by Rob Sorenson

*********************Bavaria...Jan, 1975********************

In the night, the Black Forest was just that. The thick woodlands had been renowned for the great number of beasties wandering the German mountains. Most of those tales handed down over the centuries had been dismissed by outsiders as typical backward folk legends passed down by the uneducated over generations.

How wrong they were.

In fact, the forest was a veritable beehive of demonic activity. The relative safety of tree covered mountains that the majority of humans didn't venture into was an attractive selling point to the demonic underworld of Europe.

The trick, Hans Katzenbach reflected, was identifying the benign sorts from the bloodthirsty. In one of his more humorous reflective moments, he'd considered petitioning the Council to print ID cards for the demons who wished humanity no harm.

He rode quietly in his Mercedes, moving at a steady pace through mountain roads. Carefully he avoided icy patches in the January night. Temperatures had crept above freezing in the previous two evenings, and the current cold front had taken the prematurely melted snow and converted the winding paths into surfaces more suited for bobsledding than driving. His young companion shifted impatiently in the passenger seat.

"Can't you drive this bloody thing a little faster? I'm hungry."

He flicked his eyes toward the boy.

"Rushing into things was something your father and I had to learn to stop doing. Patience, even in the most dire of circumstances, will serve you well. Consider this an exercise."

The 23 year old merely rolled his eyes in response, not bothering to hide his disdain as the old git droned on.

"I haven't seen you in some time. The last time we spoke, you were doing exceptionally well in your training. Judging by your reaction to me, something seems to have blurred your focus."

This earned him a defiant stare. Katzenbach sighed inwardly. Clearly this was going to be a long couple of months with this youngster. As much as he would appreciate another set of eyes with the books and hands with the training, he wondered if the boy's attitude would be counter productive.

<One way or the other, he's here now. Hopefully he hasn't drank or smoked away his capacity for knowledge.> The early teenage boy he'd known had been remarkably astute; for this reason he'd accepted his old friend Nigel's plea to get the boy away from the bad element he'd been frequenting with in recent years.

It hadn't been uncommon to provide apprenticeships with young, eager Watchers, hungry to perform the duty for which they'd been ordained from birth. Particular emphasis was placed on the most gifted of students.

This young man was certainly not short of gifts. His intelligence had been nearly unrivaled in Council training history. He had knowledge within his head that ranked with the most experienced of Council members, including his legendary father and grandfather.

Katzenbach theorized that the pressure and expectations had been too much. Travers had pushed the boy terribly hard, relentlessly pushing and driving the child to heights that hadn't been reached before. It had been a near miracle that the inevitable breaking point hadn't been reached far earlier. Still, the German thought, everyone has their limits.

At 17, this boy who hadn't been permitted anything resembling the life of a normal teenager simply snapped. The rebellion had been swift and stunning: he'd simply left the grounds in the Watcher's retreat in the Cotswolds and wasn't heard from for three full years, despite frantic efforts of his family to track him.

The Mercedes finally reached the turnoff toward the isolated farmhouse, headlights briefly illuminating the glowing eyes of wildlife as he inched the vehicle slowly to the right, carefully avoiding any semblance of a skid. There was no need to give creatures of the night a solitary target by running off the road. After successfully negotiating the turn, he returned to his troubled thoughts regarding the young man seated next to him. The boy had lit a cigarette and was insolently blowing the smoke in his direction.

The 20 year old who had returned to Council headquarters was shell of his former self, strung out and surly. His family had sent him to a coven in Bath during the ensuing year, hoping to purge him of the dark magic that he'd been exploring. Clearly they'd negatively affected the boy; once he was cleansed he'd again be the attentive and dedicated student that his family expected.

This had achieved one desired effect; the dark magic was indeed cleansed from his soul. No power, however, could reverse the bitterness that had claimed him at the close of his teenage years. He undoubtedly felt anger that his childhood had been taken from him by ancient traditions, some of which were antiquated and pointless in Katzenbach's opinion. The societal upheaval of the late 60's and early 70's had transformed the western world. Not even the isolated confines of the Watcher's training facilities in the Cotswolds were immune to the sweeping changes.

Therefore the last two years had been a succession of failures. The boy had more than once fled back to London to reacquaint himself with the seedy underbelly of the city; at least in that place one was allowed to make their own way in the world.

Finally after one last retrieval mission his family had appealed in desperation, first to Travers, and more importantly to Katzenbach himself. Perhaps in an alternate environment on the front lines of their sacred war, the young man could find the focus he desperately needed to restore.

Travers, for his part, was immensely glad to relieve himself of the headache. More importantly, the situation provided him with some fascinating opportunities to explore in the near future.

Katzenbach felt a sense of loyalty to the boy's family. He'd been close friends with them his entire life; he'd trained side by side with the boy's father and apprenticed with his grandfather. There was really no other option but to accept the troubled youth and hope for the best.

The farmhouse had the classic steep-sloped roof of Alpine homes, thereby providing protection from accumulating snow; there were five bedrooms within it's three stories. The isolated nature of the place gave evidence to the origin of the Black Forest's name. People simply hadn't gone into this region for millennia, partially due to it's difficult terrain. Furthermore the stories of monsters lurking in the shadowy valleys had discouraged even the most hardy Germanic tribes.

Now with modern technology it was rapidly developing into more and more of a mecca for tourism within the country. When doctors prescribed R and R for the overworked German businessman the Black Forest region was often listed as the place to go.

The long standing unwritten rules of engagement, or in this case the lack of engagement with the demon population were gone out of necessity. The dark beings were sent fresh, city bred humans in ever increasing numbers, thus providing the purpose for Katzenbach's presence.

As he slowed to a stop, he looked almost involuntarily up to the second story window into the bedroom.

His heartbeat quickened at the sight of her looking out with piercing blue eyes contrasted by the warmest of smiles. Cursing himself for his weakness, he made his way out of the vehicle and began helping the boy with his baggage.

Before he knew it, she was there grabbing bags and carrying along with the two men, easily reaching the door before them. Once out of the bitter cold and into the warm confines of the living room the girl moved toward Katzenbach.

His eyes conveyed a warning and she stopped herself, rather awkwardly bowing her head to him. The German Watcher's eyes moved to the young man, noting the mischievous gleam that appeared in his eye. He sighed to himself again; clearly he'd have to deal with this later.

The boy was practically in awe of the female before them. Just over six feet tall, she moved with the grace of a gymnast and possessed forearms that had rippled with muscle as she'd carried his heaviest bags into the house. Light blonde hair combined beautifully with eyes of the lightest blue, tinged with an ever present sadness. Smooth, pale skin covered her, with the lone exception of hands calloused by years of hard physical work and training.

In a word, she was magnificent.

Katzenbach cleared his throat in a slightly awkward fashion and spoke, gesturing toward the boy.

"Allow me to make the introductions. This is the young man who is here to provide us with some assistance."

He turned his hand toward her, moving his eyes to the youngster.

"This is Inge Steiner, the Vampire Slayer.

Inge, meet Rupert Giles."

**************************************************************

Buffy was still staring at the door five minutes after Spike had made his quick exit, completely at a loss. She'd expected him to be deeply concerned, of course; she herself was worried.

Still, it was troubling to see him walk out so abruptly. There was more going on in her lover's head than simple concern.

"Talk to him, B."

She was startled when Faith broke her from the trance, turning her head in confusion.

"What?"

"Talk to him. He's upset about a lot of things besides this. I think he's worried about everybody, and this soul thing is still new to him. You're pretty much his anchor."

Buffy frowned. "I'm not sure I understand you."

"As long as Spike feels like he's protecting you, he feels ok about all the other stuff he's done. Well...maybe not totally ok; but he can deal if you're with him. The thought of you not being around makes him doubt himself."

"You sound awfully sure about this."

"Let's just say I can relate."

They shared a half-smile as Faith turned toward the door to head back to the hospital. She paused and turned back to her.

"I don't want to see you get hurt."

"Thanks."

"I'm just sayin', if this thing is really that dangerous, maybe we can find another way. Maybe I could do it."

"I appreciate the concern. Really. It's just--" Buffy hesitated awkwardly. "I don't want you to take this the wrong way."

"Just say it. I'm too friggin' tired to hit you."

"Willow and I have known him the longest. We've fought demons--and each other--for what seems like forever. Whenever I've taken down a Big Bad, they've been there. Most of the time I couldn't have done it without them. We know each other so well. If Xander is going to let anyone into his mind at a time like this, I think it has to be us. I can feel it."

Faith's face changed from an _expression of hurt to acceptance in a matter of milliseconds.

"Ok, that's cool. I'll go with whatever you and Willow think as long as he comes out of this."

"He's your anchor."

Faith nodded. "Yeah."

"Hold the boat steady. We'll get him back on board."

"I better go before we misuse the metaphor any more."

They shared one more slight smile and Faith took her leave.

Willow and Dawn were sitting at the dining table in the corner of the room, scouring the books the Wicca had brought in to concentrate on the mind-joining spell. Buffy stood and faced them.

"Guys, I don't think I'm going to be any help with the magical research. I was thinking--"

Her best friend and her sister spoke simultaneously.

"Go."

Buffy quickly left to find William.

Once Dawn was aware that she was out of range, even for Slayer hearing, she closed the book and leaned back into her chair.

"Willow, I'm still not sure about this."

"I'm not either if that makes you feel any better."

"Uhhh....no. I'd rather you tell me that things will go smoothly and everyone's going to be happy ever after. It's the little girl in me trying to hang on, I think."

"Sorry. Can't do it."

Dawn took a deep breath.

"You know, it was scary going inside your head. You gave a distinct impression a minute ago that it was easier for me because you were conscious and aware. I've seen some pretty bad things before, but that was seriously scary stuff. I wasn't going to mention it because you tend to get a major guilt complex over stuff that isn't your fault, but.....the trip into your Light side had some bumps that keep me awake at night."

Willow's eyes widened.

"Why didn't you say something? Oh, Dawnie, I'm so sorry. I was desperate at the time, and there was no other choice. God, if there were any other way I would have done it. Buffy is going to be so pissed at me for putting you through that. Maybe I could come up with a spell to make you forget the experience. I've done that before, and ok, maybe that didn't work so much...but I've improved. I'm sure I can make this easier for you. Jeez, I'm such an idiot to think you could be totally ok and--"

"WILL!"

The redhead jumped slightly as her jaw snapped shut.

"Now you know why I didn't want to tell you about it. I'll be fine with it. Really. I can deal with difficult stuff. The only reason I bring it up now is I'm worried for Buffy. If it really was easier for me I can only imagine what it's going to be like for her."

"Dawn, I'm not worried about Buffy. I trust her. She can handle herself. My concern is whether or not Xander will open up to her."

"Why, because he's shut himself down?"

Willow shrugged slightly.

"I can only guess here, but unlike mine, Xander's brain doesn't categorize things in black and white out of necessity. She's going to see just about everything that goes through his head. The goofy, the angry, the hurt, the silly.....and the personal."

Dawn raised her eyebrows. Willow blushed slightly.

"Will, are you telling me Buffy is going to see Xander's...you know....GUY thoughts? Does she know this?"

"No. I don't want to freak her out. Xander's sex fantasies aren't dangerous." She appeared thoughtful for a moment. "At least I don't think they are."

Dawn shook her head; she couldn't keep from smiling.

"I'd love to be a fly on the wall of his brain just to see the look on her face."

Willow smiled back. Eventually both were running scenarios through their heads and started giggling. Eventually, Dawn reverted to seriousness.

"Is she going to be ok?"

"Honey, I'm pretty sure I can get her back. I can't promise though. In the end, it's going to be up to Xander. I can get her in; he has to decide to let her out by letting himself out. For what it's worth, I trust him with my life. If he knew his condition were hurting any of us, he'd go through Hell to stop it."

"I miss him."

"I know. Me, too. That's why we're doing it. We need him."

They reopened their books and resumed their research.

****************************************************************

William was lying shirtless in the dark as Buffy silently entered their room. She stood awkwardly next to his pale form, his lithe body making her heart flutter slightly.

"Are you ok?"

He shrugged slightly.

"Am I getting the silent treatment all night?"

"I did it for all of you."

"I'm not following you."

"I killed him for you. I killed him because he would've killed us all if he had the chance. He wasn't going to stop."

Buffy didn't know what to say. She simply nodded.

"I snapped his neck and threw him into the water."

"I know."

He looked hard at her.

"It means nothing if you're gone."

She unbuttoned her blouse, slowly removing it and sliding next to him on the king bed.

"You're trying to bear this burden all by yourself. It isn't fair to you."

"I did it for him, too. For Xander. He tortured the boy. No one deserves that. I was starting to tolerate him. We were becoming friends. That's a bloody miracle, Buffy. I did it for Willow, and the nibblet. Everyone."

She put a hand over his chest, planting soft, moist butterfly kisses on his forehead as he sighed. He rolled to his side to respond to her tender ministrations. She surprised him by placing her other hand on his bare shoulder, gently holding him away from her as she spoke softly.

"Do you trust me?"

"Always."

"I trust Xander and Willow. They've never let me down; I've never let them down. That's not going to change."

He took her hands and moved them aside as he moved toward her forcefully. She put her arms around his neck and returned his passionate embrace as he took her mouth.

His hands slowly undressed her, maintaining his connection with her lips as he did so. She in turn helped him disrobe completely, and they lay together, their caresses at once feather soft and violently intense.

Spike rolled, allowing Buffy to cover his body with her own. He leaned up to her, hands tightly gripping her hair as they breathed heavily into one another's mouth. He quickly pulled away, lower lip quivering as he whispered hoarsely.

"Please tell me you love me."

"I love you so much, William."

"Tell me that you're coming back to me. Tell me that you'll never leave me."

She stared deep into his eyes, now misting along with her own.

"I will never leave you. Ever. I just found you. I'm not letting you go."

"Tell me you forgive me."

"There's nothing to forgive."

"I'm so sorry."

He collapsed against the pillow, weeping openly. She lay close to him, cradling him in her arms.

"It's ok, baby. Shhhh. I love you."

"I wanted to protect you. I didn't want you to have to do the things I've done. It's the only thing I can protect you from. Can you understand that?"

"It's ok. I'm right here, honey. No more talk."

She began doing everything she could to will away his pain by slowly making love to him, making it her latest mission to soothe his tortured soul through touch. She set about changing his tears of pain to tears of passion and joy, if only for a few blissful hours.

At long last she'd found a man whose soul was strengthened by her love rather than removed, thereby reinforcing her own confidence that her life was not destined to be an endless journey of loneliness.

She had her family. She had her William. With them at her side, she had something to look forward to at last.

As she arched her back with pleasure, ever so briefly becoming one with him, she thanked the Powers That Be for finally providing her with something to hold on to.

At long last, Buffy Summers was truly on the verge of being at peace.

**********************Two Days Earlier*************************

The Impala made it's way across Pennsylvania, careful to maintain legal speeds. Though it was highly unlikely that the vehicle would be searched, no chances could be taken, especially considering their failure in the most recent mission.

The two Council operatives had spent little time dwelling on their failed mission during their long cross country drive; Martineau had given them this assignment so suddenly there really hadn't been time. Both were surprised to hear the cellphone ringing. The Colonel never allowed communication during a mission; according to the caller ID he apparently had decided those rules didn't apply to him.

"Yes, sir?"

Martineau didn't waste time with a greeting.

"Progress report?"

"We'll be in New York City tomorrow."

"Fine. Harris has been moved to Bellevue Hospital in Manhattan. 6th Floor."

"Understood."

"Remember the primary target. Good hunting."

"Thank you, sir."

The commando hung up and raised an eyebrow to his companion.

"We have a new target area. We need to get the map of Manhattan out of the boot."

He pulled to one side of the road, quickly popping the trunk and grabbing the map, thrusting it toward his fellow soldier as he reentered the vehicle.

Neither man had noticed the tracking device that had been placed underneath their bumper for nearly 3000 miles.

- End Chapter Three-