Angel stared at the large door that had been shut in his face, and the rage bubbled up inside of him as his fists pounded heavily on the door, “Giles,” he shouted, “I know he’s in there! He can hear me, even if you can’t! If I can’t get in, I can make sure he comes out!”

Despite himself, Giles was more than a bit distracted by the feral tone of Angel’s voice. It was a tone that he had intimate knowledge of, and one that had haunted his dreams for years.

This was the voice that had tortured him for hours. This was the voice that had nearly broken him. The voice of the animal that had killed his Jenny, and had made it nearly impossible for Spike to be seen as anything other than an animal in his eyes, no matter that he too had grieved over Buffy’s lifeless body at the base of that tower; no matter that he had taken care of Dawn, when all of her friends could not.

This was the monolithic presence that had impeded Spike on his path to become something more. This was the thing that had colored all that came after.

This was Angelus.

As the booming voice suddenly quieted, Rupert quickly moved to the coven’s small cache of weapons near the entranceway and strained to hear any stray sound that would reveal Angelus’s location, he glanced briefly in Dawn’s direction as he chose his weapon.

Her eyes were large with both fright and indignation, as he suspected his were, as well. He quickly motioned for Dawn to take refuge with Althenea and Willow and the rest of the coven in one of the seldom used parts of the house. But, as he could glean from her expression when Willow reached out her hand to lead her, she was having none of it, “No way!” she hissed, her chin jutted toward the door, and she moved to stand next to him as he stood in the center of the foyer, facing the door, “No way in bloody Hell that’s gonna happen! He gets in here over my dead body!”

As Rupert readied his crossbow, training it on the doorway, he was strangely warmed by the pluck- and insanity- of a Summers girl, “Quite,” he nodded, somewhat taken aback by the feelings that small action had evoked in him. And, as Panya, too, fell in at his side, encasing him in a strong and wondrous, if dubious, protection, he knew that, whatever happened this night, he would be forever changed.
*****************************************************************************

Do you here me, boy? I’ll force you out. I’ll burn them. I’ll burn them all. Her too. I’ll burn the house down around them. I burned Drusilla, I’ll burn you too, boy. *Come out and face me. Now, boy ! *

The yelling had stopped, but Buffy could feel his tension, “Spike,” she tried not to let the tension that was bleeding from him affect her voice, “There’s no way he’s getting in here,” she tried to catch his eye, to reassure him, but all she saw in his eyes was fury…blinding fury, and fear, “Spike…what is it?” she asked, trying to ignore the tight and painful hold he had on her. His eyes were wide and dark and she could hear the quick, shallow breaths he was taking in.

He only does that when he’s agitated…or scared… She nodded to herself, and rubbed his arms, doing her best to relieve the tension in him. For a moment she thought she could feel his skin warming because of it; God, he’s like a live wire… “Okay,” she decided, “No more discussion,” she smiled up at him, “I don’t need anymore yesterdays. It’s today…” she winked at him, happy that she’d finally made a decision, “and tomorrow that count. I love you,” she said, before kissing him passionately.

The kiss hit him like no other. It was sunshine and springtime and warmth and home and hearth. It was everything he hadn’t had in a century. It was everything he wanted and it was here.

Oh Buffy…I need you…I love you…please… Spike could feel his knees weakening from the force of her kiss. That had never happened before.

She was pouring everything she was into this one kiss. This kiss told him everything. If this was how he was going out, this was how he wanted it. To go out like a hero, to be hers, this was everything.

This kiss was everything. She was telling him everything…

She was telling him goodbye.

Buffy took a very womanly pride in the dazed look in his eye, as she pulled away from him, and turned to head for the door.

Damn, I’m good!

She had barely left his embrace, and taken half a step toward the doorway, when she felt his hand on her arm, and his gruff whisper, “Love, please…this isn’t about you. He’s not here for you. He’s here for me, but to get to me…” his breath shuddered, “He’ll go through you and the Bit…even Mouse. Everyone I care about. This is about me. It’s about me taking what he thinks is his. And, it’s not just you I took…”

1 MAY 1883- LONDON, ENGLAND-

He had passed out somewhere around the hundredth lashing, and awoke woozy from loss of blood. Of course, the sting left on his skin from the holy water he used to wet the cat-o-nine-tails, and the splinters of wood at the end of the whip only served to remind him that he’d failed this lesson.

He had taken what belonged to Angelus.

But at least Rachel was safe and away from him.

He could hear the barn door opening, and William tried to raise his head to face Angelus as his body swung slowly as it was suspended from a beam in the ceiling.

He knew what Angelus wanted, and he struggled to obey. He struggled, as he heard the loud snapping of the straw and the thudding of his boots, to look up at Angelus. But he was too weak.

“Well, boy,” he whispered harshly, “have you learned not to take what’s mine?”

“…Love, this is about me, not you. I have to do this…”

Buffy knew that if this were a fair fight, Spike would win, but Angel didn’t fight fair, “Spike, you don’t have to…”

“Yes, I do,” he insisted, “He’ll never leave me be if I hide behind the Slayer’s skirts,” with that, Spike left the sanctuary of the tiny room, and headed down the stairs.

Dawn head the rustle of his leather coat as he came bounding down the stairs. Looking at him she couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride.

He was so confident.

The pride quickly turned to horror when she saw Buffy following behind him. She had tears in her eyes.

Spike strode past the two, young and old, who would have been his first line of defense, stopping briefly to clasp Giles’s shoulder in a gesture of comradeship.

His shoulders heaved as he opened the door, and looked into Angelus’s eyes. His jaw twitched as he said, in a clipped tone, “Give me twenty minutes to prepare, take care of some…things,” his voice wavered slightly, “Then we’ll do this properly, and once and for all.”

Without another word, the door was soundly shut in Angelus’s face.
*******************************************************