DISCLAIMER: The Star Trek characters are the property of Twentieth Century Fox, Mutant Enemy, Paramount Studios, Inc and Viacom. The story contents are the creation and property of Djinn and are copyright (c) 2003 by Djinn. This story is Rated PG-13.

Hopeless

by Djinn

Spike turned away from Christine as she moaned in her sleep. He heard her whisper Spock's name and felt the familiar guilt rising. This was only supposed to be a temporary thing, this passion between them, this relationship that should never have been started. He'd told himself that he was just keeping her safe for the man he considered a friend. Keeping her alive until she wanted to live for herself and not just because Spike was there to stop her if she went looking for death.

And truth be told, she had stopped looking for it. But he still hadn't let her go.

She stirred again, turned over and eyed him sleepily.

"Go back to sleep." He tucked the comforter around her. He'd picked it out for her when she was too tired of life to care about whether she slept warm or not. He'd thought the rich, dark red would remind her of blood, would shock her into some kind of reaction. But it hadn't. Still it was nice to sleep under down again. It had been years since he'd slept in a proper bed in a real apartment with lights and water all paid for by--well not by him, of course, but by Christine.

"What's wrong?" She pushed the covers off and stretched for a long moment.

He had to admit the red set off her pale skin and newly darkened hair. She'd shocked him when she'd shown up one day with hair that was no longer the color of the sunshine he hadn't enjoyed for centuries. She'd said she needed a change. He'd never asked her why she'd changed it to match Drusilla's. He hoped that was an accident, didn't want her over identifying with Dru. Not that either of them was a poster child for mental health. But Christine was getting better, had shown steady improvement. Dru had never seemed to get anything but more crazy.

"What's wrong?" Christine asked again.

"You should go back to him. You know he's worried sick." Lately, Spock was more and more on his mind. He couldn't touch Christine without feeling the sense of betrayal. Not that it stopped him from touching her.

She didn't storm out of bed at the suggestion, or try to wallop him one. Definitely an improvement. "Do you really think any good would come of it?" Her expression was neutral, and that too was an improvement. Before, when she'd talked about Spock, it was always with a hopeless look on her face.

"He loves you."

"I know."

Spike tried another tack. "He needs you."

"The whole world needs me, Spike. I'm a slayer, remember." She laughed and sounded so much like Buffy that he had to look away.

"The last thing he needs is me." She turned over, faced the wall. "What's the matter, lover? You getting tired of me?"

He could hear Buffy in her words now. Could see his slayer in the way this one tensed her shoulders, as if anticipating his hand reaching out for her. He pulled his hand back. "Go to sleep, Christine."

"I'm not sleepy." She turned over, began to touch him. "I know how we can wear each other out."

He pulled away, rolled out of bed. "Not tonight, pet."

You really are tired of me." Her look was somewhere between hurt and amazed.

"No. I'm not. It doesn't feel right, is all. Not after we just talked about him."

"You're a vampire, Spike. Creature of the night. Undead. This should not bother you."

He pulled on the black leather duster he'd found at a second-hand store. "Yeah? Well, it does. Looks like I have a better developed soul than you do."

"Funny." She pulled the comforter up, suddenly appearing ill at ease being naked in front of him. 'I can't go back to him. I can't put him in that kind of danger again."

"He's strong. He can take it."

"Maybe I'm not strong enough to take it."

"So you take up with me instead? You confide in his captain instead of him?"

She did react to that, anger made her shrill. "Jim was my captain too."

"You put him in a difficult spot."

She shook her head as if he was an idiot who just would never get it. "The captain saw us together, Spike. Here, on earth. His very next act would have been to tell Spock."

"So instead you ask him to lie to Spock for you?"

"Not lie. Just not tell."

"Same difference, Christine." He reached into his pocket, pulled out a pack of cigarettes and knocked one free.

"Can I have one?"

"You know how hard it is to find these. You don't even like them." He lit the cigarette, savoring the feeling of smoke in his mouth.

"There's an Orion trader on the corner by the medical building. He sells them. I meant to tell you that. I'll buy us some tomorrow."

"Suit yourself." He knew she didn't like the things. Just did it to convince herself she was bad or something. Faith had been like that, going for effect. Of course after three years in prison, smoking may have been one of the few pleasures she'd had left.

He was halfway out the door when he heard her ask, "Are you in love with me?"

He turned to look at her, tried to guess what had prompted the question. Her face gave nothing away. He decided to play it lightly. "You know I'm very fond of you, Christine."

"Spike."

"No, pet. I'm not in love with you." He pulled the door closed behind him, sure that if he lingered she would see the statement for the lie it was.

He nodded tightly to their landlady Mrs. Rhatigan as he passed her, hoped the old battleaxe would have the sense not to pry.

She didn't. "Going out, dear?"

"That's right." Spike wanted to tell her to mind her own business, but he could hear his tone softening. Old bag reminded him of his mum; he just couldn't be cross with her.

"I guess Christine is studying tonight?"

"Every night, Edna. Every bloody night." It wasn't true, but it was a good excuse for why he went out alone at night so much.

She patted his hand. "Why back in my day, a lady had to pay attention to her young man or she'd lose him.

He mumbled something noncommittal.

"And you are her 'young' man, aren't you, William?"

He wished he'd never told her his real name. "Depends on how you count, I suppose." He pushed past her. 'Time for me to shove off."

"Take care, dear."

He didn't reply, just walked firmly away. The night was still young and if he was lucky he'd find himself a demon or something else he could kill. Maybe more than one.

"You'd like that. To kill something. Remember when I helped you kill humans?" Buffy stood in front of him, smiling evilly.

But it wasn't Buffy, it was the First. He walked through her, whispered the words Willow had taught him, the ones that had been on the axe. The Buffy doppler vanished.

"Thank you, Red."

Spike only saw the First when he was on Earth. And now it seemed to have lost strength, it took so little effort to make it go away anymore. It had probably been losing power since that night Buffy stopped it from taking over. She'd sacrificed herself to do it--Spike was alive, the world was still here, because of her. She'd died fighting, with the amulet Angel had brought around her neck, the axe in her hand. When she'd caught on fire, begun to burn, she'd pushed him out of the cave. He'd have rather stayed and died with her. Part of him did die with her.

It should have been him. In his heart of hearts, he knew it should have been him. But she'd been so empty, so terribly hollow. Death had indeed been her gift, the only one she could give. His gift to her had been letting her die.

"Spike, wait up."

He heard Christine's footsteps, turned to face her, wondering if she'd followed him just to continue their argument. She grabbed his hand as she caught up to him. Smiled down at him. She had been nearly as empty as Buffy when he'd found her. Now she seemed to vibrate with the life she was starting to reclaim.

"I'm sorry." She leaned in to kiss him.

He let her. Wrapped his arms around her, enjoyed the feeling of being lost in her taller, bigger body. Buffy had been so petite, Christine was an Amazon compared to her. But he was in love with her, the same way he'd been with Buffy. Dangerously, passionately in love.

And she didn't love him back. That too was the same.

He pulled away. "I was thinking of killing something."

"Sounds like a plan." Her grin was feral. There were times she reminded him more of Faith than of Buffy. Times when she threw herself with abandon into the destruction and mayhem. She said she was tired of the slaying, and he knew she was tired of the obligation of being a slayer. But she never seemed to lose her enthusiasm for a good kill. Buffy had never hunted with him the way Christine did.

"I don't need a slayer along mucking up my hunting grounds." He pretended to be angry.

She kissed him again.

"Oh, all right." He rolled his eyes. It was a game they'd recently begun to play. He pretended he didn't want her along and she pretended not to know that he'd give anything for her company.

As lies went, it wasn't a big one.

----------------------------

Spock walked purposefully through the crowded corridors of Starfleet Medical, avoiding doctors, nurses, and the occasional gurney. He had thought he could avoid the lunch crowd in the main Command building by taking a detour through the Medical complex, but these corridors were as tightly packed as those of his own building. The press of bodies irritated him, even if he would never admit to that emotion.

He had many emotions these days that he would never admit to. Loneliness, anger, and despair predominated. He had been looking for Christine for so long and never with any success. He had to admit, at least to himself, that she was never coming back. The resentment and worry and love that mingled together when he thought of her left him unbalanced and on edge.

She was his bond mate. She had to come back to him. His emotional side insisted that she must honor the promises they had made to each other, the love they had shared.

The logical part of him knew that Christine had never been completely stable. He could almost feel himself shudder at that assessment. But it was not imprecise despite the harshness of the diagnosis. Christine as a nurse had been perfectly fine, her tame life a way to find peace and control. But slaying had broken that control and turned her inside out, reopening old wounds that he barely understood. She had been wild, nearly out of control during the days leading up to their bonding. He had thought their love could withstand anything, that he could keep her grounded. And he might have, if he had not severed the bond when he had died. His actions had left her reeling at a time when her emotions were at their most chaotic. If he had not died, she might have been able to bear the despair the Orb had brought. .

But his death had been temporary; McCoy had brought him back. And Christine had known that. It was what bothered him the most: Christine had not run when she had thought he was dead; she had run after finding out he was alive.

She had not wanted to be with him any longer.

He forced himself to concentrate on his journey through the corridors. Dwelling on the past would not help him deal with the future, a future as yet uncharted. He had put off any decisions, was still not ready to decide which position he would take, or even if he would stay in Starfleet. It was a decision that could wait a bit longer.

Spock tried to turn off his thoughts, tried to focus on the people around him. He let his attention drift from conversation to conversation.

"Well, I'm glad she's in the study group. She's already got a biochemistry degree, you know," someone said behind him.

"I thought she was a nurse?"

"She was. But I'm not sure why."

Spock slowed his pace. He resisted the urge to look around. They could be talking about anyone; there was no reason to assume that Christine was the subject of their conversation.

"Who cares why? She was on the Enterprise. I'd give my eyeteeth to be on that ship."

The voices turned off into a side corridor, but he had heard enough. He hurried down to the main Command building, brushing against those he passed and murmuring apology as he walked to the temporary office he had been given. He pulled up the general Starfleet records, looked up her name. Nothing. Apparently, she did not wish to be in the directory. But she could not hide from anyone with his level of access. He logged into the personnel files, and called up her records. Latest assignment, Starfleet Medical.

She was here. On Earth. Where he could find her. And where he had never thought to look.

He knew he should not do it, but he scanned the file, saw that she had been on Earth for some months. She must know he was back. The Enterprise had returned to much fanfare over a week ago. It was in all the news. She knew he was back and did not seek him out. It should not hurt him any more than her other actions, but it did.

He read her progress reports. She was doing well, her marks were impressive, the comments from her instructors excellent. Spock read down farther, saw the notes from her advisor, the path she was taking to get an M.D. laid out in the file. He scanned back a bit more, saw who had recommended her for acceptance. And forgot how to breathe.

Jim? Jim had known where she was? Jim had written her a recommendation?

Spock rose slowly, tried to swallow and found that he could not, a lump had formed in his throat and he could not force it down.

Jim had known where she was. For months. And had not told him. His best friend had not told him.

How many times had Jim listened to Spock when frustration made him restless, filled him with the need to speak of Christine? And all the time Spock had been sharing his feelings, Jim had been lying to him.

Spock walked out of his office. He felt strangely distant, as if in a negative pressure suit, even his ears throbbed with a strange fullness. He could barely see as he turned the corner to the office Jim had taken over during the Enterprise's refits. He saw Kirk's name on a door, turned to it. The door opened as he approached and Kirk looked up as he walked in.

The smile was the same one Jim had worn for months. Spock found himself staring at it, as if he could discern some difference between it and the expression Jim had used before he had begun to lie to him.

"Spock? What's wrong?"

"You knew?"

"I knew what?" He got up, hurried over to Spock. "My god, Spock. What's happened?"

"You knew Christine was here."

Kirk's expression was suddenly wary. And also utterly exhausted. "Christine."

"You knew, and you did not tell me? Jim, why?"

Kirk sighed. "I wanted to tell you, Spock. But she asked me not to."

Spock could feel an eyebrow rise, it did not begin to convey his confusion.

"As her commanding officer, I felt obligated to honor her wishes for privacy."

"And as my friend?"

Kirk looked away. "I wanted to tell you."

"There is a vast difference between wanting to tell me and actually doing so."

"I know." Kirk turned to face Spock, held a hand out to him. "God, Spock, it's been tearing me up inside watching you trying to find her and not being able to help you." He let his hand drop. "I hated it."

"I saw the date of the recommendation you wrote for her. You knew for months." Spock clasped his hands together to stop them from shaking. Rage, this was rage. He should have seen this, should have realized when no one came to ask him about Christine, where she had gone, why she was AWOL, that she was back in the Fleet somewhere. He had not been thinking clearly, focused only on getting her back. Had never suspected she would return to Earth, a place of so many unpleasant memories, and so many vampires.

"Yes. I knew for months." Kirk moved closer. "If you'd seen her, Spock, you'd understand. She was trying to get her life together. Trying to start over."

"Trying to escape me?" Spock looked away; he did not want to show how angry he was.

Kirk didn't answer.

"She was my bond mate. I shared my feelings for her with you." He turned and looked Kirk in the eye. "I trusted you with those feelings."

Kirk reached out and touched his arm, and Spock sensed the desperation his friend felt. Desperation and guilt that was eating away at him.

Good.

Spock shook Kirk's hand off, tried to clamp down on the anger within him. He favored Kirk with a long emotionless look. "I do not believe that we have anything more to say to each other."

"Spock, I had to do it."

He let an eyebrow show his skepticism. "Christine forced you to keep her whereabouts secret?"

"Of course not. But if you'd seen her--"

"Ah, but that is the crux of our problem, Jim. 'If I had seen her.' But I did not see her. Because I did not know where she was. Because you did not tell me."

Kirk took a long, ragged breath. "She was hurting."

"And so you decided that I could not help her?"

"Spock, don't stand there and pretend you haven't kept secrets. When you took Chris Pike to Talos IV? That wasn't a shining moment of honesty, and it hurt that you didn't...couldn't tell me. But you did it for the greater good. For all the right reasons."

"Captain Pike was not your bond mate. Had he been, my actions would have been quite different."

"She wasn't your bond mate anymore either, Spock. You severed the bond, don't you remember?"

"I remember everything."

"You chose her future; you cut her off from you. Right at the moment that she was hurting the most, right when that damned Orb had filled her with so much despair. You locked her away from you."

"You would make this my fault?" Spock knew his anger was showing, no longer cared. "You would lay the blame for her having run on me?"

"No. Spock, no. Forget I said that."

"Forget?" Spock could feel his face twist out of the mask of control. He wondered what it showed to this man he had counted his greatest friend. "And I should forget that you kept me away from her? I should forget that you betrayed me?" He took a step away from Kirk.

Kirk did not try to follow him.

"Should I forgive you too, Captain? Is that not the human saying? Forgive and forget?"

"Spock--"

"--I must go, Captain. I cannot speak of this now. I am too angry."

Kirk frowned at this unusual admission. "I'm sorry, Spock."

"For keeping her location secret?"

Kirk shook his head. At least, he did not lie. "No. For hurting you in the process."

"You have hurt us both. I considered you a friend. I am forced to reassess that consideration."

Kirk looked down. His voice was tight. "We are friends, Spock. In time, you'll see that. Time changes things." He sounded like he was trying to convince himself. "You just need to give this some time--"

"What I need is my bond mate back. You could have given me that. But you did not. I do not see that there is anything more to be said. Now or in any amount of time."

"Spock. I'm sorry."

"You said that, Jim. It means even less when repeated." Spock walked out of the office, turning his back on the man that an hour earlier he would have died for.

Time could indeed change things.

-----------------------------

Alma stared at the words on Kirk's terminal. "Come home," Nayla had said before signing off. Come home.

Alma was home.

She arched back against the chair, stretching muscles tired of being in front of this machine, tired of being locked in human form. Her people did not understand her fascination with this human, her need to try to fit in with him in his world. In their minds, it was time for her to come home.

Jim was her home.

She reached out with the sense that went beyond knowing, tried to find the wards that had been so strong on the Enterprise. They were not apparent here, in this cold apartment. It took her several minutes before she realized that she had been feeling them the whole time, that they had changed, become darker somehow. No less strong, but no longer built on the love of friends and crew, of his love for those same people. These wards were spun out of something bleaker, some strange determination. She analyzed the power that flowed through them. The conduits were new, recently erected to give this place more protection. As if this was not the temporary stopping place it had always been for him in the past.

Why would he do this?

She rose, began to walk around the apartment, fingers lightly trailing on the wall as she assessed the wards more tangibly. Yes, they were new.

She came to the front room, shuddered as she passed the wall of weapons. Metal was a friend to fire, the two worked in concert, but in this case the display of so much destructive potential bothered her more than she could say. It did not help that the room was so bland, so filled with earth colors. As if he were already trying to ground himself in the rich loamy browns of his native planet.

No. That could not be it. He would not do that, surely? He would not leave space? He would have told her of such a decision. They shared everything, had since the Orb had been destroyed. She had not been able to stay with him on the Enterprise for more than a few days, but she'd met up with him often, traveling the stars to find him, to steal a few days or nights away while the ship orbited this world or that. Now, with the ship in refits, they were enjoying unlimited time together. No mission to get in the way. But she'd assumed this was a temporary thing. Knew that he would go back to space, where he belonged. Where his magic was best utilized.

Just as her magic was best used with her own people. Alma could almost hear Nayla's voice, urging her to remember her duty.

Her duty had been to the Orb. The Orb was destroyed. She had won her freedom, and won Jim back. Only... Her mind shied away from the treasonous thought. Jim had come back to her. Anacost had been killed and his power over the not-dead, not-quite-alive Kirk destroyed with him. Jim had been restored to her.

So what if he seemed quieter. Less open to her questing powers. It didn't matter that she could no longer read him the way she had before. He had erected barriers, wards of his own around his soul. It was understandable. He had almost been lost.

This was ridiculous. They were honest with one another. They always had been. If she wanted to know what he was doing with his life, she only needed to ask him. He would never keep such an important thing from her.

She hurried out of the apartment, walked to the Starfleet complex, rushing through the wooded path to the main building, barely noticing the beauty around her, too busy concentrating on where in the maze of hallways and blank doors, Starfleet had put him. They did not put names on the temporary offices, let officers sit in any vacant office and work out their time till they were back in space. It was inconvenient for occasional visitors, but Alma supposed that the Fleeters got used to it.

She turned right, then left, then left again. Trusting her memory and her own ability to sense him to bring her to Jim's door. Five from the corner she remembered, and counted the doors to her left, stopping at the fifth.

Jim's name was on the door.

She felt a pain begin, somewhere deep within her. A pain that was the opposite of burning, it felt more like the sensation she got when she stuck her hand in water. The terrible silky cool feeling that threatened to extinguish her very essence. Water and earth. The two elements that could destroy her.

She reached for the door, but it opened before she could hit the chime. Spock stood in front of her, his eyes hollow and shuttered.

"Spock?" She reached for his arm. As soon as she touched him, she was aware of roiling emotions, terrible raging anger.

He shied away. His polite, "Good day, Alma," lacked any emotion. His back as he hurried away from her was rigid, as if he were holding in a volcano.

She turned to the door, saw Jim sit heavily in his chair. The look on his face was one of pure misery.

She knew without asking that Spock was not the one at fault. "What have you done?" she asked, terrified beyond measure to hear the answer.

----------------------------

Kirk watched Spock leave, felt something inside himself break. Then he saw Alma, in the hall, staring at him, then at Spock. Her eyes seemed to be caught by the sign on his door and he wondered if she would understand the significance of it. She looked back at where Spock disappeared. Kirk sat down, falling more heavily into the lush command chair than he meant to.

"What have you done?" she asked. Her eyes were blank, no expression, no fire showing. She was controlling herself tightly.

He knew that was not a good sign. "I knew where Christine was."

"What?"

He took a deep breath. "She was...is here. At Starfleet Medical. I ran into her months ago, when I was back here for a meeting."

"And you didn't tell Spock." Her eyes widened slightly, fire flickered for a moment then died. "Or me."

"She asked me not to."

"And naturally her wishes are more important than ours."

"Alma. if she wants privacy, she has a right to it."

"I never knew. You were keeping that from both of us, and I never knew." She walked toward him, laid her hand on his forehead. "I knew you were shielding. I just never thought it was from me."

He looked away, tried to pull away when her hand began to burn him. She would not let go.

"What else are you hiding, Jim?" Her hand burned brighter.

He shoved her away. "That hurts."

"No, Jim. That was uncomfortable. What you did to Spock hurts."

"I know I hurt him. But how does this hurt you? What difference does it make to us?"

She took a step back toward him. "If there's no trust between us, then there's nothing between us."

"That's ridiculous. That assumes we'll never have secrets, never keep anything from each other."

She nodded. "Yes. That is exactly what that means." She reached for him, frowned when he pushed his chair back. "No big secrets, anyway." Her eyes met his, flared this time with a fire he knew meant she was angry. "You accepted a job on Earth, didn't you?"

"I would have discussed it with you but--"

"No! No more lies. Did you accept a position here?"

"Yes." He smiled tightly. No more secrets to keep. It should feel better. "I did it for us, Alma."

"For us? Without even consulting me. You don't know if I want to live here. Or if I think this is a good idea."

"It's pretty clear from your reaction that you don't." He reached out a hand. "Didn't you say that home was wherever we were? That as long as we're together, we'll be fine."

She nodded. "Yes. Together. Here." She laid a hand over his heart. "And here." She touched her forehead. "We're not together that way anymore. You've shut me out. And I knew it. I just didn't want to admit it."

"I love you. I gave up my ship for you."

"Well, don't! I don't want you to. Get it back, Jim. Get it back."

He felt a dark bitterness fill him. The brass had been only too happy for him to finally step down. He had a snowball's chance in hell of getting the Enterprise back. "I can't, Alma. I knew that when I did it. I did it for us."

"And why did you keep Spock away from Christine?"

He looked down. "You were the one who said she was...how did you put it? Fundamentally damaged." He shook his head.

"You could have forced her back."

Kirk looked away. He had refused from the time Christine had fled to declare her AWOL, putting her on admin leave instead. He'd figured she would show up eventually. Starfleet had been one of the few good things in her life. "To a life she didn't want, a life that would have killed her? She has a chance to start over."

"You lied to him...and to me."

"She asked me to. I kept it from you, yes. But if you'd asked..."

She laughed. It was a hollow, empty sound. "You feel guilty, but you'll fight to the end to make it seem like you did this for the right reasons."

He took a deep breath. He hadn't liked keeping Christine's whereabouts quiet, but he didn't like the bitter coldness he was getting from his best friend and the woman he loved any better. "I made her keep fighting. She wanted to stop...to quit. I couldn't let her, wouldn't let her."

"No one could have made her fight if it hadn't been her wish."

"You didn't see her face. She was ready to quit. And I talked her out of it." He turned away for a moment. "She looked up to me. I should have let her fade back into just being a nurse, let go of all the adventure, but I couldn't let her do that. Because I liked it. The danger. The excitement."

"Magic calls to magic," Alma said softly.

"What?"

She leaned in, the coldness gone, suddenly all fiery passion. "Your magic is fire and air, Jim. Volatile energy and the magic of movement, of exploration and adventure. You try to meld it with earth and water and you'll only destroy it. You belong out there, not down here."

He looked up at her, was surprised to find himself choked up. "I'm tired, Alma. I'm tired of fighting and exploring and never having a place of my own to come back to, a woman of my own to walk by my side." He looked away. "No beach to walk on."

"Earth and water, Jim, that's what a beach is. You only want them because they are your opposites. You feel their lack, but you misunderstand their importance. They won't balance you; they'll destroy you." Her eyes hardened. "If Anacost didn't do that already."

He pulled away from her.

"I'm a fire creature, Jim. I can't walk with you on that beach. I won't walk with you on it." "She took a deep breath as if steeling herself to tell him some hard truth, but then she said nothing.

"What." He reached for her hand, her hot skin soft under his fingers.

"Magic calls to magic. Only now it's her magic--the mystical part that is the slayer essence--that calls to you. She would have killed you, after Anacost bit you. Did you know that? She was ready to slay you. I stopped her. Spock stopped her. And you protect her at our expense?"

"I had to. I was her commanding officer. I helped put her in that dark place she ended up. I owed it to her to help her get out." He closed his eyes. "I was torn, don't think I wasn't. I wanted to tell Spock. I longed to tell you. But I couldn't."

She didn't answer.

"Magic calls to magic. I don't understand what that means. That's your world, Alma, not mine."

"The minute you stepped into the slayer's world, it became yours too." Alma shook her head. "But you have your own magic, Jim. You never needed to live off hers."

"My own magic?"

"You're not even aware of it, but you use it. All the time. The luck, the miracle escapes, the things you pull off that nobody else could. It's your magic, Jim. Fiery, magic that flies free only in the air." She leaned down, leaned her face against his. "Get your ship back. You need to be in space."

He pulled away and she straightened up, took a step back. Part of him longed to be in space, even after such a short time on Earth. But it was time to move on. Time to settle down. He ruthlessly stomped the small voice inside him that echoed her words. He could not go back now. He was committed.

Something in his eyes must have shown her that. She took another step back.

"I can't stay with you. I won't watch you destroy yourself."

"If the slayers hadn't won? If I'd become a vampire..."

"I'd have killed you. We'd have gone up together. One big funeral pyre."

He nodded, looked down. "You think you can save me from myself. But this is just life for a human, Alma. The good times go away, you have to grow up, and you have to embrace responsibility, even if it isn't what you want to do."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

He laughed, a short, bitter sound. "I knew you'd tell me not to." It was the truth. "It's my life." That too was the truth.

"You would have made it our life, Jim. I had a right to be included." The look she gave him was so full of tenderness that he rose, tried to go to her but she held up her hand. "You've changed. Humans like to think that when someone becomes a vampire, a demon takes over. But we both know that's not true, don't we"

He looked away. Could not meet her eyes, would not admit she was right. Ever since that night on Vega Hydra, when he'd been freed from Anacost's power, he'd felt some other deep burden, a kind of darkness rising up inside him. At times, he feared that it would grow and grow until it overcame everything good that was inside him. If this was the darkness Christine felt inside herself--the darkness she had told him she was running away from--then he couldn't blame her for fleeing. The darkness was terrifying. In both its power and its allure.

She looked at him with infinite sorrow. "I love you. I've never loved anyone the way I love you."

"Alma." He reached for her, but she was already turning. "Don't go."

"I have to," she whispered as she walked to the door. "I can't watch this. I won't be a party to this."

"I love you," he said.

"I know." Then she was gone.

Kirk felt a moment of panic, his heart was racing. Then something stronger and darker slammed into place over it, taking control. She wanted to leave? Let her leave. He would get by fine without her. She'd come to her senses soon enough, start to miss him, miss what they had together.

He didn't need her or the Enterprise, would thrive here on Earth as he took his place among the admirals. His promotion hadn't been announced yet, but it would be soon.

Whatever she'd said about earth and water was ridiculous. He could thrive on his home planet. He could be happy. So he wouldn't have her to walk by his side, he could still find the beach.

She didn't understand how Starfleet worked. His time roaming the stars was over. He had to come back. Every captain was faced with this moment. None of them liked it, but it was how you progressed, the natural way of things.

Spock would come around and Alma might run away for a while but she'd come back to him. She would. She loved him. She had to come back. The more he said it, the more he knew he was lying to himself.

There was no one else left to lie to.

--------------------------------------------

Christine felt her hackles rise, sensed without looking up from her lunch that someone was watching her. She put her sandwich down, raised her head slowly, casually, as if just looking around.

She didn't have to look too hard. Alma stood in the shade of some evergreens, watching her. She walked over, nodding pleasantly. But her eyes flashed with banked fire, her lips were pressed tightly together. Despite her easy stride, Christine could sense that the fire demon was upset.

"Alma," she said evenly, not putting too much friendliness into her tone. She'd never felt that the demon approved of her.

"Slayer," Alma replied.

"Awfully formal, isn't it?" Christine gestured to the far end of the bench. "Sit."

"I'd rather not." Alma's expression shifted, any attempt she'd been making to be civil lost as she glared at Christine. "Did you ever consider what you were doing when you ran? How many lives you'd destroy?" Alma's body shook, as if in protest at how unnaturally still she was standing. "All slayers are selfish but you have to be the worst."

Christine's anger was lost in her sharp bark of laughter at Alma's last words. "Selfish?" She stood, suddenly glad that she was taller than the other woman. "We die for you, for all of you. And we have no choice in the matter. I died once already. Most of my kind will die young, alone, fighting some unspeakable evil. And you call us selfish?"

"You think because what is asked of you is difficult that it means that the world revolves around you. That your life, your happiness, however fleeting, is more important than anyone else's."

Christine took a deep breath. "I don't have to listen to this. You've never liked me, have you?" She began to gather up her things.

"I told you there would be a price for destroying the Orb." Alma held her hand out as if to soothe Christine, but she pulled it back when she saw Christine's expression. "Over time, the despair should dissipate."

Christine gave her a hard look. "There wouldn't have been a price to pay if your kind hadn't been so stupid."

"Calyx didn't know--"

"--And how is that? You can see into me so well, well enough to judge what you can't possible understand and yet your friend? Sister? Whatever she was couldn't tell a master vampire when she saw one?" She turned on her heel, looked over at Alma. "Pathetic."

She felt Alma's hand touch her shoulder, whirled, ready to swing, but stopped her blow when she saw the naked misery on Alma's face.

"I left him. I had to."

"Jim?" Christine frowned. "Why?"

Alma sank down onto the bench. "He lied to me. I would have staked my life that he would never have lied to me. Yet, he did. For you."

"That was his choice." She was not going to let this demon lay all her trouble at Christine's door. "You can't blame me for that. Or him. He was just protecting me."

"At the expense of his best friend?" Alma spat the words at her. "At the expense of me? You may not care about me, but doesn't it matter to you how much Spock is hurting now that he knows?"

Christine tensed. "Spock knows I'm here?"

"It is all about you, isn't it? Have you heard a word I've said? Jim's all alone now. Because of you."

"I am not to blame." Christine tried to fight down her panic. Spike had been right. She'd made a mess of things. But Spock...Spock knew where she was?

"Christine?" A new, softer voice sounded behind her. "I heard you were here, saw you were listed as a student at Starfleet Medical."

Christine turned, saw Uhura looking at her in confusion. The records were private. Christine had not released her information to the general directory. Uhura would have had to look for her, and use special access.

"Another friend you've hurt, slayer." Alma stood up, her face expressionless as a statue. "Where does it end?" She leaned in. "You're an expert on destruction; I guess it's fitting that you should destroy everyone who cares for you."

Uhura pushed between them. "You're out of line. Leave her alone."

"Gladly." Alma turned, took a few steps then turned back. "Do you even care that he's all alone?"

Uhura turned to Christine, an eyebrow going up in inquiry.

"You're leaving him by your own choice," Christine said. "The hurt you're causing will make what I've done seem insignificant."

"The Captain?" Uhura turned a glance full of dislike on the fire demon. "He's giving up the ship for you. To be with you."

Christine looked at her with horror. James T. Kirk planet bound? It was inconceivable.

"Well, you knew that long before I did." Alma's face twisted. "And I never asked him to do it. He made his decision independent of me."

Uhura looked over at Christine. "The ship is in refits. Didn't you know?"

Christine realized she had heard it being discussed in the halls; she just hadn't paid any attention. Kirk alone, with no ship and now no Spock or Alma. And all her fault.

Alma shook her head as if in disgust. "Goodbye, slayer." She turned and walked away.

Christine sank down on the bench. Uhura sat next to her, her movements tentative.

"Spock?" Christine asked, unable to say more.

Uhura seemed to understand. "He never stopped looking for you. Have you been here the whole time?"

Christine shook her head.

"For a long time he thought you went someplace called Kirsu. Said he couldn't follow you there."

"A logical thought. I didn't go there though. We--I wandered for a long time before I came back here."

"Why didn't you tell me where you'd gone?" Uhura's voice was barely a whisper.

"Ny." Christine knew she should reach out to her friend but the effort seemed too much, the distance between them too great. "How come I didn't know about you and McCoy?"

Uhura looked away. "It started out as something casual, just for fun. Bu the time I realized what was going on, it was way past the time I could say something to you." Uhura looked back at her. "Think of it, your boss and your best friend. I didn't want to make things awkward."

Christine sighed. "Best friends. Yet all we seem to do is keep secrets from each other." She got up, looked down at Uhura, saw a face both familiar and strange. Had they ever really been friends? "What are you going to do now?"

"You mean right this minute?"

Christine laughed softly. "No. I mean now that the Enterprise is in refits?"

"Stay with the ship. She still needs a communications officer. I've got some leave coming and then I'll be back to help test the new equipment. I'm working out of the main communications shop here. Have my own office and everything."

"And Len?"

"He's resigning. Ready to hang it up. He's worried sick about Spock and you. And now the Captain, giving up his command..."

"There's no doubt a promotion waiting for him."

"And you think that matters?" Uhura shook her head. "He's been different. Ever since Alma came on board. He's been quieter, holds himself tighter."

"It's not her fault. When you were gone..." Christine sighed. How to explain a darkness that could rise up, take over?

"I know what happened to him. Len told me." Uhura stood up. "But the part of the captain that smiled, that was cocky and optimistic is gone." She leaned down, put her hands on Chapel's arms. "It's gone in you too. All the lightness. The sweet, calm friend."

"Maybe I was never her to begin with?" Christine looked down. "When I had to start slaying again...that part of me couldn't survive. It disappeared."

"Or you let it disappear."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Uhura let go of her. "You know what it means." She straightened up, gave Christine a sad smile. "I missed you so much when you left. I'm glad you're all right. But I'm not sure I want to see you again."

Christine blinked, taken aback by Uhura's bluntness. Hurt by it.

"Maybe I'll see you around," her best friend said as she took a step back.

"Tell Len good luck for me?"

Uhura turned around, shook her head sternly. "Tell him yourself. I'm not going to make this easy on you." Uhura turned and walked away.

Christine blinked back tears. She'd always assumed Uhura would be there for her. That she'd be there for Uhura. They were best friends, but Christine couldn't even muster the energy to call her back. When had everything gone so wrong?

--------------------------

Spock walked the halls of Starfleet Medical slowly, scanning the side corridors. At every glimpse of a blonde head his pulse would speed up. It was never Christine.

But she was here. Had been here for months--months that he had been searching for her. Months that he had believed she might have been with the Kirsu slayers. Or might have been killed. Or might have been turned as Jim had nearly been.

Jim. Jim had known. How could he have kept this from him? How could he have known for months that the woman Spock was searching for was on Earth? Even if he had waited until they knew they were headed back to Earth. Even then he could have said something. But he had never said a word to Spock. Because she had asked him not to.

Spock realized he was walking too fast, and forced himself to slow to a more reasoned pace. But he couldn't force his heart to slow, or the anger he felt to lessen. Jim had betrayed him. Christine had betrayed him.

Why?

"Spock?" Kirk's voice invaded his thoughts. "Spock?" the voice sounded again, this time closer.