No one moved or spoke for a very long moment, everyone just trying to process what had just happened. Buffy felt a sick, trapped sort of feeling come over her, her mind racing in a desperate attempt to find some plausible answer that would explain, if not excuse, her behavior – any answer but the truth.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly, automatically – sincere, but stalling for time.
*Those two words are becoming second nature,* she thought bitterly.
“Xander, I – I didn’t mean to hurt you,* she went on, her voice trembling with the shock of what she had done. “Are you – are you okay?”
The boy did not respond, still staring at her in disbelief, and when she took a cautious step toward him, he pulled back in alarm.
“Buffy.” Her Watcher’s carefully calm voice drew her attention from behind her. “Perhaps you’d better – sit down.” She cringed at the measured, even tone of his voice that sounded as if he was trying to talk a suicidal jumper off a ledge.
*Much more of this and I *will* be…*
She turned slowly to take in the scene at the table behind her. Giles was watching her closely, concern and alarm in his scrutinizing gaze. Willow was wide-eyed and clearly terrified, staring up at her friend from her seat with a disbelieving look of betrayal, wordlessly asking her how she could possibly have done what she had just seen her do.
*How *could* I do it?* Buffy wondered. She had always been careful to remain constantly aware of the great power she possessed, and never to use her full strength with ordinary humans, who could be so easily hurt by her – especially with her friends.
But all she had seen a few moments before was not Xander, not her best friend, but simply someone trying to hurt *her* vampire – and something inside her had snapped, and all that had mattered to her in that moment was protecting Spike. *Her* vampire…her…her…
*My *mate*,* she thought, her eyes widening, sobered by the impact of the word.
“Buffy.”
Her Watcher’s cautiously insistent voice called to her again through her swirling thoughts, and she looked up at him through troubled eyes for a moment, before slowly turning and sitting down at the table, her head in her hands as she struggled just to come to grips with the situation.
The atmosphere in the room was still charged with tension, but seemed to ease a bit as she did as Giles asked her, sitting down at the table and giving them the appearance of being somewhat in control again.
Spike ventured a cautious glance up at Buffy, trying to gauge her state of mind, but quickly looked down again, not wanting to draw her attention, not right now while her temper was so volatile. He was well aware that Xander’s attack, prevented before it could really begin, ironically was the only thing that had saved him from being the victim of the Slayer’s wrath again.
He was not eager to do anything to remind her that he was the one she had originally been angry with.
Anya had risen to her feet in alarm at Buffy’s attack on her boyfriend, but it had all happened so fast, and had been over before she could make a move toward them. In retrospect, she was glad. She knew that she could not have stopped Buffy if she had tried, and she had seen how frighteningly dangerous Buffy could be when it came to her “ownership” of Spike.
The evidence of it was right there, spelled out in purple bruises on the vampire’s face.
Now that the threat had passed, however, Anya made her way slowly to her boyfriend’s side.
As she reached gently for Xander’s injured hand, he pulled away irritably. Concerned, she persisted gently, until he jerked away from her and snapped, “Damn it, Ahn, would you leave it alone?”
She tried to tell herself that the trauma and shock of the moment were causing him not to think about what he said, but the sharp words and rejection in response to her gentle concern stung, and Anya quietly withdrew, moving back to her seat.
Xander just stood there, too agitated and upset by what had happened to even notice his girlfriend’s dejected retreat. His eyes were still focused on Buffy -- *As usual,* Anya thought – although she seemed oblivious to them all, her elbows resting on the table and her face hidden in her arms.
“Buffy,” Willow finally attempted in a very small, hesitant voice. “Buffy, are you okay?”
Buffy raised her head, her eyes still closed for a long moment as she tried to find the courage to face her friends. “No,” she said finally in a defeated voice, “No, I am not okay. I am so not okay that I am completely off the scale of not-ok-ness. In the entire history of ‘ok’, there has never been anyone less okay than I am. No. I am *not* okay.”
Buffy’s calm, if overstated, words, acknowledging the total wrongness of the situation, seemed to take the edge off the shock for the others. Xander finally moved back from across the room to take his seat by Anya again, and Spike felt a sense of vindictive satisfaction when the boy gave the vampire a wide berth on his way.
“Could you tell us what just happened, Buffy?” Giles asked in a quiet but firm voice, his expression serious and very worried. “Why you – reacted – as you did?”
Buffy was quiet for a moment before she spoke, and a subtle glance at her face told Spike that she still intended to try to talk her way out of telling her friends the truth. “I – I don’t know,” she hedged unconvincingly, not meeting her Watcher’s eyes. “I’ve just been feeling – I don’t know – protective? Of Spike. Since the ritual. I don’t know why. It’s like, if someone tries to hurt him, I feel compelled to stop them.”
*Unless it’s you,* Spike thought resentfully. *Then you feel the compelled to hurt me to your little heart’s content.*
Buffy’s slight flinch, barely concealed from the others, surprised Spike with the knowledge that she had heard his words. But she went on, deliberately ignoring it, her eyes attentively on Giles as he spoke.
“Well,” he said with a thoughtful frown. “I suppose that might make sense. The point of the ritual was to make Spike a part of the ‘pack’ so to speak, wasn’t it? So as the leader, if one of your pack is threatened – even by another member of the pack – it might stand to reason that you would feel the need to defend him.”
The others seemed relieved by his words. It gave them a reason, an explanation, for Buffy’s frightening behavior – and a possible solution to what they still thought was a relatively simple problem.
“So,” Willow voiced their thoughts with a relieved smile. “We just don’t try to hurt Spike. Problem solved.”
*No complaints there,* Spike conceded. But what slim hope he had held out for the results of this meeting were quickly vanishing.
He glanced across the table and caught Anya’s eye for a moment, saw the same grim disappointment in her eyes. It was beginning to appear that Buffy was going to get away with her little deception. Her friends did not want to believe any wrong of her, and seemed eager to accept whatever explanation was offered to them.
“Wait a second – so I’m suddenly relegated to the same status as Deadboy Junior?” Xander protested indignantly. “I don’t think so!”
“In terms of the ritual and its effects – it would appear that that is the case – at least somewhere deep in Buffy’s subconscious, some part of her sees you both as members of her pack – equals,” Giles said, a bit apologetically. “If either of you were to attack the other, I believe she would have the same reaction.”
Xander’s mood descended to a level just above outright sulking, and although the Watcher’s theory was a million miles from the truth, Spike felt a bit more cheerful just watching the Whelp’s reaction to his words.
“The chip, however,” Giles went on, his tone darkening a bit, and Spike felt Buffy’s fear of her secret’s discovery, heard her heartbeat accelerate at his words. “Does appear to be non-functioning after all. I cannot see how it could be a result of the ritual, however.”
“No,” Buffy agreed with his assessment, shaking her head. “Nothing to do with the ritual. The thing probably just – wore out,” she suggested, a bit too eagerly – but of course no one but Spike and Anya noticed.
They didn’t want to notice.
The ex-vengeance demon and the silent vampire exchanged a look of resignation. Anya clearly wanted to say something – wanted to stop Buffy’s lies and blurt out the truth. He could see it on her face. But she was too afraid of Buffy’s fury if she did, too afraid that even the others’ best efforts to help would be futile against the Slayer’s sheer strength – not that the others would really care that much anyway – not about Spike, anyway.
But Spike was convinced that if they realized that their best friend and unofficial leader was possibly possessed by some violent, malevolent force, they would care about *Buffy* enough to at least try to do something. The success of their efforts, on the other hand, was an entirely different matter. And besides, he did not have the option of telling the others.
His claimant had ordered his silence.
“I had wondered if perhaps it was only a ruse on Spike’s part from the beginning – some sort of plan to get to you, Buffy…” The Watcher paused, ignoring the irritated roll of the vampire’s eyes at that suggestion, but shaking his head slowly as he went on, “But Spike was genuinely in very poor condition when he came to us, and from what I’ve seen I’m quite convinced that he *did* have a chip at the time.”
“Which doesn’t work anymore,” Xander pointed out darkly, glaring at Spike. “Which means he’s a danger.”
“No, he’s not,” Anya spoke up quickly, looking suddenly a bit self-conscious when all eyes turned to her with varying levels of surprise – not the least of which was in Spike’s sapphire eyes as they shot up to hers. “Well, he’s not!” she insisted, a bit defensive at the questioning stares of the others. “Not as long as he’s under Buffy’s control. He has to do whatever she says, so – so all she has to do is order him not to hurt anyone. So everybody’s safe.”
“Yeah -- *sounds* nice,” Xander agreed sarcastically. “Except that for some freaky reason, Buffy seems more concerned with *Spike’s* safety than anyone else’s. Are we sure that Spike didn’t win that stupid ritual?” he said sarcastically. “Cause the whole thing seems to have come out in his favor. The Slayer’s protection – no chip…”
*Good thing he doesn’t know about the non-stop shagging,* Spike thought, suppressing a smile in spite of the situation. *Then he’d *really* be convinced that I’d won!*
Buffy’s widened eyes and red face told him that that particular little observation had not been as private as he’d thought. The sharp kick he received to his shin under the table a moment later, accompanied by a frantically whispered, *Shut *up*!* in his mind, made him stifle a yelp of pain – remembering that he had been ordered to silence.
The panic in her eyes held a perverse satisfaction for him though; she was trying so hard to keep her secret, that even his thoughts had her terrified. And then, he had to suppress a laugh, as another thought occurred to him.
*I didn’t bloody *say* anything, Slayer!* he reminded her. He knew that it would take a good deal more than that to make the Slayer actually *do* anything to him – she did not want her friends to see the frightening other side she had developed. She would have to be pretty angry to retaliate against him here.
He added with a smirk that she could hear in his mental voice, *I think it’s all in your bloody head, Slayer -- *one* of them…*
*Shut up,* she repeated with frustration, and he could hear her anger rising, but her mental voice still sounded weary and weak, and did not hold the strength of her authority behind it, leaving him the option to disobey.
He took it.
*Perhaps you’re losing your mind, love,* he went on in her head, his voice still mocking, but hardening slightly as he allowed his anger at her to creep into his tone. *It’d be all right – maybe it’d leave you with just *one* personality…*
The others were still discussing possible explanations for the failure of Spike’s chip, but Buffy was as silent as her vampire, engaged in their own private discussion, which she was attempting to cut short.
*Spike – shut…up…*
*Wonder which one you’d get to keep?* he mused with falsely friendly interest. *Hmm? The real you? Or the psychotic you? Only one thing’s for sure…*
*Spike – I’m warning you…*
The dark anger in her voice barely had time to register before he was speaking again, his own voice low with deserved anger, allowing his hurt and fury for the treatment she had given him over the past few days to come out in his tone and words.
*Either way,* he finished coldly. *She’d be a right bitch!*
Before he could react Buffy was out of her chair, seizing him by the throat and yanking him up out of his chair, slamming him forcefully into the wall behind it, blazing flames of rage in her darkened eyes of jade.
He gasped for breath that was blocked by her powerful hand at his throat, his hands pulling uselessly at hers as she leaned into his face and snarled, “I told you to *shut up*!”
She released him suddenly, only to slam her fist across his face, knocking him sideways, following it up with a savage knee to his stomach that doubled him over and sent him to his knees.
He stayed there for a long moment, his ragged gasps for breath the only sound in the room – and Buffy gradually became aware of the unnatural stillness. Her eyes widened as she realized what had happened – realized what her friends had seen and heard – and a feeling of shame came over her at the very idea.
She looked down at the vampire, on his knees at her feet, bracing himself with a hand to the floor in preparation to rise. She stared at him, her piercing gaze drawing his upward. As he slowly raised his eyes to meet hers, she expected to see fear – suspicion – anger – anything but what she saw there.
Triumph.
As Spike slowly got to his feet, his back still to the wall, no room to move away from it with Buffy standing so close, he met her eyes boldly with the barest beginnings of a smirk on his lips, breathing hard as he recovered from the blows she had dealt him. He glanced briefly over her shoulder to see a slow smile forming on Anya’s face as she realized what he had done.
Buffy’s eyes widened as understanding dawned on her as well – then narrowed in renewed anger. “You did that on purpose,” she whispered accusingly. *You – you deliberately -- *humiliated* me…*
He gave her a slight shrug, still holding her gaze, not allowing her threatening anger to make him look away. He was still not allowed to speak, so he let his thoughts respond to her.
*What can I say, love? I’m evil.* He paused, his smile fading as he added, * ‘Sides…on my knees before you in front of your soddin’ Scoobies – not exactly that far from ‘humiliating’, love…*
His words hit their mark, reminding her that hers was the greater offense here – just before she heard Giles clear his throat pointedly behind her.
She closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath before she turned to face him.
His ice blue eyes were searching, studying her expression and that of the vampire beyond her – seeing far more in the little scene than the Slayer was comfortable with.
“Buffy,” he said finally, his voice soft and mild, but still striking fresh fear through the Slayer’s heart. “I believe there’s something here you’d deliberately kept from us.” He paused, looking down at the table for a moment before meeting her eyes again, leaving no room for argument.
“And I’d very much like to know what it is.”
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