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Author's Chapter Notes:
I went beyond the limit for chapter length *sigh* So I split chapter 10 into two parts. Enjoy!

Many thanks to my awesome beta, Dragonfly Lady :)

Banners by xoChantelly and Edgehead
Spike watched from his cage as the witch re-shackled Buffy's ankle. She'd come in a few moments ago, fuming mad and dragging Buffy by the leg.

"I've had it with you two! This one is always trying to hurt me!"

Spike felt exhausted and weak, but when it came to Buffy's safety he could muster up energy. He was afraid that the witch was going to start beating on Buffy again. Maybe he could deflect some of the witch's rage onto him. "What do you expect, you barmy cow!? You're starving and torturing us! Of course we're going to try taking you out!"

"Don't trifle with me, boy! I'm so angry that I might just kill you now instead of tomorrow." Wicked Willow growled. "Because of the girl and her foolishness, I have to get things ready myself!"

"How sad for you," Spike said, shooting daggers with his eyes.

"I'll deal with you later. I've got to get the soup on, then make baking preparations... So much to do," she muttered, going back outside.

A few moments later, Buffy groaned and sat up. "Goddammit! That bitch must have eyes in the back of her fucking head! There's NO way she could have known I was going to attack her!"

"From what Anya and Rupert told us, the Unari are telepaths. Seems like they don't have a problem with reading our minds to their advantage. Bloody unfair and unsportsmanlike."

Buffy rubbed her face as she shook off the effects of the wand. "I almost had her, Spike... If she hadn't moved at the last second, she'd be in that damn oven right now."

Spike closed his eyes, repressing the scream of frustration that wanted to burst out of him. Buffy felt bad enough that she hadn't succeeded, he didn't want to make her feel worse. Him ranting and raving wasn't going to help. "Good try, luv."

"I'm sick of 'good tries'! I thought it was going to be over. Tomorrow she's going to... That could have been our last chance, and I blew it."

"Not your fault the Unari are playing dirty pool."

"I'm so sorry I got us into this..." Buffy lamented with her head bowed, trying not to cry.

"I told you that I don't blame you. It's okay, Buffy. Hey, look at me, bein' all gracious. Huh... didn't think I was capable of doing that. You know... maybe at the moment all hope is lost, we'll be spit out of a portal back at the Magic Box. Like a video game, we lose but we get to try again. Hit the old Reset button."

Buffy could see that he was trying to put on a brave, more jovial facade for her. She couldn't join in the joking, she was too angry and upset. "I have to do something before she... hurts you."

The witch came back in with two pails of water. The wand was tucked into her apron -- Spike's fingers twitched, wishing she would come close enough for him to try stealing it again. They went quiet, just watching her and wondering what she was going to do next.

"When are you going to learn?" she asked Buffy as she poured the water into the cauldron. "How many times must I correct you until you learn not to try putting your grubby hands on me?"

"I'm never going to stop trying to get away from you," Buffy said boldly. "I hate you for what you've done to us, and I will kill you to get away if I have to."

"Silly, stupid girl." Wicked Willow shook her head, then sprinkled some spices into the cauldron. "Oh, Spike, Buffy gave me a wonderful idea earlier! If it's true that your body would sizzle up and leave me nothing to eat if I put you in the oven, then I'll just cut off pieces of you! Cook you bit by bit!"

Spike looked at Buffy, with fear, confusion, and hurt warring it out on his face and in his mind. "Well, thanks a lot, Buffy! What the fuck did you tell her?!"

"I didn't tell her to do that!" Buffy blurted out, outraged that the witch was trying to turn Spike against her. Especially with such a horrible accusation. "I-I was just trying to finally make her understand that she couldn't bake you. I didn't say --"

The witch cackled. "I believe I'll start by chopping off a leg. There's more meat on them than the arms, and I've been looking forward to a feast. It might be nice to add some pieces of you to the soup tomorrow too."

Spike ran both hands back through his hair, "Bloody hell, this just keeps getting better and better... It'd be wasting what little energy I have left to ask if there was anything I could say to make you change your mind, right?"

"Well..." the witch said, looking thoughtful, "I could cook Buffy instead. She's a skinny thing, but she might make a good meal. I gave Buffy the same choice -- and she chose for me to cook you!"

Spike looked at Buffy again, his sad expression broke her heart.

"You're lying, you evil bitch! That's not true!" Buffy protested. "I never told you to kill him instead of me!"

"Oh, yes it's true! You remained silent, which was answer enough. Isn't that right, Buffy?"

Buffy was ashamed of herself all over again, and seeing the hurt and sadness on Spike's face made it worse. "You want me to say it? Fine, I'll --"

"No, Buffy," Spike interrupted. "Don't say it. She's only saying this shit to torture us some more. Don't play her game. No one in their right fucking mind would volunteer to be hacked to pieces and cooked in place of someone else. Unless it's their child, I s'pose."

"You've outlived your usefulness," Wicked Willow said to Spike, narrowing her eyes. "Seems as though my decision to cook you tomorrow was correct. I won't put up with your smart mouth and disrespect any longer."

Spike glared up at her. "Go fuck yourself."

"I should start preparing you for cooking by washing out that dirty mouth of yours with soap!"

"Try it -- I'll bite your bloody fingers off. You're already going to take me apart and cook me -- I think that's about as bad as it can get. So I'm gonna say whatever the fuck I want to you. You loony, twisted, vile bitch. If I get the chance, I'll rip your heart out."

"You think your fate can't get worse? Sounds like a challenge to me! The more you sass me, the more painful I'll make your death." The witch picked up the buckets and went back out the door.

After his burst of energy, Spike felt worn out again. He slouched and rested against the bars. "I would've told her to bite me... but she would've taken it literally. I hope a piece of me goes down her throat sideways and she chokes to death." He chuckled, "Maybe that's how we kill 'er. Everything else hasn't worked."

"Spike, I didn't tell her to kill you. You know I wouldn't do that. Right?" It was important to Buffy that he knew she didn't betray him.

He smiled sadly. "I couldn't blame you if you did."

"I swear, I didn't."

"I know you didn't. I know you wouldn't do something like that, Buffy. Sorry if I acted like I believed her at first... Logical thinking is getting harder to do." Spike cracked his neck to each side. "I don't want to die -- or be dismembered -- but it's better that it's me." And Spike meant that. He would rather it was him than Buffy.

Buffy closed her eyes and dug her fingernails into her palms. "I should have told her to hurt me instead of you, but I was too afraid to say the words. She's turning me into a shadow of myself -- afraid and weak. That's not me! I hate myself..."

Spike's mouth formed a determined line, he shook his head, "No, I told you, it's better that it's me, Buffy. And when she's... busy with me, I want you to try and get out of this place any way you can." Spike could hardly believe how strongly he felt, how adamant he was that he be the one to die instead of her. He'd only ever been willing to die for two people in his life: his mother and then Drusilla. And now Buffy was at the top of the list. He would do or suffer through anything if it meant Buffy had a chance to go on living.

"Spike, I can't leave you. I won't," Buffy said, wiping her eyes.

"If you see a chance you'd better bloody well take it, Slayer. You hear me?" he said sternly, then his expression and voice softened. "You matter, Buffy. Think about it: What am I? I'm a cold-blooded killer. I've spent over a century killing innocent people, leaving nothing behind but chaos, death and grief. And I'd still be at it if I hadn't got chipped, assuming you wouldn't've staked me by now." He sighed heavily and looked at the fire in the hearth. "You're a warrior for good, helping people, trying to make the world a better place. You're the Chosen One. You've got people that depend on and love you, who'd miss you if you were gone. I don't. Which one of us is more expendable isn't really much of a head-scratcher when you think of it that way, is it?"

"I'd miss you... if you were gone," Buffy said thickly.

Spike smiled and looked at her, seeing tears on her cheeks and her eyes brimming. "Believe it or not, that makes me feel better." She was crying, for him. That was something he never thought possible. He thought she'd never looked more beautiful than she did at this moment. Spike wished he could take her in his arms right now and hold her and kiss her and love her, he'd never want to let her go.

Buffy wasn't going to let this happen. She couldn't lose Spike, especially not like this. As long as she still had breath in her body, she was going to fight. She looked at the door to make sure they were still alone. "I'm going to try something after she goes to bed. If I have to I'll drag you, cage and all, out of here."

"Buffy, don't worry about --"

"No arguments, Spike," she said firmly, but with a small smile. "I know how you love arguing with me, but I'm determined. See my determined face?" she pointed to her tear-stained face, which did look quite determined.

He smiled. "And what a beautiful face it is, too."

They just stared at each other, wanting and needing to say so much in case this was their last night alive.

Spike wanted to tell her that he loved her -- but would that be fair? If she was disturbed by the depth of his emotions for her, it would make their moments together awkward. If she welcomed his feelings, he might die tomorrow and leave her.

Buffy wasn't sure if what she felt for Spike was love, but she cared about him so much. Much, much more than she ever thought she could ever care about him. The Spike that she'd come to know in this horrible place was brave and thoughtful, as well as desirable -- a man she wanted to get closer to under better circumstances. If it wasn't love, it was something that could easily cross over into love. But trying to explain her confused emotions to him would sound so lame. Someone given a death sentence for the following day didn't want to hear 'I think I might love you, but I'm not sure'.

"Don't give up, Spike, okay? Just... please don't give up."

"You know me, pet. I'll go kicking and screaming, not gonna make it easy for her. 'Sides, I've got faith in you. Hasn't been a big bad you've come up against that you haven't bested -- including yours truly. That bitch just might get her comeuppance yet."





The next few hours came and went with Buffy and Spike staying quiet, thinking. The witch made a hearty chicken soup for supper, without Buffy's help. Buffy's chain had been shortened and she was ordered to stay in her corner; the witch was expecting them to pull out all the stops to escape.

They were given their dinners. Spike was given more cookies and cakes, but the witch wasn't forcing him to eat. He was glad for that, but not for the reason why she didn't care if he ate or not -- that it didn't matter because she was going to kill him tomorrow. Buffy was given her usual with two cups of water. She hated the 'food', but she ate it all to be as strong as possible for what she planned on doing tonight.

Buffy knew the end was coming, and it didn't look like it was going to be a happily ever after for her and Spike. Tomorrow was the day it would end, one way or the other. They had to do something before they ran out of time. Buffy planned on breaking her foot to get the shackle off, and then braving the invisible fence at the border of the witch's property. And she meant what she'd said, she would not leave Spike behind.

Buffy had to blink away a strong wave of fatigue as she discreetly studied her right foot. She thought she'd feel stronger forcing herself to eat the nasty food, but it was having the opposite effect. She'd have to be careful about which bones in her foot she chose to break when the time came. Hopefully she could limp and hop well enough to escape.

"Aw, poor little Buffy. You look so pitiful. Here." The witch threw a big cookie at her.

Buffy looked at the cookie, then back at the witch. "What's wrong with it?"

Evil Willow laughed. "Such a suspicious little thing! Nothing's wrong with it. The food will just go to waste now that Spike won't be eating it anymore." She shrugged. "Eat it, don't eat it -- doesn't matter to me!" She took more treats and threw them at Buffy. "Have all you like!" She threw yet more food at Buffy.

Buffy brought her arms up to keep the food from hitting her in the face. "Stop it!"

"Isn't it nice of me to let you have your fill tonight? Enjoy your food, little imp!" The witch hummed a merry tune and made her way to Spike's cage. She touched the top of the cage with the magic wand -- and then the cage was suddenly on a handcart.

Spike looked around him, not knowing what she'd done, but immediately noticing that the cage had been raised about a foot off the floor.

"What're you doing?" Buffy asked, her heart beating faster with anxiety.

"Time for you to go, boy," Wicked Willow said, tucking the wand into her apron. The cart that the cage now rested on had a long handle. The witch picked up the handle and pulled the cart toward the front door.

Spike held onto the bars, thinking that this was it for him. He'd thought he would have one more night to try one last desperate act. But it appeared that he was out of time. She was leading him to his slaughter.

When the cage came within Buffy's reach, she grabbed onto the bars, trying to keep the witch from taking Spike outside. "No! No, don't take him!" She held onto the cage with every bit of strength she had left.

Evil Willow said coolly, "Remove your hands or I'll take my axe and remove them from your wrists."

Spike put his hands over Buffy's and squeezed for a moment. Then he peeled her fingers off of the bars, "Let go, Buffy. It's okay."

Her chin wobbled. "No, I can't! It's not okay, it's insane! I can't let her take you!"

Spike fought to maintain his own composure. Why did it have to be like this? Buffy showing that she cared about him, shedding tears for him, but only when the end was near. He had to be strong. "Please, Buffy... Let go."

She let her hands drop from the cage, and watched Spike be pulled away.

When the door closed, Buffy angrily wiped the tears from her eyes and looked at her foot. "I have to get out there before she..." Buffy couldn't finish the thought, it was too horrible. The tasty food laying on the ground around her didn't look appetizing at all right now. She couldn't eat anything knowing what was going to happen to Spike, possibly within the next few minutes.

Another wave of tiredness made her feel faint, the room started spinning. Buffy squeezed her eyes shut and leaned against the wall, taking deep breaths and waiting for it to pass. But it didn't pass.

She tipped over and collapsed onto her side on the floor amongst the cookies and treats the witch had thrown at her, passing out.





Wicked Willow threw a bucket of ice cold water on Buffy to wake her up.

Buffy gasped and bolted upright, shivering and shaking. The last thing she remembered was trying to gather her strength to go and attempt to rescue Spike, and now the witch was standing in front of her, holding the empty water bucket and smiling.

"Why did you do that?! Wh-What's going on?! What..." Buffy spluttered and wiped water from her face. She looked around jerkily. Her mind was having trouble processing what had happened. There was faint light coming from the windows... but it had been dark a minute ago.

"You're just bursting with questions, aren't you? Have a good night's sleep, Buffy?" the witch asked with an evil grin.

"N-No, I wouldn't have gone to s-sleep... I was going to..."

"What were you going to do?" She cackled. "You see, I knew you'd get up to mischief during the night, so I added a drop or two of sleeping potion to your water cup. Worked a bit too well though, you almost slept the whole day away!"

It finally sunk into Buffy's brain. She'd been drugged, which had prevented her from trying one last escape attempt -- and Spike had been at the witch's mercy all day. The Unari and their calculated unfairness made her tremble with anger and want to scream. It was obvious that those bastards didn't want Buffy and Spike to escape. They continued to anticipate every move and foil every shot she or Spike took. It had to come in handy to have nifty telepathic powers, you'd know your victims' every thought, every plan ahead of time.

Buffy stared hard at Evil Willow. "What did you do to him?! I want to see Spike!"

"You should know by now that I don't answer to you. You'll see him when I'm good and ready to let you. Though, I hope you don't mind if he's not all in one piece!"

Tears ran down Buffy's face, "NO! Oh God, no! Damn you! You bitch!" Despair and grief made her heart ache terribly; she felt cold inside. It felt like she'd lost her best friend. She let out that scream of frustration that had been building inside her and pounded her tightly clenched fists on the floor. Wicked Willow laughed, mocking her.

Buffy thought, 'I couldn't save him! Spike, I'm so sorry!' But from what the witch said, he wasn't dead. That meant there was still hope. As long as he wasn't a pile of dust, there was hope. Spike would be needing Buffy's help more than ever now. It sickened and enraged Buffy to think that he might be in several pieces. Was there anything she could do for him? Could she put him back together again? And if she could, would he be able to heal after something like that?

'My blood -- I'll give him my blood! Slayer blood will make him better!' The thought of feeding him her blood kept repeating like a chant in her head. Buffy didn't know if her ability to think rationally was completely gone (it seemed a rather naive and simplistic solution) or if it could really work. But she was suddenly obsessed, driven to give Spike her blood. She'd force it down his throat if she had to. She only hoped that he was in good enough shape to drink from her. Whatever his current condition happened to be, she needed to see him, to hold him, to make him okay again.

Buffy wanted to kill the witch with her bare hands, her inner rage was barely controllable. She grit her teeth, giving Wicked Willow a murderous look. "I need to see him... Please let me see him."

"Well, you did ask nicely, so I'll grant your wish!" the witch said cheerfully. She touched the wand to Buffy's shackle.

Once the chain fell away, Buffy (still dripping wet from the bucket of water) stood up slowly. She took care in her movements, wanting to save her energy. She felt like a compressed spring, ready to strike.

Wicked Willow opened the front door and gestured outside with the wand, "Get going to the shack. It'll soon be suppertime!"

Buffy walked out ahead of her, the wheels in her head spinning.

After only a few steps, the witch said, "Oh drat, wait right there! There are some special spices I want to bring that will be just perfect for my Spike potpie." Wicked Willow went back into the gingerbread house, muttering something to herself.

Without hesitation, Buffy ran as fast as she could toward the shack. Adrenalin pumped through her system, she was determined to get to Spike and be alone with him for even just a minute.

When she got to the shack, she spared one look over her shoulder to see if was being pursued. There was no witch running after her like she'd expected. Wicked Willow hadn't noticed she'd run off... yet. That would probably change within a few seconds; Buffy had to act fast.

She ran inside and slammed the door shut, then turned the lock. She knew it wouldn't keep the witch out for long, but anything that delayed her for even a moment was good.

Buffy, breathing hard, turned and pressed her back against the door. She was afraid of what she might see, of what might have been done to Spike.

The inside of the shack was a bit bigger than the main room of the cottage. The heat from the large oven was oppressive. The atmosphere was like something out of a horror movie. Sharp cutting and chopping instruments (along with the huge roasting pan) were on the large wooden table set against the right wall, meat hung from hooks suspended from the ceiling. It was reminiscent of 'Texas Chainsaw Massacre', without the chainsaws.

And on the left side of the room was Spike in his cage. He was sitting up, slumped against the bars.

Buffy scanned him quickly, then let out a sob of relief at seeing that he appeared to be all in one piece. The witch had only been trying to upset her and lied about having carved him up. He looked listless, but whole. She'd never been happier that the witch was a lying bitch.

She ran to the cage and crouched down. "Spike! Spike, wake up!"

Spike opened his eyes, then blinked rapidly, thinking that he was hallucinating. "Buffy? Why are you all wet...?"

She gave him a quick close-up once-over, "Did she hurt you?"

He got up on his knees, becoming more animated with excitement when he realized that it was really Buffy and not a figment of his imagination. "What happened? Did you kill her? You got away?!"

She stuck her hand through the bars to touch his face. "You're okay, she didn't cut you up."

"Buffy, what's going on? Tell me!"

She shook her head, trying to focus. "We don't have much time." She got up and ran to the table, then raced back with a butcher knife gripped in her right hand.

Spike's eyes widened, he leaned away from her, not sure what she was going to do.

"Spike, you have to take my blood," Buffy said staunchly, wearing a determined expression. Even though Spike's condition wasn't as bad as she'd expected, she still felt the irresistible urge to feed him her blood.

"I... I can't, Buffy. We already talked --"

"You have to! I'm not taking no for an answer this time! Just do it!" Buffy couldn't explain why it was so important, she only knew that it was vital. Unless her certainty was due to dementia brought about by the horrible conditions she'd had to suffer through...

"I don't know if I'll be able to stop! I could kill you without meaning to! What would be the point now, Buffy? I can't fight her while she's got that --"

They heard the witch yelling angrily outside, the door rattled as she attempted to open it.

"She's on her way in here to kill you! And I'm sure she'll get around to killing me too. There's not time to argue about it -- you're going to drink my blood, dammit!"

With that, Buffy sliced open her left wrist and thrust her arm into the cage. Spike flinched as her blood squirted out, some hitting him on the face, some on his chest. The moment she'd cut herself, Spike had involuntarily gone into game face. His senses were flooded by the smell of her blood. Even just the scent of her blood was like a drug; he was powerless to resist its lure.

Spike seized her arm with both of his hands and plastered his mouth over her spurting wrist.

Buffy grunted and dropped the knife. She grabbed onto a bar of the cage, holding on while he fed. "Yes, drink! Take it!" she moaned.

Her blood made him feel sort of like he was back at Woodstock. Like he was trippin' on a delicious flower child loaded with powerful hallucinogenics. He was practically feral, but there was a voice in his mind repeating 'It's Buffy! It's Buffy, don't hurt her! It's Buffy!'. The voice kept him from tearing into and ripping the sweet flesh with his fangs. He only sucked and drank, sucked and drank. But then the voice commanded him to stop before he killed her. And he obeyed it, remembering who it was he was drinking from. The woman he loved more than life itself.

Spike and Buffy were both swaying on their knees as he started licking the deep cut on her wrist. She was woozy from blood loss, he was woozy from the effects of her potent blood.

The door slammed open to reveal a very pissed off Wicked Willow. She'd switched back to looking like Sunnydale Willow again, hoping to unnerve them.

"What're you doing there?!" the witch screeched. She ran over to Buffy and yanked her by the hair away from the cage.

Spike let Buffy's arm be yanked out of his grasp without really noticing that he wasn't still holding it, his eyes were closed as her blood worked its magic on him.

"You disobedient little whelp! You'll be joining him in the roasting pan!"

Buffy whimpered and tried twisting away from the witch, but she was too weak. Evil Willow picked Buffy up like a professional wrestler and threw her against the right wall. Buffy crashed down onto the table, and then fell to the floor along with many of the knives and the roasting pan that had been on the table. She wasn't knocked out, but she was stunned. All she could do was groan and bring her bleeding arm against her body.

"I'm going to kill you first, girl. I was going to let you live a while longer. Now he can watch as I --" the witch looked back at the cage, then froze.

Her eyes widened at seeing the bars of the cage were pulled apart, wide enough for Spike to have squeezed through.

"It's impossible! He couldn't bend the bars!"

"Must say, that came as a surprise to me as well," Spike said with an amused tone. He licked his lips greedily, pulling the traces of Buffy's life giving blood into his mouth.

The witch whipped her head to her left to see him standing near the door of the shack. He was still wearing his Vampire face, smirking; his mouth and chin wet with fresh blood.

"No creature has ever escaped me! You can't bend the enchanted bars of the cage!"

"Can, and did. Guess I'm not such a shitty excuse for a demon after all, eh? Now, whaddya say, luv, wanna dance?" he clapped his hands and rubbed them together enthusiastically. Spike felt invincible and he intended to end this right here, right now. If the witch thought her looking like Real Willow would deter him, she was dead wrong.

Wicked Willow was virtually vibrating with rage. She bared her teeth in fury and rushed at him. "In the oven you go, boy!"

"You first," Spike quipped, then expertly executed a spinning side kick, his foot striking the witch in the midsection.

She grunted and flew backwards -- straight into the open oven. Exactly what Spike had hoped when he'd taken position by the door of the shack.

When Spike's foot had connected with her, a wave of pain and dizziness had rocked him. He wobbled on his feet, his knees almost gave out. But the powerful Slayer blood he'd consumed made him much stronger, able to withstand almost any amount of pain for a short time.

It took only a rapid shaking of his head for him to get over the effects of the protection spell. His immobility had lasted only a few seconds. He sprinted to the oven, grabbing the giant metal door and slamming it shut, just as the witch was about to crawl out.

Spike had to push against the oven door to keep it closed, the witch was rattling it good in an attempt to escape. He spotted the iron rod, and quickly secured it in place in the brackets on either side of the door. He stepped back, panting from the adrenalin rush and exertion. The door was still rattling, but it looked like the bar would hold. The witch screamed in pain and anger.

Spike looked over at Buffy, his Human features sliding back into place. She was still laying on the floor and looking back at him with glassy eyes, holding her bleeding arm curled against her chest. He rushed over to her and knelt down. He prayed that he didn't hurt her or taken more blood than he should have.

"Buffy, are you alright?" He did a quick check to see how badly she'd been hurt. Luckily, none of the knives had punctured her body in the fall. Her only serious injury seemed to be the one she'd inflicted on herself, on her wrist.

She was trembling and mumbled something he couldn't quite hear. Spike took what looked like a dish towel that had fallen off the table, and then wrapped it around her forearm.

"Put pressure on it to slow the bleeding. Buffy, can you hear me?" Spike cupped her face in his hands, looking into her unfocused eyes. "Please be okay, pet. I don't know what I'll do if..."

Buffy's eyes moved to look at the oven when her best friend's voice wailed, "Bufffffy! Buffy, please help me! Buffy, don't let me diiiiiie!"

Buffy squeezed her eyes shut and tried to cover her ears. Even in her depleted state, she knew it wasn't her friend, but it sure as hell sounded like her. Hearing Willow's voice rife with agony and terror stabbed at Buffy's heart.

Spike didn't enjoy hearing the screams of the evil witch as much as he thought he would. That it sounded like Sunnydale Willow begging for help -- she of the fuzzy lilac sweaters and sweet disposition -- affected him too. But he was able to keep his wits about him, not forgetting for a moment who was really calling for help. The person yelling was the same one who took great delight in torturing him and Buffy. The same one who had every intention of killing and then eating both of them. That barmy bitch wouldn't get an ounce of mercy from him.

Spike growled and turned to the oven, "You won't be getting any help! Die already! I'll see you in Hell, bitch!"

Then he turned back to Buffy, his demeanor changing to caring and gentle again. "It's not her, Buffy. You know who's burning up in there. It's not our Willow. It's the bitch who was going to kill and eat us."

Buffy whimpered, still trying to block out the sounds of the screams.

"C'mon, pet, let's get out of here." Spike gently picked her up in his arms and held her tightly to his chest. Buffy buried her face against his chest and hung onto him with her right arm. Spike carried her out through the door, into the fresh, cool air of the early evening. He was relieved that the sun had gone down -- at last, their luck seemed to be good. He kicked the door shut behind him to mute the sounds of the witch's yelling.

They both took deep breaths, glad to be away from the nasty sounds and smells of the shack. There was a stone garden bench near the door. Spike laid Buffy down on it. She tried clinging to him, but he gingerly took her arm from around his neck, then brushed some hair away from her face.

"You stay here and rest, alright? I'll be right back."

"Spike, don't leave me..." Buffy said weakly.

Spike was still very worried about her. Her weakness from lack of food combined with giving him her blood could be enough to kill even a Slayer. She looked so pale. There weren't any hospitals around to get her a blood transfusion in this realm, Spike could only pray that she could recover without medical assistance.

"I'll just be a minute. Want to make sure she doesn't get out of that oven and pop out at us later like in a bloody horror movie."

Spike pressed a lingering kiss to Buffy's forehead, then went back inside the shack.

Buffy closed her eyes, wondering if the nightmare was really over. Could this have been another dream/fantasy? It seemed too good to be true that they were actually free.

"Please... let it be real," she mumbled. Buffy felt so tired and weak, she easily slipped into sleep.





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