DISCLAIMER:All of the characters appearing in this story belong to the WB.
RATING:This part is R, Some Buffy/Spike action
BACKGROUND: Season 4 story. You wanted to know what Spike's vision meant. Ask no more.

"So this is Hostile 17," Professor Walsh breathed in awe in one on the several Initiative computer labs. "This is the subterrestrial that has been eluding us these past months?"

Riley handed the vampire's limp form to Forrest who had been leaning silently on one of the multiple computer consoles. "Take him to containment cell 4 in the isolation section. Then search him."

Forrest nodded and carried the hostile out the sliding door, flanked by two other commandos.

Riley faced his mentor, "Permission to report."

"Granted," the professor answered.

"The hostile was sighted near the campus at 02:35 hours when he set off the subterrestrial anomaly scanner. The subject was apprehended at approximately 02:38 hours. He is currently being moved to the isolation section, cell 4. Request the immediate extermination of the subject."

"That won't be necessary Agent Finn. He will be of much use to the Initiative." Professor Walsh stated firmly.

"Permission to speak freely," Riley said stiffly.

"Again, granted."

"We need to kill Hostile 17," he said bluntly.

The professor raised an eyebrow, "Why would we do that?"

"It escaped once. It will try again, and to have eluded us for so long, it had to have help."

"All the more reason to keep it. Whoever helped it will come looking for it."

"But-" Riley became very agitated.

"Agent Finn, control yourself. We have recovered the hostile, and we are going to take the necessary precautions. We won't make the same mistake twice. The matter is closed."

"Professor Walsh-" Riley began warningly.

"I said the matter is closed." Walsh said shortly, and Riley reluctantly backed down. She inclined her head, saying, "You're dismissed." He stalked out of the room with a final glower at her. Ignoring one of her favorite student's attitudes, she rolled her chair to the screen monitoring containment cell 4 as Forrest and his group entered.

Forrest patted down the hostile's body, checking for weapons. He came across some tissues in one of pockets and hesitated.

One of the troopers nudged him, "Anything?"

Forrest straightened up, "No, he's clean."

"You heard that, team," Professor Walsh announced. "Hostile 17 is ours again, and we need some readings."

One of the labcoated technicians began to punch numbers into the computer. "First we need to check to see if the implant is still working. If it is, now that we have him in the lab, we will be able to get some serious numbers."

A screen came up, and the tech reported, "Implant working."

"Good," Professor Walsh rolled her chair toward a blonde technician's computer station. "Check the EEG now. What kind of waves are we getting?"

"I have some strange stuff going on here." He admitted. "I'm getting funny delta and beta wave combinations."

"Ned, bring up Hostile 17's old EEG," The professor ordered, and a short brunette at different console fiddled with his keyboard.

"Here it is." A new display popped up.

Professor Walsh stood and traced her finger along the waves. "Is this normal for a hostile of this type, Grueller?"

The blonde adjusted his horn-rimmed glasses on his new, "That's normal."

"Now cross reference it to the current readings." The display changed with the addition of the current reading.

"This is why it is so strange," Grueller said. "The new one has a big spike in beta waves and a loss of delta waves."

"Could this change be due to the subject being unconscious?"

"No ma'am. Both are the preliminary scans we do when the subjects are not conscious."

"So, Baker, what can we conclude form this?"

The first technician shifted uncomfortably. "It is possible that the implant is not working, but my diagnostic read clear." He paused. "If the implant is working, then something happened to this hostile to change how its brain worked."

"Like what?" Walsh asked.

Baker shrugged, "It could be an effect we haven't seen from the implant."

"And how should we handle this?"

"I would suggest continued observation, ma'am. See what happens when he wakes."

"Very good, Corporal Baker. Continue monitoring his condition." She checked her watch and stifled a yawn. "I've been on since before 18:00 so wake me in room 414 if there are any changes." She left the lab.

A collective sigh went through the three techs, and they had a chance to discuss the confusion they had been too disciplined to show their superior.

"Grueller?" Baker asked.

"What?" Grueller faced him.

"I know I'm the technical part of this operation, but don't beta waves mean conscious thinking?"

"Yeah."

"And aren't delta waves all about sleep?"

"That's true, too." Grueller answered slowly.

"Then how can an unconscious hostile give off lots of beta waves and very few delta waves?" Ned burst out from his chair.

"No clue," Grueller replied.

The pain woke Spike a few hours later. It assailed him from all sides, choking his thoughts. The cries of a hundred voices yelling in pain simultaneously hit him in the head. He put his hands over his ears, trying to physically block the noise out. It wasn't his pain; it was the pain of the demons around him, laced with a healthy dose of bone-numbing fear. He struggled to put up a shield which granted him immediate relief.

Blinking several times while the cries faded into the background, Spike became aware of his surroundings. He was in a too bright white room that he recognized as one of the commando labs. It was a different room from the last time because, not only was it slightly bigger, there were no other demons in sight. Peering through the empty electrified wall, he could clearly sense many somewhere nearby.

Fortunately none were too close, or he would have snapped right there. It was like being at Willy's again, only ten times worse because the agony and terror were real, not simply imagined. It was stronger too, with so many locked elsewhere in the underground lab. It leaned heavily on his hastily constructed shield, pushing hard. Spike drew his mental wall closer and concentrated on something else. He had to remain strong and sane if he wanted to survive this.

*Time to call the troops.* he reached into his left pocket, looking for Red's locator vial. All he found was the tissue Buffy had given him. The other pocket was tissues too. His horrified thoughts fled back to the time in Buffy's room. They hadn't treated his duster very well in there; it could have easily fallen out several times. He was in trouble, no doubt about it.

On the other hand, he did have Buffy's blood still. It was possible to live on that until help came. If it came . . .

He was tempted to glance up at the sense of watchfulness he was picking up from the scientists observing him. Tempting as it was to eat Buffy's blood now, he had to do it when his watchers were more tired. He would have to be stealthy about it, or they would wonder what he had eaten.

The suffering of those around him interrupted his train of thought as it began to worm its way past his first level of protections. Spike focused harder. *Think of something relaxing. Don't think about them. Don't move. Don't talk. Think about the Slayer.*

And that's what he did. *The Slayer. Beautiful. Blonde. Mine.*

"What happened again?" Professor Walsh asked.

"Hostile 17 came out of unconsciousness with a huge rise in theta waves and a small jump in alpha waves," Grueller reported.

"Theta waves? That shouldn't be. Theta waves only show up in children, and we've never seen them in a hostile before."

"I know, they are supposed to be only in children's emotional responses, but look here." He pointed to the screen. "First the betas and deltas disappear, then we get the big theta rise with the alphas, and now the thetas are cut off. Except the betas come back, so we are watching an even sample of betas and alphas."

"Which is almost as strange since alphas signal relaxation and betas signal tension." Ned commented.

"Bring up visual," Baker followed Walsh's orders, and the screens depicting various waves were replaced by three different camera views.

"It appears that the subject is curled up in a ball, sitting there." Baker offered, "How should we proceed? Do you want to try to question it?"

"No, let's monitor it for a day before we attempt that. Don't give it any blood yet, either. I don't want the drugs to change his reading. We need to study this subject as long as possible."

His slayer. He loved her. She was so beautiful, so strong, so bright. Nothing he had ever wanted, but everything he had to have. She had come to mean the world to him. And with the staring eyes of the commandos, and the agony of the demons hitting him unceasingly; she was all that kept him from going mad.

Buffy pushed the food on her plate around during lunch. Willow gave her an uneasy look. "Are you okay, Buffy"

"I feel . . .I guess a little off."

"That bad scary thing from last night still there?"

"Yeah, it's like, well, I don't know."

"Should we tell Giles? He might have some ideas," Willow suggested.

Buffy shook her head, "Tell him what? That I'm showing signs of supernatural PMS?" She rubbed her eyes once. "I'm okay. Nothing to worry about."

Spike dozed off sometime that night. He knew it was night because his body was in tune with the passage of day after centuries of needing to know. The problem was that when he woke up, his shield was down.

The misery was stronger this time. It drowned out his thoughts, all the fear and horror tearing away at his mind. He nearly lapsed into unconsciousness right there, but he realized with an awful certainty that if he lost consciousness, his mental protections would go down again.

The hurt was so intense it darkened his vision, entrapping him in darkness.

It was black. Black. Black-

The vision. Spike bit his wrist deeply to ground himself. For the split second in which he could hear his own pain over the clamor, he slammed his shields back into place. There was blessed quiet for a little bit as the other demons' emotions encountered his resistance. His relief was short-lived because his new shield began to bend inward from the combined pressure of so many.

Resolutely he tried to strengthen the shield. Now he understood the blackness in the vision. It was the conquest of his mind by the agony of the other demons. When Buffy came to rescue him, he'd already be crazy.

A blood-bag dropped from the ceiling. He made no motion for it. Yes, he was hungry, but the blood was undoubtedly drugged which would knock him out and bring down his shield that much sooner. There was no way he was touching the blood.

But he was hungry-

Maybe all wasn't lost. He carefully slipped a hand in his left pocket and unwrapped a tissue. Spike found the pill sized capsule, and he slowly raised his hand, placing it in his mouth.

Biting it, he was overwhelmed by the sensation of Buffy. He could clearly feel her skin, her hair. He could taste her lips and kiss. In his mind she turned to greet him, a brilliant smile on her face, welcoming him back. Their minds touched, and all was right in the world.

Buffy gasped as she brushed her teeth, looking in the mirror. She could sense Spike all around her. He was everywhere. Her heart swelled in response, feeling him so close she could touch him.

She spun around, searching for him. He had to be there, or she could not have been feeling him. No one was behind her. The sensations grew stronger when she merged deeper with his mind. It was so bright and joyful. Instinctively, she grasped at the ring she wore on her neck.

Then she felt it. There was an undercurrent of pain in his mental touch, and she grabbed desperately at it. She was too late because their contact suddenly faded.

"Professor!" Grueller called, "I'm reading a sharp spike in theta waves! It's higher than the last one! Beta and delta waves are slackening off with the alphas rising."

"The subject has become conscious and just bit its hand," Baker reported.

"Waves returning to yesterday's version of consciousness." Ned said as the waves changed again.

Professor Walsh sighed, "All right, drop it some blood, Baker. Ned, you summarize."

Ned sat up while Baker fiddled with some of his controls. "The subject went into its version of 'sleep' at approximately 04:00 hours and came out of its 'sleep' at 07:45 with a sharp theta rise with a some alpha ascent. The thetas have disappeared again, and we are viewing the hostile's previous pattern of alphas and betas."

"I'm reading more thetas!" Grueller shouted.

"What!" Professor Walsh said. "Has it taken the blood?"

Baker shook his head, "It's still in the same spot. The hostile may have bitten its hand."

"These are different from before," Ned commented as he compared screens. "The alpha waves have faded and the beta waves are getting stronger, though not as high as the thetas."

"That decides it. We'll begin to question him now. Monitor his responses." The professor ordered.

"Hostile 17."

The words broke Spike's concentration, and he lost his contact with Buffy. However after touching her, his shield was much stronger, and he was able to pay more attention to his scientific observers.

"Do you know where you are?" A voice asked from the ceiling.

He was not going to answer. He was going to tune them out.

"How did you escape?"

Spike fixed his eyes on a line in the white wall.

"Who helped hide you?"

He ignored the voice. No way would he reveal anything to them, not in this lifetime. All he did was scrutinize the image f his slayer who burned more brightly in his mind's eye than any sun. She was his only relief in this hellhole because he could not hide. He could not move, and he could not sleep.

Two days later, Buffy was seriously worried. She hadn't seen Spike in four whole days. The whole Scooby Gang now knew he was not around, but Giles assured them that Spike was simply deep undercover in the demon community.

It did nothing to reassure here. She went to Willy's who told her Spike had been last seen four nights back. He also directed her to the location of one of the old vampire nests where he believed Spike had been going next. At the nest she found three pathetically weak vampires who insisted they hadn't seen Spike before she staked them. The initial disappointment didn't phase her; she kept searching, patrolling until the early hours of the morning. Alone in the dark, she haunted the nearly deserted local demon hang-outs, desperate for some kind of sign that Spike hadn't disappeared off the face of the earth. Everywhere she could search, she did but came up empty-handed. Demon activity was below a bare minimum; she might have seen three demons at most in all her hunting.

The worry grew inside her like a plague. Spike had to be somewhere, but where could he be? Why hadn't he contacted her? Was he hurt? Was he dust? It bothered her in each waking moment and every time she tried to sleep. It ate at her, the constant uneasiness of not knowing. She couldn't sleep, she couldn't eat, and she could never stop wondering about him. Life without him hurt more than she had ever expected. She was so alone; she missed hearing his voice, seeing his face, and touching his heart. The world was a very dark place when she couldn't feel him.

On the night of the fourth day, Buffy was too restless to stop patrolling. Sunrise was mere hours away, but she did not want to return to her lonely bed without him, again.

At last she found herself at one of the workout rooms in the U.C. Sunnydale Student Center. Using her adrenaline and stored tension as fuel, she began to exercise like on possessed. She flipped, she spun, she jumped, she practically flew. With agility and strength Olympic gymnasts would have envied, Buffy tried to burn her energy in an endless circuit of tumbling passes. The punching bag she found suffered for her restlessness. She kicked and punched and kicked and punched until cracks formed in the vinyl, and her hands bled.

*Where was he?* Buffy slammed her left fist into the bag. She needed him.

*What happened to him?* She delivered a elbow jab, jarring her head.

*Where was Spike?* She raised her leg above her head in what was supposed to be a kick, but she collapsed as her exhaustion overtook her. She dropped to her knees, physically drained, and still far from comforted.

Willow Rosenburg, seeing her roommate had not returned from patrol, called Giles for an emergency meeting with the rest of the gang.

Riley Finn watched the proceedings in the student center with avid interest. He walked into one certain workout room, locking the door behind him.

Her head jerked up at the sound of someone entering the room. Inside her heart leapt. *Spike?*

It was Riley, and he had a worried expression on his face. Buffy's eyes narrowed; there was something wrong with his body language.

"Buffy? Are you okay?" He sounded too concerned.

She struggled to stand, "I'm fine."

"It's 4 am. Why are you here?" He offered her his arm.

She waved it away. "I couldn't sleep." Buffy studied him suspiciously, "Why are you here?"

He folded his arms across his chest, "I can't tell you. You made it pretty clear that you wanted nothing to do with me or my job."

"Then why didn't you stay away?" Buffy tried to walk by him, but he caught her arm.

"Because you don't have any idea how deep the game you're playing is." He pulled her close, letting her see the anger in his eyes. "I could have protected you, but you chose someone else."

"You don't have a clue what you're saying?" Buffy could see the red-tinged madness in him.

"I saw you!" he howled at her. "You and that monster! I thought you were the Slayer! It didn't look like you were trying to slay it, unless screwing it to death is some new strategy?!" His grip tightened on her hand, making the bones creak.

Buffy lashed out with all the wrath she suddenly experienced at his words. Her left foot collided with his face in a brutal roundhouse. She drove her right fist into his ribcage, following it up with Spike's signature Muay Thai spin kick. As Riley hit the mat, she landed in a picture perfect fighting stance, her face set in a stony mask.

"No one, and I mean no one, messes with my boyfriend. Not you, not your little commando pals. Got it?" On her last word, she stomped down hard on Riley's crotch.

She turned, ran to the door, and found Riley had locked it. Not bothering to wait, she tore the lock off.

As she sprinted out she heard Riley's parting shot, "You think you can take on the Initiative?"

Arriving at her dorm room, Buffy found Willow wasn't there. She had started to look for a note of some type when something on the floor, almost under her bed, caught her eye. She bent down to pick it up.

It was a glass vial full of some weird herbs. Her heart almost stopped as her tired brain recognized it. Willow's locator spell. If it was in her room, then Spike didn't have it. Her mind flashed to the last time she had been with him. It had to have fallen out onto the floor.

*He doesn't have it. I won't be able to find him.* She squeezed it, causing it to shatter. Bits of glass cut her hand open, and she ignored it. She curled up in a little ball on her bed in tears, clutching the ring on her neck. That was how her friends found her when Willow led them to the room because of the spell going off.

The world was a very hazy place for Spike. It had been three days since his last meal. He was weakening under the endless assault on his barrier. The two pills he had left were burning a hole in his pocket, yet he held off using them. He needed to save them until there was no other choice. He was so hungry.

Sleepy too. It had been three equally long days since he last caught some Z's. Refusing to answer the scientists boring pointless questions made him even more tired. Speaking of the scientists . . .

Spike looked up at the camera, for he felt a flurry of activity among them.

"How long has it been since you three last took a break?" Professor Walsh asked her technicians.

"Twenty some hours ago," Ned admitted. "We've been taking turns at cat naps."

"Has there been any change in its condition?"

"Not really. The hostile won't respond to questioning, it hasn't gone to sleep in over 72 hours, and we haven't seen a theta waves since it last woke," Grueller recounted sleepily.

"It hasn't moved since it woke either," Baker reminded them.

Riley Finn entered, "Need a hand in here, Professor?"

Walsh regarded him for a few seconds and looked at her almost asleep technicians. Sighing, she nodded, "Actually, Agent Finn, I need you to take-" she flipped to her on-duty roster. "-Graham and Forrest to move Hostile 17 into a containment cell adjoining the Pit."

"Professor?" Ned sat up straighter. "Are you taking us off this case?"

"No. I want you three still on this case, but we've seen all we are going to see from here in isolation. We'll be able to see how the subject reacts toward the other hostiles. We will have more equipment and people at our disposal in the main lab. Besides, once he is moved safely, you can get some sleep before exercise time."

"Sounds good," Grueller yawned at the mention of sleep.

"So, Agent Finn, get your team together and move the subject."

The electrical filed was shut down, and three commandos entered his cell. Spike identified them as Riley, the Forrest bloke he'd rescued sometime back, and someone he didn't know.

Riley hauled him to his fee, "Walk."

Their skin touched briefly, but that was all it took. Spike was forced to see directly into Riley's mind. Riley hated him with murderous intensity because of Buffy.

Spike's vision swam. Riley had seen them. Only that wasn't all; there was some alien taste running in Riley's veins, but it had an outside source. There was something, Spike could vaguely sense it, hanging like a dark cloud over Riley. Formless, it floated around Riley, reaching black claws into Spike's shield and almost breaching it in the single touch. Whatever it was, it was more powerful than anything he had ever encountered and was shrouded to his inner sight.

The hate that was Riley's and the darkness flowed over him and was near overpowering him. There was no doubt in Spike's mind that Riley was more than willing to dispose of first him and then Buffy. Fortunately, the contact was cut short, and he found himself back in his own head.

*No. I won't let you do anything to her, mate.* Adrenaline surged in his system, and he formed a quick plan.

The three commandos escorted him under the camera in his cell and into a hallway. That was when Spike implemented his chosen course of action.

He stumbled, not much of an act in his condition, and fell into Forrest.

His face even with Forrest's, he whispered, "Buffy, tell her not to come." Spike reinforced the urgency of the message by shoving his thoughts at Forrest. Forrest's eyes widened as their minds touched but did not resist.

Hands pulled him up roughly. Riley again. Spike was prepared this time because he didn't let the darkness take another shot at him.

Riley dropped a hand to the taser on his belt. Spike tensed; he could not lose consciousness or that would be it, the end.

Forrest caught Riley's hand. "We need to get him to the cell. I've seen the report. This hostile has not slept for 3 days and not eaten in 4. He is in no condition to threaten us."

"It's still dangerous."

"It's 06:00 in the morning. You've been out all night patrolling. We haven't. We can handle this."

Riley let Spike go. "Fine." The resentfulness was apparent, but he let Forrest and the other commando take hold onto Spike.

The two pushed Spike into a huge white arena, lined with over fifty cells, all holding other 'hostiles.' The Pit was encircled by overhanging catwalks with several snipers guarding the place at all times. He was placed in a cell next to some old gypsy man and left alone.

Spike sat down as the adrenaline faded from his system. The walls began to close in on him, for the strength of the surrounding emotions multiplied exponentially now that he was close to the other demons. With no effort at all, it tore through his shield, again.

He felt himself being pulled into the darkness of the fear. His hand scrambled for the pills in his pocket. Finding one, he put it in his mouth, tissues and all.

The connection snapped quickly in place. Buffy. She was his lifeline, his hope. Everything faded in comparison to the shining light of her soul. She could feel his pain, and she let him use her energy to rebuild his shields from top to bottom. He could sense her worry, and he could not reassure her of his safety. Her sadness pierced his heart, but her love healed it as well.

A blinding pain cut off his contact.

Fear for her filled him for a second. Then he remembered in her touch that she had been in a safe place. She had not been afraid for herself, only for him.

Alone again, his shield was swaying as it was constantly buffeted by the suffering of those around him. Whatever Buffy had done, it had worked. She had saved him; he was much stronger now. He could make it.

A voice from another cell called to him, "William the Bloody?" It was the old gypsy man.

Though Spike did not reply, the man kept speaking, "So you're the only one to get out of here. Welcome to Hell." Spike did not move from his position leaning against the wall.

"In a few hours they'll let us out of the cells for our weekly exercise time. Walk out on your own. If you don't, they'll zap you and drag you out anyway. Trust me, you want to be awake when you are out there."

The advice was useful; Spike needed to stay conscious. It would not do to lose his new shield.

He would need to conserve his strength for this exercise time. He had to be prepared to protect himself. Who knew what the hierarchy of power was with the neutered demons when they were let out of their cages.

The gypsy had said he had a few hours. That gave him time to think about his Slayer, again.

Buffy tore her arms up, snapping the restraints. She could feel Spike again. He was hurting, and she tired to soothe his pain. She sent him her energy and love, lending him her strength. He was so close she could practically reach out and touch him. She needed to find him, now.

Abruptly she lost consciousness. "Sorry, Buffy," Xander said sadly, holding the wooden baseball bat he'd hit her over the head with. "I had to do that."

Willow lowered her frying pan, "You sure she's out? Remember the time we tied up Cave-Buffy?"

Giles shook his head, "I think she's out." He set his candlestick down on his counter.

Anya examined Buffy lying silent on the wooden chair. The gang had brought her to Giles's house after they found her looking so terrible on her bed in the dorm. She'd tried to fight them, but it was rather half-hearted and did more damage to her than them. Rather than let her injure herself, they'd tied her to a chair where she had been sitting quietly until just then. Anya reached for a silver chain she had never seen before on Buffy's neck, asking, "What's this?"

A hand shot out and shoved Anya down. Buffy was awake and angry. She snapped Xander's bat in half as he attempted to get close to her, and then she kicked Giles's feet out from under him. "Mine!" She launched herself past Willow and out a large window, shattering glass in all directions.

As Buffy ran off Anya said from the floor, "I don't think she was out."

"Thanks, Sherlock," Xander said, looking at the two useless piece of wood he still held. "I think I liked Cave-Buffy better. This one is a more like Angry-at-the-world-Buffy."

"Heaven only knows what she's going through," Giles answered getting up himself.

"We have thetas again!" Grueller yelled.

"Where are they?" The professor called.

"The hall. No cameras," Baker announced.

"We'll have to get a full report on this then." Walsh said.

"Waves are gone," Grueller added, tapping a key.

Professor Walsh moved her new chair toward Grueller in the much larger lab they had relocated to before the hostile had been moved. "Baker, tell me when they reach the cell."

"Here they are," Baker told the lab. "Subject is laying against the wall in the same position it was in at the other cell."

"I've got thetas and alphas!" Grueller exclaimed excitedly. All eyes, including Baker's set, turned to look at him.

"Reading thetas and alphas just like when it woke up those two times." Ned commented, flipping up the old readings.

"Wait!" Grueller said, "Now I've got thetas and betas. Alphas disappeared."

Baker turned back to his visual screen, "He's still sitting there."

"Theta waves are gone." Grueller's disappointment was clear. "We're back to its usual alpha and beta pattern."

Professor Walsh sighed, "At least we got a new reaction here. I'm sure someone will be able to analyze all this and come to some type of explanation. We'll probably have new data to look at in-" she checked her watch, "Four hours when we let Hostile 17 out with the others. Until then, I want you three to get some sleep." Her face did not allow any protests. "I will find out what happened in the hall. Now go!" As her techs departed for the officers lounge gratefully, she spoke into her comlink, "Agent Finn, could you come up to the main computer lab?

Buffy raced across the campus at 7:00, not sure where she was going. All she could think of was the danger Spike had to be in. Their contact had not given her his location; it only told her that he was in terrible trouble. She collided head first with a figure walking on one of the campus's many paths.

It was a masked commando. She swung into her fighting stance, arms up in guard position.

"Wait," the commando raised his hands in submission. "I have something for you. A message from a mutual friend." The commando tossed a folded piece of paper at her feet and ran ways from her.

She picked it up and unfolded it.

Do not attempt a rescue operation.

She put the note in her pocket and reached her own decision. The Initiative had Spike so she would have to get him out. But, if she was going to save him, she would need help. Resolutely, she headed back to Giles's.

"Let me get this straight," Xander said disbelievingly. "You hear Spike in your head."

"And one of the Initiative's commandos told you not to save him," Giles said.

"That's exactly what I told you," Buffy was tied to the chair again. All of her friends sat a good distance away with weapons trained on her.

"Which commando was it?" Willow asked. "Riley?"

"I don't know. His face was covered."

"Thus hiding his identity," Giles rubbed his chin. "Perhaps he is trying to help you."

"A mask would keep you from betraying him to the rest of the Initiative for helping Spike," Willow thought outloud.

"But why would he want to help Spike?" Anya pointed out.

"Why indeed?" Giles wondered.

"Because . . . because," Buffy spoke quickly, "Spike told me he rescued a commando almost two weeks ago."

"That would explain why he felt enough gratitude to tell you about Spike," Giles commented.

"Riley would kill him if he found out that one of his men told me; at least that's the impression I got tonight."

"You saw him tonight? When?" Willow asked.

"A few hours ago," Buffy said, smiling wearily. "I kicked him in the balls."

That perked Anya up, "You go, you."

"Can we get back to the part about you hearing Spike in your head?" Xander reminded them. "Is there a reasonable explanation for that?"

*Not one you want to hear.* Buffy thought since she had not revealed the true nature of her relationship with Spike to the gang. Ready to make an excuse, she opened her mouth, but Willow beat her to it. "Don't you get it? He is her Voice. He has a special connection to her because she is the Tool."

"Does Cordelia talk to Angel's head?" Xander replied patronizingly.

"Well, no, but Cordelia is no empath."

"Not even remotely," Giles agreed heavily.

"So maybe Buffy and Spike's bond is different," Willow offered. "It could be stronger."

"Then why does she only hear him sometimes if their bond is so strong?"

"I don't know." Buffy was very aware of how tired her body was. "I feel like I'm gonna fall asleep any second here. Can't you let me up?"

"No. Buffy's blood!" Willow almost shouted excitedly.

"No what?"Anya asked, confused.

"No as in we won't untie her. But I know why she can hear him sometimes. It only happens when he drinks her blood."

"Hold it here," Xander held up his hands. "How is Spike drinking her blood?"

Willow wrung her hands as she realized that she hadn't told the rest of the gang about it. So she explained it very quickly. "It's a spell. We made him little tablets to eat if he got captured. We drew the blood ourselves, no biting involved."

"Is that it, Buffy?" Giles asked his errant Slayer.

They looked at Buffy, but she was already fast asleep.

The electric wall faded, and Spike saw demons beginning to emerge quickly from their cells. Noticing their haste, he stood and walked out too.

There had to be fifty demons out there. They quickly formed several different factions. The few humans huddled together in one corner; the Kwaini and Listers held a side on the right farther from the humans. About ten vampires stayed as far away as possible from the humans, apparently their computer chips were working quite well. There were a few more groups scattered about, and so far, he was the only one not joining a group.

He quickly identified the group that was in charge. All the others gave them a wide berth which signaled to Spike why everyone was a member of a group. It was for protection from the mixed bunch of Fyreals, Mauras, and vampires under the command of a single Chaos demon. They were quite visible by the cocky attitude radiating off them and the answering fear the other groups responded with. Briefly Spike considered joining a group, but it was too late. The Chaos demon had already labeled him a fresh fish.

Seeing him as a potential enemy or possibly a new ally, the Chaos demon came toward him, followed by three of its posse. It lifted its antlers like it wasn't a prisoner, "Are you Spike?"

Spike said nothing, sensing the entire population of the Pit watching the confrontation. The whole place held its breath as word of Spike's identity spread from side to side.

"Our Hostile 17 may be in trouble here," Baker munched on an energy bar while he watched the screen.

"Why?" Grueller slid his chair over so he could see too.

Baker flipped on more screens, "Hostiles 25, 41, 37, and 43 are having a talk with 17."

"I'm pulling up their chip codes," Ned said, and four new images popped up next to Grueller's station for watching Hostile 17.

Grueller glanced back at his screen, "No change in 17 yet."

They watched the antlered 43 come closer to 17. Professor Walsh entered, and taking in their attentiveness, asked, "What's going on here?"

Swallowing his food, Baker reported, "Dominance battle between hostiles 43 and 17."

"17 has been challenged already?" Professor Walsh raised a brow. "It didn't try to join any of the other groups of subterrestrials? Is it moving out of 43's way?"

"No, it's not moving an inch," Baker told her.

"Are you Spike?" The Chaos demon repeated.

"That's Master Spike," a vampire said from behind its leader.

"I didn't ask you," The Chaos demon snapped. "I asked him." A collective gasp ran through the crowd. No one had ever ignored the demon like that before.

Spike wanted nothing to do with the Chaos demon. It was pointless, a tiny power play by a powerless demon. Ignoring the waves of anger he felt coursing through the demon, Spike turned away. If he'd had all of his usual powers, he would have torn its antlers off, but now he didn't have the energy to do it.

"Hey, I was talking to you!" The Chaos demon yelled. Spike kept walking. It roared and ran at his retreating back.

The fury punched a hole clear through Spike's ragged shield. He staggered a step like he had been physically hit as his mind absorbed the demon's emotion.

*Hot. Fire. Anger. Pain. Kill!*

Spike spun around and did something he had never tried before. He struck the demon in anger, not with his body but with his mind. He pummeled the Chaos demon full in the head, firing every synapse in its brain. He felt an echo of its pain in his mind, yet he continued to beat on it mentally.

*Hate. Hate. Die. Die! Kill! Die!*

The demon dropped to its knees mid-stride. Spittle dripped out of its mouth, and it choked against the pounding its mind was receiving. The demon's three friends ran forward; Spike didn't give them a chance. He floored them too with a wave of pure mental energy. They went down too.

*Kill! Kill them all!*

The fury of his own demon unleashed did not stop there; he threw it in all directions, forcing the entire Pit to its knees. With his power, he could crush them all. The blackness enveloped him, and he could almost hear laughter.

It was black. Black. Black.

That made him pull back. *No. No.* Dizziness rushed into his head as the strain of controlling so many minds hit him. Crinkling his face with exertion, Spike broke his hold mental hold over the others.

The occupants of the Pit raised their heads when the pressure eased. They looked at Spike with undisguised awe, no longer sure who or what he was.

That was fine by him, since he wasn't sure at that point either. Who had been in control there? Was it Spike, his demon, Spike and the demon, or something else entirely. He took several useless deep breaths, using the action to let him think of Buffy. It helped calm him, her beauty reviving his control and forcing the hungry demon back down.

Suddenly he felt a wave of fright swish through the crowd. Spike looked up to see a huge shadow step into the Pit.

"Holy shit! Theta waves off the chart here!" Grueller howled, "Beta waves on the up.

"Hostile 43 has just flatlined his EEG!" Ned shouted. "So has 25, 41, and 37!"

"All of the hostiles are on the floor!" Baker exclaimed.

A console beeped, and the voice of one of the snipers came over the intercom, "Code Yellow here. What do you want us to do?"

"Report, Ned!" Walsh called.

"Waves of 25, 41, and 37 are coming back up."

"Professor," Grueller interrupted, "Thetas are slackening off and disappearing."

"The hostiles are getting up," Baker reported.

"Fine." She keyed the intercom. "Soldier, do nothing." She looked at her techs, "Now we know how Hostile 17 acts when faced with other hostiles. Let's try something different," Walsh changed the comlink frequency, "Send in Adam."

Silence fell across the room. All of them had seen Adam once or twice since he had been put together a few weeks ago; he was the Professor's current pet project. A frightening mix of man, machine, and monster, his abilities were a big question mark, though he was unquestionably good at killing.

"Why?" Ned asked softly.

"Perhaps he can learn something from 17 that we overlooked." She tapped another button on her comlink, "Adam, I'm having Ned send you all the information we have on Hostile 17."

"Thank you, mother," Adam's deep voice crackled over the intercom.

"Hello, Hostile 17," The abomination said to Spike, who recognized pieces of Lister demons, Polgara demons, humans, and robots in its form. "I am Adam."

Looking inside its mind, Spike pulled back in horror at what he encountered. There was something inside it that he could not begin to fathom. A darkness was swirling inside it, reminding him of what he had touched in Riley. He was disgusted by the very smell of the strange mixture of bloods flowing back and forth in Adam's veins.

"You," Adam went on, "Are an anomaly. The first time you were here, you were very loud and physical. You blamed your capture on someone called the Slayer."

"This time though, you are silent. Are you aware that your brain waves have changed?"

Spike thought very carefully. His brain waves should have been different, but not in a scientifically explainable way.

Wanting to know more about the Initiative's thoughts on him, Spike reached past his shield to touch Adam's consciousness even though he knew the danger he was in. The blackness opened up, enfolding him in its darkness. Like smog it rose, obscuring his vision, an emptiness of thought and desire paired with a call for destruction. The blackness extended its hand for him, trying to pull him into Adam's darkness. Without any options, Spike fought back in simple self defense.

His mental bolt hit resistance in Adam's partially mechanical mind. An ache formed behind his temples, but Spike pushed harder at Adam, fighting the invading darkness. It was like an exorcism, kill the demon without before it got to him and freed the demon within.

Spike narrowly missed dying by taking a single step back. Adam's stolen Polgara bone skew swiped right past his torso. "Stop it!" Adam said harshly. "What are you doing?" Another swing, which missed too.

Deciding survival was more of an immediate concern that the attack, Spike ceased his assault.

"I do not understand what you did," Adam stated cautiously. "You did not touch me or speak to me, yet you were able to change my actions." Spike felt the darkness in Adam growing again, and he resolutely shored up the leaks forming in his mental protections.

A bell cut through the stand-off with its ring, and a voice over loudspeaker yelled, "Back to your cells."

Spike fled to his cell without looking like he was fleeing while the others did the same. He knew Adam was watching him.

Barely clearing the electrical wall, Spike collapsed against a wall as the weight of the agony of those around him crashed down on him. The encounter with first the demons and then Adam had taken a tremendous toll from his mental energy. The oppressive feelings flowed freely through the cracks that were swiftly forming in his tattered shield.

Not wanting to chance losing control or bothering to hide his actions, Spike ate the final pill.

He had her again. She was there, a prisoner in this as much as he was. Their touch brought him some comfort from all the suffering he had been surrounded by. The light of her soul illuminated the black that had been creeping in him. It erased the taint of Adam from his psyche, letting his shield be rebuilt on a strong foundation.

Then she sensed the unyielding waves crash into him over and over again. Unguarded she glimpsed the struggle he was fighting to hold on to sanity against the tide of madness. Her strength joined his for a second, blocking all the noise so he could relax in her.

Things were finally getting clear when he lost her again.

He did not have any idea what happened to her. All he could hope was that she was all right. He had no other choice. He wouldn't be able to rescue her from anything. In fact, she was his only hope.

She woke from her sleep and screamed, "Spike!"

His presence enfolded her like a warm blanket, only there were some tears in the blanket. Big spots had been torn out as if someone had been taking chunks out of her lover. There was so much pain in him. She tried to fill in the rips and pull some of the pain on herself.

She felt the crushing choking feeling of hundreds of cries filling her head at the same time. The sheer number of voices was incredible, causing her to whisper, "Spike, what are they doing?"

There was a prick to her shoulder, and she faced the regretful face of Xander, "Sorry Buffy." Her eyes fell to the syringe in his hand, and she lost consciousness.

"Where did you get this stuff, Giles?" Xander asked.

Giles said quietly, "It's the tranquilizers we used for Oz."

"How long will it keep her down?" Willow looked at her sleeping best friend.

"Several hours, I hope," Giles shrugged. "I'm sorry it came to this, but she is having some trouble here."

"She's going crazy," Anya stated. "I understand. We are going to keep her drugged until the Initiative kills Spike, which is when all of you hope this will stop."

"Unfortunately, yes," Giles admitted. "She is not thinking clearly. She is paying no attention to any danger or warnings of any type."

"Not that she ever did," Anya reminded him.

"Well, that's true too, but if she keeps going as she has, she will get killed."

"Plus our secret Initiative man on the inside told us we wouldn't be able to rescue Spike," Xander pointed out.

"But guys, is this the right thing to do, for us or Buffy?" Willow hesitated.

"Right, shmight. It's all we can do." Xander growled, "We can't get Spike out, and she's not going to try it alone."

"So, like I said before, we're leaving Spike to die."

"Better him than her," Xander replied angrily.

"We did have a simultaneous rise of thetas, alphas, and betas," Grueller said as a new technician cleared the display.

"He still hasn't spoken or slept," Baker mentioned.

"None of these wave patterns match anything we have on file," Ned reported.

"What about you , Adam?" Professor Walsh asked the huge figure standing beside her.

"I am not sure. I need some time, a few days, to study this information compared to all government files."

Glad he had the computer to do the work, Professor Walsh said, "Very well. Report back here when you find something." He left, and she watched her prized student depart with pride.

"Are you sure?" A voice said from the back. Riley Finn.

"Why?"

"In case none of you noticed, Hostile 17 was able to control all the hostiles in the compound." Riley leaned casually against the wall. "If I remember correctly, that would rank him as an alpha level threat."

Baker bristled at that, "Only if it did it to humans would that constitute an alpha threat. None of them were all human."

"Some were close."

Professor Walsh set her jaw, "And I hope you didn't forget our purpose here. We are studying these hostiles for the enhancement national security. So none of our subjects have ever acted in quite that way. Even if Hostile 17 was able to control all the hostiles in the compound, which we aren't sure 17 even did, imagine the weapon we could have." She studied his disheveled appearance. "Weren't you supposed to take off hours ago? I suggest you do so."

DISCLAIMER:All of the characters appearing in this story belong to the WB. You can find the Stephen King story in Skeleton Crew (I think). The song is called "Human" by the Pretenders.
RATING:NC-17. Some Buffy/Spike action
BACKGROUND: Season 4 story. You wanted to know what Spike's vision meant. Ask no more.

Three long days passed, and Spike was on the verge of losing control. It had been three whole days since he last ate anything. His demon was starving and fighting him. It rushed behind his every thought, hungry to eat something, anything. The pile of untouched drugged blood grew higher in his cell, but it was starting to look tempting.

The lack of sleep had drained his energy too. It had been six days since that. His vision came and went, sometimes he was afraid he was hallucinating. He spent lots of time watching the lines in the wall while he was relatively lucid.

When he wasn't, it was worse. More and more frequently, he had the feeling of being locked in a box, pounding on the walls that were getting closer and closer. His shield was so torn and beaten; he had pulled in as close to his body as he could. No longer the usual protective bubble, he wore it like a paper-thin second skin, ready to crumple at any second. The endless assault was taking a toll on him. So many cracks were appearing in his barrier that he rushed ahead filling in each one with desperate haste. His shield was the Titanic, and he was trying to bail out the Atlantic.

Sometimes there was a lull in the assault when more of the demons chose to sleep. That was his time to think of Buffy. Her smile. The softness of her skin as she kissed him. The caress of her body while he entered her. The knowledge that she loved him served to lighten the numerous dark moments of his lonely torment.

*Would she grieve when I'm dead?* he wondered. He had given up all hope of rescue at this point. Honestly, he wished they would not try. He didn't want his slayer to be captured. None of the crew really. Especially Red. He liked Red. She was good for his slayer. His slayer would need her once he was gone. He knew those self-sacrificing thoughts were a sign he was nearing the end of his sanity. All he had to do was be patient. It was so close to being over.

Waiting, that was what he was doing. Waiting quietly for the inevitable moment that would certainly come. His shield would break, and that would be it. The demon would probably escape to the surface and drink the tempting blood in his cell. Then the white coats would come and dissect him, like they had one of the Lister demons two days ago.

There had been lots of blood in the Lister. He saw it because they had done it in the middle of the lab. Orange blood had stained everything as they sawed its limbs off. *Lucky bastard. He was leaving this God-awful place.* Spike was actually jealous of him.

Maybe he wouldn't drink the blood after all. Hopefully he would kill himself. That would be fun. Funny though since Buffy had done so much to make him want to live. But he couldn't live with his mind broken.

Or he could do that thing he'd once read as a bedtime story to Dru. What was it, a short story by Stephen King? Yes, Survivor Type. By the end of the tale, the good doctor had run out of food on his deserted isle and had taken to eating his own body to live. Spike could try that, only if memory served, things didn't turn out so well for the doctor. He could start with his hands, those he could tear at with his teeth.

Either way, blessed, blessed death would finally silence the voices in his head. He couldn't shut them all out anymore. So much fear surrounded him. He couldn't run or hide. They found him no matter how small he made himself. It was the box he was trapped in from the vision, so small.

But soon. Soon the time was coming for him.

Willow was about to give Buffy her eighth dose of wolf tranquilizer when Buffy opened her eyes. It had been three days since Xander had administered the first one.

A terrible sense of foreboding flooded through Buffy. Whatever was going to happen, it would be tonight. Her eyes lolled frantically at Willow, who paused. "No. Please Willow," Buffy begged.

"Buffy, you're not well right now."

"Please," Buffy asked again. "Don't."

"I can't. I have to do this," Willow's voice shook, but she remained resolute.

"Please," Buffy saw her plea would be ignored. "Don't make me do - this!" She tore the ropes off her arms and grabbed Willow. She threw the syringe away, saying, "I'm sorry." Buffy slammed Willow's head into one of the bedposts she had been tied to.

Buffy freed her legs and recognized her surroundings. It was the converted bedroom on the second story of Giles's house. Her misguided but well-meaning friends were undoubtedly downstairs. Having no other option, she kicked out the window, and without a moment of hesitation or measurement of her odds, Buffy jumped out it. She landed on the lawn in a dead sprint toward the Lowell House.

Spike had been partially watching the commandos do their nightly patrol around the inside of the Pit when he saw something was wrong. One of the guards had stopped by his cell.

"Hello, Hostile 17," The voice of Riley Finn grated on his ears accompanied by the ugly emotions he carried in him.

There was no way to respond. Spike endeavored to avoid the darkness in Riley by pushing the hate he was being sent back at the source. Coupled with that serious problem, the army boy had a vengeance complex even more serious than his own personal demonic one.

Riley started to grin, "Was it good? Was she worth it?" His face became very cold. "Did she like it? Did the bitch like fucking a demon more than a human!"

Spike struggled to remain impassive. The anger was building in him, more than a match for Riley's. His demon growled encouragingly as the dual assault on his mental fortifications escalated. He bit his lip, promising himself that nothing Riley could say would make him lose control. He wasn't going to give him the satisfaction.

"Professor, someone is talking to our Hostile 17," Baker said from the visuals station.

"I'm picking up some low level theta waves," Grueller mentioned worriedly.

Professor Walsh looked up from her discussion with Adam, who said, "Get our man away from there!"

She scrambled to Baker's station and saw who it was. She flipped on the comlink. "Agent Finn! Step away from that hostile."

A tinny voice from Riley's belt said, "Agent Finn! Step away from that hostile."

Before he turned away, Riley smiled triumphantly and said, "Tonight a team and I are getting Buffy. Who knows, she could share a cell next to yours."

Those words were the final deciding factor in the fate of Spike and perhaps the world. Spike could handle being threatened; he could live with the pain in his head. But that . . . monster had threatened Buffy, his slayer, his love, his mate. There was no decision to make; it had been made the day he should have left Sunnydale, the day in church.

So it was no choice. There were no other options; this commando would die. Whispering a soft prayer that Buffy would forgive him someday, Spike did the only thing he could do.

*Riley must die,* was his last coherent thought because he tore down the final pieces of his shield.

Shooting to his feet, Spike threw himself at the electric wall. He bounced off painfully, but it only served to amplify his wrath. His demon flew to the forefront, tasting the bloodlust that was swimming in his veins. Then he let out a scream of such pure psychic fury that it dropped the entire compound to the floor. Humans, demons, all.

"Thetas! So many I can't read them!" Grueller shouted out. Then he felt it; it started as a tingle low in his spine, but then it flew up each nerve with razor-sharp claws until it hit his brain. Such incredible pain hit him that he convulsed and hit his head on the console in front of him. All around the other computer technicians fell where they stood. Even Adam stumbled back a step.

As quickly as it began, it was over. Professor Walsh stood and her eye fell on the Pit's visual display. "What are they doing?"

The floodgate had opened; the beast had been freed. No room for mercy or remorse. It had been done, and nothing would stand in the way of the new order. The demon ruled and knew how to use the senses that had brought it out. It would kill, maim, mutilate, and desecrate.He could and he would.

Spike turned his new-found savagery on the rest of the captives. He used their suffering and buried outrage to fuel the commands he was giving.

*Kill. Kill. Destroy. Kill them. They deserve it. Kill. Kill. Now! Kill! Die!*

The computer lab watched in horror as the entire population of the Pit, in the exact same instant, hurled themselves against the electrified walls. The first time it happened the lights flickered. The second time the back-up generator kicked in. "What is 17 doing?" Professor Walsh asked.

"I understand now. I can hear it too."

"What-" Professor Walsh had begun to turn when a bone skewer sprouted through her stomach.

"He says to kill." A conversational voice from behind informed her.

"Adam?" She choked out.

"Mother," He acknowledged, letting her body slide to the floor.

Ned scrambled for his sidearm, but the descending bone spear came down first. Blood splattered on the computers. None of the other techs had a chance.

Like an afterthought, Adam lifted a metal chair and tossed it into the central computer. The electricity went out, but more importantly, the chips quit working.

Adam calmly killed the guard outside the lab and climbed into an air duct.

In his cell, Spike felt the deaths in the control room and revealed in the rush it gave him. The electricity went out, and the Pit was bathed in the blood red of the emergency backups. Spike and his new army didn't waste any time getting out of their cells.

The group's anger ran high, and Spike swiftly found a target to direct it at. A squad of commandos had formed at the top of the stairs leading out of the Pit, weapons trained on the demonic crowd. They paused, aware that the chips might keep them from harming the guards.

Spike forced them to remember the pain. They relived every suffering in the Initiative version of a concentration camp. The experiments, the dissections, the loneliness, the fear, the helplessness. All of the agony they had endured was the fault of those guards.

It worked the mob into a violent mood, and they did no resist his next command. *Kill!*

The mob attacked with vicious courage, climbing the walls and stairs with Spike at the head. The demons cut through the ranks without any effort at all; their rage was incomprehensible. The guards were no match for the righteous fury of the long-imprisoned. Blood on their hands and in their mouths, the demons went after the next group of soldiers.

All Spike could see was red. Blood covered his hands. The heat of the battle was upon him, and the dark deadly power of the Gods was surging through his undead body. He absorbed every iota of the wrath in the others, running on their energy.

*Kill. Kill* His hands ripped out the throat of a commando. *Die. Die.* Spike gutted one from chest to crotch, not even flinching as the commando spilled open like ripe fruit. There was nothing but the evil joy of the slaughter. Something uncontrolled and feral was in charge, sparking bolts of sinister power from his hands while he pounded a soldier into a red sludge against a cement wall. *Kill.*

His army nearly sang as it slew all resistance it encountered, destroying the core of the Initiative in less than five minutes. After months in Hell, the denizens had turned on their masters with a vengeance. Crimson stained the walls, screams filled the air, and Spike loved every second of the carnage.

Forrest caught Riley's collar and pulled him back. "What are you doing?" They were in one of the back hallways.

Riley punched him, "Getting a squad together to stop the revolt!"

"Are you crazy? That's not a revolt! That's a full blown revolution back there!"

"They have chips in their heads."

A severed hand was thrown into their hallway. "Does it look like the chips are working?! We need to evac now!"

"No. We aren't letting this go. The Professor-"

"Is dead!" Forrest knocked Riley out with a blow to the head and dragged him away. He lifted his comlink and called, "Initiative members, if you can hear this, it's Corporal Forrest. I am calling a full scale evac. Retreat to the nearest exit. Engage hostiles only in self defense. Regroup at point delta. I repeat, do not engage. Retreat." He carried his unconscious comrade to one of the back exits as the fighting behind him grew louder.

Some commandos were unable to comply with the orders. They were already pinned down with no chance of retreat. Ten armed soldiers had chosen to make their last stand at the head of the stairway leading to the Lowell House on the surface.

Spike snarled as the commandos poured a surpressing fire into his demons. He was controlling them so closely that he was acutely aware of their pain. They wanted their freedom, they wanted it now, and they were willing to kill themselves to get it.

However, there were easier ways. Reinforcing the idea with strict commands, Spike sent the group toward the air ducts, the way he had escaped the first time. They complied happily with his order, for some of them could smell the clean air in that direction.

He wasn't going with them. He was going to get rid of these nuisances once and for all. They were going to die.

The commandos cocked their guns, confused as to why there was a lone hostile challenging them. Little did they know the danger they faced.

Eyes harder than stone, Spike reached out with his mind; his wrath boiling over. He had one dark intention for them

*Die. Die. Die.*

Their eyes bulged as they felt him capture their minds. For a second, he literally held their thoughts in his hands, nightmares, dreams, loves, and hates. He touched everything that gave humans souls, all that made them worthy of life. It was beautiful, pure perfection of their humanity.

And he violently flung his arms apart, tearing every fiber in their minds to shreds.

Ten faces screamed in terror when they felt every nerve catch fire and burst under the pressure. Blood exploded from their eyes, and their six pounds of gray matter underwent simotaneous cerebral hemorrhage in every cell. They died, minds fortunately too fried to know the incredible pain they were in. They simply tumbled to the floor where they had stood so defiantly before they had faced Spike.

The blood reawakened the hunger of his demon. He wanted to eat, but he did not want to taint himself with their dead blood. What he wanted was something warm and juicy. It didn't matter who or where. He needed some blood now.

He tried to open the door to the emergency stairs. It was locked. Pounding on it a few times had no effect. It made him angrier. Using the strength of his vehemence, he wrenched the steel door off its hinges and threw it into the empty Pit.

Beyond furious, he scrambled up the stairs, shattering the mirror door at the top. His hunger was all consuming now. He had been surrounded by so much blood and hadn't had any. It had been a long time since he had really tasted some from a live, kicking human. All he could see was the scarlet haze, the starvation that was overpowering. He stumbled out of the house.

Buffy got to the Lowell House in time to see Spike emerge. He was vamped out and looked like he had been in a battle of some type. There were red stains all over his arms, but she didn't care. He was alive, and that was all that mattered.

She ran to him, saying, "I love you," as unaware of her danger as the commandos on the stairs had been.

*Human. Alive. Food.* was all that was on Spike's mind. The meal had run to him and grabbed him. *Food.* He buried his fangs in its neck. It fought him, and he brutally used his mind to crush its resistance.

She shrieked in agony as the teeth pierced her skin. It hurt so much, and her eyes widened in realization. He was draining her!

Trying to struggle, she felt his mind catch hers. Unlike all previous times, it was no a gentle caress or an expression of love. It was a message of dominance and control, forcing her to go limp. And in that touch, she knew there was no Spike conscious in that body. It was all the demon. Spike could never hurt her, he loved her that much, but his demon was killing her.

A silent tear fell down her cheek, and everything went black.

Something hard hit Spike's mouth, interrupting the thrill of his live kill. He pulled his teeth out of his meal's skin and tried to see what it was.

A chain. He raised it up and found the chain had a large black ring on it. It was very familiar.

A revelation struck him, and the demon's control loosened. Spike shot back to the surface and gasped in stunned terror. It was his ring. And if it was his ring, then that meant the girl he was feeding on was-

*Buffy.* There was frozen silence in his mind for a second. *No.* Spike stared in mind numbing shock at her unbreathing form that he still held.

*No. Please, God. The vision. No. No. No.*

He fell to his knees. *I killed her. I killed her. I killed her.* He repeated it over an over again. As in the vision, he had taken her life. She trusted him, and he killed her. The love of his unlife was dead, and he killed her. He killed her. He killed her. He killed her. He killed her-

In a repetition of an action he had done less than five minutes prior, Spike used his empathic powers to strike another killing blow. Only this time he turned the powers on himself.

*Die. Die. Die. You killed her. You killed her. Die. Die.* And darkness took him.

A bolt of lightning cut through the sky, and the heavens let loose their wrath.

Cordelia Chase woke up, perhaps by the same bolt of lightning a few hundred miles away. She sat up and walked to her night stand. She carefully picked up a picture and fling it against the wall, breaking the glass into a thousand pieces.

Moving to the kitchen, she got a marker. She walked back to her bedroom, over the glass without reacting, and began to draw on the wall.

A worried ghost dialed the number of Angel Investigations. The phone rang and rang. No one answered. Angel was not in, off fighting a small clam of vampires. The phone continued to ring into the night.