Prologue

The knife blade glittered, making a sweeping silver arc as it descended, penetrating with a sickening crunch.

Andrew thrust with his hands, reaching in...

"Bless you, Harris," he whispered.

... and pulled out the box of Cap'n Crunch.

Andrew shoved aside the FedEx box. He had a fair guess as to what the rest of the contents were -- Xander had laughed at the list, but Andrew had known he would understand.

The Cap'n Crunch, though -- that was the prize. Rome had its delights -- soaring archetecture, millenia of history, and a certain pungent smell that kind of grew on you after a while -- but a wide selection of breakfast cereals was not one of them.

Andrew grabbed a bowl from a cabinet with surging joy, willing himself not to let the thumps and moans from the other room interrupt his sacred reunion.

"O Cap'n, My Cap'n," Andrew intoned reverently as the sounds of wheaty nuggets hitting bowl very nearly masked another gasping shriek from Buffy.

He'd say this for Dawn -- she might be an irritating little snot at times, but at least when she was home, he was spared the audio track of "Buffy: The Immortal Banger".

A folded sheet of paper fell from the box, landing in his cereal.

Andrew groaned. "Prizes get shittier every year."

He reached out, crumpling the paper, preparing for a two-pointer... and stopped.

Handwriting.

Xander's handwriting.

Andrew smoothed the letter out on the countertop, plucking a dry nugget out of his bowl and raising it to his lips.

"Those idiots," he whispered. "Those brave, heroic, utterly insane idiots."

2. MoanSqueakMoan

"Giles?"

"You heard. Why are you whispering?"

"I'm in the bathroom." Andrew switched the phone to his other ear. "Buffy's here."

"Ah. If I might ask, what method..."

"Box of Cap'n Crunch."

Giles' laugh, flattened by the phone lines, still smoothed the edges of Andrew's fear. "And I received mine around a can of 'Old English 800'. The boy does not change."

"Giles..."

"Yes?"

"Do I tell Buffy now?"

A heavy sigh. "Not yet. I'll... make inquiries. But do call Dawn, and... perhaps it would be best if Buffy ended her date for the evening."

Andrew shot a glance of pure dread across the apartment. "Can't I just... can't I tell her? You don't understand, Giles, I'm her roommate, she's gonna blame me the most..."

"Andrew." Giles' voice made Andrew sit up a little straighter. "We ripped her out of heaven once. I'd rather not do it again until we have to."

And... dial tone.

"So it's armageddon, would a little etiquette kill you people?" Andrew groused, hitting the "end" button.

'Ripped her out of heaven'. Easy for Giles to say. Like Andrew wasn't going to have to go rip her out of heaven right now...

A loud shriek of delight penetrated the bathroom.

"Thanks for backin' me up there, Buff."

Andrew crossed back into the kitchen, casting a longing glance at his still-dry cereal bowl before setting the phone back into its cradle and padding barefoot across the living room. Buffy was not going to be happy about this...

He parked himself in front of her door, shoving his hands in his pockets... then reconsidering. He might need to defend himself. "Buffy?"

No answer. Well, unless you counted kittenish moans as an answer, which Andrew was usually happy to... just not in this particular situation.

He pumped up his volume. "Buffy?"

Another moan.

"BUFFY!"

Moan-squeak-moan.

"Screw it," he muttered, flinging the door open...

And froze, staring.

"Spike?" Andrew breathed. "When did you get here?"

Buffy and Spike turned to look at him in shock, Spike's hair darkening, the sharp edges of his features softening... until The Immortal lay atop Buffy, staring at Andrew impatiently.

"T-there's business," Andrew stammered. "I-I'm about to call Dawn, and..."

"Right," Buffy snapped, her all-business tone at war with her flaming red cheeks. "I'm afraid I'll have to..."

"S'alright, carissima," The Immortal stroked her cheek. "I will be on my way."

He bent his lips to Buffy's, and Andrew flinched, pivoting on his heel. "I'll be... out there. Where, uh, the stuff is. And stuff."

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

"Who'd you have to sell your soul to for the Cap'n Crunch?"

Andrew looked up, mouth full of nuggety goodness. "Xander."

"He's in the States? I thought he was in Africa..." Buffy twisted her hair up, securing it with a barrette, all visible trace of her earlier embarrassment gone.

"He's doing some research. It's an eyeball thing."

"Oh, damn. I thought he was kinda dashing as a pirate." Buffy eyed Andrew's bowl. "You in a sharing mood?"

"Might be," Andrew swallowed. "If you are. You wanna tell me something?"

"You've got Crunch on your shirt."

"I was thinking something a bit taller, fangier, bleachier..."

Buffy's gaze averted, and she reached into the cabinet for a bowl. "It's one of his talents. He can take the form of anyone he's tasted, and he used to know Spike..."

"I know," Andrew took the opportunity of Buffy's turned back to slide Xander's note into his pocket.

"How?"

"Huh?"

"How do you know?"

Andrew studied his cereal intently. "He, ah, told me. So, uh... does he take the form of Angel, too? That's some kinky sex game you guys got."

"He knew Angel?"

"Knew 'em both," Andrew said, turning around and licking his spoon. "Gotta say, I'm intrigued that you never requested that one of his talents..."

"I said I missed Spike, he offered," Buffy snapped. "If I want to see Angel, I can get on a plane."

"Missed Spike, eh?" Andrew's grin was rapidly approaching smirk.

"The man burned to a crisp for me, I'm allowed a little gratitude."

"Gratitude. So all that moaning was your way of saying 'Hey, platonic buddy, thanks for closing the Hellmouth'? Couldn't you have just taken Bizarro Spike out for a nice dinner?"

"My and Spike's relationship was... complicated." Buffy brandished her spoon in Andrew's face. "And don't sing the song, you are not required to sing the song every time I..."

"Oh, I wouldn't." Andrew raised an eyebrow. "Seeing the way he's acting like he's somebody else didn't seem to be getting you... frustrated at all."

Buffy growled, low in her throat. "What's the business?"

"Eh?"

"That you're calling Dawn home for? That I interrupted my date for?"

"We have to wait for Giles to call me back."

Buffy groaned. "Couldn't you at least... sum up?"

"There might be a... situation in the States."

"Angel?"

"Yeah, and... some others."

Buffy leaned against the counter, sighing. "I thought it was too quiet over there. It's not like Angel to not pop up to brood when I have a boyfriend. Guess he's busy... I haven't heard from him in a long time."

"Yeah... he's... busy. I'm sure Giles will fill us in."

Buffy turned her attention to her cereal, and Andrew's spine relaxed.

"Andrew?"

"Yeah?"

"Have you ever... well, this is kinda awkward, huh. But uh -- have you ever thought thought about some, uh, therapy?"

"I'm not the one having my shape-shifter boyfriend..."

"This isn't about that. Do you remember what you said when you walked in?"

"Uh... no..."

"You said, 'Spike, when did you get here?'... like, surprised, but oh-gosh-surprised, not 'holy crap, there's a dead vampire in Buffy's bed' kind of surprised."

"We Jedi control our emotions."

"Stuff it, Andrew. I think you haven't accepted that Spike and Anya are gone."

"I haven't accepted? In case you haven't noticed, I'm not the one playing sick little dress-up games with..."

"Fine. Fine, we'll drop it."

"Thank you." Andrew couldn't contain the leer. "So, this Immortal... he didn't happen to feed on Carrie Fisher around the time of 'Return of the Jedi', did he?"

3. Who Watches The Watchers

"It's disrespectful, that's what it is."

Xander let out a heavy sigh, digging further into his bag of chips. "Kennedy -- not that I haven't enjoyed your little backseat monologue, or the angry flecks of spittle that landed in my hair while you gave it, but could you maybe shut it for five minutes?"

"All I'm saying is... if they're still keeping something this huge from her, what are they keeping from us?"

"You guys," Willow sighed, squeezing Kennedy's hand, "It is taking all my concentration to keep us off the radar..."

"And this isn't exactly cruising through the park," Robin muttered, swerving hard to the left to avoid a car that had actually used the breakdown lane to break down, rather than drive at 150 miles an hour past the rest of the traffic.

"Look, Kennedy, until this morning, the Council thought Angel had gone to the other side. Spike could have been a deliberate trap for her... or maybe not even Spike at all, a shapeshifting demon..."

"Oh, no," Kennedy spat right back. "Let's not tell anyone that Spike's back, 'cause he might be a shapeshifting demon! But oh, it's perfectly okay if she sleeps with a known one!"

"Buffy's love life is her own business," Xander said primly.

"Oh, can I get you saying that on tape?" Robin chuckled.

"Hey, until this morning, it looked like I was batting a thousand on my boyfriend disapprovals."

"It's not this morning anymore," Kennedy crossed her arms. "He died for us. Y'know, I might have liked to have known he was back. Could have bought him a cup of coffee or something."

Robin scowled. "Don't think they make O-positive lattes."

"Actually, they do, there's this little place in Santa Monica..."

"Willow, concentrate!"

"Look, you guys, there's something you're not thinking about," Robin swerved again. "This can't be the real Spike, or at least not the Spike we knew. Better... worse... who knows... but not the same."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because, Xander, are you seriously telling me that the Spike we all know and you guys love..."

"Hey, don't put me in there!"

"Fine. The Spike you and I both have the good sense to hate magically comes back from the dead. And not only does he have his shiny-shiny BuffyBait soul, but he just sacrificed himself to save the world. You're telling me he wouldn't be using that lever to get into a certain pair of leather pants?"

"Who knows how long the time was where he went when he died? Maybe he got over her."

"Angel spent a years in a hell she sent him to and didn't."

"Well, Spike's no Angel."

Robin banged the steering wheel. "Truer words, never spoken."

"He saved our lives!" Kennedy bellowed. "He saved the world! And none of us even sent a 'Hi, Spike, how's the new existence, how's work at the evil corporation' postcard! For all we know, he could have been pulled back against his will, used, abused, tortured..."

"I'd say if there was any torture, Spike was probably on the giving end," Robin said grimly.

"Fine. Spike's an ass. Whoo-ooo. Doesn't it bother anyone but me that we're less in the loop than Andrew?"

"He's being trained to be a Watcher..."

Kennedy rolled her eyes. "What's the point of having eyes to 'watch' if they're not communicating with the rest of the body? All this cloak-and-dagger secret meeting mumbo-jumbo bullshit... we're supposed to be on the same side! Instead, we're getting shuffled all over the planet on these wild goose-chase missions... anyone think that's coincidence?"

"The Watchers are scrambling around, trying to deal with locating untold numbers of newly-activated Slayers... there's bound to be chaos..."

"They're splitting us up!"

"We're back together now, aren't we?"

"Without Buffy! Why in the hell are we going into this thing without Buffy?"

"You guys are ruining this road trip for me," Xander pouted, tipping the bag back to pour chip dust on his tongue.

"Road Trip?" Robin sputtered. "Xander, we're careening at suicidal speeds down the L.A. freeways to go battle a demon horde in aide of a bunch of other undead we think are still good!"

"Yeah, well," Xander sighed, "I don't get out much."

4. Merit Badges

Spike lunged to his left, plunging the scrap of sheet metal into the demon's side, rolling out of the way of the ax that thudded into the concrete where he'd been a moment before and rising sharply to head-butt another demon, kicking him in the chest when he stumbled backwards.

"Spike, catch!"

Spike flicked his eyes towards the sound of the voice. Brunette, rain-blurred...

... throwing a sword at him.

Spike dropped his metal scrap and caught it one-handed, flowing with his momentum to decapitate the demon attacking from the side.

"Thanks, Blue..."

"Hardly," a voice behind him scoffed... and Faith surged up, her blade whirling as she took out two more demons. "Drink this, I'll cover you."

A bottle slammed into his chest, and Spike caught it before it fell. The label said "Snapple", but he rather doubted that the dark red contents were fruit punch. Faith sent body parts flying around them as Spike raised the bottle to his lips.

Oh, god. Spice. Heat. Darkness... power. So much power. Spike threw the bottle down, gripping his sword with two hands, feeling the surge shoot through his muscles. He swung his blade.

"That was human blood." Two more demons crumpled to the ground. "Your blood."

"Yeah, well." A disembodied arm sailed out from Faith's direction. "I do all kindsa good shit now. Killin' demons. Blood donation."

"You're a regular Girl Scout." Spike feinted to the left, dodging an incoming horn.

"Fuck that, I'm the Troop leader. Even came here on a schoolbus..." Two demons detatched from their lower bodies, and Faith grinned. "... but you should see our merit badges."

Spike processed that a moment, sword still flying, allowing his hearing to focus on something besides the grunts of the demons. Feminine voices had added to the cacophony... shrieking, screaming... Slaying.

"Is..."

"She's not here, Spike, and she's not coming. Concentrate."

Spike faltered a moment, and took a club on the shoulder. Faith groaned, crunching her elbow into a demon's face.

"Put your self-pity back in your pants and kill shit. I don't have time to explain why."

"She's okay, though?" Spike yanked his sword out of a demon's chest and sent it straight into another one's side.

"Better than you!"

"Oh, that's not saying a lot, under the circumstances... bloody hell, is that the sun coming up?"

The light in the alleyway was growing brighter by the moment, banishing shadows, seeming to come from everywhere...

"That's not the sun," Faith grinned, shoving her boot heel into a demon who'd been distracted by the growing brilliance. "That's Willow."

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

Andrew hefted his duffel bag, casting a longing glance at two little tropical-themed bars that flanked the terminal hallway. He was thirsty as hell, but he doubted the Watcher's Council would understand him stopping for a Smoothie.

He hailed a cab, tossing his bag inside, sliding in...

... and being violently pushed to the other side.

"You don't mind if I share?"

The hot brunette from the plane. He'd noticed her when she walked by to go to the bathroom... fabulous ass.

"Uh, normally I'd be really... well, you don't want to go where I'm going..."

"On the contrary." The brunette removed her sunglasses and glared.

"Oh, hey, Buffy," Andrew squeaked. "I, uh, I..."

"Tell the nice driver-man where to go, Andrew."

Andrew gave the instructions with a deep sigh, regarding Buffy fearfully. "That's a, that's a real nice color on you, it brings out your eyes..."

"Stuff it, Andrew. Where are we going?"

"Buffy, you are not supposed to be here..."

"Yeah, I caught that. You say a bunch of cryptic stuff about Angel being in trouble, then you get a phone call, then you tell me it was a false alarm but oh, you've gotta go meet some friends right now... with an overnight bag... how stupid do you think I am?"

"I figured you'd be glad to get back to your big date with the Spike-Bot."

Buffy recoiled, stunned. "Don't call him that!"

"Why not? Same principle, isn't it?"

"It is not the same -- don't try to distract me! Where the hell are we going? Is Angel in trouble?"

"Angel..." Andrew sighed. "Okay. Um, Angel got put in charge of the L.A. office of Wolfram & Hart."

The color faded from Buffy's face. "He what? Is he Angelus again?"

"No, he's not. When I saw him a few months ago..."

Andrew trailed off, realizing his mistake. "Uh..."

"You saw Angel a few months ago? In Rome?"

"No, Angel was in Rome a couple weeks ago, this was when I was in L.A. Look, Buffy, there's something else you should know..."

"Angel was in Rome? You went to L.A.?"

"We're getting ahead of ourselves. Look, Angel started working for the big bad company, trying to do sort of a, y'know, infiltrate-from-within thing. But, uh, we didn't know that, or whether we could trust him..."

"And no one told me."

"Look, if Angel was Angelus and you knew it, you'd have run off to L.A. the first chance you got. We had... really good reasons... to suspect that Wolfram & Hart was trying to lure you there."

"What really good reasons?"

"They, uh, they sort of, uh, made something that you, uh, would have been very interested in..."

"Some kind of weapon? What?"

"Uh, you could say that... look, I should start from the beginning, I..."

"Andrew, repeat something after me. 'When I am cryptic, Buffy crushes my windpipe.'"

Andrew gulped. "When I am cryptic, Buffy crushes my windpipe."

"Continue."

"Look, you had a semi-normal life for the first time in forever! Training Slayers, going out with your boyfriend, taking care of Dawn... Giles thought... see, okay, this is gonna shock you, but..."

"Oh, 'Giles thought'. What a shock that it's Giles trying to..."

"He thought you deserved the rest! And Buffy, you needed it!"

"So you guys just let me... left me in a daydream, huh? Give little Buffy her pink plastic vacation in the pink plastic Buffy Dream House?"

"Giles said... he said they'd ripped you out of Heaven once... and there was another thing, Buffy, I really need to tell you..."

"Heaven?" Buffy snapped. "Heaven? Prancing around Rome with the Spike-Bot, feeling guilty, feeling useless... you call that Heaven?"

"You just called him the Spike-Bot."

"I did not!"

"Yes you did!"

The cab stopped and Andrew paid him, feeling Buffy's glare boring holes into the back of his neck as he dropped his duffel bag on the sidewalk, pulling weapons out.

"How in the hell did you get that on the plane?"

"Cloaking spell." Andrew held up an armful of sharp things. "Which do you want?"

"What are we fighting?"

"Massive demon horde."

"I don't see a massive demon horde."

"We only got a general location from Lorne. Willow will notice us in a minute and tell us where to go."

"Willow's here?"

"Willow, Xander, Faith, Robin, Kennedy, a slew of bussed-in potentials..."

"Everyone knew about this but me."

"Well... you and Dawn..."

"Oh, now I'm in the same category as Dawn? Someone to get left out of the loop, locked away from the fights, for her own protection?"

"Well... maybe now you know how it made her feel." Andrew froze. "Buffy's here."

"I know I'm here, you..."

"Willow says walk north, she's casting a brightness spell, we should be able to see it in a few blocks."

Buffy sighed heavily. "Gimme a sword."

They walked north, the sound of warfare growing louder. Buffy's jaw set into a determined line.

"Aww, I've missed that," Andrew sighed.

"Missed what?"

"Your 'about to kick some ass' face. It's really adorable."

Buffy glared... then her eyes widened.

"Andrew."

"Yeah?"

"Dragon."

Andrew whirled. "Oh my god, that's awesome. Y'know, I wonder if Peter Jackson ever saw a real one, 'cause wow, his art team was right on the..."

"Andrew, it's headed right towards us."

"Y'know, now that I really think about it, the Uruk-hai bear a freakish resemblance to... what kind of demons they got in New Zealand?"

"Andrew! There's someone... riding it! Stabbing it in the head!"

Andrew looked up. The dragon soared towards them, magnificently, majestically backlit by rays of Willow's brightness spell, nearly obscuring the identity of its black-clad rider, whose sword shone almost as brightly as the gleam of his bleached, platinum hairdo...

"And he said he didn't know how to make an entrance," Andrew chuckled.

5. Colorful Makeovers

The dragon struggled closer, its massive shadow sweeping the pavement, wings beating erratically... flying in painful, stilted lurches that Andrew rather guessed had something to do with the sawing motion of Spike's sword through its neck. Dragon blood mixed with rain to paint a second line in the center of the street, smoking as it hit the puddles.

They neared a rooftop and Spike threw his weight to the side, vampire and dragon rolling to crash land with a crunch of skidding gravel. Spike raised his sword, plunging it through the dragon's heart, and the creature gave a bellow of pain.

God he looked cool doing that! Andrew made a mental note to obtain a billowy black leather trenchcoat as soon as humanly possible.

And some black fingernail polish.

And maybe a cool-looking eyebrow scar.

In a swirl of black leather, Spike ripped his sword out, turning and leaping, cat-like, from view, heading back towards the battle.

"Oh, badass," Andrew moaned in an orgasm of fanboy bliss. "Buff, do you think I'd look good as a blonde?"

"Spike," Buffy gasped, her sword clattering against the pavement as it sagged in her hand, anguish in her voice. "Oh, Andrew... that guy... looked so much like Spike..."

Andrew swallowed hard, his eyes on Buffy as she stared up at the rooftop that Spike had just vacated, emotions flying over her face: pain, confusion, disbelief... hope.

"Buff," Andrew said gently, thinking about putting his hand on her shoulder and thinking better of it, "That, uh... that was Spike."

Buffy whirled on Andrew. "Don't be ridiculous."

"That's what I kept trying to tell you... you kept interrupting me... see what happens when you people keep interrupting me?"

She shook her head slowly. "He's dead. Dusted. Gone. I saw him in the Hellmouth, he was burning..."

"Yeah, uh-huh, and how many times have you come back?"

Buffy blinked, her hand rising to rake her drenched hair back from her face, processing. "How... but... Willow?"

"Nah, it wasn't Willow, it was..."

Andrew found himself slammed against the wet brick, her thumbs on his windpipe. "You, in Rome... you said... 'Spike, when did you get here?'... you knew... how long have you known?"

"Since I went to L.A." Andrew batted at her hand. "That's kinda ouchy, Buff..."

The pressure increased. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"He made me promise not to!"

Shock, immediately followed by hurt, flared through Buffy's eyes, her hand falling away from his throat as she stumbled back. "He... he did?"

"Yeah." Andrew rubbed his neck, wincing. "Ever heard the phrase, 'don't strangle the messenger'?"

"He didn't want me to know he was alive?" Buffy whispered.

"You're crying?"

Buffy glared. "It's raining."

"Buffy... not to, y'know, get off-topic here, but... massive demon horde, fate of the world, y'know. Spike might die all over again..."

"That," Buffy said, a fierce light growing in her eyes as she hefted her sword, "Is not going to happen."

----------

"Killed yer dragon," Spike whispered gleefully into Angel's ear before slamming his sword through a demon's stomach.

"I noticed that," Angel spat, his fist colliding with a demon's nose with a mighty crunch. "Just can't stop yourself from going after what I want, can you?"

"Speaking of," Spike called over his shoulder, "She's not here."

"I know," Angel grunted. "Xander told me."

"So you asked," Spike smirked.

"So did you!"

Both vampires blinked and stepped back as a massive fireball exploded before them, pulverizing a crowd instantly.

"Damn," Angel said appreciatively as he and Spike ran through the sudden clearing. "When did Willow get so powerful?"

"Turned into a bit of a scary bint, Willow has," Spike smirked, his blade a blur. "Gives our li'l Blue a right run for her money, and just as fond of the sudden colorful make-overs."

No one without vampiric hearing could have heard Angel's next muttered words: "I really thought... when I saw all the Slayers, I really thought she'd..."

"Y'know how it is, mate," Spike called. "Places to go, Immortals to do..."

"So that's how it is," Angel sent demon heads flying, side-stepping a bolt of magical lightning. "She's not the only Slayer now, pressure off, she can go back to being a... mall chick..."

"Peaches..." Spike's jovial tone had a razor-sharp edge. "I know you're a bit stressed, what with the imminent death and all, but if you ever insult Buffy again, I'll have your testicles hanging from my rearview."

"You don't have a car."

Spike shrugged. "I'll steal yours."

Angel dodged another green electric flare. "You do that anyway."

"It's good to have hobbies."

----------

"Xander," Willow gasped, convulsing again despite the death-grip he had on her from behind, "I'm almost out... it's time..."

"Yeah, fine, fine..." Xander muttered into her hair, tightening his arms around her. "Just remember our deal... you use me as a big, goofy, one-eyed magical Duracell..."

Willow laughed weakly, and Xander felt a powerful, stabbing tug as something inside him resisted, burst, and began to flow into Willow...

"Ohhhhh," Willow moaned erotically, writhing in his arms. "You're good, you're so good..."

Xander chuckled nervously. "It's, uh, cool if I replay this conversation later with a way different setting, right?"

Willow didn't answer, a renewed burst of magic flowing from her fingertips, nearly blinding Xander in the eye he had left.

Pain, yeah, that was good. Something to focus on besides the rather inappropriate noises Willow was making as she sucked... pick a different verb, Xander!... as she extricated his power from his body.

Xander's eye flew wide, fear thudding through his heart; Willow's hair was darkening.

"Will, Will, you're going all evil on me, Will..."

"Am not," she sighed, her nails digging into his arms where they held her. "Am going you..."

Xander blinked. She was right; her hair hadn't gone black, but the same shade of brown as Xander's. With them this close together, you couldn't tell where he ended and she began...

"Weird," Xander breathed, and closed his eyes as the sensations overcame him.

----------

"Holy crap," Robin whistled as a massive group of demons exploded in his face. "Looks like Willow got the second wind from hell."

"She must have gone to backup power." Kennedy's blade flashed bright. "She's draining Xander now."

"I thought she used you for that?"

"Yeah, well. I can actually fight."

Another group of demons exploded, blood filling the alleyway in a fine mist, revealing a group of startled, mid-attack Slayers blinking in confusion, standing in a slick red ring of emptiness.

"How the hell'd she do that without hitting them?"

"That's my girl," Kennedy said proudly.

----------

Buffy moved on auto-pilot, sword flying, legs kicking, arms punching, running on reflex. Demons went down, more demons surged to take their place in a never-ending supply; somewhere beyond the thudding of the adrenaline in her veins, Buffy was actually a little bit bored at the repetitiveness of it.

Or would have been, if it hadn't been for the utterly distracting flow of her thoughts.

Spike was here. Somewhere in this crowd, Spike was fighting alongside her. She couldn't see beyond the demons that surrounded her; he could be three feet away, or blocks.

And he didn't love her anymore.

What had happened to him in the Hellmouth? She'd thought he'd died, but obviously he hadn't... how in the hell had he gotten out of the Hellmouth, out of the crater that was now Sunnydale?

However it happened... he'd gotten out. And he hadn't come to her, had asked Andrew not to even tell her he was alive, didn't want to see her...

Well, good for him! He wasn't ever in love with me, he just had this gross sick obsession, it was unhealthy and freaky and, y'know, Spike-y, 'cause the guy is incapable of being anything but cranked up to eleven. It's good that he's over it, no, better than good, it's great! I'm really happy for him that he's made so much... progress.

So why did she feel like she'd been staked?

Of course I'm upset. I'd feel upset if Anya had survived and didn't look any of us up... Spike was my friend, he was always there for me, he stood by me when no one else did... he understood me, and that's something I miss... so of course I'm a little bummed. A little. Not much.

And once all these things were dead, she would see him. Could go up to him and punch him in the jaw for not calling her, could kick him in the chest, could grab him by that blinding sculpted plastic Ken hair and...

Except he's been fighting for hours in the rain. It won't be sculpted and plastic. It'll be wild and disheveled, the curl coming out, just like he looks after he's been...

Oh, so not going there. No, back to the kicking. Yeah, she'd kick him in the chest, and he'd get that fierce, wild joy in his eyes, and then she could grab him and throw her arms around him and press her face to his chest, feel the soothing cold of him through his t-shirt, breathe deeply the smells of smoke and leather and whiskey and male...

He's alive. A choking sob ripped through her as she cleaved a demon in half.

Well, not alive-alive, but, y'know, alive. For him. Comparatively speaking. And stuff.

And he didn't love her anymore.

A searing pain shot through Buffy's side, and she looked up to meet the eyes of a demon, smiling triumphantly...

Buffy stumbled backwards as a blinding flash of white light filled the alleyway, the raindrops hissing in her ears and turning to steam... a scream in her head, a scream that sounded like Willow, a scream that didn't sound like pain, a scream that sounded rather more like the kinds of noises she'd put her pillow over her ears to avoid when she had a room next to her and Tara...

What the hell?

Vision returned slowly... a spaced-out group of drenched people, chests heaving, weapons still in hand, staring at each other in confusion.

Andrew, bleeding heavily from a cut on his forehead, clutching his stomach. Faith, wild-eyed and ready for more. Robin, looking vaguely ill and holding onto his bicep... Kennedy, sword over her shoulder, looking around frantically, disbelieving...

Slayers, some she recognized, some she'd trained, many more she only recognized by the way they held themselves, the similarity she felt...

And much further down the street, Angel. Buffy's heart skidded into her throat. His face was a mask of pain, and she wondered who he'd lost...

And then Angel reached down, offering his hand... and pulled Spike to his feet.

Oh God, here comes another fight...

Buffy's eyes flew open, her breath stopping, as the two vampires threw their arms around each other...

In a big, manly... hug?

Before turning to face...

Buffy's eyes narrowed.

The woman moved like a cat, dressed in some sort of reddish-black leather bodysuit thing... like a Stormtrooper Slut. Blue streaks in her hair. Make that a Goth Stormtrooper Slut.

The woman said something, and Spike laughed aloud, his head thrown back. Angel merely smiled painfully. More words from the woman, and Spike crossed to her, touching her lightly on the shoulder, a look Buffy knew all too well on his face... reassuring Spike, consoling Spike. Spike's lips were moving, forming words she couldn't hear, but she knew that head-tilt, knew that little eyebrow flash, and something red, pulsing, and squirmy grew in Buffy's gut.

If he just called her 'pet', I'll grind her into dog food.

The woman didn't smile, just looked at Spike like she wanted to eat him...

Familiar with that feeling...

And Buffy's heart lurched as Spike guided her back down an alleyway, whispering in her ear.

Oh, God. So that's why he didn't come find me.

6. Cookie Dough

"We have to get out of here," Andrew gasped. "They'll be more... we need to get away... regroup..."

"I'll go get Willow and Xander," Robin called, leaping on top of a dumpster to grab the edge of a fire escape.

"Buffy, c'mon," Andrew said, tugging at her elbow. "Let's get on the bus..."

Andrew trailed off, his eyes widening as he took in her blood-soaked shirt. "When did that happen?"

"It's not so bad..."

But it was; when Buffy touched her fingers to it, they came away soaked in blood. She felt her legs swaying, felt arms catch her, hold her up briefly, pass her into stronger, colder arms that hefted her as if she weighed nothing.

Her eyelids fluttered. Angel.

"You came," he whispered.

----------

"I'm... sorry, Blue."

Illyria stared blankly at the space where she had left Wesley's body, her small hands clenched into fists.

"I will find where they have taken him, and I will destroy them."

"Blue... it's not him anymore. You know that. It's a... shell. Nobody ought to know that better than you."

"Human shells can be used." Illyria turned on Spike, smirking slightly. "Nobody ought to know that better than you, vampire."

She advanced on him, blue fading until Fred circled him, her fingertips trailing across his shoulderblades. Spike closed his eyes, grimacing. "You know that something remains behind, don't you, William?"

"Got it. Important to find the body. Now change the channel off 'The Fred Show', it's bloody well not right."

"It distresses you to see me this way. Not as much as Wesley, but your distress is there."

"Fred was an all right girl. Helped me out, or tried to. Didn't get the chance to return the favor, and it pisses me off."

Illyria considered this a moment, morphing back into Blue Mode. "Very well. We shall find Wesley now."

"Frankly, I'm a bit more worried about Gunn."

"Why? The witch has healed him completely."

"When?"

"While we fought. Her power is impressive, for a human."

"Well." Spike tried and failed to keep an almost paternal pride out of his voice. "How's about my little Will, then."

He followed Illyria out into the rain. "Best make it quick; I don't think we want to hang around here, Blue."

"Do you wish to tell Angel where we are going?"

"Yeah, I suppose Peaches oughta..."

Spike paused abruptly, raising his head, breathing deeply.

"Small change of plans; we're goin' this way." Spike took off at a run, Illyria easily keeping pace.

"You have smelled something."

"Someone. Someone who's not supposed to be here."

Spike stopped in his tracks, taking a step backwards.

It was her, all right. Real and there and everything he'd ever wanted, sitting on Angel's lap, being held in Angel's arms, gazing into Angel's stupid fluffy puppy face, Angel's meaty man-paws stroking her hair, comforting her, protecting her.

She'd dyed her hair brown. Looked bloody awful.

Oh, who was he kidding.

She looked fantastic.

She always looked fantastic.

"Right," Spike said gruffly, pulling his pack out of his pocket. "Right, then."

"We are not going to Angel?"

Spike finished lighting his cigarette, shoving his Zippo back into his jeans. "He's busy. So are we. Let's go find Wesley."

"Perhaps we should --"

"Look, Blue, he's got other things to deal with." Spike's lips curled into a snarl. "Cookies to take out of the oven."

----------

Gunn looked back at the alley, his jaw set in a line. "I don't like it."

"We can't wait any longer," Angel sighed. "We've got wounded... this place will be full of demons again before we know it."

"It's Fred, Angel."

"No, she's not."

"Well, what about Spike?"

"I know he survived the battle," Angel shrugged. "He should have checked in by now, but..."

Gunn scowled. "So we're just going to leave him."

"I don't see that we have a choice."

"But..."

"Look, I don't like it either. But we'll lose a lot more people if we stay. We can't risk everyone for the crazy god who killed Fred and Spike."

"Wouldn't have anything at all to do with a certain Slayer on the bus, would it?"

Angel growled low in his throat. "No. It would not."

"Fine." Gunn grabbed onto the handrail, swinging himself onto the schoolbus. "Just going on record as not liking it."

"Duly noted," Angel grimaced, hauling himself up afterwards.

The bus doors closed with a squeal of metal, and the bus began to move. Angel and Gunn dropped into a bench.

"Fit a bit better on one of these when I was seven," Gunn groaned.

----------

"Y'know what?" Spike muttered as they vaulted a fence, "Cookies suck."

"That is not consistent with my information."

"No, y'know, y'see, what happens to cookies. You're a nice, baked-up bloody cookie, you're done. Nothing more to do -- 'cept get eaten. You don't grow, you don't change, you either mold and rot and die, or y'dissapear down someone's belly."

Illyria cocked her head, giving Spike a queer look.

"Y'wouldn't understand; haven't ever eaten a cookie, have you? Not as I have, recently, but..." Spike leaped over a trash barrel. "But y'know what's better than cookies, way better? Cookie dough. Y'eat it raw, right out of the little tube, with a spoon... maybe even with your fingers, standin' in front of the icebox, 'cause you're just too hungry to wait. Cookie dough is flexible. Cookie dough is promise and potential, the flavors are sharper, hell, it's got raw eggs in, it's even a bit dangerous. Cookie dough is..."

"You are no longer speaking of cookie dough. This is a metaphor?"

"She'll never be a cookie. S'not in her nature. That's the problem with her, Blue... she doesn't understand her nature. She's more like me than she knows."

Spike hurled away his cigarette butt. "Nicer tits, though."

"I do not believe I am the correct partner for you in this conversation. I do not understand what you are saying."

Spike grinned impishly. "S'why I'm havin' it with you, Blue."

"Ah."

"See, that's the thing. S'why she hates me, Blue -- I remind her of herself, all those bits of her that scare the piss out of her. She doesn't like who she is, not really; she works too hard to keep Dawn from becoming her... when she's all the Nibblet wants to be. And that's why it bothers her that the Bit loves me."

"I do not know who these people are."

"See, Buffy thinks the Bit is her, UnSlayered. Innocent-like. She tries to keep her that way -- good bleedin' luck with that one, I say. Protectin' her, protectin' herself, this vision of herself. Buffy thinks she likes me 'cause of something they did to her, some darkness they installed when she was Called, that demony bit the cavey boys stuffed in the first Slayer... but the Bit proves her wrong, don'tcha see?"

"I do not see."

Spike stopped, sniffing the air again. "Left. It's getting stronger."

----------

Angel worked his way down the aisle, rocking back and forth with the bus' movement, heading towards the back, where Buffy lay, propped against Xander.

"You're awake."

"Yeah," she smiled weakly. "Just."

"How you feeling?"

"I'm better, a little. The bandage helped." Buffy struggled up against Xander, and he helped her up by her shoulders.

"Glad to hear it."

"Did I see you... hug Spike?"

Angel's face flamed, his steadying hands digging into the padded seats. "Well, I... I mean... we've been working together almost a year, he's not so... I mean, I still hate him, I... I'm gonna go sit down."

Buffy reached up, pressing her hand against Angel's chest. "Don't be like that."

"Well, he's still an asshole, don't think he's changed, I..." Angel broke off, staring at Buffy's face. "Buffy, what is it?"

"Angel..." she whispered. "Your heart."

Angel looked down at her hand. "Yeah?"

"It's... beating."

7. Gilligan's Isle

"Your heart... it's... beating."

Angel froze, his brain stretching to encompass her words, his gaze flying downward to Buffy's hand on his chest. "You're... mistaken."

"It's faint... really faint," Buffy whispered, her eyes holding his, the truth in them, taking his own hand and pressing it where hers had been. "But... feel."

If he'd been human, he'd have said he was dying... the heartbeat was faint, irregular, barely registering against the warmth of his palm...

Warmth of his palm??

Gunn appeared at his side, soft wonder in his voice. "Angel, the Shanshu Prophecy..."

"I... I signed it away," Angel muttered, still staring blankly, his palm pressed to his own chest. "I signed it away... this can't be happening..."

Gunn stepped back. "You did what?"

"Had to," Angel coughed. Something in his chest hurt like hell. "Signed a paper..."

"You signed off on a prophecy?" Xander blurted. "Damn, I wish we'd been able to do that. Here you go, Dawn, here's a pen, now Buffy doesn't have to die and we can all order pizza..."

Suddenly, Xander experienced something very new and different...

People staring at him as if he'd said something brilliant.

"He's right," Willow said. "What kind of prophecy can you just... sign off on?"

"I wasn't signing it off so much," Angel gasped, "I thought I was signing it over..."

"You signed the prophecy over to Spike," Gunn said in disgust. "After all we went through, how badly you wanted it..."

"Maybe that was what he had to do," Willow said quietly. "Give it up to get it..."

Buffy's eyes flicked from one face to another, each sentence deepening her confusion.

"It's stronger... the heartbeat... and this..." Angel gave a little goofy half-smile, sitting down heavily on the padded bench, "This is starting to hurt like a son of a bitch."

Xander peered at him. "So what, you're like... dying in reverse?"

"Maybe," Angel gasped as another stabbing pain bent him over.

"Try to vamp out," Willow suggested, flinching a little when they all whipped around to stare at her. "What? Like an experiment."

Gunn nodded. "Not a bad idea."

Angel closed his eyes, concentration taking over his face...

"Oh, that's no good," Willow said. "You just look constipated... oooh! Caught a flash of forehead..."

"Don't think I'm pissed off enough," Angel laughed weakly.

"Told you we shouldn't have left Spike behind," Gunn laughed, not catching the shocked look from Buffy.

"Need to get pissed, huh?" a smile slid across Xander's face. "Keep your eyes closed..."

Xander leaned over Buffy to get closer to Angel, his lip curling upwards. "What's wrong, Peaches, ya great beefy ponce? Turnin' human, eh? Good thing I got that bloody chip out, then -- bein' undead won't be any fun if I can't kick yer ass properly..."

Angel's eyes flickered yellow, his forehead ridging slightly. "Didn't know you did impressions, Xander."

"Lots of things you don't know about me, Dead Boy." Xander caught Angel's glare and laughed. "C'mon, I had to. I'm not going to be able to call you that in, what, an hour or so?"

"Is that as vamp as you can go?" Willow asked.

"Looks like."

"Wow," Willow said softly. "You're really -- wow."

"How's the heartbeat?" Gunn asked.

"Stronger."

"How's the pain?"

"Worse." Angel groaned. "I didn't think it would be like this... I thought there'd be, like, some blinding flash of light, and then, bam, y'know, I'd be a..."

"You'd be a real boy?" Gunn finished.

Angel glared. "Xander's impression was better."

Gunn looked confused, and Angel sighed. "Spike. That's what he always said about the prophecy. Us turning into 'real boys', y'know, like Pinocchio..."

Another coughing spasm doubled Angel over, and he clutched at the seat.

"What is this Moo Shu prophecy, anyway?" Xander asked.

"Shanshu," Gunn corrected. "It's about a vampire with a soul that gets turned human again for services rendered to mankind."

"And you signed that over to Spike?" Xander said in disgust.

"Guys," Willow said suddenly, "It didn't specify which vampire with a soul?"

"No," Angel gasped, "That's why I could sign it over..."

"Did it specify just one?"

"I don't..." Angel looked at Gunn, who shrugged. "I don't think it was very specific about that..."

Willow paled. "So... Spike could be out there turning human as we speak? With, like, no one to help him, and the demons coming back?"

"Well, he's got Illyria..."

"Is that Goth Stormtrooper Slut's name?" Buffy snapped.

"Yeah, Illyria'll be a big help," Angel laughed weakly. "Regular Florence Nightingale. Be about as nice to him as she was to Fred, I bet..."

"Who's Fred? Who's Illyria?"

"Long story." Angel reached in his coat pocket, pulling out his cellphone. "I'm gonna try Spike again."

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

"Hang on a sec, Blue, pocket's gone all happy." Spike dug into his jeans, pulling out the cellphone and examining the readout.

Angel. Called to gloat, no doubt. Perfect.

Spike flipped the phone open. "Puppy, you know I enjoy it too much when you make my pocket do that... reminds me of that night in Venice..."

"Look, there's something I wanted to..."

"Ah," Spike kicked a trash can across the alley, and Illyria raised her eyebrows. "The happiest boy in the world, eh? Got what you always wanted? Accept my heartfelt congratulations."

A pause. "So you... but you know? How did you..."

"Smelled it on ya, mate. Thrilled for ya, I am. Wish you a long and happy life, fa-la-la, et cetera."

"I guess you would be... able to smell it, I mean..."

"Bloody right, still a vampire, ain't I? Know that smell anywhere."

"Spike, for what it's worth... I'm sorry. I know you won't believe this, but... I... I wish it could have happened for both of us."

Spike leaned against a wall, taking a deep, unnecessary breath, forcing his voice to remain steady. "Now, Peaches. That's just kinky. You know how bad we are at sharing..."

"Is that why you didn't come back?"

"I've not gone off to have a bloody sulk, if that's what you're gloating about. Blue and I have a bit of unfinished business."

"Look, Spike, we're all headed for a safe place. Why don't you and Illyria come meet us there..."

"Thanks, mate, but I've never been one for the big sodding group hug..."

"Spike, Buffy's here, she wants to talk to you... I'm going to pass the phone over..."

Spike smashed the "end" button, rearing back and hurling the cellphone against the wall, the satisfaction of watching it explode to pieces a nanosecond's balm for pain.

"Why did you do that?" Illyria asked softly.

Spike closed his eyes, sighing heavily. "I can't..."

"You have grief."

"Eh..." Spike pushed himself off the wall, shrugging his coat into place. "Lost another girl to the poof. Story of my sodding unlife, that. Poof always had this one, though. Kiddin' myself otherwise. I was just her big, vampy blow-up doll, and now she's got the real thing."

"This female is the cookie dough?"

"I'm happy for her. Well, most of me is. The bits that don't want to punch things."

Spike kicked the broken plastic shards with the toe of his boot.

"That's the ass-kicker, innit? Hurt less when I bloody exploded in the Hellmouth, and I'm happy for the bint. Love's a funny thing..."

Spike's eyes widened at something over Illyria's shoulder. "... Innit that right, Wesley?"

Illyria whirled.

"That's very accurate, Spike." Wesley said quietly. "Very accurate."

"So what are you now, then?" Spike called. "Last we heard, walkin' around wasn't a current ability of yours, so give us a clue; hard to kill you again, otherwise."

"I... don't know what I am. I thought I was me, but I remember..." Wesley looked at Illyria in utter misery. "I remember dying."

Wesley sighed, his head drooping. "I... I thought I'd be with Fred."

"No evil mastermind bellowin' 'it's alive'?" Spike lit a cigarette. "That does make it puzzlin'; usually they like to stick around and have a nice cackle."

"Not unless it was her..." Wesley looked around the bend of the alley. "You can come out, I know them, it's okay..."

Soft footsteps.

"Not to contradict you, mate, but I wouldn't say anyone here qualified for 'okay'... you've got a vamp, a god-thing, and whatever the bloody hell you..."

"Spike?"

The cigarette tumbled from Spike's lips. "Bit?"

She pounced on him in a whirl of silky brown hair and Love's Baby Soft, arms and legs wrapping around him. "Spike, I thought you were dead, I missed you so much, I missed you so much..."

Spike circled her with his arms, breathing her in deeply. "Bit, I missed you too."

She pulled back, grabbing his collar in both hands, staring at him. "If you ever leave me again, I'll fucking stake you. Slowly."

"Nibblet! Language!"

But Spike was laughing, raising his hand to brush her hair away from her face. "Lookit you, Bit... you're huge and girly."

Dawn raised an eyebrow naughtily. "And legal."

"Aw, gerroff," Spike groaned, unwrapping her legs from around his waist and setting her back down on the concrete. "If your sister heard you, they'd be sweepin' me up."

But he couldn't stop grinning. "Well, aren't we a right group. Body hijackers anonymous. The mystic key, the big blue god, the ensouled vamp, and whatever the fuck Wesley is... here on Gilligan's Isle."

"Spike, you watch way too much TV."

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

"I got a dial tone," Buffy said softly, passing the cellphone back to Angel. "I think he hung up."

"Probably lost signal," Angel groaned, clutching his side. "Well, at least we know he's not Shanshuing in the middle of a demon horde."

"He's all right?"

"He sounded fine. He's still a vampire... said he was with Illyria..."

"Do you want me to do a locator spell?" Willow offered. "Be good to know where he is, we'd know if he got into trouble..."

"Willow, you have to be drained..."

"I'm not, actually. I've never felt more all charged-up." Willow bit her lip. "Especially if, uh, Xander wouldn't mind..."

"I'll be your battery, honey," Kennedy laid her hand on Willow's shoulder. "I'm not swinging a sword at the moment."

"Well, I mean... I mean, sure, sweetie, but you just fought a battle, y'know? And, uh... I don't want to drain you if something, um, jumps us..."

"Oh, yeah, 'cause I'm useless," Xander said irritably. "Look, I may be cyclops-boy, but that doesn't mean I'm not good for anything but draining..."

"Do you feel drained?" Willow said gently, looking into his eyes.

"No, I... I don't feel drained at all, I..."

Why was Willow looking at him like that?

Willow brushed a piece of her hair back, giving him a funny little smile. "So it's okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I guess, I guess it's..." Xander's words trailed off into a gutteral moan as Willow grabbed his hand, that rush flooding through him, his back arching...

"Mega-gross, Xander, you're humping me!" Buffy squealed, whipping around to face him. "And your... your hair is turning red..."

Buffy whipped around to face Willow, whose head was thrown back, soft gasps coming from her throat. If Buffy didn't know better, she'd think she was...

Well, she did know better, and she still thought she was.

"What the hell is happening to them?" Gunn gasped.

Kennedy's face grew darker by the second, staring at Willow and Xander's linked hands like she really wished she were still carrying her sword.

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

In the alleyway, Spike clutched his head and dropped to his knees, screaming.

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

"Too much," Willow gasped. "Too much, overkill, too much, can't control it, too much..."

"What do we do?"

Willow moaned, struggling up in her seat, reaching for her and Xander's entwined hands. "My soul is wrapped in harsh repose..."

"What kind of spell is she doing?" Gunn demanded.

"Midnight descends in raven-colored clothes..."

"That's not a spell," Angel's chuckle turned into a racking cough. "That's William the Bloody awful poetry..."

"But soft... behold! A sunlight beam..."

"What's she doing?" Gunn watched as Willow clawed at her own hand.

"I think she's trying to separate them," Kennedy said. "Let me."

Kennedy grabbed for Willow and Xander's hands, attempting to pull them apart.

"Yeah, before she gets to the bulging bit, please," Angel laughed.

Kennedy finally snapped the hand-lock, flinging their hands away with such force that Xander's fist slammed into Buffy's cheekbone.

"Ow!"

"Sorry, Buffy," Xander put his hand on her shoulder. "Crappy day, huh? Punched by me, stabbed by a demon..."

"Yeah, which still hur..." Buffy stopped, putting her hand to her side. "Which hurts not at all."

She pulled up her shirt, running her fingers over the blood-crusted, but smooth skin. "Willow, did you heal me?"

Willow shook her head, disoriented. "No I didn't, pet. Meant to later, but..."

"Did you just call me 'pet'?"

Willow blinked. "No."

"Yes, you did."

Xander looked uncomfortable. "Buffy, I... I think I might have healed you."

"Oh, what, with your magic back-humping action of regeneration? Never sitting next to you on the bus again."

"No, I... I was thinking about how hurt you were..."

"This is too weird. Xander, you can't do magic."

"I know I can't, but..."

"Look," Gunn interrupted. "Did you locate Spike? Did the spell work?"

"It worked too well, I think," Willow sighed, rubbing her temples. "I have the headache from hell. But yeah, I know where he is. Or at least... I know what it looks like. And he's okay. Actually, he's happy."

"You can tell he's happy from a locator spell?"

"Dawn's here, Buffy. She's in the alleyway with him and Illyria and Wesley."

Buffy opened her mouth, but Gunn cut her off. "Well, there you have it, Willow. The spell didn't work. He can't be with Wesley... Wesley's dead."

Willow sighed. "Well, if he was... he's not anymore. Spike just talked to him."

"What do you mean, Dawn's here?" Buffy demanded.

"I don't know how, Buffy, but she is. She just pretty much tackled Spike and gave him a hug... it's what he's happy about. It's the only thing he's happy about. God, he's so sad..."

"All right, that's it," Buffy demanded. "I don't know what's going on, but stop the bus, let me off. I'm going to get them."

"Well, isn't this usually the part where you kick me in the head and run out, virtue fluttering?" Willow said.

Buffy froze. "What did you just say?"

8. Unpleasant Feelings

"... chip out..."

Spike's eyelids fluttered open, Dawn's worried face filling his field of vision. His head was cradled in her lap, her fingertips tracing the scar at his eyebrow, the rest of him sprawled across the concrete...

"How... how long was I out, Bit?"

"A minute or so... Spike, I thought you got the chip out..."

"Wasn't the sodding chip." Spike touched his temples, wincing. "Chip's been gone a while; never felt like that, anyway..."

Wesley took a step forward. "Do you want me to..."

"Uh-uh, mate." Spike rolled off Dawn's knee, raising himself up and putting down a hand to haul Dawn to her feet. "Still waitin' for you to grow horns or fangs or chant in Latin while your head spins 'round. You can stay bloody well over there."

"He was really nice to me," Dawn said helpfully.

"Well that's lovely, Bit, I'll keep it in mind." Spike glanced around the alley, sighing. "This is just fantastic. Like that bloody boat riddle."

"Boat riddle?"

"You've got animals and a boat, you've got to get 'em all 'cross a river without 'em eatin' each other, can't remember which ones eat the other bits... think one was a sheep, maybe. Not important. What's important is, she's an evil god-thing, he's a god-only-knows-what, but... probably evil, 'cause that's just how this sort of thing seems to work out, right? And I don't want either of them out of my sight or anywhere near you, which makes gettin' you back to Buffy a wee bit tricky, y'see?"

"I'm eighteen years old," Dawn huffed. "I don't need to be returned to Buffy Base every time I wander off. I got here all by myself, didn't I?"

"That's right, you did." He cocked his head. "And how'd that happen, exactly?"

"Well, maybe if you guys hadn't spent years ditching me, I wouldn't have such a finely tuned sense of when it was happening..." Dawn crossed her arms defensively. "And I might eavesdrop less."

"We might've ditched you less if you hadn't been Big Bad du jour's victim o'choice every sodding time, Bit... bloody hell, as many times as you've damseled in distress, we might as well have put you in a red shirt and sent you down with the first away team."

"Too much TV, Spike. Way too much TV." Dawn grinned wickedly, and the resemblance to her sister sent an ache through him. "Besides, 'Damsel in Distress'? That's Xander's job. I kick ass now."

"Oh, y'do, eh?" Spike grinned. "Right. Y'know, that bit about the ass-kickin' would be a sight more menacin' if y'didn't bounce on your toes while y'said it, luv."

"Been training," Dawn pouted. "With Faith, when she's around. It's, uh, kind of on the down-low, okay?"

"Is it, then. Explains the more... colorful additions to your vocab, I suppose." Spike eyed her critically. "And your wardrobe... I don't suppose your sister's put her okay on your new little hobby, has she?"

"You won't tell her, will you?"

"Buffy and I aren't... well... we haven't exactly been... pen pals."

Something strange crossed Dawn's face. "You, uh... haven't talked to Buffy?"

"Don't think she knew I was alive until today."

"Well," Dawn grinned, touching his sleeve. "I guess I don't have to punch her for not telling me, then."

"All the same, Bit, things are dangerous, and you..."

"I'm very fast."

"Yeah, I'm sure you're a regular..." Spike froze, looking downward. "That pointy little unpleasant feeling in my chest... that's you with a stake pressed to me, eh?"

"Told you I was fast." Dawn put the stake back in her coat pocket. "Anyway, I smell demons. Hot-wire a car or something, let's get the hell out of here."

"Nibblet." Spike's disappointment shone. "Your Uncle Spikey raised you better than that."

"Let's get the hell out of here... please?"

"That's m'girl."

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

"What did you say?" Buffy repeated, staring at Willow.

"I said I think it's too late to stop the bus... we're almost an hour out of town, aren't we?"

"Willow... that's... that's not what you said. You said..." Buffy fought down a blush. "You said a-a thing someone said to me... that I never told anyone about. And you said it word-for-word."

Willow leaned back against Kennedy, letting out a little sigh. "I guess -- I guess maybe I did? My brain is... all jumbly and full... I feel weird, pet..."

"There! There it is! You just called me 'pet' again!"

Angel, watching the proceedings with interest, sat up painfully. "Willow? What was the first thing I ever said to you?"

Willow bit her lip, thinking. "You said, uh, 'Darla and I had a little spat.'"

"Hell of a 'locator spell'," Angel grimaced, lying back again. "Remind me not to piss you off."

Buffy's nose scrunched in Angel's direction. "When did you talk to Willow about Darla? I don't remember..."

"That's the first thing I ever said... to Spike," Angel groaned. "Course, I called him 'Willy' back then..."

"You called Spike... Willy?" Xander beamed.

Angel grinned. "Called him a lot of things. Not many of them were polite. Maybe we should compare notes sometime."

"Liking Dead Boy more and more, Buff," Xander laughed. "So Will, what'd you do, suck Spike's brain out? And if so, may I say, bravo."

"Angel," Gunn said. "Your, uh... your nose is bleeding a little there..."

"Oh?" Angel touched it experimentally, his hand coming away red. "Damn, uh... anyone got a kleenex? I haven't gotten one of these in a few centuries, do I lean forward or back? I can't ever remember..."

"Uh... Angel?" Kennedy said in horror. "You might want to try forward... over a bucket..."

"What, I..." Angel looked down at his blood-soaked shirt. "What the..."

He raised his hand to his mouth, and it came away bloody; Angel spat blood into his palm, staring at it in confusion.

"When you make a vampire, doesn't the human blood get replaced with vampire blood?" Xander asked. "Maybe it's... uh... leaving... quickly..."

"That bucket might not be a bad idea," Angel gasped.

"Yeah, we forgot the bucket. Can you believe us? Who comes to the apocalypse without a bucket? Don't worry, next time, top of the checklist..."

"Xander," Angel groaned, curling into a ball, "Have I mentioned how much I haven't missed you?"

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

Buffy paced down the cave tunnel, the sound of her heels echoing through the damp cavern. "How come our 'safe places' are never the Ritz Carlton? How come we always end up in these creepy, warded, templey..."

A soft voice, Willow's: "Talking to me?"

Buffy whirled. "Hey, Will. And, no. Talking to myself, I... thought I was alone. Needed some quiet, y'know, after the whole screamy-chaos-Angel-blood-transfusion-bus-hoedown."

"How's he doing?"

"Asleep." A small smile touched Buffy's lips. "And snoring."

"And now we know the real reason you're undeadsexual."

Buffy smiled. "Not needing to breathe does come in handy sometimes..."

"I can certainly think of some times," Willow chuckled.

"Willow!"

"You'd think the prophecy people would have been nice enough to give him human blood of his own," Willow mused, touching the small band-aid at her inner elbow. "I mean, what would have happened to him if he hadn't been with a busful of donors? And you know what else? I wonder what blood type he's going to end up as? I mean, he's got like, ten different people in him..."

"Dunno. I guess he'll be an... exotic blend." Buffy leaned against the cave wall. "So how come you're all... skulking around?"

"I actually, I... well, don't laugh, but I came out here to smoke," Willow said over the sound of striking flint. "Stupid childproof lighter, though... you'd think I could destroy the world, I could work one of these things..."

Buffy froze. "Will, you don't smoke."

"Yeah, I know. I got this from Faith. I thought I'd have one. Don't worry; just one."

A flare in the darkness; Willow sighed, her face barely lit by the ember. "Oh yeah. Still good."

"Still?"

"Well, in a way, I've been smoking for what, eighty years or so?" Willow grinned goofily. "Can't expect a girl to quit just like that."

Buffy took a step towards her. "Willow... we didn't really get to talk, what with Angel puking gallons of vamp blood on us and Giles with the freaking and the transfusioning and the, y'know, but, uh... this little, uh, Spike Attack you had?"

"Don't worry," Willow said, taking a deep drag. "I didn't suck Spike's brain out."

"Well, that's... good, I guess..."

"I think I sort of... downloaded him," Willow mused.

"You... you what?"

"Downloaded him, y'know? Like from a web server. The server still has the data, only now I have it too. Well, I did. It's fading fast, but... did you know he was at Woodstock?"

"Yeah, I... I did. Skip back to the downloady bit..."

"His memories." Willow tapped ashes onto a rock. "Like I said, it's fading now, but... it was kinda cool."

"'Kinda cool'. Remembering a century of soulless evildoing was 'kinda cool'?"

Willow laughed gently. "It's not like that. It's just... flashes. It's like any memory, y'know? They're not all in your mind at once. Well, they were in his, when he was in the basement, but... well. Getting your soul is pretty majorly unfun, as I recall."

"You... you remember getting his soul?"

"Oh, yeah. That memory's really strong. Y'know, for a Big Bad, he sure does end up on the receiving end of the torture a lot, huh? Angel, Dru, Darla, Glory, The First, the African Soul-People, you..."

"Hey," Buffy stammered. "He-he asked me to do that stuff..."

"Beat him to a pulp and tell him he had no good in him?"

Buffy paled. "No-no, other stuff."

"Yeah, I remember some of that," Willow nodded. "The memories with a lot of emotion connected to them are a lot stronger, y'know? I think that's why I remember the recent stuff better. The century of soulless evildoing didn't make as much of an impression. He didn't get any more emotional about the victims than you do dusting vamps, y'know? Bit of excitement during the hunting and the fighting and the killing, but nothing that stuck. They're the enemy, you kill 'em, end of story, all blurred together... I mean, it'd be like me trying to remember every time I ate chicken."

"We're talking about human beings, Willow..."

"Yeah. Food. For him, not me. I mean... I'm sure chickens think we're the Big Bad..."

"Are we talking about the memories of a hundred-year-old master vampire, or you becoming a vegan?"

"That would be hard, I really like cheese... but now that you..."

"Willow!"

"Huh?"

"Back to the point, please?"

"I had a point?"

Buffy groaned. "Look, Andrew told me that the reason they were keeping me in the dark about all this is because Wolfram & Hart made something the Watchers thought was a trap for me... does Spike know what the trap is?"

"Buffy... the thing Wolfram & Hart 'made' was Spike himself."

"I don't... I don't understand."

"Spike died, Buff. Dusted in the Hellmouth. And then woo-oo mysterious, that amulet reappears to Angel, ghost-but-not-Spike comes out of it..."

"Spike's a ghost? I saw him fight a dragon, he was definitely with the corporeal form..."

"He is now. And none of it's been explained, none of it. Why would the Big Bad want Spike back? That can't be good... who brings the person who defeated you back from the dead to do it again?"

"So... what is Spike now? Is he a trap?"

"Maybe? Look, I'd tell you if I could, but Spike doesn't know himself. I don't... I don't think he is. As far as he knows, he's the same."

A grin of relief spread over Buffy's face. "That's why Spike didn't call me, or come see me. That's why... he was protecting me..."

"Uhm..." Willow sighed. "I don't..."

"It makes perfect sense!"

"Um, sure, but... Buffy... I don't think that's all of it..."

"He still has his soul, right?"

"Definitely still does, yes..."

"Then Giles was right. Dawn's safer with him."

"Uh... what?"

"When we got here, and I was all leaving again, to go get Dawn..."

"I did wonder why you were still here..."

"Giles said that we were the Big Bad's main target, all smooshy in the caves like this. Hundreds of Slayers, you with the witchery, Watchers, all of Angel's team except Spike and Goth Stormtrooper Slut..."

"Is that what you're calling Fred?"

"Goth Stormstrooper Slut's name is Fred?"

"Yes. Well, no. It was. Actually, it was Winifred..."

"Wow. Stirrings of pity for Stormtrooper Slut..."

"She's not really Fred anymore. She's this god-thing, Illyria..."

"Spike's new honey is Glory Redux? And I thought he'd hit rock-bottom with Harmony."

"Actually, speaking of Harmony..." Willow closed her mouth, reconsidering. "Nevermind. The main thing is, Illyria's not his, uh, honey. He's friends with her, sort of. He was friends with Fred... it's... complicated."

"Oh, well, that's a big change from the norm. Everything in our lives is always so simple..." Buffy sighed, crossing her arms. "At least Dawn's safer than we are. If Spike has his soul, he'd die to protect her."

"Y'know," Willow said carefully. "He would have before. The soul, I mean. Buffy, you're... you're really hung up on this soul thing..."

"What do you mean?"

Willow took another drag off her cigarette. "I just think, well... I don't think you can measure Spike with the Angel yardstick."

"Meaning?"

"Angel... made it look simple. Angel with a soul equals good; Angel without a soul equals big, big bad. But Spike was becoming a good person... creature... thing, um, way before he ever got a soul. Doesn't that... kinda say something?"

"A good person? Willow, he tried to rape me!"

"You're not going to like what I'm about to say," Willow replied quietly.

"No, I'm not, I can tell by your voice. Say it anyway."

"Buffy... I'm not saying that he should have done that, or excusing it, or anything. I'm not saying that at all. But I don't think it's a big hammer-thing that smashes anything good he did before it happened... any more than the soul he got later magically transforms him into Angel The Blonde."

"Did I say that?"

"Not in so many words, no..." Willow sighed. "But you didn't believe in anything good he did without a soul... and he got magically forgiven for everything once he got one, 'cause you didn't even really see him as the same person. I just think maybe you're... oversimplifying."

"Look, Willow, I'll admit, I was confused too... I mean, Spike really did seem to be turning good or whatever. But then he..."

"Look, all I'm saying is... even taking that incident at face value..."

"Face value? What's that supposed to mean? What value are you taking it with? Willow, you weren't there."

"Buffy?" Willow tapped her forehead. "Yes, I was. And this is going to piss you off, but..."

"I'm already pissed off. Spit it out."

"You insulting him, telling him no, telling him you could never love him, yelling at him to get off you, him having to grab you and wrestle you down and stuff... that was, like, foreplay for you guys. And every other time he did that, you ended up all nakedy and screaming his name, in the good way."

"So what, I asked for it?" Buffy screeched. "Shouldn't have worn such a slutty bathrobe? Willow, you of all..."

"Buffy. I wish it hadn't happened to you. I know it was horrible a-and bad and wrong and my point here is, so did Spike. When he realized you really didn't want it, that you weren't just doing your usual 'no-no-get-off-no-no-oh-yes-yes-yes' thing, what did he do?"

"Well -- he left, y'know, upset."

"Yeah. How many rapists do you know who are all 'Oh golly, sorry, I'll just be leaving then' when they realize the girl's not into it?"

"Willow, that doesn't matter, he still..."

"He felt horrible, Buffy. He felt so much remorse, he went out and made sure he could never ever do it again. Do you understand that, Buffy? Remorse? A soulless demon, gettin' his remorse on... the implications are..."

"I know what the implications are, Willow. Do you? Willow, I've spent most of my life dusting vampires on sight, on the basic premise that they're eeeeevil. If I had to sit down with each one and determine exactly where they are on their spiritual journey of personal growth..."

"So... basically, you're using this one incident with Spike to invalidate every good thing he did before he got his soul, huh?"

"Will... look. It's intent. Spike did some really nice stuff, sure, but he did it to get in my pants... part of his whole sick little Slayer-obsession thingie. I'm not knocking Spike-with-a-soul at all, but Spike-with-no-soul was..."

"Are you not listening to me at all? You can't draw a line down him like that, Buffy! Even without his soul, he did all kinds of good stuff when he knew you would never find out!"

"Practice."

"What?"

"He was practicing. Y'know, for doing the good, to get in my pants."

"Wow, huh -- you have a really high opinion of your pants." Willow hurled her cigarette aside. "Buffy. Do you consider black-haired veiny Willow to be a part of me?"

"Of course not."

"And why not?"

"You're Willow. You're good. The black hair thing was..."

"Something that came from inside me."

"No. It didn't."

"Yes, it did." Willow stood up, shoving the lighter into her pocket. "Buffy... I know you're the Slayer, rah-rah, fight the evil, yarr, but the world isn't black and white, y'know? Until you can accept the grey, you're not really my friend... you're not really Spike's friend... and you're going to keep having these twisted relationships..."

"I see grey! I see tons of grey, I'm unsorted laundry, I'm..." Buffy bit her lip. "Is it cats or dogs that can't see colors?"

"They both have limited color vision, and that's not the point."

"Oh? What is the point?"

"I think..." Willow bit her lip. "I think maybe it goes beyond the rah-rah Slayer thing. I think maybe you can't admit that Spike could love you, really love you, without a soul... because then you'd have to ask yourself what it means that Angelus didn't."

"Why? Why are you saying this stuff to me?"

"Because Spike never will. And there's more, Buffy, there's so much you don't know..."

Buffy leapt to her feet. "Look, Will. I appreciate the little rally from the newest captain of the go-Spike-go cheering squad, but it's not necessary. I like Spike just fine. Better than fine. So you're wasting your breath, and this conversation's over."

"You know I was only sort of talking about Spike, Buffy..."

Buffy glared. "I have to go check on Angel."

Next