LONDON, ENGLAND-

All right, that’s enough! I’m a vampire damn it, and this little Nazi bugger’s gotten on my last nerve! Spike stood; the drugs made him woozy, and slightly unsteady, but anything was better than that cold concrete floor. He put his hand to his head in an attempt to shake himself out of the chemical haze he’d been swimming in since this whole nightmare had begun.

If that berk really wanted what he says he does, if he wanted to know why I did what I did, he’d let me off of the magic bus. I’m no more of a threat than I was before. It really doesn’t take a Cambridge education to know that. How am I going to get out of here when all I see is the bloodshed I’ve caused? Spike could feel the cool tightness of his shackles as they pulled at him. The darkness of this little cell was all encompassing. He felt the stinging burn of chafing skin and he realized that, even as the drugs had been able to keep his conscious mind confused, the primal part of him, the part he’d gone to Africa to suppress; the part she couldn’t love, had still fought against its chains.

What the Watcher had done only served as a physical reminder of what he had done to himself. The sound of the metal as it shifted with him as he tread the small space his tether allowed made him wonder if he was as shortsighted as the men from the Initiative, who had captured and maimed him years ago. Was what he had done to himself really any different?

The hopelessness of the situation swelled within him and he sighed. The utter sadness of that simple act reverberated throughout his cell and seeped into his bones.

The sadness and helplessness he felt were his only companions now.

How am I going to protect myself, or anyone, when there’s a constant war inside me now? I don’t know what to do. How am I going to survive like this?

He drug his chain with him as he walked backward until he could feel the damp musty wall of his cage at his back, and then slid, listlessly, the short distance to the concrete floor. He sighed again as the past few months ran through his mind.

How in the bloody Hell did I get here? How did I let this happen to me? I was perfectly happy. No cares, no worries. Dru…we were…it was wonderful. I loved my life, such as it was. So how did I allow myself to become a slave-again? He pulled again at his chains. His mind fixated on her, for perhaps the thousandth time that second. On her serene, slack, face as she lay amid the desert grass, so white and pale. But, he could see that she was happy. There was no more hurt. No more pain. Until I touched her. I was selfish. I needed her with me. I brought her back. But, what if…what if she didn’t want to stay? He felt an ache rise up in him. I have to know. I just have to. He let the demon inside take control. If he didn’t, the sorrow and ache that his soul was feeling would be a hindrance as he tired to free himself.

I hate what I am, but I can’t change it. Don’t know why I even tried. But now- I need it. It’s my only way out. Have to be strong, and that’s the one thing it is- strong.

He felt an unexpected queasiness as the demon took over. Well this is new, but not surprising. He wasn’t sure if the disgust he felt was due to the drugs in his system or if it was a feeling that would be permanently with him now, because of what he’d done. Doesn’t matter now. What’s done is done. He looked slowly around his cell and was surprised, and more than a little impressed, to find that even with the benefit of the demon’s keener, sharper vision, Spike could only dimly see the heavy oversized ring that was embedded in the cement flooring, and through which the industrial strength chain that held him was looped.

I have to admire him. He knows how to hurt me. Keep me isolated and disoriented and eventually I’ll crack and tell him what he wants to know. He groaned inwardly and crouched close to the place where his chain met its anchor and pulled until his muscles strained and burned. Yet, the chain would not relinquish its hold on him. I’m here until he decides he’s up for another round of “I’ve got a secret.” Could be a long time. How long have I been here? Days, weeks, or…? No, this is more than just “question and answer.” He wants something more. He wants to break me.

Does knowing that make it worse? Is he betting that my hands-on experience in matters like this will make this worse for me, because I know what it is he’s really trying to do? Is this how the Council gets its jollies now, by playing with vamps instead of killing them? He closed his eyes against the horrors and torture he knew awaited him. Before now, it might not have been possible. But now- he could really do it. He felt the bitterness come over him as he collapsed again. Just put a stake through my heart and be done with me.
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TENWEK HOSPITAL-

Buffy’s breath was coming in short, strangled gasps. Giles looked on, horror- stricken, “Buffy,” he was trying to calm her, “there’s no conclusive proof that anything has happened to him at all.” As he looked at the distress he had caused her, he chided himself, There is, however, conclusive proof that I am the biggest wanker ever to grace the planet! He smiled sadly, trying to put her at ease, “He’ll turn up- like a bad penny. He always does.”

The look she shot him was an explosive mix of annoyance and hurt. She parted her lips as if to say something then closed her mouth. Turning her head to Panya, she asked, “Where is the doctor that was on duty when I was brought in?”

“I do not know, Shujaa. From what I could gather, you were brought in with another,” Panya looked around the small room, eyeing the other patients and doctors carefully. He had to choose his next words precisely, “The other was...mauled,” he gazed intently at her, hoping she would take his meaning, “The injuries to his face and neck alone… Shujaa, he expired. The rangers flew his body back to his next of kin.”

Buffy’s eyes widened. She looked anxiously at Giles, “Next of kin?”

“In the hours before we got here,” Giles sighed, his eyes downcast, “the body was flown to England.”

Buffy hardened her gaze, “You said I’ve been here for almost four days. How long have you been here?”

“Almost four days,” Giles admitted.

“Four days,” Buffy hissed, her tone low in an attempt to shield onlookers from the true meaning of the conversation, “and you’re just telling me this now ?”

Giles shook his head, “Buffy, you were in no condition to…”

“Well, I know now,” Buffy began pushing her blankets aside and swung her legs weakly over the side of the bed, “And what am I still doing here?” she fought against the insect netting that was surrounding her, “Giles find the doctor. I’m signing whatever I have to sign,” she stood, nearly toppling over from dizziness as she did. She used a shaky hand on the small bed frame behind her as a brace. When she was steady again, she looked at Giles, who had stepped forward; ready to catch her had she fallen, and said, “I’m getting out of here. I’ve been here for four days. There’s no telling what…” her broken ribs stabbed at her again. She didn’t know if the familiar pressure, that announced the coming of tears, she felt building in her was because of her injury or her own imagining of what Spike may be going through. What are they doing to him? What if he…? She waited for the pressure to subside a little, before speaking, “There’s no telling…Giles, I’ve been here long enough.”

As he nodded his understanding, her Watcher could see the strength within the Slayer he’d taken under his wing, years ago. She was a grown woman, now. She was strong. And he was very proud of her.
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HOLLYWOOD, FLORIDA-

Dawn watched as the color drained from her Aunt Darlene’s face. The cradle for the wall-mount telephone caught the receiver, by sheer luck, as it dropped from her grip.

Dawn rushed to put a dining room chair behind her before she could fall to the yellowing linoleum floor, “Who was that?” Dawn did not like the look on her Aunt’s face.

It reminded her too much of her Mother’s that morning she had asked for an omelet instead of cereal for breakfast.

“That was Willow Rosenberg. Mr. Giles called,” she whispered, “Something happened in Africa…”

“Oh God. Is it Buffy? I-is it bad? What did Spike do? Did he hurt her?” Dawn clenched her teeth and blinked back the tears that threatened to come.

Darlene Christopher shook her head- half in shock, half in relief, “No. He saved her- from a lion attack, apparently. She’s just been released from a hospital in Africa. They’re taking her to Devon, England. Your friend Willow said that Mr. Giles wanted to know- if you wanted to be there. If you wanted to come to England and be with your sister.” Darlene looked at her niece with saddened eyes, “Do you want to go?”

“I-I don’t know,” she stuttered.

Darlene gave a small smile, “You could see William. Tell him how you feel. He loves you too, Dawn. I know he does.”

“Okay,” Dawn said, as she gave her Aunt a hug, “I’ll go, Aunt Darlene.”

Darlene held tight to her niece; closing her eyes, she whispered in her ear, “I knew you would, Dawnie May.”
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LONDON, ENGLAND-

In his darkened cell, all he could do was wait. Wait and wonder. And slowly go insane. How long do I have to wait? I know this part. Torture your prey to the brink of…and then just stop. Let the mind turn. A marvelous thing, the mind; it does the work for you. Don’t even have to left a finger. By the time they’re done imagining what could happen to them, anything you do, do is a welcome relief.

Oh, the good old days. Used to love hearing them whimper and beg. And now, I’m so close to doing it myself. He hasn’t been here in hours. The rattle of his chain sounded through his cell. He paced and tried not to think. Thinking made things worse. It made the waiting worse than the drugs or the beatings.

But, as he sank slowly down to the concrete floor once again, he sank into the waves of despair. Where is he?

Spike didn’t have to wait long to find an answer to his unspoken question. Suddenly there were steps on the earthen staircase to his dungeon. These steps were different, lighter. Spike smiled wryly to himself. Gotta love a gleeful Watcher. Takes pleasure in his work; even if it is knocking vamps around.

The key turned in the lock. A door opened. Light, quick steps, and then the endgame sounded. A hiss of air and Spike closed his eyes against the blistering artificial light. He was ready. He almost welcomed the presence of the Watcher.

But, something about the presence was different. Spike couldn’t quite place it, but something was different. He was just too tired and too beaten to care.

The sight that he presented was shocking. His face was barely recognizable. Quentin had beaten him that severely.

A gasp of shock escaped Lydia’s lips at the sight of him, “William?” she whispered.

The soft voice made him look up in shock, “You?” his voice was barely a breath, “You’re helping me?”

Lydia nodded quickly, fishing the key to his shackles from her skirt pocket, “Yes,” she said breathlessly as she stepped forward, kneeling down to put the key to the shackles. She looked up into his eyes and hoped he didn’t notice her trembling hands. She looked behind her. Travers would be coming soon. She had to move quickly, “But we have to move now. Quentin will know. I may have been followed…”

The shock Spike felt was tempered by the slight tremor he felt emanating from her. He cocked his head in thought, and his eyes met hers.

The glint of glee she saw in his eyes took her breath away, “Being watched are we, Pet?” he asked, “What say we give him something to watch?”
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