This is a story involving two realities. The Buffy and Spike we all know and love will be written about in Arial - Like this. The other Buffy and Spike will be written in Comic Sans – Like this.

Chapter 16 – Late Saturday and Sunday, Alternative Reality

Having reached the underground garage, they picked up the van they had used previously. Buffy climbed in the back and found something to hold onto. The last thing she wanted right then was to sit down. There was no sign of pursuit. Buffy was worried. Something had happened to Spike's chip. She didn't know what or how, but it wasn't working. She had always known it would happen eventually, she just hadn't realised she would feel so upset by it. He was fair game again, it was her duty to stake him. But she didn't want to.

When he walked into her room at the base, she had been drawn to him. She had wanted him to hold her and make everything better. She'd have been glad to see Oz too – he was familiar and would also have meant rescue, but her reaction to Spike was different. As soon as she'd realised what she'd done, she'd drawn back, remembering who and what she was holding on to. But she'd already recognised something about her feelings. Right then, she needed him to love her, to give her back the self-esteem that Riley had ripped from her. She almost smiled at the incongruity of what she had been thinking - that Riley had actually driven her into Spike's arms even for a few seconds.

Spike had hovered close to her the whole way. His demon face had been in evidence throughout. She watched him closely, but he made no attempt to hurt anyone. She realised he probably didn't recognise the significance of what he had done. Still, she had to tell Oz. She had to, but she didn't want to. She wanted to give him the chance to prove that it wasn't only the chip holding him in check all this time. She was glad to have a busy mind. It made her pain less incapacitating. It allowed her to forget, at least for the moment, the humiliation she had suffered.

Spike wasn't thinking clearly at all. He was as out of control as he had been in a long time. The scent of the woman he loved, in pain and afraid was still with him. It was less intense now, but he could still sense it. It enraged him as nothing else ever had. His hearing and smell were at their peak and he constantly checked the surrounding area for a threat.

Oz watched Spike throughout the drive. He had spotted Spike's ability to hit the guard without his chip zapping him. Unlike Buffy, he knew, or at least guessed what had happened. The shock Spike had taken destroying the power supply must have fried his chip. Oz was wary, but not concerned yet. Spike showed no sign of wishing harm to anyone other than those responsible for hurting Buffy. Although he showed it in a different way, Oz understood that. He knew he would react similarly if faced with the same situation.

As the van stopped close to where their own was hidden, Buffy crept closer to Oz.

"There's something I've got to tell you," she began, hesitantly.

"I know," Oz replied. "The chip's no longer operational. It must've got fried when he reprogrammed the power plant."

Buffy looked confused.

"I'll explain later."

"But, shouldn't we"

"What, restrain him? Stake him?"

Buffy looked down, feeling sick. That was exactly what she had meant.

"Let's see what happens," Oz replied. "Remember when you came, Chakka checked you out? He didn't pick up any ill-will from Spike. If it had been there, even held in check by the chip, he would have picked it up."

Buffy was unconvinced.

Spike had heard the conversation. As he listened, his face at last reverted to his human one. He was confused. "What're you two babbling about? Of course the chip's still working. I've still got a headache from the last time it zapped me."

"You hit that man on the way out, don't you remember? No head holding after. The chip didn't react." Buffy felt she had to spell it out for him.

Realisation dawned on Spike's face. He had been so intent on getting Buffy away, that nothing else had filtered through.

Getting into the back of their own van, Buffy realised she would have to sit down and did so gingerly, trying not to grimace. Spike noticed and was immediately at her side. "What's wrong? Can I help?" he asked.

"N..nothing," Buffy replied, suddenly uncomfortable with his proximity. She had come to accept him being close, like the other day when she invited him into her bedroom while she looked at the diaries. She remembered that and felt sadness when she realised she could never trust him like that again.

Spike was still concerned. Quietly, he said to her, "Pet, please tell me what he did. I know he hurt you and I know you were scared. I can smell things like that on a human, you especially. Maybe I can help."

Buffy was instantly defensive. She had no intention of telling anyone – least of all Spike - about her humiliation at the hands of someone she had trusted in her own reality. She reddened at the memory, her eyes going involuntarily to the belt Spike wore in his jeans, and she shuddered. She didn't think she could ever tell anyone what happened.

Spike watched her closely. He wanted to put his arm around her and make her feel safe. Whatever Riley had done, it had obviously hurt Buffy more than physically. Then he smiled slightly. Anyone watching him would have missed it. He had just realised there was nothing to stop him making sure Riley endured everything he had meted out to Buffy – and a bit more besides. It was just as well that he had some consolation, because Buffy's attitude told him he had lost every bit of ground he had made with her in the past. "Well," he thought. "I've got time. I'll just have to show her all over again."

Arriving back at the cave complex, Buffy found she was suddenly considered a hero. As she walked in, several people patted her on her back. This was the last thing she wanted. She needed some time alone. The one thing that pleased her was meeting Willow. Even though Willow really didn't know her, Buffy still considered her a friend. The only one she had, now that Spike was unrestrained. Jenny welcomed them back and arranged for someone to tend Spike's bullet wound. She took Buffy to a large cavern she hadn't seen before. It had makeshift beds scattered on the floor.

"This is where the women sleep while they're here. We let you and Spike use the other place before, but I thought you'd prefer this, now. Am I right.?" Oz had obviously filled her in on Spike's change of status.

Buffy nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

"Is there anything I can get you?" Jenny offered. "How about a doctor? You're walking like you're in pain."

Buffy was close to tears. "No, I'll be fine. Slayer healing and all that. What I'd really like is some time on my own?"

Jenny nodded her understanding. "It'll be quiet here for a couple of hours. That ok?" When Buffy agreed, she pointed to a bed in the corner which was currently unallocated.

Gratefully, Buffy threw herself stomach down onto the bed. When she had heard Jenny's receding footsteps, she started to cry. The tears were tears of anger and humiliation as well as of pain. Before long she had cried herself to sleep.

Spike felt the loss of Buffy's trust acutely. He'd never really had her unequivocal trust, but he'd had something. Now he had nothing, and he was surprised how much it hurt.

At the Initiative base, some semblance of order had at last been restored. Riley was in a rage. Not only had the demon detectors all ceased to work, not only had Buffy been kidnapped, but the video of his last time with her was missing. He had stopped in his office and placed it on his desk. He hadn't locked it away because there was an apparent emergency, but he had left it among a pile of other identical looking tapes so it wouldn't stand out. His only consolation was that Spike would pay. Buffy had been close to seeing the error of her ways. He knew she must be. Now Spike had her again, all his good work would be undone.

He was actually surprised that Spike had bothered to rescue her. Demons couldn't feel something as human as loyalty, let alone love. But he had seen the security tapes. He had no doubt as to the identity of the black clad vampire. In the meantime, he had to get away. He'd been at the base without a break since his return. He badly needed some time away. He badly needed to get drunk. Most of all, he needed a cure for the way he felt each time he remembered how it had felt to have Buffy completely at his mercy. To know that she would soon be begging him for his mercy and his forgiveness. To know that she would soon be begging for him. That was an itch he couldn't scratch for himself. He left his office and headed out.

When he realised Riley had gone, Brian Wakefield sighed with relief. He was a very junior member of Initiative staff. It had been his job to watch the live feed of the girl Finn was keeping in the detention suite. He had instinctively liked her, and he had known that Finn's motivations were personal. He didn't know the details, but he knew. When he found that the most recent tape was missing from his station, he knew where it must be. Using the chaos caused by the rescue attempt as cover, he had gone to Finn's office and found the tape. He had spotted it immediately, after all, it was his job to look after those tapes. He didn't know what was on the tape, but he knew it would tell him what he needed to know.

Riley was drunk. It had taken a lot to achieve that particular state. The chemicals, which increased his strength and decreased his perception of pain, also speeded up his metabolic rate so that it was actually hard for him to get or remain drunk. The bar was a particularly sleazy one. He had chosen it because it matched his mood. It was dark and smoky inside. The other patrons eyed each other warily. It seemed like trouble could break out at any moment. Riley wished it would. He would really enjoy the chance to hit someone now, but didn't want to be accused of starting anything.

He was suddenly aware he was not alone. A woman had sat next to him, leaning close. He turned to look at her. She was petite and blonde, with blue eyes. Her hair reached her shoulders in soft curls. Letting his eyes rove lower, he recognised other similarities. It would be easy to pretend with her. With his eyes closed, she could be Buffy. The thought of Buffy set him off again, and he was on the verge of losing what little control he had managed to achieve. She was smiling hopefully at him.

"Can I buy you a drink?" he asked her.

"Yes, please," she replied.

The woman said her name was Paula and claimed to be out celebrating the end of her latest relationship. Her ex-lover had been found in bed with her best friend, and she had decided to move on. Riley let her talk, not really listening. He just grunted sympathetically when appropriate. When, several drinks later, she asked Riley if he'd take her home, he agreed readily. Once in her flat, she produced a bottle of whisky and they both drank some more. Riley didn't want more to drink, kissing her, running his hands down her body, he could persuade himself that it was the right body. He hadn't spotted the extra additive which went into only his glass, and it wasn't long before he was snoring peacefully on her sofa.

When she was sure he was asleep, Paula disentangled herself from Riley. "Pity," she thought, "it might have been nice to let things develop a little further. But business is business." She had pulled the same con before. She had a distinct advantage in that respect. She wasn't human, and her particular metabolism meant that alcohol had absolutely no effect on her. She made a telephone call, and five minutes later, two men arrived and carried Riley to a waiting car.

Sunday morning dawned, and Buffy woke. Those around her were still asleep. She was surprised she had slept. Her watch told her it was 6 o'clock. She wasn't even aware that she had dreamed. There were some crude toilets and washing facilities off the women's dormitory, and Buffy took advantage of that to have a wash and to check the damage. Her healing ability ensured that she felt more comfortable than she should. She had considerable tenderness left in the area, and from what she could see, there was some fairly obvious bruising, but she hoped even that would be gone by the next day. Finding her way to the hub of the complex, she found everything quiet. There were a few people and demons manning the phones, but that was all. She found a seat in a quiet corner and sat down to think.

She thought about the Riley she had known. He was such a gentle soul. He would never have hurt her. She knew that. Yet, her recent experience with this other Riley had reminded her of things about her' Riley. The Riley of this reality had obviously been abused by his father – not sexually, perhaps – but physically. Her' Riley had never talked about his father. In all the time she had spent with him, he had never been mentioned beyond the merest passing reference. He never went home. Yes, he went back to Iowa, but not to see his parents. She'd asked him once. Thinking back to that day, she remembered the bleak expression on his face as he told her he wasn't on good terms with them. She'd just accepted that not all kids have as good a relationship with their parents as she did with her mom. Now she wondered if her' Riley was similarly abused. She didn't know why, but she found she believed he was. But if so, why were the two Riley's so different? That was a puzzle.

Thinking of puzzles, she thought about Spike. He had seemed unchanged by the lack of electronic restraint. She really didn't know what she had been expecting. It had always been in the back of her mind that the chip would fail eventually, and she had always dreaded that day. At first, she had dreaded it simply because she recognised that Spike was one of the few vampires she knew who was capable of killing her. She had known that from the first. Angel had warned her, but even without that, she would have known. They were so well-matched physically, it would never be possible to bet with certainty on the outcome of a fight between them.

Just before she died, she had come to rely on Spike as an ally. She didn't think of him as a friend then, but he hadn't been an enemy either. Since her return, things had changed again. She realised she had started to care about him. He became her confidant for those things she couldn't share elsewhere. Some time after she came back, he became a friend. She was shocked to even consciously be thinking that. He had become a friend. Why else had she slit her own wrist for him? And now, he was unrestrained again.

She wondered how long it would be before he killed again, whether he had killed already. No, she would have heard if he had been feeding already. She wondered what could make the difference. What had made the difference with Riley? How did one of them turn out so decent, while the other was so wrong? She didn't know, but she suddenly realised she might be able to make the difference with Spike. Maybe, if she believed in him, he might be able to continue to deny his nature. She just hoped she hadn't left it too late.

When he came into the hub an hour later, Buffy approached him. "Hey, Spike," she started.

He looked at her suspiciously. "What's this, checkin' to see if I've been feeding? Lookin' to see if there's blood on me chin?" As always, his pain made him defensive, his body taut with it.

"No, Spike, it's just, I wanted to say, thanks for coming after me. I'm glad it was you I saw first. Somehow, that made a difference. Made me feel safer."

Spike relaxed a little. He had expected her to keep out of his way or to pick a fight with him.

"Well, ok," he answered. "Look, Buffy, about the chip. It's just, look, I can't promise. It's goin' to take some getting used to, and I'm not planning on going back to killing. But whatever happens, remember, I love you. I won't do anything to hurt you. I won't even hurt Xander when we get back because I know that would hurt you. Well, at least I promise I won't hurt him too much. I've got some catching up to do, after all. But Riley's fair game. After what he did to you,.."

Buffy was startled. How did he know? Spike saw her reaction.

"No, I don't know the details, and I won't pry any more. If you don't trust me enough to tell me, then I'll just have to try harder to earn that trust. What I mean is, I sensed the result of what he did. You can hide it from the others, but not from me. I'll always know when you're hurting." As he spoke, his hand ached to push a stray strand of hair out of her eyes, but he was afraid that could be misinterpreted.

Buffy looked at the sincerity on his face, and knew she had made the right decision.

"Spike, I've been thinking. I'm sorry about how I reacted yesterday when I knew your chip was useless. I should have trusted my own instincts from the first. I trusted you while you were chipped. You haven't changed. I know you'll have to go on fighting your demon, but that might be easier with a friend to help. Would it?"

Spike looked surprised. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, if you want it, if it'll help, you've got my friendship, for what it's worth."

Spike grinned, a genuinely happy grin. "Slayer, that's worth a lot. Shake on it?"

Buffy smiled back. They shook hands. She had made the first step. She didn't know where it would lead. He still loved her, and she didn't know if she could ever return that feeling, but she had eventually admitted that she cared. Together, they went off in search of some breakfast.

Riley woke to terror. It was dark, but not completely so. There was no light source there, but sunlight filtered in from outside. He knew where he was. He had thought he had escaped forever, but he was back. He was in the garden shed. He was home. How had that happened? He hadn't been home for years. Not since he'd had the chance to go away to school.

Suddenly, he was twelve years old again. In this shed, he'd always be twelve years old. This was where his father put him to contemplate his coming punishment. Soon, he knew, his father would come. He could just make out the lines of the stool he would be forced to lean over. He didn't know what he had done wrong this time, but then he had rarely understood in advance. Daddy would make it clear when he had finished. Then he would be forgiven. He heard a sound, a small whimper of terror, and was shocked to realise it had come from him.

Unseen by Riley, the camera in the corner of the replica shed transmitted to the room outside. There, a stranger had been monitoring him. Now that he was conscious, he reported the fact to his superior. No action was to be taken yet. "Let him sweat it out a bit longer," were the exact words.

In the hub, efforts had begun to disseminate the information they had gathered on recent happenings in Sunnydale. To their delight, deaths overnight had been significantly reduced. Whoever was behind the scheme was obviously becoming worried. Details were sent to anyone who might be able to help. Most importantly, they were sent out to Jack Singer, a well known investigative journalist. His show was seen all over the country. He had uncovered all sorts of scandals before, and the resistance hoped that, if no one else could, he could at least make sure the authorities investigated for themselves.

In the meantime, efforts to keep the detectors out of commission would have to continue. It wasn't clear how long the effects of the first doping of air conditioning would work, but it was agreed that it should be continued on a rolling basis – no longer hitting everywhere at once, but hitting a few buildings every day.