Spike felt the fear and tension steadily building higher within him, as he listened to the violent sounds from the upper level of the house growing louder and louder. Xander’s voice in particular was rising in pitch, trembling with uncontrolled rage, as he hurled venomous accusations and curses at his parents.

His mother’s voice was higher pitched than his, and frantic, as she tried to interrupt, him, clearly terrified.

A man’s voice – had to be the boy’s father – sounded slurred and unconcerned, but increasingly angry – apparently too drunk even to recognize the very real threat that his own son now posed.

Spike listened carefully to every word – if only to keep himself from thinking too much about other things.

He was on his feet now, his body taut with fearful anticipation, waiting for the door to unlock and the boy to come back downstairs – intent on completing his vengeance. Spike did not know exactly what he was going to do when that happened, but he had a feeling that it was probably best not to think about it too much.

If he spent too much time thinking about what Xander might do, and what his best reaction might be – he might just come to the conclusion that his best reaction would be to fall back to his knees and do as the boy said.

And a long-buried, newly-reborn part of him whispered insistently that, no matter how terrified he was, how badly he wanted to do just that – that choice would only lead to his own death and destruction.

He flinched automatically, his back colliding with the wall behind him, when he heard Xander’s voice suddenly became an uncontrolled roar of rage – a sound of hurt and anger and betrayal that had all become huge and overwhelming enough to mutate into madness.

“*I’m* a failure?” he heard the boy screaming. “I’m a worthless, no-good failure? How do you think I *got this way*? *You…made…me…what…I…am!* It’s your fault! It’s all your fault!”

“Don’t! *Don’t*!” the woman’s voice became a panicked, strangled scream, drowned partially out by a series of thuds and sounds of things falling over and shattering against the floor upstairs.

“*Shut up*!” Xander screamed at her in rage. “Shut up! You let him do it – you could have left – you didn’t have to let him do it to us – but you did!” As the woman cried hysterically, he continued, “*Shut up! You have nothing to cry about! You’re just as guilty as he is! Guilty! You’re both guilty! Gotta pay – you’ve both gotta pay for what we did…you’ve both gotta pay, or it’ll never be right again…”

There was a moment’s eerie partial silence, in which all Spike heard was the woman’s softer crying, as the boy’s rant fell silent – and then, his sharp hearing picked up a slight hitch in her breath – followed by her panicked, desperate voice.

“Xander, *no*! *NO*!”

A series of rapid shots followed her words – and cut them off.

Her voice just – stopped.

No more screaming – no more crying – just…deadly silence.

At least – from her.

Now, the man was shouting, shock and rage and terror all mingled in his alcohol-slurred voice as he accused his son, “What did you *do*? Xander, how could you do this – what did you do?”

Spike heard a couple of soft thumps that he instinctively knew was the sound of the man’s knees hitting the floor – most likely at the side of his fallen wife. The soft sobs that followed confirmed that guess in Spike’s mind, as he drew back harder against the wall, feeling the tight sensation of panic growing stronger in his chest.

He thought of what the boy was obviously capable of – and the fact that if he could do what he was doing right now, to his own parents…he would certainly show no mercy to his vampire prisoner, the one he had viewed as his enemy for so long now.

*Get on your knees – are you stupid?* the voice in his head that still vaguely resembled Xander’s told him urgently. *If you’re not on your knees when he gets down here…*

*Nothing will happen any differently than if you *are* on your knees when he gets down here,* the softer, more reasonable voice of his thoughts reminded him. *He’s going to kill you – or worse – no matter what you do…unless you can stop him…*

“She’s dying!” Spike heard the older man’s voice choke out the words from upstairs – and he wondered vaguely if the man had managed to get to the gun he had mentioned before his son had managed to get to him.

It didn’t sound as if he had.

“She needs help, you little idiot!” Mr. Harris snarled in a voice that was filled with tears in spite of its anger and hatred. “She’s gonna die – you’re gonna kill your own mother…”

“…and father.” The boy’s voice was deadly soft, chillingly calm, and Spike knew that those two words would haunt him for the rest of his existence, even as Xander went on, “I know…” Spike could almost hear the inappropriately casual shrug of the boy’s shoulders, could almost see the soft smile on his face, as he concluded, “…it sucks…but it’s the only way…”

“No -- *no*…!”

Three shots in quick succession followed the words as the boy emptied his weapon into his father’s body – and then, the sickening sound of the empty clicks as he kept firing, many times, long after he had no ammunition left.

A testimony to the hatred that his father had passed down to him – that had eventually found its way back around.

Then – total stillness followed.

Spike braced himself against the wall, willing his trembling knees to hold up under him, not to fall to the floor as they seemed inclined to do – when he finally heard the soft, slow footsteps as the boy returned, moving slowly toward the top of the stairs.

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

Buffy had taken off at a run the moment she had heard Willow speak the location where the spell had placed Xander and Spike. Her friends called after her urgently – but she ignored their voices, just focusing on getting there as quickly as possible. She knew that her Slayer strength and speed would carry her there far more quickly than the others could run – but she had no time to wait.

The idea of driving – the fact that they had two people there with cars parked in her driveway – did not even occur to her. She had never learned to drive well, and had become accustomed to using her Slayer speed to get wherever she wanted to go, *almost* as quickly as a car could have carried her, anyway.

She was halfway across town when Angel’s black convertible suddenly swerved halfway up onto the sidewalk in front of her, cutting off her path, and he leaned his head out the open window as she slowed to a frustrated stop.

“Get in.”

“I’m fine…”

“Buffy get your stubborn butt in this car right now!” Dawn’s voice chimed in from the front passenger seat, as she leaned across Angel to talk to her sister, who had just reached the side of the window. “We’ll all get there faster this way.”

Buffy looked up as a small red sports car – Giles’ car – passed them, speeding toward their destination on the other side of town – and she realized that they were right.

“Okay,” she agreed, climbing into the backseat of the vehicle with Anya.

Apparently, Willow was the only one who had ridden with Giles.

“Really, Buffy, did you really think you could beat a *car* across town to that dumpy little house?” She paused, shaking her head in mild disbelief, before adding, “Especially when the car is being driven by a speed demon daddy vampire who drives like a maniac even when his childe is *not* in danger?”

“How would you know? When have you ever ridden with me when Spike wasn’t in danger?” Angel muttered a slightly resentful retort, as the other occupants of the car all lurched in their seats when he pressed harder on the gas pedal and added under his breath,

“And when is Spike ever *not* in danger, anyway?”

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

The light that shone through the open door at the top of the stairs seemed like the blackest darkness to Spike, for what it represented – his own doom, headed slowly but surely toward him – and as Xander made his way nearer, Spike was not aware of it as his own demon face receded.

His mind raced, as he tried his best to decide what he should do when Xander reached him. He knew that the boy would be furious when he saw that he was no longer on his knees, and would surely intend to punish him – but then, he intended to either stake him, or shoot him in the head again, anyway…so what difference did it make?

Then, something he had noticed before, but not really registered completely, suddenly occurred to the trembling, apprehensive vampire – and he found himself standing up a little straighter – a little less afraid.

A *little*.

Xander had emptied his gun.

So – the worst the boy could do to him was to stake him – right?

Xander stopped short at the foot of the stairs, giving his eyes time to adjust to the darkness – and when they did, those dark eyes narrowed dangerously over a cruel, maniacal smile.

Something inside Spike curled up in a sick, shaking, terrified feeling – and it was all he could do in that moment to keep from wilting to his knees then and there.

Xander’s expression hardened when he saw the vampire straighten his stance with an effort, although Spike could not quite bring himself to hold the boy’s gaze.

*Don’t look at me – you don’t *deserve* to look at me!* he remembered the snarled command, one he had heard repeatedly, and been punished for disobeying, many times before he had even recovered his sight.

He had quickly learned that it was safest always to keep his head down.

“What’s wrong with this picture, Spike?”

The familiar question echoed against the stone walls of the empty room, as the boy stalked slowly nearer to the trembling – but *standing* -- vampire. When Spike could not bring himself to respond, or to look up at Xander – he smiled in cold amusement, reading his reaction as the weakness and fear that he had so thoroughly trained into him.

“I asked you a question, Spike,” he pointed out in a falsely gentle, warning tone. “And unless you want me to shoot you again – unless you want me to put you right back in your place, for *good* this time – you’d better answer it.”

Spike’s stomach leapt up into his chest as the boy slowly closed the distance between them, although he knew that that was one threat that Xander could not carry out – at least, not right at the moment.

But Xander obviously had no idea that he knew that.

That thought stirred something deep down inside Spike – some…knowledge – that he knew was very significant, though he could not quite put his finger on why at the moment.

But then, Xander had reached him – and his thoughts scattered when the boy reached out a strong hand – strong for a human – and gripped his throat, slamming him back, pinned against the wall, tightly enough that he could not draw breath at all. Still, a little scrap of a thought echoed insistently through his mind, clamoring for his attention.

*He doesn’t know…*

“You really are stupid, aren’t you, Spike?” Xander’s voice was soft, frighteningly controlled, in light of how madly out of control he had been upstairs just a few minutes earlier.

Somehow, the insanity of those earlier moments had made the boy seem less powerful in Spike’s eyes.

*Not in control…he’s not…he doesn’t know…*

Again, that elusive something in his fractured, still weakened mind tried to put itself together – and was momentarily hindered as the boy drew back the hand that still held the empty gun, and struck, breaking the vampire’s nose with the power of the blow.

“I’m gonna give you one more chance to answer me,” Xander sneered, leaning in close to his face in a way that he knew had always terrified him in the past, “and you’re going to answer me – you’re going to tell me what’s got me so *pissed off* with you!” His voice rose to a loud snarl on the end of the statement – and then softened again dangerously as he continued, “Or I’m going to take this gun…” He pressed it to Spike’s temple menacingly, “…and blow your stupid freakin’ brains out…*again*.”

Spike’s stomach lurched with a momentary fear – that suddenly faded away, as he remembered that the gun was empty.

*Can’t – he *can’t*…*

And then – the something his mind had been trying to figure out…all fell into perfect place.

*He can’t do it…he knows he can’t do it, and he’s lying – to keep you under control…* the calm, rational voice of his thoughts told him softly but surely. His eyes widened, as the thought completed in his head, *…because he knows – that’s the *only…way…he… can*!*

“The problem is, Spikey,” Xander was taunting him in that soft, menacing voice that had terrified him for so long, “you’re not on your knees, like I told you – are you?”

Spike automatically shook his head, his eyes averted – and his mind millions of miles from the words the boy was spitting at him with such soft, restrained anger. Xander shoved him forcefully down to his knees, and held the gun against his head, hard – trapping it between the weapon and the wall, his arm straightened in a parody of being moments from pulling the trigger…

…a parody that he probably thought Spike believed.

But he didn’t.

*He wouldn’t have to lie – if he really had any power over me,* Spike realized, his breath coming fast and hard with excitement, realization, rather than the terror that Xander only thought he was inspiring in him. *He can hit me – push me down – but that’s *all* he can do – and after a while – you learn how to take those things…*

A slow, knowing smile crept over his face, lighting up blue eyes suddenly flecked with gold, as he realized, *…and *I* can do those things, too…nothing stopping me…I’m stronger…I stopped him in Buffy’s room…and I can stop him now…*

“Time’s up, Spike,” Xander said softly – obviously expecting him to back down at the ultimate threat, as he quietly clicked the revolver of the weapon in his hand in a mockery of preparation to fire.

The vampire took him by surprise, as he suddenly lunged to his feet, shoving the gun – and Xander’s arm – away from him with surprising strength, as he whirled around to face the boy in a ready, fighting stance, his eyes glowing golden with determination, his game face at the fore.

And another tiny shred of memory, of his own self, returned to Spike, as a slow smirk spread across his face, and he met the boy’s eyes boldly and replied in a soft, deadly voice.

“Bloody right, time’s up!”