Chapter 6



As the Slayer, Buffy had thought she had pretty much seen it all when it came to death. From the broken dead bodies of her schoolmates to the Master's Lair, where the stench of death and rotten blood permeated everything around it. Or those two murdered 'children' in the school playground to the massacre in the AV Lab her first year in Sunnydale.

But none of that or any of the other horrors she had faced in her three years of slaying prepared her for the bloodbath awaiting her, Giles and Whistler at the Harris' home.

As she stood there, in between the demon and her watcher, the first obtuse thought that flittered through her mind was: where did all the blood come from?

There was no way two or even three humans could have as much blood in their bodies as what was painted across the walls of the living room, thrown on the ceiling and furniture and soaking in the carpet.

As her eyes skimmed the room, out of the corner of her eye, she saw the naked bodies of Xander's parents. Taking a deep breath through her mouth, preparing herself, she looked down onto the floor where they lay and felt her stomach make a sickly roll.

This had to have been Angelus' work—she couldn't imagine Faith having the stomach needed to play with her victims' dead bodies. Besides, Angelus knew of Xander's home life and the picture that had been drawn for Buffy and the rest of the gang, was a sick parody of the Harris' marriage.

Both of Xander's parents were alcoholics and neither of them had taken their vows of marriage seriously. Although no one understood why they remained married; they did—torturing themselves and Xander with their violent, drunken union.

In some ways, Xander's life, was a lot like Willow's. Both of them had been pushed off to the side long ago, mostly forgotten, until something caused their parents to take notice. Unfortunately for Xander, when his parent's attention had been caught, he had rarely survived physically unscathed. The Harris' were both physically abusive—to the point that even Sheila Rosenberg had called Child Welfare to report them for child abuse a few years before.

But nothing came of it.

Like so many things on the Hellmouth, the Harris' family problems had been ignored and swept under the rug. As long as they kept the house up and the yard mowed—no one really gave a shit.

Which was why the scene in front of them was even more sickening.

Both of their bodies were pale and bloodless; Mr. Harris' body was on top of Mrs. Harris, as if he was making love to her. Except for one important detail—his penis was hanging out of his butt and Mrs. Harris was sucking on her own tit—which, had been violently removed from her chest.

The expressions on both of their faces was one of horror and pain—their eyes wide open and now unseeing.

Each of them bore the tell-tale signs of vampiric feeding—Mr. Harris sporting a pair of teeth marks on his behind and Mrs. Harris' remaining breast was literally littered with nearly a half dozen different bites.

Again the question that kept running through Buffy's mind was: where did they get all that blood?

Shaking her head, as if to push those thoughts out of her mind, she finally found the strength to move her nearly frozen legs. Covering her mouth, she turned and took off up the stairs to Xander's room. Her stomach was heaving, but she refused to get sick. Instead she swallowed the bile, ignoring its acidic burn as it traveled back down her throat.

Reaching Xander's room, she flung the door open and flipped on the overhead light.

Her knees collapsed as she heard herself sob out loud in relief.

His room was untouched—as messy as it always had been—with his bed unmade, dirty clothes scattered all over the floor. His backpack, still filled with books from the day before, sat on top of his cluttered desk.

And then she saw it.

A single red rose, in a crystal vase, sat in the window sill, with a card casually propped up against it.

The card was addressed to Willow.

And of course, it was in Angelus' handwriting.

Buffy didn't remember much of what happened after that. Vaguely, she thought it was Whistler that found her.

She remember cool arms lifting her as she clutched the rose, vase, and card to her chest and then, she did the most un-slayeristic action of her long career: she fainted.

Minutes later she woke up as Giles' battered Citroen bounced over another pothole and heard the hushed whisperings of her watcher and the demon.

"It's her greatest strength and in turn, greatest weakness," Giles said as his voice shook with emotion. "And I cannot fault her. It's what's kept her not only alive, but the world safe as it is for this long."

She heard Whistler sigh. "I know that, Ripper. But unfortunately, so does he. And he will do everything in his power to destroy her. This may be just the beginning."

Buffy inwardly moaned, as Whistler words penetrated her heart and soul, leaving it a shattered mess.

He was right. She didn't kill demons because it was her sacred duty—she did it to keep her family and friends safe. She never did buy that 'being called is a privilege' crap, like Kendra or the hundreds of Slayers before her. It wasn't an honor or privilege; it was a burden. And one that she fought against for nearly two of the three years she had been a slayer. It wasn't until she returned from last fall, did she finally accept her destiny.

But even then, it was on her own terms. Not Wesley's, the Council of Watcher's, or even Giles—but her own—to keep her people safe and alive. So that they could have all the things that she never would be able to: a mate, children, a job, a house and safety. If she couldn't have those things for herself, then by God, everyone else she loved would or she would die trying.

Remembering that gave her the courage to face Whistler and Giles—after her uncharacteristic display of weakness at Xander's and she pulled herself up into a sitting position and leaned forward. "Hi."

"Buffy! Are you okay?" Giles asked as the car swerved a bit to the right.

Grinning, she nodded. "Giles—the road." She turned to Whistler. "I'm sorry for that," she said referring to her fainting spell. "I guess I wasn't ready for that. It hit me so—so hard—to see that rose and know that not only was Xander gone but inside of Angelus' is his soul—crying for release—forced to watch all this." She shut her eyes against the threatening tears. "I knew what he was capable of. I read the diaries. But last year, he was so—"

"Preoccupied?" Whistler supplied.

"Yeah, I guess that's what I mean. Last year, he could've killed us all in one night. He had an open invitation into almost everyone's house. But instead, he wanted to play games. With the exception of Ms. Calender—well, it could've been a lot worse," she said as she watched Giles' face for a reaction.

He barely flinched.

We've all hardened so much this year, she thought to herself as she turned back to Whistler as he began to speak.

"It's different this year. You and him haven't been intimate since the last time he lost his soul. Also before, he came home to both of his children." The demon sighed, taking off his hat and running his fingers through his hair. After putting it back on, he continued, "With Spike's defection, I'm sure he feels that the time for games have long passed. All he can think of is revenge. Against you for sending him to Hell, against Willow, for re-cursing him and against Spike, for his betrayal."

Buffy nodded in agreement. It was different last year. For her as well.

Last year, she harbored the hope of his returning—believing somehow, someway she would get her Angel back.

This time she knew better.

As far as she was concerned, he was dust.

It was the least she could do for Angel.

His soul deserved some peace.

So, if Angelus wanted to try and destroy her and her loved ones, that was fine. He could dream all he wanted to about the big coupe and her dead body laying at his feet. But she wasn't the same innocent young girl she had been the year before. It wasn't going to be an easy battle for him and with Spike at her side, Angelus just may find himself back in Hell—where he belonged.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Are you okay?" Oz asked her softly as he turned the ignition of the van off.

Willow nodded silently—still unable to find her voice.

Funny what guilt can do, she thought to herself. And that's what it was: guilt. As soon as she saw Oz walk through Buffy's front door, it felt as if a bucket of cold water had been thrown on top of her—shaking her out of whatever had possessed her since the days following the factory and when she and Xander last kissed.

She caused this.

It was all her fault.

If she hadn't been so afraid of Xander's rejection and love, Xander wouldn't have been in the position he had been the night before. He would've never slept with Faith, which in turn, would've never made him a likely candidate for Faith's vampiric boytoy.

That was the only reason why Angelus had chosen him, instead of someone else.

Faith still wanted him.

And Goddess help them all—what a vampire Xander would make. Her double told her as much; describing in dark detail, the fun Xander and Willow had together as vampires—forever together—bound in their undead lives as they had been when they were still alive.

A part of Willow ached to see Xander like that—strong, confident, proud, sensual. It was the same part of herself that she knew would be the dominant part if she were brought across.

Her dark side.

She shuddered at that thought and finally turned to Oz, finding him watching her—worried for her or about her. She couldn't tell which one. How could she explain this to him? How could she tell him that it was all her fault and that even though she loved Oz—she couldn't live without Xander. How? Could he understand that despite having two parents that loved her—although absent—that Xander was more her family than they had ever been?

He made her real.

Just as she had for him.

She hardly understood it herself—it just was.

It had always been.

"Willow?"

She shook her head, absently wiping at her tears and shrugged apologetically. "Spike says I shouldn't curse him."

"Why?"

"Because of the clause. He said a lifetime without happiness is wrong." She glanced over at him, watching his reactions. "And Buffy agrees with him."

"What do you think?"

She bit her lip as a new wave of tears flooded her eyes. "That if I lose him—I'll," she stopped and shook her head. "Oz, I can't talk about this with you…if I do…I'm afraid…I'll lose you too."

His eyes shut in pain. "You love him."

She nodded. "Yes. But—but I love you too. When I chose you—it was because you're better for me as—as—a couple—to be in love with—than Xander. But I never considered letting him go totally. He would always be there—be my friend—in my life. That was enough."

"And now? If he's gone?"

Willow glanced out the window, staring at the houses that lined Crawford street. "I don't know. And that's what terrifies me, Oz. The only reason I'm the Willow you know today is because of him. He and Jesse—they made me real. Will I disappear now that they're both gone?"

She let out a shuddering sigh and turned around and grabbed Xander's shirt. Handing it to Oz, she met his eyes and gave him a small smile. "Let's just get this over with."

Oz took the shirt and reached for the door, but stopped. "Willow, you're not alone. I love you."

She bit her bottom lip and nodded, silently wondering if that would ever be enough—if Xander was really gone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Buffy stuffed four of the six blood bags into the refrigerator and sighed. Glancing at the clock, she was amazed that only two hours had passed since everyone had gathered here in her kitchen.

Two hours ago, she still had been an innocent. But now, at eighteen, she finally felt as hardened as any soldier who had fought in any war.

She had finally seen it all.

Shutting her eyes against the image, she grabbed the two remaining blood bags, intent on waking the errant vampire that was now occupying her bed and forcing him to feed. She did not want to wake up to find him snacking on her because he couldn't control the starving demon.

As she trudged up the stairs, she remembered how she'd felt the year before when Kendra had died. Somehow that was nothing compared to how she felt now. Even in the darkest recesses of her heart and mind, she never allowed herself to contemplate losing Xander or Willow. They were her rocks—her anchors—that kept her at least somewhat in the real world. They constantly reminded her why life was worth fighting for—that friendships and love were the only constants in her short life.

As she carefully opened her bedroom door, she once again made a promise to herself, that she would do everything possible to keep Willow safe—and alive. She had to…

Shaking her head, she closed the door and tossed Spike's lunch onto the bed. After kicking off her shoes and socks, she turned around, pulling her shirt off and walked over to her closet. She pulled out an oversized tee-shirt and a pair of boxers. She slipped the shirt on and undid her bra, pulling it off and letting it drop soundlessly onto the floor. After slipping her hands through the sleeves, she unzipped her jeans and pulled them down.

She then put on the boxers and turned around, nearly squeaking in fright.

Spike, awake now, was sitting on the bed, game face on and drinking from the second bag, all the while staring at her hungrily.

A deep red blush instantly covered her skin as an influx of conflicting emotions filled her. She wanted him. She wanted to cry. She wanted to sleep. She wanted Angel. She hated Angelus.

And she was pissed.

At who, she didn't quite know. But anger seemed to get the top billing as she grabbed one of her shoes and threw it at him—hitting his ridges on his true face.

"Damnit Spike!" she yelled, ignoring his growling, as her voice started to crack with emotion. "Don't do that—not now!" She finished softly, as she walked over to Spike's makeshift bed on the floor beside him and started to lay down when his arm snaked around her waist and pulled her up onto the bed.

"Luv, what happened? Why are you back so soon?"

She almost didn't answer him.

The pain, still fresh, twisted at her gut as her mind flashed upon the bloody scene in Xander's living room.

But when he pulled her back against his chest, much like he had the night before, something inside of her broke. She turned in his arms, burying her head into his chest, clutching at his arms as she told him what they had found.

When she reached the part of her fainting, she physically cringed as the words stumble out, acutely ashamed of her actions.

"I'm the slayer, Spike! Not some sniveling, whiny little girl who collapses at the first since of trouble! I've faced the Master, Lothos, Acathla—the fucking Three—and yet, when I saw that rose and card, it terrified me."

Hiding her face from what she was sure his condemnation, she felt his cool hands gently pull her head back. "Do you think it'll happen again?"

Her eyebrows creased as she shook her head.

"Neither do I," he whispered as he wiped the tears off her face. "Pet, it happens. You're not a demon. You can't be expected to be strong all the time. Besides, this was about your mate and Angelus, and you weren't in any immediate danger—so you allowed yourself to react. I've never seen you even flinch while you are in battle. You just didn't have your slayer hat on—that's all. You were just being Buffy."

She let out a soft chuckle. "Slayer hat? What have you been reading? Cat-in-the-Hat books?"

Trying not to smirk, he looked her straight in the eye. "Bite me."

Closing her eyes, she yawned. "That's your job."

"That it is," he mumbled. "So, did you read the card that he left?"

She shook her head. "I couldn't—not then. Giles said he'd let us see it tonight—when everyone comes over. They have to perform the uninvite spell again. All we need is Angelus busting in here with a hoard of vampires."

He nodded in understanding. "What about the witch and wolf? What did they find?"

She yawned again, enjoying the coolness of Spike's bare chest. "Xander's there. Oz thinks he's already been changed. Something about his smell being different."

"I'm sorry, luv."

"S'okay. We'll figure something out. The fucker hasn't won yet." Yawning for the third time, she opened one eye and looked up at him. "I'm going to go to sleep now. We've got a few hours before they show up…"

He nodded as his arms tightened his hold on her, making her feel safe, despite the fact that she once again was defenseless in a demon's arms.

Too tired to care or think about it, she just allowed herself to enjoy it, as she slipped off into a dreamless sleep.



Chapter 7



The first thing that registered in Buffy's consciousness was the cool hand that was gently caressing her back, downwards over her buttocks and back upwards in a sensual, but comforting manner.

Spike, she thought to herself, remembering how she fell asleep. That was the second thing.

The third and fourth things came to her almost simultaneously: God, that feels sooo good and oh my God, I knew it was Spike and didn't even think it was Angel…

Abruptly, she sat up and rolled off his lap. Biting her lip, she looked up at him apologetically, meeting his stormy eyes and noting that seemed to darken from earlier. "That felt too good."

"It was supposed to," he said quietly and surprisingly, at least to her, seriously.

She nodded, closing her eyes against the onslaught of emotions that seemed to hit her every time she even tried to use her mind. "What's going on?" she asked, pointing to herself and him. "I mean, why now? Why not last fall? Or last spring?"

Spike snorted and reached over for a cigarette. "You know damn well why now. Our significant others are no longer significant now. And you can't tell me that you don't wonder about us—aren't attracted to me…don't want to jump my bones…"

She chuckled, shaking her head. "Full of yourself much?"

He glared at her.

She lifted her hands in a mock surrender. "All right, you're right. But Spike, I can't just—just sleep with you because it'll feel good—"

"It's as good of a reason as any—"

"—I'm not like that and—"

"—it's not like I have a soul to lose—"

"—I don't want to wake up alone and empty—with you laughing at me—"

"What?"

Oh God, he heard that, she thought to herself as she began picking at the sheet, purposely not looking at him.

He lifted her chin up with his finger, forcing her to look at him. "Slayer, what was that? Why would I laugh at you?"

Tears flooded her eyes as she stared at the wall over his shoulder, ashamed that what Angelus had told her over a year ago still stung as deeply as it did when he told her. What a way to promote abstinence. Kill a girl's self-esteem so she'll never have to the courage to give of herself again.

"Buffy, talk to me. What did that pillock say to you? It was Angelus, wasn't it?"

She nodded as she wrung her hands. "It was the next day—after we did it—and I didn't know, ya know? I thought it was Angel and when I woke up and he wasn't there—I got real scared. The Judge was together and Angel just disappeared while we were sleeping. So, after school, I went back there to wait for him.

"He showed up right after the sun set and he was different—cold and cocky, treating me like I was just an easy lay, pushing all those insecurity buttons that I didn't even know I had—calling me Buff—and said that I was okay, for a virgin, but the way he said, he might as well have called me a cold fish."

Spike inwardly cursed his sire as he pulled the slayer into his lap. "Luv, you realize that he said those things to hurt you, because that wasn't what I heard. He came back to the factory that night, his old demon self, so full himself, it made me wanna puke and bragged about how he bedded the slayer and what a hot piece she was."

"Really?"

He reached for hand and held it, caressing the back with his thumb. "Really. You never discussed this with Peaches?"

She shook her head. "Too many other things to talk about—like sending him to Hell and all. It seemed so insignificant in comparison. Besides, I was so afraid of even talking about sex—like somehow it would jinx us into doing it again and then, he'd lose his soul." She chuckled humorlessly. "Jeez, if I'd known he was going to lose his soul regardless of what we did together, a part of me just wishes we would've done it again."

She peered up at him, wondering if he was secretly laughing at her—not that she would blame him. A part of herself was laughing at her. The part of her that the Slayer resided—the tough, no nonsense, warrior that killed demons and vampires without blinking an eye. Except for those last few weeks before Faith had killed the Mayor's assistant, she rarely let that side of herself completely out—even while patrolling. It scared her. Sometimes, when she would lay awake at night, she would wonder how different she really was from the demons she killed—for that slayer part of her wasn't much different than Spike or Angelus.

At least as far as she could see.

And watching Faith stray over to the other side only seemed to support that theory. As much as she argued with Faith about it, she knew the other slayer was right—they were killers…

"Pet." Spike shook her. "Where did you go?"

She frowned and shook her head. "No where special. So," she started.

He sighed and leaned back against the pillows, pulling her with him. "Slayer, I'm not going anywhere—at least I'm not going to be fighting against you anymore. That's why Whistler's here."

She turned her head, unable to hide her shock. "I thought it was—"

"Because of Angelus."

She nodded. "Yeah—because Whistler is the one that pulled his butt out of the gutters in New York City."

"Well, I was hoping for that. But nope, he basically came out and told me last night. But to be honest, I had a feeling." Snorting, he lit a cigarette. "Well, I've never been like other vampires. I've always had feelings—human feelings. But I wasn't a nice bloke as a human. Angry and a pisser, to be honest, and a killer. Once I came across, all those feelings just seemed magnified. I was pretty much of a sociopath as a human, so all those feelings of love, compassion and caring didn't come until later."

"Druscilla?"

"Actually no. It was Angelus," he said quietly, his eyes taking on a distant feel. Buffy wasn't surprised by this revelation. She had always believed that at one time Spike and Angel were intimate. It just made sense.

He continued as he turned his attention back to her. "It didn't take long for the demon to teach what was left of the human, William Attison, how to feel. Bloody ironic, isn't it? The demon was the one who knew how to love. But it also knew how to hate. And it still had a powerful bloodlust—especially if anyone I cared about was threatened. Both of those slayers—they were after Dru—and I knew killing them would guarantee me a spot as a master vampire. That way, Dru and I would be left alone by other vampires."

"And me?"

"Luv, I really didn't try to kill you—or you would've been at least as hurt as I was when the church organ fell on me—even just once." He took a drag off his cigarette. "It was mostly for Dru. She hated you because of Angel. Soul or not—the Poof was hers—at least in her mind. Me? You fascinated me. You had friends and family helping you. You didn't follow the rules. You fought like me—improvising and witty. You were beautiful and sensual and my sire was in love with you. And he was my first love, so I wanted to see what he saw."

She looked back down at the comforter and began plucking at it as she thought over what he had just said. She tried to remember what she felt when she had met Spike that first time, but all she could see was the love-hazed picture of Angel in her mind. Back then, he seemed to fill all her time—either in her fantasies or when he was by her side.

But she did have one picture of Spike that seemed to stand out among the debris of Angel: the first night they had met in the alley by the Bronze. That cocky way he tipped his head, clapping his hands at her fighting technique. She remembered thinking, 'Oh great, a-Billy-Idol wanna be with a sense of humor.' Then she really looked at him and thought, 'oh God, he's hot too!'

And then the rest, so they say, was history.

Pulling her out of her thoughts, Spike tipped her head up, met her eyes. Once their eyes met, she felt herself falling into their stormy depths. As his eyes tugged at her, she found herself leaning forward—her heart beating wildly—until their lips met.

"Just a kiss, luv, just a kiss," he whispered against her lips.

"Okay—I think I can handle that."

The corner of his mouth turned up in a smirk. "We'll just have to see about that."

She was just about to snap back at him when her world seemed to be turned upside down. Once their lips met—it seemed that kiss took on a life onto itself. Their lips moved, gently touching one another, nibbling one another's softness. Investigating one another—testing each other's responses.

Buffy had no idea who opened their mouth first, but once that happened, she felt one of his hands, clasp her head, keeping her in place, while the other arm wrapped itself around her waist, pulling her back on top of him, as their tongues battled like their bodies had for over the past year.

Her hands were far from idle as one cupped his face, her thumb tracing his cheekbones while the other wound its way up and around his neck, caressing his cool skin at his hairline around the nape of his neck.

Her breasts suddenly felt heavy and wanting as her nipples hardened in excitement. A rush of hot need ran through her body, centering on her sex. As she pushed herself against him, she felt his on arousal, and her body responded. As her head swam, her legs fell open as she hugged his body closer to hers.

And then her world turned and suddenly she was the one on her back as he moved from her mouth, raining kisses on her face, moving to her ear.

One hand propped him up as the other cupped her breast. She heard small whimpers and inwardly giggled when she realized it was her that was making those sex-crazed noises.

It had been so long.

And then he began whispering in her ear, calling for her. "Buffy," he whispered and then his tongue slipped inside, causing her whole mind to splinter in need. But it was hearing her name in the throes of passion from him that seemed to seal her fate. It touched a part of her that she had thought died when Angel had lost his soul. A sense of belonging—a part of something bigger than herself. Her eyes closed against the tears as she fought the need to weep in relief.

Since Angel had returned, she had unconsciously searched for this feeling—praying that it would return and in turn, give her the strength she needed to continue the fight for the good.

But it never came.

Instead, she found herself searching, always needy in his presence, always wanting but never belonging…

A sob escaped as her arms tugged his body down on top of hers, stopping his tantalizing touches of seduction. Biting her bottom lip, she looked up to see him staring down at her in confusion and arousal.

She lifted a hand and caressed his scarred eyebrow, smiling through the tears. "Yes," she whispered and kissed him chastely on the lips. "But, not now." His face fell. She could commiserate with him. Both of them were going to have to take very cold showers after this.

Sighing, she glanced at the clock and felt her body tense when she saw the time. "Fifteen minutes, Spike! We're gonna have a full house in less than fifteen minutes! And my mom? Where is she?" She pushed on him, trying to get him to move.

"In just a minute," he said, turning her head back so that he could see her face. "I just want to make sure I understand before I let you slip away again."

"Hey!"

"Slayer," he warned her, but ruining the effect of being stern by giving her grin. "Are you saying yes to us having sex or yes to that and—" he stopped, seemingly searching for the right words. "Giving us a shot."

"Both of them." She leaned up and kissed his cheek. "All of them." She kissed the other cheek. "Now, get up!" And then placed a gentle, loving kiss on his lips.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Grinning, he rolled off her and watched as she scrambled out of bed and tore through her dresser, pulling out a pair of underwear, bra and a pair of socks. "Call my mom and see if she left yet, will ya?"

She said yes, he thought to himself as he picked up her phone and dialed the gallery's phone number. On the fourth ring, he began frowning as he watched the Slayer slip out of the room. They had about a half an hour before sundown. Hopefully, Joyce was on her way home.

He hung up the phone and leaned back in the bed and thought about what had just transpired between the two. In all his fantasies about her, he never imagined that kissing her would be as enticing as it had been in reality. She was so alive; everywhere she touched, inflamed him, and called to him.

With Druscilla, he always felt like he had to play a part for her—whether it be the tough, bloodthirsty Spike or her caring companion, doting lover or viscous vampire.

Especially lately.

Once he 'won' her back from that bleeding Chaos Demon, he never felt secure with her. It always seemed that she was watching him—waiting for him to screw up.

And he did.

The moment he left her to return to Sunnyhell, he showed her that his sire's death was more important than her life.

But to be honest, they were over long before Brazil. Once she chose to dote on Angelus instead of caring for Spike while he was incapacitated. He knew their sire would demand a lot of Dru's time, but Spike had no idea that she would ignore him in the process. Those five months—living with Angelus while he tormented Spike with Dru—broke his undead heart.

And after nearly a year later, Spike realized, when it came to Dru, it was still broken.

The door flew open and the slayer rushed through, dressed in a pair of tight jeans and one of the sleeveless, spaghetti strap shirts she seemed to love. "Your turn. Did you call my mom?"

He nodded. "Yeah luv, but I think she already left. She didn't answer."

"Hopefully," she murmured. "Did you tell her about Angelus earlier?"

"Yeah, she was worried about you."

Buffy shut her eyes and nodded. "It's funny. She was right. She never did trust Angel." She looked up. "I'm going to get something to eat. The towels and wash rags are in the closet. Feel free to use whatever shampoo you choose." She walked over to the door and stopped. "How long does it take for someone to rise after they've turned?"

"Depends on how much blood is exchanged. If Angelus gives him a lot, it'll strengthen the demon, which in turn will give him the power to wake up quickly."

She nodded once. "I guess you didn't say anything to her about Xander, did you?"

"No, slayer, I didn't. I wasn't sure and if he hadn't been turned…"

"I know. But he was. I just know it." She stared at the ceiling. "I don't know if I can stake him, you know. Xander's one of my best friends. Him and Willow…" she shook her head. "Go, take your shower. I'll be downstairs."

He waited until her heard her steps down the steps, and got up, wrapping a sheet around his naked body. Once he tied it around his waist, he dug through his bag and pulled out a clean outfit and headed for the bathroom to take that cold shower.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once shower and dressed, he headed downstairs and walked towards the kitchen, overhearing the heated discussion in the kitchen.

"We have to kill him now!" Buffy said, slamming something down on the counter. "Tonight. We can't afford to have Angel running around. He already got Xander—who's next. With Faith being able to enter uninvited—everyone one of us is a target. It isn't just to hurt me—it's not just personal now. Not with Xander…"

"Let me curse Xander then, Buffy. Take him out of the picture."

"Luv, didn't we already talk about this?" he asked stepping into the kitchen. He went over to the refrigerator, motioned to the prom queen to move and opened it, pulling out two blood bags.

"Ewww? Is that what I think it is?"

He rolled his eyes as he poured the contents into a tall mug. "Oh, are you offering?"

"No!" Cordelia stammered, inching closer to the only person he didn't know, a dark-haired man about thirty—dressed in tweed--ah, the other watcher.

"It's just that—well, it's just gross, that's all," she finished, practically hanging onto the Watcher.

Spike shook his head and moved over to the microwave and stuck the mug in it, timing it for two minutes, and turned back around to Willow. "Luv, I have no problems staking the whelp. Unlike everyone else here, I didn't care for him."

Willow's green eyes filled with tears as she shook her head. "No, please don't. I've looked over the curse and I found the 'happiness' clause. I took it out. Let me try," she said, looking up at Giles, "the curse without the clause. If it doesn't work, then Spike can kill him."

"What about an orb of Thessulah?" Giles asked as he sipped his tea.

"I've got six of them already. I ordered them off the Internet from a reputable Wiccan shop that has an online store."

Cordelia snickered. "Can you say overboard, Willow?"

"Well, once I found them, I wanted to make sure I had enough. I knew, just like all of us, that we could easily be turned—and after seeing my vampire counterpart and hearing about Xander's," pausing, she shuddered, "I just had to be sure—to be safe."

The microwave beeped and Spike pulled out his dinner. Before drinking, he turned to the other demon. "Can it work without the clause, mate?"

"I'd have to see it to make sure—but if it's the same curse, it should. The gypsies were the ones that changed it. The original one had no happiness clause."

Buffy shot out of her chair and before anyone could stop her, had lifted the demon into the air by his shirt.

"Buffy!" Joyce yelled, running over to her daughter's side.

"Mom! Stay away! He knew about the clause and never said anything! How could you? So many people died last year—and you knew!"

"Slayer! I didn't know they changed it! Damnit, who the hell do you think gave it to them in the first place? They changed the damn thing and never said a word!"

Her eyes clamped shut as she released the demon. "Why? Didn't they know what could happen?"

"They didn't care, kid. All they wanted was their vengeance."

"And ended up losing two of their own for their trouble," Giles added quietly.

"Well, as your watcher, I don't believe you have a choice in the matter. Stake Xa—Xander. He's a vampire and you're the slayer—it is your duty," the new watcher said haughtily.

"I know what my fucking duty is, Wesley! Do you? How did the council react the news of a rogue slayer, huh?"

"Well, um—"

"Buffy!"

"I'm sorry, Mom. He's no more my watcher than he's your lover."

Spike nearly choked on his blood. "Cor, luv, you're heartless."

Joyce shook her head and glared at the other watcher. "And you, Mr. Windham Price, don't you ever tell my daughter what her duty is. From what I can see, she has lived her duty, sacrificed her life for her 'duty' and her happiness. And all any of you, Mr. Giles being the exception, do to help her, is make her struggle even more painful than it already is!"

"Uh, excuse me," the wolf broke in quietly. "Aren't we getting a little off topic here? Don't we have an uninvite spell to do as well as find Xander and see if he's really been turned?"

"And stake Angel," Buffy added quietly.

"Well, that too."

"I agree," Spike said, placing his cup into the sink and rinsing it out. "I'm dying to run into poof-face and slam his face into the pavement. Aren't you, luv?" he asked, turning to the Slayer.

Grinning, she nodded. "Yeah, I sure would. So, Giles, what's the plan?"

Wesley sputtered, trying to interrupt the older man, but quit once he saw Spike, in game face, glare at him.

"Well, let's do the spell here. Anyone else invite Angel in since he's been back?" Everyone shook their heads. "Good then. Willow, where would you go if you were turned?"

"The Bronze," she said without thinking. "But will Angel let him out this soon?" she asked, turning to Spike.

He shrugged. "It depends on how much he wants the bloke to stay alive. If he's just a pawn, then I'd say yes. But then, he could come with a small army to protect the boy."

"Small army—Bronze. Doesn't sound good, does it?" Buffy asked the others quietly.

"No, it doesn't. Well, then, let's prepare ourselves. Willow and Oz will perform the uninvite spell. Once they're finished, we need to go to the library and arm ourselves and head over to the Bronze to wait."

 

"Wanna dance?"

Spike looked up from the table and met the sea-green eyes of the Slayer as she shifted from one foot to the other.

Afraid of a little dance with me? he thought to himself as he grinned at her. "Sure thing, luv."

He stood up and took her hand, ignoring the looks her friends were giving both of them and led her out on to the dance floor.

Grateful that it was a slow song playing, he took one of her hands and held it up to his chest while he placed his free one at the small of her back. As they swayed gently to the music, Spike allowed himself these few spare moments to enjoy her small, but lethal body pressed up against his—just increasing his desire for her even more. As he breathed in her unique scent—vanilla mixed in with what he had dubbed nearly a 100 years before as Slayer-scent and of course, her arousal, which shot up the moment they were in one another's arms.

He could get used to this—the Slayer wanting him as much as he wanted her. And acknowledging it. He meant it when he said that he wasn't going anywhere—Whistler had seen to that. Whether that meant he was staying in Sunnydale, he didn't know. But at least they wouldn't be fighting on opposite sides anymore.

He did wonder where all this acceptance came from. Was it only early that day that he had been bitching to Giles about not wanting this future—to be chosen to work with the ones that fought for balance instead of good or evil? And yet, now that he was better rested and fed, he ironically felt more at peace than he had been in quite some time. Being on Whistler's side didn't actually mean he was working for the good side—it just appeared that way because lately the evil has gotten more of an upper hand than the good in this ongoing battle. With more and more humans alive than ever before, there were more vampires than ever. With the influx of vampires came more opportunities of other demons getting a foothold into this dimension.

And once that happened, evil seemed to just run rampant—causing an explosion of possible Hellmouths as well as other possible portals from the demon dimension.

Whistler and crew fought for balance. That didn't mean no vampires or no evil. It just meant that it had to be kept down—for just a few demons could raise a lot of Hell.

Wasn't it just a mere twenty vampires last year that nearly sucked this dimension into Hell?

He was so glad he had put his foot down when it came to Acathla. He still felt pangs of guilt about the Judge, but his love for Dru seemed to cloud his reason back then. It nearly gotten him zapped as well. Wouldn't have that been a hoot? Would he have ended up in Hell for being too humane? He always did wonder where Dalton went.

He shook his head at the idiocy of demons. How could demons take over this dimension if they got rid of all the brains? Even Angelus' demon seemed to lose IQ points with age. And he was the exact opposite. The more years he was on this Earth, the more knowledge he accumulated.

Oh well, he always did break the rules, he thought to himself as he tightened his hold on the Slayer. He had just kissed the top of her head when he felt her stiffen in his arms. He looked down and saw that she was staring over his shoulder towards the entrance. He turned his head in time to see at least a half a dozen minions enter, immediately recognizing two of them as his from the year before.

Showtime, he thought to himself as he squeezed her hand reassuringly. "Come on, luv, we best get back to the table," he whispered into her ear.

She nodded slowly as she stepped away from him, still holding onto his hand tightly as they walked back to the others.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

For just a few minutes, she told herself as Spike pulled her into his arms. Although a part of her was still in Slayer-mode, another part of her was enjoying being in Spike's arms.

She had no idea where 'they' were going, but she did know that Spike wouldn't betray her like Angel had.

Instinctively, she knew that before she had talked to Whistler, when she nearly made love to the vampire. But after she put the stop to their little foray, she decided she needed to speak to the demon herself and find out exactly what was going on with Spike.

Before Spike had made it to the library, she pulled Whistler over to the side and asked him point blank what was with Spike.

He touched the rim of his hat and smirked at her. "So, I was right about the china!"

She groaned, feeling her face turn a nice shade of pink. "I just want to know what I'm getting myself into."

He nodded, his face suddenly serious as he watched Willow, Oz and Cordelia unload the weapon's locker. "Well kid, he's still a demon."

"I know that! But he's different! At least different than most vampires I've ever dealt with."

Whistler nodded. "Just like I said earlier—his demon has changed with incarnations. I remember the last time his demon was walking around. It was about four hundred years ago. He ended up on the wrong side of one of his minion's stakes for being too soft."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, he was about four hundred years old at the time and got bored with just being evil. The thrill of blood and mayhem lost its appeal and more times than not, he ended up talking with his potential meals and then letting them go. He finally just decided to change hunting tactics." Whistler chuckled softly. "He started hunting the dreads of society. You know the types—murderers, rapists, wife-beaters. Well, his peers didn't care for his choices."

Buffy rubbed her face tiredly as she thought about what he said. "So, what you're saying is that Spike's demon—the thing that's animating William the Bloody's body—is not evil. Not like Dru or Angelus."

"That's about it—in a nutshell."

"So, what is it? If it's not evil, then is it good?"

He sighed as he took off his hat. "Kid, you Slayer's see everything in black and white. You have to. Because you're dead, if you don't. But most of us, aren't just pure and good, or dark and evil—we're a mixture of both."

She nodded in understanding. "I know that. Remember what I was like before I was called? Or look at Giles—his past is full of darkness—yet he's a good guy."

"Well, demons that end up in the middle are just like that—but more extreme. He'll still kill to feed, but," he paused, closing his eyes in concentration and suddenly grinned as he looked up at her, "I can guarantee you that he won't be killing innocent young virgins anymore.

"But remember one thing, kid. Demon's need violence. It's like food to humans or dusting vampires to slayers. He has to find it somewhere. If he doesn't find it in hunting, then he'll need to get it while fighting the 'bastions' of evil. That's why there so few of us demons that actually make it to the Gray side. If we can't find a way to placate our nature, we just say the hell with it."

He glanced at the library doors as they opened and in walked Spike. He turned back to her and smiled while putting his hat back on. "Good luck, kid. You're in for a helluva a ride," he said as he walked away, heading for Giles' office.

Buffy inwardly sighed at the memory as Spike's hold on her tightened. In the last few days, she learned more about demons and souls than she ever thought she would and yet, instead of feeling satisfied with said knowledge, she realized all it did was egg on her curiosity more. She should've asked him where slayers came from and if there were angels or whatever on the Gray side.

But she didn't and now she wondered if she would ever get those answers.

Oh well, the hell with it, she thought to herself as she felt Spike kiss the top of her head. Just as she was thinking of how sweet he could be, her slayer-sense went wild.

Instantly, her eyes shot up, looking over Spike's shoulder, to the front entrance.

It was as if someone had doused her with a bucket of cold water.

One moment, she was deep in thought while in the safety of Spike's arms—

--and the next, her world crumbled, as Angel's army entered the Bronze—followed by Faith, Xander, Druscilla and Angelus.

And Faith was the only one that still had a beating heart.

Xander was no longer human.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

It wasn't until Cordelia actually saw him, did it sink in.

The whole day, she pushed the thought away—refusing to touch it or feel it.

She told herself it was because of Willow. Watching the redhead cry and carry on, as if she was the only one who had the rights to worry about Xander, pissed her off.

But that wasn't the truth. She realized that now.

It had nothing to do with Willow.

It was something much more insidious, yet intangible.

For months now, she'd been having dreams about a world much different than this one. After meeting Willow's vampire double and discovering that her friend Anya was actually a 1200-year-old-demon-turned-human, she knew that the dreams were, in reality, her experiences in that other universe.

Unfortunately, that knowledge didn't make them less horrific. In some ways, it made it even worse. To know that in another reality, Sunnydale was a demon haven where the Master ruled all with a bloody fist, scared the hell out of her.

As well as it should. The other Sunnydale was dark, even when it was daylight, filled with frightened residents who'd finally acknowledged the reality of vampires and demons, but not because they took off their blinders as much as they couldn't deny the evil when it enveloped the town. It was too cloying—too suffocating—not to acknowledge it.

It still blew her away to think it was all because one person didn't show up when she was needed.

If she had known two years ago, how important Buffy was to not only her but everyone she love's, survival, she would've never blamed the slayer for the weirdness that seemed to invade Cordelia's life.

Unfortunately for Cordelia, it took a badly made wish for her to realize how important Buffy was to the well being of Sunnydale.

In that other reality as well as in those dreams, she died while being held by both Willow and Xander—both vampires. They had wrapped their arms around her in parody of a loving embrace, as they each sank their deadly teeth into her neck—draining her of her blood.

In the daylight, when the dreams held less power, Cordelia could see the irony and had even laughed about it occasionally. It seemed pretty apropos, considering how they had both not only broke her heart but also drastically changed her life—for the worse—in this reality.

But that Xander, she thought to herself as she watched her former boyfriend walk through the front entrance, and this one, she added, had touched something wanting inside of her.

Sometimes, her mind would add scenes in the dreams that she knew didn't really happen. In those, sometimes she would find herself being made fucked by Xander, his cold, inhuman body pounding into hers—not only taking her blood, but her soul and self…

Other times, the vampire Willow was there. They would surround her, much like they had done when they killed her. But this time Cordelia would be naked, as the two vampires would play with her body—intermittently taking her blood as well as making her come.

What did the French call orgasms? A little death.

It seemed as if she would have a thousand little deaths before the blackness would come and claim her. As Xander would play with her breasts, teasing her nipples, biting and sucking sensually, drawing blood and licking it up as it he had done with ice cream when they were dating, Willow would be going down on her.

Before those dreams, Cordelia had never thought of other woman in a sexual way. But just remembering the vampire's cool mouth as it teased her clit and bit her labia, and sucked her juices and her blood, she couldn't say that anymore.

Most of the time, all she had to do was remember those dreams and she would be aroused for hours afterward.

So, when Giles had called her this morning to inform her of Xander's disappearance and possible undead state of being and of Angelus' return, she instantly felt herself get turned on—shaming her for the rest of her life.

In one horrifying second, she saw the other Xander, dressed in black leather, carrying himself with a confidence that was only fleetingly at best while human, with power and danger pulsating around him.

And she knew, just as in that other universe, Xander would be the death of her in this one as well.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Xander looked just like her double said he would: sexy, gorgeous, self-assured wearing black leather pants, a dark tee-shirt and a black leather coat, not unlike Angel's.

She could feel a part of her being called to him as his eyes instantly met hers across the crowded club. The deep brown eyes, once a reflection of an abused, neglected boy, then a young man, were now those of a demon, cold and commanding—much like him.

Her heart began to race as she mentally braced herself for their confrontation. She knew he was going to come to her. If not tonight in the Bronze, then later at her balcony. If she didn't do the curse as soon as they all left the club, she wondered if it would get done at all. Without Oz, Buffy and Giles, at her side, she didn't think she would ever be able to resist his calling.

And she knew he would never kill her.

Because even now—with a demon inside of him—he still made her real. Just as she did for him.

Her eyes filled with tears as he smiled at her—so much like the millions of smiles he had given her through out the years—but still different. Faith hung on him as if he was her gigolo, but she couldn't help but catch the flash of contempt that crossed his face.

She was just a substitute—for Willow or Cordelia.

Willow pulled her eyes off of him and looked over at Cordelia. She too seemed enraptured by Xander's presence. I wonder which one he goes to first? she asked herself as she found herself turning her attention back at her best friend.

And he would visit both of them—of that she was sure.

Unless you do the curse, her sane part of her mind reminded her as Oz squeezed her hand.

Yes, she had to do the curse and soon, before Xander's eyes pulled her into him. She could already feel their power as they called to her. Come to me, Willow, they said as a smirk formed on his lips. You're only real with me…

Willow would've gone if Oz hadn't had such a tight hold on her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Oh, bloody hell," Spike muttered as he tugged on the Slayer's hand. "Buffy, we've seen and now, let's get out of here."

She frowned at him. "What the hell are you talking about, Spike? We can't just let these minions have a free smorgasbord." She straightened her free hand, causing a stake to slide down. "I'm ready to kick some ass."

He glanced back over at Red and saw the dazed look on her face and shook his head. He could feel the whelp's power and presence from here and knew that both the witch and Cordelia were affected as well. "We can't. We have to get them out of here!" He physically turned her around to look at Willow. "Look at her—and the prom queen! Can't you feel him? The whelp is strong! Hell must've been good for Angelus if he can make a vampire a day old feel this powerful."

Buffy's mouth opened in shock as she reached over and shook Willow. "Wills, we have to get out of here—so you can curse him."

Her friend nodded slowly—her eyes still glued to Xander's. Buffy dropped Spike's hand and grabbed Willow's arms as she looked over to Oz. "Spike, go get Giles and Whistler. Tell him to get them out of here. We'll stay."

He nodded as he jogged over to the side, honing in on the other demon's presence and following his senses. Not too far off from their table, he spotted the two watchers and Whistler.

Without preamble, he told them of Buffy's plan.

"I'll stay here, with you two," Whistler said. "I doubt if Angelus will want to take us on if he sees me."

Spike nodded, knowing the demon's reputation as well as remembering what Angelus had told him the year before about Whistler.

If Angelus' was this powerful, they would need all the help they could get.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

As Buffy opened the back door of the Bronze, she pulled up her stake and slipped inside, dusting her third vampire of the night, as he stood watch over the door. The other two attacked the six of them as Buffy walked her friends to Oz's van.

She walked past the bathrooms and slipped through the doorway, as she searched the crowd for a familiar red hat or white blond head.

She spotted both of them on the other side of the club, standing by a table, watching the crowd. She waded through the throngs of oblivious teenagers and within a minute she was standing in between the demons.

"What did I miss?"

Spike shrugged as he shook out a cigarette. "Not much, luv. As soon as Peaches saw Whistler, he called his minions over and must've told them to mind their manners—because they're all just standing there staring over here."

Whistler waved at the smoke, glaring at Spike. "You're gonna have to quit those things," he muttered quietly, almost as if he was talking to himself. "I hate cigarettes. Reminds me of Hell too much." He bent his head to Buffy's. "I think they're waiting for you. The boy seemed a bit upset when you took the girls away. And then the Slayer got pissed at the boy."

Spike grinned. "She's a firecat, isn't she, Slayer?"

Buffy nodded sadly. "Yeah, she is. She just enjoyed the slaying bit a little too much. And developed a god-complex."

The blond blew out a cloud of smoke. "What do you mean, pet?"

"She believed that because she was a slayer, that she didn't have to go by the same rules as everyone else." Buffy shrugged. "I could understand enjoying the fighting and killing demons part. I can get into that. But, I never forgot I was a human first. I think Faith did."

"Here they come," Whistler said.

Buffy's looked up to see Faith lead the pack as the wound their way through the dance floor and crowd towards them.

Like Xander, Faith was wearing tight leather pants and boots. Instead of a black tee shirt, the Slayer had on a white, sleeveless crop top the snugly fit her chest. The only one that wasn't wearing leather was Druscilla. Instead, the vampiress was wearing a deep red, mid-calf length dress with a scoop neckline that reminded her of those high-waist dresses of the late seventeen hundred's. She felt Spike tense beside her and could definitely sympathize—for Angel was as gorgeous as he was the year before in his leathers. God, that was the only thing she liked about Angelus—his leathers. More than once since the ensouled Angel had returned, she wished he would pull them out again.

But he never did, claiming they reminded him too much of his demon.

She straightened, clutching her stake tightly in her fist as Spike reached over the table and grabbed her free hand, squeezing it once, before letting it go.

That's all she needed—to know that he was still there, by her side.

"Hey B, what's cookin'?" Faith asked, as she leaned against Xander.

Her former best friend's pale arm circled the Slayer's waist.

Her stomach turned, knowing that Xander's soul was inside, screaming in disgust.

"Faith." She lifted her eyes and met Xander's cold, lifeless brown ones. "Hello Xander—how's the night life?"

He grinned as he shrugged. "Pretty good, Buffy. Blood, sex and gore. What else can a teenager ask for?"

Buffy shrugged, inwardly wincing knowing that Xander had said something like that before, but sarcastically.

"It's a shame we never finished that dance, though."

Buffy shook her head. "Never will, either." Unless they do the curse, she added silently. She saw Dru move out from behind Xander and head for Spike as Angelus stepped forward to stand next to Xander.

"Well, Buff, how did you like my present?"

She rolled her eyes, feeling her shoulder's tightening even more. "So original, Angelus. Didn't you figure out last year, your presents do nothing for me?"

Before he could answer back, she heard a loud growl. She glanced over to Druscilla to see her hand shoot out towards Spike.

"I smell that awful Slayer on you!"

Spike caught her claw and squeezed it. "Yeah, and I smell Peaches all over you, Dru. What of it?"

Her true face appeared as she hissed. "You've gone soft, my Spike, sitting here with the Slayer and him," she said, glaring at Whistler. "I'm going to enjoy rolling in your ashes."

He sighed impatiently as he flung her hand back over, causing her to stumble. "Get over it, pet. I did."

Whistler began strumming his fingers on the table as his eyes studied each of the four, finally stopping at Faith. "You know, kid, running with demons will only get you killed. Didn't your watcher ever tell you that?"

Faith snorted in contempt. "Well, no one ever told B that either—"

Whistler shrugged as he pushed back from the table. "Well, her choice in demons is much better than yours." He turned his attention back to Angelus. "Get your boys and leave, Angel. There's some lasagna with my name on it and it's calling my name."

Angelus stared at the demon. "Why are you here?"

The small demon once again shrugged his shoulders. "Why am I ever where I am? Balance. The same as always."

Angelus nodded and turned to the vampiress, who by now, was leaning over Faith's shoulder, staring at Buffy.

"Dru, Faith, Xander—let's go."

"Bye B."

She watched Faith turn, with Xander behind her. He stopped and looked back at Buffy. "You did pretty good, Buffy. I was sure you would lose it. I was actually counting on that—but you surprised me."

Buffy dipped her head in acknowledgement. "You've seen one demon, Xander, you've seen them—"

She stopped as she watched him crumble onto the floor as a blue light flashed in his eyes. He moaned, clutching his stomach as Faith came up behind him, holding his shoulders.

Buffy noticed that Angelus and Dru never even stopped.

"What the hell did you do to him. B?"

Whistler walked around the table, heading for one side of Xander as Spike moved to do the same.

"I didn't do anything, Faith. But Willow?" She stopped and shrugged her shoulders, leaving the sentenced unfinished.

The other slayer stood up, and backed away slowly until the crowd of teenagers seemed to swallow her up. Buffy didn't see her until she ran out the door.

"Buffy?"

Buffy quickly ran to her friend, the stake still clutched in her hand, as Spike and Whistler stood on either side of him—ready to grab him if the curse failed.

"Xander? Look at me," she commanded, knowing if she saw his eyes, she'd know if he were ensouled.

He lifted his head and Buffy's breath caught as her friend's eyes, filled with blood tears, met hers.

Her friend was back.

"My parents—oh God it was horrible!" His body shook as she wrapped her arms around him and held his cold body to hers.

She slowly stood with Spike's help, holding Xander. "Can you walk?"

He nodded, his face still buried in her shoulder.

"Let's get out of here. We got what we came for," she said quietly as she began threading her way through the crowd, feeling Spike and Whistler's presence behind her and Xander. "I'm taking you home, Xander."

He nodded again—apparently still unable to speak, and Buffy shuddered as tears finally flooded her eyes, trailing down her face.

She had no idea why she was crying, but after this past hour, she figured they were well deserved. At least, I got my friend back, she thought to herself as she squeezed his arm again. Xander's back.

 

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