Spike took off up the stairs after the retreating boy, frustrated and annoyed at having his well-deserved vengeance interrupted by Xander’s cowardice and refusal to face the consequences of his actions.

He frowned in confusion as he came to the top of the stairs, and saw the boy kneeling on the floor beside the fallen form of his father, apparently attempting to pry something from his closed, semi-rigid fist. Spike’s eyes widened with a sudden flash of recognition and understanding as Xander managed to get the tiny object – a key – and he remembered the words he had overheard from upstairs just a little while earlier.

*Lock the basement door…I’m going to get my gun…*

As Xander rose to his feet, his eyes locked momentarily with the blue gaze of the vampire, before he turned and tore across the living room toward a small endtable with a tiny, locking drawer.

Xander’s father had never made it to his weapon – but now, Xander intended to use that weapon against Spike.

Spike reached him just as he was pulling the drawer open, but before he could actually pick up the weapon inside, barreling into him and throwing him to the ground under him with all his strength – knocking the breath from Xander’s body…and the drawer out of the endtable and to the floor, leaving the sought-after pistol well within reach of both, but unnoticed by either of them at the moment.

Xander struggled beneath the vampire who held him pinned for the moment, yelling and cursing and generally spouting the madness of furious, useless threats which at the moment he had no power to carry out.

“I’ll kill you, Spike! I’ll make it take *months*! You’re gonna be sorry you touched me, Spike, I’m gonna *kill you*!” he snarled, his voice trembling and out of control with rage.

“Yeah – first you’ve gotta get up, though – don’t you?” Spike smirked, driving a powerful fist into the small of Xander’s back.

His body went rigid, arching back as he let out a strangled gasp of pain – pain that was intensified as Spike grabbed a thick handful of the boy’s dark, disheveled hair and yanked his head backward, leaning forward to sneer in his face with bitter triumph, “How do *you* bloody like it, you sadistic sod? How does it feel to be helpless for once?”

“We both know *you* know what it’s like,” Xander retorted through teeth gritted against the pain, a cold, defiant smile on his face, “helpless…blind and dumb and unable to move unless I let you – unable to do anything to defend yourself – nothing but pain and dark and punishment for all the evil you’ve done – and don’t you dare forget what it’s like, Spike – because you’re gonna be that way again – and I’ll *never* let you go this time!”

Although the words were just another sign of the boy’s insanity – bold, boastful threats spoken while he was helpless at his enemy’s hands – the mad conviction of his tone, the intensity of Xander’s obvious desire to make those words reality, was deeply unsettling to Spike, as he closed his eyes for a moment, swallowing hard as he fought back the images that assailed him.

Against his wishes, his mind was filled with vivid memories – most dark echoes of sound, from the long time in which he had been blind – in which Xander’s threats had been anything but ineffectual; memories of a time in which the boy had promised suffering and anguish and destruction – and then had proceeded to bring those horrors to pass.

Xander took advantage of Spike’s momentary distraction to reach out his hand beside where he lay on the floor, feeling blindly until it came into contact with the object he sought – the pistol.

The roar of the weapon firing – the tearing, hot pain as the bullet tore through his shoulder, drew Spike’s attention agonizingly back to the present situation, as he let out a snarl of fury and pain, rising up off of Xander enough to reach around with his good hand, gripping the boy’s wrist and slamming it against the floor – shattering the bone, and forcing the pistol from his hand.

Xander let out a sound that was halfway between a moan and a whimper of pain, crumpling up on the floor, rocking his injured wrist, as Spike rose to his feet, one hand covering the bleeding wound on his shoulder as he tried to quickly decide how serious it was.

Fortunately, it seemed to be nothing more than a minor flesh wound; the bullet had missed the bone, and gone straight through the outer flesh of his shoulder, leaving a wound that was little more than a scratch.

Xander’s eyes widened as he realized that Spike was up, and he scrambled on his one good hand to right himself, to get up and make some attempt to defend himself.

Spike was having none of it.

“What?” he demanded mockingly. “You never had a problem kicking *me* while I was already bloody down! Why should you expect any different you little wanker? It’s only fair for you to get what you gave out…”

A sharp kick to Xander’s ribcage sent the boy sprawling to the floor again – and several more in quick succession kept him down, as the vampire proceeded to pummel the young man with his fists, his feet – pouring out all the helpless rage that had been repressed within him from the moment Xander had made him his personal victim upon whom to vent his frustrations.

“Y-you said – fair fight,” the boy gasped out, clearly terrified, apparently for the first time, actually afraid for his life.

Spike let out a bitter laugh of harsh surprise at his words. “Funny, Whelp,” he remarked with an ironic smile and a shake of his head, before lighting into the boy again with all his strength. “Feels bloody fair to me!”

When Xander was finally too weakened by the beating to show any sign of a fight, Spike went down to the floor beside him, baring his fangs as he grabbed the boy by his shirt collar and yanked him up close to his face in preparation for the death blow.

Xander’s eyes went wide with fear as he realized what Spike was about to do – and he let out a sharp cry of pain as the vampire’s fangs sank into his throat, pulling hard and viciously at his blood, taking no care to spare him any suffering.

“Stop – please…” the boy moaned in pain, holding up his good hand in a gesture for mercy.

Spike had been shown no mercy – and therefore felt the need to show none.

But in that moment – something *did* momentarily stop his assault.

Spike drew back his fangs, golden eyes staring at the floor around him as it began to tremble – and in his surveying of the room, his eyes fell with surprise upon the little group standing near the doorway. The intensity of his encounter with his former abuser had kept him from even noticing their presence in the room.

The first one he noticed – of course – was Buffy – and as his eyes found her, his heart was smitten with a strange combination of longing…and pain. He felt fresh tears spring to his eyes, as he remembered now, with the insight of his returned memories, how she had told him that she loved him – and how she had then proceeded to prove to him how little that love really meant to her.

But – she was not looking at him, did not even really seem aware of him at the moment.

She was looking at the witch.

And when Spike saw the expression on her face – his heart leapt up into his throat, and his eyes widened with shocked apprehension.

Spike had been chained up in the Initiative caves already when Willow had gone on her killing, destructive rampage in the wake of Tara’s death; so he had not seen the little red-headed witch in the height of her grief-inspired rage – and did not recognize this as the beginnings of the same thing.

But he *did* recognize power – and rage.

And as the furniture around them began to rumble with the shaking of the floor, and something glass nearby fell to the floor and shattered -- Spike recognized that the danger in this moment went far beyond what was happening between him and Xander.

*Bloody hell,* he thought with a sense of mingled awe and fear. *She’ll kill us all.*

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

There was barely time for Buffy to register anything about the scene in the living room, though it all seemed to leap out at her in vivid, horrific detail – before she felt the floor begin to tremble beneath her, and saw the dark, terrible fury in her best friend’s eyes.

“Willow – Willow, look at me!” she ordered sharply, though her own voice was shaking with fear.

The red-headed witch ignored her, glaring down at the dark-haired young man, barely conscious now, and the blond vampire crouched over him, staring up at her warily.

“You,” she snarled in a voice that was lower, darker, than her own. “How could you do this? How could you – you’ve ruined everything!”

“Willow, it’s not his fault!” Dawn protested, rushing forward toward her, though Buffy’s arm held her back, determined that this time, she would win the contest of wills between her and her sister – for her sister’s sake. “Willow, leave him alone!”

It was as if she had not even spoken.

“The funny thing is, I *trusted* you! I actually thought that you wouldn’t do anything to hurt any of us!” Willow laughed bitterly. “Can you believe that? Poor little naïve, gullible Willow. Way too trusting.” She shook her head, a cold, dead sort of smile on her face.

“Willow – he didn’t. He hasn’t hurt anyone…any more than to defend himself, you have to see that!” Buffy protested, her voice low and earnest as she moved to stand in front of her friend, between Willow and Spike. “Please, you have to stop for a minute and listen…”

“Get back, Buffy,” Willow ordered harshly, pushing her friend out of her path and against the wall without touching her, with a simple wave of her arm.

Buffy winced as she felt her body moving, not of her own accord – but released a deep breath of relief when she realized that her friend had not used enough force to actually hurt her.

“Willow – Willow, listen to me,” Giles made his attempt, moving forward and catching her shoulder, his jaw set with determination.

He had played an integral part in stopping Willow’s rampage the first time – though he was fearfully aware of the fact that it had not been him who had managed to get through to her in the end. The one who had managed to stop her from ending it all, literally, was now lying on the floor in a pool of his own blood, and that of his slain family – in effect dead to them, even if he had not yet taken his last breath.

But still – the aging Watcher had to make the attempt.

He never got past touching her.

The instant that his hand touched her shoulder, apparently with no conscious effort on Willow’s part, a jolt of power similar to the one that had struck Buffy seemed to emanate from her body, sending him flying backward against the wall next to the Slayer.

When Angel tried to slip up from the side, Willow was somehow aware of his presence although he had not spoken, and he soon received the same treatment.

Dawn would have tried again to stop her – but the force that held Buffy back from hindering Willow apparently did not seem to mind if she touched anyone else – allowing the Slayer to reach forward and restrain the girl before she got hurt…though, Buffy was relieved to notice that Willow had not actually hurt anyone yet.

Of course – that looked as if it was about to change.

“All of you stay out of this!” the witch commanded harshly without looking at them, her eyes still locked on her singular focal point, near the center of the living room floor. “Everything is under my control.”

“No – no, it’s not, Willow!” Anya protested, feeling the need to try to stop her, though she was wise enough not to try to physically stop her, after seeing what had happened to Willow and Giles. Apparently, Willow seemed to sense that she did not intend to touch her, because she did not use the same restraining tactics on the vengeance demon as she had on the others, allowing her to go on speaking.

“Don’t you see that that’s the problem? This happened – and there was nothing you could have done to stop it!” Her voice softened as she added from directly behind the girl, “I wish I could have stopped it – wish I’d known what was happening. But that’s the point – none of us could have. This isn’t my fault, or yours, and it’s definitely not Spike’s. It’s Xander’s fault. And hurting Spike’s not going to…”

“Who ever said I was going to hurt Spike?” Willow’s low voice rasped out in deadly fury, her eyes narrowing with dangerous intent, as her hand outstretched in preparation to release another jolt of power.

As she took a step nearer to Spike and Xander, and her friends behind her took in the impact of what she had just said, Xander finally began to come around, his head rolling to the side with a moan as his eyes blinked open and stared up at blankly.

“Willow?” he mumbled, a hopeful note to his voice.

Then, suddenly, his bleary eyes widened, as he recognized the dark, frightening version of his friend that he had had to talk down from ending the world just a few short months earlier.

His voice held a note of fear and uncertainty as he repeated with a trembling urgency, “Willow…wait…”

“Don’t worry, Xander,” she smirked down at him, her black eyes cold and deadly. “I’ve learned a lot while I was away. I know better than to think I can save the world by ending it. Hey, I know better than to think I can save the world at all.” She paused, her smile fading slightly as she continued, “But I *can* make it just a little bit safer for some of us – for those of us who were stupid enough to trust you. I can see what you are now, Xander. I can see how black your heart is – inside.”

The room began to shake harder around them – and then gradually fell silent, as she paused to draw in a deep breath, and regain control of her emotions.

“I don’t have to end the world, Xander,” Willow concluded in a soft, chilling voice. “I just have to end you.”