“I can’t believe the nerve of him!” Dawn fumed, pacing furiously through the living room, her arms folded across her chest in front of her, too angry to stop moving. “Who does he think he is? Like he’s just gonna waltz in here after what he did and we’re gonna be like, ‘Oh, okay, Xander, it’s all good! Never mind that the last time we saw you, you acted like a total psychotic freak’!” She paused in her rant to look up at her sister and her friend, to gauge their level of agreement with her rant.

Spike was just standing there, quietly, looking at Buffy. It was nearly impossible to read the troubled expression in his stormy blue eyes. He didn’t really seem angry; in fact, as usual, most of his attention seemed to be focused on Buffy, and how *she* was reacting to the little scene.

Buffy didn’t say anything, either. Her eyes were full of tears, and a deep sorrow, reflecting the sense of loss she felt over the whole affair. Xander’s friendship had meant so much to her for so long. It was terribly painful to think of it ending now. Still, she felt she had no choice but to stand her ground. Xander had made his choice when he had lied to her, tricked her in order to hurt someone she loved. You couldn’t just come back from that with no more than an “I’m sorry”.

Without a word she walked into the kitchen, understanding her sister’s need to vent, but still finding that hearing it only upset her more. She could find no satisfaction in denying Xander the forgiveness he sought. But at this point, she had to think of Spike’s needs first, and she was certain that receiving Xander back with open arms would be terribly foolish.

First of all, she felt that it would give Spike the impression that she felt like what Xander had done was no big deal, and that could serve to reinforce the ideas he was struggling with that abuse and mistreatment was his due, what he should expect.

Secondly, as much as she wanted to believe that Xander had had a true change of heart, she knew from experience that opinions as strong as Xander’s had been did not change overnight – not without some major event to trigger such a change. Even if Xander never again tried to physically harm Spike, she was fairly certain that it would only be to stay on her good side.

Xander’s obviously intense hatred for Spike alone was enough to have a negative impact on his recovery, even if Xander attempted to veil it for her benefit. Spike was too perceptive to miss it, no matter how good Xander’s deception. And she simply could not allow anything more to add to Spike’s insecurity and self-doubt. Right now he needed nothing but love and support.

“Well, that was…awkward, wasn’t it, love?” his soft voice spoke behind her as he entered the kitchen, full of concern, and a little trepidation. He was testing the waters, cautious and unsure of her mood after her confrontation with Xander.

She did not turn from where she stood at the counter, bracing herself against it with her hands. “That’s putting it lightly,” she nodded wearily as she responded in a dark tone.

He moved closer to her, slowly, not wanting to overstep his bounds, and a bit unsure as to where exactly those bounds were. He had begun to feel much safer and more comfortable with her, especially after last night, but he still had a tendency to feel nervous when faced with anyone in a volatile sort of mood.

“Buffy,” he began quietly, placing a gentle hand on her arm, and she turned to face him, the hard angry set of her jaw and glint in her eyes softening at the apprehensive look on his face. She forced a little smile in an attempt to put him at ease, though she knew he could see right through it, and just looked up at him expectantly, waiting for him to go on.

“I think – I think he meant it, love,” he said softly, looking at the floor as he spoke, but then hesitantly looking up to meet her eyes, to see her reaction to his words.

Buffy’s eyes widened in surprise. That Spike, of all people -- the *victim* in the whole scenario, was coming to Xander’s defense – was amazing to her. She somehow thought that it should have made her feel more forgiving toward Xander – if Spike could forgive him when he was the one who had been wronged, how could she hold it against him?

But it didn’t. Instead, it just made her resent Xander’s behavior even more, to see Spike’s kindness toward him, in contrast to the cruelty Xander had displayed.

“Yeah, so did I. The first time,” she sighed. “Right before he…” She stopped, shaking her head angrily before bursting out, “My God, every time I think about what he did, I just want to…to…” She shook her head again, at a loss for words.

Spike shuddered at the memory. In the moment of the incident, Xander had terrified him. He had been certain that the boy was going to inflict brutal suffering on him with the chip controller; he could clearly remember the image of Xander’s furious, hate-filled eyes focused on him as he spouted out insults and threats.

The boy who had been at the door a few minutes before – well, he was hardly the same person.

“I know, Buffy,” he replied quietly, knowing that Buffy’s anger, much greater than his own at this point, would not allow her to see the truth that was clear to him – not just yet. “But…if he really wants to make it right…”

Buffy shook her head again, emphatic. “I’m not…I’m not ready to forgive him, Spike,” she admitted. “I think – I think I need to just be angry a little while longer.”

He was quiet for a moment, taking in her words. Then he added with a soft surety, “That’s what you *want*, pet. What you *need* just might be something else entirely.”

She looked up at him, a little surprised by the direct accuracy of the comment. A slow smile spread across her lips as she looked into his eyes. She shouldn’t have been surprised, she realized. Spike had always seen right through the mind games she played with herself – long before she had, most times.

“Well…you know how I am about getting what I want,” she shrugged, her tone flippant, aiming for casual. She knew he was right; she didn’t want to admit it outright just yet, though; because that might mean she would have to act on it.

He laughed softly. “Got a point, love,” he conceded, not pushing any further at the moment. It might take a little more time than he had spent to get her to do what he knew she needed to do.

She laughed with him, moving away from the counter and slowly forward into his arms, leaning her head against his chest, relishing the strong support of his body that she had missed so badly. Her laughter died out and she let out a weary sigh, leaning against him almost unconsciously, needing his support so badly at the moment.

So many times over the past few months she had been faced with one difficult situation or another, and in weariness or confusion longed for him to be there, just to hold her and make her feel safe. Even over the past couple of weeks, as glad as she was to have him back and as willing as she was to do whatever he needed to help him recover, she had still missed the Spike who had been her tower of strength, whether she wanted to admit she needed him at the time or not.

Now, he wrapped his arms around her gently, pulling her close to him, as always sensing her need and responding to it. In a clear contrast to most of the events since his return, he moved one hand up to cup the back of her head, his fingers slowly moving in a comforting motion through her hair, as he murmured into her hair, “It’s all right, love. It’s gonna be all right.”

“I just don’t know what to do,” she whispered. “Xander’s been my friend for so long. We’ve literally been through hell together.” She looked up into his eyes suddenly, her gaze deep and searching, as she went on passionately, “But you mean everything to me, Spike. There’s no one in the world more important to me than you…except maybe Dawn,” she conceded with a little tilt of her head. “And even that’s a little hard to say at the moment.”

She allowed herself a small, sheepish smile before going on, her expression becoming serious again, “To think that he did that …that he deliberately put you through that…whether he meant to actually *do* anything or not…I just can’t get past it.”

He said nothing, just continued to hold her, looking down and just past her with a thoughtful expression on his face. “I know it’s hard, love,” he allowed softly. “But I think that until you do…it’s going to keep on eating you up inside until you can’t stand it.”

“Probably so,” Buffy sighed sadly. Her lips formed a depressed pout as she looked away from him, frowning, and added, “Guess I’m doomed.”

“Far from it, pet,” he chuckled softly, placing a soft kiss on her forehead.

She looked back up at him, the starry-eyed expression of having just rediscovered a great love in her eyes. “I love you,” she whispered, leaning up to kiss him.

The almost awestruck look in his eyes was his response, as at the moment he seemed too amazed at the good fortune that had befallen him to even formulate a response.

“Well,” he finally said, clearing his throat and looking away a little with a slightly uncomfortable laugh; the moment had gotten a bit intense. “I suppose I’d better look in on the Niblet…see if she’s out of murderous-rampage mode yet.”

“I highly doubt it,” Buffy muttered darkly, thinking that her sister’s rage toward Xander had made hers seem like mere annoyance. Buffy honestly believed that if it was in Dawn’s power to do Xander serious physical harm, she probably would.

Spike slowly disentangled himself from her arms and headed toward the doorway to the living room, as Buffy began idly, listlessly straightening up the kitchen. At the door, Spike stopped for a moment with a little half-turn toward her.

She glanced up and saw him standing there, waiting, trying to compose his words, and paused, looking up at him with expectancy.

“There was a time, I’m sure, love,” he pointed out quietly, “when you thought you’d never forgive *me*, either.” If he was feeling the usual shame at the thought of his past actions, his voice did not betray it. It was calm and even, and his words were brief but poignant. The simple truth in them smote her heart.

She had been able to finally forgive Spike…when she had come to understand how much she truly cared for him – how much her relationship with him really meant to her.

How much did her relationship with Xander mean to her?

She froze; she couldn’t find the breath to speak, as he went on slowly toward the stairs.


When Spike followed Buffy into the kitchen, Dawn just sat there on the couch fuming for a few moments, allowing her rage at her former friend to run rampant through her thoughts. How dare he even show his face here after what he’d done? And to ask them – to ask *Spike* -- to forgive him! He didn’t deserve forgiveness! He deserved…

Her thoughts had suddenly taken a different turn, as she remembered what she had not when she had seen Xander at the door.

Her vengeance wish.

Her eyes widened. She had distinctly heard Anya speak the word, “Done.” right after she had made the wish. She knew that the vengeance demon had to have carried it out. Quickly she rose from the couch and went upstairs to the quiet privacy of her room.

As soon as she had closed the door behind her, she sat on her bed and began to focus on Anya, trying to get her to show up. Anya had told her just to call…but Dawn realized ruefully that she wasn’t sure exactly how.

Apparently it was rather simple, because within moments Anya materialized in front of her.

“What’s up, Dawnie?” she asked immediately. “Ready for your second vengeance wish?”

“Not quite. Almost,” Dawn answered impatiently. “First I wanna know about the first one.”

Anya suddenly looked very uncomfortable, looking away, not meeting Dawn’s eyes. “Not much to tell. You wished for Xander to understand what Spike went through. He does now. That’s about it.”

“It can’t be that simple,” Dawn shook her head, crossing her arms and standing up to face Anya. “*How* could he possibly understand?”

The anger in her trembling voice made Anya wonder. “What brought this sudden curiosity on?” she asked her. “That was days ago. And you’re just now asking me how it went?”

“Well,” Dawn felt defensive for no good reason. “a lot’s been going on. They did the healing spell for Spike, and he got really sick, and he just started feeling better today…” She paused before admitting, “And Xander showed up here today. Wanting to *apologize*!” She practically spat out the last word in contempt. “And…” she shrugged self-consciously. “I guess…it just made me wonder.”

Anya didn’t respond for a moment. Finally she answered, her voice quiet and expressionless with her effort to hold back the emotions the memories of the last few days brought out in her.

“I made him go through it. What Spike went through. I made him see it…as if he was really there…as if it happened to *him*.”

Dawn was struck speechless for a moment. “You can *do* that?” she finally replied in amazement.

Anya nodded. “It was very…real…for him. And I think…I think he really understands now,” she struggled to get the words out in a trembling voice, the knowledge of what the man she loved had gone through, and at her hands, still painful for her.

“He couldn’t,” Dawn denied it, shaking her head, unwilling to release her anger. “There’s no way…” Suddenly, her eyes widened as a terrible thought occurred to her and she looked up at Anya in accusation. “Did you show him…?” she stopped, unable to even bring herself to speak the shameful words.

Anya knew immediately what she was talking about and quickly responded with an emphatic shake of her head. “No. I promised Spike I wouldn’t tell anyone. You only know because you overheard us. I wouldn’t do that to him.” She paused, looking down, her voice softer when she continued, “I wouldn’t do that to *Xander*.”

After a moment’s silence, she went on with certainty, “But everything else. The torture…everything…he went through it, Dawn. It wasn’t *like* he was really there…he *was* there.”

Dawn had no words as she considered what Anya had told her. If that was true…if Xander had *really* experienced what Spike had experienced, as if it were really happening to him…then maybe his apology had been sincere after all. Maybe he was truly sorry this time.

She could feel herself automatically hardening, resisting the impulse toward compassion for the person who had hurt her best friend so badly. Did it matter if he was truly sorry? Did his suffering mean that he deserved forgiveness?

“Thanks, Anya,” she said automatically, suddenly wanting to be alone…to think all this through. “I just…wanted to know.”

Anya didn’t say anything for a moment. When she finally spoke, she changed the subject. “How much longer do you think it’s gonna take?” she asked, a note of impatience in her voice. “I mean…whatever you want to do…let’s get it done…so I can stop worrying about what way Buffy is going to kill me when she finds out I’ve put you in danger.”

“Not much longer, Anya,” Dawn assured her. “I’ve got everything planned out, exactly how I want it to go. There’s just a couple more things I have to do first. Then I’ll be ready.” She stopped, but Anya kept looking at her in anticipation, as if she expected more of an answer than that.

“Another couple days...at the most,” Dawn sighed, impatient herself. She was finding that she did not have the connections or worldly knowledge that her sister had. Setting up something like what she had in mind was more difficult than she had thought, and it was taking longer.

But now, she was sure that she was almost ready to carry out her vengeance on Warren.

Very soon, he would pay for the devastation he had wrought on the closest friend she had ever had. The single kick in the face she had managed to deliver the day they had rescued Spike would seem like a love tap to the little psychopath once she got done with him.

They heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs, and with a little nod, Anya vanished from sight. A moment later, there was a quiet knock on her door.

“Come in,” she called, and Spike opened the door.

He entered with a tentative smile at her, and she felt her angry mood softening at the sight of him. But just because the feeling of anger faded a bit on the surface did not mean it was not still smoldering away deep inside her.

Spike seemed to be doing so much better, just since this morning, she noticed, pleased. He was beginning to regain his confidence, his security, and seem more like his old self.

But there was still that quiet solemnness, that hesitancy that was so unlike him. The scars Warren had left on him went far beyond the physical ones – though those were many as well. Dawn thought bitterly that it would take a lot longer than a week or two for Spike to find complete healing, to feel truly safe.

Well, she was going to help along the process. When she was done, Warren would no longer pose even the slightest threat to Spike or anyone else, and he would know it beyond all doubt.

She returned his smile warmly, thinking to herself as she beckoned him on into her room.

*Soon, Spike…I’ll make that little creep wish he’d never touched you…soon.*