Only when darkness and fear reign will that which was once a slave and a servant to the ancient blood rise up to overthrow those that were the masters - Prophecies of the Unhesines
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Awareness came slowly. There were moments when the host was stronger, but they weren’t frequent now.

This host was the strongest one in millennia. Perhaps strong enough to…yes, this one is strong. And so defiant; so gloriously pure! The strength was growing with each passing moment. But the enemy was near too.

Has this vessel been altered? It would explain the pain and the death. That would explain the anger.

No. No! To be born of…this? This is desecration! It cannot be allowed to continue! It cannot survive!

The warrior within shook with rage, and roared.

Beneath the anger and fear that swarmed all around, the demon used the strength of its captor to send the message out. Oh Love, I’m weak, and I think…I think I’m drowning… help me?
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Giles knew it was a useless argument, but he still pressed his point, “Buffy, what you’re going to be dealing with may not be Spike, or even William. The carapace may indeed resemble your former enemy. It may even speak using his voice, but it is not the creature you,” he lowered his eyes in deference to her feeling as well as his, “or I have come to know. Buffy,” his voice ebbed with the emotion he felt, “you may be forced to…”

Her eyes flashed angrily at him, “No!” she hissed, “This isn’t Angelus. Those monks seemed to think that what’s happening to Spike is pretty important, and it sounded as if they were sure about it. So, I’m not killing Spike. He saved my life, many times. Giles, he’s been through so much…”she sighed and lowered her eyes, “Giles, you saw what he was like after…you were with him. Do you think he could do anything to hurt me? And, that’s not accounting for what Travers did to him,” she shook her head in disbelief, “You know the man was sick. He took my powers from me and trapped me in a house with an insane vampire,” her eyes locked with his, “You were there for that, too. You know what he was capable of. I could have been…Giles,” her eyes roamed to the ceiling, beyond which Spike lie, hopefully oblivious to what was going on; because if he was aware then that would just make it that much harder to reach him, “ How much is too much?” she whispered desperately.

As he looked into Buffy’s eyes, Giles realized he’d seen that empty, lost look before. Twice in recent memory, in fact, on a face that was not, as a rule, accustomed to desperation.

Too much, indeed .

He remembered. He wished he didn’t.

Dawn’s eyes were imploring, “Giles, what’s wrong with him?”

Giles sighed and looked around at the crypt. The surroundings, normally well kept and tidy, considering the being that made this crypt home, were in disarray. The candles that were used to illuminate the place were strewn about the floor and the slate coverings of the two biers were lying, upturned, against the opposite wall as if someone had tossed them like children’s toys.

And, amidst all the chaos around them, Spike sat on the floor, his eyes staring blindly ahead. He was murmuring softly, and rocking in a mindless rhythm.

Giles knelt in front of him and saw the empty look in his eyes. Saw the tears that were falling, in a steady stream, from his eyes, and knew there was nothing to do but wait.

He stood up slowly, and said gently, “Dawn, there is nothing I can do. You say he was like this since you found him?”

Dawn nodded, “I was afraid he might be…” her voice hitched and her eyes glistened, “…after the funeral. I haven’t seen him in days. I was afraid he might…I found him like this. What’s wrong with him?”

“He’s grieving, Dawn. As we all are.”

Looking back at her Watcher, her eyes were swimming with tears, “…Giles, a vampire needs his fangs to survive. His were taken, ripped from him, by that man! Who knows what sick things Travers could have done to him after he couldn’t defend himself!” she shook her head, “No Giles- Spike won’t hurt me. I don’t even know if he could .”

“And you would be correct, Buffy,” Giles said, “If you are, in fact, still dealing with the entity that is ‘Spike.’ I fear that…whatever Travers may have done…” he swallowed and sighed, “...will only serve to make the Ukesolrill stronger. Any pain, physical or not, may force…anything familiar beyond your reach. I’m almost certain Travers was relying on that when he began subjecting Spike to…” Giles hung his head in shame for what the man he had once considered a friend and colleague had done in the name of the institution he so loved.

“Torture?” Buffy finished.

“Yes,” Giles’s tone was hushed, his eyes still unable to look upon his Slayer.

“Well, it’s obvious that Travers never counted on me. Because, if he had, he wouldn’t have kidnapped Spike in the first place and messed with his head, or whatever. If he had been smart he would have left Spike alone. Now, it’s personal,” her voice strengthened, giving just a hint of the fortitude and resolve that welled up from within, “And now, if there’s even the smallest chance, the tiniest bit of Spike left under all that pain and hurt,” her mind drifted back to him and how he’d patiently, if not always gently, coaxed her back to the world of the living, and paid a high price for it; a price that, she wasn’t sure he was through paying, “I’ll find him. No matter how long it takes.”

Just then, a loud roar came from the room above, the likes of which Buffy had never heard before. The sound made her bound for the staircase, barking orders to Willow as she ran, “Willow, open that door now! Drop the spell! I’ve got to get in there!”

“Buffy,” Willow stammered, “maybe you shouldn’t…”

“Don’t argue with me, Willow! Do it!”
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Buffy burst through the door blindly. She had no idea what was behind the door, or what danger she was putting herself in, but she didn’t care. Spike was drowning, and she had to help, “Spike?” she gasped, hoping she wasn’t too late.

What she saw made her blood run cold. Spike was conscious and sitting on the bed, his bare feet swung over the side and planted firmly on the floor. He looked as if he was about to stand, as the Victorian gentleman that hid beneath the façade of “ Spike” was wont to do when she entered a room, but what was before her now, wasn’t Spike.

Oh, it had his face and his eyes, but it didn’t feel like him.

It wasn’t him. But it was familiar to her-very familiar.

What she felt was pure power and fury.

This was the Slayer staring back at her- in game face, with fangs.

“Is that what you call it?” Spike’s voice challenged, as a surprised bark of laughter split the air, “Does it know?”

Buffy’s eyes narrowed and she spat out, “Know what?” she asked as she advanced into the room, closing the door behind her, effectively locking the others out and leaving any help out of her reach.

“That you have affection for it?”
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