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Thanks to cordykitten, guest, IamGhost, msspikester, JO, shelly, PhotographyNut and Amaya for reviewing the last chapter!
Rowan stared at Gunn like he had just grown a second head. “What the hell are you talking about? That’s impossible!”

Gunn shrugged. “Nothing’s impossible around here, man. You should know that by now. I don’t have all the details, but from what I understand, there’s been others before you. Other, um...”

“Servants?” Rowan finished, rolling his eyes. “Go ahead – say it.”

The other man nodded in agreement. “All right. If that’s what you wanna hear.”

“Not really,” the blond admitted. “But it’s the truth.”

Gunn didn’t object. Instead he continued, “The way I figured, Morou is the Senior Partners’ way of getting rid of the demons they don’t think belong at Wolfram and Hart. Like the ones who’re not evil enough, or not doing their job properly. Or maybe the Senior Partners just don’t like them, for some other reason. So, what better way to get rid of a demon than using a vicious monster?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Rowan raised a brow, not totally convinced. “Using a Slayer?”

Gunn snorted. “If their intentions were good, sure. But don’t forget, it’s the Senior Partners we’re talking about.

Thinking about it for a moment, Rowan then shook his head. “It doesn’t add up. I don’t know about the other,” he grimaced, “servants, but I sure as hell never got a list of which demons to pick. The decision was always mine. As long as as I...” Rowan lowered his eyes in shame. “As long as I kept them coming.”

“Are you sure about that?” Gunn gave him a doubtful look.

“Of course I’m sure! I...” Rowan stopped, suddenly becoming uncertain. An image of Harmony’s face flashed through his mind, and he recalled trying to come up with a way to get her out of the house. But instead he had ended up writing her a note, telling her to meet him down in the basement.

Was it possible that Gunn could be right? That the Senior Partners had been the ones picking out their victims all along? Rowan suddenly didn’t know what to think. But then he decided that it didn’t really matter. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he looked at Gunn. “You said Morou had other servants before me. If this has been going on for so long, then why hasn’t anyone tried to stop him?”

“Who says they haven’t? Maybe the others were too weak.” Gunn shrugged. “Or maybe they just didn’t care. I don’t know. It’s not relevant. The question is, are you strong enough to stop him? Because right now, Rowan, you’re his servant. The cat was very clear about that. It has to be you.”


~ ~ ~


“What do you want?” Buffy stood in the doorway like a prison guard, blocking Angel’s way.

With a blank expression on his pale face, the dark-haired vampire held up another steel thermos, identical to the one he had brought the last time. “I just figured you probably wouldn’t wanna leave the room.”

Buffy’s face softened a little. “Oh, yeah. Thanks.” However, she remained where she was, keeping him from entering her hotel room.

Angel raised his eyebrows, questioningly. “So, how is he?”

She bit her lip. “He’s asleep.”

The vampire nodded in understanding. “That’s probably just as well. Um, can I come in?”

Buffy shook her head, firmly. “I don’t think so. Remember what happened the last time?” She crossed her arms over her chest.

Angel let out a sigh. “Look, I’m sorry about-“

“No, I’m sorry.” Buffy lowered her eyes to the floor. “Angel, I haven’t exactly been fair to you lately. I know how you feel about Spike. You could’ve just stayed here and gone to your meeting, but you didn’t.” She hesitated a little. “Guess what I’m trying to say is, thank you. For, you know, helping.”

Instead of looking pleased, Angel’s eyes darkened. “Whether you believe it or not, Buffy, I still have a soul. I’m not a monster.”

“Maybe not, but I remember what you said the other day.” Buffy looked him straight in the eyes as she recited Angel’s words, mimicking the vampire’s deep voice, “I don’t like Spike. If he got wiped off the face of the earth tomorrow, I’d be the first to celebrate...”

Angel couldn’t help but cringe. “Okay, I did say that. I see your point.”

Buffy opened her mouth, but was interrupted by a moan, coming from inside the room. She threw an alarmed look over her shoulder, about to rush to Spike’s side, but Angel grabbed her arm to stop her. Giving him a warning look, fully prepared to yell at him for keeping her from going to Spike, Buffy’s anger faded when he just held out the thermos without a word.

Taking a deep breath, she took the object in question, managing a small smile. “Thank you.” Angel just nodded and turned around to leave before she got the chance to close the door in his face.


~ ~ ~


Spike woke up with a start, finding himself still surrounded by total darkness. Slightly disoriented, he tried to sit up, only to jump when he felt a firm hand on his chest, holding him down. He panicked and tried to pull away, managing a weak growl.

“Spike, stop it, it’s me. Don’t try to sit up, you’ll just hurt yourself.” The familiar voice made him relax a little. He knew he should have recognized Buffy’s scent, but vivid memories of pain and powerlessness kept haunting him, even in his sleep, and made it hard for him to focus on what was real and what was not.

Feeling the mattress shift as she sat down on the bed, he reached out for her blindly, suddenly feeling a desperate need to touch her. As she immediately took his hand and held it gently between hers, he was filled with both relief and self-loathing.

“How’re you feeling?” She spoke softly, stroking the back of his hand with her thumb. “Are you hungry? I’ve got some blood right here.”

He nodded without even thinking, hating how weak he felt. The pain wasn’t quite as bad as before, or maybe he had just gotten used to it by now.

Carefully helping him to sit up, Buffy filled the glass with blood and brought it to his lips, surprised when Spike struggled to lift his right hand and tried to take it from her. “Got it,” he muttered. She opened her mouth to object, then decided against it and obediently let go of the glass.

Immediately noticing that he didn’t even have enough strength in his hand to hold the glass up, let alone lift it to his mouth so he could drink, Spike was unable to hold back a frustrated sob. As if being blind wouldn’t be bad enough – now he couldn’t even take a sip of blood by himself.

His hand was shaking badly and he would have dropped the glass, had Buffy not instantly reacted. Quickly placing her left hand over his, she helped him close his trembling fingers around the glass and hold it in place. “It’s okay,” she mumbled. “Just take it easy. I’ll help you.”

He wanted to protest, insist that he could do it by himself, that he didn’t need her – or anyone’s – help. Hell, he wanted to yell, curse and break things. However, the smell of blood was too tempting, the ravaging hunger won, and he greedily downed the contents in the glass. Hearing Buffy pour up more blood for him, he vamped out and growled, impatiently.

Less than a minute and three glasses of blood later, Spike was satisfied. His face shifted back to human and he let out a shuddering breath. Then, as he could feel Buffy’s eyes on him, he was hit by a wave of guilt and shame. She shouldn’t have to put up with this.

As Buffy took the empty glass away from him, his hand dropped back down on the bed as a part of him expected her to get up and leave. But she remained where she was, and he knew she was watching him in silence, trying to figure out what to do next. “Buffy, I...” he paused, horrified when his voice cracked.

“Spike.” She cupped his cheek, but he flinched back and ducked his head, not wanting her to see the tears of humiliation spilling down his bruised and scalded face. He heard how she inhaled, shakily. “Sweetie, don’t do this. Don’t push me away.”

When he didn’t answer, just stubbornly kept his head down, Buffy moved to put her arms around him, and felt him go absolutely rigid. Determined not to back down, she ignored his weak attempts of resisting, and just held him closer. “Spike, it’s all right. You don’t have to go through this alone. Just let me help you.”

A choked sob escaped Spike’s throat as he was torn between pulling away or accepting the comfort she was offering. Not used to this kind of selfless tenderness, he didn’t know how to handle it. But when she started stroking his hair and mumbling soothingly in his ear, he finally surrendered and leaned into her touch.

Buffy could feel the moment when he gave in, and had to force back a sigh of relief as he buried his face in the crook of her neck, his cold tears wetting her skin. “I’m right here,” she whispered, rocking him gently in her arms. “It’s gonna be okay.”


TBC





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