"Are you guys all finished up there?" Buffy was the first to speak, having glanced up to see Willow and her blonde lover descending the staircase.

Reaching the landing, Willow gave an affirmative nod. "One vampire barrier successfully installed" her smile was nervous, almost shaky. "We're not totally sure if it worked though…" she glanced Tara, who was equally uneasy. "Doing a de-invite for an entire house is one thing… Protecting just a little portion…" Willow tipped her head ever so slightly to the side, features becoming uncomfortable.

"It's okay, Will," Buffy gave a sympathetic smile. "Whatever you can do to help is great… I appreciate it" the Slayer's voice was soft and collected, hardly displaying the veins of fear rupturing everywhere within her.

Silence fell over the group then, everyone retreating into their own particular worlds. Mostly, the Scoobies were frightened, the reasons for such practically running a marathon through their minds. Only Buffy knew what to expect of the bleached vampire; no one else had seen Angel when he'd returned, didn't know just how insane he'd been.

Idle thoughts of Spike thrummed several chords within the Slayer, and she became painfully aware of how soon he'd be waking up. Reading the troubled body language of her friends, she gave a light sigh. "You guys had better get going… Sleeping beauty will be waking up soon, and I really don't think you want to be around for that" Buffy's eyes lifted as she spoke, as if she could see Spike through layers of wood and drywall.

"Are you sure you don't want one of us to stay with you?" Xander tossed in, despite the fact that he was already on Dawn-duty for the evening.

"I'm sure. The last thing I need is for Spike to escape while one of you guys are around… especially since he'll have a major lacking in the sanity department," she said seriously, eyebrows lifting to complete the mood.

Final statements were mumbled, a few last offers of aid auctioned to the Slayer, but she accepted none of them. Feet moved about almost robotically as the Scoobies closed in on the front door, exchanging salutations with Buffy before heading out. Willow offered her friend a hug, Tara simply smiling in the midst. Xander and Dawn copied the redhead, while Anya added a chirpy and quite unusual comment of encouragement. Giles was the last to go, simply placing a hand on his Slayer's shoulder, softly speaking words of assurance and trust. Everyone's farewell was met with an equal sense of thanks by the blonde hero, and within a few, unrecalled moments, she was left leaning against the interior side of her wooden door, staring at the staircase with determination for a second time that evening.

Time to face yet another chapter of my twisted destiny

¤+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+¤

Only seconds passed it seemed before Buffy was listening to the first muffled whimpers of a tortured vampire attempting to arise from artificially induced sleep. Standing in a shaded corner of the moonlight-soaked bedroom, the Slayer had decided that it was best to allow Spike some time to adjust before approaching him. Each of the vampire's movements were carefully observed though, a corner of Buffy's mind apparently fascinated with his situation.

Beautiful features crinkled as Spike's head twisted from his left shoulder to his right, and then back again. Every so often, his upper arms would tense suddenly, biceps muscles protruding from the vampire's milky skin. Whatever was swimming through his mind at that moment surely couldn't have been pleasant.

Whimpers turned into strained moans though as Spike's entire body arched from the bed's cushioned surface, every muscle fibre in his well-toned body seizing this time. Arms tied behind his back, any woman would have marvelled at the show as he then turned slightly in Buffy's direction, pain seeming to originate from his right side. Although they were mortal enemies, the Slayer couldn't help but feel a pang of sorrow for his obvious torment.

Perhaps five seconds passed through oblivion before Spike relaxed suddenly, air expelling from his dead lungs at blinding speed. Reflexively, Buffy sighed in the same moment, eyes closing for a moment to regain her focus. Opening her pair of emerald jewels, the Slayer was startled to see that Spike's eyes were also unfastened. Not just ajar though, she noticed; the vampire's azure optics were completely exposed, lids drawn back to their full allowance.

For a moment, the spheres remained still, completely relaxed in their newly restored eye sockets. Stay put… Buffy ordered herself, a sudden urge to step forward instantly shot down by the two syllables. Mesmerized, the Slayer watched as Spike's eyes began rapid movement, oscillating from one region of the bedroom to another, never remaining fixed upon a certain position for more than two seconds. All motion was abruptly severed though when his line of sight grazed Buffy's hidden form. Right… night-vision… the Slayer reminded herself, keeping silent nonetheless.

Panic had become a natural reaction for Spike's animalistic mind over the centuries. New environments generally meant torture; Hell, any environment meant torture. But when his eyes became cemented upon Buffy's form, everything came tumbling down for the vampire. Usually he was spared at least a moment to adjust to any new surroundings, left alone as terrified suspense solidified within his system. Today was different though, apparently; the bringer of anguish had already arrived.

Apprehensive eyes evolved into a hating nature as Spike gave a last, snarling attempt at scaring his attacker away. Buffy stayed still. Features twisted into a visceral position, distorting any sign of peace that had once been set upon the vampire's features. Buffy remained static. Both of his attempts snuffed out by the strange, hardly-demon like creature, Spike then set to work on a deep, rumbling growl. Originating from the fathomless catacombs of his chest, the reverberations eventually made it past his lips, creating a sound so monstrous that no human could ever successfully attempt to replicate it. Buffy still refused to move.

Unthreatening stances didn't seem to register in Spike's mind as such though. After allowing his growl to rumble past Buffy's sensitive hearing for perhaps twenty seconds, the vampire had swallowed his fill of mind games. Mumbled silence was instantly drowned in furious bellows; Spike began writhing violently on the bed, hardly seeming to notice the muscular pain caused by his vigorous twisting. Eyes locked upon the Slayer's form, he continued thrashing about, screaming as he did so with no apparent intention of ever finishing.

Standing where Buffy had situated herself, that certainly seemed the case. Scream, twist, turn, take a breath; scream, twist turn, inhale; over and over again he completed the cycle, body seeming completely blind to any forms of pain. But she couldn't let it go on. When Spike's torture of himself and the bedroom's once peaceful silence passed the five-minute mark, Buffy instantly decided on a course of action, wondering how she had lasted so long in the first place.

Tenderly stepping forward, the Slayer was hardly surprised when such movements caught Spike's attention. As if some command switch had been disengaged, his whipping about instantly halted, only his fixed gaze remaining constant. Another step forward, and Buffy could have sworn she witnessed the vampire twitch, though it was miniscule if even existent. What was he feeling? Fear? Apprehension? Recognition even?

Tension was stretched unevenly between the blonde pair, the rubber band relaxed only slightly by Buffy's sensitive demeanour. Spike was hardly at ease though, his usually blind consciousness now arguing with itself. Tweaked instincts initially told him to react with nothing less than pure rage. Scream, kick, twist, fight… Anything to delay the inevitable torture would be acceptable in such a situation.

Something wasn't right about this particular setting though; even he could sense such a thing. Jagged chains were usually the preferred restraining devices, slithered so tightly around his wrists that even the slightest of movements would solicit an angry bite of metal. Instead, his arms were bound with something new, something soft to the touch despite its constricted attitude. Shifting his weight ever so slightly, the vampire noticed yet another odd detail. Everyone was aware that Lucifer hardly fancied comfort amongst his damned souls; so why had Spike's slab of cinderblock on which to lie spontaneously transformed into something… gentle? And where were the weapons?

The Slayer's position shifted with another footfall, and Spike quivered yet again. Obviously, more than a few cushions and a petite blonde were needed to break down countless centuries of evolved instincts. Buffy could deal with that. However, the idea of needing an equal amount of time to demolish such barriers wasn't quite so appealing. Luckily, there was always bondage to speed up such a process; at least this way she could get close to him.

"Sp… Spike" even her whisper was muffled as she spoke, curious if he was used to having speech demonstrated with such an inferior tone. The vampire growled, and Buffy tentatively lifted a hand, as if trying to keep his aggressiveness at a distance. "It's okay, Spike…" she paused, eyes closing as the vampire snarled yet again. "It's just me… Buffy…" her spoken name didn't seem to strike a single chord within the blonde creature, such an assumption confirmed by yet another knotted threat expelled by his chest cavity.

Everything was so confusing for Spike's infantile mind. The bed's yielding surface, the sheets wrapped snugly around his wrists and ankles, the beautifully shaped demon speaking in a tone that was completely alien yet sufficiently comforting to his ears. Spike didn't understand; in his span of memory, never before had he been allowed such luxury, a room of his own away from Hell's raging coal chamber. Not to mention being placed in the company of a demon who, as far as he could tell, looked like him.

When yet another footfall extracted the same furiously terrified response, Buffy gave a deep sigh of resignation. "Right…" she said lightly, the words created more for her own use. "Nearly an eternity spent in Hell and your first assumption is going to be that I'm not here to torture you" emerald eyes rolled as the Slayer turned her back on Spike while speaking, quietly berating herself. "Gee, Buffy… Let's come up with some more ways to confuse the insane vampire living in your house"

Quivering, snivelling reverberations continued to invade the Slayer's sense of hearing, signifying the fact that Spike was still panicking amidst his new environment. Briefly, Buffy caught herself wondering what was running through his mind. What creatures did he think were about to appear from nowhere, their soul purpose being to make artwork out of his internal organs? Did any part of him recognize her in the slightest? Was he going to be cold without the eternal flames of Hell rolling about him? Why did she care in the first place?

Opening eyes she hadn't realised were closed, the emerald jewels instantly fixated upon what was currently her only weakness. Burgundy material was snuggled closely around a cushiony interior, two fabricated walls spread just far enough apart so that Buffy could easily burrow in between them. Nothing said 'easy surveillance spot' like a warm, comfortable piece of furniture, the Slayer told herself. It wasn't the queen-sized accommodation she was used to, but it was enough.

Besides… Buffy added. Leaving an evil, chipless fiend all alone for more than thirty seconds? Not exactly my idea of adventurous fun. Of course, there was also the chance that falling to sleep before Spike's crazed eyes might help in quelling the surely thundering flames raging through his confused mind.

Such simple thoughts were all the Slayer needed to approve her plan of close-to-the-psycho sleeping. Turning to meet the violent storms otherwise known as Spike's eyes, Buffy allowed herself to be captivated by such a gaze, holding onto the azure orbs as she sank into the cushioned chair. Initially, Buffy found the vampire's abrupt level of virtual silence quite odd; but then, when she referred back to Angel's triumphant return from Hell, the questioning notion in her eyes was quickly extinguished. Although her former lover surely wouldn't have won an award for 'most sane returnee of the year', Angel had definitely displayed his share of calm moments. 

"Please be good," she whispered, voice almost desperate while speaking. Indeed, the thought of a peaceful sleep- one that didn't include the panicked sounds of a vampire -was incredibly appealing to her, but the last thing Buffy wanted was to have to inject Spike with yet another tranquilizer dart. Having oneself suddenly torn out of Hell had to be confusing enough on its own; being held hostage in a half-sleeping, half-alert stasis by unknown chemicals was surely no better.

Whether it was against her own will or not, the Slayer felt her eyelids beginning to fall shut. One gram after another was added to the pair of thin shields until they had formed an airtight seal over her emerald jewels. Somewhere between a quivering gasp and a hushed snarl, Buffy then allowed herself to become enclosed by a clouded sleep, completely welcoming the dream-filled state.

The sooner you get to sleep, the sooner you'll wake up… Buffy heard herself thinking just before she dropped onto Cloud Nine. And the sooner you wake up, the sooner you can start with really helping Spike… She may have been tired, but that thought was enough to snag her attention at least briefly. The odd sentence was quickly countered though. Helping Spike equals no more psycho-vamp at home, and more help with the Scooby work… came her drowsy response; yeah, that's what she had really meant.