Cause and Effect

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Chapter Twenty Eight
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**That voice!**

Spike turned slowly, panting, trying to control the fine tremors that shook his entire body. **Doctor!**

His stomach plummeted as he came face to face with his . . . betrayer. He shook his head as he slowly crossed the room, everyone, and everything, fading into the background as his focus narrowed to one man. He knew damn well who and what Doctor was -- the instigator, the man out for vengeance who had started the whole thing -- but his instincts said 'Betrayer!'. That his . . . trust of this man had been manipulated and *wildly* misplaced, didn't change the fact that he *had* trusted him, only to end up--

He cut off those thoughts. He ; he; he just didn't want to think about those last several hours -- the hours in which he'd lost his sight, his hearing, and *so* much more that didn't bare even thinking about. He suddenly changed pace. Closing the remaining distance quickly, he jerked Doctor up off the floor, completely ignoring the whimper his handle provoked. He was glad of it, despite the twinge from his chip.

"Doctor!" he growled, ignoring the frantic flutters inside him that asked what the hell he thought he was doing. He should put Doctor down. He should beg forgiveness. "NO!" he shouted, just barely restraining himself from shaking the human he held.

"Spike?" Dawn whispered hesitantly.

A part of him wanted to comfort her, but he couldn't. How could he comfort someone else, when he didn't even know how to comfort himself? He shuddered.

"Vampire?" Doctor asked, groggily coming to.

"No!" Spike hissed. "Spike, S.P.I.K.E, Spike!" Spike shook him then, remembering to be just careful enough that he didn't set the chip off a third time. "Say . My . Name," he ordered.

Doctor grinned. "Vampire."

Spike roared, rage -- and something he quashed, something he ignored -- washing through him, rolling over him like a tidal wave of mixed feelings. Part of him wanted nothing more than to tear Doctor into tiny pieces, and *then* feed the pieces to a pack of Swagnosh demons. That part warred with the conditioning he'd been put through, which had him wanting to drop to his knees, and plead with the human to tell him what it was he'd done wrong, ask of the human why he'd deserved the foul treatment.

A fist from just the left of his vision had Spike flinching away before he could stop the reaction. He dropped Doctor just as Xander's hand connected with the side of the human's jaw.

"I suggest you answer his question properly, asshole!"

Doctor's eyes widened, his glance darting from one person to the next as Angel, and each of the scoobies flanked Spike.

Spike swallowed. This many people, this close was . . . difficult, but. . . .

"Just who the hell *are* you people?" the doctor demanded.

"We're something *you'll* never understand," Xander replied coldly.

"That's right!" Dawn exclaimed.

"We're friends," Tara inserted quietly.

"Friends who stand by each other," Willow added, continuing softly, "come what may."

He belonged! Spike felt the telltale sting behind his eyes, his vision blurring. He blinked rapidly, trapping the tears. No way in *hell* was he going to cry in front of this man. It would be bad enough in front of everyone else here. "What's my name?" he asked again, quietly this time, though just as firmly.

"You will always *be* Vampire to me. I know you by no other--"

Xander's fist cut off his words. "Try again!"

Spike watched as Doctor remained silent, and Xander kept hitting him. Xander -- *Xander* -- was doing that for *him*. It was mind boggling. No one else was interfering. They were *all* letting Xander beat the tar out of Doctor, and they were doing it because of *him*. That was almost as shocking as Xander's actions.

Bruises -- beautiful, multi-colored bruises -- blossomed across the man's face and arms. Spike could only imagine what the hidden parts of him looked like. It was when Dawn stepped forward, delivering a vicious kick of her own, however; that something inside Spike snapped. He still wanted Doctor to acknowledge his *right* to his name. He still wanted to rend the bastard limb from bloody limb, but he drew the line at involving Dawn -- sweet, innocent Dawn -- in his thirst for vengeance and mayhem. It wasn't right that the 'Lil Bit be subjected to this.

"Stop," he said quietly, gently laying a hand on Xander's arm, and holding the other up to halt Dawn. "It's over," he continued, sounding far more sure than he felt. "He failed to get his revenge. He *lived* for it, and he failed. It's over."

He spun on one heel and marched out, hoping he could actually carry off this exit and not turn back, hoping the others would follow, hoping no one would ask *why* he hadn't wanted them to continue. He may have a soul, but that didn't mean he wanted everyone to know just how much of a . p . ponce he'd turned into in regard to Dawn. He was half-way up the stairs before he heard the first sounds of his . . . *friends* following, and through the pain, through the rage, he smiled. It was good to have friends.

**

Xander watched Spike's retreating back with something akin to complete shock. The bond between them reverberated with Spike's unresolved anger. He could feel the vampire's need to wrap his fingers around the man's neck almost as if it was his own. *Why* had he stopped it?

The others around him didn't move for several long seconds, the room deathly quiet but for the moans of pain and anguish from Doctor. He remained still, even after the others began moving slowly toward the exit. He quickly ran through the series of events leading up to Spike's departure, his thoughts grinding to a halt as he reached Dawn's participation. He let out the breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding when it hit him what Spike had done. If he hadn't already been convinced, that would have told him how much Spike really did care about Dawn.

Angel paused at the blasted out opening, turning around to look at him questioningly.

"I'll be out in a minute," he replied so quietly he knew that Angel would be the only one to hear him.

The dark haired vampire, looked over his shoulder at the retreating people, then back at him. Staring at him intently, Angel hesitated, then nodded once, understanding, and -- if Xander was any judge -- approval in his eyes. He remained motionless until he could no longer hear any of the others, Angel included, before he turned back to the moaning man.

"I'll bet you thought you'd made it," Xander said softly, eyes scanning the room. "I'll just bet you think you've actually won," he continued, finally seeing what he wanted, and striding across the destroyed room. Grabbing first the jar, then sifting through the mess to find a matching lid, Xander once again faced 'Doctor'. "Well, you'd be wrong. Oh, so very, very wrong."

"What are you going to do with that?" Doctor asked, working his way toward the exit as fast as his damaged body would allow him to crawl.

Xander grinned, though the expression had absolutely nothing to do with amusement. "I'm going to collect a . . . treat," he said brightly, stalking toward the cowering man.

Doctor's eyes widened. "No!" he mumbled. "You can't, please."

Xander paused, as if actually considering the doctor's words. He shook his head, dropping down into a crouch. "Yes, I can," he replied, suddenly lashing forward with the tiny knife he'd so recently used to cut his own wrist.

Doctor's scream was a gurgled, cut-off sound.

"This is for *Spike*," he said viciously as he yanked the knife straight back, making sure Doctor knew *exactly* where his blood was going to end up. Quickly positioning the jar to catch the crimson spurts of blood as it jetted out of the doctor's neck, Xander never once looked away. He watched as full horror set in. He watched the realization that death was near dawn on the doctor -- and the brief, futile struggle it provoked. He continued watching until long after the light died out of Doctor's eyes.

Calmly turning away, he fitted the lid securely onto the jar. Hurrying now -- he didn't want any of the others to come searching for him -- he quickly made his way to the sink and washed the outside of the jar as completely as he could. He didn't want any secrets revealed before their time. This little tidbit of . . . information, was for Spike, and Spike alone.

As he reached the front door, Angel was waiting for him. Xander frowned.

"When they noticed you weren't with us, I volunteered to 'go after you'," Angel replied, a quiet, knowing smile playing across his mouth.

Xander returned the grin, nodding in acknowledgement before letting his mouth twist crookedly. "Come on, then, they're waiting for us," he said brightly, then frowned. "Um, who's going with who?"

Angel snorted, the sound morphing into a disbelieving chuckle as they headed out. "Same cars we came in, with one exception. We're leaving the stolen bike here."

Xander smiled as he followed behind the vampire. Tonight hadn't gone the way he had expected it to -- not by a *long* shot -- but it had ended well as far as *he* was concerned. He just hoped everyone else agreed -- everyone else meaning Spike. He knew the others would be okay with it all . . . eventually, especially since they would probably never know just what he'd done after they left.

He just wasn't sure this was going to be enough for Spike. He supposed the only thing he could do was hope. Then he smiled as his vehicle came into view, and he noticed one semi-blond vampire leaning against the trunk waiting, watching, for him.