With an over-dramatic puff of smoke and a heavy, put-upon sigh, Halfrek materialized before the astonished little group on the Slayer’s front porch, standing impatiently right in the midst of them.

Well – all but Anya were astonished.

“Hallie, just what do you think you’re doing?” she demanded in irritation, crossing her arms over her chest and raising her eyebrows expectantly in an expression she had practiced on her fiancé a few minutes before. “Did you actually *curse* us?” There was a disbelieving reproach in her voice directed at her friend.

Halfrek blinked, honestly puzzled, as much the picture of wide-eyed innocence as a hideously veiny, evil demon could be.

“Curse *you*, Anyanka? Well – no – um…were *you* in the Slayer’s house, dear?” She seemed genuinely confused by the situation, unsure of how the curse had managed to affect her best friend.

“Well, yes,” Anya replied blankly, as if Halfrek should obviously have assumed that already. “My fiancé is kind of her best friend. Well -- *was* her best friend. And -- *was* my fiancé. I’m not really sure if he’s actually either at the moment,” she amended matter-of-factly.

“Oh, I’m so glad,” Hallie replied, reaching out a companionable hand to rest on Anya’s arm, completely sincere in her satisfaction that her friend had finally come to her senses.

“Hey!” Xander started to protest, even as Anya uncomfortably smiled at her friend and freed her arm.

“Shut up, Xander,” she and Buffy chorused in near perfect unison.

“You *know* her?” Buffy turned to Anya, eyes wide with surprise.

“Well, I *was* a vengeance demon for a thousand years, Buffy!” Anya reminded her with a careless little shrug. “We worked together for a long time. Hallie’s been my best friend for – what’s it been now, Hallie, a hundred years?” she guessed casually.

“More,” Halfrek remarked, nodding in agreement to the basic idea of her friend’s words. “Honestly, Anyanka, if I’d had any idea that *you* were in this house…”

“That’s her!” Dawn suddenly declared from the doorway – and Buffy suddenly wondered how she had noticed the demon’s presence so quickly – unless she had been watching the little scene that had taken place on the porch between her and Spike, from her bedroom window.

Which would not have surprised Buffy in the least.

Dawn was the only one of all her loved ones who seemed to completely support her pursuit of the vampire.

“Buffy, that’s her! That’s the woman from…”

“We know,” Buffy cut her off tersely, turning her attention back to Halfrek. “She did this to us. And now she’s going to *un*-do it. Isn’t she?” She fastened her best Slayer glare on Halfrek, a pointedly questioning look on her face.

“Well, I’m not so sure about that actually, Sweetie,” Halfrek corrected in a sugary sweet voice, the flash of anger in her eyes revealing just how much she disliked Buffy’s manner. “That’s not really the way it works.”

“It is tonight,” Buffy shot back, determination in her voice, as she took a threatening step toward the vengeance demon.

“Oh, please!” Halfrek scoffed. “I could teleport out of here before you could move another step, Sweetie! I’m *so* not scared of you, even if you *are* the Slayer. And besides,” she continued, looking toward Dawn, with a certain softness of compassion in her eyes. “I don’t care who you are or what your excuse is – this child was hurting. All I’ve done is to help her.”

“But you *haven’t* helped me!” Dawn snapped, her blue eyes blazing with fury. “All you’ve done is to get me into the worst trouble I’ve ever been in, in my whole entire life! Now my sister knows all *my* secrets, too – and you have *no* idea how bad that is,” she declared with a dark little laugh, shaking her head. “Besides,” she added, “I never asked for your help, anyway. At least – I didn’t mean to…”

“Hmm,” Halfrek mused carelessly, a slightly defensive note to her light voice showing that she was more than a little offended by the Slayer’s threats and her sister’s lack of appreciation for what she had done. “That’s not *my* fault. I was trying to help you, Dawnie…”

“Don’t call me Dawnie!” Dawn snapped, taking a step toward the vengeance demon herself, though Buffy caught her arm and pulled her back.

At that point, Spike became angry at the whole scenario. Here this strange demon was, intruding in all of their lives, messing with their minds and emotions, and then treating it so lightly, as if she had done nothing wrong, as if it didn’t even matter. Buffy and Dawn were both terribly upset, and his emotions were already on edge from the intense, dramatic conversation that he and Buffy had not quite managed to finish.

Truth be told, he still felt as if he was on the edge of an emotional meltdown – and he bloody well did *not* feel like dealing with this at the moment!

“Nobody asked for your soddin’ help, and we bloody well don’t need it, so you can just…”

His angry words broke off abruptly as his glistening, red-rimmed sapphire eyes came to focus on the strangely familiar face of the creature before him. Strangely familiar, despite the veins and dark streaks that marked her as other than human…where had he seen her before…?

And suddenly – the mind games, the condescending attitude, the falsely sweet smile and demurity that even after a century she couldn’t quite hide…suddenly, it all made sense.

And Spike felt his heart drop into his stomach, as time seemed to freeze around him, and go spirally backward at breathtaking speed – both at the same time.

“*William*?”

A moment’s silence fell over the group, each staring at the vampire and the vengeance demon in bewilderment.

“You two – know each other?” Buffy asked, her voice coming out somewhat timid and unsure, suddenly, though she felt a flare of jealous anger rising up within her. She knew she had no right, at this point, to question Spike’s friendships, or – or other relationships, but – but who *was* this demon, anyway?

*Maybe it’s time I start slaying…* she thought darkly.

“Yes,” Spike replied almost automatically, even as he was shaking his head emphatically in a “no” gesture that the truth spell would not allow his words to support. He immediately grimaced; he had not intended to be so honest, to acknowledge his history with this vengeance demon, to her or to anyone else. “We knew each other,” he admitted with a sigh, knowing that he had no other choice. “A long time ago. Nothing that matters now.”

Halfrek’s wide-eyed look of disbelieving surprise faded into a soft, though clearly condescending smile, not without a certain amount of nostalgic affection. “My, how time changes things,” she murmured, looking Spike up and down with obvious appreciation. “It’s been a *very* long time, William.”

Strangely, Spike could not hold her gaze when her eyes returned to his – still the same deep, rich brown that he could nearly lose himself in – and he looked away uncomfortably.

Buffy found herself wondering if vengeance demon’s dusted when you staked them, or left a nasty mess to clean up like most demons.

Then she found herself thinking that it didn’t really matter.

She wanted this demon *gone*.

“More tears, I see, William” Halfrek commented in a soft, sympathetic voice that was still somehow cold and mocking. “Have you any pretty poetry to go along with them this time?”

Her carelessly cruel words caught him off guard, and Spike flinched, looking up at her again in startled hurt, unable to find words to respond. But Halfrek thought that she understood the source of the anguished emotions so clearly visible in his expression.

“Still aiming a bit higher than our station, are we, William?” she remarked, taking in the scene with new comprehension, recognizing suddenly who the current object of the affections of the “bloody awful poet” must be. Her smile widened slowly with mean-spirited amusement. “One hundred years and you still haven’t learned?”

Buffy could not possibly have known the history that had passed between these two – how this woman had broken his heart and driven him to his destructive destiny over a century earlier. She had no way of understanding the significance, to Spike, of her cruelly pointed words.

All she knew was that Spike’s tears were flowing down his face again, and she could almost feel the ache of lonely pain and age-old hurt that was so evident in his all-too-expressive blue eyes.

“Excuse me – just who do you think you are?” she demanded, in an angrily challenging tone, stepping protectively between the smirking vengeance demon and the uncharacteristically subdued, emotionally vulnerable vampire, who still had not managed to overcome his shock and hurt enough to respond in his own defense.

“Excuse me?” One eyebrow shot up – or at least Buffy thought it was an eyebrow – causing Halfrek’s hideously veiny face to look nevertheless regal and intimidating. She was clearly ready to take offense at the Slayer’s words and tone.

“Um – Buffy? Vengeance curse? Still in place?” Xander reminded her in a nervous voice. “Maybe it’d be a better idea to *not*…”

“I don’t like you,” Buffy stated, eyes narrowed, looking very scary in her own right as she took another step toward Halfrek, ignoring her friend’s warning and speaking to the demon who was currently attempting to stare her down.

“Um – Buffy…” Anya attempted this time, becoming a bit concerned herself, despite her annoyance with her maybe-not-fiance. She knew her friend well, and she could tell that Halfrek’s temper was rising.

This was a definite clash between two very powerful personalities, poised to become violent at any moment.

“A vengeance demon’s wish granting isn’t her *only* power,” Anya reminded Buffy cautiously. “She’s also very skilled in a fight.”

“I know,” Buffy smiled, her eyes glittering coldly as she took a step toward Halfrek. “Maybe I’m looking for one.”

“Why would you want to fight me?” Halfrek scoffed, looking unconcerned, though her hand flew to her pendant as she watched the Slayer with wary eyes. “What have I done?”

“I’m really not sure,” Buffy admitted with the frank, simple honesty dictated by the curse. “But whatever it is, it’s upsetting Spike, and I love him – which pretty much means I want to kick your butt back to your own dimension without the use of your ugly little necklace.”

“A Slayer in love with a vampire?” Halfrek sneered, her eyes widening with surprise, as she added in a contemptuous voice, her eyes finding Spike again. “*Anyone* in love with *him*? *There’s* a new one.” As an afterthought, as if she had only just registered the words, she frowned, offended. “And my necklace is *not* ugly!”

“Doesn’t come as a shock to me,” Xander muttered darkly from behind her, at the exact same moment.

His words registered with the vengeance demon a moment later, and she turned to look at the dark-haired youth, aghast. Only when Xander realized that Anya and Buffy, and even Spike, were all giving him the same look, did he realize just how the words had sounded.

Defensively looking around at all of them, he quickly amended, “On the *first* count…not the…in love with Spike…count…”

Buffy was the first to recover from the shock of Xander’s ill-timed comment.

Before Halfrek could turn again to face her, she had lunged at the vengeance demon, knocking her forcefully to the ground and plowing her powerful fist into her face. Although the demon probably could have put up a very good fight, she made it her immediate goal just to escape, her hand reaching instantly toward her pendant – her power to go home.

Buffy did not intend to let that happen.

The Slayer gripped the pendant’s chain in her hand and jerked it off in one quick motion, tossing it across the grass, to land at Spike’s feet. Halfrek lunged after it, but her progress was jerked to a halt by the very determined Slayer, who caught her legs and yanked her back across the grass, slamming her fist into her face again.

*Then*, the vengeance demon started to fight back.

Halfrek and Buffy traded blows for a few minutes, neither gaining an obvious upper hand, while Anya and Xander stood back, staying out of their way. Anya’s attention was caught by Spike’s motion, across the lawn from them, as he leaned down to pick up the gaudy jewel on the broken chain that had landed at his feet.

He stared at it for a moment, recognizing the power it gave its bearer to do harm – aware that her power to do harm lay far deeper than in the glittering jewel he held. Still, his eyes suddenly hardened, and his jaw set with determination.

Anya knew immediately what he meant to do, and despite the trouble that Halfrek had caused for them this night, she could not bring herself to wish the same crushing, confusing agony that she had gone through upon being turned human, onto her best friend.

“Spike – no!” she cried out, stepping forward, but unable to get past the grappling pair fighting on the ground in time to stop him.

Spike dropped the gem onto the wood of the porch – and before anyone could stop him, crushed it there under the heavy heel of his boot.

And with it, the power that Cecily’s cruel words had held over him for all those many years.

“Buffy, she’s *human*!” Anya cried out, realizing it was too late to save Halfrek from her fate – only wishing to save her from the surely life-taking blow that Buffy was about to deal her.

The Slayer froze with a horrified gasp, over-correcting and tumbling backward off of the gasping, wide-eyed, confused *woman* on the ground, struggling to pull herself up. Her face was no longer that of a vengeance demon, but of a reasonably pretty brunette, *human* woman.

At least – she *would* have been pretty…if not for the various bruises and cuts that marred her face and arms from the worthy walloping the Slayer had dealt her.

Halfrek struggled to her feet, feeling her arms, looking down at her body in panicked bewilderment, trying to make sense of the suddenly necessary breaths she was drawing in, the human heart that now beat in her chest.

Her wide, fearful eyes rose slowly – to meet the steely blue gaze of the blonde vampire standing beside the porch, regarding her with a cool, calm expression that sent a shiver down her spine, as she realized who was responsible, and how, for her return to the humanity that had once been hers.

The humanity that suddenly, did not seem *enough* for her, somehow.

“You got it wrong, pet,” Spike’s soft voice cut through her thoughts.

Buffy rose slowly to her feet across the lawn, focused on the face of her ex-lover, trying to read the myriad emotions moving across it in a tangled confusion that he could not have put into his words if he had tried – not even with the help of the vengeance curse that had been broken with the demon’s pendant.

“I’m *not* beneath you – not beneath anyone, anymore,” Spike went on in a quiet, certain voice. “Only reason I ever was, was because I let you put me there.”

“Never again,” he added in a voice barely over a whisper, shaking his head as he walked calmly past her, not acknowledging her further, though she turned to follow his movements with her wide, panicked eyes, breathing hard in disbelief over what had just happened.

“William,” she whispered, her voice choked and bordering on tears. “*William*!” she cried out, louder.

But he did not acknowledge her – did not stop, just kept on walking, away from the house, away from the pain and uncertainty of the encounter – just *away* -- to try to make some sense of the muddled, painful tumult of emotions swirling through his mind.

Buffy stood there frozen for a few long moments, not sure how to react – and then suddenly she ran after him, unwilling to let him leave things as they were.

“Spike!” she cried as she caught up to him. “Spike – wait!” She caught his arm, pulling him to a stop and around to face her, halfway down her block.

Not angrily or in a hostile way, Spike pulled his arm out of her grip, turning to continue down the sidewalk. “Not now, Buffy…” he said in a tired voice – again, not angry or hateful or bitter – just so very, *very* tired.

“But Spike – we have to…”

“No, we don’t, Buffy,” he cut her off, his tone a bit shorter now as he stopped and turned to face her. His tone softened when he saw the vulnerable, uncertain look in her wide emerald eyes. “Please – I…” He hesitated, pondering over his words for a moment before finishing gently, meeting her gaze, his own eyes damp with unshed tears, “I know you want an answer, pet…but I can’t rightly give you one ‘til I’ve bloody well found one for myself, can I now?”

She had no response, no choice but to acknowledge the point he was making. She shook her head slowly in reluctant acceptance.

“And I’ve bloody well got to figure out the soddin’ question before I can come up with the answer,” he muttered, shaking his head with a weary, sad smile that faded away as he sighed. “Just – just let me go,” he requested softly, holding her gaze pleadingly for a moment before turning and walking away again down the sidewalk.

And this time, Buffy did not follow him, or try to get him to stop. She did the only thing she *could* do, under the circumstances.

She let him go.