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Buffy had slept fitfully, waking several times with the covers tangled around her limbs and cold tears drying on her face. She finally gave up any hope of real sleep and rolled to her side, watching as the minutes turned to hours on her bedside clock. Her body ached from all the times she'd cried, but now her eyes were dry.



And all she could do was think.



Think about the giant hole that Angel left in her life when he walked away from her, and how she'd thought she would never recover from it.



Think about how she'd nearly gotten her life back on track when her legs were taken away, making her doubt everything and everyone. Making her afraid to be what she was meant to be.



Think about Giles wanting to accept help from the very people who had betrayed them. The people who had turned their backs on them when it had mattered most.



And lastly, think about Spike leaving her in that alley without a backward glance after making her scream in ecstasy. The hatefulness with which he'd treated her, the utter lack of concern for her pain.



Bastard.



Okay, so she'd lied. She could accept responsibility for that, and she'd do anything to take it back. She hadn't meant to hurt Spike, only keep him by her side until she knew what his true feelings were. Was that so terribly wrong? She was human, dammit! She'd made a mistake - did that mean she had to pay for it in blood? Did she have to be humiliated time and time again, her heart and pride torn to shreds?



And was she expected to wallow in self-pity like a mewling, whining child?



No. She wasn't going to live like this any longer, and she wasn't going to be anyone's punching bag again.



Her anger built until she flung herself out of the bed and began pacing around the room like a caged animal, images of the men in her life flashing in front of her in a red haze. Angel always thought she needed saving, did he? Her arm swept across her vanity, sending perfume bottles crashing to the floor. And Giles! Her journal flew into the closet, several pages tearing loose in the process. Giles thought she should just forgive and forget, and when she couldn't, well that just meant she was still and immature little girl, didn't it?



Breathing heavily, she turned in a circle, searching for something else to throw as her anger focused on Spike. How dare he throw her love back in her face? How dare he walk away after fucking her with so much intensity and passion that she'd almost lost consciousness? How dare he...



Her feverish gaze landed on the silver mirror and she snatched it up victoriously, intent on smashing it to bits. She cocked her arm, ready to hurl it into the wall . and then she stopped as she heard Spike's voice inside her head. 'No, -that- is beautiful.'



With a sigh, she lowered her arm and sat down on the bed as her knees gave out. Damn him, she though miserably, tracing her image in the glass with a finger. Damn him for making her trust again, for making her feel beautiful and strong again, only to destroy it in a burst of self-righteous anger.



And destroy it he had, knowing exactly what to say to bring her to her knees. He'd always seen right thought her, from the very moment they'd first laid eyes on each other. When they were enemies, she'd been able to shrug it off, no matter how pissed off she got. But now that she'd let him into her heart . now it felt as if his words were slicing a jagged path right through that same heart. As if he needed to claw his way out from the inside. And she didn't know how much longer she could take the pain.



She let the mirror slip from her fingers onto the bed and stood up, determined to get a grip on what little strength she had left. She didn't -have- to feel this way. She'd dealt with all of this before - with Angel, and to a lesser extent, with Parker. She'd survived each time, a little worse for wear, but still standing, still fighting. And now, she had the mother of all fights just waiting for her participation. All she had to do was get angry and stay that way. And at the moment, that didn't appear to be a problem.



She was the Slayer. It was time she acted like one.



She scanned the room, taking in the evidence of her tantrum. Such a small display for such a supposedly powerful young woman, she thought derisively. Surely she could do better than that. Her gaze fell upon the weapons trunk on the floor next to her closet. Giles had apparently repacked all of her weapons for her. She studied it for a few minutes, recalling the way she used to have to hide it all. Pack away her weapons and conceal her bloody clothes and injuries.



She didn't have to hide anything anymore.



Buffy reached into the trunk and pulled out Mr. Pointy. She'd had the stake that belonged to Kendra bronzed, which earned quite a few odd looks from the men at the mall where she had taken it to have it done. Cradling it in her hand, she got to her feet and held it up in front of her. Striking fast and hard at an invisible foe, she listened to her arm whip through the air, slicing the wind with a low whistle. She was still fast, very fast.



The paralysis hadn't taken that away from her.



The phone cut through her concentration and she grabbed it, biting back the urge to say Spike's name into it. "Hello?"



"Buffy, it's Giles," the Englishman said. "I hope I didn't wake you."



"No, I'm up." She sat on her bed, still running her hand over the bronzed piece of wood. "What is it? Did something else happen?"



"No, nothing has changed." Unless you took into consideration the fact that he had gone all over town looking for Spike and hadn't slept a wink, nothing had changed. "I was just calling to see if you've changed your mind about working with the Council. Angel and I will be meeting with them tonight and I'd very much like it if you'd accompany us."



"No," she stated flatly. "I told you before, I won't work with them. And what exactly is your plan? You never told me."



"I suppose I didn't," Giles sighed. "Malachai, one of the elder councilmen informed me last night that Maggie Walsh was seen in your hospital room hours after your accident. She had a shaman in tow; a mystical man who can alter the state of being. We've every reason to believe that perhaps she is responsible for your paralysis."



Buffy's hand tightened around the stake. "We already know she's responsible for it. She had her pet vampires ambush me."



"No, Buffy. We believe that she put some sort of spell on you to prevent your Slayer strength from healing you."



"A spell?" she asked quietly. "You mean magic kept me crippled?"



"It's quite possible. If there were mystical forces at work it could explain why you've had such a speedy recovery and why it happened so abruptly." He cleared his throat. "At any rate, we've located where the Initiative is operating."



"Where?"



"Underneath the Lowell Fraternity house at the campus," he replied, then added, "If you would just accompany us-"



"No," Buffy repeated more firmly. "Look, I have to go. I'm hungry and I need to get some fresh air."



"Er, Buffy, any word from Spike?" Giles asked casually. "I was wondering because-"



"Giles," she sighed softly. "Look, I can't talk about this, okay? I have to go."



She hung up before he could say anything else and stood, pacing across her room. It had been magic all along? Not her own weaknesses and faults? They had resorted to taking her out of the equation with a spell? That certainly put a new spin on things. If they had been forced to fight dirty, maybe they were scared of a fight.



If that was the case, she'd give Maggie Walsh the fight of her life.



If that bitch hadn't put the chip in Spike's head to begin with, none of this ever would have happened. She had started a chain of events, meddled where no human should meddle, and tampered with the fates. Maggie only thought she knew how to take the Slayer out of her element.



It was obvious that for all of her training, Maggie hadn't the first clue as to what a Slayer actually was. A Slayer's element was what she made it.



Buffy picked up the mirror that Spike had given her and studied her reflection once more. The face that stared back at her was hardened with resolve, all traces of self-pity gone. All that remained was intent.



A deadly intent to slay anything that got between her and Maggie Walsh.







Giles arrived at the bar first, just after sunset, and secured a large table in the back, away from the other booths. Even as he ordered a beer, his mind stayed on Buffy. She had admitted that she feared being the Slayer again. She had looked him in the eye, her own eyes hollow and red rimmed, and admitted how much her duty terrified her. He hated himself for what he represented in her life; the man who oversaw her 'Sacred Duty'. Yet, there was nothing sacred about being scared and alone.



His thoughts turned to Angel then, the vampire who loved his Slayer as much as he did, only in a very different way. He knew that both of them would die for her, but Angel couldn't even have the satisfaction of being near her. Couldn't even think of being a part of her life. Checking his watch, he scowled and headed toward the payphone to try Angel's number again. He paused when the door opened and the vampire stepped in, looking as if he'd gone about five rounds with ten Slayers. His face was scratched, bloody in places, and his lip was swollen.



Giles met him halfway. "I thought you said you wouldn't do anything rash," he said in a low voice.



"I didn't do anything rash," Angel told him, holding up his hands and showing his bloody knuckles. "I did something violent to avoid rash."



"So, I take it that Spike didn't survive the night?" Giles watched him, wondering how he'd break the news to Buffy. And wondering why he felt so annoyed that he didn't have a chance at Spike first.



Angel frowned at the mention of his childe's name. "I didn't find him. But if I had, anything Angelus dished out would have seemed like a love tap compared to what I would have done to him."



Giles couldn't control the smirk that crossed his face. "I won't say I'm sorry. I have quite a few things to say to him before he meets his demise."



Angel chuckled and followed the man further into the bar, where he sat at the table. "How's Buffy?"



"She told me what happened," Giles said casually, not offering details. "And she told me that she won't take part in bringing down the Initiative."



The vampire looked shocked. "Did you tell her that Maggie Walsh was responsible?"



Giles nodded. "She refuses to work with the Council again. Even if it is for a common goal. To be quite honest, she was furious that I was even considering it."



"To be fair to her, she does have a valid reason to be leery of them." Angel motioned for the waitress and ordered a shot of liquor. When the woman walked away, he added, "I mean, they chose her, then tried to kill her. I think that might put a damper on any working relationship."



"Oh, you're absolutely right," Giles replied. "I don't agree with all their methods myself, but I do believe that in this scenario - they are our best hope."



Angel nodded his head at the door and stood. The Watchers filed in, each one wearing a suit and a somber face. Giles stood as well, extending a hand to Malachai when he was close enough. The elder man shook it and smiled. "Mr. Giles. Angel. I'm glad you both decided to show."



"We gave you our word," Angel told him as he cast a worried gaze at the other men. No matter how many times he told himself to trust them, he couldn't help having reservations about it.



"We've heard rumors that the Slayer was seen in action last night," Malachai reported as he sat down across from Giles. "Is there any truth in that?"



Giles glanced at Angel. If he told them the truth, would they insist on her aid or would they allow her time to recuperate? Taking a deep breath, he spoke firmly. "Buffy has regained use of her legs, however, it is my opinion that it is too soon for her to be back in her full capacity. The injury that she obtained initially was very grave and-"



"Relax, Mr. Giles," Malachai waved a hand, motioning for Giles to sit down. "We won't need her help. We'll be able to do this ourselves."



"Right," Giles gave him a weak smile. "I do thank you. Buffy's well being-"



"Is still the most important thing to you," Malachai finished for him. "It's admirable, the way you love that child, however, it still works against you."



"Quite the contrary, sir." Giles stared him in the eye. "It works *for* me. Buffy's record could speak on its own and we all know that. I think my methods, including my devotion to her, is tantamount to her success thus far."



Malachai regarded Giles for several seconds, then glanced at Angel. "A Slayer who somehow forced a Watcher *and* a vampire to love her. I hope I will meet her before we leave and see for myself what she possesses that could make grown men go against their true natures."



"You just might," Angel told him with a knowing grin. "And won't that be fun?"



Giles shot him a look, then leaned forward, getting down to business. "So, the hour approaches - shall we finalize the plan?"



"It's going to be a long night," Malachai sighed, and motioned for a set of blueprints from another Watcher. Spreading them out on the table, he motioned at one corner. "We'll go in here." He glanced around the table, pausing at each face. "We're stepping into Hell here, gentlemen. Hell on earth." He fixed his gaze on Angel. "And won't **that** be fun?"







Buffy dressed black leather boots, tight leather pants, and a clinging halter-top. She stood in front of the mirror gazing at her reflection. She had lost weight since her accident, but she was satisfied with her appearance. Her hair was pinned back tightly away from her face so no one could grab it and it made her look older, wiser. When she faced Maggie Walsh, she wanted her to see firsthand that she had not bested the Slayer.



No one would ever best her again.



She was furious. She was strong. And she was hell bent on getting revenge.



Making her way back to her bedroom, she surveyed her weapons trunk and selected a few stakes and a long knife. She dropped the stakes into her bag, then lifted the knife, trailing her fingertips over the sharp edge of the blade. It drew blood instantly, staining the blade with a crimson smudge. The wound closed almost as instantly and she smiled. It was going to be a fine night.



Climbing out her window, both for exercise and for old time's sake, she dropped down onto her lawn and headed toward the UC-Sunnydale Campus. She moved swiftly, with purpose, her anger quickening her pace. Halfway across town, she spotted two vampires and she paused, silently pulling a stake from her bag. They never saw her coming. Her speed surprised even her, and left the vampires with a scream that died on their lips when they dusted. Blood surged in her veins and she gripped the stake tighter.



It was nice to be back.



They'd never stop her again.







Lowell House loomed directly in front of her. Buffy stood on the sidewalk, staring up at the massive structure. She hadn't planned very far ahead, hadn't exactly decided how she would enter thee house or find her way to the underground. A car pulled up and she made a show of bending to tie an imaginary shoelace. Three large boys piled out, casting a withering glance in her direction, then they moved to the trunk, where they retrieved a bundle. A bundle that was clearly a person. Or a demon. It was wrapped in a woolen blanket and squirmed madly when one of the boys tossed it over his shoulder.



To the casual observer, it looked like a harmless prank against a fraternity brother. To the Slayer, it looked like a godsend. She made her way down the sidewalk, then hid behind a copse of trees as the boys went into the house. Standing on tiptoe, she watched through a window as the men dropped the bundle on the floor and yanked the blanket off. Bingo! The vampire lunged at the men, talons raking the air, fangs gnashing at nothing and everything at once. She watched as the men taunted and kicked the vampire and narrowed her eyes. These were the same people who had neutered Spike.



Suddenly, the wall opened up behind the boys and Maggie Walsh stepped out. Out of an elevator? Buffy looked more closely. Yes, it was an elevator. She watched as the men shoved the vampire into the elevator, stunning it with a hand held device, and backed away. She was the Slayer. She wasn't exactly equipped to handle stun guns and army men. A flash of light from a low basement window caught her eye and she knelt down, squinting. The elevator was passing down; she could see the light through the crudely constructed shaft.



Prying the window open, she silently prayed for no security alarms, and when nothing blared, she slipped inside. It looked like a regular frat house basement. Not that she had seen many or even any at all, but it looked like a place where a bunch of boys haphazardly tossed their laundry. There were four washers, four dryers and each were buried under a mountain of clothes. There were also cases of beers stacked neatly against one wall. She shook her head at the irony of that. Take care of your beer, but let your colors bleed onto your whites. Men!



Buffy moved quickly to the elevator shaft. It stood in the middle of the room, boxed off with wood and metal. It was a total eyesore, so completely out of place that anyone who saw it would question what it was. Wasting no time, Buffy pulled off one of the wooden beams and separated the metal, peering down into the brightly lighted shaft. It seemed to go on for miles, deep into the belly of the earth. The elevator was at the bottom, apparently stopped. Casting a glance behind her, Buffy slipped through the crack she had made, clung to the cables, and pulled the metal back in place. It wasn't perfectly smooth, but she had chosen to enter in a nondescript place. Hopefully no one would see the small gap.



Hand over hand she made her way down, quietly lowering herself further and further. The muscles in her arms began to ache and she cursed herself quietly. All the time she was in her chair, she should have been exercising her upper body more. A lot more than just lifting the remote control or wheeling herself back and forth to the bathroom. The thought of her wheelchair pushed the ache out of her mind and she felt a renewed burst of energy. Moving even faster, she hooked one leg around the cable and let herself slide.



She went past the air conditioner vent so quickly that she never saw the two vampires, one very familiar and the other bearing a striking resemblance to Maggie Walsh, crawling in the opposite direction.







Spike heard something whiz past the air duct and glanced behind him. He was on his hands and knees, having entered the air conditioning unit almost an hour before from a tool shed behind Lowell Fraternity. Isobel had been meticulous, carefully rewiring the security system to prevent it from locating their movement. "What was that?"



Isobel, who was just ahead, on her hands and knees as well, continued moving. "It was probably a bat."



Spike scowled, but followed her without question. They had been right next to the vent when the elevator screamed past moments before. He had questioned why they didn't just scale down using the cables, but Isobel had pointed out that the elevators were so fast, it could cut a person in two. He could feel the small passage begin to slope downward and had to struggle to maintain his balance as they moved deeper and deeper into the structure. Isobel had informed him that the facility was about five stories below the surface of the earth.



Ahead of him, Isobel paused and opened the bag she had secured on her back when they began. Spike watched her pull out ropes and harnesses and shook his head. "You really know what you're doing, huh?"



"I do it all the time." She held out a harness to him. "Slide this over your legs and buckle it at the waist. Have you ever rock climbed?"



"I can't say that I have." Spike did as she instructed, then watched her hook a knotted rope through the clip on his harness.



"From here, it's a straight drop of roughly fifty feet. We have to be quiet. We can't just jump because we could go through and land right on top of them. We're going to hook this rope around that beam," She pointed above her head at an exposed metal rod. "and lower you first. When you get to the bottom, you be careful to put your hands and knees on the outside edges of the air ducts. It's exposed down there and they'll hear you if you aren't careful."



"Right," Spike said, tugging on the rope to make sure it was secured. This was his big chance and he wasn't going to blow it. He'd get that chip out and then Buffy- Well, he'd get his chip out. He couldn't let himself think of her. She would tell him to keep the chip, wouldn't she? She'd tell him that it gave him a reason to fight on the side of good. But look at what that had gotten him. The side of good had lied to him, betrayed him, and worst of all, touched a long dormant part of him that was better left alone. His heart.



"Spike?" Isobel repeated the vampire's name for the third time. "Are you ready?"



"What?" He looked at her. "Oh, yeah, lower me."





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