“If you think for one second that I am going to just let you walk back into that place, Spike, you are completely and totally insane.”

Buffy stood with the blond vampire at the edge of the encampment as the last light faded out over the horizon, glancing anxiously over his shoulder toward the compound, though it was no longer visible in the gathering darkness. Her heart pounded with fear, and her mind raced as she tried to think of a way to make him see reason.

It was hard to make him see anything when he could barely look at her.

“I haven’t got a choice, Buffy,” he insisted, his voice low to disguise the slight tremor it carried, though he wasn’t quite convincing her. “I’ve got to go back if only for tonight, love. If I don’t, they’ll come looking for me…and most likely find you, and…and I can’t let that happen, Buffy. I can’t.”

The sound of low, whispered voices drew an irritated glance from the Slayer as she noticed the group of younger Slayers that had gathered near where they stood, trying to appear as if they were talking amongst themselves, while listening in on the rather interesting exchange between her and her vampire ex-lover. When her death glare was met only with averted glances, Buffy decided to ignore them for the moment.

Getting through to Spike was more important.

“Spike, I can handle Ethan Rayne, all right?” Buffy argued, reaching out to grip his arm and hold him back as he tried once more to back away toward the compound. “If he comes looking for us…”

“You won’t be ready,” Spike cut her off gently. “Buffy…you don’t understand the kind of power he has now. This isn’t the same as the Halloween pranks he used to try. He’s…he’s powerful, Buffy. You can’t…”

“*You* can’t go back there!” Buffy snapped, but the sting was taken from her tone by the tears that glittered in her eyes, making it obvious that her anger was only a result of her fear for him.

Spike was silent for a moment, drinking in the look of love and concern in her eyes, desperate for it even as he tried to fight it. He drew in a deep, shaky breath, letting it out slowly as he ran a nervous hand through his disheveled hair. Reluctantly, he met her eyes again as he gently pulled his arm from her restraining hand, immediately softening the gesture by taking her hands in his arms and pulling her closer to him.

Feeling terribly self-conscious under the none-too-subtle scrutiny of the baby Slayers, Spike lowered his voice as he edged in nearer to her, trying to keep his words outside their range of hearing.

“I know you don’t like it, love. I don’t…don’t like it either.” Buffy winced at the tremor she heard in his voice, the way his eyes darted away from hers in an attempt to hide the mingled emotions there. Spike’s gaze remained downcast as he continued in a low, controlled tone of voice, “But…but what if I stay…and he comes after me, and…and finds you…and the whole soddin’ mission is blown, love? What then? What good will that do me, or you, or…or any of these girls countin’ on you?”

Buffy opened her mouth to argue only to find that she had no argument for those words. She couldn’t stand the thought of Spike going back into the compound to be abused again; and yet, if her reckless actions caused the entire mission to fail, then they could all be killed, or Spike could end up stuck there for good. Her stomach twisted inside her at the thought of herself and the others being beaten by Rayne and his men in a surprise attack.

If that happened, Spike would certainly be re-captured…and there would be no one there to help him get away.

“He’s not gonna kill me, love,” he assured her, his voice very soft and quiet, hushed to protect his words from the inquisitive ears of the other Slayers. “I’m…I’m too valuable to him alive.”

Buffy’s throat went dry at those words and the painful reminder of just what value Spike held for Rayne and his slavery operation. Her eyes welled with fresh tears as she tried to block out vivid, unbidden mental images of the sorts of things for which Rayne wanted to keep Spike alive.

“They’ll hurt you.” The words were out before she knew she was going to say them in a tearful whisper as her hands found his arms, clinging to him as he held her, her head falling forward to rest her forehead against his as she closed her eyes against her tears. “If you go back…they’ll hurt you.”

Spike forced his usual smirk to his lips, though it did not quite reach his eyes. His mildly sarcastic tone drew Buffy’s eyes back up to his in surprise as he countered, “Think I don’t know that, pet? What? Sayin’ you won’t be interested anymore if I’m sullied?” He swallowed hard before adding in a voice barely over a whisper, “Little late to worry about that, love.”

Buffy’s heart broke within her at the thinly veiled sorrow and insecurity she heard in his voice, and she reached a gentle hand up to touch his face, her other arm slipping down around his waist to draw him closer to her. It hurt to know that he felt that he would mean less to her because of the suffering and abuse he had endured. It was not his fault and did not in any way change the way she felt about him, but Buffy was not sure how to make him see that, especially with the girls standing about, not-listening to their conversation.

She tried to catch his eye, but Spike kept his gaze lowered, swallowing hard in a visible attempt to control his emotions as Buffy pulled him gently in closer to her, raising one hand to stroke tenderly through his hair. His eyes closed at the desperately needed touch of affection, and Buffy’s heart broke a little more when she felt his hands trembling on her waist, unconsciously clutching her tighter as if afraid that she might vanish away at any moment.

Her hand trailed from his hair, down his back, as she leaned in closer, his lips parted slightly, her warm, shaking breath falling softly against his throat as he let his head fall slightly to the side, allowing her access as his shoulders shook with the sobs he was so valiantly suppressing. When Buffy’s lips pressed gently against his cool skin, Spike drew in a nearly silent gasp at the contact he had longed for, for so long, even as tears stung his eyes.

Because he knew that he could never be worthy of her…never again.

Still, he thirstily drank in the affection she offered while it was within his grasp, well aware that all too soon the chance would have passed completely. Buffy held him close to her, cherishing the closeness of the embrace she had desired so strongly over the last two years without him, simply savoring the simple pleasure of having him so near at last.

However, the trembling of his body in her arms, his soft gasps as he struggled to control his own emotions, soon reminded her of the troubling dilemma of the moment, and Buffy wrapped her arms around him more tightly as she tried to think of the words to soothe the vicious torments of his self-doubts.

“You’re not sullied, Spike,” she whispered, the words falling against his throat with her breath, inaudible to the curious Slayers around them, yet clearly heard by the vampire in her arms. “I don’t care what they’ve done to you…what they’ve made you do. It doesn’t begin to *touch* who you are…what you mean to me.”

Just slightly, without meaning to, Spike turned his head away, swallowing painfully against the hard knot in his throat, his eyes closed against her words, trying to shut them out, because he knew they were only an illusion.

*If she really knew…what I’ve done…what’s been done to me…she’d be sick. She’d never want to touch me…look at me…ever again.*

“I love you, Spike,” Buffy whispered in his ear, her hand once again running through his hair as she held him close. She gently turned his face back upward toward her with one hand, the fingertips of the other against his temple so that her hand shielded him partially from the staring eyes around them. Once he had reluctantly met her eyes, she gave him a warm, encouraging smile as she declared in a soft, tender voice, “I always will. *Nothing* can change that.”

Spike stared at her in wonder, shaking his head slightly, barely able to fathom the idea that after all the time that had passed, all the things they both had been through, she might still love him.

*She wouldn’t…not if she knew…*

“Always, Spike,” Buffy insisted, her words falling into perfect time with his own painful thoughts. “Wasn’t that what you said? Well, it’s how I feel, too. I will *always* love you. Ethan Rayne and the others…they don’t matter to me. All that matters to me right now… is you.”

Spike found that although the words were still hard to believe, to accept, he could not bring himself to look away from her. He was as lost in her as always. All had vanished from his sight but her face; all sound was drowned out by the impossibly beautiful words she was speaking to him.

Even the ever-present voice that had haunted his thoughts…the voice of his former master.

Spike’s eyes widened with the realization that the tormenting memories, the images that had been brought back to his mind with vicious clarity by Rayne’s frightening associate, had disappeared. Somewhere between the startling kiss he had received from the confused young Slayer earlier that evening, and now, finding himself once more in the safety of Buffy’s arms, Siron’s tormenting influence had vanished away.

Somehow, he had escaped it.

*But you have to go back.*

“Buffy,” he whispered, looking up at her again with an effort. “I…I…”

“What?” she prompted him gently, her hand caressing down his cheek, her eyes hopeful and questioning on his.

“I have to go.”

Spike’s heart was smitten with regret as her face fell, her eyes averted as she pulled back slowly, reluctantly. She swallowed hard, and he watched her face working with the visible struggle between her desires, and what she knew had to be done. Finally, she looked up at him again, sorrowful resolution in her eyes.

“Okay,” she whispered with a nod. “I…I know.” Her jaw set, her eyes narrowing as she added, “But you’re *not* staying. I’m going to get you out of there.”

Spike nodded, knowing better than to express the doubts that filled his mind, forcing a smile to his lips. “I know,” he agreed softly. “I know.”

“Really,” Buffy insisted, easily reading the uncertainty in his eyes, as always, all too expressive. “Spike, I’m going to stop Ethan Rayne, and I’m going to take you out of here. Okay?”

“Okay,” he echoed, nodding more emphatically, blinking back tears, and well aware that he had to go *now* while he still had the strength to make himself do what had to be done. “I’ll…I’ll see you soon.”

“You will,” Buffy assured him, still sensing the doubts he was trying to conceal. “You will, Spike. I’m going to…”

Her words broke off as he abruptly tore himself from her grasp, mumbling, “I…I’m sorry. I’ve gotta…I’ve gotta go…”

She longed to go after him, but knew that she had to let him go. Her eyes welled with tears until she could no longer see him disappearing into the darkened woods, and she turned her back, sniffling as she rubbed angrily at her eyes with the back of her hand. She glanced up in irritation to see the girls still gathered around, looking uncomfortably away from her, but still casting surreptitious glances in her direction out of the corners of their eyes.

“What are you staring at?” she snapped in a tearful voice, wincing inwardly at her own display of weakness. “Get to your tents! I’ll let you know when it’s time to leave them.”

It only took one look at her face for the girls to know that it was definitely in their best interest to give her distance. Within moments, Buffy found herself alone in the clearing. She sank down onto a large rock behind her, covering her face with her hands as she finally allowed the tears she had been suppressing for Spike’s sake to flow down her cheeks.

Behind her, one of the young Slayers slipped unnoticed past her and toward the slave compound, on a mission of her own.

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

By the time Spike made it back into the compound and to his own room, he was shaking violently. He took several deep breaths, struggling to regain his composure, to slow his rapid, unnecessary breathing, aware that, if someone walked in and found him in the state in which he was, it would be more than obvious that he was hiding something.

With a weary, trembling sigh, he opened a cupboard and took out a folded towel, running a nervous hand through his hair as he headed toward the door, deciding that a hot shower might be just the thing to relax his nerves a bit and help him prepare for whatever Rayne decided to throw at him next.

In spite of his resolve, he jumped as the door opened before he could touch it, and suddenly Ethan Rayne stood before him. The sorcerer gave him a questioning look, one eyebrow raised, as he took in Spike’s hand reaching toward the door and the towel under his arm. Spike lowered his gaze, afraid that the man would read in his eyes the truth about where he had been, what he had been doing, while Rayne had been bringing the chaos within the compound under control.

“Security has been restored,” Rayne informed him with a cool smile, which did not falter as he added calmly, “I thought I’d instructed you to stay in this room.”

“I…I did,” Spike replied, his voice low to disguise its trembling. “I haven’t…”

“Until now.”

Spike looked up, startled by Rayne’s words, and then followed his gaze to the towel under his own arm. His eyes widened as he realized that Rayne had been referring to his preparations to leave the room *now*, which meant that he was likely unaware that Spike had left the room at all. He thought fast, nodding as he ran a hand through his hair again, taking a step backward as the magician moved into the room, shutting the door firmly behind him.

“Right. Yeah. I just…things sounded quiet, and…and you hadn’t been back, so…I thought it might be all right if I just…”

“You don’t ‘think’, Spike,” Ethan snapped, a dangerous note in his terse voice. “You follow orders. Anything you might ‘think’ that contradicts my orders should be immediately disregarded as a bad idea. Is that clear?”

“Yes,” Spike said softly, his eyes lowered humbly as he put the towel away again and stood awkwardly with his back against the wall, his hands clasped and wringing anxiously behind his back. “I…I’m sorry.”

“Yes, what, Spike?”

Spike grimaced, knowing immediately what Rayne was seeking. “Yes, *Master*.”

“Very good.” Spike could not bring himself to look up, but he could hear the smirk in Ethan’s voice, could feel his nearness as the man slowly, casually approached him. “I can already tell that you’re going to do very well here, Spike, as long as you can remember your place, and be careful not to…step outside the bounds of that place.”

Rayne remained silent long enough that Spike finally had to look up at him, raising fearful eyes to those of the sorcerer, now standing just a few feet in front of him, his piercing gaze locked onto Spike’s face skeptically. Once Spike looked at him, Rayne smiled, his eyes narrowed in menace as he reached out a hand to slowly grasp Spike’s arm just above the bracelet locked around his wrist.

Spike did not resist as Rayne raised his arm between them, deliberately stroking his thumb across the metal, and somehow, with that touch, sending tiny warning sparks of electric pain shooting from the bracelet up Spike’s arm. The knowing look in the magician’s eyes made it clear that he knew more than Spike had hoped, but was not going to openly mention it.

He had already said more than enough without words.

“Do we understand each other, Spike?” Rayne asked softly.

“Yes…yes, Master,” Spike whispered, his eyes averted, struggling to control his quickening breath and the fear that caused it. “Please…”

Rayne dropped his arm abruptly, and Spike instinctively clutched it in his other hand, backing up another step against the wall, swallowing convulsively as he closed his eyes in relief that the encounter had not gone any farther.

“Your next customer will be here in a few hours, Spike.”

The vampire looked up sharply again, apprehension in his eyes.

“She’s a well-respected American government official, and you will treat her with the utmost respect, Spike. You will give her no trouble of any kind and will do exactly as she tells you.”

It was a statement, not a question, but Spike nodded his assent as he voiced it.

After all, he had no other choice.

“Yes, Master.”

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

Buffy stayed in the clearing where Spike had left her for a long time, trying to make sense of her swirling, tumultuous thoughts and feelings. The girls were content to leave her alone now that the drama had passed, and she found when she finally glanced at her watch that nearly an hour had gone by.

She sighed as she rose to her feet, resigning herself to heading back into the camp.

A soft cracking sound behind her had her spinning around to face the unknown source of the footstep she had heard, her hands already raised in front of her in a fighting stance. “Who’s there?” she demanded, her voice hardened and unafraid as her eyes narrowed, peering into the darkness.

“Whoa, whoa,” Melinda’s familiar voice brought her hands down again as the girl stepped close enough to be seen. “Just me…relax.”

“You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that,” Buffy snapped without really meaning to. Then, frowning, she added, “I thought I told you all to get back to camp. Where have you been?”

“I had something I had to do. I’ll tell you all about it, promise.” Melinda smiled as she took a step closer to the older Slayer. “But I’ve got a question for you first.”

Her smile remained enigmatic as Buffy raised one eyebrow, waiting for Melinda’s question. When it came, it made the girl’s intentions no less mysterious.

“Have you ever considered going into politics?”