Cause and Effect

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Chapter Twenty-three
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Spike and Xander sat silently, foreheads touching, enjoying the night air, and the simple touch of another. It had been so long since Spike had been willing to acknowledge the need to touch. He'd always craved it; he could admit that. Of course, right now, he could blame it on the newness of the bond between them. That made it a little easier. Though being comfortable with being alone was simply not in his nature -- either one of them, the vampiric *or* the human -- he'd always tried to hide his need. Rather, he'd tried to hide the depth of his need. It made him vulnerable, and that was something he'd striven against since almost the moment he'd been turned.

He didn't know what Angelus had seen in the mortal William that made him turn the human instead of simply killing him. The older vampire had certainly worked hard enough to rid the younger of all the traits that had made William, well, William. It had been in both rebellion and in desperate need for approval that he had become Spike. It was a role that he eventually grew to accept, and even r in, in, but that hadn't been true at first.

At first it had been purely defensive. It had been a guise that had allowed him to bury the remaining aspects of William that had so angered his sire. The chip, and then the soul, had changed that. The chip had made him stop long enough to think; he'd had to resort to longer range plans. He'd had to take time and consider what he was going to do, what he wanted even. It had led to one mess up after another -- even worse than when he'd been footloose and chip-free.

Eventually, his remaining humanity had begun to re-surface, no matter how hard he'd fought against it. He'd begun to depend on beings *other* than vampires for his wants and needs. It had brought to the surface his need for companionship with a vengeance -- for love. As a matter of course, he'd kept *that* hidden for as long as he could. It had been too well ingrained in him that his humane traits weren't welcome. Even the Scoobies had reinforced that at first -- seeing nothing but a demon, pushing him away whenever he tried to be more than the stereotype. Oh, sure, he'd still been evil -- at least in thought. He *was* a demon, after all.

And then had come the killer blow. It actually hadn't been the soul -- much as that had turned his world perceptions upside down, and had played merry havoc with his sense of self, and his sense of right and wrong. Yes, he actually *had* that sense now -- and it was still . . . strange.

It had been his time with Adam that had made him completely re-evaluate his world-view, and he *still* didn't know the wanker's real name. Spike had hoped that before Adam left he would have come to trust him enough to tell him. Adam hadn't. Spike wasn't all that sure that Adam *could* trust anyone. By the time he'd left, Spike had been pretty sure he understood the man -- at least as well as anyone else who still existed. And sometimes, he got the impression that Adam was even lonelier than he was, that Adam had locked himself away inside, no longer able to completely open himself up to another.

That had scared Spike. He could see himself becoming that. It was that revelation, as much as anything else, that had allowed him to realized he'd fallen for the most *inappropriate* person he possibly could have -- the slayer, Buffy. Of course, he was smart enough to realize that not only was that part of the attraction, but so was the idea that perhaps he could take from Angel what Angel didn't dare to take himself.

It had been *all* one-sided, however; she'd been too wrapped up in Richie Ryan to see beyond the end of her nose. She was like he was. Once she gave, she gave everything. At least she had been -- until Glory had come to town. Buffy had begun to change then. She'd focused on 'her mission'. She began pushing even the young Immortal away then. Though, surprisingly, at least to him, she'd pulled Spike closer. They'd even managed to become friends -- of a sort -- there at the end.

She'd *trusted* him, trusted him to protect that which was more important to her than her own life -- her sister, Dawn. She'd come to *him*, not to Xander, not to Giles, and most importantly -- in his mind -- not to her lover. In the end, he hadn't been able to, except perhaps, he thought consolingly to himself, to delay the inevitable. His actions had *maybe* given Buffy the time *she* needed to get up there and protect Dawn herself. He needed to believe that, anyway.

When she'd died that last day, throwing herself from the top of the tower to save her sister, Spike had been devastated. He hadn't thought it possible until that very moment, but it had hurt worse, even, that losing Dru had -- and losing Dru had made him feel like his unlife had ended.

Now, here he was, doing it again, allowing himself to *feel*, allowing himself to become vulnerable. He couldn't believe he was actually doing it. He couldn't believe he wasn't jerking himself away, closing himself off to the possibilities. When it ended, it just hurt too damn much. But each time he almost did -- and in the short time they'd been sitting there, there'd been several -- he flashed back to Adam. It was enough to keep him there. It was enough to keep him trying.

A tight band suddenly clenched around Spike's unbeating heart, and he gasped. He remembered running, dropping a bag of supplies. He remembered thinking, 'Not again!'.

"What's wrong?" Xander asked, alarmed.

Spike shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut. Three of them, standing there, throwing taunts as he *ran*. He, William the Bloody, *Spike*, running from the *food*!

"Remembering," he said, and felt Xander wince.

"Bad?"

Spike snorted, coming free of the rush of haunting images. "Bad enough," he admitted, explaining what he remembered of that night. He still didn't know what happened after he lost consciousness, but now, at least, he knew how he'd been captured. Those were now faces he would *never* forget. They were burned into his mind.

"We should go back inside," Xander said suddenly, not moving. "Angel's probably going nuts."

"Let him," Spike quipped, his smirk re-emerging. "It'll do him some good."

Xander mirrored his expression, but pulled away. "We've got some planning to do."

Spike looked at him questioningly as he rose.

"We've got an assault to plan," Xander explained, his grin turning as close to evil as Spike had ever seen on the human.

"I'm all for *that*," he agreed.

The two of them silently headed back toward Xander's apartment.

**

Dawn waited as patiently as she could. Willow and Tara had cast spell after spell, sometimes explaining what the affect would be, sometimes not. Now, they silently stared out across the field in front of them, and had been for what seemed like forever; though, she was sure it only been 10 minutes or so.

Willow and Tara shared a concerned glance. This place was better fortified than they had anticipated.

"What?" Dawn demanded in a fierce whisper. When she'd been denied the chance to visit Spike, and no amount of begging and pleading had changed their minds -- Okay, yeah, she had to admit their reasons were valid, which more than anything else, was what had stopped her from simply sneaking out after they were both asleep. -- she had suggested an alternate plan. As it turned out, both witches had enthusiastically agreed.

Part of her thought it was because both of them felt guilty for not having believed her in the first place. But, whatever the reason, she was glad of it, because here they were, laying on the wet ground -- and okay, yeah, she could have done without the wet part -- staring at a well lit house out in the middle of nowhere.

She stared at the place, her anger growing. *This* was the place that Spike had been held for all those months, while she had been going quietly insane. She didn't know what Spike had been through here, but if he was as bad off as Xander had hinted he was to Willow, then she knew it couldn't have been good. She'd seen what he looked like after Glory had gotten done with him -- and he hadn't minded being seen then. This *had* to be bad. This had to be so much worse that it made her slightly ill to even think about it.

"It's gonna be difficult," Tara said quietly.

Dawn rolled her eyes. "Did you think, for even half a second, that it was going to *easy*?" she asked, the unspoken 'Duh' ringing loud and clear in the crisp night air.

"Of course not” Willow interjected. "but this is going to be like when we broke into the initiative."

Dawn's eyes widened as she stole a glance back at the deceptively peaceful house. Sure, there were guards. There was a wide swath of plain dirt around the house, looking like nothing wanted to grow near the tainted abode. She shook her head. She was losing focus. **Save that kind of stuff for your journal, Dummy!** she admonished herself. She just didn't see what they saw that made them think it would be harder than they'd anticipated. Tara cleared it up for her.

"There are energy lines all over the place. It's heavily wired -- physically *and* metaphysically."

"Oh," Dawn replied, worry touching the edges of her determination to avenge her friend.

Willow nodded her agreement. "Whoever set up the protection spells wasn't, or isn't, very powerful, or very experienced. The spells are really rather simple."

Dawn grinned, her hope rising again. "Then what's the problem."

Both witches turned to stare at her. "That they're there at *all*," Willow replied.

Dawn's grin faded into a confused frown. "Better that than being surprised," she said.

Tara and Willow blinked at her a couple of times before sharing another glance. They shrugged. "Very true," Tara said softly, before the two of them went back to their surveillance.

Dawn began fidgeting restlessly long before her companions finally sat up and began reaching for magik supplies.

"So?" she asked impatiently, when neither spoke a word. "What's up?"

"We're going to cast a spell that will let me -- well, my mind, anyway -- slip past their defenses, and see what we're up against."

"Way cool!" Dawn replied. "You mean like astral projection or something, because I read that--" She cut herself off abruptly. **Now is *so* not the time, Dawn Summers!** she thought firmly.

Willow shook her head. "Not exactly. That type of spell would set off even the simple protection spells they have up. It's *similar*, in effect, but different in a lot of ways." Willow stopped what she was doing and locked her gaze on Dawn. "We *may* not be able to do this ourselves. If it's too much, we're going to wait until the guys can back us up," she said firmly.

Dawn's first, instinctive, response was, 'No way in hell!'. She clamped down on it. Much as she wanted to simply bust in and wreck some havoc, she knew Willow was right. Dying, or getting themselves captured *was *so* not on the agenda -- but they'd already talked about that. She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, we've been through all this already," was all she said. She ignored the tiny little voice -- that sounded suspiciously like Buffy in one of her lecture modes -- that said the people inside were human.

Dawn didn't care. As far as she was concerned, they had given up the right to *that* title when they'd chosen to become like the monsters.


TBC
Kiristeen@kiristeen.