A little after seven-thirty that evening, Angel showed up, accompanied by the dashing figure that was the improbably named Zooza.  And when Zooza introduced himself with his actual name, Xander could understand why Spike settled for calling him Zooza.

Angel took Spike to one side for a rapid catch-up on the forthcoming events, and Zooza studied Xander with professional interest.

“You’re acquainted with magic,” said the demon, who would have borne a striking resemblance to Tyrone Power if Tyrone Power had been slightly purple and slightly shiny.

“Is that your real face?” Xander asked, good manners tossed aside as he took in the colourised vision of a childhood hero, care of a free channel that constantly ran old movies.

“No,” Zooza grinned.  “I selected it when I chose Earth as my home.  Nineteen-forty-two.”

“Didn’t happen to see The Mark of Zorro around the time you chose it, did you?”

Zooza threw back his handsome head and laughed, slapping Xander between the shoulder blades and almost dislocating several vertebrae.

“Oi!” came Spike’s voice across the vast living room.  “We need him in one piece.”

“I’m good,” Xander assured Spike, still chuckling at Zooza’s infectious humour.

“Now, young man…  Magic?”

“In what respect?”

“My employing it in your vicinity.”

“Yup, no problem.”

“May I…?”

Zooza took Xander’s hand and cradled it within his both of his own, shutting his eyes and concentrating.  Xander wondered if it was the mage’s own form of psychometry and let him proceed without question.  Spike wasn’t quite so happy about the contact and was glaring in Zooza’s direction with unmistakeable jealousy; willing Spike to meet his eye seemed to work, and Xander was able to shoot him a warning look.

The two vampires strolled over, Angel perturbing Xander with a disconcertingly friendly pat on the shoulder.

“You think I’m gonna die,” Xander muttered.

“I appreciate what you’re doing.  We all do.”

“Remember that when I need a month in the Bahamas to recover from this.”

Angel smiled, and patted again; Spike knocked his hand away.

“Stop distracting him.  Xander, focus on Zooza, like you did with the brooch.”

A little surprised, Xander nevertheless did as he was told, naturally unable to read the man but experiencing a sensation of warmth that vibrated throughout his body.

“I’m familiarising myself with your usual state of being,” Zooza told him quietly.  “Will you be changing anything for tonight?  Your clothes?”

“There’s just my coat.”

“Spike,” Zooza directed; a few seconds passed and Xander felt his coat slipped onto his shoulders.  “Do you always wear the eyepatch?”

“I will tonight, yes.”

“Spike has explained about the entity that’s been pursuing you recently, and we need to be sure that it can’t use you to influence the night’s proceedings.”

“You think that’s what the uber-nasty has been about?  It’s been trying to put a stop to the contact with Dead Guy?”

“We don’t know, do we, Pet?  No point in taking any chances though.  Now he knows how you’re supposed to feel, Zooza’ll recognise if you change at all and we’ll be able to call a swift halt.”

“Hopefully before any damage is done,” Angel added.

“So…you don’t actually want me to be hurt, you just think I’m gonna die,” Xander couldn’t resist teasing.  “That’s probably an improvement on the past.”

Angel refused to be drawn, his expression grim as he exchanged a telling look with Spike.

“I don’t want anyone else to die.”

“Else?  Anyone else?  What don’t I know?”

“I think you’ll find that was a generalised anyone else,” Zooza explained as he returned Xander’s hand.  “The past decade has been…bloody.”

The expression of loss that Xander had repeatedly witnessed on Spike’s face flashed over Angel’s as the older vampire turned away, and Xander couldn’t help the wave of sympathy.

“Spike’s told me…well, not much really, but I…  I know you’re uncomfortable around me – me as a medium – but if I can help…”

Angel switched back, gave Xander’s shoulder another of those perplexing pats, and visibly moved on.

“The venue for this meeting tonight is a disused stone barn, middle of nowhere.  Nothing apparently remarkable about it, no documented history, other than the fact that it was used as a church for a while.”

“Was the ground ever consecrated?”

“No.”

“Is that a problem?” Spike asked.  “It wasn’t our choice and if those bastards are trying to pull a fast one somehow…”

“I was thinking more about any difficulties caused by it being consecrated.  If we still don’t know the kind of demon Dead Guy was…”

“That was part of the reason we let the Escolets choose the location,” Angel interrupted to inform Xander.  “But it may be a good idea for you to, er…”

“Read the place?”

“Yeah, read the place before the Escolets arrive.  You can do that?”

“Sure.  You going to run away again when I do?”

Spike snickered and Angel had the grace to look a little sheepish.

“Not this time, no.”

“Is that why it took so long to set this up?  Finding the right location?”

“The right location, and the right artefact.  Despite their insistence on it being one of the family’s most precious relics, the Escolets managed to mislay it for the past century.  It wasn’t the easiest of items to track down.”  Angel reached into his coat and drew out an object wrapped in ancient leather; Xander gave an involuntary shudder at the sight of it.  “Sorry, yes, it’s human,” Angel apologised as he unwrapped the item, revealing a foot-long dagger made of dull metal, every inch carved with unrecognisable symbols.  He wielded it toward Xander, who took a step back.

“Whoa.  Did I sleep through the conversation about human sacrifice?”

“Apparently your best chance at contact with Ezequiel Escolet.”  Xander went to take the dagger but Angel hurriedly moved it out of his reach.  “No-one’s entirely sure of how this facilitates contact, so…right time and place, and the alleged security of having the family present.”

“On the subject of security, you ever find the guys that tried to kidnap me?”

“Someone did.  I know the descriptions were pretty vague, but we found a couple of demon hybrids with their heads removed, sitting in a car similar in description to the one that rammed yours.  We checked it out and the damage corresponded to that of the Mustang’s, so we’re assuming…”

“Is my car okay, is it fixed?”

“That’s right, Pet,” Spike chuckled, “get your priorities right.”

“It’s not just a car, Spike, you know that.”

“The car’s good as new, waiting for you in LA,” Angel assured.  “You, uh…didn’t want a re-spray?”

“Hey!  The colour’s good,” Xander protested, struggling into his coat sleeves.  “And I didn’t choose it, so I’d like it even if I hated it.  What colour is your car?  I’ll take a guess and say…black?  Black, goes with everything, particularly a complete deficit of personality or imagination.”

“Shall we go?” Zooza asked brightly, quickly ushering Xander toward the door.

Spike picked up their luggage and glanced around for the last time, eyes settling on a troubled-looking Angel.

“What?”

Angel shrugged huffily and followed Xander and Zooza.

“It’s midnight blue.  It just looks black.”

…

Spike was aware of Xander’s tension level rising as they settled in the rear of Angel’s car, and he shuffled a little closer.

“All right?”

“Yeah.  It’s just…starting to feel real.”

“You say and I’ll put a stop to this.”

“No, you won’t,” Angel contradicted from the driver’s seat.

“That’s right, you won’t,” Xander agreed, resenting Angel but appreciating the sentiment from Spike, and the soft smile he gave him showed that.

As they pulled out onto the road, Spike took a swift look around.

“That our people in the SUV?”

“Yes.  We’ll be picking up another on the far side of town.”

“We armed?”

“To the teeth.”

With a semi-satisfied grunt, Spike fell back in his seat.  He spent a few minutes listening to the long, deep breaths that Xander used to bring himself back to the calm place after facing the shock of reality.  Then he dug into his pocket for the stereo, unwinding the earplugs and using the excuse of sharing to move closer still to Xander.  Securing Xander’s attention with a nudge, he handed over a plug and, in unison, they pressed the little plastic buttons into their ears.

Spike flicked through the playlist for something appropriate to the moment, wishing that Ghostbusters had been available because of both its momentary involvement in one of their jokes, and the memory of where that joke had been made.  Leaning in, Xander peered at the list and, with a stabbing finger, made a choice of his own, dancing in his seat and pointedly ignoring the expression that had to be on Spike’s face as he was treated to Love Shack.

But no: a perky enough tune to lift the spirits, and Spike adopted more of a ‘if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em’ attitude and danced too.  Zooza, despite being unable to hear precisely what they were listening to, picked up enough of the beat to join in, and did so with verve.  End of the song and Xander sighed with pleasure: this had to be the way to be transported to your death.

Before Spike could choose the next song, the shuffle prevailed and Xander was already bouncing along to The Dandy Warhols, loudly making the most of…

“‘I really love your hairdo, yeah,’”

…and threatening Spike’s plastered down coiffure with probing fingers that were repeatedly slapped away and eventually caught.  As the silliness passed, the grip on only one hand was released.  Xander stared hard at Spike, once again willing him to behave; the vampire’s only concession was to shift in his seat, managing to cover their joined hands with a piece of his coat.

For the sake of the comfort it gave, Xander pretended that they weren’t being obvious, and that Angel and Zooza hadn’t or wouldn’t notice, but that became immaterial as the next song stirred a depth of feeling that shook Xander to the core.  Spike felt it too, Xander could tell that by the complete lack of reaction until the vampire’s hand began to tighten around his.

I'll stand by you,
I'll stand by you,
Won't let nobody hurt you,
I'll stand by you.’

Pretence be damned.  Xander closed his eye and tilted his head toward Spike’s, only to have it met halfway.  They rested against one another.  More contact, more comfort, more strength.  A trace of a smile touched Xander’s lips as Spike’s fingers flexed and flexed again for emphasis.

‘And when, when the night falls on you, Baby,
You're feeling all alone,
You won't be on your own.
I'll stand by you.
I'll stand by you.
Won't let nobody hurt you,
I'll stand by you.
Take me in into your darkest hour,
And I'll never desert you.
I'll stand by you.’

…

With music to distract him, and freed from the drone of voices by his proximity to Spike, Xander finally dozed, slowly relaxing the unconscious tension in his body and slumping against Spike’s side, head drooping to rest on his shoulder.  Spike waited for comments from the front of the car, but none came; mollified, he set aside the hundred-and-one acerbic replies he had on standby and carefully manhandled Xander to lie in his lap, losing his earpiece as it accompanied Xander down.

“There’s a blanket in the trunk,” Zooza whispered to him.  “Would you like me to…?”

“Nah, he’s fine.  This is what he needs, he was too wound up to get his head down earlier.”

“It’s endearing.  His trust in you.”

Spike gave a shallow nod and swallowed hard, knowing how close he’d come to losing that trust and treasuring it more for that.

“Only hope I don’t let him down.”

…

When they arrived at the barn, Spike gently shook Xander awake, and they remained in the car for a short while after Angel and Zooza left.  Upright now, Xander turned in his seat to meet Spike’s eyes.

“Okay…”  He took Spike’s hand and squeezed.  “I expect you to keep to every promise you ever made me, no letting anything use me to hurt anyone.  If the uber-nasty takes advantage of this situation…  Well, you know.”

“I know.”

“And don’t overreact until there’s something genuinely worth overreacting to.”

“I won’t.”

“Sure?  ‘Cause although I like the over-protective, you’re—  Or are we done with that now?  You had to deliver me and I’m delivered, so…?”  Spike brought Xander’s hand to his mouth, holding it against his lips.  “Not done with,” Xander smiled.  “That’s…nice.”  Spike kissed his fingertips.  “That’s nicer.  You’d better stop before the niceness gets outta hand and Angel comes back to the car for the biggest shock of his not-life.”

“I tell you, Love, I totally respect what you said back at the house, but…  I’m going to have you again, remember that.”

“You’re impossible,” Xander laughed.

A short, playful struggle ensued, and Xander finally reclaimed his hand.  A whole two seconds passed before he was back holding hands with Spike as he gazed out of the window at the barn.

“What do you think?” Spike asked.  “Other than big, stone, empty.”

“First impression?  Nothing, not while I’m this near to you.”

“Shall we get to it then?”

Xander turned back to Spike, leaning in to give him a single, heartfelt kiss.

“Thank you, Spike.”

“What for?”

Xander chuckled, gave Spike another kiss, and was out of the car.

Angel and Zooza came to greet them as they wandered up to the barn’s entrance, Angel gesturing for Xander to proceed with his reading, and stepping aside with Spike.  Whatever Zooza was beneath the manufactured exterior, he had no effect at all on Xander’s abilities, and kept protectively near to the man.  Xander opened himself fully to the energies and concentrated, resting a hand on one of the roughly hewn stones that made up the front wall of the barn.

“Interesting.  For its apparent age, this building is surprisingly neutral.”

“Is that good or bad or…”

“Just…as it is,” Xander explained to an anxious Angel.  “There is a sense of community, which would go with the fact it was used as a church at some point, and…”  Xander fruitlessly scanned the immediate area.  “There are graves associated with this location.”

“Church, graveyard,” Spike supposed.

“Not entirely sure about that; but we established it was unconsecrated, so that may be why it feels a little diff—  …  Okay.”  Xander was listening hard, fingers twitching in encouragement.  “Okay.”  Xander backed away from the barn.  “Yeah, I see that, I feel that.  …  Okay.”  He turned to the North, peering into the darkness.  “There’s – there was – a family home…”  He pointed.  “And the only activity here seems to be due to that, the energy is pulling me in that direction.”

“Do we need to go there?” Angel asked.

“It isn’t there any more, not physically at least.  Yeah, okay, I’m listening.”  Xander took a few more steps in the direction he’d pointed until he was brought to a halt by Zooza’s hand on his arm.  He glanced at the demon and nodded before turning his attention back to the spirits.  “No, I can’t come to you now, maybe later.  …  Saul, can you try to convey…  Okay.”  Xander tried his best to shut out those particular voices, and turned back to the barn.  “They’re very agitated, I hope they don’t disrupt this reading.”

“Nothing to do with this and here,” Spike confirmed.

“Nothing, as far as I can tell.  This place…”  He stared up at the building and shrugged.  “Shall we try inside?”

The party entered the barn and Xander once again separated himself and focused on the energy.  Once again he was left with the vague feeling of people gathering, and nothing more.

“Perhaps that’s why the Escolets chose this place,” Zooza surmised after Xander conveyed his findings.  “Is there any indication that they were a part of the family that owned the house you felt earlier?”

“None.  You want me to go read that area?”

“No,” Spike told him sharply, looking over his shoulder to where the participants of this meeting were arriving.  “No wandering off, nothing beyond the call, all right?”

“Yeah, sure, I’m not going anywhere, Spike, no need to get excited.”

“I’m not bloody excited, you’ll know when I’m excited.”

Spike glared, Xander tried not to laugh, Angel and Zooza beat a hasty retreat with the pretence of greeting the newcomers.

“We’re pretty obvious,” Xander said the moment they were alone.

“You care?”

“Not like I did.”

“Good.”

There was a long pause filled with feigned disinterest and half-glances.  Then, shoulder-to-shoulder they took in their surroundings: the barn was large, chilly, virtually empty other than the semi-circle of chairs gathered around what Xander presumed to be his reading area, and a few tables bearing an assortment of scientific instruments; a more popular one carried the stock of coffee and snacks, and that was where the huminions had gathered.

“Going to introduce me to your people later?” Xander asked.

“Can do now if…”

“No, not now.”

“Are you…  How are you feeling?”

“Nervous.  Nothing I can’t cope with.”

“You just say if…”

“I’ll be glad when this is done and you can stop fussing.”

“All right, I’m stopping.  I’m stopping.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, this is me stopping.”

“You done?”

“Yeah, I’ve stopped.”

“I can tell.”

Xander smiled sweetly and Spike grudgingly, then ungrudgingly reciprocated.

“Hey, Angel kinda likes Zooza, doesn’t he?  Are all vampires…flexual?”

“They’re just friends.  Good friends.  I like the bloke too.  He’s a constant,” Spike explained quietly, “nothing’s going to kill him.”

“Really?”

“Tough as old boots, his kind.  You could even take his head off for a week and…”

“Hey.  Here’s company,” Xander muttered under his breath, and then they were meeting and greeting the Escolet family and their associates.  Hezekiah, the Escolets’ patriarch regarded Xander curiously, staring hard at the patch.  “It doesn’t affect how I do my job,” Xander frostily pointed out.

“My apologies.  I was actually wondering if it was a…a window to the place of the spirits,” the man explained, his accent rich and exotic and not entirely pleasant.

“Just an empty socket,” Xander told him, forcing the bare bones of a smile to disguise his instant dislike.

“May I see?”

“When hell freezes over,” Spike cut in, brusquely excusing himself and Xander, and ushering Xander away.  “Ignorant bastard.”

“You’re starting to get it,” Xander smiled ruefully, “and I almost hoped you wouldn’t.”

“Job done and that cunt will be staggering away from here blinder than you, that’s a promise.”

“You wouldn’t.”  Xander took a closer look at Spike.  “Wow.  You would.  That’s…that’s…  I daren’t even think about it.”

“Shocked you?”

“Is there time for some just sex?”

There was time for lust to flare in Spike’s eyes but little else.  Angel was approaching, leather-wrapped dagger in hand, accompanied by Hezekiah.

“Xander, are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

They moved to where the witnesses to these proceedings were taking their seats, Xander being ushered through a narrow aisle to the ‘stage’, which was approximately fourteen feet wide and similarly deep.

“Where will you be?” Xander asked both Spike and Angel.

“Far enough away to ensure we don’t mess with the voices,” Spike replied.

Angel gestured back toward the door, then over to where Zooza was already in place, ten or so feet behind the chairs to the left of the stage.

“He’s ready if you need him.”

The mage was visibly thrumming with power, and that was reassuring to Xander, knowing Zooza wouldn’t be held in such high esteem without exceedingly good reason.  Their eyes caught and Zooza gave a broad grin and a cheery thumbs up.  Turning back to Spike, Xander took his hand and squeezed.

“If anything happens to me, you know where the letters are for all my friends, and you make sure people get their Christmas presents.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got it covered.  Good luck, Lo—  Xander.  Now…think of…”

“Shoe shopping,” they finished together, and a bemused Angel patted Xander’s shoulder for the last time before handing the dagger to Hezekiah and withdrawing, followed by a clenched-jawed Spike.

A couple of deep breaths and, with determined focus, Xander looked to Hezekiah, who reverently unwrapped the family relic, turning the handle toward Xander.

“If nothing more can be achieved,” the old man whispered, “please convey my love to my grandson.”

The softly spoken words undermined Xander’s earlier opinion of the man, and the smile he gave him now was genuine and sympathetic.

“I’ll try my best.”

“Thank you.”

Unsure of what to expect when he took hold of the dagger, Xander braced himself, and was a little confused to experience nothing at all.  As Hezekiah moved to his seat and stared at the medium in high expectation, Xander tried again, mentally repeating the process of lowering his meagre defences and opening himself fully to whatever forces were present.  Nothing.  He glanced to where Angel and Spike stood, expecting anxious expressions but not full game faces as they watched the proceedings, alert and poised, ready to intervene should it become necessary.  Spike saw his uncertainty and nodded him on.

Focus back on the dagger, Xander concentrated yet again, with the same unproductive result.  Nothing beyond the usual hum of voices and the reassuring presence of his guide, who could offer no help whatsoever under the circumstances.  Xander waited, trying to be patient and reason this through.  Maybe Ezequiel’s absence was simply about the average medium not being able to contact spirits who had been condemned to their own hell, as he’d suggested to Spike on more than one occasion.

Xander was just considering how to tell the gathered representatives of the Escolet clan that their kin was so damned it made communication impossible, when he turned the dagger in his hand, laying the blade across his free palm.  He shuddered as the, till now, inert object throbbed with unknown power; his fingers abruptly, uncontrollably, went into spasm, grasping the blade and trickling blood on the surface.  A blast of energy zipped through Xander’s body, as if placing both his hands on the dagger had completed some kind of circuit, and he gasped as he felt the psychic aspects of his mind expanding.  Both fascinating and alarming, it was as if he been transported to the spirit world whilst remaining in the physical.  He saw Saul watching him, Jesse at his shoulder; he saw a vast expanse of space that was pure and unsullied and vibrated peace and tranquillity; he saw—  The vision broke apart as another sense kicked in.  He heard a rumble that appeared to roll around the perimeter of the barn.  The rumble he had heard at New Forest, prior to Douglas being assaulted by the entity.

The crippling vulnerability that Xander had experienced since that fateful day in his home chapel kicked in, and knowing that if the uber-nasty somehow gained control of him there would be no hope of contacting Escolet, Xander tried to drop the dagger, only to find his hands clenched around it in an unmovable hold.  The rumble grew louder, vibrating through his body; he opened his eye to observe Angel, no doubt waiting to see how the situation developed, tugging Spike back after the younger vampire had tried to make a break for Xander.

Another pulse of energy from the dagger shocked Xander out of thought and into feeling, actuality succumbing to psychic impressions, and he was in this place at another time, a much older time.  The barn was transformed: there was an altar and roughly hewn pews, coarse matting on the floor and…and…hissing?  Hissing.  Xander’s mind jumped to the present and was as quickly yanked back into the past, to what had been hidden from his abilities by some spell or unknown force.  In a nauseating flash of knowledge he experienced the desecration of this place and the slaughter of the men, women and children who frequented it.  Graves, yes, he’d recognised that there were graves here.  These were the inhabitants of those graves…grave.  Grave.  A single pit of hideously mangled bodies, telling of violent death and vicious contempt for the human remains.  A sacrifice of innocents to provide an unholy power, and there, drenched in human blood before the altar and taking delight in the massacre, the desecration, was Hezekiah Escolet.

Hissing.  Breathless, terrified by the sense of reality within the vision, Xander concentrated on the hissing and broke out of the past.  Having no wish to come into closer contact with the kind of creature who could participate in such atrocities, he’d settle for the uber-nasty and inter-dimensional warfare.  Another spasm: the dagger tore into his fingers as he tried to release it.  Hissing, louder, like bugs, but not the bugs, it was…the sound from New Forest, the slick sound of a thousand merged voices.  A thousand tortured voices.  Desperate for escape, for assistance, for Spike, Xander was held captive by the power surrounding his human form, struck dumb, immobile, barely able to think of a last vain attempt to drop the knife, let alone carry out that thought.  A huge bolt of energy coursed around his body, through the dagger and into the atmosphere, hitting a wall of the barn and charging it, forming an impenetrable force-field around them all.

Searing pain from the energy and then…nothing.  Nothing was…good.  Better than good.  In a cocoon of utter serenity, Xander waited, and he knew he was waiting for Escolet.  Not thinking too clearly, he had a fuzzy notion that the power from the dagger was keeping the uber-nasty at bay.  Or was the uber-nasty keeping Escolet at bay?  Or…  The growing ache in his head, another pulse from the dagger and, in an instant, it became shockingly clear.  That Escolet and the uber-nasty were one and the same, and that he’d been primed over the past month, simply so his body could accommodate this…thing.

Ezequiel Escolet was there with him, as clear as day, and he made his approach with a triumphant grin on his inhuman face.  Xander’s instincts told him to bolt, but his body was beyond his control and, as Ezequiel had threatened in their first contact and now proved as he literally stepped into Xander’s shoes, entirely accessible.

“Stop this,” Xander heard, and that was possibly Zooza’s urgent voice.  “Stop this.  Angel!”

“Xander?”  Most definitely Spike.  “Xander.”  Or maybe not, because Spike never sounded that afraid.  “Xander.  Love.”  Spike.

Spike, and the last thing Xander heard as his consciousness was sucked from him. 

…

Nearly two hours passed before the energy had subsided sufficiently for anyone to approach Xander.  What previously was Xander.

“This better be worth it,” Spike said for the hundredth time, fraught, pacing, furious at everyone around him but especially himself for letting Xander be involved in this act of lunacy.  “We gave him to it, that disgusting thing that’s been haunting him, we just handed him over.”

“This may be the only way Escolet can communicate the information we need,” Angel replied, also for the hundredth time.

Spike couldn’t bring himself to repeat the threats the uber-nasty – Escolet – had made regarding the appropriation of Xander’s body and his plans for it.  If no-one else knew of the threats, Xander remained safer, Spike reasoned, vainly trying to convince himself that Escolet’s bloody vision of the future had been more about testing Xander, or somehow weakening his defences rather than revealing future plans.

“Don’t come any closer,” Zooza instructed when they were ten feet from the medium.  Zooza stroked the hand that remained rigidly folded around the hilt of the dagger.  “You may still affect Xander’s abilities, we don’t want him unstabilised.”

“Actually, some of us do,” Spike contradicted.  “Some of us want him unstabilised right back to the person he was three hours ago.  You told us to stop this, Zooza.”

“I know.  Too late.  Now…we can’t go back, Spike, we have to go forward.”

Hezekiah joined them.

“This has been traumatic for us all,” the old man said as he studied Xander.  Ezequiel.

“We need to talk with your grandson,” Angel said briskly, blocking any show of anger from Spike.  “Perhaps if you could initiate contact…?”

“I’m sure he’ll speak when he’s ready.”

Hezekiah was right: despite several attempts at communication, it wasn’t until an hour later that Xander took a hoarse, shuddering breath and his eye blearily opened.

“Xander?” Zooza asked hopefully, despite being convinced that it wasn’t.

Xander took several tries to make his mouth function correctly.

“E…ze…qui…el.”

“Ezequiel,” Spike repeated flatly, before exchanging a tense glance with Angel.

Angel gave a diplomatic bow of the head to Ezequiel, and took a step forward, then a hurried step back.

“I’m unaffected by you, demon,” Ezequiel said stuntedly and then, very deliberately, he affected a smile.  “Please, come to me.”

Angel and Spike did as they were bid.

“You have information we need, to prevent a catastrophe for this world,” Angel explained.  “I’m sorry it was necessary to disrupt your peace.”

“Peace.  Peace.”  Ezequiel fixed his gaze on Angel.  “We know our own.  You have experienced hell.  How did you feel about having your peace disrupted?”

“Is Xander all right?” Spike demanded, unable to keep quiet any longer.

The cool, unwavering gaze flicked over to him; he recognised not a hint of his Xander in it.

“Unharmed.”  Needed or not, Spike took a relieved breath.  “But…”

“But?” Spike prompted, relief short-lived.

Ezequiel twisted the beloved face into an ugly, unpractised grin.

“Redundant.”

“Temporarily, yes, that’s understandable,” Zooza said quickly as he saw Spike fall back a step in shock before turning savage yellow eyes on the impostor.  “Ezequiel, perhaps you’d like to make yourself more comfortable?  Come along with me and sit down.  Then we can talk.”

The moment Ezequiel took a clumsy step, jolting this new body, he hissed, eye closing in pain.

“Head hurt?” Spike asked.

“Yes.”

“Good.  Suffer.  Xander had to.”

“A necessary evil,” Ezequiel said as he once again fell still, allowing himself time to recover from the discomfort.

“Necessary evil?” Spike muttered as he turned away, “that’s you, you fucker.”

“Spike.”

Ignoring the admonition from Angel, Spike strode belligerently off, taking time out to calm down and, as ridiculous an exercise as it was, attempt to quell the fears for Xander’s safety that were raging through him.  Nothing had shown on Xander’s face, but he would have been terrified at Ezequiel’s approach, Spike knew that, and the knowledge was torture.

“I shouldn’t have let this happen,” Spike muttered to himself.  “Should’ve said no.”

“Luckily Xander’s braver than you,” Angel said from behind him.  Startled, Spike swung around to face his grandsire, fist already rising.  Anticipating the reaction, Angel efficiently caught the fist and very deliberately lowered it.  “What do you know that I don’t?” Angel asked.

“Blimey.  Where do I start?”

“Regarding this case?”

“This isn’t a case,” Spike snarled, “this is us hanging Xander out to dry.”

Angel studied Spike for a moment, took an accessing breath.

“Y’know, I never thought I’d see the day when Xander Harris was in…”

“He isn’t!”

“I’m only…”

“He isn’t in love,” Spike adamantly insisted.  “With me.  He isn’t.”

Upset and unable to meet Angel’s eyes, Spike stared past him to where Ezequiel stood, statue-like.

“Do I get to finish a sentence?” Angel asked.  Spike shrugged.  “The day,” Angel clarified, “when Xander Harris was involved with a vampire.  In…volved.”

The awkwardness became tangibly awkwarder.

“Involved.  Right.”

Angel stepped closer, dropping his voice until it was audible only to Spike’s ears.

“Do you want him to be in love with you?”  The gently curious tone provoked no response.  Angel tried a little friendly taunting.  “I thought he was wrapped around your finger, not the other way…”  With a  coarse, subsonic growl, Spike turned on his heel and headed back to Ezequiel.  “Spike?”  Spike paused, projecting his feelings with a mighty pissed off sigh as Angel caught him up.  “Spike…  Are you in love with him?”

And this would have to be the awkwardest moment of all.  Despite knowing what he should say, what he wanted to say, Spike was speechless at hearing the question asked so delicately, and yet so bluntly.  His body language spoke for him, sagging, and recovering with difficulty.  Besides, what could be put into words without tempting fate?  Spike walked off in silence.

…

There was a growing tension in the atmosphere, it was unmissable.  No-one on the vampires’ team liked the Escolets, regardless of whether it was a question of their amoral past, their equally amoral present, or simply the fact that they were effortlessly arrogant and unpleasant, and patently needed a good hiding to wipe the smug smiles off their ugly faces.

The heavies that had accompanied the family of the not-quite-deceased-enough were on edge, and waiting for what they probably considered the bloody highlight of the event to kick off.  Even the so-called non-partisan observers and specialists had picked their side by now, and as Angel, Zooza and several huminions stood to one side and casually sized up the potential battlefield, Spike made his way to Ezequiel, caring less about warfare than welfare, stopping in front of the man and trying to assess what made Xander Xander, and why it was so easy to think of this as Ezequiel and not Xander.

A slow smile appeared on Ezequiel’s face shortly before his eye opened.

“Ready to talk?” Spike asked as politely as he could manage under the circumstances.

“Why the rush?”  Ezequiel was now in perfect control of Xander’s body, and there was something in the smooth voice that appalled Spike, a slickness that made him feel as if he’d never be able to scrub the filthy residue of it from his skin; he thought back to New Forest, a sensation of freezing oil running down his spine.  “What have you remembered?” Ezequiel enquired as he assessed Spike’s expression, and his manner was leading, very nearly coy.  But Spike knew the type, could practically see the cunning mind at work beneath this harmless exterior, ready to seek out and exploit any weakness.  “Spike,” Ezequiel belatedly added, trying to sound like Xander.  It made Spike want to hit and keep hitting until this infestation was pummelled out of Xander’s system.

“What do you remember?” Spike countered, crossing his arms to keep his fists from flying.

“I remember living.  I remember…dying.”

“And do you remember a piece of information that’s crucial enough to prevent a war?”

“Do I…?”  Ezequiel’s fingers fluttered to his temple.  “I…think I might.  In time.”

Spike was aware of Angel stepping to his side.

“How long will this take?”

Ezequiel smiled at the older vampire, the kind of smile that freezes blood in veins.

“It will take…as long as it takes.”

“The medium who is helping you does not have as long as it takes,” Angel explained in best idiot-speak.  “Apparently, the world does not have as long as it takes.”

Ezequiel tsked, a poor show of sympathy.

“Bravery will have its consequences.”

Pummelling was starting to seem like the best solution, and it was only Zooza snatching at Spike’s coat tails and dragging him back that prevented Ezequiel facing a few consequences of his own.

“Gentlemen…  Let me talk to him.”

They parted to allow Hezekiah through, and the old man strode purposefully toward his grandson, taking him into his arms and hugging.  Both vampires shifted uncomfortably when they smelt fresh blood as Hezekiah leaned against the hand still clutching the blade.  Words in a bastardised demon tongue passed between the Escolets, the translation of this peculiar dialect eluding Spike, and leaving Angel grasping after the few phrases he vaguely recognised from his research into the family’s possible roots.

“Can I take a guess?” Spike muttered to Angel.  “Not discussing the weather.”

“China, something about China.”

“They’re talking crockery?” Spike frowned.

“The country.  And…”

“Was there anything in the prophecy about China?”

“No.  The only links to China…”

Angel paused to carry out further eavesdropping; Spike turned to Zooza.

“The only links to China?”

“The only links are…”

Spike was ready to scream as Zooza fell silent too, but when he saw the look that passed between the mage and Angel, he began to realise that merely suspecting the worst was simply wasting time; what was needed here was a full-blooded leap directly to the worst.

“Kreear na’faa,” Angel said very deliberately.

“Angel?”

“Kreear na’faa,” Angel repeated, raising his voice to ensure Hezekiah and more heard.  “Kreear na’faa, menoosh…varah.”

A ripple ran through the Escolet family, and their heavies stepped a little closer to their masters.  Both Hezekiah and Ezequiel turned to stare at Angel, their expressions pure evil.

“A fair attempt at our language,” Hezekiah said coldly, affectionately patting the hand that held the hilt of the dagger before moving to ensure he was between Ezequiel and any threat to his safety.

“China?” Spike asked loudly, directing the question to anyone who’d listen.

“The demon hybrids who were beheaded,” Zooza whispered.  “We found tokens in their possession that bore ancient Chinese symbols.”

“And those demons were trying to stop this?” Spike asked.  “Stop Ezequiel’s return?”

“Prevent the reunification of the Escolet family,” Angel confirmed.

“Oh.  Fucking.  Ada,” Spike groaned.  “You want to state the obvious, or should I?”

“Revenge,” Zooza volunteered.  “The Escolets discovered who killed Ezequiel and…”

“This isn’t about preventing a war; it’s about starting one,” Angel concluded with a disappointed sigh.  He gestured with a weary hand.  “Zooza.”

A sleek thread of energy shot from Zooza to Angel, leaving Angel wielding a six-foot sword.  Elsewhere in the barn the response was immediate: weapons were drawn and tension soared.  But Hezekiah was quite calm, a triumphant smile growing on his face.

“Too late.  Ezequiel has returned to us and his re-birth brings us immortality; together we are invincible.”  Angel brought up the sword and pointed it at Hezekiah’s throat; as it caught the light a pattern of carvings showed up, identical to those on the dagger.  Triumphant disintegrated into thoroughly peeved.  “Ah…crap,” the old man whined.  “Nothing’s ever easy.”

With a click of his wizened fingers, a plume of smoke disguised Hezekiah’s escape attempt.  Blinded, but with a sense of smell that could pick out a nasty piece of work at forty paces, Angel was in pursuit.  A few smoky tricks of his own and Zooza joined the fray as the bloody highlight well and truly kicked off.

Amid the noise and the magical firepower, Spike remained motionless, staring at Ezequiel.  The being who had stolen Xander’s body seemed determined to ignore him, placidly observing the chaos over Spike’s shoulder.  Spike had had his fair share of being ignored in the past and was generally pretty immune to it, but this was enough to make him seethe, and his body started to tremble with the violence of his hatred.  He took two steps forward, not trusting himself to get closer without lashing out.

“Smart,” he told Ezequiel, “but not smart enough.  You’re done here.  Go.”

Ezequiel’s gaze finally switched to Spike, examining him, hair to boots and back, and that kind of lingering look from Xander would have had him dripping hard in ten seconds flat.

“You have such a passion for this man.  Why?”

“None of your fucking business.  Go.”

Ezequiel released a chuckle of genuine bemusement

“I have no intention of going anywhere.  At least, not at your behest.”

“That body is not yours.”

“But you chose it for me.  Guided me to it.  Surely even a vampire doesn’t offer a gift with one hand and snatch it back with the other?”

“That isn’t how it happened,” Spike snarled.

“You gifted me this man,” Ezequiel continued to goad, still in the most reasonable of tones, “and then, tonight, when you had the chance to intervene, you stood back and did nothing to prevent our assimilation.”

“We were acting in good faith, you—”

A man thudded into Spike’s back, almost sending him sprawling.  One of Escolet’s hybrids: very handy.  Glad of a victim to pour his rage into, Spike hauled the man from the floor, snapped his neck so viciously it almost twisted his head from his body, and hurled him back to his colleagues.

“Temper, temper,” Ezequiel teased.  Spike spun round, fist rising, but…it was Xander.  Ezequiel, but…Xander.  The fist dropped.  “Oh, so weak, so sad.”

Spike did his best to ignore the pseudo-sympathetic provocation.

“Not long before your last chance.  Go, or I’ll make sure the pain you suffer when you’re driven out…”

“Uh-uh-uh.  Too late, can’t you see?  You lost your…lover?”  Ezequiel grinned cruelly at Spike’s sudden undisguisable pain.  “You lost your lover by deserting him when he needed you the most.  You witnessed his passing, and now I’m established…you won’t be rid of me.”

Spike stared unseeingly at the monster before him, hearing Xander’s true voice in his head demanding promises, demanding action from the person he trusted most right now.

“It isn’t that easy,” he whispered to Xander, dropping his head forward, and Ezequiel looked at him curiously, tilting his head in an attempt to better see the vampire’s half-hidden features.

“No?”

Spike shook his head, not actually knowing what Ezequiel had thought he was referring to, but when he glanced up he saw a sight that called to him: the scar on Xander’s neck, exposed by the tilt of Ezequiel’s head.

“No,” he said, firmly now.  “No.”

“Still no?”

“You can’t have him.”

“Another ploy?  Spike.”

“Not a ploy: a fact.  A cold, hard fact.”

“And what is this cold, hard fact?” Ezequiel smiled, humouring the vampire.  “Why can’t I have him?”

“Because he’s mine.”

“How…unfortunate.”

“Mine.”  Spike strode forward, startling Ezequiel with his sudden boldness.  “You want him, you get in line, Mate, because first and foremost he belongs to me.”

“And you failed to mention this before because…?”

“Angel.”

“Angel?”

“Wouldn’t approve.”

“Ah.  You know, my grandfather had a similar problem with this sweet little Wimmereen I brought home once, and nothing I could say or do…”

“Right, yes, you get the picture.  Now…fuck off.”

Ezequiel further closed the gap between them, leaning forward to rub his cheek over Spike’s.  The thought of XanderXanderXander was all that prevented the hybrid losing half his face to Spike’s fangs.

“I feel it.  A connection.”

“Yes, a connection.  Hell of a connection.”

“In which case…  I won’t have you think I know nothing of connections and affection and…more.  I actually have quite a soft heart.”

“Decomposition will do that.”

“Naughty.  When I’m being so nice.”

“Yeah, and…?”

“You want your Xander?”

“Yes.”

“Then…I’ll have to keep you.”

Spike jerked back.

“You’ll—”

“Keep you.  It’s the best of a bad situation.”

“You are joking.”

“But we could have eternity.  You didn’t want to watch this body you desire grow old and unappealing, did you?  I appreciate that it’s not perfect but improvements can be made, and then you’ll love it all the more, regardless of who inhabits it.  Think of the possibilities,” Ezequiel offered seductively.  “I keep you, and you keep Xander.  Un-withered.  For ever.  Eternity, Spike.”

“Eternity?” Spike repeated hoarsely, eyes suddenly brimming with tears at the unbidden memories of loss upon loss.

“We could have fun.  Lots of fun.  Now the prophecy is fulfilled, this world, in its entirety, could be ours.  More than a playground: an investment, an ongoing concern supplying our fellow demons with sport and fodder, and humanity will be our harvest.  Fun, Spike.  You and—  You and your eternal Xander.”

“I can’t…”

“And I will learn to love you, Spike.  Something your human, with his ludicrous sensibilities, could never offer.  I will love you.”

There was a long moment as Ezequiel revelled in Spike’s pain, his tender smile becoming malevolent as Spike finally croaked,

“So?”

Ezequiel leaned in once more, gently kissing Spike’s cheek.

“First…  There’s Angel.  He wouldn’t approve of us, you know that.  In the heat of battle you could…dispatch him.  It wouldn’t occur to him to suspect you, you can get close enough and…”

“No, that’s not first.  First is…making it worthwhile.”

Ezequiel took a good look at Spike, saw the hunger on his face as he gazed at Xander’s mouth.

“Sweet.  Sweet, sweet, sweet.”

Their lips touched, and Spike shivered, but it was nothing to do with the fact that the flesh he kissed, he adored, was freezing.

“Xander,” he groaned, “my love, my precious love.”  Deepening the kiss, his hands rose to cup the medium’s ice-cold face, the tips of his fingers playing in hair that now felt like wire.  “Still mine.  Always mine.”

Ezequiel giggled playfully into the kiss, convinced that this harmless interaction took him one step closer to the freedom he wanted.  He was prepared and somewhat content – temporarily – to indulge his host’s lover, but he certainly wasn’t prepared for the potency of the vampire’s claim of ownership when Spike’s fingers trailed down his neck, and sharp nails unexpectedly dug into the bite scar.

The entire building throbbed with power as Ezequiel succumbed to the sensations of the claimed, barely able to stand without support; dazed by newly awakened desire, he followed the touch of Spike’s hands as they skimmed down his body.

“I – I never imagined,” he gasped.

“Bet you didn’t,” Spike replied in a tortured whisper.  He stroked Ezequiel’s hands – Xander’s hands – knowing the touches that Xander enjoyed best and teasing the hybrid with them.  “Arrogant son-of-a-bitch like you wouldn’t have imagined for a moment.”

Ezequiel’s eye flickered open in surprise at the venomous tone, and the surprise turned to amazement and horror as Spike exploited the scar-induced weakness and wrenched the dagger from Ezequiel’s hands, twisting it and using it before his own selfish needs could overwhelm the voice of Xander that lived in his head.

An agonised wail filled the air, causing the combatants to pause in their battle, but it wasn’t Ezequiel’s pain they heard.  As the being in question staggered, disbelievingly, back from its assailant, Spike jerked the weapon free and repeated his attack, screaming with agony and fury, tears pouring down his face as he plunged the ceremonial dagger deep into Xander’s body.

He’d soon gathered that only the symbols on the dagger could end the manifestation of this evil, and in any other situation Spike would have delighted in the Escolets’ sacred relic bringing about their ultimate end rather than the fabled new beginning.  But all Spike could think of was the damage the blade itself was doing to the human he had unwittingly betrayed, and how Xander’s blood felt, splashing over his hands as he dragged out the embedded dagger.

With an ear-popping whump, the power surrounding the building dispersed, leaving the Escolets weaker and more vulnerable, a state that Angel and his team were quick to exploit.  Hezekiah fought his way back to Ezequiel’s side, and was close enough to witness the defeat of his twisted plan, his grandson’s spirit having no choice but to vacate the now-worthless body he had claimed as his own, the use of the family’s dagger to dispatch him ensuring that Ezequiel was bound to death rather than life.

Spike watched Ezequiel lose his grip, desperately hoping that this was enough, that he wouldn’t have to do any more damage, not entirely sure that he could sink the knife into Xander for a third time.  He was shoved aside as Hezekiah made a lunge for Ezequiel, hands glowing with the last of his supernatural power as he seized the medium; at the same moment Spike took enormous, if empty, pleasure in seeing the old man brought down by the sword in Angel’s hands, his skull crushed by that immense weight and vampiric strength.  The hybrid’s energy was released in a surge that coursed through Xander, blasting him from his feet and bouncing him off the barn wall with an almighty crunch that was perfectly recognisable as the sound of badly damaged human.

Dropping the dagger, Spike ran to where Xander had landed, falling to his knees and momentarily despairing because he didn’t know what to do for this broken body, then his reflexes kicked in and he was pressing the wadded tail of his coat into the dagger wounds to staunch the bleeding, shouting for the medical assistance he knew had to be somewhere in the vicinity and despairing at the knowledge that they were trapped beyond the continued fighting.

Xander took a gurgling breath and heaved a cough, splattering blood over his face and chest.  Spike turned the man’s head and body slightly so he could spit more away before he choked.  Another breath, slightly clearer, and Xander whooped in a third to try to speak.  Spike laid him flat once again so it was possible to keep up the pressure on his wounds.

“Xander, Love, save your strength.  Telling me I’m a total fuck-up can wait, eh?”

Xander gave a stilted shake of the head, offering Spike a weak, but clearly grateful smile, and managing a soundless ‘thank you’ for Spike from his trembling lips.  Frantically blinking away tears that he was afraid would send the wrong message, Spike helped Xander lean to the side to bring up more blood, feeling the tremors as pain wracked this failing body.  More coughs, and several gasps followed.

“Spike.”  So weak it was barely audible, but Spike heard and shushed as he tried to make Xander comfortable.  “We…we stopped it?”  Spike couldn’t meet Xander’s eye; with his free hand he reached inside his coat and tore a strip from his shirt, using it to wipe clean Xander’s face.  “We didn’t?”

“We did, Love.  You did,” Spike assured.  “You saved the world.”

“Can I…  Go home now?” Xander smiled weakly, but the smile was abruptly snatched away by the pain of Xander’s internal system breaking down.  A whispered groan and his eye screwed shut.  Spike frantically patted his cheek.

“Xander.  Love.  Stay with me, Petal, c’mon, stay with me.”

“Trying.”

Xander forced his eye open, and made the effort to rub his head against the floor.  Spike took a few seconds to understand what that was about, and then he gently removed the patch, tucking it away in his pocket as what would likely be a morbid memento.  He ran his fingers through Xander’s flattened hair, then stroked the indentations around Xander’s left socket; for the first time, the skin did not recover.

“Help’ll be here soon,” Spike promised in a shaking voice.

Xander’s hand rose and vaguely waved in the direction of the noise.

“Okay?  Everyone?”

Spike looked at the ongoing ruckus for the first time, becoming aware of damage being sustained by his colleagues, the ones he thought meant nothing compared to those he’d lost in the past, and he was shocked to find they did matter.  Very much.

“Um…  Bit of a muddle.  Few injuries.  Zooza’s lying over there with what looks like a machete sticking out of his head.”

“Go help him.  Help them.”

“No.  He’ll be fine.  They’ll be fine.”

“But…  Oh.  Oh, my…”

Spike panicked as Xander’s gaze drifted and his voice faded.

“Xander…”

“Hey.”  Xander was smiling at someone over Spike’s shoulder, and the vampire’s head snapped round to see who was there.  No-one.  Or rather no-one he could see.  “Hey, Jesse.”

“God, no,” Spike murmured, aware of the significance, knowing from Xander that loved ones came to collect the dying, and fearing how close Xander had to be to the spirits for his demon to no longer keep them at bay.  He moved to block Xander’s view, leaning down to kiss his brow, whispering over and over…

“Please, Love, stay with me.  Don’t go with him, please stay.  Jesse doesn’t need you like I do.  Don’t go.”

Xander rocked his head to make Spike move back; a trembling hand rose and was helped to its destination by a cooler one that shook just as heartily.  Xander took a tear from the tip of Spike’s nose.

“Not for me,” he croaked.

“For you, of course for you, you stupid arse.”  Xander smiled at the insult.  “Stay with me, Xander.”

“It’s okay, Baby.  I’m not scared.”

“I am.  Xander, I am so scared.”

“Not my Spike.”

“Yes, your…”  Xander whimpered in pain, flinching beneath Spike’s hand.  Beneath the last traces of blood on Xander’s face, the skin was ashen but for the lips, which were tinged blue.  “Hold on, Love, please.  You can do it.  Do it for me, eh?”

“Doug,” Xander gasped, fighting to breathe now.  “Through Doug.”

“No, this is how I’ll talk to you, this.”

Xander’s head tilted and his expression changed, physical to emotional pain.  Relief.  A tear welled and trickled down his cheek.

“Honey, you…you look…beautiful.”

“Who?”

“Anya.  She made it.  She made it…and…and she’s beautiful.  Says…”  Xander hauled in a rattling breath and feebly tapped his fingers on Spike’s hand.  “Place for…  Says…”

“Xander, save your strength, please.”

“Place.  For…Spike.”  With a huge effort Xander turned his head back so he could meet Spike’s eyes.  “You…you made…”  A violent shudder wracked his weakened body.  “Heaven.”

“I don’t want…”

“Spike…  Here.  Ann…Arm…Armit…”

The whisper of his mother’s name shocked Spike into silence, but however much he had longed for this contact, his immediate priority was Xander preserving the little energy he had left; wordlessly shushing, he wrapped his hand around Xander’s fingers which, even now, flicked their encouragement.

Then there was new noise, bustle rather than warfare, and Angel was beside them, checking on Xander and shouting across to the medical personnel who were spreading through the barn, aiding the fallen.  Hands he recognised as his grandsire’s fell on his shoulders, but Spike shrugged them off, refusing to be taken from Xander’s side.

“Xander, please,” burst from him, “please don’t leave me.  Please don’t go, I lo—”

Angel tugged at him.

“Come on, Spike, you have to make some room.”

“Leave me alone, he needs me.”

“Not right now.”

“What do you know?” Spike spat.

“I know that he’s seconds away from dying and you’re preventing the medics getting to him.  Is this your way of never hearing him say he doesn’t want you?”

Spike spun and leapt at Angel, tearing into him with mindless, wounded fury, a successful diversion that allowed a medical team to gather around Xander with their machines and paraphernalia.  Swiftly coming to his senses and seeing the trick for what it was, Spike turned back to Xander, only to find himself trapped in Angel’s firm hold.  Unable to fight free he resorted to screaming at the people who now surrounded his partner.

“Do something!  I’m warning you!  If he dies he won’t be going alone!”

Xander’s hand flopped to the ground between sets of feet, still flexing spasmodically; Spike lunged for it, only for the grip on him to tighten.

He watched the medics fight what should have been his fight alone: he was the one who had promised to keep Xander safe; he was the one who had promised to see Xander through this ordeal in one piece; he was the one who had promised they would survive together or not at all.

Now, all he could do was watch, helplessly as the twitching fingers finally fell still.

Spike was aware that Xander’s struggling heart had fallen silent.  That the dirt floor was saturated with more blood than a human could stand to lose.  Spike was aware that he was fighting for breath while Xander was not.  But…  Unreal.  It was unreal.

There was a strange pause as Angel’s restraint became an awkward attempt at comfort, and a heavily bloodstained, machete-less Zooza staggered to them to urge them away from the scene.

But Spike couldn’t tear his gaze from the motionless fingers, and he resisted the gentle pressure to leave.  Because this couldn’t be real.

“Come on, Spike.  Let’s get out of here.  It’s over.”

“No,” Spike refused, voice cracking under the strain.  “It’s not over till it’s over.”

With two steps Angel was masking Xander from view, and Spike’s eyes, filled with tears and fear and deprived of their focus, gradually rose to meet Angel’s.  Pleading.

“Spike…  I’m sorry.”

“Don’t.  Don’t.  It’s not over till—”

The words descended into an enraged, heartbroken cry and Spike tried to break away, only to be caught and pulled into a self-conscious yet compassionate hug.

“I’m sorry, Spike.  I’m so sorry.  It’s over.”

Manifestation 32       Manifestation Index       Manifestation Notes

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