eyes closed and her fists clenched, then she glared up at the man standing before her.

“You aren’t William,” she accused.

The man shook his head. “I’m the part of him that wants you to find him.”

“Where is he?”

The man began to fade from sight, growing translucent and out of focus.

“Below,” came the reply before the apparition disappeared.

‘Below? Ah, dungeon...’ she reasoned and hurried to find a flight of stairs that went down

It wasn’t difficult to find a stairwell that led down into the bowels of the fortress. Forcing herself to descend down the passageway was another thing entirely. The way was dark and stank of mold and decay, and the stairs were slippery with god knew what, but she slowly made her way down into the blackness.

Using a simple illumination spell, she created a small light to guide her way down the narrow corridor. The walls were close and the ceiling low, but she had no troubles finding the dungeon door. It was low and made of heavy wood, and there was a small barred window in it. Using both hands, she pulled free the heavy bolt and opened the door to the chamber.

The room was dark and silent, and it smelled foul. Old straw littered the stone floor and the remnants of manacles and shackles hung from the walls, along with a very colorful assortment of weapons and torture instruments. There was a series of cells lining the far wall and another solid door with a barred window at the end of the chamber. Holding her little light high, she looked around and in the far corner, she thought she saw a faint hint of movement and moved towards it.

There, huddled in the darkest corner, with his hands wrapped around his knees, was the true William. He raised frightened eyes to her as she approached and tried to make himself even smaller than he already had.

“Don’t be afraid,” she soothed, coming near.

His face was dirty and streaked with blood and tears.

“Who are you?” he asked in a faltering voice.

She knelt beside him. “I’m Willow. I’m a friend. I’m here to find Spike.”

William cast a nervous glace at the barred wooden door. “I… I don’t think you can…can go in there.”

She looked at the door, secured with a heavy chain and huge padlock. Rising, she fiddled with the locking mechanism.

“You... you shouldn’t do that. They’ll be angry if you do. You... you should get out of here.”

She looked at the scared man on the floor. “I’m not leaving without the two of you. We’re going to get out of here.”

William shook his head, one fist coming up to stifle his sudden sobs. “No... no no one can help us. The wreck... the wreck of our memories sinks forever.”

“Hey. That was pretty good. You *are* a poet,” she said, trying to distract him.

“It’s... it’s not mine.”

“Oh,” she commented, biting her lip as she examined the lock more closely.

“You... you really should go. They’ll be back soon. They’ll be so cross if they find you here...”

She lifted the heavy lock, placing one hand over the locking handle and impressing her will upon it.

“Release,” she ordered softly, feeling a rush of pleasure as she felt the bolt give way.

A shocked gasp came from William and he tried to scramble away from her. “Oh. Oh dear. They’ll be so cross...”

“Look. I said I’m not leaving without you. Don’t worry about who might show up. Spike and I can handle ‘em.”

“You don’t know. You don’t know how terrible they are.”

She gave him a confidant smile as she pulled free the chain and dropped it and the padlock to the floor with a heavy clang.

“Yeah? Well I’ve faced quite a few Big Bads in my day and I’ve come out okay. It’ll be alright William. We just have to get Spike and get out of here. Stay here. I’ll be right out.”

Without further hesitation, she pulled open the cell door and stepped in.

“Spike?” she called, holding her little light high to illuminate the gloom.

“You shouldn’t be here, Red,” came a raspy voice from the shadows.

Turning towards the source of the sound, she found Spike naked from the waist up and hanging from a set of chains fastened to the roof of the cell. His arms were stretched high above his head and he was dangling just enough to that only his toes touched the ground. He was laced with whip and burn marks, his skin hanging in ribbons in places and streaked with blood.

“Well, at least you see me and know who I am. That’s an improvement,” she replied, going to him.

She raised one hand and concentrated on the manacles. “Release,” she ordered, and the restraints unlocked under her command causing Spike to collapse to the hard floor with a groan.

“Can you walk?” she asked, crouching down beside him.

“Ow. Don’t be Florence Bloody Nightingale now, Wicca,” Spike groused, slowly getting his legs underneath him. As he picked himself up into a kneeling position, Willow got a good look at what was left of his back and winced.

“Goddess, Spike. Geeze...”

He gave her a withering glance. “Yeah? Well what were you expectin’? It’s a bloody torture chamber, an’ there’s nothin’ my maker an’ her soddin’ daddy like better than a decent spot of torture.”

“Angelus and Drusilla did this to you?” she asked, helping him as best she could.

He looked at her through one swollen eye. “Who else beats me like this?” He dropped his gaze. “Except for Buffy. But I haven’t the guts to conjure ‘er into this nightmare. Bloody spineless wanker I am.”

“Spike, listen. Glory has Dawn and you’re the only one who knows where she is. You have to come back with me. You have to take us to where Glory has Dawn.”

Still on his knees, Spike hung his head. “Won’t do any good, Red. I can’t change it. Been tryin’. Been tryin’ with all my might, but nothin’ seems ta make a difference. Everything I knew, everythin’ I did ta try ta change what happened, it all just blew up in my face. It’s useless.”

“No it isn’t. Look, I *saw* what happened. I took a little trip down your musical door memory lane. I *know* how much you changed. Now maybe you didn’t change everything you wanted to, or maybe some things couldn’t be changed, but you can’t give up now. Regardless, you have to be there to help Buffy fight the final fight against Glory.”

“What, and watch her die again? Watch her jump off that bloody tower because I was too much of a failure? Because I couldn’t do one damned thing right?” he snapped back, breathing heavily. “If it’s all the same to you, I’ll just stay here.”

“You can’t stay here, Spike. When you kept Tara from going out to be brain-sucked, we lost our guide to Glory. Without you to show us the way, Glory will perform the ritual, Dawn *and* Buffy will die and so will the rest of the world with it,” she argued.

He looked away, defeated. “I can’t... I can’t Wills...”

“So you’re just going to let Dawn and Buffy and the whole world die because things didn’t go the way you thought they would?”

“I...”

“Well, well, well. Who do we have here?” came a sneering voice that Willow knew all too well.

She looked to the doorway and saw Angelus and Drusilla standing there. Angelus held a whimpering William by the back of his neck.

“I... told you... they’d be cross,” William choked.

“Repulso!” Willow commanded, thrusting out her hand.

A wave of red energy burst forth from her palm, knocking the two vampires backwards and out of the cell. The shock made Angelus release William and the man fell to the floor.

“Wow, Red,” Spike breathed appreciatively.

“Best defense is a good offense. C’mon,” she answered, bending down to take his arm and urge him to his feet.

He rose, staggering, but went with her, leaning heavily upon her for support.

“C’mon ponce, get a move on,” Spike groused to William as they approached the cell door.

Still whimpering, William did as ordered and got to his feet.

“Bloody Hell I was such a wanker. Why couldn’t I have asked for Bruce Lee’s soul?”

Willow managed to chuckle as she helped Spike out of the cell. Crossing the threshold, she saw that Angelus was still down, but she couldn’t see Drusilla. She didn’t have time to wonder where Spike’s Sire had disappeared to because Drusilla grabbed her and yanked her backwards.

“Nasty girlie. Spoil all our fun. Naughty,” the vampiress scolded, knocking Spike from her grasp and sending the injured vampire slamming into a wall covered with weapons.

Willow growled and grabbed Drusilla’s hands, pulling them from her hair.

“Repulso!” she yelled, sending the insane vampire flying across the chamber.

“Reveale!” she then ordered, raising her hand to grab the stake that materialized in her palm.

Drusilla screamed a challenge and rushed at her, but she was ready. She ducked and spun as the vampire lunged, coming up behind her and swinging the stake home. Drusilla exploded into dust with a shriek.

“Wow. I did it,” Willow mused, surprised and pleased with herself.

“I’ll kill all of you for that, bitch,” Angelus threatened, grabbing William and preparing to bite him.

Scrambling, she looked for an opportunity and a way to save the terrified man, but then a shadow rose up behind Angelus and she saw Spike swing a sword he’d taken from the wall of weapons Drusilla had tossed him into. The sword arced through the air and neatly lopped off Angelus’ head, making the body disintegrate into a pile of dust.

Dropping the sword with a heavy thump, Spike stared down at what was left of his tormentor.

“He might be a ponce, but he’s *my* ponce,” he snarked.

William shakily got up, brushing off his dusty clothes. “Th... thank you.”

“Spike, are you ready to go?” Willow asked.

“I’m half afraid to tell you no, Red. You might send me flying through a wall or ram that pretty stake right through my chest,” he answered, still standing on shaky legs.

Willow looked at the stake in her hand, then dropped it.

“Buffy and Dawn need us, and I came all the way here to find you. If you’re coming with me, we have to leave now.”

Spike placed a hand on William’s shoulder and the two of them rose to their full height, each silently supporting the other.

“We are with you, Miss Willow,” William replied.

Spike sighed. “Yeah. Lead on, Wicca. We’ll be right with you.”

Willow flashed him a brilliant smile and led the way out of the dungeon. They followed slowly behind.

 next part