A/N: Thanks to my wonderful beta, Eowyn315!! :)



“Okay…nobody panic. Vampires don’t usually just walk up and knock on the door…do they?” Jenny asked, a slight tremor in her voice as she glanced around the room, looking for the answer in the apprehensive faces of the people around her.

“Only if they don’t want you to know they’re vampires,” Spike replied, his voice low and cautious as he stared at the closed door, on the other side of which stood an unexpected, uninvited arrival.

“If it *is* in fact a vampire,” Giles pointed out thoughtfully, “then it can’t enter here without an invitation. Whereas, if it’s a human being, it’s likely no threat to our safety.”

“Good point.” Buffy rose to her feet and started toward the door, a look of grim determination on her face. “Might as well open the door then.”

“Just one second, Buffy,” Giles cut her off, indignation in his voice as he blocked her path to the door. “Slayer or not, what makes you think that you should be the one to answer my front door?”

Buffy shrugged, meeting his gaze boldly. “Just in case it’s not vampire *or* human.”

Giles looked at her a moment longer before abruptly backing down. “Right, then. Go ahead.”

Satisfied, Buffy moved purposefully to the front door…but her hand stopped an inch from the handle as she took a deep breath, suddenly terrified of what she might have to face on the other side. The act itself of opening the door was unlikely to be dangerous; after all, a vampire would not be able to enter, and she did not know of any other breed of demon that seemed inclined to knock.

*But what if it’s Willow? What if it’s Willow…and she can’t get in?*

*What if it’s Willow…and she *needs* to get in? What if she’s alive, but hurt, and needs us?*

It was that last thought that gave her the push she needed to open the door in spite of her fears. Her heart leapt up into her throat, and she fought back the almost unbearable impulse to rush forward and embrace the figure standing forlornly on the porch.

It *was* Willow.

Or, at least, it appeared to be.

Her hair was disheveled and wet with the rain that had just started to fall outside, and her clothing was torn and stained with blood. She looked up at her friend through wide, stricken eyes that spoke of unbelievable trauma…and Buffy’s heart broke to think that whatever the end result of that trauma might be or not be…she had not managed to avoid it for her friend.

“Willow…” she whispered, tears streaking her own face. “Willow…are you okay?”

The little redhead choked back a pitiful sob, swiping at her tears as she replied in a broken, lost voice, “*No*, I’m not okay, Buffy…that…that *monster*…he…he h-hurt me, Buffy! He *raped* me!”

Buffy flinched, feeling as if she had indeed been struck a terrible blow.

“No,” she whispered, shaking her head. “No…Willow, no, I’m so…so sorry…”

Instinctively, her body moved her a half-step forward, as if to embrace her friend, before her head reminded her to take that half-step back again.

Willow’s tears flowed harder at the sound of Buffy’s remorse and sympathy, and she looked up at her friend, her heartbreak visible in her sparkling emerald eyes. After a moment, however, an uncertain frown formed on her trembling, damp lips. She glanced at Buffy, then beyond her to the group waiting anxiously in the living room, as if just now realizing that none of them had moved to greet her, and they were all watching her strangely.

“Buffy, are you…are you going to let me in?” she asked, traces of fresh hurt beginning in her eyes.

“I hate to even ask you this, Willow.” Buffy barely managed to get the words out in a voice just over a whisper. “I don’t want to think…but you have to understand that I *have* to ask you…right?”

Willow shook her head, frowning in confusion as she took a step forward. “What, Buffy? What is it?”

“I can’t…can’t invite you in,” Buffy explained, hope dancing with terror to the wild, erratic rhythm of her heart, as she knew that the truth, painful or comforting, was about to be revealed, whether she was ready for it or not. “By now, you know enough to understand that…right? After you’ve been gone, and…and with Angel and all…I can’t just invite you in…”

“But I can come in…right?” Willow’s eyes were fearful now, as she glanced over her shoulder before meeting Buffy’s gaze again with pleading desperation. When the Slayer just looked away, unable to hold her gaze, she looked to the Watcher standing just behind her. “*Giles*?”

“Don’t answer that,” Jenny spoke up, sharply but quietly, from beside him. “Rupert, if you answer that, it *is* an invitation.”

Giles’ troubled eyes widened at that, and his uncertain gaze shifted from Jenny to Willow again, wounded distrust in his eyes.

Willow shook her head in disbelieving anguish, tears streaking her face again.

“I don’t believe this!” she cried in a trembling, tearful voice. “I don’t believe you guys would treat me like this after…”

“Willow, the invitation doesn’t mean anything…it’s just a precaution,” Buffy explained, her own voice barely under control in the face of her best friend’s emotional anguish, and the knowledge that she had had a part in putting it there. “You have to understand that, Willow. If you’re physically capable of coming in, then nothing’s stopping you. But if you’re not…”

“Of course I’m physically capable!” Willow exclaimed in frustration, starting toward the door.

As she did, her eyes locked with Buffy’s, and something in them softened, crumpled.

Buffy felt her own tears flowing harder as Willow lowered her head, holding out her arms to her as she reached the threshold; and, instinctively, the Slayer moved forward to meet her friend, ready to embrace her the moment she walked through the door.

“*Stop*, Slayer.”

Spike’s sharp warning stopped Buffy in her tracks, and to the dismay of her sinking heart, she noticed that Willow had stopped as well.

Still outside the door.

“Oldest bloody trick in the book for vamps,” Spike explained, his piercing blue eyes locked onto Willow with deadly intensity. “Make it look like you’re going in, and when the other person goes to meet you and goes just a bit past the threshold…well, then you’ve bloody well got ‘em.”

Buffy gasped, her shocked eyes turning back to Willow with a look of betrayal, as she studied her friend’s face, wondering if that could actually have been her intent. Willow’s tearful green eyes were wide and bewildered, and she shook her head in denial of what Spike was saying.

The blond vampire’s voice was softer, more subdued, as he went on almost apologetically. “Also…meant to tell you this, but couldn’t get a bloody word in before…she doesn’t have a heartbeat.”

Buffy’s eyes were still on Willow, and as she watched, the expression of hurt, lost betrayal shifted to angry frustration. The redhead’s eyes narrowed viciously on the blond vampire, and her lips twisted into a spiteful smirk as she gave a single curt nod of acknowledgement in his direction.

“Well, score one for Sparky the Wonder Vamp,” she sneered.

Spike sniffed, shrugging his shoulders in disinterest as he turned away from her. Still, he felt the need to clarify.

“That was two, actually.”

“Wow,” Willow laughed harshly, sarcastic admiration in her voice. “She’s got you even better trained than I thought!”

Spike’s jaw tightened at those words, but there was no other indication that they had upset him. “Not a matter of training.”

“So, you’re not her good little housebroken pet vamp now?” Willow sneered, her eyebrows raised dubiously as she crossed her arms over her chest. “Because that’s how it looks from here.”

“Willow,” Buffy whispered, drawing the fledgling’s attention from her verbal sparring match with the older vampire. “Oh…oh, Willow…I’m so sorry…”

The pain, the sorrow in the Slayer’s voice clearly amused the vampire, as she put on an exaggerated pout and echoed Buffy’s words, “Oh…oh, Buffy…I so don’t care.”

Buffy flinched at the hard, bitter sound of the last few words, her downcast eyes blinded by her tears.

“You know, if you miss your meek little friend,” Willow pointed out with a cold, calloused shrug, her narrowed eyes glaring at her former friend, “then maybe you should have listened to her while she was still alive…tried a little harder to protect her instead of your precious boyfriend…who’s, um…not exactly your boyfriend anymore, either. So…it looks like you lost twice, didn’t you, Buffy?”

Willow smirked at the shocked expressions on the faces of Giles and Jenny, disbelieving of her cruelty to the emotionally shattered Slayer, who was sobbing quietly by now, one hand raised to cover her face in a useless shield against the bitter barbs the vampire had thrown at her.

“And I win,” Willow concluded in a satisfied voice. “Don’t worry about me, Buffy…I’ve never been happier. I’m free.”

No one said a word; no one knew what to say.

Willow’s eyes trailed pointedly around the rectangular barrier that kept her out of the apartment, before settling on the dejected face of her former best friend, who still was not looking at her.

Nodding slowly, she smirked. “I think it’s obvious we’ve made all the progress we’re going to make for today. But don’t worry, Buffy. I’ll be back. How could I desert my best friend?”

Buffy flinched, and Willow’s smile widened as she turned to go.

“Take good care of that pet vampire of yours,” she sneered, casting a hateful glare in Spike’s direction, before her face broke into a knowing, secretive smile, and she added casually, “You know…I’ve got a pet of my own, too. They can be lots of fun, if you know how to play with them.”

Buffy looked up at her sharply, alarm in her eyes…but the vampire had already vanished into the darkness, beyond the reach of the lights of the apartment building.

“Slayer,” Spike began gently, placing a steadying hand on her arm. “Buffy…”

Whatever he was going to say to comfort her never got out. Buffy did not seem aware of the fact that he was speaking, or even her own pain at the loss of her best friend. Everything else was momentarily forgotten, swallowed up by fear at the implications of Willow’s words, she spun around to face her Watcher, panic in her eyes.

“Giles,” she gasped, seeing in his eyes the thought that had already filled her mind. “*Xander*!”

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

Contrary to their fears, Xander was not the “pet” of which Willow had spoken.

Her “pet” was currently chained to the bed in the mansion that he had procured for him and his childe…never expecting things to turn out quite as they had.

Angel struggled weakly against the bonds that held him, though his strength was nearly gone from the extreme blood loss and the futile struggles he had made already, which had only served to further exhaust him. He glanced up through bleary eyes, his vision blurry as he scanned the room, searching for any trace of his wayward childe.

Once she was assured that he was too weak to stop her, Willow had searched the bedroom until she had found the set of chains Angel had brought there for the purpose of chaining *her* up, should she react badly to her awakening. He had barely been able to maintain consciousness, let alone offer any resistance, as she chained him tightly to the bed and left the bedroom.

He tried to protest, but could not seem to get any sound above a weak whimper past his dry, aching throat.

“Aww,” Willow said in a falsely soothing, sympathetic voice. “You sound like a pitiful little puppy, *Sire*…” The word was a mockery as she leaned in close to him, tracing her tongue delicately along the place where she had savagely torn his throat. “*My* puppy,” she declared, rising up to regard him with a wickedly possessive sparkle in her eyes.

Turning toward the door, she informed him, “I’ve got to go now…got important business to attend to…but don’t worry, Puppy. We’ll have plenty of time to play later.”

And as his childe -- far more confident and self-possessed than he ever would have expected -- had sauntered out of the room, leaving him bound and helpless on the bed, Angel felt a dark sense of dread settle in the pit of his stomach, as he realized that he had made a terrible mistake.

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

Xander stalked down the sidewalk toward Giles’ apartment, silently fuming, muttering angry words against his friend the Slayer…when all he really wanted to do was to break down and cry.

Going to the Rosenberg house had been a mistake.

Mrs. Rosenberg had simply sat and cried by the telephone, while Mr. Rosenberg bustled around the house, talking to the police detective who kept walking through, lifting and looking at things that he had already looked at two or three times, as if they might somehow provide the clue to the teenager’s disappearance.

Xander knew that nothing the police might find in Willow’s house would tell them anything.

He already knew what had happened to her.

He just did not want to accept it.

When Mrs. Rosenberg had put her arms around him, apparently with the intent to comfort *him*, only to break down sobbing, clinging to him as she nearly collapsed, Xander had fought to hold in his own emotions, his own breaking, devastated heart. After all, Mrs. Rosenberg had lost a daughter (though she was not sure of that yet…but he was), and she did not need his tears on top of it.

As long as he was with Willow’s family, Xander felt like he had to be strong for them.

Now that he was alone…he no longer had to be strong.

Giles was right, he knew; it was safer for them all to be together until they were sure they were safe. But the last thing he wanted right now was to be anywhere near Buffy. He muttered to himself angrily as he turned onto Giles’ block, blinking back tears, then wiping them roughly away with the back of his hand, not watching the area around him, as he knew this route by heart.

“*Xander*?”

The familiar voice stopped him in his tracks.

Something within him warned him not to trust what he was hearing…but she sounded so…so soft, so frightened and tearful, and just like she had always sounded for so many years…

He slowly raised his eyes to take her in…and she looked just as she always had.

“Xander…oh, God, *Xander*…” she sobbed softly, moving toward him, her shoulders shaking with tears of relief and…and some other emotion he did not want to think about too hard right then.

*It can’t be…she’s not…she’s…*

His eyes welled with tears as he took in the wide-eyed, lost look on her face…and moved forward to embrace her.

“Willow…oh, Willow, thank God!”