Spike left Buffy and Xander to the intense discussion they were involved in, going to answer the phone so that Buffy wouldn’t have to. He partly wanted to just let it ring; after all, he was at least as interested as Dawn was in how the whole thing would turn out.

He found himself genuinely hoping that Buffy would find it in her heart to forgive her friend, and wanted to be around for the conversation, to be able to help in any way that he could toward their reconciliation. He could tell that Xander really was truly sorry. He had no idea how, but the boy seemed to have had a complete and total change of heart.

But in this house, you never knew what would happen next. For all they knew, the phone call could very literally be the end of the world. As much as he hated to leave the room, he had better answer it.

With a sigh he reached to pick up the receiver, halfway through the fourth ring. “Hello.”

“Well, well. You’re pretty hard to get a hold of these days, you know that?”

The devastatingly familiar voice was soft, casual, as if they were nothing more than two friends who hadn’t spoken in a while. Spike froze; he stopped breathing completely, as he felt the cold beginnings of panic starting in his chest, tightening around him, cutting off his breath.

“Surprised?” Warren laughed, his voice as calm and controlled as always, but hardening with every word. “You shouldn’t be. What, did you really think I’d let you get away that easy?” He paused before going on in a menacing tone, “You thought wrong.”

Spike tried to calm himself down, tried to remind himself that he was safe here. Warren couldn’t touch him anymore. He realized that he had started breathing again, ragged, rapid breaths. *Can’t hurt me,* he reminded himself, trying to control the violent trembling that had taken over his body. *I’m strong now…he doesn’t control the chip…can’t hurt me…*

“Y-you can’t hurt me,” he said the words aloud, his voice shaking and much more timid and quiet than he had intended it to be. *Just hang up the phone…don’t let him…* “You – you don’t have any power over me anymore. I’m going to…”

“Don’t even think of hanging up that phone!” Warren snapped, interrupting his hesitant, thoroughly unconvincing words in a harsh, threatening tone.

Spike froze. Reason told him that Warren couldn’t come near him, not as long as Buffy was there, and that even if he somehow managed to catch him alone, the balance of power had become much more…well, balanced…since he had seen him last.

Warren’s super-strength was gone, and he no longer controlled his chip. And Spike had been getting stronger, regaining his physical ability to defend himself. Warren really didn’t have the power to hurt him anymore.

All those very logical thoughts scattered in terror before the sound of that cruel, threatening voice.

There was a moment of silence as Spike tried to make himself disobey the command. All he had to do was hang up the phone, and the power that Warren still managed to wield over him would be broken. It wasn’t such a hard thing to do…just to hang up the phone…was it?

He didn’t move.

“See?” Warren’s voice was softer now, and there was a smugly satisfied note in it. “Things haven’t changed so much after all…have they?”

Spike didn’t respond, feeling a wave of shame wash over him at his weakness. The part of him that had been steadily growing stronger, his developing confidence and courage, screamed at him to fight back…to not allow this monster to haunt him any longer.

“Yes…yes they have,” he argued quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Y-you’re going to prison. You – you can’t control the chip anymore. And Buffy…”

“Shut up.”

Spike automatically obeyed, his words cutting off instantly at the quiet order from his former master.

“Okay. Let’s start with Point A. Prison,” Warren began in the calm, measured tone of a teacher. He paused before going on with a sneer in his voice, “Not gonna happen, Buddy. Sorry to disappoint you. They haven’t really got enough evidence against me to tie me to the robbery. And that’s the only thing I’ve been arrested for. All the other stuff…the chip, you, my plans…anything they found actually in writing? Well, let’s face it, it looks like science fiction. Can’t convict someone for having a really, really good imagination. Can they now?” There was a cruel, nasty tone in his sarcastic words.

Spike did not respond, feeling his heart drop at the realization that Warren was probably right. In the entire time he had spent secretly going through Warren’s records, he had never found anything related to the robberies. The only way he had even known about them was from Warren’s own mouth.

“Are you listening to me?” Warren demanded coldly.

“Y-yes.” The whispered response was immediate, without hesitation, and he cursed himself inwardly for his fear and weakness.

“Good. On to Point B. The chip.” He was silent for a moment, allowing the dreadful tension to build, charging the atmosphere, before he went on, his voice relentless and demanding, “You really sure about that, Spike? You sure I can’t control it anymore? Who ever said there was only one controller for your chip, Spike?”

He felt his stomach turn over inside him at the words. *No…no…it’s not possible…* he insisted to himself, shaking his head in denial. If Warren really had another controller, why had he not used it before now? It couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t. Unless…unless he was just biding his time…waiting until he could do the most damage, until he could somehow get him away from Buffy’s protection. No…it just couldn’t be true!

He didn’t know how he could bear it if it was.

“And then there’s Point C,” Warren continued without waiting for a response this time. “Buffy,” he sneered, a mocking note in his voice as he said the name. “You two sure seem to be hitting it off again, don’t you? Sure seemed to be having a good time last night.”

Spike gasped, without meaning to, startled by the revelation. Warren had seen them? When? How? How did he know anything about last night?

Warren laughed. “Yeah, that’s right. I was watching you. I’ve been watching you for a while now, Spike. Making my plans…biding my time…You know it’s only a matter of time, right?”

Spike felt the panic rising in his throat; he felt sick. “No,” he whispered, helplessly. “No, you…you can’t…she won’t let you come near us…she’ll kill you if you try…”

“Yeah…Buffy’s a pretty forgiving chick, isn’t she, Spike?” Warren’s quiet, loaded words were worse than a blow. The insinuation in them drove a sense of shame back into his heart that he had all but defeated already. “At least…you know…she’s trying to be. But…you know…I don’t think girls really get over stuff like that…not that easy…do you?”

Spike swallowed hard, fighting back tears, and did not reply.

“I asked you a question,” Warren’s voice was warning.

“Sh-she forgives me,” he managed to choke out the words in a voice that was barely above a whisper. “She loves me…”

“Please,” Warren scoffed, and Spike flinched at the cruel derision in his voice. Biting off the words, clearly and distinctly, driving his heartless point home with vicious accuracy, Warren went on, “Do you really think anyone could ever *love* a thing like you, Spike? Especially a girl like Buffy? Come on! She’s *tolerating* you. She feels *sorry* for you. But how long do you think that’s gonna last? Really? How long do you think it’s gonna be before she gets tired of the pathetic little puppy following her around?”

He did not allow Spike even a moment to recover from that cruel emotional blow before delivering the next one, “It won’t be long before she starts looking for ways to get away…maybe just for a little while, at first…you know…” He paused before going on in a low, menacing voice.

“But all I’ll need is a few minutes.”

Spike felt a cold chill of terror go through him at the realization of what Warren was saying. He shook his head, wanting to deny it…unable to find words.

“I’m keeping an eye on you, Spike. Don’t think I’m not. And the first chance I get… I’m taking back what’s mine,” Warren declared menacingly. “And this time…your girl’s not gonna find you. Never. Do you understand me, Spike?”

“No,” he whispered, desperation in his voice. “No…”

“Yes,” Warren insisted, mercilessly. “Enjoy it while you can…cause it’s not gonna last. You know what I’m gonna do to you, Spike? When I get you back?”

And the boy launched into a vicious, heartless monologue, describing in brutal, graphic detail the many abuses he would inflict on him once he had him in his power again. And, unable to find the courage to talk back, or hang up the phone, feeling the painful pressure of old fears and hurts burdening him once again, Spike just stood there, listening to every word in helpless terror and pain.

Shaking violently, he could no longer hold back the tears, and they flowed unchecked down his face, as the haunting voice that had been long since banished by the love of his fledgling family managed to find its way back into his heart, through the cruelty of Warren’s words.

*He’s right…you’re never gonna really escape…sooner or later he’s gonna catch you again…and you’ll be right back where you started…this is all too good to be true…you don’t deserve it, and you can’t keep it…* the voice insisted, as his sobs overwhelmed him.

Before he knew what was happening, Dawn was suddenly at his side, one small arm wrapped around him protectively, and the other reaching for the phone. Without even realizing he was doing it, his trembling hand clutched the phone tightly as he listened to the vicious threats and cruel degradations Warren was pouring out. She couldn’t pull it away from him.

“Spike,” Dawn said softly, trying to catch his gaze, with her own eyes wide and serious, and he knew that somehow she knew what was happening. “Give me the phone, Spike.”

He stared up at her, his eyes stricken and terrified, confused, as he hovered between his two warring realities…his cruel past, and the present love that was desperately trying to pull him back from the edge of the abyss.

“Come on, Spike,” Dawn whispered, gently trying again to pull the phone from his grasp, and this time he released it, allowing her to take it.

Buffy was right behind Dawn, and as Dawn took the phone and moved a couple of steps away from Spike, she quickly moved in to put her arms around him. He collapsed against her, sobbing, and she pulled him closer.

“What is it?” she whispered, her eyes wide with concern. “What happened?”

Dawn’s harsh voice, trembling with rage, suddenly drew her attention.

Warren was still talking, unaware that he had a new listener, when Dawn interrupted him. “You bastard! You disgusting little piece of shit!” she snarled, hatred and fury in her voice. “You are never going to touch him again! I’m going to *kill* you!”

Before the realization of who Dawn was talking to hit her fully, Buffy felt a chill at the pure menace in her sister’s voice, knowing beyond all doubt that she fully meant her threat. Then, she *did* realize what had just happened, and all her attention was focused on Spike, a trembling, broken wreck in her arms.

Warren was silent for a moment on the other line, before he laughed when he realized who he was talking to. “Well, hey, Dawn,” he said, his voice light and casual. “Hi to you too.”

“Don’t you ever dare call here again! I mean it, Warren. You’re going to be sorry for this. For everything. When I get through with you you’re gonna wish you’d never even *seen* Spike!” Dawn went on, further infuriated by his utter lack of concern over her anger or what he had just done.

“Oh, no,” Warren said mockingly. “Guess I shouldn’t have messed with *you*, huh? I’m *so* scared!”

“You will be,” Dawn snapped, and slammed the phone down, fuming. “The nerve of that little creep! I’m gonna…” She stopped when she turned and saw her sister and Spike.

He was clinging to her desperately, his arms wrapped around her, his head on her shoulder as she held him close to her, whispering soothingly to him.

“It’s okay,” she assured him. “He can’t hurt you. It’s okay, Baby. I’m not gonna let him touch you, ever. I promise.”

Dawn slowly drew nearer, her eyes welling with tears at the damage that had been done in a matter of seconds. Spike was making so much progress, doing so much better, and a few cruel words from Warren had sent him spiraling back down into the darkness again.

When Buffy’s tear-filled eyes rose to meet hers, she knew that her sister was thinking the same thing.

“You can’t,” Spike struggled to speak through his tears, raising his head, not meeting Buffy’s eyes. “You…”

“What?” Buffy gently encouraged him. “What? I can’t what?”

“You can’t always be there, Buffy,” he finally managed to get the words out, despair in his voice. “I can’t *expect* you to always be there…and…and he…” He stopped, shaking his head as he lowered it back to her shoulder.

Dawn watched the understanding growing in her sister’s eyes, as she stared off over Spike’s shoulder, frowning in thought as something occurred to her, her hand idly, comfortingly stroking through his hair.

Gently, she pulled back, seeking his gaze, wanting him to look at her. Finally, hesitantly, he did, only because he knew she wanted him to. That old shame over the things he had done and experienced, dragged so mercilessly back into the forefront of his thoughts, made him want to hide his face from her again.

“You’re right,” she whispered, her eyes solemn as they searched his. “I’m going to be with you as much as I can, Spike. I’m going to protect you in every way that I can. But you have to be able to protect *yourself*, Spike.” Her words were kind, but firm as she held his gaze. “You need to know for yourself that no one can hurt you…not because I won’t let them…because *you* won’t let them.”

He looked confused, shaking his head a little, not quite understanding what she was getting at.

“Come on,” she urged him, taking him by the hand and leading him toward the stairs. “We’re gonna go to the Magic Box. There’s something I want to show you.”

As they disappeared up the stairs, Dawn wondered what her sister had in mind…but only for a moment. She had plans of her own to put into motion, and quickly. The fact that Buffy and Spike were going to be out for a little while just helped her plan along. She didn’t have to wait for Buffy to leave for work that night.

She hurried up the stairs to her own room, and closed the door behind her, already trying to reach Anya.


In her bedroom, Buffy pulled her jacket on over the comfortable work-out clothes she had just changed into. Spike sat on the edge of her bed, his eyes downcast, thinking about the events of the morning, as he waited for her to be ready to go. Here in the safety of this room, away from the power of Warren’s voice, reality was beginning to slowly return.

Again and again he reminded himself that Warren held no more power over him. He was safe here. No one would hurt him. But the fact was, he knew that there had been a lot of truth in the words Warren had spoken to him. Warren probably would not go to prison, and Buffy could not always be there to protect him.

*It IS only a matter of time,* the voice whispered again in his head.

Buffy didn’t speak as she went about her preparations to leave. When she was ready to go, she went to the closet and took out a familiar garment, running her fingers over the worn leather as she slowly crossed the room to sit beside him on the bed. Wordlessly she held it out to him, putting an arm gently around his shoulders.

He looked up at her for a moment, his eyes wide and vulnerable, before gazing down at the coat she had placed in his hands. He swallowed back the lump that rose in his throat at the sight of it…so many memories connected with it.

He didn’t move to put it on, just sat there staring at it for a moment.

Just when Buffy was about to say that they should go, he finally spoke, his voice husky with tears and so quiet that she almost couldn’t make out the words.

“Nasty bugger took it,” he murmured in a trembling voice, his eyes still focusing on the coat in his lap as he idly rubbed the leather between his fingers. “Stole it from me.” There was an aching emptiness in his voice, and she knew that he was talking about much more than the coat itself.

Her arm around him gently tightened, as she turned his head to face her, searching his eyes as she whispered, “But you got it back.”

His wide eyes were full of hurt and despair as he corrected softly, “No. *You* got it back, Buffy.” He looked down again at the coat, shaking his head a little as he went on, “He wore it for so long…don’t rightly fit anymore.”

Buffy looked down with him at the coat in his trembling hands, swallowing hard, trying to find the right words to help him through this. “It will,” she whispered. “You’re gonna get stronger. As – as big as he had to be to – to stretch it out like that,” she grimaced inwardly at her own weak metaphor, but went on nonetheless, “You’re just gonna have to get bigger. Stronger. Work back up to your full strength…and make it yours again.”

His eyes met hers, questioning, unsure of exactly what she was saying.

She was going to help him understand. Smiling her encouragement, she took his hands and pulled him up off the bed. “Starting tonight,” she said, a determination in her voice as she led him to the door. “Come on.”