Buffy was ready to lead by example, rather than by speeches in which no one listened. The Potentials may have been grating on her last nerve, but she was stuck with them and they depended on her, so she decided it was time for a mutually beneficial relationship. Game face on, she knew very little could stand in her way, regardless of vampire's age and ferocity.

The reality and severity of the situation hovered the closer they got to sundown. The realization that Spike had been in captivity for days, almost a week, worried her more than just for his safety. It very well could be that Anya was right, a dusted Spike might be better off, no matter how much it knocked her out just to think of it. With enough time and torture, Spike could belong to the First, his mind incapacitated, driven insane by torment, bloodlust, and grief. Buffy suspected that the more someone cared, the more susceptible they were to the First's manipulation. She hoped that he was not beyond repair because no matter the circumstances, she was going to save him and she would not give up on him.

As she lay on Spike's cot, the girls stormed the kitchen, chattering away about nothing as they ate her out of groceries. None of them had an inkling about what was to happen that night, and only a small part of Buffy felt guilty about that. She wasn't expecting them to fight just yet, but she needed them to grasp the situation. Sometimes being the slayer meant purposefully putting yourself into difficult and dangerous situations because it was the right thing to do. It wasn't all about dusting fledgling vamps who never got an opportunity to learn their newly undead purpose. Apocalypses, if they could even understand that this was what it was, did not all simply include one Big Bad that could be taken down by sheer force and will by the good guys. It was layered, deep, and complex, and included small battles in which loss and injury could result. They might think her weak that she went down in the first fight with the Ubervamp, but then she had been emotionally distraught and had no idea what a Turok-Han was. Now she knew, and it was still dangerous, but she was willing to take the blows if it proved a point.

Hearing a pounding coming from upstairs, Buffy jumped up, taking the stairs two at a time. At first, the girls were talking too loudly to be perturbed by a knocking, but it was Andrew who interjected, asking if all of them were accounted for. Buffy watched them from her place in the doorway, Xander's eyes fixed on the front door, and Willow and Tara joined hands in preparation of the spell.

The pounding grew more persistent and, the Potentials, realizing what was happening, started to scream. Willow and Tara were murmuring under their breaths, the barrier up, but Buffy knew it wouldn't last long.

One of them shouted, "It's here- that- that thing."

She heard another, "What do we do?"

Locking eyes with Willow, Buffy understood it was time.

"Run," her voice almost croaked, but when she spoke again, it was clear and loud. "Everybody run!"

They were taking her lead, fully willing and unquestioning for the first time. Buffy crossed the kitchen and swung open the back door and watched as they all took off running. The barrier was weakening by the second, the Bringers started to break through and she stabbed one of them as it approached Xander.

With a deafening pop, the barrier burst and the Ubervamp broke in, threatening and exuberant at its triumph. With a final shout to Xander, Willow, and Tara, Buffy took off after the Potentials, needing to guide them towards their big final destination.

If they believed she would be accepting of simply running away from the problem, they were in for a shock. She saw them standing above her on the platform, teary eyes and bewildered expressions, feeling as though they were trapped. It was just her and the Ubervamp now, all eyes wide open and trained on them. The Turok-Han took its time approaching. It had been exasperated by the delay the barrier provided, but seemed to gain more confidence in the chase. It was full of fury, persistent and fierce as it began to lay into her. Buffy fought back, punching and kicking, but somehow not making as much contact as she was receiving. The Ubervamp got a good grasp on her and threw her into the scaffolding, the pain piercing and knocking the breath out of her. A weapon dropped, a crossbow, at her feet that one of the Potentials must have been carrying, and before she could regain any strength, she rushed toward it and stabbed the Ubervamp in the chest. Not even faltering, the Ubervamp still lurked towards her, so Buffy grabbed a pipe and tried lashing out with it. She was using anything she could find, the pipe, an axe, but it wasn't enough. Tossed aside again, Buffy lay on her side, kicked and bloodied, and she thought how easy it would be just to give up and fall into the darkness.

As the Turok-Han threw her again, only to come towards her, lifting her up by the throat, she heard one of the Potentials ask if they could help and Willow telling them to wait. It was the hardest part of the plan in which she had to convince her friends. Let her do this because she could, to show the Potentials and to save Spike. The arrow from the crossbow sticking out in the Ubervamp's chest poked her in the belly and inspiration struck. Reaching for it blindly, her breath gasping and desperate, Buffy broke it off and wrapped the wire around the Ubervamp's neck.

With all of her force, the wire cut through, separating the head, and dust lay at her feet. Buffy fell to the ground, weak and suffering from the battle, but she forced herself up and faced the people watching in awe.

"See," she was surprised her voice wasn't shaking. "Dust, like the rest of them. I don't know what's coming next. But I do know, it's all gonna come down just like this. Hard. Painful. But in the end, it's gonna be us. If we all do our part, believe it, we'll be the ones left standing."

She turned from them then, the path clear as to what she needed to do next, as though she had any other choice.

Spike was delusional, unsure of when he was dreaming or conscious anymore. The only distinction he had was when the Turok-Han was pounding his flesh, bruising, bloodying, and scarring, and in the sickest way, Spike was grateful for the dose of reality. The First was still tormenting, but those interactions were not so different than the nightmares that tortured his mind. Just like from the beginning, Buffy would come for him, loving and sweet, until suddenly, she was cold and calculating, saying he was worthless, a ruthless killer deserving of every scratch, until he was screaming into the night, never answered.

In this brief respite, Spike tried to focus his mind, convincing himself he was awake, his mantra she'll come, she'll come, she'll come, until, but then, of course, there she was, stumbling towards him in the cave. He laughed, no evident humor, knowing what was to happen now, though he had no antidote for it. The face that approached was far more serious than usual, but exuding warmth that Spike desperately wanted to reach out and touch. The First knew it too, and it kept coming, so close now that he wanted to give in, but he had to try to be strong.

"You can't- You aren't her, you can't-"

But then warm hands touched his cheek and it was strange, because the First had never been able to touch him before, and so he thought he must be dreaming. Spike heard chains hit the floor as the pressure on his body loosened and pain seared. He looked up at her then, looked into her eyes, and he knew, Buffy, it was really her, and he smiled in relief.

She muttered an apology as she wrapped an arm around him and guided him out of the cave and all Spike could think was she came, she came, she came, in order to remain conscious. He had so many questions, so much he wanted to tell her, to warn her, but no sound would come from his mouth, and Buffy seemed so intent on getting home that he didn't bother trying. She looked like hell too and pain worse than physical hit him, wondering just what she had to endure in order to save him, but she had done it anyways, and he couldn't help but wonder what that meant. In time, he was sure they would have a long, intense conversation that he was already dreading.

As they turned the corner, comfort settled in his stomach at the familiarity, and he wondered what Buffy would think that he was starting to see her house as home. On the porch, through slit eyes, he could see the outlines of Dawn, Willow, Tara, and Xander, looking as though they had been waiting and worrying on them. Those final steps proved to be too much. As Spike went to open his mouth for the first time, to say something witty or clever, to offer his thanks and appreciation and love, or anything just to prove that he could, he slumped over and succumbed to the darkness.

She slept fitfully still, alert to any and all of Spike's moaning and shifting on the bed. She'd kicked the Potentials out of her room, feeling as though she had earned the space and privacy at this point, though the real reasoning was that her and Spike needed more room to heal. After they had gotten him through the door and upstairs, she was glad he had passed out. Ensuring the others that she had him from there, she'd stripped him of his clothes and laid him down in the tub, trying to wash the blood and grime away. She knew, and kept reminding herself, that so long as he wasn't dust, Spike would heal, but his body was battered, covered in wounds.

For a long time, she watched him, just to make sure that he was really there. He did look peaceful now, somehow, as he slept, and she was grateful for that. Wanting to touch him, but knowing she had to be careful, she curled into side, placing her hand over his and hoping to convey healing that way.

When she woke, Spike was still sleeping, so she meandered downstairs to heat up some blood and try to eat something. It was still early, the sun barely up, and so everyone was still asleep. Buffy suspected they would remain that way for a long time as the excitement of the night before kept everyone up a lot later than usual. Had she not still been in pain and worried over her vampire, she might have reveled in enjoying the silence for a little longer. Instead, she hurried back upstairs in time to find Spike stirring.

She cringed at the pain on his face as he attempted to sit up and acclimate to his surroundings.

"Spike?"

He turned, surprised to find her before him, and to find himself in her room.

"It's real."

"Yes."

"You came."

"Of course."

"Knew you would," and she couldn't help but smile at that.

"Spike," she said again, and suddenly she couldn't be close enough. "Are you- Well, does it hurt?" She cringed again, knowing that of course it did.

"Nothing that won't heal."

Buffy sat down on the bed beside him, staring at him and basking in the fact that he was really there, and seemingly as sane as he could be.

"Is that blood?" he asked after a moment.

"Wha-? Oh! Yes, of course. You're going to need a lot of it."

She watched as he drank his blood, the hunger and desperateness evident as he vamped out and sucked it down in one gulp. Catching her staring again, he switched back to his human visage, wiping his mouth, and looking apologetic.

"No, I- Don't be sorry. It's not that, I just- I'm so happy you're actually here."

"Buffy, I should warn you, there's this thing, this creature-"

"The Turok-Han."

"Some kind of- What?"

"Ubervamp. Yeah, I met him. Dusted him, actually, but he put up a fight, which is why it took me so long to get to you."

Spike was looking at her, full of awe, a look that once made her nauseous, but now filled her with such an alarming amount of warmth and love that it scared her.

"I'm sorry it-"

"Don't-"

"What?"

"Don't be sorry."

"I am sorry though, that you were taken in the first place. I wasn't- I had my guard down and-"

She stopped at the angry expression on his face and for once, decided not to fight against it.

"I missed you, Spike. I-" love you so much that it hurts. The words were on her tongue, screaming to echo out of her mouth, but then he grimaced in pain again and she knew she didn't want him to find out like this. Buffy wouldn't wait as long as she wanted, until this apocalypse was finished, the First gone, along with Spike's trigger, not to mention all of the Potentials and their dependency on her. She couldn't wait to take her time until they were alone and unbothered, both healed and no longer drowning in grief. But she would wait, just a little while longer so that Spike could grow accustomed to being home again before he, and the rest of the house, understood his role in this fight and his place in her heart.

"I'm just really glad you're home."

For now, she settled on cuddling up as close as she could get without hurting him, comforted by the look of shock and awe on his face at her words, the fact he was home, and for now, no one was awake to bother them.

Buffy was sleeping and though he was still in excruciating pain, Spike was content just to watch her. The threat may still be looming and dangerous, he and the trigger only adding to that, but she had fought for him, bringing him home with her, home being the word she used, and for right now, that was enough. Part of him was still telling himself he didn't deserve this, but he knew her well enough to know he couldn't convince Buffy otherwise when her mind was made up.

He had been sitting up against the headboard, but was still exhausted, and wanted nothing more than to lie down next to her. It took a lot more energy than usual and despite his carefulness, could not stifle the noisiness of his shifting. She opened her eyes as he laid his head down next to her and she smiled at him.

"You okay?"

"Never better," and he meant it.

"Do you need-"

"Just relax for right now, Luv. 'M alright."

"But-"

"Stop your worryin', there'll be enough time for that."

She smiled, acquiescing and settled back against the pillow. She said, "God, I'm just so happy you're back. It's been so- I mean, the others, they just don't-"

He puffed up a little, voice firm. "I'll be in fighting form again soon, I promise. You'll have your soldier back."

Eyes wide, she pleaded for him to understand, "That's not why I need you here."

"That right? Why's that then?"

"Because I'm not ready for you not to be here."

His eyes grew wider, that awe returning, looking as though he wanted nothing more than to question her on that. Words wouldn't offer enough of an explanation, so careful not to hurt either of them, Buffy closed the gap between them, brushing her lips against his.