* * * *

Chapter 11 - Discovery
 

Spike walked into the living room later that night to find Dawn with a textbook draped across her lap and her homework half-finished, forgotten in the midst of watching television. She paled when she noticed his questioning look, and hastily grabbed for the remote.

"Don't change the channel on my account," Spike replied with a faint smile.

Dawn stopped, sighed as if making the most vexing decision of her life, then turned the show off anyway. "I know I'm not supposed to watch TV and do homework, but it's a really big episode, and the VCR's broken..."

"I was serious, bit." He sat down next to her, and gestured at the blank screen. "There's only a few minutes left, right? Flip it on and finish the show." She grinned in delight, and quickly switched the TV back on.

"So, what is this?"

"I thought you knew the entire TV schedule by heart. It's CSI." When he blinked, she clarified, "you know, the one about forensic scientists in Las Vegas? They solve crimes by looking at evidence."

"Oh. Right." Suddenly, he didn't feel so comfortable sitting next to Dawn, watching a show about criminal investigations when he was, by human standards, a reformed serial killer. His conscience nagged at him to flee the room, leave town and hide in a cave somewhere, but he shook away the thought. It was silly to think that hiding away would solve anything, especially since Buffy would come after him and kick his ass if he did any such thing.

Once the show ended and the commercials began, Dawn turned off the TV again and started to collect her things, he felt like he needed to talk to her about something, anything. He didn't know what--maybe the weather, or her school work--as long as it reassured her, and himself, that their friendship wasn't dissolving because of his relationship with Buffy.

"How's school going?" Spike could have winced at how trite it sounded, but it was a start.

"It's okay," she offered back, grabbing her finished homework off the table and tucking it into the book.

"You know, if you ever need to talk about something, I'm here."

She shrugged, then said softly. "I know. It's just...with you and Buffy together, things are different. You're her boyfriend now, and I'm the annoying little sister."

"You don't really think that." He said it so matter-of-fact, Dawn stared at him in surprise. "You know your faults, and being annoying isn't one of them. You think you're in the way because of me and Buffy."

"Aren't I?" A uneasy silence followed, one neither of them liked. She closed her eyes in resolve, and continued. "Now, I'm not saying I don't want you guys to have some private time, and I sure don't want to be next door to the...y'know...while it's going on, but I hate feeling like I don't belong in my own house."

"If anyone doesn't belong here, it's me. I should go."

She stood up to face him. "Okay, no. You don't get to be the broody martyr and stomp off for our own good. Don't even go there."

"Not going anywhere, Dawn," he answered with a smile, hoping it would alleviate her fear. But the girl was right--she shouldn't feel put out in her home. "Just...thinking of getting my own place. Within city limits, of course."

"Oh. That means you're going to need money, right? And a job, and references, and all those things Xander needed before he got his apartment?"

Spike didn't like the sound of that--paperwork and bureaucracy always made his skin itch. "Well, that's nothing for you to worry about, Dawn. I'll be handling that, when it happens. And right now, you've got some paperwork of your own to finish, haven't you?"

"Yeah, yeah," she grumbled and left, her next sentence floating down from the staircase. "You're getting to be almost as bad as Buffy."

He decided to let that slide as he turned his gaze to the blank TV, since he wasn't sure if it was a compliment, or an insult.


 

* * * *
 

Getting the Mohra blood ended up being a simple affair. A couple of days after the initial meeting, Angel and Lorne went to an abandoned warehouse in the wee hours before dawn. The Quathra demon was waiting for them, a cardboard box tucked under one arm. Angel could partly make out the shipping label on the package, and his incredulity rose to new heights.

"UPS?"

Fraresaka shrugged. "I'm not as concerned with human businesses as you appear to be. Don't worry, it's packed with those annoying styrofoam cylinders, so it's intact."

With exquisite care, he pulled out the vial...which would have been more dramatic, if he hadn't speared several styrofoam peanuts on the ends of his talons. "See what I mean?"

The blood glowed brightly in the darkness of the warehouse, and Angel had uneasy flashbacks to the last time he'd seen it. The pain of losing Buffy over again wasn't as acute, but it was still a reminder of what he'd sacrificed for the sake of prophesy and destiny. Thankfully, Lorne took it from the demon and handed over the cash--another painful moment Angel didn't care to indulge in.

As soon as Fraresaka verified the amount, he nodded in acceptance and melted into the shadows, leaving them with their eagerly-sought item. With little fanfare, the vampire and demon headed back to the hotel in Angel's car, the normally talkative Lorne staying silent and deep in his own thoughts. Angel left him alone, since he could appreciate a good, deep introspection better than most.

It was only when they reached the door of the hotel that Lorne spoke, his behavior bordering on edgy. "Angel, there's something I need to talk to you about."

"We can talk about it in the office..."

"No, not there. I don't want anyone to overhear this just yet." Lorne wandered to one side of the courtyard, his gaze falling on the fountain and the surrounding foliage. "I got an offer for a job in Las Vegas, and I'm going to accept it."

"What?" Angel was more stunned than disappointed. "Why?"

"I need to get back into the business, but as long as I stay here, you'll always be coming to me for help--and no offense, sweet cheeks, but you're not the most subtle character in town. Why start a new club when you'll just bring friends that'll either tear the place apart, or burn it to the ground? I love L.A., but it doesn't love me anymore."

"But...Las Vegas?" Angel asked, bewildered.

"Hey, it's a wonder I haven't set up shop there, already! True, it might be more touristy nowadays, but the nightlife is still to die for. There's a place that's set up not far from the Golden Nugget, in the old section of town. It's not on the Strip, per se, but considering the tourist factor, that's probably for the best."

"When are you leaving?"

"Soon. As in, I'll drop off the blood in Sunnydale, on my way to Vegas."

"But they're doing the spell tonight," Angel frowned, then noticed the sky lightening in the distance. "Are you sure about this?"

"I got the offer a couple days ago. I know it's sudden for you, but I've been thinking this over for some time. I'll be honest and say it's a little selfish, but hey, I'm not a champion, now am I?"

At this, Angel smiled and clapped the other demon's back. As they went indoors, Angel replied, "No, you're the lucky one."


 

* * * *
 

All of the gang gathered in the Magic Box shortly after Anya made sure the 'closed' sign faced out into the street. The necessary ingredients for the spell were assembled on the table, except for the Mohra blood. Angel had promised that someone would come up from L.A. to deliver it, and the natural choice was Cordelia, since Wesley and Fred needed to stay and cast the protection spell on Angel, and she would probably want to see Sunnydale. To their surprise, the visitor couldn't have been more different.

It was just past twilight when he came into the Magic Box, baseball cap pulled low and hopelessly trying to appear non-descript in a pale teal suit and yellow shirt. At the stares from the assembled group, he smiled cordially and said, "Wow, is this town in denial or what? No one even looked at me twice. You expect it in L.A., but here, in the bosom of white bread suburbia?"

"You're, um, the person Angel sent?" Tara asked.

Willow added, "I think I remember you. Your name's Lorne, isn't it?

"In the chartreuse flesh, dumplin'! And I come bearing a gift--a very pricey gift, I might add, and don't think I didn't hear all about it before I left."

He reached into his coat and pulled out the clear vial, the Mohra blood growing bright green. Willow took it from him and nodded distantly in approval. "This is the stuff. Now all we need is a not-so-willing test subject."

"And that's my department," Buffy chimed in, looking eager for some action.

"What kind of demon are you?" Anya asked as her eyes took him in, her brows furrowed in confusion. "I don't recognize your kind at all."

He didn't take any offense, merely laughing it off. "Oh, I'm not from this dimension, honey. You could say I've got a permanent visa. My people can read auras, although I prefer to do it when people sing. It's more fun that way."

"You should've been here a few weeks ago," Spike said, leaning against the bookcase. "It was like a city-wide tribute to Rogers and Hammerstein, with some Bob Fosse thrown in."

"Ooh, sounds like heaven--or, that some nitwit summoned Sweet and didn't realize....oh." He stopped and turned to face Xander.

"I swear I didn't know, honest!"

Lorne shook his head ruefully, his eyes seeing something beyond the surface. "That and three dollars will buy you a mocha latte. And if I were you, I'd plan on sticking around for the whole thing, friend. You never know when vengeance will come into season."

"What?" Xander replied, completely baffled.

"And you, Red...you're on the right path. Don't leave it," Lorne said, his face and tone serious. "You're all good kids. I'd hate to see you end up...well, let's say it's not gonna happen. Not here, anyway."

Tara seemed to understand the gravity of what he was saying, if not the entire context. "Are-are you going to be staying for awhile?"

"No, I've got a prior appointment. Plus, I'm feeling like Sunnydale isn't a good place to be in the near future."

"Why's that?" Buffy asked, clearly alarmed.

He shook his head, his hand already on the doorknob. "Don't know. It's all fuzzy, but it's a bad kind of feeling, if you know what I mean. It's telling me that I'd better not stick around. Anyway, I've got to see a demon about a lounge gig in Vegas. Toodles!" And with that, Lorne ducked out of the shop.

"Wait a minute--Vegas? I thought he was heading back to L.A.?" Willow said, turning to see the mixed reactions at Lorne's departure. Xander was still trying to puzzle through the demon's words, Anya was looking almost smug, and Buffy and Spike were tense in that way they always were, right before a fight. Tara was the most worried, especially since she was the one who was going to cast the spell.

"Guys, it can't be the spell. It's totally fool-proof!"

"Willow, you know I want this as much as anyone, but maybe we shouldn't?" Buffy replied, now showing signs of back-pedaling. Anya was obviously trying not to say 'I told you so', although it was showing on her face and in her body language.

"No, we have to. We can't back down now. Think about the lives it'll save. Think about the people whose loved ones had to bury them, not knowing that they'd crawl out of their grave and hunt down others. Think about all of friends and classmates who ended up dying or being turned. Jesse, Miss Calendar, Larry--" A knock on the door caused her to stop, and share a confused look with everyone.

"Store's closed! Come back tomorrow with your money!" Anya yelled out, which made Xander wince.

"God, I know that. I'm not dumb," a muffled young woman's voice replied. In stunned shock, everyone but Tara froze in place. "I figured out what's going on, y'know, even though it was supposed to be all hush-hush. You guys are so transparent."

Buffy stomped up to the door and flung it wide, revealing the girl they'd once known as Harmony. With a look of disdain and contempt, Buffy grabbed Harmony by her skimpy shirt front and dragged her into the shop, closing the door behind them.

"Harmony, you couldn't find your way out of a wet paper sack," Spike sighed, shaking his head in something akin to amusement. "You followed Lorne, didn't you?"

She shuffled uncomfortably. "Okay, yeah. I heard about Angel buying the Mohra demon blood, and when I went to his office to ask about it, I overheard them talking about a spell and Sunnydale."

"I get that," Buffy said angrily. "What I don't get, is why you're here."

"Isn't it obvious?" Harmony replied loftily, until her shoulders sagged and she said in a small voice, "I don't want to be a vampire anymore. It sucks!"

Xander snickered, and the blonde vampire glared at him. "I don't want to be evil anymore, okay? I thought it was cool at first, but I haven't seen my reflection in two years, the choice of vampire lairs around here are gross, and do you know how hard it is to apply eye-liner without a mirror?" Spike started to say something, but then thought better of it.

"I want to be human again. Please, I'm begging you, change me back!" She said in her best, desperate voice. One could imagine it being used on a father holding her allowance money at bay.

Tara said softly, "Well, we do need a guinea pig."

Harmony's eyes lit up, and Buffy pouted in dismay. "But I was kinda looking forward to some fighty action..."

Suddenly, Harmony stared at Spike as if seeing him for the first time, then blurted out, "Hey, when did Spike become human?"

Spike went from amused to alarmed, as the others began to understand what this meant. Buffy sighed in defeat, knowing that the only other option now was to dust the hapless vampire.

"Guess we're going to have to do it, after all. Harmony, you're our first test subject."

"Yay!" Harmony clapped her hands in joy, while the others managed to keep from rolling their eyes. "When do we start?"


 

* * * *
 

In light of what they were doing, Spike thought a full moon ought to be showing, or at least some nice, ominous clouds on the horizon. Instead, there was almost a peace that transcended the general mood, something that nearly made him believe it would work out in the end, after all.

But, he wasn't quite so foolish to fall for the tranquil lull. The flashy demon's words echoed in his head, and for once he found himself sharing Xander's earlier concern. Not that he hadn't been concerned before, but if a demon with precognitive abilities decided to skedaddle, his usual instinct was to do likewise.

A glance at Buffy's face cured him of most of his doubt. He realized that while it was for the good of everyone, he was more focused on how it would improve Buffy's life--and the chances of seeing a legacy left behind, either by children or by deeds. He worried that her fears about hurting him were still haunting her; they hadn't made love since that night, although he had to admit with Dawn in the house, it wasn't feasible. Still, it bothered him to think she was agonizing over what had happened.

They were almost to the cemetery by now, and Spike couldn't help the nervousness he felt. He hadn't been back since his change into a human, and the idea of going into a place where he'd nearly died didn't sit well with him, naturally. The only reason he was human was due to being careless, and having Buffy there to call for medical help. He couldn't imagine what would've happened if he'd only called out to Buffy sooner, possibly leaving him unscathed and a member of the undead. Would Buffy have rejected him by now? Or would they still be meeting secretly, carrying on an affair behind her friends' backs?

Buffy held onto his hand as they entered the cemetery, her face tense with memory. She wasn't the only one having flashbacks, then, he realized. In a way, it was comforting. He didn't feel alone, as he normally did.

When they reached the approximate center of the graveyard, everyone came to a halt. Willow and Tara started to prepare the site--Willow wouldn't have needed a circle, had she been casting the spell, but Tara did. Harmony fussed and whined in boredom, and Spike felt the old urge to stake her, just to put her out of his misery. Instead of acting on it, he took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, something that was supposed to help with anger.

It didn't work. He was about to focus his thoughts elsewhere, when an idea formed, one that filled him with dread. In a light-hearted voice that surprised even him, he turned to the blonde vampire and asked, "Harm, how did you hear about Angel and the Mohra blood?"

"Oh, some vampire guy told me."

He rolled his eyes in belabored patience. "And, how did he know about it?"

"I think he said his friends heard it in some bar. Jeez, what's with the third degree?"

"Well, it just occurred to me that if you could follow Lorne here, then who might else be...oh, bollocks."

His eyes caught shadows moving in the periphery, and Buffy was already in battle alert mode, her stance defensive. Xander gaped around in confusion, while Anya quickly moved behind him. Spike stood there in shock, his mind reliving his last moments as a vampire.

"Everyone around Tara!" Buffy yelled, and the group fell into a loose circle around the woman. Even Harmony filled up a spot, although she looked as befuddled as ever. "Tara, start the spell!"

"Wait...I'm almost ready..." her voice came from below, and Spike imagined her bent over in an attempt to finish the runes on the ground.

"What's going on?" Xander asked, peering futilely into the darkness.

"Vampires," Spike breathed out, trying to push away the fear. He might be no stronger than the boy, but he had years of fighting prowess on his side. He hoped it would be enough. "And I don't think they're here to join in the fun."

The shadows were now blobs of color, and soon faces could be made out in the darkness. Spike couldn't count how many there were, so he spared a glance to Buffy.

As if reading his mind, she replied, "Looks like twenty, at least. If Harmony could fight and you were still vamped...maybe. Otherwise, I think fleeing is a perfectly acceptable alternative."

"How? We're surrounded, in case you hadn't noticed."

Just then, Tara began to chant--not a protection spell, as he'd hoped, but the one Willow had created. It made some of the vampires pause, fearful of what it meant, but then the older ones moved forward, the younger ones following suit.

She wasn't going to finish the spell in time, Spike noted as the vampires closed in fast. And then, fists were flying and Spike found himself dodging blows. On instinct, he twisted his body to avoid a meaty fist, then grabbed the arm and used the vampire's inertia to make the punch into a throw. In the seconds afterward, he turned and blocked another blow, then used the opportunity to bring his heel down hard on the other vampire's knee, feeling it shatter. He grinned at the sense of power returning, although it quickly deflated once he saw the vampire rise slowly to its feet.

Buffy was punching, dodging and weaving, trying not to dust the vamps she fought. It was a deadly tactic, but he understood why. If Tara could finish the spell, then all this fighting would end in a matter of seconds.

As in answer, bright, green light came from the wiccan's direction, and Spike turned to see her hands outstretched, glowing with unreleased energy. The vampires hesitated, unsure what was happening. Tara's voice rose until the last word echoed with power, and then green light shot forth from her hands, heading straight for the vampires surrounding them, including Harmony.

Some of them screamed, though it was likely more in fear than in pain. After a few seconds, the light faded and they slumped to the ground, all of them bewildered as to what had happened. Harmony clutched at the grass and panted heavily, her eyes closed and looking like she was about to throw up.

"Oh god..." she groaned, and then she did just that.

In all the excitement, almost no one noticed Tara swaying on her feet, her strength sapped completely. Willow cried out as she started to fall, and then Xander and Spike were there, reaching her before she hit the ground.

Spike backed off as Willow leaned over and tried to rouse the wiccan, to no avail. Unsure where to look first, his gaze fell on Buffy, trying to help one of the former vampires--the one whose kneecap he'd busted. He grimaced in self-reproach and leaned over to another man, holding his hand out in support. The man took it, and Spike hauled him up, appraising the spell's handiwork. The hand was warm, the pallor was fading, and he could see the beginnings of tortured existence creeping up on the man's face.

"Can you walk?" Spike asked gently, and the man nodded. By now, the others were starting to comprehend their fate. A younger man wept openly, while a grizzled, tattooed man shook his head and wandered off. Spike wanted to go after him, but the remaining people were too many to leave for the group. He could only hope that the fellow found his way home.

Xander scooped up Tara in his arms, while Spike, Buffy, Anya and Willow herded the former vampires towards the cemetery gate. One of the two women stared blankly ahead, as the second one clung to Anya for guidance. All these people were still in a state of shock, and Spike couldn't blame them. He didn't envy what their dreams would be like, or what the future held in store for them.


 

* * * *
 

The grizzled man--Harry, he knew his name was Harry--meandered through the alleyways of Sunnydale, not knowing the area. He could remember so much, and yet so little. The memories of busting the door to the electronics store was clear enough, then there were demonic faces and pain...and then, darkness. When he arose--and that seemed to him the best word to use--it was on a cold gurney in the Los Angeles city morgue, his face covered with a sheet. The doctor on duty hadn't even seen him coming.

The power that had rippled under his skin was gone. He flexed his fingers, not sure how he felt about that. When he tried to push a Dumpster away from a back door and failed, he decided he didn't like it one bit. Harry also didn't like the way he felt, the shame and guilt. Shoving it aside, he focused on finding something to eat. His mind first substituted 'someone', however, and it filled him with an unnatural melancholy--not because of his former state, but for his returned humanity.

Now his anger flared, realizing what that blonde witch had done to him--to all of his former group. They'd come to stop the Slayer's friends from succeeding, and had ended up becoming their first victims. The remorse crawled up into his ribs, and he swallowed it down once again. He didn't want to feel this way. He wanted the guilt to be gone, like it was before.

His eyes brightened when he heard the sound of someone approaching. Logically, he should have ran for his life, since he knew that nobody human would be walking the alleys of Sunnydale at night. Instead, he waited until the vampire appeared, already in game face.

"What, no running away? Or are you that stupid?" The vampire grinned, straightening out his threadbare denim jacket.

"You gotta turn me back, man," Harry said in earnest, his hands shaking visibly. "I can't live like this."

The vampire looked at him in puzzlement, then said, "Sorry, I don't turn guys. Only the ladies, and that's if they're really hot. Guess you'll just have to be my meal."

"No! No, I have info--I, I know something about the Slayer, what she's up to--" He didn't get to finish, because the vampire lunged at him and bit into his throat, his newly-restored lifeblood rushing into the vampire's mouth. He struggled and tried to fight him off, but the vampire was too strong.

Harry tried to yell for help, but only weak protests came out of his mouth. And then, a feeling he remembered all too well came over him, and he closed his eyes in defeat. At least the darkness would keep the horrible guilt and remorse at bay.

The vampire dropped Harry's lifeless body to the ground, and wiped a drop of blood off his chin. "I can't believe he tried to snow me," he chuckled, then suddenly felt ill. With a curse, he clutched at his stomach in pain, then was dumbfounded when a bright green light enveloped him. He fell to the ground, trembling and sick, and vomited up the blood he'd just consumed. Then in horror, he heard the sound of his heart beating once again, and felt the need of breathing air into his lungs.

"Oh no, no no nonono...." He said desperately, and stared at the body on the ground. "What the hell did you do to me?"

He grabbed his head in his hands, then realized he needed to leave, now. He got up and ran unsteadily, his legs weak and unwilling to cooperate. The alleys were familiar to him, and he turned down one corner he knew would take him into the main street, where the lights would help keep him safe.

An arm flew out in front of him, and he quickly found himself pinned against the alley wall. He followed the green, scaly arm until he reached the demon's face, a horned monstrosity that would've once made him laugh, but now made him shake in fear.

"Have you any last requests before I kill you?"

"No, no...please! I'm a vampire, a-a demon like you!

The demon sniffed at him, then sneered. "You reek of human stench. You have a soul. Call me unpersuaded."

"Wait, there's something that happened to me. I think it's some kind of vampire plague--it turned me human..."

With a snap, the demon broke his neck. "I'll keep that in mind."

As the demon walked away, he didn't see the green glow around the vampire's body, or how it left the dead body and followed after the demon. The green light caught up to the demon and coiled around its body, then absorbed itself into its scaly skin, much to the demon's alarm. It shrieked as the pain became unbearable, the scales on its arm expanding and shifting. In seconds, the demon's body had mutated horribly, altered beyond recognition. It stumbled forward, hoping to find help, but the strain was too much for its twisted legs, crumpling under its own weight. Blue ichor trickled out of its mouth as it gasped for air, but in moments the breathing stopped, the lifeless, mangled body stilled. The green glow seeped out of the demon's corpse and headed back down the alley, looking brighter and more vibrant than before.



 

* * * *

Chapter 13 - Penitence
 

"...'ere the end of my plea, may this vampire be covered by thee." Wesley threw the powdered bone over Angel's head, and a cool blue light flickered through the dust, briefly forming a shield of energy before the powder hit the floor.

"So, did it work?" Cordy asked, squinting through the hazy air around Angel.

"The spell was successful," Wesley smiled in triumph and glanced Fred's way, hoping she noticed. She gave him an excited grin in return, and he felt his own grin grow wider. "The light you saw was the spell initiating."

Cordelia nodded, taking his word for it. Angel shook off the remaining bone dust with a concerned frown. "So, now all we have to do is wait? It's that simple?"

"One would hope," Wesley answered as he put the rest of the spell components away. "In time, the other spell will run its course and all current vampires will be human again."

"I wonder what that'll mean to our bottom line..." Cordelia mused out loud, which got her a wary look from Angel. "Hey, this is a business, y'know. And taking away potential clientele isn't going to pay for Connor's college tuition, is it? Or pay our salaries, either," she added gloomily.

"Look on the bright side," Fred spoke up, brimming with near-eternal optimism. "There's bound to be a lot of vampires turning human in L.A., and they're going to need help in readjusting. We could help them out."

"Right, 'cause that worked so well with Darla," Gunn quipped from his perch on the stairs. "I think we're heading into some serious nastiness, here. Not to say it isn't the right thing, but all those people--they're gonna be messed up. If they still have families, that's great, but if not? What then?"

"I'm having the feeling that Gunn could be on to something," Cordelia replied, her voice betraying her sudden trepidation. "It's not like there's such a thing as former vampire welfare."

"We'll deal," Angel answered quietly, "as I'm sure they will. I know from experience that it's not easy, but it isn't impossible."


 

* * * *
 

Unprepared for so many at once, the gang tried to help the people as best they could as they were herded into the Summers' home. Those who'd been turned more recently were the strongest, both physically and emotionally, and were able to help with the others. One woman still stared blankly at nothing and everything, and Buffy mentally planned for the woman to be taken to the hospital.

Spike was talking to one man who was bent over, sobbing, on her couch. From what she could gather, the man had killed his wife and children two years ago, and was mumbling about he wanted to join them. Spike glanced up at her as she passed by, their shared gaze filled with pained sorrow and the beginnings of doubt.

In the corner was Buffy's ultimate concern. Harmony was huddled in the corner, looking more dead than she'd been as a vampire. Her knees were drawn up defensively, but Buffy came over to her regardless, hoping that her former classmate wasn't slipping away.

"Do you think you can eat something? Maybe you'll feel better."

Harmony gave her a look of disbelief, her eyes red from crying. "I was evil, Buffy. I killed people. Why should I try to feel better?"

Buffy gave her a stern look, hoping it could pull the girl back together by sheer force of will. "Because you wanted this. You were a vampire, yes, and you did evil things, but you didn't want to be evil anymore, remember? I can't imagine any vampire doing what you did. And look at Spike--he was a vampire for 120 years, and he's adjusting. If he can do it, I know you can, too."

"You're not just saying that, are you?"

"I wouldn't say it if I didn't think it was true. I know it's hard to picture it, but you'll survive. Your parents...do they know what happened to you?"

"Not the vampire part," Harmony tried to wipe away tears, but only managed to smear her mascara. "They, oh God, they buried me in my favorite dress. How am I going to explain all this to them?"

Buffy rubbed the girl's arm soothingly as she started to weep again. "I wish I knew."


 

* * * *
 

After a couple hours, fourteen people out of the twenty-one left the house to return to their families. Some thanked the group, and some left without saying much of anything. One person shook his head sadly at the remaining few before he left, those who were still unable to cope, and said, "I hope you know what you're trying to accomplish, 'cause I sure don't."

Spike wasn't sure anymore, either. The man he'd tried to comfort earlier was still inconsolable. There was a good chance that the ones left behind would never be able to adjust, and it made him oddly grateful for how well he'd done, thus far. He felt the guilt, but it was more of a peripheral shadow that occasionally caught his eye. Maybe his memories were faded by time and distance. Or maybe he was just better at bouncing back. He tended to believe the latter, since his dark moods had never lasted for very long, even as a vampire.

Willow had taken a couple of people to the hospital, the one whom Spike had wounded and another who was still staring blankly at everything around her. The rest had fall asleep in the meantime, taking up two of the bedrooms and the couch. Tara was in her old bedroom, still unconscious. Xander and Dawn were by her side now, which left Buffy and Spike on the back porch, staring into the darkness.

He'd thought being human would help make everything clearer, but he should've remembered that it hadn't worked that way before. No reason things would change, thanks to getting a second try. He glanced over to Buffy, and noticed her hands folded over her knees, appearing more sedate than he knew she was.

"We really know how to bugger something up, don't we?"

She exhaled in one long breath, shaking her head. "We do. Not that there aren't positives to this, but...I had no idea how hard this would be. And that one guy who took off--he's probably spreading it through Sunnydale by now, beginning the cycle. What'll happen to the people, like the ones we helped tonight?"

"They'll cope--eventually," Spike said, trying to be a voice of hope in the midst of her dour outlook. "That, or perish. Which is what happened when they were bitten and turned, so it's all a matter of perspective."

"Yeah, but we can't help all of Sunnydale. And if the people are going to be like the ones we had tonight, they'll be easy pickings for the demon population. We end up saving them from being vampires, only to make them demon chow."

"Well, not all demons attack humans," Spike found himself saying. "In fact, I know a few blokes that even you'd get along with."

"Gee, thanks. Not like I'd want to hang out with demons, anyway."

He sat back, feeling a sense of trepidation as her comment brought out something that had been on his mind. "Buffy, you said back when I was first human that you wanted to find out if you could love me. But there's something you never explained. Why do you love me?"

This took her off-guard, and she pulled back visibly as she tried to sort out the question. "Well, I...I love you. Because...I just do. Why are you asking me this?"

Spike sighed and hung his head. "Because of the way my past is treated like it's a bad dream. I'm not saying I want to brood over it, 'cause I don't--but I never expected to see you treat it so casually."

"Casually? Since when?"

"Since the moment I became human, actually. When you helped me out of the hospital, it was like being given a clean slate, free of charge."

"Well, yeah," Buffy looked at him as if she wasn't sure whether he was joking. "You're human now."

"And that makes it okay? I kill a few thousand people, but hey, I'm human so it's fine and dandy?"

He could've kicked himself when he saw the stricken look in her eyes. "I never said that. Don't think that it doesn't pop out at me sometimes--hey, my boyfriend is former demon who killed enough people to fill a suburb. But, you were a vampire then, and you were evil. It's what you did. Now, you're not. You're human, which means you can be good."

"So as long as I'm human, it changes things. I should have figured--Anya got the same treatment. As long as she wasn't a demon, Xander didn't care about who she'd been or what she'd done. Love can blind you that way," Spike replied, knowing it as well as anyone.

She frowned at him, the look a dangerous one he was all too familiar with. "Hey, I'm not putting any blinders on here. This has been far from easy for me, you know. When this all began, it was scary to wonder if I was attracted to a demon, if maybe there was something inside me, drawing me into the darkness. Being a Slayer means something that the Watchers' Council can't even begin to understand. You have to walk in darkness, while trying to keep yourself from becoming part of it.

"So if you want to know why I love you...it's not just because you're human. You understand me on a level that no one else does. You've always cut through the crap and gotten to the heart of the matter, even when I didn't want to hear it. You took care of my sister while I was gone, and you didn't expect me to immediately get over being dead for five months. And yeah, there's also the fact that you're pretty easy on the eyes, but you know that already. What I'm trying to say is, I fell in love with the whole package, dark ugly past included."

"Really?" He smiled, genuinely affected by her words. "Imagine that. I think I've got it now."

"I hope so, because I don't want you to think that you're some kind of consolation prize. That's what this is about, right?"

Surprised that she had nailed it so close, he chuckled nervously, "Yeah, I guess you could say that. I look at what we have, and I keep waiting for the other shoe to fall. Or when you're going to come to your senses and take off."

"I have no plans on leaving anyone or anything. I'm here, present and accounted for. Granted, I'm still adjusting to being here, but that's my issue, not yours."

"It's my issue if it concerns you," he countered, and took her hand in his. "Don't ever think you can't share with me, pet. There's nothing you can say that will surprise me."

"How about, I'm having Xander's baby?"

"That's not as funny as you think it is," he replied, deadpan. "I'd wager it's time to find out if our resident wiccan is up and about. Let's go have a look-see."



After several minutes of talking with Dawn and watching Tara fail to wake up, it was becoming obvious that the situation was getting dire. None of them had a clue how long Willow might be gone, and the idea of going after her was tempting. But with Spike technically a hospital refugee, and Buffy his accomplice, they risked complicating matters by returning to the scene of the crime.

Spike had been almost ready to suggest calling Xander, when Willow came through the door. Disheveled and weary, she took the news of Tara's continued unconsciousness with more than a little panic and concern.

"She should be awake by now, shouldn't she? I mean, it was a big thing with so many at once, but it's been hours. Oh God--what if was my spell? What if I screwed it up?"

"Screwed it up how, Willow?" Buffy frowned, not liking the turn of this conversation at all. "You mean the spell is wrong?"

"In theory, no. However, when I planned it out, I was primarily trying to make sure the spell would work. The main part of the energy was coming from the demon blood." Suddenly, Willow's face fell. "But when Tara cast it on all those vampires at once, there wasn't enough energy for all of them."

"So it took the energy it needed from the most convenient source," Spike chimed in, getting it as well. "Tara."

"If it's just an energy drain, she should be okay," Willow said, sounding more like she was trying to reassure herself of the fact. "The spell's working, right? So, it's all going according to plan. And hey, pretty soon, no more vampires. Too bad there wasn't an easy way to get rid of all the demons, too."

A knock on the door interrupted before either Buffy or Spike could respond. All three of them stared at each other in confusion, before Buffy went to the door and opened it.

In the doorway was an enormously tall demon, grey-skinned with oddly shaped plates of armor and appearing, for all intents and purposes, to be someone to be avoided at all costs. They all took a step back defensively, waiting for the demon's next move.

"Hi, is this the Summers residence?" he asked politely.

"Um, yes," Buffy answered, still waiting for the attack.

"And you're the Slayer, right?"

"Yeah--er, I mean, who wants to know?"

"Oh, sorry about that! I'm Skip," he held out a hand, and Spike wondered idly where all the rip-their-heads-off-and-ask-questions-later demons of his youth had gone. "I went next door by mistake, and I can't begin to tell you how embarrassing that was. May I come in?"

Flummoxed by the politeness, Buffy almost asked him in until she caught the gleam of his armor. "Why don't you tell me the reason you're here, first. If it's to kill me, I'd rather take this outside."

"No, nothing like that." His eyes scanned the surroundings, narrowing when they fell on Willow. "Oh, so you're the one."

"What, me?" Willow said, looking for all the world like a five-year-old caught with her mother's make-up bag.

"You think the Powers wouldn't know? Your spell is altering the Balance, turning the status quo into chaos. Do you guys even know how much trouble you've caused?"

Buffy yanked the demon into the foyer, annoyance and panic showing on her face. Spike had the sense to step clear of them both. "Wait a minute. The Powers sent you? Something that looks more like a reject from 'Starlight Express'?"

Skip rolled his eyes, then looked at Spike. "Did she give you this much grief when you were a vampire?"

"And then some," Spike said in a moment of solidarity, before Buffy's gaze of doom fell on him. "But, y'know, that was different. I was evil."

"Uh huh," Skip replied, nonplused. "But anyway, back to the problem at hand. Which is the imminent destruction of the fabric of reality, or as I like to call it, the Big Nighty-Night."

His fingers marked quotes in the air, which Spike knew could only increase Buffy's ire. He wasn't proven wrong. "So, the world is going to end. Am I supposed to be impressed? 'Cause I've got to tell ya, I don't fear apocalypses. Apocalypses fear me."

"I'm getting that vibe. But this isn't the job for the Slayer. If the spell can't be stopped, I'll be forced to do something I'd really rather not do, in order to stop the spell from being cast. So tell me," Skip turned to Willow, "can it be undone?"

"Tara would have to do it, but she's still unconscious," Willow replied, wringing her hands with worry. "We've tried waking her up."

"Let me give it a try," Skip answered, then looked to Buffy for permission to go upstairs. She nodded, and he climbed up the stairs, his weight making the steps creak ominously.

Dawn jumped when the demon came through the door, her eyes wide with panic. However, Buffy was right behind Skip, already calming her sister's nerves. Spike watched as the grey demon leaned over the unconscious girl, making thoughtful noises and examining Tara's state.

"Yep, she's out cold. A little minor astral scarring, but it's nothing big. Not like yours," he threw off-handedly to Buffy. "I can fix this in a jiff."

"Tara has scarring? What from, the spell?" Willow asked.

Skip shook his head. "Not exactly. Casting it on so many vampires at once was like...frying your CPU by overclocking." Willow nodded in understanding, but the others gave him a blank look. "In other words, her body tapped out from all the energy she was using."

Willow folded her arms, her shoulders hunched miserably. "It wasn't supposed to be used that way. We were only going to cast it on one vampire. Then the vampire horde showed up, and that plan got shot to hell."

"Which is standard operating procedure for us," Buffy interjected. "You'd think we'd learn by now."

Skip shrugged, wisely keeping his mouth shut. Then he placed one hand on Tara's forehead, his face frozen in concentration. After a few seconds, he pulled away with some effort, clearly taxed.

"Phew, all done. She should be waking up any minute now, but she'll be weak as a kitten. Canceling the spell won't be difficult, will it?"

"No, it shouldn't take as much strength to undo. If she needs power, she can have mine."

Spike looked at Willow in concern, knowing it wasn't that simple. "I don't think that's a good idea. You'd have to access it in order for a transfer to work, and in your condition, you don't want to tempt fate."

The girl sagged in defeat, watching her former lover helplessly. "Isn't there anything I can do?"

Skip, seated in one of the bedroom's chairs, replied, "Do you know anything about operating systems? I'm having trouble with my laptop at home; it won't let me access my Excel spreadsheets."

Willow's face scrunched in concentration. "Have you tried checking the associations?"

"Yeah, they're fine. I'm thinking maybe the program's corrupted..."

Spike rolled his eyes and looked over to Buffy and Dawn, silently signaling them out of the room. In moments, Willow and Skip were left talking shop, as everyone waited for Tara to wake up.


 

* * * *
 

It was the strangest thing Detective Fred Dunlop had seen in his ten years on the force in Sunnydale, and he had seen a lot of weird things. People were filing into the police station, most of them looking shell-shocked and stricken with grief. Several grabbed passing policemen and begged to be put in jail to pay for what they'd done. They all claimed to be murderers, but said they hadn't exactly been themselves when they'd done it. One of his fellow officers thought they were all on PCP or some other street drug, but Fred shook his head in denial. He didn't know for sure what was going on, but he was afraid of what the true answer would turn out to be.

He called the hospital to have someone pick up the newcomers, but the psychiatric ward was reported to be full and over-flowing. If someone walked in off the street, the staff was forced to take them in, but they wouldn't accept anyone brought in from somewhere else.

Fred sighed and decided to at least take down everyone's name, in the hope that he could try to find their relatives and have them come pick them up. One by one, those who could communicate with the police gave their names, and when Fred looked over the list, he felt his blood run cold.

He knew some of these names. They were people who'd either been found dead, or declared missing, over the past several years. A few turned out to be main suspects in the murders of their families. In each case, the deaths had been by exsanguination.

Other reports began to come in; bodies were being found in alleyways, human and...otherwise. The morgue didn't know what to do with the odd corpses, and planned on informing the government. He knew what would happen then--the feds would swoop in, claim jurisdiction, and take the abnormal bodies away. Why the FBI didn't have a branch set up here by now, Fred couldn't say. The previous Mayor had made sure that these situations were taken care of without the government's interference, but the current Mayor didn't feel the same, preferring to let them take care of matters.

Once the calls went out to the family members, he found the number of people milling about start to decrease. Those who came to pick someone up were equally confused and overjoyed to see them. Most had never found what had happened to their loved one, but more than a few had buried their sons, daughters, fathers and wives. The confusion grew when the person tried to explain what had happened to them.

Those left remaining were either too far gone to reach with conversation, or were put into lock-up since there were warrants pending for their arrest. With no other choice, the police allowed the distraught ones to sleep in vacant jail cells, leaving the doors open to make sure they weren't traumatized any further.

No, Fred could safely say he'd never seen anything like this before. When he got home, he hugged his wife tightly, then made sure there were crosses in the windows. Just in case his crazy notions were right, after all.


 

* * * *
 

It was a relief to see Tara awake, even if she looked like she could sleep for a week with no trouble. She had been out for over four hours, and Buffy worried what had happened to the town in the meantime.

Half an hour later, Tara was strong enough to attempt the canceling of the spell. She was remorseful over casting the spell in the first place, and worried that she wouldn't be able to dispel it. Skip reassured her by telling her that was why he was there--although he remarked that what he would be forced to do wasn't exactly easy, then explained what he meant.

"You'd have to turn back time?" Willow goggled at Skip.

"Just a few hours, thankfully. The Powers absolutely hate to do it, since once you start doing it for a few people, everybody will be hounding after you for some little thing or another. And there's no fun in constantly going backwards."

There wasn't really anything the group could say to that. With an urgency more panicked than controlled, they laid out the circle in Buffy's backyard, hoping there wouldn't be any nosy neighbors. Spike was pretty sure that the ones who'd gotten an eyeful of Skip wouldn't be a bother tonight.

Tara shook shakily in the circle, Willow nearby to catch her if need be. She closed her eyes and began, her voice sounding out with a deceiving strength. "Spirits, I invoke thee--let the spell where life was lended, now and forevermore be ended."

The wind whipped around her with a faint glow, then dissipated into the night air. Skip nodded in approval, his eyes seeing something the others couldn't. "I think you caught it just in time--it was almost ready to head off to the next town."

Buffy turned what he'd said over in her mind, then it finally sank in. "Wait, are you saying...all the demons are dead?"

"Not all. There are a few less violent ones in the outer areas, but the vampires are all gone. All five hundred and twenty-seven of them."

"Five hundred...?" She'd guessed there were maybe a hundred at most, but five times that amount? "And all those people are walking the streets, not even knowing what's happened to them."

"Well, not exactly. It's less than that, thanks to the demons. Which is why the demons ended up dead--once they came in contact with one of the former vampires, the spell recognized them as a demon and tried to alter said demon. Ergo, dead demons littering the streets."

Skip sounded jovial enough, but Buffy could see the anger in his eyes. Swallowing down her growing sense of unease, Buffy replied, "It's kind of ironic when you think about it. People think monsters aren't real, and yet, by trying to destroy them we nearly destroyed reality."

"Exactamundo," Skip said, some of the cheerfulness returning to his eyes. "The Balance has its own protectors; for example, you and me. I come along to put out fires and get people to where they need to be, and you...well, kill demons and stop apocalypses. You'd think it was the other way around to look at us, but that's their wacky sense of humor for you. By the way, the Powers like the job you're doing, and said to keep up the good work." He slugged her on the shoulder, and Buffy was grateful for the Slayer strength just then--if she'd been normal, the blow might have broken her arm.

"Well, I've got a bar mitzvah to get to, so I'll be heading off. If I could request one thing--don't do any more spells, or else I might have to come back. And as much as I like you guys, I really don't want to come back here ever again. The Hellmouth makes my skin break out."

He vanished in a sudden burst of smoke, leaving them bewildered, confused, and partly relieved. Aside from Tara's weakened state, they'd escaped unscathed. There were untold numbers of people in Sunnydale who had to reconnect with the world, but Buffy knew that in time, things would improve. One definite bonus was the possibility of having a short vacation from her slaying duties, before vampires and demons were lured to the Hellmouth. If she was lucky, the remaining demons might spread the word about the contagion, allowing more time for Buffy to be normal, just for awhile.

"We ought to find them," Tara said, her voice hardly audible. "The people wandering around town. We have to find them and help them."

Buffy looked to Spike, who shared her trepidation. Tara didn't know about the ones they'd already tried to help, with less than spectacular results. "Tara..." Buffy began to explain, then stopped, a determined look crossing her face. "You're right. The demons might be mostly gone, but humans can be every bit as dangerous as a demon."

Spike threw a pointed look her way, one that reminded her that the Spike she knew from years past hadn't disappeared completely. She knew he was thinking of their past as vampire and Slayer, but it only reminded her of the night before last. Her gaze tore away, too ashamed to look him in the eye, and she heard him sigh with belabored patience.

She could feel it in her bones--they were going to have another Talk when they got home. With a dismissive shake of her head, she moved on, "So, we'll need to be careful. Tara, you're staying here. Willow, get Xander and Anya and head downtown. Spike, you're with me--we'll take the normal vampire hangouts."

"Hey, what about me?" Dawn asked from her place on the back porch. "I can help."

"You can help by taking care of Tara. She's putting on a good acting job here, but I know she's not at 100 percent, yet." When Dawn looked like she was going to protest, Buffy added, "And I need someone to be here in case something goes wrong."

"Yeah, like that'll happen with me in charge," Dawn replied sourly, which ended up making Buffy smile ruefully. Maybe it was the irony of the statement, or maybe it was the way her sister was sulking over not being thrown into harm's way.

"Trust me, Dawn--if your presence can ward away the possibility of bad things happening, I'm all for it."

This left her puzzling over whether it was a compliment or an insult...which was just enough time to have the gang slip away before she could think to ask.


 

* * * *
 

Spike and Buffy had checked several warehouses in the outskirts, but found only a handful of people. One was a homeless man, and the others were a former part of a vampire gang that had been attacked by demons after being turned human. They were alive only because the demons had collapsed after decimating most of their group. With assurances that the worst for tonight was over, Spike called a taxi and had the driver take the former vampires to the nearest hospital. Buffy wasn't thrilled at the idea of leaving them alone, but Spike felt that they'd lived through enough for one night--and if the hospital staff could convince them that the memories of being vampires were just hallucinations, maybe they would be better off, in the end.

They then checked out the buildings around the train tracks, but all of them were dark and empty; Sunnydale's prosperous era of warehousing and shipping by train had died around the same time as the rise of the trucking industry. Even with the new Mayor, the warehouses were still being used by the town's demon population. It was only a matter of time before vampires and demons would start to appear, like sparrows returning to Capistrano.

The both of them were ready to call it a night, but Spike decided to check a couple alleys while Buffy searched through the last place, thinking it couldn't hurt to take one last look. He was about to go into one alley when he heard a noise come from another, somewhere behind him.

It sounded like a woman, but he couldn't be sure. With a glance back towards the warehouse Buffy was in, Spike headed forward and called out a clear but soft tone, "Hello? Anyone here?"

He couldn't see anyone, but he could feel something, a buzz under his skin that made his hairs stand on end. He took a few steps farther into the alley, trying to make out anything in the darkness. Then a cool rush of air passed him by, and chilled hands grabbed his neck from behind, pinning him in place.

"You've changed so much, my darling boy. So warm and weak," her voice whispered in his ear, and he felt fear and dread slacken his response. He knew he had to pull away and run, but in the physical and mental grip of his former sire, he found himself trapped. "They told me what happened, the fairies did. But I've come to make it better. You knew I would, didn't you?"

He nodded faintly, remembering the conversation he'd had with Angel in L.A. "Dru..."

"Shh. No talking." Her grip tightened, and he forced down a scream of pain. "I saw her--you were both taking a walk through a field of poppies, white and red like bone and blood. The day didn't last...it never does. Only I can give you forever, Spike."

He felt the yearning, from the part of him that feared death and wanted to be strong and eternally young once again. All he would have to do is say yes, and Drusilla would turn him back. In his mind, however, he knew he would lose more in the end than he'd ever gain as a vampire--Buffy, Dawn, and the group of friends who were finally accepting him as one of them. It wasn't a hard decision, he found to his surprise.

"Don't want forever, Dru. Never did, but you didn't necessarily give me the fine print on that the first time, did you?"

He could sense her shrug at that, and her indifference was more terrifying to him than her grip on his neck. She wasn't concerned about what he wanted, only her own wants and desires mattered now. In desperation, he tried to use his own weight to knock her off her feet, but she was like a brick wall in comparison to his strength. Dru laughed gleefully in his ear, wrapping one arm around him in a tight embrace, and he felt the brush of lip and fang against his neck.

He was about to yell for Buffy, when a sharp crack came from behind him. Dru's grip on him slackened, so Spike took the opportunity and pulled free. He turned around to face Dru, only to find Buffy armed with a discarded length of pipe, while an unconscious Dru was sprawled out on the ground like one of her lifeless dolls.

"You've got fabulous timing, love."

"It's a Slayer thing," Buffy replied simply. "Came with the package, right next to the witty banter and the stylish wardrobe."

Spike looked back at Drusilla, then glanced at the Slayer's choice of weapon. "No stake?"

"I didn't bring one. I know, stupid me. So, um, did you want me to...?" She indicated Drusilla and did a quick, mimed thrust with her fist.

"No! I mean I...hell, I don't know," he said, running a hand through his hair. "We could turn her back."

"To being human? I think we've hit the quota on catastrophic spells for one night."

"I meant the Mohra blood. Straight shot, no chaser or spell involved."

She fidgeted for a second, mulling in over, then blew out a long breath. "I think we better get her back to the Magic Box and have a meeting about this. After what happened tonight, I don't want us screwing up again, in the hope of making things better."

He nodded in agreement, and picked up his former sire, wishing he knew which was the right path. Or whether they were heading entirely in the wrong direction.




 

* * * *

Chapter 14 - Consequences
 

It was one thing to hear about what had happened to the town--it was another to experience it. As Willow, Xander and Anya checked the streets for survivors and stragglers, it became apparent what the spell had done. Demon corpses were in alleys or whatever they called home, with death a permanent scent in the night air. There was the occasional human body near the demon, always killed violently, which proved Skip correct in the most horrific way possible.

Those they found alive, they tried to help as best they could. The police were also out in force, as were a cluster of black vans and men in suits, hastily cleaning and eliminating any evidence that demon bodies were littering the streets of a normal California suburb. Xander might have cracked a joke about Mulder and Scully finding out the Truth in Sunnydale, if the situation wasn't so grim.

Willow became more and more withdrawn as she saw what her spell had wrought. While she felt the demon deaths were warranted, the grisly method of it and the bodies of their victims convinced her that the ends never justified the means. And the thought of Lorne being a victim of the spell made her shudder--she could only be grateful that he'd known to leave town before the spell had been cast.

They passed by Willy's bar, wondering if maybe some of the turned humans had gone there seeking solace or explanations. The sight that greeted them left them little doubt as to what had occurred.

Willy sat on the curb, his head in his hands in abject despondency. The door was left open mainly because a large demon had expired there, its bulk blocking the doorway. A peek beyond the door gave a clear picture of what had happened, and it made Xander want to run home and never walk outside ever again.

The bartender's eyes rose at their approach, and they could see fear and confusion in his eyes. "You know what's going on, right? You have to know--I mean, one second I've got a jumping joint, and the next there's someone claiming he's a vampire turned human, then hysteria, and the next he's dead and everybody's dropping like flies."

Xander looked to Willow, whose eyes were wide in panic. Anya stepped forward solemnly, her posture showing a humility he wasn't used to seeing from her. Her voice was a pale shadow of its normal strength. "There was a spell...it made the vampires human, and it also killed the demons in town. It wasn't supposed to do that, but it ended up happening anyway. I'm sorry for your loss of clientele and income."

Willy's confusion was swiftly replaced by anger. "Wait a minute--it was you guys? You did this?"

Xander spoke up, "Well, not specifically, but yeah, we kinda were involved."

"It's my fault, I created the spell," Willow added distantly. "I just wanted to turn the vampires back and make Buffy's life easier. I didn't expect...this to happen."

Willy stood up, his face a mask of disgust. "You and your Slayer have always been walking around town like you own it, like demons are just meat sacks with claws and fangs. Now, I'm not saying the demons in my bar were kind and generous folk, but there were a couple in there tonight who didn't deserve to die the way they did. The vampires who were there were older ones...I don't know what happened to them, because they ran out of there screaming and crying their heads off. And now you say you're sorry. Well, save the sympathy. This is what you've always wanted, and you got it. Congratulations."

He walked away, shaking his head and muttering into the still night air. They watched him go, saddened and filled with a sense of shame at what the spell had done. Xander quietly suggested heading back to the Magic Box, and the others agreed, keeping to their own thoughts as they walked back to the shop. And trying not to notice how oddly quiet it was, save for the sounds of the vans as the men in suits continued their clean-up, off in the distance.


 

* * * *
 

Spike and Buffy witnessed the same thing as they headed back with Drusilla in tow, only a handful of hours before sunrise. The occasional person was wandering the street, dazed and filled with a grief they barely understood, but they wouldn't accept any help. One man shied away as Buffy approached him, claiming he was unclean, filthy, unworthy of help or solace. Spike couldn't meet the man's eyes, afraid to witness someone else's self-loathing in case it would trigger the same response in him.

By the time they had chained Drusilla up in the training room, Xander, Willow and Anya were walking through the front door of the Magic Box. They hadn't meant to meet back here, but Buffy was glad for the chance reunion, regardless. She hadn't wanted to go back out there looking for them, not into the eerie calm that was Sunnydale, tonight. When she explained about finding and capturing Drusilla, the reactions were mixed.

Xander was firmly in favor of staking her, bringing up Kendra's death as a reason. Willow was more inclined to use the Mohra blood in turning her human, in the hope that the blood would also cure her insanity. Anya scoffed at both and claimed they had no right to pronounce judgement on any demon, suggesting they set Drusilla free.

Spike sat in watch in the training room as they debated out in the shop, staring at his former sire as she lay unconscious, oblivious to her fate. What would be worse? Staking her and ending the possibility of restoring her to life and sanity? Or turning her human, only to have her put away in an institution for the rest of her life? Neither option held much appeal, and he mulled over the idea of asking Drusilla what she would want. With a shake of his head, he realized the folly of it--she cared about little else than her own whims. Add in her insanity, and he knew she would never give them a straight, coherent answer.

He'd thought bringing Dru to the gang would help clarify the issue, but instead it had only made things worse. No one seemed to be able to come to a decision one way or the other. And now his name was being taken in vain, as Xander tried to argue that Spike had no place in choosing Drusilla's fate.

"Spike's too close to her--if we have to stake her, he won't want to do it."

"I think we ought to ask him that," Buffy replied, her eyes flashing dangerously. Spike couldn't help smiling at the sight of her, all fired up and ready to do battle, if need be.

"It's not fair on him," Willow added, risking a glance Xander's way. "He shouldn't have to decide, not when they were so close. It's something no one should ever have to do."

"The world doesn't care what's fair and what isn't, Will. Leaving him out would be like treating him as a third class Scooby all over again. And it would be ignoring all the changes he's gone through in the past few days."

Anya was mostly silent as they hammered it out, which was an amazing thing to witness. Maybe the spell aftermath had gotten to her more than she cared to admit. He knew the feeling--having been a demon himself not so long ago, it wasn't easy to see those demon corpses lying in the streets and alleys. He might not have liked any of them, but it didn't mean he wished horrible, plague-like deaths on them all, without the ability to fight back at what was killing them, or even know what it was.

As the arguing droned on, the notion of taking the dilemma away began to appeal to Spike more and more. Why not just dump Dru in L.A., and leave her for Angel? Then, reality settled in, and he shook his head at his own stupidity. Dru wasn't going to toddle off without getting what she originally came for.

Of course, that particular someone in L.A. ought to be the one making this decision, Spike thought sourly. Angelus had made her, after all, and if Drusilla's prior comments about Darla and herself were true, he'd hardly faced up to his responsibility. Mulling it over, Spike started to feel it as right, a concept that once would have eluded him. Why were they the ones with Dru's fate in their hands? Angel had ditched his past chances, leaving them with a choice that wasn't theirs to make.

Unfortunately, Spike knew the others wouldn't approve. Well, maybe Harris, he amended silently. Still, Buffy would claim it was her job, and the others would fall in line. If there was one thing the Slayer didn't need, it was more responsibility heaped on her thin shoulders.

His mind made up, he jotted off a note explaining things to Buffy as best he could. After pocketing the Mohra blood, he scooped up Dru--chains and all--and headed out the back door. With luck, he could make it to the DeSoto before anyone even noticed he was gone. And if he was really lucky, Buffy wouldn't hand him his head when he got back.

He'd gone a couple blocks when a truck pulled up and stopped just ahead of him. A burly-looking man got out, and the way he glanced at Dru, he knew the fellow was no good. In normal circumstances, he'd assume the guy was a vampire. Spike reminded himself that there was still a good chance that he was.

"Hand her over. Now."

"Why should I? Maybe she wants to be with me."

"Don't think so," the man replied, then his features gave way to the familiar look of a vampire. Spike wished he'd listened to his gut instinct.

"All right, then. You want her? Catch." Spike tossed Dru into the vampire's arms, then pulled out a stake he'd kept, in case of Dru waking too early. He drove the stake into the stunned burly vamp while its arms were preoccupied, and as it disintegrated, Spike snatched Dru's unconscious form back. He allowed himself a slight grin at the idling truck, figuring he might as well use what fate offered him.


 

* * * *
 

Spike had gotten out of Sunnydale by the time Buffy found the note. It was admittedly terse; "Taking Dru to Angel, so he'll deal with her once and for all. I knew you wouldn't like it anyway, so I didn't ask. Sorry about that. See you soon, Buffy. Love you. --Spike".

Hurt, anger, and worry clamored for position and control of her feelings. Buffy understood the reasons why he'd done what he did, but as Spike had astutely pointed out, she didn't like it one bit. Without knowing how long he'd been gone, however, all that was left was to go home and make sure Tara was all right. Xander and Anya decided to call it a night and headed back to the apartment. As Willow fell into step with her on the way home, she let Buffy know that it was past midnight. The news surprised her--it felt wrong on some level, like the night was crawling and flying by at the same time.

To Buffy's confusion, Spike's DeSoto was still at the house. But then she realized that he might just have taken a taxi, in order to keep his eye on Drusilla. She didn't want to think about him trying to drive to LA alone, with Dru out cold in the backseat, hoping to get there before she woke up.

Both Tara and Dawn were asleep on the couch, the TV still on and tuned to some generic frat boy 80's movie, so they knew the two must have been asleep for quite a while. Buffy gently coaxed Dawn awake, and after a minute of grousing and general unpleasantness, the sleepy teen stumbled up the stairs. Buffy followed closely after, leaving Tara and Willow to hammer out who got the couch. When she heard the front door close a minute later, she thought for the briefest of seconds that Spike had changed his mind and come back...only to realize that Tara had gone back to her dorm room rather than stay the night.

She met Willow in the hallway as she left the bathroom, her friend's face gloomy as she trudged to her room. Buffy could only guess that things had gone from bad to worse. However, Willow didn't want to talk about it, so Buffy let it be.

She could smell the lingering scent of him on the sheets as she crawled into bed, and on the pillow he'd claimed as his. It was silly, she knew, but she was missing him already. Even in spite of the fact that she was still mad at him, and didn't plan on letting him off easy.

Her only comfort was that he knew Dru better than anyone. If he felt confident in taking her there without back-up, then she ought to trust him. Memories of Spike's past lack of judgement rose to mind, but she shoved them down. She had to believe in his survival skills, because she knew she wasn't going to be there to protect him twenty-four hours a day, and she was too acutely aware of what Spike had said to her that first night he was human again.

'I know you, Buffy. The average bloke isn't going to be enough for you.'

She'd proved him wrong thus far--she could only hope that he could prove himself wrong, as well.


 

* * * *
 

Two hours later, Spike pulled up to the Hyperion hotel, with Drusilla still unconscious and chained to the seat. He knew from prior experience that whenever she got clocked on the head, she was usually out for hours. Even still, he made sure she couldn't budge an inch by taking the chains, pulling them under the seat, and wrapping the chains around her ankles and wrists--her elbows were pinned behind her uncomfortably, bent over the back of the truck's seat in a way that allowed her no leverage. In time she might have figured out a way to get free, but the tire iron he kept under his feet was meant to keep her from doing just that.

He wasn't surprised to see the lights still on, with Angel's business dealings being mainly nocturnal. He parked out front and turned off the ignition, pausing to stare at his former sire. She didn't make a move, which caused him to rethink his plan of unchaining her first. Grabbing the tire iron, he left the driver's side and opened up the passenger door.

She appeared to be completely out, but he couldn't risk the chance of any play-acting. With a quick jerk, he sliced his thumb on a sharp edge of the door and placed the bleeding cut on Drusilla's lips. She made no move to take it, but he noticed her shoulders momentarily flex as if checking herself. Most considered her merely insane, but Spike knew better. Her insanity fueled a deviousness and cunning few would ever see, and her Sight allowed her to plan in advance. Were she a vampire and sane, he didn't think she would be nearly as dangerous.

He pulled his thumb away and pressed down on the gash to slow the bleeding. "I know you're faking, Dru. No use in pretending with me."

Her tongue darted out and licked away the residual blood on her lips. Then she frowned at the taste. "You taste like oranges and lemons. Fruits of the sun, not of darkness," she said, her voice tight with disapproval.

"I brought you to Angel," he replied, ignoring her words. "He's going to take care of you."

"No one can take care of me, not anymore. Grandmummy's gone and you're lost to me. And my daddy doesn't want me."

Her eyes switched from him to over his shoulder, and Spike instantly knew who was behind him. He could feel the presence shift uncomfortably, and he turned around to see Angel staring at them both, a baffled yet curious look on his face.

"I'm seeing it, but I'm not sure I'm believing it. Care to tell me what this is all about?" Angel said at last, glancing back and forth between them.

"This, Angel, is about doing the right thing." Spike pulled out the Mohra blood container and gestured to Drusilla. "She came after me tonight. Thought since you're her sire, if anyone's gonna stake her, it ought to be you. Or, conversely, if anyone planned on turning her human, it also ought to be you."

"What about the spell?"

"Long story short, the spell was a disaster. Tara managed to dispel it before it got outside of Sunnydale, but it still wreaked a fair amount of havoc. It didn't just change vampires to humans, it also killed any demons who came into contact with one of them. Hence, big piles of demon corpses."

Angel's eyes widened in horror. "Lorne, he wasn't--"

"No, he skedaddled. The more sedate, reclusive demons survived, but that's it. And a good number of humans died tonight as well. No one knows how many, but even so, there's a few hundred displaced people in Sunnydale right now. Can't imagine what would've happened if it had gotten out this far."

"I have to admit, it isn't a pretty picture. Does anyone else know you're here?"

"Buffy knows by now, I'm sure. The gang was hashing it out, but I got bored waiting for the verdict since it didn't look forthcoming. Besides, they have enough on their plate tonight as it is."

Angel paused to look at Drusilla, her eyes glistening madly in the faint blue light of the streetlamps above. He remembered the woman she'd once been, before he'd driven her insane. Could he really have the chance to undo what he'd done? Would it even be possible?

"I'll help you bring her inside."



It was the work of a moment to bring Drusilla into the lobby, and soon she was chained to a pillar by the desk, her eyes wide with fright. An old part of Spike hated to see her like this, but he also knew it was necessary. Leaving her as is wasn't an option, and whichever way it went, her terror would be momentary. It was just a matter of waiting for Angel's decision to either give her oblivion, or to restore to her former self.

The whole troupe was there, faces of differing familiarity that would fix on Drusilla, Angel, or Spike as the seconds ticked by. Angel paced the floor, unable to look away at the creature he had created, while Spike wasn't too far away from the door, feeling the need to be anywhere but there. Now that the moment was approaching, for good or ill, it was becoming something to be dreaded.

"So, what's it gonna be?" Cordelia said at last, her patience running out the first. "I understand the whole big sire and...whatever-Drusilla-is-to-you bond, but you're not impressing us, here. We've already seen the brooding up close and personal. And while you two are immortal, the rest of us aren't."

"Cordy, this isn't something to be taken lightly," Angel replied, his jaw set in a fashion Spike had seen many times before. "I'd say the woman I tortured and killed all those years ago deserves that much."

Wesley looked at Angel in surprise. "She's no longer that person, Angel. She's a demon who's killed who knows how many thousands of people. Clearly, our responsibilities lie in one direction."

Spike turned his gaze in disdain to the former Watcher. "We can turn her back, you ninny. There's no clear cut way for us here, as much as you'd like to think so."

"I think..." Fred trailed off weakly, then summoned her courage and continued, "I think we ought to make her whole again. Make her human, I mean. I know how hard it is, adjusting to environments and being crazy for a little while, so I think I could help her."

"How's that?" Gunn chimed in from his place on the steps. "She's not just a little crazy, she's insane. You put all that soul-crushing guilt on her, and she'd snap like a pretzel."

"No offense, Fred, but I believe Gunn has a point," Wesley said, his unease with contradicting her displayed on his face. "In addition to her madness, she has visions. We know how badly they affected Cordelia until recently, but have no idea whether Drusilla would be able to tolerate it, in her weakened mental state. It's too risky."

"It's not," Angel answered quietly, standing still as he watched Drusilla sag against the pillar. "She's stronger than that."

"And exactly how do you know this?" Cordy replied, her arms crossed. "She's looking pretty snappable to me."

"She wasn't insane when I turned her--that only came afterwards. It's always been semantics up until now, but even though she was horrified and terrified, she was still there. It was the turning that finished it. Being human...it would erase what I did. She could be whole again."

"Those are some rather dicey conclusions," Wesley said warily. "She could also be insane for the rest of her natural life."

"I gave her death, so I should be the one to give her life, again. I have to take the chance. I can't...I can't let this be her end." His eyes pleaded for mercy, both for her and for himself.

Spike nodded solemnly in agreement, knowing it wasn't an easy choice. Neither would have been easy to live with, but Drusilla as dust was a momentary sadness--what Angel had chosen involved commitment. Strangely enough, he found that he approved.

Angel held out a hand for the Mohra blood, and Spike handed it to him with no hint of ritual or indecision. No words were spoken as he walked over to Dru, whose eyes stared at the vial with the alertness of a mouse in the presence of a large cat.

"It glows and burns," Dru murmured, "like the sun. But there's no warmth there...it's false."

Fingering the small dagger in his hand, Angel kneeled down and looked her in the eye. "I'm not going to leave you again. I hope you know that."

"Daddy?" she asked in a small, hopeful voice.

"No. Not Daddy. But hopefully, maybe someday, a friend who helped you." With that, he cut a small incision into her upper arm, and she hissed in pain and pleasure. As he poured some of the demon blood onto the cut, his gaze shifted from the wound to her face, waiting for the first sign of it taking hold.

Green light bloomed, then swirled and danced around her; it was a scene Spike remembered from being on the other side. Drusilla gasped in shock, and her eyes widened as she stared at the room in horror. Angel quickly undid the chains and stepped out of her line of sight, clearly afraid that seeing him might make things worse.

Fred headed over to Drusilla first, with Cordy trailing behind in concern. "It's okay, you're safe now. We're going to take care of you."

Spike marveled at the way Dru seemed to respond to Fred, the crazed look in her eyes softening at the other woman's words. He felt his chest tighten as he realized it was finally over. For better or worse, she was human now, and he was no longer a part of her life. The thought was bittersweet, as he'd known that Buffy was his future for some time.

As the two women helped Drusilla to her feet and guided her to someplace comfortable, he drifted over to the door, but Angel stopped him before he could escape.

"I'm glad you brought her here. I know I wasn't thrilled when I saw her, but you were right; I needed to deal with this. Just...don't let Buffy know I said you were right, okay? Tell her I treated you badly and kicked you out of the hotel."

"And why would I do that?"

"So she hates me instead of you when you get back," Angel replied, smiling slowly. Spike's grin faded when he realized the big goof was right--Buffy's wrath would need all the deflecting he could get.

The good-byes were brief as Spike left, most of the gang unsure whether or not they were glad to see him go. As he got into the truck, the surreal events of the night caught up with him, and he leaned heavily into the back of the seat, allowing it to keep him upright. If it weren't for the cut on his thumb, he would swear that he'd dreamed the entire thing, right down to the strangely friendly demon named Skip and the concept of Harmony being able to find out their plans.

Summoning the last of his energy, he turned the ignition and soon was making his way back to the town that had given him so much grief, and so much happiness.


 

* * * *
 

The sound of the door closing jolted Buffy out of her doze, her worry unable to let her completely fall asleep. With a certainty she couldn't describe, she knew it was Spike. Maybe it was the footfalls on the stairway, or the way the floor creaked just so when he walked by the bathroom, but she could tell that not only was it him, but he was trying his best not to be noticed.

She decided to let him think he was getting away with it, for the moment. The clothes hit the floor with nary a comment from her, and she fought against the tilting sensation as he snuck into bed. His arm draped over her waist, drawing her closer, reassuring her with his warmth and touch. It wasn't until she could sense him settling into the pillow that she ended the charade.

"Have fun while you were in LA?"

He stiffened, then she heard a long, disappointed exhale. "Knew it was too good to be true."

She turned around to face him, not minding too much that his arm was still there. "Why don't you tell me what possessed you to think you could handle Drusilla alone? Wait, never mind...thinking obviously wasn't involved in that plan."

"I was careful, love. And I came back, all safe and sound. You didn't come running after me, so you couldn't have been too worried."

"I was worried enough," Buffy said, hating that her voice sounded so petulant. "Although, I'll confess you're an eensy bit right on the not running after you. When the hysteria and the anger wore off some, I had to believe that you knew what you were doing--because if I didn't, I'd go nuts imagining every nasty scenario in the book."

"I won't ever do that to you again, I promise," he replied, kissing her lightly on the forehead.

"Don't make promises you can't keep, pal. I know you better than that, and while you mean well...I think we both know that living in Sunnydale is not the place to be if you're trying to stay alive. You need to be able to take care of yourself, without me around as the muscle girl."

"So, you're saying that you're willing to let me fight my own battles, as it were?"

"Yes, essentially. But that's not a license to go trolling through the alleys with an axe," she said sternly, and gave him the matching look to go with it.

He didn't seem to notice, since he grinned with enthusiasm. "Well, you're taking this better than I expected."

"Believe me, I've had some time to cool down. You should've seen me when I got the note."

"Can't say I'm sorry for missing it," he said, then his countenance turned serious. "Buffy...Angel made the decision tonight."

The comment caught her off-guard--she hadn't expected him to decide so quickly. "What--what did he say? What happened?"

He paused to find the words, looked up at the ceiling as if searching for inspiration, then sighed. "Dru's human."

He must've taken her stare as encouragement, because he continued at length to explain about Angel's plan to take care of her, and how they hoped to bring her back to sanity. "If they pull it off, it'll be a miracle."

"Was it the right thing to do, though?"

"Don't know for sure, but it felt right. I don't regret taking her there, and Angel was glad I did."

"Really?"

"Oh yeah." He paused, thought for a second, then continued with a gleam in his eye, "He even told me I was right, but he didn't want you to know. Told me to say that I was treated poorly and tossed out on my ass."

"And he said this why, exactly?"

"So you'd feel sorry for me. But I wouldn't lie to you that way."

"Oh no, of course not," Buffy replied dryly. "And you wouldn't be telling me this in order to make Angel look bad--perish the thought!"

He came the closest to a pout that she'd ever seen from him. Unable to take the sight of him looking so pathetic, she let out a short laugh and kissed the pout away. Several moments and gropings later, Buffy pulled back in an attempt to regain some breath and dignity.

"I'm still mad at you, y'know."

"I know," he said, rubbing her thigh in an awfully suggestive pattern.

"What you did was very, very stupid, and you're lucky to be alive. But I'm glad you're alive, and that you proved yourself wrong, in the end."

He frowned in confusion. "How's that?"

"You said I wouldn't be satisfied with an average guy, but I am. You also said you felt helpless, but I don't see a helpless guy in front of me. You're street-smart, intelligent, knowledgeable about demons and magic, and you can defend yourself in a fight. The only thing you need is a self-defense lesson or two on using human strength against vampire strength."

His look of awe and gratitude while she'd spoken had now faded into a simple, raised eyebrow. "I take it those lessons would be provided by you?"

"Naturally," she replied. "I promise I'll be gentle."

"Ooh, that was payback, wasn't it?" His grin softened the words into a tease. "Think you can take me on?"

"I know I can. And I'm not afraid to try. Not anymore."

She could see her words sinking in, the meaning of it taking hold in his eyes. There was relief there, but also hope--it was likely the first time he had allowed himself to indulge himself in thinking beyond the moment, to a future he hadn't dared to imagine.

Then there were no more words for awhile, and neither of them minded too much about that.


End.