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In the space of time it took Angel to say the words, Buffy's brain was bombarded with images of him.

The reluctant hero she saw when she teamed up with him to fight Angelus. The fierce killer he was in the seconds before her Mom had hit him in the head with the fire axe. The unbridled joy that shone in his eyes when they were under the influence of Willow's spell. The strange mix of lust and sadness that glowed in his gold eyes, somehow telling her, "Come on, Slayer. Don't make it this easy. I know you're a fighter. Don't let it happen this way. Not like this, Slayer, you're too young to die," during the slow-motion bite on Halloween night. The frightened, haunted, horrified look, when she kicked him away from her, and against the bathroom wall. And there was an undying love, fathoms deep, in his eyes, when he sent her away from the Hellmouth. She saw it all, in the space of an eye blink, in his eyes. She saw so much that it made her dizzy. Somehow she managed to stay on her feet, and find her voice, "What did you say?"

Angel saw Buffy's face turn ashen white, and he moved to catch her before her knees buckled under her, and she sank to the floor. Holding her securely in his grasp, he navigated her back to her seat in the pew. Through an emotion thick voice, he asked her, "You all right?" When he received nothing but a vacant stare, as an answer, he shook her, perhaps a bit too roughly, "Buffy, can you hear me," he asked, careful to keep his voice low so he did not alarm the few worshipers that were scattered throughout the sanctuary, "Slayer, are you in there? Can you hear me?"

The use of her title snapped her mind back to the present. What was that? Did he just call me, Slayer? It threw her off balance, just slightly. Her world tilted suddenly. She looked into his face. No, that's the wrong face, she thought. Those are the wrong eyes. They're brown. Aren't they supposed to be blue? His eyes were the prettiest blue. She felt like shouting until the rafters shook, 'You don't get to call me that! He's the only one who ever called me that. How dare you look at me with that sad face and those puppy dog eyes, and think you can call me that! You're wrong. Just wrong, wrong, wrong!'

Buffy shook her head, trying to clear it. Her voice came out as a whisper, "Did you say something?"

Angel kept his head down, not wanting to see the shock and pain in her eyes. Or, maybe he didn't want her to see the shame he felt, he wasn't sure which. He took an unnecessary breath, "I know this must be a shock, after all this time..."

"Time," she hissed through clenched teeth, "Is that what you think is the big shocker here," if she hadn't been in a church, she would have let loose with full tilt Buffy in seek-and-destroy mode. As it was though, she would have to settle for a less Slayer-like reaction, "That's what's wrong with this scenario? How long it took you to get back to me about the fact that Spike, apparently, survived the Hellmouth? A shock? That's all you think this is? A shock is something you get after you walk across a carpet and touch a doorknob," her voice was straining under the effort it took not to frighten the people around them, who, she noticed, had started to make annoyed glances at them, "This? This is a fifty megaton blast!"

"He wanted to go to you, Buffy. He did. But, I convinced him that it would be better if he didn't, that he was more needed here." He finally looked up to see her eyes, and immediately wished he hadn't.

Her chin quivered, trying to keep the grief from spilling out. I will not let Angel see me cry, she thought. "Better? Needed?" she asked, her voice like that of a small, lost child, "Better for who, Angel? You? Were you afraid that, oh, I don't know, maybe I'd actually be happy with him? That for once, I might get a chance to be happy?" She lost the battle with her tears, as twin silver rivulets fell down her face, and she whispered, letting Angel hear the quiet storm that raged inside her heart at his betrayal, "I needed him," Buffy looked him square in the face so there would be no misunderstandings, and said, coldly, " I need him more now than I ever needed you."

Angel winced at the acid her tongue could spill. But then, he expected nothing less, and deserved all of the vitriol she could dish out. "Buffy," he sighed, "I deserve every curse you could think of for keeping him from you. I know that. But, if you want to see him, it has to be now," he bit his lip, "Buffy, he's hurt. And, he's weak. I don't think he can hold on much longer. We have to get back to him."

Buffy's voice was small, "He's hurt? And, you left him alone? Angel," she looked at him with large, pleading eyes, "what if he..."

"Buffy, he's not alone," he said.
********

There was so much pain he was overwhelmed by it, almost numb to it. He was sure that, if he just screamed, then things would be better, except he didn't have the energy to scream. He didn't have the energy to do much of anything, really. He expended all the energy he had just to be conscious. And, he wasn't even sure he was that. There wasn't much he knew right now, but he did know pain. Pain was good. Pain meant that he was still here, and if he was still here, maybe she was too. He could live with that, or not. Right now, spin the bloody wheel and see which comes up.

Illyria paced the dark, twisting confines of the sepulcher under Saint Benedict's. After her pet had been wounded in the battle, this place seemed the most logical one in which to take refuge. It was well secluded and, as most of the demons they had fought a fortnight ago, were of small minds, and superstitious, few would dare follow them into a holy place. Still, a warrior must always be on guard for an enemy attack. So, she patrolled, to be certain that her pet was not assassinated by his foes before his shell had the time it needed to heal itself.

As she entered the small burial chamber in which he rested, Illyria was distressed at the sight of the vampire.

The fire from the winged beast had charred the vampire's skin. The vestments that he chose to wear as his armor, had become embedded in the wounds. But the damage the flying beast inflicted was not, by any means the worst. Before she had had a chance to shield him, or to even warn him of the danger, Illyria saw the vampire slice into a Dufarn'k with great relish. Thereby exposing him to its blood.

Illyria was aware of that species of demon. The acid content in its blood could consume anything it touched. Before she had been able to protect him, the vampire was covered in a great amount of its blood before it expired. As a result, much of the left side of his face and throat had been eaten away, exposing the bone underneath, and leaving him unable to speak.

She did not wish to disturb the little peace that unconsciousness brought the vampire. Oblivion was a mercy he required now, of that, she was certain. But, the part of her that had been Winifred Burkle, knew he required something else in order to continue. That was not something Illyria was accustomed to bestowing. But, she reached for the small speck of her being that still remembered how to give this thing. Hope.

She modulated her vocal range so that she could access the shell's voice, "Spike," she imitated the Texas drawl, "You gotta hang on, all right? I know you can hear me. Don't try to talk. You've been hurt, Spike. Real bad. Angel sent for Buffy. She's on her way. I'm sure of it! Just hold on a little longer."
********

Ah, finally a familiar voice. Fred? What are you doing here? Hurt? I'm hurt? Must be real bad if Blue called you out, huh? Don't worry those pretty specs of yours, Fred. I couldn't talk now, even if I wanted to. Too tired. Buffy? She's coming? She's here? Yes, she's here. I can smell her. She's here! Oh, God, I wish I could move! Buffy! I'm here, Love. Can you hear me? Please say that you can hear me. I can hear you. Buffy, please, I need you. Please say something, Love. Oh, I wish I could move, but I'm so bloody tired.

There was a sob that echoed through the walls of the tomb, "Spike? Oh, God," she held Angel's arm in a vice grip, afraid that, if she let go she would faint, "Angel? Is that Spike?"

Yes, it's me. Love. Can you hear me? Buffy, I know it must look bad, but I'm here. Buffy? Answer me, please? Buffy!!





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