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A/N I have just aquired the beta reading services of April 'The Grammer Nazi' who even understands semicolons. So huge thanks to her for helping me out, BearVerse Buffy can also thank her for suggesting I tone down the blondness a tad. xxxx

“Oh dear?” Buffy asked nervously. “That’s not good, right?”

Willow ignored the Slayer’s comment, reading avidly from the screen, her pretty faced screwed up into a troubled frown.

“Willow?” Giles prompted after several moments.

“Oh!” The redhead jumped as if startled by the presence of others in the room. “The Scythe is in the temple, but the temple is sealed,” she told them, eyes flicking back and forth between the questioning looks of her friends and the disturbing images on her computer screen.

“Sealed?” Buffy asked. “Sealed how?”

“Mystically,” the witch answered distractedly.

“Surprise, surprise,” Spike drawled as he placed his book on the table and sat up. “So I guess we can’t just break in then?”

“Er, no,” Willow agreed. “Not even magically. If we want into the temple, we have to pay the toll.”

“The toll?” Anya asked impatiently. “Well, what is it? What does it want?”

“I’m guessing it won’t take a shinny new penny, hey Red?” Spike asked. Walking round to look over her shoulder, he grimaced slightly at the images on the screen.

“So, what?” Buffy asked, feeling her impatience rise. “Blood?”

They looked startled as they focused their collective attention on her, as if surprised by her perception. “It’s always the blood, right?” She looked at him and for once he held her eyes, his own filled with a strange regret as he shook his head slowly.

“Not this time,” Willow corrected, finally tearing her eyes away from the screen. “It wants a human sacrifice, yes, but not for blood. It wants a soul.”

…………………………

"I don't get it. Why can't we just bust in there, dice up the guards, break down the door, cast a few spells, we’re good at that?" Buffy’s frustrated voice made the others roll their eyes. She flopped down in her chair with a loud huff and looked at Spike pleadingly. “I don’t get it,” she whined again, pouting slightly. All right, so she’d zoned out once or twice when Willow had explained, but who could blame her, she loved the girl, but whew, talk about long winded.

He gave her a half smile. She was adorable—really, truly adorable—and she was looking to him in her frustration. Not Red, not the Watcher, him.

“It’s like this,” he said, squatting in front of her, trying to break the witch's complex description of transdimensional mystical and physical equilibrium into plain English for the bemused Slayer. “If you owned something valuable, you'd put it in a safe, right?”

She nodded slowly, watching his eyes. “Right” she agreed firmly.

“But a safe can be cracked. Enough time and patience and any safe can be cracked. So whoever wanted to keep this Scythe safe didn’t just put it in a safe, they put the safe in another dimension so that no one could ever crack it.” He paused, studying her eyes to make sure she was following.

“So,” he continued, “if you want to cross over into the other dimension, you have to pay the toll.” He didn’t want to reminder her it was a human soul. “Nothing for free, right?”

“Right, and the toll is a soul. But why the torture? Why not just make the sacrifice? It’d get its soul then, wouldn’t it?” She frowned a little, mentally pushing aside the surprisingly graphic drawings she had seen on Willow’s screen depicting the unspeakable agony of the sacrifice.

“Because the price has to be paid willingly,” Willow said, taking up the explanation. “The priests torture the victim until they beg for death, then the soul goes willingly.”

“Goes where?” Dawn asked curiously.

Spike glanced nervously at the witch before turning back to look into the Slayer's beautiful face. “Hell.”

………………………………

It hadn’t even been discussed further. Buffy had sighed, muttered that, “the Scythe's out then. Back to the books,” and the topic had been closed. Forgotten and abandoned by one and all. Well, nearly all.

“I know what you’re thinking.” The low, lazy drawl startled the Watcher from his musings and he turned to face the vampire.

“Do you?” he asked guardedly. “And what might that be?”

Spike ignored the hostility in the old man’s tone; he was looking out for Buffy, after all, and that was something the vampire could never condemn.

“You’re thinking,” he kept his voice neutral as he answered, “that we got nothing else.” He tucked his thumbs in his belt loops and advanced on the Watcher. “You’re thinking that without the Scythe, Buffy’s gonna lose, the First’s gonna win and then it’s 'hello, hell on earth.'” He paused again, tilting his head slightly to one side. “You’re thinking maybe we should pay the price.”

For a moment Giles thought to deny it, to tell the vampire he was wrong and end this insane discussion. But Spike wasn’t wrong. He had killed Ben for the good of Buffy and the world; he knew he would kill again, if he had to.

“We both know you did that ponce of a doctor in,” the vampire continued, as if reading his thoughts. “The others never twigged, but I know a thing or two about killing and I knew right away. You killed him, all cold blooded and what all.”

It wasn’t an accusation; his voice held no hint of reproach. It was merely a statement of fact. Still, Giles felt compelled to justify his actions. “I had to,” he told the vampire defensively. “Glory could have come back if I hadn’t.”

Spike simply nodded. “But this is different, Watcher, and you know it.”

“I know, but what choice do we have?” So very different. To take a life was one thing, to knowingly condemn a soul to an eternity of torment was quite another. Oh yes, this was very different.

The silence was long and heavy, as if the very air anticipated the words that would disturb it. It was Spike who spoke, and his simple offer surprised the Watcher more than it should have.

“I’ll do it,” he sighed and looked heavenwards. “There's plenty of blood on my hands already; what’s a little more?”

“Spike—” Giles began to protest, but he was cut off.

“I’ll find someone who’s already bought their ticket,” he told the Watcher. “A murderer or a rapist—” He seemed to choke on the word. “Someone who’s got it coming.”

“Spike.” Giles did protest now. He didn’t like or trust the vampire, but to expose his already remorseful soul to such an iniquitous task would surely destroy him. “You can’t do this alone. Perhaps, together—”

“No!” Spike stopped him, his voice too loud in the quiet night air. “No,” he repeated more softly, but no less vehemently, “You ain’t got it in you, Watcher: the torture, the blood—you couldn’t go through with it. Me, well, it won’t be nothing I ain’t done before.”

Giles dropped his head, further protests dying on his lips. Spike was right. For all his current resolve, the reality of the act would surely be beyond him.

“Let me take care of it.” The vampire’s voice was low and soft, almost pleading. “Let me do this.”

“Very well, Spike.” Giles sighed heavily, shaking his head in defeat. “Very well.”


A/N (again) Welcome back to my Spuffy tinted world, thanks to the 42 of you who clicked in and gave the story a chance.

More thanks to the 2 who bothered to review, I'm not telling the others off, just saying, ;-)

Cali - Hello, was hoping to see you here again glad you like the start and wish i coulda seen your little dance. Grrrrrrr Growls loudly and playfully, feeling like she's had her tummy scratched

Hel-lo Lara, you fiesty thing you! (Turns off sleazy drawl and continues in her normal voice) So touched you rate What you wanted so highly I shall write as fasts as my stubby little fingers will allow, hope I can please you with this one too.

xxxx for all





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