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

13. In The Dark

Chapter 13 – In the dark

Get Up! Spike had been telling himself that for… he didn't know how long now. He had gone to bed a long time ago; he should be more than rested! And probably would be, if it weren't for how his body didn't seem to be able to agree with itself on whether sleep was a good idea or not. On the one hand - he had gone to bed last night bone tired, with a mind and body that seemed on the verge of simply shutting down, craving for the bed. But once he'd gotten there, and pulled the blankets well over his head, that same body didn't seem able to get into sleep mode. For the umpteenth time in the last weeks. Every muscle was tense and taut, and his mind seemed to be running fast on idle speed, changing from this image to the next, at a pace that made him dizzy. At least he had his breath back. It was always the easiest part to control. Just focus on the breath. Steady, slow, deep breaths that with time could serve to get the rest of him to slow down enough to at least get half a day's sleep. Hopefully without nightmares this time.

When he woke up, he could sense through the carefully shuttered window that the sun was already down. The others, and, hopefully, especially Buffy, would perhaps be waiting for him downstairs. She had been so happy about his progress in activity yesterday. He had a reputation to fill there. He could get up. He could move on and put this whole nasty business of the last weeks or months behind him. He was Spike - the Slayer of Slayers, the vampire no one could keep down for long, who eagerly sought out danger, and laughed at the prospect of defeat. Nothing could keep him down for long! Yet, he didn't seem to be able to get up. His limbs felt like they were filled with solid lead, too heavy to be moved an inch. And it was like a big black cloud was congealing around his head, clouding his vision of everything but stark, empty darkness.

It wasn't too dark not to notice that she came in through. Smiling, shining, with bright clothes and a brighter mood. "Wake up, Sunshine. Time to rise and shine!"

I know, Sweetheart. Would that I could. He tried winning some time with a joke. "Don't you know how dangerous sunshine is?"

She laughed and gave him a warm smile. "Yeah, I know. But I'd say you're quite dangerous enough yourself to deserve the title. And it's well after sunset now. You can get up safe and sound"

He tried. Imagined lifting his leaden feet off the bed to swing out of it. Couldn't. He ended up sending her a glare instead. At least he could muster that. "Well, I'm not in the mood for it now."

She smiled, walked around the bed, and put her hands on her hips. "Well, it's way past wake up time, even for vampires. Come on! We were having so much fun yesterday."

No, we weren't. But I appreciate that you think so, pet.

"Right. It was so much fun when first I was bein' poked and prodded at by Wesley, or my bleedin' soul rather, puttin' it right there out on display for the lot of 'em to see. Or was the fun part the way that all of 'em were starin' at me like I was some fragile piece of glass ready to shatter? Of course, in fairness, most of 'em had the sense to keep their mouths shut. Did all the talkin' with their eyes. They didn't have to talk. Watcher Boy had that covered. But, we went over that already. Bloke does like to hear himself talk. Drones on and on. Fancies himself in charge since he thinks he's the new Giles. Don't know what he's gettin' all preacher teacher 'bout. Soddin' pounces they are. As if they weren't all snoozin' through Wesley's lecture too. Don't know how you weren't. Must be the Slayer in you. Higher tolerance for pain and what have you…"

"Alright." Buffy put her hand up, cutting him off. "I get it. Meeting them didn't exactly go as planned, but it wasn't that bad. I'll admit, Wesley let his mouth get away with him. As usual. But the rest of them weren't that bad. I've gotten to know them and I think you'd find you like them if you got to too."

Spike snorted.

"It's true. You aren't giving them half a chance. Honestly, half of the things you just said was like grasping at straws. It's like you don't want to like them." Buffy stated in a huff.

"Oh, now I don't feel what I feel. All in my head, is it?" Spike glared

"That's not what I'm saying. I'm sure you feel what you feel. I'm sure you didn't care for meeting them, but you're also blowing minimal things out of proportion." Buffy responded evenly.

"Easy for you to say. Not the one on the recievin' end of it" He scoffed. "Just not up for another day of this." Spike declared.

Buffy studied Spike for a moment, not speaking. This wasn't Spike. Well, it was Spike, but it wasn't the way he usually was, not when he was simply annoyed or put off by someone. No, this was him when he wasn't feeling like himself, when he was more so…out of sorts. He was completely taking himself out of the equation, out of the fight that he loved so much, detaching himself from the group. He wanted them away from him. It was as if he wanted to be isolated. He wanted everyone shut out of his unlife. He had never exactly buddied up with anyone before, but he was always, in a weird way, part of the group. Especially, in the last year. This was defensive Spike. He became increasingly more and more difficult when he wanted nothing to do with something. Getting more obnoxious the worse he felt.

The realization worried her. She had been so happy to see that everything was getting back to normal, that he, true to his habit, were back up and at it, and moving on after the ordeal he'd been through. Like he always did in the past, whatever hit him. He had the most reliable stamina of all her friends (and enemies). Now that the whole world was changing around her - when she had just gotten out of an apocalypse barely alive herself, had lost so many, and were even never gonna see her hometown again, she could not afford this to change too!

"Come on! What's gotten into you?" she stated in what she hoped was an inspiring tone. "Life goes on. And I know you're not a quitter. Shit happens. You and I know that better than anyone. But we don't deal with that by covering under the blankets in bed forever. You're the strongest fighter I know. You never give up on anything, no matter how many times someone take you down. You're bigger than this. You just need to get up!"

I know, Buffy. I know! Why was it so hard to move on this time? It certainly wasn't the first time he'd been done in right and proper. He'd been held locked down and tortured by an actual Hellgod, and managed to turn the situation to his advantage, by not giving the bitch anything, finding a way to slip away, and even using the situation to make Buffy see him in a different light. The memory still almost made him smile. He had gone through a whole soul gain depression, practically fallen apart, with a mental wilderness that far out weighted this little bump in the road that he had going now, and still been ready to get up and make himself useful as soon as Buffy asked him to. And the last time the First had gotten it's non-corporeal hands on him, he had been able to pull himself together and get past it right away. It had cost though. Like the pain was bottled in, in all the empty bottles his mind contained. And now, when he'd been through the wringer again, so soon after, it was like there was no more storage capacity left, and all those old bottles broke and spilled over, pouring out into a deep blue ocean of incontrollable gloom.

She didn't seem to get that though. And there's no way he was gonna try to explain it. He barely had the strength to confess it to himself. She had finally come to respect him it seemed, she had been so happy with things yesterday. He dearly wanted to keep pleasing her, making her proud. But every move he made to get up, it seemed that inner ocean kept counteracting it, cancelling out the initiative. He knew Buffy was still there, looking at him, and with his shame rising, he turned to say something sharp about how she might want to consider easing off a little and leave him alone, when she bent forward and grabbed his foot from under the blankets, pulling it out onto the floor. Ok, that's it! His foot bent back, and he put enough force into it to kick her all the way across the room, and smash into the dresser in the corner.

Ouch. He had not really meant to do that! For a moment, their eyes were locked in a shocked gaze, and then she got up and ran out. He really wished he had had the strength to run after her.

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

Buffy gripped the railing of the stairway. With all the people that lived in this hotel it was a miracle that no one seemed to be around to find her in this state, but for that, she was grateful.

It had been an accident. She knew that. She had seen the look on his face. He had reacted. She didn't know what scared her more, the fact that he had reacted so fiercely or the fact that he reacted that fiercely over simply not wanting to get out of bed. What a mess things had become. She felt bad. She had pushed too hard. No, she wasn't making excuses for the way he had reacted. She hadn't been aggressive enough to deserve that, but the rational voice in her head reminded her that he had been tortured for a month. He never would have done so otherwise. He wasn't himself. She had recognized it when talking to him and his kneejerk reaction had confirmed it. Then she knew. That's what scared her the most.

Spike without a soul, Spike with a chip, that was the Spike that violence had erupted with. Not now, not him, not with a soul. The only time she had ever raised a hand to him once he had become good was when The First had control of him and he was taking chunks out of people's necks. Spike himself, he never had gotten that way with her since he had joined her side, in the permanent way, unless it was for her own good. So much of moments ago wasn't like him. So much of this whole evening wasn't like him and she found, oddly enough, that she wasn't using what had happened to wash her hands of him as she might have in the past. She wasn't really even angry, a bit taken aback by it, but not angry. Deep deep concern.

Buffy sighed, pushing herself away from the railing, and made her way down into the hotel kitchen. Her thoughts on Spike never ceased. He had been doing so well yesterday! It had been like battling side by side the old Spike. Today he had awoken in a mood. It was like he wanted to fight to the point where he had allowed himself to spin a little out of control.

Even so, that feeling of badness persisted. It couldn't be easy. With everything that he had gone through she couldn't expect him to simply shake it off and be fine with what was done to him. If she had gone through what he had been through, first, she wouldn't be alive. Beyond that, she figured she'd be bound to wake up on the wrong side of the bed from time to time too. She needed to be considerate of that, what he went through. It was hard for her, feelings, she knew this. She wasn't completely blind. Hey, wasn't that part of the reason why she had gone on that vision quest some two years ago? She had felt it was becoming such a problem she thought that being a Slayer was somehow making her colder. She knew better now. She did care. She cared a lot, but it came out differently than it did with some. Right now, he needed listening Buffy, not action Buffy. When she found the human that had done this to him then that side of herself was more than welcome to come out. Right now, he didn't seem ready to talk about it, so she didn't want to push.

In the spirit of not wanting to push she decided to make him breakfast. Okay, so making Spike breakfast only entailed her heating him up blood, but it was the thought that counted. He needed to get some good sustenance in him. She still worried that he was a bit underweight. The blood could be her peace offering.

He had been a little weary about food, but even he indulged in breakfast. There had been a time where blood and the telly were the two great loves of his life. She had thought about getting him a television for his room, but she had since rethought that knowing he'd never leave if she went that route.

She paused thoughtfully as she put the blood into the microwave. This wouldn't do. It wasn't enough. It felt too much like it was part of their routine to be a piece offering. He did eat people food she remembered all too well. She had never understood it, but she remembered him mentioning that he liked the texture of it. Maybe including a plate of food would help with her offering. It might help him remember the other positive sides of life that he had before he had been taken. His head must be filled with a lot of negative memories, it was time to put some good ones back in there. Sometimes it was the simpler things in life, like hot wings and Weetabix, that mattered most.

After working in the kitchen for a little bit she was able to put everything together for him. She had blood, she had the foods that she remembered seeing him eating around her house, this should work.

Buffy made her way up towards his room, the tray in her hands. She paused outside his door with a frown on her face. Okay, she hadn't thought this part through, the no hands part. "Hmmm." She lifted her foot up and stamped it against the door as her way of knocking.

After a moment, Spike came to the door with a quizzical look on his face. Given what he had just done, knowing that he needed to make it right he had to answer the door. Plus, she had knocked which had completely thrown him for a loop. He almost said aloud, normally, you just kick in the door, but she probably would take the joke the wrong way. After the way he had just acted, after what he had done, he didn't have it in him to tease her. He couldn't understand why she was up here after what he had just done. It was hard to look her in the face, but if he could kick her across the room then he could look her in the eyes.

Buffy saw the regret in his eyes. She knew he felt terrible. It was why she hadn't stayed away. Breakfast very well might have been a peace offering, but underneath that, she knew it was also an excuse. It was a reason to come back, to make things right between them.

She made her way inside past him, the look of confusion and regret on his face never leaving.

"What's this then?" He inquired softly.

"It's breakfast." Buffy set the tray of food down on his bed. "In bed. Only you're out of bed. So, you need to get back in."

"Thought you wanted me out." He stated quietly, trying to keep his tone light, but failing miserably.

He knew that she was trying. The fact that she was trying made him feel worse. It was bad enough that he had been so sharp with her before, but then to get violent, in all honesty, he could hardly stand himself. It was hard, feeling what he had been feeling, and the last thing he wanted to do was show such vulnerability to anyone, even if he could trust them. That was no excuse to fight the way that he had fought her. He could have just pulled his leg back out of her grip, but instead he had knocked her away. He had been far too violent.

Buffy could see the inner conflict going on. There was no way that they were going to brush right past this. She ran away from feelings and he drowned himself in them. Right now, she couldn't indulge in the luxury of running away. It only furthered the despair that he had found himself in when waking up.

"Buffy…" Spike began just as she was about to speak.

She didn't let him finish, cutting him off, knowing what he was going to say. She didn't want to put him through that kind of torture. The kind where he felt he had confront a sort of abuse that she felt was non-existent. "You don't have to say anything. It was an accident. I know."

Spike looked up at the ceiling, completely exasperated with himself. "I never wanted to hurt you. You're the last person I want to hurt."

Buffy set the tray down on the bed and then walked back across the room, taking his hands in hers gently. "You didn't hurt me."

Spike looked towards her in disbelief.

Buffy's opinion was not to be swayed. "You reacted. I was making you do something you didn't want to do. Again. And you reacted."

Like when I bit you? Spike was starting to notice a pattern of his and he wasn't fond of it. He didn't dare say this out loud. She was aware of his past faults.

"Spike, you've had choice taken away from you for too long. Even small things like getting up I shouldn't physically push you to do. It's hard for me. I want to help. I want to do, but it's not an excuse." Buffy sighed. "I'm not saying that the way you reacted was right, but I think I get it."

Spike sighed, clearly not willing to accept her acceptance.

"How about you forgive me for pushing you emotionally and I'll forgive you for pushing me physically?" Buffy smiled at him softly. "We'll call it even."

Spike nodded his head softly. She knew that he still felt guilt, but maybe as the day went on and as he continued to get better he'd become rational over this. They just had to press on.

"Good. So, how about that breakfast?" Buffy smiled good-naturedly.

He looked down at the food on his bed. His stomach should have been rumbling right now. It wasn't. It was doing the exact opposite. Putting food into his mouth was just about the last thing he wanted to do. The idea of being able to get back in bed and stay there, that much, he liked. He climbed in, going so far as to put the covers over him, which resulted in a slight smile from Buffy. He didn't make a move for the food though, not right away. "Thanks for this. Don't really deserve it."

Buffy looked at him sincerely. "You really do."

The look on her face, the gesture she made, he couldn't let her down. Not again. He'd already done as much. He didn't want to again. She had gone out of her way to be more than good to him, in this moment, and since she had found him. In fact, it was even dating before any of this happened that she had gone out of her way for him. He just couldn't bear the idea of hurting her again. It was becoming far too many times that he already had. He was going to let her know just how much all of this meant to him. He'd eat each and every bite of the food she had put before him. This was about more than his own feelings of apathy and this utter exhaustion that wouldn't let up. There was another factor and it was staring him right in the face. It was Buffy.

"Here. Eat." Buffy lifted the plate to him. "Or do you want your blood first?'

Spike forced a smile. "Know me. Like to dip the food into the blood."

"Okay, I'm just going to move right past how 'ew' that is and just put this…"Buffy lifted the tray up and shifted it onto his lap, so he could reach everything easily. "Right here…How's that?"

"Perfect, Pet. Thanks."

Spike stared down at the plate in front of him. One would think it'd be easier. You just shove it in, swallow, and ignore what your stomach was telling you, that it had so many knots and lumps in it that there really wasn't room for anything else. It wasn't that easy. He found that he needed to mentally prepare for it. It felt suffocating in its own way. And nauseating.

He began shoveling food into his mouth, not too quickly; he didn't want to seem too eager to get it over with. He didn't want Buffy to detect what a chore this really was for him. So, he took it as at a leisurely pace while they shared small talk in between bites. It seemed quicker to her he was sure, but eventually every last bit of food was gone.

Buffy smiled down at his empty plate seemingly pleased. "I'm glad to see your appetite is finally coming back."

As she bent down to lift up the plate she noticed an odd look on Spike's face, something wasn't right. "Spike, what's going on? Are you alright?"

He tried to say something or nod his head, anything to assure her that he was fine. The flip flops his stomach was doing were sure to pass after all. He tried to swallow, wet his lips a bit, anything that could somehow make the intense queasiness in his stomach disappear, but nothing was working.

"Spike…" Buffy sat down on the side of the bed and gently brushed some loose curls out of his face.

He tried to keep back what was coming, but before he knew it his breakfast had come right back up again, all over the tray and the blankets he had covered himself with.

Lucky for Buffy, her Slayer reflexes worked for her and she had jumped up and out of the way before risking to be sprayed.

Spike moaned softly to himself as he laid back against the pillows, his stomach feeling a bit better, but that exhaustion falling over him all the heavier now.

Buffy was at his side immediately once more. "Spike, are you okay?" She paused as her eyes scanned the mess that he was in. "We've got to get you cleaned up."

She collected the tray and his drenched blanket, and gently patted at his mouth with a clean edge of it, before hurrying off to the bathroom, disposing of the dirty laundry as quickly as she could before getting back to him.

There was a knock at the door. Buffy immediately looked in that direction as she heard Willow's voice on the other side of the door.

"Hey, Buffy. You in there?"

Buffy quickly made her way over the door, opening it, but stepping out into the hallway to give Spike his privacy.

"Buffy…" Willow gave her a confused look, seeing that there was something clearly on her mind. "Wesley asked that I get you. There's something he wants to talk with you about. Is everything okay?"

"Ah yeah. Well, no. Sort of. Just…I have a thing going on." Buffy pointed towards the door.

"A thing? A bad thing?" Willow looked at her quizzically.

"No. Well yeah. Sort of. Spike is sick. Wesley's just going to have to wait a bit. I have to get him cleaned up. Just…just wait here a second."

Willow nodded her head. "Sure. I'll be here."

Buffy quickly made her way inside Spike's room to care of him. So much for her peace offering. It hadn't gone according plan, but something told her that more than just spilled breakfast was the problem here.

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

After getting Spike's sheets replaced. Buffy had sat next to him for a little while before remembering that Willow was still waiting for her, the patient friend that she was, but she did really need to talk to her. Even so, it was hard to leave Spike's side. But after a few more reassurances that he was feeling better, she tore herself away from him and made her way out into the hallway.

"Everything alright?" Willow asked. She had seen Buffy come out with dirty sheets and back in with new ones. She had thought about offering to help, but the Slayer seemed quite intent on keeping Spike's room private for the moment. She was just glad Buffy seemed to have time to come out now, and hoped she hadn't intruded too much.

"Not really." Buffy looked up at Willow with troubled eyes. "Something's wrong with him."
"Well, I think that's to be expected." Willow stated matter-of-factly. "What's he doing?"

"Nothing." Buffy sighed and shook her head. "Just barfing up the breakfast that I gave him."

Willow grimaced. That explained the dirty sheets. "Sounds like he's pretty down."

"He's something. He can't be sick. Vampires don't get sick." Buffy tilted her head to the side. "Do they?"

"I think it's more psychological, Buffy." Willow paused. "I'll admit, we're all sort of used to Spike getting into trouble and then bouncing back from it. He's kind of been our damsel in distress lately."

Buffy's eyes widened. "Don't say that. Vampire. Only a door separating us. He'll hear you."

Willow put her hand up. "Alright. Got ya. I didn't mean it the way it came out. We've all needed a bit of rescuing at times. I just mean this past year The First really targeted him. We saw him take a lot. Not to mention Glory before all of this. He was always fine."

"And…"

Willow gave her a knowing look. "Everyone has a breaking point."

Buffy leaned up against the wall of the hallway. She was right. She knew something was wrong with Spike and in a bigger sense than waking up on the wrong side of the bed. He was majorly stressed out. Like, in the literally gut wrenching way. Still, it would be so much easier if it was a vampire flu, which was nonexistent, but simpler to deal with than what they were actually facing. "What do I do? I'm not exactly good at this."

"Talk to him. Try to get him to open up. See if he can verbalize what he's feeling. Having all these thoughts running around in your head. The dark ones." Willow made a face. "No fun there. He's not going to get better with only himself to work everything out with."

"He needs to talk." Buffy spoke, insecurity written all over her face.

Willow nodded. "Who knows? Maybe that'll be enough. Maybe not. But it'll be something. A start."

"Right." Buffy paused. "How urgent is Wesley's news or whatever it is.'

Willow shrugged. "Not urgent enough for him to be storming the stairs looking for you. I don't think it's really news so much as just polishing our coming together. He's a little obsessive."

"Wesley? Obsessive? You must have the wrong guy." Buffy stated sarcastically.

Willow grinned. "The big evil isn't brewing. Not that we know of. He probably just doesn't know what to do with himself without anything to research."

"At least he's not up here trying to interview Spike again." Buffy rolled her eyes. "He doesn't bite humans anymore, but Wesley, he might make an exception there."

Willow laughed and then gave Buffy a sympathetic smile. "Just talk to Spike. But be gentle."

With one final smile, Willow made her way down the hallway leaving Buffy to deal with a whole other kind of demon.

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

Buffy laid next to Spike as he either slept or was pretending to sleep to avoid talking, running her hand softly through his hair. When thinking about it, she didn't really have problems understanding how he was feeling today. She remembered the feeling all too well. There were so many days that she wouldn't have bothered to get out of bed if she could avoid it. She of all people should be able to recognize the signs this mood was giving. She had been recognizing the signs all day. She just didn't want them to be true. It was hard to continue to overlook the fact that he wasn't himself. Yet, part of her wanted it to just be that he had gotten physically fit again, so all this was, was him things, nothing more than that. She couldn't let herself believe the truth, not completely, until he said it out loud himself.

After waiting by his side for a little while longer Buffy felt Spike stir and then groan. He rolled over onto his side, facing her. He then lifted his eyebrow as he often did out of confusion or bewilderment.

"You still here?" Spike asked with unconvincing surprise.

Buffy gave him a soft smile. "Where else would I be?"

Spike gave a little shrug. "Slayin' some baddie, I wager. Is 'bout that time, yeah?"

Buffy nodded her head. "Yeah, but there are a lot of us now. A lot of us that are capable. They can do without me for a night."

"And you were hasslin' me 'bout getting' out of bed." Spike forced an amused snort.

There was that forgery. Buffy hadn't seen it yesterday, or even earlier today, but now it was clear as day. She remembered it from her own time when she had been down in the dumps, which was putting it lightly. How could she have missed that forced amusement and forced smiles before? Forced everything…She just hadn't thought to look for it. She had never needed to with him before.

Depression. She couldn't kid herself any longer. She knew. Recognized all the symptoms. But it hurt so much just to admit to that, that she didn't really know what to do.

Buffy got out of the bed, kneeling down in front of him, tilting his chin up so he had to look her in the face. She couldn't leave him be. Perhaps he did need a little bit of Spike time, but she wasn't so sure about how good that would be, leaving him to all these dark feelings all alone. She sooner wanted to let him know very clearly that he was not alone. "I remember. I remember being exactly where you are."

Spike didn't speak, but simply looked at her, expressionless.

That was okay, for now. He didn't need to say anything. He didn't need to appear as though he were listening. She knew that he was. "Our circumstances were different, but what we're feeling has enough similarities. It was so hard to go on, when I came back from death. I see it's hard for you too. I'm sure you're giving yourself a lot of hell for it too, that, you can trust me, you really don't have to! You might be saying to yourself that you should be happier. You might be feeling like you don't recognize who you are anymore. You might be ashamed. But…"

If she had struck a nerve he didn't let her know about it. She wondered for a moment if he was dissociating. Maybe he really wasn't here at this moment. She'd have to find a way to lock into him. She had to. Though it was he who usually was the good one at catching her attention. She decided to take a page out of his book. She took a deep breath, and sang. "Life is not a song. Life is not bliss, life is just this, it's living. You'll get along. The pain that you feel, it only can heal by living. You have to go on living."

He froze, and huffed. "I was such a fool back then, huh?" he quipped, with a small, humorless laugh. She took his hand and made him look at her. "No, you were not." she said firmly, before adding with a little smile "It worked for me." She held his gaze for a long time, in silence. Then he let out a small sigh. "Don't know what you want me to say, Buffy."

Buffy shook her head, and continued to give him a look of sympathy. "I don't expect you to say anything at all, Spike. There isn't a right or wrong answer in this conversation. There doesn't have to be an answer at all. I want you to understand something. You're not alone. I was there. You remember that I was there. And it was you who was comforting me. It was you who helped me back."

Spike simply shrugged at that.

Buffy gave a soft smile. "You drag yourself through the days. Each second that you drag yourself feels like its own form of torture. It hurts in our mind so much that we can physically feel it, like in our stomachs. We lose our appetite and our energy. We force food down our throat. We force ourselves to fight and to simply get out of bed."

"Didn't do a very good job of that today, now did I?" Spike spat, more so directed at himself.

"That's ok. Sometimes it's next to impossible to. But, in the end, we do. You know why?" Buffy inquired.

Spike offered a stare as his only response.

"Because you have to go on living. It's the only way to cure this." She sang again "The pain that you feel, it only can heal by living." Buffy gave him a soft smile. "And if you ever need to talk, about anything, then I'm here to listen. We'll get through this together."

Spike looked down once more. Getting up and continuing to live through this was easier said than done. He hurt all the time, had no energy to even get out of bed, and when he did leave this room he longed to return to the safety of seclusion. This couldn't go on. He couldn't heal himself that way. She was right. He didn't recognize the person that he was now, and he wasn't entirely sure that he could get back to the way that he used to be. The better version of himself. Instead, he was this watered down sod. His old self surely would have staked this self for simply excessive whining. Yet, he was unwilling to do anything about it. She had seen through his farce. He hadn't done a great job keeping it up after all. He couldn't even hide his vulnerabilities anymore. What was left of him?

Buffy could see the inner conflict that was working inside of him and moved herself, so she was sitting next to him now. He had heard her. He had understood her, but she knew all too well, a few words of wisdom doesn't bring you out of it. She had understood him herself last year. It was part of what had caused her to fall for him. But it had been a long, messy process before she had actually felt like she was living again. And even longer until she accepted him as a worthy part of her new life.

"You will get through this, you know." Buffy stated factually.

Her statement was met with a grunt.

"It's true. You're one of the strongest people I know. Look at all the things you have beaten back in the past. Seriously, Spike. Look at it." Buffy spoke firmly now, but her patience never faltering in her voice.

Spike looked up at her now.

He was quieter than she was used to. She did have to say that. There was usually more of a back and forth between them. He didn't have the energy or even the will for that at this moment. It wasn't that he was clamming up, that wasn't who he was, but she predicted he was using a different tactic instead. He wasn't giving much to go on instead. It wasn't going to work. She was determined to make him hear her, to make him understand that he had people on his side no matter what he thought of himself. Most importantly, for him to see that she didn't expect him to snap back into being the warrior that he was and that these feelings didn't make him any less of a warrior either.

"Spike, do I really have to remind you of things you've accomplished?"

What? Killin' a bunch of people? That bloke who tied me down for all that time did the reminding job on that…bugger it.

When her words were met by silence she simply crossed her leg over her knee, getting comfortable, and continued. "Fine then. I will. How about when you were still soulless and you took torture for Dawn?"

How 'bout when I promised to protect the bit and I failed, so you had to die?

"How about when you, as an soulless vampire, were fighting, risking dust, to get your soul for me?" Buffy locked her eyes on him. "Name another vampire that would do that for a human, let alone a Slayer."

Not touchin' that one, Pet…The guilt of even the mere mention of his soul seeking quest, thinking of why he was fighting to get it for her started to chew away at him. He didn't see that as a good deed. He didn't see that as a reason for him to get a pat on the back, not with the reasons that had led up to that event. No, that was nothing to be proud of.

"You've fought by my side countless times when you didn't have to. When the chip stopped working you didn't once try and bite me. You've helped save the world, Spike. You've helped as much as anyone here. You're as good as me or anyone else for that matter. You're a good man, Spike. There were glimmers of that good man that you turned into before you had a soul. Can't you see how strong you are? How good you are? You chose to be better. You fought to be better. You do every day. You win every day." Buffy took his hand in hers and gave it a soft squeeze.

Spike had to keep from taking a deep breath in, giving away the emotions that were coming over him. He didn't allow for the tears that threatened his eyes to fall. It was nice. It was all very nice. It was things that he had always wanted her to say to him, back when he once thought that they could have been true. There was once a time when he had been strong. There was once a time where he maybe still had a hope of being worthy. He recalled his failures of the moments that she had deemed him to be so commendable in. All of them. The only thing he could perhaps see some merit to was how he had once been a good fighter. He had been one of the best. He had been useful in a fight. He had been a warrior.

He wasn't anymore. Just look at how near dust his latest patrol trip had ended.

He couldn't be what he needed to be anymore.

That had been taken away from him.

So, he sat with Buffy in silence.

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

For the rest of the night she had left him alone. She figured that now it was okay to allow him to have that Spike time to let their conversation sink in. Part of the healing process was being able to have the freedom to collect your thoughts. He had been doing a lot of thinking lately and she knew that she was going to have to step in. The longer he was in bed the harder it was going to be for him to come out; however, after a conversation like that he had earned a little extra time to himself.

Now, it was a new day. It was time to put one foot in front of the other. Part of what had helped her get through her depression was action. It was taking Spike's own advice: living. He needed to start doing the same. So, when the sun had fallen she went up to his room, dragged him out of bed, and forced him to join the awake.

Needless to say, he wasn't pleased.

He had grumbled and complained, swore at her in British a bit, but in the end he had wound up downstairs. It seemed harsh to him. She knew that it would. She wasn't exactly comfortable. She didn't want to take his choice away from him, but she also had to look out for him, to not let him lay down and drown in his own sorrows. It was going to be a bit of a challenge, but she was determined to find the right balance. Luckily, she knew that she had her friends in her corner to help her with that.

Spike slumped back against the counter of the Hyperion with a look of apathy on his face. He could tell that Buffy knew full well that he'd rather be upstairs. He knew that he could simply turn and walk back up there. He could carry himself up the stairs and shut the door behind him where he really belonged. He wasn't any good to anyone here anymore. He was more likely to get in the way in this frame of mind and given who he was, the things he had done in the past, the warrior that he no longer was, he shouldn't be this way. Yeah, he could go back upstairs. Buffy would later come up and give him another pep talk at most, so what was stopping him?

It'd show that something was wrong.

There was something wrong. He knew it. She knew it. By now everyone knew it. It wasn't a secret. The thing of it was that kind of action would start to show the extent. The whole world could know something was wrong, but that didn't mean he had to make it so bloody obvious, out on display. He was set on doing what he could to hold on to his last shreds of dignity. It was a constant show. It was only a matter of time before it grew old. He was weary of feeling this way already and it had only been a few days. Upstairs was safe. Seclusion was safe. It was only then that he could feel what he felt with the sole judgment of himself. He had to wait till the sun was coming up until he could have that again, where he could be safe from everyone's curious eyes. Until then he had to play it Buffy's ways, rejoining the living, as if that was going to fix what had happened to him.

That's how it went for a couple of days. He went with them on the things the gang were doing, but never said much. He didn't have anything he really wanted to say, but no one questioned his silence. In secret, he suspected they were grateful for it. Most of what he had of conversations with them earlier was dealing out sarcastic remarks and insults anyway. And those still came. He was feeling slightly bitter from having to be up and wandering around town, so it wasn't hard from him to dish out an insult or two here and there.

Mostly, he thought. He tried to remember what it used to be like before he started feeling like this. He hadn't always craved going out before all this. He did fancy going to bars and getting drunk. He usually always had gotten at least a kill or two in before the sun came up, but there were nights that he stayed in and watched the telly. He could usually find joy in something that he was doing, be it the kill, being around Buffy, or simply giving someone a hard time.

Right now, the only times when he really felt anything were moment where he could have cried.

Weep like a sod. Be the buggerin' ponce that he used to be when he was among the living. No one noticed the almost tears. He was good at keeping those to himself. He was good at choking them back, letting it all burn in the back of his throat. He had room at the hotel for that. He'd lose hours of sleep letting it loose. He just had to hold on till then.

He didn't know if Buffy was clued in to it. She was peppy as usual and her friends went about their normal banter. Dawn here and there gave him a sympathetic look as if she could see what he was feeling. She tended to be in tune that way, but then, she had always been emotionally in tune to others he noticed.

Finally, one night they were down in the Hyperion when some sort of news had come about. Spike had been sitting, dosing off, as he did when there wasn't anything to do. Was it normal to feel this weary all the time? He doubted it. There wasn't anything normal about him anymore. Why did he bother? It was frustrating. Every night wondering if this would finally be the night that he was going to have a break through, feel better, and roll his eyes at his Nancy Boy self. Then, when morning rolled around and he was climbing into bed, seeing that it hadn't come, that he wasn't better, he knew that there was always tomorrow. As the days went, as he thought this way and hoped that way, eventually, as he crawled into bed, such hope stopped.

"We have a slight problem." Wesley's voice came through breaking Spike's thoughts.

"What is it?" Buffy stood up from where she was sitting, hands on her hips, already prepared to act.

"It seems that Lindsay McDonald has made his way back into town." Wesley responded with intensity in his voice.

"A slight problem then?" Gunn raised both his eyebrows. "I'd say as problems go that ranks with the big ones."

"Ah…I think I speak for mostly everyone else in this room when I ask, who's Lindsay?" Buffy gazed at them completely lost.

"Lindsay was a lawyer that worked at Wolfram & Hart. He and Angel used to square off a lot." Gunn explained.

"Yes, he was something of their Golden Boy over there…"Wesley started.

"Then Angel cut his hand off." Gunn filled in.

"Yes…which hardly has anything to with this." Wesley shot Gunn a look.

"Just thought I'd mention it." Gunn stated nonchalantly.

"Anyway, Wolfram & Hart invested a lot in Lindsay. He was moving well up his way on the ladder, but he had some moral dilemmas along the way." Wesley continued.

"They have those over there?" Buffy smirked.

Wesley returned that with a slight smile. "Not often. He did and here and there it caused him to actually work on Angel's side if they became involved in an evil that Lindsay found even he couldn't stomach. Unfortunately, in the long run Lindsay stayed with the firm and continued doing their bidding for the sheer selfishness of the extras that came along with a life like that. To make a long story short, Lindsay wound up changing his mind yet again on such a life and sought out Angel's help once more. He left Wolfram & Hart, turning down a promotion from them. It goes without saying that they were none too pleased about that and the threats he made on his way out. As you know, evil has a long memory." Wesley finished.

"Okay, so what's he doing here?" Buffy asked cutting to the chase.

"I don't know that yet. It couldn't have something to do with Wolfram & Hart…not after the way he left that place…" Wesley stated, though he didn't seem entirely convinced himself.

"We can't know that for a fact though. Things in the world of evil change all the time. Evil are opportunists. If they see the chance to gain something they'll take someone back in an instant." Buffy shrugged.

"Perhaps. But, Lindsay was always quite fickle about which side he was one. Good or evil can't trust him." Wesley explained.

Buffy shook her head. "Wait. I don't understand. It sounds like he switched sides when he left Wolfram & Hart. Why is he a threat exactly?"

Wesley shook his head. "Because he's been so flippant over the years. People change, but Lindsay could never stay changed. When he left town, although Angel buried the hatchet with him, he was warned never to return. The only reason he would do so is he's breaking the peace agreement they made on his exit."

"But we don't know that for sure." Buffy lifted an eyebrow.

"You've got to trust us on this one. We dealt with him for a long time. We know for certain." Wesley assured her.

"It's got to be suicide coming back here, not without a sweet deal set up for him at Wolfram & Hart; otherwise, they've got to be looking to put him in one of their own personal hell dimensions." Gunn commented.

"We can't know anything for sure unless we talk to him." Buffy decided.

"We're just going to go up to the guy and talk to him?" Gunn looked at her quizzically.

Buffy smiled. "You'll find that I have my ways of getting people to talk. What can I say? I'm a people person."

"Yes, I think I recall some of those tactics. They usually involved your fists, do they not?" Wesley smirked.

"If it gets the job done, don't fix it if it ain't broke." Buffy shrugged.

"Okay, but we have to find him first. We don't have an exact location, right?" Gunn questioned.

"No, just where he was last seen, which he's undoubtedly has moved on from by now." Wesley sighed.

"Well, at least we have a place to start." Buffy turned and looked towards everyone. "Besides, how hard can it be to spot a man with a missing hand?"

"Oh, no. He got his hand back. Or a hand back. Wolfram & Hart eventually gave him a new functioning one." Gunn stated casually.

Buffy crinkled her forehead at that one for a moment before moving on. "Okay then." She turned towards everyone else. "Well, troops. It looks like we're moving out."

As everyone started to stand, grabbing weapons, Spike sat still and heaved a sigh. He was not in the mood for this. He hadn't been in the mood for any of this. He had gone along though, for day after day now, not making a noise or much of a complaint. Couldn't he have a night off? Couldn't he have a night to himself? He wasn't…he just wasn't doing this.

Buffy noticed his lack of motion. She made her way over to him and sat down beside him. She knew that she didn't have long. They were heading out, but she'd take the time for him. They had hardly spoken about it, what they had talked about up in his room. Perhaps he needed another little push. "Everything okay?"

"I'm fine." Spike grumbled

Buffy shook her head. "Yeah, that's convincing."

"Look, just not in the mood for this tonight is all."

"I know it's tough…"Buffy began.

Spike waved it off. "I know. I know you do. I know you didn't get nights off just because you wanted 'em when you felt this way, but..."

If he expected her to become frustrated with him it didn't happen. She simply patted his knee. "You're right."

Spike looked up at her in complete surprise.

"I know I could have needed more breaks. If you want to pass on this one, that's fine. It's most likely not going to turn into much anyway, so odds are you won't miss anything. But I should get going now, before this trail gets even colder than it already is.

Spike simply nodded and then cleared his throat, willing the almost awkward feeling he was experiencing away. "Right. Shouldn't keep you then."

Buffy gave him a soft smile before standing up. "I'll see you when I get back."

He watched as everyone that was going began clearing out. As they left relief began to spread throughout his body.

It wouldn't last long.

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

The gang trudged through the door with defeat under their heels. They had been out there for hours trying to locate the ex-lawyer, but they had wound up turning up a whole heap of nothing. Buffy had hoped that if they knew where to start that they might be able to get on his trail, talk to some people, figure out where he was going. It had come apparent quickly that if Lindsay had spoken to anyone in the area they weren't willing to talk about it. From there, they had tried spots that were likely he would make an appearance at. There was still a whole lot of nothing. Moving on, they went for shot in the dark places, he had to be somewhere in L.A., right? Well, that much was true, but it was too big. There were too many places that he could be. They hadn't been able to narrow it down between all of them, even when splitting up.

"Well, that turned out to be a waste." Gunn sighed as he dropped the axe down on the counter in a heap.

"I wish I could put a positive spin on this. But you're right. That was a waste." Buffy pouted.

Just as Xander was about to speak, Buffy took a step forward, her eyes falling on the couch, the exact one that she had left Spike on. There he was, right as she left him, sitting there, in the very same position as when they had left him, a blank expression on his face.

Buffy made her way in front of him. "Spike, have you been here the whole time?"

She looked into his face, waiting for an answer. When one didn't come she bent down over him, giving his face a little wake-up slap. "Spike?"

The minute her hand made contact with him his eyes shot up, his mind ripped away from whatever daydream he had been having, a look of confusion written across his face. "What?"

Buffy stood up, and let out a slightly exasperated sigh. He had told her that he couldn't go. She had listened to him. What good had it done? He had sat in this very spot, for hours, completely catatonic. Had anything she had done together with him in the last week helped him in the least bit? She turned her back one time and it was as though he had completely regressed. But then, how did she know that she had made any kind of progress with him whatsoever in this "let's stay active" campaign? He hadn't complained, but he hadn't opened up about what he was feeling either? He had been going through the motions, even still, nothing sticking in the long run.

Spike stared up at her, seeing the frustration clear on her face. It was only a matter of time before she got sick of him and what he was feeling. He had been waiting for it. Granted, she had been patient longer than he had expected, but it had come nevertheless. He couldn't say that he blamed her. The guilt of it weighed down on him. If only he could just feel better then he wouldn't have to be putting her through this, worrying and upsetting her. God knows it was his fault she was wearing that look on her face right then.

Buffy looked over at the rest of the gang, at a complete loss for what to do. Her eyes fell on Xander, even surprising herself, as she normally would have expected that in something like this she would have sought out Willow. Of course, the Red headed witch hadn't made it back just yet, probably still working her way back with Kennedy from the chunk of L.A. they had been given to search through. Despite that, Buffy hadn't noticed in that moment that Willow wasn't back till she had thought on it. No, she had looked towards Xander, though, she didn't really know what he could do for her. She didn't know what any of them could do for her.

Before Xander was able to speak, yet again, Fred wandered into the room and felt the tension at once. "What's going on? Did you find Lindsay?"

"No." Buffy spoke sharply. "The whole trip was a waste. And apparently, so was the evening here too?" Fred looked up at her in confusion. "We're a little concerned about…well…Spike." Xander explained. "How he seems to have been doing less than nothing this whole time while we were away."

Fred's eyes fell on Spike. After the team had left Fred had gone up to her room to do a little bit of her own research. She may work with the team, helping to fight evil, but she was still a scientist after all. Perhaps she should have had the wits about her to stay with Spike? It seemed that he hadn't moved since they had left.

"Oh…well…I'm sure us all staring at him and talking about him like he's not part of this conversation isn't very helpful." Fred observed.

"Good point. On that note, I'm going to shovel on upstairs and mind my own business." Xander responded. He wasn't blatantly ignoring Buffy's plea for help, but Fred was right. They couldn't all gather around Spike and smother him with questions. If Buffy needed to talk about this she knew where to find him, but right now wasn't the time.

It seemed that others took Xander's cue as Wesley made his way into the office behind the desk and Gunn made his way upstairs towards his own room. Fred took Buffy's hand, and resolutely took her to the other side of the lobby, for a little chat.

Fred's face was filled with compassion, but at the same time Buffy couldn't help but feel like she was being watched, almost chaperoned. There was a twinge of anger that shot through her, but she knew that it had no right to be there, not after the past mistakes she had already made. It was practically Fred's first impression of her. Next to that, she was at a loss. She didn't know what to do right now and that was the very reason why she had turned away from Spike. She felt such frustration when it wasn't his fault. Why couldn't she reach him?

Buffy sighed in frustration. "I don't know what to do. Nothing I do seems to work. It's like he's just getting worse. I feel like we're going in circles. It's driving me up the wall."

Fred gave her a sympathetic smile. She didn't judge her. It wasn't an easy situation, but it seemed that Buffy had yet to find that balance between action and allowing Spike that downtime he desperately needed. It wasn't an easy task dealing with someone in his position. Gosh, she remembered when it was her. She had locked herself away in her room. No one had been able to get her out. It was months before they were able to get her downstairs. It had been Angel. Not once had he ever lost patience with her. None of them had. It wasn't to say that this made Buffy a bad person for becoming exasperated, she was dealing with a lot of things that the others weren't at the time.

"You're tired. You've been out all night. You've been helpin' Spike a lot lately. I don't mind talkin' to him. I have before." Fred offered. "I know he prefers you, but I think it could be useful to remind him that he has other people in his corner too."

Buffy couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt go through her for her momentary upset with Fred, as if she had been getting on her turf. This was about Spike. It was about helping Spike. That's all Fred was trying to do, not judge, just help.

Buffy paused thoughtfully for a moment. "Okay. But if you need anything or if he needs me I'll be up in my room. Just come and get me."

Fred nodded. "I will."

Fred watched as Buffy made her way upstairs, hesitantly, but still did so regardless. Once she was gone, Fred made her way over to Spike and sat down next to him. "I take it you heard all of that."

Spike looked towards her with a slight smirk on his face. "Every word. Seems everyone forgets the vampire extras on occasion."

Fred smiled softly. "I guess you can hang around a vampire for years, but that knowledge comes in waves. It's hard to remember all the time when you don't have it yourself."

"I guess." Spike shrugged. "So, what? You're here to remind me that I have people in my corner or some rot like that."

"I said it to Buffy, didn't I?" Fred spoke.

Spike gave a nod of his head.

"Then, it must be true. You do." Fred responded lightly.

"You don't know me," was Spike's only response.

"No, I don't. Not well anyway, but that doesn't mean that I'm not someone that you can count on." Fred explained.

"Oh yeah?" Spike stated cynically.

"Yeah. We've already had a few nice times together." Fred reminded him. "If there's more you want to talk about, then I'm here for you."

She did have a point. She had been quite protective of him in the past when Buffy seemed to be in over her head. She had let him in, told him about her personal past, trusted him with things that he was sure she didn't speak about on a daily basis. "It is. It's just…"His voice trailed off.

"It's just what?" Fred inquired patiently, not taking her eyes off him as his averted back towards the ground.

"It's not easy to talk 'bout." Spike explained quietly.

"We don't have to talk about anything you're not comfortable getting into. I'm not asking you to tell me what happened. I'm not asking you to tell me anything really. But maybe, if you just opened up a little bit, you'd start to get a little relief." Fred stated gently.

"Maybe." Spike responded doubtfully.

Fred gave him another smile. "Give it a try."

"It's a lot. Just a lot of different things." Spike sighed.

"Pick one and start there." Fred prompted.

Spike didn't say anything for a long moment. Fred started to wonder if she was going to be able to get him to speak at all, but then he looked up, his gaze falling on her once more.

"Just feel bad all the time. Can't describe it. Feel tensed up all the time. Like, ready for action. Just... not. Just…it's like I have no real interest in anything. Don't care much anymore. This darkness…" Spike shook his head.

"A feeling of hopelessness?"

"Yeah. That. Exactly that. I try to help it. Try to be what I was. Return to my old ways. The way Buffy likes me to be. I fail every time."

"I don't think Buffy doesn't like you right now, Spike. I think she's worried about you. She doesn't like to see you hurting, but it's not that she doesn't like you. It's because she likes you that she worries." Fred explained.

"She doesn't know what to do. Not that I know what to do. Not that anyone here really knows what to do." His eyes returned back down to the ground. "Feels like I'm doin' this to her, you know? I just need to be better. Cause I feel guilty for not being better. On top of other things."

"What other things?" Fred asked gently.

"Not being what I was. I was always able to just move on, no matter what happened. I was able to press on. Be strong. Fight. What I'm supposed to do. Vampire and all. We're not made to be weak. Ones that are don't last very long. That's what I've become. Weak." He scoffed. "So, it's that. It's this loathin'. Now, it's guilt too. Soddin' exhaustin' to be completely honest."

"Spike, I don't know exactly what you went through, but I know what I went through. They're both traumatizing in different ways. I may not be a vampire, but I don't think it's about what we are. I think it's about what's going on in our lives. I have also been completely out of it for a long time. it took a long time for me to see that I had strength. I didn't think I had it in me, but when it really came down to it, I did. I needed to so I was able to get through being completely on my own in an apocalypse. And to be able to get through what I went through in Pylea." She paused. "What I'm getting at is that, you and I, we're both warriors. It may differ how, but we both are. From one warrior to another, when I came back from Pylea I wasn't able to just snap back. I wasn't able to be who I was before what happened to me happened. It took time, but things came back. It will for you too. And no matter how long it takes, you're not alone in this."

Spike's eyes lit up at that, looking at her, a revelation on his face almost.

Fred smiled encouragingly at him. "Warriors have feelings too. Warriors are affected by things too. We couldn't be warriors if we weren't. It's why we are who we are. So, the self-loathing you don't have to carry on your shoulders anymore, because that vulnerability, it's part of what makes you good. You know what pain is. It's no fun. Not at all. But, it's part of what makes us have a soul. We don't live for the pain, but we survive in spite of it." Fred gently took his hand in hers. "And I promise you that things will get better. It's going to take time, but you will get there. It might take more time than you like, but you have to give yourself that. Believe it or not, you have to feel what you're feeling to get better.

I know Buffy is a concern of yours. You think she's frustrated with you. She's not. She's frustrated with herself, because she wants to be able to make you feel better."

Spike tilted his head at that one.

"She's frustrated with what happened to you too. Don't put that on you. It's not directed at you. I promise."

Spike nodded his head at her., though non-committally.

Fred gave him a sheepish smile. "Do you feel any better?"

Spike nodded once more. "I do. A bit. Thanks."

Fred patted him on the back gently before standing up. "You'll be alright. Promise."

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

Relief. He had known it for all of five minutes, but the second his head hit the pillow again his mind went back to obsessing over another angle of the situation at hand. Sure, he got it now a bit more. He didn't have to feel better right away. Warriors felt things too. Buffy had said as much, reminding him herself that she hadn't gotten better right away after what happened to her. It hadn't registered earlier, because he hardly would ever consider putting himself on the same level as her when it came to warrior status. She didn't have over a hundred years of mass murder under her belt. Neither did Fred for that matter, but something about hearing more than one person go through hard times, but being part of the fight, it helped make it click.

The problem laid in what he had just thought about, however. They didn't have all those years of mass murder on them. So, sure, he could possibly one day go back to being the way that he once was, but did he want to go back to being that way? There was nothing particularly special about him; there was nothing worth returning back to. Someone like Buffy or Fred, yes, of course knowing that they could eventually feel like themselves would be a good thing. They were good people. That was a form you would want to return to. Not him. No.

As far as he was concerned it didn't matter form he was in, vampire or human, either phase of himself hadn't been anything to write home about. He didn't want to be what he was. He wanted no part of his past, the burning that his soul reminded him of awake or asleep, he didn't want it. It didn't matter where he was. It didn't matter what he was feeling. It didn't matter what he was doing. He was bad.

That's why he had been taken in the first place.

And really, if the last year said what it meant to be good, sod that too! At least being evil had at times been fun. Since he'd gotten his soul back, things hadn't been. Not really. Perhaps for some moments, or brief periods, but then something always came down to crunch it. If it was true what they kept telling him, that with time and hard work things would get back to normal, he wasn't so sure it would be worth it to even put in that effort. "Normal" totally weren't that stellar either. Never had been. He was just so tired. So bone tired. He wanted out. He wanted all of this to stop! There had to be a way to end it. Who could help him? His mind latched onto something, and he smiled. The carpenter! He had to go find Xander.