The Watcher stood off to the side, doing just as his title suggested, as his Slayer lunged for the vampire who was now taunting her mercilessly about how he had killed her mother, how easily he had gotten into the house, how trusting and helpless Joyce had been, how desperate for any word of her wayward daughter, that she had let the known vampire into her home.

Giles was enraged himself by the cruel things that Angelus was saying, and longed to destroy the vampire himself, but he knew that he could not. If his Slayer appeared to be losing ground, he could and would use his magic to help her – but as much as possible, he wanted to leave this fight to Buffy.

He knew that defeating Angelus would provide the closure and – to an extent – the redemption that she needed as the cure for her grief and guilt over her mother’s death.

“You’re going to be sorry you ever touched her!” Buffy informed the gloating vampire in a voice trembling with rage and hatred.

“You know,” Angelus sneered. “I already am. She wasn’t even worth it.” He shrugged, a cruel, nasty smile coming over his face as he advanced cautiously on her. “The screaming was nice, though. That part was fun. I just wish you could have been there to hear it, Buffy. It was a once in a lifetime experience!”

With a roar of fury the Slayer lunged for him again – and once again Angelus spun out her reach, barely missing the point of her stake. In her rage and the violence of her attack, she had put a bit too much force behind the blow, over-extended a bit. Angelus took advantage of that and immediately moved in to give her a hard kick to the stomach as she stumbled to a stop in the place he had just been.

Buffy doubled over, the breath knocked from her body by the forceful blow, and Angelus took his opportunity to hit her with his fist in the face, knocking her back a few stumbling steps.

Pressing his advantage, Angelus rained several more savage blows upon her while she was dazed from the first one, not giving her time to recover from one before the next fell. He backed her up with his assault until her back hit the trunk of a tree near the edge of the clearing.

“Buffy, Buffy, Buffy,” he sneered softly, pinning her small frame against the tree by her arms, as she shook her head, trying to clear it from the fog that filled it from the beating she had just taken, muddling her thoughts and dulling her reflexes. “You’re too focused on the vengeance,” he advised her with mock concern. “It’s gonna cost you the fight.”

Incredulous, disbelieving, she demanded in a voice of outrage, “You killed my mother! What do you *think* I should be focused on?”

A wicked smile on his cruel face as he leaned in toward her throat, fangs bared and ready to strike as he hissed, “Winning.”

“Oh,” she replied in mock surprise. “Is *that* what my problem is?” One powerful leg, which he had foolishly failed to consider, shot out to connect sharply with his ankle, causing him to lose his balance with a yelp of pain, as he did loosening his grip on her arms. She took the opportunity to jerk her arm free and deliver a hard punch to his face, knocking him backward away from her.

She advanced on him, following up that first powerful blow with several more, expertly reversing their positions of before as she forced him to back up with her steady assault, ending the volley of blows with a powerful fist to his stomach that dropped him to his knees.

“Thanks for the tip,” she smiled. “But I think I’ve got it under control.” She paused before adding with a smirk, “The vengeance-focusy thing seems to agree with me.” As she spoke, she shifted her stake in her hand, advancing for the killing blow.

It was time for her mother’s murderer to pay.

But as she rushed forward, Angelus leapt back up to his feet, furious determination in his eyes. She could see in his expression, his posture, as he slowly circled around with her, neither willing to turn their back on the other, that he realized this little drama had come down to its deadly conclusion.

He tried a couple of quick little feints, trying to throw her off guard or off balance, but her only reaction was a cold smile.

“Come on, Angelus. You know I’m better than that,” she said matter-of-factly, her tone not arrogant, just stating a simple fact.

“Are you?” he smirked, lunging for her again.

She dodged to the side – but he moved with her, his full weight hitting her with staggering force and knocking her to the ground beneath him. She struggled against his hands on her arms again, pinning her once more, but this time to the ground. Her stake was still in her hand – but did her no good without the use of her arms.

The position she was in left her no leverage to work with. She fought against him furiously, but in her anger her efforts were more clumsy – and predictable – than they should have been, and Angelus just laughed at her.

“Like I said, Buffy,” he smirked. “Your greatest weakness is that you’re acting out of anger. You’re not focused on winning the fight; you’re just focused on hurting *me*. It’s your anger that’s your problem.”

She smiled up at him still struggling futilely against his grip, writhing beneath him as she strove to break free. She managed to maintain the smile despite her disgust, when she felt the evidence that told her that her struggles were arousing him.

“You know what’s *your* problem, Angelus?” she asked sweetly, suddenly ceasing her struggles beneath him and meeting his eyes, her own sparkling with laughter.

He should have been wary at her unexpected reaction, but he just smiled in return, a mocking light in his dark eyes. “What? Tell me,” he said in an indulgent tone, as if speaking to small child he was humoring.

She smiled up at him slyly, her voice lowering as she raised her head to be closer to him, as if sharing a secret. “You’re just too…damn…”

Without warning she brought her knee up sharply between his legs, smashing with brutal force against his rising erection and causing him to collapse on top of her with a moan of agony. As utterly incapacitated as he was by the pain, she easily threw him off of her, getting quickly to her feet and standing over him with a smug smile as she finished her thought.

“…cocky.” She shrugged with a smirk at her own little double entendre. “Always was your downfall.”

Angelus was gasping for unnecessary breath, nowhere near recovering from the pain of the Slayer-size blow to the most sensitive part of his body.

“You know,” she said in a quiet, thoughtful way, “If I was all about *winning* -- I don’t think I’d be satisfied with dusting you this way. Not enough of a challenge. You all helpless and in pain on the ground,” she shook her head, frowning with mock sympathy as she crouched beside the reeling vampire, fisting a hand in his thick dark hair and yanking his head back to force him to face her in spite of his pain.

“Good thing I’m all about the vengeance,” she said softly, her eyes growing dark with rage and vindication as she raised her stake to strike. “My mother was helpless. There was no way in the world she could have fought you and won. No challenge whatsoever. And you killed her anyway.”

Angelus looked away under the power of the hatred in her blazing green eyes, still not able to resist, his hands still instinctively covering his aching groin as he stared helplessly into the face of his destruction.

“See,” she went on softly. “Since *vengeance* is my goal – I see this as the *perfect* way to kill you.” She shrugged. “Guess my way’s best after all.”

And, still holding the gaze of the one who had been her first love, and become her most hated enemy, she drew back her stake and plunged it into his cold, unbeating heart, leaving in a single instant nothing but ashes of the love and memories once held between them.

And then, she fell to her knees from her crouched position, and there, in the dust of her fallen enemy – the Slayer wept.


As Buffy was finishing up with Angelus, Spike was *not* finished with Faith -- not even close. As he tore into her with his vicious fangs, he remembered every single time that she had mercilessly tortured him, reveling in his suffering and helplessness. Every time he had longed to fight back, to stop her, but had been forced into submission to her agonizing little games, flew through his mind, hardening him against her pitiful cries of pain.

The Slayer was drained almost completely by this point; her screams had faded to feverish moans and finally away completely as she lay there, unable even to move by this point, only her eyes revealing the pain she was still in.

"This the transformation you were hoping for, love?" he asked her, not really expecting a response, as he withdrew his fangs and glared down at her in pitiless hatred. "The power you were after?" He paused, his smile fading to a serious, thoughtful expression.

"Didn't quite work out as you planned, did it?" He smiled again, a wicked grin of vindictive triumph. "That's the funny thing about power, love. It can turn on you like *that*!" He snapped his fingers by her ear, wanting to be sure that the dying Slayer could hear him. "And when the power ends up in the hands of the ones you've hurt -- that's when you're bloody well buggered, pet.”

“And the part that would be tragic,” he went on, “if it wasn’t so bleedin’ hilarious – is that you *had* the power, pet. More power than most girls ever dream of. You’re a bloody Slayer.” He smirked down at her as he remarked, “In more ways than one. But you could have gone on the way you were going and ruled this city until the day you died – naturally,” he clarified matter-of-factly, “not bleeding and in agony like you are now.”

“But you had to get greedy, didn’t you? And it’s bloody well cost you, pet. Look at you now – dying in the dirt you’ve spent your life rollin’ in.”

Faith was barely hearing him by this point; her head rolled back, her eyes began to drift closed, and he realized that she was nearly gone. He shrugged carelessly. “Right, then. Time to end this little show, in’nit?” He leaned down over her, gripping her shoulders in his hands, and she opened her eyes weakly, as he began to speak again.

“There’s just one more thing I want you to know, beyond all doubt – as the last drop of blood is drawn from your body – I want you to know – that this would not be happening to you if not for what you’ve done to those that I love.” He paused, speaking clearly and distinctly, meeting her distant eyes as he said with a careful calm, “This is for Dru – and for Buffy – and for *me*.”

He saw the faintest glimmer of comprehension in her glassy eyes, knew that through all of the agony, she understood what he was telling her – and he was satisfied. He lowered his fangs to her throat for the last time, burying them deep in her flesh and draining the last of the Slayer’s life’s blood from her body.


Across the clearing, as Spike was still carrying out his vengeance, the Slayer rose from her grief, her eyes red with tears, and looked across the distance at her lover, lost in the retribution he was taking on the woman who had murdered his first love and abused him so viciously.

She was starting to think that there had been more to that abuse than she had been led to believe.

As he sank his fangs into Faith’s throat and began to complete the act of draining her, Buffy started toward Spike purposefully, wanting nothing more than to support him through this powerful moment – something told her that he *was* going to need her when all was said and done -- and then, to know the truth about the whole affair.

Giles’ hand on her arm stopped her momentarily, and she turned to face him with accusing eyes.

He looked away immediately from her intense gaze, speaking softly, “Don’t – don’t stop him, Buffy. He – he deserves – he *needs* to…” His voice broke off, unable to bring himself to put his thoughts into words.

Searching his face, though he would not meet her eyes, Buffy saw the confirmation of her suspicions; her Watcher had deceived her. As she looked back and forth between his guilty expression and the brutal vengeance that Spike was wreaking on the fallen Slayer, everything began to slowly fall into place for her.

That evening when Giles and Spike had left together to set the plan into motion, to carry out the “act” to convince Faith that he was under the control spell – and Giles had come home alone…the next night, when Spike had reacted with such terror at the idea of being restrained and controlled. When she had walked into the clearing tonight, she had gotten the distinct impression that Spike was not merely pretending to be under a spell, as Giles had told both of them that he would be.

And suddenly – it all made sense.

Giles had wanted to be absolutely sure that Faith trusted him, that the spell was believable, so as not to leave any room for failure in their plan. And in his mind, the only way to make the spell believable – was to make it real. The only problem with that theory in her mind was that she did not think that Spike would ever allow himself to be controlled like that.

She felt a sudden chill go down her spine at the horrifying realization.

Giles had not bothered to get Spike’s consent. He had placed the spell on him without his knowledge or permission, and then – judging by Spike’s absence that night and reactions later – left him at Faith’s mercy, just to prove himself to the dark Slayer. Who knew *what* Faith had done to Spike, while he was powerless to do anything but what she told him?

Buffy’s eyes narrowed on her Watcher in anger as all the pieces came together in her mind with shocking clarity. Now, after all that she had just come to know, his apologetic demeanor and weak advice to her to allow Spike to take his vengeance – the vengeance she had had no intention of denying him – seemed much too little, too late.

“Yeah. Let’s let him tear Faith apart for raping him…torturing him…whatever else she must have done to him, with your seal of approval!” she shot back with cold, angry sarcasm. “Better her than you, right? Bet you’re hoping he’ll work all his anger off on her and not have any left for you by the time he’s done, right?” She turned away from him, yanking her arm free.

“You *better* hope he works it all off, because if he doesn’t, I’m *not* stopping him!” she declared, giving him one last furious, disgusted look before she headed across the field toward Spike.

Just as she did, he dropped the lifeless body of the corrupt Slayer to the ground, leaning back away from her on his knees, to regard the destruction he had left of her – which was no greater than the devastation she had left of his life.

He stayed there on his knees for a long moment, feeling a sort of numb, empty feeling come over him in the wake of his carefully planned revenge. He had made a point of not letting his emotions control him, making sure that he did not allow his anger to make it any easier on her than it should be – and now…he still felt nothing.

Maybe he was afraid to.

Then, he felt the touch of two soft, gentle hands coming to rest on his shoulders – and the simple affectionate touch instantly, effortlessly shattered the walls he had built around his emotions, and he felt the tears streak his face, mingling with the blood of his retribution.

As his vampiric features shifted back to his human guise, and his shoulders began to shake, his blonde angel, his light, sank to the ground beside him and took him in her arms. He turned into her embrace, as great, wrenching sobs shook him, burying his face in her shoulder and pouring out the pain and helplessness of the past few days – the past year, in fact – in the arms of the woman who loved him.

And for the first time in longer than either could remember – they both felt truly safe.