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As he sat there, in a place that made it clear he was unwanted with her life all over him, he was shaking with rage. The rage filled the void in his chest and cascaded over his limbs. The peaceful calm of this place was foreign to him. He didn't really fit anymore. He knew that. The one person that made him fit, that made him feel like he belonged, was dying. Even if she somehow survived the night, someday she would die. She would die, as all humans did. One day, he would feel a numbness that would never stop. He dreaded that day.

But that day was not today. And he would do whatever he had to for it not to be. Even if that meant bargaining with someone he knew didn't like him very much.

He wasn't sure how a thing like this was done. So, he started out with what he knew, "Okay," he said softly, staring at the cross on the wall, "I've never been much on the ritual. And I know this goes against every rule you've got up there. But, I've never been one for rules, either. I'm kind of a rebellious sort," he shook his head at the juxtaposition of two, seemingly, separate events.

When he'd first come to Sunnydale, he'd laughed at the old vampires, cowering before a God he was sure didn't exist. He'd been so sure that he'd tossed their Anointed One in a cage and hoisted him up to the sunlight to meet the one they all revered, and feared so much.

Now, all these years later, he was so much older now; he was embracing the ritual that he had once mocked. He was embracing things he knew would burn him, in hopes that someone, somewhere would take pity on this empty pantomime, and save her.

Except it wasn't empty. How could it be, when something in him still believed? "I guess the fact that I'm trying to plead my case just proves what a fool I really am. Always have been, I suppose. I know I shouldn't even be wasting the time asking," he hung his head, unable to look at the symbol that held so much promise, and pain, for him. And for her, "But, I'm asking anyway. Please, don't take her yet. She's so young," the dampness mixed with the dried blood on his face and made his skin feel like it was too tight. It made him feel brittle and old. Maybe he was too old. Maybe he was too old to be asking for any kind of consideration. But, he wasn't asking for himself, he was asking for her. Surely, for her, something could be done, "God, she's still so young. Please, don't take her. I still need her. I can't..."

The words were lost, and he began to sob.
***********************

Giles rushed up to the nurses' station followed by Dawn, Xander and Willow, "Nurse, someone named Buffy Summers was brought in here some time ago. Is there any news on her condition?"

"Are you relation?"

"No," Giles answered, clearly flustered, "but this girl is her sister," he said, as Dawn stepped closer to the desk.

"How is she?" Dawn asked, "Can I see her? Is she...?"

"Miss Summers, your sister is being taken care of. She lost a significant amount of blood, but we're doing what we can for her. It was a good thing that the gentleman who brought her in was able to get her here as quickly as he did. Your sister was in bad shape when he brought her in. She's still critical, but we're hopeful that we got to her in time, thanks to him."

Dawn looked around for Spike, but didn't see him, "The man that brought her in, where is he?"

"He's in there," the nurse said, pointing to the small room that served as the hospital chapel, "I'm more concerned about him than I am your sister right now, Miss. He won't let anyone near him, and he looks like he might be suffering from shock," the nurse shook her head, "He seems quite...agitated. And I must warn you, his appearance may frighten you."

Dawn smiled knowingly, "Somehow, I doubt that. Thank you. Will you come get me if there's any news about my sister, or when I'll be able to see her? I'm going in to thank him for saving my sister."

"Yes, of course," the nurse said as Dawn entered the chapel.
********************

Buffy began to wonder if she were really dead. He hadn't been back in quite some time. The last thing she remembered was seeing his face. He was trying to give her water. She knew it was a trick. Her Mommy had made her promise not to drink, so she didn't. Drusilla could use every trick in the book if she wanted to. Nothing was going to make her break that promise. Not even seeing him again would make her break that promise.

She knew he was dead. He was dead, and this time there was nothing that would bring him back. She knew this because the nightmare she had, had come true. She'd seen it herself, before she'd passed out. There was Angel, just like in her dream, covered in his ashes.

She wanted to cry. But then Drusilla used that sweet face of his, the detail was so amazing she almost believed it was real, to make her drink. She knew better than to drink anything she had to offer. If she did that maybe she would wake up dead.

She wanted to see him again, even if it was a trick. Even if he wanted to hurt her like he had before, she wanted to see him. She missed him so much that when Drusilla softened the face a little, even going so far as to add tears in the eyes to make her trust what it was saying, she almost believed. She almost gave in. She missed him that much.

Then suddenly, even the small comfort of his face was gone and she was set adrift on a sea of faces she didn't recognize. She was listening to voices and sounds she didn't know. She was tired and hurt and she felt sick to her stomach.

She wanted him. He had to explain this. How could this have happened?

"Angel," she moaned, "Why, Angel? Why?"

The doctor who attended her noticed her stirring, "The intravenous fluid bolus and the blood transfusion she was given seem to be taking effect. She's coming around," the doctor was amazed by what he was seeing. With the number of lacerations and stab wounds this girl had, not to mention the blood loss, she should have been dead on arrival, "This is absolutely amazing. I'll go tell the family."
***********************

There was nothing in her eyes when she looked up at him. They were vacant. Nobody home. And he was afraid that the owner would never be back.

Why did he even care? He shouldn't. He should be wondering why there was a gaping hole in his chest all of the sudden. But somehow that didn't seem to matter. Not when all he could see, everywhere he looked, was her blood. It was in his hair and in his eyes. The scent of it was clinging to the inside of his nostrils and running into his brain. It was under his fingernails and on his skin. She was everywhere. Even in his mouth, she was there. There was no way to get clean. No way to get her scent off of him. There was nowhere for him to run.

The numbness he was feeling made no sense to him. There was no reason for it. He shouldn't even care. His Drusilla was gone. He should have been tearing the place apart. He should be raging. He should be a whirling dervish of rage. It should be unstoppable. But, it's not. Somehow, he found himself unable to move, unable to blink. He couldn't even think. He seemed frozen, and he couldn't understand why that was.

He was frozen. Numb. And, somehow he found himself staring at the odd rust color on his hands. He just couldn't take his eyes off of it. And no matter how hard he scrubbed, it didn't come off. It just stayed there, staring back at him. Screaming at him.

There was a little breath of a voice that came from the door, "Spike," it said, all sugar and innocence, "are you all right?"

Somewhere he knew that the sound he heard should have been comforting. But, what was comfort? He turned toward the sound and the demon slipped, "Get away from me, Dawn," it warned. "You don't want to be around me just now. Things aren't making sense. I could hurt you. Go away!"

Dawn had seen this before. They'd both been through the grief of losing Buffy once before. So she knew that he was serious. She knew that he was only warning her because he'd seen something horrible and he couldn't process it all. She knew that, in his own way, he was trying to protect her. And, she kept her distance.

She nodded her head and slowly stepped into the room, "It's okay. I won't make any sudden moves. I promise," she said as she sat down on the small bench, as far from him as the small room would allow her to be while still being in the same room with him, "Do you mind if I just sit here, and wait with you until it passes?"

The two just sat together, yet each felt totally alone, in silence.
********************************

The doctor approached the group as they were huddled in the waiting room, "You asked for an update on Miss Summers's condition?" he asked as he surveyed the group.

They all breathed a sigh of relief, but it was Giles who spoke for them, "Yes doctor. How is she?"

"She's conscious now. Though she is still a bit incoherent," he pulled Giles away from the others slightly and spoke in hushed tones so the others wouldn't hear, "Are you her father?"

"No. No, I am not. Though at times both she and I wish it was so. Her own father is out of the country. There is no way to get in touch with him. If something is wrong, if she needs any sort of treatment, I am authorized to give consent," Giles sighed, "if she cannot do so, herself. Is there something wrong, doctor?" he asked, suddenly feeling very old.

"She is awake and asking for someone called Angel. But, before anyone sees her, I thought you should be made aware that we've run some tests, and based on our findings, we had to notify the police."

"Good heavens," Giles breathed, "The authorities are only notified in cases of some type of... assault. Am I correct?"

"Sir, that woman was brought to this hospital with multiple stab wounds and lacerations. Our tests show that she may have also been sexually assaulted. It was our duty to call in the authorities."
*********************

Dawn just sat there patiently and waited for Spike to say something. She knew she could be in for a long wait. The last time something like this happened the only thing that brought him out of it had been her presence. If it hadn't been for her, the night Buffy jumped from that tower would have been Spike's last. Not even the impending daylight had made him move from her body. Only her plaintive cries had gotten through.

As she watched Spike, motionless and blood stained, her thoughts returned again to that morning.

They all gathered around the rubble, staring at her. They made no sound. They were all so shocked that sound and movement seemed out of place here.

The silence grew. It grew until it was so large that it became something that wasn't silence anymore. It was something new. It was something more terrifying than Glory, more terrifying than all the vampires in Sunnydale put together. What Dawn heard was the worst thing ever.

She heard a weeping sound that quickly turned into a gut-wrenching wail. That soon made a metamorphosis into this great rumble of rage that was so loud that it almost blew out her eardrums.

She looked to see what the Hellmouth could conjure up, what kind of monster could make that sound. She looked, and she saw what had made that sound. A sound that she wished she could make, because it sounded just like her heart felt. But she couldn't make that sound.

So, she did what she could to try and comfort the creature that was making that sound for her.

He had somehow dragged himself over to where she had fallen. His body was draped over hers, like a shroud. He was crying, begging her not to be dead. Dawn had never seen him like that before, and it scared her.

She tried to warn him. She tried to tell him that the sun was coming, but when she got close to him, he let out the most animalistic growl, as if he were mortally wounded. When she tried to move him physically, his body became as inflexible as granite. The only thing that saved Spike from the sun's deadly rays had been her pleas for him to stay with her and to take care of her, because that is what Buffy would have wanted.

It was the same now. There would be no moving him until he wanted to be moved. She was glad that the little stained-glass windows in this room would be able to protect him a little if he chose to stay here much longer.

There was a small knock at the door, "Dawn," Willow said, "Buffy's awake. The doctor says we can go in one at a time and see her, now."

Dawn was weak with relief, "Did you hear that, Spike? Buffy is awake! I'm going to go up and see her now. I'll let you know how she is and you can see her when you're feeling better, all right? Bye Spike. I love you."
*************************************

When Dawn got off the elevator to the third floor intensive care unit she saw Angel coming out of a room that she assumed was Buffy's. She walked quickly up to him and with fire blazing in her eyes, asked, "What do you think you're doing here? Didn't you get the message back at the hotel, or do we have to go another ten rounds? I don't care if I break both my arms teaching you, but you will learn to stay away from my sister," she came up to him until her sneakers were on top of the toes of his shoes, "You got me?"

Angel almost laughed at this mini powder keg of a girl. If he didn't know that her sister was the Slayer, he would have taken it as an empty threat. He'd learned a long time ago not to take the Summers girls at face value. Still, all the bluster and swagger wasn't Dawn. He knew just who the influence was here, "I think you've been hanging around Spike a little too much, Dawn."

"And who else was there? You were never around. For three years Spike was there. He was there when I needed him. He was there when Buffy needed him. Where the Hell were you, Angel?" Dawn shook her head, "I so do not want to get into this with you right now," she nodded toward her sister, who was lying behind a glass door, hooked up to all sorts of monitors, beeping and whirring and making all kinds of sounds that Dawn didn't understand, "Did she say anything?"

Angel hung his head, "No, not to me. She just sat there with her eyes staring through me. It was like I wasn't even there. Like I didn't even exist. It was kind of creepy, even for me. I don't know if anyone will be able to get through to her now. It's like there's no one home in there."

"Just like Spike. He's in the chapel downstairs, and he's acting just like that. He's frozen," Dawn mused, "Like he'd been traumatized by something even he couldn't cope with. What happened in the warehouse, Angel?"
***********************

IN THE INTERREGNUM

Joyce was beside herself. In this place of peace, she was anything but peaceful.

"But you don't understand. When this happens he'll have nothing to hold on to. No peace at all. You saw what happened. You can't let them, you can't let him go through that alone. There must be something you can do?"

"We understand your distress, child. But there is nothing to be done for it. This thing is done. It cannot be undone."

"Fine," Joyce was determined, " I may not exist on their plane anymore, but I'm still a Summers. If a trial by fire is what you want, then that's exactly what you're gonna get! I'm not leaving my babies down there alone."

When the right stars were aligned, the flame winked into existence for the briefest of moments, then folded back into space. The exchange was made.

They wouldn't even notice it was there until they needed it.

Up in the heavens, mothers smiled. Everything would be all right. They had made sure of it. It had always been this way. For eons of time mothers had been the keepers of existence, the key to it, in fact.
**************************

The things Angel told her sent Dawn rushing, first to Willow to ask for her help if Spike needed it, then she found herself back on the third floor heading for her sister's room.

When she got there, she found a policeman standing by the door, "See if you can get your sister to tell us what happened to her."

Dawn tried to remember that the policeman was only doing his job asking her this, "Officer, my sister has been through quite an ordeal. I'm sure she'll tell you all the things you want to know. When she's ready. Until then, I'm not going to do anything to rush her. Now, if you will excuse me, I'd like to see if my sister feels like talking to me."

"Of course," he said as he left Dawn alone and disappeared behind the closing elevator door.

Dawn looked closely at her sister. If she understood what the machines were saying, then Buffy would be fine, physically. She might even be out of the hospital soon. This was one of the first times Dawn was glad that her sister was a Slayer.

Physically, Buffy was fine, or would be very soon. But her eyes were blank. It was like somebody had erased something but then forgot to put anything in its place.

She sat down in the chair next to the bed, "Buffy, Angel told me what happened in the warehouse. He told me what Drusilla did," Dawn bit her lip and continued talking, hoping that Buffy could hear her somehow, "He told me what happened to Spike there."

Dawn noticed as big fat tears started to roll silently down Buffy's face, "You miss him, don't you?"

Buffy gave a slight, but very definite nod.

"But Buffy, he's not gone. Not really. Willow can help him."

"No. He's gone. Dust. Just like my dream," Buffy sounded like she was underwater. She was slipping back to the place she had been in just after the Hellmouth closed. Dawn didn't want to lose her to that place again. Or Spike, either, if she could help it. Two people she loved very nearly more than her own life were drowning. Dawn had to save them both before they went under and couldn't come back up.

"No, Buffy, you're wrong. And, I can prove it. Just give me a little time," she kissed her sister's forehead as she left the room, "I'll be back soon, I promise, and I'll prove it to you!"
********************

Angelus's presence in the chapel turned his granite limbs fluid again, "You said what?" his voice felt and sounded like it had been drug over a gravel road.

"I told her what went down in the factory."

"How could you do that? How?"

"She wanted to know, Spike. She's not a kid, anymore. She can be told these things."

Anger and rage that was millions of years old moved his petrified limbs to action. Spike was up and moving before he even had time to think about the consequences. He grabbed Angel's arm in a vice grip, "You, Angelus, are coming with me," he growled as his eyes flickered to amber, "because we are not discussing how much your ass is getting kicked, in a church with sick people all around," he paused, tilting his head to one side and grinned a grin that gave just a hint of menace as he pulled Angel out into the hall, down the elevator and into the underground parking garage, "Although I must say, there aren't many that are as sick as you are, Angelus."

As Angel felt himself being pushed, somehow he lost his footing and his head came crashing into the Porsche that suddenly took up his whole field of vision. The impact sent the alarm screeching. Angel felt sure that the prospect of being caught would stop Spike, or at least slow him down so that he could talk some sense into the boy. That wasn't the case.

The thud that sounded when his head hit the car only spurred Spike on. Next, Angel found himself being grabbed by the scruff of the neck and turned over so that he was starring into Spike's eyes. Those eyes had nothing guiding them. Nothing was going to stop him. Spike didn't have a soul that would tell him when to stop. All Angel saw in those feral eyes as they stared down at him was death.

"Buffy wasn't enough, was she Angel?" Spike hit Angel's chin with a left hook so hard that even he cringed when he heard the bones crack, "You just had to expose Dawn. Pure, sweet, and innocent little Dawn; you just couldn't leave her out of the fray?"

Angel's head was ricocheting off of the concrete floor. If he had been human, the back of his skull would have caved in from the force of impact.

"You just had to expose her to all the death and the blood, didn't you?"

Angel thought he could see tears mixed in with the anger and blood on Spike's face as it quivered in and out of his vision, "You just had to tell her that I couldn't love her anymore! You had to take that away from me, too! You took Drusilla," the blows kept up a furious pace, "Drusilla's sick, twisted fun house mirror vision hurt Buffy in a place I can't even know. She'll never be the same," Spike closed his eyes, giving Angel a brief respite from the crushing blows, "Her eyes are different. They're dimmer somehow. And that's because of you! The cuts and bruises will heal," Spike punched Angel until he heard his own hand crunch. The rage inside him needed an outlet.

He was in mourning. He was mourning Buffy and Drusilla. He felt the rage at the loss of the soul, something he'd fought so hard for, flowing out of him through his tensed muscles and clenched fists, and into Angelus, then shattering somewhere in the ether. He was mourning a little girl, too. He was mourning the love he knew he had lost, the love of Dawn, his Bit, when he lost his soul.

He knew she wouldn't understand why he'd done it. And he remembered that he promised that he would never hurt her sister again. When he'd made that promise he was sure he could keep it. He went and fought for his soul so that he would be able to keep that promise. But now, without that soul, Spike wasn't sure he could keep that promise anymore. If he couldn't keep that promise, how was Bit supposed to love him?

"But now, because of you everyone I love is gone." Spike grabbed Angel up again and stared into his battered face, his amber eyes still glowing, "Now, give me one good reason why I shouldn't tear your head off right here and dace in your dust."

He didn't hear an answer. What he did hear was a sweet, innocent little voice, "Spike, you can kill Angel later, if you want to. I'll even help you. But, right now Buffy needs you," Dawn said, "And, I think you need her, too."
*********************************





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