"I have nowhere else to go."

"Go back to your crypt."

"Can't."

"Then come home with me."

Spike looked up at Buffy and giggled again. "House full of women? You're nuttier than I am."

"This basement is...wrong."

"Gotta stay."

"Why, Spike? Why do you have to stay here?"

"This is where I have to be. Gotta stay. Stay beneath you."

"Beneath me? What are you talking about?"

"Can't tell. Mustn't tell the girl."

"Tell me what?"

"Shhh. Secrets. Lots of secrets. They whisper."

Buffy threw up her hands. "Spike I can't help you if you don't talk to me."

He giggled again. "From beneath... My girl."

"I'm NOT your. Oh, bloody hell."

Spike giggled again, "Bloody...bloody."

Buffy knelt down and grabbed his shoulders, "Spike, what is this "from beneath you it devours" stuff? What is it?"

He pulled away and cowered in a corner. "Stop. Stop."

"I won't stop, Spike. I need to know what it is and how to fight it."

"Can't fight. Hungry. It devours. Me." He rose unsteadily to his feet and pushed her toward the door yelling, "Go away!"

"Away, Spike? Why? Where?"

He shoved her again, harder and she stepped back to the door. "Go away."

"Fine," she sighed, exasperated. "Fine, stay down here until you"

Spike fell to his knees, his hands and head on the floor. "Stay away!" he screamed.

Buffy turned and left.

*****

"I don't know what to do about him," Buffy confessed. "He just won't listen." She was railing out loud about her unsuccessful visit to Spike in the basement of the new high school.

"Or can't," Willow suggested.

"Or won't. He's absolutely obsessed with staying there. But it's destroying him. He sounds more like Dru than Wil...Spike. It's awful."

Willow looked across the table at her best friend. She watched as conflicting emotions ran rampant on her face. "Buffy, talk to me. Tell me what you're feeling. You and him, that's a big thing...and we never talked. We were...um...busy. But now...see? Back home and all ears."

Buffy shook her head. "I'm glad you're back Wil. Really. But...."

"Hey, now. It's me here. Remember? You supported me through a lot of changes. It's payback time. Okay? Please?"

"Angel was wrong, you know. I'll never have a normal life. I'm not normal, so how could I?" Buffy blinked sad eyes. She needed to talk, but how could Willow understand? "I don't know, Wil. There's so much. The last time he and I saw each other was, well, a disaster. You know about that right?"

Willow nodded, "Xander pretty much filled me in on that."

Buffy muttered, "He would."

"Xander cares about you Buffy. He just doesn't see straight when it comes to you and men. Any kind of man, especially the undead kind."

"I know Willow, and I love him for it. He's like the big, annoying brother I never had. It's just that figuring out my own screwy emotions is hard enough without having Xander exploding all the time."

"He can be a little...outspoken."

Buffy laughed, "More like insufferable. There's undeniable devotion, but no generosity of spirit in him, Wil. You'd think that with Anya's past, he'd cut me some slack. But no."

Willow understood exactly. There had been times when Xander's attitude toward Spike had shocked her. Buffy was right, Anya's past had led to as much mayhem, civil unrest, even death, as Spike's...probably more. But because that destruction had been motivated by revenge, was it more acceptable than what Spike had done? Was it more easily forgivable, more easily accepted than the evil that Spike had done? Was her choice to do good any more noble than Spike's? Was it all demons that could rouse his condemnation, or just Buffy's boyfriends?

Buffy gave Willow a brief explanation of what had happened that night from her point of view. "...so I screamed at him to leave and he left. I told myself, 'Fine. All the better. Now I can get angry, deny that any of last year happened. And...hey, great! He knew that he'd hurt me and I wanted him to suffer a while.' But I was going to tell him...eventually."

Shaking her head Willow asked, "Tell him what?"

"That I forgave him. God Wil, I forgave him before he was out the door that night." Willow's eyes grew wide. "Oh, I know that what he did was wrong, but the entire relationship was wrong from the beginning. What he and I had last year had nothing to do with what he and I were before, or what we might still become. It had a life of its own, and there was no other way for it to end. It was never based in love or respect or kindness...at least on my part, it was just need." Buffy sucked her lip and thought. "It's hard to explain. More like a...craving...you know? Very little thinking. All taking. All, gimme now. After you...after I got back, I was just so lost, so scared, so sad, so empty. I couldn't feel anything. I turned to him then only because I needed something...and he was strong and he was...there."

"We were all there, Buffy, we were all worried about you."

"I know, Wil, but you all thought you'd done such a good thing...you just didn't understand why I wasn't happy. You didn't know...and I couldn't tell you. If that demon hadn't made me sing, you still wouldn't know."

"I'm so sorry about that. I really didn't know...."

Buffy smiled warmly at her friend, "There's no way you could've. I'm all right now. I'm back and I'm getting used to it. At least I know what it'll be like next time...right?"

Willow accepted this statement gratefully and her eyes brightened as Buffy continued.

"Anyway, if I hadn't died last summer, I think that maybe.... Did I tell you that I reissued the invitation into my house for him that night?" Buffy smiled at the memory. "He was so...happy. I first thought then that I could love him."

"Love? Spike?" Willow repeated, bewildered. It was the first time that Buffy had ever used that word in a positive context with Spike. Even after they had all discovered that Buffy and Spike had been...um, together, love never entered the picture, until now.

Haltingly, as though she couldn't believe it herself, Buffy explained, "I know him, his past. Probably better than any of you do. But Spike wasn't...isn't what he was. He fought evil with us, helped us...a lot. When he and I were alone, it was...comfortable. He understood me, my job, my life. He could pick up a stake and fight beside me and he was willing to die for me or with me. He knew that someday I wouldn't come home. He overlooked my faults and challenged me to be better. He could be dense, and his good judgment might be drastically out of practice, but for whatever reason, be it the chip or me, or him, he'd become a good man, Wil, one who earned my respect, who I genuinely cared about.

"But after...there was none of that. There was nothing left in me except...need, fear, rage. I knew it would kill any of you for me to share what I had to, to get myself back. But I was so desperate and confused. Finally I thought, 'Spike's dispensable. I'll take what I need from him and when I'm done, I'll go away and it'll be okay.' There was no tenderness in me at all. And even though he knew what I was doing, Willow, he let me do it because he was in love. He was in love with the old Buffy and so he was willing to put up with the new one. I took and he freely gave but I nearly drowned us both. See? It was me doing the damage, not him."

Buffy wiped away a tear that threatened to spill from her eye, remembering all the times Spike had asked her if she felt anything, or she'd caught him looking at her with a gentleness that he felt he had to hide as she glanced his way. "Then one day I turned that corner, you know? And I saw what we had become, what I had made us into, and I hated it, hated myself for destroying what we could have been. I couldn't fix it, so I did the only thing I could think of, I called it off, over, done. I tried to do what was right but I broke his heart."

"Then you did a good thing, Buffy. Like you said, what you two had was wrong."

"Yep, it was like the whole relationship was some kind of game from start to finish. You'd think I was insane if I tried to describe it to you."

Willow steeled herself, "Go ahead. Try."

"Well...it was this thing we had, a kind of unvoiced, mutual understanding about how we treated each other. We fought. About everything. We'd fight over where to meet, what to wear, what we would get away with, what we'd...do. And every exchange, every adventure had to top the one before. We'd spar and the tags would become hits. We'd disagree and friendly banter got to be verbally abusive. But we knew...we always knew when to stop. We always had a handle on each other's breaking point. So when I broke off the relationship, it wasn't the end, it was just like I'd simply upped the pain ante again. I said it was over, but he just thought it was his turn in the game.

"I was feeling superior because I'd had some kind of epiphany and I was the one to call a halt to it. I went to him and declared victory, then I went home and gloated over my triumph. But he never surrendered, Willow. To him the war wasn't over, just escalated."

"Buffy, you had to defend yourself when he attacked. He had no right to try and force... Women always say it's their fault when it isn't. No means no."

"Yes, Willow, what he did was wrong, but I can understand it, and forgive it."

Willow was silent for a moment. She knew how dark and confusing things can become, and the value of forgiveness. "So, that's why he left?"

"Yep. When he realized that the game was over and he'd pushed too far, he took off. Everything was happening with you and Tara and Warren, and he just up and disappeared. At first I didn't even notice. Things were so nutso. But later...well, damn him, I missed him. I thought about him every day, about how he didn't know I forgave him. Let me show you something." Buffy ran up the stairs and returned with her arms full of black leather. She sat back down on the sofa and ran her hands tenderly over the soft material. "He left his coat here and I hung in my closet, to keep it for him. I didn't know when he'd come back...if ever. It was all I had." A tear escaped her eye and she let it fall.

"Awww, Buffy." Willow reached out and ran her hands over the leather too. "You do love him, don't you?"

Buffy nodded. She was silent for a couple of moments, then took a deep breath and continued, "So now he shows up. And he's all insane in the basement of the new school and he's lost it. He's talking to himself, to lots of people nobody else sees. He cuts himself and says he's gotten a soul. He fades in and out. But somehow he finds the strength to still help me. To become coherent just when I need him, just when it's important.

"And now that he's back, it's my turn to be strong, to be there for him. I just don't know how. He still needs forgiveness, but now he doesn't need just mine. Now that he has a soul, there's so much more to forgive. The voices of the people he...killed. They torture him. There's nothing he can do to still the voices. He accepts them as punishment. He can't forgive himself, and the guilt is killing him. How do you force someone to accept their past?"

Willow sat up straight and thought about all her own history and how she was still having trouble coming to grips with it. "You don't, Buffy. You can't rush him. Finding a way to absolution is very personal." Buffy listened, knowing that Willow was not only talking about Spike. "It may take a very long time." Willow knew that her friend felt helpless and offered her something to do, "But you can be there to comfort him, tell him that you'll be there for him, that you love him and...and I can't believe I just said that about Spike. Buffy, you're sure about this?"

Buffy nodded and felt a warm wave of comfort wash over her with the acknowledgement. Somehow she knew that whatever she and Spike faced, whatever it was that was coming, whatever devils still haunted him, as long as they were together, they'd be okay.

*****

"You can't be here."

"Spike, I can, and I am. Look I brought sandwiches. Meatloaf, with extra ketchup."

Buffy sat on the floor of the school basement, over the Hellmouth, and set up the picnic she'd brought to her souled vampire.

"Buffy, please. The voices."

"That soul you went and got for me apparently gave you a conscience too. That's a good thing, but yours is just out of practice and the volume is set too loud." She looked at the pain, contorting his features and nearly lost her resolve to keep this meeting light and festive, fighting the desire to take him into her arms and hold him. "Look," she added hastily, "I brought a surprise for you." She busied herself laying out a blanket, opening containers and setting out the meal between them.

Spike moaned, "So much pain."

"Here," she set a plateful of sandwich and potato salad in front of him, deliberately ignoring the fact that he probably hadn't meant hunger pangs. Spike giggled, that maniacal laugh that she'd heard before, the one that sent chills down her spine. "Please, Spike, you have to eat. You're wasting away down here. I brought you something else, something to sink your...teeth into." She smiled at him and handed him a shiny, red apple.

He took the fruit she offered tentatively and pulled it to his chest. He glanced up at her and looked away, "No bl... ?"

"No."

"Good. There's too much blood. It's everywhere." He hugged his knees to his chest, sniffed the apple and took a tentative taste. "Talk. It's easier when you talk."

"It is? Good. I can do that." Buffy kept up a running dialogue, telling Spike all about what he'd missed while he was in Africa. She never asked him a question or asked about what he'd been doing. She didn't bring up what had sent him on his quest, or their past. She stuck to safe topics like Dawn's education, Willow's trip to England, her old and new jobs and even Xander's business acumen. As she talked she encouraged Spike to eat, pushing grapes, lemonade, and more sandwiches in his direction. She watched, silently pleased to see each item disappear. About half an hour later she'd run the gambit of safe subjects, so she leaned back against a wall to watch him pick up the last crumbs from his plate and lick them off his fingers.

He looked at the empty plate with a sigh and set it down slowly. While she had been talking, he had relaxed and he was now sitting cross-legged on the floor. "Is that all?"

"Uh huh. I think you've eaten enough for now though, anyway." A flicker of disappointment crossed his features. "It's okay, Spike. I'll bring more tomorrow. I promise."

Spike looked up with hope in his eyes. Something she hadn't seen there in a very long time. "Coming back, then?"

"Of course. I work upstairs now. If you won't leave this...place, I can at least spend my lunch hours here with you."

He smiled softly, sadly. "You shouldn't come back, pet, it's dangerous."

Buffy caught her breath at what he called her. She'd missed his endearments more than she had known. Quickly she started gathering plates. "I should get going though. Principal Wood's likely to issue me a detention if I'm late."

Spike nodded and looked away, drawing back in on himself again almost immediately.

Buffy opened the basket to put the dishes away, "Oh, I almost forgot." She pulled a thermos from the bottom of the basket and held it out to him. He didn't respond, so Buffy leaned over and set the container next to him on the floor. "For later. In case you're cold."

She stood to leave, looking down on Spike who had been almost completely quiet for the last hour. At least she could give him that. He had been more at ease, but now as she prepared to leave, he was beginning to shiver again. Buffy crouched down and reached out to him. "Spike. Are you in there? What do I need to do to make it better?" He flinched away from her touch, and she sighed. "Willow said for me to take this very slowly, that you've been through a lot, and there's probably a lot more to come." Buffy picked up the blanket from the floor, shook it out and threw it around his shoulders. She tenderly brushed away a few stray locks of brown hair that had tumbled over his forehead. God, she'd missed him.

"I have to tell you something Spike. Something important. I have to say this out loud for both of us, even if you're not listening, but...are you listening?"

Nothing.

"Spike, I know that you didn't mean to hurt me, that you never would on purpose. Things between us just got out of control. And we're both to blame for letting that happen. I forgive you and I hope that somewhere in your new soul, you can find some way to forgive me too. We have to do that before we can start over, because I want to do that. I want us to get it right this time."

Hesitating only briefly, Buffy decided she'd come this far, might as well finish it. "I know that your past is haunting you, but you and I can't afford to live in the past. Slayers don't have the luxury of having a future. Spike, all I have is here and now, and I need you to share that with you because...well just because." He didn't respond. "Please?" she asked.

Nothing.

"Spike, did you hear me?"

His only response was to close his eyes more tightly than before and to begin muttering under his breath. She tried to make out the words for a minute, but couldn't. "Spike, I won't let you go through this alone. You were there for me. I'll be here for you. I love you."

Still nothing. Dropping her head in frustration, Buffy stood up. "I'll be back tomorrow."

Hours later, Spike noticed the thermos next to him on the floor. Opening it, something fell from the cap. He picked up the small, soft plastic bag and examined it, then he placed it gently back on the floor. He reached out and picked up the blanket that had fallen to the ground. He picked it up, unsure if it was real or just another illusion, and as he held it he noticed that it smelled of her and he inhaled greedily.

He settled himself then, placing the thermos in front of him on the floor. Setting the cap up in front of him, he unscrewed the top of the container and poured out its contents. He scattered the contents of the plastic bag over the top of the hot liquid and somehow, the aroma of the hot chocolate reached him, even through his tears. He hardly dared to believe that the picnic had also been real, much less the rest of it.

*****

Buffy continued to visit the basement faithfully, bringing food, bringing cocoa, bringing small comforts. While out on patrol she'd visited Clem at the crypt and picked up a few of Spike's belongings; some clothes, a few candles. She thought about bringing him some weapons because the basement was creepy and they'd probably come in handy, but she decided against it being still unsure about his capacity and what he might do with them. Besides she knew he had a knife somewhere, she'd seen the evidence of that on him, but he'd hidden it well and she had been unable to find it and remove it from him. Clem gave her some snacks for Spike. "No really, he loves Giordetto's. Especially the garlic toasts," he'd insisted.

The others found out that she'd been visiting and although they wanted to see him, they somehow knew it wasn't time yet. Still, little things like new gloves, books of poetry or a deck of cards, began appearing for Buffy in conspicuous places. They had notes attached like; "Take this to Spike" or "Spike might like this" or simply, "For Spike" and she messengered these faithfully, wanting him to know that the others cared, that he was missed, that he'd found a family. She often thought about bringing Spike back his coat, but she couldn't bear to take it from the closet of her room from where it seemed to fairly radiate strength and love.

She never told him she loved him again, it went unspoken. But every day she would descend the basement staircase laden with the gifts, the picnic basket, her own deep concerns and her growing impatience. It had been three weeks and she could tell that with the regular meals he was getting physically stronger. His body was no longer wasted, but as he grew physically stronger, so grew the strength of his rage; against her, against his surroundings and against himself.

Sometimes as she reached the door to his basement room she paused to listen to his ongoing mantra of, "Mustn't get through. Mustn't. No. Pain. Guilty, guilty. Weak, pitiful man. Don't fail. Gotta be strong."

At other times, she felt she was hearing half of a conversation; his voice sometimes tough, disconsolate at others and sometimes pierced with heart-wrenching screams. "You're nuts, you know that? You'll never get away with it. No! You wouldn't! I won't let you. You'd have to get through me first, you soddin'. No, please don't hurt me anymore. Please? What is it you want me to do? I won't. You can't...make...me."

It seemed easier while she was there, he was able to focus on her temporarily and avoid his voices, but when she first arrived, and when she left, his screaming and wailing were almost too much to bear and the evidences of his self-torture were more and more disturbing. Although they should have by now the scratches on his chest still hadn't healed and Buffy knew that they were reinflicted each night. In addition bruises had appeared on his neck that matched his hand prints and goose-egg sized bumps on his forehead which could only be caused by beating his head against the wall or floor.

Buffy wasn't stupid. She knew that something was going on here, something evil, possibly everything evil. It was, after all, the Hellmouth and Giles had sent Willow back to Sunnydale early to address the upcoming apocalypse. She knew that whatever it was, Spike had put himself between it and her and it was killing him. Buffy hated him for it, for his assumption that she was weak, for his unilateral decision that her life was worth more than his, for the martyrdom of his new soul. And she loved him for it. And she cried.

She wiped her face as best she could and stepped forward, intent on bringing him his daily dose of comfort.

*****

Standing in the quiet and darkened high school hallway, Willow was afraid. She hadn't confronted evil head on since her "redemption" and although she knew she still had power, she was afraid to use it and that fear made having it even more dangerous. Still, she'd been sent here by Giles and the coven for a purpose and the experiment in England that had led her to a vision of the Hellmouth only confirmed that she was inexorably linked to whatever was about to happen. Her research had lead to nothing but dead ends. No calendar references to Hellmouth 2003, no demon-risings scheduled, no freakish anniversaries, no references to other happenings in the world like earthquakes, volcanoes, tidal waves. The only thing she had to go on was her unrelenting vision of the gaping Hellmouth.

After making contact with the entity accidentally in England, Ms. Harkness had fussed and fumed at Giles for hours about unrestrained, untrained power. About how she wasn't sure Willow's power could be harnessed. Finally, with his gentle persuasion, the coven leader relented and, resourcing many dusty volumes, began to instruct the young witch on the art of communication. They had begun small. Willow smiled at the memory of sitting at the window of her room, reaching out with her mind to the squirrel in the tree outside. For days it had seemed futile, but when the little creature had fallen off its branch in surprise, Willow knew she'd reached him.

The next day, the squirrel did not fall, but sat up and stared into the redhead's eyes for a full five minutes before resuming its hunt for acorns. The quiet acceptance of Willow's mind voice by the animal continued for several days with Willow focused on sending kind thoughts of warm winters, full caches of nuts, happy nests full of children and of herself smiling and waving to her new friend. As Ms. Harkness had explained, animals and other creatures could not understand words, so her focus was on creating mind images when, to her surprise, her own senses began to tingle. Opening her mind, an image slowly came into focus of a squirrel sitting on her own shoulder. She looked at the animal and imagined a smile. Within seconds it had taken it's place near her ear.

With the squirrel poised in its place, Willow was beyond ecstatic and ran to tell her teacher of her success. The pale look on Ms. Harkness's face spoke of utter incredulity. "Less than a week? Many witches have spent a lifetime without success in inter-species communication." She then stopped herself, remembering that after two months with this particular young witch in their midst, nothing should still amaze her. "Well done, then, Ms. Rosenberg. Continue practicing communication with your...er...friend there. You will find that there are sometimes more practical ways to communicate than mind images; motion, sound, suggestion. However, tomorrow we'll begin to discover other minds."

"You mean like people? Like telepathy?"

"Yes. It seems you have an aptitude for it. Sit down, Ms. Rosenberg." Willow sat down and with a quick mind image and a squeak, her new friend scurried down her arm across the floor and out the open window to the trees beyond. Willow smiled, imaged a smile for the squirrel and was answered with an image of sunshine.

Willow was then able to turn her full attention to her teacher. "Meddling in human thoughts, or the thoughts of other intelligent beings is quite unlike what you have just experienced, and it's much different than casting a mind altering spell." Willow winced at what the last of those had cost her. "There are two types of telepathy; passive and active. You, I suspect, Ms. Rosenberg, will excel at both."

"Passive? Is that like just reading thoughts?"

"Yes. Passive telepathy is the gentle awareness of what already exists within someone else. Done right, they will never know that their thoughts have been taken. Active mind reading, however, is the merging of thoughts, the melding of minds and the ability to bend others thoughts to your own. Doing this requires a subtlety of talent, for which, as I say, you have a happy aptitude." Willow's eyes grew wide.

"Mr. Giles has made us all here well aware of the depth of your talent, your thirst for knowledge as well as the need for you to acquire it quickly. Your role in past deeds has been spoken of throughout our coven for many years, and now we have been blessed with the honor of helping to prepare you for your next journey. We are to complete your education before you return to California. This apparent power of your mind is just leading us down a dangerous and unexpected path. But it is your strengths which determine the courses of study."

"The first thing you must understand is that the melding of thought is a dangerous business for someone so young. It can enthrall the unsuspecting, and can corrupt those who are unwary."

"Really?" Willow replied squeakily. "Maybe I'd better pass then. I haven't done all that well with the walking away from power thing before."

"There are always consequences to magic and with power comes responsibility. You are of age and your experience is beyond even mine but I know who you are, who Willow Rosenberg is, and she doesn't make the same mistakes twice. She will find strength when and where it is needed."

By the end of the following week, Willow was reading minds as easily as text, but she was still clumsy and those who surrounded her knew whenever she was practicing on them. The complaints began to accumulate until Willow was called to the headmistresses office yet again. "Ms. Rosenberg, you must be sensitive to those around you. You cannot invade their mental privacy without permission, no matter the status of your study."

Willow nodded and sat silent, staring at her folded hands as the woman glowered at her. Then she raised her head and smiled. "I'm going home?"

Caught off-guard by Willow's silent theft, Ms. Harkness caught herself in time to realize that Willow had passed her final test in clairvoyance. "Much better. Yes dear," she answered simply, "You leave tomorrow."

Had that been only a month ago? Willow gripped the handle of the door to the basement of the school, with white knuckles and brushed her other hand over the protective ward at her throat. Below her was the source of the vision that still haunted her dreams. Sharp teeth rising from the earth, devouring everything in its path; people, demons, earth, fear. She drew back her hand suddenly, searching her own thoughts. No, it hadn't been anything new, just memories. Quickly, before losing her courage, she pulled open the door and began her decent of the stairs beyond.

*****

"Spike?" she called softly, but her voice squeaked, betraying her anxiety. Willow cleared her throat and tried again, with bravado she didn't feel. "Spike?"

"Well, well. Lookie what the cat dragged in. Hello Red." Willow spun around at the sound of his voice across the room, behind her. In her haste she knocked over a box and several papers spilled to the floor. She was pleased that she hadn't shrieked, but her hands trembled as she bent over to pick up the mess.

"Spike. There you are." *Good start,* she thought. "I was looking for you."

"Reckon you knew where to find me, pet." Spike took two languorous steps in her direction.

"Yes, well. Yes." Willow tapped the papers straight, threw them back in the box, righted the box and wiping her hands on her skirt, turned to Spike. "Buffy told me you were down here."

At the mention of her name, Spike's eyes closed briefly and something like...pain...flickered there. Then it was gone. "She tells me that you've been studying."

Something wasn't right. Willow backed up a step and squinched her eyebrows into a question as she replied, "Yes, I've been in England with Giles, learning...stuff."

"I heard you were already a pretty good torturess, luv. Could've used you back in the day."

"I won't ever do that again," she answered as she began tentatively to send her mind out to his. Her thoughts ventured forward but found...nothing? How could that be? Whenever she'd done this before, people's minds had been too full of thoughts, like trying to follow several pieces of music at once, a cacophony. She tried again and soon realized that what she had heard, had not been nothing, but rather a very focused, but intense silence. She withdrew as gently as she could.

Spike's voice was mesmerizing as he drew nearer to her, "But now you have a taste for blood and we're not so different anymore. We both know what it's like to want it, to take it."

Willow shook her head, trying to think. "But Spike, I don't. I don't want it, anymore."

"Sure you do, Red. Once you've felt what it is like to exact revenge on your enemies, the excitement of the hunt, the capture, the terror in their eyes, the desire is in you...forever." He ran his hand slowly down her cheek to her neck, which he eyed longingly.

Against her will, Willow felt her head leaning back, opening her throat to him. Somewhere in her head, a voice screamed out, "Hey!" She heard herself repeat it. "Hey!" Shaking off the spell, Willow stepped back again. "Seems like we've both learned a few things this summer."

Spike laughed a deep, throaty, sinister laugh. "You haven't learned enough, witch. Not nearly enough."

Without thought, Willow raised her hand in defense, "Finio." Spike froze instantly, momentarily unable to move. It was long enough for Willow to make her way to the door. As she ran she felt a new, but familiar sensation as someone's thought pierced her mind. "Get them out, Red. All of 'em. Even Buffy. I can't hold on much longer." She spun around and looked questioningly at the immobile body before turning again and escaping up the stairs into the night.

*****

"He told me to get us all out of here, even you, Buffy. I swear." Willow was trying to tell Buffy about what had happened earlier, but Buffy refused to believe.

Shaking her head, the blonde slayer replied, "He may have said it, Wil, but he knows I can't. But we should get the others to go. I need to get Dawn to safety."

Willow nodded. "I don't think he thought you'd leave anyway. He was scared for you, that's all, and for nibl... I mean Dawn. For all of us."

"I know. You and the others should leave then. If he thinks it's close, I trust him."

"I can't leave, Buffy. You know this is why I am here. And the others have already told me they're staying. Sorry, but looks like your stuck with us for another apocalypse. Is it possible to have more than one? I'll have to look that up."

Buffy laughed at her friend. "I knew I wouldn't be able to shed the lot of you. Okay then, call everyone together and let's talk this through."

*****

Later that night all the Scoobies sat in the Summers' living room waiting for Buffy to return from patrol. Nights in Sunnydale were, as they always were before a crisis, quiet. But Buffy hadn't been sure when she might be able to do a run through town again, so she had disappeared at dusk with a promise to return at 8:00. At 8:05 the door flew open followed by a disoriented and weakened Spike and a full-on fighting mode Slayer, wounds and all.

"Buffy! What happened?" Xander stood, prepared to take down Spike if necessary but the vampire fell shivering on the floor without his intervention.

"Let me catch my breath and I'll tell you. Willow, you'd better set those wards we talked about around the house, right now." Willow nodded and ran upstairs to get the supplies she needed, knowing that time was something she had little of.

Dawn brought Buffy a glass of water and she drank half greedily, kneeling to offer the remaining cool liquid to Spike who had crawled to her side and was clutching her leg desperately. "Spike, drink this. You have to calm down. I need you."

Spike had his eyes shut, cowering he whimpered, "Can't run. Can't hide. It's coming. I tried, I tried. You should've left. Buffy! Why won't you listen to me?"

Even though she wasn't sure he heard her, Buffy threw an arm around his shoulders and talked softly to him. "I'm sorry, baby. I don't listen, you're right. It's bad, isn't it? I'm sorry."

Xander was unsure of what to say. The open display of love between vampire and Slayer was not entirely unexpected, but the exchange of not so much words, but emotion had hushed his complaints for once. He held Anya's hand and they waited. Dawn busied herself making people comfortable, offering drinks, pillows and blankets all around.

They kept up this running banter for quite a while, heedless of the others, until Willow returned. "Buffy, it's done, but I don't know if it'll hold for very long. Tell us. What's going on?"

Buffy sat cross-legged on the floor with Spike's head in her lap as she related what had happened earlier that evening. "It was really quiet out there. No vamps, no demons, nothing. I stopped by to see Clem and even he was gone. So I decided I might as well go by the school and see if Willow's freeze spell had worn off. I made it in all right but...."

Buffy made her way down the now familiar basement stairs to the rooms below Sunnydale High. But as she stepped off the last step, where there should have been floor was a soft bog. She pulled her foot back and looked around. Mist covered the floor's surface so thickly that Buffy could not see any walls, if there were walls to see. "Spike?" she called to no avail. "Are you here?" Buffy ran a mental inventory of her weapons; stake in her hand, sword across her back, knife strapped to her ankle. Extra knives and stakes, holy water in her back pack. She took a deep breath and stepped out into the marsh. Her night vision was great, but here, in the fog she could not see well.

She looked up and where there should have been dangling light bulbs she saw stars. Something swept past her leg in the haze and made her jump. Immediately she heard a thrumming begin. It was as if the room was laughing at her. "Spike?" she called again, stepping cautiously forward, fighting her fear of the unknown with each movement. If she could see it she could fight it, it gave her focus and a target. Unseen horrors made her uneasy.

It seemed impossible, but the fog grew thicker the farther she walked. Another something in the gloom wrapped itself around her arm. With a stifled scream she struck it with her stake, watching its indistinct shape melt from her and move back silently into the gloom.

Her feet were wet now and made sloshing sounds as they were sucked into the mud at each step. Wryly she thought, "Slayers should always buy discount." The deep bass sounds of the walls continued their rhythmic beat. She felt forward with her hands, looking for walls that had been there just a few hours before. In the distance she saw a soft glowing light and she turned toward it.

As she approached the light, shadows drifted in and out of her view. She crossed several hundred yards of the bog and knew that she was well beyond the boundaries of the school. "Spike?" she called again. Shadows floated in and out of view in the mist, another wrapped itself around her arm again and she drove it off much as the first. Another shadow was taking form near the light. When she stepped within the circle of light surrounding it, she realized that the shadow was different, it had substance.

Floating there in front of her, suspended several feet off the ground was Spike. His body was upright, his arms flung open. His head lolled to one side and his eyes were open wide but unseeing. She had never seen him look so...dead. He hung over an open hole emitting the red-orange glow she'd seen. Buffy stepped as close as she dared and looked over the edge. Beyond the illuminated walls saw...emptiness. Bottomless.

Quickly she searched for whatever mechanism was holding him in place but found none. Her senses were singing of danger, knowing that she'd just fallen into some kind of trap, but she couldn't turn her attention from the man she loved.

"Spike? Are you hurt? Damn it Spike, answer me." She felt for wire or string, but found nothing.

In answer to her search, the noise that was still surrounding her rose in pitch and volume, driving deeper into her. Buffy fought to focus on releasing Spike but soon grew frustrated. "Whoever you are, whatever you are, let him go!" she shouted to no one in particular.

A voice that seemed to come from inside of her gave her the answer. "No Slayer, we will not release him. His mind may be gone, but one more useful element remains."

Trying vainly to find the source of the voice, Buffy turned her back on Spike and faced outward, seeking her foe with stake raised and sword now brandished. "Show yourself!" she cried.

"You see, but you do not know," the voice replied in her head. "We are all around you. We are in you."

"You must have some form, some physical manifestation that I can...."

"...fight...kill? No, my dear. Nor do we serve any such entity. We simply are."

"What are you?"

"Evil." The malevolent voice in her head drew out the word like a caress, giving it texture and making it sound...desirable.

With the exchange, a drowsiness fell heavily over Buffy. "I've met you before, then," she murmured, her words already faltering slightly.

The voice chuckled richly. "Yes, you have, but only small parts of us that could be contained. But now we are free, and beyond any physical capacity. Won't you join us?" The voice drew nearer, as if it were her own thoughts. "We offer you the freedom you desire in return; freedom from fear, from duty, from responsibility, from decision, from commitment." Buffy's vision blurred and her thoughts wavered. In spite of herself, Buffy had to admit it sounded good. Freedom.

"Think of it, human, nothing forcing your future, nothing directing your life, no Council, no job, no enemies, no friends problems, no friends, no family worries."

At the allusion to Dawn, Buffy found the strength to blink and to try to shake off the fog now obviously eating into her mind as well. "Free?" she muttered, trying to think. "If you're free, then something or someone released you. What was it?"

"You cannot reaffix our bonds, girl. You haven't the competence. We tire of this, Slayer. We have learned much about you in your time with this man. We are ready now and need the sustenance you can provide. If you will not give it willingly, we will take what we need." As the evil began demanding her acquiescence, its voice grew louder within her, but equally, its will began to be easier and easier for Buffy to renounce.

Her head was pounding. The unrelenting noise ran through her and made her body tremble, but now her voice rang clear, "Let Spike go!"

"Ah, your William," the presence eased a bit as the evil saw an opportunity for torture and the sound took on the sensual timbre of temptation again. "He was interesting in his time. Conquering that tormented mind was a challenge fit to distract us as we grew in strength, here where the veil is thin." Spike's body began to descend toward the gaping hole at his feet. "And there were mysteries within him that even we found unexpected and intriguing. But we have broken him and his power is nearly gone, his life source drained." The voice paused. "We knew you would come for him. You will serve us well."

"I will never serve evil." Buffy admonished loudly, meaning to convince herself of its truth, as well as to dispel the evil.

"Perhaps that expression was ill-advised. We meant to say...service."

The voice chuckled softly and Buffy saw another shadow being created within the mist beyond her. "Mom?"

"Buffy? Honey, do what the nice voice says. Join me. It's comforting, inviting, gentle. I'm very happy here. Evil can be a warm companion, it can match your strength, anticipate your desires. Buffy, give in. Come with me. Cross over. Be with us."

Weariness threatened to overtake her again, but Buffy shook her head. "It's an illusion. A trick."

The shape shifted to that of Tara. She was smiling broadly. "Hi, Buf......"

Buffy screamed, "No!" Without thinking, she lunged toward Spike. As she sprang through the air, her shoulder rammed into his chest with a decided crack. She'd broken at least one of his ribs but whatever force that had been holding him snapped and they fell to the floor. Floor? Somewhere in the back of her mind, Buffy noted the hard concrete, but the rush of adrenaline through her system was keeping her body moving in spite of thought. She picked up Spike's body and ran. The stairs were the way out and her vision narrowed on the only way to safety. She did not see the mists begin to rise again, but just as light began to fade, the floor began to turn back to swamp, and the walls to dissolve into the distance, she hauled Spike up the steps and into the linoleum lined hallway of Sunnydale High.

She only had a moment to breathe before tendrils of fog made their way under the door and toward the couple. Buffy began to feel the fog's numbing effects as it neared them but almost before she recognized the danger, she found herself on her feet and running from the school with Spike across her shoulders. As she put distance between them and the building, Buffy's head began to clear. Halfway home she found a bench and laid Spike across it, still unsure if he was just dead like usual or really dead.

She knelt beside the bench and rubbed his hands, mumbling unceasingly, "Please don't be dead. You can't be. I need you. I'm sorry I hurt you. Please don't die. I should've gotten you out of there. I knew it was dangerous. I love you. Please. Please." For ten minutes there was no reply and the fear that he might not wake up was beginning to grip her when at last he coughed. It was the most joyous sound she could ever remember hearing, ever, and she started to cry.

She shuddered with great sobs of relief and as her tears washed away the fear, they washed away other sins too. She felt remorse for her immaturity, for her selfishness and her unwillingness to love. She sat and cried, spilling countless tears for quite a while, her head resting on Spike's chest, her arms wrapped around his neck.

When at last she raised her head, she saw her lover's blue eyes looking back at her. Buffy smiled, "Hi."

"Hi," he replied, his voice ragged and he coughed again.

"You shouldn't have.... I was afraid...," Buffy began, then stopped and started over. "How are you feeling?"

He answered with a worn smile. "Weak. Used up. Confused."

"You'll be okay now. I promise."

"Buffy?" he said, staring up into the stars. "Is it really you?"

Taking his hand and resting her cheek on his palm, Buffy replied, "Yes, Spike. It's me. Really."

He looked back at her quizzically, "Face is wet."

She lay her small hand over his and nestled her face into his hand, nodding. "I was worried about you."

"Really?"

"Uh huh."

Neither of them could think of anything else to say.

After a while, Buffy thought she saw mist beginning to surround them, and the ground start to soften. Fear for Spike made her stand up saying, "Let me help you get up. We can't stay here. Do you think you can walk? It's not far now and you can lean on me. Otherwise I can carry you."

"Thanks," he grinned. But grinning hurt, so he stopped. "I'll walk, luv."

Buffy helped him to his feet and quickly realized that it was going to be slow going. "Okay, take it easy," she said with more conviction than she felt.

*****

"So that's how we got here, what's after us and why Willow went to set the wards," Buffy finished breathlessly. She absently rubbed her hands over Spike's arm, warming him as he lay still curled on the floor, his head in her lap. He had fallen asleep there and it was forestalling his pain, so she didn't want to disturb him to move him while they talked. Besides, he had seemed so weakened by their walk home she was worried.

And it was nice to have him close.

"How do you think you escaped, then?" Xander asked practically. "I mean, if it was pure evil and could read your minds and all?"

"I've been wondering about that myself. Any ideas?" she searched the Scoobie's faces.

"I w-wondered. I mean..." began haltingly, "Well, you said that you rescued Spike without thinking, that it was just instinct. Maybe the evil can only react to what you're thinking?"

"Yeah!" Xander interjected. "You said it was swampy down there, with things sliding out of the dark. Isn't that one of your fears, Buff? Darkness? Maybe it was feeding on your thoughts, playing with your mind and when you went into instinct-mode, it couldn't handle it."

"There are numerous instances where evil has used other beings to achieve its own goals. The life forms would provide, for example, the instincts of a warrior, yet their will bent to evil's purpose. It's possible that without those other entities, evil would have the disadvantage Xander suggested," Anya theorized.

"What does it want though?" Willow wondered.

"Buffy," the rest answered in unison.

"Her strength and instincts would provide it with an arsenal. It used Spike to lure her to it, but obviously didn't plan on Buffy's Slayer instincts being so strong."

"It won't be so easily distracted next time. And it has access to more people now that it's out of the school basement."

"So, did cleaning up the old school site release this thing? Cause, I'd kinda like to know if I'm responsible for this."

"I don't know, Xander. It could've been the rubble keeping it in the Hellmouth, or a spell..."

"But however it was released, was Spike standing between it and us, all alone," Buffy added softly, lovingly. "We've got to stop it, before it gets to anyone else."

"So what do we do?" Anya asked. "How do we beat it if Buffy can't kill it with an axe?"

"Research?" Dawn offered.

"No," Buffy answered, "I think we know all we need to. And, I don't think we could make a plan. It would know. We have to just face it with what we've got."

"What's that?" Xander asked anxiously.

Buffy looked around the room, "Each other."

*****

Xander helped Buffy take Spike upstairs to her room. He was sleeping fitfully as though he were still struggling with the evil that had finally overcome him. They laid him on the bed Xander left quietly. Buffy knelt down by Spike's side, holding his hand. She looked at his face, for the first time in a very long time, if ever. It was a good face.

With him lying helpless there before her, Buffy was overwhelmed with love for the man who had stood between her and evil itself. She leaned close and kissed his cheek. "Spike, I know you're sleeping," she whispered, "You deserve that. But there are a few things I need to say to you, again. Seems like I can't find a good time to say this, but I love you."

Spike lay still, eyes shut, but ears open. His mind was, for the first time in months, clear of all thoughts other than his own. He was comfortable, warm and Buffy was telling him she loved him. If it was a dream he didn't want it to end. Then she spoke again.

"We're going to try and do...well, something, but if we can't and it gets me...gets into me, if I join it...I just wanted to tell you how I...." Buffy began to sob. "It's so unfair," her head falling to his chest and the bed shook with her sobs.

"Buffy? What's wrong?" She lifted her head and looked into his eyes. Instantly she started to wipe away the tears, masking her emotions. "Please don't."

"Don't what?" she asked, still rubbing her cheeks with the backs of her hands.

"Hide your tears from me. I have to know...so I can make it better." Spike's voice faltered and he shut his eyes again.

Buffy looked at the man who lay on her bed. He was broken, bleeding, his mind had been ravaged and his new soul pillaged for love of her. He looked like a drowned rat, but he was still offering to take her for all she was, to accept her strength and her weaknesses, to give her all he was. Laughter bubbled up from somewhere within her at the unflinching absurdity of it all and it wheedled in among her tears. She laughed because she remembered the creature he had been and how he had made a man from what had remained. She laughed at how blind she had been to the happiness they could have shared. She laughed, wondering how he imagined that he, in his condition, would still make it better. She laughed because he lived.

"Now luv, that's just confusin'," he murmured. The next thing he knew, Buffy's lips were pressed against his own in a kiss full of such fervor that if he'd needed to breathe, he'd have chosen to die instead, because he was happy.

And then Buffy made happiness, bliss. "I love you," she whispered in between kisses. "I love you, Spike."

Moments later, she sat up straight and slapped him hard on the shoulder. "You idiot! You didn't have to do this by yourself. All you had to do was ask for help. I would've...."

"What, pet? Thrown yourself in the path of whatever it was? No, not for me."

Buffy waited until he was asleep again and with one last kiss on his cheek, she crept silently from the room.

*****

After years of the practice being ingrained by Giles, the gang found it extremely difficult to go into battle without a plan. In fact, they ended up using one anyway, at least in the beginning.

"Bait?" Xander howled. "You can't be bait!"

"But I can't fight it, Xander. This thing isn't Glory, or Adam or the Mayor or anything like that. There's nothing I can accomplish with my Slayer strength. This thing messes with your mind and I don't know if I can handle that right now. It almost got me twice earlier today and now it knows more about me and it's stronger. It wants me. The only way I can get it to do what I want it to do right now, is give it what IT wants."

Xander sputtered, but kept his mouth shut. She was right.

"Okay, that's settled. You and Anya will take Dawn upstairs and keep her and Spike safe." After a pause Buffy added, "as long as possible." Xander took Anya's hand and they both nodded. "Xander," she stopped him with a hand on his arm, "I'm trusting you guys with the two most important things in my life." Xander felt tears swell in his eyes, but nodded and followed Anya up.

Buffy turned toward her best friend. "Willow, are you ready?"

Willow, whose eyes had been as wide as saucers since they began talking about this idea, spoke for the first time, "I'll try."

Placing a hand on Willow's arm, Buffy reassured her, "You'll do it, Wil. This is what makes sense. It's what needs to be done, and you'll do it."

The witch nodded numbly and then whispered, "Buffy, what if I can't, you know. What if it gets to me and uses me against you? It's very powerful and I might...be drawn in against my will. I could just not be strong enough."

"There are always questions. Always doubts. I'm scared too. Trying to rid the world of something I can't kill is something I haven't done before either, but it's up to us. Just us." Willow nodded this time with somewhat more conviction, giving herself over to the future.

"Okay, let's do it then."

*****

Buffy stepped out onto the front porch of her house. Rovello Drive was typically very quiet, but now, in the distance were the sounds of several sirens and as she watched, people wandered in and out of view, moving aimlessly down the street shaking their heads, muttering, looking confused, disoriented. Their movements were agitated, tense and Buffy recognized many of the signs of the possession that Spike had suffered, as she now realized it had been, in their eyes. "My God," she thought, "it's going to get them all."

The street was no longer nice, hard asphalt, but seemed to be made of mud and grass, undulating dangerously and engulfed in a thin layer of the same green mist that had followed Buffy and Spike from the school. The changes stopped abruptly at the steps to the Summers' porch, the point where Willow had set the wards. With a deep breath, Buffy cleared her mind and stepped deliberately beyond the safe area her friend had made, into the front yard. There she sat down on the ground, crossed her legs comfortably and called out, "You want me so bad? Come and get me."

They had talked about what might happen and Buffy had steeled herself against every eventuality they could imagine. She was prepared to face terror; real or imagined, torture; physical or mental, loss; of life, limb or property, but she was not prepared.

*****

Willow sat inside the house, trembling. She had watched Buffy walk out the door, knowing that the next move was her own, but terrified of all it meant. Now she cowered on the sofa, her eyes shut, hoping it would all go away. *I didn't finish my training. I don't know what I'm doing. I am so out of my league here. We should have waited for help. I could have called Ms. Harkness or Giles to come. If Tara were here I could face this for her, but she's not and I'm so alone, and so scared.*

Buffy's words came back to her, "Willow, it isn't a monster, it doesn't attack the body. I might be able to hold it off for a while like Spike did, but not very long, and not for forever. You have to do this, for all of us." Buffy had once told her that she was the most powerful person she knew. But she didn't feel very powerful now. Now she just felt...well, like Buffy must have felt throwing herself off of the tower. *Yeah, and that worked out so well.*

*****

The world stopped moving. The people who had been out had all wandered away, the writhing roadway became smooth, the leaves rustled to a halt. No birds or crickets chirruped, no stray cats yowled or dogs barked. It was as though nothing existed in the universe, not even time, but only Buffy, the ground beneath her and the mist. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the green fog began to draw itself to her. It grew thicker and heavier, but kept it's distance, ringing itself about a foot away from her all around. Buffy struggled to keep her mind free of distraction, of thought and waited. But the evil was patient. It drew around Buffy and it waited too.

As she concentrated blankly on the mist, it began to form into a human shape again. Buffy watched as the First Slayer appeared before her. She was seated on the ground, mimicking the way Buffy sat in position and posture. "An illusion," Buffy called. "Can't you do better than that?"

A grin crossed the First Slayer's face and she spoke. "Hello, girl."

"Evil," Buffy acknowledged.

"Uh, uh, uh. Not nice," the First Slayer wagged her finger. "We're here to barter."

"Great, a deal. I still haven't figured out 'death is your gift', by the way. Any chance of you letting me in on that?"

"Everything comes in time. This is a different lesson. Power. It's all about power and who has it." This was sounding familiar. Buffy wondered where she had heard it before? "So who has it now? You or us?"

"I do," Buffy answered. "I have what you want. I hold the cards."

"Hmmm...," the voice rolled over her in waves, "But we have something you want too. We hold these people in our hands...so to speak. And you want them unharmed. Don't you? You don't want us to take their strength when yours will do instead, do you? Now who holds the power?"

For a moment Buffy faltered. Then she rallied, "Me. I still do. If you damage what I want, you don't get me."

"Then, we'll simply take you and the rest without a bargain."

"Then why don't you."

There was a hesitation then, "We're in no hurry. This prize is worth the waiting." Buffy felt the mist caress her back; cold, clammy, chilling. She stiffened, but her stare remained on the First Slayer. They sat in silence, two Slayers, like the opposite sides of a single coin. Buffy considered her options. This was not the kind of fighting she was used to. Wits were not her weapon of choice. Yet so far, so good. She concentrated on breathing.

"If you join us, you don't relent your power, your power becomes a part of a greater force. We will rule together." Involuntarily, Buffy shuddered. She hadn't seen the First Slayer's lips move. Yet the voice had been hers and the younger woman had heard it clearly. The entity had obviously been able to send her a thought. Having someone in her head was frightening, but not unexpected. Well then, let's see what happens if....

The First Slayer's eyes grew wide. This time her lips did move. "Such language, girl! This will not do. We are trying to be considerate, to win your affection, but you have no respect."

Buffy smiled. "Respect is earned, not demanded or taken. I bestow honor only where honor is due."

"Do you?" the voice in her head was back. It sounded in control, gentle...right. "Did you honor Glorificus? Alcatha? The Master? These served us well, they wielded our power in your world, held sway over their own kind, meted justice of our making. Where was your honor then?"

Buffy considered this. Those demons she had killed, they had been efficient, powerful, leaders. They had ruled their own subjects with a strong hand, but their subjects were unruly, just demons themselves. Sure, they had killed humans, but that was their way, it was their culture, their food. She had stopped them in seeking out their own survival and in doing so, she had single-handedly wiped away a culture's greatest leaders, possibly many cultures. Where, in fact, was her own honor in accomplishing that? If those demons had been leaders of tribes in the Amazon rain forest, her own culture's retribution would have been sure and swift. She hung her head, "I'm sorry."

"Dear, no reason for apology now, now that you understand. You were ignorant, but you have listened and learned. Just as you already have power, you do not comprehend it. When we rule together, when you join us, you will see. You will appreciate their need to please and glorify us, to serve us, to die for us, to venerate the power."

"So, power belongs to everyone, but it is given us freely by our minions, given or taken from those who are led by those of us who lead because only then can they admire its consequence. And the more they give, the greater the adulation."

"Ahhh..." The voice that rang through her head now, acknowledging her new found wisdom, sang to her, it coursed through her veins and gave Buffy an affirmation she'd never known.

*****

Willow lit the candles with shaking hands. She had forced herself to stand on trembling knees and in doing so, she had seen out the window. Buffy sat on the front lawn, surrounded by mist while the world carried on around her, none of the passersby took any notice, but Willow knew it was bad, she could feel the energy amassing. Now her hands shook so badly the match went out. She took a deep breath and tried another match.

*****

The sound of that voice reverberated through her, it shook her heart, it rippled through her muscles and beaded on her skin like sweat. It surrounded her, filled her, drowned her. Buffy couldn't catch her breath, but then she couldn't remember why that was important. All the important stuff was gone. There was no battle because there were no sides, only her and the power, and they were one. There were no demons, only those who shared the power. There was no death, only continuance, ongoing energy. All it took was for her to accept it, to understand it, to embrace it.

*****

The circle was uneven. It should be perfect, but her hands would not hold still. Willow closed the sign around her with the last grains of salt and one by one began to lower the wards around the house. Silently they fell away and Willow felt the presence outside more strongly with each protection she dismantled. Funny, as the danger grew more acute, the young witch's focus grew to match it. Her sense grew more attuned to each detail, her mind sharper to each nuance of nature. She knelt on the floor of her circle and with one last thought for those she loved, a silent prayer for them and herself, she began.

*****

Spike's eyes fluttered opened. It was dark, he was comfortable, the voices were gone. He raised a finger to his lips. Had he dreamed it? Buffy's lips on his own. He gingerly raised himself up onto his elbows and looked around, he was in her room. No, it hadn't been a dream. He dropped his head back down on the pillow and smiled to himself. "She loves me." His eyes closed again and he remembered the kiss again; the passion, the warmth and he chuckled, "She loves me." No sooner had he begun to relish this, though, did another emotion rear it's ugly head; one he had only recently become reacquainted with, fear. He sat himself up again with effort and called, "Buffy".

*****

Although her eyes had glazed over, Buffy could still see the world around her, but it began to lose form, the trees began to melt into the sky, the ground into the roadway, the house into the fence. She watched from her new vantage point, fascinated not afraid. The First Slayer's face melted into the earth and Buffy was alone, but a part of it all. "Yes," she murmured, "free." She began to sway to and fro, following the rhythm of the beat that poured into her.

*****

"Spike," Dawn answered him as she entered the room. She had been wandering in the hallway outside when she'd heard him speak. "Spike, you're awake."

"Where is she l'il bit? Where's Buffy?"

"She's...well, she's outside, Spike. Working."

Spike threw off the covers and tried to stand. Failing miserably, he sat back hard on the bed.

"You can't stand up and walk around, Spike. You've been through to much." Dawn tried to push the vampire back into bed and pulled her hand back quickly when Spike went game face and snarled at her.

"She's in danger." Spike shook his head frantically, trying to get the pieces to fall back into place. "Gotta go to her."

Dawn recovered her composure, understanding that it was his concern for Buffy that had made Spike jumpy, she was jumpy too. She felt a compulsion to rush downstairs, but was suppressing it. Spike had to too. "No, Spike, you can't. You're not...." But he was out the door before she could say another syllable.

*****

Slipping easily from her temporal body, Willow's mind eased into the world around it. She felt herself become a part of the floor beneath her, blending with the grain, seeping into the molecules. Drawing energy as she went, replacing it with some of her own, moving nearly unnoticed, feeling, seeking. She'd done this before, in England with Ms. Harkness watching over her. She'd stretched out her mind and become one with her surroundings understanding her place within the vast framework nature held. The one time she had done this unsupervised had been the time she'd reached through the earth and seen the Hellmouth. This memory caused her to pull up, frightened. But soon the comfort of the other elements and the knowledge that everyone was counting on her, caused her to continue.

*****

"No, you can't go down there." Xander stood in Spike's way. He would never have dared to do this to the vampire at full strength, but Spike swayed before him and frequently touched the walls to catch his balance.

"Damn it, Harris. Down there is where I have to be!" Spike blinked to clear his vision. He turned to Anya, "Please?"

"We're supposed to protect you. To keep us all safe up here."

Spike shook his head. "Nowhere is safe. She needs me."

Xander exchanged glances with Anya and hesitated. What if Buffy did need her vampire? Dawn, however, had apparently made up all their minds. She stepped from Buffy's room with Spike's black leather duster in her hands. She slipped it over his shoulders then stepped in front of him. "If you feel you have to do this, then you're probably right...go." She and Xander stepped out of his way and with one grateful look, Spike stumbled past them and down the stairs.

*****

Willow passed through into the earth, working her way deeper and deeper, enjoying the feel of the cool, nourishing earth around her. Then she moved more deliberately toward the front of the house. "Slowly now, dear," she heard Ms. Harkness' instructions again. "If you wish to move undetected within someone's mind, you must appear to them as secretively as their own thoughts." Willow idly wondered if Ms. Harkness had ever read evil's mind.

*****

Spike fell into the door at the bottom of the stairwell, just managing to block himself from a nasty head wound with his arms. Upstairs, Anya and Dawn flinched at the sound. The jarring blow threatened to break him, but didn't. He reached for the doorknob and braced himself then stepped abruptly out onto the porch, taking no notice of the witch within the circle on the living room floor.

*****

Somewhere in the back of her elation, Buffy felt a twinge of...something and she frowned as it turned itself to an aggravation. It was like walking on a sunny, beautiful beach and finding a pebble in your shoe...or like driving your sports car down a fast road and a nice juicy beetle hitting the clean windshield. She rolled a tense shoulder, hoping it would go away. But it didn't.

*****

"Buffy," Spike called stepping off the porch. He missed the last step and fell to the ground shaken but determined he crawled toward her. "Buffy, please."

*****

"I have to go down there too," Dawn looked helplessly into Xander's eyes. "I know it."

"Dawn, I'm up here to protect you. I can't let you. Please, I don't want to hurt you."

"I'm needed."

"No, you're not. Let Buffy and Willow do their jobs."

"It isn't their job. It's something for me."

"What?"

"I don't know, Xander. But it's down there."

*****

The irritation was stronger now, and noisy. Damn. Buffy shut her eyes deliberately, concentrating on the feelings she'd had of freedom, lightness, acceptance, strength. Evil hummed for her, calling to her.

*****

Willow brushed up against the energy unexpectedly. She had anticipated that it would be over the earth and that her path would take her under it, but it had permeated the ground and she'd nearly run into it headlong. She pulled back her 'feelers' and waited. Nothing happened. It hadn't noticed. She reached forward again slowly. Within centimeters she had reached it again. It's was unmistakable, the very essence of the creature that had threatened her through Spike earlier...was it just earlier that day? It embodied everything unlike what she had earlier enjoyed; it made the earth reek with carnage, submission and death and unbidden tears fell from the Wiccan's eyes for the loss.

Gathering herself together once again, Willow boldly began to reach into the evil energy itself. It was the antitheses of all she had become and the familiar touch of it made her shudder with disgust at what she might have been. Building on that, she continued, opening her mind to the messages she would find. Without notice she entered the power before her and began to search among the dreams of destruction for a weapon.

*****

"No!" Spike was at her side now, pulling at her shoulder. "Buffy, you can't do this. Buffy!"

Secure in it's acquisition of Buffy, the evil drew in it's power and struck out at Spike now without warning, tearing at his soul, flooding him with images of his own making, suffocating him with guilt, laughing all the while.

The vampire fell back on his heels and covered his face from the images that ravished his mind. He felt the tears welling within him, pity for himself, for those he'd wronged...and then he felt Buffy's hands on his.

*****

She found it. Deep within was a memory, raw with worry and anger and alive with possibility.

*****

No words passed between them. But as Buffy felt the evil withdraw enough for her to gain her senses, she woke enough to see Spike huddled near her, swathed in his duster, kneeling at her side, his head in his hands. She knew only that he was himself again, that he was there and in pain. She reached to pull his hands away. Having lost its grip on them both, evil drew itself around them; done with games and ready to rid itself of these toys and move on. Buffy tenderly lowered Spike's hands and drew his eyes to hers. In silent agreement they faced the future together.

*****

Seared within the walls of evil's memory were the words she sought. Willow read them now, as easily as her third grade primer:

Trapped within the earth
as you were at the formation
you will remain.
Though you may seek
Freedom through devil's means
The Hellmouth is your domain.

Then the young witch erred. She stayed to see what would happen.

*****

The green mist that had threatened to envelop them dissipated with a force that sent leaves flying in all directions. Buffy and Spike clung to each other in the gale and held their breath. As suddenly as it began, it was gone and they found themselves sitting on her front lawn, looking at each other in amazement. There were no words for what they felt. It was good just for it to be quiet.

****

Xander and Anya came down the steps slowly, following Dawn who had refused to stay safe. The gust that had blown through the windows had not been natural and he made his way to the door to see what was going on. He looked through the open front door and saw...Buffy and Spike. No evil, no destruction, no badness. "Hey, guys," he called out with a smile and a wave. They looked back blankly at first, and then with a smile forming slowly in their eyes. Xander turned back into the house and saw Dawn kneeling beside Willow who lay sprawled on the floor.

Her body had fallen over her circle, scattering the grains and knocking over candles. Her eyes were wide and Xander rushed to take her pulse, if there was one. There was, but it was thready and threatened to stop with each beat. "Buffy!" Xander called out wildly. "Buffy!"

With as much speed as they could manage, the Slayer and her vampire came into the house, worry already creasing their faces.

"Oh, my God. Wil," Buffy cried as she raced to her friend's side.

Willow struggled to control her breath and managed one word, "Power."

They all looked at one another. "Power? What did she mean?" they asked.

As they puzzled, Dawn stepped forward and sensing something incomprehensible was about to happen, the Scoobies fell back, allowing her to approach their fallen friend. Moving now in a daze, Dawn picked up Willow's hand. Just then a seizure began to take its toll on Willow's body and Buffy whimpered helplessly.

Anya made for the phone, but before she could dial '9-1-', Spike called out, "Wait. Look."

They all stared. Where the two hands were joined together, a soft light began to glow. It was a pinpoint of light, but so brilliant that they couldn't look at it directly, and then it grew to an illumination that surrounded both Dawn and Willow in a soft, shimmering, topaz light. When it had expanded as far as necessary to enclose the two girls, it stopped and hovered around them for a full minute before it dimmed and disappeared.

Willow lay still and Dawn sat, looking drained. No one said anything for a long time and then Willow groaned. It was like a signal to the rest of them and they all began to act at once. Xander gently lifted Willow onto the couch, Anya tended to Dawn and Buffy crawled to Spike's side where he slipped a grateful arm around her shoulder to keep him upright. When they were all in place, Buffy asked the question they all wanted to ask, "Dawn, what the hell was that thing you did?"

Dawn shook her head slowly and shrugged, as clueless as the rest of them.

From the sofa, a soft voice answered, "Power. I needed some. Dawnie had some. Energy, remember?"

All eyes turned to Dawn who looked back at them wide-eyed.

"Oh, yeah. I forgot," Buffy managed with a smile.

EPILOGUE

After a while, Xander and Anya made their way to the kitchen to make tea to calm everyone's nerves, a habit Anya had picked up working with an Englishman. The others stayed where they were, still too exhausted to move, but ready to talk. After the tea was distributed and customized, Xander raised his cup in a toast, "to another apocalypse averted."

"Here, here," they all agreed with tired voice.

No one knew what more to say, so Buffy began. "Tell us what happened, Wil."

With effort, the witch told her friends how she had entered the mind of evil, found the thing it feared and how she'd read aloud the incantation. "As I read, I felt it turn its full attention on me. It was...I don't know...terrifying."

"...liberating," Buffy finished at the same time and all eyes turned to her. Slowly she found words for what she had felt. "It drew me in, promising me freedom from everything, responsibility, duty, rules, destiny."

"Is that what you want, pet?" Spike ventured hesitantly.

"It's what it thought I wanted. And I guess, yeah, it would be great to not have to be the Slayer, to not have to be the mom, to not have to face down evil on a daily basis, not to come home from work covered in dust and slime, to be able to study fashion instead of demonology, to be more proficient with a credit card than a battleaxe. But I would miss out on so many other great things." She looked around at the circle of friends, then reached out and entwined her fingers in Spike's and held on firmly.

Xander held his tongue, even finding himself feeling happy that Buffy had found someone to share her life with.

"That must have been when we saw the mist disappear," Buffy continued. "So then what?"

"I was caught off guard by its strength. I had extended myself too far into its center and when the spell took effect, I was sort of...it felt like being on the end of a whip. The connection I had made, drawing power from the earth, was broken too quickly and my body couldn't compensate...until Dawnie here stepped up. Yeah Dawn."

"Here, here," they all repeated, more jovially than before.

"It just seemed...like that's what she needed," Dawn responded shyly to their praise. "Who knew?"

"Well, we know now," her sister responded proudly. "And for next time." Dawn straightened her back with purpose and smiled.

Willow tried to stand up and found her feet but swayed dangerously between the couch and coffee table. Dawn, feeling protective of the witch with whom she'd shared something incredible, jumped up to steady her, finding her own legs none to stable. "Woah. Maybe we'd better wait for the next bus?"

Xander and Anya quickly each took an elbow and, fulfilling their seemingly new roles as caretakers, escorted the young women upstairs for much needed naps.

As the others left the room, Buffy laid her head back on the chair that had been supporting her as she sat on the floor and sighed. It was over. She and everyone she loved were safe...again, and it was quiet.

Too quiet.

She lifted her head and looked around, her gaze at last resting on Spike who sat next to her. One leg was tucked beneath him with the other knee bent to his chest. His free arm was over his knee and his head rested there, unmoving. With the black duster puddling on the floor around him, he was the epitome of the dejected man. Buffy sat up and turned toward him. "Spike?"

He lifted his head and gazed into Buffy's eyes with such sadness that her heart nearly leapt out of her, torn with pity and concern for him. "Spike?" she asked again breathlessly. "What's wrong?"

He turned away again, "'twas quite a long brawl. Just tired, luv."

Buffy knew better by now. "And?" she prompted.

"And," he hesitated, and raised her hand to his cheek. He hesitated to ask her if what he remembered from earlier had been only an illusion, as most visions of her had been for many months. With the acquisition of his soul, the all-consuming need he'd had for her had only grown and asking her was now out of the question. He unconsciously noted the tenderness of her touch and it was enough encouragement for him to continue, still afraid. "And, I'm still not sure what's real and what isn't. I need t'rest, t'sort it all out 's all."

"What's 'real'?" Buffy wondered at his statement. "When did 'real' ever mean anything to us? They tell me that in the 'real' world, people don't believe in vampires, they go to school when they're young, they get 9-5 jobs, they get married, have children, grow old and die. We don't get any of that. You and I, we meet demons on the street and our job is killing them. School is a luxury not to mention having a family or any long term commitments. We can't even promise to grow old...or even die." Buffy looked at the man she loved. He stared at her, his face, in response to her 'pep talk' had turned even more dour, but she wasn't finished. "Spike, our reality can't be the same as everyone else's. It is ours to become whatever we can make of it, however we live it, whoever we love. And, I love you, Spike. You are my reality."

The blonde, recently souled vampire looked up at the Slayer with hope in his eyes at last. "Did you say you...."

"Sweetheart, I love you. Yes, I said it. I said it too late before, I won't make that mistake again. In fact, you'll probably get sick of hearing me go on and on." She voice faltered temporarily as she found herself caught in his gaze and in his arms as he leaned nearer to her. "I'll probably say it all the...." She never finished the sentence. Spike's lips were in the way.

FIN