Buffy spun around to face Spike, rage in her eyes. "How dare you!" She yelled. Spike looked around. Upon seeing an empty cabin he realized there would be no getting out of this fight. "How could you!" She screamed. "Giles is dying! He's going to die! Goddamn you Spike!" She lashed out and kicked him in the face.

Spike fell against the bathroom door that was behind him. "You might as well have pulled the trigger!" Buffy continued to scream. "He'll die Spike! I'll kill you!" She punched him in the jaw. "You," she kicked him in the stomach, "Killed," Punch in the nose, "GILES!" A powerful spin kick sent Spike flying down the narrow aisle.

Spike could do nothing. He couldn't hit her, not that he would have, the chip prevented that. He struggled to stand. Buffy was stalking towards him. Her eyes were filled with tears. "I hate you! I hate you!" She yelled as she hit Spike in the stomach. "I hate you." She repeated this over and over in between punches and kicks. Spike could barely stand. Blood poured from his nose and mouth.

With his last ounce of strength he reached out and grabbed her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her back against his chest. "It's ok pet. Buffy it's ok," Spike whispered into her ear over and over again.

He felt her body go limp and then she began to shake as silent sobs wracked her body. "Giles, he's gone, oh God, Giles," she sobbed. Every memory she had of him, from the very first day she walked into the Sunnydale High library came flooding back to her. He was gone. Spike sunk down into one of the train seats and held Buffy on his lap.

"I'm sorry Buffy, I'm sorry," he said as he smoothed her hair and rubbed her back. Soon Buffy could cry no longer. Her eyes hurt from weeping, her voice was weak from stress. She couldn't speak. She closed her eyes and, feeling very safe in Spike's arms, feel asleep. Sleep: where she could escape her reality.

Spike looked down at the girl in his lap. He wanted to cry for her. She had lost her Watcher, the closest thing to a father she had had for many years. He breathed her scent deeply. She smelled like Buffy. He could never explain what 'Buffy' smelt like, it was just her.

She also smelled of blood. Giles' blood. Spike reluctantly shifted Buffy into the chair next to him. He covered her with a blanket and reached into his duster pocket to get the tickets. "MacGeiver," he said aloud. He was surprised to find another set of tickets behind it. "Fremont." And then another. "Roseland." Giles must have made sure to switch stops along the way in case they were followed. He was a smart man.

But back to his present problem: Fremont would be transferring at four in the afternoon. What was he to do when that time came? Walk out into the bloody sun?

He knew he hadn't been thinking straight when he grabbed Buffy and dragged her onto the train, but it was his instinct. Make sure Buffy was safe. It was what Giles had wanted. But what was he supposed to do now? How was he supposed to hide during the day?

He made sure Buffy was sleeping soundly before standing to go to the bathroom. In the blurry mirror he washed off the blood from his face and closed his jacket to hide the blood on his shirtfront. 'I hate you.' Buffy's voice rang in his head.

Deep down he knew it wasn't true but it still stung. Could she ever love him? A knock on the door startled him and he opened it. A train attendant looked in on him. He seemed a bit startled at Spike's bruised appearance but said nothing.

"Do you have tickets for yourself and you companion?" He asked. "Oh, yeah," Spike said as he handed them to the young man. The attendant looked them over and tore off the proper piece. "Thank you sir. Do you want anything to drink? How about your..." The attendant searched for a word to describe Buffy.

"Wife," Spike stated. "Yes, your wife?" "How about some juice or something. She just lost her father. She's very distressed." The man gave his condolences then disappeared to get the juice.

Spike walked back to his seat. He didn't know what compelled him to say Buffy was his wife. It just seemed more plausible that such a young woman was with her husband, not a random young "man". He sat down and watched Buffy sleep.

She could only be his wife in his most secret dreams.