Buffy stared down at the still body of the man lying crumpled on the floor a few yards from her and Spike, then past it, to the body of the younger soldier, in the doorway where he had fallen. The other two were still out cold, and did not show any signs of waking up anytime soon.

But they had no way of knowing how long that would last.

They climbed slowly to their feet, and Buffy walked slowly toward the body again, unable to take her eyes off the gruesome sight that was the work of her own hands. The man’s face was covered in blood, badly mangled by her fists and feet. She knew, but could scarcely comprehend, that *she* was the one that had done that to him.

She could not remember doing it.

She remembered seeing the terror, the pain, on Spike’s face – hearing the sick, twisted mockery of the man’s words, that had made them his last – feeling her own fury, consuming her completely at hearing the soldier talk about Spike, about what he had done to him, as if he was nothing more than a toy, a thing to be broken and used. She remembered thinking that she just had to stop him – couldn’t let him say those things, couldn’t let him take another step nearer to Spike…

And after that – she remembered kneeling over the broken body, her eyes wet with tears and her hands stained with blood.

She had killed a man.

“Buffy,” Spike’s gentle but urgent voice at her side drew her attention as he reached her, putting his arm around her from the side, staring down with her at the body of his former abuser. “It’s all right, love,” he murmured. “You had to do it. He was trying to kill you.”

“No, he wasn’t,” Buffy reminded him softly, unconsciously leaning into the comfort of his arm around her. “They weren’t supposed to kill us – just capture us.” She paused, hesitating before she added, “And that’s not why I did it, anyway.”

They were both quiet for a long moment. Buffy still felt stunned by the whole thing, disbelieving at what she had done. She had taken a human life – and that realization was staggering for her. She felt an overwhelming sense of guilt – and yet, a part of her was glad she had done it.

This man and men like him took pleasure and profit from the suffering and degradation of helpless creatures that were at their mercy. They had to be stopped.

But she knew that what she had done had not been about stopping this man from hurting anyone else, or even self-defense. It had been about avenging the torture and rape of the man that she loved. She had wanted to punish the soldier for daring to violate Spike so cruelly, and then daring to laugh about and make light of what he had done.

And in so doing, she had crossed a line from which she could not go back.

But she did not have time to think about all those things right then. The fact remained that she and Spike were still standing at the very mouth of the enemy’s den, where more soldiers could come and go as they pleased at any moment, with two dead soldiers and two not-dead soldiers – who could awaken at any moment – right there with them.

And Anya was still down there, somewhere.

“Okay,” Buffy said, her tone brisk and all business as she pulled out of Spike’s arms. “We have to figure out what we’re gonna do here. These guys could wake up at any time, and when they do, they’re gonna alert the others. If Anya’s down there, we haven’t got very long to get her out.”

“We need to hurry back then,” Spike concluded, studying her expression out of the corner of his eye, without looking at her directly.

Her sudden shift in manner concerned him; he knew that what had just happened was life-changing for her, and not in a good way. He thought that a part of her was just trying to put it out of her mind to avoid dealing with it, and he knew that that would not be healthy for her. But like, Buffy, he realized that they did not have time to deal with it now.

“We need to get back to the house, get Aaron…” he went on, guessing at what she was thinking.

Buffy shook her head. “No time. By the time we do all that this place will be crawling with soldiers. And we don’t know of another way in. If we’re gonna go in there, we’ve gotta go now.”

Spike was silent for a moment, as he slowly turned to face her completely, a cautiously hopeful look in his dark blue eyes. “We?”

Buffy stared at him for a moment blankly, uncomprehending, before she realized what she had said, and her eyes widened in alarmed understanding. “Me,” she amended. “I. Not we.” Her voice was firm.

“You’re not going down there alone, Buffy,” he argued. “It’s too dangerous. We’ve got no idea what’s down there, and you’d have no way of letting anyone know if you were in trouble.”

“I haven’t really got a choice,” Buffy snapped, her voice a little harsher than she had intended. She was trying very hard to keep it together at the moment, but her emotions were at a steady boil just below the surface, screaming for release that she could not grant them – not until Spike and Anya were both safe.

“Yes, you do. I’m going with you,” Spike insisted, meeting her gaze firmly, trying to show her that he was every bit as determined as she was.

“No.” Her tone was adamant. “It’s not safe.”

“It’s every bit as bloody *safe* as taking my chances getting home by myself, while you go down there alone. Yeah. That’s smart. That way we can *both* get killed trying to go it alone!”

Buffy opened her mouth to respond, realizing only then that she had no response.

His voice softened a bit, taking on a pleading note, as he added, “You said yourself there’s no time for you to take me back home. At least if I go down there, I’ll be with you. That’s gotta be safer than without you, love.”

Buffy thought about what he was saying, her expression sobering. He was right. She couldn’t take him home, but she couldn’t stand the thought of his trying to make it back alone, defenseless, with Riley’s men on high alert to find him. She thought for a moment, frowning in frustration when she realized that there was really no way around it.

It looked as if she had no choice but to let him go with her.

“I hate this, Spike,” she told him, her irritation clear in her voice, although he knew it was only a reflection of her concern for him. “You can’t fight down there. You know that.”

He looked down for a moment, aware that it was his own actions that had placed her in this situation, with no choice but to let him go. In spite of it all, he had to suppress a smile that he knew beyond all doubt would not go over well at the moment. He hadn’t planned this little situation – but it *had* worked out in his favor.

He hoped.

He looked back up to meet her eyes, his own wide and serious. “I know, Buffy. But this way, at least you’ll have someone to watch your back.”

She did not respond, just stared at him through sober, troubled eyes.

“We haven’t got a lot of options, love,” he reminded her, quite unnecessarily.

She drew in a deep breath, letting it out slowly as she continued to stare at him dubiously. “Okay,” she said finally in a voice of quiet resignation. “It’s really all we can do, isn’t it?”

He nodded, trying very hard not to look eager.

“Well,” she said quietly. “We’ll just have to do our best to stay out of sight while we’re down there. It’ll help that you can track Anya by scent, right? I’m assuming that’s how you found this place?”

He nodded, his eyes widening as something occurred to him, and he asked with a curious look, “How did *you* find it, pet?”

“I had Will do the locator spell on you before she started trying to locate Anya. It only took a few minutes.” Her eyes narrowed as her lips quirked up in a sarcastic little smile. “So you see? You *didn’t* have to risk your life after all, did you?”

“I’m sorry, Buffy,” he said immediately, his eyes down. “I – I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s okay.” Her voice was instantly gentler, as she placed a reassuring hand on his arm. She looked with grim resolve toward the open tomb. “We’ll *make* it okay.”

They set about gathering the scattered weapons of the fallen soldiers around them. Buffy took three of the guns, and gave the last one to Spike, who tucked it into the pocket of his jeans. It would do him no good to carry any more than that.

They both knew he would only be able to get in one good shot at best.

“Okay,” Buffy said with a deep breath, standing at the edge of the tomb. “We make this as fast as possible. In, and out. We just find Anya, grab her and go. You stay behind me, don’t fight or fire that weapon unless you have no other choice. Got it?” She gave her instructions without looking at him, staring down into the chasm beneath them.

“Got it,” he answered immediately, his voice trembling slightly.

The note of barely concealed fear in his voice drew her attention, and she looked at him with concern. “Spike,” she said softly.

He looked up at her suddenly, as if startled, his eyes wide and innocent, trying to look unconcerned. “Yeah?” he said, forcing a smile and trying much too hard to keep his tone light.

“It’s gonna be all right. We’re gonna make it,” she assured him, holding his gaze firmly. She paused, moving in close enough to put her arms around him for a moment and searching his eyes. “I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.”

He was trying hard to believe her, she knew. He swallowed hard as he nodded slowly. “Okay,” he whispered, looking back toward the ladder leading down to…

They had absolutely no idea. It could be another training center like the one he had been through – or something even more secretive than that, judging by the way its entrance was concealed in a place that most people would never have thought to look – in the middle of the cemetery, beneath a tomb in a crypt.

What they *did* know was that Riley’s men were down there – dangerous, evil men who would have no problems with hurting either one of them. Spike had experienced their cruelty first hand, and the thought of facing them again was terrifying to him. He wanted to be there with Buffy, to protect her – but at the same time, he dreaded making himself climb down that ladder, straight into the heart of his deepest nightmares.

In an instant, his pensive view down into the unknown was broken, as Buffy swung a leg over the side and climbed onto the ladder to stand there for a moment facing him, filling his line of vision with her warm, reassuring smile. She reached her hands up from the side of the tomb to rest on either side of his face and pull him in for a brief but intense kiss, before pushing him back again to look into his eyes.

“I love you,” she whispered – and the words in combination with the assurance in her eyes made him feel better in spite of himself.

“I love you, too,” he whispered, forcing a nervous smile in response to hers.

She looked at him for a moment longer, memorizing every feature – just in case – before she broke the moment, saying brightly, “Come on. Let’s get this done.”

And with those words she started down the ladder – and there was nothing for him but to follow.


“They should be back by now!” Giles paced the kitchen anxiously, glancing every now and then at the map on the table, as if it would somehow reveal to him the reason why his Slayer had not yet returned with her vampire. “Do the spell again, Willow.”

The redhead shot him a dark look at his unintentionally demanding words, but did not mention it. She knew that he was just scared to death for Buffy, Spike, and Anya, just like she was – like they all were. She just spoke the Latin words of the spell again and threw a bit more of the dust on the map.

“They’re still in the same exact spot. Right in the middle of Restfield Cemetery.” She paused. “And Anya’s still right where she was. Just a couple hundred feet away from them.” She frowned, puzzled and concerned.

Giles was silent for a moment. “Something must have happened,” he decided finally. “Otherwise she’d be with them by now. They could be injured – or captured, or – we need to do something. We can’t just sit here idle.” His voice was calm, quiet – but his fear was obvious in his eyes.

They had been surprised when the locator spell for Anya had revealed that she was so close to where Spike and Buffy were, and had thought that surely they would find her, and possibly bring her back right then. But when none of the three had moved in the past thirty minutes – they began to be very concerned.

“I’ll go after them,” Aaron offered, looking to Giles for approval. “I’m the strongest fighter here. If they’re in trouble – they’re gonna need someone who can fight.”

Giles looked at him for a moment. “And if they’re not – or it’s too late – you could get hurt trying to find them – and for nothing.”

“Not likely,” the vampire laughed softly, but the look in his eyes was serious. “Finn’s men aren’t expecting a vamp that can actually fight back.”

Giles was quiet for a moment, thinking. “All right,” he said finally with a nod. “We can’t just leave them out there if they’re in danger. Wait just a moment. I need to go get something you need to take with you.”

He went into the living room, returning a few moments later with a tiny device that Aaron did not recognize, and a second small object that looked a bit like a hearing aid.

“Here,” Giles said. “This is a recording device, and a speaker, both of which are connected to Willow’s computer system here at the house. The recording device will transmit both sound and picture to her computer, and we’ll be able to view it on the screen. We’ll be able to speak to you through the microphone on her computer, and you’ll hear us through the speaker. That way, if you get into any trouble, we’ll know.”
As he spoke, Giles attached the tiny camera to the vampire’s collar.

Aaron nodded slowly as he adjusted the speaker in his ear. “Okay. Got it,” he said. He smiled, a sure, confident look, at the man who had done so much for him, as he said softly, “Wish me luck.”

And with those words, the vampire headed out the front door to fulfill his mission.