The Cost of Butterfly Kisses

[lit_gal]

The Cost of Butterfly Kisses, Part 27

Fandom/Pairing: BtVS, Spike/Xander
Rated: ADULT

SPURTING AHEAD    SPURTING AHEAD  ((SECOND CHAPTER OF THE DAY HERE, FOLKS!!))

Summary: The first launches a major attack against Spike, just like in canon, but this time, Xander is right there in the line of fire.  Since this is a season rewrite, you have lots of snippets of conversations and conflicts out of the episodes, but I should mention that this chapter has a larger than usual chunk of dialogue straight out of Sleeper.

Fanart: There is a really awesome piece of fanart (worksafe) over at sutekh_nubt's website here: http://sutekh-nubt.livejournal.com/3156.html

(Chapter One... )  ( Chapter Two... )  ( Chapter Three... ) ( Chapter Four... ) ( Chapter Five )   ( Chapter Six )   ( Chapter 7 )  ( Chapter 8 )  ( Chapter Nine )  ( Chapter Ten )   ( Chapter Eleven )  ( Chapter Twelve ) ( Chapter Thirteen ) ( Chapter 14 . ) ( Chapter 15 )  ( Chapter 16 ) ( Chapter 17 ) ( Chapter 18 ) ( Chapter 19 ) ( Chapter 20 ) ( Chapter 21 )  ( Chapter 22 )  ( Chapter 23 )  ( Chapter 24 ) ( Chapter 25 )   ( Chapter 26 )

Chapter 27




Spike slammed in the back door, his last nerve fraying. He’d loved Buffy… part of him still did. She was so bloody strong--such a warrior. But right now, she was gettin’ on his last bloody nerve. Seeing her on the street, following him, had been enough to drive him home early, but still she followed. This was his bloody lair—not that she had ever respected that boundary.

"Did you kill her?" Buffy demanded. "The girl. Last night. Did you kill her?"

Tara was standing at the stove, her eyes big as Spike stormed through the kitchen and headed for the cupboard with the whiskey. He needed to be drunk if he was going to have this conversation.

"What girl? You‘re not making much sense, luv." Bonnie’s little face appeared around the corner of the arch, and Spike could feel a slow, burning fury that Buffy had brought this into his home with his soddin’ family. Tara turned back to the stove and started stirring her stew with an ungodly passion. She was going to slop it all over the stove if she wasn’t careful.

"I caught the first act. I missed the curtain call. Did you kill her? Did you turn her? Is she one of your kind now?" Buffy’s anger shocked him even more than the accusation. Bloody hell, he wasn’t one for making minions even before the soul and the chip. New vampires weren’t worth the wood it took to turn them to dust. As far as he was concerned, a minion that hadn’t survived a half-century wasn’t worth having around. "Answer the question, Spike. Where is she?"

Spike got the whiskey out of the cupboard and slammed the door. "Who knows? I talked to her is all."

"Really." Buffy stood in his way, blocking his access to the living room, and Xander came up from the basement and looked from Buffy to Spike and back. Spike had long ago come to think of the boy as his, and having Buffy here to challenge him and reclaim Xander’s loyalty made his teeth itch. Buffy crossed her arms and glared at him. "Looked like more than talking to me."

"Well, I certainly didn't off her." Spike shoved past Buffy and headed into the living room. When he got there, Bonnie was missing, so the poppet must be hiding in the bathroom. Spike gritted his teeth as he tried to keep from exploding at Buffy. She had no bloody right to come in and throw accusations around. He dropped into his chair and upended the whiskey, drinking fast enough to give him the illusion of warmth sliding down into his belly.

Buffy was still standing in the arch. "Right. The chip."

Spike slammed the bottle down on the side table so hard that the bottle cracked and the pungent scent of alcohol stung his nose as it poured out over the wood. "No, not the chip! Not the chip, dammit. You honestly think I'd go to the end of the underworld and back to get my soul and then—" Spike stopped and took an unnecessary breath.

The fact was that he hadn’t gone to that demon to ask for a soul. He’d asked to be made the man he had been in hope of getting the chip out. He’d been so bloody sure that he could come back stronger and better. He could feed and grow strong enough to force Xander to accept him as the head of the clan instead of having to let the boy fight his battles for him. He'd be the one to defend the family. Since Buffy wouldn’t accept his submission, he was going to force Buffy to submit to him and then show her how much he could care for her.

He’d had all these hopes that made him burn with shame now that he had his soul back. He'd been a soddin' idiot for ever thinking they'd cheerfully submit. Hell, from what Xander said about his time with the primal, the boy had been alpha. Since primals wove the animal spirit onto the human personality, that meant the dominance was in the boy. If that was true, there was something in Xander that would never be forced to bend his neck to another. He might choose to serve, but he'd break before yielding in a fight, and Buffy was the same. Spike would have ended up killing both of them, and he hated himself for coming so close to destroying what he loved. The very idea of taking more guilt on himself now…. He’d bloody walk in the sun before he went out killing birds.

Carefully planning his words, Spike spoke slowly. "I can barely live with what I did. It haunts me. All of it. If you think that I would add to the body count now, you are crazy."

"So, what—you just troll the Promenade looking for drunk co-eds cause you're hungry for conversation?" Buffy demanded.

"Okay, we are entering unfun land," Xander said. Spike ignored him, laughing at Buffy’s sudden indignation.

"Oh, is that what this is? Right," Spike said.

That stopped Buffy for a second. "What?"

"You're jealous!"

"Don't play games. Not now."

Spike ran a tongue along the inside of his lower lip. "Yeah, you saw me chatting up another bird, giving the eye to somebody else. Touched a nerve, didn't it?"

Buffy backed away. "Don't flatter yourself."

Smirking, Spike studied Buffy. "It burns, huh? But you can't admit it, so you trump up some charge about me being back on the juice." He knew it was a lie even as he said it, but it just felt so good to get some little scrap of dignity back. He’d bloody loved her with everything in his demon heart, and now his soul ached with both love and guilt. Hurting her felt a little good.

"Oh, Spike, save it," Buffy blurted.

"As daft a notion as ‘Soulful Spike the Killer’ is, it’s nothing compared to the idea that another girl could mean anything to me. This chip—they did to me. I couldn't help it. But the soul, I got on my own—for you." Spike was up out of his chair, his guilt clawing at him as he thought about what he had really wished for, a chance to destroy everything he loved. But he’d done it out of love. No matter how twisted it had been, he’d loved her. He’d loved her with everything in his unbeating heart. And he wanted her to be jealous of that little bit of nothing he’d been talking to. He wanted it so much that he could taste it like human blood on his tongue.

Buffy looked at him, and when she spoke, her voice was soft. "I know."

"So, yeah. I go and pass the time... with someone. But that's all it is is time, 'cause—God, help me, Buffy—it's still all about you." Spike looked over, and Xander had slipped into the room, his arms around his waist and his eyes large. He didn’t want Xander seeing him be weak, but here the boy was. Spike gritted his teeth.

"I followed you last night, and you know what? You didn't look lonely or casual to me. You looked like you were on the prowl."

"You can't know that," Spike said. Xander inched closer, his face so closed off so that Spike couldn’t tell what was running through his head.

"So, then, tell me," Buffy demanded. "Tell me what happened. You talked to her, then what?"

Dropping back down into his chair, Spike stared morosely at the cracked bottle. He bloody needed that drink. "We talked. That's all I remember."

Buffy jumped on his wording. "All you remember?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. I go out. I talk to people or I don't. It's boring. It all bleeds together."

"Well, if you seem to forget that much, then—"

"Not that," Spike said firmly. "The taste of human blood. That, I'd remember." It’d been so long since he’d had human blood that he wasn’t even sure he remembered what it tasted like anymore. The rich copper taste of human blood blossomed across his tongue, and he flashed on the image of a woman clutching at him as his soul howled in despair. Spike shook his head to clear it so he could focus on what Buffy was saying.

"You were camped out on the hell mouth talking to invisible people. Recently."

"Okay, seriously, if we want to play nice, references to crazy talk is probably not the best way to go," Xander suggested.

"I don’t need you to bloody defend me, idiot," Spike snapped. Xander’s eyes went large, and Spike’s soul felt heavy in his chest. He edged away from both of them, his thoughts spinning. "It’s early. I’m going back out," he blurted.

"Oh no, no, no, no, no, no," Xander just about leaped in front of him. "Spike, forgetting is not normal. You never forget anything, so if you’re doing the mind-wiped impression--"

"Move," Spike ordered as he raised his hand in a fist. Xander stumbled back before Spike could touch him.

Buffy grabbed his arm, and Spike shoved at her, throwing her into the couch before she could get a good hold on him. For a second, the whole room froze, and before the humans could gather their wits, Spike rushed out of the house. The night air was muggy and thick with the stink of California smog, but the moon was high and the evening young.

Spike started toward the Bronze, cursing the fact that both his car and Xander’s van weren’t anywhere near. He needed to move the car and have the poof’s nerd bring the van up. If it had one scratch on it, Spike would use Jonathan’s face to polish it out.

"Spike!" a voice called behind him, and Spike used his vampiric speed to race down the street away from the emotion he could feel in that cry.

When he reached the Bronze, it was loud and crowded and smelled of human sweat and lust. Spike swallowed down an urge to flash into game face as the smell of all the pheromones hit him. The microphone gave a pop and crackle as the singer hit a high note, and Spike slipped into the middle of the crowd. He couldn’t have killed. He could feel the wrongness circling in his guts like a snake. Fuck. He’d pushed Xander to kill the three idiots--pushed him to take all this evil and embrace it. Spike clenched his fists as an almost overwhelming urge to rip open his chest and just pull the soul out hit him.

Hell, if the boy had done what Spike had wanted, Jonathan’s blood would be on Xander’s hands. The nob was annoying, but when Spike had shown up with the van, needing a little magical help, Jonathan had just about bent over backwards helping. He’d acted like Spike had gone out of his way to do some bloody intervention. Spike had been drafted into that plan only because he couldn’t rip out Jonathan’s throat.

Spike shoved all that guilt and self-loathing to one side as he scanned the room, searching for the woman he’d been talking to. She had to be here. He’d left her on the dance floor. A memory of her backed up against a brick wall flashed through his memory, and Spike clenched his teeth.

A boy had snuck a flask in, probably because he wasn't old enough to order alcohol, and it sat on the edge of the pool table. Spike moved closer, watching until the git was distracted so he could lift it. Only then did he flee from the human masses by heading up to the catwalk. The buzz barely took the edge off the sharp edge off the storm of emotions that raged inside. He was losing his mind.

"Spike?" Xander’s voice was tentative, and when Spike turned around, Xander was standing behind him, watching with wide prey-eyes.

"Stop looking like a walking Happy Meal, Harris."

"Right. No looking like a food group," Xander agreed. "Can we put that next to no running away after tossing people around?"

Spike snorted and turned back to the rail. Xander inched closer until he was leaning on the rail next to him. "Okay, so I’ll start. You’re scaring the shit out of me, Spike."

"Should go home then."

"Well, I’m a little single-minded when I think someone I may potentially like is in trouble. So, are you in trouble?"

Spike raised an eyebrow. Bloody hell, his life really was shit when Xander Harris’s half-arsed declaration of loyalty warmed him as much as cheap whiskey.

"And the fact that you aren’t answering tends to suggest that the answer is yes. So, considering me glued to your side until you’re willing to come home… or until you use the super-speed thing and leave me panting in your dust again," he added.

"Go home, Xander."

"Nope. I may be slow, but I’m annoyingly persistent. So, even if we’re out so late that I fall asleep over my table saw tomorrow, I’m not leaving you alone."

"Doesn’t sound safe."

"Good thing I actually have meetings all day," Xander said with a goofy grin. His smile quickly faded, though. "Seriously, Spike, you’re family. You’re the dysfunctional and embarrassing side of the family, but you’re family, so what the hell is up with you?"

Spike studied the clueless humans that danced and flirted and wasted their life away on the floor below them. "Keep remembering things," Spike confessed softly.

"Like where you left Jimmy Hoffa after eating him?" Xander asked with something that came close to hope.

Spike didn’t bother answering. Images from his memory flashed across his vision. The girl’s face twisted with fear. Spike might dismiss it as one more case of an old victim returning to haunt him, but in his memories, he could feel his soul crying out.

"And again with the freaking me out," Xander complained.

"Where’s Buffy?"

"We sort of had words, and I sort of pointed out that she needed to back off because she helped push you over the edge in the first place. There might have been a few unpleasant words shared about how her and Willow needed to stop manipulating people."

Spike’s eyebrows went all the way up at that.

Xander sighed. "Spike, I love them. That doesn’t mean I’m blind. Willow turned into a master manipulator, and I’m hoping that Tara’s willingness to torture her by refusing to give her the quick and easy forgiveness will show her that she has to control that part of herself. And Buffy likes to share the misery with everyone near her, and Tara’s co-dependant like a mad, mad thing, and I’m a narrow-minded bastard who doesn’t have a forgiving bone in my body."

A smile caught at the edges of Spike’s mouth. The boy was right about all that.

"And you’re a bastard," Xander finished. "So, we’re all pretty screwed up. I’m just wondering what kind of screwed up you have going on in your head."

Spike turned and really studied the boy, only he wasn’t much of a boy anymore. He’d grown up since Spike had first dismissed him as some harmless bit of fluff following the slayer around.

"You shouldn’t be around me," Spike said, his eyes flashing yellow.

Xander turned white. "Okay, not be around like you're annoyed with me? Because honestly, that's a creepy look you're giving me."

"Go away."

"Nope."

Spike sighed. The boy was a bloody menace when he wanted to be. No wonder Angelus had been so annoyed after getting turned away at the hospital. A woman slid up to Spike's other side and gave him a smile. "Interested in sharing?" she asked with a look over at Xander.

"Share?" Xander squeaked the word out. "Me and him. Both of us. But... Oh no. No, no, and worlds more of no. I'm not— He's not— I mean...."

"Actually, I am, pet," Spike corrected him with a leer for good measure. It always cheered him up to torture Harris. Right now, the man was turning a brilliant shade of red. "I lived under Angelus, didn't I?" Spike asked. True, there had only been the one time for actual penetration, and that had included a whole lot of whiskey, but Spike certainly knew what a cock felt like and tasted like. Xander looked like he was ready to stroke out.

The woman smiled, her teeth white against her dark skin. "So, maybe we can share, or do you need some convincing?" She pressed up close, and Spike was suddenly aware of her demon lurking just under her skin. Bloody hell. Of course the boy had attracted another demon; he really was a demon-magnet.

"Sorry, luv, but I'm the type best left alone."

She gave him a coy look before focusing on Xander. "How about if I slip into something more comfortable?" She went into game face, and maybe she expected Xander to go running and screaming, but he just backed himself into the rail with wide eyes.

"Vampire! Vampire!" he hissed.

"I have eyes, Harris."

"But vampire!" Xander's right hand had disappeared behind him, and Spike suspected he was clutching a stake.

"Get away from us," Spike warned. The woman looked Xander up and down with obvious interest, and Spike stepped forward to block her view as he growled at her.

"What's with the wallflower act? You didn't seem so shy when you were biting me. I'm not asking if you wanna be soul mates, just figured you'd wanna have some fun." She actually pouted. She wasn't going to make it even a decade as a vampire, and Spike wanted to deny that he'd turn anyone, much less a vapid bit of nothing like her, but he could remember the taste of her blood in his mouth. "You can have the boy to yourself—I'll find my own meal and we can share."

Spike pulled a stake out and her eyes got big before she turned and dashed through the crowd of humans.

"Should we go after her?" Xander asked, completely ignoring the fact that the woman had claimed Spike as her sire. The boy should be running for the hills, and instead, his warm hand was resting on Spike's back.

"Leave her," Spike said.

"Okay," Xander said slowly. "You do know I'm freaking out, right?" Xander asked. Spike ignored him. An image flashed in his memory—a house. Spike headed for the street, pushing through the crowd as Xander trailed behind.

The walk was silent, Xander not even trying to talk as Spike walked the quiet streets and up the dilapidated porch to an old house. Pushing the door open, Spike walked in like he owned the place. Two steps inside, he stopped at the sight of himself leaning against a banister. "You shouldn't have brought him. It's not time yet. Not nearly. You're going against the plan, but we can make it work."

Spike took a step back, his guts clenching in fear as something in the pit of his stomach screamed at him to run from this not-Spike.

"Spike?" Xander asked softly. Spike didn't answer, but the warm hand resting against his back had returned.

"You should kill the boy," not-Spike advised him.

"No," Spike said, shaking his head.

"If he's really alpha, you know he's going to turn on you just like Angelus did. It's best to take care of that problem before it gets any bigger." Spike shied away from Xander and the hateful words of not-Spike so that his back was to the wall. Not-Spike hadn't moved, but Xander was on his cell phone.

"He's calling for someone to come and stake you. This could be the end, you know."

Spike shook his head. Even when Xander was at his maddest, after Spike had tried to rape Buffy, he'd still made sure that Spike had gotten inside before sunrise.

Not-Spike flashed into gameface. "This is not the order of things. Not at all. But we can still have a little fun here."

Spike stared at not-Spike, afraid to listen to the words, but unable to turn away. Xander was talking to someone on the phone, and Spike wanted to shout for him to get out, to get clear of this house that smelled of death and rot and rising vampires. However, he couldn't say anything. Not-Spike transformed, and suddenly Drusilla was standing in the place where not-Spike had been.

"You left me," she moaned, raising her hands to her temples and swaying.

"Never did," Spike disagreed. "You tossed me out on my ear."

"I plucked you from nothing and planted you in the light of the moon, but you steal your light from me. I'm not your princess anymore."

Spike didn't know what to say to that. He couldn't be Drusilla's lover, not anymore. His soul wept at the memory of what he'd done with her... for her. If he could bring back the children they'd slaughtered by dying, he'd walk into the sun.

Drusilla's mannerisms slowly faded until she was left standing there looking at him with the sort of clarity that his dark princess had never possessed. "You are being stubborn. Are those two really worth it?" She gestured toward some spot behind Spike, and he turned to see Xander and Buffy talking. Maybe it was Buffy. He suddenly wasn't sure.

"I want you to... I want you to prove you're still the man you were," Buffy said from behind him, even though Spike could still see her talking to Xander. Spike looked over his shoulder, and another Buffy was there, a familiar hunger on her face. "You know what I want... what I need," this new Buffy said, stalking toward him with a predator's grace. Spike knew this dance; his cock was already hardening. He looked back and Xander was still talking to the first Buffy.

With a snarl, Spike threw himself forward and grabbed Xander, yanking him free of both Buffys.

"Spike!" Xander yelped.

"Can't both be real," Spike said, looking from one Buffy to the other. "One of 'em's not real. You'll get him through my broken and twisted body," Spike snarled at both Buffys.

"I think it's safe to say he's still hallucinating," Xander said. He grunted as Spike pressed back into him, pinning him against the wall.

One of the Buffys stepped forward. "Spike, just let Xander go."

Spike shook his head.

"Okay, that's not working," Xander said. "Buff, maybe you should back off because I'm getting squashed here."

"His chip isn't firing?" One of the Buffys looked confused, but the other had the sort of malicious glee Spike hadn't seen on Buffy before.

"You're not real," Spike told that Buffy.

"Oh, I am. I'm real and not at all happy about your detour off the script." That Buffy looked angry

Spike turned to the other Buffy, the one who looked concerned. "I've been remembering. The girl. I walked her home. The one you saw. And the one before that. And I think I killed her. And I think I—I think I killed the lady who lived here. And there might be others."

Buffy's eyes went big. "Oh my God. Xander, you need to get out of here."

"Um, happy to as soon as you can get Deadboy, Junior to let me go," Xander answered. His hands were resting on Spike's waist, and Spike reached down and caught one of his wrists, holding him close.

"It don't make sense. With the chip I shouldn't be able to—" Spike froze. The second Buffy had vanished and a young Spike stood there in a brown suit with softly curling hair and glasses. William. "Early one morning, just as the sun was rising, I heard the fair maid sing in the valley down below. Oh, don't deceive me. Oh never leave me. How could you use a poor maiden so?"

Spike made a pained sound, and Xander gave a yelp of his own, his fingers prying at Spike's grip on his wrist.

"What? What is it? Spike!" Buffy sprang forward and pulled at Spike's hand until he was forced to let go of Xander.

"Remember the vows that you made to your Mary. Remember the bow'r where you vowed to be true. Oh, don't deceive me. Oh never leave me. How could you use a poor maiden so?" William sang softly, and Spike could feel the rage roll through him. Vamping out, he threw himself at Buffy, his teeth grazing her neck so he could smell her blood.

Hands grabbed him from behind, and Spike turned snarling to find Xander clinging to his legs. Reaching down, Spike caught him by the neck and pulled him up, pinning him to the wall as Xander clutched at his shoulders.

"Stop," Buffy cried out, jerking him away from Xander. William was in the background, laughing, and Spike was distracted for a moment, snarling at him. Buffy took the opportunity to kick him in the stomach and send him flying backwards. Bad luck would have it that he hit the door to the basement, and the latch failed sending him tumbling down the steps to the dirt floor.

"Spike, just calm down," Buffy was saying as she stood at the top of the stairs. Spike started laughing.

"Oh luv, you never wanted me calm. Wanted it harder and faster. Wanted bruises you could press in the morning. Wanted to see your marks coloring my skin for all to see. Your demon wanted to own me, but the second you had me in hand, you tossed me away like yesterday's garbage." William stood in the corner humming even though Spike didn't remember him coming down. "They're all dead. My tribute to you, luv. So many bodies I've laid in this earth, vampires to rise in your name." Spike started to laugh, his voice a echo of William's.

Buffy came down the stairs, her eyes cold and a stake out, but he threw himself recklessly forward and grabbed the stake, shattering bottles that stood in the corner. He got her against the wall, and then Xander was at the top of the stairs, and Spike was distracted long enough for Buffy to throw him across the room.

"What are you doing?"

He answered with actions rather than words. Picking up a shard of glass, he swung at her, cutting her so that the smell of her blood blossomed in the air. She fell back, and he pressed his advantage, forcing her back. Warm, human hands caught him, and Spike turned on Xander, grabbing him by the shoulders and spinning him around so that Spike could hold him by the waist, Xander's back pulled close to Spike's chest as Spike mouthed Xander's neck.

"Xander!" Buffy cried out as Spike's teeth sunk into the soft flesh. Warm hands ghosted over Spike's arms, not pulling but petting.

"It's not real, Spike. Please. Think of Bonnie, Spike. Bonnie needs me."

Spike stopped sucking and opened his eyes. Buffy was struggling in the grip of vampires who hadn't even gotten out of their shallow graves. They clutched at her with hands that rose out of the soil. Xander was limp in his arms, his body yielding even as he whispered pleas for Spike to stop. Spike pulled his teeth back, careful to not rip the skin. Letting go of Xander, he backed away. Memories flooded him—killing and feeding, burying his minions in the earth, listening as something that wasn't Buffy whispered words of encouragement. Spike stumbled back, unable to help as Buffy struggled for her life. Xander broke a rake and tossed her the broken wooden handle. Spike's minions didn't last even minutes as Buffy staked them one by one.

Not-Spike was back now. "You failed them. Now she's going to kill you. You lose, mate."

Spike started trembling, and he would have run, but Xander had caught his arm. "Spike, it's not real. Hey, you've done hallucinations before. Just tell 'em to fuck off," Xander suggested, his neck seeping blood so that Spike's mouth watered.

Buffy pulled an elderly vampire out of a grave and staked her. "Sorry, ma'am, but it's my job," Buffy offered with real regret.

Spike cried. A century of fighting to be his own man, to be something other than the pathetic fop who couldn’t command respect from anyone, and his life had come to this. He was going to be dust with the pathetic remains of minions who hadn't been strong enough to even climb out of their graves. His dust would mingle with that of his victims.

"Do it fast. He said you would, so do it fast," Spike begged. It was too late to pretend he was anything other than a follower, a vampire too weak to fight for his own right to live.

"What's he talking about?"

"I have no idea, but I'm guessing that more than one of us has been getting visits from dead people."

"Me. It was me. I saw it. I was here the whole time, talking and singing." The words tumbled out until Spike had to catch his breath because he'd run out of air for talking. "There was a song," he whispered. He was on the ground, the fresh earth under him, and warm hands pulled him close and held him.

"Xander, you need to get away from him. He isn't safe."

"He's never been exactly safe," Xander said. "But if he wanted me dead, it's pretty clear he could have done that."

"He bit you."

"Well, yeah, and let us never again discuss that. But I'm not leaving him. Spike, what are you seeing?" Xander asked.

"I don't know. Please, I don't remember. Don't make me remember." Spike buried his face in Xander's shoulder.

"Okay, I'm officially wigging."

"Xander, he's a little close to your neck for comfort."

"Trust me, I'm noticing. Spike, if you vamp me, I am going to make your unlife a living hell, got it?" Xander asked.

Spike shook at the thought of killing Xander. He'd come so close. He looked up to where the other Spike was standing with his arms crossed, looking supremely angry. "Make it so I forget again! I did what you wanted!" Spike begged.

"Well, there's something here," Buffy said and then her stake hit the wall and clattered to the ground. Spike turned his head and stared at the fallen weapon.

"Oh, God, no, please. I need that. I can't cry the soul out of me. It won't come. I killed, and I can feel 'em. I can feel every one of them." Spike clawed at his chest. Xander tried to hold his arm, but he didn't have the strength to stop Spike.

"There's something playing with us. All of us."

"Oh yeah. I miss the days when bad guys just tried to slit our throats," Xander agreed.

"What is it? Why is it doing this to me?" Spike stopped trying to claw his chest open and just hung on to Xander.

After a long silence, Buffy answered. "I don't know."

"Will you... Help me. Can you help me?" Buffy and Xander traded worried looks, and Spike hated himself for being the weak one. He'd wanted to protect them, but he was as worthless as William ever had been.

"We'll help you," Buffy promised.

Spike let himself sag so that Xander was holding most of his weight.

"Hey, fangless, we can't let you slip away before all the fun starts. When this big bad finally shows his cowardly face, I want to see you rip it to tiny little shreds," Xander said. Right now, Spike figured he wasn't strong enough to handle the weakest fledge, but he just stayed silent. For now, the voices were gone, and all he wanted was to sleep.