“Spike? Are you okay?”
Dawn’s small, trembling voice sounded distant and hollow to the blonde vampire as he physically felt the increasing distance that separated him from his claimant. The weakness that had come over him when Buffy had drunk from him was now nearly overwhelming, as he felt himself wobbling, losing his balance even on his knees, until he fell forward, bracing himself on one unsteady hand.
“Mom!” Dawn cried out in alarm. The trance that had led her to her sister’s side seemed to be broken, and she was once again nothing more than a frightened little girl, afraid and uncertain and wanting her mother to make it all better.
Joyce raised distracted eyes from their focal point on the floor, looking up at Dawn – and then her eyes widened as she was pulled from her shock to deal with the situation at hand – her badly shaken, apparently injured friend.
In an instant she was at Spike’s side, kneeling beside him and pulling him up to lean his weight against her. She was alarmed at how heavily he leaned against her, allowing her to almost fully support him, as much as she was by the distant look in his listless eyes, drifting open and shut again as he seemed on the verge of unconsciousness.
“Blood!” Joyce said suddenly, looking up at Dawn. “He needs blood, she nearly drained him! There should be some in the back of the refrigerator.”
Dawn immediately rushed to obey, concern for her friend hastening her steps as she grabbed several bags of blood that Joyce had kept in her refrigerator for Spike’s frequent visits. When she rushed back into the living room, she was surprised and dismayed to see the vampire struggling, albeit weakly, against Joyce’s gentle arms.
“Let go…” he gasped as he tried uselessly to pull away from her. “Buffy…I need…Buffy…please…”
Joyce’s expression was compassionate, but firm, as she held onto him with all her strength, suddenly grateful that Buffy had drained him as much as she had. Had Spike been even the slightest bit stronger at the moment, there would be no way that she would have the strength to restrain him – and she had no intention of allowing him to follow after her daughter, as he obviously wanted to do.
“No, Spike,” she said firmly. “You can’t go to her right now. It’s too dangerous. Buffy would want you to stay here.”
“But – but I need – I need her…” he whispered, eyes closed, pulling harder against her, barely coherent in his nearly feverish desire for Buffy. “I need – to – let me go…”
“You *need* this,” Joyce informed him in a stern, motherly tone that left no room for argument, as she took one of the bags from Dawn’s hand.
Dawn had opened a corner already with a pair of scissors, and though it was cold and unappetizing, the scent still drew Spike’s attention. As drained as he was, he instinctively knew that he needed it – if he was going to get strong enough to escape Joyce’s hold and get to Buffy.
He drained three bags in a matter of seconds, ravenously gulping down the thick red liquid, as Joyce held him, supporting his weakened body against her. Almost immediately, he seemed more lucid, more alert and aware of what was going on around him, and the tremors of weakness that had gripped him faded away, as he slowly sat up, looking at Joyce as if seeing her for the first time.
An instant later, he had broken her grip and was on his feet – though unsteadily – and on his way to the door.
“Spike – no!” Joyce said, scrambling up from the floor and intercepting his escape, taking his arm and turning him back to face her, a bit alarmed when the sudden motion nearly pulled him off balance.
The blood had yet to cure him of all of the effects of his claimant’s bite.
“No,” she reiterated softly, holding his gaze with a deep, penetrating look. “You need to stay here, where it’s safe, Honey. You don’t need to be around her – not until she’s found a way to control this – this thing.”
He stared at her blankly for a moment, his mind trying to process her words over the shouting voice in his head that repeated over and over that he *had* to get to Buffy -- *now*! Understanding began to dawn in his wide blue eyes, and he hesitated, uncertain – but his gaze turned back toward the door with longing.
“She’ll only hurt you again if you’re with her right now, Spike. You need to give her time to figure this out.”
*No – I need her – have to be with her now – I need Buffy…*
He looked back at her, a troubled expression in his eyes, as he raised his free hand and gently but firmly caught her wrist, exerting slight pressure until she was forced to relinquish her grip, but without any pain.
“Doesn’t matter,” he said with a sad sort of smile and a little shrug. “Need her. And she needs *me*.”
Joyce watched in helpless dismay, realizing that although Spike would never hurt her, she was not strong enough to keep him from going to Buffy – even if he was going to his own death. And after the display of violence from her daughter that she had just witnessed, she knew that that was a definite possibility if Spike should put himself in Buffy’s hands just now.
“Spike,” Dawn’s small, trembling voice called out, on the edge of panic, as she saw what he was about to do and headed toward the door.
Her small, warm hand came to rest on his arm, and he turned to face her, a startled look in his eyes as he stared at the point of contact for a long moment, before raising widened eyes to study hers, a silent question in his gaze.
“You can’t,” she whispered earnestly, and the sincere fear in her voice – for him – nearly broke his heart. “Please – don’t let her hurt you again. Don’t go. If she needs you – what’s gonna happen to her if she loses control and – and kills you, Spike? You *can’t* go!”
He had to acknowledge the truth of her words, even through the powerful sensation, defying description, that coursed through him at her touch. He had been too lost in what was happening between him and Buffy to realize what it was that had stopped the Slayer’s assault before – but now, he vaguely remembered Dawn’s approach…the fear he had felt that Buffy might harm her little sister, though he had been powerless to do anything about it…
And suddenly – he began to wonder about the seemingly helpless, innocent child before him.
“Besides,” Dawn added with a half-apologetic little smile and a shrug, her voice soft. “It’s daylight.”
Spike and Joyce both stared at the door for a long moment in shock, and that at each other, eyes wide with grim realization. Neither of them had even thought of that, Joyce in her terrible fear of the danger her own *daughter* posed to the vampire, and Spike in his desperation to get to Buffy.
It was disturbing to think, now, how near Buffy had come to actually killing him, albeit accidentally. In her possessive rage, her desire to get him as far as possible from the woman who had wanted to separate her from him, Buffy had not even considered the deadly sunlight she was about to take him into.
But then – neither had he, he acknowledged. The power of the claim had drawn him to her with such a strength that he had nearly committed a quite accidental suicide. He had been so intent on getting to Buffy that, had Dawn not stopped him, he would have walked right out into the sunlight – and to his own death.
But – why hadn’t he?
He glanced down again at the small hand on his arm, wondering at the sudden sensation of peace that had come over him. He still wanted Buffy – craved her – but the desperation that had fueled his doomed attempt at escape had vanished. He could see the reason of Dawn’s words, and felt his rampant emotions soothed, softened somewhat, by the simple touch of her hand.
He looked up into her eyes, his head tilting slightly to the side, and his own eyes narrowing slightly with wonder, bordering on suspicion -- although without fear. He suspected that the girl might be more than she seemed – but he had no thought that she might be dangerous or sinister.
His voice was soft, almost awed, as he spoke slowly, “How did you…?” His voice trailed off, his head shaking slightly, as he found that he had no words for the feeling that she had given him.
Her own eyes clouded with confusion, as she looked away, a bit taken aback by the question. After a moment’s consideration, she shook her head too, replying, “I – I don’t know…”
Joyce frowned, unaware of what Spike had felt, seeing only that somehow, her youngest had managed to calm Spike, and hopefully, to make him abandon his plan to go after Buffy – at least for the moment. Her mind played over the events of the past couple of hours, remembering how Dawn had had a similar effect on Buffy. It was just another thing that she would have to remember to ask Mr. Giles to look into.
That is – if he was still breathing when she got through with him.
She planned on having a very serious conversation with Buffy’s Watcher, first thing in the morning. From what she was hearing, the domination ritual had not been Buffy’s idea to begin with; it was something that she had been led to believe was necessary, and it had led to an extremely permanent, extremely dangerous conclusion.
As far as Joyce was concerned, *someone* had some serious explaining to do.
The “someone” in question was currently in the middle of a busy little rush at his shop across town, and did not notice the Slayer’s entrance until she was face to face with him. She was standing so near, and her expression was so solemn and determined, that he jumped back a bit, startled and a bit unsettled.
“Buffy!” he exclaimed with relief. “You frightened me...” He paused, taking in her expression with a frown of concern. “Is – everything all right?”
“No, Giles,” Buffy replied immediately in a tired, heavy voice. “*Nothing* is all right. I need to talk to you.”
“Yes – yes of course, Buffy – if you’d just give me a few minutes,” he said, a bit distractedly, as he looked away from her to finish wrapping the purchase of the customer in front of him.
“I may not have a few minutes,” Buffy countered in a short, clipped tone. “I need to talk to you *now* -- before someone gets hurt.”
The customer gave her a look of alarm at her odd, unsettling words, and Giles cleared his throat a bit uncomfortably. “Er – yes, Buffy, of course…if you’d just go in the back please – I’ll be right there.”
He hurriedly finished wrapping the package, accepting the customer’s money with a slightly awkward polite smile, before relinquishing the register to Anya’s very capable hands and heading toward the back room, wondering anxiously what new trouble had arisen that was so very urgent.
He had had little success so far in figuring out what could have happened to Buffy during the ritual, and therefore how to undo it. It just seemed as if something just didn’t fit – some vital piece of information was missing…
When he entered the training room, carefully closing the door behind him, he turned to face his Slayer – whose back was turned halfway to him, her eyes downcast, her profile pensive and troubled.
“Buffy?” he said slowly, cautiously, having no need for any further question.
She was silent for a long moment, nervously fidgeting with something in front of her, before she spoke softly without looking up or turning around. “I’m dangerous, Giles. We have to figure this out – right away – or I’m gonna end up hurting someone.” She paused, swallowing hard, before admitting, “I already have.”
Giles’ eyes widened in alarm as he stepped toward her. “Buffy – what happened? Who…”
“Spike.” She spoke his name incredulously, as if that should have been obvious to her Watcher, giving him a sharp sideways look.
His obvious relief irritated her, as he visibly relaxed and said, “Oh, yes…that’s right, you told me – but – then – you’ve harmed no one else? No one – human?”
Buffy’s jaw set in anger that she tried to repress; the fact that Spike was not human no longer seemed to matter so much to her. Maybe it was just an effect of the mating claim that made her view him as someone whose pain mattered – was important to her – but Giles’ clear disregard for what happened to him was infuriating.
She pressed the anger back, however, and offered through gritted teeth the information that she knew would be more likely to secure her Watcher’s help.
“I almost hit my mother tonight, Giles.”
The Watcher’s involuntary gasp made her lower her gaze again. “Buffy – is she – is she all right?”
“I said ‘almost’, Giles.” Buffy was silent for a long moment before continuing in a quiet, heavy voice, “She tried to get between me and Spike. She tried to stop me from hurting him. And – and I…” Her voice trailed off, as she fought for the courage to continue. Suddenly she looked up at her Watcher, an intense urgency in her eyes.
“I could have killed her, Giles. I was completely out of control, and I almost hit her with my full strength, and – and I could have killed her.”
The Watcher was silent for a long moment. When he spoke, it was in a tone of shock and anxious helplessness. “I – I haven’t found anything yet, Buffy. I don’t know…”
“There’s a lot you don’t know,” she cut him off flatly. “And I need to tell you about it. I – I’m not going home tonight.”
“You’re returning to your dormitory?” he guessed with a nod, already sure that that was the answer. His expression was taut with mild anger, but he did not seem surprised by the fact that she had not yet told him the entire truth of the matter.
“I – was kind of hoping to stay here,” she corrected him, looking away again, still fidgeting with the unseen object in her hand.
Giles was surprised. “Whatever for, Buffy? We can stay here as late as you need to, of course – to go over…whatever it is you’ve withheld from me…but don’t you think you’d be more comfortable in your dorm room to sleep?”
She nodded slowly. “I know I would,” she admitted. “The only problem is…” She stepped slightly to the side, revealing to her Watcher the object she had been turning over in her hand – the set of iron manacles attached to the wall in front of her. “…my dorm room doesn’t have these.” Her lips quirked upward in a slight smirk. “I don’t think they’re allowed,” she quipped, though there was little life to her humor at the moment.
She looked up at Giles through serious, troubled eyes, and he was stunned to see the depths of guilt and fear that resided there as she spoke her fears and intentions.
“I don’t trust myself, Giles. Sooner or later, I’m gonna lose control, and I’m not gonna get it back before it’s too late. I need to stay here tonight – and I need you to chain me up.”
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