AUTHOR'S NOTE: The chapter title is also the title of a song by Nat King Cole
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For the past five days, the little coven house had been a place of quiet fear and grief. The ladies that made up the small coven that called this house home kept a respectful distance allowing their visitors to do as they wished while they waited for Giles’s return.

Buffy wasn’t sure she liked the idea of Giles putting himself in that much danger, even if it was for Spike’s sake, but if Willow wasn’t strong enough to do this, Giles may be his only hope. And, if the prophecy was correct, her beloved Watcher may be the world’s only hope.

She didn’t like the idea at all. It wasn’t that she thought he couldn’t handle what might come, what he’d done to Travers showed her that he had a darker nature, deep down. What he’d done still shocked her.

He’d rushed into the cell, with her hot on his heels. Buffy had to admit that she was shocked and sickened by the condition of the cell. It really wasn’t much larger than a prison cell. Most of its length, Spike was not able to reach because of the short length of chain that held him. The cell was dark and filthy and it smelled of mold. That was a smell that she knew Spike hated with nearly as much zeal as he did his grandsire.

But she was more shocked by Spike’s condition. He was lying on the cell floor, incredibly still, which in itself was horrifying, with his eyes open, staring up at the one dirty bulb that shone down in the cell. If Buffy hadn’t known better, she would have sworn that he was dead; really dead, and not a member of the demon possessed walking dead that she usually dealt with. And, she noticed that dark bruises marred his face and head. She had no doubt that the bruising was elsewhere as well.

Giles was shocked too. He went to his side, gently calling his name, “William?” he whispered, “Can you hear me?”

When Giles tried to draw Spike’s attention, and got no reaction, Buffy saw his body start to shake as he knelt on the cold floor. The sight frightened her, “Giles?” she whispered.

“…A beautiful cathedral,” he muttered, “reduced to dust. You bleeding monster! You animal!” he started to rise, and then looked at the photos on display on the small corkboard on one wall. His face changed then.

And, something in him snapped. He turned and rushed for the cell opening. Roughly pushing past her, Giles yelled at Travers’s back. The man had turned in disgust after being forced, through the Slayer’s thinly veiled threat of great bodily injury, to give her, and her Watcher access to the subterranean cellblock, “What has my family got to do with this? You’d besmirch the memory of my grandmother…? You would use his soul’s…the guilt of Drusilla’s crimes…crimes he had nothing to do with…?”

The next thing Buffy heard was the sound of a gunshot. The next thing she saw was her Watcher’s face, splattered with blood.

No. She knew that Giles was more than capable of the kind of behavior the Ukesolrill was said to cause once it was in complete control of its host. She was afraid, that if the Ukesolrill was able to take control of him, she might never have him back. She was afraid that both Spike and Giles could be lost to her.

She was afraid that it could win.

If this thing was used to create the first Slayer, than Giles may not be the one that has to go in. It may be me who has to go. She thought of all the horrible things she’d said, and done, to Spike throughout the past year, things she would never have done to Angel, and she’d done them to a sentient being that so clearly loved her with everything it had inside to give her. Maybe I’m already tainted by this thing. It can’t possibly hurt me more. Maybe it * is* me. I hope not.

Giles had gone to London to retrieve all the information that the Council had on both the Unhesines and the Ukesolrill. After all, as he said, “ We don’t want to do something that would make this entity stronger while attempting our rescue. ” Buffy was in complete agreement there.

I just wish he would hurry back.

As she walked up the stairs, Buffy tried not to let her fears follow her into the room where Spike was lying, possibly fighting for his very existence.

She knew how perceptive Spike could be, and if he was even the tiniest bit aware of his surroundings- she did not want to give the thing that was trying to kill him any more power than it already had, to use against him.

She walked quietly into the room and noticed Dawn, curled in a fetal position, asleep atop a sleeping bag on the floor beside Spike’s bed.

She smiled, deciding not to disturb her, and moved to take her seat at the left side of the bed. The dark shadows of the room gave way to grey shapes as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. The darkness surrounding it made the silver glow of Spike’s face strikingly beautiful. So beautiful that Buffy could not catch her breath. She held her hand to her mouth to muffle the sob that came. He’s beautiful. “Sorry,” she whispered, taking his hand gently in hers, “I know it’s kind of a girlish thing. But, I just never noticed before…how beautiful you really are,” Buffy looked longingly at his face. She so wanted him to see her, to catch her eyeing him and rib her about it, “Come on,” she said softly, trying for a trace of the banter they once exchanged so fluidly. The banter that had been exchanged, at her insistence, for abuse and abasement. Abasement that he had allowed because it was the only thing she would allow herself to give him.

She tried for cool and easy tones. No pressure. Just a trace of something familiar. She tried, but the ache in her throat wouldn’t allow it. Instead her voice sounded thin and tight, “This stoic thing you’re going for, it’s not really you. In fact,” she whispered as she traced small circles into his palm with the pad of her thumb, “if you keep this up you’ll give my ex a run for his money in the ‘Strong, silent type’ category. We wouldn’t want that, would we?”

You’re bloody right, we wouldn’t! Oh Buffy…time…no time. So tired, Love…But, I need…I don’t care. Let it find me. I need…before…I need to…just…reach…

Buffy held her breath as she looked at him. It wasn’t until her lungs began to crave oxygen that she realized she’d even stopped breathing at all.

If there was just some way to reach you… Buffy bit her lip, trying to decide what to do. She knew she had to do something. Willow and Giles were in London researching the Ukesolrill; they could be back at any moment.

But, what happened if Spike wasn’t able to hold on until they got here? She knew he needed some kind of contact. She needed some kind of contact with him. Something that wasn’t punishing and harsh. Something that wasn’t cruel.

He needed something pure and healing.

There was only one thing she could think to do.

Swallowing back the lump of fear that was in her throat, Buffy leaned over his silent form, her hand never leaving his, and began peppering his face with light kisses. First, she kissed his forehead. I’m here, Spike! Feel it… Then she kissed the eyelids that were drawn over his eyes. I love you, Spike! I love you! Feel it! Know it…please…

As she began to taste salt on his skin, she knew she was crying, and it was getting hard to breathe, but she didn’t care. She had to reach him. She had to tell him. Spike…I love you…. wherever you are…whatever that thing has done to you…whatever it makes you do-never forget that! I love you!

Spike had been hiding in the dark so long that he’d forgotten what the light looked like. Sometimes the thing lurked outside, waiting for him. Sometimes it looked like light- to try and draw him out, to make him weaker- to make him forget.

So when he saw the flashes as they fell into the dark like tracer fire, he was wary. Had the thing found him again?

He watched the light fall, and he knew it was different. It was orange and yellow- and blue. And, it was strong. Too strong. It pulled at him.

This was like nothing he’d ever felt before. This was something good and pure- like a sunset.

Or, a sunrise.

Buffy…? Is that you, Love? Yes…oh…it’s beautiful! I miss you…I just need to reach…

Buffy felt a twitch against her fingers. Her heart skipped a beat as her eyes fastened to their entwined hands. She watched in wonder as Spike slowly laced his fingers with hers and gave a light squeeze that almost wasn’t movement at all.

A whimper caught in her throat as she looked up at his tired eyes. Eyes that were seeing her, “Spike…” she whispered, “is it…gone?”

There was a nearly imperceptible movement of his head from side to side, “No,” his whisper was ragged and tired, “But…so strong…so bright…pulled me. Pulled me…out,” his breath heaved and his voice shook, “Not gone…but…weaker now. Thank you…”

Buffy couldn’t speak. Her eyes never left his face. She saw the tears that were waiting to fall from his eyes.

Oh God, Spike, no! No more tears. Not for me And, she slowly, lovingly kissed them away.