"OW! Christ, Slayer, do you think maybe you could pin the arm that doesn't have the puncture wounds?" Spike yelled.

Buffy loosened her grip slightly. "Do you think if I let you up that you wouldn't just get up and try to kill him again?" Spike's only response was to grit his teeth. "That's what I thought. Now just calm down." She looked back up at Giles. "Okay…so, what now?"

Giles sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I honestly don't know. Obviously I never would have considered bringing Spike into this if I thought that he could harm anyone." He turned to the professor. "Please believe I had no idea this might happen, Charles. I fear I may now have put you all at risk."

Professor Xavier nodded slowly. "Of course. However, the question remains of what to do now?"

"Well, clearly he cannot be allowed--"

"Hey! Would you ponces stop bloody talking about me like I'm not right here!" Spike interrupted him.

Giles thoroughly ignored him. "As I was saying, he can't be allowed to remain here. It's too dangerous."

"Giles, I thought you said we'd need him for this," Buffy protested. "You said yourself these Kynshaar thingies are strong, and you know Spike is the strongest fighter we have. Well, besides me."

"Whoa there, Buff. Since when are you on the Spike ship?" Xander asked.

"Since I found out I'm gonna be fighting things that people with real super powers couldn't beat! Listen, I know this looks bad, but Spike was provoked. That Logan guy over there nailed him to the wall! Literally! Don't tell me you wouldn't be a little angry if that happened to you, Xander."

When he didn't reply, Anya decided to speak for him. "Oh he would have been very angry. He probably would have tried to fight as well, but most likely he would have been in too much pain to move."

Giles cleared his throat. "No one is saying that the attack was unprovoked, Buffy. However the fact remains that Spike can harm these people. Are you really willing to take that risk?"

Buffy considered her next words very carefully. The direction this conversation was heading could very possibly lead to some disturbing revelations. She had to figure out how to ease their fears without bringing all the facts into it.

"Just because he can hurt these people…doesn't mean he will." She felt Spike stiffen beneath her. He turned his head back as far as he could and stared at her. She met his eyes for a moment, then looked back up at her former Watcher.

"Buffy," he began cautiously. "What are you saying?"

She took a deep breath. "I'm saying…I trust him. Not to hurt them. Because he has the choice not to."

Various looks of shock, outrage, and confusion crossed the Scoobies' faces. Willow looked over at Tara, not expecting the calm she saw. Tara simply watched the exchange with a thoughtful gaze. The X-Men remained silent, sensing that the revelation was more important, and more personal than it looked.

Giles took a moment to digest this information before continuing. "Buffy, you know I'm loathe to question your judgment, but surely you understand why I have to ask." He looked directly into her eyes. "Why?"

This time Spike felt Buffy stiffen above him. Her entire body was tense, and he could hear her heartbeat accelerate. When she drew in a shaky breath, slightly squeezing her hand around his wrist, his eyes flew wide with realization. Holy shit, he thought. She's gonna tell them.

"Because," she straightened her shoulders, meeting her Watcher's gaze. "He's chosen not to hurt me."

Giles' only response was the slight furrowing of his brow. He broke the stunned silence. "What are you saying?"

"Spike can hurt me," she said quietly. "Ever since I came back, his chip hasn't worked on me. I don't know why."

Just as Tara was about to speak up, Xander exploded. "What?! What do you mean his chip doesn't work on you? Has he hurt you? Are you okay? How did this happen? When? Why didn't you tell us, Buffy?"

"Xander, you're missing the point--"

"Well, maybe I am! But I think we deserve some answers here, Buff. This is quite the load you've just dropped on us."

"Fine," she said, exasperated. "I meant exactly what I said. His chip doesn't work on me. It still works on everyone else though. No, he hasn't hurt me, that was my point. Yes, I'm fine. I don't know how it happened. The chip hasn't worked on me since I came back from the dead, but we discovered the fact a few months ago when we got into an argument, I hit him, he hit me back without really thinking about it, and boom, no pain. And I didn't tell you because I really didn't want to deal with exactly this kind of situation. Now, are those answers enough to ease the load?"

When no one answered, Buffy looked down at the vampire she still had pinned to the ground. "Spike?" she addressed him directly for the first time during this conversation.

"Um, yeah?" he replied, slightly nervous now.

"You of course know that if you hurt any of these people, whom we are trying to help, I will stake you, correct?"

"Yeah."

"And you realize that I am putting a lot of faith in you right now, and if you break it, I will never trust you ever, ever again, right?"

"Right."

"Good." She addressed the rest of the group. "Then it's settled." With that, she released Spike's arm, swinging one leg off of him so she could kneel next to him and help him sit up. She then stood and levelly met Giles' gaze. "I think I should probably do a quick patrol. See if I might run into one of these demon guys."

Still slightly dumbfounded, Giles simply nodded.

"Great." Then she turned, and walked calmly out the door.

As it clicked shut, all eyes immediately trained on Spike, who was slowly picking himself up off the floor. His eyes flicked between the Scoobie members, met with various looks ranging from fear, anger, confusion, and an odd look of concern from Tara.

"Uh…" Spike trailed off. He met Giles' eyes. "Right then." He began easing himself towards the door. "I'll just be…yeah." And with that, he turned and rushed out the door after Buffy, before anyone could react further.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spike caught up with Buffy about a hundred yards away from the mansion. He jogged up behind her before falling into step beside her.

"What are you doing out here?" she sighed, not even bothering to look at him.

"Well, considering you ducked out after your little announcement, I thought I'd better make myself scarce if I didn't want a stake through the heart, courtesy of the whelp or your watcher," he snarked.

Spike waited for a reply, sighing when none came. He tried for some shop talk. "So, you thinking we might see one of these things tonight, before the new moon is over?" Still no response. He tried another tactic that usually got her talking: piss her off. "You realize of course that you have no idea where this place is that these X-blokes met up with these things, right? It could be ten bloody miles from here, and I don't really fancy walkin' so far that we can't get back before sunrise, yeah?"

Still nothing. Damn. She really must be upset to not jump at the tiniest excuse to get into an argument with him. She merely continued walking aimlessly, barely looking up from her feet to avoid the trees they were heading toward. Spike gave up on having any type of conversation; it was clear she wasn't going to talk about what had just occurred, which, in his opinion, had been a pretty damn big deal.

He didn't know how long they'd been walking, at least twenty minutes, before Buffy's voice startled him out of his thoughts. "God, it's fucking freezing out here!" she exclaimed without preamble. She began rubbing her upper arms vigorously.

Spike considered his response carefully, not wanting her to clam up once again. "Well, pet, it is the middle of sodding winter. Tends to get a tad chilly any place that isn't southern California." Okay, so maybe not that carefully.

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Shut up."

"I'm just sayin', New York in winter is of a slightly different climate than Sunnyhell, and I hope you packed accordingly," he tried for reason.

"Well, it's not your job to worry about if I dress for the weather, now is it?"

Spike ducked his head at the harsh reminder. "Of course I'm gonna worry about my girl," he mumbled softly, not sure if he wanted her to hear him or not."

Buffy's sudden halt in her steps told him that she had indeed heard him. As he slowly turned to face her, he decided that he hadn't really wanted her to hear him.

He was just about to make some sort of hopefully dismissing comment, when he turned fully and saw her stricken face, chin quivering and tears filling her eyes, and his voice died in his throat. His brow furrowed in confusion. "Buffy, what's--"

"I," she began in a shaky voice, "am not," she took a step toward him, "your GIRL!" she aimed a right hook at his jaw with her final word, sending him flying onto the pine-needle covered ground. The stress of the confrontation at the mansion, the pressure of trying to raise her teenage sister when she was barely out of her teens herself, trying to hold down a shitty minimum wage job, the ever-present reality of being the Slayer, and trying to cope with being brought back to this hellish life after an eternity in heaven finally culminated within Buffy, and her words and actions no longer felt like they were in her control, taking it out on the one thing, the one person, who made any of it better at all.

She marched up to Spike's sprawled form, straddling his waist and punching him once more before grabbing the lapels of his duster and hauling him up to crash her mouth to his. She leaned over him, pushing him back down onto his back as she parted his lips with hers, thrusting her tongue into his mouth and forcing him to respond, which he of course did. Always so eager to give her what she would take from him, even if she only took one part of what he could give.

Buffy was kissing him wildly, almost desperately, as she scooted the lower half of her body down until she was straddling his hips, and ground herself down on his growing erection, rubbing until he was fully hard. Spike moaned and tried to wrap his arms around Buffy's body, but she pulled back and grabbed his wrists, pinning them under each of her knees. Spike watched with a mixture of lust, confusion, and concern as Buffy fumbled with his belt buckle, then with a frustrated cry ripped open his fly, popping off the top button. She roughly grasped his cock, pumping it hard. Spike gasped and threw his head back, his arms straining against the vice grip of her knees.

When the pressure against one of his wrists was released, he looked back toward Buffy, watching as she held down his recently freed wrist with one hand while unzipping her jeans with the other. She managed to push them down over her hips and free one leg before straddling him again, re-pinning his wrist. She pulled her thong off to one side, positioning his cock at her entrance.

The contact with her warm flesh seemed to bring Spike out of his shocked daze. "Luv, wait, you're not--ah!" He cut off as she shoved herself down onto his shaft, the rough joining making them both cry out in pained pleasure.

She gave neither him nor herself time to adjust before raising her hips and slamming them down to his once again, both wincing. She raised up again. "You don't…" Thrust down, "have a soul!" Raised up. "You can't feel…" Down, "anything real!"

By now, the tears that had once been hovering on Buffy's lashes spilled over, trailing down her cheeks as she continued the harsh thrusting. Spike finally wrenched his left hand free, moving it between her legs and rubbing his thumb gingerly against her clit, trying to bring her some pleasure, make her wet enough so it wouldn't be so rough. Buffy shuddered slightly at the contact, whimpering softly. But then she came back to herself, grabbing his wrist with her right hand and moving it away from her, punching him in the face with her left hand before grabbing his other wrist, pinning his hands to the ground on either side of his head.

She thrust hard once, twice, three more times before raising up and holding herself on the tip of his cock. She leaned down over Spike's face, her tears splashing down onto his cheeks. "You are dead inside," she ground out, before slamming her hips down one last time, then collapsed sobbing against his chest. Her voice was almost a whimper, muffled against his t-shirt. "I could never…be your girl."

Spike thought his unbeating heart might just break. He took advantage of her loosened grip, and wrapped his arms tightly around her quaking body. He pressed his lips to the top of her head. "Oh, my sweet girl," he whispered against her hair. "You're not dead inside."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Back at the Xavier mansion, those who were still awake milled about with marked tension. Most of the X-Men had retired to bed, as well as most of the Scoobies after being shown to their rooms. Now, only Xander, Giles, Storm, and Iceman remained downstairs.

Xander walked up to Giles, who sat in one of the overstuffed chairs reading one of his demon texts. "Any luck with some more info on these guys?"

Giles sighed and closed his book, leaning his head against the back of the chair. "No, I'm afraid not. These Kynshaar are simply so rare that virtually nothing save for basic facts is known of them."

Xander nodded, but made no move to leave.

Giles looked back up at him. "Was there something else? Is everything all right?"

Xander shuffled his feet a little, before taking a deep breath and looking back at Giles. "They've been gone for over an hour, Giles. Are you trying to say that you're not the slightest bit worried?"

"No, of course I'm concerned, but--"

"But nothing! Giles, we're back to 'Hey, Spike might kill Buffy tonight!' I mean, I know that the whole point of her telling us about it was that she trusted him or whatever, but…I don't know, I mean, what if her telling us pissed him off and now she's dead and he's run off or something! What if--?"

"Xander!" Giles cut off the boy's ranting. "Believe me, I understand your concerns perfectly, and have been thinking very much the same things as you. But I have to trust Buffy on her judgment. Really, what other choice do we have? Besides, I hardly think it's very good of us to just assume that Spike could easily…take Buffy. She is the Slayer, Xander."

Xander sighed wearily. "I know. I know. It's just…god, how could she not tell us?"

"I don't know. I wish she had. But for now, all we can do is have faith. And besides, when I checked with Charles half an hour ago, he said that he could still sense both of them on the grounds." Giles smiled slightly as he basically admitted to checking up on Buffy and Spike.

Xander returned his smirk. "Okay. Well, I know I'm still not gonna be able to sleep anytime soon. I think I'm gonna head back over to that nifty big screen TV they showed us in the den."

"Alright then. I'm sure I'll still be here, what with the fruitless efforts and all." Xander nodded once, then made his way back to said big screen.

When he got back to the den, he found that his seat on the couch had been occupied by…crap, what was his name? So many new people…oh yeah, Bobby.

"Hey," Xander greeted as he plopped down on the other end of the couch. "Isn't it past your bedtime?"

Iceman looked over at Xander. "Oh please. I'm this team's equivalent of the college boy. I'm never in bed before sunup."

Xander grinned at that. "Yeah, one gets used to all-nighters when you go after vampires."

"Yeah I guess you would. So…any infomercial you're particularly fond of? I'm sure we could find it on one of these channels."

Xander chuckled. "Nah, nothing in particular. Although, any exercise-type with hot chicks will do nicely."

Now it was Bobby's turn to laugh. "That's what I'm talkin' about," he laughed, reaching for the remote control.

Back in the sitting room, Giles had dozed off, an especially thick volume laid open on his lap. Storm smiled slightly as she walked up to him, shaking his shoulder softly. Giles awoke with a start, looking around him for the source of his confusion.

His eyes settled on the figure beside him. "Oh, Ororo, I'm sorry. I must've nodded off."

"It is quite alright. Perhaps you want to head up to your room?"

"No, no. I really should try to find something more about our adversary. Plus, I'd like to wait until Buffy and Spike return," he admitted.

Ororo smiled softly. "I can assure you, that if they left on foot, they are still on the grounds. The professor's property extends for almost ten square miles. I would offer to check our surveillance, but we deactivated it after they left. Our security is quite sensitive."

"Yes, so Charles explained. I just can't help but worry…"

"Of course. Perhaps some tea will take your mind off things?" She held out her hand to him.

Giles took it as she helped him to stand. "Yes, thank you. I think it might."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spike didn't know how long they had lain there on the frozen forest floor, but Buffy's tortured sobs seemed to have no end. She did calm down eventually, but they continued to lay there, Spike rubbing her back in firm strokes, murmuring nonsensical comforts against her hair. He could feel her start to calm down, her breaths coming strong and deep against his throat, sending warm jets of air over his skin. However, when her body began shaking again, only this time with cold, Spike finally spoke up.

"Buffy, luv. Do you want to get back inside?"

He felt her nod against his chest, then slowly sat up, sniffling. Spike pushed himself up on his hands, then wrapped his arms around her waist and eased her off his lap, his now softened, though not spent, cock slipping out of her body. He quickly tucked himself back inside his jeans and zipped up, then turned his attentions to Buffy's clothing. He righted her thong, careful to be gentle after their rough coupling. He knelt behind her and grasped her shoulders, leaning her back against his chest so he could reach down to her jeans, holding them so she could guide her bare leg back into them. He fastened her fly, then helped her up to her feet.

She was looking at him in such a way…almost begging him to take care of her, but afraid of letting him? She shivered again, wrapping her arms around herself. Spike slipped out of his duster, draping it over her shoulders and closing it in front of her. Her hands reached out to hold it closed.

"C'mon, luv. Let's get you warmed up." Spike placed his hand in the small of her back, guiding her back toward the mansion.

They walked most of the way in silence, save for the occasional sniff from Buffy. Suddenly she spoke up. "Aren't you cold?" she asked, as though the thought had just occurred to her.

Spike glanced over at her, finding her looking at him with a worried crease between her brows. He smirked slightly. "Nah. Cold never much bothered me, and having no actual body temperature helps."

"Oh," she nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer. As they approached the mansion, Buffy's steps became noticeably more reluctant. Spike followed her gaze to the front of the building, where two windows still blazed with light.

"I'm sure there's a back way or something, if you want," Spike said softly.

"Yeah. Don't really feel like…dealing right now. Okay?" she looked back at him as though for approval.

"Course. Let's just see what we can find." With that, he once again pressed his palm to her back, guiding her around the building.

As it turned out, there were several other doors, but they chose the one which seemed farthest away from any other lights. Finding it unlocked, they crept inside, trying to ascertain where in the mansion they were. They followed a short hallway around the corner, then inside a swinging door they discovered led to the kitchen.

Extending his senses until he was sure they were alone, Spike slid his hand along the wall until he found the light switch, flipping it on. They both blinked and squinted, trying to adjust their eyes to the light. When they did, Spike spotted an island with several stools around it, which he led Buffy to, gesturing for her to sit. Once she did, Spike located a roll of paper towels next to the sink, tearing one off and wetting it with warm water, then grabbed the whole roll and went back over to Buffy, who was slipping out of his duster and laying it across her lap.

Spike grasped her chin in his right hand, tilting it up slightly and wiping her tearstained face with the damp paper towel. Once he was done with that, he tore of another and handed it to her. "Blow," he said as he walked toward the huge refrigerator.

Buffy snorted softly. "Usually there's more innuendo to that order," she muttered, smirking. She lifted the paper towel to her nose and did as she was told.

Spike leered good naturedly over his shoulder. "Maybe next time."

He walked back to her with an ice tray in his hands. He set it down on the counter, then tore off a long strand of paper towels, folding them until they were square. He proceeded to shake loose several ice cubes, setting them in the center of the paper towels before twisting the corners together, creating a makeshift icepack. He lifted it to the back of her neck, pressing it there. Buffy made a small sound of satisfaction. She always liked ice on the back of her neck. He always knew that.

Buffy's eyes suddenly trained on the thin trails of blood seeping down Spike's right bicep. His t-shirt had three small tears in it from where that freaky short guy had stabbed him. "Shit, Spike, your shoulder!" Buffy exclaimed.

Spike looked down at said shoulder, having until then forgotten about his injury. "S'nothing. Already starting to heal."

"Well, it's still bleeding, so it can't be that healed. Hold still," she commanded as she reached up and grasped his sleeve in both hands, then tore it up to the collar, letting the material fall open and reveal the three puncture wounds. Or actually, six. They went all the way through to his back. The wounds were in fact beginning to heal, but were still seeping blood, precious fluid for the vampire that he couldn't really afford to lose.

Buffy reached forward and pulled the stool next to hers closer. "Sit," she told Spike, which he did. Buffy picked up the damp paper towel Spike had used to wipe her face, in turn wiping the blood off of his arm and shoulder. Once that was done, she tore of more paper towels, folding them until they were about a half an inch thick. She repeated this once more, until she held two makeshift bandages. She pressed one to each set of wounds, applying steady pressure in hopes it would staunch the blood flow.

They sat like this for some minutes, Spike's left hand holding the ice pack to Buffy's neck, both of her hands holding the bandages to his shoulder. Spike's soft voice broke this silence. "Are you all right?"

"I don't know," Buffy answered just as softly. "Sometimes, it just gets…I don't know."

"Buffy…you know you can talk to me."

She lifted her eyes to his, but did not respond. She didn't know how. So she simply held his gaze, slowly losing herself in the crystal blue depths of his eyes. He seemed to be searching her eyes, too. For what? Answers? She wondered if he could find any when she didn't know them herself.

This is the sight that greeted Giles and Ororo as they walked through the kitchen door. Buffy and Spike jumped slightly, startled, but they did not move from their positions, icepack and bandages still held in place. Instead, an extremely charged silence filled the room as Giles especially scrutinized them. He took in both of their roughened appearances, and Spike had some bruising on his face.

"You're back," he said unnecessarily. "Did you, ah, run into some trouble?" he asked, gesturing to their general area.

Spike merely looked back to Buffy, seemingly concentrating on her icepack. Buffy did the same with his shoulder. She lifted each bandage, checking to see if the wounds bled once the pressure was lifted. She seemed to be satisfied with their healing, and set the bloodied paper towels on the counter. She slid off the stool, laying Spike's duster across the counter as well. She then lifted one hand to the icepack on her neck, sliding her fingers over Spike's as she took it from his hand, setting it on the counter next to the bandages.

Finally she looked back up to her former Watcher. "No. No trouble. I mean, nothing we couldn't handle."

Giles frowned as he took in all that he had just seen. It wasn't in itself so unusual to see them tending to wounds, even on each other, but there was just…something. He was unable to pinpoint it.

Buffy gathered the discarded paper towels together, taking them over to a trash can she had spotted. "I am, uh, pretty tired though. I think I need some sleep."

"Yeah," Spike drawled, sliding off the stool as well, picking up his duster and folding it over his uninjured arm. "Did we get some rooms or something? Or do we get to camp out on the living room floor?" he snarked.

"Oh, y-yes. Everyone went to bed some time ago."

"Great," Buffy said. She looked up expectantly.

"I will show you to your rooms," said Ororo.

Buffy smiled slightly. "Thanks." She moved out the door, followed by Spike.

Ororo addressed Giles. "Rupert. I will return shortly."

Giles merely nodded once. He went to sit on one of the other stools as she walked out the door. He stared intently at the two chairs recently vacated by Spike and Buffy, picturing them sitting there as they were when he and Ororo walked in. He still couldn't put his finger on it, but there was something…there.

*************************************************************


Author's Note: OMG I am SO sorry it has taken me so freakin' long to get this chapter up. Half of it has just been sitting on a disk for like a month, and I needed to finish it. But that gets kinda hard when you're taking summer classes, working forty hours a week, and trying to move into a new apartment. Damn you, real life! Damn you! Anyways, I'm not gonna make any promises, but I hope I'll be able to get more chapters up more often. And as always, thank you to all my readers and double thank you to all my reviewers. You guys keep me goin'! *MUAH*