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A/N - I won a prize. Me, a prize, can you believe it? Porphecy and Warmth won Best Saga at Loves Last Glimpse. It's the reviews that I really enjoy getting but an award is pretty special too. I dont know who nominated me but thanks to them. An dof course to April, no one gives awards to badly written fic so without her theres no way i'd have got it.

Anyway thanks to all the people who read and reviewed that one it kept me writting when the stroy got really long and now; pressies Yay.

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"Oh my God, Buffy." Dawn is up from her stool in a flash, fussing around her sister. "Are you okay? You look terrible."

Even the derisive snort hurts her side, where deep purple bruises have bloomed like rampant flowers over her hip and lower back. She's lucky his kicks hadn't connected a bit higher up; her ribs would have been splintered. She'd thought briefly about trying to cover her battered face with make-up to spare Dawn a little worry, but she hadn't even known where to start, not with the twin purple bruises under her eyes from where he broke her nose, and her lip swollen enough that it slurs her speech slightly.

"I'm okay, Dawn." There's not much conviction in it, and it’s a relief for just a little while to let Dawn guide her listless body to a chair and fuss over her, brining her orange juice and a pop tart, the scalding filling burning her mouth.

"Did he do this?" The quiet question is enough to stop her blowing on her breakfast and lay it down on the counter.

"Yes." She can hardly sugar coat it now and it's for the best that Dawn realise just how dangerous Spike is; even with the chip in his head, she should be wary of him. "He got me real good."

"Why didn't he kill you?"

"Because he'd rather see me suffer." She can't believe she'd ever been stupid enough to believe there was more to it than that.

She's so caught up in her own self recrimination she only catches the end of Dawn's reply "…can't believe it's the same guy who looked after me all that time you were gone."

Gone, all that time, her mind whirrs. There's something here she should know. Something she needs to remember from last night. Images and sounds flash across the screen of her mind, his cruel mocking words and bruising fists, his gentle fingers on her face and one line muffled through the ringing in her own ears. "…search all the days you were sleeping."

"Dawn, you’re a genius." She stands up quickly, and her body protests the sudden burst of enthusiasm.

"I am? I mean, of course, but—" The blare of a car horn interrupts her, announcing that her ride to school has arrived.

"I'll explain later. I'll get Xander to take you to the Magic Box after school and we'll work on it.

…………………………………………

She hadn't realised she'd be afraid of him. She'd known that she'd be angry. Really, seriously pissed, and right to be so. But she hadn't bargained on being afraid.

She had a vague memory—fake, of course—of glimpsing him calling out her sister in the old high school while she hid and clung to her mother’s hand. She'd been scared then, terrified, but somehow later she'd never managed to match that same fear with the cool guy who had helped Buffy defeat Angelus, or with the funny, caring Spike who'd told her stories and taught her poker cheats.

She's afraid now, more afraid than she's been since Glory. He has Xander by the throat, one deceptively elegant hand holding the larger man suspended and gasping in the air. "Stay where you are, poppet." She freezes mid-step. He hadn't been looking at her. She'd thought maybe she could run for help. He turns to her, the cruel mocking smile on his demon face giving her a chilling view of fang. "Why'd you wanna go running off now, flower? Don’t tell me you're scared of me."

"I'm not." The courage comes from somewhere deep within her, some well of strength she must have gotten from Buffy. Maybe if she can piss him off enough, he'll drop Xander and come after her. "I've never been scared of you. You're nothing." It's stupid; the chip is obviously gone and she saw what he did to Buffy, but suddenly all that anger and resentment she's been nurturing since he betrayed them just has to be let out. "You were a pathetic good guy and you're even more pathetic as a bad guy. You’re a coward and a bully and I will never be afraid of you."

And he laughs. The son of a bitch just laughs. "Is that right, sweetkins? Well, we'll see about that." And with that he has Xander clamped helplessly against his chest, one hand squeezing hard around the side of his neck, fangs buried in his exposed throat. And all the while, his golden eyes hold her watering blue ones.

By the time he drops Xander's limp body carelessly to the pavement, her whole body is shuddering with the force of her fear. "Always knew the whelp would taste rotten," he sneers, as he wipes blood from his lips with the back of his hand

Oh God, he'd killed Xander. Killed him right in front of her. She looks down at his still body and her stomach threatens to empty its contents on to the tarmac.

"Got a message for big sis." Her eyes swivel up to meet Spike's, blue again now but no less cruel. "You run and tell her what happened to the boy. And tell her it woulda been you only I found me smaller nibbles with just as much juice." He holds her eyes and for a second she flashes back to the night Buffy came back, when demons had ransacked Sunnydale and he'd held her firmly by the shoulders and told her that he would look after her. "You tell her that, Niblet."

………………………………………………….

"Giles, I'm telling you I'm on to something." She's so certain now, and she has to convince the others because she needs them on board. "I know it. More than that, I feel it." She shakes her head. How to make them understand the ethereal certainty of her intuition? "This morning, Dawn said… No, wait, last night Spike and I fought—"

"We can kinda see that, Buffy," Willow interjects, her pretty face creased with concern.

"Right. Yeah, okay, he did a real number on me last night. But I'm not dead, am I?" It's not sympathy on their faces now; it's pity, and she knows it has more to do with her crazy insistence that somehow Spike's not really the bad guy than her black and blue face. It irks her, damn it. She's the one with the bruises. "I'm not even really that badly hurt…"

"Buffy," Giles begins, but she stops him with a raised hand and an uncompromising look.

"Spike knows a thing or two about hurting." Her swollen lips quirk ruefully at the truth of that statement. "So why was he kicking my hip, not my ribs, when I was down?"

"Buffy, isn't the point kinda that he was kicking you at all?"

"Thank you, Willow." Giles is in head master mode, exasperation at her stubbornness beginning to win out over his sympathy. "Buffy, really, you have to stop this…this foolishness." The annoyed authority of his tone reminds her of being in high school. "You're putting yourself at great risk with this ridiculous notion."

"Buffy." Willow’s hands are wringing nervously in her lap, and she knows she's lost that last bastion of support. "I don't want to be all Doubting Thomas, especially with me being Jewish and all, but Buffy, have you looked in the mirror today?"

Suddenly their attitude is pissing her off. "Yes, I looked in the mirror." She's on her feet now and she's aware she might appear a little hysterical, but she can't help it. Her voice rises and her arms wave in overwrought emphasis. "I saw the broken nose and the oh-so-attractive black eyes. I was the one washing blood out of my hair last night. I was the one who had to take four Advil just to dull the pain enough to go to sleep." They look ready to interrupt but she's on a roll now. "I was the one lying face down in the gravel while my boyfriend kicked the shit outta me…" She breaks off then, a trembling hand coming up to cover her battered face. "Please, guys, can you just humour me on this?"

"Of course, Buffy." Willow is at her side, guiding her gently to the Magic Box table, exchanging troubled glances with the watcher.

"Buffy, why don’t you write down everything Spike said that you think might be of relevance?" Giles suggests gently, and Anya appears magically with a pen and pad.

"You can write on this," she declares with her usual enthusiasm and a broad smile. "I won't charge you because you're obviously crazy."

The statement should irk her, but lately she's come to appreciate the vengeance demon’s bluntness, so she just laughs and smiles back affectionately. "Thanks. I think Spike—"

She's cut off by the urgent clanging of the bell as Dawn and Xander stagger into the shop, Dawn's slender frame bowing under the young man's weight. "Oh my God, Xander!" Anya's voice is shrill with worry as she rushes to support her ex's other side. "Xander, what happened?"

But it's fairly obvious what has happened. There's blood soaking into his collar, contrasting deep crimson with the pale blue cotton of his shirt. She can feel it building in her gut; a rising crescendo of noise. "Your fault. Your fault." Repeated over and over until she can barely focus on anything else. Her with her ridiculous theories, her cowardly hesitation. Hadn't she learned this lesson with Jenny Calendar, laid out dead and beautiful among the roses? And it could have been Xander—their own Xander—dead tonight because of her weakness.

They're talking, Dawn urgently recounting the sorry tale. She hears his name and tears spring to her eyes. And still the noise inside, drowning out their voices until all she can hear is, "Your fault. Your fault."

"Buffy." Dawn's voice, insistent and irritated, breaks through. "Buffy, did you hear me? I think you're on to something."

……………………………………………….

A/N thanks for the reviews for the last chapter

christinenj - Wish i could feed you faaster but teh bastards at work actually want me to work. Its very unreasonable

MG - OOh is a wagon wheel a bischit? It had a biscuit base but its kinda soft, no it is a biscuit your right..

Steph - Buffyll get there in the end. Nice girl, not too bright though

Hey DreamGirl - Did you get my little monarchist rant?

Hey CordyKitten - You can understand Buffy being a bit not noticy after taking a nasty beeting like that. Soon though theyll start thingking clearly





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