“So -- where do we go from here, exactly?” Buffy asked the pretty young Slayer who was currently serving as their guide, as she grimly watched the car bearing her luggage and that of the girls under her care speed away, leaving the six Slayers standing by the side of the road.

“Into the woods,” Melinda replied with a bright smile and absolutely no hesitation. “That’s where Andrew’s sources led him to believe the slave compound is located.” At Buffy’s dubious look she assured her, “Don’t worry. I have a brilliant sense of direction. I can follow the directions Andrew gave me without any trouble.”

“*Andrew* gave you the directions?”

Melinda nodded. “Why? Is there a problem?”

Buffy shrugged. “No, no problem. As long as we don’t mind wandering the forest in circles until we finally starve to death in the middle of the woods where no one even knows where to look for us except a bunch of slavers who specialize in supernatural beings.”

She realized her own careless error when her words were met with total silence, and she looked around to see the startled, horrified expressions on the faces of the young girls with her. She realized a bit too late that they did not know either her or Andrew well enough to understand the sarcastic nature of her comment.

Melinda *did* know Andrew, and was trying very hard to suppress a smirk, her eyebrows raised expectantly toward Buffy in a “what are you going to do now?” sort of expression.

“Kidding,” Buffy reassured the younger Slayers. “Andrew may be a nerd who’s never gotten anything completely right in his whole entire life…but I’m sure he’s great with directions.” She turned toward Melinda as they started walking. “How did he find this place again?”

“Google.”

“Huh?”

“He got online and googled Ethan Rayne and demon slave trade.”

Buffy stopped in her tracks, staring at the girl in disbelief. “He found this place *online*?”

“Yep.” Melinda did not seem surprised.

Buffy took a moment to recover before starting to walk again, following the younger Slayer. A slow smile became a soft laugh, as she shook her head in disbelieving amusement.

“Man, evil crime lords just aren’t what they used to be! That’s almost funny!”

“That *is* funny,” Melinda agreed, with a slight correction to Buffy’s words.

“So…how did he get directions?” Buffy asked. “It’s not like they’d have an official website or anything, ‘find us *here*’…did they?” Her tone suddenly became sharper, as she looked at Melinda, all at once wondering if that was actually possible.

“No,” Melinda laughed. “They don’t have a website. It was all round about sort of stuff…blogs and such by people…or things, too, probably…that have been connected with Ethan Rayne at one point or another…that’s not where he got the directions, though.”

“Where’d he get them?” Buffy asked, calming down a bit.

“Mapquest.”

“*What*?”

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

They had been walking for all of ten minutes when Buffy’s curiosity got the better of her once again. The other girls were far enough behind, lost in their own light chatter, that Buffy knew her questions would not be heard by them.

“So, I know Andrew said this whole mission has to be on a strictly need-to-know basis…but I really do *need* to know. Do you know anything more than I do about what exactly we’re getting into here?”

“I’m really not sure,” Melinda admitted. “All I know is that this Ethan Rayne character is operating a slave ring out of an old deserted military compound out in these woods, and we’ve got to stop him before he does any more damage to any more…any more people.”

“Human?”

“Maybe some,” Melinda shrugged. “‘Inter-species’ was the word Andrew used. I’m thinking, whatever and whoever he thinks would draw a high price, *and* he can get away with taking.”

“Andrew said something about…a hero. Getting hurt, if we didn’t stop Ethan Rayne. Do you know what he’s talking about? Is it a Slayer, maybe?”

Melinda shrugged non-committally as she considered the two questions.

“Yeah,” she answered quietly. “And no.”

Buffy frowned, taking that in. “Who is it, then?”

Melinda gave her a brief assessing look, before apparently making a decision. “No one you’d know.” A soft, wistful smile crossed her lips as she added, “Just your average, every-day sort of hero. You know…the kind of guy who sees someone in trouble, and *has* to help them…no matter how much danger it puts him in. But…he’s just a guy. No one you’ve ever met, I’m sure.”

Buffy was quiet for a moment, seeming to accept that.

“What are we supposed to do when we get there?” she finally asked.

“Andrew will call us as soon as he has any new information for us. For now, he just said to scout out the place…see what we can find out about it, before we go barging into who knows what,” Melinda explained. “Like you said…it could be pretty bad for girls like us to get captured in a place like this.”

Buffy grimaced at that thought, and then rolled her eyes at the sound of a loud giggle behind her. She sighed.

“Then I guess I’d better tell the Babysitter’s Club back there to tone it down a little.”

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

Twenty minutes later, Buffy was beginning to think about her sarcastic comments on Andrew’s sense of direction in far more literal terms. They had been walking for nearly an hour, and to her, the place where they were looked no different from the place where they had started.

Except for the complete absence of a nifty road leading back to civilization.

That was a difference she could not help but think about.

Melinda, however, did not seem worried at all. In fact, to all appearances, she seemed to know exactly where she was going. Buffy had to admit that she was impressed by the girl’s obvious skill and confidence.

“No offense,” Buffy spoke quietly, once again to keep her words between her and Melinda alone. “I mean, you’re obviously incredibly capable and all…but was there any specific reason why Andrew picked *you* to help me with this top secret mission that he told me not to tell *anyone* about?”

Melinda smiled, apparently not surprised or offended by the question.

“I know I’m young,” she admitted. “But I’ve seen a lot over the past few years. I can handle myself, Buffy.”

“I’m sure you can,” Buffy conceded with a smile, surprised to realize that she truly meant it.

Melinda seemed far more prepared for this mission than most of the young Slayers Buffy dealt with on a daily basis would have been.

“I was part of a detail that recently took out the demon crew in charge of rebuilding the L.A. branch of Wolfram and Hart,” Melinda informed Buffy after a moment’s silence.

Buffy felt a pang of regret as she realized that the girl was searching her own history for credentials she could offer, to reassure the senior Slayer of her capability…and that really was not necessary. She had already opened her mouth to respond, to say something to that effect, when part of what Melinda had said finally registered with her.

*L.A.*

*Wolfram and Hart…*

A very different kind of pang went through her, and she swallowed hard, her eyes suddenly focused on the woods in front of her, rather than on the girl walking beside and just slightly in front of her.

“I lost some friends in that battle,” she stated after a moment, not really sure why she was telling Melinda that. “When they took down Wolfram and Hart’s L.A. branch in the first place. Some of the people involved were…were very close to me.”

“I’m sorry.”

A moment’s silence passed between them, not uncomfortable, before Melinda asked quietly, “Could you tell me about them?”

Buffy suddenly realized that this girl was wise beyond what she had given her credit for. She was already longing to talk about the dear friends…and more than friends…she had lost in that terrible battle, but did not want to cross that line in the sand and get too personal, to make the other girl uncomfortable.

Melinda had just taken her metaphorical foot and obliterated the line completely.

“Um…one of the men who died in the battle was…was my Watcher, once,” Buffy began…of course, with the part that came easiest to her.

Wesley’s death had saddened her, of course, but it had been nothing in comparison to the loss of…certain others.

“Was your Watcher *once*?” Melinda echoed curiously, uncertain as to her meaning.

In her understanding, before there had come to be such an overabundance of Slayers, the original Slayers had had one Watcher each, who remained their Watcher until the death of either the Watcher, or the Slayer.

“Yeah…right before I…I quit.”

“Oh, yeah.” Melinda’s face lit up with understanding as she nodded. “I think I remember hearing about that.”

“You probably do,” Buffy replied dryly. “I quit because the old Council…well, sometimes they weren’t very appreciative of the…the sacrifices Slayers have to make. My…my boyfriend was dying…poisoned…and they refused to help, even though he had helped me over and over again, even though he was more of a hero than they were…just because of one itty bitty, insignificant thing.”

“What…one thing?” Melinda asked, hesitant. She did not want to seem rude, but her curiosity had been aroused.

“He was a vampire.”

Buffy steeled herself as she spoke the words, expecting Melinda’s shock and indignation.

The young Slayer impressed her yet again when she simply shrugged and concluded, “But he was a *good* vampire…right?”

“Yeah…” Buffy’s voice was thick and wistful as she replied softly. “Yeah, he was.” She was quiet for a moment before admitting in a careful, controlled voice, “He was…one of the ones I lost. In the battle with Wolfram and Hart. His name was…Angel. You might have heard of him…”

“Yeah.” Melinda nodded. “He caused quite a scandal while I was in training. No one really knew why he was there at all, you know? Wolfram and Hart’s big evil…and it looked like he was signing on.” She was quiet, and when she spoke again, her voice was low, respectful, and soothing to Buffy’s grieving heart.

“No one really understood, did they? Not until it was all over, and Wolfram and Hart was in shambles, thanks to him.”

“No,” Buffy agreed. “No one really understood.” A bitter smile passed her lips as she observed, “Good thing the original Council wasn’t still in place by that time…or they would have taken him out long before he could have accomplished what he did.”

Both girls were quiet, lost in their own thoughts, before Melinda pointed out, “The new Council’s not quite so…so hard, you know? I mean…not if *my* Watcher’s any indication. They seem to be more…willing to accept the possibility that humans aren’t the only species with the capacity for good.”

Buffy nodded thoughtfully, aware that Andrew would have a healthy awareness of the gray area between humanity and demonkind -- the gray area that she had not really understood existed, until it was far too late.

“Me, I’m convinced.”

Buffy looked up at the girl, returning her thoughts to the conversation, giving her a curious look. “Why’s that?”

“Because a vampire saved my life, while we were working on taking out the rebuilding crew for Wolfram and Hart. I was…was captured…and…and this one vampire…he helped me escape,” Melinda explained quietly, and Buffy could hear the emotion in her voice, the remnants of the trauma she had experienced, and her relief and gratitude at being delivered from it.

Her thoughts turned inexplicably to the other that she had lost to the battle, the dearest to her heart…the one she still could not bring herself to speak of to this stranger, this brilliant, understanding girl who still would have no concept of what he had meant to her. Her own heart longed to pour it out, to yield catharsis to the loss of Spike as well as her loss of the others…but something in her would not allow her to voice that deepest, most personal grief.

She thought of how Spike had so boldly introduced himself into her life -- along with his blunt intentions to take it -- and how in the end, that same vampire had given his own life…*twice*…in defense of the world.

“Yeah,” she remarked softly after a moment. “You can never tell. The line between good and evil isn’t…as easy to see sometimes as we think to begin with. Sometimes… sometimes, someone will surprise you.”

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

Spike ran without looking back from the horrific scene of the brutal “sacrifice”.

His mind had not yet processed all the implications of what he had seen, and the silver bracelet locked onto his wrist, and all the other details of everything that had happened to him from the moment he had arrived in London, under Giles’ care. He could not have known the details of the deception, the betrayal, that had been inflicted upon him, by a man he had mistakenly believed that he could trust.

All he knew was that he had to get away…*now*, before it was too late.

*It’s already too late,* a dark, despairing voice deep within him warned him, but Spike ignored it, running through the compound as fast as he could, back toward the entrance through which Ethan had led him earlier that day.

Near the large double wooden doors, a bored guard was seated, and he looked up in surprise as Spike neared his escape. The terrified vampire threw the doors open and rushed out into the night, and the guard rose from his seat, but did not give chase, choosing instead to raise a small handheld radio to his mouth.

“Mr. Rayne…we have a situation.”

Spike ran through the woods, stumbling over the unfamiliar and overgrown terrain, sustaining minor injuries several times as his face, his arms, his bare feet, came into painful contact with stones and branches and other natural obstacles…but he did not stop.

He *could* not stop.

He came to the edge of a large body of water -- the lake they had flown over on their way here -- and he slowed his pace somewhat, carefully walked along the side of it as he tried to find the way around it. If he had any way of knowing how large it was, he might have tried to swim it; but in the darkness of night, even his enhanced vampire eyesight could not quite see its far boundary, and he did not want to risk getting captured because he could not swim faster than the boats that Ethan Rayne surely had at his command.

Spike glanced furtively over his shoulder, but to his relief, saw no signs of pursuit, as he made his way cautiously around the edge of the lake, noticing when it began to curve, and he realized that he was moving toward the clearing again, where the plane had landed.

Not that that meant anything.

He had no bloody clue where the nearest road was, where to find help or shelter…

…why this was happening to him…

*But that last bit’s not quite true, is it, mate? What’s a little slavery and torture compared to a century of murder and mayhem, yeah?*

He tried to ignore the dark taunts of his inner self-doubt as he kept moving swiftly toward the clearing, telling himself that he would figure out what to do once he got at least that far.

He had only gone a few short yards past the lake, when his progress came to a halt…though not of his own will. In the darkness, at first he thought that he had run into something…a tree, perhaps, or some other natural barrier.

But as he blinked into the space in front of him, all he saw was the empty blackness of night. He started forward again…only to find himself once more running into the invisible barrier. Only the second time, he noticed something else -- something that made his blood run colder in his dead veins, as a sick feeling of understanding began to steal over him.

As the silver bracelet on his wrist made contact with the invisible barrier, bright sparks of white light cascaded from it on impact.

Spike pounded his fists against the barrier, desperate to break through it, but found that it was impenetrable, as a shower of sparks fell around him, illuminating his tear-streaked face in bright, brief flashes.

“No,” he cried out hoarsely. “No, it can’t…this can’t be…*no*!”

Hopelessly, desperately, he kicked and punched and pounded the invisible wall with his fists and feet in a vain struggle for freedom which he now understood was not to be his…not ever again. His barely recovered strength failing him, he collapsed to his knees, painful sobs torn from his sore, aching throat…and he realized that he had been screaming, shouting, crying out in despair.

He tore at the latch on the bracelet he wore, frantically trying to remove it, but it would not open. His trembling fingers fought at it until they were raw and bleeding, but to no avail.

Despairing, Spike fell forward onto his face, his arms crossed over his chest as he sobbed out his confusion and terror and utter hopelessness at the overwhelming revelation of the betrayal that had been dealt him, on his knees at the side of the lake, with freedom so painfully near, and yet too far away to touch.