Buffy spent most of the next day filling out endless paperwork required for her entrance into the Initiative. She was amazed that the Initiative kept such meticulous records on their personnel; she would have thought they would have tried to keep the paper trail to a minimum. She spent a long time in General Cordova’s office, and therefore thankfully did not see much of Riley.

Following her spontaneous inspiration about murdering him on the way back to her house and its failure, she had realized that she was not sure she could even face him and keep up her “good soldier” act. She thought it might be better to just avoid him, and had managed to accomplish it all day.

Then the door to the general’s office opened. *Oh, shoot,* Buffy thought, focusing on the papers in front of her, avoiding Riley’s eyes.

“General,” he said in an official sort of tone. “I need to speak with you privately if I may.”

Buffy offered to step out of the office, but the general had insisted that she keep her seat, and had stepped out into the hall with Riley. On his way out, as he had passed behind her, Riley had gently squeezed her shoulder in a familiar way that now made her sick. All she could think about when he touched her was poor little Diana, as Riley did unspeakable things to her, and called her by Buffy’s name as he did them.

When the general returned to her office – alone, to Buffy’s tremendous relief – she was smiling.

“Would you be willing to spend another hour with our wayward vampire today?” she asked her laughingly. “It appears there was another incident this morning.”

“Really?” Buffy raised her eyebrows, mind racing with trying to figure out what might have happened. “And I thought our last session was so…effective.”

“I’m sure it was,” the general assured her. “The second incident was really not such a big thing…a minor disrespect to Lieutenant Finn…but Lieutenant Finn has been advising me that I should take a zero tolerance stance when it comes to Hostile 17’s disrespect, and judging by the level it reached yesterday, I’m beginning to think he’s right. Would you be willing to assist me, Ms. Summers?”

Buffy smiled that false cruel smile that she was getting so good at. *Should that scare me?* she wondered. “Of course. It will be my pleasure,” she replied with a smirk.


Buffy used the key given to her by the general to unlock the door to Spike’s suite, feeling oddly nervous at the thought of talking to him again. After all, she told herself, they may have parted on reasonably decent terms with each other, but there was no denying that the vampire was harboring a certain resentment and distrust for her. *And why shouldn’t he?* she reminded herself again, when she felt her irritation and anger rise at the thought. *I left him here to go through this hell for a year. Why would he be glad to see me now?*

Spike jumped up from the sofa when she walked in. “Slayer!” he exclaimed, his tone a mixture of excitement and relief. “Am I glad to see you!”

Surprised, Buffy raised her eyebrows as she looked at him. “Wow. Was that a civil word I just heard, Spike? And…*why*, exactly did I hear it?”

Ignoring her jibe, he rolled his eyes in self-deprecation as he gestured for her to sit down, explaining, “Took a soddin’ huge chance, trying to start something with Finn today, after all that went on last night. I was hoping they’d send you in. If General Bitch decided to handle the matter herself, I’d have been bloody well buggered.” He let out a deep breath he had been holding.

*Too weird,* Buffy thought. *He doesn’t have to breathe.*

“So…” Buffy tried to make sense of his words. “You picked a fight with Riley just hoping that they would send me in here to punish you?” Her tone suggested that she thought it an incredibly stupid thing to do. “Great plan.”

Spike gave her a lascivious grin at her choice of words. If she was going to mock him, he could mock her back. “What if I did, Slayer?” he asked her, his tone low and suggestive. “Hope you’d come to ‘punish’ me?”

“God, Spike,ew!” Buffy gave him a disgusted look, trying to cover the surprising fact that that low, suggestive voice was actually a bit of a turn-on. “Just tell me what’s going on. What’s so urgent that you had to risk extreme bodily harm to get me here?”

Spike’s mocking smile faded instantly as he stood up. “Come with me, Slayer,” he said softly, leading her toward a back room.

She reminded herself that he was absolutely incapable of hurting her as she followed him into the dimly lit room. The only light was a small bedside lamp…this was Spike’s bedroom! Buffy felt very uncomfortable…for the approximately two seconds before she forgot all her confusing, scary Spike-thoughts, when her eyes fell on the small, frail creature asleep on the bed.

Diana.

Here, up close, the resemblance was stunning…and sickening, to Buffy, realizing what that resemblance had cost this girl.

*Vampire,* she reminded herself, then shook her head, mentally correcting the thought. *No. She was a girl. These people made her a vampire. A vampire who’s never fed on humans, never hurt anyone, completely incapable of hurting anyone…* That line of thought was particularly troubling to her, so she quickly put it out of her head for the moment.

“She wasn’t this bad last time I saw her,” she pointed out, frowning. “What happened?”

“Captain Cardboard happened,” Spike replied with disgust. “I suppose he thought the man with the bullwhip didn’t get to finish the job…so he’d finish it for him.” Buffy looked up sharply at the strange note she heard in Spike’s voice, trying to place the emotion. Then she did, and her heart went out to him before she could sternly order it not to. He thought that Riley had beaten Diana again because of his own attempt to save her.

“You did all you could,” she said softly, not taking her eyes off Diana.

He looked up at her in surprise, momentarily distracted from his thoughts. Was the Slayer actually attempting to make him feel better? She didn’t seem terribly concerned with him; her eyes were riveted on his battered childe.

“I need you to help me get her out,” he stated without preamble.

She looked up at him sharply. “I am,” she replied carefully. “I’m going to get you all out.” She paused before continuing hesitantly, “As…soon as I…figure out…how.” She frowned.

Spike shook his head. “At the risk of sounding ungrateful, Slayer,” and the way he said “ungrateful” was an insult in itself, he finished in a hard voice, “Not good enough.”

Buffy raised her eyebrows again as she stared at him, waiting for further explanation.

“Finn’s getting worse every day. The things he does to her…the shape she’s in when she gets here…” He paused, shaking his head as he looked at the sleeping fledgling. He looked her in the eye as he added matter-of-factly, “I won’t be much help to you if I’m dust, love. And that’s what’s gonna bloody well happen if something doesn’t change. I can’t keep just watching this, but with this soddin’ chip in my head I can’t do enough damage to help her…just enough to get myself dusted.”

Buffy did not respond; she heard the ring of truth in his words, but did not know how she could get Diana out without arousing the general’s suspicion. “We’ll come up with something,” she said vaguely, hoping it would be enough to appease him.

It wasn’t.

“I’ve been thinking, Slayer, and I’ve got an idea,” he told her. “You still got your little Scoobies club following you around out there?”

She smiled in spite of his derisive tone, nodding.

“Red…the witch…she’s right handy with a computer, isn’t she?” he asked.

Buffy nodded, looking at him now, interest in her eyes.

“Here’s the deal, Slayer,” he began, holding her gaze. “All the chips for all the vamps in this entire operation are controlled by a computer that sends out the signal in the main control room. These soldier blokes don’t usually walk around this place too heavily armed; they count on the chips to keep the vamps under control. So…if the chips were out of commission…getting out would be a walk in the park…and your girl the computer whiz…”

“No,” Buffy said, her voice hardening as she looked away from him. “I’m not going to deactivate the chips that are the only things keeping these vampires from killing.”

Spike’s anger rising at her unreasonable attitude, he almost snarled, “Diana’s never killed anyone…never *hurt* anyone…”

“Ok, so that works for your children,” Buffy broke in defensively. “What about the hundreds of other vamps they have here? What about the ones that killed for years, until they got the chips? You want me to just let them loose on the general population?”

“Oh, come on, Slayer,” he smirked, but it was masking a growing rage. “They get too out of line, you could just do your job for a change. Slay ‘em.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she demanded, turning on him angrily.

“Nothing, Slayer. ‘M just wonderin’ where the Slayer’s been for the past year while this thing’s been brewing, getting more and more powerful, and if maybe if she’d done her job to begin with we wouldn’t be here now! Oh, that’s right! She’s been too busy shaggin’ a soddin’ *rapist*!” he spat out the words at her.

Defensive fury consumed her and before she knew what she was doing she had raised her fist. The look on Spike’s face froze her hand. There was no fear in his eyes, but rather a fury to match her own, and a powerful challenge as his eyes of blue flame burned into hers…and suddenly she wondered how far she was from becoming just like the Initiative soldiers.

“Go ahead, Slayer,” he said in a very low, dangerous voice, taking a step toward her. “It’s always easier to shut the truth up than to face it, isn’t it?”

Buffy opened her mouth to retort, but was stopped by a stirring from the bed that drew both their attention.

A sleepy, tousled blonde head rose from the pillow, and Diana gazed up at them blankly, glancing between her sire and the stranger. At the look on the woman’s face, and the almost tangible tension in the room, a look of fear came into her eyes.

“Sire?” she whispered timidly, reaching out her hand for him.

In an instant he was on one knee at the bedside, holding her hand in one of his and gently touching her brow with the other. “’S all right, pet,” he murmured softly to her, startling Buffy with his gentleness toward her. “Nothing to fear, yeah? I’m right here.”

Diana’s wide innocent eyes stared into Buffy’s, and she had to look away. “W-who…?” Diana began.

“She’s all right, love,” Spike assured her. “She’s here to…” His voice broke off, and he looked up at Buffy with a demanding question in his fierce eyes.

Buffy took a cautious step toward the bed, looking Diana in the eye again. “I’m here to help,” she finished the thought he had left in a decisive tone. Then she turned her eyes to meet Spike’s, gazing up at her with less rage, but no less challenge than before.

Nodding her head toward the door while holding his gaze, she then turned to leave the bedroom.

“Be right back, pet,” Spike reassured Diana in that hushed, soft voice. “Got some business to discuss.”

Content that she was all right, he followed Buffy out into the living room.

“So you gonna help me or not Slayer?” he demanded, crossing his arms over his chest and looking her straight in the eye.

Buffy met his gaze firmly, but said nothing for a few moments. Then she said quietly, “Find me a way to do this that won’t loose hundreds of actually dangerous vampires on the public, and I’ll do it. I want to help you, Spike. But I can’t be responsible for people getting killed.”

Spike obviously had more that he wanted to say, but realized that that was as much as he was going to get from Buffy at that moment. He nodded once in agreement. “I’ll find it then, Slayer. But when I do, you’ve got to get her out of here.”

Buffy nodded back at him, her face solemn, as she turned toward the door. “Let me know when you do,” she said.

He had already turned back toward the bedroom when she stopped just short of the doorway.

“Spike.”

He turned; she didn’t. “Yes, Slayer?”

She paused, her back turned to him as she spoke. “Riley and I broke up last year.” Another pause. “Right after you left.”

And without another word, the Slayer opened the door and walked out, leaving Spike to wonder about her words, and why she had felt the need to say them.