Cause and Effect

AN2: Spike's opinion on the definition of rape is not necessarily that of the author.
Warning: This part could be uncomfortable, possibly even distasteful for some.

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Chapter Twenty-Four
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Willow let out a sigh as she felt herself become . . . disconnected from her body, as what she'd always thought of has her soul came free. Despite what she'd told Dawn, this *was* amazingly similar to astral projection, though there was less of her 'along for the ride' than there would be if she'd chosen that path.

She forced herself to concentrate, shoving aside irrelevancies. This was just as, if not more, dangerous than projection was. If she lost focus at the wrong moment, she'd never get back. Tara, of course, was there to supervise, much as she had when Tara had first noticed the Buffy, Faith body switch -- though they hadn't realized exactly what had happened at first.

She frowned. She was doing it again.

A deep breath -- though she didn't have a body to breathe *with* -- helped to calm and focus her thoughts, and she once again turned her attention toward the house.

She grinned crookedly as she 'floated' toward it. This always felt like flying to her. It was both a curious and a freeing feeling.

Carefully avoiding the protective spells -- which was harder than she'd thought it would be -- Willow eased through the wall. She almost laughed then. That little trick had been *so* much easier the Halloween she'd spent as a ghost. She could still remember Giles' reaction when she stepped through the wall in the library. If only she'd had a camera -- of course, even if she'd had one, she wouldn't have been able to actually *use* it, but it was the thought that counted. Right?

The inside of the house looked amazingly like the simple farmhouse it had originally been built to be. Willow half-expected to see a woman, with her long brown hair pulled into a bun at the nape of her neck, bending over the still and cool stove; to see a large, muscular man -- with stubble lining his jaw -- come striding in from his farm work to sit down and enjoy his wife's cooking.

She sighed. The house actually seemed empty -- at least to her eyes. Dust pretty much covered everything, though the thick coating was scuffed in trails where people had come and gone. She extended her senses outward, alert for any trace of magick or of people. Other than the guards she already knew were outside, this floor -- and the one above it -- were completely empty. Frowning, she looked more closely, inspecting for traps -- of any sort. She hadn't expected this.

Nothing; absolutely nothing out of the ordinary on the main floor. No people, no magick, no *anything*. As far as she could tell, the second floor was the same.

She turned her attention toward the basement, drifting silently over to the door that *all* of the scuffed tracks led to. At least she knew someone was down there -- several someones, in fact. For more than a moment, she'd thought maybe everyone had cleared out, and it hadn't set well. She didn't want these people to get off scott free. That just wasn't in her cards.

Reaching out, once again, with her magical senses, Willow couldn't feel any traps on the door -- which surprised her -- but, she supposed, that could very well be because of the number of people using it. Allowing herself to continue drifting forward, she braced herself for passing through the wood.

Sparks flew around and through her, feeling like tiny lightening bolts blasting her apart. She reeled, everything going dark for a split second before she was blasted backward. She flew through the outer wall of the house -- receiving another blow as she rammed through the outer protections. Had she been in physical form, she would have landed painfully on the hard ground. As it was, it took her several precious moments to gather her wits around her enough to flee back to her body.


Sitting bolt upright as she slammed back into her physical body, Willow cursed silently. The two waiting for her, peppered her with urgent questions.

"What happened?" Tara asked, her voice thin and frightened.

"Did you find out what we need?" Dawn asked, sounding more excited than anyth

"Oh, hell!" Willow exclaimed as her eyes finally obeyed her commands to focus. The entire house was lit up, and as the words left her mouth, the front door opened, and armed person after armed person spilled out into the suddenly bright yard.

"Shit!" Dawn exclaimed, tensing. It nearly drown out Tara's quiet, "Oh, no!"

Shoving down her fear -- and her excitement -- Willow quickly began chanting. They'd been prepared for this. She just hoped their preparations would be enough. She was glad to see Tara begin chanting, as well as Dawn quickly begin to draw weapons out of the bag that had, until now, remained ignored behind the three of them.

**

The door jerked open just as they reached it, Angel glaring at the two of them. "About time you two got back," he snapped angrily.

"Back off, Deadboy," Xander threw back at the vampire, pushing past him.

Spike followed, smirking, but remaining silent. It was then he wondered what had brought the other vampire to Sunnydale in the first place. It seemed like rather amazing coincidence for him to be here, now.

Angel rolled his eyes, but made no further comment as he shut the door behind the two of them, locking it.

Spike hated the wave of fear that rolled through him at the sound. He didn't fully understand it, either. It had been a *very* long time -- except for that brief time he'd been confined to the bloody wheelchair -- since he'd actively feared either Angelus *or* Angel. He actively buried the feeling, striding across the room to drop onto the couch.

"So," he asked, "what are we going to do about getting even?"

**

Dawn breathed a sigh of heart-felt relief as she gazed around. Everyone that had come barreling out of the house, lay on the ground -- out cold. She'd had cause to be thankful for Willow's magic before, but never so much as now. This was the first time she'd seen it up close and personal; the first time she'd *seen* it affecting her directly. If Willow hadn't been able to put them to sleep, they would have tried to kill her. She frowned as the three of them picked their way through the bodies. It was hard to believe they were all just . . . sleeping.

"They're just sleeping," she asked, suddenly nervous, "right?"

Ahead of her, Willow nodded.

"What did you trigger?" Tara asked as they reached the front door. "And is this everyone?"

"I missed a trap of some kind on the basement door," Willow replied, frowning in turn. "I checked, but didn't see *anything*."

"A trap *and* some kind of cloak, then," Tara mused.

"Yeah, had to be, and that worries me."

"Why?" Dawn demanded instantly.

"Because," Tara replied quietly, "it means the spellcaster that cast it is stronger than we thought."

Willow nodded in agreement. "A weak caster couldn't have hidden from me the traces of magic my magical trap would have left behind."

"Oh," Dawn replied, downcast. "Not good."

"No, not good. Very bad, in fact."

"Did you sense anyone with magical ability in there?"

"Not really, Tara. A few with very minor traces, but that's it."

"Do you think they're still here, then?" Dawn asked.

"No," Willow replied with a quick head shake. "I'm still sure about that. Whoever set up the wards isn't here."

Dawn wasn't so sure. If they could hide the trap, why not be able to hide themselves?

"And no, this isn't everyone."

Dawn followed the other two as they crept into the house, all three of them listening carefully for any trace of more attempts to keep them out. It was painfully quiet, and Dawn shuddered briefly. All this quiet and sneaking around was getting to her. She wanted to kick some butt, not sneak in all quiet like.

"How many more?" Tara asked just loud enough to be heard as they slipped into the house.

"At least six," Willow replied.

Dawn barely heard her, the dusty, plain-old *emptiness* of the place spooking her more than she had imagined it would. A loud crash from beneath them, sent her a good three inches off the ground, and gasping for breath. She almost screamed, thankful that she managed not to.

All three stood stalk still as they dropped into fighting stance, waiting.

**

The three of them huddled over Xander's kitchen table, Spike feeling uneasy. He kept wanting to look over his shoulder to make sure he was safe. It was unsettling, and he didn't like it one bit. Part of him knew it had to be caused by something that had happened during the time he couldn't remember, but another, deeper, part of him didn't care why. That part of him didn't want to be in this room.

"I don't know much about the house," Xander said softly, pointing the make shift diagram they'd made. "I've been by it before, but never really paid any attention to it."

"It's got the greenery cut away from around it for about six feet out -- no grass even," Spike said, suddenly seeing it very clearly in his mind.

Xander jerked his head up to stare at him speculatively. "That's new since the last time," was all he said. "Probably didn't prep for this."

Spike nodded in agreement, his unease growing. "Makes sense."

After hastily drawing in the new information, Angel threw down the pencil he'd been using. "This is ridiculous," he exclaimed. "We have to go out there and scope it out before we can plan effectively."

"Sounds like a plan," Spike replied instantly, happy to be anywhere but here. Truth be told, he didn't want to plan; he just wanted to go kick some arse! He strode out of the kitchen.

"Wait," Xander called out at the same moment Angel ordered, "No."

Spike stopped because of Xander's request, turning to glare at Angel before turning his attention to Xander. "What?"

Xander glanced down sheepishly before looking back up to meet Spike's questioning gaze, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I know you're not going to like this, Spike, but. . . ."

"But *what*, Harris?"

"You're not going," Angel said bluntly, cutting in before Xander could reply.

"Sod that!" Spike spluttered angrily.

"Stay out of it," Xander demanded, rounding on Angel. "You're just making a bad situation worse! And while I'm at it, quit ordering him around!"

Spike's jaw dropped. *Xander* was defending him. It was . . . weird!

"Xander," Angel replied through clenched teeth, "You know he--"

"Shut up."

Angel gaped at Xander -- right alongside Spike.

Xander took the opportunity made by the shocked silence to turn his attention back to Spike. "He's an ass, but he's got the right idea. You really *shouldn't* go on the reconnaissance."

"Oh, you have *got* to be kidding me?" Spike demanded. "I'm going, and that's the end of that discussion."

"No, you're not!" Angel shouted.

"Angel," Xander replied, a patently false smile plastered across his mouth, "would you kindly stay out of this discussion."

"Argument," Spike threw in -- just for the hell of it. They both took about half a second to glare at him before returning the deadly looks back to each other. Smirking, he lapsed back into silence.

"No, I don't want Spike going, and the only way--"

"How the hell long have you know him, Angel?" Xander burst out. "A century?"

Frowning, Angel nodded. "Close to."

Xander shook his head, his exasperation obvious to anyone with the wits to see. "And you *still* haven't figured out that he doesn't *do* orders?"

Spike laughed, startling the other two.

"What's so funny?" Angel asked, rolling his eyes.

"You. The git's right, you know," Spike explained. "Besides, you don't have the right to order me around anymore," he continued firmly.

Angel gasped, his eyes briefly flashing gold, pain visible in his expression.

Now it was Spike's turn to roll his eyes. "Not because of *that*," he said, continuing half-under his breath. "Idiot." He shook his head at Angel's suddenly confused look. "You lost that right the second you got all soul having and took off on me and Dru. You left us to succeed and fail on our own, ya nitwit."

"Not that you ever listened, even back then," Angel muttered.

Spike snorted. "Well, glad we got that settled. Let's go."

Angel growled.

Xander didn't move.

"Well?" Spike encouraged, impatiently gesturing toward the door.

Xander sighed, taking a small step forward. "Angel's contribution aside, Spike; I still don't think you should go."

"Oh, bloody hell, Whelp. Why not?"

"What happens if you suddenly get a memory flash at a bad moment?" Xander asked patiently.

Spike's eyes narrowed. "I'll deal. You're *not* leaving me here."

"Damn it, Spike. What if it's a really *bad* memory?"

"Harris -- *Xander*, I'm a demon, I survived Angelus. Suddenly having a new memory of having the crap beat of me *isn't* going to debilitate me -- guaranteed."

Xander threw up his hands in frustration, several unidentifiable expressions crossing his face. Spike, however, was getting a mind full of the boy's odd mixture of worry, embarrassment, and growing horror. That last had him confused.

"I am *so* out of my depth here," Xander finally said. "I just don't know enough to know if I'm over reacting and it's all just old hat to you. I mean, as far as I know, it happens on a regular basis. They say that, even with plain old humans, it's all about power. So, what would one more power play be to a demon? As far as I--"

"Breathe, Xander." Spike said suddenly, striding forward to grip the young man by the shoulders. He waited a moment, giving Xander a chance to do as he'd asked, and to catch his eye. "Why don't you just spit it out? We, *I*, can't answer your concerns if we don't know what the bloody hell you're babbling on about."

Spike almost shifted as Xander blushed, *deeply*, the color of his face giving a beet a run for its money, the scent of blood that close to the surface of Xander's skin tantalizing beyond belief. **What the hell?**

"Well," Xander began cautiously, "I've done some reading, so I *do* know that gender's not really an issue with vampires -- at least not all that much. And that, that kind of thing is pretty much par for the course between--"

"If you're trying to imply that Angelus and I had sex, yeah, we did. Point?"

Xander groaned. "I *so* wish I didn't know that." He glared. "I could *really* have lived without the mental image; *thanks*."

"Point?" Spike repeated, this time, barely restraining a growl. He wasn't particularly fond of reliving *those* memories, either.

Xander took a deep breath. "Wasitalwaysmutual?" he asked in a rush.

Spike blinked in surprise, trying to sort out the single word sentence. "Huh?"

"Was it always mutual?" Xander asked again, this time not meeting Spike's gaze, his eyes locked somewhere near his feet.

Spike snorted. "Okay, you can *not* be asking what it sounds like you're asking."

"He's asking if I ever raped you, Spike." Angel said tightly.

"What?!" Spike asked incredulously. When Xander didn't answer, in fact, didn't say anything at all in response, Spike realized that was *exactly* what Xander was asking. Past the shock that Xander had, had the balls to ask something like that, past the uncomfortable tightness in his gut that was gro eve ever harder to ignore, past Angel's immutable silence behind him, Spike shoved aside the worry about *why* Xander wanted to know.

He dropped his hands from Xander's shoulders, stepping back, giving himself as much mental space as physical. He shrugged as soon as Xander looked up at him. "Depends on your definition," he replied.

Xander blew out an explosive breath. "Either he did or he didn't, Spike. Not much leeway for 'definition'," he countered, glaring daggers at Angel over Spike's shoulder.

Spike was surprised when Angel remained silent. "Actually, pet, there is." He held up his hand, when it looked like Xander was going to launch into another protest. "If you go by today's pansy ass definition, then yeah." Spike could *feel* the anger radiating off the vampire behind him, but -- again surprisingly -- Angel stayed silent. "But, by *my* definition, no."

Spike frowned when that didn't seem to clear up Xander's concern. "Bloody hell! You're right, sex is a normal part of the Sire/childe bond, and *some* of it *is* a power play. There were times I was so pissed at Angelus I couldn't bloody see straight." Spike smirked. "Of course, I made sure Angelus *knew* it. Pushed his buttons, so to speak. Those were the times, he'd push. He'd use sex to try and control me. He'd hold me down using brute force, and use every trick in the book until I gave in."

Spike ignored the little voice that demanded he put the pieces together. He ignored the still growing fear inside himself.

"If you're going to go into such *detail*, Spike, make sure you tell *all* of it. Don't leave him with false impressions."

**Oh, *now* he chooses to speak. Pillock!**

"Fine!" Spike spat. "He used every trick in the book until he had me *begging* for it," he told Xander before casting a deadly glare of his own over his shoulder. "That better?" he growled. He didn't like admitting that, but better him than Angel.

"So," Xander asked quietly, "he never . . . um . . . until after you . . ."

"No, never," Spike repeated with an eye roll.

"That would have been an admission of defeat on my part, Xander," Angel explained quietly.

"Okay, can I say, huh?"

Spike sighed. **This is getting ridiculous,** he thought, shifting as he grew more uncomfortable with the conversation, but before either he or Angel could explain further, the wheels in the whelp's mind began to turn.

"Oh. Oh!"

Spike blinked. He hadn't thought it possible for the boy to blush any more than he already was. **Okay, time to get to the bloody point!**

"I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt, and assume that there is a *very* good re for for bringing this up," Spike began slowly.

//Oh, yeah, and you'd know what it is if you let yourself.//

**Shut up!**

Xander nodded slowly, but didn't speak for several seconds. "You already know I cleaned you up, right?"

Spike nodded. **Duh! We already *had* that conversation,** he thought angrily, tensing as Xander's words seemed to confirm the nasty suspicion his inner voice had been implying. "Harrisss," he hissed warningly. He was fast losing patience.

"All right!" Xander exclaimed. "You were raped."

Spike blanched. He didn't think it was possible, but he *felt* it happen. He felt what little blood was left in his body flood out of his head. "No," he denied firmly. **Not by humans!** He'd lived through many humiliations but that would be the last straw.

"Shit! I'm sorry," Xander hurriedly babbled. "Are you okay?" he asked, stepping forward and laying a gentle hand on Spike's shoulder.

Spike shook off his touch, stumbling backward a couple steps. "Take it back!" He shouted.

//Oh like *that's* going to change anything!//

**Shut the bloody fuck up!**

"I *said* take it back!"

Xander shook his head apologetically. "I'm sorry, Spike, I can't. I *saw* the damage."

Spike shook his head. He didn't remember it happening; it didn't happen -- period! His mind latched onto the next thing he thought of to change the subject. "What happened in the kitchen?" he demanded. "I'm uncomfortable in there. Why?"

"We had a fight, an argument," Xander answered immediately, apparently not at all thrown by the sudden shift in topic.

"Oh, you're going to have to do better than that, Harris," Spike retorted snidely. "An argument isn't enough to make me *need* to leave a room!"

TBC
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