Buffy released him and took a step back, wide-eyed in surprise at his words. She seemed confused for a moment as she took in what he had said, thinking about it – and then her face broke out in a mocking smile.

And then she laughed.

“Do you *believe* this?” she looked to her friends incredulously, gesturing with one hand toward her prisoner. She looked back to him as her laughter suddenly faded and her eyes hardened again. The hand that she had waved in his direction, now inches from his face, shot out to grip his hair again as she leaned down close to him. “*I* don’t,” she said softly, angry emerald eyes meeting his with menace. “How stupid do you think I am, Spike?”

Spike fought with everything in him not to say the words that sprang to his mind, and would certainly end with his being dusted, and instead insisted desperately, “I’m telling you the truth, Slayer. I’m not lying. I *hate* Faith…and I am *not* trying to help her!”

“Wow! You’re doing such a good job of it for not even trying!” she remarked with a wide, false smile. She moved in closer, her face inches from his, as she jerked him even closer to her and snarled, “No more games, Spike. You are *not* going to distract me with your stupid stories. What you are going to do,” she went on, raising the stake in her hand and pressing it again to the already bruised flesh at the base of his stomach, “is answer my question. Now.”

“Slayer…please…you need to listen to me! I swear I’m on your side! I want nothing more than to see Faith dead!” he insisted, gasping with the pain and fear of the weapon in her hand.

“You know,” Buffy went on, utterly unaffected by his desperate claim. “I saw you two together the other night, and I wasn’t really getting an ‘I want to break your neck and drain you dry’ vibe so much as an ‘I want to jump your bones and screw you senseless’ sort of impression.”

Yet even as she spoke the words, the image of Spike’s expression of irritation at Faith’s possessive, belittling comments that night found its way through her anger into her memory. She wondered suddenly if there could be any truth to his words. He *had* actually seemed quite disgusted with Faith that night.

Either way, she was not ready to let Spike see that she was even considering his words.

Her intimidation tactics were working too well to stop yet.

She gave him a falsely innocent, almost sympathetic smile as she commented lightly, “What is it with you and psychotic ho bag skanks, Spike?” There was a cruel gleam in her eyes as she shrugged casually and admitted, “At least Faith doesn’t *look* crazy. Most of the time. Guess you’re moving up the food chain a little, huh?”

She had intended the words to cut him deeply. However, she was still surprised by the flash of intense hatred she saw in his eyes as he replied.

“Bitch,” he spat out in a voice of quiet rage. “How dare you…”

As he had spoken, Buffy had slowly risen to stand up straight in front of him, and now she cut him off with another brutal blow across his face. “No, Spike,” she snapped. “How dare *you*! How dare you sit here in the very room where my mother died and play your little head games and tell your lies when the only thing that ought to be coming out of your mouth is my. mother’s. killer’s. name.”

Her voice had lowered in volume and risen in intensity with each word, as she slowly moved forward, placing her hands on the arms of the chair and leaning in until she was right in his face again. “I don’t think you really get it, Spike,” she went on, her voice taking on a note of sadness, though it was still full of menacing fury. “See, you can’t possibly know how serious I am right now…how much danger you’re really in…because you don’t know what it’s like to love – to *lose* someone you love. The rage – the determination to make their killer pay, no matter what it…”

“She killed Drusilla.”

The three simple words, spoken quietly but with a powerful force of emotion behind them, silenced Buffy’s rant instantly – at least for the moment. No one moved or spoke as Buffy and her friends all took in the impact and relevance of what Spike had just said.

As angry as she still was, as much as she still wanted to blame Spike and take out all of her grief and rage on him, her heart recognized the aching pain in his voice as he spoke those few words – recognized it as not all that different from what she was feeling.

And suddenly…it all seemed to make sense. Still, she was reluctant to accept his words.

Uncertain, she looked to her friends for confirmation of his statement. Willow did not respond at all, her eyes still focused on Spike, not softened in the slightest by his words.

Xander looked at Buffy and shrugged helplessly, shaking his head. “I don’t know, Buff. First time I saw him here after you left, he was alone. We haven’t seen Drusilla since… since last year,” he finished carefully. “We just assumed they weren’t together anymore.”

“We *were* together when we got here,” Spike broke in, glancing with a sense of urgency between the Slayer and her friend. He could sense that he actually had a chance of getting through to her here. “Until Faith killed her. That’s why I want to help you take her out. Can’t do it on my own,” he admitted. “She’s too well protected all the time. And she’s tough. Near as tough as you, Slayer.”

Buffy was not offended by the comment; she had fought the other Slayer herself and knew that he was right. Faith had given as good as she had gotten during the fight, and Buffy had a sneaking suspicion that if she had not been as fired up as she was, she could have easily lost to the other girl.

When she didn’t say anything, Spike pressed ahead. “I know things, Slayer. I know a lot about her plans…she keeps me in the dark on a lot of it, but I hear things. I know her strengths and her weaknesses. I can help you beat her.”

Buffy just stared at him, thinking hard. His surprising revelation of Drusilla’s death at Faith’s hands put a whole new spin on the situation, one she had not considered before. The more she thought about it, the more sense everything made to her. She glanced at her friends again. After everything they had gone through in her absence, after all they had witnessed of what Faith had done, with Spike at her side the whole time, she felt that she owed them at least a little consideration.

“What do you think?” she asked, her tone grim.

Neither said anything for a moment, both regarding Spike, Xander with speculation and uncertainty – and Willow with nothing but sheer unbridled hatred.

Finally Xander spoke, his voice firm and decided. “I think he’s lying, Buffy. I think he just wants to get his third Slayer, and he doesn’t care which one it is. He wants to play the two of you against each other.”

“That’s not true…” Spike began to protest.

“Shut up,” Buffy snapped, raising her hand in a warning of a blow, and he immediately shut up. “No one is talking to you, Spike,” she informed him sharply. “When I want you to talk – believe me. You’ll know it.”

She returned her attention back to her friends. “Will?” she asked, a little hesitantly. “What do you think? Do you think he’s lying?”

Willow glared at the bound, helpless vampire whom she saw as the source of all of her misery and loss of the past year. Already, he was bruised and bleeding from the Slayer’s ruthless interrogation, and at the moment did not appear to be a threat to anyone. And what he was saying *did* have the ring of truth to it. As she studied his expression coldly, she became sure that he was telling the truth about Drusilla’s death.

And if the emotions that vampires felt were anything like those of humans, she could definitely see that he would want to seek vengeance for her death – as she had wanted to for Oz’s death…and still did. Yes, he probably was out to get Faith, and probably was willing to actually help Buffy to do it. After all, he had worked with Buffy before when it worked to his advantage.

And none of that mattered to her at all.

“Will?” Buffy prompted. “Do you think he’s telling the truth?”

Willow stared with cold, hate-filled eyes at the nervous vampire in the chair before finally answering her friend. “I think it doesn’t matter.”

Buffy felt a little chill run down her spine at the vicious anger in her friend’s voice, even as she was reminded with a shock of just why Willow was so upset. Throughout the entire affair, Buffy’s focus had been on finding out who killed her mother, the severity of Spike’s fate, in her mind, resting on whether or not he was guilty of Joyce’s death. She realized now, as she looked into the cold green eyes of her best friend, that none of that mattered to Willow, not really.

She *knew* that he was guilty of *Oz’s* death.

Buffy looked back at Spike, her eyes narrowing in suspicion and anger. “She’s got a point,” she informed him coolly. “My mother’s not the only one we’ve lost.” She moved in closer to him and said in a softer voice, “I really think I could handle Faith on my own, Spike. And you still have to answer for other things.”

He glanced fearfully between the Slayer and the redhead, realizing that things were teetering precariously on the edge of going very badly for him, very quickly. “Now wait just a second here,” he hurriedly spoke, not even sure what he was going to say before he said it. “You can’t blame me for that…”

“Can’t *blame* you?” Willow’s voice was incredulous, trembling with disbelieving rage, and despite the fact that they all knew she could do little to actually hurt him, she took a threatening step forward. “Can’t *blame* you for killing him?”

“It was self-defense!” Spike insisted, his voice rising defensively. “*He* attacked *me*! Would you expect a bloke to lie down and *let* him tear me limb from limb?”

“He wouldn’t have attacked you if you and your gang hadn’t killed Cordy,” Xander interrupted, his own voice louder now with anger at Spike’s daring to defend his murder of their friend.

“I never even met the little bint!” Spike insisted, his own voice trembling with anger at the accusation. “I don’t even know who she is, and I didn’t kill her!”

“Maybe not,” Willow broke in, her voice unusually high with the intensity of her emotion. “But if it wasn’t you, it was vampires working *with* you. You know that they never would have gone there that night if not for what *you* and Faith were doing! Don’t try and act like you’re innocent in this, because you’re not!”

Xander nodded emphatically. “That’s right. As long as you and your kind are terrorizing the streets, no one is safe. And I say we need to put a stop to it. Starting right now.”

He took a step toward Spike, reaching for his own stake which he kept in his back pocket, a determined anger in his dark eyes, and Spike knew suddenly that the boy really meant to dust him. His eyes widening in fear, he drew back slightly against the chains that bound him, as Xander moved swiftly forward with his stake raised to strike.

“Wait.”

The Slayer’s voice finally spoke, the only calm voice in the room. She had been standing there, quietly listening as the conversation had progressed to an argument, and the argument to violence. Even as she took it all in, her mind was still going over all that had already been said, and although she could not decide from what little she knew whether or not Spike was telling the truth – she knew that she needed to hear more.

“Guys…I have a few more questions for Spike. But right now, everyone’s getting kind of worked up, and if things go on like this we won’t learn anything,” she explained calmly, her eyes focused on Spike’s with an expression he could not read.

“He’s not gonna tell us anything useful, Buffy. He’s just stalling to save his own sorry unlife,” Xander said, sounding tired and disgusted as he reluctantly lowered the stake in his hand.

“Oh, he’s gonna tell *me* all right,” Buffy insisted with a dark little laugh that sent a chill down Spike’s spine. She looked back at her friends, meeting their eyes one at a time and hoping that they would understand. “But I think I need to finish questioning him alone.”

“No,” Willow snapped, her voice trembling as she shook her head. “No, we need to be here…”

“No, you don’t,” Buffy argued gently. “I know you *want* to be…” Her tone returned to a subtle threat as she glance back at Spike with a slight smirk and added, “but I think I’ll get a little further with our friend here if I don’t have to worry about grossing you and Xander out. You know. All the blood and stuff.”

Willow did not return Buffy’s tentative smile. “I really don’t think it would bother me.”

“Will,” Buffy tried again, her voice softer as she met her friend’s eyes earnestly. “Please. I really think I’ll get further this way.”

She could tell that Willow was very unhappy with this turn of events, but after searching Buffy’s eyes for a moment, she let out a weary sigh. “Fine,” she said flatly. “Whatever you think is best. You’re the Slayer,” and she turned toward the stairs, Xander following her. As always, he would go along with whatever Buffy decided was the thing to do.

As they headed up the stairs, Buffy turned back to Spike, who was watching them as they left, his relief obvious in his eyes, as for a few moments there, they had appeared to be a worse threat to him than the Slayer herself.

Buffy walked slowly closer to him again, and he turned his head to see that she was leaning over him again, meeting his eyes with her own cold, arresting gaze, a predatory smile just slightly turning up the corners of her mouth. He found that he could not meet her eyes for long, and looked away.

He had been wrong, he decided. *No one* was a worse threat to him than the Slayer.

“Now,” she said in a very soft voice, reaching out a deceptively gentle hand to lift his chin, forcing him to meet her eyes again. “Let’s talk.”