A/N: Some of the dialogue is taken directly from the episode, Showtime, which I have italicized.

Act, act, act, she sang in her head and yet, Buffy remained motionless. Staring at the open window as though it held answers, she heard a distant pounding coming from behind her, her friends trying to fight their way inside. She had always done her best work by taking the lead and doing. Plans wee always foiled, the more they talked, the less it went the way they intended, but she didn't even know how to begin.

Part of her sensed the door slamming open, a warm but firm hand of support went to her shoulder, a solid body fell into hers, Dawn, seeking comfort, but she had none to offer. Giles scurried throughout the room for evidence and maybe dust in place of the vampire that no longer inhabited the room. He muttered to himself, Xander cursed, Willow gasped, and Dawn sobbed, but Buffy couldn't bring herself to react to them. If she stood in this one spot, played over and over all that happened in a flash- Spike vamping out, her kicking the others out of the room, the Bringers invading, a fight, silence- she could figure out the solution and she could find him to bring him home.

She loved him, it's clearer to her now than it's ever been, but it's no longer with the anxiety-ridden anticipation of taking the leap, but filled with blind panic and rage and the very real knowledge that she never told him.

In time, Buffy would have to process the idea that for whatever reason, Spike mattered to the First, and that this must be a good thing for her, to have him on her side. They'd taken control of her greatest soldier, first his mind and now in physical presence and it scared her, what they could do with him. More than anything, she's not thinking of Spike as a soldier but as her lover and the fear that now resides is for what they could do to him. It mattered, that distinction, and she wished she could tell him so.

To get him back, she first needed to know what happened, where he went, and how to get to him, but she had nothing. It was his strength that had gotten her through these past few months, from coming back to everything with the First, and now he was gone. Buffy could feel it, how dangerously close to a breakdown she was, but she couldn't give up now, couldn't fail him. With a deep breath, she broke her gaze and turned toward her friends.

Tara and Anya had ran downstairs in the chaos to keep an eye on the oblivious girls caught up in their movie marathon, and though they were attempting to remain calm and cool, Tara more successful than Anya, their eyes followed Buffy as she walked down the stairs. Her legs felt wobbly, arms tingly, and she thought how much easier it would be just to crumble. These girls, Potentials with nothing but a mystical and romantic view of what it meant to be a slayer, hadn't really known much about Spike. Every so often, she'd heard their murmuring, the vampire with a soul, obsessed with Buffy, driven insane, volatile, dangerous, useless, and she'd rolled her eyes, knowing in time he'd prove himself as valuable as she knew him to be.

Standing in front of them, she kept from bursting into tears only because of the lack of emotion on their faces. None of them seemed too bothered, some of them relieved, and anger blossomed in her chest. These girls had come into her life because she was their only hope, but they acted like she was the overbearing babysitter mom and dad didn't realize they were too old to have. She hated them then, wanted them out of her house and out of her life, wanted Spike to just be here, but it wasn't happening. And now, they weren't even listening. Buffy paused her speech, took a deep breath, and prepared to tell them just how terrible they were, but froze.

A creature was standing outside the front window of her living room, and forgetting the girls in front of her, Buffy knew it was time to act. Her body was aching for it, the battle with the Bringers doing little to satisfy that craving. They were behind her, Giles, Xander, Willow, Tara, Anya, Dawn, and the girls, and this time, Buffy knew, they would see what it meant to be the slayer.

The creature was ancient, unlike anything she'd faced before, and ruthless. As she lashed out and heard the crunch of flesh on flesh, she waited for the thrill of domination, but instead met pain. The creature was strong, coming at her fast and furious, almost gleeful in its taunting. When it was over, the creature slinking off back into the night, after Spike, she just knew it, Buffy laid in the grass for a long time. The girls were shrieking and crying, the cocoon they had built around themselves shattered.

Later, the bruises receding, her body recovering, Giles explained about the Turok Han, almost undefeatable, and she had nothing to offer him. She knew the stakes, the constant ebb of panic surging every time she thought of Spike. To get back her vampire, she had to take down the creature whose weaknesses were indiscernible.

If possible, Buffy was even more exhausted than before Spike had been taken. In-between students at work, she drew out fighting strategies and bulleted notes, but knew it was useless. At home, the Potentials were worse, now nervous, on edge, hormonal, and talking in hushed whispers about their doubts about Buffy and her ability to protect them all. Dawn kept breaking down into tears, furious that she hadn't yet found Spike, as though Buffy weren't waging that same battle within. Willow and Tara, with serious supervision from Giles, had created a locator spell to find his location and having ran to it, Buffy suffered another embarrassing defeat by the Turok Han. Xander was trying to be helpful by limiting his semi-less offensive comments about Spike and Anya kept suggesting that best case scenario, Spike was already dust and therefore not suffering any kind of trauma. Giles didn't say a word about Spike, but his refined silence implied a sense of condescension and I-told-you-so that drove Buffy crazy. She felt helpless, hopeless, and alone.

To hide out from the rest of them, she went down to the basement and laid on Spike's cot. It was the only space in the house she managed to keep Potentials from overrunning. They had tried to make it the 'cool' place and Buffy had laughed at them, some of the girls reminding her so much of the Cordelia of the past, that she almost felt wistful. But they had scoffed at her, suggesting she get over her sick fascination with so-called vampires with souls, and Willow had caught her arm just in time from lashing out. Buffy refused to learn their names, but ensured that they spent the most time under Anya and Andrew's long and rambling tutelage and barely ever got an opportunity to partake in hand's on training.

Once she cleared it out again, making sure that Spike's few possessions were safe and untouched, Buffy made the basement her safe space. It was quiet and the only place she could meditate, something she hadn't done in months. The cot smelled like him too, however gross it sounded, she couldn't bring herself to wash his sheets. Spending too much time down there had its negative effects too. Too much time wasted hiding away meant less time researching and finding a way to Spike back. It also made her feel worthless, her inability to save him overwhelming, at the same time it was soothing. Taking deep breaths, Buffy's senses absorbed the Spikeness of the room and fell into sleep as best she could.

Spike drifted in and out of consciousness, constant pain controlling his body. All he wanted was to lie down, but the chains holding him against a sharp wall of what he suspected to be rocks didn't allow for much leeway. The strange creature, creepy and leering, tortured him wordlessly and seemingly without reason. When it disappeared, Spike waited in painful anticipation of when it might return. Pain and loss consumed him, his mind trying to convince himself that if she could, Buffy would come for him, because it was what she did, more so than it being what he deserved.

In his worst torment, when the First quieted, leaving him to his own twisted memories, Spike knew this was nothing compared to what he had done in his past. That such torture was his repentance and that relief was not justified, but he still yearned for it. When the First did take over his mind, he craved blood and the bite. The First, taking the form of all those in his past, whether he loved or despised them, taunted and teased, because despite his deepest yearning, he had no access to victims. When it quieted again, right before the creature would come back, Spike worried that the intention was to prime him for destruction, that at some point, he would crack and lose his mind irresolutely, and then he'd do whatever it wanted. In some ways, he did want it, however more terrible the guilt of it weighed on him because to succumb to oblivion would be bliss. Buffy, her light and her goodness, shone on him the most in these moments, pulling him from the dark thoughts and forcing him to fight through it.

Of course, as soon as he thought of her, the First would reappear in her vision. Every time, it started the same. Warmth and hope flared through him as she meandered towards him, his savior, saying the words he didn't even allow himself to dream about anymore, that she loved him, believed in him, wanted him there with her. He did believe it at first, partly because of how she had been acting recently, but then as she got closer, close enough that if he extended his chains just a bit further, he'd be able to touch her, but then his fingers would go right through her, and the Buffy in front of him chilled. Words were vicious, reminding him of who he was and the place in her world. He'd rather be dust than be thought of like that by her, but he fought his way through it, took all that the First and the creature through at him in the hopes that the real Buffy would come for him.

Right now, he was thankful for the silence. Slumping against his chains and focusing his thoughts on his girl, Spike fell into troubled sleep.

Buffy woke with a start. She rolled over, her senses so overwhelmed by Spike that she swore when she rolled over it would be into him. Of course, instead she ran into the wall, and the shock of the hit and the loss consumed her.

When she deigned to open her eyes, she knew it was morning by the small window on the opposite side. It was far enough away from the cot to not pose a threat to Spike, but close enough that he'd be able to tell the time of day. Once the final tears were shed, Buffy focused on her breathing and tried to build her determination. The Potentials just weren't getting it, the severity of the situation. They thought the training was play time, or else annoying and pointless. They didn't understand the importance of learning skills and strategies even though they didn't have strength and power. Her words weren't cutting it, but she couldn't bring them into the real danger, not when Buffy was barely a match for it herself. She'd get through to them though, she had to if any of them were to survive.

Once she got the courage to go upstairs, she found them all sitting in front of the TV again, munching on cereal and giggling about something Buffy didn't' care about knowing. That they just sat there staring at her, perturbed only that she dare step in front of the TV and regal them all with her latest speech about honor and team work and love, rolling their eyes and looking bored, Buffy wanted to kick them all out of her house. She wanted them to stop being potential and start being useful, grow inhuman strength capable of attacking Bringers and ancient vampires and incorporeal evils and to bring Spike home. So many of them had suffered loss, of family and friends, home and security, the comfort and ignorance of not having a destiny greater than themselves, but put them together and they became a babbling gang of teenage angst. Yet, right now, they were all she had.

Giles was right about one thing, she was a general, and it was time to reign in her army. For weeks, the girls had complained about being cooped up in the house, listening to long lectures and struggling through tedious workouts, and not seeing anything resembling real action. They weren't ready, but unless Faith died, none of them would ever be equipped with the power to stand a real chance. Sometimes being the slayer, she had learned many times, meant being more than her own power and capabilities. It was about instinct and cleverness, how to protect rather than destroy, to use what she had, not what she wanted to have at her disposal.

Rather than risk breaking down into sobs and screams, Buffy stepped aside and let them at the TV again. She settled for rolling her eyes and stepped into the hallway. An idea was formulating and she needed the girls to think everything was normal.

Taking another deep breath, Buffy thought hard and tried, "Willow, can you hear me?"

There was a moment's hesitation and Buffy felt stupid for trying until, "Yeah."

She smiled a little at that. At least something was going right.

"We're losing them. Can't let that happen. I got an idea. Grab Xander and Tara."

Willow said, "Xander, Tara."

Xander jumped, causing the three girls to grimace at him.

"What?"

Leaving one of the Potentials glowering at him for interrupting the show, Buffy gestured to the kitchen. Once they were all inside, Buffy tried again.

"I have to slay the Neander-vamp if I'm going to get Spike out of that cave. But I need those girls to see me do it."

Willow smiled conspiratorially. "I get it. You wanna put on a show."

Xander was frowning and for a second, Buffy thought he was going to put up a fight about saving Spike or bringing the Potentials into the fight. Instead, his frown shifted into a beaming smile.

"I know the perfect place."

For the first time in days, Buffy offered her friends a genuine smile. She was going to get her vampire back, or she would die trying.