Both vampires were bruised and bloody, their clothing shredded in places, and both had been burned horribly by the holy water, though as nasty and raw as Spike's hand looked, Buffy couldn't help but wince when she thought of Angel's eyes. He was no doubt blind, temporarily at least, and she couldn't imagine what it would feel like for them to heal. She was betting on agonizingly painful.

Spike looked like he was ready to pass out, but he maintained his solemn stare waiting for her to speak or move or react in any way at all to what she'd just witnessed. Buffy just stared back before glancing at Angel again. She wasn't quite sure how she should react. At the moment she was just sort of quietly stunned.

"What exactly did you see?"

Buffy faced Spike again and shrugged.

"Enough."

His gaze lowered.

"I'm sorry, Buffy."

"For what? You just saved us all…again."

"Still."

Those blue eyes looked at her again, sympathy evident in them.

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah," Buffy said, feeling something in her chest clench. "Me too."

"Angel! What happened? Buffy? What's going on? Is the ritual—"

Buffy turned to see Wesley hurrying toward them, taking in the state of the chamber anxiously before focusing on Angel, who still lay crumpled on the ground. Wesley's steps increased until he was almost running.

"The ritual's done, Wes," Buffy answered as Wesley brushed past her and over to his boss. "Spike finished it. We're safe. For now."

"Spike finished it?" Wesley asked, confusion clear in his tone as he knelt next to Angel. "I don't understand. What happened? What did he do to Angel?"

"Oh that's right. Mean old Spike hurt Angel for no reason. Everything is Spike's fault. Did it ever occur to you, Percy, that your fearless leader might be the shady one, and that I did you all a sodding favor coming here?" Spike asked, bitterly. "No, of course it didn't."

"Spike," Buffy said, but couldn't think of anything else to follow it up with.

He was right after all. Naturally Wes would assume the worst of him and the best of Angel. Buffy was still having a hard time comprehending what Angel had tried to do. Spike just rolled his eyes and lay down on the ground with a groan, muttering to himself about "assumptions" and "ungrateful bastards". Yeah, he was pissed. Buffy tuned him out so she could explain things to an increasingly confused Wesley.

"Wes, Angel tried to perform the Cleansing instead of the Binding ritual. Spike came here to stop him, and before you ask," she held up a hand to stop the protest she knew was coming, "yes, I'm sure. I saw them fighting myself. And look," she pointed to the open box of brands lying a few feet away. "There's no other reason for him to have needed those."

"That's—no. No. Angel wouldn't have done that."

Wesley shook his head determined to deny the accusation, but then he looked at his employer curled on the floor in front of him and placed a hesitant hand on Angel's arm.

"Angel? Did you?"

There was no answer. Angel just rolled away from Wesley's hand and cringed in pain again.

Buffy decided there'd be enough time to mope later. Right now they needed to get out of here. Who knew what further damage had happened to the church after the ritual. The whole place was unstable and Buffy didn't want to get buried under a pile of rubble because they were sitting around dwelling on what Angel had almost done. Plus she wanted to check on Dawn.

"Come on, we're leaving."

Buffy walked over to Spike and held out a hand. Spike blinked wearily at it before reaching up to grasp it with his own. Buffy could feel the scar where his palm had been sliced open and was slowly closing. She helped pull him to his feet and wrapped an arm around his waist when he stumbled. His body was trembling and he could barely stay upright.

"Hang on. We just need to make it to the car, okay?"

Spike nodded, keeping his eyes on the ground. Buffy saw Wesley still crouching next to Angel. She couldn't tell what he was thinking. His face was emotionless—numb.

"Can you manage Angel on your own?"

That seemed to shake him back to reality. Wes nodded and stood, hauling Angel to his feet as well. He slung one of Angel's arms over his shoulder and held onto it, while his other arm rested around Angel's waist to steady him the same way Buffy was doing with Spike. Angel still had one hand over his face and tried to pull away but Wesley held firm.

"I have him. Let's go."

Angel stopped struggling and Buffy nodded. Taking it slow, she began to lead Spike down the steps of the altar. Getting up the dark stairwell wouldn't be easy but they'd manage somehow. Buffy stayed silent on their way out of the chamber. She didn't want to think about what had happened down there yet or what might have happened if not for Spike. Instead she thought about Dawn.

Please, Dawn. Please be okay. I'm coming back. We're coming back.

Buffy passed the group of workers sweeping up broken glass and sorting through broken furniture in the lobby with barely a glance. She headed straight for Angel's office and knocked. Gunn opened the door and looked at her in surprise. She walked past him into the room and saw Fred sitting on the arm of a chair and gave the woman a smile. Fred smiled back and stood up. She also looked a bit surprised. Lorne was sprawled on the couch opposite Buffy, looking decidedly less chipper than usual.

"Wesley's with Angel?" Buffy asked.

"Actually, I think he's in his office. He said he needed time to think." Fred replied.

Right. That made sense, she guessed. He'd had more time for it to sink in than the others had. After they got back, Spike and Angel had been sent to medical for the remainder of Wolfram and Hart's doctors to see to them. Wes and Buffy had filled the others in, repeating the story several times before the gang could absorb it. Buffy had left to visit Dawn and then Spike while the team were still arguing that Angel wouldn't do such a thing.

"Oh."

"Angel's been knocked out by a cocktail of strong sedatives so he's not talking yet," Gunn said.

"I know. I mean, I figured," Buffy replied, folding her arms. "That's not why I'm here. I wanted to check in with you guys and tell you we're leaving."

"Leaving?" Fred asked.

"Yeah. Well, not L.A. Not yet, anyway, but soon. We're leaving here. After everything—I just think we'd all be more comfortable in a hotel."

"I don't blame you. The things I've seen here the last few days, I'm not sure I'll ever be able to trust my stressed out P.A. again, not to mention the rest of the staff," Lorne put in.

"We're waiting for Angel to heal so we can talk to him. Are you gonna stick around for that?" Gunn asked.

Buffy looked at him. Did she want to see Angel again? Not really. But an explanation would be nice, if you could ever explain anything like that. Angel had a loyal team. A family. But would they stay with him through this? Did he deserve it if they did?

"I really don't know right now. Everything's—so screwed up. Honestly, I just want to take my sister and my friends and go home."

"What about Spike?"

Gunn's expression never changed but Buffy could sense his tension. Things had been more than a little uncomfortable when they got back to Wolfram and Hart. Angel's team didn't take the news about what their boss had tried to do very well, which was understandable—like she said, loyal.

Of course they also couldn't fathom that Spike had gone after Angel to save them and not because he was jealous or looking to play hero. Fred gave him the benefit of the doubt first which Buffy was grateful for, but it had definitely irked her to see the team's accusatory stares. They wouldn't be satisfied until Angel confirmed it himself.

"He'll be coming with me. He's in slightly better shape than he was when we got back, so moving shouldn't be too much of a pain."

"At least he's up walking by himself."

Buffy didn't need to be a mind reader to hear the 'unlike Angel' part Gunn had implied in his tone.

"Yeah, he's doing okay, considering," she said.

"Why don't you leave us the address and your cell number so we can reach you if we have to—or if Angel wakes up and you decide you do want to see him?" Fred offered.

"Thanks," Buffy said, wearily. "You can just call the hotel and they'll put you through. Somehow I don't think we'll be leaving our room."

At Fred's wide eyed look and Gunn and Lorne's stares, Buffy replayed what she'd just said in her head and felt her cheeks getting hot.

"Dawn and me," she blurted. "She's had a long day, and I haven't been sleeping well. Yeah, Dawn and I will probably crash straight away."

Shut up, Buffy. Babbling never helps, you know this by now, she berated herself.

"So, Fred, you got pen and a paper?"

Buffy quickly changed the subject.

"Ow! What was that for?" Andrew whined, rubbing the side of his head and frowning at Spike.

"What do you think?"Spike asked, irritated. "I can't believe I'm stuck sharing a bloody room with you. I'm supposed to be recovering."

"So? I'm not stopping you from getting better."

"Yeah, actually, you are. Healing usually involves bed rest, peace and quiet, and lots of blood. Not constant yammering, channel flicking, and bloody games of eye spy."

"I'm only channel surfing because I can't find anything good to watch, which was why I wanted to play eye spy which you refused to play."

"Why am I here again?"

"Because the hotel was fully booked and Buffy and Dawn are sharing a room so you have to share mine."

Spike glared at Andrew.

"I know that."

"Oh, was that one of those rhetorical questions?"

"Just toss me the remote. I'll find something to watch."

"No."

Spike glared at Andrew again. Andrew just pouted and crossed his arms in a huff. Spike clenched his jaw and stretched his neck trying desperately to hold onto his patience.

"Why?"

"Because last time I gave it to you, you threw it at me, remember? I think I can feel a lump."

"Well you're still yapping about it so you're not brain damaged. Give it."

"No."

"Look," Spike sighed and did his best not to scowl at his sulking roommate. "I promise I won't throw it at you this time, all right?"

"Accept a promise from a vampire? Why should I trust the word of a bloodsucking demon?"

"Because this bloodsucking demon is hungry and he's gonna tear out one of your arteries in a minute if you don't shut up and give him that remote."

Andrew's eyes narrowed as he passed the remote over grudgingly. Spike whipped it out of his hand and began flicking from one station to the next, staring only at the screen and ignoring the sulking young man sprawled on the bed next to his own.

"You don't even drink human blood anymore."

"I make exceptions for annoying little tossers who grate on my last nerve when I'm not feeling my best."

There was a blessed moment of silence broken only by quick bursts of sound from the TV whenever Spike changed the channel. It didn't last long.

"I've been through those ones. Look, there's the weather, followed by sports. That cooking show. Boating channel. Shopping channel. More sports. Golf. News. Music. Hey, go back to that cooking channel. I'm thinking of having a dinner party next week when we get back to Rome."

"I changed my mind. I don't want to watch TV."

Spike turned the telly off and tossed the remote across the room where it hit the wall and fell to the floor, the back falling off and the batteries rolling under the nearby desk.

"Now look what you did."

"I swear if I have to get off this bed and bite you before you'll shut up, I'll do it."

Spike sat up in the bed to show he meant it. Andrew shrank back a bit before sitting up as well. His mouth opened ready to retort and Spike was just about to swing his legs over the side of the bed when there was a knock on the door.

Andrew and Spike looked at each other. The knock came again. Spike raised an eyebrow expectantly.

"Oh, so I have to get the door even though you were about to attack me?"

A growl was Andrew's response and he scurried off the bed and over to the door, flinging it open. Spike sighed and settled back on the bed, scowling. He really didn't think he could take a whole night with Andrew.

"Buffy, hey. Welcome to our humble abode. Please, impart your Slayer presence across our threshold."

Was it possible to strain your eyes from rolling them? Spike whacked his head back against the wall with a loud thump, hoping to knock himself out. It was the only way he could endure any more of this torture.

"That's an odd way to get better."

Spike opened his eyes to see Buffy standing over him, a smile on her face, hair brushed back into a ponytail and wearing a blue blouse with black pants and shoes. He could smell shampoo and shower gel, but not the familiar ones she used to use. More than likely it was the hotel's brand. She sat down on the edge of the bed next to him, leaned in and ran her fingers through his hair. Spike closed his eyes again, this time in bliss. If ever there was a way to make him feel better this was decidedly it.

"How you doing?" she asked, softly.

Spike looked at her and smiled.

"Not gonna lie. Shoving my hand in holy water was a really bad idea, not that I regret it, and I'm sure there's a few bones that haven't set right yet but I'm healing."

"You're all black and blue still, in case you wondered."

"This'd be the part where I say 'you should have seen the other guy' except you already did."

"Yeah." Buffy lowered her eyes and removed her hand from his hair, though he was reassured when it came to rest lightly on his shoulder instead.

"How's he doin' anyway?"

"Gunn said he was still out of it when we left. They have him pretty heavily sedated."

"I wonder what kind of tranquilizer they'd use on a vampire? Horse? Elephant? Or just regular ones for humans, because that sounds dangerous. Buffy, you were knocked out with drugs before, what do you think they used?"

Spike and Buffy both turned to glare at Andrew. He'd been resting against the still open door, watching them dreamily before asking the question, and now shifted uncomfortably at their combined disapproving looks.

"What?"

"Hey, Andrew. Just who I was looking for."

Dawn appeared behind Andrew, grabbed hold of his arm, and began dragging him outside and down the hallway. Buffy stood up and watched from the doorway as her sister dragged Andrew away, giving Buffy and Spike the time alone she'd been hoping for.

"Come on. We're going to pick up some lunch for everyone and get more bagged blood for Spike. We'll see you guys later!" she called back as she shoved Andrew into an elevator down the hall.

Buffy smiled, shook her head and closed the door. She walked back to Spike who sighed in relief and slid down in the bed a little, relaxing into the pillows he'd had propped behind his back. She sat down on the edge of the bed again and looked at his bandaged hand. She reached out, her hand hovering above the bindings for a second before she saw Spike watching her.

"Are you sure you don't want more painkillers? That has to be agony."

Spike turned his bandaged hand so it was lying palm up on the bed next to him just under her hand. Buffy watched him, hesitated, but at his nod of encouragement laid her hand gently atop his. So gently in fact, he barely felt the pressure against his bandages.

"It's nothing I can't bear. It burns like…well acid, but it'll heal soon enough. Skin's already starting to grow back. Some more rest and blood and I'll be fine in a few days. 'Sides," he gave a small shrug and smiled up at her, "It's a pain I'm proud of. That and I don't want to miss out on spending time with you or Dawn."

"And Andrew?" Buffy asked, grinning.

"Andrew I can take in small doses, but minus painkillers it becomes infinitely harder. I think I could stand to miss out on his input for a while."

Buffy yawned and covered her mouth, looking sheepish.

"Tired, pet?"

A little. You'd think I'd be used to lack of sleep by now but—I guess the last few days have really taken their toll."

"Why don't you lie down and rest until the others come back?"

Buffy eyed Andrew's vacant bed across from her before rubbing sleepily at her eyes.

"You're probably right. I just like spending time with you now you're back. It's been so long and—it might sound silly knowing you're coming back to Rome with us, but I don't want to miss being with you even to sleep just yet. If there's one thing being the Slayer has taught me it's that life is short and people can vanish from your life without warning."

"Life in general could teach you that, luv, but I know what you mean. Still. I promise I'm not going anywhere. You should sleep. So should I while I have some peace and quiet."

"Oh." Buffy stood, brushing her fringe out of her face. "Sorry. You need rest too. I didn't mean to keep you up."

"Buffy, I'm not asking you to go," Spike cut in quickly before she could back away. "You can stay here."

"You're sure?"

Spike nodded, smiling at her again. "Positive."

Buffy smiled back and glanced over her shoulder at Andrew's bed again.

"You know," Spike caught her attention again, "you could stay here," he slid over to the far side of the bed slowly. "'S bigger than that old cot at least. If you wanted, of course. I'm not—"

Buffy grinned at him. "I'd really like that, Spike."

Spike sighed in relief. "Right then."

He held out his arms and Buffy moved back to the bed. Sitting on the edge she pulled off her shoes and swung her feet up onto the covers. With a little shimmy, she snuggled in next to Spike and lay back, letting him wrap his arms around her. Turning onto her side, she rested her head against his shoulder and placed one hand on his chest, where she would've felt his heart beating if he was human.

Spike turned his head and placed a tender kiss on her head. Buffy closed her eyes, savoring the moment. The last time they'd done this had been in the basement back in Sunnydale on their last night together. She never thought she'd have this again, and what was worse was that she'd only realized how deeply she loved him as he stood dying, going up in flames as a champion. Swallowing back a sudden lump in her throat she reminded herself that those days were over. He was here.

As though he had read her mind, Spike tightened his grip on her just a little, and the feel of his arms around her soothed her, until soon she relaxed and lay drifting, on the cusp of sleep. The last thing she was conscious of was a whispered promise that she wouldn't have to feel alone anymore.

Fire. It consumed her vision. Warm, bright fire covered their hands, but it didn't burn as expected. It felt inviting. She was drawn to it. Things clicked into place, and for the first time, Buffy felt—complete. His hand clasped in hers felt right. Buffy realized she didn't need to run anymore. Her heart wasn't meant to be guarded.

You love with all your soul. It's brighter than the fire…blinding.

Yes, she'd been hurt in the past, and yes, life was brutal—but this—this was what made it worth living.

Risk the pain.

Yes. It was worth risking. Pain made her who she was, shaped her, made her stronger.

The Slayer forges strength from pain.

Love was pain—but it was so much more than that too, and she had so much love to give. How could she have hidden from it for so long? She had to say it. She had to share this with him. He'd brought this to her through his love—and now, she could return it.

'I love you.'

Oh God, it felt right to say that. The Earth was shaking. The rumbling around them grew louder. Dust and dirt swirled through the air but couldn't block the beam of light cutting a path through the darkness. Nothing could extinguish this fire.

Love will bring you to your gift.

Her gift…her gift was…but…

'No you don't—'

But I do! I really do!

'but thanks for saying it.'

No! I—I—wait!

'Now go!'

But—

The rumbling increased. She lost her footing. Her hand slipped free from his and the feeling of safety, of warmth, vanished. Tremors shot through her. The ceiling was caving in. No!

"Buffy?"

"Spike. Spike, don't. I want to stay," she mumbled, her voice sounding groggy.

Where was she? The light had vanished, and she felt so heavy…

"Not kicking you out, luv. Come on, wake up, sweetheart. You're dreaming, that's all. Come back to me."

"Want to—come back to you. Don't want to leave at all."

Buffy slowly opened her eyes, blinking to let them adjust to the dim light of the room. So, she'd just been dreaming again. Only—someone was holding her when she woke up this time. Spike.

She focused on his face to see him smiling down at her. She was still cradled against his chest though her arm had snaked its way around his waist and her legs were now wrapped up in his. He pushed her fringe away from her face and she closed her eyes when his cool skin brushed against her forehead.

"How long was I out?"

"Not too long. Couple of hours, maybe. Heard Dawn and the boy come back earlier but they scarpered again before I was fully awake. Heard your sis say something about a movie she wanted him to watch with her."

Buffy smiled and snuggled against him again, wanting nothing more than to let sleep overtake her once more.

"I had a good sleep until the dream. Have you been awake long?"

"Nah, passed out again after Nibblet and Andrew left. Woke up again a few minutes ago." His voice was quiet, as though he was trying not to disturb her even though she was awake.

A rumbling noise interrupted Buffy's next question and she opened her eyes. When the noise came again, more of a growl this time she realized it was Spike's stomach. She smirked up at him.

"Hungry?"

"A bit, yeah. They left us take out when they stopped by and as unappetizing as blood is cold, the smell gets hard to avoid when you're hungry."

Reluctantly, Buffy untangled herself and sat up.

"Well, let's not leave you to starve. Hang on. I'll get the lights and the food."

Flicking on the light switch, Buffy blinked in the suddenly bright room and located the shopping bag containing blood and brought it over to Spike. She found the bag of Chinese food Dawn had left for her next, and only then realized how hungry she was. When had she last eaten anyway?

"What were you dreaming about?"

"You," Buffy answered, settling down on the end of Spike's bed cross-legged when he made room for her so they could face each other while they ate. "The Hellmouth. Leaving you."

"All in the past, luv. We're here now."

"Yeah." She smiled at him, happily. "We are."

In companionable silence they began to eat. Buffy heard the crunch as Spike's face shifted and the snick of the bag as he tore it open with a fang. She was just tucking into her own food when she glanced at Spike and saw him frowning at his bag of blood, a smear of the red liquid across his lips.

"What's up?" she asked.

"Not sure just—something different about this blood."

"Different." Buffy was frowning now, puzzled. "Different how?"

"Like—no, maybe not. I'm probably imagining it. Haven't had cold blood in too long is all. Angel doesn't like the cheap stuff anymore either. Can't compare that to this."

"What? You're getting fussy after tasting Angel's premium brand of animal blood?" Buffy smirked then paled considerably. "It was animal blood wasn't it? He wasn't lying about—"

"Relax, pet, he's not snacking on the populace again, though I can't blame you for asking. It just tasted very different, that's all. Actually I can't really put my finger on what his supply was. Been so long since I tasted blood at all I never noticed anything was odd about it until I got a taste of the regular butcher's blood again."

"Spike," Buffy said, lowering her carton of food, "if you can't identify what Angel's been eating—"

"Relax. It can't be that bad. I drank from the same source twice already and it didn't have any negative effect on me."

"Other than you turning into a four year old and messing with Angel's stuff? No, no negative effect."

Spike threw her an un-amused look. Buffy held up her hands in a placating manner.

"Okay, sorry. I know, excess energy. But other than that you felt okay? There was that headache before, and you were acting a little out of sorts. Of course after everything you went through that was to be expected."

Spike seemed to be thinking. He took another couple of sips from the bag of blood, licked his lips and thought some more. Buffy totally hadn't watched his tongue swiping over that full bottom lip while his attention was elsewhere. Nope. And she totally wasn't still staring at his mouth either. The split lip he'd had earlier was almost fully healed. She could barely see the mark now.

"The more I think about it, the more I'm starting to see your point."

"Huh?" Buffy asked, jumping a little when he started speaking to her again.

"I can't tell what it was, but something was off about that blood. I felt—anyway, we can't tell much from how I was feeling after everything, but something wasn't right with Angel. I hate the bastard, no use sugar-coating it, but he doesn't do stuff like this, not while he's all soulful anyway. He can be selfish, he can act rashly, he can act like the world is ending, but he doesn't go out of his way to kill people for an easy reward. Part of my problem with him is that he refuses to take the easy way out when it's been handed to him."

"Such as?" Buffy asked, skeptically.

"The ring. The Gem of Amarra. He had a way to walk in the sun and he rejected it."

Buffy ignored the stab of pain she felt at hearing that. It was an old wound, but knowing how she'd been rejected several times in the past never got easier.

"So what?" she asked, focusing on the topic at hand, "you think someone's been spiking Angel's blood to make him act this way?"

"As much as I loathe him, I know him well enough to know he wasn't right when he did this. Working at Wolfram and Hart changed him, only now I'm starting to think there's a reason for that other than his ego."

Buffy's shoulders slumped and she sighed. "We need to go back, don't we?"

Spike nodded. "We need to be sure, Buffy. Right now, it's just a guess, but if someone's causing this we need to tell the others so they can find out who's doing it and why—and, I've been thinking—"

"What?" Buffy asked, worried.

"I want to see Angel. I want to talk to Angel."