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A blond figure separated itself from the shadows and stepped out into the lamplight. Spike's eyes were the color of flint as he watched Angel disappear around the next corner, still carrying his precious burden. His hands clenched tightly into fists as he tried to ignore the jealousy that ripped through him at the sight of the tiny Slayer cradled in his sire's arms. "That's right, take her home," he muttered unconvincingly. "I'm through with her anyway."



Kicking a rock that lay near the edge of the road, Spike felt his anger explode and clenched his fist, driving it into the nearest telephone pole, splintering the wood and the skin of his knuckle. The pain didn't register, though; the only thing he felt with one hundred percent clarity was rage. It drove him onward, past the park, past the ruins of the school, and finally into the crypt that had been his home. As he had predicted, his belongings, what few there were, had been strewn about and destroyed.



There was nothing there he could salvage, except the mason jar that he had hidden behind some loose rocks. He clawed at the stones in the wall, loosening them, then grabbed the jar. His money was still there. It would be enough to buy a car from the sleazy little demon on the outskirts of town and leave it all behind. He couldn't get away fast enough.



Stuffing the money in his pocket, he turned and bumped into a woman. She stood watching him impassively, even as he morphed and growled at her. "Who are you?" he demanded.



"It's what I can do for you that you should be interested in," the woman smiled, walking toward the marble bench in one corner of the dark and dank room. "Call me a kindred spirit - someone who knows what it is like to walk this world as a demon, but lack the ability to give in to the impulses that drive us."



He eyed her, seeing something vaguely familiar in her face, in her reddish brown hair. "You're a vampire."



"I am. Sometimes." Her face slid into that of her demon and she traced her fingers over the ridges in her forehead. "I, too, have been rendered helpless by the Initiative. Tell me, hostile, what is it that you feel when you feed?"



"I can't feed at all," Spike growled. "All I have to do is try and it feels like my fucking head is being sliced open."



The woman frowned and crossed her arms. "I think that I envy you."



"You envy me?" Spike chuckled sarcastically, low in his throat. "What is there to envy in being stripped of what you are?"



"You feel physical pain when you feed. I would gladly endure that to avoid the emotional pain, the guilt that accompanies me when I feed."



Spike stiffened and put his hands on his hips. "Oh, bloody great. You have a soul? What is it with damn vampires and their souls? And why do they always seem to find me?"



"I have no soul. I have an earlier model chip than the one you have. It releases a chemical into my brain when I feed on humans and it makes me feel the most agonizing guilt that you could ever imagine."



His mind flashed to Buffy's face, the tears streaking down her cheeks, her dress pushed up around her waist. Oh, he could imagine. Quickly shaking the image away, determined not to care, he looked at the woman. "No offense, but I like the newer version better."



"I'm sure that's true," the woman replied, standing again. "I can help you, but you must help me in return."



"You can help me what?" he asked, eyeing her up and down.



"I can deactivate that chip in your head for a price." She took several steps toward him, pausing when she was only a few feet away. "Not a monetary price, but a small kindness on your part."



"And what did you have in mind?" he inquired, eyebrows raised.



"I want to kill her. I want to kill Maggie Walsh, my daughter, my own flesh and blood, and the second I do, when the kill is a victory and before I feel the guilt, I want you to kill me."



Spike narrowed his eyes at her. "Your daughter? Your daughter is the bitch who did this to me?"



"And to me." She held out a slim hand. "I'm Isobel Walsh." Spike stared at her outstretched hand and she sighed, dropping it back to her side. "My own daughter turned me into a monster, and then implanted me. You have no idea just how devious she is, hostile."



"Call me Spike." He folded his arms across his chest. "And tell me exactly how you can deactivate the chip in my head, but not the one in yours."



"I can get you on the inside. I can show you how to do it. The reason I haven't done the same for myself is because I don't want to be what you once were. I don't judge you for wanting that again, but I *will* keep my word." Isobel smiled up at him, holding out her hand once again. "Would you like to hear my plan?"



"I'm all ears," he told her, firmly grasping her hand in his. "But I'm also one cautious bastard. You play me, you'll get played."



Isobel only nodded, and then reclaimed her seat on the marble bench. As she spoke, telling him how they would infiltrate the Initiative, she watched a genuine smile begin to spread over his handsome features. When she finished laying out her plan, the blond vampire was practically bouncing, and she had no doubt that when he was able to resume his former lifestyle, people would quake in fear before him.



And her own demon rejoiced his good fortune.



She would keep her word.



***********



Giles rushed up the sidewalk to the Summers' front door. He had just gotten home when Angel called and told him to come right away. Not bothering to knock, he entered the house and immediately shouted for Buffy.



"She's in the shower," Angel called from the kitchen.



Giles hurried through the house and stopped in the doorway. "Is Spike assisting her?"



Angel set the box of hot cocoa he had found on the counter and moved toward the sink to fill the teakettle with water. "She can walk."



"What?" Giles sounded stunned as he tried to process the three simple words that Angel had said. "She can walk? How- when- ?"



"I don't know." The vampire put the water on to boil and opened another cabinet, pulling out a cup. "She said she got the feeling back in her legs the other night, but she didn't elaborate."



"The other night? But I saw her, she was still in the wheelchair..."



"She didn't tell anyone. Said she was afraid that Spike would leave if he knew," Angel told him flatly.



Giles could see the tension in the vampire's jaw and knew that his anger was barely held in check. "Angel, what happened tonight? Where is Spike?"



"Spike is gone. He and Buffy had a...a fight." Angel hesitated, running his fingers through his hair. He looked up at the other man, his eyes full of pain. "I found her in an alley, Giles, just like Cordelia's vision. At first she was too upset to talk. Her clothes were torn, and I thought...I thought that she'd been raped."



A startled look of alarm crossed Giles' face. "Good lord-"



"She hadn't been," Angel assured him. He wasn't sure how much to tell the Watcher, but didn't know if he could trust Buffy at this point to tell Giles the truth. He decided to forge ahead and avoid going into detail. "She told me..." His eyes closed for a second and he had to force the words past his lips. "She told me that she has feelings for Spike. *Strong* feelings. That they'd had - that they'd been..." Unconsciously, Angel squeezed the cup he'd been holding and it shattered in his hand.



Giles just stared at the vampire, unsure of how to process this new information. His slayer involved with another vampire? With Spike? It was almost inconceivable. "Angel...I -I'm terribly sorry. I never imagined..."



"I need to get out of here, Giles," Angel interrupted. "I can't be near her right now. I'll finish up that business with Willy, and then I'm heading for the mansion. You can contact me there." He didn't look at the Watcher as he spoke, his gaze fixed on the crumbled pieces of mug on the floor.



Giles shifted uncomfortably, at a loss for words. "I understand. Thank you for your help, Angel."



Angel nodded, then walked toward the door. Giles' voice stopped him. "You won't do anything...rash, will you?"



"No," he answered without turning. "I won't do anything rash." His hand on the doorknob, he paused before opening it. "I never should have come back here," he whispered, disappearing before Giles could say another word.



In the ensuing silence, Giles raised his eyes to the ceiling, wondering what could possibly happen next. "Bloody hell," he murmured, and headed upstairs to find out exactly what was going on with his Slayer.



**************



When Giles reached the bedroom door, Buffy was standing in front of her mirror dressed in baggy sweats, staring blankly as she combed through wet, tangled hair. Even though Angel had told him about her being able to walk, it was still a shock to see her on her feet in front of him after months of being in the wheelchair.



"Buffy?" he called out quietly as he entered the room. "Are you all right?"



Her head shook slightly and her hands dropped to her sides. "No, Giles," she whispered brokenly. "I'm not all right."



He crossed the room and took her hands in his, alarmed by how icy they were. "Come, sit down," he murmured, leading her to the bed. "Tell me what happened, tell me everything." He sat her down and joined her on the bed, hesitantly putting his arm around her shoulders.



Buffy leaned into him, breathing in his familiar aftershave. His strong arms and soothing voice broached her meager defenses, and she crumbled for the second time that night. "Oh, Giles," she sobbed into his shoulder. "I'm so stupid! I should have called you as soon as I got the feeling back in my legs, instead of lying and making a mess of everything. F-First Spike, and-and then Angel," her breath came in gasps, "I-I suppose you... hate me now...too."



"Of course I don't hate you," he sighed. "Although...I do question your judgment at times."



She shook her head. "You don't know, you don't know the things I did..."



"I've spoken to Angel, and I've got eyes, Buffy," he murmured against her hair. "I think that I can surmise most of it." There was a long silence as Buffy's face flamed with mortification. Giles cleared his throat. "Angel mentioned that you told him you feel...something...for Spike. Are you sure it isn't just...gratitude, because he took care of you?"



"I'm sure," she sniffled. "I started liking him before I was attacked. All that time we spent together afterward only made it grow stronger. And now I … I think I'm in love with him, Giles, and it doesn't even matter, because he can't stand the sight of me."



"Oh, Buffy, I'm so sorry." His arms tightened around her and he murmured more words of comfort as she clung to him and cried.



When the flood had slowed to a trickle, Buffy pulled away and wiped at her face with the back of her hand. She avoided looking at Giles for a moment, then sighed and glanced up at him. "Angel left?" When he nodded, she asked, "How was he? When you got here?"



"He was...upset."



"Wow, Giles, understatement, much?" She shook her head. "I know how much I hurt him tonight. Seems to be my specialty lately."



"Buffy, I'm not sure what occurred with Spike, but as far as Angel is concerned...perhaps there were some things that needed to be said? A sort of...closure, as it were. You weren't allowed any when he left."



"No, I wasn't, but that doesn't excuse my behavior. I can't believe he brought me home after -"



"He loves you, Buffy. Whatever else has happened, I can't imagine that either one of you could abandon the other. No matter what the circumstances."



His words served as a painful reminder of just how different things were with Spike. The blond vampire had no problem walking away from her, as evidenced by his post-coital behavior. Buffy felt a fresh stab of pain as she recalled his hateful remarks. Devastated didn't even begin to cover how she felt.



Flushing, she stood up and walked over to the mirror, avoiding Giles' eyes. Picking up her brush, she began working through the tangles in her hair again.



"Angel said that you and Spike had a fight. Are you sure you're all right - physically, I mean?"



"Physically, I'm fine. Legs work and everything."



Giles took a deep breath. "Yes, about that...what happened, exactly? How were you able to walk again?"



Briefly, she told him about suddenly waking up with feeling in her legs. She kept brushing her hair as she did so, trying to avoid thinking about Spike and what had happened between them.



Giles listened intently as she related her reluctance to tell Spike the good news. He frowned. "I wish you had called me. You know how imperative it is that you keep me informed."



"I'm sorry, Giles, I didn't think about it. I just...wanted Spike to stay with me."



"Well, now is the time to think about it. The Council is in town to deal with Maggie Walsh. I've spoken to them about formulating a plan, and with you able to walk, we'll have the element of surprise on our side when we move to strike."



"We?" She narrowed her eyes at him. "What? You rejoined the damn Council?"



Giles paused, clearly taken aback, then nodded his head. "I've formed an alliance with them, yes. As for rejoining them, they've yet to ask me, but -"



"But you would? After what they did to us both?" She tossed the brush down on the dresser and turned to confront him. "How dare you?"



"How dare I?" he questioned, surprised by her anger. "Pardon me for stating the obvious here, Buffy, but how dare you keep something like this from me? How long were you planning to keep up the charade? And how do I know that you weren't able to walk days ago? Weeks? You certainly seem steady on your feet."



"Don't you accuse me of that!" she shouted, pointing a finger at him. "I told you that I just started walking this morning. And you couldn't possibly hope to understand my motivation for not calling you right off the bat."



"Well, then enlighten me," Giles crossed his arms, regarding her with a serious expression.



"I didn't call because I knew what your response would be. Fall off the horse, get back on. Scared of the water, jump in and don't test it."



"I don't understand."



"You expect me to just start slaying again, don't you? You expect me to grab the bull by the horns and-"



"Could you please refrain from using metaphors?"



"Fine," Buffy snapped. "Here's a non-metaphor for you. I don't want to be the Slayer. I would rather be some dried up cripple in some filthy hospital, then go back out there," she pointed toward the window, "and let them finish me off."



"You don't mean that."



"Yes, I do!" She stalked toward her closet, yanking her ornate trunk from under a pile of clothing. Moving swiftly, she unlatched the clasps and pulled the top up, then lifted a tray, exposing an arsenal of weapons. "Look, Giles, I've got stakes," she threw one as hard as she could, flipping it end over end, and it embedded in the wall, the handle sticking out only a few inches. "I've got crossbows," she fired it off as well, the bolt slicing through her lampshade and shattering the bulb. "I've got Holy Water," toss, "more stakes," toss, "and would you look at this? A mace!" wind, throw, "and none of it did a damn bit of good, did it? They almost killed me. AGAIN!"



"Buffy, stop it!" He crossed the room and grabbed her arm, halting the rain of weaponry. When she turned on him, he gripped her upper arms and held on, fully aware that she could toss him across the room just as easily as she had tossed her stakes. "Listen to me," he ordered gruffly. "I know how frightened you are."



"No, you don't!" Buffy half shouted. "Giles, you have no idea!"



"Do you think I don't feel terror at the danger you face every day? What happens to you, happens to me. When you are hurt, I hurt. When you bleed, my soul bleeds along with you because it's my duty to see to it that you are safe." He reached for her hand and took it in his. "I felt the same relief you must have felt every night for the past few months, knowing that you were safe and sound at home and not out there fighting demons. We didn't choose this life, Buffy. We were chosen and though it can be quite a burden at times, it's ours to bear."



"I can't bear it! People always leave me because of who I am! My dad, and Angel," her breath began hitching and new sobs suddenly burst forth, "and Spike- Spike - God, it hurts so much!"



"Buffy," Giles said softly. "I'm still here. I'll *always* be here. We'll get through this, the same way we get through anything. Together."



His voice gentled her for a second, letting her regain control. She drew a deep breath and looked him in the eye. "I won't work with the Council, Giles. I *can't*."



"I see," he answered flatly, releasing her.



"Please understand -"



"I'm sorry, but I don't understand. This is your calling, your sacred duty, Buffy-"



"Giles, please!" Her voice grew strident. "I can't do it, all right? I can't trust the Council, and I can't help you. I'm sorry."



"Very well, then. Angel and I will take things from here. I'm sure that between the two of us, and the men from the Council, we can put an end to Maggie Walsh's reign of terror. If you change your mind..."



"I won't," she assured him. "And I'm not sure I'd be much help anyway at this point." She looked up at him beseechingly. "Giles? Are we...okay?"



Giles didn't respond for a few slow, agonizing seconds. Finally, he nodded, a sad smile parting his lips. "Yes, we're 'okay'. Perhaps you should get some rest. The sun is up already and you didn't get any sleep last night. I could bring up some hot chocolate, if you like, before I go."



"That would be nice, thanks."



He walked toward the door, pausing before he left. "I'm sorry about Spike, Buffy. About...everything that's happened. I-I'll let you know if he turns up."



"I'm not sure he will. Not after..." She turned away, blinking back tears.



"After what?" Giles asked before he could help himself. "What happened between you two?"



"I don't want to talk about it. Please, Giles, I just want to sleep, okay?"



"All right, Buffy," he sighed. "I'll get your drink, and check in with you later, then." When she didn't answer, he turned and left the room, and finally, she was alone.



Buffy let herself collapse onto the bed as every muscle in her body screamed with fatigue. She felt stiff and sore, and her legs were trembling from overuse after so many months of inactivity. Weakly, she dragged the covers over her and huddled beneath them, shaking. It felt as if she'd never be warm again, never feel strong again.



Never be free from the heart wrenching pain in the middle of her chest.



"Spike..." she whimpered softly, curling into a ball. The tears came again and she didn't even try to stop them. How had things gone so completely wrong in so short a time? She and Spike had grown closer in the last few weeks, on their way to becoming more than just friends. And just like that, her lies had destroyed it all. Because of her stupidity, another man she loved had walked away from her. Telling him how she felt hadn't made a bit of difference; he was still gone.



And she wanted him back, more desperately than she'd ever wanted anything in her life. She needed his strength, needed him to help her get past this fear that was eating her up inside. The fear was controlling her, keeping her from being the Slayer, and if she couldn't be the Slayer anymore, then what would she be?



Nothing, she'd be nothing. And she'd still be alone.



A few minutes later when Giles returned, he found her asleep, her tear-stained face tense in slumber, fists tightly clenching the blankets under her chin.





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