Vengeance

by Callace

Season seven, shortly after Lies My Parents Told Me. After each their failed attempt, Wood and the First team up to take Spike down. Meanwhile, Angel comes to town, to help stop the coming apocalypse. BtVS/AtS crossover. ABS. Though clearly Spuffy-centric, we've tried to do justice to the BA - relationship too, as well as the complicated frienmity between Spike and Angel

3. That Which Is and That Which Cannot Be

Chapter 3

The throbbing and aching was constant; abuse was now the unfolding pattern of his days. He guessed he should be grateful. At least that meant that they had a pattern.

The comings and goings of his capturer, and recurring beatings and cuts and burns, amidst their oh-so-nice chatter, were the only things that reminded him of the passing of time, in this great vast vacuum his unlife had become down here. The only events to break it up. He had never been the most patient bloke. Never the one for waiting. And down here, that was all there was to do. Wait, lay down. stare up into the same empty ceiling, over the same unchanging room, still, forever. Even time was still in here. It never changed, never moved. There was no calendar, no clock to watch, and no sound of its ticking either. Even nights had stopped following after days down here, with those piercing bright lights never turned off. If the matter hadn't hurt so much, he could have chuckled. This was the Torture Chamber of Eternal Daytime. Kind of appropriate, for a place to keep a hated vampire. He wondered if this was part of Wood's intended torture. To keep him, a creature of the dark, bathed in constant faked sunshine.

He tried to close his eyes, harder still, for the umpteenth time. It was no good. That stark, white light shone through his eyelids. It shone through his head too, it seemed, all the way in, fried his brain to mush, and he'd be darned if it didn't soon crust the rest of him with dust as well. His body was screaming at him that he couldn't lay there in so much light. He was tense as a bowstring, constantly, and had hardly slept in who knew how long it had been since he had been taken. "It's not the sun" he reminded himself. "It's ordinary lamp light. It can't dust you. It's unpleasant, that's all. It won't do much actual harm. Soon Buffy will come and get you out, and the first thing you'll ask is to get that damn light off. You'll relax then. Go out in the dark, and never turn on a light switch again."

He sighed.

He knew that he couldn't relay on the scoobies to come busting through those doors at any given second, so he tried his hand at breaking free of the restraints. Again. He needed to get up! He needed to find Wood, rip into his neck, and drain him of blood!

Blood! Another series of pangs of gnawing pain erupted in his stomach, ferocious enough to stop Spike's attempts at escape. He closed his eyes tightly, waiting for it to pass; this wasn't the first one that emerged. He took his tongue and attempted to wet his cracked lips, imagined that the drops of spit he was able to smear around his lips were fresh blood instead. Healing, life giving blood, rich in taste and in energy. But as he tried to suck in, he found himself biting the loose skin off his lips instead.

Hunger. It hadn't felt this bad since he had his last visit to these premises, and those G.I. Git's had neutered him, and made him incapable of feeding himself. Or, on second thought, this was worse. Back then it had true enough been a horrible stress, and taken a long time till he had finally managed to persuade the scoobies to feed him, but at least he hadn't been injured, and needing extra blood for healing back then.

But all wasn't lost. The chip was gone now, and once broken free there would be nothing holding him back; which Wood would soon get to notice. It would do him good to keep in mind just who it was he had for a punching bag these days. If not, The Principal would soon find himself up against a wall with his neck exposed. Beaten down and unfed; now his head felt light, like a big wad of cotton. His stomach felt like it was constricting within him, as his teeth bit down harder on his bottom lip. It should have been bleeding right now, but his teeth came up dry; not a trickle or a spill to be seen. Right now he clearly was in no position to wreak such desired havoc. Step One was getting off this table and Step Two was draining that nasty bugger. He wondered if slayer sons tasted as good as slayers. His mouth watered at the thought. His first brick wall that needed pounding through; getting out of this, it was going to be a long day…

Squeaky metal cut through the sounds of silence and thoughts of light, hunger and vengeance, as angry shoes stomped around out of sight. Spike wiped off any look of pain and yearning that had decided to represent his emotions and quickly replaced that with an image of boredom. Thinking on it just then, Spike was bored, there was not even television here after all; pangs of hunger could only be so entertaining

The sound of rummaging could be heard and then sudden darkness fell over his face as he gazed up at the only thing that could be causing it; Wood stood tall, his left hand to his side as the right one gripped tightly around a container; it looked as though he might snap the thing in half. Spike stared at him unusually quiet, the familiar scent of blood were flowing from the container and caressing his nostrils. It seemed all that was separating him from such sweet pleasure was plastic. His stomach growled madly, in desperate need of nourishment.

As he pictured himself lifting his head up towards it, restraint took over him. Once he was registering what was happening, he looked away in disgust. The bastard ripped the container's cover open and let it linger inches from his mouth; all Spike had to do was raise his head and let the sweet sticky liquid massage his throat. He kept his eyes averted; mouth shut tightly. He had been burned and cut by this man, done in and then left to stew, without being able to do anything at all to resist it. He wasn't about to let things continue like that. If Wood now had decided to do something that, even in the slightest, required his cooperation, he was not gonna get it.

Spike couldn't wait to be freed; finally able to follow through on what he told Buffy that he would do if Wood ever so much as looked at him funny. Wood gave him a funny look now, likely noting a smirk that seemed to appear out of nowhere. Vengeance was gonna be so tasty!

The container was thrust forward, now touching the side of his face. Spike slowly eyed it. All he had to do was take a mouth full. There was no need to finish it either, just enough to soothe his angry stomach. Temptation, but he clenched his hands together forming a fist focusing on the blood he'd later be drinking, and he eyed Wood's neck with that idea kept firmly in mind.

"Don't even think it." Wood gave Spike a strong backhand having followed the motion of his eyes.

Spike hardly felt a sting, but it had jerked his head against the metal of the table, and that had caused mild discomfort. He was annoyed.

"Be a good boy and drink your dinner. Who knows when it'll come again?" Giving him a menacing smile, The Principal tipped the container back towards Spike's chapped lips.

"Will when it suits me" Spike spoke simply, though his eyes had returned to the dark fluid, which gave him away as much as his salivating mouth.

It would be so easy, a sip or two, but the cost was so much greater. A shiver ran through his body, he was stronger than this, he had to be. His knotted aching stomach screamed at him, and perhaps taking a drink would really be what was giving him strength. Perhaps it didn't mean weakness. It could be the exact opposite. It was merely a battle tactic, mend any remaining wounds, and gain strength that had been lost. That was a nice thought too, that he could feed and be strong again. With that logic in mind, still a glare in his eye, he opened his mouth and allowed for the sweet sticky liquid to fill his mouth, massaging his throat as it went down. He was on his way to becoming strong again, and then the tables could turn.

Humming

There was a humming that he hadn't picked up on before. Spike had probably noticed it, but never really paid attention. He had too much time to pay attention now. After having fed him, Wood had stormed out of the lab once again, leaving him to stew. How long had he been gone? Spike didn't know exactly. It had to have been days by now; at least. It felt like so much longer, but he allowed for comforting thoughts of ripping into Wood's jugular to help pass the time. He'd make this maniac pay, even if he had to put up with weeks upon weeks of torture. He laughed in the face of pain, hardly shuddered under torture; if anyone could get through something like this, it would have to be him. Right?

Wriggling where he was left lying, Spike continued throwing all his might against that which bound him down. The blood was working its magic; for the time he had been able to throw about with actual might, he'd be sweating if vampires could. The idea of breaking free made him almost be able to feel his unbeating heart do as it was unable to. With his current condition he could take The Principal by surprise. He'd tie him up and have a bit of fun of his own; see how Wood liked being burned by a hotplate. If he could…just…get…

Thud

His back was arched back against the metal, his breaths were coming fast, and he could feel himself shaking, both hands unable to slam hard against the table. He tried to thrust himself wildly, but the only areas which could be lifted were a bit of his back and his head. He let out an infuriated scream; he should have been stronger than this! After all that blood, he should have been able to rip through his prison right away. He was unsupervised; his weakness replaced with the strength of a warrior, why couldn't he act like one? He felt as though he were foaming at the mouth, his tongue running over his fangs; he wanted a drink. He wanted a very particular drink that he could only get if he were freed from this prison! With that in mind, he threw himself into a fit of rage, the bounds now cutting into his skin, but nevertheless doing their job.

Spike felt himself calm; a feeling of exhaustion that comes along when the stench of defeat overtakes. Stomping in a far off hallway caught his ears.

STOMP STOMP STOMP

Spike jerked head towards the door; it was useless as it was out of eyesight, but the doors squeaking open verified the conclusion he had come to, "Back again, Lover? Had you been interested in somethin' kinky, you should have just asked me."

Wood didn't make his presence known; the only indication that he was still in the room was the continued sound of angry shoes and his unforgettable scent. Spike huffed, figuring that his comment had fallen on deaf ears; it wasn't as though he had been thinking long and hard on a good insult to say when his captor finally returned, but some kind of acknowledgement would have been nice.

THWACK

Sharp and stinging pain, a small amount of blood ran from a split open lip. Licking it up with his tongue, Spike's irritated gaze looked up at the shadow hovering over him.

"Now, didn't we have a little rule about talking?" The Principal's voice was relaxed, but the tension in his body reached volumes.

"Was just sayin' what we were both thinkin', yeah?" Spike eyed the instrument that Wood held at his side, "Or what you're bloody well thinkin' anyway; tied down and you've got a soddin' whip."

THWACK

Another punishing blow spoke of Wood's displeasure on his stomach. Spike let out a laugh, "I had a girlfriend once, who used to do this same thing, 's not torture Mate, 's foreplay."

Wood huffed and he puffed, and Spike could have sworn he heard a growl. He had been tortured by the ultimate evil itself, taking a licking from The Principal was hardly enough to make him quiver in his boots; not that he had any on at the moment.

THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!

The snap of the whip mixed in with the sound of Spike's laughter was all that could be heard, as Wood threw all his weight into the work that was being done; trying to best his captive, who didn't seem threatened enough by this form of abuse. As Wood continued on, his victim's arm, then chest, and finally his most private of areas were punished for such insolence; had to shut his eyes when the last blow came, wincing from the pain that it brought. Silence took over, but only for a moment.

"Now, now, we're headin' down the road of S&M, and we haven't agreed on safe word yet!" He gave Wood a cheeky smile.

"You really are stupid, aren't you?" Wood shook his head, "You just don't learn. You don't learn, but you will. I'll see to that." He took ahold of Spike's foot, quickly twisting it; despite the restraints resistance, causing a loud crack to ripple through the room.

Spike bit down on his bottom lip, but not a sound came from him. He felt the softness of touch around his wrist now; however, it wasn't long until hot pain shot up and down his arm. His hand went limp, but continued to throb. Yet, he remained silent. The snap of a whip presumed once more; blow after blow, some aimed to hit the same area three or four times, and he could smell his own blood. He didn't cry out, he didn't yell, but he was now starting to feel the desired effects of the device. He grimaced, but he had already betrayed his pride and dignity once before, he wouldn't do that again.

Time for a break and his whole body ached. It was an annoying sort of pain. It wouldn't have gotten under his skin so much if he could do something about the throbbing in his probably broken wrist, his ankle, or the lashes he had received. He had to lie there, and this was only the beginning of events; more pain was to come next time.

Tension filled the room, as six pairs of eyes fell on one person; Buffy. She was the person in charge, giving orders, making all the tough decisions, and saving the world. A responsibility that day in and out she seemed fairly casual about, and even peppy at times. The times she had to deal with now; however, earned her serious face, along with pressing thoughts, and ulcer awarding concerns. The fate of human kind rested in such young hands; powerful as they were, but still only recently coming out an age of innocence. Even back then, life's fate had always fallen on her shoulders. Per usual these days, she had to jump into business. Personal lives didn't exist anymore; though it had been hard to let go of. It was all about the mission these days.

"This preacher; whatever he is, claims he has something of mine. I say we go get it." Buffy stood up straight, hands on her hips; commanding was the look she was going for. Being a leader, she needed to exhibit these qualities not only with confidence, but body language as well; or so Google had told her.

"We don't know what this thing is Buffy that he claims to have. We can't be reckless, running in there half-cocked, it sounds to me that this is exactly the reaction he wants you to have." Giles firmly pointed out.

"It could be another potential." Buffy replied calmer than she felt.

"It could be a stapler!" Giles shot back full of frustration, "We have no way of knowing if this is a trap, now Buffy we cannot act rash at a time like this."

"Way I see it, there's only one way to find out if something's a trap. That's walking right into it. If you think something might be a trap; well hey, bring one of your own." Faith spoke up insightfully.

"Putting this many lives at stake? It's too risky, we simply cannot do this." Giles remained adamant, though his concerns had seemingly gone unheard.

"And how long are we suppose to wait? Until they decide to get the drop on us?" Faith never thought the day would come that she and Buffy would see eye to eye on something; especially when it involved slaying. Their styles had always been polar opposites, but this time Buffy was taking a chance; Faith liked it.

"This is people's lives we're talking about! Have we all forgotten about this? You bring people in there and some are going to die!" Giles focus went to Buffy as he spoke that last statement.

Buffy saw where Giles' gaze fell; a fire rose within her, causing her to take a challenging step towards him, "You really think I don't know that! As if I'm not carrying the weight of these girl's destinies on my shoulder day in and day out! There's a reason why there's one leader and it's me; I'm the one who has to make the tough decisions. You can disagree with them, you can challenge me on it, but in the end I have to make these choices. In the end something had to be decided and I've decided that this is exactly what needs to be done. If I can find a way to take down the First and ruin its plans without having to go to war, I will find it! For all I know, it's in the vineyard right now!"

Giles looked up at the ceiling and sighed; she was going against him again, as to be expected. Still, he had a horrible feeling about what was to come. It couldn't only be obvious to him; that something had already been set up for their demise. Just when he thought things couldn't get worse, Giles heard Spike open his trap.

The First had to keep the grin off Spike's face, and focus on presenting a more serious and determined expression, "Buffy's right. Know you all think I'm a bit biased in that department," Its eyes scanned the room from Xander to Willow, on to Giles, and then glanced towards Buffy before continuing, "where the Slayer is involved, not surprisin' I'd follow her lead, yeah? Still tell it how it is, especially in times like these where her life is involved. Truth is this, she's right. Can't wait 'round, can't let The First run this, that's what we're doin'. Lettin' The First set the rules. Say we go in there, weapons ablazin', show 'em what we got. Realize my opinion doesn't carry much weight. Won't trust it, fine. Trust her," It pointed a confident finger towards Buffy, "Led you through apocalypse after apocalypse she did, never let you down. She's earned your trust."

Buffy wanted to reach over and hug Spike, but now wasn't the time for that. In fact, Buffy had decided there would be time for it later, even if she had to go out of her way to make it. For now though, they were all on the same page, and had a battle to prepare for.

It wasn't too surprising when Wood had left earlier, grown tired of the tedious chore of striking his bare skin with the unmerciful instrument. His skin had become punished, but his captor's arm was feeling a different kind of burn causing him to retreat and leave Spike alone to wait for yet another good long while.

Staring up at his tormentor again, as he was standing there with the whip in hand, Spike had to recognize that the wait was once again drawing to a close, and he wasn't entirely sure if he was grateful or disappointed by this fact. He didn't care for the pain and this undoubtedly was going to sting, but at the same time when he was left alone with the worries of how long it was till the pain resumed, that was the only thoughts which could fill his mind. He wasn't scared of a little discomfort; he just didn't like the anticipation of it.

The droplets falling from it burned his flesh and it was apparent that the implement had been casually positioned over his chest for the very purpose. Spike gasped out; the once harmless weapon, which had taken so long to have any real effect on him, now punished his skin so easily. It was the most emotion that he was going to hand over to his captor. Still, he had to give the guy credit for finally getting creative enough to figure out how to hurt him without wearing his arm out. On the other hand, Wood had to be deeply stupid. Wood being human and he a vampire; two and two really should have come together sooner. Even so, he had finally decided on using that thing in his head known as a brain; no matter how small it was, and there was no mistaking what this device had been soaked in. It was not regular water that took the blood off it from their earlier encounter. It was not regular water handing out cleanliness. No, this water had been blessed…

"Look on the bright side," Wood smiled down at him eerily, "at least my arm won't give out now."

A laugh and the beating proceeded.

Spike's skin sizzled, his back arching, as this reaction was consequently his only defense against the terror being reigned down upon him. It wasn't much of a defense at all; if it could in fact be called that, this action brought him closer to the weapon. He was growing use to the smell of burning flesh; this seemed to be an emerging theme of his captor. It came about in different ways, but scorched skin was just that. He had braced himself for the blows of course, but it never helped. The only thing it kept him from doing was yelping loudly and it was clear that this would be his only victory. Even he couldn't deny the defeat that was taking place; stripped and strapped to a table, being punished by the convenience of his tormenter. It was a far cry from success, but hope was not lost on him.

Skin split open and Wood maliciously allowed for the water to drip into the wounds, as Spike's face reddened from indescribable pain. The whip came down on the same area, quick and sharp, he made sure each spot was properly disciplined before moving on somewhere else and repeating the process. His arms, legs, thighs, stomach, were all treated in a similar manner.

"What was that you were saying before about kink?" Wood allowed for the whip to land sharply across his thigh once more.

Spike let out a laugh while biting his bottom lip through the sensation brought on, "That you would make an excellent first date; if one's into this sorta thing."

He got out a cheeky grin before his face was slashed by the torturous instrument. He could feel his skin bubbling where the wound was and his jaw tightened in anger, "So this is all about your late mum. Well, let me ask you somethin' Sonny, what would she say if she could see her boy now?"

The whip fell against Spike's body with more fire behind it in the last blows he had received, coming down with each word that fell past Wood's lips, "Don't you ever. Talk. About. My Mother. Again!" He glared down at him, his fists clenched, and he was ready to snap the vampire in half. "You don't get to talk about her! You don't even think about her!"

"Thing 'bout Slayers is; and I know 'bout slayers, thing 'bout 'em is, they're for the quick kill. Sure they hunt us, fight us, sometimes get a lil carried away with the beatin', but all in all it's over with quickly if they win, stake to the heart and we're dust. Don't tie us up, don't torture us for hours beforehand. Not sayin' I want you to slay me. Just sayin' it wasn't a fair fight. You had to tranquilize me to be able to beat me, torture me, and eventually what? Slay me? Your mother was better than that."

The sting of the whip fell once more along his chest, but after a wince from the blow, Spike merely carried on. "Have more respect for the bird; more than you, and I offed her. It's not the point. Not really. What would she say? Doin' a disservice to the job that she did. The Slayer's son, captivatin' vampires, too much of a coward to give 'em a chance to defend themselves. Doin' this to the ones who are on your side no less."

"You murdered her!" Wood swung the whip down harshly once, twice, three more times, his targets were aimless, he just wanted to hit skin.

Spike spoke through the pain, separated it from his mind; now he was causing a rise, there was no backing down, and he by no means wanted to. "Bet she'd be bloody disappointed in you."

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" The whip fell endlessly on his face, blood spilled down, bubbling skin now split open, and the holy water wetting already sore areas until the whole left side of his face was completely raw.

Quietness took over the room as Wood's shoulders rose and fell, out of breath, he watched the weakened creature, as Spike's eyes fixed on him. It took Spike a second before he was able to speak, and he wondered for a moment if he'd be able to. Finally the words came out. "Come…Come on…know you can…do better…than…than that."

Spike's eyes closed as his body stilled against the table, just as he was overtaken by a black abyss.

After checking out the vineyard earlier with Faith, it was time to get down and dirty with the team. Deciding to only take the potentials that had been there the longest, they set out for their destinations. Buffy had divided the groups up, those going in first, and then back up outside in case they proved to be needed. All any of them could do was hope it wouldn't be necessary, but each knew Caleb seemed too cocky in that message; things were probably going to get messy. So they walked quietly, with the company of others in the same boat, but still completely and utterly alone. Thoughts of near death causing panic in their stomachs; it took all they had to carry forward, but despite such feelings each appeared ready and confident. Looking in each team member's face, it was hard to see the fear, but everyone knew it was there, because they carried the same emotion; all that mattered was that the opposing side was unable to see it. Buffy was going to make Caleb regret ever harming one of the girls; it'd be a night he wouldn't forget.

The trudging steps of warriors could not be heard, silence was enforced in order to keep their presence a secret. This silence was broken when a deep voice spoke out just above a whisper. "Hey, where's Spike?"

Buffy whirled around, causing every shoe to stop in its track. Her focus fell on Xander, who had spoken up; acknowledging his words, but then quickly she scanned crowd behind her, looking for the bleach blonde. With wide eyes, as she realized he was not there, Buffy quickly addressed the group. "Has anyone seen where Spike went? Did he tell anyone where he was going?"

The only response she got was concerned faces as the heads they were attached to shook in an answer of no. The panic within her couldn't be held in, though it had been present this whole time. "Do you think," her voice trailed off for a moment; she swallowed trying to get control of herself. She spoke calmly, but sternness was there, as Buffy tried to keep the shakiness out of her voice, in a low tone. "Do you think something might have grabbed him?"

"That's not possible, given the amount of people that were around him." Xander kept his eyes downcast for a moment, as he knew she wasn't going to like what he had to say next. "It's more likely he fled." He met her gaze once it was said, searching for a reaction.

Buffy folded her arms disbelievingly, "Without someone noticing? Same logic applies." The frustration that she imagined was in her voice disappeared; a feeling of nausea replaced it. This wasn't adding up, but she knew Spike wouldn't abandon them; he wouldn't abandon her. "We should turn around and go look for him. If something's happened, he's going to need our help." Buffy started to walk forward, prepared to lead everyone back through the night and away from the vineyard.

Her motion was stopped as Xander's voice caught her attention once more. His tone was light, as it always became in the face of impending doom. "That'd be a great idea. That is if we hadn't just been spotted."

Turning her attention to the direction Xander was facing, she immediately saw what he was referring to. Bringers were coming towards them. Suddenly, it wouldn't matter which way the Slayer was facing; or anyone of them for that matter, they were surrounding them on all sides. Buffy's fist shot up, ready to spring into action, "Get ready!" she called out, but figured that much already fairly obvious. Her mind raced back to Spike; if there were this many of them watching and lurking, it was entirely possible they could have snatched him. Killed him…

Buffy quickly shook her head, that wasn't a thought she wanted to have right now. More importantly, it was a thought that she couldn't afford to have. It'd get her killed; and if he was alive, it'd get Spike killed if she couldn't get there to save him in time. Buffy stared into their evil faces, usually feeling sympathy for the blind, but the more they kept messing with her not boyfriend, the less she was feeling sorry for them. Still, why hadn't they attacked yet? They were just standing there. Buffy started to take a step forward, when she saw her movement had caused a reaction from them. The one that was clearly in command of the rest of the Bringers, gestured with its head towards the entrance of where Buffy figured Caleb must be. The Bringers kept all sides of them surrounded; much to Buffy's annoyance, they were heading there to begin with. It wasn't as though they needed an escort.

Down in the cellar with the rest of her team, she saw the man who had been eager to meet her. So eager in fact that he had stabbed one of her members, and taken hold of something that sounded as though it were of precious value. Hands on her hips, she took a confident step towards him, "I heard you've got something of mine."

An evil grin mixed with laughter spread over Caleb's face, "I do now…"

Caleb was laughing now, but he wouldn't be able to do so for much longer. Buffy didn't have time to spend on this. Spike was missing now, and not only was he one of her team members, but a friend to her as well. This needed to be settled right here and now, but she wasn't going to kill him; not at first. She'd chain him up and each of his minions, and then they could find out for themselves what it really meant to be a slayer. Luckily for her, she had a lot of energy to spare, and there would be no rest until she found out what happened to Spike. Caleb was about to learn what it really meant to battle a Slayer, and he was in for a rude awakening.

Something was different, he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was, but something was off. His eyes were now opened; the place was once again empty, which meant that The Principal had made his leave. That wasn't it; things wouldn't have felt so different if that were the case. It wasn't as though it was the first time Wood had to leave for the day. He couldn't wrap his mind around it and his whole front side seemed to throb. There was something different to this throbbing that he hadn't grown accustomed to, a kind of pressure, coolness, and the angle of the room changed. Had Wood done some redecorating while he was conked out? Wood was probably angry about the fact that he had lost consciousness. It was no fun to play with a toy whose batteries wore out, but he digressed, it was hardly the point. The real matter at hand was this pressure, yet cold feeling on his chest and stomach, as well as the difference in the room. Going to rub the sleep out of his eyes, he was greeted with a sharp pain, causing a stifled version of what would have been a loud "Bloody Hell." Even the hand that wasn't injured couldn't budge, though it had seemed he had been trying to lift it in a different way than before. Instead of bringing it up, his arm wanted to bring it to the sides and then over to his eyes. It then dawned on him in his tired and now holy water infested state what was taking place, the weird look to the room, the foreign discomfort to his wounds, his oddly chained hands.

Git flipped me over!

Wood had the nerve to flip him over while he was unconscious. It was premeditated; his back was ready to meet cruel and unusual punishment, pretty soon there would be no comfortable way for him to lie; not with the way he was being fed blood. He had wounds that needed healing, and they did, when his captor remembered to hand out some nutrition. None for him today it seemed, Wood had taken off, and left him to once again bite away at the dead skin forming on his chapped lips; even water would be a gift right about now, and part of him worried he would dust from the holy water he could still feel eating away at his insides. Logically, he understood that there wasn't enough, even if the drenched whip had covered his body repeatedly; still he wondered if bits of dust would be found once he was flipped over again; not enough to kill him, but certainly a good amount to remind him that a dusting was something he was very close to.

He would have none of that. This psychopathic son of a slayer was not going to be the one to take him down. The First Evil itself hadn't been able to break him; what made him think that taking on a partnership with The Failure would allow for success?

"Spike! What have they done to you?"

The sound of her voice interrupted his thoughts. He lifted his head up as much as possible in an attempt to see her, his nostrils flared with the wonderful scent of her, his ears were dead set on catching up more of that sound. She had come for him! He knew she would.

"Buffy…" His voice was dry when he spoke, but he had managed to get the name out. A smile formed at the corner of his mouth. He listened to her as she continued to speak, in a voice of concern, with anger boiling beneath it. Always the hero, ready to save those she cared about and more than ready to deal with anyone that harmed them. She cared about him. He had already known this of course, but it still gave him a warm feeling inside whenever he saw it come out of her so naturally.

"Spike I'm going to get you out of this; just hang on."

"How many times are we goin' to meet like this?" A smirk fell over his battered face; he really needed to stop getting tied up and tortured, it was forming an uncomfortably predictable pattern in his unlife.

Buffy reached out for the bounds that held his hands, but then gasped and pulled back. "Your wrist…" Her hand trailed down it, barely above the fracture, as if she wouldn't touch it, for fear of jostling up the injury all the more. She looked into his eyes. "It's really a mess. It's gonna take a long time for that hand to be able to hold something again." She walked down along his side, carefully inspecting his bare body. Her eyes soon fixed on his equally buggered up ankle, which she bowed down to examine closer. "and this is no better, it seems." her voice shook with worry. "Looks like you aren't gonna be walking around any time soon, Spike."

He lifted an eyebrow. "Ah yeah, that's why I'd like some help to get movin', get some blood, and do a bit of healin'."

She shook her head. "I can't use you Spike."

If his heart had a beat, it would have stopped right then and there. Confusion filled his head, and underneath that was a layer of deep hurt. "What do you mean? Buffy, get me out of here." He didn't want to sound like he was begging; this was Buffy, she would never leave him behind. He had no need to worry; right now she simply wasn't being clear.

A tear slid down her cheek. "This isn't easy for me, seeing you like this. The strong warrior I once had, who used to be helpful in a fight. Now ... there's no place for you anymore." Looking down at the ground, she chose her next words carefully, before her eyes met his again. "You got caught - again. You're covered in wounds that I don't…I don't have time to mend. A real warrior…" Her facial features suddenly seemed colder, less upset, replaced with an almost angry disappointment. "A real warrior could hold his own. You've been destroyed; you're no good to the cause. You're of no use to anyone anymore."

Just before Spike made an attempt at speaking up, another voice filled the room. A less welcomed voice and one which always made him want to revert back to the most violent of tendencies when he heard it.

Angel.

"Well we both know that isn't true." He moved up behind Buffy, and draped his arm casually around her waist. "That Principal…what's his name? Oh, it doesn't matter. He's found plenty of use for him."

Buffy let out a hearty laugh before smacking her palm against her head. "Oh you're right!" She looked at Spike energetically. "You hear that Spike, you're not entirely useless to the cause. Wood has been so stressed lately, and as you know he's also a part in stopping the apocalypse. You'll be a good way to alleviate that stress; you know, help him to keep his head in this. So…" She looked to Angel for confirmation." He's sort of helping…right?"

Angel nodded. "He was always a great help whenever I needed a punching bag."

Spike stared at the two of them in horror. He wasn't stupid, he knew what was going on here, but the sight of it made his heart cry out, "Bugger off," his voice defiant now. "You're not them."

Buffy and Angel exchanged a glance before the more broody one spoke up, his voice calm and toned as if he were soothing a young child. "Don't worry about a thing. The apocalypse will be all taken care of."

Buffy put both her arms around Angel, hugging him close, while she gave Spike a million dollar smile. "I've already got a vampire to take care of things to me; my strongest fighter in this."

Anger, rage, animosity; there wasn't a strong enough word to describe what Spike was feeling. It wasn't them. He knew this. Buffy may indeed not care too much about him, and love Angel instead, but she wouldn't leave him under conditions like these. Never. It wasn't them. It was evil darkness. It wasn't them.

So why did it sting as if it were?

"That's right." Angel spoke in almost a sing-song voice, as he smiled back at Buffy just as brightly. "I've got it covered. It's what I do after all."

Buffy rubbed his arms gently, facing him, completely mesmerized. "And that's why everyone loves you."

It wasn't them. Spike told himself this over and over, placing it on automatic repeat in his head. It wasn't them, but what if it was true? What if Angel was there helping right now? What if Buffy had fallen back into his arms, forgotten Spike, the rebound vampire, altogether, and was happier for it? Could that be the reason why she hadn't showed up to rescue him? No, he was smart enough to know that if Buffy had only learned about his whereabouts; Angel or not, she'd come for him. Buffy didn't turn her back on people and they had shared too much for him to believe that she didn't care; too much had been said and done now. That didn't mean this painful scenario couldn't be true in some way. Angel whisking into town unscathed, putting on a display, showcasing how much better he was than his grand-childe; he wasn't caught, he was big, buff, and for reasons Spike would never understand, beloved. The two of them together again; he knew it wasn't real, and at least strongly hoped that nothing of the kind was going on out there in the real world, but there it was right in his face; what it would look like if it happened. What it had looked like when it did happen. What if…? He closed his eyes. He had seen enough.

He had expected pain. The first time he woke up in this place he had expected pain. Coming to and finding yourself in such accommodations; strapped down without a stitch of clothing left, no dignity granted, it'd be ridiculous to assume that some form of comfort would then be handed over. He had witnessed the rage Wood carried inside of him. In fact, he was continually on the receiving end of it. Still, it was all physical pain. A little blood and rest, and he'd be good as new. The First, it knew what his Achilles heel was. It knew just how to play him till he was practically going mad. There were only ever small windows of opportunity to escape, and his last attempt hadn't come remotely close to working. Wood; even worse The First, had all the time in the world to play with him. Well, not all the time in the world; just until she found him…

Buffy...

It didn't matter what he had been shown. It wasn't real and with time he had convinced himself of that. It was his vulnerability and the other side was playing with it; that was all there was too it; nothing more, nothing less. She would come for him. He had to hold on to that, there wasn't much else besides wishful thinking of suddenly breaking the bounds binding his sore limbs. He ached and the blood Wood had finally fed him when he returned had hardly been enough to do much to heal the wounds that were inflicted on him. The burning sensations covering his body had decreased a small amount, and right now that was something he was going to have to be happy about. It wasn't as though he had too many blessings that could be counted.

The blood he had been given hadn't been easy to drink, not with him lying on his stomach, and not with the way Wood had chosen to serve it. Instead of offering it up in one of those nice easy-to-drink-from baggies, the bloke had poured it on the restraint table that Spike's face was mashed into. The Principal then proceeded to order Spike to lapse up the blood with his tongue while his captor looked on in amusement. He either did that, or he wasn't fed, and shamefully Spike had made the choice of having his blood no matter how degrading it felt. He needed the strength it would provide him with

"I was a bit tough on you before."

The words Spike heard surprised him. He lifted his head up, trying his best to see the expression on Wood's face, but as Wood was positioned down by his legs, he was unable to see much past the man's stomach. He laid his head back down waiting for the rest of whatever speech was about to be given.

"You have to understand things from my position. I run a school. I wouldn't say it's a tight ship. I think it's important that student's be heard, but in the end what I say goes. "

"

So what are you sayin'? That your new form of torture is talkin' me to death?" Spike made another attempt of looking back. He couldn't see Wood, but The Principal could definitely see the cocky smile on his face.

Wood smiled back at him, his voice low. "Right," He looked down at the ground, placing his hand on the edge of the table his victim was strapped to. "The truth is Spike I'm not a bad guy. I've never hurt anyone in my life."

Spike snorted.

Wood's eyes shot up. "I said anyone. You're not an anyone Spike. You don't qualify for the same treatment that I give everyone else. The truth is I don't usually take vampires back to my lair and punish them. Do they deserve it? I'm sure each and every one of them has killed someone's mother, or father; a loved one who they can never get back. Do you understand the gravity of the things that you've done?" He shook his head looking down once more. "Of course you haven't. I don't care what's been said about you; this soul business."

"You've already made that pretty clear mate. You made that pretty clear already with your hot plate adventures." Spike didn't say anything more. He didn't bother trying to defend himself or what he was feeling; it was a waste of breath, even if he didn't really need any.

"This is exactly my point. I believe everyone should be heard, but you've been heard. You've been heard and you're not even a person."

Spike rolled his eyes. "Wouldn't exactly call this bein' heard, mate."

"Believe me, I hear you. I hear you so much that I've decided to do something about the things I've heard."

Spike tried to keep his tone of voice calm, but with the position he was in, he couldn't help but feel the anticipation of what was to come, "Oh yeah, what's that?"

"This would have flowed much more smoothly had you been able to refrain from interrupting me." He gave Spike a pointed look that he couldn't really see, but one he could definitely feel. "As I mentioned earlier, I was a bit tough on you before. I felt like I was being very hard on you. Then you opened your mouth. It's that mouth of yours; it never ceases to dig you into a deeper and deeper hole, because now I realize that where I've been tough on you, I simply haven't been tough enough."

Wood let his left hand run along Spike's smooth back. He touched him gently, his hand skating over such smooth skin.

Spike bit his bottom lip, but didn't flinch. He knew there would be more to it than having his back felt up. He lay still; a bored expression hung over his face. What else was he going to do? Fight back when he knew there would be no point, and then he'd please the rotten bastard by giving him what he wanted. Wood wanted it to hurt. He wanted his captive to be scared and to beg. Spike would never give him the satisfaction, besides a cut to the back was hardly the worst thing he had endured.

Then quickly with his right hand, he slit his back with the scalpel he had been holding out of sight, letting a chunk of skin drop down the floor. Another quick cut, and another, and yet another; the motions were quick, but sharp. It stung, but he knew this was something he could more than handle. He was the grand-childe of Angelus after all; now he knew how to torture!

He was fully prepared to take more; almost relieved even by the way Wood had decided to take care of him, until his motions changed. This time when he placed the scalpel down, he moved his hand along slowly. The skin rose off his body in one long strip from his shoulder all the way down to his hip. He sucked a breath of air in, his good hand clenched into a fist. He felt his teeth sink into his lip, but he hardly noticed the pain of that, and he longed for his body to do him a favor and go into shock; being dead he didn't know if that was possible, but he'd dream of it nonetheless.

The scalpel lifted again, landing down right next the wound and the process repeated. The torture instrument slid along, digging deeper than the last cut made; Wood's hand moved easily, the cut went gracefully, and yet the sensation made his stomach turn. The combination of such slow tearing pain, on top of it being done so tediously, while forced to lay still; not a muscle able to be moved, it was enough to make him want to holler out. He didn't; wouldn't, he already continued to disappoint himself from taking blood from the hand that hurt him, that was enough weakness for him to hold.

Pain-staking slow, the scalpel landed once more towards the middle of his back; scraping out another chunk. Spike's nostrils flared, his stomach yelling at him, and he found his mouth watering as his blood seeped down his sides and underneath him. It was sticky and it seemed like such a waste of perfectly good fluid. Another stab to his flesh, on his lower back now, and Spike resorted to shutting his eyes tightly; it burned; so much of his back was on fire now. He had heard of this one form of torture; even tried it out on a victim years ago, "Death of a thousand cuts"; small incisions made quickly over and over again. It had looked like an uncomfortable way to go, but he didn't know himself. He knew better now, though Wood's take on it was a bit different. These weren't cuts. He was being flayed. Most victims got to die from being flayed, and with each cut that Wood made into his back, he felt a scream rise into his throat, but somehow he was always able to bite it back. He just kept breathing hard instead. Deep, rhythmic, breathing, that caught in his throat every time the pain reached a high point, and was let out at every ebb. He wondered what his back looked like and at the same time he didn't want to know. He could take grotesque sights, he had caused many of them, but this was his own body. The image in his head could possibly be worse than reality, but still he hoped the blood that he was given here, was enough to close these wounds; that way he'd never have to find out.

There was no comfortable position. His front side ached just like his back and he found himself wanting to yank the hurt off his abused flesh. How he'd go about doing that he didn't know, but it didn't matter anyway, he was still trapped. The walls felt like they were closing in on him. He needed to breathe. He didn't want to forget how to do that. He needed to breathe. He just needed to breathe and he'd be okay. He let the air go in and out, in and out, and pretty soon all of this would be over. The flaying seemed to be done now, he was being fed. He gulped it up with great relief, having been worried that he had lost too much blood during this exercise to get by any longer. But no, he would survive this one too. With each passing second it was a second closer to freedom. He was sure of this…

A sharp pain in his side and suddenly his whole body slumped against the table. He was out cold.

Wood smiled down at the sleeping vampire, a tranquilizer in one hand, the dripping scalpel in the other. Perhaps Spike had learned a thing or two about manners now.

Spike looked up at Buffy's gaze; seriousness was written on her face. She didn't speak, but merely studied him in silence. The pain caused from the prior abuse took hold of his thoughts. The cool sensation the table brought his back as it continually pressed up against his wound, among the other cruel inflictions that had been brought down on him, clouded his reality. In actuality, he knew this couldn't be her. She wasn't one to let victims stew, no matter what her opinion of them was, she always helped. Still, he could feel the excitement rising in his stomach. The thought of it really being her, the "what if" playing in his mind, he wanted it to be true. He longed for this nightmare to be over, so he could be back in The Slayer's basement again, listening to the rowdiness of the girls as they fought over breakfast in the morning. The pain was too intense for his mind to be rational anymore. He should have told It to bugger off and go spook someone else. He never did that. He waited for It to speak as though Buffy had come, he willed the silence away, and was prepared to hold on to ever last syllable that was spoken. He needed to pretend. He needed to believe in the devil wearing sheep's clothing.

Finally, she spoke up, her voice; however, harsh. Her eyes rolled immediately as she started in on what needed to be said. "You were once this great warrior that I could count on. I didn't always want it, but I utilized it. I grew to care for you. All the changes that we've both been through, it put us on the same page." She bit her bottom lip and sighed. "You aren't that same warrior anymore Spike. Let's face it; you're a far cry from it now." She straightened her shoulders a bit in mocked confidence, a pained expression still evident on her face. "Still, I am a force of good, and despite this pathetic level you've sunk down to, it's my job to protect those in need."

Now raising his head, Spike gave her a questioning look. Would he get freedom? Would she bust him out? Her words were not lost on him, but he couldn't let them scathe his heart right now. He could always prove her wrong later. He'd show her what a real fighter looked like when he was ripping his way into Wood's jugular. First, he needed to be free.

Catching the look of hope on his face, Buffy sighed. "I'm not here to spring you if that's what you think?"

Spike's face fell, he looked at her questioningly, but before he had the chance to object, words continued to flow out of her.

"I'm doing you a favor right now by simply giving you my presence. And what? Now you want more? Please. You're lucky enough that you're getting this. I'm a good person and out of the kindness of my heart I choose to come here and see you now." She shook her head.

Spike's voice felt small when he spoke, the vulnerability of his position had started to show, though he knew now was not the time, when signs of weakness were clearly what this Buffy's issue with him was. He tried to sound confident, but instead he came off rather whiny. "You said you protected those in need."

"See that, right there! You need protection. You're the protected. You never used to be that way and hey, even if you were, you wouldn't have admitted it." She nodded. "But still, you're not wrong. I did say that and I do mean it. I protect those in need, but I also know a lost cause when I see one. The slayer can do her best, but she can't save them all. You're lost to me. I visit you now out of respect for the memories that we share, nothing more."

"Buffy…" Spike started his plea, but was promptly being cut off.

"Hey, don't act as though this isn't hard on me! This isn't easy. You were something to me, but that was back when you were someone…You've gotten weak, Spike. Somewhere along the way you've weakened. I need strength. I need a fighter. I need…" Her voice trailed off as a sly smile fell over her face. "…a champion."

Abruptly, a large hand clasped down on Buffy's shoulder. Chillingly, Spike recognized it, and the voice that came with it. "I must have missed that chapter in history."

Buffy turned towards Angel and giggled. "You are so bad."

Angel pulled Buffy into a loving embrace, playfully nipping at her neck. "Only whenever I'm with you."

Buffy's laugher rang through the room as Angel continued to playfully devour her. The scene playing out before him was enough to take Spike's mind off all physical pain that he had currently been experiencing. That was a drop in the bucket compared to what it was he was forced to look at, to listen to, and he swore that he could even taste the bitterness of it in his mouth. None of Wood's treatment so far had managed to make him sick, perhaps it was because he was hardly being given enough blood for it, but what he was witnessing right now, that could be enough to do it.

Angel pulled Buffy into a passionate kiss; it wasn't long before he opened his eyes, staring at Spike while he played out one of his worst fears right in front of him. He watched as Spike choked back tears; undoubtedly wanting to hide such an episode from Buffy. It was then that her lips fell off his, moving down towards his neck hungrily, giving her boyfriend room to speak. "You just don't get it now, do you? Well, you're a little dim. So let me explain how things are. Nothing is yours Spike. Not even her." A happy smile fell over his face, waiting to see the reaction he could coax out of his grand-childe.

Tears just had be shed at this point; there was no halting them behind his eyes, keeping the anguish locked inside his throat. Words flew out of his mouth, that resurfaced as he had once spoken them a century before, anger filling his face, but unable to stop the crying.

"You're wrong! We're forever. Buffy and me." An empty echo, that he only hoped sounded a tad more credible that it felt.

An amused smile formed over Angel's face, "Ah, still the poet, now aren't we, Spikey? Tell you what Spike…if you want her…come and take her."

Struggling madly against the bonds, it got him nowhere, though Spike was determined to throw himself on top of Angel, and let his fangs tear him to shreds. He was like a rabid animal in this moment; locked in place for the good of those passing by, he wasn't safe to pet anymore. He'd have to be put down. The only thing this fiery response got him was shooting pain up and down his entire body from the already sore wounds his body was sporting. Weakness caused from his recent ordeal took over, and Spike finally stilled his failing efforts. At full vampire strength, he hadn't been unable to break these bonds, but now broken down and torn to shreds, there was no hope for escape.

Keeping his eyes shut tight for the umpteenth time was the only way away from the image before him. He needed to rid himself of what was meant to be a beautiful lie, but had quickly turned sour. Just because it was going on, that didn't mean Spike had to look at it. According to this, he had only ever been a place holder in Buffy's life. He was there because Angel wasn't. He was a vampire just like Angel, and though they had a very different build, resembling each other in no particular way whatsoever, Buffy had taken what she could get. Now she had what she wanted all along; her one and only love. Leaving him to waste away here. His heart broke with the impression of how little he had truly meant to everyone, especially her.

Suddenly, a softer and kinder voice could be heard. Spike didn't need his eyes opened to know who it was. However, once hearing her voice, snapping his eyes open was an immediate reaction. A blonde lady stood over him, hair tied up in a bun, warmth lighting up her face. His mother's hand lay over his face, as though she were about to stroke it lovingly, "William…" She stared down at her child, warmth washing over him, causing him to feel protected; safe, "How's my beautiful baby holding up?"

Tears were pricking the back of his eyes once more, but it had always been safe to cry in front of his dear mum. She had encouraged the outlet of emotions, and had always provided great comfort when he was down, or going through a rough patch in his young life. Now, more than ever, Spike wanted to feel his mother's touch, for her to wrap such loving arms around him. Yet, he knew that this couldn't be possible. He knew that her arms could not embrace him; her soft comforting hugs could not be given ever again. She was gone. She had been for so long, and yet here she stood before him. The one woman in this world that would always care for him unconditionally, the one woman who would always permanently be in his heart went against the impossible, and graced him with her presence once again. Yet, she was dead.

He knew it to be the truth. It was something that he had never fully wanted to accept, even as a human the inevitable was a fact that he needed to avoid. The loss of his mother meant the loss of everything, and he couldn't have that. He carried it with him even now, the harsh memory of her passing; it was unable to extract from his mind. So he knew, oh he knew, that she wasn't here! But… there was so much pain. So much hurt after what he had just gone through of physical and emotional suffering that was just completely and utterly taxing. He needed something! He needed someone! He needed his mother…

And he didn't care.

He didn't care that she was gone. The reality of the situation didn't matter. What was real and what was most likely an illusion was irrelevant now. She was here. She was a vision, an angel, but also a trick. He chose not to think about that one. He chose to play along, because a production was the only thing that he had left now. For the first time in all of this, something was speaking to him kindly, even though it couldn't be real, that something was still his mother to him.

"There there William. That's it. Let it out. Let it all out Baby." She reached her hand out soothingly, and just as she were about to ruffle her boy's hair, she quickly snatched it back. His mother started to walk away, but quickly spun around eyeing her son with a stern look mixed with the softness she always held. "Have you been misbehaving William?" Her tone was much like the one she used when he had acted up as a little boy.

Spike tilted his head slightly disappointed, "Mum…I'm good now…"

"You killed all those people. How could you?" Blood started to flow down his mother's neck, while she stared at him with accusing dismay on her face, "How could you kill me?"

Spike began to breathe heavily at the sight; he knew full well it was time to explain himself. He had always wanted to explain his actions to her. In a way, she was right here now. He could finally have the conversation with her that he had needed to have for over one hundred years. The conversation with the real her, not the demon version. He knew she would be upset with him, what with the taking her life, that probably made it the understatement of the year. But she had loved him. Perhaps he could get her to understand. She was his mother after all. He needed her now, so much. He needed her to soothe the pain. They would talk. They could make things right!

"I wanted to save you…Mum…I wanted…"

Spike watched as his mother's body started to decay before his very eyes, and his mouth opened wanting to holler through this dreadful happenstance, forcing himself to fight the urge off.

"William…I loved you…"

He shut his eyes tightly once again as he yelled out, "No, that's not…not…not how I meant it to happen!"

Silence overtook the room, but Spike couldn't open his eyes just yet; not wanting to see the horrors that had been done to his mother. He let a little more time pass, waiting to see if the quiet would lift, but when it hadn't, he slowly lifted his eyelids, looking out ever so slightly, but seeing nothing. Opening his eyes all the way, he scanned the lab, noticing that what had taken his mother's form had left. His body shuddered, the image from only seconds before still fresh in his mind, he feared it always would be. He decided to try a trick he had learned for panic, taking his mind off it, focusing on various objects in the room. He looked over the room, trying to replace the fear with ordinary thoughts, but as he turned his head to the left, checking out what was there, out of nowhere a vampire appeared over him, growling loudly. It wasn't just any ordinary vampire though…

Startled, Spike banged his head back hard against the table; reacting to the surprise that he had found on that side of the room. His shaking sped up; looking as though a seizure had its grasp on him; his mother, looming over him, now the monster that he was responsible for turning her into.

"Poor lost William, can't live without his Mummy. No wonder the woman that you're so taken with is blonde. Petite like Mummy was too. You're always obsessing over the next woman in your life. Is that why? You miss your mum? Desperately trying to seek out the love of another woman, so we can finally be back together again?"

Quickly flipping his head over towards the right; his body quivering relentlessly, he didn't want to hear anymore. It was hard to focus through the pain now, and for the first time since he had been here, that came as a welcomed fact.

"Is that why lover?" Buffy calmly strode over back into Spike's view. "Is that why I'm the best you've ever had? I'm the closest thing to your mother. The human kind of course. Not the vampire you made her. And you did do that, you know. You made her a demon. A sweet caring lady, who loved you more than herself. You repaid her with death. A ticket straight to hell. And she is burning now. For all of eternity. For you. Because of you. You never could get your mother to stay. You never could get anyone to stay…."

"You're not her!" Spike finally brought himself to admit with a scream. "You're not…you're not my mother! You're not Buffy! You're not any of them!" Tears continued to fill his eyes as he stared at the entity that dared to take the form of the people nearest and dearest in his unlife. "I know you're not. They wouldn't…"

"I wouldn't what?" The First spoke not changing its disguise. "Speak to you in such a way? Is that what you really believe?"

"You're not them." Spike stated stubbornly. "I know you're not!

An ominous grin appeared on "Buffy's" face. "No, I'm not." The First stated verifying his suspicions. "But it doesn't make what I'm saying any less true…"

With that It snickered in its victory, disappearing, and leaving Spike to sob.

Walking the cold street in the wee hours of the morning, Buffy folded her arms over herself trying to keep warm. Given the time of year, the temperature should have been fairly comfortable, but her body couldn't recognize this fact. Things in the vineyard had not gone the way that she had planned. The harsh truth was, she had lost the battle. It repeated in her head over and over again. She had lost to evil. She had said it out loud to herself countless times, and the sound of it was bitter on her tongue. Caleb had been too strong for her; much stronger than any one of them could have anticipated. The strength he had reminded of her Glory in a lot of ways; the Hellbitch, and Buffy need a special orb to really be able to touch her long enough to do any damage at all. She doubted that she was going to get lucky enough to find a orb which repelled Caleb. She had lost. Lost! She couldn't get over the damage which had been going down and now she was frozen, lonely, and in fear. It hadn't been enough power. The one thing she had been feeling became a reality. Lives had been lost and damaged before the command to retreat had been given. Xander was now blind in one eye; having lost it in the battle, caught by Caleb, and that was only one of his injuries. She had seen it happening from afar. Caleb's thumb in his eyes, his gloating, as he carelessly tossed her friend to the ground, and had squashed him like a bug; ribs had been cracked, and the doctors said he had a crushed lung. It never should have happened. Nothing that had gone down should have. It had been time to test the girls in a real fight; she knew this, but it didn't ease the guilt. Being a slayer didn't make her cold hearted as she had once believed; she was full of love, and because of that, the loss was hard to swallow. Not enough power; her mind raced back to that. She knew that one of her most powerful warriors hadn't been present and accounted for; possibly causing the causalities to be much higher than they originally would have been. Terror rose inside of her again with that realization. What had happened to Spike?

Coming to the door of her home, Buffy hadn't realized she had walked in this direction. It must have been out of habit that she had taken all the right turns. As she pushed the door open, taking a step inside, she froze before coming in all the way. She caught the back of Spike as he casually walked into the kitchen. Forgetting to shut the door behind her, she stormed down the hallway unsure of whether she was angry or concerned. He looked fine to her, but she had only seen the back of him. She stood in the hallway for a moment getting a grip on her emotions. She'd get her answers, but Spike was her friend. Someone who stood up and by her countless times, he could be trusted. She wanted answers. She would get answers. She would be getting them from a friend. Calmer now, she walked into the kitchen, and folded her arms; she was still very emotional, having been given such a scare by him. She watched as Spike turned, taking notice of her, lifting his eyebrows in a questioning manner, waiting for her to speak her piece.

"Where were you?" She gestured behind herself in reference to the battle, "Are you hurt? What happened?" Her voice was one of demand.

"Got jumped by a couple bringers in the Forest." Spike simply responded.

Buffy's shoulders dropped down, letting the tension leave them. Bringers had jumped him, a perfectly reasonable explanation, except that it wasn't. She had gone through this with Xander earlier.

Poor Xander.

She needed to get her mind back on track right now. She'd help Xander out when he came home. Right now, things with Spike were not adding up. Why would they bring the rest of them to Caleb, but jump Spike? How could he have been grabbed without the others noticing, herself included? Thinking on that fact further, if he did manage to get away from them uninjured, why would he just turn around and go home, leaving everyone else in the vineyard to fight without his help? The tension in her shoulders returned, deciding to question him further. "When did this happen? What time? Or what were our whereabouts when this went down?"

Buffy watched a flicker of hesitation fall over Spike's features before he provided her with an answer. "Was dark Buffy, if you don't remember. All looked the same to me. More focused on the fact that I was 'bout to be killed. Defendin' myself when no one else offered to help." Now, irritation filled the blonde vampire's features.

A silent attack? It didn't make sense at all. And all the more, how could he possibly get disoriented in the dark, being the nocturnal creature that he was? She felt her hands form fists angrily. He was lying to her. He had had some strong reason to not take part in the battle. She took a step forward, getting in his personal space. She hadn't done that a lot lately. In fact, she hadn't touched him at all… Studying Spike's eyes for a moment, the features on his face were flawless; just as they always were in times like these. She took a step back, arms still crossed, anger now showing on her face. Through gritted teeth Buffy managed to get out the following question. "Where is Spike?"

She watched as Spike dared to look at her with concern. "I'm right here, Buffy. Looks to me like whatever I missed down there with Preacher Boy really got to you. Might wanna rest or somethin'."

Buffy shot out an angry fist, and punched him straight in the nose. And, as expected, her hand went straight through him.

A Spike grin showed up on the First's face, leaving a few anticipating moments to shine before It spoke. "I guess I really do have something of yours."

Left there alone, watching The First disappear without further information; Buffy stood feeling the color rush out of her face. Feeling sick, she slowly sank to the floor. Tonight her life had crumbled down around her.

His line of vision had become corrupted. Unless his eyes remained shut tightly, there was no way to avoid the sting it gave his heart. At some moments Spike swore he could feel it bleeding. Shutting his eyes off to the sight of Angel and Buffy pawing each other wasn't the complete answer though, because even when he did so, the sound still traveled to his ears. The smacking of their lips together was one thing, and his heightened hearing could pick up on other things and places their hands were heading for.

Opening his eyes, this time he found his mother standing in front of him once again. He could still make out Angel and Buffy over her shoulder, but Spike could force focus back on his mother; though that wasn't much better. Perhaps thinking about the extreme pain he was in would be the winning option. Sadly, Spike thought it was; though whether he was thinking about Buffy and Angel or his mother, the pain had become more and more impossible to forget with each minute it passed by untreated.

"Just relax William. You're being punished, but you're only making it worse on yourself." Turning away from Spike, too ashamed to look at him, she carried on. "I was never one for tough love, but I guess something changed me." Abruptly, his mother looked back at him over her shoulder; fangs popped out, the bumps now fully formed; she glared down at Spike with thirst.

Spike shut his eyes tightly for what must have been the thousandth time; zoning out and letting himself get fully engulfed by the pain he was in, use his physical agony as a distraction. It was the easiest distraction at hand and the only shot had at forgetting what was going on around him; what he had done.

Waiting in anticipation, everyone gathered in the living room. Tension filled the air; most people expecting this meeting to be called due to their previous defeat or the earlier nights activities. Faith had taken the uninjured girls out, deciding it would be a good time for them to blow off steam; much to Buffy's dismay. Considering the hit they had taken at the vineyard, plus learning on top of all their stress that Spike was among the missing, the last thing she thought any of them had time for was lounging about. In fairness, no one knew about Spike just yet. People had only started coming back from the hospital earlier that day; it was time for them to find out now, and perhaps they'd understand a bit better the urgency of the situation. The First had been able to take someone from them, right under their noses. That should never have been allowed to happen. They knew by now this thing could take a dead being's form. It was an old trick It kept using, and each time like dumb dogs, they kept falling for it. Not to mention the humiliating defeat they had met going up against Its right hand man. Her Warriors needed to be just that now; warriors! Action had to be taken, and Buffy knew exactly what needed to be done.

Staring into the serious faces, Buff let her folded arms drop down, beginning the meeting and cutting to the chase. "Spike isn't who he says he is."

"Bloody right he isn't." Giles mumbled to himself, knowing full well that Buffy had been able to hear him.

After shooting him a dirty look, Buffy carried on, not taking her gaze off Giles; wanting to see his reaction over what she was about to say. "The First kidnapped him." After seeing Giles lift his head up in surprise, her focus was switched on to a surprised Willow, who spoke next.

"That's why he didn't show up at the vineyard." She pointed excitedly at nothing in particular, "The fighting would have blown Its cover! Hello. Can't touch anything; hard to hide that in a little hand to hand combat."

Then a quiet almost timid voice spoke up. "Plus, it wouldn't be like him to run out on you," There was a hesitant pause. "right? " The voice belonged to Dawn Summers. "He never has in the past when he was needed for a fight. He's gone out of his way for us when it never benefited him, so it shouldn't be surprising to any of us that he didn't run out. Besides…he's good now." Dawn use to have quite a liking for the bleach blonde vampire; that was until the attack on her sister had taken place. She had become very protective of Buffy since then, especially when it came to Spike, but deep inside, she still loved him. She had put trust in him as a young kid, and often Spike was the one who wound up listening to her when she felt no one else would. She liked how straight forward and honest he was with her. Never did he try to spare her "little" feelings as everyone had in the past. Spike had talked to her like a grown up, and she had greatly appreciated such treatment. Dawn hadn't understood completely what it meant for him to be lacking a soul, and the crush she had on him had been written all over her face. Dawn had seen it as the same thing that Buffy used to do with Angel, the only problem was; Spike was in love with the wrong sister. Dawn had never been too crushed by it, still enjoying his company. However, once he had crossed that line with her sister, all bets were off. Buffy meant more to her than some stupid crush. In fact, nothing meant more to her than that of her own sister. Still, Spike had taken off after that; gotten a soul. And these days, Buffy was starting to think that he had redeemed himself, or was on the road to doing it anyway. Dawn hated to admit it, but sometimes she missed him; the friendship that she had once had with him, and that had been when he was evil. So, if he had a soul now, that could only make their friendship stronger; more real? Dawn argued with herself about this a lot. She didn't think it was right for her to have these thoughts and feelings, not after what he had done. So while she was pushing Spike away, or avoiding him, Buffy had been getting closer to him. Now Buffy seemed to be really worried about Spike; it was written all over her face. So maybe; perhaps that meant it was okay for her to be worried about him too?

Buffy gave Dawn a confirming nod unaware of her sister's inner struggle, and carried on, trying to keep a strong front up; despite the sick feeling this whole situation had given her. "So Caleb claimed he had something of mine. Now we know what that something is."

"How long do you think he's been gone?" Giles inquired.

Buffy figured his inquiry more had to do with how long the First had been spying on them, than it actually was over Spike being missing himself. "I don't know." It was her honest answer, though not one that anyone was going to like. She could only hope that it hadn't been too long. He had been badly wounded the last time the First had its non-corporeal hands on him. She didn't want to think about what It could be having done to him now; trying not to entertain the thought that the First had simply done Spike in altogether.

"So what do we do about it?" Wood stood leaning up against the doorway, his arms over his chest, looking at each of the other meeting participants.

Buffy scanned the whole room; sharing contact with each and every person before going on, as this would affect all of them. "The First has one of us; one of my own. It's going to learn really quickly what a mistake that was! But before we get to that; what we do is all the more important. No one is ever left behind! We go back for Spike. We go back to the vineyard."