A.N. Thanks so much for the reviews, follows, and favorites! / I'm glad some of you enjoyed the random trivia =]

They were perched at the edge of the trail leading to the vineyard. Lights illuminated the window frames of the small wooden structure, but Buffy couldn't see anyone inside. Beside her, Spike was tense, breathing in the surrounding scents and listening for every minute sound.

Buffy gave him a questioning look. His lips were pressed in a thin line. Motioning to her with one hand, Buffy followed her boyfriend away from the vineyard. Once they were a safe distance away, Spike shook his head.

"Not good, Love. Lots of nasties crawling around. One of 'em's louder, barking out orders. And – and . . ." he frowned, shaking his head again.

Buffy was unnerved. "And what?"

"And one of them sounded like . . ." he looked at her sheepishly, "sounded like you, Love."

Buffy's eyes widened to their limits. "Like me? What are you talking about?"

Spike exhaled sharply. "Well, you said this First bloke can be any dead person it wants, right? Don't know what you remember, but I remember crystal clear the five months during which you were very much dead."

Her jaw dropped open. "That – that thing is walking around acting like me?" Outrage overtook any sense of fear she might have felt. "What is with people thinking they can just be me? I mean, first," she held up one finger, "I've got Faith literally running around in my body. Second, you go and get yourself a creepy Buffy robot. And now this! I mean, is nothing sacred?" Her hands were fisted at her sides.

Spike was watching her with a look she couldn't quite decipher. On the one hand, he looked like he wanted to laugh, on the other, he looked exceptionally frustrated. "Right, well, Precious, as much as I'm on your side, because I am, I don't like the idea of an imitation Buffy as much as I once did," he ignored her pointed punch to his abs, "I think it'd be best if we focused on the blighter giving orders to the mutilated monks."

Buffy crossed her arms over her chest. "Obviously I know that. It just – it gulps me that –"

"Galls," Spike instantly corrected, giving over to his desire to laugh.

"Right. It galls me that the First just thinks it can pretend to be me as if I wouldn't care. We are so taking this thing down! We've got weapons, I say we storm the castle on our own." She had her fingers crossed that Spike wouldn't see through all the bravado to the real reason she wanted just the two of them to take on the First.

Of course, this was a decidedly stupid hope since Spike could see through her with his eyes closed. His mirth died off in an instant and his eyes were sharp on her. "This was a hide and seek mission, Buffy. There will be no storming of the barracks. You wanted to wait for the Watcher, remember?"

She met his gaze full on. "I didn't say I wanted to wait for him. He told me to wait for him and I hardly ever do what he says so –"

"No." Spike's tone brokered no arguments. "I know your dream scared you, Pet. Rightfully so. But there is no bloody way I am letting you go in there without reinforcements. As strong a team as the pair of us make, it's not gonna be enough."

Her gaze turned into a glare. "I don't take orders from you, Spike. I'm the head of this group."

"And I don't sodding care about that. I love you, Buffy. You really are a daft bint if you think I'm going to let you rush in and get yourself chopped up into very dead bits."

She made to shove past him, but Spike grabbed her around the waist and swung her over his shoulder very much like the metaphorical sack of potatoes. "Spike!" she whisper shouted in outrage. Her fists came down on his back in a rain of angry blows.

He ignored them, walking firmly away from the vineyard. Buffy rammed her knee against his chest. Spike buckled forward slightly, straightened out, and continued. She kept kicking and punching until finally knocking him to the ground. Still, he held on tight, not releasing her from the prison of his arms.

They wrestled on the ground, Spike always landing on top, pushing her down. Buffy's anger was consuming her every rational thought. "Stop it!" she shouted, pulling her arm back and punching Spike hard in the face.

At the impact she heard the decided crack of his nose breaking. With a gasp of horror, her struggle ceased instantly. She fell back from Spike who watched her impassively, blood dripping freely from his newly broken bones, waiting to see what her next move would be.

Not long ago, Buffy had thought the only way to resolve matters with Spike was to fight it out, bruise his flesh with hers. She would have rejoiced at his broken nose, knowing she had won the particular matter. Now, the only thing she felt was sick to her stomach, disgusted with her actions and consumed by guilt.

"Spike . . ." she whispered, afraid to touch him, suddenly terrified of what he must think of her. "Spike." The tears fell before she even realized she wanted to cry.

The hardness lifted from his blue gaze, his body releasing a tense breath. "Come here, Buffy." His tone was brutally gently, making her feel infinitely worse, the tears now streaming down her cheeks. When she didn't move, Spike lifted her in his arms and settled her against his chest.

"Spike, oh god, I'm so sorry! So sorry! I didn't mean to – I'm such a bitch," she babbled, encircled in his arms.

He didn't deny any of this, instead saying, "Doesn't matter, Precious. We're all good. Nothing you could ever do would get rid of me. And you've cracked my nose enough that I barely even feel it."

While Buffy was fairly certain he meant to comfort her, his words increased her guilt by tenfold until she was sobbing. Sobbing because she hated herself for treating him violently when he had been nothing but gentle with her since coming back. Sobbing because she was terrified for her friends and family. Sobbing because she was twenty-two but she would in all likelihood never make it to twenty-five.

Spike pressed kisses to the crown of her head, fingers feathering through the length of her blonde hair, he rocked them back and forth on the hard ground, shushing Buffy's cries until she slowly came back to herself. When her sobs were merely whimpers, he tilted her away from him so he could see her face. He used the pads of his thumbs to wipe away her tears, his blue gaze scrutinizing.

Buffy lifted a tentative hand to his face, he winced when her fingertips brushed the battered skin. Tears shimmered in her eyes. She had done this. "I hurt you."

He shrugged. "Happens, Pet."

"I don't want it to. I don't want to hurt you. I love you and you definitely don't hit the people you love." She drew in a watery breath.

Spike was watching her with something close to awe. "I don't care if you hit me, Precious, I'll always heal up."

Buffy shook her head violently. "No. That is not how this works. I love you, you love me, that means we take care of each other, protect each other. I am so sorry I hit you, Spike. So so sorry. Please forgive me."

"Nothing to forgive," he breathed.

She cupped her hands around his face, leaning in close so that their faces were a hair's width apart. "Forgive me."

It was a command, Buffy figured it probably wasn't how one usually went about offering an apology and gaining forgiveness, but she needed Spike to forgive her, she needed to hear him say it.

He blinked slowly. When his eyes were open again, he said, "I forgive you, Buffy."

She exhaled all the guilt weld up inside her. Ducking her head beneath his chin, she rested it against his strong chest. "Thank you."

"Not even worth thinking about, Pet. Now let's get home so you can report back to the Scoobies." He disentangled from her and offered her his hand. Buffy accepted it readily.

"I love you, Spike."

"I know." He kissed her lips softly. "I love you too."

The Scoobies were waiting in the dining room for them, books scattered across the table, expressions tight and drawn. They took in Spike's broken nose and the blood on Buffy's shirt.

"Andrew?" Dawn asked.

Spike shoved a hand through his hair, roughing up the gelled down locks. "Didn't hear a peep."

Their was a collective intake of breath. If Andrew wasn't talking . . . Andrew was always talking . . . But Buffy knew she had to remain positive. They could handle this. They would rescue Andrew. That's what they did.

"We need to figure out a way to get inside. Which isn't going to be easy. They've got the First in there acting like it's Buffy impersonater night, the creep-o priest, and a dozen or so Bringers." Buffy looked at her friends for ideas.

"We need Giles," Anya said.

"And he's coming. He should be here tomorrow."

"Then I say we wait for G-Man. Let him help us sort this out," Xander nominated. The rest of the Scoobies nodded their agreement.

"We've got a start, binding spells, vineyard, creepy priests. I'm sure Giles can help us put the pieces together. That's what Watchers do right?" Dawn said. Another round of nodding.

"Alright. Let's get to bed then," Buffy sighed.

After washing up for bed, Buffy hugged Dawn goodnight and headed downstairs to be with her vampire. When she reached the basement, she found Spike sitting up frowning.

"Hey," Buffy called as she approached, her brows puckering at Spike's obvious unease. "What's up?"

His face jerked up to hers. "You here, Pet?"

It was such an odd question. Fear rippled across Buffy. She stood before Spike, taking his face in her hands. "Right here, Baby. What's going?"

He closed his eyes, shaking his head. "Nothing. Must have fallen asleep." But he didn't seem all too certain.

"Are you sure?"

"No – it's –" he shook his head again. "Let's just go to bed. That knock to the face must have taken more out of me than I thought."

Buffy winced at his casual reference to his broken nose. "I really am sorry about that."

"I know, Precious," he said, drawing her down on the cot beside them. When they were curled up against each other, he brought the blanket over their bodies. "And you can't imagine what knowing that means to me."

She curled up closer to his bare chest, pressing a kiss to it, moments before she fell asleep.

It was the growling that woke her. She had been fairly certain there was singing before the growling, but now all she heard was the growling. Her eyes flashed open, her body tense for the fight.

And then he was pinning her down. Even in the dark, his eyes blazed yellow. One hand at her throat, crushing her neck painfully. Buffy struggled against his hold, legs lashing upward. He responded by straddling her waist, pressing all of his weight down on her hips, his thighs encasing her legs so that she couldn't move.

Her eyes were starting to water from the lack of oxygen. Buffy tried gasping, but the more she tried the harder he squeezed. He lowered his face, bone structure rigid, fangs barred.

This had to be a dream. A nightmare. There was no way Spike was trying to kill her. That simply couldn't be true.

Black spots danced before her vision. This wasn't happening! It couldn't be.

And then there was the pain of fangs tearing into her flesh. Nothing about it was pleasurable. It was the white hot pain of skin being torn open, then the nauseating pull of blood leaving her body.

Summoning the last of the air in her lungs, Buffy cried out, "Spike!"

It was over in an instant. Spike staggering back from her, his eyes rapidly changing from yellow to blue. He tripped over the laundry basket, landing hard on the cement floor. He stayed there for a moment, staring at her.

Buffy pressed one hand to her neck, trying to stem the bleeding. Her hands shook from the trauma. Her heart raced wildly in her chest, desperately trying to recover from the attack.

The scent of blood reached Spike, sparking him into action. "Buffy!"

He rushed at her. She moved swiftly to her feet, black spots dancing in front of her vision again, she wobbled and he caught her, held her to him even as she struggled to be free. "Don't!" she begged.

"Buffy, you're bleeding," he told her with concern, gently lowering her onto the cot then jolting to the cabinet to get a band-aid.

She watched him warily. What was going on? Nothing made sense.

He was back in front of her, nudging her hand away to press the band-aid to the wound. It was on the opposite side of her neck as his bite scar. "What happened?" he asked, dropping to his knees in front of her so that he could see her clearly.

She stared at him disbelieving. "You bit me."

"What?" Shock coated his features. "I would never bite you like that, Buffy."

Anger flared along her bones. "Well, you did. You strangled me and then you bit me."

"Buffy . . . I wouldn't. You know I wouldn't." But he was looking scared, very scared, the way he had when he was living in the basement.

"Then how do you explain me being bit and being strangled and you being the one who was doing it?" Her tone was harsh, but there was nothing she could do to soften it.

"I – I – No! We were sleeping, then you threw me to floor," he pleaded with her desperately.

"No, Spike! You attacked me!"

"I wouldn't! I didn't!"

"You did!"

He grabbed her around the middle, burying his face against her stomach. "I didn't, Buffy. I swear I didn't. I would never hurt you. I love you. I love you. I love you."

The litany made her stomach turn. She grasped his shoulders, pushing him away from her. "Spike."

He looked up at her, tears coursing down his cheeks. She smoothed her palms against his cheeks, ignoring the way her hands couldn't stop trembling. "What do you remember? What happened earlier? You wouldn't tell me before, but I need you to now."

He blinked. "I- you – I don't know."

"Tell me," she pressed, hands on his shoulders now, squeezing slightly.

"I thought I – I thought I saw you. But you were – you were singing –" he broke off.

"And now?" she asked. "Now was someone singing?"

He stared up at her, not understanding. "No one's singing, Buffy."

"Before you woke up, was someone singing?" she asked again.

His face was blank. "I – I don't know."

Buffy reached behind her, grabbing the chains. Her heart clenched at the prospect of what she was going to do. "I'm sorry, Spike. But I need you to put the chains on." She held them out to him

"What? No! Buffy, I'm fine. It wasn't me! I swear."

"Who else is here, Spike?" The question came out harsher than she meant it to.

Despondently, Spike put on the chains. Buffy locked each one, then stepped back from him. He was staring abjectly at the floor.

Her heart was begging her to break down and cry. Because this couldn't be happening. She couldn't be losing the only person she could rely on fully. She couldn't. Because she honestly didn't know if she could function without him anymore.

Crouching before him, she tilted his chin up with two fingers. "We'll figure this out, Spike. But I need you to hold it together for me. Trust me."

He nodded.

Standing up, she went to wake the others. Tell them of their newest problem. Deal with the fall out. All without Spike at her side.