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Weary and frustrated – and fighting back the rising panic that was steadily building inside her – Buffy made her way down the stairs toward the kitchen, and the not-so-unusual herb that she just knew her mother used to keep in the cupboard, though she had never known her to have actually used it. But, Giles had said that he needed it for the counter-spell he was attempting to perform – and it was *something* that she could do to help.

Dawn and Anya were both upstairs on the landing with Giles, Anya continually attempting to teleport herself into the bedroom – just in case she might be wrong about the spell – and Dawn watching anxiously, desperate to get to her friend.

Angel was just starting up the stairs as Buffy had come down them; but when he had seen her pass him without a word, intent on her goal, he had suddenly changed his mind, stalking after her back down the stairs and toward the kitchen.

“Buffy…”

She closed her eyes momentarily, her jaw setting with frustration, and – some other nameless emotion that she did not want to try to hard to place – as she walked on. She just knew that whatever it was, it made her afraid to face Angel in this moment, afraid to have him see in her eyes the enormity of her mistake – and what it might end up costing Spike.

“Buffy!”

She ignored the vampire, heading resolutely toward the kitchen, intent on her goal – and on avoiding him.

A foot from the doorway, Angel caught the Slayer’s arm, spinning her around – and she was stunned to see him in full game face, his golden eyes gleaming at her over a snarl of fury.

“Buffy, what the *hell* is going on up there?” he demanded.

Suddenly, Buffy found herself frozen, wide-eyed, unable to look away from the piercing, warning glare of the vampire before her, still gripping her arm firmly. In that gaze, she saw no understanding, no mercy for the failure that she had made of things – and it made her want to cry…because she knew that she deserved none.

*If he dies…if Spike dies because of me…*

*Shut up!* she ordered herself fiercely. *Just shut up! Don’t even think…*

“*Buffy*!” Angel shook her slightly as he growled her name again in warning. “Tell me!”

“X-xander did – a spell – I think it’s a spell, anyway…we can’t get in…”

“I know that much from Dawn,” Angel reminded her, his voice taut with impatience. “Buffy, how could you let this happen? What are you doing to get to him? We have to get to him, *now*, Buffy…”

“I *know* that!” Buffy snapped back in a voice that trembled with fear and confusion, her eyes shining with unshed tears as she glared back at him. “Giles is working on it. He knows even more magic than Willow did, and that’s saying a lot. If anybody can break whatever spell Xander put on the room, he can…”

“He better be able to,” Angel cut her off, a threat in his voice that he was not even attempting to veil, “because if anything happens to Spike because of this *stupid* plan of yours, Buffy…” He shook her again as he spoke – and she did not resist, did not pull away from him in the indignation she usually would have felt at being so manhandled. “…somebody’s going to have to answer for it.”

“I didn’t mean for this to…”

Buffy’s weak, shaky voice, speaking words that were even to her own ears, a useless excuse, was cut off by Angel’s low, intent voice, tinged with anger and disgust.

“He *trusted* you, Buffy. He was relying on you to protect him – so that that *monster* upstairs that you call a friend couldn’t get his hands on him again!”

“I’m sorry…”

Angel released her with a little shove that rocked her back a step or two, looking away from her in something that felt painfully like revulsion to her, as he shook his head in dismissal.

“Useless words,” he informed her, raising his once-again dark eyes to hers in a solemn, unrelenting gaze. “If you’re really sorry – then *do* something.”

“I – I’m trying,” Buffy stammered weakly, her eyes wide and downcast as she struggled vainly to hold back her tears, gesturing awkwardly toward the kitchen. “Giles needs – s-something – an herb…”

“Then get it,” Angel snapped, turning his back on her and making his way up the stairs.

And the Slayer had nothing else to do but to continue on into the kitchen – and attempt to read the writing on the various herbs in the cupboard, through a stubbornly flowing veil of her own tears.

************************************

“Stand up.”

The hard command drifted into Spike’s mind through a haze of pain and disorientation brought on by too many blows to his head – and his chest – and his stomach…

Well…pretty much anywhere Xander could reach.

And when the boy could no longer reach him with his fists, he had resorted to kicking him, until the frightened, brutalized vampire lay before him on the floor against the wall, curled in on himself in a futile attempt to shield his midsection from the continuing volley of savage blows.

“Did you hear me, you little piece of crap?” Xander snarled, moving in close and grabbing Spike’s hair – which seemed to be one of his favorite things to do. “I said *get up*!”

*And why not?* Spike thought with a wince at the vicious tug on his barely healed head wound. *’S bloody painful… ‘course he likes it…*

As he spoke, Xander jerked Spike up, though he could only get him as far up as his knees, for the weakness that made Spike’s head swim and his body refuse to respond to the conditioned impulse to *get up* -- to obey – to do whatever was in his power to appease his captor.

His face twisting into a hideous mask of vindictive anger, Xander’s eyes narrowed as he jerked Spike’s head back hard in a primal gesture of dominance – exposing the vampire’s throat, as he reached into his pocket and took out an object that was terribly familiar to Spike. Though he had only seen it once since regaining his sight, his memories, Spike knew that this was the weapon with which Xander had laid waste to his existence.

The gun.

As he felt the cold steel pressed hard against his temple, Spike felt an even colder sense of terror creeping through him, and he froze, his eyes closed against the sight of that menacing smile, shaking his head slightly in denial of what was happening.

“Maybe I won’t kill you, Spike,” Xander mused softly, his face inches from Spike’s ear. “Not yet, anyway. Maybe I’ll just start over – from scratch, you know? Blow your freakin’ brains out again, and see if you heal up as well this time – you know, without all the coddling Buffy’s been giving you this past week or so? What do you think, Spikey? Should I turn you into a little retard again?”

Xander paused, releasing Spike’s hair, reaching under his jacket as the trembling vampire fell back against the wall, but was still unable to escape the pressure of the weapon at his head. Spike choked back a startled cry of fear as Xander held the stake he had just pulled out against his chest, and finished his question with soft, cold amusement.

“Or should I just stake you? Which would you prefer, Fangless?”

It was a cruel, impossible demand – to force him to choose his own fate – but Spike knew beyond all doubt which was the worse option.

He knew that he could not bear to ever go back to the darkness, the cold nothingness of his time in that cave – the nothingness that had eventually given way to more terror and suffering than he had previously thought imaginable.

“Kill me.”

His voice was a bare whisper, hardly audible at all, and Xander leaned in even closer to hear him. “What was that?” he taunted in a whisper. “Couldn’t hear ya, Spikey…*what* do you want me to do?”

“Just – just kill me,” Spike gasped out, his head turned away from the smirking boy, as he struggled to get the words out, and to control the violent shaking that had overwhelmed his body with the dual threat of the stake and the gun. His voice softened slightly, breaking with tears over the words as he added a desperate plea, “D-don’t – please don’t – not that, please…”

He could not even speak aloud what it was that he was so afraid of – but Xander knew.

His cold smile widened slowly, as he waited until Spike looked uncertainly up at him – and then slowly, deliberately, replaced the stake under his jacket.

“Thanks for the suggestion,” he sneered quietly. “But I think I’ll go with my original plan. I think it sounds like a lot more – fun.”

********************************

“Try it again, Anya…I think I may have done it this time,” Giles instructed in a voice of quiet intensity, his eyes focused in an anxious question on the vengeance demon standing in front of the door.

Anya did as he told her, focusing all of her energy – and still came up unsuccessful.

Giles sighed in frustration, glancing solemnly around at Dawn, Angel, and Buffy, who were all watching him in worried anticipation – Dawn and Angel from right behind him on the landing, while the Slayer hung back, about halfway down the stairs…not feeling particularly welcome at the moment.

“There’s one more thing I can try,” the Watcher spoke in a quiet, serious voice. “It’s a slight alteration on this spell – one that might require a bit less damage to the original spell that Xander cast, and therefore might be a bit more successful. The only drawback is – it would allow Anya’s magic – anyone’s magic, really – to override the spell – but the room would still be impenetrable by physical means – and I don’t believe that we’ll be able to hear what’s happening inside.”

“What good will that do?” Angel frowned, his voice tense and impatient. “At this point we’re beyond getting ‘evidence’.” He spoke the word in a tone of derision that showed just what he thought of the original plan. “If Xander put a spell on the room to keep us out – he’s hurting Spike. There’s no doubt in my mind. We need to find a way to get him out of there…”

“Hey,” Anya shrugged with a little reluctant grimace, as she realized just what it was that Giles was suggesting – and then realized that she was actually willing to go along with it. “Vengeance demon here. I think I can handle one measly human male on my own.”

“One measly human male – who happens to be your ex-fiance?” Dawn hesitantly questioned, her eyes apologetic for even bringing up the point, though it *was* a valid one.

Anya shrugged again, her expression carefully blank as she replied, “That’s mattering to me less and less all the time.”

“One measly human male – who has at least one magic trick up his sleeve.” Giles spoke this time, and there was no question in his words – only a stern warning. “You must be very careful, Anya. You have no magic powers beyond the wish of the wronged – you will only have your physical strength to rely on…”

“Why doesn’t someone make a wish then?” Dawn suggested, her eyes suddenly wide and eager as she looked between the Watcher and the vengeance demon. “On Spike’s behalf?” her gaze became uncertain as she saw Anya’s slight shake of her head, and added haltingly, “Can we – do that? Or – does it have to be Spike?”

“It has to be Spike,” Anya answered glumly. “Otherwise this would all be a lot easier.” She frowned in annoyance. “Xander *would* have to pick the very first day that Spike is actually coherent enough to *make* a vengeance wish, to do this, wouldn’t he?”

“It wasn’t Xander’s idea,” Angel’s dark voice reminded them all – and Buffy flinched, though no one was looking at her to see it, all of their eyes carefully averted, unsure how to respond to that.

“I can handle it,” Anya repeated, to draw the attention back to the matter at hand – though more for Spike’s sake than for Buffy’s. “If I can get in one good blow or two – I can knock him out cold, unlock the door, and get me and Spike out of there…”

Giles’ expression was uncertain and concerned as he stared at the woman he had only just discovered his feelings for – but he knew that she was possibly Spike’s only hope. And no matter how bad things had gotten between them at one point – no matter how far the boy appeared to have slipped – Giles still could not imagine Xander intentionally doing
Anya any *serious* harm.

“All right,” he agreed finally. “A few more moments, while I perform the altered spell…and then you’ll be able to get in…”

*********************************

Xander was frustrated.

Somehow, this just was not as satisfying as it had once been.

He wished that he really had time to take Spike somewhere else, to once again reduce him to the nearly brain dead state he had sent him to before, and start fresh, as he had made the vampire believe was his plan – but he could not think of a way that he could get away with it.

He had only used that as a means to further terrify his victim – to bring Spike back under his control – but he knew that the only way he could get out of this with any sort of convincing story to tell his friend the Slayer, was with his stake.

Still – he could get away with taking a few more minutes to toy with the trembling, terrified creature.

But – something was off.

Oh, Spike was down on his knees, against the wall, shaking and holding up his hands in a pleading gesture – too afraid to dare to talk without Xander’s permission. The boy could clearly see the panic in those wide, crystal blue eyes, when he yanked the vampire’s head back by the hair and forced him to look at him – knew that he was still the single most terrifying force in Spike’s existence.

But still – something was off.

The blank, lost desperation – the utter panic of simply not knowing *anything*, beyond the one who held the power of life and death over him – had vanished from Spike’s eyes. Even as he automatically assumed a position of submission, of supplication, on his knees before Xander as he had been commanded – the boy could see the racing thoughts behind those blue eyes – knew that the vampire was desperately searching his mind for some way of escape.

A week ago – he would have known beyond all doubt that no escape was possible.

Xander frowned in frustrated anger, his face twisting into a sneer, as he determined to spend the next few minutes reminding Spike of just who was in control – just how helpless he still was, despite his regained memories of a time when he was *not* so helpless and broken.

Those memories meant nothing.

Nothing had changed.

And Xander was going to prove that beyond all doubt – before he plunged his stake through Spike’s unbeating heart and forever ended the existence of the creature that had plagued him for five long years.

And as he stepped forward once again, his fist drawn back for a punishing blow, even as he ordered Spike to look up at him again – Xander failed to see the silent appearance of the vengeance demon at his back, several yards behind him.

In a split second of recognition, Spike *did* see her – before his head was slammed back against the wall by the force of Xander’s blow, with an audible, dizzying crack.

But in that instant, the pain did not matter to the vampire.

Anya was in the room – which meant that the spell had been broken.

Which meant that help had arrived.