Hold Fast

by
Tabaqui

25 Winning

The wards sparked like a firework as they stumbled through them and Spike staggered a last few steps and was on his knees again, Xander cradled close to him and Oz folding up beside him, so much pain in the link he could barely think straight.  Oz struggled to shut it down - Derio, across the room with a bandage tight around his leg was doing the same, wide-eyed and blood-spattered.  But Xander -

Love, stay awake, stay HERE, you can't sleep now, Xan, please -

HURTS hurts hurts, make it stop make it stop make it stop stop stop -  

"What do you need, what happened?"  Johnathan, crouching down beside him, streaked with blood, heart pounding but doing his best.

"Something for the pain - bandages - fuck, I don't - I don't know -"   Spike felt lost - felt utterly helpless.  He made things break and bleed, he didn't fix them, and he had no idea what to do.  Johnathan scrambled to his feet, quick pat of his hand on Spike's shoulder.

"Be right back," he said, trotting away, and Derio was talking urgently to a tear-streaked Potential who nodded and fled upstairs.  Buffy was across the room, saying something to Giles who was strapping up Faith's arm and he looked over at them, concern on his face.  

Don't know what to do, what to do -   Something flickered in his memory - some momentary image and he seized on it - drew it out.  Knowledge crashed through him as the soldier woke up and he closed his eyes and remembered.   Johnathan came back, spilling sealed packages and boxes of supplies from a basket.    Hospital gear that they'd scrounged when they'd realized just how much had been left behind.  

C'mon, tell me what to do - show me - come ON!

Hurts, oh fuck - hurts...hurts...  Need to clean the - wound, need - bandage, need -   Images, information, procedures cascaded through his mind and Spike scanned the pile of supplies - looked at Johnathan's weary, dirty face.

"I need gauze, I need - saline, and some kind of - morphine, something, I -"   Wolf, can you hold him?  Can you -

I'm here, from Derio as he hobbled to them, wrapped in a towel.  He got down on the floor, his injured leg stuck out to the side and took Xander's limp weight into his lap, cradling his head against his shoulder.  Oz was breathing in short, painful hitches, hunched and unmoving and Spike spared him a second's agonized look and then reached for the supplies.  But his hands - his hands were filthy; covered in blood, in bits, in dirt, and he wanted to howl his frustration.

"Here - just -"   Johnathan had towels and he folded one on the floor - cracked open a plastic bottle of alcohol and held it out.  "Wash, here -"   Spike stuck his hands out and Johnathan poured and he scrubbed hard, hurts hurts god, sorry, Spike - hurts hurts hurts, mindless drone that made tears blur Spike's vision.  

Love, don't be sorry, not your fault, I'm here, almost done, gonna fix it, love please, you'll be all right -     He felt something wet on his face and he ducked away, snarling.  It was Dawn, a wet towel in her hands, and she bit her lip.

"Bit - it's okay - sorry, didn't know -"

"Just wanted to get the blood off, you don't want any to get on - on Xander -"   Dawn scuttled away, tears on her face, but Spike couldn't spare another thought for her - could barely think at all.  A steady moaning noise - endless and ragged - was coming from Xander and Spike wanted to stop it, oh god, he wanted it to end.  After a minute his hands were better and he took the latex gloves Johnathan offered, pulling them on.

"I need - a pot, a bowl - something -"   Spike leaned over, getting a tall bottle of sterile saline and opening it - shredding open packages of gauze.  The Potential was back, dumping a blanket on Oz and nodding frantically at Johnathan's hurried words, darting off to the kitchen.  Spike opened the saline and wet the gauze - hovered over Xander, biting his lip.

Let me see, love, let me see - got to move your hands -

Hurts!  Spike - please, please, please -

I know!  Shhhh...    "Shhh, love - I'll fix it, I will, but I have to - to see what's there, please move your hands, love -"   The guttural moan went on and on and Xander was rigid with pain; his skin sheened with sweat, his heart-beat too slow and his breathing erratic.  Shock was the word and Spike looked frantically around.  

"I need something for pain, damnit, didn't you steal any fuckin' pain meds?" he snapped and Johnathan scrabbled in the basket - came up with a vial and a syringe and then looked over towards a knot of people - Giles, Ethan and several Potentials.

"Mr. Rayne!  I need your help now!"

"Coming -"   The mage pushed himself to his feet and hurried over and Johnathan held up the vial and syringe.  Ethan knelt down and felt after Xander's pulse - looked at Spike.

"This could be dangerous -"

"He's gotta have it - I've got to see -"    Spike wanted to shake the man and after a moment Ethan uncapped the syringe and drew a tiny measure of liquid into it.   Johnathan swiped at Xander's arm with a piece of alcohol-soaked gauze and Ethan carefully injected the drug and then waited, his fingers on Xander's throat, his gaze turning inward as he concentrated.  Spike heard Xander's heartbeat steady - heard it drop a little lower and then settle into a rhythm and Xander let out a long, long sigh.  

Thank you, thank you, better, Spike, you there? Better, better -

I'm here, love,   Spike thought but Xander was silent now, unconscious, and Spike took a deep breath.  With the pain and the awful, awful moaning finally gone he could think, and he ordered his thoughts, remembering as hard as he could - picking apart the soldier's knowledge and seeing what he had to do.  The Potential - Kennedy, that's Kennedy came back just then with a big pot from the kitchen and Spike took it with a single, lingering glance.

"Wolf, we have to - to hold him on his side so I can wash the blood off and see - see what's under there."  Derio nodded, shifting, and pain flared in the link.  He hastily shut it down but not before Ethan saw him flinch.

"Let me do this - Derio, you're hurt, let me- "  Derio snarled, the wolf flashing up in his eyes but then he reluctantly nodded, easing Xander over so Ethan could take him.  Xander's hands fell away from his face and Spike stared at the mess of blood that was there - blood and tissue and Xander's eye-lid, horribly not right.

Fuckin' get it done, don't THINK, just -

Be all right, be all right, fuck -so much blood -   Oz shifted, making room for Derio and looking ill, and Spike took another hard breath.

"Hold him so I can - can get this on his face -"  He wetted a handful of gauze and then carefully, carefully poured more saline over Xander's face, watching Ethan snatch more gauze to cover Xander's nose, watching the blood sluice away into the pot, so much blood and bits of tissue; dirt from the winery floor.  He wiped and poured and wiped and poured until the pot was halfway full and then he steeled himself and carefully, carefully peeled the eyelid back.  Ruin gaped up at him - welling blood and emptiness and he froze for a moment, shaking.

No, no, NO, not my boy, not -

Clean it out, just - see what's there - Oz was holding Derio's hand so hard Spike felt it in the link and Buffy was there suddenly, crouching down and looking at Xander, her face white and set.

"Is - is it - god - is there -"

"Don't - know, I don't - fuck - I need more of this -"  Spike tossed the empty saline bottle aside and Buffy snatched a full one up - cracked the seal and opened it and Spike carefully, carefully poured a thin stream of the fluid into the damaged socket.  

"Johnathan, I need that light -"   A shifting, and then Buffy had a penlight in her hand and was shining it into Xander's face and they all saw it.  Saw the empty socket, and the pulped bits of flesh that were washing out with the saline and Spike knew, he knew.  Ethan drew in a hard breath but kept his hold gentle - tipped Xander's head a little more so the saline wouldn't wash over his face.

Gone, fucking gone, it's - oh fuck, there's -

Sure, be SURE, so much blood -  Derio's voice in the link was frantic and shaky and Spike closed his eyes - opened them and poured and wiped and washed - gingerly inserted a twist of gauze that came out bloody but the socket was clean, now.  Blood seeped slowly from the damaged tissue but there was nothing - there.

NO, oh love - fuck - what do I...   Spike braced his elbows on his knees, his hands shaking, sorting the memories.    "Is there - is there Betadine?  Red - liquid, not soap -" he asked, his voice hoarse and hurting in his throat and Johnathan pawed through the supplies - came up with another bottle.  He read the label swiftly and then opened it, handing it over.  Spike soaked more gauze and then carefully, carefully packed the wound, pressing lightly until the horrible, empty socket was filled in with the red-stained cloth.  He stripped off the fouled gloves and carefully positioned Xander's eyelid - took a fresh gauze pad from Buffy and laid it over Xander's face.  Johnathan had more bandaging and slowly, slowly, Spike wound it around Xander's head, gentle tug and twist, making it secure, not too tight.    When it was done it was neat and smooth and utterly awful, and he motioned for Ethan to let Xander go.  The mage carefully shifted Xander over so that he rested in Spike's arms again and Spike curled down over his boy and wept.  He felt Oz leaning on him - Derio - felt their pain as the link shuddered open and they tried to comfort him - comfort each other.  Xander slept on, free of the pain, and Spike simply held him.  He was sure that his heart, dead as it might be, was breaking.

Moving, he's waking up, it hurts, my fault, my fault, should never have come back, don't, love, I'll do that -  Routine, now - the careful, careful lifting of his boy - the twice-daily changes of bandages and gauze packing, the bathing with warmed water and a washcloth.  Coaxing him to eat, monitoring the link so he'd get another dose of the pain-meds now because Xander was trying to tough it out, trying to wake up and endure it so he could...

I'm useless like this, Spike, PLEASE, let me get up, let me go downstairs and help with SOMETHING!

"No!"    No, love, you're HURT.  You just stay here, let me take care of you...  It's only been three days, love, it's...  MY fault, my fault, you just stay right here, we're all taking a break...   Which wasn't a lie.  Giles and Ethan were grimly executing the task of getting the dead Potentials back home.  Drake and Anya were helping - were getting family members to escort the bodies and to explain, and there was a constant flow of people in and out of the house.  The wounded had been taken to Tara and she had exhausted herself with the healing spell.  Enough to speed everyone along, but not enough to fix it all right away.  Spike had carried Xander's limp form to her, out to the garden where she was sitting and healing Faith's arm.  Instead of weeks in a cast Faith would be mended in days and Spike had laid Xander down so, so gently, and looked desperately at Tara, surrounded by the scents of jasmine and damp earth, blood and clove-scented candles and lemonade.

"Oh - no...  Spike?"

"Please, Glinda...please, can you -"  Spike shudders, ignoring the tears that just will not STOP, ignoring the aches of his own hurt body, and the blood that's stiffening - stinking - in his clothes and hair.  So focused on Xander he can barely think straight and Tara puts her hands on him and he jerks away, startled.  Fighting the flood of energy and well-being that surges from her hands to him, healing his magic-driven body instantly.

"NO, don't waste that on me, give it to Xander!  He needs it more, damnit!"

"I know, Spike, I'm doing it," Tara says softly, and Spike sees that Xander is shrouded in that silvery green, dancing light and he slumps, watching, hoping - BEGGING the universe to let it work, let it work, let it work.

"Will he -?"   But he can't say it - can barely think it - and Tara touches Xander's face - the bandage - so gently.

"It's gone, isn't it?  Caleb - took it," she says, and Spike nods, gasping after breath he doesn't need, aching so deeply in his chest that he wonders if it's his soul, crying.

"This magic only does what...what his body does naturally, Spike.  Makes it go a l-lot faster, but it won't...  His body CAN'T grow an eye back.  This won't - do th-that.  I'm sorry, Spike, I'm so sorry..."  TARA is crying now and he can feel misery and pain and helpless rage from the wolves and he just can't STAND it anymore, he just CAN'T and he curls himself around Xander, trapped in this nightmare.  His throat is raw and his body aches and all he can think is that he should have been watching, taking care, looking OUT...  That he never should have brought his family back here, that he never should have let Xander within a hundred miles of the Hellmouth and the Slayer ever, ever again.  He doesn't know what to do with the fury and the hurt and the horror that are welling and breaking in him like a tide of black, shattered glass and he screams to the sky - to the earth.  Xander's body under him, Xander's  heartbeat in his head and the scent of his blood and his skin surrounding him and Spike has never felt so desolate - so utterly, utterly alone.  It's an hour before he can get himself together and get Xander upstairs and into bed.  Two hours later he's getting water and the pills Giles found and he's giving Xander his first dose and smoothing his sweat-limp hair and doing whatever he can to make it all right.

"Spike, damnit - let me up!"  Xander looked angry, but his limbs were shaking and the pain was still there, underlying everything he did, and Spike gently pressed him back - curled up with him in the bed, tugging the covers over them both.

"You're not ready, love.  You're still hurt and you can't do anything when you're this hurt.  We're all just... resting.  I promise you, okay?"   Xander looked at him - single dark eye mazed with the drug and with confusion, and his hand went up to his face - to the thick bandage.

"Tell me what - happened," he said and Spike cringed.  He'd told him - over and over - but the drug and the shock kept making him forget.

My fault, my fault, oh love, I don't want to do this to you again, please please...   "It was Caleb.  Do you remember him?"  Hesitant nod and Spike bit his lip - cuddled Xander closer, feeling the wolves coming up from downstairs.

Love you, love you, be all right, we're coming -  

"He - grabbed you, he - he was stronger than me, love, and stronger than the Slayer -"   No excuse, doesn’t mean a thing, still should have STOPPED him...   "And he - he hurt you, love.  He - pushed his...he took your eye, love,"   Spike's voice had dropped to a whisper and he felt the shock of what he said go through Xander - felt him put his hand up again, and felt him shiver.

"So it's - there's nothing there?   My eye is -"

Sorry, so sorry, my fault, love...  God, I'm so sorry -

"Stop it, Spike, stop it -" from Derio as the wolves come in the door and headed straight for them, tucking up on the bed like they've done every time - surrounding him and Xander both with warmth and love and family pack nest.

"Don't do that, Spike.   Hey, Xan," Oz said, small smile, and Xander reached out and took his offered hand - took Derio's, and leaned back heavily into Spike.

"I'm...blind, then.  I mean - I just..."  Xander was pushing fear and loss down so hard that the link almost closed and they all worked to gently soothe him - to pry the link wide and comfort him.  A half-hour later he was asleep again, tears tracking just one side of his face and the morphine haze making the link surreal with dream-images.   Oz scrubbed his hands back through his hair, looking so tired.  Spike ached for him - for Derio, who'd gone silent and furious, as desperate as Spike.

"Spike - they've been talking.  Tara has an idea.  To get him - to get Caleb.  And that - Wood, that principal?  He's got something, too - he's going to be coming here in an hour."  Oz's eyes looked bruised and Spike nodded silently, gently stroking his fingers through and through Xander's hair.

Oz's own hand was on Spike's knee, rubbing slowly.  "Come out with me, Spike.  Me and Derio.   Come hunt.  You're getting thin."

"Can't, love -"   The denial was automatic but the wolf flared up in Oz's eyes - in the link - and Oz was snarling at him.

"Can.  Don't do this, Spike."   Pack must be strong, pack leader must be STRONG. The wolf wouldn't take this - wouldn't stand for it.  Won't let Spike just bury Xander and himself up here and exist.  Spike knew the hyena wouldn't allow that, either, but the demon - the demon just wanted to *protect protect family mate mine mine MINE!*

"I know, Spike.  I know."  Oz sighed - leaned forward far enough to rest his forehead gently against Spike's.   "But you have to take care of yourself, you know you do.  Don't..."

"Don't make it worse," Derio said, his fingers curling into Spike's.  He crowded in next to Spike and Oz as close as he could - touched as much as he could - shivering and desperate for the family to be whole.  "It'll hurt him, when he's better, if you're all...starved.  Don't do that to him."  Spike took a hard breath, love you love you so much, love you all and finally, reluctantly, nodded.  Derio hugged him and went to get Tara, returning with her and Dawn.  As they left, Sinclair slinked into the room, jumping up on the bed and curling into Xander's belly, and Spike felt that Xander would be all right, for a little while.

The hunting felt good.   There were still humans left in Sunnydale - a lot, really.  But they were the ones who hadn't had as much to do with the day-to-day running of the place, and Spike knew that a number of them had moved in as the legitimate residents had moved out.  It made for a very strange atmosphere, and the Bronze was, for once, not crowded with kids but with outsiders and on-the-fringe types and junkies, and Spike drank his fill and more.  Then they roved over three cemeteries, taking out a few Bringers, getting into a tussle with a small, scruffy pack of werecoyotes who'd moved in from somewhere near Oakland.  They wanted to make the Hellmouth their new base, but Oz convinced them otherwise.  It was strange to see someone else who could shift halfway to their were-shape, and they spent a little while just talking after the threats and the snarling were done.   The Oakland pack revealed ties to the American Indian community and a spell that gave them control over their form.  They compared the wolf-chant to their Lakota spell and parted on friendly terms, satisfied.  

Spike was feeling - settled, finally.  Feeling a little more clear-headed, since Xander's pain and his drug-induced confusion wasn't right there, in his head.  Oz told him about Robin Wood - that his mother had been a Slayer and that he had some artifact of the Slayer line that he'd hidden for years.  Something that Buffy and Giles had examined, and gotten some sort of information from.  

"They've got an idea of what Caleb might be hiding," Oz said, walking between Spike and Derio, contemplating a small stone that he turned again and again in his fingers.

"What do they think, then?"  Spike asked, patting his duster over for cigarettes and lighting one up with a sigh of pleasure.

"Some sort of weapon.   Something made just for the Slayer."  Oz sped up a little and got ahead of Spike - hopped up onto a tomb and sat there, his heels drumming faintly on the cracked granite.  The link was uneasy - was too closed - and Spike just looked at Oz - looked at Derio, who had joined him on the tomb.

"Sooo...what's goin' on, exactly, pet?  You're not sayin' something."  

Oz sighed and tossed the stone away - looked up at Spike.  "You're right.  They wanted you out of the house while Wood was there."  Spike took a long drag and waited and Oz sighed again, the link still uneasy.

"You remember the Slayer in New York?"  When Spike nodded, Oz continued.  "You remember she had a kid?"  Spike had to think about that for a minute.  Remembered, just vaguely, a small form in the darkness - soaked to the skin and sitting small and quiet as a mouse while he and the Slayer danced in the rain.

"Yeah.  Didn't think about it much...  Thought about grabbin' him, you know -"   Spike made a gesture, his intent in the link - hostage, leverage, whatever I might need, and Oz nodded.  

"He - recognized you.  Got pretty worked up about it, from what Buffy says.  Threatened you, I guess."  Spike snorted softly, grinning at the memories.

"She was a bit of all right, that one.  She danced the dance...made it so pretty...  So, what - they thought he might come gunnin' for me?  I can take care of myself, pet."  Oz shrugged, slipping his arm around Derio and resting his head on the other's shoulder.

"I know.  Just - he had something of hers - some artifact.  Wouldn't show it unless..."  The argument - which had happened sometime on the second day, when Spike had been oblivious upstairs with Xander - played out in the link and Spike had to laugh.

"He can keep his precious 'artifact'...  I've no interest in it."  The idea that Spike might, for some reason, swoop down and steal or destroy the thing was just too funny, and Spike felt a little better for the unintentional entertainment.  The link was still tense, though - Derio in particular seemed upset about something and Spike watched him pluck nervously at the seam of his jeans.

"What else then, eh?  Somethin' else here besides keepin' me from offending the principal."

"They've worked out what they're going to do about Caleb," Oz said softly.  "They're going to do it tomorrow - right after first light."  Spike just stared at him for a moment - turned his back and smoked until his cigarette was gone.

"Why would they do that, then?  I want to gut that bastard -"  Oz hadn't killed him - he'd shown Spike that in the link.  Even half-drained by a vampire, Caleb hadn't - wouldn't - die.

"I know you do.  But you can't go, Spike.  This is on us.  Xander needs you safe."  Spike started to say something and Oz held up a hand, so serious, so not-Oz that Spike just shut up, My fault, god, protect family...  

Oz shook his head, frowning a little.   "Just...deal, man, because I can't fight about this, okay?  I can't."  The exhaustion they were all feeling broke through and the link flared with it - with the soft please from Oz and the pack, protect, love you from Derio.   Spike closed his eyes for a moment - reached for Xander and felt only the drug-induced sleep; inarticulate dreams.  He opened them again and walked to the tomb - leaned there between the wolves,  taking comfort in touch and heat and two sets of arms winding around him and holding him close - keeping him there and grounded and sane.

"I won't fight you, love.  I won't.  Tell me everything, okay?   Tell me about Wood and his mum - about this weapon - all of it."  Oz nodded into Spike's shoulder - kissed his neck and pressed his cheek into Spike's for a moment.  Derio laced their hands together, thumb stroking over Spike's knuckles, pulling him close while Oz told him everything.

Spike leaned against the headboard, pillows stuffed behind him and the blankets pulled up snugly.  Xander lay between his legs, head pillowed on Spike's shoulder, hands interlaced with Spike's and crossed comfortably on Xander's belly.  The heat and weight felt good - the scent was home; honey-sweet, salt, clean sweat, the musk of the hyena.    Xander was on the edge of needing more pills - his head hurt with a dull, stabbing throb with every heartbeat.  But they were enduring it, because Oz and Derio, Giles, Tara, and Buffy were at the winery, taking care of Caleb.  The link was thick with images - snatches of conversation - emotion.  Spike and Xander both lay with eyes closed, focusing on the act of retribution that was playing out miles away.

"There's Bringers in there, but I don't think they come out in the light much," Oz says to Buffy, and she nods, her eyes scanning the building, the scrubby bushes and trees that surround it, the littered courtyard.  Restless movements that are not echoed in her body, which stands still and relaxed - ready.  Tara and Giles are together on a small rise about thirty feet from the winery, and they are chanting.  They are calling on the earth, they are calling root and vine to them.  Calling power older than the First, maybe.

"These old men - Shadow men - they created the First Slayer.  Chose a girl and forced a bit of demon into her.  Made her more than she was so she could fight the enemy."  Oz sits cross-legged on the tomb, telling Spike what they saw - what the shadow-play told them, and what Buffy saw in her journey to the past.  "They made her, and forced her to fight, and they made sure what she was passed on when she died.  They became the Watchers."  Spike lights another cigarette and has to shake his head at that, because it's the basis for everything the Watchers have ever done; that arrogance, that selfishness and that near-sightedness that has brought about their undoing, thousands of years later.

"Sounds like the Council we all know and love," he mutters, and Derio shivers, remembering through them Glory, and what the Council tried to do.

As the chant grows in intensity - in volume - the silvery boards of the winery building begin to shake - to creak and groan as an intangible force tightens its grip.  As they watch, the building begins to rise up.  Up and up on a bubble of earth, like some sort of boat on a black sea.  Giles and Tara are frozen, hands tightly clasped, voices demanding - cajoling - summoning.  The shiver of magic - of power so deeply rooted in the bones of the earth - hits Oz and Derio like a silent, leaden wave.  In a moment they are deaf and dumb, pressed close to the earth, the air like syrup in their lungs.  On the bed, Spike and Xander shiver and gasp, held as well.

"So the old men made her, and these women - Guardians - they...remembered.  And they made a weapon that killed the last true demon on Earth."  Oz tilts his head a little, picturing it in his mind - sharing the shadow-play that had danced across the walls of the mansion and held the Potentials and Faith spellbound.   Buffy's return from INSIDE the play - from the past - had ended it, and she had told them the rest.  Told them of the Guardians and told them that this weapon could be the thing to turn the tide.  All their hopes...rested on it.

As the bubble of earth grows, it GROANS - it heaves and writhes and suddenly bursts, sending the walls of the winery tumbling down and spewing out Bringers and an immense, half-hewn stone.  And Caleb.  The Bringers fight to flee - to attack - but the earth churns and swirls - sucks them back.  Caleb - who is pale and hunched in pain, his priest's costume tattered - struggles to the edge of the whirlpool of earth, his eyes lit with a zealot's unquenchable fire.  The stone turns and tilts and they ALL see it - a double-ended weapon, stake and blade and long, carved haft, and Buffy leaps down into the maelstrom - rides suddenly-docile heaves of the dirt to the stone.  She reaches out - hesitates - then grasps the haft and PULLS.  Still held immobile by the force of the magic, Oz and Derio feel the wave of secondary power that flows back from that act.  Like Arthur freeing Excalibur, Buffy has set something in motion that they may never see the end of.  But it's done, and she turns to Caleb with the weapon - the scythe - held easily in her hands.

"You've lost, Caleb.  Time to pay for what you've done."

Caleb's look is demonic - frenzied - and his eyes are utterly black.  "Don't fool yourself, girl.  The power that's massing against you is a hundred-thousand times stronger than anything you can conjure with your witch and your Watcher.  A million times stronger than the pitiful handful of dirty little girls you've managed to save."

"I wouldn't count on that," Buffy says, in a tone of utter conviction.  Then she's stepping lightly over the earth that flattens at her feet - obedient servant to the magic-user's will.  Caleb, still half-mired, sneers at her and then his sneer freezes - flinches - and is gone as Buffy brings the scythe down and around in one perfect, deadly move.   His head lifts cleanly from his neck, spinning and falling, rolling across the earth.  Buffy steps up, out of ground zero and the earth begins to heave again - to churn and stir itself like a giant cauldron.  The Bringers that have floundered and faltered are now sucked under, as Caleb is, as the rock and the ruins of the winery and the torn-up bushes are.   All of it, pushed and pulled and folded back under - pushed down hard and fast and then the earth settles.  Like a pond, the magic ripples out to the edges and then the surface is still, and the chant ends.  Giles and Tara are sweat-streaked, pale, gasping for breath.  They fold slowly to their knees, clinging to each other.   As the magic ends the pressure is gone, and Oz and Derio move to help them.  Of the winery - of all of it - nothing is left but a huge circle of roughly tumbled earth.  And Buffy lifts the scythe to the sky - to the sun.  Her lips say 'thank you', and the gleam of triumph makes her eyes sparkle.  She SHINES, and the palpable sensation of joy - and hope - is like a kiss.

"Buffy thinks the weapon can change everything.  She thinks - it's the answer.  I guess we'll find out."  Oz finishes his story - looks up from Derio's hands, that are clasped in his.  Spike regards them both, quiet in the link for the first time in days.  Only what he IS - chaos malice olderthan love love love going out to the wolves.  Then Xander flares in the link - waking and wanting and wondering, reaching out for Spike - for the wolves - and the moment is over.

"I think she's right, love," Spike says softly, stroking his hand over Xander's belly - pulling him close and pressing his face into Xander's neck.  Tasting the sweet-spice of Xander's skin and relaxing, just for a moment.

I think so too.  Love you, Spike.  Love you so much...never leave me... Xander thinks, and for a moment the pain is lost in the tide of emotion that fills the link.  Hope...joy.  Warm as the sun.

26 Preparations

Thirteen days.  Seven, since Spike had grudgingly allowed Xander to be up and walking about.  The pain still took him at odd moments; Spike would watch, gritting his teeth, as Xander would clutch at his head if he bent down too far, or turned to look too fast.  Oz and Derio had argued the both of them into going to a clinic - the only one of its kind left open in Sunnydale.  The staff had been harried - snappish - but thorough, and Xander's succinct 'Fight', had been enough to explain his eye.  The doctor had made a swift examination - had exclaimed mildly over the swiftness of the healing and said they could leave off packing the wound.  He'd given Xander a scribbled phone number for an office in San Diego and told him he could think about a prosthetic in a few months, once the socket had settled.  And then they'd left.

Now Spike watched as Xander haltingly worked on a piece of sculpture, his hands shaking a little, his eyebrows drawn down in a fierce scowl.   There was only a small square of gauze over the socket now, and Xander wore a dark leather patch over it.  The band annoyed him.

Damnit!   Xander's frustration boiled up in the link and Spike crossed over to him, crouching down and putting his hand on Xander's thigh.  Depth perception was still a bit of a problem, and his remaining eye got strained a little, doing all the work.  Spike could feel the headache building.

"Leave be for a while, eh love?  Come sit with me and let me make that headache go away."  Spike rubbed small circles over Xander's knee and Xander poked one more time at the wood - sighed in resignation.

"I just - I really wanted to work on this," he said softly.  He was tired, in the link, and unhappy - sick of hurting and feeling useless, and struggling to suppress it all.

Love - don't hide.  It's all right, Spike thought, and Xander put his knife away - turned a little on his chair and hugged Spike to him.

"I'm sorry, Spike...  I feel so -"   Useless, damaged, what the fuck can I do now -

"Stop, love.  Stop."  Spike stood and made Xander stand up, too - drew him over to the couch and tugged him down, arranging them both until they were curled together, Xander's back to Spike's chest, his head resting on Spike's shoulder.  Spike slowly and gently rubbed his fingers through Xander's hair - rubbed small circles at this temple beside his eye and matching circles on Xander's sternum.  Gentle pressure and no noise - nothing else - and after about ten minutes Xander heaved a sigh and seemed to finally relax.  

Better, love?

Yeah.  Better.  M'sorry -

Stop it, pet.  No 'sorry'.  Nothing to be sorry for.  Not your fault your head hurts.   There was a long silence after that, and then Spike felt the tiny tremors that grew quickly into the shakes, and he scrambled to twist around - to see Xander's face.   Xander's fist was pressed to his mouth and tears were tracking down a face twisted in silent agony.  Tears that were clear on one side, slightly pinkish on the other and Spike could feel the stinging pain in the socket from them - could feel the guilt and despair and wanted to howl.  Instead he pulled Xander close - tucked the dark head under his chin and just held on tight until, slowly, the storm subsided and Xander's warm, hitching breath against his neck was all that remained.

Please don't, please, love...  Please tell me what to do - I don't know what to do, pet, I don't know how to fix it -

There's no fixing, Spike!  We came back, and the Hellmouth...got its revenge and...  Fuck, I - I don't know what I'm gonna do, I don't...  So fuckin' tired of being...

"Being what, Xan?  Tired of being mine?  Tired of being a bloody hero to Dawn? Tired of being the one who - who fixes things?  The one who -"  Spike cut himself off, but not in time, and Xander laughed rather hysterically against his neck - sat up a little and wiped at his face, flinching when he pressed too hard against the wounded side.

"Being the one who sees?  I don't really see now, do I?"

"Yes you do!"  Spike didn't know how to fight the unhappiness that welled up in Xander at odd moments all through the day - didn't know how to fix it, didn't know what to do.   Sex - which fixed most things, as far as Spike was concerned - didn't help; the increase in blood pressure made Xander's head pound and the wound ache like a broken bone, and Spike was missing the physicality of their relationship almost as much as Xander's usual optimism.   And the grief was too deep - was mixed up with something else - and Spike didn't know what it was - couldn't get Xander to tell him.  

"You still see!  Damnit, Xan, you can't -"

"I can!  I - will.  Fuck, Spike, I get a little moping time, don't I?  Aren't I entitled?"  Xander was struggling to pull away and Spike fought him - growled in sheer frustration as the headache crashed back and Xander flinched and sagged on the couch-edge, head in hands.  Spike just sat there for a moment, leg crooked around Xander's hips, one foot braced on the floor, fists clenched in a fit of helpless rage.

"Xander, stop it.  It's something else - you're not telling me something, pet.  You have to!  Stop hiding from me -"

"Fine!"  Xander shouted, jerking halfway around and skewering Spike with a wild, tear-bleared stare that was part anger and part desolation - too much guilt and Spike wanted to hold him and kiss him and just make it be better.  "Here, here's what - just -"   Xander opened the link wide - let it all out in a crashing wave, and Spike shut his eyes and shuddered.  Guilt, that was foremost - the overriding emotion.  Guilt because Xander didn't want to be there - because he was regretting coming back - was wishing they never had come back.  And then was upset with himself - was guilty for wishing he could abandon his friends and just run and hide.  He wanted desperately to take his family and just go.  And that made him hate himself - made the words coward and useless and traitor din in his head until he thought he might scream.   Resentment, anger, loathing of himself.  Loathing how helpless he felt - how crippled - and loathing how pathetic that was when he wasn't dead like Rona - like Molly; wasn't dead, wasn't thousands of miles from home, wasn't alone...  The spiral of grief and hate, anger and sorrow and helplessness was building - growing - churning in him until he was sick.  And somewhere, deep, deep down was the worst thing - the thing Xander struggled to hide and that Spike pounced on and dragged to the light - ruthlessly exposed because he had to know, or he could never fix it at all.

Ugly, god, everything else but it's fucking UGLY and you have to look at that mess every day for the rest of fucking time and I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry for doing this to you -  

"Xander - stop -"   The rage was building out of proportion, fueled by frustration and despair and Xander pushed Spike sharply away - jumped to his feet and paced across the room, snarling.  Letting the hyena come because he didn't know what else to do, hating the pain that bewildered and maddened it - that made it feel too vulnerable.  

C'mon then, love - let's go -   Spike rose also - stalked to Xander and took his shoulder in a hard grip - spun him around and was unsurprised at the fist that came at him.  He ducked enough to save himself the worst of it and let his mouth stretch in a mocking grin - let William the Bloody come out and sneer, coolly unimpressed in the face of Xander's rage.

"That all you got, Harris?   That's pathetic, that is."  Xander growled - his eye was a burning mote of green witch-fire in the dimness of the shuttered house and he launched himself forward with barely-leashed fury.  Stinging, furious blows fell on Spike, and he backed and dodged and taunted - got in his own well-timed hits, goading Xander into more, and harder, and faster.  He could feel the wolves - knew they were there, in the garden, watching and waiting and holding their own grief at bay.  Knowing what Xander was doing was what he needed to do; willing to let it play out but ready to help, if they had to.  

Xander's blows were becoming more erratic- his balance was going - but he managed to bloody Spike's lip - split his cheekbone - and suddenly he was retreating, snarling but confused as Dawn flew out of the library room, eyes wide in horror.

"Xander, stop it!  Stop it, you're hurting Spike!  What's wrong with you, stop it, stop it!"  No no no no no - denial and grief in the link and her fists pounding at Xander's chest and Xander backed off, panting - crying; choking sobs that hurt, everywhere.

Oh god, oh god, Spike - Spike, m'sooory -   Xander's knees cracked painfully on the stone of the floor as he went down and Oz glided in from the garden, his eyes suspiciously wet.  He gathered Dawn into a hug.

"Dawn, it's okay - he's not...  It's really okay.  Come on, come out here, let me talk to you -" Oz shushed her - tugged her away - and she went with a pleading look at Xander, clutching for a moment at the hand Spike put on her shoulder.

"It's all right, Bit - you go on and let the wolfling tell you what's what, yeah?"

"Okay -" Dawn whispered, and they went back out to the garden and to Derio, and the link just ached.

"Xander - please love - Xan?"  Spike went to his knees as well - pulled Xander close and held him tightly - stroked his back and his hair and kissed his temple and whispered to him.  Crooned nonsense into his ear and rocked him until the second wave was over - until the hysterical, breathless sobs - the agonized groans - finally eased off and died down.  Until Xander was limp in his arms, aching and breathless, shaking all over.  Spike just pulled him in closer.

"Don't, love, don't - please don't.  You didn't make us come, you didn't force us - we all came, we all - had to.  Can't abandon the family, can't ever, you know that."  Inarticulate mumble from Xander, and Spike hugged him harder - let his grip loosen a little bit when Xander flinched.  "You're not to blame for anything, love...  And I want to run, too - I want to get out of here and never fucking come back.  Want to pack up the Bit and Glinda and just go, and to hell with the bloody Potentials and the First and all of it, love, all of it."  The truth of that was in the link - the fierce ache to go and never come back.

Then go!  Let's just go - just take them -   Xander's mental voice was almost hysterical - the tension was coming back into him and Spike made him sit up - shook him, even though that hurt Xander's head.

"No!  We can't do that.  Don't you get it, Xan?  We could never do that."

"Why not!" Xander cried, but it was more a whisper - hoarse, broken voice panting out the words - his expression a mixture of desperation and hopelessness.

"Because, love, it's family...  Niblet would never leave her sis - witchling wouldn't leave the Watcher and the mage...  It's a fuckin' bloody knot that we can't undo, love - can't ever untangle this."

"I don't care -" fierce whisper, but Spike shook his head - gathered Xander close again, so fucking glad that the Slayers and the Potentials were all out of the house - that research and study had the magic-users oblivious in the library.

"You do, love.  That's the bloody irony of it all - that's the sand in the gears, yeah?  You do care, my love, my own - you care so bloody much."  Demonslayer, builder, strong right arm...brother, lover, hearthfire, my love, sunlight and laughter, my one, my own...

"My knight in patchwork armor, love, forever and always.  It would kill you, Xan, you know that.  You'd give your other eye - you'd give your fucking life for your family, you know you would."  Xander shivered in his arms, crying again and hating that weak, sick feeling that washed over him.  It was all too much, just too much, and he clung to Spike and let his soul empty itself of everything - let it all wash out in bloody tears and heaving pants until Spike's t-shirt was wet and Xander could barely see straight - couldn't breathe through a clogged nose.

"God - fucking disgusting...  Spike, I love you, I love you so much -"

"Hush now, shhhhh..." Spike whispered.  "Just hush.  I love you.  Love you always, Xander...you're so fucking beautiful, you're so damn beautiful..."  Xander shuddered - barked out a harsh, strangled laugh.

Love is fucking blind, isn't it -

You tellin' me I don't know a good thing when I see it?  You tellin' me I'm LYING to you?  You telling me you're not good enough?  Don't fucking doubt me, love, don't EVER.   Loud enough in the link to get a distant flinch from the wolves - to make Xander take in a sharp breath and finally, slowly, sit up, wiping his face again and again on the tails of the flannel shirt he wore.

"No.  You don't lie to me, Spike.  Thank god, you don't lie to me."  He sat there in a heap of limbs, his legs sprawled like a child's, his face blotched and red.  He sniffed and then coughed - wiped his mouth.  "I feel disgusting."

"Yeah.  Me, too," Spike plucked at his soaked t-shirt and Xander laughed again, this time a softer, more natural thing, and Spike smiled at him - pulled him back in.  "We're not gonna die here, love - I promise you that.  We're not gonna lose.  We'll go home yet.  Promise."

"Yeah?" Xander whispered, and Spike kissed his forehead - hair - whatever he could reach.

"Yeah.  You're the good guys - good guys always win, right?"

"Good guys always win," Xander echoed, and his hand crept under the edge of Spike's shirt - rested possessive and warm on his belly.   "You're good, too - you're one of us."

"M'not.  M'only playing along, like.  Soon as we kick the First back to some hell m'gonna go back to evil twenty-four-seven, just you wait."

"Okay," Xander mumbled, and snuggled closer - turned his face enough to kiss Spike's neck - kiss the scar that bound them so very, very closely.  "I love my vampire big and bad..."

"Loves you too, pet," Spike murmured, and they sat that way for a long time, the link gradually smoothing out - the emotions from Xander calming and settling and going back, finally, towards normal.  Healing some of the awful hurt, and Spike sighed in relief - in happiness at getting his Xander back, even a little.  He looked up once to see Tara, just watching, and she smiled softly at him and faded away back into the library.  Not so oblivious, after all.

Knight in patchwork armor - don't you EVER forget.

Not with you to remind me...   Xander ached all over - felt sticky and sweaty and gross - and after a while they made their way upstairs and took a long bath.  Afterwards, Xander took a pain pill and fell asleep, curled tight around Spike.  Spike lay in the green-gold, filtered light of late afternoon and hugged his boy close, and hoped for something to make it all come out - right.

"What's the matter, vato?" Spike asked, and Derio shook his head - stood in the doorway to the garden, looking out with a preoccupied air.

"I'm not - not sure.  Something..."   Feels like something's coming.   Something...powerful.   Unconsciously, he plucked at the string of beads that showed in the 'v' of his shirt, and Xander found his own hand doing the same.  Spike's hand twitched towards his strand of beads but he stopped himself, snarling a little.  Oz just grinned at him and pulled the long strand out of Spike's shirt, rattling it.

"Go ahead and worry them - we all are," Oz said, and it was true - his own fingers were twisting in his gold and yellow strand and Spike just shook his head, letting the snarl go and giving a quick caress to the beads around his neck.

"Yeah, okay.  Is it the First, wolf?"

"I don't think so," Derio said.  He stood stiffly for another moment and they could all feel the knowing stretching out from him - could feel it twanging and shivering like a plucked string on a violin.  Then the feeling faded and Derio relaxed, shaking his head.  "I dunno.  We just - we should just be careful, hermanos."  He shook himself and came back inside, settling cross-legged on the floor with the rest of them where they were passing the time sharpening weapons and playing poker.  So far, Xander and Derio owed Spike pretty much anything he wanted.  Oz, whose poker-face was phenomenal, was in the black.  Spike owed him a brand-new Les Paul.

Fifteen days since they'd killed Caleb, and the last two nights, the Bringers had come back - had thrown themselves against the wards like moths into a candle flame and died just the same.  The perpetual magical hum of the wards was a peculiar and irritating background to everything they did - even the Potentials were affected - but they didn't dare let them down.   Clem and his clan were still in town - although leaving by the weekend - and Spike had got the demon to find a back-hoe and come out to the house with it.  In an empty part of the lot away from the house, Clem had dug a trench and the Bringer corpses were being dumped there.  They'd dusted them with lye and a thin layer of dirt, and it hadn't started to stink yet, even to the wolves or Spike.  It was a grisly solution but better, Spike pointed out, then corpses putrefying in the courtyard.  Xander refused to burn any more of them - he hated the reek of burning flesh and fat.

The sun was setting on the far side of the house, and cooking smells were getting strong in the air.  Tonight they were having a small party - a send off, really.  Anya and Drake had been convinced to go to England to help find a new location for the slowly-reviving Watchers Council.  Anya - nearly two months pregnant - had been the source of whispered 'talks' between Buffy, Tara and Giles for days, and the whole house had unanimously agreed with them when they'd announced that it was too dangerous anymore for a pregnant woman in Sunnydale.    The deserted campus was depressing for Drake, besides, and they'd both felt as if they could contribute more elsewhere.  The Pembrokes had fervently agreed and round-trip tickets were waiting at LAX.  In the morning, Anya and Drake would be driving a 'borrowed' moving van full of books and other paraphernalia south.  A couple of crates were for Wes, and the rest were being shipped to London.  The library was echoingly bare, but Giles and Ethan both felt that the time for research was over.  There was nothing new to discover, and the only thing left was to fight.  The how of that - still eluded them.

"They're here!" Dawn called, trotting out of the kitchen and toward the front door, and the poker-game ended on a laugh as Xander disgustedly threw down his only good hand of the day.

The dinner was slow and relaxed but melancholy.  The original 'Scoobies' plus Spike told stories of the early days - told about blowing up the school, killing the Master and the Anointed One, bringing down the Judge and the Initiative.   Johnathan shyly told the story of Prom and the 'Class Protector' award, and Buffy sniffled into her napkin.  Even Ethan's costume trick was remembered fondly and Ethan was amazed to learn that the soldier influence had lingered for so long in Xander.   The Potentials told their own stories; how they had come to be in Sunnydale, what they had left behind, what they hoped to go back to.     Around midnight a toast was made to all the ones they'd lost to the Hellmouth, and tears glittered in the guttering candlelight.   Despite the sadness of it, Xander felt...right, saluting Jesse and Ms. Calendar and the kids who'd followed him into battle against the Mayor.  Even Ampata, who'd only wanted to live, and Harmony who wasn't actually dead but was somewhere in L.A. (according to Cordelia via Fred) and that was nearly the same thing, or so Spike said.  After that the Potentials went up to bed, and Anya and Drake made their goodbyes.

"I can't believe I...care so much," Anya said, standing with her hand on the barely-there bulge of her belly, her eyes far away and sparkling with an inner delight.  "I thought it wouldn't matter until it was born.  But...I love it."   She sniffed and smiled over at Drake, who slipped his arm around her and hugged her close.  

"I love it too...and I love you..."  They shared a small kiss, and then Drake looked up at the rest of them, smiling shakily.   "I feel a little bit like - we should be staying.   I hate the thought of leaving you all here."

"You'll be doing more good in England, Drake," Giles said warmly.   "We need the Council to be back in working order no matter what happens, but especially if - if things go badly here."  Giles hesitated to say that - Xander could see an almost guilty look on his face - but it had to be acknowledged.  Even if they won, it could cost them - everything - and they had to be ready.  Xander brushed his fingers fleetingly over his patch.

Know all about that.  But if this is the worst thing then...  I'm okay, I guess.  I can...live with this.

Live and love and be happy, pet.  You'll see.  Spike rubbed his head on Xander's shoulder, their hands linked over his belly and Xander kissed the arch of his cheekbone - nibbled on an earlobe for a moment, feeling Spike's pleasure in the link.

Happy already, love already....not dead yet.  We're all right.  Love you...

Love you always...  

The kisses and hugs goodbye took too long, but not long enough, and Dawn broke down and cried, watching the van pull away from the house and disappear into the night.  Buffy and Johnathan took her away to the table to console her with the last of the cake and the rest of them settled on the couch and the rug-strewn floor, basking in the fire Oz had lit in the fireplace.

"I can't b-believe it's almost Christmas," Tara said, and there was a murmur of agreement from the others.  

"I guess we won't have any kind of - celebration," Dawn said, wandering over with her plate and slumping dejectedly at Tara's feet.  The witch's hand came out to stroke her hair, automatic and soothing, a very faint sad sad sister from Tara in the link.  Johnathan settled on the back of the couch with a cup of tea, and Giles stirred, but Ethan tugged him back, settling the Watcher firmly into his embrace.

"Not this year, maybe, but we'll ma-make it up at New Years, how about th-that, Dawn?"

"I - guess..."  Dawn sighed and ate some cake.  "It's just...Christmas, you know?  It just feels so...wrong."

"Christmas isn't Christmas without any presents," Buffy said, standing close by the fire and they all looked up at her, surprised.  "Hey!  I'm just quoting - someone...  It's a book!"  

"It's Little Women," Tara said, laughing, and quoted the book again. "Christmas won't be Christmas without any presents, grumbled Jo, lying on the rug.  It's so dreadful to be poor!  sighed Meg, looking down at her old dress.  I don't think it's fair for some girls to have plenty of pretty things, and other girls nothing at all, added little Amy, with an injured sniff."  Tara got a far away look on her face.  "We don't have a father and mother here, like Beth says, but we have each other..."  She looked at them all staring at her and ducked her head, flushing crimson, but Derio got up on his knees next to the couch and kissed her cheek.

"We do, gatito, we do.  We'll be fine."  Tara nodded - looked back up and smiled at him.  Her essence - her self, intangible and gentle - swept gently over them, pack family ours in the link from all of them.

This feels - strange.  Like the end.  Like we're just waiting for someone to walk through the door.   Xander glanced towards the door and shivered, because - Hellmouth!  He didn't really want to see anything there, but he couldn't help looking.

Never know - maybe we are, Spike thought, and readjusted his head on Xander's thigh, pluming out smoke and tossing the cigarette butt into the fire.

"Yeah but, here - that's not a good thing," Xander said, and shot a mock-glare at Buffy when she prodded him with her toe.

"Stop doing that!  Half your conversations are in your head and then you just blurt something out and it makes me think I missed something!  You're making me crazy!" Buffy laughed.

"Couldn't possibly do any harm, Slayer -" Spike drawled, ready to launch into one of their verbal sparring matches.  But they all froze - went silent - as headlights swept across the windows and the crunch of tires on gravel sounded loudly in the calm.

Who the fuck is that?  It's almost one in the morning.

Maybe it's demon-girl and her Dr. Honeydew - had some trouble with the van...

Maybe - and I can't BELIEVE you watched The Muppet Show!  Everyone was scrambling to their feet and heading for the door, and Xander poked Spike in the ribs, grinning.

Oi!  Stop that.  Dru liked it, didn't she - couldn't say no.

I think Dru is a good excuse, Oz chimed in, and Xander laughed out loud.

"I think so, too!" he said, and suffered a tackling hug that turned into a brief, hard kiss.  Then Buffy was opening the door and Spike stiffened in his arms.

Bloody hell -

"Angel?"

27 Upsets

"They told us...they'd cure her.  They'd make her a - a higher being if I...did this."  Angel was cradling an amulet in his hands - large and ugly, with a dull-yellow stone in its garish, goldish setting.

"An' you believed 'em?" Spike drawled, lighting up, and Angel shot him a frustrated, exhausted glare.

"Yeah, I did.  They've been sending the visions - they've been - keeping me on track.  They sent Whistler, so I could help Buffy, and they sent Doyle -"

"And they send killer migraines that are turnin' your Cordelia's brains to mush.  And we all know how you and the Slayer worked out..."  Spike grunted when Xander's elbow jabbed into his side and he hissed, turning his head to scowl at his human.

Stop it, evil undead.  You're not helping.

Don't particularly WANT to help -

We can't let Cordy die!  If he's willing -   Under the concern for Cordelia and the empathy Xander was feeling towards Angel and his plight was the faint, hastily squashed 'thank god, this will end it, mine will be safe, we can go home, go home, go home, thank god'   Spike grinned nastily and looked back at Angel, who was sitting in a slumped posture on the edge of the couch, suffering with eternal forbearance Tara's sympathetic clucking, Buffy's silent grip on his wrist, the murmured words of Giles and Ethan discussing the amulet, the Powers, the possibilities that this was it, the one thing that would save them.

Miserable brooding bastard -   He settled himself more comfortably, arm around Xander's waist, both of them sprawled on pillows on the floor by the hearth.

I thought you two kinda - made up? from Oz, and Spike rolled his eyes, pluming smoke towards the fireplace.

He's still an utter git.  Who'd believe such tripe?   But Spike subsided, leaning against Xander and stretching his bare feet towards the fire.  Stroking his hand gently through Xander's hair and snarling silently when his fingers touched the band of the patch.  I'll believe it if it'll get you out of here, pet.  Anything...

Love you.

"So what - what does the amulet do?" Oz asked quietly, and Angel shook his head.

"I don't - know.  They wouldn't tell me...Cordelia said they didn't know, but...  They just said it would destroy the First's army."

"An army of Turok-Han..." Giles murmured, and Angel sighed.

"I don't know what could destroy an army of those things...  I think - whatever it does - I'm not going to survive it."

I think he's right, Derio thought, and Spike looked over at him in surprise.

Why d'ya think that, wolf?

I don't - know.  I feel...something.  There's -   Derio was sitting in the corner of the couch and he pushed himself to his feet suddenly, head cocked as if listening.  The link was quiet except for what Derio could feel - the knowing thrumming like the plucked strand of a spider-web.  It seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere, and Derio circled the room uneasily, pausing often to listen, his eyes flashing to black and then clearing, again and again - his anxiety like fever-shivers, creeping over them all.  Xander and Oz both tensed, wolf and hyena rising up.  Spike could feel a headache starting in Xander's temple - in the back of the empty socket - and he rubbed his knuckles lightly up and down Xander's neck, hoping to stave it off.

"But - you can't leave Cordelia and Connor all alone...  There has to be another way, Angel." Buffy said, plucking the amulet out of his hands and glaring at it.

"I don't want to do this to them but...it's just the way it has to be," Angel replied, and his voice was very, very soft - full of pain and sorrow and Spike snapped, Derio's unease getting to him as well as Angel's misery.

"Why don't you ever fight, damnit, Angel!" he snapped, and Angel pushed himself to his feet and stalked over to him - stood there staring down at him, his expression haggard and tense.  

"Fighting this means Cordelia dies.  That's not going to happen, Spike," he said, and Spike shook his head.  He untangled himself reluctantly from Xander and the pillows they were propped against and stood up, reaching to put one hand on Angel's shoulder, squeezing hard.

"How do you know?  How can you just...give up?  Give her up, and Connor?"  God - wouldn't do that to you, pet, wouldn't...

You'd do whatever you had to, Spike, just like I would.  Love you...  Let it go - he feels bad enough.   Xander stood up as well, getting an arm around Spike and rubbing his hand slowly up and down his side.  Soothing and reassuring and Spike leaned into him and sighed.

"Yeah, okay.  Okay, love.  I'll let it go."   Spike let his hand slip off Angel's shoulder but the other vampire didn't move away - simply sagged, head down, and Spike felt a moment's sympathy.  Xander hugged him, and they stood there in silence, 'listening' to Derio.   Faith had gone up to bed already, taking Dawn and Johnathan with her in an unusual display of tact, muttering something about 'old lovers' and getting a glare of disapproval from Buffy.   The fire in the fireplace was burning low, radiating comforting heat and the good smell of burning apple-wood.  Giles and Ethan were still deep in conversation and Tara was watching Derio with a worried look.  Buffy was examining the amulet with squinted eyes, as if looking for a secret or a hidden catch.  Derio stopped again, listening, then resumed his pacing - stopped right beside them and Spike could see his hands shaking - could feel the strange twisting of the knowing as something pinged it again and again.  Angel eyed Derio uncertainly, looking unhappy to be so near a nervous werewolf.  

Spike's beads burned faintly against his chest and he reached into his shirt to pull them out - to touch them.  Angel tipped his head quizzically, glancing up at Spike with a question in his eyes.   Derio morphed further towards the wolf and whined low in his throat and Angel looked up from studying the strand of Spike's beads and turned to him sharply, frowning.

"Can you stop that?  Jesus -"   Oz was up and on him in a flash, snarling, more than half wolf and right in Angel's face, and Angel recoiled.

"'uck ov," Oz growled, and Angel put up a hand, placatory gesture that Oz ignored.  Derio lifted his head suddenly and was just as suddenly human again.  Whatever it was was closer - was strong.  The link was buzzing like a downed wire, cresting wave of power and it began to feel - horribly familiar.        

"What is that?" Angel said and then Buffy made a small squeak of surprise as the wards suddenly flared, dancing sheets of pale green fire up the doors and windows.  Ethan grabbed Giles' hand - grabbed Tara's and they stood, drawing together, concentrating, light light no harm shall pass faintly from Tara.  

"What the fuck -" Spike muttered, and the beads thrummed in his hand, their power in the link as well, adding to the overall chaos of energies that were swirling through the house.

"It's - something trying to....get in..." Xander was rigid under Spike's arm, and they both felt the strange, roiling energy that they'd felt before.  Stronger, this time - mixed with something else.

Not pack not pack not pack, from the wolves - from the hyena.  The demon was silent, but its energy was so malevolently furious that Xander actually flinched away from Spike for a moment.

Sorry, love - sorry.  God, it's - is it?  Why...

It is - Jesus, who ELSE is there?   Oz and Derio were both growling, sing-song wail that was getting louder and louder.

"Anybody have any ideas?" Buffy said just as the wards by the front door sent up a fountain of sparks, white-hot and roaring.  Tara, Giles and Ethan all cried out, flung apart and stumbling, Ethan going down to one knee.  Blood trickled down from one side of Tara's nose and Spike felt the demon's roar rattle out of his chest.

"What is it?" Giles cried, loud and angry and suddenly the wards fell - flared and sank away as if they'd never been and - Jack strode through the door.

"It's uninvited company," Spike grated, staring at the Sidhe with the demon's furious gaze.  Jack stood there smirking, still in his leather bomber jacket and ragged jeans, ancient and raveling backpack hanging from one shoulder.

"Now, that's not very hospitable, is it, vampire?  Not hospitable at all."  Jack grinned, and his eyes sparked red behind the fall of messy, feather-starred hair.  Something was with him - something lurking out of sight still, and Spike pushed past Angel, who was game-faced and growling but unmoving.   He put himself carefully between the others and Jack and felt Xander at his shoulder - felt Oz and Derio come up on the other side, and finally saw Angel come to stand beside Xander, human again.  Spike didn't bother with human - he had nothing to hide.  Buffy pushed in front of Angel, scowling.

"Who the hell are you?  How do you know Spike?  What -"

Jack held up an elegant hand, fingers spread, his ring glinting dully in the light.  "All in good time, Slayer," he said, and Buffy's mouth snapped shut in surprise.

"Tara, are you all right?  Giles -?" Xander asked, and there was a murmur from behind them, and then Giles' voice, a little shaky.  

"We're all right.    But I - we all - would like an explanation for...what happened."

"This is Jack.  Remember?  I told you about him," Xander said, and Spike could hear the Watcher's heart kick up a notch, and Glinda's, too.  Fear in the air, a little.  From the mage was something else - excitement.  Spike wanted to turn around and shake the man but he took a deep breath and tried to calm down instead.

Not pack! was screaming in the link from all of them and Xander's calm, calm, c'mon, calm down - was making the demon snarl, confused and angry.

"What are you doing here, Sidhe?" Spike grated, and he saw Angel react to that - heard the intake of breath from Ethan and Tara

"Oh, I'm here for lots of reasons....but only one to do with you..."  Jack cocked his head to one side, his eyes sparking red and his otherness like a waver of heat around him, scraping on all their nerves.   "As for what happened...  Your wards tap energy that we - were born controlling.  You can't keep us out with that."  Jack surveyed the room and his gaze lit on Xander.  His eyes narrowed in what looked like surprise as, Spike was sure, he noticed the patch.   Spike bared his teeth, daring the Sidhe to say anything and Jack shrugged, looking away.  There was something else, though...

"What's skulking in the bushes, then?  Tell it to show itself," Spike snapped, and Jack grinned.

"He's afraid, is all," Jack said, and there was a huff of explosive breath-sound and the scrape of something hard - stone? - over the stone of the courtyard.

"I'm not afraid!" a voice called, and Jack laughed softly.

"Come in here, then!  Come see," Jack said, coaxing voice, and something stirred in the darkness by the door - some further darkness that Spike's eyes couldn't penetrate.  Then it separated and reformed and came inside.   A young man - or something that looked like a young man - with Jack's dusky skin and foam of tangled hair; red-glowing eyes like coals, nothing like the faded spark in Jacks.   He was whipcord-muscle and bone, long fingers and smirking mouth, dressed in the same street-dweller rags of worn jeans, raveling sweater and cracked, sprung boots.  He stood for a long moment in the doorway and then glided forward, pure predator in every step and Spike took one step forward, growling.  Angel did the same, although he looked confused as well as protective.  The link seethed with furious emotion and Derio was shifting again, losing his hold on the wolf.

"You've added another wolf to the fold, then," Jack said, eyeing him.  "And another vampire.  You do collect odd friends, Xander."  Beside Spike, Xander shrugged, his eye as green as sour apples, glinting eerily.

"I pick and choose the best," Xander said, and his voice was harsh as he struggled against the hyena.  Wasn't this bad before, why is it so STRONG?  God - what the hell does he WANT...?

"You're upsetting our hosts, pooka," Jack said suddenly, and he turned and laid his hand on the other's shoulder.  "You need to ward that."  The other shot him a sullen look but shrugged, and suddenly the air seemed to move around him and the other outsider wrong wrong wrong of him eased off - went away almost entirely and it was just Jack's peculiar, thundery energy left.

"Pooka," Angel breathed, and the pooka looked at him and grinned, showing small, very white teeth.  His canines were very sharp.

"Heard of me then, have you?" he said, and Jack made a clucking sound.

"No time for that nonsense, pooka."  Jack took the backpack off his shoulder and eased it to the floor - took up a stance that was relaxed and easy, as if trying to prove his harmlessness.

"If you've any of that beer, Xander, I'd take a dram or two -"

"Is this something social?" Spike snapped, and Jack shot him a laughing glance.

"This is the saving of the world, vampire - what better way to start then with a drop of beer and maybe a bit of that cake?" He pointed with his chin at Dawn's abandoned plate and Spike wanted to leap on him - wanted him out and away from his family.

"Look - what the hell is going on?  I want someone to explain all this right now."  Angel looked furious, as did Buffy beside him, and it was Tara's soft voice that startled them all.

"If you'll sit and share a bite with us, we'll talk.  Will you be our guest?"  She was suddenly right there, much too close to Jack and his pooka, standing easily in her long skirt and cardigan, her hands held out in a gesture of greeting.  Derio moved fast to her side, and Oz did, and Jack made a small bow in her direction.

"You are the lady of the house, that much is plain.  We would both thank you for your hospitality, chovexani."    Tara blanched at that word and then bowed her head a little.

"Please sit, then, and I'll bring you something,"   Tara's voice was calm - she was calm, and she half-turned towards the rest of them, her head high and her gaze going sharply to Giles and then to Ethan.   "Please make our guests welcome," she said softly and turned and walked towards the kitchen.  Spike took a step after her and hesitated for a long moment, torn.   Xander touched his shoulder.

"I'll go with her.  You stay out here, okay?"

"Yeah," Spike said, relived that Tara wouldn't be alone.  Find out what in hell she's doing, love, yeah?  Fuckin' bastard knows something -

We'll figure it out.  It'll be okay.   Oz was calmer now - was deliberately pushing the wolf down and away, the wolf-chant in the link like a faint heart-beat.  As Xander hurried across the room to catch up to Tara, Spike made a wide gesture with his arms, finally pushing the demon aside.

"Come and sit, then," he said, scowling at Angels' abortive attempt to intervene.  "And why didn't your bloody fire-work display attract any attention?"   He'd half-expected the Potentials to have come thundering down the stairs after the commotion.  

"Oh, you mean the girls upstairs?" Jack asked, looking pointedly up and Spike hissed.  "They're sleeping a little extra-hard tonight.   No harm," he added, holding up his hands.  They walked forward and settled on the hearth, the pooka turning and warming his hands for a moment.  The Watcher and the mage resumed their seats on the couch - Angel went to stand at one end of the mantle and the Slayer went with him.  Oz settled cross-legged in front of the couch and after a moment Derio joined him, not fully human yet, but trying.  Spike just stood where he was, arms crossed and legs planted wide, ready for a fight if came to that.  They waited, silent.

"It's pretty quiet out there," Xander said softly, nervousness fluttering in his stomach like prickly butterflies.

"It'll be all right.  Can you get two of the green p-plates down?" Tara asked, her voice serenely calm and even.  Xander had to smile at that and stretched to reach the top of a tall cabinet, lifting down two white plates that were painted with a design of morning-glory vines and flowers.  Something Buffy and Dawn had brought from the Revello Drive house - something not much used.

"You're really going all out, here.  What's - what're you doing, exactly?" Xander asked as Tara carefully cut two slices of cake and placed them neatly on the plates.

"I'm...invoking something.  If we make them our guests - give them food and drink - it invokes the l-law of hospitality."

"Never heard of it," Xander said, getting two of Spike's imported beers uncapped and onto the tray Tara had unearthed.

"It's...old.  Very old.  It's one of th-the few things they'd respect.  We give them this, and that makes them our gu-guests.  We have to protect them from any harm that might come at them under our r-roof and -" Tara raised her voice just a little and Xander grinned, shutting his mouth closed over the indignant remark he had just been going to make.

"And?"

"And...in turn, they have to keep any harm that might have followed them away from us.  They can't h-harm anyone under the roof that has taken them in, and they can't tell any l-lies that might harm us while they're our guests."

"Oh!"   Xander was impressed, and he relayed it to the others, feeling an easing of the tension in Oz and Derio and a mental snort of disbelief from Spike.  Sounds like a good thing.

We'll see, Spike grumbled.  They're not to be trusted.

"Oh-okay.  Ready.  Can you carry this, Xander?"  Tara wiped her hands on a towel and pushed her hair back, and Xander reached past her and grabbed the salt-shaker off the table and put it on the tray.

"Sure I can, Tara.  Ummm...what was that word?  The word he called you - cho-ves -?"

"Chovexani.  It's a R-romany word.  A gypsy word," she clarified, when Xander gave her a puzzled look.  "It means wu-witch."

"Oh."  Xander picked up the tray - did a small double-take and looked at Tara.  "So, you - you're -"

"I'm...mu-my family is Romany.  Yes," Tara said quietly, and all Xander could do was nod.

No wonder her dad wanted her back so bad, from Oz, and Xander resolved to think about it later.   Right now, they had Jack to deal with, and that was quite enough.

"Okay.  Right.  Let's go."  They both walked back out to the living room and their guests.

"That was really quite delicious," Jack said, tipping his beer up to drain the last drops.   Beside him, the pooka was idly picking at the label on his own bottle.  He'd finished off the cake in quick, wolfish bites and drunk the beer down just as fast.  Jack had verbally restrained him from getting up at least three times and now the magical signature that he'd tamped down earlier was starting to build back up, making hackles rise all over the room.

"Th-thank you," Tara said from her place in the armchair and Jack nodded to her - turned an expression of pure exasperation on the pooka.

"All right, then!  Go!" he snapped, and the pooka bounded to his feet and started to move over the room, examining books and weapons, cracks in the walls and the shadows in the corner.  His energy jangled along their nerves but it was still more subdued than before, as if the simple physical act of going and doing kept it from building up too strong.

Fairy with ADHD, Xander thought, and Spike made a sort of snorting noise.

"Can we please get to the point now?"   Angel looked ready to blow, and Jack looked up at him, pushing hair and feathers back out of his face.

"Patience is a virtue, my good Angelus," he said softly, and Angel recoiled a step, staring at him.

"My name is Angel -"

"Your name is Angelus, and the blood you shed and the magics you toyed with are like a dark smoke all around you, to those as can see it.  As Xander most likely can see it..."  Jack shot Xander a sly look and Xander frowned at him.

"I've never looked at - at Angel."  

Jack's eyebrows went up in surprise, and the pooka laughed from his place near the library doors.

"Told you," he said, and Jack looked angry for a moment, then shrugged.

"To each his own.  I'm here to talk about the First - and about that...weapon you so were so fortuitously given."

"What do you know about any of that?" Giles growled, darkman darkman rising up and rippling out, and Jack looked at Giles appraisingly

"I know that the First is...taking liberties.  And I know that the Powers - as they call themselves - are being..."

"Being the same as always.  Lords of the Manor," the pooka said, and picked up a sword from its place in an open duffle - swung it easily through the air, making it sing.

"Leave it be," Spike snapped, and the pooka grinned at him.

"Want to make me?" he purred, and Spike was across the room - on him, fist in the laddered front of his dusk-blue sweater, his other hand gripping the thin wrist, forcing the sword down.

Jesus, Spike!  Don't -

"Jack tasted damn good - what do you taste like, pooka?" Spike hissed, demon to the fore, and the pooka tipped his head back - he was about four inches shorter than Spike.

"Dunno - wanna try?  Call me Scavenger, eh vampire?  We should be friends."  The pooka was too close - one long-fingered hand stroking too intimately along Spike's chest and Xander felt the growl in his chest - strode over to them just as Spike was stiff-arming the pooka backwards.

"Fuck off, Scavenger.  You'll get no scraps."

"Too pretty not to try," Scavenger said, grinning, his eyes like burning coals.

"Enough!" Jack barked, and they all swung around to stare at him, jolted by the whiplash of power that had flared through the room.  Scavenger hissed and slunk away, going halfway up the stairs and huddling down over his knees.  "We've things to discuss.  The First - has overstepped itself, and the Powers - are being stubborn.  It will not be tolerated."  Jack uncoiled gracefully and his glamour was gone.  He stood there in the coat of maybe-velvet, maybe-leaves, his angular face longer and his limbs too thin.  He was frowning.

Xan, love - can you...  Can you still SEE?  Can you look at him?

I - don't know.  I haven't tried, since...   They both shuddered at the brief flash of memory, and Derio and Oz both immediately moved closer, soothing unconsciously through the link.  

Be all right, love, Spike added, answering pressure of his arm around Xander and Xander nodded - shut his eye for a moment.

"Taisbean," he whispered, and looked.

It works...still works... he thought, with a little upsurge of relief that caught him off guard.  If it hadn't worked...would it have really mattered?   Jack looked the same - coat flickering between velvet or brocade and whatever it really was - leaves and flowers, maybe, or the thin skin of birds.  There were more feathers in this hair than before, and a thong tied around his left thigh, with beads and feathers and what looked like a bone hanging down.  He noticed Xander looking and nodded, flashing a sharp-edged grin; his face and body stretched and thinned and then settled again into the angular not-quite-humanity of the brocade coat-self.  The sparks still danced and swirled, and the amusement was still there - the casual malice of the stalking cat.  But no real harm.  

Truth.  He's not lying, unless he can hide that.  But I don't think so.   They went back towards the fireplace, gathering in a loose circle that included the couch.  Jack stood there, his hands clasped loosely behind his back.  He nodded to Xander once, the spark in his eyes, and then he turned to the group.

"We're...from outside.  We see things.  We know things.  That - amulet - will defeat the First's army, but at the cost of the life of the bearer."  Jack looked down, then up again, his smile lazy and razor-edged.  "Normally, we wouldn't care.  What's one less vampire?  Or human - or anything else?  But this time...  Something's different.  Angelus - you cannot wield this."

"I can and I will.  I'm not going to let Cordelia die, and that's final."

"She'll die anyway, if you do," Jack said mildly, and Angel growled.  Xander stared at him - and stared again, feeding his image into the link.  Angel's demon was in the arms of his soul - held so tightly it could barely move.  Both of them looked ill - exhausted - sick at heart.  Ready for the end.  But there was something else.  A delicate line of mist and sparks, barely there.  It flowed out from Angel's heart, and away up into the air.  Exactly the same as Buffy.  A tether.  A line - straight to heaven.  The gold and deep blue sparks that swirled and flowed around Angel flowed up that tether, and back down, slow dance of light.

No wonder.  He was - he was in heaven.  Like Buffy.  No wonder it was so awful, to have his soul returned.  And every time it's been lost and brought back -   Xander shuddered.  God - how horrible it must be.  And Angel must know.  Must feel it, like Buffy felt it.  

What's the matter with him?  He looks -   Derio was wide-eyed, contemplating the images that Xander was showing them.  Spike's demon doesn't look like that.

Mine's not been kept locked up in some mental box for a century and a half, Spike thought.

"If this amulet will kill the bearer then you're right, Angel must not bear it.  We'll find some - other way of dealing with the First."  Giles spoke quietly, but his voice was inflexible - his look hard.   Jack tipped his head in acknowledgement but then shook it, the smile fading a little.

"No - it must be borne.  It must be - used.  Used by someone not-human.  Someone stronger than a human, and someone with a soul."  There was dead silence at his words, and then Buffy made a small noise, stepping forward.  Her eyes were huge in her thin face, and her hand was shaking as she held the amulet up.  Tara moved up with her, hand on her arm and Buffy looked at her for a moment before turning to Jack.

"It's for me then.  I'm - I'm supposed to wear it.  That - makes sense -"

"Buffy, no -" Giles said, anguished, and Jack held up his hand.

"No Slayer, not for you," he said softly.  Scavenger had come down from the stairs and sidled up behind him - stood there now, frowning up at all them from behind the tangled hair that hid half his face.

"Just get to it, Jack," he said softly.   In the seeing he was a swirl of black energy - of deep-red and crystal-blue sparks.  A horse's shadowy outline hovered around him, tossing its head.  Xander felt a growing sense of panic - of inevitability, and he pushed it sharply away.

No, no, no.  Fuck no.  Oh god -

Xan, what -

"No," Jack said, not looking at Buffy - not at all.   "The Powers are quite...adamant that the amulet be worn by..."

"No!  No.   Jack, stop it -"   Xander felt like he might be sick - like he just might go over to the Sidhe and hit him - or take the amulet and smash it on the stone of the fireplace.  He was shaking, he could feel it, but he didn't know what to do about it.

Love -

NO.  Not human, with a soul?  That could be me.  Or Oz or Derio.  But they sent it to ANGEL.  They want -

"Some things can't be changed, Xander," Jack said, and for the first time Xander saw his smile waver - saw something like uncertainty in the narrow face.

"This is going to be changed!  This is not going to happen!"  Xander felt Spike's hand on his arm and he groped blindly for it - clung with a grip that would leave bruises.  Behind Jack, the pooka was looking - angry.  He made a snarling sort of face, and stepped forward.

"Jack - tell them."

"You overstep yourself, pooka," Jack grated, and Ethan glided up to both of them, his eyes shining with a manic light.

"We're all instruments of chaos here, gentlemen.  But I've got some favors owed me that you may not like.  Explain yourselves, or you will be very, very sorry.

Infinite ending beginning chaos cold cold cold, that was Ethan's power, revving up against Jack's and for a moment everyone was simply frozen.  Then Jack lifted his hand and pushed the air, gently, and Ethan's power - Giles' - even the link, for one awful moment of time was dead.  Jack looked at Xander - looked at Spike, and his eyes were sorrowful and dark as pits.

"The amulet is for a vampire.  The amulet is for Spike," Jack said.  And all hell broke lose.