By the time they finally reached the house, Dawn had begun to feel terribly frightened. She was not the least bit afraid that Spike would physically harm her; she knew beyond all doubt that he would willingly lay down his own life before he would ever lift a hand against her.

But she had never seen him this upset with her before. The longer they walked on in weighted, strained silence, the more fearful she became that she had somehow crossed a line, and done some irreparable damage to their friendship through her misguided though well-intentioned attempts to avenge her friend.

He opened the front door and held it for a moment, waiting for her to go in ahead of him, his expression tight and angry. With an emphatic wave of his hand toward the sofa, he ordered gruffly, “Sit,” before heading immediately up the stairs.

He had only gone about halfway up the stairs when he suddenly turned around and added, pointing a finger at her accusingly, “And you had better bloody well be *right there* when I come back down or so help me, Bit, I’ll…”

“I’ll be here,” she whispered, her wide eyes focused on the floor.

He lowered his hand slowly, staring at her for a long moment, and then turned to go upstairs, before she could see that the anger in his eyes was already fading, softening with his love for her.

He made his way to the bedroom he and Buffy had been sharing, slamming the door forcefully behind him. He just stood there in the center of the room for a moment, trying to make sense of the swirling confusion of powerful emotions coursing through him, trying to regain some semblance of control before he went back downstairs to talk to Dawn.

He was still very much in a state of shock over the revelation of what she had been doing for the past few days – what she had done before that. She had wished the chip out of his head and into Warren’s, and then somehow managed to get Warren chained up in his crypt, and stolen the control device from his coat pocket, to use against her captive.

The chip was gone.

It hit him all at once, in an instant, full force with a breathtaking impact. The thing he had yearned for, sought after -- the removal of the invasive little piece of machinery in his head, that had stifled and crushed him, made him a prisoner in so many ways, for so long -- had finally come to pass. He could hardly make himself believe it, though he knew that it was true.

He was free.

And he was free because of Dawn.

But there was the problem, he thought, concerned. He found himself deeply troubled by not only the depths of darkness that the girl appeared to have been delving into these past few days, but also by the fact that she had gone to such great lengths to hide it from him and everyone else.

While he and Buffy had been worried sick about the missing control device, and whether or not Warren would try something, trying desperately to come up with ways to keep him from hurting their little fledgling family, Dawn had known all along that the chip had already been removed, that the controller was safe in her possession, and that Warren was no longer a threat to them.

At least for the moment, he thought with a dark sense of apprehension.

If the chip could be removed so simply, with no more than a wish, then there was always the chance that sooner or later, Warren would find some other magical means of removing it from his own head. As long as Warren was alive, there was still a chance that he could become a danger to them again.

That thought sent another little chill of dread through him, at the troublesome question of just how far Dawn had intended to take this vengeance scheme of hers. There was no question; he agreed firmly with her that everyone *but* Warren would be much better off and safer is Warren was dead.

Ever since that fateful morning when he had awakened chained to the radiator in Warren’s house, although he had quickly been forced to bury the desire for the sake of survival, he had wanted desperately nothing more than to rip the boy to pieces with his own hands.

But that didn’t mean that he wanted Dawn to.

In spite of the horrors she had seen and been through, in spite of her considerably large rebellious streak, Dawn had a certain innocence and sweetness about her that was precious to him. Killing *any* human being, even one as worthless and purely evil as Warren was, would certainly steal that away from her – would steal away her very soul.

And Warren’s death was certainly not worth Dawn’s soul.

Finally, although he could not really understand why exactly, he felt hurt and betrayed by the huge secret she had kept, the lies she had told him to conceal it. Warren’s fate had been of so much concern to him ever since his liberation; somehow it seemed a tremendous affront for Dawn to have taken that fate into her own hands, and not said a word to him about it. It gave him a helpless, out-of-control sort of feeling that he could not quite put into words.

It was as if, just as he was beginning to learn how to play the intricate, delicate game that was learning to live again, just when he was starting to be able to finally deal with the demons that haunted him – she had suddenly changed the rules to the game, mixed up all the pieces so that he had to learn their places over again, bringing back the uncertain, insecure feeling he had been struggling so desperately to overcome.

He heaved a weary sigh, then took a deep breath, preparing himself to go back downstairs and face Dawn. He was not looking forward to this conversation, but he had to find out just how much trouble she had gotten herself into, and just what they needed to do at this point to remedy it.

When he reached the living room, Dawn had heard his approach down the stairs and had turned her apprehensive green eyes toward them. He paused, meeting her gaze without anger, but with eyes heavy with concern as he moved slowly to sit on the couch beside her, albeit farther from her than he would have usually sat.

He was trying – successfully – to send her a very clear unspoken message. This was not Spike, her best friend and secret-sharing buddy, with whom she could do no wrong. This was Spike, her protective older brother, who was very unhappy with her at the moment for the danger she had put herself in, and had no intention of backing down.

“I’m sorry,” she said in a very soft, timid voice. “I didn’t mean to…”

Immediately he held up a hand to silence her, and she stopped talking. “Just tell me what happened,” he said his voice low and controlled. Then before she could even draw a breath he added firmly, “And do *not* lie to me again, Dawn. There’s been enough of that soddin’ nonsense and I need to know the truth.”

Dawn nodded meekly, as she drew a deep breath to respond, not particularly encouraged by his stern demeanor. “I wanted to make Warren pay for what he did to you,” she began, her voice trembling. “He was just going to get away with it…the courts weren’t going to do anything to him, and you…you wouldn’t make a wish to Anya, even when she offered it!”

He looked up at her sharply, his brows furrowed in suspicion. He opened his mouth to speak, but she hurriedly rushed on before he could.

“I asked her about it, and she told me you wouldn’t wish. She didn’t tell me any more than that, though,” she assured him, and it was technically the truth. All that she knew beyond that, she had either overheard without Anya’s knowledge, or figured out on her own.

Hesitantly she went on. “So I wished the chip out of your head and into his, and then had Anya teleport him to your crypt.”

“Where you’ve spent the last few evenings,” his voice trailed off in a leading way, before he prompted, “Taunting him?” He paused, his voice low and cautious when he spoke again, looking at her closely. “Torturing him?”

“I’ve set off the stupid chip like twice – maybe three times,” she quickly dismissed his concerns, her disgust for Warren evident in her tone and her eyes. “I’ve barely touched him, I promise!”

He did not respond, and after a moment she went on in a resentful voice, “I’ve done a lot less to him than he deserves, that’s for sure. I just wanted to give him just a little taste of what he put you through.”

“And when you’ve done that?” he pressed her, his voice low and even, his eyebrows raised challengingly. “When you’ve sufficiently punished him? What then, Niblet? What were you planning to do with him then?”

Dawn looked down, her face coloring with shame, as she shrugged defensively. “I don’t know,” she mumbled, averting her eyes, avoiding his piercing gaze.

“Well, I don’t think you were planning to untie him and let him go, and hand him a soddin’ phone while you’re at it to call the police to come drag you away to jail, now were you, pet?” he countered sarcastically, his anger rising again at her avoidance. “How did you think this thing was going to end, Bit?” He was not about to let her out of this easily.

She didn’t say anything, not wanting to tell him the rest of her sordid story. If he was upset with her *now*, for what she had done to Warren alone, he would be ready to kill her once he found out that she had gone to a demon bar and made a deal with a seriously dangerous demon.

Spike took her silence as admission of her intentions, and sighed wearily. “I’m just glad I found out what you were up to in time to stop you, Bit. It might sound a bit odd coming from me, I know, but doing something like that – taking a human life…”

Her eyes shot up to his in an instant, full of some indescribable intense emotion, and he instantly knew what she was thinking, because he was thinking it too, even as he spoke. She did have a point.

Warren hardly seemed to qualify as a human worth protecting at this point.

“*Any* human life,” he continued slowly, holding his gaze with his serious sapphire eyes. “It changes you, Bit. It makes you hard…makes you…less…than you were. And I don’t want to lose you to that, love. Do you understand that?” His voice was clear, quiet, and intense – and he had finally allowed his love and concern for her to show in it again, more powerful than his anger had been.

She nodded, looking down again, her eyes welling up with fresh tears. She would not have admitted it to him, but she was actually a little relieved that he had caught her. The pressure of the secret, added to that of the reality of what she had been doing, had been becoming too great for her to bear. Somehow, although she knew that Warren deserved much worse, deliberately hurting another person had made her feel dirty, had simply felt wrong to her.

“And your sister,” Spike went on, shaking his head and sucking his teeth. “We’ll be lucky if she doesn’t kick both our arses, pet. Yours for all this, and mine for *lying to her*!” He emphasized the last few words, giving her a pointed, accusing look.

But she didn’t even notice the point he was trying to make. Her eyes were wide with startled fear; somehow in all of the drama of the evening, the idea of his telling Buffy had not yet occurred to her.

“We can’t tell Buffy!” she gasped, shaking her head, her eyes wide and pleading.

“Well, we can’t bloody well *not* tell Buffy, pet!” he shot back, a firm, unyielding expression in his fiery blue eyes. “I’m not lyin’ to her again! Here she is racking her brain and worrying herself sick over Warren and what he’s planning, what he’s going to do – she’s gotta know the truth, Bit.”

“But…” Dawn searched desperately for a valid reason to keep it from her sister, but the only thing that occurred to her was the fact that Buffy was going to be furious with her – and she did not think that argument would matter much to Spike at this point.

“Anya!” she blurted out suddenly. “Buffy might hurt Anya if she knows she’s a vengeance demon again! I mean, she’s the Slayer, it’s sort of her job. She’d kind of have to, right? So we can’t tell her!”

“I don’t think she’s going to hurt Anya, pet. But even if she would – can’t be helped,” he shrugged with an apologetic grimace. If he had really thought there was any chance at all of Buffy’s hurting Anya, he might not have been so casual about it – but he knew in his heart that he still would have told her the truth. “I’m not gonna lie to your sis, least of all about something this important, love. You’re just going to have to face the music.”

“And what about Anya?” she tried again, insistent. “Should *she* have to face it, too, just for trying to help you?” She was trying every tactic she could think of to make him give in – at this point she was not above a good guilt trip.

“I told you, Bit, Buffy’s *not* gonna hurt Anya! Think about it, pet! She’s bloody dating *me*! And I don’t even have a chip anymore! She can’t exactly slay Anya just for existing and give me a free pass!” he pointed out.

“Yeah, but,” Dawn argued, not really even realizing what she was saying as she said it, just trying to convince him of her point, “Buffy doesn’t *know* you don’t have a chip anymore yet! If she thought you were dangerous – like Anya obviously is – things might be…”

Her voice suddenly broke off, her eyes widening in stunned realization of the implications of what she had just said. Then her eyes turned toward Spike, in wondering apprehension.

Spike’s mouth had dropped open a little, and he looked stricken by the thought that had not occurred to him before she had spoken. By this point he was confident enough in Buffy’s affections that he rarely questioned them.

Not unless someone said something to make him question them.

Reason reminded him that the chip had not worked for some time now, at least not on anyone but Warren, and Buffy had already assured him that she trusted him, that she believed in him to do the right thing, without being forced to do so. But the impact of the fact that the chip was really and truly gone, once and for all, was just hitting him – and he wondered anxiously what she would think when she heard the news.

Dawn saw with dismay the effect her words had had on him, and quickly tried to backtrack, “But she knows you’re not like that anymore, she trusts you, she’s not gonna think…”

Her voice trailed off again when she realized that he was not even hearing her. Despite Dawn’s reassurances, despite Buffy’s earlier promise of her trust, he began to wonder if that trust would hold true once reality hit her and she realized that he was completely free of the chip’s restrictions, forever.

At that moment, they heard the click of her key in the front door’s lock, and each froze with their own separate apprehensions.

Buffy was home.