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Buffy stared blankly at her Watcher for a long moment, trying to think of a way out, before realizing with a sense of despair that she was hopelessly trapped by his words. If she refused to remove her order of silence from the vampire now, after what Giles had just said, it would look extremely suspicious to her friends – but if she *did* allow Spike to speak…

She could not even begin to imagine the humiliation.

What she did not consciously recognize was the other reason why she wanted to continue to enforce his silence. On some level that she was not really aware of, it bothered her to think of relinquishing her power over him, even in that small way. It felt like a loss, in the wake of the victory she felt she had gained the night before.

Or perhaps, some part of her subconscious was aware that if the whole truth came out, her friends would try to help her, and in so doing alter her power, the bond she had formed with Spike. And although she truly wanted help with her problem, was truly frightened and disturbed by the emerging force that seemed to be gaining control of her…

A part of her did not want to let go of it.

Of course, Buffy was not consciously aware of all of this in the moment that followed her Watcher’s subtle challenge. All she knew was that if the full truth came out to everyone, she would be completely and utterly humiliated.

And Spike would be dust, she added grimly in her mind.

Calmly, her voice hardly trembling at all, she boldly met Giles’ mildly questioning eyes and replied, “No, of course not. I have nothing to hide.”

With that, she turned to face the seated blonde vampire, who was watching her closely with a mixture of apprehension and expectancy in his eyes. She knew that he both wanted and dreaded the opportunity to speak; she could see the uncertainty in his expression as to just how much he wanted to tell these people, who really had no reason to be inclined to help him, regardless of how badly Buffy might be treating him.

That thought made her feel a little better. After all, if Spike decided to disclose the worst of what she had done, she could just say that he was lying, and she was confident that her friends would believe her over Spike any day. After all, lying, deception, manipulation – all things that Spike had been guilty of many times in the past. Her friends would easily believe her, for the simple reason that they expected that sort of behavior from Spike.

But not from her.

Buffy pushed aside the feeling of guilt that came along with that train of thought as she gave Spike a false smile that sent a chill down his spine at the menace thinly concealed behind it. She moved casually but purposefully toward him, and he tensed at her approach, his eyes wide with fear, but made no attempt to get away from her.

After all, he had been ordered to sit there, and was still bound by her command.

He flinched as she reached a hand toward the back of his neck, resting it there in a gesture that appeared casual and almost friendly – but was in reality anything but either.

“Spike,” she said in a deceptively gentle voice, her words slow and deliberate for her friends’ sake, making it clear that she was doing as they had requested. “Go ahead. You can talk. You have my *permission*.” She stressed the last word with a little smirk of satisfaction at the flash of helpless anger in Spike’s eyes.

Although she had just freed him to speak, and he was clearly furious with her at the moment, the none-too-subtle threat of her hand, in that dominating, possessive position, so dangerously near to her mark, was a warning that the others missed, but that served to keep him quiet for the moment, as he carefully considered what to say. The unspoken message was very clear.

He may have permission to speak, but the wrong words spoken would still be punished – and severely.

He lowered his eyes with a submissive nod of his head, an answer to her spoken words for the benefit of her friends, and to her unspoken command that he dared not ignore. She looked up at her friends with a satisfied nod of her own and an expectant look around at each of them in turn, her hand remaining at the back of Spike’s neck in what somehow seemed a very natural gesture.

The very “natural” but deliberate eye contact she kept with her friends prevented them from noticing the subtle, massaging motion of her thumb along the edge of her mark.

*Quiet,* she warned him in his mind…

…Just in time, as an intense wave of sensation flowed through him at the soft touch, and he forced back a low moan at the feeling, knowing that by the command she had just spoken in his head, she had not rescinded the freedom she had just given him, but meant for him not to reveal what she was doing at the moment.

The touch only lasted a moment or two, not long enough to draw the attention of any of the others, but the powerful mixture of emotions that it sent through him was overwhelming. In her touch he felt the promise of exquisite reward if he should please her in this situation, or terrifying punishment if he should fail, a dizzying sense of her power effusing it all, as he obediently fought not to allow any of it to show on his face.

As she smoothly removed her hand with a light caress, slipping into her seat beside him, he felt the loss of her touch intensely, almost as strongly as the touch itself. Her smug little smile told him that she knew how she had affected him, and he looked down at the table again, both in shame at his uncontrollable reaction to her, and in an effort to conceal the emotions no doubt obvious on his face at the moment.

“Spike?” The Watcher’s voice was uncharacteristically gentle as he tried to get the vampire’s attention in a mildly prodding tone. “Can you tell me anything about these periods of – possession – Buffy’s been experiencing? How does Buffy – behave – when this phenomenon occurs?”

When Spike looked up at the man’s face, he realized immediately that Giles had misread his downcast eyes, his apparent hesitance to speak. The pity, mingled with surprise, in the Watcher’s eyes was unexpectedly infuriating to the master vampire, reduced to such a state against his will, that an aging, stuffy ex-Watcher was feeling sorry for him.

And the fact that Buffy was trying to strong arm him into keeping his mouth shut about the whole thing – still trying to protect her “dirty little secret” from her friends – only increased his anger, born of hurt and rejection. Was she that ashamed of him – of claiming him – that she thought it would be the end of the bloody world if her friends found out about some of the…er…*changes*…in their relationship?

Because he knew that her Scoobies couldn’t care less whether or not the Slayer knocked him around a bit. No, the part that Buffy was so worried about hiding had to be the more personal bits – the need, the desire for him that she tried so hard to bury with violence and rejection again and again.

It was not the fact that she had hurt him – but the fact that she *wanted* him – that Buffy was ashamed of, he was sure.

And *that* hurt.

“Besides the fact that she’s a bloody bitch with a self-righteous attitude who thinks the whole soddin’ universe is completely centered around her and what she wants?” he smirked, anger flashing in his crystal blue eyes as he glared up at Giles, as angry at his sympathy as he was with Buffy’s abuse. “Because that bloody well sums it up!”

He glanced beside him at the Slayer, saw her hands in front of her on the table ball into fists, her jaw set with anger she was struggling to repress, and knew that he should be more careful with his words, that he should try his best not to anger the person that had complete power over him at the moment and, when all was said and done, would be taking him home when the meeting was over.

He also knew that at the moment he could not bring himself to care.

“You probably need to be a little more specific, Spike,” Anya offered matter-of-factly, without a trace of sarcasm. “I mean, that’s pretty general. She doesn’t really have to be in a period of possession to be like *that*. Or even just a *regular* period. Really, Buffy can kind of tend to be like that *most* of the…”

“Ahn,” Xander’s carefully calm voice interrupted her, his hand on her arm doing more than his words to silence her, and she looked up to see his eyes focused on Buffy, slightly widened and alarmed. “Maybe it’s not a good idea to insult the really stressed out, sometimes-scary-even-when-*not*-possessed Slayer until we know exactly what she’s being possessed *by*, okay?”

“Who’s insulting?” Anya shot back, hands raised in front of her defensively. “I’m just saying, he needs to give us something to work with that’s *different* from how Buffy normally is, instead of just…”

She stopped when her own eyes fell on Buffy, who was still seated, an expression of fury in her darkened green eyes. She looked as if she was focusing very hard at the moment on simply not hitting something – or someone.

When she spoke, her voice was frighteningly calm, though her eyes flashed dark fire. “See – this was a bad idea,” she said slowly, with an unpleasant little smile. “Spike’s favorite pastime now that he can’t bite anyone – chip or no chip...” she hurried to remind them when her friends looked poised to correct her. “…is to stir up as much trouble as possible. He’s not going to tell you anything useful, and if all he can do is sit here and insult me, then I’m about ready to make him shut up again…”

“Buffy,” Giles interrupted her cautiously. “Try to calm down. I realize this is a stressful situation, but we must attempt to find out what is happening to you if we are going to stop this. And, as you are apparently not in very much control of yourself during these – episodes – and no one besides Spike has witnessed them thus far – I dare say we need him to speak, for the moment.”

Buffy’s instinct for self-preservation -- for the preservation of her relationships with the people in the room, more specifically – won out, and she fought back the rage building in her, determined to keep control of the situation and not give her friends a first hand view of the “episodes” Giles was talking about.

She took a deep breath, her eyes closed for a moment, before letting it out with a nod of resignation. “Fine.”

“Now,” the Watcher went on, turning his attention back to Spike. “Without using any terms specifically designed to further infuriate Buffy – could you describe her behavior during these episodes?”

Spike thought for a moment about the best way to respond, remembering Buffy’s menacing wordless threat before – and his mind flashed back over the past few days. The violence – the hurtful words – the way she had used him with no regard for his feelings…

And suddenly…making her angry seemed worth the risk. As angry as *he* was, he really didn’t care.

“Let’s see,” Spike began, an exaggeratedly thoughtful expression on his face as he considered his response, and then began counting off on his fingers as he spoke, “Controlling…possessive…violent…unreasonable…” He paused, glancing up at her with a venomous look, hesitating for only a moment before he finished, “Oh, yes…and constantly desperate for a shag…”

He paused, smirking in spite of – no, *because* of – the shocked fury in her wide green eyes. “Oh, wait,” he shrugged carelessly, putting from his mind the knowledge that he was going to pay for his words later. “We’re talking about things that are *only* true during your possessed moments, aren’t we? That last one’s pretty much true all the time, in’nit?”

Not possessed at the moment, just utterly furious at Spike’s deliberate effort to embarrass her, Buffy’s eyes narrowed in anger and she drew back her fist as she moved toward the vampire, who for the moment was unafraid, glaring back at her defiantly, his own fists ready to strike.

“Dear Lord,” Giles gasped, his eyes widening as he stared at Buffy, taking in what Spike had just said, too stunned by his words and the disturbing images they called to mind to even notice the developing clash before him.

And his words drove the breath – and the rage – from Buffy, as she suddenly realized just how much Spike’s words had revealed. She froze as it hit her all at once, her fist opening as she covered her face with her hands.

“Oh, God,” she moaned, her words muffled by her hands.

“It’s not so strange,” Anya shrugged, frowning, not understanding what all the fuss was about. “It’s sex. They performed a freakin’ *mating* claim, for goodness sake. What do you *think* they’re gonna wanna do, bake cookies?”

“I can’t hear any more of this,” Xander announced, his voice trembling with anger as he stood up from the table. “This is – this is just…” His tone, his expression, as he shook his head and gave up on words, finished the statement for him. *Disgusting*, Buffy knew he had wanted to say.

“Look – I’m not Book Guy anyway. You guys don’t need me here. And *I* *really* don’t need me here,” Xander excused himself in a low voice of barely restrained fury. “I’m outta here.”

“Xander,” Anya tried, concerned, reaching for his arm.

He shook her off, snapping, “Leave it, Ahn. I need to be – not here.”

Torn, realizing that there was still much to be resolved, and she should be there, but wanting to be supportive of her boyfriend, Anya reached for her purse.

Catching the motion out of the corner of his eye on his way to the door, Xander turned and added impatiently, “And not with you…right now…okay? See you later.” Without waiting to see how his words were received, he stormed out the door.

Anya’s expression was completely still – calm. She had been a vengeance demon for a thousand years – she should be above the pain of human emotion. The rejection of this mere mortal that a year ago she could have destroyed with a word should not cause the utter devastation that a mortal girl might feel at such harsh words.

She kept telling herself as she stood there, just trying not to cry.

Anya’s words, however blunt, had sunk in for Giles, and he realized that however disturbing the fact of Buffy and Spike sleeping together might be for him, it *did* fall into what might be classified as “normal” for a mating claim such as they had initiated. And while he did want to do some studying and look into ways of breaking the claim – at the moment there was something that concerned him more.

“Anya is quite right,” he said quietly, drawing Buffy’s eyes up out of her hands to meet his in surprise. “The desire for intimacy with Spike is a part of the claim you’ve invoked. The – the thing that worries me, Buffy, is not that, but – but this violent rage that seems to overcome you at times. And that is the thing that I feel must be our priority to eliminate. The violence – that’s what I’m thinking about.”

Buffy stared at him with a dark, troubled look for a moment before turning her gaze to Spike, her eyes narrowing in anger. “That’s what I’m thinking about, too,” she replied softly.

Spike’s anger was softened by the intensity of the emotions in the room at the moment, not the least of which was Anya’s hurt, which he was too perceptive to miss. His temper had faded, and Buffy’s cold words, meant much differently than her Watcher perceived them, sent a shiver down the vampire’s spine.

Oblivious, Giles went on, “Willow – would you help me research?”

The redhead nodded without hesitation, her green eyes wide and sober with thought.

“I’m going to do some reading on the dominance ritual, as well as anything I can find on vampire sexual rites such as mating claims. We need to find anything that might explain the unusual – reaction – you seem to be having,” Giles went on.

Buffy nodded slowly. “I think we’ll just go home then,” she said quietly, calmly. “I’m – I’m really exhausted.” That much at least was true, Spike knew. “Let me know if you find anything.” Her tone suggested that she could care less at the moment what the Watcher might find.

Alarmed, Spike opened his mouth to suggest that someone go with them, that he stay with someone else, anything but that he go home alone with the Slayer. His pride didn’t seem to matter in that moment – not faced with the stormy fury building in her eyes, now almost black with rage.

Before he could say a word, he heard her soft but commanding voice in his head, *Quiet.*

He closed his mouth immediately, having no other choice, swallowing hard as he realized the situation he had made for himself. What was he thinking, deliberately baiting her as he had done? Had he really thought that revealing everything to the bloody Scoobies would be in the least bit helpful to him? How could it, when they didn’t even see him as a *person*, worthy of their consideration at all?

Their only concern was Buffy, and they would attempt to find a way to fix the situation, if only for her sake. But in the meantime, where did that leave him? The only answer that mattered at the moment was dreadfully simple.

No one really cared.

“Yes, Buffy, quite right,” Giles agreed, distracted, his mind already racing with various ideas and theories. “Go on home. We’ll let you know if we find anything worth reporting.”

“Thanks,” Buffy sounded equally distracted, a cold smile forming on her lips as she met Spike’s eyes with amusement and said casually, “Come on, Spike.” But she made it an order he could not refuse, and then headed for the door without looking back to see if he was coming.

She knew he would.

Helplessly, having no other choice, the vampire followed the Slayer out the door of the apartment and to whatever fate might await him on the other side.





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