Flanked by two hulking men, it was a hardened Buffy who retrieved Spike from the cell. She found him sitting on a low bed, arms wrapped around his girls. The hope on their faces faded when Buffy made it clear only Spike was to be removed.

“Love, whatever you're thinking it isn't true.”

She cut him off. “Can it, Spike. After what I've just seen I'm ashamed I ever bought into that happy ever after crap. You're Anjell's right-hand man, aren't you? Well, perhaps you can explain his absence to Giles, and while you're at it you can explain to him why thousands of innocent people had to be murdered by Aurelians.”

She didn’t look him in the eye as she spat out her condemnation. Not knowing what to say, Spike held his tongue but Dorn was less restrained.

“I knew it was a mistake to accept you as one of us. You’ll always be loyal to your own. We should have let you die.”

Tarah held the now crying girl. “Hush now Dornie, don’t say things you don’t mean. We had to save them both together, you know that, and Buffy is hurting too. It’ll be all right, I promise.”

Biting her lip, Buffy looked down. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Dorn’s reply was muffled against the healer’s shoulder. “It’s not me I’m worried about.”

***

As they neared the room where Giles waited, Spike paused. “Buffy, I want to know what’s going on as much as you. I know Anjell, he can be a right bastard but this just isn’t his way. There has to be another explanation.”

Buffy wanted so much to believe him it hurt. Life had taught her that wishing things were different couldn’t change what was, but the steady gaze holding hers showed no deceit, just brutal honesty. The easy fondness of the morning had been replaced by resigned sadness. Wavering a little, Buffy resisted the urge to reach up and stroke those sharp cheekbones, smooth away the tension in his jaw, change the raw light in his eyes to something softer.

“Just talk to Giles, okay? Maybe this can all be straightened out. I’ll tell him how you saved me from the snaky things, not really the actions of a mortal enemy, huh?”

Spike somehow doubted that Giles would take much notice of this naive young woman, not in the great scheme of things. He recognised in the commander a man who would do whatever was necessary to get results, so this little talk was likely to be peppered with a great deal of pain. Spike’s.

Not wanting her to witness the confrontation, he reached out, touched her arm. Buffy stilled. “Let me talk to Giles first, yes? Please go and talk to Dorn and Tarah, tell them not to worry so,” he paused, “and keep those damned soldiers away from them!”

Buffy wanted more than anything to make things better with her ‘sisters’. Spike was right; she should go back to them. Giving a barely there brush of her fingers against his, she left.

Spike gathered his big bad and swaggered into the room. A heavy steel chair had been moved to the middle of the floor and Spike was grabbed roughly from behind and pushed into it. Thin plasti-bands were twined from his wrists to elbows along the chair arms and pulled tight, his boots removed and ankles secured the same way. He didn’t struggle.

Giles wore a coldly cynical expression. “I see that Buffy hasn’t joined us to argue in your defence.”

Spike smirked. “I thought you’d want to keep this just between the two of us.”

Giles looked puzzled then shook it off. ‘Spike was protecting Buffy?’ He couldn’t say he wasn’t relieved; he hadn’t really considered how she might react to this ‘conversation’.

“Um, quite. Now, Lieutenant, I have some questions, and you are going to provide truthful answers.”

“I’ll tell you everything I know, which is nothing, but I’m guessing that won’t be enough, will it?"

“No, Spike, it won’t be, not nearly enough.”

Spike deliberately kept his human face and gave a slow, insolent smile to his captor.

***

Having made her way back through the passages to the containment cells, Buffy was surprised to see Willow sitting cross-legged by the bars, a tray by her feet. All three girls were sipping kush. Dorn had changed out of her torn dress and was wearing a light blue jumpsuit emphasising her long, slim legs. She gave Buffy a hesitant smile, which was returned. The other two were also sharing smiles, each fascinated by the other.

“This is just amazing. Look, Buffy, I know they say that magic is just science that hasn’t been explained yet, but this is just...wow!”

A tiny blue flame was dancing along the floor between them, running from Tarah’s outstretched palm, hopping up over the cement base of the cage to pause at Willow’s knee, before bobbing back the way it came.

“It’s called heart-light, Willow,” Tarah said quietly, ducking her head a little as she glanced shyly at the redhead. “It’s special.”

“Special how?”

Tarah just laughed. “If the goddess is willing, I’ll tell you one day.”

Incredibly relieved at the change in atmosphere, Buffy sank down beside Willow. After a few minutes Dorn came closer too and the four of them started chatting, pretending that the universe wasn’t going belly up around them.

***

It started as a feeling of mild heartburn, but as soon as one twinge started it disappeared, only to come back in a different place. Buffy eyed the kush suspiciously, but it wasn’t that. Seeing her discomfort Tarah asked what was wrong.

“I don’t know. I’m getting little stabby pains, oh!” Another one, this time on her ribs made her yelp in surprise.

“It must be Spike,” Tarah said worriedly. “He’s hurting so you are too.”

Remembering the wave of pain in the woods when Spike was under attack, she hastily got up. There was no time to ask why this was even possible. With an apologetic look at their horrified faces, she ran.

***

Buffy was in hell. Curled up in a ball in the bare corridor just outside the control room, she could hear Giles's voice; dispassionate, calm, matter-of-fact. Spike was laughing, taunting, in between bouts of gasps and heavy breathing. Knowing she could shut out the pain but unwilling to break their link and let him suffer alone, she waited and prayed that Giles would get tired of this very soon.

The soldiers from earlier had barred her from entering and hadn’t been at all polite about it. She wished she knew what to do; Giles was her commander, Spike her husband. This was war, she was on one side, he on the other and they needed answers. ‘But Spike wasn’t involved…was he?’

She couldn’t allow this to continue much longer, but took some comfort from the strength in Spike’s voice. He seemed to have picked up an impressive amount of recognisable human swear words which he was mixing with his own and using to full effect. Each time Giles replayed the images from the ship and asked him who the Aurelians were, he gave a variation of the same answer: “I don’t fucking know.”

Spike seemed so sincere about not knowing the identity of the killers onboard the station. Her gut feeling was that he was telling the truth, but then she’d spent days in his company, got to know him in ways that had surprised her, and while she still harboured some distrust she also knew when he was being bluntly honest, like now. If Giles didn’t stop whatever he was doing to Spike soon she’d be the one singing like a canary, admitting to anything just to have this end – either that or going in there and smacking Giles across the room which was her preferred option.

Buffy closed her eyes.

Moments, or hours, later she opened them.

A pair of dirty black boots swam into view. On full alert she leapt up just as a large hand wrapped around her throat, pushing her back against the wall with a soft thud. A dagger was pressed gently to her stomach.

“What kind of a sorry bride is this, whimpering in a corner while her mate is being tortured. Care to explain?” Anjell glowered down at her.

A mix of conflicting emotions flooded Buffy. Alarm that the enemy was right inside the compound, anger at herself for letting it happen, shame at Anjell's disdainful description of her behaviour. Relief, that Spike would now be safe.

Thirty or so Aurelians moved stealthily into view. Armed to the teeth, which were also pretty lethal looking, they poured like shadows into the room ahead. Anjell withdrew his hand and dagger, steering her - none too gently - through the door.

Giles was lying on his front, head squashed to one side. A small impassive soldier had a foot resting on his neck, the point of his sword just touching the corner of the downed Commander's eyelid. Several other human officers were disarmed, kneeling on the floor with their hands linked behind their heads, eyeing the drawn swords directed their way with impotent fury.

Anjell went straight to Spike, deftly releasing him with flicks of the small blade. As the flustered male got out of the chair he chuckled.

“So, Spike, still getting into scrapes, I see. Droo would have my hide if she knew I'd allowed you to get all tied up without her permission.”

A prick of something dark jabbed at Buffy, even as she anxiously assessed Spike for damage. Apart from a bruise under one eye, and a slightly swollen lower lip, he looked unhurt. That is, until his unbuttoned jacket shifted, revealing circular marks on his bare chest. Delivered by a prodder, a more localised version of a taser, they explained his gasps and her pains.

Spike snickered back at Anjell. “Ah, good times. No-one ties a knot quite like Droo.” They shared a grin before Spike strode over to Giles. Crouching low, one hand dangling over a bent knee, he gently drew a fingertip down the prostrate man's cheek.

“Ah, Commander, I do hate to find myself in the hands of an amateur - however gifted. Would you like me to show you how it's really done?”

Giles, impressively unimpressed, merely bit out, “Well, get on with it. I haven't got all day.”

Anjell smiled in admiration. “No. Fun as that sounds, and while Spike is certainly owed his revenge, we have more urgent matters at hand. I suggest that we get comfortable and discuss this situation like civilised beings.”

True to his word Anjell signalled Spike to back off, which he did, allowing the flustered Giles to gather his tattered dignity and get up. Buffy found some courage and turned to the impassive General.

“Sir, Dorn and Tarah are being held in the containment cells, can I let them out?”

“They’re here?” His expressionless face cracked to reveal genuine surprise, for once. He flicked a glance to Spike who merely shrugged.

“Droo’s doing. Big snakes, stubborn women, long story, tell you later…”

Anjell snapped his open mouth shut and turned back to Buffy, his hard gaze softening a little. “Yes, Buffy, please go and get them. Spike, will you go too, my men may not understand why there’s a human running around uncontained.”

Spike was at the door in a flash. He opened it and waved Buffy through with a mocking little flourish. “After you, my lady.” With a small scowl she walked through.

Now that they were alone neither knew what to say, so both stayed silent. Buffy broke first.

“I’m sorry Spike.” ‘Sorry for leaving you in Giles’s hands, sorry for the way I spoke to you earlier, sorry that everything is so awkward now,’ she wanted to tell him.

“S’all right, knew what to expect. I’d have reacted the same way.”

Deep down she knew that wasn’t true, but she took a little comfort from his words and nodded. They carried on walking, casting little glances towards the other then looking away.

The whole compound had by now been thoroughly overwhelmed, without too much bloodshed it must be said. Aurelians stood around in small groups at strategic points, relaxed but ready for trouble. One soldier grinned broadly at Spike as they approached.

“Spoils of war, Spike? Maybe you can give us a little taste after you’re done?”

Striding forward without pause, Spike punched the soldier in the solar plexus. He dropped like a stone. Gripping the man’s hair he wrenched the gasping soldier’s head up sharply and gave a nasty grin.

“Now, I know you didn’t mean to disrespect my wife like that, so how’s about an apology?”

“I…I’m sorry, sir.”

“Not to me, you idiot.”

The purple-faced unfortunate cast wide eyes in Buffy’s direction. Trying desperately to get his breath back he clasped his hands as if in prayer.

“Please, mistress, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know… was only a very bad jest. Please forgive me. Pleease?” The last word was uttered with a shriek as Spike tightened his grip.

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes at Spike’s macho behaviour she folded her arms and looked down coldly at the squirming male. “Apology accepted, but if I find out that you or your ‘friends’ have been forcing yourselves on any women here then Spike will be the least of your worries.”

Gulping hard he nodded as best he could until Spike relented and let go. He scuttled back crablike to the safety of his comrades who all looked as though they’d rather be anywhere else right now.

“Could have handled them,” she muttered. Spike smothered a smile. They brushed past the group who were roughly hauling their injured colleague to one side, giving him a further tongue lashing for his stupidity.

Tarah and Dorn had just been released when they arrived. They were laughing with the Aurelians who had freed them while standing either side of Willow in an unmistakable gesture of ownership. Dorn spotted Spike and broke away to fling her arms round his neck. He wrapped his arms around her, barely flinching as she pressed against his sore chest. Murmuring words of comfort he made sure that they were all okay. Buffy hovered awkwardly to one side until Tarah reached her side to gently clasp her hand and draw her in. She gave a gentle squeeze back in gratitude.

***

A large round table had been brought into the control room and now everyone was seated at it. Carafes of water, jugs of coffee and kush were placed on a smaller table nearby. Despite the seriousness of the situation Buffy felt as though she were attending a boardroom meeting.

The group that now faced each other consisted of Anjell, Spike, Oss - the diminutive but capable soldier who'd had Giles at his mercy - and two other unknown Aurelians. Dorn and Tarah weren't present. Giles sat opposite Anjell, along with his number two, a man called Pryce, with a bald, tough looking guy called Gunn and a rather battered looking Finn next to him. Buffy was beside a scared looking Willow, completing the circle.

Anjell looked pointedly at Giles. “Perhaps you can start, Commander, and tell us just what you were playing at by ending the truce?

If Giles was startled he didn't show it. Dispassionately, he outlined the situation, the holocubes behind him illustrating the truth of what he said. Willow approached the large screen and pressed replay, repeating the scenes from earlier; first in the galley, then the AGRIPOD and, finally, the twisted fun had by the trio of Aurelians in the rec room and the creatures that joined them there. The gory pictures ended as before with the demise of the bot.

“Now you see,” finished Giles.

Anjell had stiffened visibly as the images played out. Staring at nothing for a few seconds, he idly fingered the collar of his leather tunic, seemingly lost in thought.

Finally he spoke.

“Commander, these Aurelians are criminals. They are enemies to us and to humans both. The older male is called Nesst… he killed my father. The younger one is his insane son Krallyk. The woman...” he paused, “the woman is Dalla. She is my mother.” As all present gasped, he continued. “The creatures with them are the Terr-Khan - a race of monsters that I thought we'd defeated long ago. They are also the reason that I took my men back to Aurelia.”

***

The resounding silence that followed Anjell’s declaration was ended when everyone began speaking at once, but it was Giles’ voice that finally cut through the din.

With a snort of disbelief, his words acid, he rounded on the General. “How very dramatic…except for one small detail; that ‘female’ couldn’t possibly be old enough to be your mother. Just how stupid do you think we are?”

“If you’d bothered to learn the first thing about our society,” Anjell retorted, “you’d know that we live a great deal longer than you do. Dalla is around 300 in human years. Krallyk my ‘younger’ step-brother is nearer 200, although his twisted appetites have aged him prematurely, and Nesst? No-one really knows his age, he was thought long dead before he reappeared to creep between my mother’s thighs. My father had no idea until it was too late - Dalla always did have dark tastes and was drawn to anyone with power.”

As everyone took in this new information Buffy just stared at Anjell, who looked as grim as she’d ever seen him, and at Spike. He must have known about these ‘creatures’ so he must have been lying earlier - and wasn’t that a bitter pill to swallow? - but he seemed as genuinely bewildered as the rest of them at these revelations.

Turning to Spike, and trying to keep the accusing note out of her voice, Buffy asked the question that was burning her up. “Spike, did you know about these ‘people’ when Giles was questioning you?”

Sincerely, and with a note of anger, he looked her straight in the eye. “No, Buffy. I didn’t.”

Anjell chuckled.

“Spike is the baby here, barely 120, he’s the youngest Aurelian in this room. That’s why Droo selected him to be your husband. Dalla was condemned to death for her part in my father’s death before he was born. The three of them escaped before the sentence could be carried out. They disappeared through a portal in the Northern Ashlands, the same area where the Terr-Khan were recently spotted.”

Spike gave Buffy a triumphant glare then pointedly looked away.

“But why turn up after all this time? And how did they get aboard one of our stations?” Giles still sounded distrustful but in the absence of a better explanation was willing to believe for now.

Anjell gazed down at the table, surprised to see deep gouges there under his clawed fingers, yellow eyes revealing all too human emotions. Anger. Shame. Confusion.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, “but if the Terr-Khan are working for them then we are all in great danger.”

***