Note: This fic is my way of saying thank you and happy birthday to my regular beta t_geyer for her unending patience, perseverance and support... but I still got her to step in once the first draft was complete to beta it for me.

Over the course of the writing process, while t_geyer was taking a well-earned rest, alwaysjbj was a ready 'ear' on Yahoo and an extra pair of eyes when it came to spotting my mistakes.

Chapter 2

"Isn't that Ethan Rayne?"

"So I'm told," Spike answered. "Never met the man in person, though I have come across his handiwork a time or two. Giles didn't seem to think you'd know who he was."

Wes raised an eyebrow and fixed Spike with a sceptical stare. "Those two were the Seventies cabalistic equivalent of Leopold and Loeb. When Giles dropped out of university, he headed straight for London. He wasn't interested in staying under the council's radar. He wanted them to know that he was raising hell. Rayne would probably have come to the council's attention eventually, in any case, but the things he and Giles got up to together put him on the fast track. When Giles reneged and left Rayne to fend for himself, Rayne was never able to accept that Giles made the choice freely. He blamed the council for taking his playmate away. Do you really think they, or the academy, got off scot free when it came to his more anarchic exploits? So, yes, I know who Ethan Rayne is."

"Why do I think I'm going to get a rain check for our afternoon at the beach?" Marie asked, dropping her briefcase by the bottom of the stairs and kicking the front door closed with a crash before she strode into Wes's office, settled her hands on her hips and fixed both vampire and husband with a resigned glare.

"I'm not entirely sure," Wes admitted. "I haven't heard anything about Ethan Rayne for over a decade..." He waited for Spike to provide an explanation.

"That's probably because Giles didn't want to file any reports with the council about him acting like a randy sixteen-year-old or gettin' turned into a Fyarl demon," Spike pointed out. "Long story short, last time Rayne hit town was when the Initiative were around. I dare say, once Rupert got his own body back, and Captain Cardboard and his platoon marched his mate off in handcuffs, his first thought was, 'Thank God he's someone else's problem now.' A couple of months down the line and it begins to sink in what that lot were really capable of, and the old guy is suddenly having second thoughts... By the time the council put him in charge, he tried using his position to find out what had happened to him, but it's like he never existed." Spike shrugged. "Black ops. What can you expect?

Anyway, seems like the watcher figured that there'd have to be records somewhere and he started recruitin' some of the folks his ex, the gyppo, used to know... I mean the council's always had its share of magic users, but they've never been big on the hi-tech stuff, so Rupie-Bear figures that it's time they did something about it. He starts with the ex's address book and starts running background checks, trying to weed out the whackos and work out who they can bring on board. It's slow, but over the years he gets himself about a dozen of these techno-pagans who're willing to hack into classified government systems and good enough to get away with it and, finally, as of today, they come up with a location..."

"Which presumably is somewhere near here?" Wes added.

"Middle of nowhere outside of Stockton," Spike agreed.

"I don't suppose it would do any good if I asked you not to go," Marie sighed, looking first and longest at Wes, but turning her eyes briefly to Spike as well.

"I have to go," Wes argued calmly. "Ethan Rayne might leave a trail of devastation in his wake, but he was never evil per se. He's there because of what he is, not what he's done. There but for the grace of God..."

Spike allowed them three or four seconds worth of meaningful looks before he cut in. "Your fella's right. Even if I wasn't bored shitless and looking for a little slice of payback, he couldn't just leave the guy in there to rot. I could, but then I am Evil.

I was in that place less than a month, and I still have nightmares. Who knows what state that guy will be in after six or seven years? And you wouldn't have fell for the watcher the way you did if he wasn't all Dudley Do-Right."

"You're leaving now?" Marie asked, glancing at the clock that said it was just after eleven in the morning.

"Might as well," Spike admitted. "Give us a chance to scope the place out before dark, pick up anything we think we're going to need and rest up a bit before we go in."

Marie nodded her acceptance.

Spike turned on his heel, leaving the two of them alone. "I'll go let the sproglets know we're heading out." He looked up when he reached the bottom of the stairs, but Rosa was already waiting on the upstairs landing, so he just stepped back and let her walk down to meet him. At ten and a half, her head already reached his shoulder.

"Jaz?" he asked, using his nickname for her half-sister, Jacinta.

"Over at the Harrises', with Amy."

"Guess we'll have to swing by on the way out of town, then. So you heard?" the vampire asked.

"I know they're both scared... but he'll do whatever it is anyway. I don't know the details," Rosa replied with subdued equanimity.

"Turns out the Initiative aren't quite as gone as we thought, Rosebud."

The girl gave a rueful smile. "Better go get them, then." She turned to Wes as he and her mother came out of his office and threw her arms around his neck. "Be careful," she whispered into his ear. "They already got my first dad..." She stepped back and let her mother walk Wes to their car, shadowing them from a couple of feet behind and pulling open the rear nearside door as they said their goodbyes.

Spike ran across the lawn, his blanket clutched tight around his head, and dived into the back seat, giving Rosa a grateful smile as she slammed the door shut behind him.

Rosa wrapped an arm around her mother's shoulders as the car rounded the corner at the end of the street. "I think there's a Jimmy Stewart double bill on TCM, and we've got Häagen Dazs... Might as well be worried together."





"Looks like the missus and the little 'un aren't exactly over the moon," Spike remarked. "If you wanted to change your mind..."

Wes gave a snort of reproof. "Do you really think I'd be able to look Rosa in the face if I let the people who killed her father get away with doing the same thing to someone else?"

"Guess not."

"What did Buffy say?" Wes asked.

"Not a lot," Spike replied cheerfully.

"She must have said something," Wes protested. "I can't imagine she'd be particularly keen on you going up against the people who chipped you. Especially when she's not around."

"Yeah, well, that's why I don't plan on telling her until after it's all over."





"We-e-ell, so far as Rupert's been able to find out, there aren't any demons at this place, and I wasn't exactly planning a mass break-out this time," the vampire hedged. "Like you said, the watcher's mate's more amoral than evil, but who knows what the rest of them are like... Even if they were pure as the driven snow when that lot got hold of them, there's no guarantee that being in there hasn't turned them psychotic."

"They're just people like you or— Well, like me. Okay, so they have some abilities, but nothing that should put them beyond the system's ability to deal with them."

"You do remember Red, don't you?" Spike barked. "Maybe this is the system's way of dealing with them."

Wes made a reflexive attempt to catch the vampire's gaze in his rear view mirror before he pulled up onto the hard shoulder and turned around in his seat. "I don't understand," he told his friend. "I would have thought you would have been desperate to get as many people out as possible."

"You're the one with the conscience," Spike reminded him. "I'm just doing a favour for the watcher and hopin' I'll maybe get some payback along the way."

"But you've been in a place like that. They experimented on you. You spent years with the chip."

"Yeah, and, in theory, I don't have a problem with letting them all out and leaving it up to the police and the hospitals and social services to sort out the mess," Spike agreed, "but what if it turned out that it's not just harmless mages they've got in there? What if that bitch Sam or someone just like her was in one of the other cells? How about if we let her loose, and she came after Bitlet again?"

"It's a valid point, but I'm sure the authorities would give priority to capturing the most dangerous cases—"

"And I was here when Adam was around, and I'm sure they'll give priority to the ones that are most valuable to them, which is not the same thing—"

"And it would provide a distraction, making it easier for us to get out. Say, for example, they had Tara locked up in there..." Wes no longer sounded as if he were entirely sure about his own argument.

Spike actually growled, a deep rumbling noise from the centre of his chest. "If they touched one hair on her head I'd rip them limb from limb to get her out."

"You see," Wes said triumphantly, "I bet there are people in that place who've not done anything other than having magical ability... Just like Tara."

"Yeah," Spike agreed, "but we don't know what those people have done to their brains, and it's not as if we're going to have access to their case notes or time to try to work out who's harmless and who's not."

"You don't know that. We might be able to—"

"Do you know where the nearest big city to Stockton is, Watcher?"

"San Francisco, b—"

"And do you know what's between Stockton and San Francisco?"

Wes rolled his eyes. "Berkeley."

"Exactly!"

"Dawn isn't even there."

"She will be a week from now, and her fella's still around."

"Spike, the chances of anything happening to either Dawn or Brandon would be a million to one—"

"And million to one chances come off nine times out of ten," Spike stated unequivocally.

"What if we could check the individual charts?" Wes tried as he pulled back onto the road.

Spike sighed. "You really don't want to go back and tell the kid you left anyone in there, do you?"





Spike passed the binoculars back to Wes, pushing them out from under the edge of the blanket that protected the vampire's head and hands from the afternoon sun. "Check the roof."

Wes trained the glasses on the area the vampire suggested. "Looks like the guards are in standard army issue fatigues."

Spike rolled his eyes. "Those guys aren't on guard duty. Look at them. They're California's Least Wanted. Smokers. That's our way in."

Wes looked sceptical. "And exactly how is that easier than walking through the main door?"

"They're going to notice if we take out everyone at the front desk," Spike argued.

"They're going to notice even quicker if we set off an alarm getting in," Wes countered. "Not to mention we have to get onto the roof in the first place."

"Fire exits. Twenties building like that, they're going to have the pull down ladders between first and ground. It's not exactly going to be a problem for me to get it down," Spike pointed out. "And ten to one, if we do set off an alarm getting in, they're going to think it's one of the guards or the nurses sneaking out for a quick drag. They might send someone to check, but, as long as there's no damage, they're not going to worry about it too much."

"We still need to do something about security cameras. That periscope trick you pulled when you went after the Axis of Pythia isn't going to be any good."

"Well, for one thing, it wouldn't work since you have a reflection... and I'm not wearin' a balaclava."

"No one is asking you to. I think with a little adaptation I can do something about it. I'm going to have to talk to Tara and Bee and possibly Anya and I'll need supplies. We might be able to get what we need in Stockton, but it would give them an easy trail. We're going to have to detour to San Francisco."

Spike tilted his head to one side slightly as if to give his assent. "We were going to have to go most of the way anyway. And the watcher can't expect you to use your own car, so we'll have to pick up something second hand for cash, assuming you're too prissy to let me nick one."

"It's not a matter of being prissy," Wes protested. "My wife's the District Attorney. It wouldn't look good if her husband was picked up in a stolen car, and it wouldn't get Rayne out of that place either. Besides, it's not as if you won't love every minute of making Giles reimburse you."

Spike couldn't keep the glint of amusement from his eyes. "True." He crawled back from the ridgeline, keeping the blanket over his head like an old fishwife's shawl in a period drama, and then he pushed up onto his feet. "Let's go get something to eat while we sort out our shopping list, an' then we can make a start on the phone calls."





"Michaels, get your ass out here!" Brandon heard his boss yell. "You got visitors."

Brandon put the wrench he'd been using back in its drawer and wiped his hands on an old rag before he headed through to the clean part of the workshop. "Sorry, Gus," the young man whispered, knowing his boss didn't like his student friends hanging around the motorcycle showroom.

"Don't be sorry," Gus replied, tapping the top pocket of his overalls, which bulged as if there was a small wad of paper in there. "Just get here early enough on Monday to have that bike ready by nine."

"I can—" Brandon had been about to protest that he'd get it finished before he left for the night. Then, as one of the visitors pulled down the hood of the oversized sweatshirt he wore, Brandon caught the glint of white-blond hair and did a double-take. Suddenly, he understood Gus's gesture.

"And next time ask your English friend to leave his gun at home," Gus added. Then, a flicker of doubt passed across the old biker's face. "Assuming you want to go. If you're in trouble..."

Brandon gave a rueful smile. "Want to, not so sure. If they're here when Dawn's out of town, it won't be a social call, but, no, I'm not in trouble." He mentally added a 'yet'. It wasn't that he didn't like Spike. He did. It was just that, whenever he showed up, Brandon had to change how he looked at the world. It was as if the life he and Dawn had built together over the last few years was a tissue-thin covering over the world of demons and monsters. It felt real. Most of the time he forgot that it wasn't, but every time Spike showed up and reminded him that it was nothing more than an illusion, he felt like he'd been kicked in the teeth. "They're okay."

Gus looked unconvinced.

"The blond one is Dawn's brother-in-law and the other one's a friend of the family. He's a private eye. That's why he's got the gun."

"If you say so," Gus answered.

Brandon gave the two guys by the entrance a wave and then pointed back to the workshop area before grabbing his jacket from his locker and heading out to meet them.

Gus watched as the blond pulled his hood back up, so that his face was almost invisible beneath its cowl, despite the fact that the early evening was far from chill.

The Englishman wrapped an arm around the young man's shoulders before pulling a crumpled wad of notes from his coat pocket with his other hand and pressing them into Brandon's grip.

Gus decided that it wouldn't do any harm if his Sunday morning ride took him past the kid's apartment.





Brandon schooled himself not to flinch away from Spike's welcoming arm.

"Tell me, Mikey Boy, have you still got that fake I.D. you used to use before you turned twenty-one tucked away somewhere?"

"What?" Brandon began to protest but Spike just raised an eyebrow. "Okay, yeah, I've probably got it somewhere."

Spike reached into his pocket and pulled out the sort of cash Brandon never saw all together in one place unless he was the one cashing up at the end of the day, and only rarely then. "In that case you get to buy a truck. One of us would do it, but they'd be bound to remember the English accents."

"Why do you need a truck?" Brandon asked. From his viewpoint, Spike's grin verged on maniacal, but the vampire just nodded to Wes who was left to explain.

Wes's voice sounded so calm and reasonable that Brandon had difficulty believing his words. "You need a truck so that after we break into a mental hospital and liberate one of the inmates, you can smash through the twenty-foot high wrought iron gates and get us out of there."





"Tara has been recasting the spell on our homes and workplaces at intervals for years now," Wes explained as he carried the new ropes and climbing equipment they had bought earlier from his car to the 'new' pick-up truck. He and Spike had already changed into their army surplus fatigues and were wearing leather gloves so that they wouldn't leave DNA on the rope. "I simply undid the modifications she made to prevent it from affecting our own phones, cameras and so on. Then, I applied it to the amulets rather than to an area."

Brandon pulled his cell phone from his pocket, pressed a few keys, and Spike's coat began to play The Sex Pistols' version of 'God Save the Queen'. Brandon looked down at the crystal shard that hung around his neck on a leather thong. "So why did that work?"

Spike flipped open his phone as Wes replied.

"Try talking to him."

Brandon looked uncertain but spoke into the phone. They could all hear what he said, but there was no echo from Spike's cell.

"I had to make sure they would simply mask the wearers from electronic detection, rather than disable any devices in the area. Otherwise, not only would the disruptions be suspicious, but we would have had some difficulty letting you know when we needed you to make your entrance."

Brandon looked from Wes to Spike as they moved the last of the equipment into the truck's flat bed. "So let me check I've got this straight," he said in a sarcastic drawl, as if he didn't know whether to be amused or pissed off. "You're breaking into secret government installation disguised as a V.A. hospital. I'm your getaway driver, but it's okay because as long as I don't get shot - again - they won't see me on the security cameras because I'm wearing a pretty necklace?"

Spike paused and tilted his head to one side, as if considering the boy's words. "That's about it," he conceded, and then lifted a plastic crate full of broken bottles into the flatbed.





"Miss you, too, Baby," Spike whispered huskily into the phone, "but it sounds like you and the Bit are havin' fun."

There was a pause, presumably while Buffy made some sort of reply.

"Talk to you tomorrow," the vampire promised and then slowly closed the phone. He took the amulet Wes passed him and tucked it in place under layers of olive drab.





With a flick of his wrist Spike threw the door open and returned his picks to their case, which he then put back in his pocket. He took a cigarette from his pack and ripped it in two near the filter, lighting the short end without putting it near his lips. He dropped the glowing ember just outside the door and then took the stairs to the floor below.

Wes followed him down.