Spike did not know how long he just stood there, staring at the empty chains hanging from the wall, his mind stubbornly refusing to wrap itself around the awful truth that his eyes were taking in.

It wasn’t possible. Dawn had told them that there was just the one key, and had given it to Buffy. The chains were magically enhanced, so there was no way that Warren could have broken them. There was simply no way that he could have escaped. It was impossible. Yet the reality was right there before his eyes, horrifyingly undeniable and unmistakable.

Warren had escaped.

As the whole scenario began to take shape in Spike’s shell-shocked mind, he realized that the chains had not been broken. The single key that could open them lay beneath them on the floor. Somehow, Buffy must have dropped it without realizing it when she had been there that morning to leave food and water for Warren.

As his mind began to accept the reality of what he was seeing, the dreadful realization was accompanied by the cold fist of fear closing tightly around his heart once again. Suddenly, the fragile security he had developed was shaken, slipping from his tentative grasp in the face of the fact that once again, Warren was free.

He had barely been able to conceive of facing him, chained to the wall and helpless. The thought of his tormentor being free started a tremor of fear in his stomach. His entire body shook with rising panic, as he tried to calm down, reminding himself that there was still no reason why Warren would be a threat to him.

Warren’s chip did not disable him as badly as Spike’s had disabled him, considering the fact that it was now only programmed to go off if he tried to hurt – well, *himself*. Still, Spike knew that at this point he was physically strong enough to take on Warren in a fight and win.

And then there was the control device, still in Dawn’s possession at the house. If he could get to the device, he could feel more assured of his safety against Warren. If Warren tried to hurt him then, he could just…

Suddenly, that line of thought was cut short as a single thought from it caught up to him, and a new danger occurred to him. He knew Warren very well, much better than he had ever wanted to, in fact – and he knew that the boy would not simply be glad to have escaped and let it go at that.

There was no way that Warren’s power-thirsty nature would allow him to ignore the terrible insult to his ego that he had just endured; and there was no way that his sharp, diabolical mind would allow anyone to continue to possess a device that had so much power over him, a device such as the one that *Dawn* held.

Warren would certainly be out for blood now, seeking vengeance on the one he would hold most responsible for his recent humiliation, the one he would see as posing a threat to his future power as well.

Dawn.

Spike felt his stomach do an odd little somersault as he suddenly realized just exactly where Warren would intend to go from here. He had no way of knowing how long Warren had been free, but it would surely have been long enough for him to return to his house and arm himself by now. He could be on his way to Buffy’s house right at that moment, for all he knew.

And Dawn was alone there.

Suddenly, the powerful fear that had ruled with a fist of iron over Spike’s life for so long was instantly overcome, swallowed up by an even more powerful emotion. For as long as Spike had known the Summers sisters, his every design, his every motivation, had been in some way shaped by them. This moment’s decision was no exception.

His own personal safety, the immense threat that Warren posed in his mind, was suddenly meaningless in comparison to the unexpected threat that had arisen against Dawn. Buffy and Dawn, now more than ever, were Spike’s entire world, and everything that mattered to him in it. He knew beyond all doubt that he would gladly face death and worse to protect them from anything or anyone that would try to harm them.

If Warren was going after Dawn, he was about to make the biggest mistake of his entire life. If he thought that the worst he would go up against was the shattered, terrified wreckage he had left of the vampire he had savaged for so long, he was wrong. The threat to Dawn, real or imagined, brought out something in Spike that was far more dangerous than any side of him that Warren had ever encountered, and the boy was in for a surprise if he meant to hurt the girl and thought that it would be easy.

He had just awakened the Big Bad.


Dawn hung up the phone shortly after Spike left, with a troubled sigh. Lately it seemed that she did not have a lot to say to Janice. In the past month or so, she knew that she had distanced herself from her friends at school.

Her complete and utter focus on making Warren pay had eclipsed all of her other thoughts and interests for so long now, that she found the trivial high school gossip and discussion of who was wearing what while going out with whom incredibly boring and unimportant. And she couldn’t exactly share the secret of the psychopathic miscreant she was holding prisoner in the cemetery. She just seemed to have very little to say to her old friends lately.

At this point, she was beginning to feel more and more detached from it all.

As she hung up the phone, she realized that she hadn’t even thought to ask Spike where he was going. She felt a moment’s automatic apprehension before she remembered that the only threat to Spike was effectively disarmed and chained up in the crypt.

The brief worry was instantly followed by a deep sense of satisfaction. Because of the wish she had made on her friend’s behalf, it was now safe for Spike to go anywhere he wanted, anytime he wanted.

Well…as safe as it ever was, living on the Hellmouth.

She walked absently to the window and looked out, thinking over the events of the past couple of weeks. Although she had longed to punish Warren almost to the point of obsession, and had been stopped much sooner than she had intended to stop on her own, a part of her was glad of it.

The truth was, she was actually relieved to have been caught. Her defensive rage for her friend had made her believe that she could happily torture and kill Warren without a second thought. After all, he deserved it; it was justice. What he had done to Spike was so much worse than anything she was capable of doing to him.

However, she had sorely misjudged what she was capable of doing. She quickly found that actual torture was far more disturbing and intense than she had imagined it to be, and she found that she was utterly incapable of actually meting it out. She had realized, too late, that she had rashly entered into something much deeper and more frightening than she had been prepared for.

Though she had put on an act of being angry and resentful at being found out and stopped, she had secretly felt a tremendous relief to be able to relinquish her fragile hold on the dangerous situation to the more capable and experienced hands of Buffy and Spike. Meting out judgment to the nasty evil things that were drawn to the Hellmouth – whether they were human or not – was definitely more their department than hers.

It never occurred to her that they were just as confused by this situation and the best way to handle it as she was.

She wondered again where Spike had gone. Maybe he had gone to see Buffy at work; or maybe he was in the mood for a “spot of violence” as he used to put it, and had just felt like going out on patrol. That would be good for him, she thought hopefully. Spike needed a chance to exercise his own emerging self-confidence – to prove to himself the fact that little by little, his physical and emotional strength were both improving.

A little smile on her face at the thought of Spike, back to his old self and fighting demons again, she turned from the window to leave her room and go downstairs and watch a little television while she waited for him to return.

She was stopped short by the sight of the hated figure, lounging casually in the doorway, his arms crossed as he leaned against the doorframe, leering.

“Hey, Dawnie,” Warren said softly.


As she removed the hideous hat that she so detested and pulled on her light leather jacket, Buffy heaved a weary sigh of exhaustion as she headed for the door of the fast food restaurant, grateful that for once she had only had to work a few short hours instead of her regular full shift, or worse, the doubles that seemed to be more and more frequent lately.

She was eager to get home and see Spike, but also to meet with her friends. She was hopeful that with their combined ideas and a little brainstorming session, they would be able to find a solution to the problem that was troubling her.

In all her time as the Slayer, she had dispatched more demons and vampires and other evil creatures than she could ever count, and never once had it given her pause or made her feel a pang of guilt over whatever evil thing she was killing at the moment. She knew in her mind, beyond all doubt, that Warren Meers was among the most evil of the villains she had faced.

She could not think of another enemy that had taken such pure pleasure in the suffering of someone else, who had sought out another’s pain for the sole purpose of the pain itself. Vampires killed to maintain their own stolen life forces. Glory, being a hell-goddess from a dimension of unspeakable torment, had been an expert in torture and cruelty. Still, she had used it to accomplish her sinister purposes; the pain itself was not her purpose.

Even Angelus at his worst had sought to break her as a means of revenge, for the offense of making him feel human, making him feel love. And nothing he had done to her came close to the agony that Warren had inflicted on Spike. Without question, she knew that Warren was as evil and deserving of slayage as any other creature she had slain.

But he was human.

And the Slayer did not kill humans. It was rule number one. And despite her hatred of the sadistic little creep, she was not sure that she could bring herself to break it – was not even sure if that would be the right solution at all. As she stepped out into the night air, walking slowly toward her house, she thought with a certain wistfulness of how much simpler things would be if she could.

Unconsciously her hand slipped into the pocket of her jacket, reaching for the tiny object she had placed there the night she had almost broken that most important rule. She frowned, conscious thought replacing subconscious as she realized that the item she had only just realized she was seeking was no longer there.

She dug hurriedly in both pockets, a sick sense of dread rising in her as she stopped on the sidewalk to focus on her desperate search. But it was no use.

The key was gone.

She tried to think of where it would be. She wondered if Dawn would have taken it back, possibly intending to sneak back out to the crypt herself. It was something that she would expect her sister to do. After all, if she was still having trouble keeping herself from killing Warren, she doubted that it was any easier for Dawn.

And it would not be the first time her sister had stolen something or sneaked out, she reminded herself, rolling her eyes with a sound of frustration that was almost a growl. The more she thought about it, the more certain she was that that was what had happened. Dawn must have taken the key.

Still, she thought, that niggling anxious feeling still present in the corners of her mind, she couldn’t be too cautious in this situation. If she had somehow dropped the key in the crypt, that could be a major problem. Best to be sure that everything was still under control.

Resigning herself to getting home later than she had intended, she changed direction on the sidewalk and headed toward the cemetery.


Dawn’s mind was racing as she took a couple of backward steps away from Warren. She had no idea how he had escaped at all, not to mention the fact that there was not a single mark on him from the beating her sister had given him only the night before. Those two troubling facts, in combination with the cruel gleam in his dark eyes, made her think that perhaps Warren was a bit more dangerous at this moment than he had been the last time she had seen him.

In her mind she suddenly saw the control device, under her mattress where she had secreted it away. If she could just get to it…

“Where ya goin’, Dawnie?” Warren’s voice was quiet but taunting as he advanced on her, expertly maneuvering her where he wanted to go. It was both terribly frightening, and a tremendous relief, that he seemed to be maneuvering her towards the bed.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, more to get him talking and stall for time than anything else. She knew it was ridiculous question.

“What?” He raised his hands innocently, his tone mockingly defensive. “You *wanted* to talk to me the other night? Change your mind?”

Dawn was only a couple of feet from the bed, when she remembered suddenly with an anguished feeling that the control device was under the *other* side of her mattress. She fought off a sense of panic as she realized that she was alone in this house, with her only defense against him hopelessly out of reach, at least for the moment. She glanced at the phone, about ten feet from her on the floor – and on the other side of the bed.

“You’d never make it to it,” Warren said, echoing her thoughts as he followed her gaze. “As you might have noticed, Honey,” he smirked, advancing another menacing step. “I’m feeling a little better tonight.”

“How did you – I mean – how did you get away?” Dawn asked him, once again stalling, but certain that this tactic would work. Egomaniacs such as Warren could never resist bragging about their own evil deeds.

“Your stupid sister dropped the key,” he laughed derisively. “I wake up chained up in that crypt…except the key’s right there on the floor, within easy reach. So apparently the Slayer’s all brawn and no brains, huh?” He paused, his smile fading to a hard, threatening look as he added, “Whereas I’ve got both at the moment. So I wonder how *this* one’s gonna turn out.” His tone said clearly that he had no doubt as to the outcome of this little situation.

“How did you get better so fast?” she asked, her words coming out rapid and breathless, fighting off panic as she felt the backs of her knees hit the bed. There was nowhere left to go.

“I’ve got a couple of magically inclined friends myself, Dawnie,” he smiled again at this new reminder of his own power. “It was no problem at all. A simple healing spell. Good as new.” As he spoke he stepped even closer to her, until there was only a couple of feet of space between them.

“Jonathan?” Dawn guessed, remembering what her sister and Spike had both told her about the nerds and their varied talents.

He nodded, that cold smirk still in place. “So,” he glanced around the room speculatively. “Where’s my slave at tonight? I expected him to be sticking pretty close to home these days.”

“He’s not your slave,” Dawn snapped out, her fear momentarily forgotten in the rage that consumed her at Warren’s words. “He can come and go whenever he wants.”

Warren let out a little snort of contempt. “For the moment. Not for long,” he corrected. Then he shrugged, his expression relaxing into a smile that slowly became a leer. “Oh, well. If he’s not here I guess I’ll just have to wait.” His eyes narrowed menacingly, and his smile widened as he reached her and his hands shot out to grip her arms, pulling her uncomfortably close to him.

She struggled instinctively against him, but found with a sense of alarm that she could not break his grip. He was much stronger than he had been at the Bronze.

“How…?” she gasped, still trying to pull away.

He laughed mockingly, not even moving as he held her there, his hands like iron on her arms. “The healing spell’s not the only magic Jonathan knows,” he explained. “The strength he gave me should last me more than enough time to take care of your stupid slut sister *and* get Spike back to my house for a little reparative brain surgery. By the way,” he went on, as if he had just reminded himself of something. Then suddenly he lashed out and struck her hard across the face.

Dawn struggled to stay upright, seeing stars from the force of the powerful blow, as an explosion of pain erupted behind her eyes.

“That was very inconvenient. The whole deal with this chip in my head,” Warren said, his voice showing only mild irritation as if at a minor inconvenience as he gestured toward his head with his free hand, his other still a vise on her arm. He smiled. “Good thing I’ve got my new one that I was building for your sister. But ya know…after last night…I really think I just want her dead.”

His tone was cruel as he added in a softer, suggestive tone, “Besides. Spike’s already trained. He can serve my purposes just fine until I can build another chip and find another girl. One who won’t be such a freakin’ bitch.”

“You disgusting creep!” Dawn snarled, enraged further in spite of her perilous situation by his crude, suggestive comments about her sister and her friend. “I’ll die before I’ll let you touch either one of them!”

Warren’s smile just grew wider, and his eyes gleamed with a frightening light as he spoke in a quiet, calm tone that chilled her to the bone.

“Yeah. You probably will.”