Spike watched with an uneasy feeling of apprehension as Buffy rose to follow her Watcher out the front door onto the porch, leaving him there with a room full of people he had once known well, but who were now little more than strangers – not to mention the *actual* strangers. He was unsure of what he should do; slavery had made the idea of simply sitting and doing nothing a foreign one to him. A slave was always supposed to be alert and attentive, watching for the needs of his master or mistress.

That was kind of difficult when said mistress got up and left him, he thought, a bit petulantly.

Buffy had not spared him so much as a glance before leaving with Giles, so he thought that she probably did not want or need him along at the moment. She and Giles probably needed to have a private conversation, Slayer to Watcher, without everyone else there to overhear every word. Giles had made a point of saying that he wanted to talk to Buffy *alone*, and she had not objected in the least.

She had, however, seemed nervous and reluctant to go. Come to think of it, though his attention had been mostly focused on Buffy during the little exchange, he had noticed that Giles had not seemed terribly pleased with her at the time. A worried frown creased Spike’s brow at that thought.

He knew that, even if he could, Giles would never physically harm Buffy; but he also knew that at this moment, Buffy was terribly vulnerable emotionally, and he could easily hurt her with his words, even without meaning to. She was nervous and insecure about rebuilding her relationships with the friends she had rejected, but now needed so desperately.

And if she had been *nervous* about the reactions of Willow and Xander and the others – the thought of *Giles’* reaction had terrified her.

Spike did not know why Giles was upset with her, since he seemed to have forgiven her for casting him off in the first place; but he knew that whatever the Watcher chose to say to her right now, Buffy would definitely take it to heart. If he was too harsh, it could be devastating to her.

He suddenly decided to get up and follow her, regardless of the Watcher’s wishes, and stood up quickly from his chair.

Just then, he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. He turned to see Willow standing beside him with an encouraging smile. Just the look alone made him feel a little better. Over the course of the last couple of days, he had begun to feel more comfortable around Willow and Tara, who had treated him with nothing but kindness since he had come here.

“She’ll be all right,” the red-headed witch assured him. “They just need a little time to talk, just the two of them.” She paused, that self-conscious apologetic smile that was so Willow coming over her face as she added with a little shrug, “Besides…it’s daylight.”

He nodded reluctantly, knowing that she was right, but still a little apprehensive.

“Have you met our guests?” Willow asked him, her voice and eyes hopeful as she tried to distract him from his worries.

He shook his head, looking nervously toward the vampires in question. He felt a little odd about meeting them, for some reason. They seemed so at ease and comfortable with the humans that surrounded them – so different from the way he had become.

He watched with an almost fascination as one of the two males got into a spirited discussion with Xander, arguing over some sports team, and the little female across the room accepted a steaming cup from Tara, who was smiling down at her where she sat comfortably on the couch, completely relaxed.

They were truly being treated as guests; he could scarcely comprehend it.

Such courtesy and hospitality from a human was something Spike had never experienced for himself – not from any human who actually knew what he was. Until Buffy, every master he had ever had had treated him like nothing more than an animal, deserving of no consideration, no privileges or rights of any kind.

He was not blind, and he knew that Buffy’s friends disapproved of her owning him. They seemed to be of the opinion that her simple possession of him alone, regardless of how she treated him, was a crime in and of itself, whether or not she actually hurt him. But somehow, despite the fact that she had, he still felt safer with her than he had in years, with anyone.

She had a volatile temper, and the natural tendency of a Slayer to take out her frustrations on any undead creature or demon that got in her way. That alone should have made him terrified to think that his life was hers to do with as she pleased. And it was true, there had been and still were times when he was afraid of her, even now, in spite of her promise not to hurt him again.

Still – he felt safe with her in a way that her friends could not come close to comprehending.

“Hey.”

A quiet, unfamiliar voice behind him made him jump, and he cursed himself for showing such weakness when he realized that it was only one of the other vampires standing there.

The slightly built, dark-haired vampire behind him, clearly little more than a fledgling, had a tentative smile on his face as he waited for Spike to respond. "I'm Julian," he finally offered, when Spike just looked at him coolly, not really interested in having a conversation with the stranger when he had so much on his mind at the moment.

“Spike.” The simple one-word response did not leave Julian much to work with, and should have been a hint to the younger vamp.

“So…you belong to the Slayer,” Julian commented, his brows raised slightly in interest, but mostly just searching for a way to pull Spike into the conversation.

Spike did not want to be pulled.

His eyes narrowed on the expectant face of the boy, who couldn’t have been more than twenty when he was turned. This was just another slave, and a fledgling at that; there was no reason for Spike to feel intimidated in the least around him. He called on the remnants of a persona that he had abandoned long ago in the name of survival, pulling himself up into an intimidating stance, gratified when the younger vamp unconsciously shifted backward a little.

To take such a stance with a human would have gotten him immediately struck down, and hard. It had taken months of brutality and degradation, but his first master had eventually succeeded in breaking him of his pride and bravado, and he had given up the “Big Bad” façade that in this world, only served to cause him suffering.

But a little fledgling like this, chipped like him and lacking his skills and experience, was no threat whatsoever, and found the classic Spike pose, the cold smirk on his face, very intimidating. Spike felt a rush of nearly forgotten power and pride at Julian’s reaction. It was not fear exactly – after all, no one in this house would let Spike actually hurt the other vampire, if he had a mind to – but rather a wary acknowledgement in his eyes.

Spike might be a slave, but as a vampire, he was a master – and not one to be taken lightly.

“Yeah,” he responded to the boy’s question, a challenge in his soft tone. “What of it?” As he spoke he took a step nearer to Julian.

“Nothing.” Julian shook his head, glancing away uncomfortably. “I was just – I mean…” he stammered, losing his words under the powerful glare of the older vampire.

“Oh, good. You two have met.”

Tara’s voice was soft, pleasant, but her smile was knowing as she suddenly stepped between the two, her usually soft grey eyes piercing as they fell on Spike, and he instinctively shifted back to his usual demeanor, the attitude falling away in an instant. He knew by now that Tara would not hurt him, but it was automatic by now, the humble posture, the dropped gaze, when faced with any human, studying him so intently as she was doing a that moment.

“Come on. I’ll introduce you to the others.” Tara’s voice was kind, but he did not miss the subtle reprimand in her tone as she put her arm around his shoulders and led him firmly away from Julian. He tensed under her touch, aware that he had crossed a line, but found himself relaxing slightly when she gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

The unspoken message was clear – he was safe, there was no way that she was going to hurt him – but she wasn’t going to let him bully Julian, either.

In a strange way, it was comforting, giving him a sense of security, because he somehow knew that if the situation had been reversed, Julian would have been gently distracted just as he had just been. It was clear that in this house, things were done a certain way – with tolerance, and grace, and a sense of fairness. Everyone was treated the same, and no one was permitted to use violence or mistreat those around them.

It was reassuring, and steadying, and made him feel – safe.

Spike felt his worries begin to ease as Tara led him across the room to meet Aaron and Mara.


Buffy’s heart was pounding as she followed her Watcher around the house to the pretty little garden in the back. She stopped for a moment, surprised by the unexpected beautiful scene she had stepped into – no doubt the work of Tara’s hands.

Buffy suppressed a sense of resentful irritation. *Yeah. Perfect, saintly Tara…everything she touches turns to shiny, pretty goodness. Whereas everything *I* touch, on the other hand, turns to…*

“Would you care to tell me what’s been going on between you and Spike?” Giles asked her directly, his ice blue eyes piercing, unrelenting, and focused on hers as he took a seat on a white painted bench facing her, regarding her coolly, with barely bridled anger.

*Shit.* She finished the thought, which was now doubly appropriate.

“What do you mean?” she asked, aware of the stupidity of the question, and the fact that she must look as trapped as she felt, but just stalling for time. “ ‘Going on’ could mean so many things…”

“Buffy.” Giles spoke with forced patience, and Buffy heard a dangerous note in his voice that she had never heard from him before. “This is not a joke. This is serious. The last time I saw Spike he was as brash, arrogant and all around infuriating as ever. Now I come here to find him in *your* possession – and rather than the total resistance and anger I would expect from him at being under your command – he rather seems to seek desperately to please you – to meet your every need.”

He paused, and the righteous anger in his eyes made her drop her own gaze, knowing where he was going, and that he was partially right in going there.

“Now what I’m wondering, Buffy,” Giles went on softly, holding her gaze firmly. “…is what could possibly have brought him to such a strong – conviction – that it is in his best interests to please you above all else. What could be the motivating factor that might convince such a proud, bold creature to submit so fully to his mortal enemy?” The unspoken accusation in his eyes was clear; he had concluded that to be so submissive to the Slayer, Spike must have been “convinced” to do so by force.

“Giles, I didn’t do that to him!” she declared emphatically, her voice trembling slightly with the guilt of what she *had* done to Spike. “He’s been like that since I bought him!”

It was *almost* the truth, though she knew that her own behavior had served to break the tentative confidence he had been developing. Although some of the fault was hers, she knew that Spike had not been the same person they had all known since long before *she* had bought him.

“And why was that, exactly, Buffy?” Giles asked her bluntly, shifting the focus of the conversation suddenly. “Why *did* you purchase Spike as your slave?”

She was caught off guard by the question, felt her defenses springing up. “I don’t know,” she shrugged nervously, looking away from his eyes. “I just – I saw him there – at the auction – and I – I just couldn’t…” She paused, looking up at him with a plea for understanding in her eyes.

He wanted to hear what she had to say before he offered or withheld understanding. He just sat there, looking at her calmly, expectantly, waiting for her to find her thoughts and go on.

Buffy thought back on the events of that day – her pain at Riley’s careless, dismissive treatment of her…seeing Spike, and all the memories it had brought back, of better times and less confusing relationships…how could she explain to Giles what had possessed her to raise her bidding card that afternoon? She could barely understand it herself, even now.

She remembered the way Spike’s master had been mistreating him, had threatened to hurt him if he was not sold that day – the deep sadness she had felt when he was standing on the auction block, unwanted – her desire in that moment to claim him as her own.

And then, the way she had felt when the other woman had bid on him – the fierce possessive determination that had filled her, that no one else would have Spike but her – how desperate she had suddenly been not to lose this person from her past that had suddenly reappeared, dragging her just a little nearer to the memory of who she had once been.

“I needed him,” she finally confessed softly, her voice thick with emotion. “I bid on him because – because I didn’t have anyone. And – I wanted someone – to be mine.” The words came out in a hushed whisper, her tear-filled eyes focused on her Watcher’s spotless loafers, the truth coming together for her as she spoke it.

“You *had* someone who was yours,” Giles reminded her, and the bite that he could not keep out of his words made her flinch a little. His voice softened slightly with immediate remorse that his pain made him reluctant to show as he added, “…if you’d have had him.”

Her stricken eyes shot up to his at the stark pain in his voice, as she was reminded again of how her foolish actions had hurt those who cared the most about her.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Giles, I don’t know what else to say. I’m *sorry*.” There was a desperation verging on despair in her voice, as she stepped closer to him, searching his eyes pleadingly.

“I know you are, Buffy,” he replied quietly. “And I’ve forgiven you.” He paused. “That doesn’t mean by any means that it no longer hurts. And that doesn’t mean there are not consequences for your actions.” His tone shifted to direct the conversation back to what he had brought her out here to discuss in the first place. “You say you bought Spike at the slave auction – because you wanted someone to be yours.” He was silent for a moment, his intent gaze boring into hers and refusing to let her look away.

“Well, he *is*, Buffy. He’s yours,” Giles stated matter-of-factly, leaving no room for her to deny the truth of the matter. “The question now is – what are you going to do with him?”