Author's Note:   sigh This is becoming a habit, I know. However, I thought I might put this up just to clear aside any confusion. A few of you have e-mailed me privately to ask me to post my fic to your sites. While I'm immensely flattered, I don't know how I can juggle writing and uploading to fanfiction.net at the same time as upload to each individual site. frown unfortunately, I may have a wonder-bra, but that does not a Wonder Woman make. What I'm trying to say is, PLEASE, by all means post this fiction to your site. Just keep the disclaimer attached so Joss doesn't get a hankerin' out to kill lil' ol' me… (That's the Okie in me, now.)  Also, you can delete all the author's notes when you put the fic up, just make sure the rating stays as intended by me. ;-) Namely, NC-17, babes… And please link my name to it with my e-mail address… Either KellazDesire@aol.com or KellaWytch@aol.com will do. Eventually, I'd like to be selfish and greedy and send this out to garner/gather/raise its hand for awards and stuff of that nature, but I'm swamped by RL. So I'll just sit back and let you guys knock yerselves out.

Chapter 7

            When Spike came downstairs, it was only to dodge the sunshine that poured through the door as Buffy and Xander stepped through it, into the house. Looking apologetically at Spike, Buffy quickly shut the door. When he had stepped back into the entryway fully, Spike noticed the deep scratches on Buffy's bare shoulders and had to fight not to reach forward and comfort her. Instead he met her gaze.

            "Are you all right?" His voice was thick with concern.

            "Yeah, almost got my heart ripped out by some spidery-demon thing, but I gave it the axe."

            Xander winced, throwing said axe to the floor. "Don't remind me. I'm still getting rid of the spidery-non-goodness out of my clothes…"

            Willow had been sitting in the armchair facing the couch, waiting for their return. Silently, she watched the exchange, darting a quick gaze to Spike. She almost looked as if she wished she could share some invisible burden with him, but couldn't find it within her to ask that of him. Compelled, he went over and sat on his haunches next to her chair, while Buffy and Xander went to sit on the couch, detailing their gooey experience. Spike followed the bits and pieces of the story in confusion, at first, slowly putting it together. Buffy seemed haunted, though. As if she knew who had been behind the raising of the spider-demon…

            "It was Anya," Willow abruptly interrupted, her gaze glued to the coffee table, not meeting Xander's shock.

            "What?!?" he exploded. "You…You know it's her? How?"

            "T-the girl at the frat house, she made a wish. Anya granted that wish." Willow proceeded to detail the scene outside the fraternity house and the blood on Anya's wrist as the vengeance demon had made her hasty exit.

            Xander sat on the edge of the couch and peered at Willow in accusation. "You could have told us this earlier you know… Why not let us all know? Why not," he pleaded, "let me know?"

            Spike was silent. He had drawn the same conclusion as Willow and Buffy, before the Slayer had even voiced the words.

            With regret in her voice, Buffy voiced the words slowly and solemnly. "She didn't tell us because she knows what I have to do." She looked over to a nervous Xander. "I have to kill Anya."

            "What?!?" Again, Xander's exclamation was made as an explosion, coupled this time with him shooting off the couch and retreating a few paces to stare at Buffy. "No! No killing! This is Anya we're talking about, Buffy!"

            Buffy slowly shook her head, trying to make him understand. "She's not the Anya that you knew, Xander. She's a demon."

            "That doesn't mean you have to kill her!" came the protest.

            Spike felt sorry for Xander for a moment. But only a moment. He still didn't like the boy. But he had to admit that if the positions were reversed and he and Buffy were in Xander's and Anya's places, he'd be fighting like hell.

            Buffy, in indignation, shot off the couch. "Don't act like this is easy for me. You know it's not."

            "There are other options!"

            "I've considered them…"

            Xander curled a lip at her and copped a stance, gesturing desperately. "When? Just now? Took you all of ten seconds to decide to kill one of your best friends?"

            Buffy spread her hands in supplication, not backing down. "The thought that it might come to this has occurred to me before. It's occurred to you, too." This last was said in a pleading tone.

            Xander shook his head and paced. Angrily, he stabbed a finger in Spike's direction. "Don't just sit there, say something! Tell her this is the wrong thing to do!"

            Spike just sat there and shook his head. "I'd like to agree with you, Harris. Unfortunately, if I were to suddenly up 'n massacre a sorority, I'd expect it fully for Buffy to come at me with an arsenal 'f pointy objects."

            "B-but," Xander sputtered, "you're a demon, soul or no soul…"

            Spike stood and faced him eye-to-eye. "So's Anya, Mate."

            "Xander," Buffy interrupted, bringing Xander's focus back on her strained features, "I know this is hard for you to hear, but it's what I have to do."

            "Hard for me to hear? Buffy, you wanna kill Anya!"

            "I don't want to!"

            "Then don't!" Xander retorted. He held out his hands, pleading his case. "This isn't new ground for us. When our friends go all crazy and start killing people, we help them."

            Willow straightened in her chair, shooting an uncomfortable glare at Xander. "Sitting right here!"

            Spike lowered back down onto his haunches, gave Willow a look that was meant for comfort and returned his gaze to the quarreling friends.

            "I'm sorry. But it's true," Xander was saying.

            "It's different," Buffy murmured.

            "Because you don't care about her the same way I do." Xander swallowed hard and they could all see the pain in his eyes. "Buffy, I still love her."

            "I know. And that's why you can't see this for what it really is. Willow was different. She's a human. Anya's a demon."

            "And you're the Slayer. I see now how it's all very simple." Xander's lip had resumed its sneer.

            Spike wanted to knock it off. Damn the chip. And the soul. Damn them both.

            Buffy vehemently shook her head. "It is never simple."

            Xander stabbed a finger in Spike's direction again, only this time his words were directed at Buffy. "No, of course not. You know, if there's a mass-murdering demon that you're, oh, say, boning, then it's all gray area."

            Spike shot to his feet, glaring balefully at Xander. "Oi! Standing right here!"

            Xander just glared back at him as Willow reached up and patted Spike's wrist, silently tugging him back to his place next to her.

            "Spike was harmless! He was helping!" Buffy insisted.

            Spike winced. He knew she was defending him, but whatever part of him that might have swelled at that cringed even more by being referred to as "harmless".

            "He had no choice!"

            "And Anya did! She chose to become a demon. Twice!"

            "You have no idea what she's going through."

            Buffy shook her head, crossing her arms across her chest. "I don't care what she's going through!"

            Xander shouted at her, angrier now than Spike had ever remembered seeing him at Buffy. "No, of course not. You think we haven't seen all this before? The part where you just cut us all out. Just step away from everything human and act like you're the law. If you knew what I felt—"

            "I killed Angel!"

            Buffy's outburst was filled with pain and years of failed burial of that deed. It still haunted her and Spike, as much as he winced at the mention of Angel's name, winced more at the knowledge that Buffy had had to send the love of her young life to Hell. His grandsire would always come first. Spike could never have hoped to follow behind that act.

            The proclamation was enough to halt Xander in his tracks and Buffy painfully continued, grinding every word out to him as a slap in the face. "Do you even remember that? I would have given up everything I had to be with— I loved him more than I thought I could ever love anything again in this life. And I put a sword through his heart because I had to."

            Spike's eyes misted slightly as he remembered their uneasy truce and how he had helped her to defeat Angelus, therefore bringing her the occasion to have killed him and cause herself pain. The dimmed voices in the back of his head surged forward enough, just enough, to blame that on him.

            He dimly heard Willow meekly say, "And that all worked out okay."

            Buffy ignored her. "Do you remember cheering me on? Both of you! Do you remember giving me Willow's message — "Kick his ass"?"

            Willow shot her fiery gaze to Xander in horror, remembering her actual words in sending Xander to assure Buffy had given time to allow the returning of Angel's soul. "I never said that…"

            Xander waved the accusations aside, justifying it with, "This is different…"

            "It is always different!" Buffy said firmly. "It's always complicated. And at some point, someone has to draw the line, and that is always going to be me! You get down on me for cutting myself off, but in the end the Slayer is always cut off. There's no mystical guidebook, no all-knowing council. Human rules don't apply! There's only me. I am the law."

            Spike felt his unbeating heart reach out to her as her face threatened to crumple in tears.

            "There has to be another way," Xander insisted softly.

            Buffy met his gaze with determination, beseeching at the same time. "Then please find it."
            With that, she stormed past him and rushed upstairs to her bedroom.

            As Xander sank to the couch, head in his hands, Willow became fascinated with the hem of her shirt.

            Torn on what to do, Spike finally rose and slowly climbed the stairs to follow Buffy.

            Knocking on the door, Spike heard a muffled "come in", and gently opened the door. "Buffy?"

            He heard sniffs and saw Buffy dabbing at her eyes with the hem of her black tank top, recently removed. His unneeded breath caught in his throat as much over the fact that she was now shirtless as the sight of the myriad red streaks over her shoulders and neck. "Cor, Buffy," he whispered. "Let's get those fixed up, please?" He met her eyes, afraid to touch her. He slowly closed the distance between them while she remained seated on the edge of her bed. "You gonna be all right?"

            She stared intently at her shirt in silence for a moment before shaking her head falteringly. She met his eyes. "Thank you…"

            He blinked. "For what?"

            "For backing me up, down there, when things got ugly. For understanding why I have to do this."

            He gazed into her eyes, willing her to understand him fully. "Buffy, luv, I don't want you to have to do this anymore than your boy Harris down there does. Diff'rence is, I know why you have to do this. I know if it were me, you'd…"

            "Would I?" she interrupted softly.

            He froze. "Would you what?"

            "Would I kill you? Or, whatever you do to vampires to make them deader than usual…" She wiped at her cheek with the hem of her shirt. "Would I be able to?"

            Spike sighed and set his jaw in resolve, removing the shirt from her hands and taking one in each of his own. "Buffy, look at me." She did. "I know that we both realize that things have changed with me. I'm no longer what I was. But both before the soul, and now, if I were ever to so much as bite one person, I would have expected that you come after me then with all the armaments at your disposal. Same today. Don't ever back down from what you have to do. Not even for me. You need to do it because… you were right: When it all boils down, you are the law, luv. And no allowances can be made for those that share pieces of your life, because that's just invitin' chaos." He snorted and ran a hand haphazardly through his blonde curls. "'Ere I am, fine one to lecture on chaos… I 'ave a hard enough time keepin' me own ducks in a row…"

            She reached up and playfully tugged on one his errant curls. "Well," she sniffed, "thanks for taking time out of your busy schedule to help me keep an eye on mine." She winked at him before frowning. "I really don't want to have to do this tonight. Or on any night."

            He got a wicked gleam in his eye, trying to distract her momentarily. "Not even when you saw her 'n me…"

            She glowered for a moment before thinking about it. "No, not even then. I didn't even want to hurt you… I blamed that on me." She shook her head free of those thoughts for the moment. "But, she means a lot to Xander, and she means a lot to me, and… I just don't know how I can do this, no matter how tough I sounded downstairs."

            Spike gripped her hands again, firmly. "Slayer."

            She looked up at him, hearing her title from his lips for the first time in what seemed like forever.

            "Don't," he continued huskily, "ever doubt yourself. Your strength that you find within yourself is your greatest asset. Don't ever second-guess yourself. That will only lead to error and cause you to slip up and…" He blinked back a tear. "I don't know how many more towers I can have us both falling or leaping off of." He curved a part of his mouth upward to try to mask the pain in that statement.

            She saw straight through it. Leaning into his shoulder, she rested her head in the crook between his shoulder and his neck. "Thank you," she whispered. "I know I'm supposed to be strong for you, since you need it, but…"

            "Shh…" he comforted, afraid to touch her, or comfort her, even though she was leaning against him like that. "Jus' returning th' favor, luv." His accent became more abbreviated as the huskiness from the emotions in his voice grew. "Jus' returnin' th' favor…"

TBC  :-P