A/N: Thanks to my wonderful beta, Immortal_Beloved :) *hugs*



Spike made his way swiftly through the gathering darkness, glancing furtively behind him every now and then to see if he was being followed by Rayne or his men. Fortunately, no one seemed to have observed his exit of the building…or perhaps it was simply that no one really cared.

Where could he go, after all?

Despite the fact that he was not being pursued, Spike found his hesitant footsteps slowing as he neared the spot where he had last seen Buffy and found that, suddenly, he was not quite sure that he wanted to find her, after all. He imagined, with some longing, coming across her just a few yards ahead, her turning to face him…the look on her face of mingled pity and disgust as she read in every aspect of his expression, his demeanor, how thoroughly broken and degraded he had become.

His halting footsteps stumbled to a stop at the side of the lake, his head bowed and his shoulders slumped in defeat.

*Can’t do it…can’t let her see me like this…not again…*

With tears in his eyes, Spike turned and gazed out over the water, his arms folded over his chest as he wondered once more how far out across the water Rayne’s magical barrier lay. Perhaps…perhaps Rayne simply relied on the water itself as a barrier; perhaps there *was* no magic wall on that side of Rayne’s property.

Spike considered simply swimming the distance, seeing how far he could go before the invisible wall stopped him; but, the thought of getting halfway across the lake only to find that he could go no further made him feel sick to his stomach. His despairing heart could not find the strength to make yet another attempt that was surely doomed to failure.

There was no escape for him.

This was all that was left to his existence.

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

Buffy felt him the moment that he came near.

She glanced anxiously in the direction of the sleeping girls behind her as she rose smoothly and silently to her feet. She had volunteered to keep watch while the others slept the daylight hours away, waiting for nightfall when they could move freely without being detected, mostly because the idea of actual sleep had seemed like an impossibility to her, given her brief, shocking reunion with Spike.

Still, as the hours had worn on in silent solitude, Buffy had found the quiet and the peaceful sounds of the woods soothing enough to lull her, until she found her eyelids drooping and her head nodding wearily.

Until she sensed the presence of a vampire nearby…and not just any vampire.

*Her* vampire.

She had passed the point of mentally challenging her heart’s choice of terminology when it came to Spike. She had thought that she had lost him long ago; but, regardless, her heart and mind and every part of her still thought of him as unequivocally *hers*. She had never appreciated him before, she knew now, and had sworn over and over in her heart that, if he should ever by some miracle return to her, she would do her best to make amends for the hurt she had caused him.

And now…he was here.

And she was terrified.

Fear warred with hope and longing as she moved silently through the woods in the direction that her Slayer sense was pulling her…and found herself standing at the edge of a clearing as the lake and the vampire standing beside it came into her view.

Spike had always seemed larger than his rather slight stature and frame, had always had a boldness and a bravado -- a strength of spirit -- that had more than compensated for any physical advantage that he might have lacked. Now, in the waning dusk, standing there with his shoulders slumped and his arms crossed tightly across his chest, Buffy thought that she had never seen him look so small…so vulnerable.

In an instant, both the lake and the vampire were obscured from her sight, their images impossibly blurred with the onset of her tears.

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

It was the soft sound of her ragged breaths that first drew Spike’s attention from his thoughts, making him aware of her presence only a few short yards away from him now. He looked up bleakly from the water to meet her anguished gaze and saw the wide-eyed sorrow and sympathy in her emerald eyes, glistening with fresh tears.

He found that he could not hold her gaze, could not face the painful understanding he saw there.

“You know,” he acknowledged in a low, rasping whisper, his eyes downcast again as he swallowed back a sob that rose in his own throat.

Buffy felt her throat constricting painfully as the tears in her eyes were freed to flow down her face by the utter despair, the heartbroken sound in Spike’s voice. She edged nearer to him, afraid to move too quickly lest she startle him and cause him to flee again and yet desperate to touch him, to put her arms around him and hold him and reassure him that he was safe now; she was not going to let anything else happen to him.

“Spike,” she whispered hoarsely, conquering her nerves enough to awkwardly close the distance between them, reaching out to put her arms around him. “It’s okay. Yes, I…I know. Melinda told me…but…but it doesn’t matter. I just…”

“It doesn’t *matter*?” Spike echoed incredulously, jerking backward away from her attempted embrace, his wide eyes staring at her in disbelief.

“That’s not what I meant.” Buffy shook her head emphatically, alarmed at the way he had apparently taken her comment, trying again to get close to him as he shied slightly back away from her. “Spike, of course it matters…but…but it doesn’t make a difference to me…to the way I *feel* about…”

“Of course it matters,” Spike agreed, nodding as he cut her off, his voice trembling with emotion, low and thick with repressed tears, though his eyes were strangely dry. “Of course it matters, Buffy. Everything’s…everything’s changed…I’m not even…I’m not the same…nothing can ever be the same…”

“Spike.”

Buffy’s soft, compassionate voice stopped his anxious rambling as she took a cautious step toward him again, her hands extended in front of her in a gesture that was meant to be very obviously non-threatening. Spike instinctively leaned backward away from her, but his feet remained planted where they were. He made no attempt to flee, just stood there facing her awkwardly, his arms crossed defensively over his chest, his eyes focused downward.

Slowly, carefully, Buffy reached out a hand to softly touch his arm. The moment her warm skin brushed his cool, trembling arm, Spike flinched, but he did not pull away. The tension in his body was evident in every aspect of his posture, and Buffy was sure that at any moment he was going to jerk away from her and run the other way.

“Melinda told me what happened to you, Spike, and…and I can’t begin to imagine what could have happened to…to bring you here. And, it *does* matter, a lot! I’m telling you, Spike, if that Siron guy wasn’t already torn to pieces…”

Spike flinched visibly, and Buffy quickly checked her dangerously rising voice, growing steadily louder and more out of control with her anger and anxiety, before falling silent for a moment. When she spoke again, her voice was lower, softer.

“…I wish that I could kill him myself for what he did to you, Spike. It matters. What I meant was…it doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t change…how I feel about you. I…I meant what I said, Spike. I know…it was too late. I know you didn’t believe me. But I meant it…down in the Hellmouth. I love you. And nothing that you’ve been through…nothing that’s happened to you…is ever going to change that.”

Spike was quiet for a moment as Buffy’s nervously rambling speech came to a close, his thin frame still tense and unyielding as her arms slid around him…not pulling away, but not exactly responsive, either. He took in her words, fighting for control of his own emotions, before winning the battle and replying in a carefully controlled voice with just the slightest hint of a tremor.

“Easy enough to say, love. But…but not so easy when you come face to face with the ugly truth of it…”

“No, Spike, I mean it!” Buffy insisted. “I don’t care what’s…”

“I’m going to be sold tomorrow.”

Buffy’s words cut off abruptly, and she stared at him, blinking in startled dismay as her mind processed what he had said.

“They say…I’m healed up enough. From…from Siron.” Spike winced slightly at the demon’s name again, despite the fact that he had been the one to speak it. “They say…tomorrow…” He raised his eyes to hers with an effort, blazing with a defensive defiance as he concluded, “I’ll start my work as one of Rayne’s whores. I’ll have my first customer.”

Buffy shook her head in instinctive denial, her heart refusing to accept that Spike could be subjected to such a fate. “No…it won’t happen…”

Spike shrugged in feigned indifference, his eyes averted again as he continued as if she had not spoken, “It’s a wonder they’ve given me this long. Demons’ve gotta earn their bloody keep around here. Got a waiting list a mile long from what I’m told…”

“Spike…no…” Buffy objected, distressed by the horrible facts he was stating so casually. “No…we’ll get you out…”

The vampire’s voice was harsh and bitter as he continued, “Lotta customers looking forward to gettin’ their piece of the legendary William the Bloody, I s’pose. Guess it’s not so surprising, is it? Always was a special talent of mine…”

“Spike, stop it!” Buffy cried out, tears streaming from her eyes as her shoulders shook with sobs, and she suppressed the urge she felt to shake *him*, too, if only to stop his horrible diatribe. “Spike, why are you doing this? Why are you talking about it like it’s…like it’s…*okay*? Like it’s normal? Because it’s…”

“Because this is my life now, Buffy!” Spike snapped. “This is what I am now…and you have to see that. You can’t do anything about it…can’t take me out of here…so…”

“Yes, I can!” Buffy argued desperately, her hands tightening on his arms as she clung to him, unwilling to lose him again. “I’m going to take you out of here right now, Spike! They’re not going to hurt you anymore…”

“No,” Spike stated in a voice that was suddenly soft, sad. “You can’t. There’s a…a magic barrier.” He held up his wrist between them, his eyes averted in shame as he explained, “Linked to this bloody bracelet. I can’t leave, Buffy. Can’t get out as long as this is on…and can’t get it off, either.”

Buffy shook her head, a troubled frown creasing her brow with that disheartening revelation. “But…but there has to be a way. We might not have found it yet, but there *has* to be a way!”

Spike shook his head in a response of despair, pulling slightly away from her, suddenly just wanting to escape. He couldn’t stand the pain, the dismay in her voice, all out of concern for a man who, as far as he was concerned, no longer existed.

“There isn’t,” he stated simply, quietly.

Buffy was quiet for a moment, her jaw setting with anger, her eyes narrowing with determination.

“There is,” she countered softly, though there was an underlying steel to her quiet words. “And I swear to you, Spike, I’m going to find it! I’m going to get you out of here!”

Spike did not respond, certain that she was wrong, but unwilling to further hurt her by arguing with the hope to which she was clinging so desperately.

“I am going to find a way to break through his magic…or to get that bracelet off, or…or something…and I promise you, Spike, you are going to get out of here, and you are going to come home. With me. I swear to you, Ethan Rayne is going down for this! I am going to take him down so hard, and *no one* is going to touch you again, do you hear me?”

Spike was quiet as he slowly, deliberately pulled himself free from her embrace, crossing his arms over his chest again in a defensive attempt to put a bit of distance between them, a bitter smile rising to his lips as he replied, “How soon you figuring on finding this way, love? Because first thing in the morning…he’s set on proving that wrong.”

Buffy was quiet for a moment before declaring in a voice of icy, protective rage, “If anyone *touches* you before I manage to get you out of here…Ethan Rayne is going to pay for it. Dearly. I am going to make him suffer every bit as horribly as you have, Spike. I promise you. This is not going to go unpunished.”

Spike was silent, a part of him glorying in the righteous fury he heard in his Slayer’s voice, so familiar and every bit as awe-inspiring as ever…and a part of him sinking further into desolation with the firm conviction that this was one fight she could not win.

All he could bring himself to say was, “I hope you’re right, love.”

Buffy was quiet, a thoughtful frown on her face, before she raised troubled eyes to his again and asked softly, “Spike? How did you…I mean…how did you come to be here? Melinda said…Melinda said she left you with Andrew and Giles…and Andrew said something about…a mission? Deep undercover? Is…is that what happened? Did Giles send you hear to help bring down the slave ring, and…and something went wrong? Is that what happened?”

Spike heard the underlying note of uncertainty in her voice, recognized the doubt to which she was struggling not to give any credence, and his heart sank further under the weight of the knowledge that Buffy’s heart was divided in this matter. A part of her was already beginning to suspect her Watcher’s involvement in what had happened to him…but was steadfastly attempting to deny it.

He raised his eyes to hers again, his lips parted to bitterly shatter her denial…but the desperate hope in those knowing green eyes stopped him. Her heart had been broken so many times, devastated by the betrayals of men that she had trusted.

Could he really bring himself to break her heart again?

“That’s it, Buffy,” he nodded, looking away again. “It was…a mission. A mission gone wrong.”

Her frown deepened, troubled by his tone, and she opened her mouth to question his words…but before she could speak, he had turned away from her.

“I…I’ve gotta go, love. They’ll come looking before long. Can’t let them…find you here…”

Spike’s halting voice spoke of tears he was trying to conceal though Buffy could not see his face, and she was well aware that his words were an excuse for his departure, his escape from this conversation that had become too much for him. As Spike started to walk slowly away from her, Buffy debated for a moment in her heart, longing to go after him, to take him back into her arms and hold the hurt away…yet wanting to for once in their long, confusing relationship, respect his right to his own space, his own dignity.

In the end, she let him go, returning to the woods where the girls slept to wake them.

They had much to do…and not a lot of time in which to do it.