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A/N Thanks as always to April for correcting my appalling grammer and offering reassurance when i doubt myself.

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Her body ached; her broken ribs shot pain through her body with every movement. Her left eye was swollen shut and she could taste her own blood in her mouth. She rolled under his spinning kick and came up behind him. With a gleeful shout she brought her fist smashing down on the back of his neck in a hammer blow that sent him sprawling forward.

She went to pick up the stake he had knocked from her hands moments ago, but he kicked her feet out from beneath her before she could reach it. “No you don’t, slayer,” he sing-songed as he rolled on top of her, pinning her to the hard tarmac of the alley.

She gave him a nasty smile and used all her strength to push him off, sending his body crashing into the crates opposite. “Spikey,” she taunted, in her best impression of Harmony’s bubble gum whine. “I don’t think you’re even trying.”

He stood up slowly and looked at her: bloody and battered from the last few hours they had spent trading insults and punches, and yet somehow more vibrant than he had seen her in years, her eyes shining with vicious enthusiasm for their battle, her body thrumming with energy and adrenaline. “Look at you,” he drawled suggestively. “All flushed and panting. Enjoying yourself, slayer?”

His words were like ice water on her liberated mood. Enjoying herself? Was she? The burning self-loathing that had come with recognising his soullessness came crashing back down on her. She shouldn’t be enjoying this; this was her worst nightmare. His soul was gone and he was a monster again. She shouldn’t be trading barbs and smirks. Shouldn’t be enjoying the feel of his firm body beneath her powerful fists or the liberating passion of their violent interplay.

She took a step back, her eyes turning hard as she wrapped the cold dispassion of the slayer around her like a comfortless blanket, shrouding herself in duty and fortitude. Spike knew he was losing her again. Time to cut his losses.

One effortless bound had him halfway up a nearby fire escape. Another two and he was looking at her from the high flat roof of one of Sunnydale's public buildings. “Be seeing you, slayer,” he promised, his voice devoid of any hint of threat. Then he was gone, swallowed up into the night.

She moved to sit on a crate at the edge of the alley. What the hell was wrong with her? Why hadn’t she killed him? She’d had plenty of chances - they both had - but somehow they’d both managed to walk away. She fought down the relief that thought brought with it. No, she was the slayer. People depended on her—now more than ever, lives depended on her. She had to be strong about this. Today she would make sure everyone was safe, and tonight she’d finish this once and for all.
………………..

“Giles!” Buffy called as she limped through the back door, wincing at the pain of her broken ribs as she moved towards the fridge. “Willow!”

“Buffy,” Giles greeted in a hushed voice, mindful of the still-sleeping house. “Buffy, thank goodness you’re back. We have something of a problem…”

“Yes,” Buffy cut in coolly. “I need Willow to do a uninvite spell on the house now.”

Giles shook his head, irritated. “Damn!” he exclaimed. “I should have thought of that before I let her leave. Still, I’m sure it will be okay.”

Buffy gave him an incredulous look. “Okay?” she asked. “How is having the soulless vampire free to wander into my house whenever he wants okay?”

“Admittedly, it’s not ideal.” Giles tried to pacify his slayer. “We will have to be extremely vigilant, but Fred didn’t indicate that she suspected he would come here.”

“Eh, who’s Fred?” Buffy asked, frowning slightly in confusion.

“Oh, one of Angel’s associates. She’s the one who requested Willow do the resouling.” He paused thoughtfully. “How did you know about it?”

“I could see it in his eyes. I know him souled and I know him soulless. No way he could hide it from me.” She looked annoyed. “How did Angel’s gang know?”

“You saw him?” Giles asked urgently. “Buffy, when exactly did you see Angelus?”

“Angelus?” She shook her head. “I didn’t. I’m talking about Spike. He left his soul at the Temple; we’ve been fighting all night. I was damn lucky not to be his third.” She frowned. Was that true? She crushed the militant thoughts that suggested that perhaps she had never been in any danger—not from him, never from him.

They where both quiet for a moment as they tried to process this information. “Wait.” Buffy was the first to speak. “Angel’s lost his soul, too?”

“Yes. Willow has gone to LA to do the curse. Are you telling me Spike returned from his mission to retrieve the Scythe without his soul?”

She nodded sadly, slumping back in her chair.

“I don’t understand.” Giles sat down opposite her, running a hand through his hair. “After completing the trials, the Guardian reunites the victor with the soul sacrificed at the entrance. Spike won the Scythe; how could he not have retrieved his soul? You’re sure about this?”

She nodded again, tears forming in her eyes. “I know him, Giles,” she insisted, feeling her guts wrench with pain at the thought. “I couldn’t be wrong.”

…………………………..

“Okay, listen up,” Buffy heard herself say, addressing the potentials and the scoobies with all the authority of her calling. “A couple of things changed last night.”

She picked up the Scythe and showed it to them. A few potentials gasped; others edged closer. “You feel it.” It wasn’t a question. “All of you can feel that this is our weapon. A slayer's weapon. Giles is still working on how we use it, but we have it now and that makes us stronger.”

She laid the Scythe down carefully at her side and took a deep breath. “The second thing is Spike.” She took another deep, steadying breath. She would not let her voice crack; she had to be strong about this. “Spike is no longer on our side. If you see him, you run. Is that understood?” She looked around at their confused faces, saw Dawn ready to protest.

“Spike no longer has a soul. William the Bloody is back, and he kills slayers for fun. If you see him, run. You find me so that I can kill him. Is that understood?” Another hard look at her sister commanded she not challenge her. But the authority of the slayer was no match for the renitence of siblings.

“You’re going to kill Spike?” she asked, aghast. “Why?”

“I told you, Dawn. He has no soul; he’s dangerous. Anyone in this room is a target. He’ll hurt any one of you just to get at me.” She looked away, hoping to end the discussion there.

“Bullshit!” Dawn’s voice was bitter. “You think everything’s about you. God, self-absorbed much? Spike would never hurt me.” She raised her chin defiantly and met her sister's steely gaze.

“Don’t be naive, Dawn,” Buffy snapped angrily. “He’s a killer. He doesn’t care about anyone, least of some kid.” She calmed herself at the wounded look in her sister’s bright blue eyes. “I’m sorry, Dawn, but you know he was obsessed with me. Anything he seemed to feel for you was just a way to get to me.”

……………

“Spike.” Dawn entered the crypt through the underground tunnels Spike had shown her during that awful summer. She looked around. This was Spike’s bolthole, his secret hideaway. He’d once told her that if things went bad, she would find him here. She felt a jolt of nervousness. What if Buffy was right? What if he didn’t care about her? No. He’d proved enough times when Buffy was dead that she was more to him than a ticket into her sister’s pants. He loved her, she knew it.

“Nibblet,” his voice was rough, painfully hoarse. He stepped out of the shadows and she gasped. He was battered, his lips cracked and bleeding, his left eye and jaw line swollen with purple bruises.

“Spike,” she whispered, hurrying to his side as he limped towards her. Her arms went around his middle in a tentative embrace.

He could have cried when she came to him—his nibblet, so different from Buffy. So trusting, so uncomplicated. “God, Spike, are you okay? You look like shit.” So blunt.

“Been better, pet,” he told her. “I think I’d forgotten how hard your sister can punch.”

“Did you try to kill her?” Dawn asked with a glare. He smiled - as much as his swollen lips would allow - and shook his head. She was an amazing girl, coming here to tell the big bad killer off for hurting her sister.

“’Course not,” he told her sincerely. “We had ourselves a right good brawl. But you know I’d never do that.”

“I know,” she conceded softly. “Buffy’s being a bitch,” she complained after a moment's silence. “She’s telling everyone you’re our enemy now.” She bit her lip and looked at him through her lashes, her face a picture of juvenile concern. “She says she’s going to kill you.”

“Won’t happen, pet,” he assured her, lifting her chin with one finger.

………………………….

“So you’ve filled Buffy in, right?” Faith asked nonchalantly, not looking at the redhead in the driver's seat. “She knows I’m coming?”

“Yep,” Willow reassured her. “Well, I left a message on the machine. But she’ll be glad to have you; we need all the help we can get on this one. Buffy’ll be glad you’re here.”

Faith snorted, giving the witch a sarcastic look. “Yeah, bet she’s been busy hanging streamers all day.”

“Well, she, er…” Willow trailed off, glancing nervously at the ‘other’ slayer.

“It’s cool, red.” Faith put a booted foot on the dashboard and leant on her knee. “I’m just here to do my bit. Stop!”

Willow brought the car to an abrupt halt, staring at the figure that had wandered into the road a short way ahead. A preacher. She got out, Faith hot on her heels.

“Father?” she asked carefully. “Are you okay?”

He turned to them and something in his dark eyes made her take an involuntary step back. She felt Faith tense at her side and knew the redhead felt it too, the fathomless evil within him.

“Well, look what we got here.” His Southern drawl grated on every nerve ending in her body. “A couple of dirty girls.” He paused and studied Willow carefully, making her skin crawl. “I know you,” he told her. “Ain’t you friends with that pretty little Slayer?”

“Who are you?” Faith spat.

“Caleb,” he told her, glancing her way. “I won’t ask your name, little lady. It strikes me that you’re just another whore, and anyhow, my boys’ll be takin’ care of you real soon.”

A circle of bringers appeared around them. “Make a nice message for the Slayer.” He continued his friendly tone: “Finding her friends dead out here.”

Faith stepped forward challengingly. “If you got something to say to the slayer,” she said, hand on hip, gaze defiant, “you can tell me yourself.” With that she was on him, a barrage of vicious kicks and punches that he blocked with negligent ease before he seemed to grow bored and delivered a punch to her belly that sent her flying back a good fifty yards, rolling across the tarmac with a grunt of pain.

Caleb smiled cruelly at the stunned witch. “Goodnight, Miss,” he saluted her in a parody of Southern manners, and then he was gone and the bringers were on them.

……………….

Spike watched as the two girls found themselves surrounded. Dawn had come by his hideaway later that afternoon with blood, smokes and information from Revello. Willow was bringing the rogue slayer back for Los Angeles, apparently reformed and ready to fight. Still, he’d heard enough about the girl to want to check it out for himself.

She fought well enough, quick and strong, with just enough individuality to keep her alive longer than your average slayer. Not a patch on Buffy, though. Willow cast a fireball at an advancing bringer, sending the thing stumbling back, writhing in silent agony. Another grabbed her from behind, holding her struggling in its grip while a third drew a long knife.

Time to act. He leapt into the fray with a well-aimed jumping kick that sent the witch’s would-be murderer flying back towards the slayer's waiting stake. He grinned—typical slayer, stake anything—still, it seemed to do the trick. He turned his attention to the redhead. “Duck,” he told her casually. She crunched down in the bringer's hold and Spike swung his sword over the top of her head, decapitating the creature cleanly.

“Eww,” Willow complained as blood flowed into her hair. She shook the body off and turned to Spike, giving him and ironic smile.

“Vamp.” Faith came between the two, brandishing her stake at him menacingly.

“No.” Willow tugged on the dark slayer’s arm. “Spike’s on our side.” She smiled at the vampire gratefully. “Hence the save. Thanks, Spike. We owe you.”

“No problem, Red. Can’t let my favourite witch get herself killed, now, can I?” He shook off his game face and gestured towards Faith with his head. “Slayer?” he asked casually.

“Yeah,” Willow answered for the suspicious brunette. “This is Faith.”

“The rogue.” Spike turned his attention. “Didn’t recognise you in that outfit, luv,” he drawled, running his eyes salaciously over her leather-clad body.

Faith smirked in response, remembering their last encounter. “Yeah, well, I figured blonde was last year’s colour.” She placed a hand on her hip and tossed her hair over her shoulder, giving him a good view of her cleavage.

He gave a bark of laughter and grinned at her. “Welcome back to Sunnyhell. Be seeing you lovely ladies around.”

……………….

Buffy arrived back with the best of the potentials after an unnervingly quiet patrol to find Faith and Willow describing their encounter with - as Willow described him - the “scary creepy preacher guy.”

She held her tongue when Willow casually mentioned Spike saving her life, although she was sure her surprise was written large on her face, especially if Dawn's triumphant "I told you so" look was anything to go by.

“Willow, can I talk to you?” She didn’t wait for an answer, just led the redhead upstairs to sit next to her on her hurriedly-made bed. “You did the spell for Angel.”

“Oh yeah, it was easy,” Willow babbled excitedly. "I didn’t even need an orb, I just kinda did it, you know.” She looked at Buffy. “I’m worried about Caleb,” she told the blonde. “Last night I saw Angelus, and the evil I felt radiating off him made me dizzy, but it was nothing compare to the vibes Caleb’s giving off. It’s dark, Buffy, and it’s powerful.”

“You saw Spike, too,” Buffy commented. “What did you think about him?”

“Mostly I thought ‘thanks, Spike, but did ya have t’ get blood in my hair?’” She smiled at her friend for a moment then frowned at the other's troubled expression. “Buffy, what is it?”

“It’s still Spike,” Buffy murmured softly, her eyes filled with confusion.

Willow scrunched up her face and tried to lighten the oppressive mood. “Yep, definitely still Spike, right down to checking out Faith’s…” she trailed off. “Buffy?” Concern made her voice shaky. “Buffy, what is it?”

“He lost his soul.” Buffy met her friend’s eyes, her own filled with tears. “Spike lost his soul.”

“No, Buffy,” Willow protested, disbelieving. “I saw him, Buffy. I’d have been able to feel it, like with Angelus.”

“Obviously not.” Buffy buried her head in her hands. “I knew, Willow. I knew the minute I looked into his eyes.” There was a long, thoughtful pause, and Willow studied the silent slayer. “And here’s the kicker.” She raised her eyes to meet her friend’s, her expression lost and frightened. “I was glad.”

“What?” Willow prompted, forehead creased in confusion.

“I was glad,” the slayer repeated, giving a short, brittle laugh, bitter and humourless. “He was back, all snark and attitude, and I was glad.” She took a deep breath and continued more softly. “When he went away, I missed him. I missed him after he came back. The soul—he wasn’t the same and I missed him. The monster that tried to rape me.” She shook her head and looked at the redhead, self-loathing burning in her conflicted eyes. “What does that say about me?”


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A/N Hope I haven't confused people, if you haven't seen season 7 the whole off to LA thing might be a bit strange, i'm just tagging along with the events of the show.

Please let me know what you think I'm not as secure about this story as i was with "what you wanted"

Chymera didn't want sex (well not between S and B I didn't offer her directly) Caroline did (Again S and B not me and her). Afraid I had to go with Chymera I like making the characters work and suffer and get there slowly i think it's all the sweeter in the end.

Maybe I overdid Buffy's anger Caroline but I hope now you see that it's coming from her own conflicted feelings.





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