Across from me, Spike nods.

"We'll do what we can, pet. But these wankers always seem to have a few tricks up their sleeves." He moves to sit beside me, pressing his back into the cool wall. "For all we know, they wanted this to happen."

I whip my head around toward him, eyebrows raised.

"Wanted you to bite me?" I ask, disbelieving.

That doesn't make any sense.

Why would they be in such a panic to figure out what's happened if all along they'd wanted this to happen?

Why get Angelus involved at all?

"Think about it. Back in the hotel, when Angelus said he was going to take what was promised to him? He went for your neck. Stopped when he saw the mark there." He raises his eyebrows. "My mark."

My mark. The way he says it.

Like it means something.

Spike gives me a poignant look. "That's when the old man lost his temper."

I frown at him.

This doesn't sound like anything new to me. It's pretty much what we discussed on the plane.

"Because he thought you claimed me." I say slowly, reiterating the point I'd believed we've already hashed out.

But Spike shakes his head.

"That's what I thought at first. Only he didn't say claimed, did he? He said bit. Asked if I drank from you."

I think about this.

Through the jumbled mess of my brain, I can recall the words. The way the larger vampire had spoken them.

There'd been an emphasis on the word.

Drank.

Like that was the important part. Not necessarily the bite itself.

And if it had been a claim they were concerned about, wouldn't it have been the bite that worried them?

So it's...what then? My blood?

A cold wave of fear grips my insides as I look back at Spike.

"You think Wolfram and Hart promised him myblood?"

He must hear it in my voice, because a second later he's turned his body toward mine, hands cupping my face. Calloused thumbs stroke my cheeks.

"No, luv, that's not—" he grits his teeth, eyes rolling heavenward— "Bloody hell. I'm just sayin'..." he trails off, blue eyes returning to mine again. His expression softens. "I'm explainin' things all wrong. Look, Angelus and I...we're family."

My brows knit together, confused, momentarily forgetting the fear from a moment ago.

"Family?"

He nods, hands still on my face. "From the same bloodline, pet. Dru, Drusilla?" He searches my eyes, waits for me to acknowledge I've remembered her before continuing. "Angelus is her sire."

Whoa.

Color me blindsided.

"Angelus made Drusilla?"

Spike's lips quirk up in a cold sneer.

"But not before drivin' her insane."

Oh.

It all snaps into place like a missing puzzle pieces. That haunted look in Spike's eyes. The way he'd spoken about Angelus. About his torture.

Those past experiences, the ones that had filled him with so much fear for me.

They weren't necessarily his at all.

I feel a sharp pang of sorrow for the insane vampiress, but it doesn't last long before I force myself to push those thoughts aside, try to draw the lines of the family tree in my head.

Angelus sired Drusilla.

Drusilla sired Spike.

"Angelus is your grandfather?"

Spike winces, dropping his hands from my face. A dark look clouds his features.

"For lack of a better term," he murmurs, "yeah."

I think I've touched a nerve.

"Sorry," I apologize lamely, but quickly push forward. "So, you're...related. What does that have to do with me?"

"I'm gettin' there, yeah?" He focuses his stormy eyes on me. "Angelus and I belong to a very old bloodline, luv. The Order of Aurelius."

The Order of Aurelius.

The name strikes a chord, there's something so familiar about it.

But just like with Angelus, I know I've never actually heard it before.

I toy with the idea of asking Spike more questions about it, but decide against it.

I want to get the explainy part.

"Fancy." I say.

Spike smirks. "Descended from the Master himself."

I can't stop the groan from escaping.

TheMaster?

"Lemme guess," I say, letting my head fall against the cement wall. "Wicked old, wicked powerful, out to destroy the world type a guy?"

Spike's eyebrow shoots up, mirroring the corner of his mouth. "You catch on quick."

Just what I need.

Another bad guy to worry about.

"Don't have a choice," I grumble, sitting up, bringing my head off the wall. "Okay. History lesson's over. What's your point?"

"My point is, Angelus and I? We both carry the Aurelian line."

He says it so meaningfully, so expectantly. Like that's all he has to say and I'll just magically get what it is he's telling me.

I raise my eyebrows, gesturing for him to continue.

Spike rolls his eyes, mutters a distinctly British curse. "Wolfram and Hart sought both of us out, pet. Two of us. Aurelians. Hell, even that pissant Lenny has some Aurelian blood in him." He pauses, frowning. "I'm pretty sure." He shakes his head, regaining focus. "What I'm sayin' is, it was only after I bit you that all the craziness started, yeah? Your strength. Your dreams. The healing." He ticks them off on his fingers then pauses, cocks his head to the side. His eyes narrowing knowingly. "And I'm willing to bet other things, too."

My thoughts go immediately to our first fight.

The wild race of my pulse, the humming in my veins. The way my blood had felt like it was on fire.

Burning, boiling, calling out for him. For Spike.

The powerful, primal urge I'd felt to hit him.

Hurt him.

Possess him.

My cheeks flush hot at the memory and I have to look away.

"What are you implying?" I stammer.

"Do you feel like I have power over you, Buffy?"

That brings my head up again, real fast.

"No." I say immediately, hardly, brooking no argument.

Spike stares at me, blinking long lashes.

My chest tightens.

I waver.

"No," I say again, less confident, less sure sounding this time.

The way he's looking at me.

Like I'm the sun, and he's been trapped in an underground cave all his life.

I can feel my resolve melting even as I try my hardest to hold on.

And then he breaks eye contact with me, and the feeling ebbs.

My chest is heaving. I hadn't realized I'd been holding my breath.

I stare at Spike, bewildered, horrified, wondering just how much of what happened can be attributed to this theory of his and how much of it is just...Spike.

He thinks there's something making me feel this for him?

"You think your bite started off some freaky reaction in my blood?"

He looks back at me, his eyes gone soft. "Just tossin' out ideas rollin' around in my noggin, luv. Thought we were tryin' to figure this out?" He shrugs. "I know about as much as you do."

I know he's right.

And truthfully, his theory doesn't sound completely implausible to me.

Especially after that little demonstration...whatever happened there.

It makes more sense than any other theory I've managed to come up with, mostly because my brain is still too fuzzy to come up with anything halfway decent.

Still, even if it is true.

Even if there's some freaky slayer kin/master vampire reaction happening in my blood that's gifting me with greater than average strength and a quicker healing timespan, I'll have a real hard time believing that this– between Spike and I– that what I feel for him at this point isn't real.

Especially now that it's not so much with the mixy and a lot more with the—

Probably shouldn't go there.

Not yet.

I sigh loudly, wondering dimly how long they'll keep us down here before they start in on whatever the have planned.

My muscles are still aching, very weak, and the jolt from the cattle prod really did do a number on my neck. With the hard wall up against my back, the cold cement beneath me.

There's no way to get comfortable with how I'm sitting now.

I stretch my legs out in front of me and I let my head drop onto Spike's shoulder.

I feel him stiffen instantly beneath me, but after a moment he relaxes again. The leather duster creaks when he turns slightly, and his lips brush against the crown of my head.

I nuzzle deeper against him, inhaling the leather and cigarette scent that is so supremely Spike. Funny how his scent has become so ingrained in my head as being comforting in such a short amount of time.

There's a little niggle in the back of my brain that says there might be a reason for that.

I shove it aside, making room for other niggles to make themselves known.

I start asking Spike questions.

The harmless ones. The ones I've been wondering for a while but haven't bothered to ask.

Things I genuinely want to know.

Things I ask just to keep my mind occupied.

I don't know how much time passes before I run out of the harmless questions, and I'm left with only the big ones.

The potentially life changing ones.

There's still no sign that anyone's going to come fill us in on what's happening.

So I bite the bullet.

"Was it Angelus, then?" I ask, keeping my voice low, half muffled against his shoulder.

There's a brief pause, and then Spike's arm snakes around my waist, tugging me more firmly into his side.

"Was what Angelus, sweet?"

But I can tell he already knows what I'm meaning.

I swallow hard. "Mom."

Spike stiffens again. I wait a moment for him to relax, but he doesn't. I halfway want to lift my head, to get a look at his face, see what it is he's so afraid to let me know.

But then he speaks.

His voice is very soft, lips still pressed into my hair.

"It was Dru."

The answer doesn't surprise me.

Or it...it does and it doesn't at the same time.

Maybe I'd been halfway expecting it?

Maybe I'm relieved.

Whatever the reason, it doesn't hit me as hard as I think it will.

I don't say anything to Spike. Just sit beside him, the side of my body pressing into his, liking the way his arm feels around me.

I wait patiently for him to continue.

"Your dream, luv." His thumb starts to brush little circles against my waist. "Where did it end?"

I twist my head so my lips aren't pressed against the leather anymore. "You were on top of me...I mean, of mom." It's not as hard to say as I expect it to be. Maybe because I know now it wasn't Spike that did it. "You had your hands around her neck."

I feel him nod against me, breath tickling my hair, stirring the strands at my scalp.

His chest rises and falls once, deeply, as he sighs.

"Dru was with me that night," Spike begins, keeping his voice low, raising his head up slightly so it isn't muffled. "She'd come out on the hunt. Normally, I didn't let her do that. Least not when it was just the two of us." His chest rises and falls again. "She was so hard to keep track of, used to take a lot of risks." He pauses, swallowing. "Children were her favorite."

My eyes flutter closed, stomach twisting.

I think of the pang I'd felt for the vampire earlier and regret it.

Unthinking, I wrap my arms tightly around my waist. I've halfway forgotten that his arm is already wrapped around me.

He moves as though to pull it away, but I stop him, laying my left hand on top of his right.

I wait for him to continue with the story.

When he doesn't, I nudge him lightly.

"Go on," I murmur.

I get the distinct feeling from the vampire beside me that he doesn't want to.

There's another long pause.

I'm about to nudge his ribs once more when he finally starts to speak again. His voice is much quieter now. More intense.

I almost have to strain to hear him above my own breathing.

"We were walkin' down the alleyway when I felt her. Your mum." He shifts a little, leaning his head away from me. I hear a soft thud and assume he's leaned it against the wall. "I panicked. Dru wasn't as weak then as she became later on, but she still wasn't strong. Not strong enough to take on a Slayer and win." He exhales a long sigh, untangles his arm from around me.

My back feels very cold where his touch had just been.

"So I hid her," Spike continues, "in the shadows of the alley, told her to wait for me."

I lift my head off Spike's shoulder, tilt it back a ways so I can see his face.

I was right.

He has his head leaned back, pressed into the concrete.

His eyes are closed.

"And then you fought?" I ask quietly, prompting him to continue the story.

He nods.

"So, what I saw in my dream…that wasn't the end of the fight?"

"Not, it was." His brow furrows, looking almost pained. "Sort of."

He turns toward me then, lashes fluttering open. His eyes burn into me with sharp intensity, his voice low. "I would've done it, pet. Killed her. I would have done it without a second thought, and not just to keep Dru safe."

I stare at him.

I don't know what to say.

I could tell him that I know that, but the words will only sound hollow.

So instead, I ask "What stopped you?"

He looks at me hard for a moment, searching my eyes with that same wild intensity from a moment before.

It's as though he's studying my face.

He's looking for something.

Maybe some sign from me to continue. Maybe an indication that I want to hear the rest.

Whatever it is, I think he finds it because a moment later he tilts his head back against the wall and lets his eyes fall shut again.

"Earlier, when you brought up the alleyway?" He asks, his voice sounding strange. "Max's? I asked you something."

I frown, thinking back to the beginning of our conversation.

He'd asked me a question?

Yes, he had. He'd asked me a question I hadn't answered. It had confused me.

It had taken a backseat to the other discovery we'd made.

He'd asked me…

"You remember?"

My stomach clenches, a cold flush starting at the base of my neck and spreading to the tips of my toes.

If I remembered.

I reach out and take his chin in my hand, turning his head to face mine with a little more force than I intend.

The drug they gave me must be wearing off.

I wait for Spike to open his eyes again before I ask him, voice tense, "I was there?"

Spike hesitates for just a moment before he nods against my hand.

I let it drop with a thud into his lap.

"Heard the noise first," he says, moving to place his hand over mine. "This…little gasp." He trails the cool tips of his fingers down the back of my hand. "So I stop, look toward the noise." He traces one particularly blue vein. "See this blonde little girl. Just a slip of a thing, standing in the shadows, staring at me with these huge green eyes."

His eyes come up to meet mine, and what I see in them makes my heart pound.

I was there.

I search his face with same wide greens eyes he's just mentioned, shaking my head.

"I…I don't remember."

A wry, humorless smile curves his lips. "I'm not surprised," he says, dropping his eyes down to the hand he's cradling in his lap. "Figured you'da blocked it all out. You were so small."

I stare at him, watch him watching me. The synapses in my brain are firing, struggling against the haze to piece together all this new information.

The question I'd asked. The response he's given.

"What stopped you?"

"I stopped you?" I ask, eyes trained with laser focus on his profile.

He glances my way quickly.

Then he sighs, letting go of my hand, bringing it around to cup the back of his neck.

"Caught me off guard, seein' you there. Wasn't expectin'…" He trails off, voice fading out like he's talking to himself. "It was just a second. A half second, maybe. But it was enough for your mum to push me off, make a run for you." He shakes his head, focus far off in the distance. His eyes narrow, like he's seeing it play out in front of him. "Distracted, I think. Probably concerned for you." There's a long pause, then his eyes slowly come back to mine. "Didn't see Dru standing there until it was too late."

Distracted.

Distracted by me.

That's what had gotten her killed.

I blink at Spike, feeling the familiar sting of tears beginning to form, blurring my vision.

Has there ever been a time in my life when my very existence hasn't put someone's life in danger?

And then a surge of anger floods my chest, out of nowhere, making my cheeks burn hot.

I don't know where it comes from.

But it's better than tears.

"Why would she do that?" I ask, trying and failing to keep my voice from shaking. "Why would she bring me out there with her?"

Why would she bring a six year old with her on patrol?

I was a liability.

She had to have known that.

Spike immediately moves to cover my hand again with his, but I pull it away before he can.

I don't want comfort.

I want answers.

"Guessin' she didn't make a habit of it, pet." He looks away from me. "She was in a right hurry. Tryin' to get you somewhere, I expect."

The room goes eerily silent after this.

In the half dark, I think I can almost hear noises from above us. Shuffling sounds, something like metal scraping over tile.

I try and picture what could be above us, what kind of facility they have us in.

Something about it feels like a lab. It's cold. Clinical.

Reminds me of the room I used to work in with Dad.

And it certainly doesn't feel like any law firm I've ever been in.

Spike and I sit next to each other for a while in a weird, almost companionable silence.

Our backs against the wall, not touching one another.

When I ask my next question, I think it takes both of us a little by surprise.

"Why didn't you kill me?"

I expect to feel Spike flinch away from me.

Stiffen beside me.

He doesn't.

He doesn't respond right away, either.

We turn our heads to face one another at almost the exact same time.

"Honestly?" His voice is rough, gravelly. "I don't know."

I guess that's as good an explanation as any.

"Probably would've," Spike continues before I can say anything, still looking me straight in the eye. "Or I would've let Dru, if there'd been more time."

He's being excruciatingly honest.

I kind of wish he'd stop.

But instead of asking him too, I prompt him again.

"More time?" .

Spike turns away again, bends his knees up to prop his forearms over them.

"Mum's sorry excuse for a Watcher showed up in the alley maybe a minute after Dru—" He stops abruptly, clearing his throat.

I've noticed that he hasn't said the words.

Not explicitly.

He's hemmed and hawed around it, how Drusilla killed my mom, but he's never come right out and said it.

I don't know whether I'm grateful or frustrated.

Maybe a little insulted.

Does he honestly think that now's the time to be delicate with me?

"And you and Drusilla," I say her full name, tasting it on my tongue, pulling my knees up and mimicking his pose. "You just let her Watcher go?"

Spike shifts his eyes over to mine, then back out front.

It reminds me of all the conversations we've had in the car.

"Didn't have a chance to do anythin' but." He scoffs, smirking just a little. "Ninny grabbed you up and ran for the hills. Didn't even take the body." He looks at me again. "Didn't give any of it much thought after that. Slayer was dead. Dru and I left town a few weeks later."

I can practically hear the wheels in his head turning as he looks at me, cocking his head to the side. "Certainly never bloody thought I'd be seein' you again."

I turn my body toward his, leaning the side of my face into the cool concrete.

The flush in my cheeks that's been steady for the last little while fades the tiniest bit.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

He answers me with a sardonic smirk, raising one eyebrow.

I sigh, letting my eyes fall shut.

My brain is buzzing, but my body's so tired.

"Would've been nice to know that I was there when my mother was murdered."

It comes out mumbled but harsh, surprisingly childish.

"I agree," Spike murmurs back. "Partly why I assumed your dad would tell you, yeah?"

I think back to that night in the car. Spike laughing, completely shocked that I'd never been told a thing about my past.

About vampires. About mom.

About who or what it is I really am.

I exhale a long sigh through pursed lips.

There are a lot of things I'm thinking that Dad should have told me.

I can't help but think I might not be in this situation in the first place if I'd known even just half of what I know now a week ago.

Even if it was all to protect me.

A lot of good that did.

I open my eyes suddenly as the thought occurs to me.

"Spike," I say, bringing his attention back to me as I place my hand on the wall by my head and push myself into an upright position. "You said you knew it when you'd found me." I lean a little closer to him. "Is that one of those freaky vampire things?"

He smirks, nods, lays a finger on the tip of his nose.

Then he chuckles.

"Course, lot of good that did me in the end."

Right, because… "You said my dad changed it? My…" I wrinkle my nose up, "scent."

Spike nods absently, looking at me through long, dark lashes. "Cloaked it, yeah. Made it a little different every day."

That's it.

The names of all those chemicals. Chemical compounds I'd never heard of.

Dad had said they were new, important. They were "top secret".

That's what we'd been doing in the lab.

All those explosions.

They weren't explosions of chemical compounds at all, but spells.

Spells designed to shield me.

Specifically, to shield my scent.

My eyes whip back to Spike's when he says it.

"Have to think he knew what he was protectin' you from." His eyes meet mine, widening a little at the expression on my face. "What?"

A small smile plays over my lips.

"You did that mind reading thing again."

Maybe not so wiggy after all.

Spike shifts, angling his body toward mine so we're leaning slightly into each other.

"Thinkin' it's not a coincidence that these blighters sent vampires after you?"

Not just any vampires.

"Aurelian vampires," I remind him, voice dropping down to a low murmur.

The Order of Aurelius.

Spike. Angelus.

Drusilla.

The vampire who killed my mother.

Wolfram and Hart sent the same line of vampires after me as the one who took out my mother.

They promised one a gem that gives immortality.

They promised the other my blood.

"I wonder if that means anything," I muse out loud.

But something tells me it might mean everything.