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A/N If this doesn't make sense you may have missed chapter 3, I posted two at once (Do I get a biscuit?)

P.S. April cannot be thanked enough xxxx

.....


“Giles, there’s nothing here,” Buffy repeated, exasperated, her hands planted firmly on her hips and an annoyed expression on her face.

He glanced surreptitiously at his watch. Spike had already had more than enough time to get to the temple, but perhaps another hour or so, just to be on the safe side. “Maybe I made a mistake with the location.” He tried for a sheepish, apologetic smile. “Perhaps if we try over there,” he pointed to his left, calculating that that would take them further away from Sunnydale.

He turned and began to lead the way when her voice stopped him, cold and suspicious. “Giles, what’s going on?”

“Nothing.” He couldn’t hide his guilt now—busted, as his young friends would say.

“Giles.” A warning now, maybe even a threat in her voice. “What is going on?” She drew the question out emphasising each word. “Giles?”

…………………..

The Temple of Areathan was a disappointment: small and ugly with grey walls and poorly carved gargoyles along its roof, it could easily have been mistaken for one of those tasteless mausoleums erected by nouveau riche families with far more money than they would ever have class.

He pushed the door, rolling his eyes at its theatrical horror movie creak, and stepped into the flickering torchlight of the temple. He wondered idly who kept the torches alight. Did the temple have priests that tended to it, or were the flames sustained magically? He shook his head, not really the time to come over all Discovery Channel.

Looking around the dusty room, he recognised from Willow’s drawings: the high stone altar, with its granite slab and smooth channels, obviously designed to carry the blood of whichever unfortunate was bound upon it.

On the wall to his left was an array of implements of torture; he stared at them for long pensive moments, wondering if there was one there he hadn’t had experience with. Nope, he’d used them all. He could still hear the screams of his victims echoing in his fragile mind.

He closed his eyes, willing away the voices in his head. He couldn’t weaken now; he had to do this. For Buffy.

……………….

Buffy ran, her feet pounding on the tarmac, breath coming in harsh gulps. Giles had led her so far away from the house before she'd realised—realised that he was playing her, keeping her out of the way.

She hadn’t wasted time trying to get an explanation out of her watcher; she’d just run. Giles never did anything with Spike unless she asked him to, but tonight he’d volunteered to ensure the vampire was safely secured in his basement. Why would he do that?

Fear gripped her. Giles had made no secret of his mistrust of Spike, and any mission to dispose of the vampire would certainly not be lacking in volunteers: Xander, Kennedy, probably Principal Wood, maybe even Dawn. She quickened her pace as she rounded the corner of Revello, her mind chanting denial with every step. No, he would be okay. He would be okay.

………………………..

He thought about the watcher as he retrieved a wickedly sharp blade from the extensive collection. His offer to come with Spike, to share in the responsibility for torturing a human being to the point of begging for death, had not been a great surprise, and if that had been Spike’s intention he probably would have been grateful for the support.

But the vampire’s plan was slightly different, and he was fairly certain the watcher would not have afforded him the trust he had shown that evening—when he left the chains undone—if he had known it.

He stepped toward the altar, watching the play of the torchlight on the blade. “You wanted a soul,” he muttered to the ancient slab. “I’ll give you a soul.”

……………….

“Where is he?” Buffy demanded furiously as she emerged from the empty basement. The blank looks of her friends fuelled her anger. How dare they play games with her? “Where is he?” she asked again, taking a threatening step forward, her eyes flashing dangerously.

“Buffy,” Willow tried to calm the irate slayer, “what are you talking about? Where’s who?”

Buffy narrowed her eyes. They looked genuinely perplexed: Xander and Willow wore matching expressions of questioning concern, Dawn was looking at her like she’d finally gone off the deep end, and Anya just looked bored by the dramatics unfolding in front of her.

“Spike,” she insisted, her voice going from angry to pleading. “Where is he?”

“He escaped?” Xander jumped to his feet, his chair scraping noisily on the tiled floor, fear written on his face. “We have to find him, Buffy. He could be killing again.”

“No, he didn’t escape,” she said, shaking her head. “At least I don’t think he did. I think Giles let him out.”

“What?” Willow’s voice sounded shrill and alarmed. God, even after everything he’d done, even after the soul, they were still so afraid of him. “Why would he do that?”

“I don’t know.” Buffy shook her head, her mind searching for a logical explanation. She frowned a little. They had stayed up together last night after she’d gone to bed. Maybe Giles had talked Spike into leaving for her own good. No, Spike wouldn’t—he didn’t make decisions for her. He wasn’t Angel.

…………………..

The Latin words fell easily from his lips as he made the first cut; he’d memorised them as he’d lain awake on his cot that day, focusing his mind on anything but what he planned to do here in this temple, the sacrifice he was about to make.

The blood trickled sluggishly down the smooth channel making its way inexorably towards the carved seal beneath. A second cut and a third quickened the flow. He watched, mesmerised, as the cold stolen blood began to drip onto the carved image of the Scythe.

Another Latin rhyming couplet and it was done: the sacrifice was made. Then there was only pain.

……………………

Giles didn’t want to go back to Revello, but he knew he had little choice. Buffy needed to know what they had done. She’d be angry—furious at the deceit, disappointed in their iniquity—but surely she’d see why they had chosen this path. Part of her would surely understand.

He pushed the door open tentatively and crept towards the kitchen, hoping to avoid the inevitable confrontation until he’d at least had a drink. His throat was raw from breathing hard as he’d hurried after the fleeing slayer.

“Giles.” No such luck. Buffy’s cold voice turned him around; for a moment her expression was like granite, then her eyes began to water and her face crumpled. “What have you done?” she asked him tearfully.

“Oh, my dear.” He made a move to touch her but she drew back, suspicion and reproach in her eyes.

He sighed, indicating that they should sit down. “I let Spike go,” he told her after they had settled on either side of the dining room table. “I let him go because there was something he needed to do tonight. Something terrible and terribly important; something you would never have agreed to.”

She was freely crying now but her voice was strong and steady. “What?” she asked.

He took a deep, fortifying breath. “He’s gone to get the Scythe,” he told her, watching her face for reaction.

Disbelief first, then slowly horror, crept over her features, twisting her pretty face and filling her huge green eyes with frightened tears. “No.”
………………..

Perhaps he screamed, perhaps not—he wasn’t sure. Probably did; it hurt like a bitch.

He had wondered during the long sleepless day if he would be glad, if the demon would rejoice in its renewed freedom, if, like Angelus, he would revel in his restoration. He didn’t.

He knew the precise moment the soul left his body, felt the burning pain as it was ripped from him, and for moment he mourned its loss. He had fought for it and it was his, it was being taken from him, and, yes, he mourned its loss.

He saw nothing as he dropped to his knees, face buried in his hands. He didn’t see the carved seal glowing with golden light, or hear the hissing whirr of air as the vortex formed around him. He heard nothing but the bitter disdainful voice sounding in his mind: “Evil. Disgusting. Thing.”


................

A/N Because I love Spike souless and so should everyone else, including Buffy





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