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

4. Mutiny

Chapter 4 Mutiny

Buffy had expected there to be a disagreement. Considering the humiliating defeat everyone had recently experienced at the exact location she was suggesting they'd return to, she would have been more concerned had they nonchalantly agreed with her on these latest plans. But she wasn't quite prepared for just how strongly everyone in the room wound up feeling on the matter.

There was shouting. There were judgmental and angry glares, snide remarks, and Giles in the background going off about how it was "madness". Buffy took in a deep breath; she tried to calm herself down.

You're in charge here Buffy. You have to lead. So do that. Lead!

"Will you just listen to me?" Buffy's voice had come out more exasperated than she had intended it to. She needed to keep her emotions in check. She needed to be the rock of her army; something that couldn't be broken down, no matter how much she felt like breaking right then and there. Innocent girls were dead now, her best friend was stuck in the hospital, and Spike; who she had deeper feelings for than she cared to admit at times, was God only knew where. Now here she was, in another battle; another attack, only this time it was coming from her own team. War was never easy. It was never pretty and everyone here was scared. They were exhausted and they all wanted to rest. Buffy knew that, and when all was said and done she could probably sleep for a week, but she knew that they needed to press on. This was no time to let fear get in the way. They needed to prove to The First that they were a force to be reckoned with, and that could only be done if they bounced back stronger than ever before, "Spike is down there right now. Caleb is guarding the vineyard. The bad guys go where the power is. The First has viewed Spike as a threat already. This we know. It was why he had a trigger put in his head to begin with. It's been up to something with Spike from the beginning. It has bigger plans for him. It has taken him now. Where else would they put him? He was heavily guarded before and it seems that security has tightened even more since then. They're protecting their power source. I say it's time we take their power away from them. I say we take back what's ours."

Faith looked at Buffy as if she had grown another head; anger was creeping into her voice, hanging below the surface, but never fully coming up. "Or on an alternative; how about we don't? We've got no proof of this B, and you shouldn't be expecting any one of us to go back in there on this neat little theory of yours."

Buffy swallowed, her eyes meeting everyone in the room. "I know it's a lot to ask…"

Wood, who was standing behind Faith, looked up. He was aware of another angle to the problem than the one they were currently debating. He, as the only one in the room, was perfectly well aware that Spike was indeed not trapped in the Vineyard, and that an expedition there to rescue him thus would be a waste of lives in battle. He had to find a way to prevent that! He was not about to let any of these innocent girls die unnecessarily. But how was he gonna warn them? "Buffy, you really shouldn't do this. I know this rescue is gonna come up empty, because I abducted Spike and thus know that he's not there?" No, don't think that's such a good idea. This line of thought made him acutely aware of another problem that he had created for himself, by not only listening to what The First had to say, but teaming up with it. He didn't like to look at it that way, he was still against its overall plan in every way, but in regards to Spike, there was no denying that he was working with the enemy. It wasn't to betray and hurt everyone else; he just wanted his mother's killer to pay. He had a right to obtain justice for her murder. But doing so, he had made the Ultimate Evil acutely aware of his existence. Now that their partnership were drawing to a close, and the final showdown was coming, It would have a number of extra weapons with which to take him down. Just tell Buffy thie story of what he had done, and *gulp* It could get her to do It's dirty work for It, and get a fair bit of chaos and division within the gang in on the bargain. He shuddered to think of it,

They needed to destroy The First, it'd be the best of both worlds in actuality, because he'd have gotten his revenge, and the world would be saved. He wouldn't have to worry about any future consequences this might bring. But preferably not with this Slayer in charge, it was way too dangerous for him. What the gang needed, was a change of head slayer.

"It is a lot to ask" he concurred. "And you've asked a lot already. Now I think it's only fair for us to hear Faith out instead, and get some fresh slayer eyes on this."

Faith and Buffy's eyes met, they had kept the scathing looks and remarks away, but it was clear that the great start that they had shared earlier had now crashed and burned. Faith continued. "Maybe this thing goes your way. Maybe it doesn't. These are odds that I don't think you should be playing at."

"Did you come here to fight?" Buffy shot back.

"We're fighters, all of us, but you've got to give me something to fight. Something real…not."

"Windmills"

Buffy's jaw almost hit the ground when she heard the word that Giles had muttered. She knew that he and Spike had their issues. Giles tried to have him killed, so yeah, they were pretty big issues, but for him to side with Faith! She was at a loss for words. "He's down there!" She spoke through clenched teeth. She couldn't believe Giles was letting his own vampire prejudice get in the way of his judgment. After all these years working together and this was the trust she was getting in return.

"Maybe," Giles looked at her matter of factly. "but it's a hell of a lot to ask."

"Too much" Wood piped in.

This was getting out of hand. Who were these people? Buffy stared into the faces of everyone, stunned. "I can't believe this. This is a man's life we're talking about!"

Sitting on the couch, one of the Potential's; Rona, finally used her voice. "I am sick of your deal with this Spike guy! This isn't about him. He's not why all of us can't get on the same page with you."

Buffy folded her arms. "Okay. Then what's the reason?"

"You're being reckless!"

"What?" Buffy was in disbelief.

"Man, I don't even know you and I can tell! You're obsessed with beating Caleb, or anybody who's got ties with The First, if not The First itself, you're willing to jump into any plan without thinking."

Buffy was finding it hard to keep the glare off her face, but the same sentiment was in her voice. She was being completely ganged up on when someone near and dear to her was in need of their help, and this it seemed wasn't registering with them. It took all her self-control not to shake everyone. Still, she continued to force herself to be as calm as she realistically could be. "That's not what I'm doing. The last time The First got Its hands on Spike, it tortured him. Mercilessly." She turned addressing everyone in the room once more. "Are you all trying to tell me that you're perfectly okay with that scenario?"

Kennedy stormed over to Buffy, the eagerness to fight running throughout her body. "That's not what we're saying, but look around! People are dying! By going back there, you may save him. You might not. What I do know is you're going to have a much larger body count on your hands! One soul for how many Buffy? How many of us is he worth?"

Willow took a hesitant step forward when she saw how close Kennedy had gotten in Buffy's face. As ready as Kennedy was to become a slayer, she was still no match for the actual slayer. Gently, she reached out to take Kennedy's arm. "Kennedy…"

Kennedy spun around towards Willow, her anger still raging. "Why are you always standing up for her?"

Willow's face and voice matched; distraught was pouring out of both. "I'm not…" She looked over at Buffy, trying to be reasonable and fair. "You're close to this Buffy. You're close to him and I'm not being judgy. I'm just…I'm worried about your judgment."

Buffy stood up straighter, clearing her throat, her body suggesting more confidence than her face held, as she tried not to let Willow's words hit her heart. "I wish this could be a democracy, I really do, but democracies don't win battles. You need someone to be reckless sometimes and make the hard decisions. To lead."

Arms folded, Anya spoke with disgust. "And it's automatically you. God, you really do think you're better than us. But we don't know if you're actually better. You came into the world with certain advantages, sure, but you didn't earn it. You didn't work for it. You've never had someone come up to you and say you deserve these things more than anyone else. They were just handed to you. So that doesn't make you better than us, it makes you luckier than us."

Anya's words were something Buffy did not have time for right now. She had already been psychoanalyzed by a vampire once this year; she didn't need to have it happen again by a former demon. It started to make her wonder why it was evil creatures seemed to be so interested in getting inside her head; perhaps it was a subconscious tactic of theirs so they would know how to take her down, even if they weren't currently a part of the dark side. Even so, she couldn't address this. There was simply no time for it. "Look I'm willing to talk strategy on how to break this down, but this is the plan! We have to be together on this, or we will fail again!"

Aggravated, Giles chimed in again. "We are clearly demonstrating that we are not together on this! Look Buffy, I can understand your point. I do. At the same time we cannot afford any more loss; not without proof. If you can prove that Spike is in fact down there…than a rescue could be in order, if only to take the power that he possesses away from them." He didn't know how to get through to his former Slayer. This was exactly what he had been worried about; that vampire taking control of her once more. She was unable to do her work. She was unable to think about those that were actually among the living. The whole human race was at risk, and here she stood fighting for something that should have died over a century ago. However, he wasn't too wrapped up in his unease of their relationship to see that if she was right about him serving as some sort of power source for The First, then yes they needed to get him out of there, and once again it would only prove what he had come to realize before; Spike needed to be eliminated. He was too much of a risk, even with the trigger deactivated it seemed. Buffy was too wrapped up in her emotions to look at any of this with a logical eye.

"And what if there's no time for that." There was a challenging tone in Buffy's voice.

"What if he doesn't have time for that?" Donna quietly amended from the coffee table she was sitting on.

"Exactly" Buffy nodded her head.

Dawn looked up at her sister with an unreadable expression on her face. "Exactly…and Buffy, that's the problem. You're doing this to save him, not us. I'm worried about Spike too but, there's more at stake here."

Picking up on the point Dawn was driving forwards, Faith decided to save her the trouble "You're not worried about them activating him or whatever, before we get there. You're worried about coming across dust."

"I've gotten us this far." Buffy stated factually, it took everything in her to be able to keep her cool.

"And maybe it's time somebody else took over." Wood added coldly, seizing on the chance to make this point.

Buffy gave him puzzled look and stated simply, "I'm the slayer."

"And isn't Faith the slayer also?" Wood gestured in her direction.

Faith looked up startled by the turn of events. "Woah woah woah, so not what I meant. I'm not in charge chick. I just think B here needs to chill out for a little bit, take a siesta or something, but I'm not the one you want."

"Maybe we need a vote, to see who wants Faith to have a turn in charge." Kennedy stated simply.

"No." Buffy stared at her in disbelief.

"No, what?" Attitude filled Kennedy's voice.

Buffy's voice became a mock sort of cheery, as she moved across the room, turning to catch everyone's gaze. "We can't have a vote until I've had a chance to pal around, get everyone drunk. You see I didn't realize that this was a popularity contest. I should have a chance to bake them cookies or braid their hair or…"

Faith cut her off with a factual tone. "Learn their names."

Buffy faced Faith, her eyes looking as though death rays might beam out of them. "You're just loving this, aren't you?"

"You have no idea what I'm feeling."

Buffy's attack wasn't about to stop there. "Come in here, take everything that I have. I mean, you did it before. Did you tell them that?" Did you tell them how you use to kill people for fun?" She glanced over at all the potentials in the room. "Hey, do you guys think that's nifty?"

Exasperated Giles spoke up. "Buffy that's enough!"

Faith continued to try to keep her head, but there was anger swelling, just wanting to break out. "I didn't come here to take anything away from you, but I'm not going to be your little lapdog either. I came here to beat the other guy, to do right however it works, I don't know if I can lead, but the question is, can you follow?"

There was silence in the room for a moment; everyone taking in the words of the second Slayer. Wood spoke lowly, breaking that silence. "So we vote."

Buffy couldn't believe what she was seeing. This wasn't anywhere near the disagreement she thought she was going to face. It was out of hand and she had no way of reeling everyone back in. It was as though they had made up their minds about her long ago. "I know I'm right about this. I can't stay here and watch her lead you into some disaster. And I sure as hell can't stay here if it means turning my back on someone who needs my help."

"Well then that works out for everybody involved," Rona scoffed. "cause what is needed to fight this war is a vampire slayer, not just a vampire savior."

Dawn glared at her, venom shooting out alongside her words. "Shut your mouth!" She stood up and took a few steps towards her sister, as she tried to keep the tears in her eyes under control. "Buffy, I love you. But you were right; we have to be together on this. You can't be a part of it. So I need you to leave. I'm sorry. This is my house too."

Buffy felt her heart drop into her stomach; her own sister, throwing her out. Her memories might have been fake ones, but the facts that she had been filled with were true. Dawn had been young, but she knew what Faith was. All of her friends did. Looking around the room, she saw not one of them stand up and take her side. Xander was in the hospital, so there was no telling what he would do, but even Willow couldn't find the courage to look her in the eye. It seemed the only person she knew for a fact wouldn't have let her down, was missing.

Grabbing her coat, she wasted no more time; tears streaming down her face, Buffy made her way out onto the streets.

Alone again. Spike couldn't say that he was disappointed, but claiming that he was relieved wasn't exactly the truth either. There were times that he even found it to be worse. He didn't wish his captor back by any means, but he was left wondering when the torture would resume, and what it would be this time. With Wood there at least he knew, and he wasn't left coming up with things that were ten times worse than the actual truth. He wasn't scared of a little pain. That wasn't the issue here. It was the not knowing. Once again, he was left to his own thoughts and not one of them could be categorized as pleasant anymore.

Still he had to admit, he didn't hurt as badly lately. He wouldn't go so far as to say that he was comfortable, but the constant throbbing had died down. Wood didn't seem to have the time to stick around and hurt him any much more, and seemed to have remembered to feed him when he left more often lately. It wasn't the portions that he normally would have given himself, but beggars can't be choosers. He had to roll his eyes at that thought. He wasn't a beggar. Not once had he begged for blood; though he still held a grudge with himself every time he decided to allow that maniac to feed him. Wood had set the rules and it wasn't like Spike to follow, but he certainly couldn't break any of them if he was too weak. It was a topic he struggled with, but it was one that he had already made his decision on. He continued to take the blood. He continued to judge himself for it. It seemed it continued to heal him. Why else would the pain have lessened?

He could still feel the fire in his back from the punishment Wood had inflicted there. It was no surprise to Spike though; he had been laying on it the whole time. Blood did its job well enough, but it could only work with what it was given. His back hadn't had any time to breathe. He was suffocating it; no air had been able to hit the wounds, so the healing process was certainly slower. Every time he shifted; as little as that could be, it irritated the area. Each tiny movement he made felt like something was digging into his back with razor sharp blades. For once being bound down had come in handy; he could only shift so much.

There was one piece of evidence Spike had come across that let him know the feeling of healing running through his body was not just in his head. He had come across it accidentally. He knew that his wrist was damaged goods, so he made no point of moving it. What was he going to do with it anyway? Still, sometimes it was nice to move what little he could, just for the sake of shifting a piece of his body that wouldn't shoot daggers into his back afterwards. It was subconscious, but in the silence of Wood's absence, Spike had found himself needing to fill the room with noise; if only to block out his own detrimental thoughts. His hand suddenly arched, his fingertips were tapping against the table he was trapped to.

Drumming. Drumming. Drumming.

The noise didn't register.

. Drumming.

Spike had zoned out once again.

Drumming. Drumming. Drumm-

Wait a bleedin' minute!

His eyes widened, not bothering to lift his hand, because he knew the outcome would be disappointing, but still he stared in wonder. Slowly, he moved his wrist from one side to the other. It felt a little tight, but other than that…

He was healing.

It was perfect. Wood had knocked him down; he wasn't going to pretend that it hadn't happen. He had gotten the best of him for the time being, but it didn't matter who was winning or losing each battle, what mattered was who came out on top in the end. A sly smile spread over Spike's face. This was a piece of information that he didn't have to go off gloating about; not yet anyway. There would be time for that. Now, he knew that he wasn't the most patient bloke. He got bored waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike, and truthfully, he wasn't quite sure how he was going to be able to make his move just yet. Hopefully, things could be figured out before the Principal made his grand entrance again. In the past, when trying to figure out how to break these bonds, even at his full strength it had not been possible. The alternative seemed to be either giving up all together or getting Wood to let him up; both didn't seem entirely likely. What was that story? It had to do with a mother lifting a bus off her children. Well, right now the bus was on him and he needed to figure out how to lift it off his damn self. This was too perfect of an opportunity to pass up. He was getting better. He could get better! Wood could pay for everything that he had put him through.

A warmth overtook him; a tingling feeling that ran throughout his body. Slowly, he began moving his wrist again. He could use these hands to take down his torturer. He could give him a taste of his own medicine. The one little obstacle of figuring out how to get up would be dealt with; the point was he was not broken, he was strong. No one could keep him down. Not Wood. Not the First. No one!

If he hadn't been so taken aback by the newfound condition of his once sore wrist, Spike would have noticed the feeling of being watched. He would have picked up on a pair of eyes holding a look that was almost strong enough to burn him from where they were. Spike had not noticed, but Wood had noticed him. Wood took note of that smile that had taken over Spike's features. He hated that smile.

Standing on the other side of the door to the Initiative lab, he glared through the window that was placed on the top half of the door. Self-control was not something that he had a lot of when it came to the vampire, but he had managed to keep himself from marching into the lab and ripping that smile right off of the creature's face. He should not be healing. Worse than that, he should not be happy. Ever!

Storming down the hallway, Wood made his way from the lab, leaving the vampire blissfully unaware for a few more minutes.

Spike continued to work out the kinks in his wrist. He couldn't get over how well it was fairing and the grin on his face only increased. Two hands were better than one hand; though when it came to killing, he really didn't need any. It would just make this all the more fun when he finally was free. It was then that he heard the swing of the door. Quickly, he stopped what he was doing, and laid still, trying to look pathetic, immediately knocking the smile off his face that he had already grown so accustomed to having back.

Wood made his way over to the tray of goodies that he had pulled out long before. Spike tried not to grimace in the memory of the hot plate and the holy water whip that had currently taken up residency there. He could hear something drop with a loud thud against the tray; the other items jumped up a bit from the drop, before crashing back down again. He started up in curiosity at Wood, but the Principal's face could not be read.

"I trust that you're feeling better." Wood's voice was calm, his eyes fixed on his captive. "I take it you should be grateful, if you were capable of it. I've been going real easy on you for the last week. Taken right good care of you"

Spike continued to gaze at him, but not a word passed his lips. He figured that Wood was being condescending. He hadn't done anything to help him feel better besides give him about a quarter of the blood he needed day to day.

"Or is there still a lot of pain?" Wood questioned him curiously.

Spike wasn't a fool. He knew to nod his head softly. He knew to play his past injuries up for as long as he could. After all, if he wanted to rip the throat out of this monster, he needed to get the drop on him in order to do so.

"Is that so?" Wood pressed him a bit further.

Spike simply nodded his head once more. Wood had a look of contemplation on in his face that chilled him to the core. He knew that look by now. He had been trapped in this place long enough to be able to recognize that look from a mile away. Good things did not result from that look.

"You know," Wood began thoughtfully. "I run into all kinds of trouble as a high school principal. After being Principal on a hellmouth, you can imagine that there isn't anything a student could do that I haven't seen. With that being said," He glared down at Spike darkly. "There are some things they do that I really just hate. Pet peeves that ruin my mood." His glare intensified to the point that Spike thought his eyes might flash red. If he were a true demon, and not just behaving as such, they would have. "If there's one thing that I really hate, it's when students come into my office and then start lying to me. I'm not stupid. I know when they're lying. It's like a sixth sense that I have. And liars…liars need to be dealt with."

With Wood's back to him now, as his attention turned to the set-up tray, Spike began to wriggle against the bonds madly. He was strong again! He could fight again! He just needed to get out. That was all it would take to be safe. He just needed to be released and he could take care of this mess! Freedom was only inches away. If. He. Could. Only. Break. Free!

WHACK!

The heavy blow on his leg made its point and Spike's struggles immediately ceased. He looked up in wonder as he saw the angry Principal standing over him with a long dangerous crowbar in his hand. It seemed that detention was not going to be enough to deal with his infraction this time around.

"Of course, sometimes I don't need my sixth sense to know when someone is lying to me. Sometimes I'm lucky enough that I see it with my own two eyes."

WHACK!

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!

The heavy, iron crowbar smashed down, again and again. His half-healed ankle was soon a whole lot sorer, and soon the other one joined the club of broken bones. He clearly wasn't gonna be standing on those feet any time soon after all.

Spike sucked in a breath of air as his body jerked against the table, tearing into his already abused back. This couldn't be happening. He couldn't allow for this to happen. He was not going to be beaten down again; not now, after the paralyzing pain was subsiding. It was done. It was over with. He wasn't going to be the victim anymore. He refused!

No matter how much he twisted and jerked to try to avoid the blows, it had no effect. the crowbar struck his legs soon here, then there, and suddenly he could feel his left kneecap shattering to pieces.

Spike bit the insides of his mouth to keep from hollering out. He was grateful he couldn't see his legs very well, because if they looked the way they felt in that moment, he was sure it'd be a sight that was too much for his own eyes. Of course, he had seen a lot of horrifying things in his time, and caused a fair bit of them himself, a pair of busted up legs hardly compared. However, when it was your own injuries that were sucking the power out of you, suddenly your stomach and mind became a lot more sensitive. Funny that. The pain was endless, his legs felt shattered, and the blows continued to come down on him harshly. How could this be? Was this what it was going to be like from now on? A tiny piece of hope would come back into his unlife and then be ripped away within a matter of moments. He would be teased when the pain subsided, only to have more brought down on him worse than what he had already received. How long was he expected to be able to carry on "living" this way?

WHACK! WHACK!

His thoughts faded out, and all he could feel was excruciation in his legs. At this point he didn't realize it at first when Wood started talking again. "... I'm sure you thought this was the light at the end of this very dark tunnel. You could rip through your prison and get to me. That you could get out of here! Isn't that right?"

The sound of Spike's nervous breathing was all that could be heard, but that was nowhere near good enough a response for the maniac.

"Isn't it?" He screamed.

WHACK!

Nothing.

"I said I didn't want you talking in general. You answer a question when you're being asked it!" Wood brought the crowbar down again and again on Spike's discolored legs. "You are not getting out of here! Even a monster at its full strength couldn't rip its way off this table, what makes you think that you could with the lack of blood you've been getting, huh?"

Wood threw the crowbar to the side and loomed over Spike's face, making sure to meet his eyes, wanting it to be clear that he was hearing him now. "And even if by some miracle you were able to break free and kill me. What do you think Buffy would do when she found out about the human blood that was on your hands? She already thinks you're weak. You'd just be proving her right. That is before she dusts you once and for all."

Wood put the crowbar back on the tray behind him, and took hold of the second item that he had brought in earlier. The crowbar was good for crude legwork, but for the damage he had been looking forward to the most for this session, the one that would truly wash the smile off Spike's face permanently, he needed a somewhat more precise tool. The hammer collided with Spike's flattened hand, hitting it square on the wrist joint, causing him to almost scream out in agony. But somehow he summoned his last shreds of strength, and managed to bite down hard on his lip. Wood continued to lift the hammer in the air and slam it down on the injured hand over and over again. He hit his wrist, the back of his hand, and took care to crack each individual finger, first on the one hand, and then on the other, as his victim squirmed against the table. Wood saw tears forming in the creature's eyes from the intense pain. Not one of them shed. Not one of the vampire's tears had shed.

As Wood turned to make his way out of the room, he swore he heard a soft cry breach the vampire's lips, just as a smile formed from his own.

It hadn't completely sunk in; the scene that had played out back at her home before. Only it wasn't her home. Not anymore. They had made sure to take that away from her too. Buffy had been stripped of who she was; everything that she was about, and everyone from her life. All she had now was this darkened street, the hard pavement in which she walked all over. What was she to do now? Who was she going to turn to for advice? The sidewalk and all its wisdom? Sure, she could talk to it, but she highly doubted that it would bother speaking back. It was just as well, it probably didn't have anything interesting to say anyway.

With every step that she took, what had gone on became more real; the source of her upset became clearer. She was the Slayer, yes. Being this Slayer meant that she destined for certain things that the others never would be. She was the leader, she called the shots, and she made the hard decisions. They saw the glory in all of that while she saw the pain. They had no idea what it meant to be in her position. They couldn't begin to imagine what it felt like having the world riding on your shoulders day after day after day. She had been here before. She had been alone and friendless at certain periods in her life. She had always been surrounded by people who she couldn't fully give herself over to, because of who she was. With her friends she had been able to share this with them; the good, the bad, and the ugly. They envied her power at times. She could feel that much and from where they stood it probably did look like a neat little gift. She had learned to accept who she was and what she had been made to be. Now, they thought the power was too much for her. She didn't care. It wasn't the power that she was upset about losing. It was them. It was their trust. The fact that after all these years, after everything that they had been through, they didn't feel like they could trust her judgment. That was something she didn't know how to handle. It was too painful for her to begin to wrap her head around.

She had walked around the neighborhood a few times, deep into her troubles, when fatigue started to take over. She knew that it was time to find a spot to lie down; preferably somewhere that had a ceiling, or a bed. She really could have used a bed right then. Most of the people in town had taken off. The hellmouth was something that they normally could turn a blind eye to; hell on earth could start to open up and people would claim it was an earthquake. She knew it was bad when even the natives couldn't deny things any longer. With most of the people gone, it couldn't be too difficult to find a place to crash.

Continuing down the street, a darkened house stood quiet, it seemed like as good a place as any. Lucky for her, she didn't require an invite. She shook the thought away from her. Thoughts like that reminded her of Spike and she couldn't deal with the idea of him right now, what he was going through, or what he might have already gone through. It was like playing Ping-Pong with herself; she just went back and forth on the matter of what to do. Truthfully, she wondered if there was anything she could do. If she was right about the vineyard, and she was more than certain that she was, Caleb and his army of bringers had taken out most her troop. They had been capable of killing and hospitalizing a large percentage of her fighters. How could she expect to take them on her own? More importantly, how could she expect someone like Caleb to have left her vampire alive? She sighed at that morbid thought and opened the door to what she believed to be an abandoned home.

She looked around the place, it was nice. She easily could be comfortable living there. It looked like she was going to have to be. At least, she could pretend that it was her home for the night; that she belonged somewhere, even if she happened to be all alone in it.

Click

Perhaps she wasn't so alone after all.

Buffy rolled her eyes before turning around. She came face to face with a frightened man, holding a gun, acting as though he were prepared to fire. Buffy doubted it. The way he was behaving, she highly doubted he had ever fired a gun once in his life.

"Get out of my house!" The man demanded, showing a bit more confidence now.

This time she rolled her eyes right to his face, as she reached out and easily seized the gun from him. After clicking on the safety and tossing it over to the couch, she saw that the fear had returned to him. She sighed. "I thought the place would be empty. Everyone's left town. You know, you really should leave."

"You can't just kick me out of my own house!" The man practically hollered; appalled by the suggestion.

Buffy looked at him, carrying an apathetic expression and tone. "Why not? It's what all the cool kids are doing nowadays." She nonchalantly made her way over to his kitchen and spotted his refrigerator. When she opened the door to it, the light did come on. She spoke as she looked up in the direction of the man. "Hey, do you have any Tab?" When her eyes met where he should have been, she saw that he was gone.

She let out a small sigh. It seemed that even to complete strangers she was poor company. Of course, had Faith been the one to barge in here, she was sure that not only would he have allowed her to stay, but somehow he'd pay her rent to stay in his own home.

She made her way around the house until she finally found the stairs. The bed was probably upstairs; that was where she usually found them anyway. She climbed the stairs, her pace was nice and slow. She wasn't in a hurry. It wasn't like she had anything important that she needed to get to anymore. So, she made her way into the master bedroom and the minute she saw the bed, she laid right down on it. She had hoped that she'd fall asleep right away. "Things always look better in the morning", as they say. She really needed things to be better by then.

She would be lucky if she got to sleep at all tonight. She wasn't completely alone it turned out. She had plenty of company. They were called: Bad Memories. They weren't solely in her head either. She looked around the room and she knew she was living it.

There was an aching feeling in her stomach that she couldn't get to go away. It was a sharp pain, a reminder of something that she kept pushing out of her mind; a truth that she was not yet ready to face; though if he had been with her then and there, he would have made her face it. He would have seen right through her. Spike managed to see things about herself that she had not only not realized to be true, but they were years ahead of her coming to that conclusion. He understood her. The sad part about all of this; the part that she didn't like to think about, was that if he had been there tonight, he would have stood by her. This was a man that had started off trying to kill her. They had danced quite a dance together and they both had come out different for it. If someone had told her when she was 17 years old, that one day the person she was going to be able to relay on the most was Spike; she would have had that person checked into the loony bin. It was true though. She hadn't known that it was true until this very night, while lying on that very bed, but she knew Spike would never let her down. Friends she had for years, known even longer than she knew him; shared with them every detail of her life, and yet Spike was the one who wouldn't betray her. Her own friends would. They had. She hadn't known it till that moment, but Spike had turned into her best friend.

She was worried sick over him too. As much as she wanted to get it out of her head, she couldn't. She tried convincing herself that she would find a way to rescue him, but she didn't completely believe it. She started to wonder how many things she could possibly worry over at once. She had a list a mile long. Was there a limit? Was there a point where a human could finally say that they had reached their quota of anxious feelings and boiling pain in their stomach? Could she simply explode from the inside out due to being filled to the brim with negative feelings? If so, she could count on a Buffy explosion, because she had no idea how to get what she was feeling under control.

Buffy buried her face in the pillow, one of her concerns coming back to life again. What if her friends were right? They were wrong. They were wrong about not going to the vineyard. They were wrong in their "need some tangible evidence" position they had taken. She knew she was right. She knew there was power there. She knew that bad guys didn't just tighten security around mere air. They had to be protecting something. But no, they couldn't trust her. She had lived this; in fact, it was her life, but…well really that was her anger getting in the way. She was angry. She had every right to be angry about their lack of trust, but it wasn't the complete problem.

What if she couldn't cut it? After they had worked with her all this time and then put someone else in charge after seeing her work up, close and personal; perhaps that meant something. Then there was the bleached blonde vampire, he had been taken right from under her nose. She kept allowing for him to be snatched up. She kept allowing him to be this thing's bitch; two kidnappings and a trigger, Buffy wasn't impressed with her own self, how could she expect anyone else to be? If she couldn't do this job properly, then how could she save him? If she wasn't fit to do her job as the others clearly had already indicated, what could she really do for anyone? What could she do for him? Why should she even bother trying at this point?

Just like being hit with a ton of bricks, the answer to that question came down hard on her.

He needs me.

HE believes in me…

And he needs me.

Buffy said these words to herself over and over again. She took in the peace that they gave her, and at times she swore that she could feel him next to her, telling her this exact same thing. He would have fought for her. He always had fought with her. She believed in him. He believed in her. She closed her eyes, picturing him right there with her, imagining that he was pulling her into his strong arms, holding her comfortingly; her support.

But when she peeked, he wasn't there. Tears flowed down her face at this reality. He needed her and she couldn't go find him. She had nothing to back her up. She hadn't enough power to free him; to get him past Caleb, to save him. She wasn't enough. He was dust already. She could see it in her mind. She could see the First dancing around his remains. She had probably lost him forever. The First had already tried kidnapping him, bringing him over to their side, but it hadn't worked. He was her strongest warrior, it made logical sense that the First would eliminate him when It got the chance, and he had been gone long enough for his execution to be carried out.

The thought made a lump rise in her throat again, the tears spilling over once more. She had failed him. All that was waiting for her now was a pile of ashes in the old vineyard. That was all that she had left of him. In that moment, a new realization struck; one which she had been too blind to see for too long. She had lost the man that she loved.

She had lost Spike.

In a state of misery, that's how he had been left alone, yet again. Spike knew better than to struggle against the bonds that held him. What was the point? Where had it gotten him before? He was still trapped, wasn't he? He was nowhere closer to breaking out of here than he had been when he first woke up at his full strength. Hurt or injured, it didn't matter, he was a prisoner now, and he was starting to see that he had no chance at freedom.

His body ached and he had been defenseless against each blow that came his way. He had no means of defending himself, no way of getting out of this situation. He could hardly move a muscle with how tight these straps were. Before, he had been healing, he had finally been getting towards a more capable state, and that had been ripped away from him. He wanted to rip right into Wood back. He wanted things to get nasty with blood. He wanted to hear this psycho beg for mercy! He couldn't do this, not with his hands, there was too much pain, and he was held down anyway. He did have one thing left. It was the one thing that he knew had the power to make anyone crazy, and often had. It was his mouth. Why else wasn't he loaded with friends? Most couldn't stand to be around that mouth of his, and Wood was soon going to find out why. He had taken everything else away from him, but Spike would get his digs in yet. No one knocked him down and kept him on the ground. He always found a way to get back up again. It may not mean he'd be walking through those doors again and out into the night air, but that didn't mean he couldn't cripple his enemy. Bringing down beasties was his specialty.

The sound of stomping and then the swing of the door; Spike wasn't alone anymore. It was clear that Wood was back, and with him he brought the smell of blood, all for the purpose of healing and damaging him some more.

In a matter of seconds Wood was in his face, peering down, and it didn't take him long before the words started to flow. "Normally, by now, I wouldn't have gone so long without giving you something to drink, but normally you wouldn't have lied to me."

"Barely feed me anyway. Not like I noticed a difference." Spike spat back.

"If I stopped feeding you all together, I'm pretty sure you'd start to notice it." Wood responded factually.

Spike grunted, speaking with confidence that he wasn't sure he felt any longer. "Do you really think that you can keep this up forever?"

Wood shook his head. "No, not forever. I don't have forever. Not like you do. Eventually, I imagine you'll be left strapped to this table, nothing to eat, unable to move. You'll be a skeleton on a table, only alive."

"You're not goin' to get away with doin' this, you know. It's only a matter of time…"

Wood quickly cut Spike off. "It's only a matter time before what? Before Buffy comes to save you? I think it's been made clear to you by now that that is not going to happen. She has other things…more important things! That are keeping her occupied."

Spike swallowed at the mention of Buffy; the mention of her absence in all of this. It seemed the two of them now had something in common. "What can I say? The mission is what matters." Bitterness filled Spike's tone.

Wood straightened up immediately when he heard those five words pour out of the vampire's mouth. His hands formed fists, and he looked as though he were ready to rip the vampire apart from limb to limb.

"You should know better than anyone 'bout that." Spike continued. "What with all these chits you hang 'round. Were raised by the soddin' statement. If it wasn't your mum sayin' it, than 'm sure it was her bleedin' watcher. And mum, most of the time she was too busy fulfillin' the next mission to take care of her own child."

"Stop it!" Wood yelled loudly, becoming red in the face.

Spike simply ignored him. He wasn't about to lie down and be a good boy, taking his master's orders. "Must have been a real nuisance to have you around. Just another somethin' that she didn't have the time for. Had to save the world and all. Just squeezed you into her schedule of more important things. Her mission." He gave Wood a knowing look, nodding his head at him, like he was onto this great secret.

"Shut up!" Wood screamed again as a look of murder was written across his face, and it was clear that he was only step away from driving something sharp and wooden through the vampire's chest, if only to get him to shut up. He had done this dance with him already. It seemed to be Spike's favorite subject to push, and it was because the vampire knew it was the reason he was in this predicament. Spike wasn't stupid and Wood knew that. There was a reason that he was still alive after all these years. He played games and he played them well. Wood wasn't about to be thrown off balance by this nothing. It only furthered the point of why he needed to be here. Vampires should die, especially him.

Carrying on, there was a dark edge to Spike's voice now, driven by a dirty truth which no one seemed to want to hear. "Every slayer has a death wish. I simply was just bidin' my time until they were ready." A smirk formed. "Was doin' her a favor really, your mum that is. She was curious 'bout it. She wanted it. She even longed to kiss it. And all I did…all I did was make her deepest desire come true."

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" Wood screamed these words over and over again; covering his ears as tears streamed down his face, desperate to shield himself from the cruel words coming from what he believed was one of history's evilest vampires.

How dare this disgusting murdering demon speak about his mother that way? A force of good now they said! Ha! They wouldn't have thought so had they heard the words that had flown out of his mouth. Spike didn't know his mother. He didn't know her life. He only knew her in death. When he snapped her neck! He didn't have the memories that they shared. He couldn't know. How could he know anything about what it was to love? Because he had loved his own mother? He had made her as filthy as he had become. That wasn't love. It was evil. That was all he had ever been and it was all he could ever be!

Wood stood breathing heavily himself, and it disturbed him how in sync his breath was with his enemy. A fire continued to grow in his stomach. The vampire must be real proud of himself. Wood was going to make sure that Spike could never abuse people with the English language again; or any language for that matter.

He watched the vampire's breaths come in and out and in and out.

Breathe while you can Spike. Keep breathing while you can.

Madly, Wood's eyes darted around the room, in search of something to do the job. It didn't take long to find, not in these initiative labs. He quickly made his way over to the far end of the room, ripping a kit of some kind the counter that must have been left over from years ago. He wasn't finished yet, oh no, there was something else on his list that needed to be checked off.

Tossing the kit down on the tray that Spike had become accustomed to mean pain, Wood started throwing open cabinets, looking for a much needed supply to the project that he had in mind. The noise suddenly stopped, and Spike could only figure that he had found whatever it was that he had been hunting. The blonde vampire wanted to see what it was that the bloke was up to, and yet he dreaded what it was that he was going to find. He knew that he had talked himself into a corner, when coming up into this plan; he probably should have tried to remember that was generally the side effect of his mouth. Sure, he always hit a nerve, but usually he was the one who actually got hit after.

Suddenly, he felt a prick go into his arm. Looking up, he saw Wood leaning over him, hard at work, doing something that he couldn't quite make out. The pain increased a bit, feeling as though a bee was stinging him continuously in the same spot.

Spike sighed in annoyance and then spoke, attempting to keep the weakness he was feeling out of his voice, "Bloody annoyin' that is right there. Mind stoppin'?" He rolled his eyes.

Spike got his answer when Wood pressed what was a cannula into his arm even harder. He finally released his hold on it and within a moment a warm sensation filled his arm; the smell of blood returning to his nostrils once again. "What's the matter? Can't stand watchin' me feed?"

Wood looked at him with a calm exterior, as if having a conversation with the average bloke on the street. "No. I just don't want you passing out through this."

The words sent a shiver down Spike's spine. Passing out through what? The question was answered within the matter of moments. A scalpel glistened in Wood's hand, ready to take action, and it wasn't hard for the vampire to figure out what was going to come next. It couldn't be simple cuts this time; he wouldn't need a transfusion if that were going to be what was taking place. Besides, when Wood had done that before, he hadn't passed out, even when the hotplate burning began. No, they were headed into new territory; this was to be something different. It could only mean one thing, and Spike couldn't figure out what he was going to accomplish from doing it; besides extreme torture. Then again, that was all Wood seemed to be after; vengeful torture. Anya would be proud.

He was being quiet for now, but Wood knew that his simple command of telling the creature to shut up was not going to take for very long. It hadn't been long ago that despite his orders for Spike to be quiet, he had really hoped that the vampire would keep right on talking, so that he could keep right on hurting. That time had passed. Silence was now golden. He didn't wish to hear his voice anymore. He couldn't stand the sound of it. It wasn't just the sound, but the English words that formed from them. It was the order that he put them in that was meant to stab him until he bled dry. If he allowed for that to continue on, it could work. If he wasn't careful, his anger in all of this could get the better of him, and he could hardly have his fun with a pile of dust. He knew better than to go there, but in a snapping moment logic could go out the window, and he felt like he could quite possibly lose him. He needed to get a hold of himself, and he had figured out just the right way to take control of the situation. This; however, would be the ultimate torture for that vampire, not only would he be unable to speak, which had to be painful enough, but with everything that he was going to put Spike through, not a scream would be able to pass his lips. Not after this was complete. It was one thing for Spike to hold it back, he was in control then. It was his choice. To have that taken away, it wasn't his choice; it was out of his hands. Next to that, it seemed the vampire liked his breath an awful lot. It was peculiar to Wood; he was the only vampire that he had ever come across that really utilized air. He did it with pain, working through it, but no more. Spike had mastered the art of pushing buttons and this was his reward.

The cool edge of the scalpel pressed into his middle, within a moment, Spike felt the blade make a deep slit. He was completely helpless, unable to do even the simplest tasks to make his own self feel better; such a balling up his fists. He had his breath. He still had his breath, so closing his eyes tightly, he used that. The pain was interminable, but he worked his way through it the only what that he could, refusing to let a noise slip passed his lips. He shoved his teeth into his bottom lip for good measure; at this rate he wasn't going to have a bottom lip left when all this was done. Then it hit him for a second time. It would never be done. He would never be free. Wood would have him forever, until one day…dust.

The cut seemed to be just a warm up. The pain reached new heights when he felt Wood shoving his skin to the side, opening him up completely. Cool air hit against every part of himself that he was meant to wear on the inside; now suddenly it had been put on display. Blood started to pool onto the table, so much so that he could hear it spilling onto the floor. This hadn't been the first time he had been in this monster's clutches that his blood loss had gotten out of control. He should have been grateful for it; it would have meant that pretty soon he'd be free from the pain, but Wood had taken care of that. He desperately wanted to rip that transfusion device from his arm, fling it across the room, but anytime he tried to move his arm to do so, or even go so far as to lift his body up, pain riveted right through him. It seemed all this blood wasn't doing a thing for healing him, on account of the fact that he was losing it rapidly. Still, he had to remember not to kid himself; it wasn't as if he were to stay healed from the blood that was given to him anyway. That fact had already been proven to be true.

The sound of his body opening up, it had a squishy noise to it; a sound that he wanted nothing more than to rip out of his ears, but he'd never be able to. The feel of the blood dripping down his body, and the pain...he couldn't put it into words. He had been through a lot of torture in his day, but this was beyond anything that he could wrap his mind around, and he had once been tortured by a Hellgod. Oh how he longed for his body to numb; to just go into shock already, but it wouldn't. He could feel each and every scrape against his innards. It gave him an awful taste in his mouth. It tasted like…bile. He couldn't throw up, but he wanted to.

Wood was elbow down deep in blood himself. He stared down at the ribcage now, standing as protection against harm to the victim's lungs. This just wasn't going to do. He was going to need to get those out of the way. How did he want to do this? There were two options that he could think of, and one was a bit more professional than the other. The medical way required that he make an incision down the sternum and push the ribs aside; wiring him up later once the procedure was complete. Then there was his way, which gave "cracking open the ribcage" an entirely new meaning. He grinned to himself. Was it ever really a question? He wanted to do it his way.

Whatever Wood had been doing seemed to stop. That didn't mean that the pain ceased, but there wasn't any new piercing sensation; just the same fire that was so beyond words that it was making Spike's head feel fuzzy. It no longer felt like his pain. It was as if he were observing this now, watching it from afar, and the pain belonged to someone else, but he could still feel it. He felt funny and light; the nausea was still present, but then again it wasn't really his, or so he was trying to convince himself. He knew the truth. He knew his mind was playing tricks on him and he desperately wanted to be so far gone that he wasn't aware of those facts anymore. He knew his body was completely open, his blood dirtying up the floor. These thoughts made him want to scream. And suddenly…he did scream!

CRACK!

A piercing scream insulted the ears of the torturer, as blood now squirted, hitting Wood in the face and splattering against the walls, as Spike screamed bloody murder. There was nothing left in him that could hold back anymore. He was able to taste the blood in his throat.

Wiping his eyes clean, Wood pressed on.

SNAP! CRACK!

Wood split the bones in half, as he could hear Spike trying to use his method of breath to gain control of himself, but it was no use.

CRACK!

Wood smiled deeply as Spike's screams rang out again. It was music to his ears and the decision to do this suddenly became more pleasing than he could have ever imagined. All these years that he had been in search of the right fiend, well now he knew, through that suffering quest, the wait wound up being worth it. If he had to do it all over again, having to go through all that work and wonder to get here, he'd do it in a second.

Heavy tears fell down the vampire's face; it was his turn to cry. He whipped his head back and forth as much as he could; driven mad from pain. He wanted to grab something. Anything! He didn't know…he didn't really know what he wanted. He couldn't think clearly. He couldn't wrap his mind around the word relief. He only knew of suffering. He only…he only knew that he wanted it to stop! Although, he didn't realize he was screaming these things out loud.

"Make it stop! Make it stop! Just make it stop! Bloody hell!" His voice shuttered as he cried out, speaking through hysterical sobs.

The pain was not ceasing and Spike needed to get control of himself. He was desperate to find a way to cope through the indescribable torture that he was being subjected to. He took deep breaths in and out. He just breathed out and in. Out and in. Once more again. Out and In. He just needed to calm himself. If he was of a more relaxed mind, perhaps it wouldn't hurt so bad? He continued to practice this, and his screams gradually subsided. It was progress, but the pain was still intolerable, and he wondered if the only reason why his voice was quieting was because it was drying out, not allowing him to scream as badly as he felt the need to. Even so, he continued this practice of breath. At the very least it was calming.

The terror in his voice filled Wood with an indescribable joy. Blood covering his face, dripping all around his mouth, a smile formed. The sight that he saw before him was a picture of beauty. A truly suffering vampire now. Basking in the image, he located the buried treasure.

Spike continued to breath. Out and in, out and in. His wailing had subsided too now. All that could be heard was his breath. Out and in. Out and in. He kept himself sane this way. He was able to keep it together now. As long as he just breathed through things would be okay. His breath comforted him, it coddled him through this, willing to realize that even this pain would subside.

Out and in, out and in.

With one quick stroke over his sharpened scalpel, Wood rid the vampire's body of the intended target, blood messily squirting up all over as this occurred.

Spike sucked in for another fresh breath of air, but couldn't retrieve anything. He was being suffocated! He would die! Except…he couldn't. He tried taking in another breath, but was only greeted by a feeling similar to that of being stabbed. He gagged, choked on his saliva. He just needed to breathe…he just needed to breathe.

Bloody hell! It hurts so bad! I just need to breathe!

Why can't I BREATHE!

It was then; like a monster emerging from the shadows, Wood came into his view. If it weren't for the blood transfusion, Spike would have passed out at the sight. In his hands, Wood held his lungs.

Eyes fluttering open, confused and disoriented, Buffy wondered where she was for the first few moments while she awoke. Once the previous night dawned on her, she sat up in bed, and folded her arms over her chest. Surprisingly, her sleep had been good if you looked past the fact that she had cried herself into it. Even so, once dream world overtook, she had slept soundly.

She then stood up and made her way over to one of the windows in the room. She gazed out of it and saw the sun was greeting her with a good afternoon. It was a brand new day. One had come after all, despite the end of the world that last night had managed to feel like. It had been a nice hard kick to the gut, but here she was, standing before the sun again; nothing but a window keeping them apart.

Something within her stirred, screaming at her to get to work. What work? She didn't have any work? She had been stripped of her duties; her friends and family. Her lover had been taken away from her; though he wasn't really her lover, and now he never could be.

Well yeah, not if you keep standing here, he won't be.

The odds of him still being of this earth were extremely unlikely. The image of dust underneath chains hung in her mind. Her hands became fists. That was her vampire! They had hurt him. They had quite possibly killed him! If she couldn't bring back him body and soul, she'd at least bring back his ashes. It was a new day. She was on her own now; a different path. She marched towards the door and out of the house.

Alive or dead, Spike was coming home.

As a Bringer tumbled down the stairs, Caleb and the First; who was dressed in a purple shirt and black pants (not to mention Buffy's face), looked up from their conversation. They should have known that the peppy slayer would return to the vineyard. Her history showed resilience after all.

Caleb glided over to the stairs and noticed Buffy's hands on her hips, her hair up in a ponytail; she appeared to be as cocky as ever. Given her latest defeat, where she was had gotten this newfound arrogance was beyond him.

"Hey, heard you've got something of mine." Buffy addressed him with the upmost confidence as she proceeded to bound down the stairs,

Caleb remained where he stood calmly; it wasn't as though he had anything to fear from her. "Well, if it isn't the prodigal slayer."

Buffy didn't stay still, she moved around him, while keeping her own blood pressure at ease. "So where's it at. I'm going to find it sooner or later."

"No, you're not." Caleb's impatience slightly showing, but he kept a tight control over any illogical Buffy concerns he might be having. "I lay one hand on you and you're just one dead little girl."

Buffy now stood in front of him as she nonchalantly shrugged her shoulders, egging him on. "Lay a hand on me…if you can."

Caleb took a few casual steps over. Once face to face, he didn't hesitate to throw a punch. Buffy immediately dodged the blow, tilting her upper body backwards and out of the way. She flipped herself over him, as he wound up losing balance, catching himself against a wine barrel.

Buffy rolled and tumbled across the floor, jumping up and onto the wine barrels as she ran deeper in the wine cellar; Caleb hot on her trail. She ran effortlessly from one barrel to the next, kicking one into Caleb, as she made her way down onto the ground. The barrel crashed into her pursuer, knocking him over.

Buffy's voice could be heard from the side of the room. "Caleb, this is getting embarrassing."

Caleb gazed up and noticed the purple shirt, it clicking that this was the First addressing him. He spoke as he picked himself up off the ground. "Do you have to look like that?"

The First widened Buffy's eyes. "Will you concentrate?"

"It's just a little confusing." Caleb explained exasperated.

"Fine. Go. Kill." The First vanished off the barrel, leaving Caleb to do the work he had been appointed to.

As he rushed after Buffy once more, it didn't take long for him to get back onto her trail, as he threw another series of punches her way. Instead of fighting back, she simply jumped up into the air, flipping herself over him once more. She ran up against a barrel, using it to throw her towards the arc in the cellar, as she kicked off from that, hitting the ground in front of Caleb. Eagerly, another punch from him came her way, causing her duck this, and another punch that followed from this.

She took a few steps away from him, finding herself backed into a corner, as he intimidatingly stalked forward in her direction. The look on his face made it clear that he was celebrating a victory in his head. It was getting sad in Buffy's opinion, as she once again flipped herself over her opponent and watched him fall into the wine barrels. He was clearly an idiot, and she didn't know who was more pathetic; him for not catching onto her tricks at this point or her for having lost a battle previously to the likes of his stupidity.

Not wasting time, she ran off through the cellar, but stopped when she heard Caleb's angry words.

"You whore!"

Buffy spun around on that one; however, a smile was written across her face. "You know, you really should watch your language. If someone didn't know you, they might think you were a woman hating jerk."

Furiously, Caleb knocked a wine barrel over; charging towards Buffy, completely out for blood.

With the barrel moved out of the way, Buffy's smile only brightened, as Caleb's mistake was revealed.

A trap door hidden behind it.

Spike!

Buffy lunged forward, as Caleb threw his next punch, but she had already lowered herself towards the ground, conveniently avoiding the blow altogether. She slid across the floor and through the small open door in the ground.

Landing hard on the ground, with no time to spare, she pushed herself up, and headed through the darkness. What was she going to find? Would he be in one piece? Would he be…?

She couldn't finish the thought. She had gone over all the possibilities time and time again. She knew very well what she was most likely going to find down here, but carrying on with these options weren't going to help prepare her for what she could come across. Nothing could. It was now time to find out; to face whatever the reality of the situation might be. To…

Her thoughts were cut off abruptly at the sight of what she had found. It was nothing like she had expected at all. Her eyes widened at it, her mouth agape, as she felt herself being lured in. It was hers. She could tell that this was hers.

It was beautiful. She didn't know what it was, but it was hers. A sharp pointed stake on one end and a red and shiny metallic blade on the other; the item itself wedged into solid rock. It wasn't Spike. He still needed finding, but this would help make the escape with him so much easier.

Slowly, she approached the weapon, her body acting as if under some kind of a trance. She didn't reach for it right away. Her face bewildered by what she was looking at; something so beautiful and dangerous that was meant for her. She wanted to feel its smooth wooden handle caress her skin, and just as she was about to reach it…

A loud crash caused her to quickly turn around.

"So you found it." Caleb spoke to her as he made his way down a few steps, towards Buffy and her new toy. "Not impressed. Because the question now girly-girl is can you pry it from solid rock before I come over there…

Buffy reached over and effortlessly took her weapon out of its current home and into her hands; the place where it truly belonged. The amazement was still written all over her face as she handled it with extreme care.

Caleb let out a nervous laugh upon seeing this. Buffy turned the weapon over, looking at every angle possible; still unable to grasp what it was she was holding, and the strong feeling such a weapon provided her with. It was unlike anything she had ever held before, and it was hers. She couldn't get that idea out of her mind. She kept saying it over and over again. It was hers. It was hers. It was hers. It didn't sound real, but it felt real in grasp; along with the tingles it provided throughout her entire body.

"Now, before you go around and hurt yourself with that thing. How about you do yourself a courtesy and hand it over right now." Caleb expressed, his body stiffened at the sight before him.

"Yeah. You want it?" Buffy held it out to him, but her own posture remained challenging.

"You don't even know what you've got there." Caleb announced while taking a step away from her.

"I know you're backing away" Buffy observed knowingly. "Now, you're going to answer a question of mine, unless you want to be sliced and diced right here, right now."

Caleb didn't say anything, he watched her warily. Buffy gaze was fixed on him, before she asked with all the intensity she could muster. "Where is Spike?"

"Bleach blonde fella. Has the British accent. Always seems to be lugging that leather coat on his shoulders." Caleb described.

"I asked you where he was, not what he looked like." Buffy shot at him through gritted teeth.

"Now tell me something. What makes you think I'd have any use for a thing like that? I'm provided with all the workers I need."

"You work for the First. The First has shown interest in him before any of us even knew It was around." Buffy took a menacing step forward as she clutched her new favorite weapon.

Caleb's face showed concern, his eyes moving from the item in her hands and back up towards her face. Still, he stood his ground, refusing to take any more steps backwards. "I'm told what information I'm in need of. Spike is not a part of the assignment I've been given."

Buffy's icy stare did not lift from him, but she had stopped proceeding forward. "I'm betting you're lying and I'm betting you know exactly where he is."

"And I'm betting that you're wasting your time little girl. If the First truly has taken hold of your vampire, well then, he's about as dusty as these floors we've got down here." Caleb kicked the dirt floor for good measure.

"What makes you say that?" Buffy snapped.

"Because if there were higher plans for your pal there, I'd know it. He wasn't important enough to make it onto my radar. I'm guessing that he wasn't important enough to keep around. Here you are, looking for him, when you've got a world full of people that you need to be saving. Now I must ask you, where are your priorities at?"

"Right where they belong." Buffy's voice was upbeat now. "And if you don't know where he is, then I guess I really don't have any use for you, now do I?" Buffy swung the weapon at Caleb; which to her surprise he easily grabbled, holding onto it, causing a struggle between the two of them for the weapon.

Buffy kicked him in the stomach, knocking him a step back, taking the weapon for herself once again. She charged forward, hitting him with one…two…three times, before he recovered, punching her in the face.

As she fell to the ground, she kept her hands tightened on the weapon, jumping back up, swinging it at him once again. Caleb grabbed a hold of it with Buffy attached to the other side; he swung it, lifting her into the air, slamming hard into a nearby wall. As she fell to the ground, he threw the weapon aside.

Buffy felt a pressure in the back of her head, as Caleb lifted her off the ground by her ponytail. He used his fist to punch her in the face, before slamming her head into the wall a few times, and then let her slide down onto the floor.

As his foot came down to crush her, Buffy rolled out of the way, picking up her newfound weapon along the way. She swung it down towards his legs, which he jumped over, and then hit the weapon out of her hands into his own. She didn't allow for this to last long, as she kicked up her leg, knocking the weapon back into her clutches, before launching a full on attack against him.

She let the device knock into him a number of times, before she threw a punch, and then a kick to his stomach, causing him to fall to the ground. When she lifted the weapon over her head and quickly aimed the pointy end to his throat, Caleb caught the weapon between his hands, before it was able to do its worst.

Caleb thrust the weapon upwards, knocking Buffy off balance, causing her to land on the ground herself. He jumped up and kicked her in the stomach again and again, knocking the breath out of her. He grinned as she lay helplessly on the ground, looking at the instrument in his hands, and then down at her. "I was kind of hoping it would go this way."

Just as Caleb was about to slam the sharp end of the blade into Buffy, a powerful punch came out of nowhere, sending the Preacher flying across the room.

Buffy looked up at the man who had helped her in wonder, as she took the hand that had been extended to her. She was stunned as she stood up, staring Angel in the face.

The brown haired vampire gave her a small shrug. "I never did care for preachers"

"Angel" Her face lit up in a warm smile.

He returned the smile as he nodded his head. "You look good."

"You look timely." Her smile only extended.

"I heard maybe you needed a hand" Angel responded more seriously as he noticed Caleb standing up with a groan. Angel started to take a step forward, before Buffy put out a hand to stop him. He couldn't help but grin. "Ah, it's one of those things you have to finish yourself."

"Really kinda is."

Angel made a point of walking to the far end of the cellar, looking on in moral support. "You are so going to lose" He addressed Caleb, as he saw him angrily charging towards Buffy once more.

Buffy picked up her weapon of choice once more, ready to take on the fight that was headed her way. As Caleb approached her, she spun around, aiming the device at her enemy. She swung it towards him, causing the Preacher to jump backwards. She then knocked it into him, as Angel smiled, continuing to look on. "God I missed watching this."

Caleb took hold of her, throwing her once again into a nearby wall, but Buffy quickly recovered, leaping towards him, knocking the instrument against him once more. Caleb grabbed the weapon, shoving it into her, knocking her flat on the ground. Not hesitating a second, Buffy swung up at him, shoving the end of the blade into his stomach, before mercilessly ripping it out.

Caleb opened his mouth, a stunned expression on his face. He took a few steps backwards, his finger raised in the air as if to say something, until he fell backwards, eyes wide opened, appearing to be dead.

Buffy looked over at Angel, seeing that the battle had now ended. "See. Everything is under control."

They shared a smile, looking at each other, taking one another in. How long had it been now? With everything that had happened in both their lives, it seemed like it might have been decades ago that they had once been a part of each other's world. And yet here they were, in the same room, about to fight the same fight once again it seemed.

Angel took a step forward, only inches away from her.

Not needing another moment, Buffy pulled him into a passionate hug. "I'm so happy to see you!" It felt so good. It had been all too long since they'd last seen each other. So much had happened since the last time she had had the chance to spend any time with him. And right now she felt so scared and lonely and desperate that just about any friendly face would've been a blessing. She needed this, to get someone back, now when she kept losing people. And, speaking of lost friends, she recognized she really had no time to lose indulging herself this way. She tensed up and pulled back. Angel stared at her, sensing the change in mood.

"Angel…"Buffy began. "There's something I need to talk with you about."

"I know what's going on here. It's the First, right?" Angel moved away from her and picked up a case holding an abundance of information that he had brought with him. "The thing that tried to convince me to kill myself?"

"Yeah, it's gotten a little more ambition since then. It's started to raise an army. But…" Buffy began once more. "That wasn't what I was going to tell you."

"What then?" He looked at her quizzically.

Before Buffy had time to answer his inquiry, Caleb sprang up from his grave, hitting Angel hard in the back of the neck, knocking him unconscious with a small, but hefty statue that was present. Black blood poured down his face; his pupils much too large for his eyes, as his attention focused back on the slayer. "Are you ready to finish this, Bitch?"

Buffy quickly swung her weapon towards him, but Caleb blocked the blow with the statue, before knocking it into her face. He grabbed onto the device she held, and lifted it up, holding her against the ceiling. After keeping her up there for a moment or two, he threw down hard against the ground.

Buffy jumped back up, spinning herself through the air, and kicking him backwards. Once Caleb recovered, he took another menacing step towards her. "You'll never stop me."

Buffy swung the instrument in her hand, looking annoyed as he continued to approach while speaking.

"…you don't have the…"

She sliced him between the legs and up, conveniently cutting off the end of his sentence. Now, all she needed was for her old vampire to wake up, and maybe just maybe, they could find her current vampire. She sighed to herself as she thought over that last sentence. Her life was very weird.

He had made his exit. Torn him apart, only to stitch him back up, leaving his gentle touch at the door, before making his grand exit, that's what the monster had done. Now, Spike was left alone, stripped of every comfort he had while residing there; which wasn't too much to begin with. He opened his mouth and was greeted by silence. He tried to suck in a breath and was greeted by tightness in his chest. There was a thumping sensation followed by an excruciating one along his mid to upper body that he couldn't describe. He knew why. He couldn't forget as much as he tried. The pain continued to thump and thump and thump. He needed to do something. He knew he shouldn't touch it. He couldn't touch it even if he wanted to. He did want to. It would hurt more, logically he knew this, but in his mind if he could touch it in some way, he could figure out how to make it feel better. Instead, it was out in the open that the only thing that was going to come was the continuation of such hurt. No one was going to come along and make it feel better. It was just going to feel like this until finally things started to grow back and he could have that sweet taste of breath in his mouth…

Only the minute Wood saw that, this process would repeat. That would be his unlife, surgery after surgery, indescribable pain forever. What was the point of that? What was the point of any of this? He wasn't his own man anymore. He was nothing but a meaningless plaything for a Mamma's boy who couldn't carry on with his life. Spike would know. He loved his Mum, would do anything for her. Still, he had carried on after her death. No, he had never fully let go of what happened, but he wasn't cutting into people, and playing with their organs, at least not with a soul anyway. That was the point, wasn't it? Of the soul, to keep you from doing the things he had done without it. The ultimate Mamma's boy, that's what that bloke was, a bit extreme for his taste, and no better than the vampire he had once been that Wood was trying to punish now.

"I can't believe that it's true. William the Bloody is contained." A male voice echoed throughout the room, as intense gazes fell on him.

Spike snapped out of his thoughts, straining to hear the words, and to see the faces. It was so hard to put anything into focus anymore. He couldn't think past the torment of his body, the front and back were so very sore, and he wished he could get his body under control. The way it constantly shook tore into his back deeper, not that it mattered if it healed anymore, but still it stung terribly.

He studied the room a bit more as his eyes and mind worked together to ignore the signs that his body was screeching at him, allowing him to take notice of who it was that had surrounded him. There was one who stood a bit closer to him than the others, he was an older man, and Spike swore he had seen these people before. They were a nicely dressed bunch, a woman wearing a dark burgundy suit off to the left of the room, while two men, one in brown and the other in black, stood to the right.

"This is absolutely despicable!" The Female Watcher spoke up horrified by what she was seeing.

"Yes. It seems Rupert Giles didn't exaggerate." The older man, also known as Quentin Travers, began. "This Robin Wood really has crossed a very serious line. We cannot allow for this behavior to go unpunished."

"The severity of this matter…I can't…I can't even think of a punishment suitable for this." The Female Watcher spoke baffled.

"I don't think he meant to overstep his boundaries, it's clear that his judgment has been clouded by what this foul creature has done." The Black Suited man observed.

"Yes, well, there have been plenty of other victims that have been hurt by this beast, and they didn't align themselves with The First, so they could seek out revenge." Quentin sighed. "It seems that we have arrived too late to stop this plan from going into action, but Giles did request we take matters into our owns hands. He suggested we exterminate the creature. It'll certainly keep anyone else from getting hurt."

"None of this would have been a problem if that Buffy had left him neutered as he was before. In a perfect world she would have taken him out when he was without his defenses. Instead she chose to aid and abet him." The Female Watcher spat.

"I believe the chip malfunctioned, so she chose to have it removed, which ultimately freed him." The Black Suited man commented.

"Yes. After the creature got his soul. I like to think that she was mistaken. After all, she had been fooled by Angelus once before. You'd think the girl would learn." Quentin admonished.

"It's in her nature to help, I suppose." The Black Suited man reasoned by means of defending the Slayer.

"I do not question her heart. I do; however, question her methods." Quentin gazed back down at the vampire intensely; examining him very closely.

Spike felt his body speed up, his shivers only increasing with each scrutinizing look. He knew who they were. He remembered. He remembered being in his crypt. He remembered them coming in. They held a cross up to him. They spoke to him; interviewed him. The one on the right, the woman, she had had a crush those years before. He had smelled it on her. He made her hungry. Oh God the pain! The pain! Why won't it stop? Why does it hurt so badly! Did they know? Did they know that it hurt? Did they know that Wood had made it hurt when he cut into him? When he destroyed his insides? When he stitched him up? All of it was so agonizing. Would they care? He knew who they were. He knew they wouldn't mind. They wanted to hurt him themselves. He couldn't smell. It dawned on him. There was no scent. He couldn't suck in for that anymore. He couldn't smell their anger. He couldn't smell their enjoyment of this. He couldn't smell the sterile air in this lab. He could see them though. He could still see them. They must be their top members. That's it. The Watcher's Council had sent their top members to pay him a visit…and he couldn't smell any of them! His trembles grew. His body ached and all he wanted to do was scream.

"The First." The Black Suited man stated with disgust. "Working with The First…I have seen human beings do crazy things to seek out justice, but this…this is a disgrace!"

"It's a shame, yes. Although, he is in quite a bit of distress. At least something right was done." Quentin Travers looked down at him, and held Spike's gaze for some long seconds. "He knows who we are." He smiled at Spike, though there was nothing friendly behind that smile. "Don't you? And you know what it is exactly we've come here to do."

"I'm still absolutely mortified by the phone call that we received." The Black Suited man chimed in once more. "To keep a vampire alive like this, and it's not as though Wood is a professional."

"Obviously not. He teamed up with evil to do it. Not just any evil, but evil in its purest form. We must end this at once." The Brown Suit spoke with a note of finality in his voice, but he quickly backed off of it. "However, he does have a soul…"

"That's irrelevant." Quentin waved his hand at the man dismissively. "We just went through that, or weren't you paying attention?"

"I know he can't be trusted," The Brown Suit continued. "but I think we could learn an awful lot from him."

"That's preposterous." The Black Suited man spoke up once more.

"The mechanics of it could be very educational. This essence which he possesses inside of himself, something that we all carry, has the power to overcome something so evil; it's demon." The Female Watcher pitched in.

"Are you suggesting that this creature is good?" Quentin glared at his employee.

"Absolutely not. I'm saying it gives him the illusion that he is good." The Female Watcher clarified.

"I can accept that. But we must always remember that a vampire's true nature always wins out in the end." Quentin held up a finger making his point.

"I think it'd be interesting to find out where the soul is located" The Brown Suit chimed in enthusiastically, a nerdy tone of voice following.

Quentin shook his head. "I'm sorry, but it's far too dangerous. Far too dangerous, indeed."

The Female Watcher grew a smirk, her finger pressed to her chin thoughtfully. "We really could learn a lot from him though. I do have my own lab. Complete with restraints quite as good as this. I've been trained to understand the most dangerous of creatures. I'm qualified for this." She licked her lips and gave Spike a hungry once-over. "Very qualified. I could take this on. On my own. It wouldn't have to affect anyone else. Plus, you would be receiving very useful results. We could even learn a lot from him…" She walked close to the table he was strapped to, and gave him a vicious smirk. "And have quite a bit of fun in the process!"

"Like what? How to die?" The Black Suited man shook his head. "I'm sorry, but we came here to rid the world of this vile creature and take Wood into our custody. Vampires cannot be permitted to exist in this world. Even the newest watcher knows that vampires need to be staked."

"We're professionals. If Wood can keep him contained for this long and not have a problem, I think we're capable of doing the same." The Brown Suit joined in on the argument once more.

"That is a good point." Quentin said in consideration. "We're able to hold dangerous slayers after all. I think we can do the same for the likes of him. It's not like he's going to be capable of putting up much of a fight…We can have him transported to our labs at once."

The Black Suited man was about to protest when the sound of hurried steps up the hallway and through the open doors caught their attention. Everyone turned their heads immediately to their colleague who had rushed in, distress falling over her features, as she caught her breath trying to speak.

"Mary? What is it? What's going on?" Quentin took a step towards the young brunette watcher in concern.

"It's…It's…" Mary straightened her body trying to gain composure, the panic of what she had to say enough to make her look as though she might collapse.

"Out with it!" Quentin ordered on the verge of panicking himself based off on the state he was seeing her in.

"The building. Our headquarters. It's been blown up! We've lost…everything! Everyone!" Mary shouted.

"What?" Quentin yelled.

"It was an attack. It must have been The First's doing! They're all dead. I just…I can't believe it! They're all gone…" Now, Mary did collapse.

The Female Watcher and the Brown Suited man immediately rushed to her side. Color drained from both of their faces as they knelt down by her, looking at Quentin, as everyone was unable to speak.

Quentin closed his hands, turning them into fists, his voice in a low and controlled manner. "Pick her up. We're headed back to England." He now gazed over at Spike with a glare.

"It seems that we'll have to abort this mission for the time being, but the minute things have calmed, we will be back. We will resume our plans when opportunity presents itself."

With the watchers immediately rushed out of the laboratory leaving Spike to process what had just occurred.

She will come for me.

He had believed that once upon a time. He had believed in Buffy. Now Spike knew better than to carry hope around with him. He felt a wetness form around his eyes, his body's trembling never ceasing, it seemed it was all he had left now, a terrible case of the shakes and tears which could make no sound. There was nothing left for him. There was nothing left of him. All he was was dust still in its previous form. For the first time in all of this, he wished for permanent oblivion to come.

The First needed to rest. If sleep was something that it did, well, it would have been laid out after that little puppet show it had just performed. It was taxing taking on more than one individual life. One was easy enough. It did that all the time but this plan had called for more. Sure, its true form was disturbing and it was enough to give these mortals nightmares for years to come. However, it had found that nothing was more traumatic than the reality that the victim was already facing. Often enough it played with the human heart, a silly thing, it weakened the side of good. Feelings. Humans got something out of the company of those they held near and dear. It could understand that yearning to touch, to feel, but to feel with one's heart was a trap that would ultimately be their demise. So yes, It took advantage of their Achilles' heel. However, that wasn't the only way to damage one's mind. Trapped, locked away, no control over the coming events. It couldn't help but smirk at the horror the vampire in there was feeling. Poison to the mind, playing with that poison, poking at what hurt, whatever it was, that was far more scarring than It's true form. Nightmares yes, but this current reality becoming his forever, now that was a scream!

Still, this had been a lot to take on, even for It. All that could be hoped for was that the desired effect from that little show would work out as planned. It didn't just do these things for kicks. That was just an added bonus. Oh no…oh no…there was a method to this madness. It smirked while watching a trembling Spike through double doors,

"Pretty soon you're going to learn what fear really is."