A/N: Gettin' near the end. Only a couple more chapter, plus an epilogue. Thanks for all the reviews, favs, and follows! Now, on to the chapter. :-)

(Note: Some dialog taken directly from the episode.)

Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and its characters are the property of Joss Whedon.

No, I won't surrender

At any cost

You're something so sweet and tender

From my heart

Yes, I've done my evil

I've done my good

Just believe me, honey

I won't let go of you

You are the one

And there's no regrets at all

You are the one

And there's no regrets at all

-HIM, "You Are the One"

The raised voices from the continuing argument downstairs finally drew Buffy from her room. She crept down the stairs and sat down on the lowermost steps, taking a page from Dawn's book as she listened in on the chaos in the living room. It didn't take long to figure out that no one could even agree on a new system of debate. They were all trying to talk over each other, too intent on getting their own ideas across to listen to anyone else's.

"'Power to the people'? You sound like a child of the Seventies," Giles scoffed at one point.

Faith attempted to mediate, "Okay, guys, try not to freak out." She might as well have been talking to herself.

" All I'm saying is, now that Buffy's not here, we finally have some say in how and when we lose our necks," an excited Kennedy declared.

"I'm thinkin' maybe not everyone here should have a say," Xander snarked.

A weary sounding Giles spoke up, "W-We just have to find some way of having constructive dialog without going completely mad."

Buffy could imagine the Watcher removing his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. The din from all the chattering voices was probably giving the poor guy a headache.

"I just wonder if those of us who've been here longer should have more of a say," Kennedy muttered, sullen.

"Y-You guys," Tara's uncharacteristically raised voice indicated her frustration, "I think we're wasting time arguing about how to argue."

Faith finally broke in, her authoritative tone silencing the rest, "Everyone listen to me. Chill. Alright, it's been a long night. I don't know about you, but I'm wiped. Maybe we should catch some sleep and figure all this out in the morning. I understand you guys are wicked stressed. Frankly, our situation blows. We've gotta stay cool. It's the only way we're gonna get through this. Can everyone handle that?"

There were some sounds of agreement. It seemed like things were finally getting under control. Then the lights suddenly went out, plunging the house into darkness.

"What's going on?" a girl cried out.

"I'll get some candles," Amanda volunteered while Kennedy said she'd check the fuse box.

"Don't bother," Faith said, probably looking out a window, "All the lights in the whole street just went out. The people from the power company have got the hell outta Sunnydale."

That made sense. Buffy climbed the stairs to peer out through one of the second floor windows. She couldn't remember ever seeing the town so dark. The only light came from the distant stars and the moon, as well as the occasional flashlight as a couple of panicked straggler families hastily crammed their stuff into their cars before they made their escape. Buffy watched their antics with mild disinterest for a few minutes before the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, warning her of someone's approach. She turned to see Faith walking towards her with a lit candle in one hand.

"Hey." The second Slayer fidgeted. "Uh, can I talk to you for a sec, B?"

"Sure." Buffy led Faith into her bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed. She had a pretty good idea what the other Slayer wanted to talk about. "Kinda overwhelming, huh?"

Faith set the candle down on the dresser and crossed her arms. "Yeah. Wasn't expecting everybody to be so..." she waved a hand vaguely. "How the hell'd you do it? How'd you get everybody to listen to you?"

Buffy's mouth quirked in a humorless smile. "The trick is to always sound like you know what you're doing, even when you really don't have a clue. More importantly, you gotta remember that you're their leader, not their friend." She met Faith's eyes with hers, all seriousness. "You can't let yourself worry about whether or not they'll like your decisions. You're in charge, which means you decide what's best for the group. You can listen to other people's ideas, but in the end, it's always up to you."

Faith nodded, still looking a bit uncertain.

"Listen to Giles," Buffy advised, "He knows more than the rest of us put together. I always found his help invaluable."

"Okay."

Buffy hesitated, then decided it would be best to warn her, "Kennedy's gonna try to dominate the next meeting. Don't let her. She's a good fighter, and she thinks that means she knows more about warfare than she really does. She's also used to getting her own way. You gotta put her in her place early on, or she'll keep questioning your orders and making the other Potentials doubt you."

Faith pursed her lips. "Kinda like what happened to you?"

Buffy lowered her gaze, swallowing down a lump in her throat. "I think you've got a chance at being a good leader." She just wasn't sure Faith was ready for it, yet. Not when she was still finding her own feet.

"Thanks, B." Faith's expression was full of regret. "I'm sorry things turned out this way."

Buffy nodded, not trusting her voice. Faith left the room, the candle she'd brought with her still on the dresser, casting its flickering light over the darkened bedroom. Buffy curled up on the bed, wishing now more than ever that Spike was there with her. She hugged his pillow to her chest, breathing in the scent of him, and reached out to him through the link. She felt his concern and his reassurance, and his frustration that he couldn't be there. He would hurry back to her as soon as he could. Buffy knew this, so she took what comfort she could 'til then.

Spike sat on the hard stone floor, his back against the wall. Andrew lay a few feet away on top of a blanket. The monk had brought the blanket before he disappeared to some other part of the abandoned mission.

The first rays of morning light slanted through one of the narrow windows. Spike stretched out his right arm until the light touched the back of his hand. At first, nothing happened. But gradually, the skin reddened, then smoke began to rise. Spike withdrew his hand with a frustrated scowl. His resistance to sunlight was growing, but it still wasn't enough for him to hop on his bike and ride all the way back to Sunnydale. And he really wanted to get back there. Something had happened in his absence. Something that left Buffy feeling devastated. Spike didn't think it was an attack; he hadn't sensed any of the carefully suppressed rage or fear he associated with Buffy fighting. But something bad went down all the same, and Spike was stuck here, unable to help Buffy in any way.

Andrew, bored and oblivious to Spike's turmoil, rolled onto his stomach, rested his chin on his folded hands, and said, "I spy with my little eye something that begins with a T."

"Tapestry," Spike muttered.

Andrew grinned. "Hey, good one! How did you—"

"Tapestry's the only thing in the whole bloody room."

"So say you," Andrew countered, "but I say, look deeper."

Spike grumbled, "I'll look deep into your jugular is what I'll look at."

"Don't spazz out."

"I'm not—" Spike gritted his teeth, "Don't say another word."

Andrew sulked in silence for a moment, then he abruptly brightened at a new idea. "Rock, paper, scissors?"

The vampire threw him an incredulous look. "What's the matter with you? Don't you understand what's happening?"

The boy rolled his eyes. "Uh, yeah, we're waiting here 'til it's night again so you can ride on your motorcycle without exploding."

"And every minute we're stuck here, the Slayer's out there facing hell knows what."

"C'mon," Andrew cajoled, "what's the worst thing that could happen to her?"

A deadly growl reverberated in Spike's chest. Andrew finally got the hint and shut up.

Buffy listened in from the stairs again the next morning. She wanted to know how well Faith handled her new role as leader without seeming to interfere. Already there was a lot less yelling, since everyone had gotten some rest; initial panic from the blackout notwithstanding.

Faith opened up the meeting with, "Alright, so, what do we know?"

"Well, we know we're basically the last humans left in Sunnydale," Xander replied. Sunnydale was now a ghost town. Even the demons and vampires had run off.

"And that all the evil in town wants us dead," a Potential named Caridad added.

Vi squirmed in her seat. "I don't wanna die."

"Don't worry," Anya assured the girl, "It's far more likely you'll live long enough to watch most of your friends die first. And then you'll die."

Kennedy spoke up, "We also know that Caleb told Buffy that everything's going down at the seal. I think we should head—"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Faith cut in, "So, we know we've got a lot of enemies. We'll start there."

Kennedy let out a condescending huff, "Faith, I'm sorry—"

But the Slayer once again interrupted, "I got this, okay?" She addressed the rest of the group, "So, let's go over our rogues' gallery. Who exactly do we have here?"

"Well, there's the First, who we can't touch," said Dawn.

Xander continued, "And there's our friend, the Reverend 'I Hate Women.'"

"Who's basically untouchable," Anya added.

"There's the 'roid-rage vamps, who are pretty much the worst," Dawn sighed, "And the, uh—"

"Bringers," Faith stated, "I think they're our weakest link."

A puzzled Giles asked, "Are you thinking of attacking the Bringers?"

Faith shrugged. "Maybe, or we could kidnap one."

"And what?" Kennedy scoffed, "Hold it ransom?"

Faith managed to tamp down her annoyance at the girl's increasing insolence. "I'm saying, think about getting us a Bringer and making it talk. Find out info on the First and Caleb that way."

From her hiding place at the stairs, Buffy nodded in silent approval. That actually wasn't a bad idea. Only problem was, there was no guarantee they could trust anything the Bringer would say. But even lies held useful information, if one knew what to listen for.

"How do you think we should catch one if they don't wanna be found?" Robin asked.

Before Faith could answer, Kennedy interjected, "I'm not sure this is such a good idea. Why try and get information when we already know about the seal? Why don't we send a team to the high school, do some recon, and—"

"No," Faith stated flatly.

Kennedy stared at her, open mouthed. "Just like that? You're not even listening," the girl complained, "I thought things would be different now, but you keep shutting me down."

"Things are different," Faith retorted, rising from her seat, "because now, I'm your boss. Look, you guys, I'm not Buffy. I'm not the one who's been on your asses all this time. But I'm not one of you anymore, either. I'm your leader. Which means I go first, and I make the rules, and the rest of you follow after me. Is that clear?"

A few silent nods, a few wide-eyed stares, but nobody argued with her. Faith turned her stern gaze on Kennedy. "So, Kennedy, back the hell off and let me do my job, alright?"

The Potential crossed her arms, obviously sulking. Buffy smiled, thinking the other Slayer handled the situation well.

"Okay," Faith declared in a confident tone, "let's get down to business."

They worked out a plan for capturing a Bringer. A few hours later, as the sun lowered in the west, Giles and a handful of Potentials set out to put their plan into action. Kennedy "volunteered" to be the bait, luring some of the Bringers out to try and kill her. The rest of the team would then jump in and slay all but one of the hooded men, who they'd tie up and drag back to the house.

The mission was a success. Giles and the Potentials carried their trussed-up prisoner into the basement chained him up. It was only after Giles tried to question the prisoner that they hit a snag.

"The Bringer's dumb."

Giles and Faith had come up from the basement to speak with the Scoobies and the handful of girls who were gathered in the kitchen. Buffy was also there, standing in a corner out of everyone's way, arms crossed and gaze fixed on her shoes.

"You were expecting, what, a Rhodes Scholar?" Anya quipped.

The Watcher threw her an exasperated look. "Dumb as in mute."

"Someone ripped out its tongue," Faith grimaced.

"Gross!" Amanda exclaimed.

Dawn perked up; an idea had come to her. "Hey, I-I've been reading this old Turkish spellbook. There's an old conjuration that the ancient Turks used to communicate with the dying."

"Oh, yeah," Willow nodded, "I think I read a translation of that."

The teen gaped in dismay. "There's a translation of it?" She took a calming breath, "I'm over it. Um, so this spell is used to communicate with people who can't talk. Would this help us with Mr. No-Tongue?"

Willow gave it some thought. "Yeah, I think so."

"W-We just need to get together a few ingredients," Tara said.

"Alright. Well, cool," Faith nodded approval, "While Willow does that, the rest of us can—"

Buffy tensed a second before the front door's opening heralded Spike and Andrew's return.

"We're back!" Andrew called out. He and the vampire entered the kitchen.

"Hi, everybody. I missed you guys a lot." Andrew set his football helmet down on the counter and hurried to grab a package of snack pastries from a cupboard. "Sorry it took so long for us to get back from our mission, uh, mission, but we had to wait out the sun. Uh, I think our mission went very well." He crammed a pastry into his mouth and continued to yammer as he chewed, "We, uh, we rode on Spike's hog, which was very cool, and played some amusing games. And uh—Oh! We got some information." He paused. "You know what? I really need to urinate." And with that, Andrew abruptly left for the bathroom.

"He's a breath of fresh air, isn't he?" Spike drawled, "Thank god I don't breathe. So, I think we got a lead." He addressed this last statement to Buffy. The others in the room shifted uncomfortably.

"Um," Dawn bit her lip, "Buffy's not the leader anymore."

The peroxided vampire blinked. "What?"

"Uh..." Willow glanced at Buffy. Seeing that the Slayer made no move to speak up, the redhead ventured to explain, "While you were gone, we all got together and, uh, talked out some disagreements that we were having. A-And eventually, after much discussion, Buffy decided that it would be best for all of us if she...took a little time off. A little breather." Willow flashed a hopeful smile.

Spike regarded her with a blank expression. "Uh-huh. I see. Been practicing that little speech long, have you?"

The redhead winced and stepped back to rejoin the others.

"So, uh, Buffy took some time off right in the middle of the apocalypse, and it was her decision," Spike's tone was sardonic.

"Well, we all decided," Xander said, though this was not entirely accurate. It was a majority vote, but he and the other Scoobies stood by the decision, even if they didn't agree with it.

"Oh, yeah, you all decided." Spike let out a bitter laugh. "You sad, sad, ungrateful traitors. Who do you think you are?"

"We're her friends," Willow protested, "We just wanted—"

"Oh, that's ballsy of you!" the vampire snapped, "You're her friends and you betray her like this."

"Spike," Buffy murmured.

"You don't understand," Giles tried to explain. But the enraged vampire wasn't willing to listen.

"You know, I think I do, Rupert," he sneered, "You used to be the big man, didn't you? The teacher, all full of wisdom. Now she's surpassed you, and you can't handle it."

"Spike," Buffy said again, a little louder.

"She has saved your lives again and again," he ranted, "She's died for you, and this is how you thank her!"

"Hey!" Faith marched up to him, "Why don't you take it down a notch or two. The time for speech-giving is over, bad boy."

Spike crossed his arms and took a step closer until they stood toe to toe, his expression deceptively calm. "Is that right?"

"Yeah, that's right," the Slayer retorted, "Save your lack of breath."

"Alright." Spike abruptly backhanded her.

Faith caught herself against the breakfast bar, slowly turned to face him with a dangerous grin. "You're pretty sweet on her, aren't you?" She kicked out, her boot connecting with Spike's face. "I think it's cute..."

Spike punched her. She punched him right back. "...the way she's got you whipped."

Faith kicked the vampire hard in the chest, sending him flying into the dining room. Spike slid across the table, sending the fruit bowl crashing to the floor a second before he tumbled after it.

"Enough!" Giles shouted, to no avail. Faith and Spike were both too worked up at this point to voluntarily stop.

Faith rounded the table and rained several hard blows down on Spike before he could pick himself up. He knocked her back with a hit to the chest and leapt to his feet.

"Finally got what you wanted, didn't you?" he snarled. He blocked Faith's next swing and punched her in the jaw. As he drew back his fist to hit her again, someone grabbed his wrist. Spike whipped around, ready to tear into whoever dared interfere, when his eyes met Buffy's pleading gaze.

No words were said, but everyone who watched them got the impression that there was some kind of silent exchange between them. Then Spike took Buffy's unresisting hand in his and headed for the front door. He flung one last condemning scowl at the others, then he and Buffy left the house. The door slammed shut behind them.

Spike wasn't sure how long he stormed down the abandoned street. All he thought about, beyond the boiling rage, was getting as far away from those sodding traitors as possible. Buffy didn't utter a word of protest at the anger-fueled pace he set or his tight grip on her hand. She followed him meekly, which only enraged him further. Those fickle bastards had broken his Slayer's spirit with their betrayal.

Realizing they couldn't march forever, Spike picked a random house and headed for it. Its front door was ajar. Small items were scattered here and there on the floor, dropped in the owners' haste to get away. Spike's night-attuned eyes searched for any signs of danger before he shut the door and led Buffy further into the house. It was a single-story, the master bedroom located down a short hallway. The bed itself was neatly made. Spike gently urged Buffy to sit down on it, then left the room to rummage for some candles or something. He wound up finding something better; a hurricane lantern. He lit it with his trusty Zippo and returned to the bedroom, setting the lamp down on the nightstand. Only then did something occur to him and he snorted in amusement. Buffy gave him a curious look.

"Do you realize I could just walk in here? No invite needed?" he shook his head in wry humor, "This town really is theirs, now, isn't it?"

"Looks like it." Buffy reached up and gently touched a fresh bruise on his cheek.

The vampire's features twisted in anger as he remembered the earlier fight. "That bitch," he spat, "She's all about smiles and reformation when you're on your feet. But the moment you're down, she's all about the kicking, isn't that right? You say the word, and she's a footnote in history. I'll make it look like a painful accident."

Buffy's eyes lowered. "It wasn't just Faith. The Potentials, Wood, Anya... And it's not like they were wrong. I failed them."

Spike vehemently shook his head. He wouldn't believe that. It wasn't Buffy's fault; there was no way anyone could've guessed at Caleb's inhuman strength!

"This'll change your tune," he declared, an eager grin on his lips, "You were right. Caleb is trying to protect something from you. And I think you were spot-on all the way. I think it's at the vineyard."

Buffy didn't react to the news the way he'd hoped. In fact, she didn't react at all.

"So?" he prompted, "You were right. Buffy?"

"I don't feel very right," she said in a small voice.

Spike knelt in front of her. He gently took her hands in his. "You're not a quitter, Buffy. You lost the leadership, but you can get it back.

"Can? Maybe. Should?" She freed one of her hands to rub at her stinging eyes. "I'm just so tired."

"You listen to me," Spike admonished, squeezing her hands for emphasis. His voice was filled with unwavering certainty as he told her, "I've been alive a bit longer than you. And dead a lot longer than that. I've seen things you couldn't imagine. And done things I prefer you didn't. Don't exactly have a reputation for bein' a thinker. I follow my blood, which doesn't exactly rush in the direction of my brain." His mouth quirked in a rueful smirk. "So I make a lot of mistakes. A lot of wrong bloody calls. A hundred-plus years, and there's only one thing I've ever been sure of. You."

Buffy turned her head away. The way he looked at her was just too painful.

Spike reached up and gently took hold of her chin, turning her back to him. "Hey, look at me. When I say I love you, it's not because I want you. It has nothing to do with me. I love what you are. What you do. How you try. I've seen your kindness and your strength. I've seen the best and the worst of you. And I understand, with perfect clarity, exactly what you are. You're a hell of a woman," he smiled tenderly, "You're the One, Buffy."

Tears rolled down Buffy's cheeks. It wasn't just his heartfelt words that moved her; it was also the emotions she felt from him. Spike meant every word. There were no doubts, no uncertainties, no delusions or wishful thoughts. He wasn't just trying to make her feel better. He truly believed everything he said.

"I don't wanna be the One," Buffy choked.

Spike smiled, shrugged. "I don't wanna be this good-looking and athletic. We all have crosses to bear."

Buffy laughed in spite of herself. Pleased by this, Spike leaned in and placed a soft kiss on her forehead. He then straightened and encouraged her to lie back on the bed. "You get some rest, now. Tomorrow, we'll figure out what we're gonna do."

Buffy reached out to him. "Will you just hold me? Please?"

"As if you have to ask." Spike toed off his boots and climbed into the bed with her. Buffy snuggled against him, her head tucked under his chin. After a while, her breathing slowed until she was sound asleep. Spike stroked her hair, sent soothing thoughts to her through the link. Funny, he mused, in the months since they'd Claimed each other, he'd never felt closer to her than he did at that moment. He pressed a loving kiss on the top of her head.

Buffy woke hours later to find Spike fast asleep, his head resting on her shoulder. Probably listening to her heartbeat. Buffy smiled and ran her fingers through his short white-blonde hair. She'd never felt more grateful for him than she did right then. Buffy had let herself sink into despair, thinking she'd failed as a leader and a Slayer, believing she wasn't good enough to defeat Caleb and the First. But Spike wouldn't let her wallow in self-pity. He dragged her out of her dark mood with his love and faith in her. Now she had to prove to herself she deserved his unshakeable loyalty.

Caleb was protecting something at the vineyard. Something he was desperate to keep away from her. He was stronger than her, but Buffy had defeated stronger opponents before. She'd fallen into the same pitfall as her enemy, thinking that brute strength was the answer. No, an all out attack wasn't the way to go if she wanted to best Caleb. Buffy would have to resort to cleverness instead.

Buffy shook the vampire awake. "Spike."

"Hey." He stretched and rubbed his eyes. "It's not sunrise yet, luv."

"I know. If we're gonna get where we need to without you burning up, we have to go now."

Spike sat up and regarded her curiously. He sensed the change in her. She wasn't bogged down by despair anymore. "Where are we going?"

"The vineyard," Buffy replied, smiling, "We're gonna take whatever Caleb's protecting over there. Just the two of us."

It was crazy. Reckless. Suicidal. Spike grinned. "Well, what're we waitin' for?"

It was getting dangerously close to dawn by the time they reached the vineyard. Spike didn't worry. The woods would provide enough shade 'til they reached the town's outskirts and made a mad dash for the nearest sewer access. Spike's building resistance to sunlight should help out as well.

Buffy and Spike barged into the monastery-turned-winery. They caught the two Bringers standing guard by surprise and easily took them out. The Bringer Buffy killed went tumbling down the stairs into the cellar, heralding her arrival to Caleb. Spike kept out of sight while Buffy descended the steps.

"Hey!" she greeted the startled preacher, "Heard you got something of mine."

Caleb grinned. "Well, if it ain't the Prodigal Slayer!"

Buffy strode casually among the wine casks, careful to maintain some distance between her and Caleb. "Where's it at?" she asked without much concern, "Well, I'm gonna find it, sooner or later."

As she'd hoped, Caleb's gaze followed her as she walked around the cellar. Pretty soon the preacher's back was turned to the stairs. At Buffy's mental cue, Spike hurried down the steps, silent as a cat, and began searching for any sign of whatever Caleb was hiding while Buffy kept him distracted.

"No, you're not," Caleb retorted, unaware of the vampire's presence, "I lay one hand on you, and you're just a dead little girl."

Buffy's shoulders rose in a careless shrug. "Lay a hand on me," she dared him, "If you can."

She ducked his first powerful swing with ease, then somersaulted over him as he struggled to regain his balance. Caleb was stronger than her, no question, but Buffy was far more agile. He couldn't hurt her if he couldn't catch her.

Buffy ran and the preacher gave chase. She leapt onto a stack of barrels and trotted across them, jumping away as Caleb hurled himself after her. The preacher crashed into the barrels, sending wine splashing across the floor.

Meanwhile, Spike discovered a trapdoor behind another stack of barrels. A subbasement? He opened it up and peered inside, saw rough dirt walls and the flicker of torchlight below. Spike jumped in, landed lightly on his feet. The handful of Bringers in the underground chamber spun around at his unexpected arrival and immediately charged at him, weapons drawn. Spike snapped the neck of the first Bringer and grabbed the man's knife for himself. He slashed the next Bringer's throat, stabbed another in the chest, losing the knife in the process. The last Bringer slashed at him. Spike jumped back, grabbed the hooded man's wrist, and twisted until the blade fell from his numb grasp. The vampire then slammed the Bringer's head into the wall over and over until the lifeless body fell to the ground.

"Well, that was fun." Spike made his way deeper into the chamber. He didn't have to go far before he found what he was looking for. The Bringers had hewn away at the bedrock until they'd left behind a single large boulder standing like a platform. Embedded in the top of this boulder was a large chunk of smooth obsidian. And embedded in the obsidian was the blade of an axe-like weapon. Spike knew this weapon. He'd seen its drawing in Michael Poole's book. He even remembered the caption written beneath it: Scythe. The weapon gleamed like it was brand new, its blade bright red, and part of it curved upward at a point, so it could be used to stab as well as hack. Its long handle tapered off into a wooden shaft sharpened to a fine point. It was beautiful. And it was his.

Meanwhile, Buffy continued to evade all of Caleb's attempts to strike her. To an observer it would've been like watching a large dog chasing after a squirrel. He just couldn't keep up with her. And it didn't help that Caleb was losing his temper. Anger made him even clumsier.

"You whore!" he shouted.

Buffy paused and turned to face him. "You know, you really should watch your language. If someone didn't know you, they might think you were a woman-hating jerk."

As Caleb lunged at her, Buffy felt Spike's signal, telling her he'd found whatever it was they were looking for. She saw the trapdoor beside an unsteady stack of barrels. She ducked under Caleb's wildly swung fist, then dove headfirst through the trapdoor. Her foot kicked the barrels in passing, causing them to topple onto the trapdoor and slam it shut behind her. She heard more barrels fall on top of it, but she knew that wouldn't keep the preacher out for long. It only bought her and Spike a little time.

Buffy tucked and rolled as she landed on the hard stone floor, then hopped to her feet. She saw Spike standing with his back to her. The vampire was riveted by whatever he was staring at. She could feel his awe. Buffy walked past the bodies of the Bringers he killed and moved to stand beside him. Her eyes widened when she saw the weapon. The Scythe. She more than saw it, though. She felt it. It was ancient and powerful. And it was hers.

"You feel it, too," Spike murmured. It wasn't a question.

Buffy nodded, too enthralled to speak. A triumphant smile worked its way across her face. She was right, just as Spike knew she was. Without tearing her gaze from the Scythe, she reached out to her side and gripped Spike's hand in hers.