*********

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Buffy watched as his face blanched and his knees wobbled. If it hadn't been for her Slayer training he would have crashed to the floor, "See, I told you to wait," Buffy was all but holing Spike up as she guided him back to the bed, "Now, sit down," her voice was stern, but her touch was gentle.

Spike looked at the gleam in Buffy's eyes, and didn't know whether to grimace or grin, "There's my Slayer," he decided to grin, "The velvet fist. Tough and soft all rolled in one."

"Yeah well, right now I don't know which will get through that thick skull of yours faster."

"Right now the only thing that's in my head is getting you ready to fight Drusilla," his voice tightened in frustration, "And, how am I going to do that, if I can't even stand for twenty minutes?"

"Exactly my point. I know it feels like you've been standing still for months," she caught the anguished look in his eye, "I know you think that, if you don't jump right in," she knelt so that her eyes were level with his, and took his hand, "and fight the next big thing that comes along, that I'll think you're weak, or something..."

Spike shook his head, "Buffy, that's not..."

She pressed her finger to his lips, silencing him, "Let me finish. I don't think you're weak. In fact, these past few months have shown me just how strong you really are. You may not have been on your feet fighting, but you were fighting," Buffy swallowed hard, "The fact that you're still here proves that. Now you deserve a rest. And, so do I," she made a small concession, "At least until sundown."

Spike took hold of Buffy's wrist and slowly drew her hand away from his lips, "But Dru..."

Buffy sighed, " I suspect that Dru is a lot like her Daddy. Not in it for the quick kill," she knew that if it could, Spike's heart would have stopped cold, again, at the thought of her death. She could see the pain of the idea in his eyes, "Not that I would ever give her the chance to lay even a fingernail on me. She can wait," she smiled sadly, "It's my turn to heal."

At his questioning look, she gave him a soft kiss.
************************************

Drusilla marveled at the amount of space in the abandoned building. She had been so excited at the prospect of having her William home again, soon, that she and Miss Edith twirled like tops and raced to find every last niche that the building could offer. There were so many places that precious things could get lost in, and never be found again.

Mr. Manners had promised her that the game would be fun. And, she knew it would be. William would remember that her games were always fun.

"Oh, Holland," she squealed, "However did you find it? It's perfect. I can't wait for William and Daddy to come to my party."

"I'm so glad you approve, Drusilla," Holland said, "I spent years preparing to host your party. I just wouldn't feel right if you didn't appreciate all the work that went into making this just right for you."

"Oh, but I love it," she beamed, "When my William gets home, it'll be ever so much better," she stopped, a worried look crossed her face, "Have the invitations been sent out yet?"

Holland shook his head, patiently, "Now Drusilla," he said, "aren't you forgetting something? You're lucky I remembered and went back for it, or we couldn't have your party."

Drusilla looked puzzled, her face pinched in concentration, " What could I have forgotten? Oh, yes," she nodded to herself as Holland Manners opened his brief case, and showed her what was inside, "the trinket."

"Yes," Holland said, as he watched the prisms of light bounce in the dark space, "the Orb of Thesula. You can't have your party without that. Remember, I told you?"

"I remember."

"Good. Now, if you'll just wait a few more nights," Holland assured her, "I'll get word to all the guests where the party's to be held, and then you can play the game just however you like."
*********************************

With that one, small kiss, Spike knew what it was that Buffy wanted. She didn't have to say a word. He was tempted to forget all that his soul had taught him. He almost let the demon get the better of him. He wanted her so badly. It had been so long since he'd held her, really held her, that if he let himself be swayed by his needs and desires, he didn't know if he could stop.

The demon in him understood what passion with her could be like. It was a fire that burned like no other he'd ever experienced. The demon had been willing to risk everything just to be close to her. It risked it all, just for the smallest crumb of love. But, the soul was different. He was different, now. He'd been burned before, and now he wasn't willing to jump into the fire again, without first knowing where he stood.

"Buffy, Buffy stop," he said, breathlessly, as he gently pushed her away.

She rocked back on her heels and looked at him with wide eyes and said, breathless herself now, "What, but why?"

Spike looked up at he chipped paint on his ceiling, both in search of the words that would express how he was feeling at this moment, and to somehow escape her large doe eyes. He huffed breaths as if he'd run a marathon, "Buffy," he shook his head, suddenly dizzy from having her so close to him, "you have no idea how much I want this. God, you have no idea." He could hear the rhythms of her body speed up, and he knew he was wrong. She did know, because she wanted it too. "But, it's different now, Love. The demon in me wants you just as much as it ever did. It always wants you. It never stopped," Spike finally calmed enough to look into her eyes, "You have to believe that. But, the man, the soul," he chewed his lip, unsure he should tell her, "Love, that's new. It's never... I mean I've never..." he let his words fall into the chasm between them, suddenly ashamed.

Buffy saw the want in his eyes. She saw the need that was matched only by her own. But, she saw something else, too. There was a certain shyness in them. A kind of newness she hadn't seen before, not even back in Sunnydale in those last days. She tried to remember back to when her own reflection, in the mirror, looked like what was staring back at her now. She hadn't seen that look since before Angel had gone homicidal. Not since the world came crashing down, the weight of it on her shoulders.

Buffy hadn't seen that look since before she'd become old, before she was twenty, and jaded by life. She remembered the light in his eyes, and she understood.

The swell of emotions threatened to burst forth in a torrent of giggles and tears. She had to use every power available to her to keep the breakers from crashing, and keep Spike's dignity intact; "You mean you haven't ...ever?" she was in awe, "With a soul, I mean?"

"No. I haven't. Not with a soul."

"Is that a danger?" she asked, her heart aching for him because of her need to know, and her reason for needing to know, "Is there some way you could lose the soul? Is that why you were so careful, back in Sunnydale?"

Spike fought the need to throw his head back and roar. He could feel the blood boiling inside him. The demon wanted to roar at her. Then, it wanted to tear Angelus limb from limb for being Buffy's only template to draw from as to how a vampire with a soul was supposed to behave. So far as he knew, there were only two in the entire world, and that wanker had to be her first. That tainted how she looked at everything, and everyone, from that day until this.

"No, Buffy," he said, trying to keep the flood of anger he felt from spilling out, "there's no way I could lose my soul, at least not literally, unless I tore it out of my chest," he tried to smile, and was surprised when he saw Buffy smiling back, "No little happy thought is going to make it fly away. It's my soul. And, it's staying where it is," he touched her cheek, and felt her lean against his fingers, "The reason I'm different, both back then and now, is because of what happened," he hated to bring back bad memories, "between us. I need to know that you love me."

She nodded. Buffy knew that she would start crying if she looked at him any longer, so she looked away to hide her tears.

At the slight turn of her head, Spike's throat seized. He didn't think he could finish asking her what he wanted to know. He was truly afraid of her answer. The lump in his throat made his voice weak. He drew her gaze back to his, "Buffy," he wheezed, then swallowed, taking a tiny bit of comfort in her warm, loving eyes, "Buffy," he tried again, this time the voice came stronger, "I need to know. Do you forgive me?"

"Oh, yes," she breathed, tears spilling out her eyes. Saying those two little words to him had somehow lifted the weight of worlds off of her shoulders, "I forgive you, Spike. And, I promise we won't do anything you're not ready for. Okay?"
*********************************

The rain whipped outside his window. It was as if the universe sensed his mood, and gave it physical form so that he, and everyone else who cared to know, could see it. It was as if all the furies had chosen to unleash on Los Angeles today. The wind was so strong that it tossed the pedestrians who were foolish enough to venture out with their tiny umbrellas, like they were little toys, swept away as if by an unseen child in a fit of temper.

And maybe, when you got right down to the brass tacks of it, that's what they all were. Just toys to be used for a little season, and then forgotten about when they no longer held any interest for whatever cosmic brat was up there playing with all of them.

"Sad, really," Holland mused, as he appeared, up from the ether, next to Angel, "to think that your destiny might be in the hands of a child. Oh, I'm sorry," Holland's voice dripped with false concern, "yours really is. I'd forgotten. As a matter of fact, it's in the hands of two children, even as we speak, isn't it?" The Orb of Thesula appeared in his hands, "Your destiny," he said lazily, as he watched the colors swirl inside of it, "in Spike's hands," Holland shook his head as he tossed the crystal sphere, in small arches, into the air. Each time the delicate thing came to rest safely in his palm, "That has to be more than just a little nerve wracking, doesn't it? Gosh, I really hope he doesn't drop it," Holland pouted, "Now that would be unfortunate, wouldn't it?"

"Go away Holland," Angel growled.

"What, and miss Drusilla's party? That would be rude."

"Get out of here before I throw you out this window."

"You could try that," Holland's tone brightened, and he gave Angel a slap on the shoulder, "Wouldn't help, though. I'd just come back. But, don't worry, not all hope is lost. There's still Cordy's idea. After all, who cares about a little contract? Contracts are broken all the time. Court dockets are full to the brim with contract disputes. It's what greases the wheels of our judicial system. What's one more, in the scheme of things?" he paused, in thought, "But, then, doing that could just be what the Home Office needs to put you over the top, couldn't it? On top of that, you wouldn't be in this situation if you hadn't tried to manipulate Spike's destiny like a master puppeteer. What's a vampire with a soul to do?" he hissed in sympathy, "I know I wouldn't want to be you," he sighed, "No sir, not for a king's ransom."
***********************

For the first time in a year, he wished the floor of his flat wasn't so cold. "Sorry Love," he said, wishing he could do something to warm the place a bit for her, "We do seem to be making a habit of not needing furniture, don't we?"

"Well, it's not like this apartment is set up to entertain ladies in, now is it," she teased, "There's nothing but beer and otter's blood in your refrigerator. Not even a cookie to be seen anywhere."

"Not much for biscuits, Love."

"There was that one time. Remember, Willow's spell?"

Spike smiled. Buffy Summers, how I do love you, "One polka dot biscuit does not a diet make, Love. Still, there should be something. I didn't feature still being here, so it didn't seem to matter."

"Hey, don't worry. I'm not complaining," at Spike's quizzical expression, she added, "Okay, so I am," she shrugged, "But that face of yours doesn't need to be all scrunched up with worry lines over me. I haven't seen that face looking so happy in a long time. I missed that face. I don't want to make that face worry anymore. Not if I can help it," she said as she smoothed his brow.

"This face will always worry for you. It comes with the territory of loving you, nothing a vamp can do about that. Ask Peaches," he smirked, "he had spies keeping tabs on you. But, if you spotted them, nothing could be traced to him. So, he could stay comfortably aloof about the whole thing."

"Really," Buffy watched the light in his eyes twinkle with mirth, "and how do you know this?"

"He told me. We were on a recovery mission in Rome..."

Buffy's eyes widened in surprise, "That was you? You were there?" she seemed to be replaying the events of that night in her head. She bit her lip, "Were you...? Yes, of course you were. I knew it. I felt it," at Spike's confused look, she explained, "You were in my apartment, weren't you?"

He nodded.

"I knew it," she sighed, tracing her fingertips over his eyebrows, dipping into the hollow of his scar and back over the curve of his earlobe, "I should have trusted it. My instincts aren't that rusty! Maybe I could have helped."

"No Love, don't think like that. What's in the past should stay there. The fates conspired to keep us apart, with a little help from my ponce of a Grandsire," he kissed the tip of her nose, "But, not anymore. Nothing, and no one, is keeping me from you. I swear it."

"Ditto," Buffy giggled.

"You have such a beautiful laugh, Buffy," Spike peppered kisses down the line of her jaw. He moaned with desire as he nuzzled his face in the crook of her neck, "I missed you. You smell so good, Buffy." He pulled his face away from her; afraid he would lose control, and closed his eyes. Suddenly the room was upside down. Spike tried to find the surface, find the air his lungs didn't need, but wanted if only to clear his mind and nostrils of the scent of her, "Your scent," his words were slurred. He was intoxicated by her, and he hadn't taken a drop, "It's making my head spin. You smell like vanilla and roses, Love. Did you know that?"

Buffy caught his lulling head between her hands, "Spike, open your eyes and look at me." When she was sure his vision was clear enough to see her, she asked, "You're hungry, aren't you?" Spike started to deny what his body was clearly telling her was undeniable, "And, don't even think about lying, not that you could, at this point. I know you are. You're practically passed out from hunger. Take some of mine," she smiled at him, "I've got rivers of the good stuff, right here. I couldn't possibly use it all. Take what you need," she tilted her chin to expose the vein.

Spike's eyes were suddenly clear, his voice crisp and precise, "No Love. You don't know what you're asking. If I lost control and took too much," he blinked away the thought, "I couldn't take it if I hurt you again."

Buffy smiled up into his worried face and pouted, "You see, there's that worry again. I can't be the cause of that. You're not taking anything, Spike. I'm giving. There's a difference."

"I want to. The man in me understands what it is you're trying to do. Love. But, Angelus really is a buzz kill here. The demon thinks you're his. His mark is like a big 'No Trespassing,' sign. It's got nothing to do with you," he sighed in defeat, "it's that blasted claim he's got on you."

"There is no claim, Spike."

He was gobsmacked, "Did I hear you right, Slayer?"

"If what you heard was that Angel has no claim on me, whatsoever. Then, yeah, you heard right enough."

"How?"

Buffy's eyes looked at the ceiling, trying to pull the necessary information out of her brain. Once she had it, she looked at Spike again, and with a smile in her voice, said, "Giles tried to tell me once how this claiming thing works. Let's see if I remember. In order for there to be a claim, a vampire has to drink from you, but, then you have to take some of the vampire's blood, too. Is that how it's supposed to work?"

"That's how it works."

Buffy grinned, "Well, then we're okay. Because, even though Angel did drink from me, on a couple of occasions, I never drank from him," she winked at Spike, "I have tasted you however, and may I say, you're really yummy."

Spike threw his head back and laughed, "I love you, Buffy," he sobered quickly, "You're sure?"

She nodded, and tilted her head to the side, "Yes, Spike. I trust you."

He placed a small kiss to her jugular and murmured, "I love you," before letting his fangs descend down into her tender flesh.

And suddenly, in one, bright brilliant flash he knew. He knew how her face looked as she was digging through the sand and debris, trying in vain to reach him. He knew exactly how many tears she'd cried, weeping for someone who was not dead. He knew how many different ways she'd saved him every night, when she closed her eyes to sleep. He knew just how many of her heartbeats he had missed. And he knew that he wasn't going to miss any more, not one, single, solitary beat would go unnoticed. He knew that not one thing about her would escape him. He would know it all. He knew everything. He knew he loved her.

And, by some miracle he had yet to comprehend, he knew she loved him.

He slowly withdrew his fangs, kissed her lips softly, and was lulled to sleep by her slow and steady heartbeat.


*************

Amidst all the tiny little dots that passed for people crisscrossing his view, Angel saw one that drew his attention like a moth to a flame. He looked over at Holland's self-satisfied grin and asked, "What is Drusilla doing out?"

Holland craned his neck following Angel's gaze through the storm opaque glass, "Oh she's just been out on a little jaunt. Don't worry, she was chaperoned. No hanky-panky. She wasn't even missed. She'll be back, snug as a bug in a rug, before the boy even thinks to miss her. Doesn't do to miss curfew. All that does is make Daddy cross. She doesn't want that," he gave Angel a knowing smile, "And, neither do the people in the Home Office. That's why we've taken steps to ensure that everyone involved here is safe and sound as a pond. Of course, it would just take a quick memo from yours truly, to change that."

"Don't you dare touch one hair on Connor's head you sadistic son of a..."

Holland shook his head in disdain, "Finishing that thought would not be good for Connor. And, it would be a bit like the pot calling the kettle black, now wouldn't it?"
**********************

She heard the rumbling of the thunderstorm. She could see the flash and zip of the lightening as it raced the water down to earth. It was as if the weather had finally gotten the memo about the Apocalypse.

Better late than never.

Outside, the wind and rain could be whipping them all back with Dorothy to Oz or Kansas, or wherever it was she was from. Outside of this small, Spartan apartment, the gates of Hell could be opening and somehow, Buffy couldn't bring herself to care. She was happy here. Folded safely inside arms that, at this moment, did not resemble the muscular ones that once held her, she was safe. She closed her eyes and inhaled. Yes, there it was. She wasn't dreaming. It was all there, just like she remembered it. There was the earth and spice that meant, "Spike" to her. Her brain just couldn't wrap around all the things he must have gone through, to be here, now. She didn't know if it was enough to say, "I'm sorry." She didn't know if that would begin to ease the hurt he had had to endure. But, it was a place to start.

She let silent tears of joy fall as she listened to him breathe in time with her. She knew she was finally home.
**********************

"No," Holland mused, casually tossing the crystal sphere in the air as if it were a baseball, "as I said before, it's not you the Home Office is concerned with." He watched refracted light from the orb dance on the shadows of Angel's face, "You, as I said," he tossed the orb again into the air, eyes tracking it as it landed in his fingers, "have been neutralized for quite some time now. Spike, on the other hand, has not. That's why we needed you in the Circle," Holland paused, taking in Angel's dumbfounded look, "Oh, I am sorry. Did I speak out of turn? Yes, we needed you to believe you were in control so that your natural affinity for, shall we call it self importance," he nodded to himself, pleased with the words he'd chosen, "would do our work for us. Of course, there is always the possibility of enlightenment. Even for someone as dense as you are, there's always a chance that the light will somehow click on. So, we had to develop a 'Plan B.' That's why Drusilla was brought in. She can neutralize the danger, even if, at the last moment, you refuse to."

"How is Spike a danger?" Angel huffed, "He couldn't find his head with both hands. He's a fool."

"Is he?" Holland asked, "Who's the bigger fool, someone who does good without the foreknowledge of a reward? Or, is it someone who does good only because he knows, or thinks he knows, that he will be rewarded with his heart's desire at the end of it all? Is the real fool the one who does good things? Or is it the man who does good things only for his own gain, and for no other purpose?" Holland sighed in contemplation, "Tell me Angel. I really want to know."
***************************

Spike couldn't track Buffy's scent because of the sickeningly sweet smell that permeated the stale air. The air was thick with it. He could smell the heat of her, under that syrupy smell, so he knew she was alive. At least for now, and that was good. That gave him something else to focus on aside from that thick smell that clung to his nostrils, even when he didn't breathe it in. It was heavy, and nauseating. It smelled like molasses.

That smell activated a sense memory he'd rather have forgotten. His brain was telling him to flee, but his heart and his soul urged his feet further into this dark labyrinth. He had to find Buffy, or die trying.

He tried to push past his fear, "Buffy?" he called out to her again. There was still no answer. The place was so dark that even with his keen eyesight, Buffy could have been inches from him and he would not have seen her, "Love, can you hear me?" if Drusilla were close, she might not be able to respond.

He tried to be still and center himself. She was still alive. He knew that. He would sense it if she wasn't. She was here. He just had to dig down, past the fear that threatened to engulf him, and find that place of peace again. Find her. Find home.

He tried another tactic, "Drusilla, I'm here. It's what you wanted, right?" he slowly advanced along the abandoned maze of the factory. He spread his arms wide, in a gesture of supplication, "I'm not going to try and fight you, Dru. I couldn't, even if I wanted to. I'm still a bit wobbly on these sea legs of mine. I haven't taken in nearly enough blood to be any threat to you," Spike knew it was hopeless. Dru was beyond reasoning with, "Dru," he drew in a shaky breath, "let Buffy go and you can have whatever you want."

Drusilla's voice sinsonged out of the darkness, "Do you mean it? Anything I want?"

"Yes, Dru," he begged the darkness, "Anything. Just let me know she's all right."

Before another word could be uttered, the unmistakable scent, the scent that first lured him to this place, filled the air. A scent that he had prized above all others, but that now drove him to his knees in fear and disgust. Slayer's blood had just been spilled. And not just any Slayer's blood, it was Buffy's unique vintage that sliced through the air and straight to his heart.

"Buffy!" Spike screamed in agony as he felt her body go silent in death.
*************************************

The bloodcurdling screams that came from deep in Spike's soul woke Buffy instantly. The agony of them brought Illyria racing to her defense. It would almost have been comical if it weren't so heart wrenching.

She looked into his fevered, sightless eyes, "Spike! Spike, it's all right," she tried to hold him close, to let him feel her warmth, "wake up. It was just a dream. I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere."

The fog of nightmare lifted, "Buffy?" he asked, unsure of reality.

"Yeah, me," she assured, holding him tighter.

"Oh thank God," he sobbed into her shoulder, gently rocking her, "Buffy, it seemed so real. I thought Drusilla had killed you!"

"Well," Buffy soothed, "guess I'd better get to training if I don't want that to happen, hadn't I?" she pulled back from his embrace a little, "Nothing chases nightmares away like a good old-fashioned knock down, drag out, sparring session. Shall we dance, Sir?"

"No time like the present, Slayer." He thanked God that she didn't dwell on what he'd seen. If she wasn't going to ask, he most certainly was not going to volunteer anything.

But, the memory of that dream would stay with him until he really was dust.



IN THE INTERREGNUM

The peace of this place had been disturbed by her unruly emotions. There was no reasoning with this child. Even the miracle of transcendence had failed to change her obstinate soul.

The spirit addressed her again, with infinite patience, "But child, it's never been done. Ever. We do not lower ourselves to mingle with..." the voice sounded as if it had been forced to ingest something rancid, "them. Not even for a purpose as laudable as this. The very idea is just distasteful, to us."

She threw up her hands in surrender, "Okay, so thinking outside the box isn't such a good idea here. I get that. Won't happen again, I swear. But, were you looking at that disaster? I know I broke the rules trying to give him a heads up. But, I honestly didn't think he'd join their side!"

"There are no sides, child. There is only a continuum by degrees. You should have been told this when you transcended."

"I was," she sighed, "I thought you'd make an exception in this case."

"He has been given everything he needs. He has made his choice. It cannot be undone," she felt a hand on her shoulder, "We understand your sadness and wish he'd chosen differently. We did have hope for that one."

The wheels were turning inside her head, "But, there is precedent for what I'm asking. You've done it before. I read about it once."

"That is true. It did happen, but never again in all the eons of time. And that was a special dispensation."

"Angel is a special case!" she pleaded, "You saw that. That wasn't a choice! That was desperation. You took everything from him. How did you think he was going to react?"

"It doesn't matter child, it's done. And, it cannot be undone."

"Please," Cordilia cried, "I'd get on my knees if I thought it would help. I know it's only been done once before and it probably will never be done again, but I know the Champion's still under all that hurt. You've got to let me help him find the reason again. Please?"

"What you ask will be extremely harsh. If we allow this, some who would not otherwise, will be unduly injured. The savior of their world might never come to be if we tamper with the forces that are in place now, because of that one's choice. What would you have us tell them, should they ask after the cause of their injuries?"

Cordilia was confused, "But you said the destroyer would be born. That's happened already. Believe me, I remember. Angel stopped Jasmine."

"That is not the destroyer we speak of. The destroyer still lives, as it should be. If one does not exist, then the other cannot come to be. This is how it must be. This is how it is. If you seek to toy with the fabric of the universe, how will you justify such folly? If the child is not, then the world will not."

"Stop talking in riddles! A person could get seasick from all this doubletalk. Has this dark ugly thing happened yet, or hasn't it?

"There is no future or past. Here, there is only the now."

"Great, more riddles. Look, if the cosmos ends up with egg on its face, tell whoever, or whatever's in charge of the whole mess that it was my fault, okay? I'll take the blame. I'm asking you for your help."

The spirit took pity, "Very well. It shall be done.
****************************
PRESENT DAY-LOS ANGELES

"Love," he said warily, "this is a Viper, not a station wagon. Are you sure you can handle having that kind of power under you?"

Buffy gave him a sidelong glance, "It's not like I'm not used to it. I rode this kind of power before," she smirked, "I made it do what I wanted. How is this different?"

Spike hadn't realized until now, just how much he missed her, "This is much different, Love."

"I know," Buffy said, "I was just teasing. Now, drink all that pig's blood. If we're sparring, I don't want you to fold after the first few punches. I have to be on top of my game. Where is this place anyway?"

"It's on Jennings. There shouldn't be much traffic. This weather tends to keep people in. It should be at the next crossroads," he strained to see past the driving rain and the messy smear of the windshield wiper, "There."

Buffy drove past the private property sign, nodded toward it, commenting, "At least Drusilla will need an invitation before she can ambush us here," and parked the car as close to the closed garage door as she could possibly get, and cut the engine.

Just as the engine stopped, the automatic door on the garage floated up to reveal George, sitting near the entrance with a smile on her face.

Buffy got out first, and greeted the petite brunette, "Thanks again for letting us use your place."

George smiled and shook her head, tossing Buffy the a key ring, as she said, "It's yours now. Gina's Garage has relocated to greener pastures.

Spike was surprised by this, "You sure, George? That's got to cost you quite a few quid."

George shrugged, "Hey, what can I say? I'm a trust fund baby. What good's millions of dollars if you can't waste it with conspicuous spending on real estate? Look at Donald Trump."

Spike shook his head, "George you shouldn't have."

"Hey, what am I gonna do with it? Besides, it's not a garage anymore," she gave Spike a wide grin, "Well, there is one car in there. The rest of the place has been converted into a dojo. For you to work out in."

"George, when did this happen?"

She shrugged again, "I've been busy these past few months. Spike, you know I only became a mechanic to piss my Dad off," she blushed a little, "I was hoping you'd be back, Spike. I'm an incurable romantic," she winked, "I knew you'd be back. People like us, we're too tough to give up."

Buffy and Spike slowly made their way into the garage.

Spike was really impressed by her attention to detail. There were a few touches that were George's but the rest of the décor came from his own memory. He remembered telling George about Buffy. He spent hours reliving how they had spent hours in the training room of the Magic Box. He told George every detail. Every weapon she used, how she moved, he told George everything.

And God bless her. She listened. She really listened.

In a fit of jubilance Spike spun Georgina's wheelchair around until they were both pleasantly dizzy, "George, you're the hottest thing on four wheels, you know that?"

"Take it easy Spike, or you'll be needing to sit down," she craned her neck back to look at him, "You haven't seen the car yet. After you see her, then we'll talk about which one of us is hotter, okay?"

"All right, Love. Just where is this little trollop?" he teased.

"She's in the next bay," she said, "She's not authentic, I added the necro-tempered glass, but she is as close to the real thing as I could get. So, if something's off, be nice, would you?"

"Always Love."

Buffy watched as Spike slowly limped through the breezeway that connected the two parts of the building, with George following a respectful distance behind him. She could almost feel his excitement as he beheld what was waiting for him.

"Oh, my God. George, where on earth did you find her?" he gasped as if he'd just caught sight of the most beautiful thing in the world. He turned slowly back toward Buffy, his eyes wide with appreciation, "She's perfect, Buffy. Everything about her is just like I remembered."

"Well, she should be," George grinned, "You certainly talked about her enough. Still won't tell me how you lost her. Maybe I could have salvaged her for you," she paused to study the boyish wonder that glowed through his eyes. He always got that look when he'd talk about that car. Or, when he'd talk about Buffy, "Of course, if you'd rather have the Viper, I can have Mike hook this one back onto the tow truck..."

" No! I don't want that sodding car! This is the perfect gift, George, really. As for telling you what actually happened to the original, I couldn't Love. It was too traumatic," a bona fide grin broke out on his face. A grin the likes of which Buffy hadn't seen since Willow's engagement spell. "Thank you, George. So much," he said.

Buffy was curious. Just what was there that could render Spike almost totally gaga in two seconds flat? She took the short walk to the next car bay. Her face almost hurt from the smile that spread across her face. That car held some strangely fond memories for her as well.

There, sitting in the bay, waiting patiently for her driver to slip her on like a faded pair of dungarees, was that giant of a car. Shining, as if it knew its true owner had, at last, returned, was that big, black, DeSoto.
************

Holland sighed, "I mean, really. Who does Spike think he is? He only saved the world twice, single-handed. How many times have you saved it?"

"Once. He saved it once. The other time was all Buffy," Angel grumbled.

"Silly me, I forgot about that scrap with Glory. Really must remember to send a thank you note for his help with that. She was a handful. Now let's think," Holland pinched his chin, "That brings his tally to four then, doesn't it?"

"Your math's a little off there, Holland," Angel sneered.

"No, I think yours is. Remember Fred?"

"Of course I do."

"Good. Then you remember how you were willing to sacrifice thousands of people, just for her. If Spike hadn't talked some sense into you, well, Buffy could have been one of those thousands. You do remember her, don't you? She was the love of your universe. Or have you forgotten that, too?"

"I haven't forgotten."

"Is she still?"
*****************

As Buffy circled around Spike, waiting for the split second when his guard would lower just enough to let her in, she decided to help it along, with a little meaningful chit -chat, "What is this black and white swirl on the floor?" she grazed it lightly with her stocking feet, "It looks like the Nike symbol."

"Nice try, Love," he purred, "but you're not making me give you an opening by looking down. Do you have some sort of shoe fetish that I wasn't aware of? The symbol on the floor is George's way of reminding me, us, that we're connected, you and I."

"That's sweet. But, what is it?"

"That is yin and yang, Love. The Chinese symbol for existence."

Buffy tried for a jab, but Spike easily stepped away, "Huh?"

Spike shook his head in disappointment, "You're not even trying. You were dropping your shoulder. I saw that coming. Existence. Dark and Light; Good and Evil; Man and Woman, take your pick. The point is, in order to have one, you have to take the other."

"Which is the dark half?"

"Hmm, well if the answer doesn't light a fire under you, nothing will. We can't stand here all day tracing circles around each other, Slayer. You have got to commit. Make a move! And, don't hesitate, or Dru will kill you! The woman, at least in Chinese philosophy, represents the dark half. She's cold, too," Spike sneered and ran his tongue along the edge of his teeth. His next comment would bring the fire out, he knew, "Real bitch. I'm sure you know the type."

That did it. Before he knew it he was sailing through the air, landing with a thud on the mat below. He thanked George for her forward thinking, as his head recoiled from the impact, to have them there. Without them, his spine would have snapped in two from her ferocity.

Spike stared up at her with eyes that he hoped didn't convey the fear he was feeling as the tip of her stake whispered against the skin that covered his heart. He saw her feral gaze bore into him as she straddled his hips and he hoped that he would be able to talk her down, before the stake was driven home, "I'll show you what a real bitch looks like!" she screeched.

"Easy, Slayer," he said, in a measured tone. He shifted his face back to its human form, "See, it's me," he panted, "old blue eyes," he could see that she had calmed a little, "Now, please, don't move that trigger finger, or I'm dust."

She came back to herself slowly. Buffy took in Spike's prone form, and his frightened eyes, as she let him up. He stayed on the floor even though she was no longer holding him down, until she had the time to gather her wits about her again. "Spike?" she whimpered, clasping a hand over her mouth in surprise at her own strength. She'd thrown him at least a hundred feet across the room and hadn't even been aware she'd done it until she saw his blue eyes staring back at her.

"Yeah, it's me Love," he said weakly, "That's the kind of fire you're going to need to get the upper hand with Dru. Give me a minute, Love," he said, as he struggled to rise from the floor, "then we'll have another go, yeah?"
*********************

Drusilla knew her boy was helping her. He was getting well and that was good. The sooner he was well again, the sooner she could play. And, the sooner he'd be home again, where he belonged.
Chapter 31: Playthings

Summary: The stage is set. The actors are in place. Now, the plays the thing.

Author's Note: Read 'Hamlet' and you will understand the refference. For those of you so inclined reading Job chapters 1 and 2 couldn't hurt if you want to understand what's going on. Please review. ;-)  


IN THE INTERREGNUM

In this place there was no future, there was no past, there was just the eternal now.

Holland had to admit he was surprised at this development. In all his time in the Home Office, he'd never heard of this kind of thing. But then, maybe that was why he'd been chosen for this assignment. Joint ventures weren't entirely unheard of in the world of law. Even so, this was a horse of a different color.

The more jaded among them might begin to think that their lives were playthings for the Powers' amusement.

The fact that his assignment was among the most jaded beings in any working dimension made what he would be asked to do all that much easier, and because of their history, just that much more fun.

If this assignment went his way, he would make Regional Director for sure. If not, the satisfaction would be, understandably delayed, but he would still be known as a rainmaker around the Office.

"I must say I'm more than a little surprised by this. A thing like this doesn't come down the pike very often. I'm here to confirm that this is a legitimate request before we commence work," he addressed the spirit with apprehension, "You understand our concern, I'm sure."

"We do. This is a legitimate request. The results through usual avenues have produced mixed results. This one's destiny is still in the balance. So many destinies depend on this one's choices. We need to know if we have made an error in our calculations."

"An error?" Holland checked the file again, and hissed in sympathy, "Yes. He does seem to be all over the map, doesn't he? Still, I thought the bugs had been worked out of the system? Why come to the Home Office with this?"

"If that one continues to be unfocused he could upset the balance even further, throwing this dimension and others, into chaos. That cannot happen. Then of course, there is the other."

Holland nodded, "Yes. They do seem to be on parallel paths at the present," he studied the file closely, "Have been for quite some time, according to this."

"Yes, and until that is resolved, that dimension will remain in a state of flux. The balance must be restored. You see our dilemma. We cannot interfere, yet for the sake of equilibrium, we must do so."

"I can see how that might be a conundrum," Holland agreed, "I will make the arrangements. We'll start right away."
********************

PRESENT DAY- LOS ANGELES

"Close your eyes, Buffy."

"Why?"

"Buffy, for once, don't question. Just do it."

Buffy's eyes lit up, "Now who has the shoe fetish?"

Spike fought the urge to groan, "Slayer, will you please focus?" he slowly approached her from behind, whispering in her ear, "With Drusilla you can't trust your eyes. She'll use your eyes to lie to you. Now, close them."

She closed her eyes and listened. She reached out with her senses to try to find Spike. On the surface she listened for the rustle of his feet against the mats. She felt the wind rush past her as his body moved through the space between them. She knew he was in the room so it couldn't be this easy, there had to be more to this than playing blind man's bluff all day. This just couldn't be what Spike had in mind. "This isn't what you had in mind, is it Spike? Because, even though I think a game of tag could be very... distracting, I don't think it's gonna help with Dru."

There was no answer. Everything was quiet. Buffy was suddenly in freefall. She had no anchor, no compass. Just empty space with nothing to catch her. Where was he? She was panicked. Had he stepped out for a moment and been grabbed? Had Drusilla taken him? She tried again, "Spike?"

Spike could feel her skin vibrating with the fear in her. Could hear the blood rushing at a frantic pace because of it. In the dark of this room he could see the subtle change in her skin. He watched her skin slowly etiolating down from golden to bloodless and he wished he could reach out and hold her. This was torture for him, putting her through this. But, in order to fight Dru, she had to learn to get beyond her senses.

When she called his name out, he had to bite the inside of his cheek, so hard he nearly drew his own blood, in an effort not to respond. He hated doing this. He knew how he would feel if he were suddenly deprived of the comfort her presence gave him. But, it had to be done. He loved her too much not to prepare her in any way he could.

Buffy felt her skin tighten around her eyes as she fought the muscles that would have forced her eyes open. Okay, so this kind of felt like she'd been thrown into the deep end of the ocean, and asked to swim for her life.

But that was the point, wasn't it? This was her life. This fight was sink or swim and Buffy wouldn't have Spike with her in this fight.

Except she would have him with her, he was always with her and that was the point. She suddenly understood the importance of that symbol George had painted on the floor. They would be connected, always. He was her light in the darkness. He had been ever since she'd clawed up from the grave. Even though she couldn't feel his presence, she knew he was there. It had been, and always would be so.

It was as easy as breathing.

She found the safe place beyond the emotions that he had told her was there, but she had never seen before. She waited patiently for him to come to her. She knew he would, because no matter how far away it goes, a heart always returns to its true north. It always comes home.

The warmth of his voice reached out of the darkness to guide her to the light, "Now you're getting it, Slayer. Open your eyes."
*************************

"The rain seems to be stopping," Holland observed, "The sun should be setting soon. All that's left to do is send out the invitations. That is, unless you still want to talk things out. That's something you've always been good at. The talking part, I mean. Not so good with the action part though, are you? Something always seems to fall apart when it comes to that doesn't it?"

"Holland," Angel hissed, "stop being a gnat in my ear, and shut up!"

"No need to throw me out. I was leaving anyway. The lady Drusilla is entrusting me with seeing that her guests are informed of her party," he stopped near the door and turned back, "You do know that you're the guest of honor, don't you? You don't want to miss this play. It's quite a gripper."

"Holland, get out."

"I'm leaving. Remember what I said. Are you going to let Spike slide into your place without a fight?" he shook his head, "I really expected more from a Champion. See you there. Don't be late," he said as he vanished into the time and space of eternity.
*************************************

Just as Buffy and Spike reached the path in front of his apartment, they noticed that no one was standing watch. Buffy checked the time. They must have arrived just as the Scoobies were changing shifts. Buffy looked around for the relief. She spotted Illyria walking swiftly toward her, "She's really lucky this is L.A.," Buffy said, "Normally, blue hair and body armor would get you noticed, if not arrested."

Spike wasn't listening to her. He was too busy looking in the other direction, his eyes following the black limousine that was creeping slowly down the street and stopping right in front of his door. A man in a charcoal grey suit stepped out just as his umbrella unfolded to shield him from the weather. The man walked right up to Buffy and Spike, smiled and said, "The lady Drusilla has asked me to extend an invitation to you, Miss Summers, to be her," he paused, searching for the right words, "guest for dinner," he smiled, "and the theatre tomorrow night. A crucible of sorts," he produced a small business card from his breast pocket and handed it to Buffy. "This is by invitation only," he glanced at Spike, "of course. The gentleman and his associates will be joining us at a later date. Please be at that address tomorrow night at eight, as per you previous arrangement. Don't be late. Oh, and to ensure that you're not, a car will be by to pick you up at 7:30." He smiled again as he ducked his head back into the limousine and it slowly drove off.

Buffy handed the card to Spike and almost immediately wished she hadn't. The minute he read the address on the card, his hands began shaking and he begged her, in a voice as desperate as she'd ever heard before, "Buffy, please don't go."

"What do you mean, 'Don't go'? I promised. We both knew that this was coming. There's no telling what could happen to you if I back out now. Aside from the fact that there's gonna be this big black mysterious car coming to pick me up tomorrow, we don't know if the poison's really gone out of your system, or if this is just some kind of remission or something," Buffy touched Spike's face and realized that the shaking was not limited to his hands. His whole body was shaking, "Hey," she nodded to Illyria, "let's get you inside," she tried to put him at ease a little, "What happened to the 'Jedi Master' thing you had going there? Really looked good on you."

"Yeah well, 'Jedi Master' wised up a bit and left 'Frightened-To-Hell- Will' in his stead."
*****************************

The abandoned factory smelled of sweets and spirits. It was just perfect for what Drusilla had in mind. The Slayer would walk right into her trap because she thought she loved William. William would follow, because a boy always returns to his true north. He always returns to where his heart is. A boy's heart is, and forever would be, with his mother. William would see that the Slayer didn't love him, not when he was well again. She had proof of that. The Slayer didn't love her Daddy once he'd rid himself of the sickness he'd carried with him.

When Angelus wasn't maimed by the soul the gypsies put in his chest, like a cancer, the Slayer didn't love him. But she did. She loved them both and she wanted them both whole and well again.

They would see that she loved them. And she would see who loved her.
***************************

"Slayer, we can take the car. I don't need to sleep, and with the necro-tempered glass, I can drive around the clock," he was begging her, "Please Slayer, let's just go. Let's just leave. Please. I can't bear to lose you."

This was a side of Spike she hadn't seen. She wondered for a moment if he really had gone mad. Then she remembered what she felt like when Glory was going after Dawn with single-eyed, dogged determination. Buffy had fled out of her love for her sister. Everyone had thought she'd gone crazy, but to her it was the only thing that made any kind of sense at the time. It seemed to be her only way out and she loved her sister too much to see her hurt. If protecting her meant running away, then so be it.

"Spike, is there something about the address that," she bit her lip, "scared you?"

Tears slowly made their way down his cheeks, "Yes!" he snapped. He took a shuddering breath and started again, "I was in that factory once before. I don't want to be there again. The smell of it...even if I wasn't concerned for you, the smell alone might drive away my rational thinking ability."

"Why? Spike, what happened to you there?"

"Slayer, I was crippled there. Dana...she," Spike swallowed hard, "It wasn't her fault. She thought I was someone else, someone who'd hurt her. Slayer, she cut off my hands in that factory. I can't go in there. I can't protect you there."

She closed her eyes in empathy, "My God," Buffy gasped, gliding her hands gently down his arms, "I understand. But this is my fight. And, I'm not going in there alone," she touched her hand to her heart, "You'll be with me. Right here. Now, we just have until tomorrow night, and I don't want my thoughts of you, as I fight the fight of my life and yours," she kissed him lightly, "to be all about that worry face. Spike, will you hold me, please?"
****************

The black car showed, precisely at 7:30 the next night. Holland gave a wry smile as he watched the two lovers embrace, saying their goodbyes.

"Don't worry Spike. You'll be seeing her again soon," he looked at his watch. "In twenty-four hours as a matter of fact," he took in the worried glances that passed between them, " I'll take you to her myself. The two ladies just need time to chat. You can give them that, can't you?"

Buffy hugged Spike tightly, not wanting to let go. His grip was surprisingly strong, "Don't worry, Spike. I'm a big Slayer," he brushed her lips lightly with his. She thought she tasted salt in that kiss. She wasn't sure if the tears were her own, or if they were his, "You'll be with me," she touched her heart, "Right here."

Buffy gave Spike a little smile as she entered the car.

Before the door closed, Holland looked up and smiled at Spike, "You know, Angelus will be given the same offer you will be. Did you know that there are some Higher Ups that are placing odds on you, Spike? I will be very curious to see how it all turns out. See you tomorrow night." He closed the door and the car slowly slid away into the night.
****************

Buffy addressed the blackness, "Well Dru, no more hiding. I know you're here, you want to talk, and I'm ready for you. I had a good teacher. You want to fight? I can handle that too."

"Oh, Slayer," Drusilla laughed, "This was never about you."

Just then Buffy felt a pain in her skull and her vision went fuzzy and then faded to blackness.

"I want to play," Drusilla sneered, "And you are going to pay for hurting my William."
********************************************************************************************************



Chapter 32: King's Counsel

 As he watched the limousine take her away there were two forces that buoyed him up. Two things that kept him from crumbling, just like the concrete, in a sobbing heap in front of Illyria and anyone else who cared to gawk.

One was love. The other was hate. He loved the way she felt in his arms. Loved the way her eyes crinkled in the corners when she smiled. And, the way her voice took to lilting, the way only hers could, when she talked about every little girl's fantasy, and secretly every boy's too, about a white dress and veil.

She'd described it in such detail that he could see it in his mind's eye. Nothing, not even the delicate lace of her gown was left unknown to him. And he was surprised, when the full picture came into focus, how closely it matched his own vision of her. A vision that was not the fractured light that shone through Willow's misguided spell. No, what she had described to him, for her, and by extension him, was a true vision of love.

And, somehow she would have it. That was his promise to her.

He loved how she mutilated the English language to the point that what came out of her mouth wasn't English at all, but instead was a language all her own. He loved that, even after years of being around her, and a year of being apart, he was only now beginning to decipher the subtleties and meaning of Buffy Summers.

They just don't make them like that anymore. And they shouldn't. She's one of a kind.

But the hate is what kept him standing. It kept him up, when all he wanted to do was fall. The idea that Angelus had anything to do with this, or that his actions might upset one hair on her head, made him positively shake with rage. The rage kept him warm. It had to, because the second Buffy left, he felt something leave his body. He wasn't sure what it was, but the space it left in him was a cold and hollow void in the center of his being and it was rapidly spreading, rendering his limbs numb and useless. The rage kept him up. It made him feel. It kept him warm when he was not, and he was thankful for it.

Illyria noticed the set in his jaw and the stiffness of the vampire's limbs as he slowly crawled up from the pavement. She had offered assistance but he disregarded her presence as though she had been a nuisance to him. He'd pushed her away as if she were nothing more than wind in his ear.

"Where are you going?" she asked, as he slowly walked away from her.

"To find Angelus."

The cadence of the vampire's voice, and the venom it carried with it, made Illyria fear for what he would do, should he find his quarry, so she followed.

"You cannot fight him," she said as she kept pace with him.

He stared ahead, "Can't I?"

"In your weakened state, he is sure to kill you."

He shook his head, still refusing to look at her, "I'm dead already. The body just forgot for a while. Maybe he'll finish the job," he sneered, "Or maybe, I'll kill him first. Flip a coin, Highness. Doesn't mean much to me, either way."

"But it means something to me, Spike."

The Texas twang forced him to turn, "Stop it!" he hissed, "You're not her so don't try and pull the heartstrings now," he spread his palm over his chest, "I hear tell this heart doesn't beat, anyway," his face was hard as a marble statue, "Never quite believed it, until now," he whispered.


"The heart in this cavity has also ceased its proper function," Illyria said, shifting back to her natural state, "Yet somehow when Wesley ceased to be, I felt a rage I could not contain. I felt a need to do violence that I could not explain. I understand some of what you feel at this moment. Yet, you cannot be the warrior your mate requires, if you are not. Fighting Angelus now, when your weakness is so pronounced as to be inescapable, is not only ill-advised but it is foolhardy."

Spike tilted his head in contemplation of her, and blinked, "Mate?"

Illyria combed over the words she had chosen. The syntax of the human language was clumsy and awkward, perhaps the words she had chosen did not convey the meaning she intended, "She is your companion, is she not, that is how she functions for you?"

"Yeah, just hadn't heard it put quite like that, before," he shook the cobwebs from his head, "Very well. What do you suggest?"

She slowly turned Spike back to his apartment, "No warrior goes into battle without rest, counsel and stratagem."
*************

Buffy woke to a headache, stale air, heat, darkness and the taste of blood in her mouth. She moaned a little as her head swam in the syrup that hung thick in the air. The smell was so viscous that the weight of pushing air through her lungs caused pain.

Buffy cursed herself for forgetting everything Spike had tried to tell her in the first thirty seconds of the fight. It was stupid of her to think that Drusilla would fight fair. Drusilla wasn't Spike, who despite the occasional homicidal urge or two always engaged her on an even playing field.

No, this was Drusilla she was dealing with. With her, all bets were off.

She called out into the black, "Drusilla, I know you're here," she squinted at the hazy shadows that crossed her vision, "And I know you can see me. Got to say, this isn't your best move. Spike will be coming for me, soon. When he finds out you've hurt me," she smirked, "Things are gonna go bad for you, pretty fast. Let me go, and maybe he won't dust your ass."

"I know that. Miss Edith knows too. But sometimes a mother has to make sacrifices to bring her family together again. Miss Edith misses her William and I miss mine. If he wants you, all he has to do is give me what I want."

Drusilla stepped forward until she was face to face with Buffy. Buffy could see that Drusilla was holding something in her hand; the movement of it was creating little shimmers in the dark. "All he has to do is give Miss Edith a present. Then I can go be with her, and we'll all be a family again."

Something about her tone cut through the pain in Buffy's head. She tried to move but felt the heaviness of metal at her wrists. This was not good. How would Spike handle this? "Dru," she said, "this isn't very ladylike of you. What would Miss Edith say if she knew you'd treated a guest like this?"

"I know. But, it was the only way to keep you here until the guests of honor arrived," she produced a blade from somewhere out of the blackness. Buffy hissed as she felt the cold steel tip press against the skin of her throat and felt the wetness of her blood as it oozed over the blade, "Until then, I want to have some fun."
*****************************

Angel went over that night again in his head. Holland had stood there, in the driving rain, and smiled at him. Everything he'd ever cared about was gone, or nearly so, and all he could do was stand there looking smug telling him that he was still the Powers' puppet. How could that be so? He'd done well. Taking over the Los Angeles branch of Wolfram and Hart had been a good move. So why was Holland still so smug.

Angel thought back to the conversation they'd had in that alley behind the Hotel:

"No need to threaten me," Holland said, "I'm already dead. I can't get much deader." Holland looked thoughtfully at Illyria as she carried the charred remains of Spike and sighed, "It really is too bad that you threw in the towel so soon, Angel. The Powers are still hoping that this turns out for you, really. The straightforward approach, you know, visions and such, didn't seem to be getting the message through to that incredibly dense skull of yours. They felt that a more non-traditional approach might be of some help. So they reached into their bag of tricks and pulled out a golden oldie," he smiled, "This one hasn't been used for millennia. But, I guess, when trying to get through to someone like you, one must be able to think outside the box."

"Does your yammering have a point? I've got things to do."

"You always were a pleasant fellow, Angel. Getting to my point, the Home Office was given carte blanche in its dealing with you, and your cohorts. The Powers wanted to see how you would respond. Think of it like a rat in a maze. The Powers wanted to see how you would react to their little psychodrama. I must say, the Home Office is impressed with your marks thus far, but the play isn't over yet. It still has a third act. Your colorful friend, there," Holland nodded his head in the direction of the church, "is the lynchpin. I suggest you do whatever you have to do to keep him alive, so to speak. He has a significant part in your redemption, Angel. In fact, he is the key to you getting everything you want."

"You expect me to believe that the Powers knew about what the Home Office was doing, and they did nothing to stop it?"

Holland rolled his eyes, "Oh, you really are one-dimensional aren't you? Angel, just as the office in Los Angeles is, or rather was thanks to you, a branch of Wolfram and Hart, the Home Office functions as a subsidiary, or branch, of the Powers. So, yes, they knew. And now, the cost of a building and several valued employees has to be added to my monthly expense report," he sighed, "I despise paperwork. I'd better get the nose to the grindstone. Take care, Angel," Holland said as he disappeared into the mists, "I'll be in touch."
*************************

"Thanks for coming, Bit, you too Red. It's nice to know that cooler heads sometimes do prevail. If it hadn't been for Blue, I don't think I would have been able to reach out and ask for your help with this. I'm not thinking clearly, and I need your help. That crypt keeper in the business suit took Buffy someplace that I wish she wasn't, and told me to wait for sundown tomorrow before I go after her. There are so many things that could happen to her between now and sundown tomorrow. Dru could have already," he shivered at the thought, "The things she learned from her Daddy..." He closed his eyes. For an instant he thought he was back in that nightmare. He could smell her blood, just as strongly as if Buffy were standing right in front of him. She was bleeding.

He opened his eyes to find Dawn staring at him with concern in her eyes, and no blood anywhere in sight, "Dru, she could..."

"No, Spike, don't think like that. There must be some reason Drusilla wants Buffy," Dawn said, "Can you remember how she used to think? I mean, you were with her for a hundred or so years, right? There must be some kind of sense in all her craziness."

"Her kind of madness seldom makes sense, Little Bit."

"But you did," Willow said, "In a weird loopy-loop kind of way. You made sense, when you were crazy. Maybe we just have to find a good translator."

"But Dru is no mastermind of evil. She doesn't think for herself. She can't. Angelus took that away from her. We have to know who's behind her, pulling the strings," Spike nodded grimly, "I was right the first time, Blue. We have to find Angelus. And, when I do, I'll take his head off."
**************************************************

Before Angel could comprehend what was happening, he found himself suspended in mid air, pinned to the back wall of his hotel room, held in place only by the force of Spike's grip.

"Thought I was weak as a kitten didn't you?" Spike hissed, his eyes shining with rage, "Thought you could take her and do the kinds of things to her that you used to do to me and Dru? I might take your head for even thinking it. But I'll let you tell me all about the master plan. Then, I'll take your head off. And, if I find out that she's even chipped a perfectly manicured nail, I'll take your head off again, just because I can."

"Not...my...plan," Angel wheezed, trying to pry Spike's fingers from his throat.

Spike's grip tightened, "Not yours? Whose is it then?"

"The Powers."

Spike let go of Angel and he slid down the wall in a heap, "Start talking, Angel. Now."