Thanks to our wonderful beta, Immortal_Beloved :)




Buffy thought that she could hear her own rapidly pounding heartbeat in the tense, awkward silence that surrounded them all – herself, the junior Slayers…and Spike.

Ordinary forest sounds were still audible in the dawning morning – birds and wind and the rustling of the leaves – but Buffy’s mind had tuned it all out, focused completely on the power of the moment at hand. Instinct seemed to dictate to the girls that silence was of import, and none of them said a word, even moved, as Buffy edged cautiously nearer to the trembling, frightened vampire huddled against the base of the tree that sheltered him from the deadly sunlight.

Each step was painstakingly slow as she gradually closed the distance between them, her heart hammering in her throat with the very real fear that any movement too sudden might cause him to bolt. As she came within a few feet of where Spike crouched against the tree, she carefully extended an open hand, palm upward, toward him, wincing inwardly at the knowledge that the same gesture might be used to reassure a skittish dog that one was not a threat.

Spike watched her hand warily, his wild eyes darting between her face and her hand, his body visibly tensing as she approached, though he did not move.

“What’s the matter with him?”

The curious, concerned question was spoken in a hushed voice, barely over a whisper, but it was a shrill, teenage voice with a nervous quiver in it, and Spike immediately flinched back, away from the sound as much as from Buffy’s approaching hand.

“Nothing,” Buffy snapped, frustrated and afraid. She looked up briefly at the girls as she ordered sharply, “Get back.”

As one, the girls shifted backward a few steps, though they were clearly reluctant to move too far away from the dramatic, intense scene. Buffy’s eyes narrowed when she saw their interpretation of her command, and she added in a low, warning tone of voice that could not be ignored,

“*Farther*.”

As the girls grudgingly moved away from her and Spike, back toward the main area of the camp, Buffy turned her full attention back on Spike.

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “It’s okay, Spike…it’s just me. It’s okay, you’re safe…”

As she spoke, she cautiously reached toward him again, tears of relief springing to her eyes when he allowed her to make contact without pulling away. Gently, she stroked trembling fingers down the side of his face, swallowing back a sob when he hesitantly started to lean into her touch, and she caught a glimpse of the aching longing that filled his eyes before they drifted shut.

*You worthless, disgusting little piece of crap! Do you think you deserve for her to touch you? Do you think she can without it making her *sick*, you little slut?*

Spike jerked back slightly with a soft gasp, and while Buffy could not know the painful thoughts that filled his mind in the voice of a part tormentor, she could tell that his reaction had little to do with her own touch.

“Spike,” she whispered, edging nearer. “It’s okay…nobody’s gonna hurt you, okay? You’re safe here…you’re safe with *me*…all right?”

Spike swallowed hard, his eyes remaining closed for a long moment as he visibly fought off the mental attack of his memories before he opened them and focused on her again, apprehension in his guarded gaze. Buffy bravely forced an encouraging smile despite the fact that she was falling apart inside. She nodded, her hand caressing his cheek tenderly as she continued to speak in a soft, reassuring voice.

“That’s it…it’s okay, Spike. It’s okay…”

After a few moments, when Spike began to seem a bit calmer, Buffy reached down to take his hand in hers before rising cautiously to her feet. Spike gave her an uncertain look, but rose with her, clinging to her hand as if it was his only lifeline – and in a way, it was.

Strangely, now that Spike was actually looking at her without the confusion that had filled his eyes moments before, Buffy felt oddly shy and utterly at a loss as to how to respond to him in this state, after so long apart. She lowered her gaze, giving his hand a gentle squeeze as she said softly, “Come on. Let’s get you some shade.”

Spike’s unusual silence only contributed to Buffy’s feeling of discomfort as she led him by the hand toward the outer edge of the camp, careful to keep to the shadows. The way he just meekly walked along, at her side and slightly behind her, was completely foreign to everything she remembered about the vampire she had known.

She had Spike wait in the shade of a large tree while she found a folded canvas tent that was not being used and brought it back to him. Within a few moments she had spread it out across a few low-hanging branches of the tree, creating a makeshift canopy that would protect him from the deadly sunlight without confining him to a small tent which would not even allow him to stand.

“I’m…sorry I can’t do any better than this,” she told him with a grimace. “It’s just that we mostly just use the tents for sleeping, and they’re not really designed to…to even stand up in, and I was pretty sure you wouldn’t want to feel all closed in and trapped or whatever right now. So, I just figured this was better than a tent, you know? It is…isn’t it? Better than a tent?”

Spike just nodded once, his eyes averted as he leaned back against the tree behind him.

Buffy nodded, too, a little shakily, as she went on, perfectly aware that she was babbling, yet seemingly incapable of doing anything about it.

“Is there anything I can…can get you? I mean…I guess I really don’t *have* anything to give you…like…like blood, or whatever, and I know you must be hungry. I mean, I’m sure it’s not like they’re feeding you well in there or anything. I’m sorry. And…and the girls…they don’t mean any harm, but I know their staring must be making you feel kind of weird, and…and I’m sorry about that, too, and especially about their…attacking you like that. I told them not to attack any vampires at all until I found you, but…but they listen about as well as I did at that age, and…and I guess what I’m trying to say…once you decode all the insano-babble…is…is I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be.”

Spike’s uncharacteristically soft words stopped Buffy’s rambling, and she finally looked at him, to see that he had slid down against the trunk of the tree so that he was seated with his back against it, his knees pulled up to his chest, his arms wrapped protectively around them.

“I…really shouldn’t have even come here,” Spike continued apologetically with a little half-shrug. “Could have been followed. Not hardly safe.”

Buffy thought it wise not to mention the fact that, in spite of his words, he appeared to be making himself more comfortable right where he was; Spike obviously – and for good reason – had no desire to make his way back toward the slave compound anytime soon. With his crystal blue eyes focused on the ground at his feet, Buffy finally felt the freedom to really look at him, to take in his trembling hands and the subdued, downcast posture he held.

“Really should be going back soon,” Spike insisted softly. “Shouldn’t…shouldn’t stay.”

Hesitantly, Buffy closed the distance between them, falling to her knees in front of him, solemn green eyes studying the heart-rending array of emotions parading across Spike’s all-too-expressive features. Shame, fear, pain that she knew he did not deserve, were all roiling just beneath the surface, obvious in his glistening blue eyes, which somehow could not seem to find the courage to look at her.

She knew that she was stepping out onto an emotional minefield, opening herself up to all that pain and devastation…and yet, somehow a part of her felt that it was only right for her to feel it…to share some of the burden Spike was unfairly bearing. Spike had once told her that she had a yen to punish herself, and she knew that was what she was doing now.

*But you deserve to be punished…you let this happen…you weren’t there for him…weren’t there to protect him…*

“Spike,” she whispered, her eyes lowered briefly before she forced herself to look at him again. “What…what happened? How did this…I mean…how did they…?”

Her voice trailed off awkwardly as she found that she could not finish any of the dozens of questions circling in her mind; so, she just sat there in silence, waiting for a response from Spike, which did not seem to be coming. The vampire swallowed hard, but remained silent, his eyes lowered.

Buffy felt a hard knot form in her throat, her eyes blurring with tears, as she reached out a cautious hand to rest on his larger, trembling one. It was easier to look at his hands than into his eyes. As her anxiety rose with his failure to answer her questions, Buffy found herself focusing more intently on those familiar, powerful hands, running her fingertips lightly over his in a soothing caress, even as her mind returned to all the intense, painful, gloriously wrong things those hands had done to her.

Each moment of silence that stretched between them seemed to carry him farther and farther from her grasp; but, Buffy held out hope, reassuring herself with the fact that he had not pulled away from her touch.

Almost without realizing that she was doing it, Buffy laced her fingers through his, raising their joined hands slightly between them in a mirror of the position they had held on that last day in the Hellmouth, moments before she had thought she had lost him forever.

She was losing him again.

Buffy’s heart ached with the thought that this time, this time, he wouldn’t even look at her, as Spike turned his head away with a painful swallow, his shoulders shaking slightly – but still unwilling to so much as speak to her. So lost was she in the pain of this perceived reaction that Buffy failed to realize that, though he turned away in shame, Spike was clutching her hand tightly in his, clinging desperately to it as his own thoughts returned to that day as well.

Feeling incredibly awkward and unnecessary, Buffy cleared her throat and, with an effort, disentangled her hand from his, and rose slowly, reluctantly, to her feet.

“Well,” she said in a quiet, nervous tone of voice. “I…I guess I need to go talk to the girls. Figure out – where we need to go from here. I’ll…I’ll be back…”

And, believing it was what he wanted from her, Buffy turned her back and walked away, unaware that the vampire she was leaving behind was silently screaming a plea for her to stay.

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

*Okay, bad idea…bad idea…how many classic slasher movies have you watched? And you *still* end up running out onto the roof?*

Andrew’s heart was pounding as he raced across the roof of the Council Headquarters building, his eyes desperately scanning the area for anything that he could use for a weapon, or a means of escape, or…something to hide behind.

There was nothing.

He stopped a few feet from the edge, peering anxiously over the side and realizing that he was directly over the Council’s private airstrip.

*Maybe…maybe a plane will take off at just the right moment, and maybe I could manage to time it just right to land on it just as it passes, and make a daring, last-second escape from right under the nose of the dastardly…*

“There you are, my boy. I’ve been looking all over for you, you know.”

Andrew spun around with a little yelp of surprise at the unexpected nearness of the Watcher’s chillingly soft voice. He had known that Giles was right behind him, had expected him to catch up quickly, but was still taken by surprise at the speed and stealth with which the older man had done so.

Dread in his heart, Andrew looked up at the taller, older man, who stood with a sort of casual grace a few short yards away, his hands just barely grazing the tops of his pockets, a smile that would have been disarming had it not been so cold firmly in place on his lips.

“What’s the matter, Andrew? Running, hiding like some sort of cornered rat…one would almost get the impression that you’ve done something *wrong*,” Giles observed in a deceptively mild voice, as he began to close the short distance between them with slow, measured steps, his smile widening ironically as he asked softly, “Now whatever might that be?”

Andrew’s throat went dry with fear as he watched Giles’ approach, and he automatically began to move backwards, away from the subtle but clear threat he posed. As he did, the young man’s mind raced to think of some explanation that might appease the older Watcher, and save his life.

“I didn’t…I mean…I wasn’t trying to…to do anything…this is all a big…big mistake…I wasn’t really…I mean…” Andrew glanced fearfully over his shoulder, painfully aware that the edge of the roof was nearer to him now than it had ever been. His eyes returned warily to Giles, and he fought off panic, desperately searching for the right words to appease him.

*Except…why should I?*

The thought suddenly occurred to Andrew, clear and resounding through the panic in his mind…and he froze where he was, considering.

*Why should I justify myself to him? Why should I make excuses for what I did when all I did was to save someone who deserved saving? Giles is the villain here…not Spike. And not me.*

With one more brief, anxious glance over the edge, Andrew turned to face Giles again, swallowing back his fear and squaring his shoulders slightly as he answered in a voice that was trembling, but certain.

“Nothing. I haven’t done *anything* wrong.” He paused before adding defiantly, “I’m not the rat here, Mr. Giles.”

Giles raised a single brow. His eyes narrowed in anger, but he did not say a word.

Andrew could not prevent himself from taking another step backward, but then winced as he felt the wind at his back, and realized how very near to the edge of the roof his retreat had taken him. He steeled himself, knowing he had no more ground to give…and there was nothing left for him but to stand what ground he had.

He was trembling all over, his voice shaky and higher even than usual, but Andrew forced himself to meet Giles’ eyes as he went on.

“And you know, the funny thing is…I looked up to you. You were…my hero. Until Dark Willow captured me and brought me to Buffy’s lair, I’d never had any real heroes to look up to. It’s no wonder I turned to the dark side…but you guys…you guys changed all that for me. You helped me to see that I could do good things…become a hero, despite my tragically wicked past. And you…you’re the one I looked up to the most…the one I tried to pattern myself after,” Andrew confessed, his voice softening slightly with sorrow and regret. “Because…because you were just a normal guy…just a normal guy who gave his entire existence to a cause greater than himself, greater than anyone around him, knowing that it could cost him his life some day. But…but it’s cost you more than that, Mr. Giles…”

To Andrew’s surprise, his rambling words seemed to have struck a nerve with the older man because Giles’ eyes flashed with anger as he cut him off, fairly snarling, “Shut up, you little pillock! You haven’t the first bloody clue…”

“Yes, I do!” Andrew interrupted, raising his voice to speak over Giles with brave defiance in his voice. “In a tragic twist of cruel irony, I learned what good and evil is from *you*, Mr. Giles!And in spite of my dark past life of crime, I’ve seen true heroes…I’ve lived with them…and I know enough to know that what you did to Spike was petty, sadistic, and disgusting! What I did…”

He shook his head sadly, his eyes glistening with tears, sparkling and impassioned with the intensity of the moment…better than any comic book or movie climax he had ever seen. He lowered his voice dramatically as he concluded.

“…what I did was to save a good man from the evil plot you devised. A *hero*. So, I’d say that makes you the villain of this piece, wouldn’t you, Mr. Giles?”

Losing his patience completely, Giles lunged forward, snatching the collar of the boy’s coat, at the same time advancing far enough that Andrew’s feet barely touched the ground, a bare inch from the edge of the roof.

“That ‘evil plot’ as you’ve described it was to put a known killer away for good, to keep that reckless, uncontrollable vampire from doing any further damage to the work I’ve spent my life building…not to mention Buffy’s life!” Giles snapped, fury blazing in his eyes as he shook the boy hard. “That monster has brought chaos to every life he’s touched, and it’s time the world was through with him!”

Andrew let out a panicked yelp as Giles shook him, and he nearly lost his footing, the wind whipping at his back reminding him of the perilous position in which he was. He glanced fearfully at the ground behind him, shaking violently as he struggled with his own panic, but managed to subdue it long enough to make his point again.

“When was the last time Spike ruined something?” he demanded, his voice quiet and trembling, but bold and certain in the conviction that he was right. “When he braved untold trials to get his soul back for the love of the Slayer who should have been his mortal enemy just to ensure he’d never hurt her again? Or maybe when he gave his own life to close the Hellmouth and avert the apocalypse? Oh, I know! You must be talking about when he nearly died again and was captured and put into slavery while trying to take down Wolfram and Hart!”

Andrew thought of his true hero, Spike, and did his best to deliver a smirk worthy of the brave vampire.

“Yeah. I see your point,” he sneered.

“You stupid little fool!” Giles’ voice was full of disgust as he jerked the boy away from the edge of the roof with one hand, his other hand sliding down to push back the long overcoat he wore. “You have no idea what you’re talking about! You don’t understand the nature of vampires, boy…but you don’t have to. If you had simply done as you were told, then none of this would be happening…”

Andrew’s eyes followed the movement of the Watcher’s free hand warily and widened with fear when he made out the handle of a pistol nestled in the waistband of the older man’s pants. With renewed panic, certain that Giles was about to end his life, Andrew struggled violently, pulling away from the older man’s hand with a jerk that sent him stumbling off balance.

His feet tangled together as he realized that he was about to topple backward over the edge of the roof onto the unyielding concrete five stories below…and that it was too late to regain his balance. There was nothing he could do to stop the fall…and its inevitable result.

“*No*!” he cried out as he felt the precarious stone beneath his feet give way to open air.

Giles let out a gasp of surprise, instinctively reaching for the boy, his hand grasping only the wind.

“*Andrew*!”