And I wish I knew the things you think I do
I would change this world for sure
But I eat and sleep and breathe and bleed and feel
Sorry to disappoint you
But I'm real



The moment Debbie and Pete stepped outside of earshot, Jonathan and Andrew spit out their gags.

“What the frell do you think you’re doing?” Jonathan’s voice was a panicked whine.

“He’s got a point.” Andrew continued quickly at Warren’s dark look. “I mean, not that I’m questioning your leaderly judgment or anything. But the whole opening the Hellmouth while we’re less than thirty feet away could lead to badness of Jar Jar Binks proportions.”

“You idiot,” Jonathan hissed as he wiggled his body back to look at Andrew. “He can’t open the Hellmouth. Even all of us working together wouldn’t have that kind of juice.”

“Short Round’s right,” Warren muttered.

“You see,” Andrew crowed. “I told you he… wait. What?”

“He’s right,” Warren said. “There’s no way any of us could magic open the Hellmouth, even assuming we knew where to start. What we’ve got to do is figure a way out of this. Some kind of distraction.”

“You mean like the time MacGyver used the coat string and chewing gum wrapper to…”

“Would you just shut up?” Warren’s angry voice flooded back to them, reflected by the cold stone and sobering the group.

The sounds of Debbie and Pete arguing loudly in the distance continued un-phased, save that Pete’s heavy slaps were falling more often and more fiercely than they had an hour ago.

“How can we distract them?” Jonathan ventured. “We can’t even use our hands.”

“If we were opening the Hellmouth we could,” Andrew returned.

“Don’t you ever give up?” Jonathan shook his head. “We’ve been through this already. We can’t open the Hellmouth.”

“No, we can’t.” Warren’s eyes took on the dark gleam that often made the back of Jonathan’s neck feel itchy and damp. “But they don’t know that.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, boys, that sometimes seeing is believing. Call them over here, Small Fry. It’s time to put on a show.”

+++

“I mean it, Willow. Show me one good reason why they should be all dark and broody behind us.”

“Xander,” Willow sighed as they set out on their trek to the Hellmouth, “Maybe they just have some important stuff to talk about. You know. Like Slayer-Vampirey stuff. No big.”

“I’m not buying it. Something’s not right there.”

Willow glanced back at Buffy and Spike, following and glaring quickly at each other in the brief moments when they thought they wouldn’t be caught. “Ok, so they’re a little extra bad moody at the moment. But we’ve all been a little more… on edge lately. Why do you think something’s different?”

“You’re right. Forget I said anything. It’s probably nothing. It doesn’t even make sense.” Xander ran frustrated fingers through his hair. “It’s just with ‘Debbie and Pete Reloaded’ and the whole new realm of wackiness… It’s nothing. You’re right. I’m just imagining things.”

Now he had Willow’s attention. “Xander, do you know something?”

“No, that’s the problem.” His chocolate eyes searched her for a reason to say more. “It’s just, have Buffy and Spike seemed weird together lately? I mean, aside from the whole ‘I hate you and want you dead and dusted’ vibes.”

“Well, Buffy just got back from Heaven, and she’s still got a lot to wor…”

“I’m not talking about their own stuff. I’m talking about them stuff. Buffy. And Spike. In a ‘there’s something not quite right there’ way. The way they look at each other, the way they act around each other. Right now they’re walking ten feet behind us, side by side, just so they can play evil eyeball tag. And it’s not just tonight. It’s been there for a while.”

“You think they’re fighting or something? In some kind of personal way?” Willows lips tripped awkwardly over the word ‘personal.’

“I don’t know what to think. Just stand under the tree for a minute while I go out on a really narrow limb here, ok?” Xander glanced nervously at his best friend. “You remember how Spike looked the night of Buffy’s birthday party, right?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Well, Anya wound up demanding he walk us home that night so she could feel safer.” Willow started to open her mouth, and Xander cut her off. “Don’t. I know. It was a moment of total emasculation. I feel particularly heroic to think I’ve put it behind me. Anyway, I finally asked him how he got the bruises. You know what he said?”

Willow stared, waiting him out.

“He fell,” Xander said simply.

“Well, ok…” Willow prompted. “So, he fell.”

“No, you don’t get it. He was all awkward and uncomfortable, and Willow, I swear he looked scared. He couldn’t even look me in the eye when he said it. And I know from first hand experience there’s a lot of mean grass out there, but there’s no way he got those bruises from just falling down.”

“So he got beat up and lied about it to save face. What does that have to do with Buffy?”

“Nothing,” Xander said, too quickly. “I mean, that’d be crazy talk, right? Sticking far to the right side of crazy field here. But tonight, in the alley, when I walked up on them, I could swear she’d just popped him.”

“That’s how he hurt his nose?”

“I wasn’t there. It just… They wouldn’t even look at me. And right before we left the Magic Box, I asked him what really happened in the alley. He told me to keep out of it.”

“Ok, so maybe he got fresh with Buffy or something, and she’s so never going down that road, so she had to put him in his place?”

“But then why did she go off with him to the alley in the first place instead of just going to the car? And if he’s been after her, why wouldn’t she tell us about it? Why wouldn’t she just stake him? Why would she be hitting him?”

“Hey there, Mr. KGB. I think we need to take a time-out before we throw our best friend in the gulag, right? Buffy’s been through a lot. She was pulled out of Heaven. We can’t know how that would affect a person. We can’t know how she’s dealing with it. And it’s our fault. It’s me. It’s my fault. So excuse me if I can’t judge her if she gets a little rough with the vampire who shoved a broken bottle in my face.” Willow let out a deep, huffing breath.

“Harsh, Willow. I’m backing away. Look, I’ve put down my judgey gavel and left the bench. You’re right. Ok? And I’m the last one to say Spike doesn’t deserve a good beating. You know how I feel about the peroxided blood-sucker.” Xander’s eyes were drawn to the pavement moving beneath his feet. “But that night,” he said in a lowered tone. “That night after the party. There was just something in his face. It reminded me.”

“Of what?”

“Of my mom.”

Willow’s eyes widened, and she uncertainly spoke. “But, it’s Buffy,” she said, encompassing as much feeling as possible in those three soft words.

Xander shook his head. “I know, Will. And I know she’s different. But say, for one second, we jump out of the ‘this would never happen’ patch and pretend that it’s true. I’m not saying I care about Spike. Cause… hey, that’s never gonna happen. But, it’s not good for her either. To hurt him just cause he’s evil. To do stuff to him just because he can’t feel. Willow, if you ever tell anyone this, I swear I’ll deny it till my dying day. But sometimes I think, if Spike had a soul, I’d almost feel sorry for the guy.”

+++

“So what do you think they’re whispering about up there?” Buffy finally broke the silence that had grown to ear-splitting proportions in the mere minutes since they’d stepped outside the Magic Box door.

Spike’s fists were clenched tightly inside his duster, every line of his body a rigid testament to a lightning storm within. His words, when spoken, were possibly the coldest she’d ever heard him. A simple, brittle, “You don’t want to know.”

“Why are you doing this to me?” Buffy couldn’t keep the hurt out of her voice.

Spike turned a fierce head to her. “What, exactly, my little Slayer, do you think it is that I’m doing to you? Slathering you in my evil ways by walking silently beside you? Single-handedly destroying your broken little life by helping you fight little bads night after night? By watching your back? By watching your sis? Or is it the constant affection you have at your beck and call, the comfort of a poorly whipped dog, that you take such an exception to? Because I know I’m damned, Slayer, but I’ll be damned to an even deeper hell if you can explain to me exactly which of the parts I play in your life make it such a sodding cross to bear to be with me.”

Buffy’s mouth gaped and her eyes widened painfully as she struggled with the verbal blow. He turned from her and stared ahead, jaw set in stone as he walked stiffly beside her. Ten steps, and Buffy could finally whisper an answer.

“You make me lose control. You make me stop caring.”

Spike’s steps hitched for a moment. When he turned to her, the lines around his eyes grew deeper, and his voice was velvet threat. “Did you ever think, Buffy, just for a moment, that might be your problem instead of mine?”

Buffy paused, and Spike took the opportunity to lengthen his stride and catch up to Willow and Xander. He didn’t look back.

+++

“So you guys can really pull this off?” Pete finished pulling the ropes off the last of the trio. Jonathan let out a small whimper when the rope roughly scratched his wrists. “Because I’m kind of looking forward to killing you if you can’t.”

Warren stepped forward. “Don’t you worry. We’ll get your Hellmouth open. We just need a clear space and a couple of minutes.”

“Two minutes,” Pete said, as he dragged Debbie back to the other side of the cave.

Warren watched him walk a good distance away before he turned. “Alright, boys. Jonathan’s on big raging Hellmouth-looking fire duty. Andrew handles summoning all the Hellmouthy demons, and I get the talisman back. In the commotion, they’ll never see it coming. Everybody ready?”

The small, skittish nods he received in response were a poor consolation, but Warren worked up what he personally considered to be a particularly evil smile. “Things are just about to get good.”