Spike was not the least bit surprised by what happened next.

Dru’s dark eyes were sorrowful and apologetic as she dragged the struggling, terrified girl closer to the bed where he lay. The girl’s blue eyes were wide and rolling with terror, her face tear-streaked, her hands bound behind her back -- not that she could have put up much of a fight against Dru’s greater strength, anyway.

Days before, Spike would have gladly accepted such a delectable morsel, especially offered by his beloved Dru.

Now -- the girl was nothing more than a symbol of his own doom.

Angelus had taken a few steps back, watching the little scene play out from near the doorway, where he lounged idly, his arms crossed over his chest, his dark eyes narrowed and focused sharply on Spike, and his every reaction.

A wild hope filled Spike’s eyes for a moment as they met Dru’s, and he saw the genuine sympathy there. His princess knew the truth, but for what little it was worth, she clearly did not want to use it against him, as Angelus obviously did. It seemed that if she could find a way, Dru would rather help him than harm him.

He considered for a moment the possibility that Dru might kill the girl before she handed her over to him, sparing him the revelation of his secret -- perhaps might snap her neck in the instant before his fangs would pierce her flesh -- but he realized just as quickly that such a plan could not possibly succeed.

Angelus possessed the same vampire senses he did, and would hear the crack of the girl’s neck, the instantaneous ceasing of her heartbeat, where it should have been a steady slowing instead, as Spike drained the life from the girl.

No -- Angelus would not be fooled so easily.

Dru had reached him now, and held the girl’s hair, tilting her head so that her wildly pulsing throat was exposed to Spike’s fangs, come to the fore instinctively at the scent of the girl’s terror, and the blood that he needed so desperately, already spilled from various injuries that had already been inflicted on the human prisoner.

“My Spike,” Dru moaned softly, regret and despair in her voice as she met his eyes again. “It’s too late for Mummy to save you now…”

“Go ahead, Spike,” Angelus grinned, his eyes glinting cruelly at his grandchilde, his eyebrows raised in a menacing challenge. “Drink up. I’ve had more than one taste myself, and I can promise you she’s delicious.” When Spike still hesitated, his voice softened, taking on a deadly quality. “What are you waiting for, boy?” he asked coldly. “Are you going to do as I say or not?”

“I’m done doing what you say, you stupid git,” Spike snarled in defiant response, his mind racing even as the words left his lips. “Finished doing that a long time ago.“He knew that his best hope was to create a distraction, get Angelus’ attention off of the little test he had designed, and onto something -- *anything* -- else.

Even if that something else was beating the unliving daylights out of him, while he was still far too badly injured to properly defend himself.

Angelus’ answering growl was no less than he had expected, as the larger vampire advanced on him threateningly, countering softly, “Did you, now? Well, perhaps you need a bit of a lesson to remind you of your place, William.”

“I’d love to see you try.”

Spike shot back the words boldly, though he knew that at the moment he stood little chance of besting Angelus. Even so, as the older vampire shifted into his game face and moved in to attack, Spike moved quickly, drawing back his fist to plunge it forward toward his evilly smiling face.

The only problem was that Angelus moved a bit faster.

Before Spike’s fist could connect, his grandsire had snatched the slender, slight girl from Dru’s arms -- thrusting her into the path of Spike’s powerful blow. The girl wailed against the gag in her mouth as his fist connected with her cheek, her knees buckling beneath her as she lost consciousness from the pain and the force of the blow.

And so did Spike.

The first thing he was aware of as the pain from the chip’s firing began to ebb away, was Angelus’ smug smirk inches away from his face. His huge hand was fisted painfully in Spike’s hair, holding his head back and forcing him to face him, as he waited patiently for him to recover enough to hear the next words he spoke.

“Well, isn’t that interesting,” he sneered softly. “Looks like Dru’s ramblings aren’t so off the mark this time, are they? What’d the soldiers do to you, Spike?”

Spike just glared at him, panting slightly, as he ground his response out through his pain.

“Sod off.”

Angelus just laughed, amused by Spike’s defiance in the face of his defeat -- but in an instant his humor evaporated, as his fist slammed down across the younger vampire’s face in a dizzying blow. In the next instant, before Spike could recover, his vicious fangs had pierced his throat, drawing a fierce, deep draught of what little blood remained in his weakened body, before pulling back, releasing him with a disgusted shove, leaving him fighting to remain conscious on the bed.

“Barely a mouthful left in you as it is, boy,” he sneered, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, a contemptuous smile forming on his lips. “And it appears you might have a bit of trouble getting your strength back up.” He paused, moving closer again as Spike’s head lolled weakly back toward him, and he struggled to open his eyes. Crouching beside the bed, Angelus smiled coldly into his dazed blue eyes as he added softly, “Might serve you better to show a little respect.”

Standing up straight again, he addressed his next words to Dru, who had pulled the unconscious girl back up into her arms, and was looking anxiously between her sire and her childe, as if unsure what she was supposed to do.

Noticing the lost, fearful expression on her face, Angelus ordered, “Take her back, Dru.”

Her eyes widened as they came to focus with concern on her childe, swiftly fading back into the blackness of unconsciousness. “But -- my poor little Spike…”

“I said take her back!” Angelus snapped, turning on her with a snarl that made her back up with a soft, pleading whimper. “He feeds when I *say* he feeds! Do you understand me, Dru?”

“Yes, Daddy,” she whispered, nodding emphatically, though her dark eyes were drifting back toward Spike with a sadness that she could not quite conceal.

“Dru!” he sharply drew her attention again, before adding in a softer but firm voice, “*Now*.”

Without another word, Dru did as her sire commanded her -- leaving Spike to suffer in hunger, and the agony of injuries that would not heal without the nourishment that was to be denied him.

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

Buffy’s visit to the burned out wreckage of the church where the ritual had been performed was an absolute bust.

She found nothing there to indicate what might have happened to Angel -- not that she had really expected to. After all, even if she *had* come across something useful in the way of evidence, chances were that she would not have recognized it as such. If there *was* something in the ritual to have caused Angel to lose his soul, it was more likely that Giles would discover it in the course of his research, than that she would find it in the rubble at the church.

Besides -- she was secretly afraid that the ritual had nothing to do with anything at all.

*It’s just an ugly coincidence,* she told herself firmly. *Whatever caused Angel to lose his soul just happened to happen on the same night that we…*

She sighed, stopping in the middle of the church, shaking her head as tears fell from her eyes. “It’s no use, Buffy,” she said aloud to herself, her voice a low murmur that echoed off the walls of the empty building. “Give it up. You know what happened. All you don’t know is why.”

She sat down on a rather large pile of rubble that had once been the church organ, and let her tears flow freely for a few brief, blessed moments. She couldn’t let this out in front of the others -- she just couldn’t. She couldn’t bear to think of the looks on their faces when they found out what she’d done, and what the disastrous results had been.

She had really come here simply to be alone -- and now that she was, she took full advantage of it, allowing her sobs to overcome her…if only for a few minutes.

As her tears began to ebb, she wiped bleakly at her face with the back of her hand, looking around at her surroundings with a weary sigh. Her eyes widened slightly as she remembered that night, and realized that somewhere beneath where she was sitting, was the ashes of her enemies, the ones that had led to the disaster her life had become, literally overnight.

Because as far as she was concerned, this was still the fault of Spike. Spike, and his ho-bag sire.

If he had never performed the stupid ritual, never threatened Angel’s life to begin with, she would never have been so terrified of losing him -- would never have slept with him that night.

*If it wasn’t that night,* the voice of reason reminded her softly, *it would have been another night. You know very well sooner or later it was going to happen.*

“Shut up, voice of reason,” she muttered aloud, standing with another sigh, dusting off the seat of her jeans as she prepared to go.

But before she did, something faintly glittering in the pile of rubble suddenly caught her eye. She frowned, puzzled, as she reached down to pick it up, and found that it was a delicate scarf, made of some soft, shimmering material. It looked familiar to her, and her eyes widened when she suddenly realized where it was that she had seen it before.

Drusilla had been wearing it, the night of the ritual.

She threw it down, disgusted, as she stalked out of the church, her mood darkening again at the thought of the vampire couple who had ruined her life -- all the while, some vague, elusive thought niggling at the back of her consciousness.

She was almost home when she realized what it was -- and stopped in her tracks on the sidewalk with a gasp of surprise.

“Vampires’ clothes dust when they do,” she said softly. “So -- why wasn’t that scarf dust?” Her eyes narrowed with anger and annoyance as the logical conclusion took form in her mind, and her expression became grim as she abruptly changed her course, heading back toward the library, where she hoped her Watcher would still be in research mode.

*Drusilla’s alive,* she seethed silently, quickening her pace. *And if she’s alive, then that means Spike’s probably alive too. Just what I need! I thought they were two problems out of my life for good, but it looks like I just can’t catch a break right now! Well, I’ll take them out, just like I did before! Or -- like I thought I did before. I’ll teach them to take *my* boyfriend away from me and cause my friends to be terrorized and hurt and ruin my life!*

The voice of reason made one weak, last ditch attempt to remind her that Spike and Drusilla were not really responsible for any of those things -- but she was no longer listening to it, anyway.

She knew in her heart who she really believed was responsible for the recent trauma that had taken place.

Herself.

She just didn’t *want* to know it.

She allowed the rage at the two vampires to fill her up, bringing it to a low boil inside her as she made her way back into the high school, to the library, preparing herself to wreak her vengeance on them. Deep down, she knew that it was not wise, knew that she needed to be focusing on taking out Angelus -- but it simply hurt to bad even to think of him at this point.

And if she left herself feel the rage -- there was no room left for the pain.