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




Spike sat quietly in the shade Buffy had provided for him, his knees drawn up to his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around them as his mind was once again assailed in the silence by the tormenting memories that had flooded his mind in the slave compound.

*Get on your knees, you disgusting little whore…I’ll teach you to look at *me* like that, you filthy little…*

Spike shook his head, trying to clear it of the painful voice that filled it, closing his eyes and lowering his head to rest in his cradled arms, his breath coming deep and trembling as he fought off the drowning, suffocating feeling of panic that filled his chest. He tried to focus on the sounds and scents of the reality that surrounded him rather than the remembered horrors that pressed in upon his heart and mind.

And when he did, he caught a familiar scent and heard a soft rustling in the bushes nearby.

He raised his head slightly, his eyes still focused on the ground as he smiled and spoke softly to the not unwelcome intruder.

“You know, you might as well come out of there. Vampire, here, remember? Can smell you…hear you, too, love.”

The person in the brush went very still for a moment, the slight rustling Spike had heard vanishing instantly…before a soft sigh of resignation preceded Melinda’s rising to her feet. Spike looked up at her questioningly, and she gave him a nervous, self-conscious smile.

“Caught me,” she admitted with a little half-shrug.

Spike made a weak attempt at returning her smile before his gaze dropped once more to the ground at his feet. Melinda watched him for a moment, her own smile fading into a solemn expression as she took in the undeserved shame that the heroic vampire who had saved her life now obviously felt. Finally, she made her decision and walked under the canopy Buffy had made, sitting carefully down beside Spike, mimicking his position with her knees drawn up and her arms wrapped comfortably around them.

They just sat there in silence for a few moments, Spike unable or unwilling to bring himself to meet her gaze, his own eyes darting anxiously in the direction of every ordinary forest sound around them. Melinda felt her eyes well with tears of sympathy at the state of fear to which her brave hero had been reduced.

She hesitated just a moment before reaching out a cautious hand to rest on his arm, squeezing gently in a silent display of support and understanding. To her surprise, Spike did not flinch in reaction to the unexpected touch. He merely turned his head to look at her, a sort of dread in his eyes at what he might see on her face.

His mind went unwillingly back to the first time he had met her as Siron’s slave, and he prepared himself for the disgust and pity she must surely feel for such a pathetic creature as he had become.

It was not there.

She was smiling at him in encouragement, concern in her eyes, but nothing more. “You know,” she remarked quietly, “I really wish the circumstances were different…but it *is* really good to see you again.”

Spike felt his throat close up with a surprising surge of emotion that unexpectedly accompanied her simple, sincere words, and he realized that, in spite of the situation, he was pleased to see Melinda – safe and healthy and free – as well.

He looked away again, swallowing back his emotions, struggling to retain his composure. Her gentle touch on his arm threatened to break his fragile control as he fought to keep the nightmare images at the back of his mind from breaking through to the surface once more.

“It was him.”

The words came out in a hoarse whisper, and Spike was barely aware that he had spoken them out loud at all.

“What?” Melinda asked, her brow creased with a slight frown. “Who?”

Spike winced slightly, not really wanting to get into this conversation with Melinda, but aware that he had already spoken and that it was too late to change his mind now.

“Siron.” When Melinda just shook her head slightly in confusion, Spike elaborated in a hesitant voice, “In the compound. It was him. I…I saw him.”

Melinda’s eyes widened with alarm, and she shook her head emphatically, leaning in closer, her hand still resting on Spike’s arm as she tried to catch his gaze. “No,” she objected firmly. “No, Spike, that’s not possible. Siron’s dead. You killed him. I saw his body, Spike. He’s gone, and he can’t hurt you anymore.”

“I know,” Spike whispered, shaking his head in defeated shame. “I know that. It wasn’t…it wasn’t real. It was just…there was this guy…this bloke that Rayne brought in. He…he brought him back. It wasn’t real, except…except for me. Only I could see him. And now…” He lowered his head, swallowing hard and blinking back tears as he finished, his voice barely over a breath, “…now, I see him everywhere.”

Melinda said nothing, sensing that Spike needed to get this out. Her only response to his silence was a gentle squeeze of his arm, silently encouraging him to go on.

“He’s there,” Spike continued, his voice a little stronger now, but trembling dangerously. “In every shadow…I can hear his voice in the back of my mind…all the bloody time.” His treacherous tears spilled over, dropping to form tiny dark spots on the thin pants he wore, and he swallowed hard, choking back a sob.

When he spoke again, his broken voice carried a note of disgusted anger, and it was immediately obvious at whom it was directed.

“Pathetic, isn’t it? Right useless soddin’ ponce I turned out to be! A couple of months with Siron, and I turn into a pitiful, cringing mess. Gotta be bloody disgusting, even looking at me after…how I used to be. Worthless, pathetic…”

“I think you’re amazing.”

The soft, honest words brought Spike’s bitter monologue of self-hatred to a sudden stop as he looked up at her in startled disbelief. He shook his head in denial, a single word of confusion escaping his lips.

“H-how…?”

Melinda looked away a bit shyly with a little shrug. “It’s just…well, here’s how I see it, okay? Will you hear me out, Spike?”

The blond vampire stared at her for a moment before nodding slowly, unable to find words.

“So, there I was, in just about the worst trouble I’d ever been in my life, about to become some nasty demon’s sex slave…and…and there you were. I was trapped; there was no way I could have gotten out of there on my own – and you saved me, Spike. You didn’t know me; there was no reason for you to risk yourself for me. And it’s not like you were in the best position yourself. You were…were hurt and afraid…and you knew that he’d most likely punish you for helping me. God, Spike, you didn’t even expect to get away yourself!”

Melinda’s voice was awed and impassioned as she turned further toward him, her hand tightening slightly on his arm as she emphasized her point.

“I’m a Slayer, Spike; I’m supposed to be your mortal enemy – and you risked everything to save me! And then in the end, you stood up against him! You stood up to him, and you killed him, Spike! Because of you he won’t ever hurt anyone again! And even now, when you’re still going through the worst kind of hell, you’re sitting here worrying about how you think you’re not good enough somehow – how you wish you could do more to help Buffy and the others…all of us…”

Melinda leaned in closer, and Spike tensed automatically at her nearness, his downcast eyes focused on the ground at his feet, though he did not quite shy away from her. Melinda reached out a gentle hand to touch his cheek, gently guiding his head up, silently urging him to meet her compassionate gaze.

“I think you’re amazing, Spike,” Melinda repeated emphatically. “I *know* you are.” Her smile softened as she went on, “Andrew told us a lot of stories…a lot of incredible things that I wasn’t sure whether or not to believe, about the things you’ve done. Risking your life to gain a soul so that you could be a better man…giving your very life to close the Hellmouth in Sunnydale…even before you got the soul, he said, you weren’t like other vampires. You helped the Slayer even then…”

Spike shook his head, his eyes lowered miserably, silent tears streaking his face as he opened his mouth to form a trembling protest.

Melinda did not give him the chance, her dark eyes wide and worshipful as she gazed up at him in awe.

“You did incredible, impossible things in order to overcome your past and change, Spike, and that was *before* you got the soul. Even back then, Spike…you had something inside you that’s different…powerful…and no form of slavery could *ever* take that away!”

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

“Stupid, stubborn vampires,” Buffy grumbled to herself as she stormed across the camp back toward where she had left Spike. “So…so stupid and stubborn and…and *annoying*!”

She absently rubbed the sore knuckles of her right hand as she glared at the ground at her feet, her troubled mind going back over the events of the last few minutes.

When she had left Spike in the shade of the tree, she had simply needed to get away for a few minutes. She had felt so…so useless and awkward. It had been so obvious that he really didn’t want to be around her right now, and she had just needed to find something to do with herself…preferably something that would help her work out her frustrations.

Disposing of the vampire prisoners the younger Slayers had taken during her ban on slaying seemed like just the solution.

After all, now that Spike had been found safe and sound, and all the girls knew exactly what he looked like and that he was not to be harmed, there was no further reason to keep the prisoners alive.

Yes, it seemed like the perfect solution.

Until one of them just *had* to open his smart mouth and fill her head with doubts.

Three captured vampires were being kept in one of the tents. Buffy dispatched two of them with ease, not bothering to loose their bonds or deliver any unnecessary blows, simply aiming her stake with her usual deadly accuracy and dispatching them with ease. But when she had turned toward the last one, his words had stopped her momentarily in her tracks.

“Yeah, that’s how you Slayers get your kicks, is it? Killing creatures that can’t even fight back?”

Buffy had closed her eyes in frustration, drawing in a deep breath, before biting off a response. “Okay. You want a sporting chance? Fine. I could use a good fight right now, anyway.”

She had swiftly broken the bonds that held the vampire’s wrists behind his back, and followed up the action with a swift blow to his face before he had time to react. However, the vampire had quickly recovered, returning her blow with a couple of his own.

Buffy went through the motions of fighting him, but soon realized that it was really not much of a challenge. The vampire’s blows were weak and poorly aimed, and she quickly had him pinned against the trunk of a nearby tree by his throat, her stake perfectly aimed to plunge into his heart.

“You call this sporting, Slayer?” the vampire choked out the words in a taunting voice. “We’re half-starved and beaten and tortured for months…and you call this a fair fight?”

“You’re a vampire,” Buffy bit off the words in frustration. “It doesn’t *have* to be fair.”

“Oh, yeah?” the vampire countered, his hands weakly clutching at hers around his throat as he struggled to draw the breath to continue. “What about that other vamp across the camp? Somehow he gets a free pass from the Helpless-Vamps-It’s-Okay-To-Beat-On club?”

Buffy’s eyes narrowed in anger, and she dropped the stake in a sweeping arc that reduced the vampire to ash. But even as he disappeared, she lowered her gaze to the ground, swallowing back a hard lump that formed in her throat.

“No,” she whispered, feeling sick as her mind returned to a dark, terrible night in an alley thousands of miles away. “No, he doesn’t. He’s already been initiated into that club.”

As she made her way across camp, her mind replayed over and over the images of her terrible behavior that painful year following her resurrection when she had used Spike so mercilessly, physically and emotionally abusing and exploiting him until she had reduced him to a broken shell of the vampire he had once been. By the time that she had finished with him, Spike had been so desperate and crazed with a need that she had only fed, that he had crossed a dangerous line and shattered what little she had left of the twisted pseudo-relationship she had allowed him to have with her.

*But it wasn’t his fault,* she reminded herself, her heart heavy in her chest as she fought back the tears in her eyes. *I was the one in control back then…and I hurt him so many times before he ever hurt me…no wonder he doesn’t want me near him…*

Her eyes narrowed with determination as she hurried her pace toward the shelter where she had left Spike.

*There has to be a way to fix it…*

She knew that repairing their damaged relationship would likely be a more difficult battle than defeating any demon she had ever faced, but she was up to the challenge. She had long since admitted to herself that she loved Spike, though she had thought him lost to her long ago.

Now that she had him back again, she was willing to do whatever it took to fix things between them, to have the relationship with him that she had never allowed in the past.

She looked up as she neared the shelter…and froze in her tracks, her racing, hopeful thoughts stumbling to a sudden halt in her mind as the sight before her eyes stole her breath and caused her heart to both sink with despair and race with rising fury.

Melinda sat under the shelter beside Spike, her knees against his, one hand on the back of his neck and the other resting on his leg.

And she was kissing him, tenderly, like a long-lost sweetheart.