“So tell me again why we’re even *considering* this?” Xander requested in a voice of extreme annoyance, giving the Slayer an apprehensive look from where he sat on her sofa.

Buffy cringed inwardly at the blatant disgust in his tone. She had known when she had decided to call this meeting that it was not going to be easy. Convincing her friends that they could trust Spike was going to be hard enough, not to mention convincing them to take great risk to free Diana. Not that they even had a way to save her, yet, she thought impatiently.

But she knew Spike, and she knew that he *would* find a way as he had promised. And when he did, she did not want to spring the news on her friends then. As difficult as she had known it would be, she knew the best thing was to fill them in now on the things she had seen and plans, however tentative, she had made.

“Xander,” she began hesitantly, trying to find the word to convince him as she sat down on the edge of the coffee table, facing Xander and Anya. “If you had *seen* this girl…what they did to her…”

“Vampire, Buffy,” Xander corrected her, meeting her eyes seriously. “Not a girl. Not anymore.”

“Because they turned her!” Willow pointed out from where she stood, leaning against the wall, a frown of confusion on her face. She did not seem sure of which side to take in this debate.

“And that’s sad,” Xander’s tone suggested that he really didn’t find it so. “But *now* she is a vampire. And Buffy, I am all for stopping the Initiative. Don’t get me wrong. They’re turning people, and we need to stop them. But helping to free a killer…”

“She’s never killed anyone.” Darian’s voice breaking into the conversation startled them all. He had stood awkwardly in the doorway during the whole meeting thus far, without saying a word. But as he spoke now, his voice was bitter and angry, though his eyes were downcast. “She’s had a chip since she was turned and she’s never hurt anyone.” As soon as he finished speaking, he glanced anxiously up at Buffy to gauge her reaction, and Buffy got the uncomfortable feeling that he was afraid of being punished for talking.

Xander was silent for a moment at that. But when he spoke again, his tone held such barely restrained anger that Darian flinched. “Because she can’t,” he pointed out, slowly and deliberately. “She hasn’t hurt anyone because she can’t. If getting her out involves deactivating her chip, it’d be letting a killer loose, Buffy! We can’t do that!”

“Spike is looking for a way to do it without deactivating the chip,” Buffy argued.

“Spike,” Xander muttered, looking away in disgust. “That’s another thing, Buff. I know you’re the Slayer here, not me, and you know what you’re doing but…are you sure you know what you’re doing? This is *Spike*, and you’re talking about trusting him enough to come up with this plan…”

“Xander, I’m in the Initiative now! I have more access than he does, I can double-check anything he tells me!” Buffy interrupted, though she wasn’t really sure if her words were true or not. She didn’t know how much clearance she had yet, but she just had to convince the others to go along, and was getting desperate.

“I don’t know, Buff,” Xander said with a heavy sigh. “It just seems like an awful lot of effort to rescue a *vampire*.” He practically spat out the last word.

Buffy swallowed back her irritation. “Xander,” she began, searching out her words as she spoke. “Spike is our only contact in the Initiative who wants to take them down. The only ally we have at this point. And if saving this girl keeps him from getting dusted, well …it just might be worth it. He cares so much about his girl, Xander. You should have seen it, he almost got himself killed, he was so…” Her voice trailed off at the looks she was getting from everyone in the room.

Willow’s look was thoughtful, as if something was just dawning on her. Anya had a smug smile of understanding just beginning on her face. Even Darian was looking up at her wide-eyed, wondering.

Xander looked aghast.

“What?” Buffy asked, hoping it did not sound as defensive as she felt.

“So…this is really about saving *Spike*,” Xander concluded, rolling his eyes.

“Because we need him!” Buffy insisted. *God, still too defensive. Take it down a notch, Buffy.*

“No, Buffy,” Xander said, looking her in the eye with just a hint of accusation in his eyes. “We really don’t.”

“Look,” Buffy sighed, standing up, realizing that she was getting nowhere with him and suddenly very tired of the meeting. “This is not even anything definite. I told Spike the *only* way I would do it would be if I could do it *without* deactivating the chips. He may not even find the way. But if he does…if she’s chipped…what difference does it make to you, Xander? She can’t hurt anyone!”

“It’s just a waste of time. You’re supposed to *kill* vampires, Buffy, not save them. Vampires are killers, Buffy. Killers. Or did you forget all that somewhere during your tour of the Initiative?” Xander demanded, standing with her. The implication of his words was clear.

“I would appreciate it if you didn’t try to tell me how to do my job, Xander,” Buffy said coldly, trying to keep her anger from showing and failing miserably.

Xander lowered his head and walked past her toward the door, muttering, but she still heard him distinctly, “I’d appreciate it if you’d *do* your job!”

Anya followed him quickly as he headed for the door, shooting Buffy an apologetic look. At least Buffy knew that Anya understood, but unfortunately she would go along with Xander on most things. Willow was looking very unhappy and confused; she did not move from where she stood as Xander pushed rudely past Darian as he went through the doorway and headed outside. Darian flinched when Xander touched him, and suddenly Buffy was furious.

She stood there for a moment, trying to rein in her anger. But it was no good. “You know what?” she said aloud to no one in particular, her anger building. “No!” She shook her head as she headed for the door. “No, I don’t think so!” She strode purposefully out onto the porch after Xander, leaving Willow and Darian just standing and waiting, not wanting to involve themselves in the conflict.

A few moments later, Buffy walked back in. “That big dramatic exit would have worked better if he hadn’t already driven off,” she said in a slightly pouty voice.

Willow gave her a small smile, but Darian was staring at the floor. Buffy put a gentle hand on his arm, and he jumped, startled, turning quickly to face her.

“It’s all right,” she said softly. “Just me.” She paused before saying awkwardly, “I’m – sorry, Darian. He didn’t…didn’t mean…I hope you know he…he wouldn’t…” She gave up, realizing that none of the explanations she was attempting to make had even a grain of truth to them, and would therefore not be convincing to someone of any intelligence… and Darian *was* intelligent.

“It’s fine, Ma’am,” he mumbled, not meeting her eyes. “Don’t worry about it.”

Buffy made a decision as she looked at his uncertain expression. “My name is Buffy,” she said quietly. “And I’d prefer for you to call me that, ok? ‘Ma’am’ makes me feel fifty.”

He looked up at her sharply for a moment, a dubious expression on his face. “As you wish…B-Buffy,” he stumbled over the word, uncomfortable with the familiarity suggested by its use.

Not sure why, but needing him to feel safe, Buffy offered the only reassurance she honestly could. “He may not understand…but he’ll do what I say, for the most part…he won’t hurt you…and he won’t stop me from getting Diana out of there, or taking out the Initiative.”


When Buffy arrived at the Initiative the next day and reported to the general, she was surprised when Cordova placed a familiar key in her hand.

“Again?” she asked, raising her eyebrows. *Spike needs to lay off,* she thought. *Or this will stop working.* If Cordova thought that her “techniques” were not effective, she could lose her only way of getting in contact with Spike.

The next moment, however, her fears were assuaged, when the general laughed softly and shook her head. “No, Ms. Summers. I think you got through to him last time. I just thought you ought to have a key. For future times when you have to punish him…” She smiled cruelly and added with a slight shrug, “or want to.”

Buffy forced a laugh which to her credit did not sound forced.

As soon as the general dismissed her, she headed for Spike’s room. If nothing else, she had to at least let him know she had a key now and was free to come and go to his room as she pleased, to prevent him from any further kamikaze-style methods of getting her there.

When the door opened, Spike was standing in his tiny kitchen area, looking toward the door with curiosity and apprehension. When he saw her he said nothing, but raised his eyebrows questioningly. As she neared him, he asked with a smirk, “Did I do something I don’t know about, love? Because I thought I was a *very* good boy last night.”

Buffy suddenly realized that Spike was not wearing a shirt, and God, he had sexy abs, and then she suddenly wondered if Diana had been there last night, and then mentally gave herself a slap in the face for the thought. *You shouldn’t care if she was here last night or not,* she reminded herself. *Evil, soulless vampire. Evil soulless vampire.* she chanted mentally, closing her eyes for a moment. *Evil sexy vampire...No!* She opened her eyes suddenly, hoping her panic at that last thought did not show in them.

Judging by the slightly suspicious frown on his face, *something* showed there. “You got a reason for this visit, Slayer?” he asked her slowly, a smoldering expression in his dark blue eyes.

“Just needed to let you know I’ve got a key now…so you don’t have to go pissing off the soldiers to get me sent in here anymore. I’ll check in with you pretty often, so you can stop risking your life,” she explained, trying to sound as if she was terribly irritated by him, instead of terribly aroused by him.

He glanced at the key in her hand and nodded. “Right,” he said softly, a speculative look on his face.

*God, how much could he tell from a look?* she wondered desperately, surprised at her own sudden nervousness. *Grow up, Buffy!* she snapped at herself. *It’s not like you’ve never seen a half-naked guy before. It’s not like you’ve never seen a NAKED guy before for that matter. So quit drooling over Spike…SPIKE, for God’s sake…and focus on your duty.*

Mental self-lecture out of the way, she turned away from him in what she hoped was a disinterested way, then turned back slightly as if on an afterthought, still not looking at him, and asked, “Any progress on a way to get Diana out of here?”

“I’m trying to find out what I can about how the systems work here,” he replied, frustration evident in his tone. It clearly was taking longer than he wanted it to. “To see if maybe there’s a way…” He hesitated, and Buffy turned around to face him.

“What?” she asked.

“Slayer,” he began, obviously unsure of what her response would be. “From what I’m hearing, I’m not sure but I think the controls for me and my children are separate from the others. If I can figure a way to get Diana’s chip down without doing anything to the others, would you do it?”

Buffy thought for a moment. The question was mind-boggling to her. It was true, Diana had never been without the chip, and therefore had never hurt anyone. But if the chip went down, wouldn’t she revert to her true nature and become dangerous? Could she risk that? But the thought of the truly innocent creature being repeatedly raped and tortured in this place frightened her more than the thought of the threat she *might* be if released.

Was that wrong? she wondered.

She didn’t know. Finally she replied, “I need to think about this, Spike. Find out if you can do it first. If you can…ask me again.”

Her response frustrated him. “That’s not good enough, Slayer,” he argued. “Diana can’t take it in here much longer…*I* can’t…” His voice broke off as it began to tremble slightly, and he looked away from her.

Buffy was silent for a moment, turning back toward the door. “I’m sorry if it’s not good enough, Spike,” she said, and he could hear in her voice that she sincerely meant it. “But it’s all I can give you right now.” And without another word, or waiting for a reply, she once again left him to his thoughts.