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The ride to the factory was filled with memories and images of her. Thoughts of Buffy were the only things that kept Spike in that car. The image of her face was the only thing that kept the numbness at bay. Without it, Spike would be frozen with fright.

The cold kept his voice apathetic, "I see Buffy first. That's the deal. Then we do this."

"Certainly," Holland said, "Of course, it may not come to that. As I said, Angelus has been given the same offer. He might accept the terms."

Spike stared straight ahead, "Buffy's fate in Angelus's hands? Somehow, I'm not comforted by that."

Holland nodded, "Coincidentally, neither am I. But then, I've got seniority with the Home Office," he shrugged, "so I win however this turns out. Did you know that the Higher Ups didn't foresee you? You blindsided them," he sighed, "You threw the whole system into lockdown. We were troubleshooting for months. The overtime alone..."

Spike knew the man was talking, but he couldn't be bothered to listen. His imagination was getting the better of him. The things he knew Drusilla was capable of doing when she was given free reign blinded his eyes.

Even when he didn't have a soul, some of the torture she was fond of made him squeamish. That was why he never left her to her own devises for very long. He just hoped that Buffy would be able to hold out until he could find her.

Drusilla not only didn't have the conscience a soul would give her, she didn't have a rational mind that would stop her more depraved impulses. Spike knew that she would take Buffy through her worst fears. She could make the torturer wear a familiar face, just as her Daddy had before her.

He just prayed to whatever God would listen that the one inflicting the pain she was going through now wasn't wearing his face. He hoped it wouldn't be, but somehow he knew it was.

"Hang on Buffy. God, please hang on," he whispered, as he watched the buildings slowly stroll by the car's window and disappear into the night.
************************************

Something in her head screamed. No time to be the scared little girl, Slayer, buck up. Open your eyes. Buffy wasn't sure if she was dreaming or not, but the directive was her only port in a storm of confusion so she took it.

Buffy opened her eyes and saw the dark spot on the floor. It seemed like a living thing. It kept growing even though she wanted to scream for it to stop. She would have screamed if her throat weren't so incredibly dry. Her tongue felt like sand.

Maybe if she looked at something else? But how could she, when her neck felt like it had bricks tied to it?

Drusilla grabbed Buffy by the hair and brought her eyes up to see her, "Still awake? Oh goody. That means I can play some more."

Play? Oh, God, this can't be good. Her body felt like it weighed a million pounds. No surprise really, given the extremely large puddle of what Buffy assumed was her blood. Drusilla would have given the Ripper a run for his money. Buffy didn't know what to do. If someone was coming for her, someone was coming her Mommy had told her he was coming.

Someone was coming. She knew that, and she held onto it like a life preserver. Now, if she could just remember the name. If she could just reach back far enough into the dark and find the light. It was small, but it was there. There! She had it. She had the name. Spike, that was it, that was the name! He would come for her. He'd promised.

Spike had said something important to her before she left. What was it? That seemed so long ago now. But, it was important. Something she had to remember. Oh yes. I love you.

Suddenly her head was clear. It was still a little fuzzy but she knew enough to know that Dru was close. She was probably watching her. Best to strike when, and where, she could. There may not be another chance.

Spike had told her not to give Dru any opening. Not to let her see how scared she was. It had seemed so easy in theory. In practice however, things were slightly different. How could she keep Dru from seeing her fear when she was blinded by it, herself?

"Are we having fun yet?" Buffy sneered, through cracked lips, "Because... this is kind of ordinary. I thought my Watcher said you were..." her light-headedness made the words come slowly, but Buffy still had enough kick left in her to make Drusilla hurt, and hurt bad.

"Go on," Drusilla smiled, "What does your Watcher know of me?"

"That... you're...bent!" Buffy finished, with a grimace.

Her ears wrung from the impact of her fist. Buffy tasted her own blood in her mouth.
********************************

Spike watched as the warehouse loomed into view. His own personal House of Horrors, and Buffy was somewhere inside. And, knowing Drusilla's propensity for torture and sharp implements, she was slowly bleeding to death.

Well, not today.

"Buffy's in there?" he asked Holland, already knowing the answer.

"Yes. So are Drusilla and Angelus," Holland shrugged, "You may encounter them, you may not. That's not the objective."

"If you don't want me to fight Angelus, what is the objective?
****************************************************
YESTERDAY EVENING-8: 30 PM

"Well Angel, she's in play now. You can stop this. Spike doesn't even have to go through this. You can save him the pain you went through," Holland smiled, admiring the light as it bounced in the sphere, "All you have to do is give away something you were forced to take. How hard is that?"

Angel spoke with the voice of all his years, "I've already given up the Shanshu. What more do you want?"

Holland shook his head sadly, "Angel, that's where you're wrong. In order to give something up, in order to sacrifice, you must first believe in something. You don't believe in anything. Not even yourself. Therefore, you risk nothing. You give up nothing."

"If I give you what you're asking for, do you know how many people could die? How many I could kill?"

Holland nodded, "Yes. But that fact didn't enter into the equation when it was Winifred's life that hung in the balance, did it? Was Winifred more important to you than Buffy is?"

"No!"

"Well then the answer is simple isn't it? If you're worried about self -control, Spike is a shining example of what can be achieved with a little determination. If he can do without it, I'm sure you could. After all," Holland smiled devilishly, "you are the better man, aren't you?"

Angel slumped his shoulders in defeat, "Holland, I can't give you my soul."

"Well then, tomorrow night, 'William the Bloody' will be playing the part of Orpheus to her Eurydice'. Meet you in time for the overture, Angel."
*************************
TWENTY-FOUR HOURS LATER

"Mommy, I've said I'm sorry. Why does he still hurt me so much?"

"You've forgotten, Sweetie. He told you she would trick you."

"He hates me, Mommy. I deserve it. Did you know I beat him up, just because he dared to love me?"

"He told you not to give up. Remember what he told you?"

"No Mommy. It hurts too much. I can't breathe. Mommy, why does he want to hurt me? I'm so tired Mommy. I just want to sleep."

Joyce kissed her temple, "I know Sweetheart. But you can't, not now. Not when there are still so many things you have to do. There are so many things he can show you, Buffy. You just have to trust him, and hold on."
**************************
"All I have to do is get Buffy out, and we can go on our merry way?" Spike squinted at Holland in disbelief, "What's the catch?"

"Clever man, there's always a catch," Holland said, "It seems, our Miss Edith is pining for something she lost. All you would have to do is give it back to her."

Spike thought about that for a moment. He nodded grimly as he prepared himself, and his few weapons, to enter his own personal Hell and pull Buffy back.

Holland found himself, strangely enough, proud as he watched Spike slowly limp into the darkness of the factory.
**************************

The oppressive heat and the overpowering scent of molasses hit Spike quickly. He had to remind himself that Buffy was somewhere in this maze or he would have let the fear take over. Not only was it dark as pitch in here but the smell stuck to the inside of his nostrils, mouth and eyelids, just as it had in the nightmare a few nights ago.

He had to shut his eyes tight against the thought. This was not a dream. This was all too real, and Buffy was counting on him. So, fear or not, on he would go.

Actually the dark was not really a hindrance to him, not here. Here, he could navigate the twists and turns blindfolded. He'd relived every nuance of this place since Dana had held him captive here.

If he were quiet, and reached down deep enough, he could find Buffy. There. Now, it was just a matter of following the humming bird flutter of her heartbeat and find her before it gave out.

"Buffy? Love, can you answer me?"

No answer. He swallowed and tried again, "It's me, Spike. Love, I know you're here. I'll find you don't you fret. Just hang on, all right?"

Spike heard a whisper of movement; movement so slight that it almost wasn't movement at all. That could only mean one thing. A vampire was near, and from the speed of the shadows in the room, he knew it had to be Drusilla.

"Drusilla, I'm here. I'll give you what you want. Just let the Slayer go," he tried not to let fear creep into his voice.

Her voice came out of the darkness, "Do you know what Miss Edith wants?"

He nodded in the black, "Yes. She wants William to go back to heaven, is that right?"

She sounded pleased, clapping her hands with joy, "Oh, my boy is so bright! He's almost blinding!"

Spike bellowed to the dark empty space, "Holland, did you hear that? Take the soul out of me, right now! Just give me Buffy back!"

"As you wish."

With that, Spike fell to his knees in pain and terror. He didn't hear anything though; all he felt was the pain of a vital part of him being ripped away. All he saw was Buffy, nude and drenched in blood, hanging by her manacled wrists, not two feet in front of him

Somehow instinct took over. It had to, because otherwise he couldn't have dealt with what happened next.

It all happened in the blink of an eye. Drusilla stood behind Buffy's limp, lifeless body, with an orb in one hand and a stake pressed directly in front of Buffy's heart, in the other. Spike watched, as if in slow motion, as the stake penetrated the tender skin of Buffy's sternum. In that same instant, Drusilla's head reared back as if a bullet had struck her. Her body slowly faded into ash, revealing that it was Angelus who'd dealt Drusilla her death stroke.

As Drusilla's ash floated to the ground, the sphere that housed the soul of a poet was smashed into tiny shards on the concrete floor below, sending the soul back to the ether from whence it came.

The shock of what he'd seen, and felt, drove Spike into unconsciousness.
*************************
In Buffy's groggy state she didn't comprehend it all. What she did see as she slowly awoke was a grief-stricken Angel covered in ash.

He looked up at her with a tearstained face and said, "Oh, God Buffy. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
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